“It lies now between green and blue!” was the general shout. “On with the Panfaracus!” “Nay! hit the off horse, he sulks, Euprepes!” “Well done, Nereus! Pull well, Auster! Brave horses! brave greens! greens for ever! The Gods befriend the greens!”
Then some one looking in the direction of the imperial box noticed Domitia in her blue habit, with her blue eyes wide distended, and the blue ribbons in her hair. Suddenly in a clear voice he cried,—
“The blue! the blue! It is the color of the Augusta! The blue! Sabaste! I swear by her divinity! I invoke her aid! The blue will win.”
Like an electric shock there went a throb through the vast concourse—there were nearly three hundred thousand persons present. At once there rose a roar, it was loud, thrilling, imperious:—
“The blue! It shall win! The color of the Augusta! of the divine Augusta, the friend of the Roman people! The blue! the blue! we will have the blue!”
The drivers lashed furiously, the outriders swung themselves in their saddles to beat the horses. But the gallant steeds needed no scourging, they were as keen in their rivalry as were their drivers and their supporters.
“The last egg! the last dolphin! Again! the green is ahead!” a groan broken by only a few cheers. Wonderful! In the sudden contagion even those who had betted on the green, cheered the rival color.
“Who was that cried out for the blue?” asked Domitian, turning sharply about. “Find him, cast him to the dogs to be torn.”[11]
His kinsman Ursus whispered in his ear,—
“It is the actor Paris. Yet do nothing now. It would be inauspicious.”