"I know you," he said insolently to the Carthaginian. "You are a republic of merchants born for lying and bad faith. If someone who knows how to sell at top prices and cheat the buyer is wanted, I agree that you stand first; but talking of soldiers, of men, we are the best, we sons of Rome, who grasp the plow in one hand and the lance in the other." He proudly raised his round head with its close-cropped hair and shaven cheeks, on which the chin-straps of his helmet had worn hard calloused lines. Actæon looked through the window at the Celtiberian, the only one of the group who remained silent, but who had his glittering eyes fastened upon the bare neck showing above the Roman legionary's bronze corselet, as if attracted by the coarse veins outlined beneath the skin. Surely the Greek had seen those eyes before; they were like an old acquaintance whose name one cannot recall. There was something artificial about his person, which the Greek divined with his keen perception. "I would swear by Mercury that that man is not what he pretends to be. He looks something more than a shepherd, and the bronze color of his face is not that of the Celtiberians, no matter how sunburned they may be. Perhaps that long hair which falls around his shoulders is false----" He was unable to observe him longer because of the dispute between the legionary and the old Carthaginian, who gradually approached each other to hear better in the midst of the clamor which reigned in the tavern. "I also was on that sad expedition to the Ægates," said the Carthaginian; "there is where I received this wound that crosses my face. It is true that you conquered us; but what does that show? Many times did I see your ships flee before ours, and more than once I counted Roman corpses by the hundred on the fields of Sicily. Ah, if Hanno had not arrived too late that day of the combat at the islands! If Hamilcar had only had reinforcements!" "Hamilcar!" disdainfully exclaimed the Roman. "A great chief who had to sue for peace! A merchant turned warrior!" And he laughed with the insolence of the strong, not fearing the anger of the old Carthaginian, who began to stammer an answer. The Celtiberian, who had remained silent, laid his hand upon the old man. "Silence, Carthaginian! The Roman is right. You are peddlers incapable of measuring up with them in war. You love money too much to dominate by the sword. But Carthage is not made of those of your breed; there are others born there who will know how to stand up before those peasants of Italy!" The Roman, seeing the rustic intervene in the dispute, became still more arrogant and insolent. "And who can that be?" he shouted scornfully. "The son of Hamilcar? That youngster who they say had a slave for a mother?" "Those who founded your city, Roman, were sons of a prostitute, and the day is not far distant when the horse of Carthage shall trample under foot the wolf of Romulus!"