Two sons skilled in the ring stood breast to breast and the same fatal arrow pierced both. Alphenor, seeing them fall, threw himself upon them with loud lamentation. His death came quickly, for his body was also pierced by an arrow. His moans had hardly ceased when Damasichthos fell wounded in the knee. While trying to stanch the wound, a second arrow pierced him and he sank dead to the earth. The youngest of the sons, Ilioneus, alone remained. The beautiful boy fell upon his knees and thus implored: “All ye gods, spare me!” Apollo was touched, but it was too late, for the fatal arrow was already on its way and reached its mark—the heart of the supplicating one. A cry of anguish ran through the city. When the king learned what had happened, despair seized him and he ran his sword through his body. Niobe also heard of the horror, but could not believe it. She hurried to the field and found the bleeding bodies. How everything had changed for her who but a short time before had been so boastful! Her face was pitiful to look upon. Even her enemies felt compassion. She threw herself down, now upon this body, now upon that, and covered them with kisses and tears. Her hair hung down and the blood of her sons stained it and her garments. She raised her arms and wildly cried: “Revengeful Latona, now satisfy your delight in my sufferings. My sons’ death is my death. Triumph, dreadful one, for thou hast overcome me. But no, for I am still richer than thou.” Hardly had these words escaped her lips before the dismal twang of the bow was heard anew. Horror seized upon the people and the seven daughters who were rushing to the spot. Niobe did not quail. Misfortune had stupefied her. One of the daughters, while seeking to draw the arrow from the heart of Ilioneus, was pierced and fell upon his body. Another, while consoling her mother, fell dead. Thus one after the other was killed until only the youngest was left. She fled to the lap of her mother, who covered her with her cloak. “Only this one is left to me, Implacable One, only this one,” exclaimed Niobe in despair. The death cry was heard, and she held in her arms a bleeding body. The mother sat amidst her murdered children, rigid with sorrow. Her face was like white marble. Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. The blood stood still in her veins. Her whole body turned to stone. A storm swept past with a frightful roar. Lo, tears of stone fell from her eyes. Suddenly the hurricane carried her upon its wings and left her among the rocky crags of Sipylus.[18] A marble block is there to-day and every morning the cold marble weeps. Chapter X Bellerophon