{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_21885/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_21885","id":"gutenberg_21885","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21885","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Helen, of Troy, Queen of Sparta"],"text":"Produced by Jana Srna, Brian Janes and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: HELEN AND EUTYCHES]\n\n                  THE\n              RUINOUS FACE\n\n                   BY\n            MAURICE HEWLETT\n\n              ILLUSTRATED\n\n\n\n      HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS\n\n          NEW YORK AND LONDON\n                 MCMIX\n\n\n Copyright, 1909, by HARPER & BROTHERS.\n\n         _All rights reserved._\n\n        Published October, 1909.\n\n\n\n\n      \"Hence there is in Rhodes a sanctuary\n      of Helen of the Tree.\"\n\n      --_Pausanias_, iii., 19, 9.\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nHELEN AND EUTYCHES                                        _Frontispiece_\n\nTHE ABDUCTION OF HELEN                                    _Facing p.  8_\nFrom the painting by Rudolph von Deutsch.\n\nHELEN OF TROY                                                \"      _20_\nFrom the painting by Sir Frederick Leighton.\n\nPARIS AND HELEN                                              \"      _30_\nFrom the painting by Jacques Louis David in the Louvre.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RUINOUS FACE\n\n\nWhen the siege of Troy had been ten years doing, and most of the\nchieftains were dead, both of those afield and those who held the walls;\nand some had departed in their ships, and all who remained were\nleaden-hearted; there was one who felt the rage of war insatiate in his\nbowels: Menelaus, yellow-haired King of the Argives. He, indeed, rested\nnot day or night, but knew the fever fretting at his members, and the\nburning in his heart. And when he scanned the windy plain about the\ncity, and the desolation of it; and when he saw the huts of the Achaeans,\nand the furrows where the chariots ploughed along the lines, and the\ncharred places of camp-fires, smoke-blackened trees, and puddled waters\nof Scamander, and corn-lands and pastures which for ten years had known\nneither plough nor deep-breathed cattle, nor querulous sheep; even then\nin the heart of Menelaus was no pity for Dardan nor Greek, but only for\nhimself and what he had lost--white-bosomed Helen, darling of Gods and\nmen, and golden treasure of the house.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe vision of her glowing face and veiled eyes came to him in the\nnight-season to make him mad, and in dreams he saw her, as once and many\ntimes he had seen her, lie supine. There as she lay in his dream, all\nwhite and gold, thinner than the mist-wreath upon a mountain, he would\ncry aloud for his loss, and throw his arms out over the empty bed, and\nfeel his eye-sockets smart for lack of tears; for tears came not to\nhim, but his fever made his skin quite dry, and so were his eyes dry.\nTherefore, when the chiefs of the Achaeans in Council, seeing how their\nstrength was wearing down like a snowbank under the sun, looked\nreproachfully upon him, and thought of Hector slain, and of dead\nAchilles who slew him, of Priam, and of Diomede, and of tall Patroclus,\nhe, Menelaus, took no heed at all, but sat in his place, and said,\n\"There is no mercy for robbers of the house. Starve whom we cannot put\nto the sword. Lay closer leaguer. So shall I win my wife again and have\nhonor among the Kings, my fellows.\" So he spake, for it was so he\nthought day and night; and Agamemnon, King of Men, bore with him, and\ncarried the voices of all the Achaeans. For since the death of Achilles\nthere was no man stout enough to gainsay him, or deny him anything.\n\nIn those days there was little war, since every man outside the walls\nwas sick of strife, and consumed with longing for his home, and wife and\nchildren there. And one told another, \"My son will be a grown man in his\nfirst beard,\" and one, \"My daughter will be a wife.\" As for the men of\nTroy, it was well for them that their foes were spent; for Hector was\ndead, and Agenor, and Troilus; and King Priam, the old, was fallen into\ndotage, which deprived him of counsel. He loved Alexandros only, whom\nmen called Paris. On which account AEneas, the wise prince, stood apart,\nand kept himself within the walls of his house. There remained only that\nbeauteous Paris, the ravisher. Him Helen held fast enchained by her\nwhite arms and slow, sweet smile, and by the shafts of light from her\nkind eyes. All the compliance of a fair woman made for love lay in her;\nshe could refuse nothing that was asked of her by him who had her. And\nshe was gentle and very modest, and never dejected or low of heart; but\nwhen comfort was asked of her she gave it, and when solace, solace; and\nwhen he cried, \"Oh for a deep draught of thee!\" she gave him his desire.