can well be understood how Claudius, by publicly boasting that he was a better archer than Commodus, had brought upon himself the calamity of a public execution. But not even Nero would have thought of bringing the girl to death for the fault of her lover. Commodus was the master tyrant and fiend. Claudius and his bride had been arrested together at their nuptial feast and dragged to separate dungeons to await the emperor's will. The rumor was abroad in Rome that on a certain night a most startling scene would be enacted in the Circus. That the sight would be blood-curdling in the last degree was taken by every one for granted. Emissaries of Commodus had industriously sown about the streets hints too vague to take definite form, calculated to arouse great interest. The result was that on the night in question, the vast building was crowded at an early hour. All the seats were filled with people eager to witness some harrowing scene of death. Commodus himself, surrounded by a great number of his favorites, sat on a high richly cushioned throne prepared for him about midway one side of the vast inclosure. All was still, as if the multitude were breathless with expectancy. Presently, out from one of the openings a young man and a young woman,- --a mere girl,—their hands bound behind them, were led forth upon the sand of the arena and forced to walk around the entire circumference of the place. The youth was tall and nobly beautiful, a very Hercules in form, an Apollo in grace and charm of movement. The girl was petite and lovely beyond compare. His hair was blue-black and crisp, and a young, soft beard curled over his cheek and lips. Her hair was pure gold, falling to her feet and trailing behind her as she walked. His eyes were dark and proud, hers gray and deep as those of a goddess. Both were nude, excepting a short kirtle reaching to near the knee. They seemed to move half unconscious of their surroundings, ail bewildered and dazzled by the situation. At length the giant circuit was completed and the two were left standing on the sand, distant about one hundred and twenty feet from the emperor, who now arose and in a loud voice said: "Behold the condemned Claudius, and Cynthia, whom he lately took for his wife. They are condemned to death for the great folly of Claudius, that the Roman people may know that Commodus reigns supreme. The crime for which they are to die is a great one. Claudius has publicly proclaimed that he is a better archer than I, Commodus, am I am the emperor and the incomparable archer of Rome. Whoever disputes it dies and his wife dies with him. It is decreed." This strange speech was repeated, sentence after sentence, by criers placed at intervals around the wall, so that every person in that vast crowd heard every word. No one, however, was astonished at the infamous deed in contemplation. Too often had Commodus, for the most trivial offense, or for no offense at all, hurried Roman citizens to bloody death. And, indeed, why should a multitude schooled to take keen delight in gladiatorial combats ever shudder at anything. But it was enough to touch the heart of even a Roman to see the tender innocence of that fair girl's face as she turned it up in speechless, tearless, appealing grief and anguish to her husband's. Her pure bosom heaved and quivered with the awful terror suddenly generated within. The youth, erect and powerful, set his thin lips firmly and kept his eyes looking straight out before him. Among the on-lookers many knew him as a trained athlete, and especially as an almost unerring archer. They knew him, too, as a brave soldier, a true friend, an honorable citizen. Little time remained for such reflections as naturally might have arisen, for immediately a large cage, containing two fiery eyed and famished tigers, was brought into the Circus and placed before the victims. The hungry beasts were excited to madness by the smell of fresh blood smeared on the bars of the caga for that purpose. They growled and howled, lapping their fiery tongues and plunging against the door. A murmur ran all round that vast ellipse,-a murmur of remonstrance and disgust; for now every one saw that the spectacle was to be a foul murder without even the show of a struggle. The alert eyes of Commodus were bent upon the crouching beasts. At the same time he noted well the restlessness and disappointment of the people. He understood his subjects and knew how to excite them. He was preparing to do a deed by which he hoped to elicit great applause. His triumph came like a thunderbolt and in a twinkling all was changed. The limbs of the poor girl had begun to give way under her and she was slowly sinking to the ground. This seemed greatly to affect the man, who, without lowering his fixed eyes, tried to support her with his body. Despite his efforts she slid down and lay in a helpless heap at his feet. The lines on his manly face deepened and a slight ashy pallor flickered on brow and eyelids. But he did not tremble. He stood like a statue of Hercules. Then a sound came from the cage which no words can ever describe, the hungry howl, the clashing teeth, the hissing breath of the tigers along with a sharp clang of the iron bars spurned by their rushing feet. The Circus fairly shook with the plunge of Death toward its victims. Suddenly in this last moment, the maiden, by a great effort, writhed to her feet and covered the youth's body with her own. Such love! It should have sweetened death for that young man. How white his face grows! How his eyes flame, immovably fixed upon the coming demons! Those who have often turned up their thumbs in this place for men to die, now hold their breath in utter disgust and sympathy. Look for a brief time upon the picture; fifty thousand faces or more thrust forward gazing;-the helpless couple, lost to everything but the black horrors of death, quiv. ering from foot to crown. Note the spotless beauty and on the threshold of their honeymoon. And now, oh! now, look at the bounding, flaming-eyed tigers! See how one leads the other in the awful race to the feast! The girl is nearer than the man. She will feel the claws and fangs first. How wide those red, frothy mouths gape! How the red tongues loll! The sand flies up in a cloud from the armed feet of the leaping brutes. There came from the place where Commodus stood, a clear musical note such as might have come from the gravest cord of a lyre if powerfully stricken, closely followed by a keen, far-reaching hiss, like the whisper of fate, ending in a heavy blow. The multitude caught breath and stared. The foremost tiger, while yet in midair, curled itself up with a gurgling cry of utter pain, and with the blood gushing from its eyes, ears and mouth, fell heavily down dying. Again the sweet, insinuating twang, the hiss and the stroke. The second beast fell dead or dying upon the first. This explained all. The emperor had demonstrated his right to be called the Royal Bowman of the World. Had the tyrant been content to rest here, all would have been well. While yet the beasts were faintly struggling with death, he gave orders for a shifting of the scene. He was insatiable. For the first time during the ordeal the youth's eyes moved. The girl, whose back was turned toward the beasts, was still waiting for the crushing horror of their assault. A soldier, as directed, now approached the twain, and, seizing an arm of each, led them some paces farther away from the emperor, where he stationed them facing each other and with their sides to Commodus, who was pre paring to shoot again. Before drawing his bow, however, he cried aloud: "Behold! Commodus will pierce the center of the ear of each!" As before, the cry was caught up by other voices and echoed around the vast place. The lovers were gazing into each other's eyes, still as statues, as if frozen by the cold fascination of death. The excitement of the spectators reached the last degree wher the great horn bow was again raised. And now the end was near. All around that vast space, tier above tier, the pallid faces of the spectators rose to a dizzy height, seeming by their ghastly glow to blend a strange light with the fierce glare of the flambeaux, so intense was their excitement. Every soul in that multitude was for the time suspended above the abysm of destruction, realizing the feebleness of Life, the potency of Death. Commodus drew his bow with tremendous power, fetching the cord back to his breast, where for a moment it was held without the faintest quiver of a muscle. His eyes were fixed, and cold as steel. The polished broad head of the arrow shone like a diamond. One would have thought that the breathing of a breath could have been heard across the Circus. While yet the pink flush burned on the delicate ear of the girl, and while the hush of the Circus deepened infinitely, out rang the low note of the great weapon's recoil. The arrow fairly shrieked through the air, so swift was its flight. What words can ever suggest an idea of the torture crowded into that point of time betwixt the ringing of the bow-cord and the striking of the arrow? The youth, particularly, was shaken with a sudden wild ecstasy of horror. As when a whirlwind, leaping from a balmy summer calm, stirs a sleeping pool into a white-foamed spiral flood, so Death had at last torn up |