But her removal from Elissa’s path by no means lessened the feeling of resentment that burned in the bosom of Hannibal’s daughter against her ex-lover, Maharbal.
He, poor fellow, did not deserve the resentment, for he adored her still, as he had ever done. He had certainly, while obeying his Chief’s orders, learnt to appreciate Melania’s devotion to himself, especially as he had always had an affection for her, in which, however, passion had had no part.
Maharbal had been only three days in Saguntum, when going out to review the large body of Iberian and Numidian Cavalry, mounted upon his war horse, which, on account of his own great size, was an enormous animal, he was proceeding down the main street of the city. He was a magnificent sight, reminding the spectator of Apollo, the sun god, as, with a golden helmet, and wearing the most magnificent armour, he, on his mighty black charger, preceded his brilliant staff of officers. Suddenly he espied Elissa, the woman who had been as a wife to him, and who should, but for the great Hannibal’s invincible will, have been actually his wife, coming down the street in the opposite direction. She was on foot, and followed by several maidens, accompanied also by a couple of young gallants about the court, who were highly honoured at being seen in her company by so many noble officers. Raising his hand, Maharbal halted the officers behind him. Dismounting, he courteously saluted the woman whom he had saved from Adherbal, and who had been, and still was, everything to him.
“And how doth the Lady Elissa?” he demanded, his eyes aglow with the delight he felt on seeing her. “By all the gods of Carthage she hath a right royal mien, and it doth the heart of Maharbal good to see her once more.”
Elissa deliberately turned her back upon him. Addressing one of the young men of her escort, she remarked in a voice which was intentionally raised so that all present could hear it:
“What a number of these stranger officers of the mercenaries there are in the town just now. But surely someone should give them a lesson in manners; they should be taught that ladies of rank are not to be addressed in the streets by uncouth barbarians whom they do not know.”
Then, with a little bitter laugh, she sauntered on without once glancing at Maharbal. A loud titter was heard from all the maidens, following their mistress’s example; from the two young nobles also, and, worst of all, from the officers of Maharbal’s own staff.
But one of the latter not merely tittered, but laughed outright. He was a certain Idherbal, a right valiant officer, who had considered himself much slighted when Maharbal had been appointed over his head to the command of the Numidians. And there was not a man or woman there but knew well what was, doubtless, considered the diverting history of the loves of Elissa and Maharbal. Therefore, they considered a laugh at the unexpected insult and rebuff given by Elissa to her lover quite excusable.
Not so Maharbal. Bounding upon his war-horse, his face all aflame, the young man drew his sword.
“Defend thyself, oh, Idherbal,” he cried, “for ’tis the first and last time thou shalt ever laugh at Maharbal!”