When he left it at sunrise his interpreters, who used to sleep outside, did not stir; they lay on their backs with their eyes fixed, their tongues between their teeth, and their faces of a bluish colour.  White mucus flowed from their nostrils, and their limbs were stiff, as if they had all been frozen by the cold during the night.  Each had a little noose of rushes round his neck.

From that time onward the rebellion was unchecked.  The murder of the Balearians which had been recalled by Zarxas strengthened the distrust inspired by Spendius.  They imagined that the Republic was always trying to deceive them.  An end must be put to it!  The interpreters should be dispensed with!  Zarxas sang war songs with a sling around his head; Autaritus brandished his great sword; Spendius whispered a word to one or gave a dagger to another.  The boldest endeavoured to pay themselves, while those who were less frenzied wished to have the distribution continued.  No one now relinquished his arms, and the anger of all combined into a tumultuous hatred of Gisco.

Some got up beside him.  So long as they vociferated abuse they were listened to with patience; but if they tried to utter the least word in his behalf they were immediately stoned, or their heads were cut off by a sabre-stroke from behind.  The heap of knapsacks was redder than an altar.

They became terrible after their meal and when they had drunk wine!  This was an enjoyment forbidden in the Punic armies under pain of death, and they raised their cups in the direction of Carthage in derision of its discipline.  Then they returned to the slaves of the exchequer and again began to kill.  The word “strike,” though different in each language, was understood by all.

Gisco was well aware that he was being abandoned by his country; but in spite of its ingratitude he would not dishonour it.  When they reminded him that they had been promised ships, he swore by Moloch to provide them himself at his own expense, and pulling off his necklace of blue stones he threw it into the crowd as the pledge of his oath.

Then the Africans claimed the corn in accordance with the engagements made by the Great Council.  Gisco spread out the accounts of the Syssitia traced in violet pigment on sheep skins; and read out all that had entered Carthage month by month and day by day.

Suddenly he stopped with gaping eyes, as if he had just discovered his sentence of death among the figures.

The Ancients had, in fact, fraudulently reduced them, and the corn sold during the most calamitous period of the war was set down at so low a rate that, blindness apart, it was impossible to believe it.

“Speak!” they shouted.  “Louder!  Ah! he is trying to lie, the coward!  Don’t trust him.”

For some time he hesitated.  At last he resumed his task.

The soldiers, without suspecting that they were being deceived, accepted the accounts of the Syssitia as true.  But the abundance that had prevailed at Carthage made them furiously jealous.  They broke open the sycamore chest; it was three parts empty.  They had seen such sums coming out of it, that they thought it inexhaustible; Gisco must have buried some in his tent.  They scaled the knapsacks.  Matho led them, and as they shouted “The money! the money!” Gisco at last replied: