Chapter XI (5)

"This is passing strange," thought Paris, as he gazed at the apple in his hand, and read the words inscribed upon it--"For the Fairest." There it lay, smooth and shining, a sure token that he had not been dreaming. So he took it and showed it to OEnone, and told her what Iris, the messenger of the gods, had said to him. When OEnone heard it she was filled with fear.

"Cast it at their feet, Paris, when they come to thee," she begged, "and say thou canst not set thyself up to be a judge of the Immortals."

"Nay, that would anger them against me," he said; for in his heart he was proud to have been chosen out of all the sons of men.

"I tell thee it will bring thee trouble if thou doest it, and to me sorrow unspeakable," said she.

"Did the winning of the bull bring sorrow either to thee or to me?" he asked scornfully.

OEnone was silent under his rebuke, though she knew her foreboding would come true. When the sun was almost high in the heavens, she came to him softly where he lay on the grass and kissed his hand.

"Zeus grant thee wisdom in thy judgment, Paris," she said, and glided away swiftly through the trees, that he might not see the tears in her eyes.

Then his heart smote him for his scornful words, and he rose up hastily from the ground and called to her,

"OEnone, OEnone!"

But she answered him not, and when he looked for her among the trees, he could find no trace of her. Now it was close upon noon, and he hastened back to the glade, where Iris had bidden him stay, and waited for the coming of the goddesses. In the clear bright light of noontide they came and stood before him in the shade of the forest trees; and he fell on his knees before them, filled with wonder and awe, and cast his eyes upon the ground, for he was afraid to look upon such majesty and beauty. Thereupon they drew near to him and bade him not be afraid, but rise and give his judgment. So he rose from his knees and looked upon them; and minute after minute passed, while still he gazed, for he could not make up his mind, so passing fair was each.

"Ah, lady goddesses," he said at last, "take the apple and divide it into three, for I cannot say who is the fairest among you."

"Nay, that may not be," they said; "thou must give it to one, and one alone."

As he still hesitated, Hera spoke.

"Look well upon me, Paris," she said. "I am the Queen of Heaven, and wife of Zeus almighty, and all power and might is in my hands. I can give thee kingship and sovereignty, and dominion over many peoples. See to it that my might is for thee, and not against."

As she spoke his heart turned cold with fear, and from terror he would have given her the apple. But as he was about to stretch forth his hand, Pallas Athene spoke.

"O Paris, what is power without wisdom? Purple and gold, and to sit where others kneel--all these things make not a king. But to walk by the light of knowledge where others grope in darkness--this can make a slave a ruler of kings. This can I give thee."

Then the voice of reason within him prompted him to give the apple to her; but once again he was withheld, as Aphrodite spoke.

"Power and wisdom, Paris? What are these but empty words at which men vainly grasp? I can give thee that which all men covet--the fairest of women for thine own."

The music of her voice made the blood rush like fire through his veins, and his heart was melted within him.

"O Aphrodite," he cried, and fell at her feet, "thou art fairest. Beside love, what is power, what is wisdom? I give thee the apple, O thou fairest among the fair!"

As she stretched forth her hand towards him to take the apple, a mist fell over his eyes, and he knew no more. When he awoke the apple and the goddesses had vanished away, and OEnone was bending over him weeping.

"Alas," she said, "my father, whose stream runs at thy feet, has told me thy choice, Paris, and I am come to bid thee farewell."

"Farewell, OEnone? Why farewell?" he cried, and stretched out his arms to her. The flame of Aphrodite still burned in his heart, and to his eyes OEnone had never looked more fair than now.

"Because of Aphrodite's promise," she answered.

"Ah, OEnone!" he cried, and took her in his arms, "now I know what that promise meant. Thou art the fairest of women, and thou art mine, beloved, and Aphrodite's promise was fulfilled ere she made it."

"Nay, nay, that is not what she meant. I may be fair, Paris, yet I am no woman, but a child of the mountain waters. One day thou wilt forget me, and thy heart will turn to thine own kind. In that day Aphrodite has promised that the fairest of women shall be thine, and she will surely keep her word."

"Thou art woman enough for me," he said, "and I shall never want any other than thee." He kissed her, and comforted her as best he could. The hours fled by like minutes, the moon rose high in heaven, and one by one the stars came out, yet still they sat and talked of love, and of how they would be faithful to each other always. In like manner day after day passed by, and no two lovers in all the land were happier than Paris and OEnone.

