There were cries of the devastation of the towns, the burning
of the country-seats, the massacre of the soldiery; it was you who had
ruined them, it was you who had murdered them! I hate you! Your very
name gnaws me like remorse! You are execrated more than the plague, and
the Roman war! The provinces shudder at your fury, the furrows are full
of corpses! I have followed the traces of your fires as though I were
travelling behind Moloch!"
Matho leaped up; his heart was swelling with colossal pride; he was
raised to the stature of a god.
With quivering nostrils and clenched teeth she went on:
"As if your sacrilege were not enough, you came to me in my sleep
covered with the zaimph! Your words I did not understand; but I could
see that you wished to drag me to some terrible thing at the bottom of
an abyss."
Matho, writhing his arms, exclaimed:
"No! no! it was to give it to you! to restore it to you! It seemed to me
that the goddess had left her garment for you, and that it belonged to
you! In her temple or in your house, what does it matter? are you not
all-powerful, immaculate, radiant and beautiful even as Tanith?" And
with a look of boundless adoration he added:
"Unless perhaps you are Tanith?"
"I, Tanith!" said Salammbo to herself.
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