Edward Bulwer-Lytton: The Last Days of Pompeii

BOOK THE FIFTH 4. Chapter IV (continued)

'O Heaven! O Christ! already I behold ye!' cried the fervent Olinthus, lifting up his hands; 'I tremble not--I rejoice that the prison-house shall be soon broken.'

Glaucus bowed his head in silence. He felt the distinction between his fortitude and that of his fellow-sufferer. The heathen did not tremble; but the Christian exulted.

The door swung gratingly back--the gleam of spears shot along the walls.

'Glaucus the Athenian, thy time has come,' said a loud and clear voice; 'the lion awaits thee.'

'I am ready,' said the Athenian. 'Brother and co-mate, one last embrace! Bless me--and farewell!'

The Christian opened his arms--he clasped the young heathen to his breast--he kissed his forehead and cheek--he sobbed aloud--his tears flowed fast and hot over the features of his new friend.

'Oh! could I have converted thee, I had not wept. Oh! that I might say to thee, "We two shall sup this night in Paradise!"'

'It may be so yet,' answered the Greek, with a tremulous voice. 'They whom death part not, may meet yet beyond the grave: on the earth--on the beautiful, the beloved earth, farewell for ever!--Worthy officer, I attend you.'

Glaucus tore himself away; and when he came forth into the air, its breath, which, though sunless, was hot and arid, smote witheringly upon him. His frame, not yet restored from the effects of the deadly draught, shrank and trembled. The officers supported him.

'Courage!' said one; 'thou art young, active, well knit. They give thee a weapon! despair not, and thou mayst yet conquer.'

Glaucus did not reply; but, ashamed of his infirmity, he made a desperate and convulsive effort, and regained the firmness of his nerves. They anointed his body, completely naked, save by a cincture round the loins, placed the stilus (vain weapon!) in his hand, and led him into the arena.