When he awoke, the trunks of the pine-trees stood out purple against the sunset, and the evening light cast over all things a glamour of mystery. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he must still be dreaming; for out of the stream beside him there rose a wondrous form of a maiden clad all in misty white. Her hair was like fallen beech-leaves when the sun shines on them through the trees, and her eyes were like the changing river that reflects the light of heaven. She stood before him motionless, and gazed down upon him where he lay.

"O most wonderful," he whispered, "who art thou?"

"I am OEnone," she answered, and her voice was like the music of the brook--"OEnone, the daughter of Cebren, the river G.o.d, whose stream runs dancing at your feet from the side of wooded Ida. O fairest of mortals, I am lonely in these mountain glades; let me watch thy flocks with thee."

Then she came towards him with both her hands outstretched. And Paris took her cool white hands in his. Fair as the crescent moon, she bent over him and raised him from his knees, and they looked deep into each other's eyes and loved, as the young and pure alone can love.

From that day forth they watched his flocks together on the wooded slopes, and wandered hand in hand through the forests and across the smooth green lawns of Ida.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Out of the stream beside him there rose a wondrous form of a maiden clad all in misty white.]

Meanwhile, since the day when Priam had given his child to be exposed upon the mountains, many a circling year had pa.s.sed, and the day drew near on which, if his son had lived, he would have held great games and feasted in honour of his reaching years of manhood. And Priam's heart within him smote him when he thought of the innocent babe, and he cast about in his mind how he yet might do him honour.

"Perchance I acted hastily," he thought, "and by care and good example my son might after all have been a blessing to his city and to me. But the dead are dead, and I cannot call him back to life. Yet will I honour him as best I may, that in the world below they may know he is a king's son and not utterly forgotten."

So he ordered great funeral games to be held in honour of his son, who had died without a name upon the mountains. Far and wide throughout the land the tidings went, and the lists were made ready, and rich prizes brought together for the victors. Among them was to be a bull, the strongest and finest from all the herds of Priam. The herdsmen drove down their finest cattle to the city for the king himself to chose, and he choose out a mighty beast which Agelaus had bred and reared. Now it chanced that this bull was the favourite of Paris out of all the cattle under his charge, and he loved him as some men love a dog. When he heard that Agelaus had given him to be a prize in the games, he waxed exceeding wrath.

"If he is to be any man's prize," he cried, "I shall be that man."

But Agelaus laughed at him.

"Who art thou," he said, "a foundling and a shepherd's foster-son, to enter in the lists against the sons of kings?"

"Sons of kings or sons of crows, I care not," he answered. "My arms are as strong and my feet are as swift as theirs any day. I shall enter for the lists."

The old man chuckled at his words, for he loved the lad, and was proud of his strength and beauty.

"The G.o.ds be praised!" he muttered. "The mountain air has not dulled his spirit, nor dried up the royal blood in his veins."

But OEnone was sad when she heard of his resolve.

"Ah, Paris," she begged, "as thou lovest me, leave me not to enter for these games."

"But I will come back to thee, beloved. What difference can it make?"

he asked.

"In my heart pale fear is sitting," she replied. "I know that if thou goest, it will be the beginning of woes for thee, and for me, and for all thy native land."

"Nay, thou art over fearful. Thou shalt see, I will come back with my bull, and thou and I will be happy together, as we have always been."

"Paris," she said, "that I know will never be, if once thou joinest in the games. I can see but dimly into the future, but this much at least I know: that if thou goest, war shall beat about the walls of Troy like a wave of the sea, and from the midst of the battle I see thee earned forth wounded unto death. Ah, Paris, leave the bull for a weaker man, and go not down!"

"Nay, I cannot hearken to such foolishness. What war can come if I go to Troy for the sake of a bull?"

"The cause of the war I know not, but come it surely will. O Paris, in that day come back to me, and I will heal thee of thy hurt! I know the use of herbs, for many a strange charm has my father taught me, and if any life is left in thee, I will call it back. But best of all, stay with me now, and go not down to the games."

And, weeping, she threw her arms about his neck; but nothing she could say would stop him.

So when the day came he went down into the city, and entered for the lists with the flower of the land, and all the folk marvelled who he might be. For he was tall and exceeding fair, and they had never seen his face before. When the turn came for his match, he set his teeth and wrestled like a young lion, for the bull that was the pride of his flock; and the strength of his adversaries was turned to weakness.