Now it chanced that about this time Menelaus, King of Sparta, came to Troy, at the command of the oracle at Delphi. For a year past his land had been laid waste by a grievous famine, and when he inquired the cause of it, the oracle bade him go to Troy and offer sacrifices at the tomb of Lycus and Chimæreus, the sons of Prometheus, for until their spirits were appeased the land of Sparta would be barren, and her sons would die of hunger in her streets. So Menelaus set sail for Troy, and Priam and all his house received him with joy. They held great feasts in his honour, and treated him hospitably, as befitted the king of a mighty people. When he had performed his task, and the time had come for him to return, he said to Priam,

"My friend, thou hast treated me right royally, and I in my turn would fain do thee some service. Say, wilt thou not sail with me to Sparta, and see my palace, which shineth as the sun for splendour, and Helen, my wife, who is the fairest in a land where the women are fairer than all other women?"

But Priam shook his head.

"I am an old man, Menelaus, and my travelling days are done. But if thou wouldst truly do me a service, thou wilt take with thee my son Paris as thy guest. He is of an age now to travel and see strange lands, and I could not entrust him to better hands than thine. Say, wilt thou take him or no?"

"I will take him right gladly," answered Menelaus, "seeing that since I cannot have thyself, no other man would please me so well as thy son. Bid the young man be ready, and he shall sail with me and my folk."

When Paris heard the news, he was glad; for never in his life had he set foot outside the land of Troy, and he longed to see the riches of Menelaus and all the wonders of his palace in Sparta. Ere the sun had risen he was in the woods of Ida telling OEnone of the voyage he must take.

"Nay, grieve not, beloved," he said, as she turned her face sadly away; "for a few short months I must leave thee, but I will come back to thee with many a long tale of the wonders I have seen. There is nought like travel to make a man hold up his head among his fellows, and the seeing of strange things that others have not seen."

"There is nought like travel," she said, "to make a man forget his home, and love the new things better than the old."

"Dost thou think me so faithless, OEnone?"

"Many men are faithful till they meet temptation," she replied.

"Had I listened to thee, I should still have been a shepherd on the mountains, knowing neither kith nor kin."

"It would have been happier so," said she.

"OEnone, I must not heed thy fears. Remember, I am a king's son, and I must live my life as befits a man, and not be ever held back by a woman's arms."

"The gods grant thou mayest always think so, Paris. Fare thee well, then; I will stay thee no longer, but I will watch for thy coming as never woman watched before. If evil fortune befall thee, Paris, come back to me, and I will save thee."

So, with many a promise not to forget her, but to come back to her as soon as might be, he left her and set sail with Menelaus.

And they crossed the blue Ægæan and came to glorious Sparta, lying low among the circling hills. And Menelaus made his guest welcome, and showed him all the splendours of his palace, with its inlaid columns and its frieze of gold and blue. His stable and horses did he show him, and the stadium where the races were run and his treasure-house beneath the ground. Last of all he took him to Helen, his wife.

Now Helen, fairer than the sun in heaven, was sitting among her maidens, and when her lord and Paris entered, she rose from her chair and came forward with a smile to greet them. In the curve of her neck, in the gleam of her hair, there was magic, and a witchery about her face and form that no man could withstand; for she was the fairest of all women under the sun, that ever had been or ever should be in time to come. Many a man in his day loved Helen of Sparta, and many a man did she love in return; for so the gods had made her, exceeding fair and exceeding fickle, a joy and a curse among men.

As Paris looked upon her, her beauty reached his heart like the fumes of wine, and he forgot himself and his native land and OEnone; he forgot all pride and manliness, and the ties of honour that bound him to his host--all but his passion for Helen. Day and night he thought of her and of her alone, and of how he might make her his own; and day and night he plotted and planned, and at last he gained his end. For Aphrodite, true to her word, helped him, as she alone could do, and kindled in the heart of Helen an answering flame, making her for the time being love Paris more than Menelaus, her lord, or any other man. And she cast dust in the eyes of Menelaus, so that he saw not how the two lived only for each other, nor suspected his guest of any treachery. So one dark night they fled away together to Gythium, and from thence they sailed to Cranaë, and were wedded, and had joy of their love, forgetful of all else.

OEnone, meanwhile, wandered lonely about the woods and groves of Ida. With a heavy heart she had watched the ships of Menelaus sail away, and now, day by day, she would go down to the shore and look out across the sea towards Hellas. High up upon a rock she would sit and sigh for him.

"Ah, Paris, between thee and me lies many a weary league of barren waters and many a misty mountain chain. But my heart is with thee in that strange new land. Oh, Paris, forget me not, but come back to me soon, beloved."

Thus would she sigh day by day; but he came not. Month after month passed by, and still he came not, nor any news of him, and his father and all the city were troubled to know what might have befallen him. So they manned a ship, and sent it out to Sparta to get news, and in time it returned home to tell how Paris and Helen had fled from Menelaus, and how Menelaus had set out in pursuit, and had followed them to the land of Egypt. After that no man knew where they had gone, or whether, perchance, Paris and Menelaus had met in deadly battle and fallen each by the other's hand, or what might have chanced. All the land was plunged in woe to think that Paris had so far forgotten his honour as to steal away the wife of his host. But still they kept watch by day and by night, in case he should come back and be persuaded to give her up and make what amends he could.

