And then it suddenly struck her, that Eurymachus was not exposed to the vengeance of the steward only. As a Christian he was condemned by law--and she could not interfere with the course of the law. The chief point still remained open: she would examine him closely, if indeed Stephanus agreed to her request. And he must, positively must. Only the other day she had had him in leading-strings, but the child had suddenly outgrown her management. Since she had become so intimate with Parthenius--Parthenius! And might not this prime favorite of Caesar's be of some service? If Parthenius spoke the word, Eurymachus would be set at liberty, in spite of any sentence passed upon him. Lycoris passed her hand across her forehead; her head was burning. What strange ideas were these, that had taken possession of her? What a concatenation of foolish fancies and wild, confused ideas! She hardly perceived, that meanwhile the litter had reached the entrance to the Flavian Amphitheatre. Leaina had to rouse her from her dreamy mood. “What is the matter with you, golden-haired maid?” she said in a low voice. “You seem depressed, and just now you were all in the mood for enjoyment! Tell me--the sight of that refractory fugitive has reminded you of the performance, which ended so unfortunately?--Oh! but your vanity as a hostess makes you too sensitive. Smile again, enchantress! Consider, half Rome is looking at us.” “You are very right, child,” replied Lycoris. “Our part is to look beautiful, and we may leave grave thoughts to the vestal virgins.” They got out of the litter, while one of the slaves obtained at an office on the right hand of the door-way, the _tesserae_, ivory tickets of admission,[132] on which the numbers of the seats were marked in Latin and in Greek. The two girls took their tickets and slowly made their way through the crush, to the places pointed out to them by an attendant in a gaily-colored holiday tunic.[133] They gave him a small gratuity in silver, dropped on to the cushions, which a slave had carried in for them,[134] and drew a deep breath, quite tired out with standing, climbing and struggling. The amphitheatre was a magnificent spectacle. The fighting was not to begin for half an hour yet, but the rows of seats, particularly the higher and cheaper ones, were already crammed. Every part was as gay as a flower-garden with gorgeous dresses,[135] eager eyes, and faces flushed with expectation. Even the poorest had donned a newly-cleaned and bleached toga. The gentler sex, decorated with gold pins and diadems, was particularly strongly represented, from the matron of senatorial rank to the artisan’s wife, and the gay Syrian of more than doubtful origin.