tlessly from him. At length, as if tired of attempting to
escape, it crept with a moan into its cage, and once more laid itself
down to rest.

The first surprise of the assembly at the apathy of the lion soon grew
converted into resentment at its cowardice; and the populace already
merged their pity for the fate of Glaucus into angry compassion for
their own disappointment.

The editor called to the keeper:--"How is this? Take the goad, prick him
forth, and then close the door of the den."

As the keeper, with some fear but more astonishment, was preparing to
obey, a loud cry was heard at one of the entrances of the arena; there
was a confusion, a bustle--voices of remonstrance suddenly breaking
forth, and suddenly silenced at the reply. All eyes turned in
wonder at the interruption, toward the quarter of the disturbance; the
crowd gave way, and suddenly Sallust appeared on the senatorial benches,
his hair disheveled--breathless--heated--half exhausted. He cast his
eyes hastily round the ring. "Remove the Athenian!" he cried; "haste--he
is innocent! Arrest Arbaces the Egyptian--HE is the murderer of
Apaecides!"

[Illustration: _IN THE ARENA,_ Photogravure from a Drawing by Frank
Kirchbach.

"Glaucus had bent his limbs so as to give himself the firmest posture at
the expected rush of the lion, with his small and shining weapon raised
on high, in the faint hope that _one_ well-directed thrust (for he knew
that he should have time but for _one_) might penetrate through the eye
to the brain of his grim foe. But to the unutterable astonishment of
all, the beast seemed not even aware of the presence of the criminal." ]

[Illustration: Untitled]

"Art thou mad, O Sallust!" said the praetor, rising from his seat. "What
means this raving?"

"Remove the Athenian!--Quick! or his blood be on your head. Praetor,
delay, and you answer with your own life to the Emperor! I bring with me
the eye-witness to the death of the priest Apaecides. Room there, stand
back, give way. People of Pompeii, fix every eye upon Arbaces; there he
sits! Room there for the priest Calenus!"

Pale, haggard, fresh from the jaws of famine and of death, his face
fallen, his eyes dull as a vulture's, his broad frame gaunt as a
skeleton, Calenus was supported into the very row in which Arbaces sat.
His releasers had given him sparingly of food; but the chief sustenance
that nerved his feeble limbs was revenge!

"The priest Calenus--Calenus!" cried th