Читать книгу No. XIII; or, The Story of the Lost Vestal онлайн

14 страница из 55

“And, indeed,” said a grave man, who was one of the guests, “it was a sight to affect a boy of your son’s tender years.”

The Roman father laughed.

“Nay, may he never see worse sights than that we have witnessed to-day. There was not enough terror in it; these miserable Christians need stronger discipline; they are so stubborn. When the beasts spring on them in the arena, and a huge leopard plays with one like a ball, then it is somewhat thrilling, I grant, but to-day! Fill the cups, and let us drink to the health of the Governor, and pour out a libation to the gods in token of gratitude that it has been given to us to crush out another at least of these reptiles.”

“Nay, now,” said a young man, “you forget the executioner.”

“Aye, so I did, that was a fine addition to the scene. I could laugh now to think of it!”

Severus saw that his little daughter was following every word that was said with extreme earnestness, and that Ebba, who was standing with a scent-bottle and a large fan close to her mistress, was scanning the face of the last speaker eagerly.