In a kindly-worded note, in Hannibal’s own hand on a separate paper, the contents of which he was enjoined to keep to himself, Maharbal was informed that he need be in no fear of being plunged into any immediate wedlock, for that Hannibal had no intention of having any of his superior officers married for a long time to come, not, at all events, before certain work of great importance that he had in hand should be completed.
Before the arrival of these letters, Maharbal and Elissa had been living in a state of halcyon bliss, the only disturbing element to cause any trouble having been the foolish little Princess Cœcilia, who, with her mania for flirtation, had been incessantly casting eyes at the young Colossus, and indeed making love to him very openly. For she was dying to get married again, and had conceived the idea of marrying Maharbal himself. As for Melania, she had suffered greatly for some days after her escape, and had, during the days that Maharbal, sick himself, had tended her like a brother, in no wise ever allowed her feelings to get the upper hand of her self-constraint, nor allowed her inward devotion and passionate attachment to him to appear outwardly. As Elissa had also been kindness itself to her, she had, indeed, during those days of sore sickness, resolved to subdue self entirely, and to banish from her heart the love she bore to the gallant officer of the Numidian Horse. Thus it had been solely with the intention of striving to make her two benefactors happy, while removing temptation from herself, that she had secretly written as she had done in the first part of her letter to Hannibal. The latter part spoke for itself. But her self-abnegation had been utterly misunderstood by the great commander and his brothers, who had quite misjudged her, with the result that is known.
The letter that she received herself came to her as a surprise. No mention was made of the letter that she had sent to Hannibal, but his to her commenced by saying that he expected shortly to have need of her services on an important matter; that he regretted to hear of the danger she had been in, and that he rejoiced at her escape, and at the condign punishment of her aggressor.
Then the letter continued, that Hannibal, ever mindful of the happiness of those who had done good service to the State, had not forgotten her or Maharbal, and was anxious to make them both happy. Therefore, since Maharbal had not, in the usual fashion of the army, any female slave living with him, and as he was universally well spoken of by men and women alike, he had decreed that, for the present, she was to remove herself from the palace, and to reside with Maharbal in the house which he himself was going to give him as a residence. Further, that she was not to consider that she was being treated lightly in this matter, although she was undoubtedly at present a slave, nor was she to consider herself merely in the same light as any other slave-girl who might be the temporary mistress of the home of one of the nobles in the Carthaginian army. For Hannibal, bearing the greatest good-will to both Maharbal and herself, and recognising that, from her birth, she was in a position to be his wife, had decreed that, while under Maharbal’s roof, Melania was to be considered and treated as his affianced bride. She was informed that the actual marriage should take place at such time, as, in the opinion of Hannibal, it conveniently might, and that, at the same time, her freedom would be conferred upon her.
The letter ended: “Thou art to show unto Maharbal this my letter unto thee, and show it further to my daughter, Elissa, Regent and Governor of New Carthage.”
The terribly mixed feelings with which Melania read this letter caused her poor fluttering heart to beat as though her bosom would burst. There was no joy she longed for in life more than to become all in all to Maharbal, although, alas! she well knew that he did not love her, but only loved Elissa. Thus, despite her love, she hated the idea of being compelled to live under his roof as his wife, for this was very plainly the General’s intention. Again, she knew how Maharbal himself would take the matter, and she dreaded his scorn and neglect. She also feared the anger and revenge of which she might be the sufferer at the hands of Elissa, whose ardent love for Maharbal she well knew, for she had seen it indulged in openly and unrestrainedly by the young girl before her very eyes. For Elissa, with all the thoughtless folly of youth, had never considered her slave’s presence when with the glorious young Apollo, her own sun god.
Sooth to say, there was no such man as Maharbal in all the lands of Carthagena or of Iberia. He was, indeed, a very Adonis for beauty, with all the strength of a Hercules. It was no wonder that he was beloved by maids and matrons alike, for in face, form, and disposition he was in all points a man for a woman to worship.
The wretched Melania in her despair knew not what to do. When nearly mad with thinking, she eventually sent a maiden with the letter to Maharbal and Elissa when they were together. And then, leaving a note in her apartment saying that she was departing for ever, and that it would be useless to seek her, she fled from the town; walking as one distraught, not knowing what she would do, but simply with the idea of taking away her own life in some way. For, from whatever aspect she looked at it, she could not face the situation. While passing the guard house and crossing the bridge leading to the mainland, she met many people who knew her, and who saluted her. She looked at them vaguely without seeing them, and passed on. They thought from her dazed expression that she had gone mad. And so, in fact, the poor girl had in a way. Vaguely still, she wandered on until she took a little by-road that led up into an interminable cork and hazel forest, that covered the whole of the mountain-side. As she was ascending the hill, she met a man whom she had quite recently befriended, an old soldier who had had his leg broken in an accident in the palace, and whom she had nursed. He had gone to live on the mountain-side, where he made a living by capturing, with the aid of his sons, the game which abounded. He stopped her, and being a garrulous old man, forced her to speak to him. He informed her that as evening was now coming on she must not proceed further, for that she would be in danger of her life from the wolves, bears, and wild boars with which the forest was filled.
“Wolves, bears, and wild boars! are there many?” she asked.
“The hill is full of them, dear lady Melania; therefore, to go further to-night will be certain death.”