Apollo drew back in dismay. "I spoke rashly," he said. "That is the one request I ought to refuse you. It is not a safe adventure or suited to your youth and strength, Phaeton. Your arms are mortal and you ask what is beyond mortal's power. You aspire to do that which even the gods can not accomplish. No one but myself, not even Jupiter whose terrible right arm hurls the thunderbolts and the lightning, may drive the flaming chariot of day." "Why is it so difficult a task?" Phaeton asked, determined not to give up. Apollo explained to him with great patience. "It is a difficult track to keep through the skies," he said. "The beginning of the way is so steep that the horses, even when they are fresh in the morning, can hardly be urged to climb it. Then comes the middle of the course, so high up in the heavens and so narrow that I myself can scarcely look below without giddiness at the earth and its waters. The last part of the course descends rapidly and calls for most expert driving. Add to all this the constant, dizzy turning of the sky with its sea of stars. I must be always on my guard lest their movement, which sweeps everything along with it, should hurry me or throw me out of my course. If I lend you my chariot, what can you, a boy, do? Can you keep the road with all the spheres in the universe revolving around you?" "I am sure that I can, father," Phaeton replied boldly. "What you say, of course, does not deter me from starting along it. I have a strong arm and a steady eye for driving. There is no danger other than this on the way, is there?" he asked. "There are greater dangers," Apollo said. "Do you expect to pass cool forests and white cities, the abodes of the gods, and palaces, and temples on the way? The road goes through the domain of frightful monsters. You must run the gauntlet of the Archer's arrows and pass by the horns of the Bull. The Lion's jaws will be open to devour you, the Scorpion will stretch out its tentacles for you, and the great Crab its claws. And you will find it no easy feat to manage the horses, their breasts so full of fire that they breathe it out in flame through their nostrils. I can scarcely hold them myself when they are unruly and resist the reins." "I have driven a chariot at the games of Athens," Phaeton boasted, "when wild beasts were close to the arena, and my steeds were most unmanageable." Apollo made one last plea. "Look the universe over, my son," he entreated, "and choose whatever is most precious in the earth or on the sea. This will I give you in proof that you are my son, but take back your other, rash request." "I have only one wish, to drive the chariot of the Sun," Phaeton answered stubbornly. There was but one course left then for Apollo, because a god could never break his promise. Without a word he led Phaeton to the great stable where he kept his lofty chariot.