Night fell. The velarium, spread over the cypress avenue, was drawn
back, and torches were brought.
The apes, sacred to the moon, were terrified on the cedar tops by the
wavering lights of the petroleum as it burned in the porphyry vases.
They uttered screams which afforded mirth to the soldiers.
Oblong flames trembled in cuirasses of brass. Every kind of
scintillation flashed from the gem-incrusted dishes. The crateras with
their borders of convex mirrors multiplied and enlarged the images of
things; the soldiers thronged around, looking at their reflections with
amazement, and grimacing to make themselves laugh. They tossed the ivory
stools and golden spatulas to one another across the tables. They gulped
down all the Greek wines in their leathern bottles, the Campanian wine
enclosed in amphoras, the Cantabrian wines brought in casks, with the
wines of the jujube, cinnamomum and lotus. There were pools of these on
the ground that made the foot slip. The smoke of the meats ascended into
the foliage with the vapour of the breath. Simultaneously were heard
the snapping of jaws, the noise of speech, songs, and cups, the crash of
Campanian vases shivering into a thousand pieces, or the limpid sound of
a large silver dish.
In proportion as their intoxication increased they more and more
recalled the injustice of Carthage.
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