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.