Salammbo was leaning over the balustrade; those frightful eyeballs were scanning her, and there rose within her a consciousness of all that he had suffered for her.

Although he was in his death agony she could see him once more kneeling in his tent, encircling her waist with his arms, and stammering out gentle words; she thirsted to feel them and hear them again; she did not want him to die! At this moment Matho gave a great start; she was on the point of shrieking aloud.

He fell backwards and did not stir again.
Salammbo was borne back, nearly swooning, to her throne by the priests who flocked about her.

They congratulated her; it was her work.

All clapped their hands and stamped their feet, howling her name.
A man darted upon the corpse.