“He has beaten me in the games,” he hissed between his clinched teeth, “but he shall not beat me in love. I will ask Helena to be my wife, and then, my Englishman!” A third shout came from the valley below, but Caliphronas only laughed scornfully. “And then, my Englishman!” CHAPTER XXVI. BEAUTIFUL PARIS, EVIL-HEARTED PARIS. What! wouldst thou force me to thine evil will, And bear me far away in benchèd ships, A second Helen to a second Troy, Whose flight would raise a second ten years’ war? Nay, sir! the gods are dead! and not in me Beholdest thou proud Aphrodite’s slave. My judgment’s as I will, and uncontrolled By Venus, who would fain bestow on thee The fairest woman, so that thou proclaim Her fairest of Olympian goddesses. Go hence alone! I’ll none of thee or thine. Troy’s fallen, and Helen dead,—so Paris loses The game which Ate’s cursed fruit began. “You beat me fairly,” said Caliphronas frankly to Maurice that night. “It was foolish of me to be angry, but you must admit defeat is hard to bear.” The Greek did not mean a word of this very pretty speech, as Maurice was well aware; still he could not but accept it as meant in good faith, and thus a hollow truce was made between the two young men which either was ready to break on the slightest provocation. However, it was a pity to mar the pleasantness of the evening by continuous bickering; so, with smiles on their faces and distrust in their hearts, Caliphronas and his declared enemy sat down to table on apparently the best of terms with one another.