Thus they stood for a time in an oblivious embrace. Suddenly they heard the roll of drums; a sudden terror fell upon the party of prisoners. This drumming was the signal for the fights in the arena to begin. The scattered groups drew closer together; the flute-player had sprung up with a scream. Some of the men began to bewail themselves and lament loudly, but the consul presently succeeded in controlling this outburst of terror. In a firm, loud voice, he admonished his fellow-victims to emulate the example of the Redeemer, and to remain steadfast through all their torments, so that the sight of their unshaken courage might win Him new disciples among the people. Then he told them how nobly the servants of the Lord had died under Nero; how even when burnt by slow fires, lighted by the hand of Caesar himself, with their latest breath they proclaimed the truth in Christ Jesus. The prisoners listened with growing devotion to his enthusiastic appeal, and the vault was as still as the catacomb used to be, when the little congregation met there for their Feast of Love. When Flavius Clemens ceased, a strange sound fell on the ear; it was the clapping and applause of the spectators, which was heard only as lulled by distance, like the tramp of a horse’s hoofs over a wooden bridge. The first scene of the bloody performance was over--a fight probably, like that of yesterday, between two gladiators. The fatal moment was drawing nearer and nearer. Twice or thrice was this fearfully suggestive sound repeated, mixed with confused shouts and wild laughter; heavy steps were heard in the corridor and the principal entrance was unbarred. The bravest quailed, paralyzed by terror, and stared with glassy eyes at the door, which opened slowly, creaking on its hinges. An armed soldier stood on the threshold, and two others were visible on the steps that led up to the arena. “Diphilus, the carpenter, and Euterpe, his wife!” cried the warden in a harsh voice. Diphilus had started up the instant he heard his name called. With his head bent forward, he fixed his gaze on the apparition in the door-way as though he thought he might be dreaming. Euterpe had crept behind him; like a child threatened with punishment, she hid herself behind her husband’s stalwart form. “Come on!” said the man. “Make haste! The people are waiting.” “We are ready,” said the carpenter. “No, no, no!” shrieked Euterpe wildly. “I will be hewn in pieces, before I go up to that horrible blood-stained place. I cannot, Diphilus--no, not if the Lord himself were to appear and command me.” “Woman,” said the man-at-arms, “give over whimpering and do not keep me waiting. There is no help for you now; and besides,” he added with a jeer, “the beasts will only be all the hungrier.” “Control yourself and pray to God,” whispered Diphilus.