"To claim it," said Schahabarim.
"But if he refuses?" she rejoined.
The priest scanned her fixedly with a smile such as she had never seen.
"Yes, what is to be done?" repeated Salammbo.
He rolled between his fingers the extremities of the bands which fell
from his tiara upon his shoulders, standing motionless with eyes cast
down. At last seeing that she did not understand:
"You will be alone with him."
"Well?" she said.
"Alone in his tent."
"What then?"
Schahabarim bit his lips. He sought for some phrase, some
circumlocution.
"If you are to die, that will be later," he said; "later! fear nothing!
and whatever he may undertake to do, do not call out! do not be
frightened! You will be humble, you understand, and submissive to his
desire, which is ordained of heaven!"
"But the veil?"
"The gods will take thought for it," replied Schahabarim.
"Suppose you were to accompany me, O father?" she added.
"No!"
He made her kneel down, and keeping his left hand raised and his right
extended, he swore in her behalf to bring back the mantle of Tanith into
Carthage. With terrible imprecations she devoted herself to the gods,
and each time that Schahabarim pronounced a word she falteringly
repeated it.
He indicated to her all the purifications and fastings that she was to
observe, and how she was to reach Matho.
Pages:
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273