But just now he appeared at once calmer and more terrible;
a superb will gleamed in his eyes like the flame of sacrifice.
The Greek did not listen to his reasons. He was living in one of the
Carthaginian pearl-bordered tents, drinking cool beverages from silver
cups, playing at the cottabos, letting his hair grow, and conducting the
siege with slackness. Moreover, he had entered into communications with
some in the town and would not leave, being sure that it would open its
gates before many days were over.
Narr' Havas, who wandered about among the three armies, was at that
time with him. He supported his opinion, and even blamed the Libyan for
wishing in his excess of courage to abandon their enterprise.
"Go, if you are afraid!" exclaimed Matho; "you promised us pitch,
sulphur, elephants, foot-soldiers, horses! where are they?"
Narr' Havas reminded him that he had exterminated Hanno's last
cohorts;--as to the elephants, they were being hunted in the woods,
he was arming the foot-soldiers, the horses were on their way; and the
Numidian rolled his eyes like a woman and smiled in an irritating manner
as he stroked the ostrich feather which fell upon his shoulder. In his
presence Matho was at a loss for a reply.
But a man who was a stranger entered, wet with perspiration, scared,
and with bleeding feet and loosened girdle; his breathing shook his
lean sides enough to have burst them, and speaking in an unintelligible
dialect he opened his eyes wide as if he were telling of some battle.
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