The moon was rising just above the waves, and on the town which was still wrapped in darkness there glittered white and luminous¹ specks:— the pole of a chariot, a dangling² rag of linen³, the corner of a wall, or a golden necklace on the bosom⁴ of a god. The glass balls on the roofs of the temples beamed like great diamonds here and there. But ill-defined ruins, piles of black earth, and gardens formed deeper masses in the gloom, and below Malqua fishermen’s nets stretched from one house to another like gigantic bats spreading their wings. The grinding of the hydraulic⁵ wheels which conveyed water to the highest storys of the palaces, was no longer heard; and the camels, lying ostrich⁶ fashion on their stomachs, rested peacefully in the middle of the terraces. The porters were asleep in the streets on the thresholds of the houses; the shadows of the colossuses stretched across the deserted⁷ squares; occasionally in the distance the smoke of a still burning sacrifice would escape through the bronze tiling, and the heavy breeze would waft⁸ the odours of aromatics⁹ blended with the scent¹⁰ of the sea and the exhalation from the sun-heated walls. The motionless waves shone around Carthage, for the moon was spreading her light at once upon the mountain-circled gulf¹¹ and upon the lake of Tunis, where flamingoes formed long rose-coloured lines amid the banks of sand, while further on beneath the catacombs the great salt

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