Salammbô | Page 6

tongues, cloven like the harpoons of
fishermen, reached curling forth to the very edge of the flame."
Then Salammbo, without pausing, related how Melkarth, after

vanquishing Masisabal, placed her severed head on the prow of his ship.
"At each throb of the waves it sank beneath the foam, but the sun
embalmed it; it became harder than gold; nevertheless the eyes ceased
not to weep, and the tears fell into the water continually."
She sang all this in an old Chanaanite idiom, which the Barbarians did
not understand. They asked one another what she could be saying to
them with those frightful gestures which accompanied her speech, and
mounted round about her on the tables, beds, and sycamore boughs,
they strove with open mouths and craned necks to grasp the vague
stories hovering before their imaginations, through the dimness of the
theogonies, like phantoms wrapped in cloud.
Only the beardless priests understood Salammbo; their wrinkled hands,
which hung over the strings of their lyres, quivered, and from time to
time they would draw forth a mournful chord; for, feebler than old
women, they trembled at once with mystic emotion, and with the fear
inspired by men. The Barbarians heeded them not, but listened
continually to the maiden's song.
None gazed at her like a young Numidian chief, who was placed at the
captains' tables among soldiers of his own nation. His girdle so bristled
with darts that it formed a swelling in his ample cloak, which was
fastened on his temples with a leather lace. The cloth parted asunder as
it fell upon his shoulders, and enveloped his countenance in shadow, so
that only the fires of his two fixed eyes could be seen. It was by chance
that he was at the feast, his father having domiciled him with the Barca
family, according to the custom by which kings used to send their
children into the households of the great in order to pave the way for
alliances; but Narr' Havas had lodged there fox six months without
having hitherto seen Salammbo, and now, seated on his heels, with his
head brushing the handles of his javelins, he was watching her with
dilated nostrils, like a leopard crouching among the bamboos.
On the other side of the tables was a Libyan of colossal stature, and
with short black curly hair. He had retained only his military jacket, the
brass plates of which were tearing the purple of the couch. A necklace
of silver moons was tangled in his hairy breast. His face was stained

with splashes of blood; he was leaning on his left elbow with a smile on
his large, open mouth.
Salammbo had abandoned the sacred rhythm. With a woman's subtlety
she was simultaneously employing all the dialects of the Barbarians in
order to appease their anger. To the Greeks she spoke Greek; then she
turned to the Ligurians, the Campanians, the Negroes, and listening to
her each one found again in her voice the sweetness of his native land.
She now, carried away by the memories of Carthage, sang of the
ancient battles against Rome; they applauded. She kindled at the
gleaming of the naked swords, and cried aloud with outstretched arms.
Her lyre fell, she was silent; and, pressing both hands upon her heart,
she remained for some minutes with closed eyelids enjoying the
agitation of all these men.
Matho, the Libyan, leaned over towards her. Involuntarily she
approached him, and impelled by grateful pride, poured him a long
stream of wine into a golden cup in order to conciliate the army.
"Drink!" she said.
He took the cup, and was carrying it to his lips when a Gaul, the same
that had been hurt by Gisco, struck him on the shoulder, while in a
jovial manner he gave utterance to pleasantries in his native tongue.
Spendius was not far off, and he volunteered to interpret them.
"Speak!" said Matho.
"The gods protect you; you are going to become rich. When will the
nuptials be?"
"What nuptials?"
"Yours! for with us," said the Gaul, "when a woman gives drink to a
soldier, it means that she offers him her couch."
He had not finished when Narr' Havas, with a bound, drew a javelin
from his girdle, and, leaning his right foot upon the edge of the table,

hurled it against Matho.
The javelin whistled among the cups, and piercing the Lybian's arm,
pinned it so firmly to the cloth, that the shaft quivered in the air.
Matho quickly plucked it out; but he was weaponless and naked; at last
he lifted the over-laden table with both arms, and flung it against Narr'
Havas into the very centre of the crowd that rushed between them. The
soldiers and Numidians pressed together so closely that they were
unable to draw