“The veil of the goddess!” cried Salammbô, and supporting herself on both clenched hands she leaned shuddering out. He resumed: “I have been in the depths of the sanctuary to seek it for you! Look!” The zaïmph shone a mass of rays. “Do you remember it?” said Matho. “You appeared at night in my dreams, but I did not guess the mute command of your eyes!” She put out one foot upon the ebony stool. “Had I understood I should have hastened hither, I should have forsaken the army, I should not have left Carthage. To obey you I would go down through the caverns of Hadrumetum into the kingdom of the shades!—Forgive me! it was as though mountains were weighing upon my days; and yet something drew me on! I tried to come to you! Should I ever have dared this without the Gods!—Let us go! You must follow me! or, if you do not wish to do so, I will remain. What matters it to me!—Drown my soul in your breath! Let my lips be crushed with kissing your hands!” “Let me see it!” she said. “Nearer! nearer!” Day was breaking, and the sheets of talc in the walls were filled with a vinous colour. Salammbô leaned fainting against the cushions of the bed. “I love you!” cried Matho. “Give it!” she stammered out, and they drew closer together. She kept advancing, clothed in her white trailing simar, and with her large eyes fastened on the veil. Matho gazed at her, dazzled by the splendours of her head, and, holding out the zaïmph towards her, was about to enfold her in an embrace. She was stretching out her arms. Suddenly she stopped, and they stood looking at each other, open-mouthed. Then without understanding the meaning of his solicitation a horror seized upon her. Her delicate eyebrows rose, her lips opened; she trembled. At last she struck one of the brass pateras which hung at the corners of the red mattress, crying: “To the rescue! to the rescue! Back, sacrilegious man! infamous and accursed! Help, Taanach, Kroum, Ewa, Micipsa, Schaoul!” And the scared face of Spendius, appearing in the wall between the clay flagons, cried out these words: “Fly! they are hastening hither!” A great tumult came upwards shaking the staircases, and a flood of people, women, serving-men, and slaves, rushed into the room with stakes, tomahawks, cutlasses, and daggers. They were nearly paralysed with indignation on perceiving a man; the female servants uttered funeral wailings, and the eunuchs grew pale beneath their black skins. Matho was standing behind the balustrades. With the zaïmph which was wrapped about him, he looked like a sidereal god surrounded by the firmament. The slaves were going to fall upon him, but she stopped them: “Touch it not! It is the mantle of the goddess!” She had drawn back into a corner; but she took a step towards him, and stretched forth her naked arm: