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."