But this is what happened that long ago morning in spring. With amazing grace this lovely person who had been born in the foam of the sea made her way to the abode of Vulcan. She was the goddess of love, Venus, who is sometimes called Aphrodite. She had come to be the wife of Vulcan who was, in spite of his lameness, the god of fire. Things were very different on the earth after the coming of Venus. The whole world had been looking for her and hoping for her coming although they had not really known this desire of their hearts. And one of the first matters that the goddess of love attended to was that of the wilful Atalanta who had caused so much sorrow among the heroes of Greece. Atalanta was a princess, too boyish for a girl and too girlish for a boy. Many of the heroes had claimed her hand in marriage but she liked her own free, wild ways too much to give them up for spinning and the household arts. To any prince or hero who asked for her hand Atalanta made the same reply, "I will be the prize of him who shall conquer me in a race; but death shall be the penalty of all who try and fail!" It was a cruel decree. How Atalanta could run! There had never been a boy even who was able to beat her in a race. The breezes seemed to give her wings, her bright hair blew over her shoulders, and the gay fringe of her dress fluttered behind her. But as Atalanta raced, the ruddy hue of her skin seemed to fade and she became as white as marble, for her heart grew cold. All her suitors were outdistanced and they were put to death without mercy. Then Hippomenes came and decided to risk his life in a race with Atalanta. He was a brave, bold youth and although he had been obliged to act as judge and condemn many of his friends whom Atalanta had defeated to death, he wanted to run. And he asked Venus to help him in the race. In Venus' garden in her own island of Cyprus there was a tree with yellow leaves and yellow branches and golden fruit. Aphrodite gathered three golden apples from the tree and gave them, unseen, to Hippomenes, telling him how to use them. The signal was given and Atalanta darted forward along the sand of the shore near Venus' temple with Hippomenes at her side. Hippomenes was a swift runner, with a tread so light that it seemed as if he might skim the water or a field of waving grain without leaving a foot print. At first he gained. Then he felt the beat of Atalanta's breath on his shoulder, and the goal was not yet in sight. At that moment Hippomenes threw down one of the golden apples.