The notes of the gavel were never so like music.

With his breast against the leaded handle, he pushed with all his might--pushed until the shaft bent as if about to break.
The chief went to the tribune, and, smiling, pointed to number sixty.
"What strength!" he said.
"And what spirit!" the tribune answered.

"Perpol! He is better without the irons.

Put them on him no more." So saying, he stretched himself upon the couch again.
The ship sailed on hour after hour under the oars in water scarcely rippled by the wind.

And the people not on duty slept, Arrius in his place, the marines on the floor.
Once--twice--Ben-Hur was relieved; but he could not sleep.