is supposed to be in honour of the Emperor's victories. If we interfere
with it we shall be executed as rebels, supposing that we are not first
torn to pieces as rioters."

"Porphyry," replied Plotinus, "I should esteem this disgrace to philosophy
a disgrace to myself if I did not my utmost to avert it. Remain thou here,
and perform my funeral rites if it be necessary."

But to this Porphyry would by no means consent, and the two philosophers
proceeded to the amphitheatre together. It was so crowded that there was no
room on the seats for another person. Theocles was enthroned in the chair
of honour, his beard manifesting evident traces of the depilatories
administered by Leaena, who nevertheless sat by his side, her voluptuous
face gloating over the anticipated banquet of agony. The philosophic part
of the spectators were ranged all around, the remaining seats were occupied
by a miscellaneous public. The master of the gladiators, a man of
distinguished appearance, whose yellow locks gave him the aspect of a
barbarian prince, stood in the arena surrounded by his myrmidons. The entry
of Plotinus and Porphyry attracted his attention: he motioned to his
followers, and in an instant the philosophers were seized, bound, and
gagged without the excited assembly being in the least conscious of their
presence.

Two men stepped out into the arena, both fine and attractive figures. The
athletic limbs, the fair complexion, the curling yellow hair of one
proclaimed the Goth; he lightly swung his huge sword in his right hand, and
looked as if his sole arm would easily put to flight the crowd of
effeminate spectators. The other's beauty was of another sort; young,
slender, pensive, spiritual, he looked like anything rather than a
gladiator, and held his downward pointed sword with a negligent grasp.