Soon he was alone with her in the vast deserted building.
Outside--far away--rose the uproar of voices in dispute, but the silence of death reigned in the Amphitheatre; even the tiger made no sound, as if bewildered by the sudden stillness and emptiness.
It was past midnight.
A light breeze rose, stirring the silk roof of the tent, and sweeping together the roses which lay scattered over the arena.
CHAPTER XVII
Thrasaric's guests were standing in the large open square of the grove, directly in front of the Amphitheatre they had just left, most of them with the expression and bearing of children caught by their master in some forbidden act.
Thrasaric had shaken off the last vestige of intoxication.
"The King?" he murmured in a low tone. "The hero? I am ashamed of myself." He pulled at the rose-wreath on his shaggy locks.
Gundomar, sword in hand, approached him with a defiant air.
"Fear was ever a stranger to you, son of Thrasamer. Now we must defy the tyrant. Face him as we do."