Paris, meanwhile, with Helen, had fled before Menelaus from Egypt, and had taken refuge in Phoenicia; and when he traced them there, they fled once more and took ship to return to Troy; for they could not live for ever as wanderers on the face of the earth. With the silence of shame the folk received them at the harbour, and amid silence, that spoke more than words, they made their way through the city and came and stood before Priam in his halls, with eyes downcast upon the ground. Now Priam had heard of their coming, and had prepared in his mind a wrathful speech wherewith to greet his son and the woman who had led him astray. But when he looked upon Helen his wrath melted away like frost before the sun; for she stood like a fair lily that some careless hand has half plucked from its stem, so that its head hangs drooping towards the dust. Even so did she stand, with the tear-drops falling from her eyes. And all the wrathful words faded from his mind, so that he spoke quite otherwise than he had planned.

"My children," he said gently, "come hither to me."

They came and knelt before him, and he laid his hands upon their young shoulders, as they bowed their heads and wept upon his knees.

"Ye have grievously sinned, my children," he said, "and ye are learning, all too late, how bitter is the fruit of sin. There is but one course before you. Paris, give back the woman thou hast stolen, and make what honourable amends thou canst. And thou, Helen, go home with thy lord when he comes for thee, and be a faithful wife to him always, and make him forget that ever thou didst play him false."

"O King," she said, "thou knowest not what thou askest. If thou givest me up to Menelaus he will slay me, or else my life will be a dog's life in his halls; for his heart is no softer than a flint, though his tongue be smooth. O my father, cast me not out from thy halls. If I have sinned in leaving Menelaus, shall I not sin again in leaving Paris? Or shall my sin be less if I flee from the man I love, to go with him I love not? Who maketh two hearts to cleave together? Who but Aphrodite all-powerful? Must we set at nought the will of Heaven for the sake of laws that man has made? O Priam, my father, forsake me not, but keep me in thy halls."

And she clasped her hands about his knees and looked up into his face. Beneath her gaze all his resolve gave way, and he took her face between his hands and kissed her.

"My daughter," he said, "thou shalt stay with me as long as it shall please thee."

Thus did it come to pass that she made her home in Troy, and Priam, the king, became an accomplice in her sin; for the gods had so made her that the hearts of men were as wax between the fingers of Helen of Sparta.

In time came Menelaus, and stood in the halls of Priam, and demanded back his wife. And they offered him a ransom--gold and precious stones--but he flung it back in their faces.

"Think you that gold can pay for a living soul?" he cried. "Only a life can pay for a life, and many a life shall you pay for the sake of Helen. Look to your battlements and towers, O Priam; they must be strong indeed to stand against the host that I shall bring behind me from Hellas. Farewell, till we meet again in battle."

And he strode from the hall in anger, and sailed away to Sparta, to rouse up all the heroes of Hellas to take part in his quarrel with Troy.

Meanwhile in Troyland the forge fires burnt night and day, and the hammer rang loud upon the anvil. The red-hot iron was drawn from the furnace and bound hissing about the chariot-wheel; shields were stretched and swords were fashioned, and the ash-tree was felled upon the mountain for the handle of the tapering spear. Among the men many a heart beat high with hope; for what is there like war, if a man is brave and strong, to bring him renown, and make his name live among his fellows? But in the women's hall many a silent tear was shed; for what is there like war to bring sorrow to a woman's heart, when she sees her dear ones going forth to battle and knows not whether she shall ever look on their faces again, or, perchance, see them carried home with a gaping spear-wound in the side? And when the battle is raging she can do nought but pray. So they cursed Helen and her beauty in their hearts, and wished that even now King Priam would send her back and stave off the war from Troy.

But Paris and Helen cared for none of these things; while others worked and wept, they dallied in each other's arms and forgot all else, or hoped that when Menelaus reached home his anger would cool, and that he would find the kings of Hellas none too willing to leave their lands for the sake of another's wife. But in this they hoped in vain, and reckoned not how dear a man may hold his country's honour. For one dark night the hosts of Hellas pulled in to shore, and drew up their boats upon the beach and pitched their camp, and when the morning dawned their men were thick as flies about the walls of Troy.

So did it come to pass that Cassandra's words came true, and for many a weary year the tide of war surged about the city like a wave of the sea, and Paris slunk through the streets like a beaten cur, not daring to look his fellows in the face. For they hated him because he had brought war upon his country, and yet, though the quarrel was of his own making, he was ever the last to take the field and ever the first to retreat. So low had his manhood sunk that he thought far more of reaching Helen with an unbroken skin than of winning fame upon the field of battle.

