"I love victory, success! The laurel which Greek heroes bound upon their brows in the triumph has for me a more penetrating perfume than the roses of the poets. Cease your laments, Asbyte; be a warrior, and forget that you are a woman; I will love you more. You shall be my brother in arms. Why think of those nights of love when I was still in misfortune and lacking in soldiers, now that all Iberia follows me and I see my dreams of world-power beginning to be realized? Look over this camp, where infinite tongues are spoken, and where each tribe dresses in a different costume. They flow in like streams which swell the torrent. Each day new warriors appear. How many are they? No one knows. Maherbal said yesterday that there were a hundred and twenty thousand; I believe that soon there will be a hundred and eighty thousand. Blind faith in Hannibal draws them on; they feel that with me they march to victory; perhaps their gods have told them that this is but the beginning of a series of achievements which will astound the world. Ponder over it, Asbyte! These peoples have spent their lives fighting among themselves; they hated each other, and yet the sword of Hannibal is a shepherd's crook which guides them like a common flock; and after this miracle would you have me waste my time loving you, staying in my tent lying at your feet, my head upon your knees, listening to you while you sing the dreamy songs of the oasis? No! Lightning of Baal! The city stands before us, mocking at the greatest army ever gathered together on the fields of Iberia, and this must stop. The hempen tent must crush the tower of stone. Sharpen well your lance, daughter of Iarbas; prepare your faithful steed, my beloved! That mysterious breeze which I always perceive on the eve of a victory blows around me. This very day we shall enter Saguntum." He glanced to the east as if impatient for the coming of dawn. The moon shone less clearly; the sky darkened, its blue becoming more dense, and on the side toward the sea a broad belt of violet light appeared. "It will soon be morning," continued the African. "This night, Asbyte, you shall sleep in the ivory couch of some rich Greek woman, and you shall have at your feet the Elders of the city to serve you as slaves." "No, Hannibal. This day which is now beginning will never end for me. I still see the shade of Iarbas, as it appeared to me before the first cock-crow. I shall die, Hannibal!" "Die! Can you believe that? Before the enemy reaches you he must pass over Hannibal's body. You are my brother in arms! _I_ will be at your side!" "Even so, I must die. My father cannot deceive me." "Are you afraid? Are you trembling, daughter of the Garamantan? Ah, at last the woman! Stay in your tent! Do not approach the walls! I will go and seek you when the moment arrives for you to enter the city like a lady!" Asbyte straightened her graceful figure as if she had just received a lashing. Her large eyes glowed with anger.