aidst a visitor?'

'It is both visitor and present. Know, O dull and stupid! that it is a
most beautiful young tiger, for our approaching games in the
amphitheatre. Hear you that, Medon? Oh, what pleasure! I declare I
shall not sleep a wink till I see it; they say it has such a roar!'

'Poor fool!' said Medon, sadly and cynically.

'Fool me no fool, old churl! It is a pretty thing, a tiger, especially
if we could but find somebody for him to eat. We have now a lion and a
tiger; only consider that, Medon! and for want of two good criminals
perhaps we shall be forced to see them eat each other. By-the-by, your
son is a gladiator, a handsome man and a strong, can you not persuade
him to fight the tiger? Do now, you would oblige me mightily; nay, you
would be a benefactor to the whole town.'

'Vah! vah!' said the slave, with great asperity; 'think of thine own
danger ere thou thus pratest of my poor boy's death.'

'My own danger!' said the girl, frightened and looking hastily
around--'Avert the omen! let thy words fall on thine own head!' And the
girl, as she spoke, touched a talisman suspended round her neck. '"Thine
own danger!" what danger threatens me?'

'Had the earthquake but a few nights since no warning?' said Medon.
'Has it not a voice? Did it not say to us all, "Prepare for death; the
end of all things is at hand?"'

'Bah, stuff!' said the young woman, settling the folds of her tunic.
'Now thou talkest as they say the Nazarenes talked--methinks thou art
one of them. Well, I can prate with thee, grey croaker, no more: thou
growest worse and worse--Vale! O Hercules, send us a man for the
lion--and another for the tiger!'

Ho! ho! for the merry, merry show,
With a forest of faces in every row!
Lo, the swordsmen, bold as the son of Alcmena,
Sweep, side by side, o'er the hushed arena;
Talk while you may--you will hold your breath
When they meet in the grasp of the glowing death.
Tramp, tramp, how gaily they go!
Ho! ho! for the merry, merry show!

Chanting in a silver and clear voice this feminine ditty, and holding up
her tunic from the dusty road, the young woman stepped lightly across to
the crowded hostelry.

'My poor son!' said the slave, half aloud, 'is it for things like this
thou art to be butchered? Oh! faith of Christ, I could worship thee in
all sincerity, were it but for the horror which