“And what about Hannibal’s daughter? How is she looking, Marcus? Tell me of her.”
“Looking! why most radiantly beautiful. That is she ever, although, alas! she looked not very kindly upon me. It seemeth that she did not approve over much of flirtations between Carthaginian ladies and young Roman nobles. Didst thou find her so in Numidia, Scipio?”
Caius Lælius joined in the good-natured laugh against Scipio, who himself remained silent, as in deep thought. Presently Marcus continued:
“Personally I have nothing but thanks to give to the beautiful lady Elissa, for it was her very severity towards me that brought about my salvation, since by making me a prisoner to my house she absolved me from my parole. Further, her kind but foolish Aunt Cœcilia, who had fallen in love with me, and who procured me mine escape, would never have allowed me to go had not Elissa forbidden her to see me openly. As it was, she purposed to have joined me, but as she never arrived, after waiting three days in concealment, I put to sea without her. I hope no harm hath befallen her, for by her means have I learned all about the defences of New Carthage, which I shall presently tell thee, Scipio; but what could I have done in an open boat with a plump little lady ten years older than myself, one too whose sole fear is lest her complexion should be spoiled by the sun? She would have died of lamentation and weeping when she saw herself day by day becoming, even as I am myself, burned as black as a coal.”
“Thou wert far better without her, Marcus,” quoth Scipio. “Besides, I would not have had her in the camp, since I like not traitors, and, put the matter whichever way thou wilt, that she was nought but a traitor to her own kinswoman and chief, Elissa, in this matter of thine escape is most apparent. Nevertheless, all is fair in love and war, and I trust that, by the aid of the gods, we shall be able to take advantage of her treachery. Thus shalt thou soon enter with me, at the head of a victorious army, the very city in which thou wert but lately a prisoner. After that thou canst take the lady out fishing with thee if thou choosest, and then either take care of her complexion for her or drown her as thou wilt, the latter I should say for choice. She will have served her turn anyway. Perhaps Lælius would like to take her off thy hands, and for a cruise in his flag-ship; he can provide her there with proper awnings to shade her from the sun.”
“Not I, by Pluto!” cried Lælius, spitting disdainfully on the ground. “I too, like thee, hate a traitor, Scipio. I have far too high a regard and liking for our beautiful enemy, Elissa, ever, should it be in my power, to spare one who hath wronged her, as hath this Princess Cœcilia in enabling us to learn from Primus all the secrets of the defences of her city. Therefore the Princess Cœcilia had better beware of one Caius Lælius, whatever she may, from her passion, have done for thee personally, oh, Marcus, in the past and, through her treason, for Rome in general in the future.”
“Well,” returned Marcus Primus, “I for my part wish no ill to either the Lady Elissa or the Princess Cœcilia, since between them they have, although working differently, been the means of my obtaining my liberty. Moreover, the former is so lovely that no man could possibly wish her any harm, while the latter is merry and frivolous, and one well calculated to help the wearisome hours to pass agreeably for an unfortunate prisoner.
“But talking of women, Lælius, there is one now in New Carthage whom I warrant thee thou wouldst not disdain if thou hadst a chance of her. She is a young widow, named Cleandra, just back from Carthage, and as plump a little partridge as ever thou didst set eyes upon. Her mouth is a perfect rosebud, while as for her eyes—”
“What colour are her eyes?” interrupted Scipio, getting interested.
And then the talk degenerated into the usual conversation about women that is so common among young men, be they princes or ploughboys, in the pleasant half hour after a satisfactory meal.