Atalanta was so surprised that she stopped a second. She stooped and picked up the apple and as she did so Hippomenes shot on ahead. But Atalanta redoubled her speed and soon overtook him. Again he threw down a golden apple. Atalanta could not bear to leave it, and she again stopped and picked it up. Then she ran on again. Hippomenes was almost to the goal but Atalanta reached and passed him. In a minute she would have won, but Hippomenes dropped the third golden apple. It glittered and shone so that Atalanta could not resist it. A third time she hesitated and as she did so Hippomenes won the race. The two were very happy, Hippomenes in his success and Atalanta in her precious fruit. She at once wanted a house in which to keep it, and when Hippomenes built her one Atalanta began to spin and weave and take great pride in making her home beautiful and comfortable. Venus had been quite sure that this would happen. She had known that it would be better for Atalanta to forget her cruel races, so she gave her these golden apples to show her the prizes love brings. The goddess of love had other work to do on earth. She was particularly fond of her garden in Cyprus and she busied herself for a long time tending and coaxing a new bush to live and blossom. It was different from any shoot that had been seen there before, tough, and dry, and covered with sharp thorns that pricked whoever touched them and drew blood like spear points. But Venus handled and trimmed the stalks without fear until the bush spread and sent out branches that stretched up and covered the wall of her temple like a vine. It was noticed that the new shoots and leaves pushed their way up from underneath some of the thorns, which dried up at once and dropped off. Then flower buds appeared where there had been sharp thorns which opened, when summer decked Cyprus, into the loveliest blossoms the earth had ever seen. Their fragrance filled the island and their color was like that of the cloud from which Aphrodite had come. It was the rose, Venus' own flower, and destined to be always the most loved flower of earth. Venus watched over everything that was beautiful on earth. That is why she was sorry that Pygmalion, the King of Greece, was so hardhearted. Pygmalion was a sculptor as well as a king, and so skilled with clay and marble that he was able to mould likenesses of the beings of Mount Olympus, even. But he closed his heart to men and he felt that there was no woman living who was worthy to share his kingdom. One spring Pygmalion decided to make a statue of ivory, and when it was finished it was so exquisite that there had never before been seen such beauty save that of Venus. Pygmalion was proud of his work and as he admired it Venus put a better feeling into his heart. Pygmalion laid his hand upon his statue to see if it were living or not. He began to wish that it was not ivory, and he named it Galatea.