"The gods 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.