ANDROCLES. Perhaps the lion won't eat me now.

THE KEEPER. Yes: that's just like a Christian: think only of
yourself! What am I to do? What am I to say to the Emperor when
he sees one of my lions coming into the arena half asleep?

THE EDITOR. Say nothing. Give your old lion some bitters and a
morsel of fried fish to wake up his appetite. (Laughter).

THE KEEPER. Yes: it's easy for you to talk; but--

THE EDITOR (scrambling to his feet) Sh! Attention there! The
Emperor. (The Keeper bolts precipitately into the passage. The
gladiators rise smartly and form into line).

The Emperor enters on the Christians' side, conversing with
Metellus, and followed by his suite.

THE GLADIATORS. Hail, Caesar! those about to die salute thee.

CAESAR. Good morrow, friends.

Metellus shakes hands with the Editor, who accepts his
condescension with bluff respect.

LAVINIA. Blessing, Caesar, and forgiveness!

CAESAR (turning in some surprise at the salutation) There is no
forgiveness for Christianity.