canopy, chequered their tunics with burning spots, danced on their
spears and helmets, dazzled the spectators' eyes. From above
descended the caresses of flutes; the air was sweet with perfumes,
alive with multicolored motes; the terraces were parterres of
blending hues, and into that splendor a hundred lions, their
tasselled tails sweeping the sand, entered obliquely.

The mob of the Bestiarii had gone. In the middle of the arena, a
band of Ethiopians, armed with arrows, knives and spears, knelt,
their oiled black breasts uncovered.

Leisurely the lions turned their huge, intrepid heads; to their
jowls wide creases came. There was a glitter of fangs, a shiver
that moved the mane, a flight of arrows, mounting murmurs; the
crouch of beasts preparing to spring, a deafening roar, and,
abruptly, a tumultuous mass, the suddenness of knives, the snap of
bones, the cry of the agonized, the fury of beasts transfixed, the
shrieks of the mangled, a combat hand to fang, from which lions
fell back, their jaws torn asunder, while others retreated, a
black body swaying between their terrible teeth, and, insensibly,
a descending quiet.

At once there was an eruption of bellowing elephants, painted and
trained for slaughter, that trampled on wounded and dead. At a
call from a keeper the elephants disappeared. There was a rush of
mules and slaves; the carcasses and corpses vanished, the toilet
of the ring was made; then came a plunge of bulls, mists of vapor
about their long, straight horns, their anxious eyes dilated.
Beyond was a troop of Thessalians. For a moment the bulls snorted,
pawing the sand with their fore-feet, as though trying to realize