"You've told me yourself that in your Book it is written whosoever smiteth thee on thy right cheek turn to him the other also."
"True."
"Well, I'm right; and if so, to my thinking you mustn't go to wars; the enemy will strike you on one cheek and you turn him round the other. You're a set of cowards, I say."
"The Cæsar Julian's a Christian, and he isn't a coward!" retorted Strombix.
"I know, my boy," continued Aragaris, "that you can pardon enemies when you have to fight them, poor chicken! Your belly is no bigger than my fist. With a clove in it you're fed up for the whole day; and so your blood is no better than marsh-water!"
"Ah, cousin! cousin!" observed Strombix reproachfully, "why did you talk about food? Now I've got another gnawing ache in my stomach. Give me a little garlic! There's some left in your bag."
"If I give you what there's left we shall both starve to-morrow in this forest!"
"Ah, but if you don't give me some now, I shall fall from weakness and you will be obliged to carry me."
"Well, stuff and swill, dog!"