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All
that was powerful, brilliant and wealthy in Rome was there. The lower
seats were crowded with togas as white as snow. In a gilded padium sat
Nero, wearing a diamond collar and a golden crown upon his head. Every
eye was turned with strained gaze to the place where the unfortunate
lover was sitting. He was exceedingly pale, and his forehead was covered
with drops of sweat. To his tortured mind came the thought that faith of
itself would spare Lygia. Peter had said that faith would move the earth
to its foundations. He crushed doubt in himself, compressed his whole
being into the sentence, "I believe," and he looked for a miracle.
The prefect of the city waved a red handkerchief, and out of the dark
gully into the brilliantly lighted arena came Ursus. In Rome there was
no lack of gladiators, larger by far than the common measure of man; but
Roman eyes had never seen the like of Ursus. The people gazed with the
delight of experts at his mighty limbs, as large as tree trunks; at his
breast, as large as two shields joined together, and his arms of a
Hercules.


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