One by one the tables walked across the hall as if they had been alive, and close behind followed Hephæstus, supported on either side by lovely maidens, fashioned, like the tables, out of gold.
To the King he presented a golden sceptre and thunderbolts, which no one but Zeus himself could hold.
"Thou art indeed our son," cried the King. "Choose what thou wilt, and it shall be given thee."
Looking around the court, the eyes of Hephæstus rested at last on Venus—a Princess so beautiful that she was supposed to have been made of sea-foam.
"Grant me, O Zeus, that I may have this lady for my wife," said Hephæstus.
The request was granted almost before it was asked, and the wedding which followed was one of the most brilliant that had ever taken place in the country of Olympus.
Venus, however, was as false as she was beautiful, and Hephæstus was often unhappy; but he consoled himself as best he could by keeping perpetually at work, sometimes making a brazen shield for one friend, or forging a suit of armor for another.
So it came to pass that the lame boy Hephæstus, exiled from his father's court on account of his ugliness, became the world-renowned royal blacksmith, honored by all for his patient endurance of wrong, for his matchless skill, and for his loving service.