\nIn these days he seldom left his hall, where she sat at the loom with\nher maids, or had them comb and braid her long hair. But of other women,\nwives and widows of heroes, Andromache mourned Hector dead and outraged,\nand Cassandra the wrath to come. Through the halls of the King's house\ncame little sound but of women weeping loss; therefore, if love made\nHelen laugh sometimes, she laughed low and softly, lest some other\nshould be offended. The streets were all silent, and the dogs ate one\nanother. In the temples of the Gods they neglected the sacrifice, and\nwhat little might be offered was eaten by clouds of birds.\nAnniversaries and feasts were like common days. If the Gods were\noffended with Troy, there was no help for it. Men must live first,\nbefore they can serve God.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow the tenth year was come to the Spring, when young men and virgins\nworship Artemis the Bright; and abroad on the plains the crocus was\naflower, and the anemone; and the blades of the iris were like swords\nstuck hilt downward in the earth. A green veil spread lightly over the\nland, and men might see a tree scorched black upon one side and budded\nwith gold upon the other. Melted snow brimmed Simois and Scamander;\ncranes and storks built their nests, and one stood sentinel while his\nmate sat close, watchful in the reeds. On the mild, westerly airs came\ntenderness to bedew the hearts of men war-weary. They stepped carefully\nlest they should crush young flowers, thinking in their minds, \"God's\npity must restrain me. If so fair a thing can thrive in place so foul,\nwho am I to mar it?\" But upon Menelaus, the King, the season worked like\na ferment, so that he could never stay long in one place. All night long\nhe turned and stretched himself out; but in the gray of the morning he\nwould rise, and walk abroad by himself over the silent land, and about\nthe sleeping walls of the city. So found he balm for his ache, and so he\ndid every day.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe house of Paris stood by the wall, and the garden upon the roof of\nthe women's side was there upon it, and stretched far along the ramparts\nof Troy. King Menelaus knew it very well, for he had often seen Helen\nthere with her maids when, with a veil to cover her face up to the eyes,\nshe had stood there to watch the fighting, or the games about the pyre\nof some chieftain dead, or the manege of the ships lying off Tenedos.\nIndeed, when he had been there in his chariot, urging an attack upon the\ngate, he had seen Paris come out of the house to Helen where she stood\nin the garden; and he saw that deceiver take the lovely woman in his\narm, and with his hand withdraw the veil from her mouth that he might\nlook at it. The maids were all about her, and below raged a battle among\nmen; but he cared nothing for these. No, but he lifted up her face by\nthe chin, and stooped his head, and kissed her twice; and would have\nkissed her a third time, but that by chance he saw King Menelaus below\nhim, who stood up in his chariot and watched. Then he turned lightly and\nleft her, and went in, and so presently she too, with her veil in her\nhand, not yet over her mouth, looked down from the wall and saw the\nKing, her husband. Long and deeply looked she; and he looked up at\nher; and so they stood, gazing each at the other. Then came women from\nthe house and veiled her mouth, and took her away. Other times, too, he\nhad seen her there, but she not him; and now, at this turn of the year,\nthe memory of her came bright and hard before him; and he walked under\nthe wall of the house in the gray of the morning. And as he walked there\nfiercely on a day, behold she stood above him on the wall, veiled, and\nin a brown robe, looking down at him. And they looked at each other for\na space of time. And nobody was by.\n\n[Illustration: THE ABDUCTION OF HELEN\nFROM THE PAINTING BY RUDOLPH VON DEUTSCH]\n\nShaking, he said, \"O Ruinous Face, art thou so early from the wicked\nbed?\"\n\nShe said low, \"Yea, my lord, I am so early.\"\n\n\"These ten long years,\" he said then, \"I have walked here at this hour,\nbut never yet saw I thee.\"\n\nShe answered, \"But I have seen my lord, for at this hour my lord\nAlexandros is accustomed to sleep and I to wake. And so I take the air,\nand am by myself.\"\n\n\"O God!\" he said, \"would that I could come at thee, lady.\" She replied\nhim nothing. So, after a little while of looking, he spoke to her again,\nsaying, \"Is this true which thou makest me to think, that thou walkest\nhere in order that thou mayst be by thyself? Is it true, O thou\nGod-begotten?\"\n\nShe said, smiling a little, \"Is it so wonderful a thing that I should\ndesire to be alone?\"\n\n\"By my fathers,\" he said, \"I think it wonderful. And more wonderful is\nit to me that it should be allowed thee.\" And then he looked earnestly\nat her, and asked her this: \"Dost thou, therefore, desire that I should\nleave thee?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said she slowly, \"I said not so.\"\n\n\"Ask me to stay, and I stay,\" he said. But she made no answer to that;\nbut looked down to the earth at her feet. \"Behold,\" said the King\npresently, \"ten years and more since I have known my wife. Now if I were\nto cast my spear at thee and rive open thy golden side, what wonder were\nit? Answer me that.