"He strangled his master, who was going to have him flogged. He is a handsome, slender fellow, but very obstinate; he will name neither his tribe nor his father. The brother and heir of the murdered man offered him to me cheap for the naumachia, and if he survived--for the tiger. He could not be induced, no matter how many blows he received, to fight in the naval battle. His master was obliged to bind him hand and foot behind the scenes. Well, he will probably be compelled to fight when he stands fully armed in the arena, and we let loose the tiger; it has been kept fasting for two days."
"Oh, Thrasaric, my husband! My first entreaty--"
"I cannot help you, little bird! I promised to let him rule without interference to-day; and one's word must be kept, even though it should lead to folly and crime."
"Yes," whispered Modigisel, bending forward. "One's word must be kept. When shall we throw the dice?"
Thrasaric sprang up in fury.
"I will kill you--"
"That will be useless. Astarte knows it. Keep your word! I advise you to do it. Or to-morrow all the Vandal nobles shall know what your honor and faith are worth."
"Never! I will sooner kill the child with my own hands."
"That would be as dishonorable as if I should slay the horse from envy. Keep your word, Thrasaric; you can do nothing else."
Then a glance from Eugenia rested on Modigisel. She could not have understood anything; but he was silent.