FERROVIUS.
Not to me, Caesar. Death comes hard to my flesh; and fighting comes very easily to my spirit (beating his breast and lamenting) O sinner that I am! (He throws himself down on the steps, deeply discouraged).
CAESAR.
Metellus: I should like to have this man in the Pretorian Guard.
METELLUS.
I should not, Caesar. He looks a spoilsport. There are men in whose presence it is impossible to have any fun: men who are a sort of walking conscience. He would make us all uncomfortable.
CAESAR.
For that reason, perhaps, it might be well to have him. An Emperor can hardly have too many consciences. (To Ferrovius) Listen, Ferrovius. (Ferrovius shakes his head and will not look up). You and your friends shall not be outnumbered to-day in the arena. You shall have arms; and there will be no more than one gladiator to each Christian. If you come out of the arena alive, I will consider favorably any request of yours, and give you a place in the Pretorian Guard. Even if the request be that no questions be asked about your faith I shall perhaps not refuse it.
FERROVIUS.
I will not fight. I will die. Better stand with the archangels than with the Pretorian Guard.
CAESAR.
I cannot believe that the archangels—whoever they may be—would not prefer to be recruited from the Pretorian Guard. However, as you please. Come: let us see the show.
As the Court ascends the steps, Secutor and the Retiarius return from the arena through the passage; Secutor covered with dust and very angry: Retiarius grinning.
SECUTOR.
Ha, the Emperor. Now we shall see. Caesar: I ask you whether it is fair for the Retiarius, instead of making a fair throw of his net at me, to swish it along the ground and throw the dust in my eyes, and then catch me when I’m blinded. If the vestals had not turned up their thumbs I should have been a dead man.
CAESAR.
(halting on the stair) There is nothing in the rules against it.
SECUTOR.
(indignantly) Caesar: is it a dirty trick or is it not?