gisel?" he asked in a
low, hurried tone.

"Yes, certainly! To throw the dice. Recollect yourself!"

"Impossible!"

"You said: 'If I throw higher, each shall keep what he has; if I throw
lower--'"

"Oh, God! Yes! It's nothing, little one! Don't heed me."

He turned again to Modigisel, whispering, "Give me back my promise!"

"Never!"

"You can break it," sneered Astarte.

"Serpent!" he cried, raising his clinched fist, but he controlled
himself; then, helpless as a bear entangled in a net, the giant turned
beseechingly to Modigisel: "Spare me!"

But the latter shook his head.

"I will withdraw the stallion from the races," he said aloud to
Thrasabad. "I am satisfied with the fact that no one dares to run
against him."

"Then the race can take place, but at the end of the entertainment.
First, there are two surprises which I have prepared for you in another
place. Come, Glauke, your hand; up, rise! Follow me, all you guests of
Thrasaric, follow me to the Amphitheatre."

CHAPTER XV

Heralds, with blasts of the tuba, announced the invitation throughout
the whole spacious building, and, thanks to the admirable arrangements
and the great number of exits, the arena was very quickly emptied. The
thousands of spectators, amid the music of flute-players, now moved in
a stately procession to the neighboring Amphitheatre.

This was an oval building, the axis of its inner ellipse measuring two
hundred and forty feet. The plan resembled that of the Circus, an outer
wall in two stories of arches, each story adorned with statues and
pillars. Here, too, from the oval arena, the rows of seats ascended in
steps divided by vertical walls, separated into triangles by the stairs
leading to the exits, or vomitories.

The host and his most distinguished guests were assigned places in the
raised gallery on the podium directly adjoining the arena, formerly
occupied by the Senators of Carthage.

The Amphitheatre had a subterranean connection with the adjacent lake.
From the grated cellars, concealed by curtains, the mingled cries of
various animals greeted the entering spectators. Often the snarls and
yells partially died away, and a mighty, ominous howl, or rather roar,
rose from the farthest cellar, dominating the voices of the smaller
beasts, which sank into silence, as if from fear.

"Are you afraid, my little bird?" asked Thrasaric, who was leading his
bride by the hand. "You are tremb