So he drew Jason in and spoke to him so lovingly, and feasted him so well, that Jason's anger passed.
When supper was ended his three cousins came into the hall, and Jason thought he would like well to have one of them for his wife.
But soon he looked at Pelias, and when he saw that he still wept, he said, "Why do you look so sad, my uncle?"
Then Pelias sighed heavily again and again, like a man who had to tell some dreadful story, and was afraid to begin.
At last he said, "For seven long years and more have I never known a quiet night, and no more will he who comes after me, till the Golden Fleece be brought home."
Then he told Jason the story of Phrixus and of the Golden Fleece, and told him what was a lie, that Phrixus' spirit tormented him day and night. And his daughters came and told the same tale, and wept and said, "Oh, who will bring home the Golden Fleece, that the spirit of Phrixus may rest, and that we may rest also, for he never lets us sleep in peace?"
Jason sat awhile, sad and silent, for he had often heard of that Golden Fleece, but he looked on it as a thing hopeless and impossible for any mortal man to win.
When Pelias saw him silent he began to talk of other things. "One thing there is," said Pelias, "on which I need your advice, for, though you are young, I see in you a wisdom beyond your years. There is one neighbor of mine whom I dread more than all men on earth. I am stronger than he now and can command him, but I know that if he stay among us, he will work my ruin in the end. Can you give me a plan, Jason, by which I can rid myself of that man?"
After a while, Jason answered half-laughing, "Were I you, I would send him to fetch that same Golden Fleece, for if he once set forth after it, you would never be troubled with him more."
At that a little smile came across the lips of Pelias, and a flash of wicked joy into his eyes. Jason saw it and started, and he remembered the warning of the old man, and his own one sandal and the oracle, and he saw that he was taken in a trap.