And Coryna was unspeakably relieved.
But no man would wantonly accept the challenge, for Titanus was agile and strong, and was one of the most expert swordsmen in the Roman army.
There was, however, much excitement over this bold interruption and at the announcement of the name of the prostrate man, whose high rank was widely known.
The indignant Titanus was right—there was no cowardice. The multitude had entirely misjudged the tactics of the brave Tharsos. The fallen man lay quietly upon his back, with his face slightly toward the lion, and with his dagger closely clinched in his strong right hand.
Coryna's feelings were strung to the highest pitch. Her suspense was agony, but she would not have her brave brother elsewhere.
The ferocious beast, taken by surprise or freed from provocation, suddenly quieted down. It sat on its haunches for a moment, and looked after the fleeing man. Then it rose up, and preferring a fallen form to an erect, it followed him with light majestic tread. It came to within twenty feet of where he lay, and halted, sitting on its haunches again. Rising up, it walked around him twice, looking at him curiously all the time. Satisfied at last that it had an easy prey, it went forward softly, like a cat. Halting, it bent down to sniff the still, white, helpless-like figure, and to seize the flank.
The time for action had come. Swiftly Tharsos drew his arm, and with terrific force thrust the dagger right into the would-be devourer's heart!
With a mighty yell the lion leaped into the air, and fell heavily across the body of its destroyer—a dangerous struggle or two, and it was dead!
Then was the stratagem understood, and when it was coupled with the name and rank of the self-sacrificing victor, a thundering shout of applause filled the amphitheatre.
"Well done! brave Tharsos," said the Emperor proudly to the distinguished noblemen around him, who were all delighted, Servilius excepted, who vainly strove to conceal his deep displeasure.