“As I tell you--the execution of the slave Eurymachus, who had sinned gravely against his illustrious master Stephanus, and so had forfeited his life.” “An execution as a garden comedy? This is something new, by Jupiter!” “New indeed! hardly heard of since the days of the divine Nero.” “Well, and what next?” “The speaker announced that Lycoris had obtained leave from Parthenius, the head chamberlain, to have the execution carried out in the semblance of a jest before the eyes of her illustrious and noble guests; he begged our indulgence for the performers, bowed, and the entertainment began.--You know me, Quintus, and that I am no lover of such horrible buffoonery. I fought for many years against the Daci[184] and Germanii, and the gods know that the sight of death turns me cold. Merely to see an unarmed wretch butchered--do you know, Quintus, it always reminds me of slaughtering swine. When I sit there at my ease, looking on, a lump rises in my throat, even in the amphitheatre. It may be outrageously simple and quite out of fashion, but for the life of me I cannot help it.” “Go on, go on!” cried Quintus in growing excitement. “Well then; the performance began. They dragged the man in, half-naked and crowned with roses. I cannot say he looked to me like a dangerous character; quite the contrary--even at that moment, when his life was at stake, he was quite quiet; only his paleness betrayed that the proceedings were not altogether pleasant to him. Then all sorts of mocking and games began at his expense; men scourged him or kicked him--all with consummate grace--and half-naked girls danced and leaped round him like mad things, nipped and pinched him, boxed his ears, and played all kinds of stupid tricks. This went on for about ten minutes. Then the executioners set a ladder by the cross there, flung a rope round him under the arms, hauled him up, and the first blow of the hammer was on the point of hitting the nail in, when a part of the side scene fell in with a tremendous crash. Four men, with their faces blackened with soot, rushed in like a thunder-storm, seized Eurymachus--who was as pale as death--by the arms, and were gone before the pack of slaves had recovered their senses. The spectators thought at first that this was part of the entertainment, till they were enlightened by the angry shouts of Stephanus and Lycoris. Then it occurred to the half-stunned executioners, that they might pursue the men. But then they perceived, that in the breach made by the fallen scenery a tall giant of a man was standing. He received the pursuers with a perfect storm of sword-strokes. Rhodius, the gardener’s son, fell without a cry, and the second man fared no better; the uproar was general, and the scenery broke out in flames. The whole gang of them fell back before the one with a howl, like dogs before a wolf at bay. The tall fellow, however, retired through fire and smoke till he