By this time they had reached the outer door of the spoliarium, and, in answer to a whispered watchword, Phlegon admitted Syra, who promised to return very speedily, while Junia waited for her outside. A few moments only had elapsed when Syra sprang out of the door agitated and breathless. ‘Oh, Junia!’ she cried; ‘I did it! I did it!’ ‘Did what?’ ‘I have drunk some blood from a fresh wound, and I am cured.’ ‘Horrible!’ said Junia, with a shudder, now for the first time understanding what Syra had come for. ‘Yes; it _was_ horrible,’ said the girl; ‘but how could I help it? Every one who saw me in a fit, however slight, used to spit so as to avert the omen. I tried everything first. I tried galbanum, garlic, hellebore; I ate some young swallows; I tried to get a bit of the liver of an elephant, or the brain of a camel, which they say is a certain remedy.[83] But how could I? Never mind! I am cured now. But oh, Junia!’ exclaimed the girl, ‘as he lay there’-- ‘As _who_ lay there?’ ‘The young gladiator who fought so bravely to-day, and was dragged out by the hook as dead--well, he is not dead! His limbs were warm. I put my hand on his heart; there was a faint pulse.’ ‘But who is he?’ ‘I thought you knew him, for he was once a slave in your house--that young Phrygian.’ ‘Onesimus!’ exclaimed Junia, with a startled cry. ‘Yes; that was his name. Did you not know that he fought as a net-thrower to-day?’ ‘No,’ she answered faintly. ‘We never go to the games. I had long lost sight of him, and thought that he had left Rome, or was dead. Syra, save him!’ ‘Phlegon will be glad to save him, if it can be done undiscovered. He loathes stabbing the poor gladiators when they have not quite been killed. Yet, if it were discovered that he spared but one of them, he would certainly be torn to pieces or crucified.’ Junia’s mind was instantly made up. At all costs, Onesimus should have such chance of life secured to him as nature rendered possible. She told Syra to let Phlegon speak with her. Entering the spoliarium, and repressing the awful sense of repugnance which almost made her faint as the dim light of his lamp glimmered over the heap of mangled corpses, she recognised the features of Onesimus, and convinced herself that the spark of life was not wholly quenched in him. Then, putting into the hand of the confector a gold coin which had been the gift of Claudia, she entreated him to let her come back and remove the hapless youth. He consented, and touched by her anguish, he himself took the body of the gladiator in his arms, laid him on his own pallet of straw, and poured some common Sabine wine down his throat. Junia, meanwhile, thankful now for the slave-girl’s company, went to the house of Linus, which was near at hand, and implored his aid. The good old pastor readily consented, and, when it was quite dark, took a mule and went with the two girls to the door of the spoliarium, where Phlegon awaited them.