Nero was alarmed. He understood that to oppose longer was simply dangerous. A disturbance begun in the circus might seize the whole city. He looked once more, and, seeing everywhere frowning brows, excited faces and eyes fixed on him, he slowly raised his hand and gave the sign for mercy. Then a thunder of applause broke from the highest seats to the lowest. But Vinicius heard it not. He dropped on his knees in the arena, stretched his hands toward heaven and cried: "I believe! Oh, Christ! I believe! I believe!" FOOTNOTE: [1] Copyright, 1896, by Jeremiah Curtin. THE ARROW AND THE SONG[2] H. W. LONGFELLOW I shot an arrow into the air. It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow in its flight. I breathed a song into the air. It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong That it can follow the flight of song. Long, long afterward, in an oak, I found the arrow still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend. FOOTNOTE: [2] Used by permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers of his works. AUX ITALIENS R. BULWER LYTTON At Paris it was, at the opera there; And she looked like a queen that night, With a wreath of pearl in her raven hair, And the brooch in her breast so bright. Of all the operas that Verdi wrote, The best, to my taste, is the "Trovatore": And Mario can soothe, with a tenor note, The souls in purgatory. The moon on the tower slept soft as snow; And who was not thrilled in the strangest way, As we heard him sing, while the gas burned low, "_Non ti scordar di me?_" The Emperor there in his box of state, Looked grave; as if he had just then seen The red flag wave from the city gate, Where the eagles in bronze had been. The Empress, too, had a tear in her eye; You'd have thought that her fancy had gone back again, For one moment, under the old blue sky, To that old glad life in Spain. Well! there in our front row box we sat Together, my bride betrothed and I; My gaze was fixed on my opera hat, And hers on the stage hard by. And both were silent and both were sad; Like a queen she leaned on her full white arm, With that regal indolent air she had; So confident of her charm! I have not a doubt she was thinking then Of her former lord, good soul that he was, Who died the richest and roundest of men, The Marquis of Carabas. I hope that, to get to the kingdom of heaven, Through a needle's eye he had not to pass; I wish him well for the jointure given To my lady of Carabas. Meanwhile I was thinking of my first love As I had not been thinking of aught for years; Till over my eyes there began to move Something that felt like tears.