But one day matters reached a pass when Menelaus met him face to face upon the field, and challenged him to single combat beneath the walls of Troy. He who should kill his man should have Helen for wife, and the war should end, and no more lives be spent in vain for the sake of a quarrel that concerned but two. But Paris thought of Helen waiting in her chamber, and looked upon Menelaus, standing sword in hand before him, strong as a lion in his wrath. Then his heart gave way within him, and he turned and fled from the face of his foe back into the ranks of the Trojans. He would have fled from the fight altogether, but that in the path of his retreat stood Hector; the nodding plumes waved terrible upon his helmet, and he leant on his two-handed sword and frowned upon his brother, for he had seen how he fled from Menelaus. When Paris saw him he fell back ashamed, but Hector stood aside to let him pass.

"Thou chicken-hearted mannikin," he cried, "get thee gone, and let others fight thy battle, that the courage of the Trojans be not a by-word among the nations."

And Paris slunk past him with his eyes upon the ground, and went home to Helen in her chamber.

But when the fight was over Hector came and dragged him from his hiding-place as a dog drags out a rat into the light.

"Thou smooth-faced deceiver," he said, "is this the way a man should fight when he has sailed across the high seas, and stolen away the fairest of women from a man mighty in battle? Are we to make the name of Troy a laughing-stock among our foes, and hang our heads in shame when men shall say, 'In strength and might they are like the immortal gods, these Trojans, but their courage is the courage of the deer, that flees swiftly through the forest when he hears the bark of the hounds? Thou coward, would thou hadst never been born, or hadst died upon the mountains ere there was time to bring dishonour on thy country."

And Paris trembled before his brother's wrath, but some of his old manhood returned to him.

"Thou speakest as all men speak who know not Aphrodite's power," he said. "Nevertheless, if thou wilt have it so, send forth a herald to Menelaus, and tell him I accept his challenge, and will fight him for the sake of Helen, his wife. And let the hosts of the Achæans and the hosts of Troy lay down their arms, and we two will stand up alone between them, and whichsoever of us shall fall in death, his side shall give up Helen to the victor; and the war shall cease, and peace be made between the nations."

So Hector sent forth a herald to Menelaus, and the two hosts drew close together on the plain till there was but a narrow space between them, and they laid aside their arms, and some lay upon the ground or sat, and others stood behind to watch the fight in the midst. And Paris put on his shining armour and his helmet with the nodding plumes, and went and stood face to face with Menelaus. In the sight of all the people Hector prayed,

"O Zeus, who rulest from on high, grant that he who is the offender may fall in the fight, and his spirit flee away to Hades, that the land may have peace and the people rest from war."

And every man in his heart prayed likewise, for all were sickened at the long years of fruitless strife.

Then Hector shook the lots in his helmet, to see who should be the first to hurl his brazen spear, and the lot of Paris fell forth upon the ground. And he brandished his spear above his head, and hurled it with all his might, and it crashed against the shield of Menelaus; but the stout shield turned it aside, and it fell powerless upon the ground. Thereupon Menelaus in his turn hurled his spear, and it pierced through the shield of his foe, and would have brought black death to his heart had he not swerved aside, so that the point but grazed his corselet. But Menelaus, seeing his advantage, drew forth his sword and rushed upon him, and felled him a mighty blow upon his helmet, hoping to cleave it in two. But the sword shivered to pieces in his hand as he struck. Then, with an oath, he cast aside the hilt and leapt upon Paris, and seized him by the horsehair plume upon his helmet, and dragged him down. And the leathern thong that held the helmet was drawn tight about his throat, so that the breath was wellnigh squeezed out of him, and Menelaus was bearing him in triumph towards the Achæan host. But Aphrodite was mindful of her favourite, and, ere it was too late, she made the stout ox-hide give way beneath the weight of his body, and the helmet slipped off his head. Then she wrapped a mist about his body, so that no man should see him, and bore him away through the midst of the Trojan host, and laid him upon his bed. In the likeness of an aged dame she went and stood beside Helen on the battlements, where she leant with the other Trojan women looking down upon the plain, and she told her how she had borne forth Paris from the fight and saved him, and that now he lay upon his bed and longed for her. So straightway Helen left the others, and went and sat down by Paris. When she saw him lying there, without so much as a scratch upon his body, she was ashamed for him, and began to upbraid him.

"So thou hast come back from the battle, Paris, and couldst not endure to stand up to god-like Menelaus. Would that he had taken thee, for he is a better man than thou art! Go forth now, thou craven, and challenge him once more to battle, and stay thy ground like a man. Lo! thou art vanished away like smoke from the field, and both the hosts are making mock of thee."

