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Rh And the ruthless son of Achilles drags the old king to the altar, and slays him there.

One more episode of that terrible night Æneas relates to his hostess:—

I stood alone, when lo! I mark,

In Vesta's temple crouching dark,

The traitress Helen: the broad blaze

Gives me full light, as round I gaze.

She, shrinking from the Trojans' hate,

Made frantic by their city's fate,

Nor dreading less the Danaan sword,

The vengeance of her injured lord,—

She, Troy's and Argos' common fiend,

Sat cowering, by the altar screened.

My blood was fired: fierce passion woke

To quit Troy's fall by one sure stroke."

But his goddess-mother, Venus, stays his hand, and bids him think rather of saving his wife, and aged father, and infant son. Virgil gives us no hint of the other story of Helen's discovery by her angry husband Menelaus, who was lifting his sword to kill the adulteress, when his arm fell powerless before the fascination of her beauty.

Obedient to the goddess, says Æneas, he went to seek his father Anchises, that he might carry him with him in his flight. But the old man refused to move. He would die, he said, in Troy. Life might be dear to the young; but for himself, even the tender mercies of the enemy would give him all he seeks, though they leave his corpse unburied,—