THE INFLUENCE WORKING.
Up in the colonnade reserved for women were two Greek ladies, natives
of Asia Minor: Myrtis, a matron of high rank, and her young friend
Coryna, a maiden of medium height and of perfect mould, with a wealth
of braided auburn hair. The matron wore a _stola_, a long tunic girded
in broad folds under the breast, and a white _palla_, a wide upper
garment, loosely over her shoulders. Her companion had a white robe
with a broad purple border, and over it an azure _palla_ covered with
golden stars. Both ladies had refined feelings and elegant manners.
They were in the Colosseum for the first time.
"What dost thou think of all this, my Myrtis?" enquired Coryna, with a
marked expression of pain in her sympathetic countenance.
"Think," answered Myrtis, striving to repress her agitation; "in the
dexterity of the combatants I had a gruesome interest, but upon the
prostrate, dying men I cannot look"; and the stout but comely woman of
tender feeling turned her fair head farther away from the ghastly sight
below.
"It is horrible," remarked Coryna, casting a furtive glance into the
arena.
"I cannot remain," said Myrtis, "but what would Titanus say?" and she
glanced down over the intervening galleries to the _podium_, where her
illustrious Roman husband sat.
Beside him was Coryna's brother, Tharsos, a distinguished young
officer, wearing a _toga_, with a white _lacerna_ or mantle of elegant
form.
Behind Titanus stood his young son, Carnion, a raven-haired boy of
twelve, dressed in the _toga praetexta_, a becoming garment of white
with a wide edge of purple, and suspended from his neck the _bulla_, a
round ornament of gold, worn especially by the children of the noble.
He held in his hand a cluster of lilies, a little gift meant for
Coryna, but which he had forgotten to hand over when entering the
amphitheatre.
"See how Carnion is disturbed!" observed Coryna; "the dear boy turns
away his head and will not look at the expiring horseman right
underneath."
The mother saw her child's attitude with pleased eyes, indeed they were
often on him.
"Though tender-hearted, yet my Carnion is brave and strong," said she
with a smile of pride.
"He is a soldier, every bit of him," added Coryna. "How different from
his elder brother, Dinarchus!"
"Yes, my Dinarchus is a great reader, a young philosopher, a hermit,
dear boy. He is now deep in the study of the Christian books. I would
my Carnion were at home with him to-day, but he expected to see a
wild-beast fight."
"Observe thy husband and my brother--see how calmly they look on!"
"They are soldiers, Coryna, and accustomed as we know to the spectacle
of wounds and blood. To them, the arena must be as nothing to a field
of battle when the clash of sword and spear is past."
"Oh, it must be racking, revolting!" exclaimed the other, pained at the
mental vision of mangled heaps of slain; "and our beloved ones hate the
sight."
"They also dislike what they see before them," said Myrtis. "They love
skill, but they have no love for wanton play with human life."
"I wish all Rome hated such idle butchery," remarked Coryna earnestly,
but rather loudly.
Overhearing these remarks, spoken in the Latin tongue, a number of
ladies sneered and smiled. All, or nearly all, who made that wide
investing terrace a wreath of brightness and beauty, were dead to pity.
At the most they could only feel regret for a wounded favorite or a
dying hero.
"I would all the empire were of thy mind, Coryna, and then no such sad
spectacle would stain our own beloved, humaner land.
"Christianity is the deadly enemy of all this wicked work. May it
prosper!" said the young lady fervently.
"There are no Christians here, I venture to say, civil or military,"
responded Myrtis. "No follower of the humane Jesus would come within
these walls, unless wronged and led, or bent on some heroic deed. But
we worshippers of a hundred gods can thank our divinities for no good
influence. I hate the gods: may they forgive me!" and the reflective
lady smiled at her own bold scepticism.
"They are myths, so my brother says," added Coryna, with a look of
decision and relief.
"Tharsos is almost a Christian," remarked Myrtis, "and with him I
strongly sympathize."
"He is. But see, he is telling thy husband something, and look how
earnestly Carnion watches his words. Of a surety something strange or
startling is going to present itself next. The uncertainty about the
time of the Christian's appearance must be removed, but my brother's
signal will tell."