Glaucus had bent his limbs so as to give himself the firmest posture at the expected rush of the lion, with his small and shining weapon raised on high, in the faint hope that one well-directed thrust (for he knew that he should have time but for one) might penetrate through the eye to the brain of his grim foe.
But to the unutterable astonishment of all, the beast seemed not even aware of the presence of the criminal.
At the first moment of its release it halted abruptly in the arena, raised itself half on end, snuffing the upward air with impatient signs, then suddenly it sprang forward, but not on the Athenian. At half-speed it circled round and round the space, turning its vast head from side to side with an anxious and perturbed gaze, as if seeking only some avenue of escape; once or twice it endeavored to leap up the parapet that divided it from the audience, and on falling, uttered rather a baffled howl than its deep-toned and kingly roar. It evinced no sign either of wrath or hunger; its tail drooped along the sand, instead of lashing its gaunt sides; and its eye, though it wandered at times to Glaucus, rolled again listlessly from him. At length, as if tired of attempting to escape, it crept with a moan into its cage, and once more laid itself down to rest.
The first surprise of the assembly at the apathy of the lion soon grew converted into resentment at its cowardice; and the populace already merged their pity for the fate of Glaucus into angry compassion for their own disappointment.
The editor called to the keeper:--"How is this? Take the goad, prick him forth, and then close the door of the den."
As the keeper, with some fear but more astonishment, was preparing to obey, a loud cry was heard at one of the entrances of the arena; there was a confusion, a bustle--voices of remonstrance suddenly breaking forth, and suddenly silenced at the reply. All eyes turned in wonder at the interruption, toward the quarter of the disturbance; the crowd gave way, and suddenly Sallust appeared on the senatorial benches, his hair disheveled--breathless--heated--half exhausted. He cast his eyes hastily round the ring. "Remove the Athenian!" he cried; "haste--he is innocent! Arrest Arbaces the Egyptian--HE is the murderer of Apæcides!"
In The Arena,
Photogravure from a Drawing by Frank Kirchbach.
"Glaucus had bent his limbs so as to give himself the firmest posture at
the expected rush of the lion, with his small and shining weapon
raised on high, in the faint hope that one well-directed thrust
(for he knew that he should have time but for one)
might penetrate through the eye to the brain of
his grim foe. But to the unutterable astonishment
of all, the beast seemed not
even aware of the presence of the
criminal."
"Art thou mad, O Sallust!" said the prætor, rising from his seat. "What means this raving?"