Book 11
4
He picked up a dead tortoise somewhere, and made himself a musical instrument out of it; he’s fitted arms to it, with a yoke across, then driven in pegs, fitted a bridge, and stretched seven strings across; he plays a dainty melody with it, Hephaestus, well in tune, so that even I am green with envy for all my years of practice on the harp. Even at night, Maia was telling me, he wouldn’t stay in heaven, but would go all the way down to Hades out of curiosity—to steal something from there, I’ve no doubt. He has wings on his feet, and has had someone make him a rod with marvellous powers, and with it leads down the souls of the dead.
4
I gave him that for a toy.
4
Well, he’s paid you back for that good and proper—the tongs, you know.
4
Thanks for reminding me. I’ll go and get them back, if they’re to be found, as you say, in his baby-clothes.
