"'Leave not the pleasant pasture lands of Ida, even for a day,' said
she; 'for my heart tells me that you will not return.'

"'Think not so, my fair one,' said Paris. 'Did not Aphrodite promise
that the most beautiful woman in the world shall be my wife? And who
is more beautiful than my own Oenone? Dry now your tears; for when I
have won the prizes in the games I will come back to you, and never
leave you again.'

"Then the grief of Oenone waxed still greater. 'If you will go,' she
cried, 'then hear my warning! Long years shall pass ere you shall come
again to wooded Ida, and the hearts which now are young shall grow old
and feeble by reason of much sorrow. Cruel war and many dire disasters
shall overtake you, and death shall be nigh unto you; and then Oenone,
although long forgotten by you, will hasten to your side, to help and
to heal and to forgive, that so the old love may live again. Farewell!'

"Then Paris kissed his wife, and hastened, light of heart, to Troy.
How could it be otherwise but that, in the games which followed, the
handsome young shepherd should carry off all the prizes?

"'Who are you?' asked the king.

"'My name is Paris,' answered the shepherd, 'and I feed the flocks and
herds on wooded Ida.'

"Then Hector, full of wrath because of his own failure to win a prize,
came forward to dispute with Paris.

"'Stand there, Hector,' cried old Priam; 'stand close to the young