When Scipio, however, became ardent and made love to her, Elissa ever retired like a hermit crab within a shell, putting out a claw wherewith to give a little defensive pinch to keep at a distance the man who would explore too closely what the shell contained.
For thus have ever, since the beginning of the world, been the wiles of women.
The unfortunate Scipio, becoming more enamoured day by day, was by degrees almost driven to despair. Now, he had with him at the Court of Syphax his bosom friend, Caius Lælius, a man whose nature was much similar to his own. For Caius was brave to a degree, a splendid soldier, and sailor, too, for that matter, as his many naval exploits proved, yet he was gentle and kind, and altogether unspoiled by the rough manners of the camp.
Caius Lælius noticed with great concern the growing attachment of his friend for the beautiful Carthaginian maiden. He was much attracted towards her himself, but his loyalty to his friend made him leave the field clear. Thus he never put himself forward in any way to gain the notice of Elissa, of whom he knew Scipio to be so much enamoured. On the other hand, he purposely devoted himself to some of the other beauteous maidens present at the Numidian Court. These were only too pleased to shower their favours upon him, for he was universally popular. Thus no party of pleasure, no joyous hunting-party or picnic, for they had picnics in those days even as now, was complete for the merry ladies of the Court of Syphax without the presence of the ever light-hearted Lælius. And Elissa herself knew full well the nobility of the young man, and was ever most courteous and friendly to him.
One day Lælius took his friend and chief to task.
“Scipio,” quoth he, “in the name of all the gods of Olympus! what is this game that thou art playing with the daughter of Hannibal? Wouldst thou make of her thy mistress?”
Scipio flared out in a rage.
“Caius, thou and I have been friends from boyhood; but dare to utter such a suggestion again and I strike thee to the ground!” And he laid his hand upon his sword.
“By Cupid and Venus! ’tis more serious even than I imagined,” replied his companion, laughing. “So thou wilt kill me—because of what? simply because being thy dearest friend I would see thee happy. Tut, tut, man, ’tis childish. I but meant to infer that ’twould be difficult for thee to make her thy wife, and if all that rumour says be true she hath already been the mistress of thine old enemy Maharbal, the Numidian, then why not thine? There is an old Roman saying that there are many women who have never had a lover; but there are none who remain with only one. Then why shouldst thou not succeed, especially in the absence of thy rival?”
“Simply because Elissa is far too noble-minded, and I myself would not take her so unless all other means failed. But why should I not marry her, Lælius? It would be the best thing for both Rome and Carthage. For once she were my wife, how could the war continue? To make her so would be the greatest act of policy that hath ever been wrought since the commencement of the first Punic war. For Hannibal could no longer prosecute the war in Italy were his daughter the wife of Scipio. Neither could Hasdrubal nor Mago continue the war in Iberia against our legions were their niece to become my spouse. Only think of the thousands of lives that may be saved—the thousands of homesteads that may be spared from destruction, the cities that may never sustain a siege, the matrons and maidens that will never run the risk of violation or slavery, should the daughter of Hannibal become the wife of Scipio.”