“_With what hopes lingers he ‘Mongst hostile races, heedless of the great Ausonian line, and the Lavinian plains? Let him put out to sea! My last word this._“[34] The message fell upon Æneas with a shock of fear and remorse. His dream was shattered: his sleeping conscience suddenly sprang to life, and in a flash he saw the long months spent in Carthage as treachery to the gods, to his countrymen, and to the son who was to inherit the great Roman state. In a rush of penitence, his first thought was to flee instantly: to leave at once and for ever the land that had seen his folly. But the moment after he remembered Dido, and realized in horror all the suffering that he would bring to her. He knew the intensity of her love; and recalling all her kindness to him and his, he could not summon courage to face her and tell her that he must go. Weakly he resolved to prepare in secret for departure; and orders were sent down to the ships to fit out with all speed. But the unworthy act was bound to bring disaster. Word was soon brought to the queen that the Trojan fleet was being furtively prepared for sea, and she leapt to the obvious conclusion. Æneas intended to forsake her—and to go by stealth. All her frank nature revolted at the deception. That he should wish to go at all, lightly flinging away her love and honour, was a thing that her own fidelity had never suspected; but to steal away thus was baseness that drove her to fury. Her ungoverned Oriental rage was loosed upon him. “_False as thou art, and didst thou hope, ay, hope To keep thy infamous intent disguised, And steal away in silence from my realm?_“[34] [Illustration: THE DEATH OF DIDO _Gianbattista Tiepolo_ _By Permission of Ad Braun et Cie._ ] But the first gust of anger past, she dropped to a softer mood and besought him by every tender plea that her tongue could frame, not to leave her—by their great love: by her trust in him, and the pledge that he had given her; by the constant service that she had paid him, and all that she had forfeited for his sake. “_Because of thee it is, the Libyan tribes, And Nomad chieftains hate me; my own people Are turned against me; all because of thee My woman’s honour has been blotted out, And former fair good name whereby alone I held my head aloft. To whom dost thou Abandon me, a woman marked for death? My guest, my guest! Since only by that name I am to know my husband!_“[34]