BEL AFFRIS. What man could, that we did. But there came the sound
of a trumpet whose voice was as the cursing of a black mountain.
Then saw we a moving wall of shields coming towards us. You know
how the heart burns when you charge a fortified wall; but how if
the fortified wall were to charge YOU?

THE PERSIAN (exulting in having told them so). Did I not say it?

BEL AFFRIS. When the wall came nigh, it changed into a line of
men--common fellows enough, with helmets, leather tunics, and
breastplates. Every man of them flung his javelin: the one that
came my way drove through my shield as through a papyrus--lo
there! (he points to the bandage on his left arm) and would have
gone through my neck had I not stooped. They were charging at the
double then, and were upon us with short swords almost as soon as
their javelins. When a man is close to you with such a sword, you
can do nothing with our weapons: they are all too long.

THE PERSIAN. What did you do?

BEL AFFRIS. Doubled my fist and smote my Roman on the sharpness
of his jaw. He was but mortal after all: he lay down in a stupor;
and I took his sword and laid it on. (Drawing the sword) Lo! a
Roman sword with Roman blood on it!

THE GUARDSMEN (approvingly). Good! (They take the sword and hand
it round, examining it curiously.)

THE PERSIAN. And your men?