Then he answered
calmly:
"Death is chasing a man through the garden yonder."
While Antipater was running towards the lion-house, that small tragedy
of the arena was near its end.
The lights are burning low. Two have flickered for a little and gone
out. The young men are watching with eager eyes.
"I can bear it no longer," says one, rushing to the gate of the arena,
only to find that he could not open it.
The slave-girl utters a cry and steps forward and is caught and held by
the carnifex.
Vergilius urges the leopard. He steps quickly, feinting with his
lance; the cat darts along the farther side of the arena, roaring. Its
eyes glow fiery in the dusk. The beast is become furious with
continued baiting. Half the lamps are out and the light rapidly
failing as Antipater rushes through the door. He falls beside the
arena, rises and opens the gate.
"A lance," he whispers, and it is quickly put in his hands. "Come,
come quickly, son of Varro," he whispers again. "The light is failing.
He will tear you into shreds.
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