"Don't the birds suit you?" said Hanno; "what's the matter with them?"
"I want no pigeons," retorted Bodmilcar; "ravens are the birds for me, and I have taken enough of them on board already."
Hanno turned his back; but Himilco, who had witnessed what was passing, remarked:
"Fortunate for the passengers that they will not be on board the Melkarth. Far more congenial, I should think, the cooing of doves than the croaking of ravens, to the ears of an Ionian!"
"Ionian!" ejaculated Bodmilcar, turning pale, "is the slave an Ionian?"
In an instant I gave Himilco a sharp dig below the ribs to recall him to his senses, and as quickly he clapped his finger on his forehead, pretending to recollect himself: "No, no; not an Ionian; I mean a Lydian." And turning round to me he asked me whether he was right.
I made a sort of a gesture which I hoped would satisfy Bodmilcar, but he was manifestly still agitated; he made no further remark, but shortly afterwards quitted the room, mumbling unintelligibly as he went. As soon as his back was fairly turned, Hanno, who had been seated quietly arranging his papyrus leaves, rose from his seat, and advancing towards the door, made a low and solemn bow, a proceeding on his part that caused Himilco to burst into a roar of laughter.
"Our friend Bodmilcar," remarked Hannibal, "seems to be rather a morose sort of gentleman."
"Nothing of the sort, I assure you," said Hanno, satirically; "I hardly know a man of a brighter and more genial temperament; however, I confess that we may thank our stars that we have not to sail in the same ship with him."