The setting sun, although free from mist, shed no rays.
Not a breath of air rippled the leaden surface of the sea; not the smallest wavelet played upon the strand.
Not an olive-leaf moved in all the wide plain; not even the easily-shaken reeds in the marshy ditches trembled.
No cry of an animal, no flight of a bird could be heard or perceived; and a strange choking smell, as if of sulphur, seemed to lie oppressively over land and sea, and to check respiration. The mules and horses in the camp kicked uneasily against the posts to which they were tied. A few camels and dromedaries, which Belisarius had brought with him from Africa, buried their heads in the sand.
The wanderer heaved a deep breath, and looked about him in surprise.
"How sultry! Just as it is before the 'wind of death' arises in the deserts of Egypt," he said to himself. "Sultry everywhere--outside and inside. Upon whose head will the long-withheld fury of Nature and Passion be let loose?"
He entered his tent.
Syphax accosted him.
"Sir, if I were at home, I should think that the poisonous breath of the God of the Desert was coming over us." And he handed a letter to the Prefect.
It was the answer of the King of the Franks. Hastily Cethegus tore open the great shining seal.