He had cherished the vague hint dropped to him by Ben-Hur of something to happen in the turning of the western pillars.

It was the fifth round, yet the something had not come; and he had said to himself, the sixth will bring it; but, lo! Ben-Hur was hardly holding a place at the tail of his enemy's car.
Over in the east end, Simonides' party held their peace.

The merchant's head was bent low.

Ilderim tugged at his beard, and dropped his brows till there was nothing of his eyes but an occasional sparkle of light.
Esther scarcely breathed.

Iras alone appeared glad.
Along the home-stretch--sixth round--Messala leading, next him Ben-Hur, and so close it was the old story: "First flew Eumelus on Pheretian steeds; With those of Tros bold Diomed succeeds; Close on Eumelus' back they puff the wind, And seem just mounting on his car behind; Full on his neck he feels the sultry breeze, And, hovering o'er, their stretching shadow sees." Thus to the first goal, and round it.