Atalanta seized the last apple, returned to the race to find herself bested. With good grace she bowed to the winner.
The nuptials were performed by a local priest. He wanted no pay, merely the reputation of having married the mighty Atlas to Atalanta.
As Atlas shifted the world on his shoulder Atalanta squeezed his brawny arm. The adoration on her face brought happiness to his eyes.
A perfect match, thought Demo.
"Give him a wife! I sent you to find the most horrible of tortures. How dare you suggest we reward his impiety by providing him with a wife! I've a mind to have you replace him for just a few hours, with the burden of the world on your shoulders!"
Zeus was, to put it kindly, miffed.
"But, Sire, think! If Atlas had such a wife as Hera . . . ?"
"Give him Hera? Well, you begin to interest me." Zeus looked around quickly. "Just jesting, my boy, of course. Now what have you in mind?"
"That he be wed to Atalanta."
"The huntress! Yes, yes indeed. Glad I thought of it. A delightful young lady. Enticing! Irresistible!" He paused, glanced around, spoke with lowered voice. "She will tire of him! At first, they will be attracted, of course. Of course, he will be so busy balancing the world, he'll have little time for her. Soon they'll quarrel and he'll feel miserable." Zeus smiled benevolently.