Matho did not hear; he was gazing at her, and in his eyes her garments were blended with her body.The clouding of the stuffs, like the splendour of her skin, was something special and belonging to her alone.Her eyes and her diamonds sparkled; the polish of her nails continued the delicacy of the stones which loaded her fingers; the two clasps of her tunic raised her breasts somewhat and brought them closer together, and he in thought lost himself in the narrow interval between them whence there fell a thread holding a plate of emeralds which could be seen lower down beneath the violet gauze.She had as earrings two little sapphire scales, each supporting a hollow pearl filled with liquid scent.A little drop would fall every moment through the holes in the pearl and moisten her naked shoulder.Matho watched it fall.
He was carried away by ungovernable curiosity; and, like a child laying his hand upon a strange fruit, he tremblingly and lightly touched the top of her chest with the tip of his finger: the flesh, which was somewhat cold, yielded with an elastic resistance.
This contact, though scarcely a sensible one, shook Matho to the very depths of his nature.An uprising of his whole being urged him towards her.He would fain have enveloped her, absorbed her, drunk her.His bosom was panting, his teeth were chattering.
Taking her by the wrists he drew her gently to him, and then sat down upon a cuirass beside the palm-tree bed which was covered with a lion's skin.She was standing.He looked up at her, holding her thus between his knees, and repeating:
"How beautiful you are! how beautiful you are!"His eyes, which were continually fixed upon hers, pained her; and the uncomfortableness, the repugnance increased in so acute a fashion that Salammbo put a constraint upon herself not to cry out.The thought of Schahabarim came back to her, and she resigned herself.
Matho still kept her little hands in his own; and from time to time, in spite of the priest's command, she turned away her face and tried to thrust him off by jerking her arms.He opened his nostrils the better to breathe in the perfume which exhaled from her person.It was a fresh, indefinable emanation, which nevertheless made him dizzy, like the smoke from a perfuming-pan.She smelt of honey, pepper, incense, roses, with another odour still.
But how was she thus with him in his tent, and at his disposal? Some one no doubt had urged her.She had not come for the zaimph.His arms fell, and he bent his head whelmed in sudden reverie.
To soften him Salammbo said to him in a plaintive voice:
"What have I done to you that you should desire my death?""Your death!"
She resumed:
"I saw you one evening by the light of my burning gardens amid fuming cups and my slaughtered slaves, and your anger was so strong that you bounded towards me and I was obliged to fly! Then terror entered into Carthage.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.
They left off speaking.The thunder rolled in the distance.Some sheep bleated, frightened by the storm.
"Oh! come near!" he went on, "come near! fear nothing!
"Formerly I was only a soldier mingled with the common herd of the Mercenaries, ay, and so meek that I used to carry wood on my back for the others.Do I trouble myself about Carthage! The crowd of its people move as though lost in the dust of your sandals, and all its treasures, with the provinces, fleets, and islands, do not raise my envy like the freshness of your lips and the turn of your shoulders.
But I wanted to throw down its walls that I might reach you to possess you! Moreover, I was revenging myself in the meantime! At present Icrush men like shells, and I throw myself upon phalanxes; I put aside the sarissae with my hands, I check the stallions by the nostrils; a catapult would not kill me! Oh! if you knew how I think of you in the midst of war! Sometimes the memory of a gesture or of a fold of your garment suddenly seizes me and entwines me like a net! I perceive your eyes in the flames of the phalaricas and on the gilding of the shields! I hear your voice in the sounding of the cymbals.I turn aside, but you are not there! and I plunge again into the battle!"He raised his arms whereon his veins crossed one another like ivy on the branches of a tree.Sweat flowed down his breast between his square muscles; and his breathing shook his sides with his bronze girdle all garnished with thongs hanging down to his knees, which were firmer than marble.Salammbo, who was accustomed to eunuchs, yielded to amazement at the strength of this man.It was the chastisement of the goddess or the influence of Moloch in motion around her in the five armies.She was overwhelmed with lassitude; and she listened in a state of stupor to the intermittent shouts of the sentinels as they answered one another.
