"See," said Claudia, pointing a finger on which blazed on enormous
emerald, "the Vestals are giving the signal. Their thumbs are
reversed. The Emperor, also, is signalling for a cessation of the
fight. How proud Lycias, the gladiator, is to-day, for he won the
victory. Well, we must go. Come, Virgilia."
The young girl arose, obediently, but her father noticed that her eyes
were full of tears and that she shivered slightly in spite of the
warm, scented June air.
As the three mingled with the thousands who were in a very leisurely
manner wending their way down the steps to the ground, Aurelius
Lucanus drew her frail hand through his arm and said, gently: "What
hast thou, dearest? Art thou not well?"
"I am quite well, father dear," and as she spoke, she drew over her
face a light, filmy veil, effectually shielding her from the too
curious gaze of the laughing throng of merry-makers.
"Why, then, dost thou cry, my daughter?"
Virgilia glanced at her mother and noticing that she was out of
hearing, whispered in his ear: "I hate it, father.
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