"I shall die," said the Athenian simply, "but there, inside those walls, are men who received me as a compatriot when I was wandering hungry over the world; there is a woman who took me in when I was poor, and gave me love and riches. They sent me to Rome that I might bring them a word of hope, and I must return, even though it be only to give them sorrow and pain. What does it matter if you set me free? To-morrow perhaps you can kill me. I shall be one more mouth to feed, and surely hunger must reign in Saguntum. Perhaps when I tell them the truth, when they see me return without assistance, their courage may weaken and they may give up the town to you. Let me pass through the lines, Hannibal; with this, it may be that without desiring to do so, I shall forward your plans."
Hannibal looked at him in surprise.
"Madman! I never believed an Athenian capable of such a sacrifice. You are such a light-hearted people, so given to perfidy, so false when you wish to satisfy your egoism! You are the first Greek I ever found faithful to the city which adopted him. Carthage had worse luck with the mercenaries from your country! It is impossible to make anything of you; you are only half a man! Love overmasters you; you are not satisfied as I am with the woman who wanders around the camp, or whom one takes when a city is assaulted and afterwards turns over to the soldiers. You bind yourself to a woman, you become her slave, and you seek an inglorious death in a dark corner of the world, like a mercenary in the service of a handful of merchants, merely for the sake of seeing her again. Go, madman, go! I give you your liberty—I wish to hear no more about you. I was ready to make you a hero and you answer me like a slave. Go in to Saguntum, but know that the protection of Hannibal abandons you from this moment. If you fall into my hands inside the city you will be my prisoner, never my friend!"
Digging his heels into his horse's ribs, Hannibal dashed into his camp, contemptuously turning his back upon the Greek. In a moment a young Carthaginian approached, who, without a word, nor even a glance at him, grasped his bridle-reins and proceeded toward Saguntum.
As they gained the outposts of the besieging army the Carthaginian pronounced a word and Actæon passed on amid the hostile gaze of the soldiers who had heard of the scene at the port, and were clamoring with rage, thinking of the chains which the legates from Rome had the insolence to show to their chief. That Greek who was about to enter the besieged city must have been a companion of the legates, and many placed an arrow in the bow to shoot at him, but were restrained by a cold and haughty glance from the young Carthaginian who spoke in the name of Hannibal.
They arrived at the ruins of the first walled quarter. The van of the besieging army was within the shelter of the walls. The Greek dismounted, and breaking a thorny branch from a bush he walked on, holding it aloft as a signal of peace.
He stood before the wall which had been built under his direction one night to hold back the invader. Upon it he saw the helmets of only a few defenders. The besieger was directing his attacks against the upper part. That side of the city where the early battles had taken place was almost abandoned. The guardians on the wall greeted Actæon with loud shouts of surprise and joy, and they lowered a rope of esparto to help him climb up by means of the rough places on the wall, until he could enter through a crenel near the top. All surrounded the Greek eagerly. It seemed as if he were in the presence of spectres. Their bodies appeared ready to slip out of their ample armor; their faces, sad, yellow, parchment-like, were hidden beneath the visors of their helmets; their fleshless, wrinkled hands could barely sustain their weapons, and a strange, golden effulgence glowed in their eyes.
Actæon parried their flood of questions with kind words of encouragement. He would speak opportunely; he must first render an account of his mission to the Elders of the Senate. They must be calm; before night they should know all. Filled with commiseration in the presence of these heroes, he lied mercifully, declaring that Rome would not forget Saguntum, and that he had come in advance of the legions sent by the allies.
From the houses nearby, from the streets close to the wall, issued men and women drawn by news of the arrival of the Greek. They surrounded him, they questioned him; all wished to be first to receive the news to scatter it through the city. Defending himself from them, Actæon gazed with horror at their lean, yellow faces, their earthy skin outlining the prominent sutures of their skulls; their sunken eyes in their black orbits shining with an unearthly light, like fading stars reflected in the depths of a well, and their emaciated arms, which creaked like canes as they moved them with nervous emotion.
He started onward, escorted by the multitude, preceded by boys absolutely nude, horrible to look at, with skins ready to break from the pressure of their ribs outlined one above the other, with enormously large heads above their fleshless necks. They staggered painfully, as if their tottering, thread-like limbs could not bear the weight of their bodies; some, to lessen their suffering, dragged themselves along the ground, lacking the strength to stand.