ocity. Thus they stood
for some moments, each eyeing each, until Sporus began slowly, and with
great caution, to advance, holding his sword pointed, like a modern
fencer's, at the breast of his foe. Niger retreated as his antagonist
advanced, gathering up his net with his right hand, and never taking his
small glittering eye from the movements of the swordsman. Suddenly when
Sporus had approached nearly at arm's length, the retiarius threw
himself forward, and cast his net. A quick inflection of body saved the
gladiator from the deadly snare! he uttered a sharp cry of joy and rage,
and rushed upon Niger: but Niger had already drawn in his net, thrown it
across his shoulders, and now fled round the lists with a swiftness
which the secutor in vain endeavored to equal. The people laughed and
shouted aloud, to see the ineffectual efforts of the broad-shouldered
gladiator to overtake the flying giant: when, at that moment, their
attention was turned from these to the two Roman combatants.

They had placed themselves at the onset face to face, at the distance of
modern fencers from each other: but the extreme caution which both
evinced at first had prevented any warmth of engagement, and allowed the
spectators full leisure to interest themselves in the battle between
Sporus and his foe. But the Romans were now heated into full and fierce
encounter: they pushed--returned--advanced on--retreated from each other
with all that careful yet scarcely perceptible caution which
characterizes men well experienced and equally matched. But at this
moment, Eumolpus, the elder gladiator, by that dexterous back-stroke
which was considered in the arena so difficult to avoid, had wounded
Nepimus in the side. The people shouted; Lepidus turned pale.

'Ho!' said Clodius, 'the game is nearly over. If Eumolpus fights now
the quiet fight, the other will gradually bleed himself away.'

'But, thank the gods! he does not fight the backward fight. See!--he
presses hard upon Nepimus. By Mars! but Nepimus had him there! the
helmet rang again!--Clodius, I shall win!'

'Why do I ever bet but at the dice?' groaned Clodius to himself;--or why
cannot one cog a gladiator?'

'A Sporus!--a Sporus!' shouted the populace, as Niger having now
suddenly paused, had again cast his net, and again unsuccessfully. He
had not retreated this time with sufficient agility--the sword of Sporus
had inflicted a severe wound upon his right leg; and, incapacitated to