The hungry lion saw the human form—ah! this was strange choice game. He trod forward with swaying tail—he crept—he crouched low—he would soon spring—and that fair image of the divine would be struck down, torn asunder, bled and crunched in pieces!
Was there no eye to pity, none to save?
"Oh that I were a soldier, a gladiator,—no, just a man, a man!" said Coryna from the depth of a throbbing heart, "then would I rush to the rescue and save her or die!"
The shepherd could not stand the sight, and as he rose to go away his face was ghastly white. As he turned with vacant eyes to walk up the scalaria or steps to the door in the balteus or wall behind, a voice at his elbow said in the Greek language—
"Here! take this true dagger, friend."
"Why?" replied the shepherd, looking bewildered.
"Dost thou not know the terms?" answered the Greek.
"I am a stranger. What terms?" Orestes asked eagerly.
"Oh, I thought thou hadst resolved to go to the woman's aid," replied the man, disappointed.
"Give me the dagger," said the shepherd, a red flush rushing into his cheek. He had now grasped the situation at a glance, and seizing the weapon without ceremony or further word, he sprang up three or four steps and passed through the vomitory of the wall to the stairs leading down to the lower part of the building.