'I feel humbled when I look at his limbs,' replied, at the left of Sosia, a slighter and younger figure, with his arms folded on his breast.
The slave looked first at one, and then at the other. 'Virtus in medio!--virtue is ever in the middle!' muttered he to himself; 'a goodly neighborhood for thee, Sosia--a gladiator on each side!'
'That is well said, Lydon,' returned the huger gladiator; 'I feel the same.'
'And to think,' observed Lydon, in a tone of deep feeling, to think that the noble Greek, he whom we saw but a day or two since before us, so full of youth, and health, and joyousness, is to feast yon monster!'
'Why not?' growled Niger, savagely: 'many an honest gladiator has been compelled to a like combat by the emperor--why not a wealthy murderer by the law?'
Lydon sighed, shrugged his shoulders, and remained silent. Meanwhile the common gazers listened with staring eyes and lips apart: the gladiators were objects of interest as well as the beasts--they were animals of the same species; so the crowd glanced from one to the other--the men and the brutes--whispering their comments and anticipating the morrow.
'Well!' said Lydon, turning away, 'I thank the gods that it is not the lion or the tiger I am to contend with; even you, Niger, are a gentler combatant than they.'
'But equally dangerous,' said the gladiator, with a fierce laugh; and the bystanders, admiring his vast limbs and ferocious countenance, laughed too.
'That as it may be,' answered Lydon, carelessly, as he pressed through the throng and quitted the den.
'I may as well take advantage of his shoulders,' thought the prudent Sosia, hastening to follow him: 'the crowd always give way to a gladiator, so Iwill keep close behind, and come in for a share of his consequence.'
The son of Medon strode quickly through the mob, many of whom recognized his features and profession.
'That is young Lydon, a brave fellow: he fights to-morrow,' said one.
'Ah! I have a bet on him,' said another; 'see how firmly he walks!'
'Good luck to thee, Lydon!' said a third.
'Lydon, you have my wishes,' half whispered a fourth, smiling (a comely woman of the middle class)--'and if you win, why, you may hear more of me.'
'A handsome man, by Venus!' cried a fifth, who was a girl scarce in her teens. 'Thank you,' returned Sosia, gravely taking the compliment to himself.
However strong the purer motives of Lydon, and certain though it be that he would never have entered so bloody a calling but from the hope of obtaining his father's freedom, he was not altogether unmoved by the notice he excited. He forgot that the voices now raised in commendation might, on the morrow, shout over his death-pangs. By nature fierce and reckless, as well as generous and warm-hearted, he was already imbued with the pride of a profession that he fancied he disdained, and affected by the influence of a companionship that in reality he loathed. He saw himself now a man of importance; his step grew yet lighter, and his mien more elate.
'Niger,' said he, turning suddenly, as he had now threaded the crowd; 'we have often quarrelled; we are not matched against each other, but one of us, at least, may reasonably expect to fall--give us thy hand.'
'Most readily,' said Sosia, extending his palm.
'Ha! what fool is this? Why, I thought Niger was at my heels!'
'I forgive the mistake,' replied Sosia, condescendingly: 'don't mention it;the error was easy--I and Niger are somewhat of the same build.'
'Ha! ha! that is excellent! Niger would have slit thy throat had he heard thee!'
'You gentlemen of the arena have a most disagreeable mode of talking,' said Sosia; 'let us change the conversation.'
'Vah! vah!' said Lydon, impatiently; 'I am in no humor to converse with thee!'
'Why, truly,' returned the slave, 'you must have serious thoughts enough to occupy your mind: to-morrow is, I think, your first essay in the arena.
Well, I am sure you will die bravely!'
'May thy words fall on thine own head!' said Lydon, superstitiously, for he by no means liked the blessing of Sosia. 'Die! No--I trust my hour is not yet come.'
'He who plays at dice with death must expect the dog's throw,' replied Sosia, maliciously. 'But you are a strong fellow, and I wish you all imaginable luck; and so, vale!'
With that the slave turned on his heel, and took his way homeward.
'I trust the rogue's words are not ominous,' said Lydon, musingly. 'In my zeal for my father's liberty, and my confidence in my own thews and sinews, I have not contemplated the possibility of death. My poor father! I am thy only son!--if I were to fall...'
As the thought crossed him, the gladiator strode on with a more rapid and restless pace, when suddenly, in an opposite street, he beheld the very object of his thoughts. Leaning on his stick, his form bent by care and age, his eyes downcast, and his steps trembling, the grey-haired Medon slowly approached towards the gladiator. Lydon paused a moment: he divined at once the cause that brought forth the old man at that late hour.
'Be sure, it is I whom he seeks,' thought he; 'he is horror struck at the condemnation of Olinthus--he more than ever esteems the arena criminal and hateful--he comes again to dissuade me from the contest. I must shun him--Icannot brook his prayers--his tears.'
These thoughts, so long to recite, flashed across the young man like lightning. He turned abruptly and fled swiftly in an opposite direction.