With joy in his heart, he came forward to take his prize; and a loud cheer rose to heaven, for the people were glad that he had won. And the king's heart went out to him as he gave the prize, for he was the age his son would have been had he lived.

"Young man," he said, "who art thou, and who is thy father?"

"I am Paris, the foster-son of Agelaus the herdsman," he answered.

"Is thine own sire dead, then?" asked Priam.

"O king, thou askest me riddles I cannot answer," said Paris, "seeing I know not even who mine own sire may be."

"This is a strange matter," said the king, and in spite of himself his heart beat fast within him.

Now Ca.s.sandra the prophetess, his daughter, was standing by his side, and the time had come for her to speak.

"O king," she said, "thou hast not far to seek for the father of this lad."

"What meanest thou?" said Priam.

"Put thy hands upon the lad's shoulders, and look into his eyes, and thou shalt see the image of his father," she answered.

Trembling between hope and fear, the old king bent forward from his seat and put his hands upon the young man's shoulders.

"Can it be--can it really be my son?" he asked.

"Thy son he is," replied Ca.s.sandra, "and no other man's. The Fates decreed that he should live, and he has lived."

"My son, my son!" cried the king, and fell upon his neck. "How I have longed for thee, and my soul has been weighed down with the burden of thy death! Now in mine old age the G.o.ds have given thee back to me, and my heart is glad. For thou art brave and fair, my son, and any father would be proud of thee, nor fear that ever thou shouldst bring dishonour on the land."

Once again the old man fell upon his neck and kissed him; and Hecuba, his mother, held him in her arms, and wept tears of joy over the child she had given up for dead. His brothers and his sisters crowded round, and all the people; and some raised him on their shoulders, and with songs and shouts of joy they took him to the palace of Priam.

There they clothed him in rich raiment, as befitted a king's son, and held a great feast in his honour; for every man was glad that one so fair and n.o.ble had been spared to bring honour to the land of Troy.

Ca.s.sandra alone sat silent amidst the revelry, for her heart was cut in two. When she looked upon her brother's fair young face, she was glad that he had lived; yet ever before her eyes there floated the vision she had seen the night before he was born--a vision of war, unmanliness and death--and she knew that vision would come true. When she thought of it she shuddered and almost wished him dead, and in her heart she cursed that fatal gift of prophecy which brought her nought but grief. Verily in her case knowledge was not a thing of joy.

When the guests had departed, the old king took his son aside.

"I have set a place apart for thee, my son," he said, "and from this day forth thou must live with thy kinsfolk in the palace."

"I will live with thee right gladly, my father," he answered, "but my days I will spend upon the mountains as of yore, and keep watch over thy flocks and herds. For I love the beasts and the mountain air, and methinks in a city I should pine for want of my old free life."

The form of OEnone rose up before his eyes; but that he hid from his father.

"Thou mayest live as best pleases thee, my son," said Priam, "and I will give thee many goodly flocks and herds of cattle for thine own."

So it came to pa.s.s that, though Paris was a prince and son of the King of Troy, there was small change in his manner of life, save that now he lived in his father's palace instead of the herdsman's hut. For in those days it was thought no shame even for a prince to be a shepherd, and keep watch over his own flocks and herds.

It was soon after this that the strife arose among the G.o.ddesses about the apple that Eris had cast in their midst at the marriage-feast of Peleus. And Zeus sent down Iris, the swift-footed messenger of Heaven, to tell Paris of the charge that was laid on him, and to bear him the golden apple. Down the path of the rainbow she sped, the road whereby she always went to and fro betwixt G.o.ds and men. Her shining robes flew out behind her, and the wings upon her feet and shoulders glanced like lightning in the sky. At early dawn, while the dew lay bright upon the ground, she came and stood in the path as Paris was driving his flocks to pasture. In one hand she held the staff that Zeus had given her, to show she was the messenger of Heaven, and in the other she held the golden apple.

"O fairest of mortals," she said, "I have been sent to thee by Zeus, who rules on high. In heaven there is war between the three great G.o.ddesses as to which of them shall have the prize for beauty, this apple thou seest in mine hand. And they have appointed thee to be the judge between them. Hold thyself ready, then, for this day at noon they will come to thee here on the lonely heights of Ida."

She spoke, and threw the apple to him, and he caught it deftly, as a player catches a ball. And wind-footed Iris sped back by the rainbow path as swift as she had come.

"This is pa.s.sing strange," thought Paris, as he gazed at the apple in his hand, and read the words inscribed upon it--"For the Fairest."