Then her heart smote her for fear he should take her at her word and go back, and she fell upon her knees beside him, and took his hand in hers and wept.

"Ah, Paris," she cried, "go not forth, I pray thee, but stay with me. I, even I, do bid thee stay, lest thou fall by the hand of Menelaus, and I be left all desolate without thee."

"Ah, Helen," he said, "upbraid me not, for I love thee above all else. Some other day I will return and fight with Menelaus, but now I will stay with thee, and we will have joy of each other and forget all else,"

So whilst Menelaus searched raging through all the host, like a lion seeking for his prey, Paris and Helen dallied in each other's arms, hidden from the eyes of men. An ill reckoning would it have been for Paris had the men of Troy known where to find him, for they hated him like black death, and would have given him up to the hands of Menelaus, to do by him as he would.

From that day forth Paris scarce dared to show his face among his fellows; but when Hector urged him, and he could stand out against his taunts no longer, he would go forth into the battle, but disguised as a common soldier, with no mark upon him of his rank and birth. So did he hope to escape death and flee home as swift as might be to the arms of Helen. In this he succeeded full well for a time, but a day came when no disguise could save him and he could not flee away. For in the ranks against him stood mighty Philoctetes, with his bow and his poisoned arrows. And he drew his bow and prayed to Zeus in his heart,

"O Zeus almighty, that drivest the black thundercloud before thee, do thou guide mine arrow aright, that it may work havoc among our foes and bring glory to the host of the Achæans. In thy hands I leave it."

Then he drew back the string, so that the mighty bow was wellnigh bent in two, and the arrow sped with a whirr far over the foremost ranks of the Trojans to the rear part of the host. And it fell upon Paris, and pierced between the joints of his armour right through into his side. With a groan he fell, and black night came over his eyes, and he lay as one dead upon the field. When the fight was over, and either side was gathering up the dead and wounded from the plain, they came upon Paris among the rest; but till they had drawn off his helmet they knew him not, for he was dressed as a common soldier. When they saw who it was, they put him reverently on a bier apart, for he was a king's son, and had been a brave man once, and death can wipe out many an old score of bitterness and hatred. So they bore him upon their shoulders silently to the palace of Priam his father, and laid him upon his couch. And they brought him wine and cordials, for his heart beat faintly still within his breast. For a moment he revived, and spoke in broken whispers.

"My friends, I am dying," he said, "and I would die in the pure free air of heaven, away from cities and from men and from my shame. O my father, bid them carry me forth upon Ida, and there let them leave me, and return no more till they know the last breath must have gone from my body. Then let them burn me there, where once I was brave and free; and as the fire of my burning shall die out, so let my name die out from among you--my name and my dishonour."

So did he speak, and fell back exhausted, with the vision before his eyes of the groves of Ida and of OEnone, and of how she rose from the waters and loved him in the days of his innocent youth. And he remembered her words:

"O Paris, in that day come back to me, and I will heal thee of thy hurt."

And he wondered whether she would keep her word and forgive him and heal him, so that they could go back to their old life upon the mountains. But even if she would not, he felt that he would rather die there than in the airless city.

So they wrapped him about in warm coverings--for it was winter-time, and the snow lay white upon the ground--and carried him forth upon Ida. And they placed a blazing torch above his head and left him on the lonely heights, and the whispering pine-trees kept watch above him as they tossed their arms in the cold north wind.

From the shadow of a boulder OEnone watched the procession wind back down the mountain-track, and when they had passed out of sight she came forth from her hiding-place. The tale of Paris and Helen she knew full well, and the reason of the war, for she had listened to the talk of the shepherds on the mountains. But still in her heart she loved Paris; and when she saw him carried forth to die, she remembered how she had promised to heal him of his hurt, for she knew many a magic charm, and she could heal him if she would. So now she drew near to him out of the forest, and bent over his couch, and her red-gold hair fell soft about his face. But the fire of fever burnt hot within him, and he knew her not; but the face that came before his wandering mind was the face of Helen.

"Helen!" he whispered, "Helen!"

At the sound of that hated name a great bitterness came into the heart of OEnone.

"Must I heal thee for the sake of Helen?" she cried, and turned and fled through the darkened pines, on, on, she knew not where, and threw herself at last upon the grass and wept.

And so the torch burned low above his head and cast a dim red glow upon the snow, and he died alone of his fever upon the mountains, and she healed him not of his hurt.

The next morning came the young men from the city, and the sons of Priam, and the old king himself, to the place where Paris lay; for they knew full well that he could not have lived out that night upon the mountains. And they gathered together the pine-trunks which the woodmen had left felled upon the ground, and heaped up a great pyre, high up upon the hills, so that the burning of Paris might shine like a beacon fire in the sight of Troy and of the Achæan host. When the pyre was built they placed the body on it, and poured out wine and oil upon the wood, and the old king stood and lifted up his hands above his son.

