e be made, and a cunning and dexterous
smith; for the dungeon of my fellow-prisoner is thick and strong. Oh!
by thy right hand and thy father's ashes, lose not a moment!"'

'Great Jove!' exclaimed Sallust, starting, 'and this day--nay, within
this hour, perhaps, he dies. What is to be done? I will instantly to
the praetor.'

'Nay; not so. The praetor (as well as Pansa, the editor himself) is the
creature of the mob; and the mob will not hear of delay; they will not
be balked in the very moment of expectation. Besides, the publicity of
the appeal would forewarn the cunning Egyptian. It is evident that he
has some interest in these concealments. No; fortunately thy slaves are
in thy house.'

'I seize thy meaning,' interrupted Sallust: 'arm the slaves instantly.
The streets are empty. We will ourselves hasten to the house of
Arbaces, and release the prisoners. Quick! quick! What ho! Davus
there! My gown and sandals, the papyrus and a reed.' I will write to
the praetor, to beseech him to delay the sentence of Glaucus, for that,
within an hour, we may yet prove him innocent. So, so, that is well.
Hasten with this, Davus, to the praetor, at the amphitheatre. See it
given to his own hand. Now then, O ye gods! whose providence Epicurus
denied, befriend me, and I will call Epicurus a liar!'

Chapter IV
THE AMPHITHEATRE ONCE MORE.

GLAUCUS and Olinthus had been placed together in that gloomy and narrow
cell in which the criminals of the arena awaited their last and fearful
struggle. Their eyes, of late accustomed to the darkness, scanned the
faces of each other in this awful hour, and by that dim light, the
paleness, which chased away the natural hues from either cheek, assumed
a yet more ashy and ghastly whiteness. Yet their brows were erect and
dauntless--their limbs did not tremble--their lips were compressed and
rigid. The religion of the one, the pride of the other, the conscious
innocence of both, and, it may be, the support derived from their mutual
companionship, elevated the victim into the hero.

'Hark! hearest thou that shout They are growling over their human
blood,' said Olinthus.

'I hear; my heart grows sick; but the gods support me.'

'The gods! O rash young man! in this hour recognize only the One God.
Have I not taught thee in the dungeon, wept for thee, prayed for
thee?--in my zeal and in my agony, have I not thought more of thy
salvation than my own?'

'Brave friend!' answered