heater is full of their insistent roar and the upper tiers
aflash with flickering thumbs. They weigh no fine points as to the worth
of the vanquished man, they do not value a good fighter enough to want him
saved to fight again, they come to see men die and they want the defeated
man slaughtered at once.

They are habituated to acquiescing if the Emperor--or the Editor, if the
Prince is not present--or the nobility contravene their wishes and give
the signal for mercy when a gallant fighter is down by accident,
misadventure or because he was outmatched. But there is often a burst of
howls if the signal for mercy comes not from the Imperial Pavilion or the
whole _podium_, but merely from some part of the nobility or senators.
Generally, if the Emperor has not given or participated in the signal for
mercy, scattered individuals among the proletariat proclaim their
disappointment by booing, cat-calls, or strident whistlings.

Now Palus was so popular, so beloved by the slum-dwellers, that whenever
he showed a disposition to spare an opponent, the whole mass of the
populace were quick with the mercy-signal: the moment they saw Palus
sheathe his blade their arms went up with his, almost before his, thumbs
as flat as his, never a thumb out nor any fingers clenched.

More than this, no spectator, while Palus played an adversary, ever yelled
for a prompt finish to the bout, as almost always happened at the first
sign of delay in the case of any other fighter. So comprehensible, so
unmistakable, so manifest, so fascinating were the fine points of the
swordsmanship displayed by Palus that even the rearmost spectator, even
the most brutish lout could and did relish them and enjoy them and crave
the continuance of that pleasure.

Most of all the Colosseum audiences not only insisted on Palus appearing
in each exhibition, not only longed for his entrance, not merely came to
regard all the previous fights of the day as unwelcome postponements of
the pleasure of watching Palus fence, but were manifestly impatient for
the crowning delight of each day, the ecstacy of beholding a bout between
Palus and Murmex Lucro, which contests were always bloodless.

CHAPTER XXXV

MURMEX

Customarily, while Palus flourished, each day began with beast-fights, the
noon pause was filled in by exhibitions of athletes, acrobats, jugglers,
trained animals and such like, and the surprise; then the gladiatorial
shows lasted from early afternoo