ty, where the physicians tended him all night. But he never slept, and
lay tossing in agony till dawn, when he said: 'There is but one hope.
Take me to Oenone, the nymph of Mount Ida!'

Then his friends laid Paris on a litter, and bore him up the steep path
to Mount Ida. Often had he climbed it swiftly, when he was young, and
went to see the nymph who loved him; but for many a day he had not trod
the path where he was now carried in great pain and fear, for the poison
turned his blood to fire. Little hope he had, for he knew how cruelly he
had deserted Oenone, and he saw that all the birds which were
disturbed in the wood flew away to the left hand, an omen of evil.

At last the bearers reached the cave where the nymph Oenone lived, and
they smelled the sweet fragrance of the cedar fire that burned on the
floor of the cave, and they heard the nymph singing a melancholy song.
Then Paris called to her in the voice which she had once loved to hear,
and she grew very pale, and rose up, saying to herself, 'The day has
come for which I have prayed. He is sore hurt, and has come to bid me
heal his wound.' So she came and stood in the doorway of the dark cave,
white against the darkness, and the bearers laid Paris on the litter at
the feet of Oenone, and he stretched forth his hands to touch her
knees, as was the manner of suppliants. But she drew back and gathered
her robe about her, that he might not touch it with his hands.

Then he said: 'Lady, despise me not, and hate me not, for my pain is
more than I can bear. Truly it was by no will of mine that I left you
lonely here, for the Fates that no man may escape led me to Helen. Would
that I had died in your arms before I saw her face! But now I beseech
you in the name of the Gods, and for the memory of our love, that you
will have pity on me and heal my hurt, and not refuse your grace and let
me die here at your feet.'

[Illustration: PARIS COMES BACK TO OENONE.]

Then Oenone answered scornfully: 'Why have you come here to me? Surely
for years you have not come this way, where the path was once worn with
your feet. But long ago you left me lonely and lamenting, for the love
of Helen of the fair hands. Surely she is much more beautiful than the
love of your youth, and far more able to help you, for men say that she
can never know old age and death. Go home to Helen and let her take away
your pain.'

Thus Oenone spoke, and went within the cave, where she threw herself
dow