“You will stand inside the iron railing and watch the lion’s attack. So long as he eats the neck and shoulders or the lower half of the body, let him alone. When he begins upon the chest, drag the body away from him with your hooks. Remember! I want the woman’s heart uninjured. If you cannot do it, I will give the signal for the keepers to throw in the murderer Trebonius. That will save my prize and satisfy the people.” After this horrible speech he entered the amphitheatre by a private way and resumed his seat near the gorgeous chair of Lelius. “The coast is clear,” said Euphorbus. “Now is our time.” They entered the courtyard. Euphorbus gave the guards double money. “Our poor old friend,” said he, “is overwhelmed with grief to-day. He cannot speak. It is his last visit.” They passed into the dungeon. Mary was crouching in one corner, white as a corpse. She sprang to her uncle’s arms. She could not speak; she could not weep. Terror had paralyzed the fountains of thought and sorrow. “I have come to save you, my child,” said the old man, “Courage! and you will be free in ten minutes. Lazarus is in the street waiting for you. Martha is on a beautiful ship waiting for you. In one hour you will be on the blue sea sailing away from this awful city.” Mary stared at him in wild surprise. “Free? Lazarus waiting! and Martha?” The transition from total despair to hope was too much for her weak nerves. She swooned. The old man knelt by her side, kissing her hands and chafing her temples while the great tears rolled down his cheeks. “Too bad! too bad!” said Euphorbus, “when time is so precious”—and he busied himself in forcing a stimulus into her mouth. She revived presently and sat up. “You say I may be saved, uncle. Now tell me how. I am calm and can comprehend you perfectly.” Beltrezzor proceeded to explain everything as he had done to Euphorbus. She heard him patiently, and then said in a quiet tone: “And, poor good man! do you think I will permit you to be eaten by the lion in my place? Oh no, that is impossible. Think of some other plan.” “There is no other way. I shall not be eaten by the lion.” “Why not?” “Because I am not a Christian. You are condemned for heresy. I am a Gentile.” “But they will kill you for contriving my escape, and this good keeper also.” “Oh no! That offence is not punishable with death. They will fine me heavily, but I am rich and can pay. The keeper will escape with you and protect you.” After much persuasion and argument on one side and many doubts and questionings on the other, Mary’s scruples were at last overcome, and the transformation in both parties effected so adroitly that detection seemed impossible. Mary suddenly turned her earnest eyes on Beltrezzor’s face. “Uncle, if you deceive me in this matter, it will kill me.”