Arming is only an episode of military life. Instead of showing us the battle, the painter allows us to be present at the preparations. A strong effect has been produced on a kylix made in the workshop of Euphronios: Achilles, in ambush, surprises Troïlos, the youngest son of Priam, who comes to draw water at a fountain; he pursues him across the plain as he flees in his chariot. The alarm is given, and one sees the Trojans hastily arming and running to the royal child’s assistance. But they come too late. In another painting we see the crime already accomplished; without pity for the tender years or the cries of his victim, the hero cuts off the boy’s head by the altar of Apollo, where he has taken refuge (Fig. 18). The conceptions of Douris are not so dramatic. The design of the kylix in Vienna, which is a masterpiece of its kind, allows us in a manner to penetrate into a Greek camp, at the hour when all are preparing for the manœuvres or the battle (Fig. 19). It is mediocre, even a little commonplace, as regards observation, but it is clever by the realism of the small practical details. In the interior is the classic scene of a libation, a soldier before his departure praying to the gods; a woman brings him wine which she pours into a sacrificial cup. On the reverse, an encampment; the alarm has sounded, every one seeks his arms in haste, one his sword, another his lance or helmet. The monotony of the subject had to be varied. The painter has succeeded in this by introducing some old and bearded men who help and encourage the youths, and a woman who brings a shield and a sword. Nothing can be more animated than the faces and gestures of these young men arming themselves. One tries his sword and draws it partly out of the scabbard, another binds the fillet about his hair, so as to adjust his helmet more firmly; his companion, with a finical gesture, turns up his sleeve and the lower part of his tunic. Elsewhere (Fig. 19), a hoplite already helmeted places greaves on his legs, another dons his corselet, a third hangs his sword at his side and puts the shoulder belt over his shoulder, a fourth makes a little gesture of comic despair showing that he has forgotten to place a crest on his helmet, while the last raises and ties his long hair. These are sketches drawn from life, and are almost like the sketch-book of an artist who has accompanied soldiers at their manœvres. What we term “military painting,” in its familiar and picturesque form, dates from the Greeks. [Illustration: Fig. 19. SOLDIERS ARMING. By Douris. Vienna Museum.]