"The fish do it better," replied Catiline—"Better, and cleaner—they leave the prettiest skeleton you can imagine—they are longer about it, you will say—True; but I do not grudge the time."
"No! no! the longer, the merrier!" said Aurelia, laughing melodiously—"The last fellow I saw given to the tigers, had his head crushed like a nut-shell, by a single blow. He had not time to shriek even once. There was no fun in that, you know."
"None indeed," said Cethegus—"but I warrant you this German will howl gloriously, when the fish are at him." "Yes! yes!" exclaimed the lovely woman, clapping her hands joyously. "We must have the gag removed, to give free vent to his music. Come, come, I am dying to see him."
"Some one must die, since Cicero did not."
"Happy fellow this, if he only knew it, to give his friends so much pleasure!"
"One of them such a fair lady too!"
"Will there be more pleasure, think you, in seeing the congers eat the gladiator, or in eating the congers afterward?"
"Oh! no comparison! one can eat fat congers always."
"We have the advantage of them truly, for they cannot always eat fat gladiators."
And they walked away with as much glee and expectation, to the scene of agony and fiendish torture, vitiated by the frightful exhibitions of the circus and the arena, as men in modern days would feel, in going to enjoy the fictitious sorrows of some grand tragedian.