"I must be lord of the world! I want Carthage, only Carthage, to exist upon the earth, because Carthage is my native land! Had I been born a Roman, Rome should be mistress! With my name I mean to obliterate the memory of Alexander the Macedonian, to be greater than he, to conquer wider territories, and I dream of undertakings less easy than dominating the Asiatics, weakened by the softening tendency of the sun and of riches. Rome is sturdy, she is stronger than our republic of merchants corroded by avarice and pleasure; her hands are calloused by the plow handle and the lance—then against Rome am I headed! Alexander! How weak is his glory! It is easy to march to the conquest of the world when one is the son of Philip, who leaves as inheritance an army seasoned by a hundred victories, when one has an obedient kingdom at one's back, and even in childhood has the good fortune to receive instruction from Aristotle. The difficult thing is to be Hannibal, abandoned by my country, with no other resources than those I can find for myself; having to face at the same time the fury of the enemy and the treachery and intrigue of my fellow countrymen, reared far from my father, among astute merchants who, keeping me as hostage, sought to avoid future danger by diverting my warlike instincts; with no other culture than a little Greek which Sosilon the Spartan taught me; but despite all this, Hannibal wars with fate, and he is conquering. If Alexander is admired for his conquests in the land of the rising sun, some day the world will be startled at seeing me, after having crushed men, dominating Nature herself by crossing the loftiest glaciers and changing the positions of mountains to continue on my way. Look at me well, Asbyte, and you will be convinced that it is as useless to try to arouse human sentiments in my heart as to soften the breast of the enormous bronze Moloch which we have in Carthage! A moment ago, in the solitude of my tent, I felt weak and disheartened, but talking with you revives my strength. Look at me well; you are in the presence of one who fears neither men nor gods!"
"The gods!" exclaimed Asbyte with a throb of terror. "Do you not fear that they will punish you?"
A peal of laughter, sarcastic, tinged with deep scorn, answered the Amazon.
"The gods!" exclaimed Hannibal. "I live among warriors of all nations. Each one adores his own gods, and I know so many, so many, that I do not believe in any of them, and I jest at them all. In Carthage I adored Moloch; here you have often seen me dedicate sacrifices to the Iberian divinities, to attract the people to me. If some day I enter as a conqueror that city where my thought continually dwells, the populace shall acclaim me, seeing me climb to the Capitol to offer thanks to their gods. I believe only in force and strategy. I have but one tutelary god—war, who makes giants of men, giving them the omnipotence of divinity. If on becoming lord of the earth, I find no one with whom to fight, I shall die, thinking the world empty!"
The Amazon bowed her head, overcome with sadness.
"I realize now that you will never be mine, Hannibal! You love war above all things else, and will be faithful to it as long as you live. You are indeed a bird of prey; the momentary love of a slave woman satisfies you; the wounded and weeping woman who falls into the power of your soldiers as they enter a city through a breach in its walls satiates you. You will never understand love and its sweetness."
Hannibal shrugged his shoulders scornfully.
"I love victory, success! The laurel which Greek heroes bound upon their brows in the triumph has for me a more penetrating perfume than the roses of the poets. Cease your laments, Asbyte; be a warrior, and forget that you are a woman; I will love you more. You shall be my brother in arms. Why think of those nights of love when I was still in misfortune and lacking in soldiers, now that all Iberia follows me and I see my dreams of world-power beginning to be realized? Look over this camp, where infinite tongues are spoken, and where each tribe dresses in a different costume. They flow in like streams which swell the torrent. Each day new warriors appear. How many are they? No one knows. Maherbal said yesterday that there were a hundred and twenty thousand; I believe that soon there will be a hundred and eighty thousand. Blind faith in Hannibal draws them on; they feel that with me they march to victory; perhaps their gods have told them that this is but the beginning of a series of achievements which will astound the world. Ponder over it, Asbyte! These peoples have spent their lives fighting among themselves; they hated each other, and yet the sword of Hannibal is a shepherd's crook which guides them like a common flock; and after this miracle would you have me waste my time loving you, staying in my tent lying at your feet, my head upon your knees, listening to you while you sing the dreamy songs of the oasis? No! Lightning of Baal! The city stands before us, mocking at the greatest army ever gathered together on the fields of Iberia, and this must stop. The hempen tent must crush the tower of stone. Sharpen well your lance, daughter of Iarbas; prepare your faithful steed, my beloved! That mysterious breeze which I always perceive on the eve of a victory blows around me. This very day we shall enter Saguntum."
He glanced to the east as if impatient for the coming of dawn.
The moon shone less clearly; the sky darkened, its blue becoming more dense, and on the side toward the sea a broad belt of violet light appeared.