It was by chance that he was at the feast, his father having domiciled him with the Barca family, according to the custom by which kings used to send their children into the households of the great in order to pave the way for alliances; but Narr' Havas had lodged there fox six months without having hitherto seen Salammbo, and now, seated on his heels, with his head brushing the handles of his javelins, he was watching her with dilated nostrils, like a leopard crouching among the bamboos.
On the other side of the tables was a Libyan of colossal stature, and with short black curly hair.

He had retained only his military jacket, the brass plates of which were tearing the purple of the couch.

A necklace of silver moons was tangled in his hairy breast.

His face was stained with splashes of blood; he was leaning on his left elbow with a smile on his large, open mouth.
Salammbo had abandoned the sacred rhythm.

With a woman's subtlety she was simultaneously employing all the dialects of the Barbarians in order to appease their anger.