pearls and emeralds, armlets of tawny gold in Etruscan designs, in
which were set cameos of extraordinary delicacy and diamonds, only
partially polished, as large as the half of a hen's egg.

To every class of Romans, the gladiatorial show was open. Senators and
Patricians, artists and mechanics, poets and artisans, women of every
rank, from the highest lady of the land to the humblest washerwoman
who beat her clothes on the rounded stones of the River Tiber, were
here to gloat over the hideous contest in the arena.

In the third row, about half way in the long side of the oval
amphitheatre sat two women and a man. The women were unusually
beautiful. They were mother and daughter. The man was plainly the
father, a stalwart Roman, a lawyer, who had his office in the courts
of the Forum, where business houses flanked the splendid temples of
white marble, where the people worshipped their gods, Jupiter and
Saturn, Diana and Cybele.

"See," said Claudia, pointing a finger on which blazed on enormous
emerald, "the Vestals are giving the signal. Their thumbs are
reversed. The Emperor, also, is signalling for a cessation of the
fight. How proud Lycias, the gladiator, is to-day, for he won the
victory. Well, we must go. Come, Virgilia."

The young girl arose, obediently, but her father noticed that her eyes
were full of tears and that she shivered slightly in spite of the
warm, scented June air.

As the three mingled with the thousands who were in a very leisurely
manner wending their way down the steps to the ground, Aurelius