"O father Zeus," he prayed, "who rulest upon Ida, before thee do I burn the body of my son, and before my friends and before my foes, that they both may see it. May the wine which I pour forth upon his body be a libation of peace, that by his death he may join together in friendship those hands which by his sin he made to draw the sword upon each other. O Zeus almighty, grant my prayer!"

The people bowed their heads as they heard, and the old man poured forth the last libation. The salt tears ran from his eyes and fell upon the body of his son, and washed away from his mind all memory of his sin and cowardice, and only the image of him remained as he had been when he came in his youth and beauty for the winning of the bull. So can the hand of death wipe out all ugliness and wrong.

When the last libation had been poured, they set the pyre alight, and in time it burned up bravely, for the oil and the wine, and the breath of the north wind blowing bleak across the mountain, made the flame burn bright and clear; and the pyre of Paris shone like a flaming star against the dull grey sky and over the hills and plain lying silent beneath their pall of snow. Far away across the valley OEnone saw the light, and knew that the body of him she loved, and might have saved, lay perishing within the flames. All too late, the bitterness in her heart died out, and only the love remained, and she would have given all she knew to have healed Paris of his hurt. With a wild cry she rushed, on the wings of the storm-wind, down the valley and up the hillside, and her white robes flew out behind her and the long locks of her red-gold hair. Through the ranks of the mourners she rushed and over the melting snow, through the flames of the pyre, and cast herself upon the body of Paris and put her arms about his neck. There, on his last resting-place, she lay with him, and the stifling smoke closed about her, and her spirit fled away there, where his had gone before. The people heard her cry, and saw her as she flew through their midst; but they thought it was the shriek of the north wind rushing over the hills, and to their eyes her white robes and her flowing hair seemed but the snowdrift, and last year's dead leaves whirled madly on the wings of the storm. And so they knew nought of the love of Paris and OEnone, or of how she watched his flocks with him when he was brave and free, or of how she forgave him, all too late, and died with him in the pyre which burned for a beacon of peace upon the snow-clad hills.

THE END

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classic.'_ TIMES OF INDIA.

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WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by F. D. Bedford

RUNAWAYS & CASTAWAYS

Edited with Introduction by E. V. LUCAS

Besides profuse black and white illustrations, the frontispiece and title-page are daintily coloured.

_'Mr. E. V. Lucas has deliberately set himself to capture
hearts while young and tender.... In twenty years he will have
become such a power in the land as to be a national danger, and
his new work, "Runaways and Castaways," is only another step
towards this enviable destiny.'_--TIMES.

_'A collection of the most exciting and delightful runaway
stories in the world.'_ NATION.

_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._

Illustrated by F. D. Bedford

ANOTHER BOOK OF VERSES FOR CHILDREN

Selected and Edited by E. V. LUCAS

But few have done as much as he To brighten things for you and me.]

Profusely Illustrated in Black and White, with Frontispiece and Title-page beautifully printed in Colour.

'_A delightful compilation, and noticeably excellent in the
method of its arrangement._'

ATHENÆUM.

'_We may briefly and emphatically describe it as the most
charming anthology for children that we have seen, original in
choice and arrangement, beautifully bound, and owing no little
to Mr. F. D. Bedford's delightful and sympathetic
illustrations._'

GUARDIAN.

'_Most happily selected, Moreover, the light and humorous
verse--verse harmless without any obvious moral--is too much
neglected, for children like to be amused, and this need is
sometimes forgotten._'

SPECTATOR.

'_The volume is in itself a real gift-book, being admirably
bound, printed, and illustrated._'

THE WORLD.

_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._

Illustrated by Gordon Browne

FAIRY TALES FROM GRIMM

'_Of new editions of old favourites the palm must be given, we
think, to this collection of Fairy Tales from Grimm.... We do
not think a better edition has appeared._'

REVIEW OF REVIEWS.

'_No more acceptable edition of some of Grimm's Stories has been
published._'--STANDARD.

'_Altogether delightful. The illustrations are full of charm and
sympathy._'--SATURDAY REVIEW.

'_A fairy book beyond reproach._'--GRAPHIC.

'_We have nothing but praise for this collection._'--SKETCH.

'_Grimm is always delightful, but in his present new dress he is
more delightful than ever. Mr. Gordon Browne charms us always
with his dainty pictures._'--GUARDIAN.

'_All the illustrations are simply inimitable._'

QUEEN.

