“Prophet of plagues, forever boding ill! Still must that tongue some evil message bring. I will release the maid, that my people may be spared. But for this, my share of booty, shall the Greeks requite me.”
Then Achilles answered,—
“We have no treasures from which to make up thy loss. Let the maiden go! and when we capture Troy, we will repay thee fourfold.”
Then Agamemnon replied,—
“Shall I my prize resign while thou art possessed of thine? I will send back the maid to please Apollo; but know thou that I will seize thy share, even the girl Briseïs, that all may know that I am sovereign here.”
Whereupon, Achilles was so fierce with anger, that he fain would have slain the monarch, and had, forsooth, half drawn his sword from the scabbard, to thrust it into the haughty king. But lo! the goddess Athené stood behind him, and caught him by his long yellow locks of hair. None saw the goddess, save only Achilles, to whom he said,—
“Art thou come, fair Minerva, to witness these wrongs I bear from Atreus’ son? If thou dost see his crime, see also my proud vengeance.”
Whereupon, he raised his sword to strike; but the goddess said,—
“Forbear thy fury! Let great Achilles yield to reason. Put up thy sword; but if thou pleasest, use the dagger of thy tongue alone. With that, the gods permit thee to reproach him; but vengeance, leave thou to the care of heaven.”