I will give thee one blow of my head in the stomach; we shall see then who wins." "An ox might have said the same to Aristotle," retorted Chilo.
It was growing gray in the world.

The dawn covered with pale light the outlines of the walls.

The trees along the wayside, the buildings, and the gravestones scattered here and there began to issue from the shade.
The road was no longer quite empty.

Marketmen were moving toward the gates, leading asses and mules laden with vegetables; here and there moved creaking carts in which game was conveyed.

On the road and along both sides of it was a light mist at the very earth, which promised good weather.