effort, he threw himself fiercely on Eumolpus; the Roman warily
retreated--Lydon thrust again--Eumolpus drew himself aside--the sword
grazed his cuirass--Lydon's breast was exposed--the Roman plunged his
sword through the joints of the armor, not meaning however to inflict a
deep wound; Lydon, weak and exhausted, fell forward, fell right on the
point; it passed through and through, even to the back. Eumolpus drew
forth his blade; Lydon still made an effort to regain his balance--his
sword left his grasp--he struck mechanically at the gladiator with his
naked hand and fell prostrate on the arena. With one accord, aedile and
assembly made the signal of mercy; the officers of the arena approached,
they took off the helmet of the vanquished. He still breathed; his eyes
rolled fiercely on his foe; the savageness he had acquired in his
calling glared from his gaze and lowered upon the brow, darkened already
with the shades of death; then with a convulsive groan, with a
half-start, he lifted his eyes above. They rested not on the face of the
aedile nor on the pitying brows of the relenting judges. He saw them not;
they were as if the vast space was desolate and bare; one pale
agonizing face alone was all he recognized--one cry of a broken heart
was all that, amid the murmurs and the shouts of the populace, reached
his ear. The ferocity vanished from his brow; a soft, tender expression
of sanctifying but despairing filial love played over his
features--played--waned--darkened! His face suddenly became locked and
rigid, resuming its former fierceness. He fell upon the earth.

"Look to him," said the aedile; "he has done his duty!"

The officers dragged him off to the spoliarium.

"A true type of glory, and of its fate!" murmured Arbaces to himself;
and his eye, glancing around the amphitheatre, betrayed so much of
disdain and scorn that whoever encountered it felt his breath suddenly
arrested, and his emotions frozen into one sensation of abasement and
of awe.

Again rich perfumes were wafted around the theatre; the attendants
sprinkled fresh sand over the arena.

"Bring forth the lion and Glaucus the Athenian," said the aedile.

And a deep and breathless hush of overwrought interest and intense (yet
strange to say not unpleasing) terror lay like a mighty and awful dream
over the assembly.

* * * * *

The door swung gratingly back--the gleam of spears shot along the wall.

"Glaucus the At