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, &. CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by A. G. Walker

A BOOK OF BALLAD STORIES

Selected and Edited by

MARY MACLEOD

With Introduction by

EDWARD DOWDEN

'Beyond it rose a castle fair
Y-built of marble stone;
The battlements were gilt with gold,
And glittered in the sun.'--_p. 129._
]

'_Miss Mary Macleod has succeeded admirably in keeping much of
the spirit of the originals in her prose versions of the best of
the old ballads._'

TRUTH.

'_Should take a high place. In this work the famous ballads have
been done into prose so skilfully, and have been so artistically
illustrated, that it forms a volume to be highly
prized_.'--STANDARD.

_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._

Illustrated by F. D. Bedford

OLD-FASHIONED TALES OF LONG AGO

Edited with Introduction by

E. V. LUCAS

Besides numerous black and white Illustrations, the Frontispiece and Title-page are beautifully printed in Colours.

'_A charming book. The one ambition of Mr. Lucas' authors is to
be interesting, and they succeed very well._'--DAILY TELEGRAPH.

'_Beautifully printed, illustrated, and bound._'--SCHOOLMASTER.

Tales are given from the following Popular Authors:--Thomas Day, Maria Edgeworth, Mrs. Sherwood, Anne Letitia Barbauld, Charles and Mary Lamb, Jacob Abbott, Alicia Catherine Mant, Caroline Barnard, Peter Parley, Catherine Sinclair, Dr. Aiken. The authors of some of the best tales in the volume are unknown.

_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._

Illustrated by Gordon Browne

THE SHAKESPEARE STORY BOOK

By MARY MACLEOD

With Introduction

By SIDNEY LEE

'_Mr. Sidney Lee, a quite unimpeachable authority, strongly
recommends this new volume, for which indeed Miss Macleod's
literary reputation will commend a favourable hearing. This new
rendering has been very well done. Mr. Gordon Browne's
illustrations add another charm to a very attractive
book._'--SPECTATOR.

'_Miss Macleod has followed the plot more closely than Mary and
Charles Lamb, and a charming book of stories is the
result._'--TRUTH

=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.=

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by Hugh Thomson

TALES OF THE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS

RETOLD FROM CHAUCER AND OTHER WRITERS

By

F. J. HARVEY DARTON

With Introduction

By Dr. F. J. FURNIVALL

=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards,=

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by Gordon Browne

FAIRY TALES FROM HANS ANDERSEN

Introduction By EDWARD CLODD

=Large Crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, fancy cloth boards.=

'_The illustrations leave nothing to be desired._'--STANDARD.

'_This is really a seasonable for all Christmases._'--PUNCH.

'_A delightful gift for children._'--TIMES OF INDIA.

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by Gordon Browne

_AN IMPROVING HISTORY FOR OLD BOYS, YOUNG BOYS, GOOD BOYS, BAD BOYS, BIG BOYS, LITTLE BOYS, COW BOYS, AND TOM BOYS_

THE SURPRISING ADVENTURES OF SIR TOADY LION

WITH THOSE OF General Napoleon Smith

By S. R. CROCKETT

'_When we say it is one of the most delightful stories about
children we have ever read, we are still short of the mark._'

DAILY CHRONICLE.

'_It is distinctly the best Christmas book of the
season._'--DAILY MAIL.

'_In this excellent book for children, which the elders will
enjoy, Mr. Crockett comes right away from kailyard into a
kingdom of obstreperous fancy, and is purely, delightfully
funny, and not too Scotch.... Mr. Gordon Browne's illustrations
are as good a treat as the story; they realise every thought and
intention of the writer, and are full of a sly and
characteristic drollery all the artist's own._'--WORLD.

=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.=

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by A. G. Walker

'_A very beautiful gift-book. Deeply interesting to any
intelligent child, and the beauty of the old romances will
appeal strongly to any imaginative mind, young or old._--THE
WORLD.

'_Very well re-told ... an excellent introduction to the
treasures of the old literature._'--DAILY MAIL.

A WONDER BOOK OF OLD ROMANCE

By F. J. HARVEY DARTON

CONTENTS

WILLIAM AND THE WEREWOLF.
KING ROBERT OF SICILY.
SIR CLEGES AND THE CHERRIES.
SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT.
THE FAIR UNKNOWN.
KING HORN.
THE SEVEN WISE MASTERS.
SIR DEGORÉ AND THE BROKEN SWORD.
GUY OF WARWICK.
THE ASH AND THE HAZEL.
FLORIS AND BLANCHEFLEUR.
AMYS AND AMYLION.
HAVELOR THE DANE.

_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._

Illustrated by Gordon Browne

NATIONAL RHYMES OF THE NURSERY

WITH DRAWINGS BY GORDON BROWNE]

With Introduction

By GEORGE SAINTSBURY

'_The prettiest and most complete collection of this kind that
we have seen._'--WESTMINSTER GAZETTE.

