‘But his riches don’t make him honest; and every one seems to be treating him with great respect.’ Martial laughed long and loud. ‘_O Sapientia!_’ he exclaimed, ‘_O Innocentia!_ From what new Atlantis do you come? Don’t you know that at Rome the rule always is “Riches first, virtue next”?’ ‘If that be the rule at Rome,’ said the other, ‘I should prefer to live at Ulubræ or at Venta Belgarum.’ But Martial had no more time to listen to a morality so refreshingly unsophisticated. ‘Hush!’ he said. ‘They are going to scatter down the presents and the lottery tickets on us.’ First came a shower of countless coins of thin metal, every one of which was stamped with a wanton image. Then all kinds of little presents like those exchanged at the Saturnalia. The audience did not exert themselves to catch these, but it was very different when handfuls of lottery tickets were flung among them. For these they scrambled wildly, and with many a curse and blow; for he who secured one might find himself the happy possessor of a slave, a statue, a fine vase, a rare foreign bird, a suit of armour, a Molossian dog, a Spanish horse, or even a villa; although the mystery which the number concealed could not be made known till he presented the ticket the next day. But by this time the attendants with rakes were scraping the surface of the arena smooth, and sprinkling it afresh with dazzling white sand brought in ship-loads from Africa, to hide the crimson stains of the life-blood of animals and men. For now was to begin the splendid exhibition of strength and skill and pluck, and the awful pageantry of death, under that blue sky, under that gleaming sunlight; and men and women were preparing themselves to be thrilled with sanguinary and voluptuous excitement which would make the blood course through their veins like fire. Most of the gladiators were men of approved prowess, stalwart and well known; and from the senators’ seats to the topmost gallery bets were being freely laid on their chances of victory, and on those who should be left dead at evening, indifferent forever to those wild shouts. The only two who were not _spectati_--the only two tiros who were to make their appearance-- were the young British captive and the young Phrygian slave. The long defiant blast of a trumpet smote the air; the folding doors of the main entrance were flung open, and, headed by their trainer, the gladiators in a body marched in proud procession and with firm steps to the space beneath the podium, on which stood the gilded chair of the Emperor. They were only sixty in number, but had been selected for their skill and physique, and belonged to various classes of gladiators. They were clad in glittering array--their helmets, their shields, and even their greaves, richly embossed and gilded.