were in everything else. Palus
fought better with his left hand attacking and his right defending, Murmex
better the other way, but each was genuinely ambidextrous and used either
hand at will, shifting at pleasure. When, amid the flash of their staffs,
either scored, the hit brought a roar of delight from the upper tiers,
even from the front rows, for the most dignified senators caught the
infection of the general enthusiasm and so far forgot themselves as to
yell like street urchins in their ecstasy.

Except in this farcical sort of burlesque fight neither ever scored a hit
on the other, in all the years throughout which their combats finished
each day of every gladiatorial exhibition. Yet the audience never tired of
their bloodless bouts and, while the nobility and gentry never joined in,
the populace invariably roared a protest if they saw the _lanistae_ make a
move to separate them, and yelled for them to go on and fence longer.

The interest of the populace was caused by the fact, manifest and plain to
all, that, while Murmex and Palus loved each other and had no intention of
hurting each other, their matches had no appearance whatever of being sham
fights. From the first parade until they separated every stroke, feint,
lunge and thrust appeared to be in deadly, venomous earnest and each
unhurt merely because, mortal as was his adversary's attack, his guard was
perfect.

It seemed, in fact, as if each man felt so completely safe, felt so
certain that his guard would never fail him, and at the same time felt so
sure that his crony's guard was equally faultless, that there was no
danger of his injuring his chum, that each attacked the other precisely as
he attacked any other adversary. It was commonly declared among expert
swordsmen and connoisseurs of sword-play, as among recent spectators,
when, talking over the features of an exhibition after it was over, that
practically every thrust, lunge or stroke of either in these bouts would
have killed or disabled any other adversary; certainly it appeared so to
me every time I saw them fence and especially while watching their bouts
after I returned from my year at Baiae, for after that I never missed a
gladiatorial exhibition in the Colosseum. To my mind Palus and Murmex were
manifestly playing with each other, like fox-cubs or Molossian puppies or
wolf-cubs; yet the sport so much resembled actual attack and defence, as
with nearly grown wolf-cubs, that it gave less t