"Dost see them coming?" asked Alyrus, eagerly. "Thine eyes are younger
than mine. Dost see them yet?"
"No, father. It is only the gladiators. Ah! that Lycias is a king
among men! how strong! how noble!"
A shade passed over the face of Alyrus the Moor.
"Yes. A fine youth, yet--I wish that I had not lost that bronze
lizard, Sahira. It bodes misfortune. Rome is not a safe place for us,
in spite of the favor of Lycidon. We must go as soon as the games are
over. Could it be possible that Lycias--"
"Look, father, see Lycias, the conqueror. The emperor smiles upon him;
a lady has thrown him a jewel. He bows. He is gone. How proud he must
be!"
"And now, they will come! See, yonder, Sahira, that group of white-
robed men and women. Ha! hear the wild beasts, how they growl in their
cages, pawing the bars, pleading to be let loose."
Alyrus, wild with gratified hatred, his face as evil as that of a
demon, leaned far over that he might lose nothing of the pitiful drama
about to be enacted in the arena.
The Christians came forward slowly, the women clinging together in
their physical weakness, though their souls were strong in the
strength of their faith.
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