"Look well upon me, Paris," she said. "I am the Queen of Heaven, and wife of Zeus almighty, and all power and might is in my hands. I can give thee kingship and sovereignty, and dominion over many peoples. See to it that my might is for thee, and not against."
As she spoke his heart turned cold with fear, and from terror he would have given her the apple. But as he was about to stretch forth his hand, Pallas Athene spoke.
"O Paris, what is power without wisdom? Purple and gold, and to sit where others kneel—all these things make not a king. But to walk by the light of knowledge where others grope in darkness—this can make a slave a ruler of kings. This can I give thee."
Then the voice of reason within him prompted him to give the apple to her; but once again he was withheld, as Aphrodite spoke.
"Power and wisdom, Paris? What are these but empty words at which men vainly grasp? I can give thee that which all men covet—the fairest of women for thine own."
The music of her voice made the blood rush like fire through his veins, and his heart was melted within him.
"O Aphrodite," he cried, and fell at her feet, "thou art fairest. Beside love, what is power, what is wisdom? I give thee the apple, O thou fairest among the fair!"
As she stretched forth her hand towards him to take the apple, a mist fell over his eyes, and he knew no more. When he awoke the apple and the goddesses had vanished away, and Œnone was bending over him weeping.
"Alas," she said, "my father, whose stream runs at thy feet, has told me thy choice, Paris, and I am come to bid thee farewell."
"Farewell, Œnone? Why farewell?" he cried, and stretched out his arms to her. The flame of Aphrodite still burned in his heart, and to his eyes Œnone had never looked more fair than now.