Matho appeared insensible; suddenly he started off and began to run at random, making a noise with his lips like one shivering with severe cold.

He threaded the street of Boudes, and the street of Soepo, crossed the Green Market, and reached the square of Khamon.
He now belonged to the priests; the slaves had just dispersed the crowd, and there was more room.

Matho gazed round him and his eyes encountered Salammbo.
At the first step that he had taken she had risen; then, as he approached, she had involuntarily advanced by degrees to the edge of the terrace; and soon all external things were blotted out, and she saw only Matho.

Silence fell in her soul,--one of those abysses wherein the whole world disappears beneath the pressure of a single thought, a memory, a look.

This man who was walking towards her attracted her.
Excepting his eyes he had no appearance of humanity left; he was a long, perfectly red shape; his broken bonds hung down his thighs, but they could not be distinguished from the tendons of his wrists, which were laid quite bare; his mouth remained wide open; from his eye-sockets there darted flames which seemed to rise up to his hair;--and the wretch still walked on! He reached the foot of the terrace.