the Emperor, he offers
to exhibit for nothing. Who so pleased as Theocles now? He takes the chair
as archon with Leaena by his side, and off goes every soul in the place,
except Pannychis, who cannot bear the sight of blood, and Porphyry, who is
an outrageous humanitarian, and us poor devils left in charge of this old
dreamer."

"Couldn't we leave him to mind himself? He isn't likely to awake yet."

"Try him with your cloak-pin." The student detached the implement in
question, which was about the size of a small stiletto. Feeling uncertain
what part of his person was to be the subject of experiment, Plotinus
judged it advisable to manifest his recovery in an unmistakable fashion.

"O dear Master, what joy!" cried both the students in a breath. "Porphyry!
Porphyry!"

The trusty scholar appeared immediately, and under pretence of fetching
food, the two neophytes eloped to the amphitheatre.

"What means all this, Porphyry?" demanded Plotinus sternly. "The City of
Philosophers polluted by human blood! The lovers of wisdom mingling with
the dregs of the rabble!"

Porphyry's account, which Plotinus could only extract by consenting to eat
while his disciple talked, corresponded in all essential particulars with
that of the two young men.

"And I see not," added he, "what we can do in the matter. This abomination
is supposed to be in honour of the Emperor's victories. If we interfere
with it we shall be executed as rebels, supposing that we are not first
torn to pieces as rioters."

"Porphyry," replied Plotinus, "I should esteem this disgrace to philosophy
a disgrace to myself if I did not my utmost to avert it. Remain thou here,
and perform my funeral rites if it be necessary."

But to this Porphyry would by no means consent, and the two philosophers
proceeded to the amphitheatre together. It was so crowded that there was no
room on the seats for another person. Theocles was enthroned in the chair
of honour, his beard manifesting evident traces of the depilatories
administered by Leaena, who nevertheless sat by his side, her voluptuous
face gloating over the anticipated banquet of agony. The philosophic part
of the spectators were ranged all around, the remaining seats were occupied
by a miscellaneous public. The master of the gladiators, a man of
distinguished appearance, whose yellow locks gave him the aspect of a
barbarian prince, stood in the arena surrounded by his myrmidons. The entry
of Plotinus and Porphyry a