because he was so noble and brave and handsome and gentle.

"One warm summer afternoon, Paris sat in the shade of a tree at the
foot of Mount Ida, while his flocks were pasturing upon the hillside
before him. The bees were humming lazily among the flowers; the
cicadas were chirping among the leaves above his head; and now and then
a bird twittered softly among the bushes behind him. All else was
still, as if enjoying to the full the delicious calm of that pleasant
day.

"Paris was fashioning a slender reed into a shepherd's flute; while
Oenone, sitting in the deeper shadows of some clustering vines, was
busy with some simple piece of needlework.

"A sound as of sweet music caused the young shepherd to raise his eyes.
Before him stood the four immortals, Hera, Athena, Aphrodite, and
Hermes the messenger; their faces shone with a dazzling radiance, and
they were fairer than any tongue can describe. At their feet rare
flowers sprang up, crocuses and asphodels and white lilies; and the air
was filled with the odor of orange blossoms. Paris, scarce knowing
what he did, arose to greet them. No handsomer youth ever stood in the
presence of beauty. Straight as a mountain pine was he; a leopard-skin
hung carelessly upon his shoulders; his head was bare, but his locks
clustered round his temples in sunny curls, and formed fit framework
for his fair brows.

"Hermes spoke first: 'Paris, we have come to seek thy help; there is
strife among the folk who dwell on Mount Olympus. Here are Hera,
Athena, and Aphrodite, each claiming to be the fairest, and each
clamoring for this prize, this golden apple. Now we pray that you will