Jo. She has been ill, and her hair was falling off, and she had to have it cropped. And now she has got false hair. Pythias, show him that it is so. Behold your rival, Lysias! this is the young gentleman of whom you were jealous.
Ly. And what lover would not have been jealous? I had the evidence of my hands, remember.
Jo. Well, you know better now. Suppose I were to return you evil for evil? What should you say to that? It is my turn to be angry with you now.
Ly. No, you mustn't be angry. We will have some wine, and Pythias must join us; the truce cannot be ratified without her.
Jo. Of course not. A pretty scrape you have led me into, Pythias, you nice young man!
Py. The nice young man has led you out of it again too, so you must forgive him. I say, Lysias, you need not tell any one—about my hair, you know.
F.
XIII
Leontichus. Chenidas. Hymnis
Le. And then that battle with the Galatians; tell her about that, Chenidas—how I rode out in front on the grey, and the Galatians (brave fellows, those Galatians, too)—but they ran away directly they saw me; not a man stood his ground. That time, you know, I used my lance for a javelin, and sent it through their captain and his horse as well; and then, as some of them were left—the phalanx was broken up, you see, but a certain number had rallied—well, I pulled out my trusty blade, rode at them as hard as I could go, knocked over half a dozen of the front rank with the mere rush of my horse, brought down my sword on one of the officers, and clove his head in two halves, helmet and all. The rest of you came up shortly, you remember, when they were already running.