state, where sat Orestes, gorgeous in his
robes of office, and by him--to Philammon's surprise and horror--Hypatia
herself.

More beautiful than ever, her forehead sparkling, like Juno's own, with
a lofty tiara of jewels, her white Ionic robe half hidden by a crimson
shawl, there sat the vestal, the philosopher. What did she there? But
the boy's eager eyes, accustomed but too well to note every light and
shade of feeling which crossed that face, saw in a moment how wan
and haggard was its expression. She wore a look of constraint, of
half-terrified self-resolve, as of a martyr: and yet not an undoubting
martyr; for as Orestes turned his head at the stir of Philammon's
intrusion, and flashing with anger at the sight, motioned him fiercely
back, Hypatia turned too, and as her eyes met her pupil's she blushed
crimson, and started, and seemed in act to motion him back also; and
then, recollecting herself, whispered something to Orestes which quieted
his wrath, and composed herself, or rather sank into her place again, as
one who was determined to abide the worst.

A knot of gay young gentlemen, Philammon's fellow-students, pulled him
down among them, with welcome and laughter; and before he could collect
his thoughts, the curtain in front of the stage had fallen, and the
sport began.

The scene represented a background of desert mountains, and on the stage
itself, before a group of temporary huts, stood huddling together the
black Libyan prisoners, some fifty men, women, and children, bedizened
with gaudy feathers and girdles of tasselled leather, brandishing their
spears and targets, and glaring out with white eyes on the strange scene
before them, in childish awe and wonder.

Along the front of the stage a wattled battlement had been erected,
while below, the hyposcenium had been painted to represent rocks, thus
completing the rough imitation of a village among the Libyan hills.

Amid breathless silence, a herald advanced, and proclaimed that these
were prisoners taken in arms against the Roman senate and people,
and therefore worthy of immediate death: but that the Prefect, in his
exceeding clemency toward them, and especial anxiety to afford the
greatest possible amusement to the obedient and loyal citizens of
Alexandria, had determined, instead of giving them at once to the
beasts, to allow them to fight for their lives, promising to the
survivors a free pardon if they acquitted themselves valiantly.

The poor w