’But Lydon is not disheartened.  By Pollux! how well he keeps his temper.  See how dexterously he avoids those hammer-like hands!—­dodging now here, now there—­circling round and round.  Ah, poor Lydon! he has it again.’

‘Three to one still on Tetraides!  What say you, Lepidus?’

’Well, nine sestertia to three—­be it so!  What! again, Lydon?  He stops—­he gasps for breath.  By the gods, he is down.  No—­he is again on his legs.  Brave Lydon!  Tetraides is encouraged—­he laughs loud—­he rushes on him.’

’Fool—­success blinds him—­he should be cautious.  Lydon’s eye is like the lynx’s,’ said Clodius, between his teeth.

’Ha, Clodius! saw you that?  Your man totters!  Another blow—­he falls—­he falls!’

’Earth revives him, then.  He is once more up; but the blood rolls down his face.’

’By the thunderer!  Lydon wins it.  See how he presses on him!  That blow on the temple would have crushed an ox! it has crushed Tetraides.  He falls again—­he cannot move—­habet!—­habet!’

‘Habet!’ repeated Pansa.  ’Take them out and give them the armor and swords.’

‘Noble editor,’ said the officers, ’we fear that Tetraides will not recover in time; howbeit, we will try.’

‘Do so.’

In a few minutes the officers, who had dragged off the stunned and insensible gladiator, returned with rueful countenances.  They feared for his life; he was utterly incapacitated from re-entering the arena.

‘In that case,’ said Pansa, ’hold Lydon a subdititius; and the first gladiator that is vanquished, let Lydon supply his place with the victor.’  The people shouted their applause at this sentence:  then they again sunk into deep silence.  The trumpet sounded loudly.  The four combatants stood each against each in prepared and stern array.

’Dost thou recognize the Romans, my Clodius; are they among the celebrated, or are they merely ordinary?’

’Eumolpus is a good second-rate swordsman, my Lepidus.  Nepimus, the lesser man, I have never seen before:  but he is the son of one of the imperial fiscales, and brought up in a proper school; doubtless they will show sport, but I have no heart for the game; I cannot win back my money—­I am undone.  Curses on that Lydon! who could have supposed he was so dexterous or so lucky?’

’Well, Clodius, shall I take compassion on you, and accept your own terms with these Romans?’

‘An even ten sestertia on Eumolpus, then?’

‘What! when Nepimus is untried?  Nay, nay; that is to bad.’

‘Well—­ten to eight?’

‘Agreed.’