hers retreated, a black body swaying between their
terrible teeth, and, insensibly, a descending quiet.

At once there was an eruption of bellowing elephants, painted and
trained for slaughter, that trampled on wounded and dead. At a call
from a keeper the elephants disappeared. There was a rush of mules and
slaves; the carcasses and corpses vanished, the toilet of the ring was
made; then came a plunge of bulls, mists of vapor about their long,
straight horns, their anxious eyes dilated. Beyond was a troop of
Thessalians. For a moment the bulls snorted, pawing the sand with their
fore-feet, as though trying to realize what they were doing there. Yet
instantly they seemed to know, and with lowered heads, they plunged on
the point of spears. But no matter, horses went down by the hundred;
and as the bulls tired of gorging the dead, they fought each other;
fought rancorously, fought until weariness overtook them, and the
surviving Thessalians leaped on their backs, twisted their horns, and
threw them down, a sword through their throbbing throats.

Successively the arena was occupied by bears, by panthers, by dogs
trained for the chase, by hunters and hunted. But the episode of the
morning was a dash of wild elephants, attacked on either side; a moment
of sheer delight, in which the hunters were tossed up on the terraces,
tossed back again by the spectators, and trampled to death.

With that for bouquet the first part of the performance was at an end.
By way of interlude, the ring was peopled with acrobats, who flew up in
the air like birds, formed pyramids together, on the top of which
little boys swung and smiled. There was a troop of trained lions, their
manes gilded, that walked on tight-ropes, wrote obscenities in Greek,
and danced to cymbals which one of them played. There were
geese-fights, wonderful combats between dwarfs and women; a chariot
race, in which bulls, painted white, held the reins, standing upright
while drawn at full speed; a chase of ostriches, and feats of haute
ecole on zebras from Madagascar.

The interlude at an end, the sand was reraked, and preceded by the pomp
of lictors, interminable files of gladiators entered, holding their
knives to Nero that he might see that they were sharp. It was then the
eyes of the vestals lighted; artistic death was their chiefest joy, and
in a moment, when the spectacle began and the first gladiator fell,
above the din you could hear their cry "Hic habet!" and wa