d the unexampled fee paid Palus for each of his appearances in the
arena. The managers of the games were obliged to include Palus in each
exhibition or risk a riot of the indignant populace.

Now no sham fighter could fool the Roman populace. A make-believe
swordsman, such as the pamphlets which I have cited allege Commodus to
have been, might, if Emperor, have overawed the senators and nobles of
equestrian rank and compelled their unwilling applause of sham feats. But
no man, not even an Emperor, could coerce the Roman proletariat into
applauding a fighter unworthy of applause. Our populace, once seated to
view a show of any kind, cannot be controlled, cannot even be swayed. No
fame of any charioteer, beast-fighter or gladiator can win from them
tolerance of the smallest error of judgment, defect of action, attempt at
foul play or hint of fear: they boo anything of which they disapprove and
not Jupiter himself could elicit from them applause of anything except
exhibitions of courage, skill, artistry and quickness fine enough to rouse
their admiration. They admired Palus, they adored him.

This is well known to all men and proves Palus a consummate artist as a
gladiator. Not only would the populace howl a bungler or coward off the
sand, they know every shade of excellence; only a superlatively perfect
swordsman could kindle their enthusiasm and keep it at white heat year
after year as did Palus.

Palus, I may remark, was always a gallant fighter, and a combination of
skill and gallantry in an adversary so won his goodwill that he never
killed or seriously wounded such an opponent. If his antagonist had an
unusually perfect guard and a notably dangerous attack, was handsome,
moved gracefully, displayed courage and fought with impeccable fairness
Palus felt a liking for him, showed it by the way in which he stood on the
defensive and mitigated the deadliness of his attacks, played him longer
than usual to demonstrate to all the spectators the qualities he discerned
in him, and, when he was convinced that the onlookers felt as he felt,
disabled his admired match with some effective but trifling wound.

Then, when his victim collapsed, Palus would leap back from him, sheath
his sword, and saw the air with his empty left hand, fingers extended and
pressed together, thumb flat against the crack between the roots of the
index finger and big finger, twisting his hand about and varying the angle
at which he sawed the air, so t