That night the gathering about the board was scantier than it had been for many a long day. Yet a few of the suitors remained, and seemed in no haste to be gone.
“They are waiting for thee to fulfil thy condition,” said the king.
Then Atalanta herself went and pleaded with them.
But they replied, “Lady, thou hast given the condition of thy marrying, and we are waiting to fulfil it.”
Thus was she forced to keep her word, and the lists were made ready for the race, and the lots were cast among the suitors as to which of them should be the first to run against her. In the early morning, before the sun was strong, the race was run, and all the city crowded to the course to watch it. The man ran well and bravely, but his speed was as child’s play to Atalanta. She put forth her strength like a greyhound that is content to run for a while before the horses, but when he scents a hare, can leave them far behind. Even so did Atalanta run, and came in cool and fresh at the goal, whilst her rival ran in hot and panting behind her.
Thus did it come to pass that the first man drank the poison cup because of his love for Atalanta. With a smiling face did he drink it, as a man drinks at a feast.
And now a time of darkness and mourning fell upon the land, and many a day in the year the city was hung with black for the sake of some noble suitor who had chosen death rather than life without Atalanta. And Atalanta’s heart was sore within her, because of the rash condition she had made in her ignorance. When she would fain have recalled her words it was too late, for the suitors bound her to her promise.
“Either give thyself of thine own free will to one of us, or else let us take our chance of winning thee or death,” they said.
And she was forced to run with them. For in her heart she knew that even death was happier for a man than to win her without her love.
Thus were the words of Diana fulfilled when she said, “In time she shall return to her own folk, and bring joy and sorrow to their hearts.”