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The Last Days of Pompeii

By EDWARD BULWER-LYTTON Condensation by PROF. WILLIAM FENWICK HARRIS "GLAUCUS the Athenian, thy time has come,' said a loud and clear voice; 'the lion awaits thee.' "'I am ready,' said the Athenian. He had bent his limbs so as to give himself the firmest posture at the expected rush of the lion, with his small and shining weapon raised on high, in the faint hope that one well-directed thrust might penetrate through the eye to the brain of his grim foe. "But to the unutterable astonishment of all, the beast seemed not even aware of the presence of the criminal. At the first moment of its release it halted abruptly in the arena, raised itself half on end, snuffing the upward air with impatient sighs; then suddenly it sprang forward, but not on the Athenian. At half speed it circled round and round the space, turning its vast head from side to side with an anxious and perturbed gaze, as if seeking only some avenue of escape; once or twice it endeavored to leap up the parapet that divided it from the audience, and, on failing, uttered rather a baffled howl than its deep-toned and kingly roar. It evinced no sign either of wrath or of hunger; its tail drooped along the sand, instead of lashing its gaunt sides; and its eye, though it wandered at times to Glaucus, rolled again listlessly from him. At length, as if tired of attempting to escape, it crept with a moan into its cage, and once more laid itself down to rest. "The first surprise of the assembly at the apathy of the lion soon grew into resentment at its cowardice; and the populace already merged their pity for the fate of Glaucus into angry compassion for their own disappointment. The manager called to the keeper: "'How is this? Take a goad, prick him forth, and then close the door of the den.' "As the keeper, with some fear, but more astonishment, was preparing to obey, a loud cry was heard at one of the entrances of the arena; there were a confusion, a bustle, voices of remonstrance suddenly breaking forth, and suddenly silenced at the reply. All eyes turned in wonder toward the quarter of the disturbance; the crowd gave way, and suddenly Sallust appeared on the senatorial benches, his hair disheveled, breathless, heated, half exhausted. He cast his eyes hastily around the ring. 'Remove the Athenian,' he cried; 'haste, he is innocent! Arrest Arbaces the Egyptian: he is the murderer of Apaecides!' "'Art thou mad, O Sallust!' said the praetor, rising from his seat. 'What means this raving?" "'Remove the Athenian! Quick! or his blood be on your head. Praetor, delay, and you answer with your own life to the emperor! I bring with me the eye-witness to the death of the priest Apaecides. Room there! Stand back! Give way! People of Pompeii, fix every eye upon Arbaces. There he sits! Room there for the priest Calenus!' "Pale, haggard, fresh from the jaws of famine and of death, his face fallen, his eyes dull as a vulture's, his broad frame gaunt as a skeleton, Calenus was supported into the very row in which Arbaces sat. His releasers had given him sparingly of food; but the chief sustenance that nerved his feeble limbs was revenge! "'The priest Calenus! Calenus!' cried the mob. 'Is it he? No, it is a dead man!' "'It is the priest Calenus,' said the praetor, gravely. 'What hast thou to say?' "'Arbaces of Egypt is the murderer of Apaecides, the priest of Isis; these eyes saw him deal the blow. It is from the dungeon into which he plunged me, it is from the darkness and horror of a death by famine, that the gods have raised me to proclaim his crime! Release the Athenian--he is innocent!' "'It is for this, then, that the lion spared him. A miracle! a miracle!' cried Pansa. "'A miracle! a miracle!' shouted the people. 'Remove the Athenian. Arbaces to the lion!' "The power of the praetor was as a reed beneath the whirlwind; still, at his word the guards had drawn themselves along the lower benches, on which the upper classes sat separate from the vulgar. They made but a feeble barrier; the waves of the human sea halted for a moment, to enable Arbaces to count the exact moment of his doom! In despair, and in a terror which beat down even pride, he glanced his eyes over the rolling and rushing crowd, when, right above them, through the wide chasm which had been left in the velaria, he beheld a strange and awful apparition; he beheld, and his craft restored his courage! "He stretched his hand on high; over his lofty brow and royal features there came an expression of unutterable solemnity and command. "'Behold!' he shouted with a voice of thunder which stilled the roar of the crowd; 'behold how the gods protect the guiltless! The fires of the avenging Orcus burst forth against the false witness of my accusers!'" The fires of the "avenging Orcus" were those of the great eruption of Vesuvius in A.D. 79. Toward such a melodramatic climax, furnished him by nature, the author had been spinning the lives of his characters in the little city which nestled under the shadow of the volcano.