henian, thy time has come," said a loud and clear voice;
"the lion awaits thee."

"I am ready," said the Athenian. "Brother and co-mate, one last embrace!
Bless me--and farewell!"

The Christian opened his arms; he clasped the young heathen to his
breast; he kissed his forehead and cheek; he sobbed aloud; his tears
flowed fast and hot over the features of his new friend.

"Oh! could I have converted thee, I had not wept. Oh that I might say to
thee, 'We two shall sup this night in Paradise!'"

"It may be so yet," answered the Greek with a tremulous voice, "They
whom death parts now may yet meet beyond the grave; on the earth--oh!
the beautiful, the beloved earth, farewell for ever! Worthy officer, I
attend you."

Glaucus tore himself away; and when he came forth into the air, its
breath, which though sunless was hot and arid, smote witheringly upon
him. His frame, not yet restored from the effects of the deadly
draught, shrank and trembled. The officers supported him.

"Courage!" said one; "thou art young, active, well knit. They give thee
a weapon! despair not, and thou mayst yet conquer."

Glaucus did not reply; but ashamed of his infirmity, he made a desperate
and convulsive effort and regained the firmness of his nerves. They
anointed his body, completely naked save by a cincture round the loins,
placed the stilus (vain weapon!) in his hand, and led him into
the arena.

And now when the Greek saw the eyes of thousands and tens of thousands
upon him, he no longer felt that he was mortal. All evidence of fear,
all fear itself, was gone. A red and haughty flush spread over the
paleness of his features; he towered aloft to the full of his glorious
stature. In the elastic beauty of his limbs and form; in his intent but
unfrowning brow; in the high disdain and in the indomitable soul which
breathed visibly, which spoke audibly, from his attitude, his lip, his
eye,--he seemed the very incarnation, vivid and corporeal, of the valor
of his land; of the divinity of its worship: at once a hero and a god!

The murmur of hatred and horror at his crime which had greeted his
entrance died into the silence of involuntary admiration and
half-compassionate respect; and with a quick and convulsive sigh, that
seemed to move the whole mass of life as if it were one body, the gaze
of the spectators turned from the Athenian to a dark uncouth object in
the centre of the arena. It was the grated den of the lion.

"By Venus, how