"O Zeus almighty, that drivest the black thundercloud before thee, do thou guide mine arrow aright, that it may work havoc among our foes and bring glory to the host of the Achæans. In thy hands I leave it."
Then he drew back the string, so that the mighty bow was wellnigh bent in two, and the arrow sped with a whirr far over the foremost ranks of the Trojans to the rear part of the host. And it fell upon Paris, and pierced between the joints of his armour right through into his side. With a groan he fell, and black night came over his eyes, and he lay as one dead upon the field. When the fight was over, and either side was gathering up the dead and wounded from the plain, they came upon Paris among the rest; but till they had drawn off his helmet they knew him not, for he was dressed as a common soldier. When they saw who it was, they put him reverently on a bier apart, for he was a king's son, and had been a brave man once, and death can wipe out many an old score of bitterness and hatred. So they bore him upon their shoulders silently to the palace of Priam his father, and laid him upon his couch. And they brought him wine and cordials, for his heart beat faintly still within his breast. For a moment he revived, and spoke in broken whispers.
"My friends, I am dying," he said, "and I would die in the pure free air of heaven, away from cities and from men and from my shame. O my father, bid them carry me forth upon Ida, and there let them leave me, and return no more till they know the last breath must have gone from my body. Then let them burn me there, where once I was brave and free; and as the fire of my burning shall die out, so let my name die out from among you—my name and my dishonour."
So did he speak, and fell back exhausted, with the vision before his eyes of the groves of Ida and of Œnone, and of how she rose from the waters and loved him in the days of his innocent youth. And he remembered her words:
"O Paris, in that day come back to me, and I will heal thee of thy hurt."
And he wondered whether she would keep her word and forgive him and heal him, so that they could go back to their old life upon the mountains. But even if she would not, he felt that he would rather die there than in the airless city.
So they wrapped him about in warm coverings—for it was winter-time, and the snow lay white upon the ground—and carried him forth upon Ida. And they placed a blazing torch above his head and left him on the lonely heights, and the whispering pine-trees kept watch above him as they tossed their arms in the cold north wind.
From the shadow of a boulder Œnone watched the procession wind back down the mountain-track, and when they had passed out of sight she came forth from her hiding-place. The tale of Paris and Helen she knew full well, and the reason of the war, for she had listened to the talk of the shepherds on the mountains. But still in her heart she loved Paris; and when she saw him carried forth to die, she remembered how she had promised to heal him of his hurt, for she knew many a magic charm, and she could heal him if she would. So now she drew near to him out of the forest, and bent over his couch, and her red-gold hair fell soft about his face. But the fire of fever burnt hot within him, and he knew her not; but the face that came before his wandering mind was the face of Helen.
"Helen!" he whispered, "Helen!"