come between
them.

There was a fresh blast of trumpets; the victor, in obedience to a
time-honored custom, was to drive round the arena at a foot-pace and
show his brave team to the multitude. He came nearer and nearer, and
Demetrius proposed that they should cross the little watercourse that
parted the podium from the arena and follow the chariot, so as to
give his brother the wreaths instead of flinging them to him. The girl
colored and could say neither yes or no; but she rose, hung one of the
olive-crowns on her arm with a happy, bashful smile, and handed the
other to her new friend; then she followed him across the little bridge
on to the race-course which, now that the games were over, was crowded
with Christians.

The brothers exchanged pleased greetings from afar, but Marcus did not
see Dada till she was close to him and stood, with a shy but radiant
glance of intense delight, holding out the olive-wreath for his
acceptance. He felt as though Heaven had wrought a miracle in his favor.
Never before had he thought her half so lovely. She seemed to have
grown since he had seen her last, to have gained a deeper and nobler
expression; and he observed, too, the blue favors on her shoulder and
among the roses that crowned her fair curls. Gladness and surprise
prevented his speaking; but he took the garland she offered him and,
seizing her hands, stammered out: "Thanks--thank you, Dada."

Their eyes met, and as he gazed into her face he forgot where he was,
did not even wonder why his brother had suddenly turned away and,
beginning some long-winded speech, had rushed after a man who hastily
covered his head and tried to escape; he did not notice that thousands
of eyes were fixed on him, and among them his mother's; he could merely
repeat: "thanks" and "Dada"--the only words he could find. He would
perhaps have gone on repeating them, but that he was interrupted; the
'porta libitinaria'--the gate through which the dead or injured were
usually carried out, was thrown open, and a rabble of infuriated heathen
rushed in, crying: "Serapis is fallen! They have destroyed the image of
Serapis! The Christians are ruining the sanctuaries of the gods!"

A sudden panic seized the assembled multitude; the Reds rushed down from
their places into the arena to hear the details and ask questions--ready
to fight for the god or to fly for safety. In an instant the victor's
chariot was surrounded by an angry mob; Dada clutched it for p