'_It is impossible to praise the volume too highly._'--BLACK AND
WHITE.

'_Every conceivable nursery rhyme is herein gathered together,
beautifully illustrated. The collection is certainly the most
perfect that has ever been made._'--SCHOOL GUARDIAN.

'_Standard authority._'--TIMES.

'_A very complete collection._'

PALL MALL GAZETTE.

=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, bound in art linen boards.=

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by Gordon Browne

STORIES FROM FROISSART

By

HENRY NEWBOLT,

_Author of 'Admirals All,' &c._

'_A really fine book, and effectively illustrated. Mr. Newbolt
has done his work well, and Mr. Gordon Browne has illustrated
the book delightfully._'--OUTLOOK.

ATHENÆUM.
]

=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.=

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by Gordon Browne

_A Child's Book, for Children, for Women, and for Men._

SWEETHEART TRAVELLERS

By S. R. CROCKETT

'_It is the rarest of all rarities, and veritably a child's book
for children, as well as for women and men. It is seldom,
indeed, that the reviewer has the opportunity of bestowing
unstinted praise, with the feeling that the laudation is,
nevertheless, inadequate. "Sweetheart Travellers" is instinct
with drollery; it continually strikes the softest notes of
tenderest pathos, and it must make the most hardened bachelor
feel something of the pleasures he has missed in living mateless
and childless._'--TIMES.

'_A more delightful book for young, old, and middle aged, it is
scarcely possible to conceive._'--TRUTH.

'_We confess to having fallen under the spell of these
delightful chronicles. The illustrations are just what was
wanted to make this one of the most attractive books about
children._'

PALL MALL GAZETTE

=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.=

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by Gordon Browne

SINTRAM & HIS COMPANIONS

AND UNDINE

By DE LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ

With Introduction

By CHARLOTTE M. YONGE

'_The anonymous translation is the good old standard one. Vastly
superior to subsequent versions._'--TIMES.

'_Certain to engage the sympathies of an entirely new set of
readers._'--DAILY TELEGRAPH.

'_Nothing could be more attractive than the form in which this
excellent edition is sent forth._'--RECORD.

'_A better present for a thoughtful lad or lass could hardly
be._'--CHURCH TIMES.

=Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.=

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by F. M. Rudland

THE HISTORY OF THE

FAIRCHILD FAMILY

By Mrs. SHERWOOD

Edited with Introduction

By MARY E. PALGRAVE

'_A better gift-book is not easy to find than this pleasing
edition of a deservedly popular story._'

DAILY NEWS.

'_We have seen few more delightful volumes._'--RECORD.

'"_The History of the Fairchild Family" has never appeared in a
more attractive form._'

SCOTSMAN.

=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.=

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by Hugh Thomson

TALES FROM

MARIA EDGEWORTH

With Introduction by AUSTIN DOBSON

'_One of the best of the new editions that the present Christmas
has called forth. Strangers to the fascinating pen of Maria
Edgeworth could not have a better volume in which to learn what
they have been missing._'--TIMES.

'_Exceedingly attractive._'--SPECTATOR.

'_Nothing could be more admirably carried out._'--BOOKMAN.

=Large 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards.=

WELLS GARDNER, DARTON, & CO., LTD., LONDON

Illustrated by Gordon Browne

SIR TOADY CRUSOE

By S. R. CROCKETT

Morning
Leader.

'_The best book for children, if not the best book we have seen
this year._'--WESTMINSTER GAZETTE.

'_We have seen nothing for a long time to equal the admirable
illustrations._'--DUNDEE COURIER.

_Large crown 8vo. printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._

Illustrated by F. D. Bedford

FORGOTTEN TALES OF LONG AGO

Edited with Introduction by

E. V. LUCAS

Beside numerous Black and White Illustrations, the Frontispiece and Title-page are in Colours.

_The Contents include:_

DICKY RANDOM; JEMIMA PLACID; TWO TRIALS; THE FRUITS OF DISOBEDIENCE; THE THREE CAKES; SCOURHILL'S ADVENTURES; ELLEN AND GEORGE; THE JOURNAL, by Priscilla Wakefield; THE BUNCH OF CHERRIES; THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF LADY ANNE; CAPTAIN MURDERER, by Charles Dickens, and many other favourite old stories, now forgotten.

'_Is Mr. E. V. Lucas going to provide its with one of the
prettiest books of each Christmas season? For successive years
we have been delighted with his clever selection from the
child-fiction of our grandparents, and we are left like Oliver
Twist, asking for more._'--BOOKMAN.

_Large crown 8vo, printed on superfine paper, cloth boards._

Transcriber's Note:

Archaic and inconsistent spelling and punctuation retained.

End of Project Gutenberg's Children of the Dawn, by Elsie Finnimore Buckley