"What madness!" exclaimed the African, laughing.
"Hannibal," said the beautiful Amazon gravely, "remember Hasdrubal, the husband of your sister. The dagger of a slave was enough to put an end to him."
"Hasdrubal was doomed to die," said the chieftain, with the conviction of fatalism. "The fate of Carthage demanded his death. It was necessary that Hasdrubal should succumb to make way for Hannibal. But Hannibal has no one to replace him, and he shall live even though he were to sleep surrounded by enemies. My sleep is light and my arm is sure; he who slips into the tent of Hannibal enters his tomb."
Asbyte contemplated with loving admiration the young hero, who had flung down his bow, and while he spoke of his strength he raised his powerful arms, and the moon enlarged their shadow in such wise that as they moved he seemed to embrace the camp, the city, the whole valley, like a supernatural being.
The Amazon drew near leaning her lance against the trunk of a tree. On laying down her weapon she seemed to throw off her warlike mien, and she approached Hannibal with feminine sweetness, gazing upon him with the moist, timid eyes of the antelopes that frisk about the oases of her native land.
"Besides," she murmured, "I came because I needed to be near you. To guard your sleep gives me indescribable joy. I feel the delight of an exalting sacrifice in keeping vigil over you when you know it not. I never have an opportunity to speak with you. By day I see you on horseback among the Carthaginians with their golden armor, who flock around you; on foot directing those who push the engines of war, helping them, often, to excite their enthusiasm; but I see you always from afar, as a chieftain, as a hero, never as a man. Do you remember those days in the citadel of New Carthage when I had just arrived from Africa with the reinforcements which caused you to utter shouts of enthusiasm?"
"Asbyte! Asbyte!" murmured Hannibal, repelling her with a movement of his arms, as if the recollection annoyed him.
"Do not be angry, Hannibal; listen to me. I must speak to you. Give me at least the consolation of seeing you near, of telling you what I feel. If not, why have I come to Iberia, joining my fate to yours?"
The chieftain glanced around, as if fearing that someone might be listening to his conversation with the Amazon.
"Fear not," said Asbyte, divining his thought. "Mago, your brother, sleeps far from here with Maherbal, the favorite captain. My Numidians are at the opposite end of the camp. You surround yourself only with Iberians in order to encourage their fidelity with such a proof of confidence, and they do not understand Phœnician."