Alcon was silent for a moment; he passed his hand over his forehead with a gesture of pain as if to obliterate terrible recollections.
"No one knows better than we Elders what occurs in the city," he continued. "The gods must shudder with horror when they see the deeds done in Saguntum since they abandoned her. Listen and forget, Actæon," he said in a low voice and with an accent of fear. "Yesterday two women, maddened by hunger, drew lots to choose which one of their children they should devour. We Elders have closed our eyes and our ears; we have not desired to see nor to hear, understanding that punishment would only serve to increase the horrors. The men who are fighting on the walls are chewing the leather from their weapons to deceive hunger. Their flesh is loosened from their bones, they weaken and fall as if wounded by an invisible stroke from the gods. We have resisted for nearly eight months; two-thirds of the city no longer exists. We have done enough to demonstrate before heaven and before man how Saguntum fulfills her oaths."
The Greek bowed his head, convinced by Alcon's arguments.
"Moreover the valor of the city is breaking down," continued the Elder. "Faith is dying. The omens are all against us. There are people who, during the night, have seen globes of fire rise from the Acropolis and fly toward the sea, plunging into the waters like shooting stars which cut through the blue of heaven with a stream of light. The people believe that they are the penates of the city, who, divining the coming destruction of Saguntum, are abandoning it to go and establish themselves on the other side of the sea whence they came. Last night, those who were watching up there in the temple of Hercules saw a serpent glide from beneath the tomb of Zacynthus, hissing as if it were wounded. It was blue, with golden stars—the serpent which bit Zacynthus and was the cause of the foundation of the city around the tomb of the hero. He crawled between the feet of the astonished watchers; he fled down the mount, and crept off across the plain in the direction of the sea. He also has abandoned us; the sacred reptile which was like the tutelary god of Saguntum."
"It may not be true," said the Greek. "It may be the hallucinations of a people tormented by hunger."
"That may be; but observe the women and you will find them weeping; in addition to their misery they are lamenting the flight of the serpent of Zacynthus. They believe the city defenseless, and many men on the walls will feel weaker to-day when they hear of the strange disappearance. Faith is the staff on which the people lean."
The two men remained silent for a while.
"Go," said the Greek, at last: "Speak to Hannibal, and may the gods incline his heart toward clemency!"
"Why do you not come with me—you who have traveled so much, and who possess the eloquence of conviction? You can help me."
"Hannibal knows me. I have refused his friendship, and he hates me. Go and save the city. My fate is sealed. The African will never abate his anger. He will pardon anyone but me. I will die rather than become his slave, or suffer myself to be put to death on a cross."