it! Thunder and lightning! They are close together again--may the dust
choke him! No--it is all right; my Arabs are in front! All is well, keep
it up, lad, well done! We have won!"

The horses were pulled up, the dust settled; Marcus, the Christian, had
won the first missus. Cynegius held out the crown to the victor,
who bowed to receive it. Then he waved his hand to his mother, who
graciously waved hers in return, and he drove into the oppidurn and was
lost to sight.

Hippias flung down his whip in a rage, but the triumphant shouts of the
Christians drowned the music, the trumpet-blasts and the angry murmurs
of the defeated heathen. Threatening fists were shaken in the air, while
behind the carceres the drivers and owners of the red party scolded,
squabbled and stormed; and Hippias, who by his audacious swagger
had given away the race to their hated foe--to the Blues, the
Christians--narrowly escaped being torn in pieces.

The tumult and excitement were unparalleled; but Dada saw and heard
nothing. She sat in a blissful dream, gazing into her lap, while tears
of joyful reaction rolled down her cheeks. Demetrius saw her tears and
was glad; then, pointing out Mary to the girl, he informed her that she
was the mother of Marcus. And he registered a secret vow that, cost what
it might, he would bring his victorious brother and this sweet child
together.

The second and third missus, like the first, were marked by serious
accidents; both, however, were won for the Red party. In the fourth,
the decisive race, there were but three competitors: Marcus and the two
heathen winners. Demetrius watched it with less anxiety; he knew that
his Arabs were far superior to the Egyptian breed in staying power, and
they also had the advantage of having had a longer rest. In fact, the
final victory was adjudged to the young Christian.

Long before it was decided Dada had been impatiently fingering her
wreaths, and could hardly wait any longer to fling them into Marcus'
chariot. When it was all over she might perhaps have an opportunity of
speaking to him; and she thought how delightful his voice was and what
fine, kind eyes he had. If only he were to bid her be his, she would
follow him whither and wherever he desired, whatever Karnis and Herse
might say to the contrary. She thought no one could be so glad of his
success as she was; she felt as if she belonged to him, had always
belonged to him, and only some spiteful trick of Fate had