“Strike, Mago! for I have taken a life that should be dear to thee. Strike! for I feel myself indeed worthy of death for having sent that fresh young soul to Hades. But the gods are my judges, and if thou wilt but strike, I shall soon appear before them to answer for my conduct. Therefore, I say strike, and strike home!”
Mago did not strike. He burst into tears, and threw himself into Maharbal’s arms.
“It is mine own fault,” he cried, “oh Maharbal, and deeply do I grieve for the poor girl Eugenia. But far more deeply, friend, do I grieve for thee, upon whom the gods have laid such a cruel burden, as to compel thee, for thine honour’s sake and mine, to slay a woman. For thou hadst no other alternative, save to become a base villain.”
And again he wept, and Hannibal, who had in a fatherly way himself loved the young maiden, being moved beyond words, silently joined his brother and Maharbal in their tears.
There was much sadness that night in the camp of the generals, and if virtue be, as the proverb saith, its own reward, then, for the unhappy Maharbal, that reward was nought but misery.
After this, Maharbal became gloomy and morose. He quite lost the youthful gaiety which had so often borne him up, and with which he had in evil days encouraged others. For this affair preyed upon his mind. In his dreams he would see the dead girl, by turns stretching out her arms to him in imploring love, and then in imploring despair as he was about to strike the fatal blow. He refused his food; indeed, he was quite unable to eat. It was soon evident to all who knew him that his mind was preying on his body, for daily he looked more wan and ill, but he could not be comforted despite the efforts of his friends to cheer him. It was in vain that the worthy and kind-hearted Sosilus related for his benefit various real or imaginary histories, all given with due chapter and verse, of some of the god-like heroes of old, who, in similar cases, had behaved exactly like unto Maharbal himself; these well-meant histories afforded him no comfort whatever. He listened in silence. In vain also did Chœras force himself to the most sprightly jests, or write the most comic and witty verses, and read them to him aloud.
From sheer politeness’ sake Maharbal would force a smile, and compliment his friend, but immediately afterwards would relapse into moody silence as before.
Hannibal and Mago soon became quite alarmed, fearing that his mind was becoming unhinged by his grief. But although they were as brothers to him, and showered on him their brotherly love, nought that they could do was of any avail. For Maharbal was haunted day and night by the spirit of Eugenia. Throughout all his career, although many women, in fact nearly all the women whom he met, as Melania once wrote to Hannibal, fell in love with him, this secret and powerful attraction which he had experienced for the lovely Eugenia was the only passion for any other, save Elissa, that ever came to torture Maharbal. But he kept his thoughts to himself and suffered in silence, although ever haunted by the phantom of the slaughtered girl.
Had it not been that the battle of Lake Thrasymene occurred just about this time to divert the current of his thoughts, there is not the slightest doubt but that Maharbal would shortly have died a raving maniac. But Melcareth was merciful, and, by means of the distraction of active warfare, withdrew the heavy hand which he had laid upon the young man to try him; so that after the battle of Lake Thrasymene Maharbal gradually, to the delight of his comrades, recovered his health and spirits once more.