The assemblage remained long in a state of desperation. Some, motionless in their seats from weakness, implored the gods to let them die ere they should behold the downfall of their people. It seemed as if the hordes of Hannibal were already clamoring at the temple doors. "Restrain yourselves, Elders!" admonished Alcon. "Remember that the citizens of Saguntum stand waiting outside these walls. If they suspect your despair, discouragement will spread abroad, and this very night we will become the slaves of Hannibal!" Slowly the Elders recovered their composure, and silence reigned. All awaited the counsel of Alcon the Prudent. He spoke. "You do not entertain the thought of immediate surrender of the city, do you?" A roar of indignation from the Senate answered him. "Never, never!" "Then, in order to keep hearts beating with hope, to prolong the defense a few more days, you must lie; you must inspire in the Saguntines a deceptive confidence. Provisions are exhausted; those who man the walls, weapons in hand, have eaten the flesh of the last horses that remained in the city. The plebs are perishing of hunger. Every night hundreds of corpses are gathered and burned on the Acropolis for fear of their being devoured by wandering dogs pressed by hunger, which have turned into veritable wild beasts that attack even the living. There is a complaint that some of the foreigners sheltered in the city, in company with slaves and mercenaries, lie in wait by night near the walls to eat whatever bodies they find. The cisterns of the city are almost dry; there is but little water left, and that is thick with mud; and yet no one in Saguntum talks of surrender, and the defense must be continued. We all know what awaits us if we fall into the hands of Hannibal." "I have talked with him," said Actæon, "and he is inexorable. If he enters Saguntum every man of us will become his slave!" The assembly stirred again with indignation. "We will die first!" shouted the Elders. Hastily they agreed upon what must be said to the people. They swore by the gods to conceal the truth. They would prolong the sacrifice in the hope that aid from Rome might come in time. Composing their countenances so that none should divine their despair, the Elders walked out of the temple. Swiftly the news flashed through the city. The legates had proceeded to Carthage to waste no time in the camp; there they would demand the punishment of Hannibal. The legions which Rome was sending to the support of the Saguntines would arrive at any moment. The crowd received this specious fabrication with cold insensibility. The sufferings of the siege had deadened their feelings. Besides, they had been fired so many times with hope of the coming of the Romans that they doubted and would not believe until they saw the fleet itself.