\"\n\nShe looked long at him, that he saw the deep gray of her eyes. And he\nheard the low voice answer him, \"I know that my lord would never do it.\"\nAnd he knew it better than she, and the reason as well as she.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA little while more they talked together, alone in the sunless light;\nand she was in a gentle mood, as indeed she always was, and calmed the\nfret in him, so that he could keep still and take long breaths, and look\nat her without burning in his heart. She asked him of their child, and\nwhen he told her it was well, stood thoughtful and silent. \"Here,\" said\nshe, presently, \"I have no child,\" and it seemed to him that she\nsighed.\n\n\"O Lady,\" he said, \"dost thou regret nothing of all these ten long\nyears?\"\n\nHer answer was to look long at him without speech. And then again she\nveiled her eyes with her eyelids and hung her head. He dared say\nnothing.\n\nParis came out of the house, fresh from the bath, rosy and beautiful,\nand whistled a low clear note, like the call of a bird at evening. Then\nhe called upon Helen.\n\n\"Where is my love? Where is the Desire of the World?\"\n\nShe looked up quickly at King Menelaus, and smiled half, and moved her\nhand; and she went to Paris. Then the King groaned, and rent himself.\nBut he would not stay, nor look up, lest he should see what he dared not\nsee.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNext day, very early, and every day after, those two, long-severed, kept\na tryst: so in time she came to be there first, and a strife grew\nbetween them which should watch for the other. And after a little she\nwould sit upon the wall and speak happily to him without disguise. So\nhappiness came to him, too, and he ceased to reproach her. For she\nreasoned very gently with him of her own case, urging him not to be\nangry with her. Defending herself, she said, \"Thou shouldst not reproach\nme, husband, nor wouldst thou in thy heart if thou knewst what is in\nmine, or what my portion has been since with fair words in\nmany-mansioned Sparta he did beguile me. With words smoother than honey,\nand sweeter than the comb of it he did beguile me, and with false words\nmade me believe that I was forsaken and betrayed; and urged me to take\nship with him in search of thee. Nor ever once did he reveal himself\nuntil we touched Cranae in the ship. Then he showed me all his power, and\ndeclared his purpose with me. And I could do nothing against him; and\nso he brought me to Troy and kept me there. All these years he has\nloved, and still loves me in his fashion: and art thou angry with me, my\nlord, that I do not for ever reproach him, or spend myself in tears, and\nfast, and go like one distraught, holding myself aloof from all his\nhouse? Nay, but of what avail would that be, or what reward to many that\ntreat me well here in Troy? For King Priam, the old king, is good to me,\nand the Queen also; and my lord Hector was above all men good to me, and\ndefended me always against scorn and evil report. True it is that I have\nbeen the reproach of men, both Trojans and Achaeans; and all the woes of\nthe years have been laid to me who am most guiltless of offence. For all\nmy sin has been that I have been gentle with those who hold me here; and\nhave not denied them that which cannot be denied, but have given what I\nmust with fair-seeming.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd another time she said, \"What mercy have men for a woman whom they\ndesire and cannot have? And what face have women for her who is more\nsought than them? And what of such a woman, O lord Menelaus, what of her\nin her misery? Is it true, thinkest thou, because she is good to look\nupon and is desired by men, that she should have no desires of her own?\nAnd must she have pleasure only in that which men seek of her, and none\nin her house and child overseas? Is my face then, and are these my\nbreasts all that I have? And is my mind nothing at all, nor the kindness\nin my heart, nor the joy I have in the busy world? My face has been ruin\nunto many, and many have sought my breasts; but to me it has been misery\nand shame, and my milk a bitter gall.\"\n\nThus spake Helen of the fair girdle; and he saw her eyes filled with\ntears, and pure sorrow upon her face; and he held up his arms to her,\ncrying, \"O my dear one, wilt thou not come back to me?\" She could not\nspeak for crying; but nodded her head often between her covering hands.\n\nThen he, seeing how her thoughts lay, gently toward home, and desiring\nto please her now more than anything in the world, spake of the child,\nswearing by the Gods of Lacedaemon that she was not forgotten. \"Nay,\" he\nsaid, \"but still she talks of her mother, and every day would know of\nher return. And those about her in our house, faithful ones, say, 'The\nKing thy father has gone to bring our lady back; and all will be happy\nagain.' And so,\" said he, \"it shall be, beloved, if thou wilt but come.\"\nThen Helen lifted up her face from her covering hands, and showed him\nher eyes. And he said, \"O Wonder of the World, shall I come for thee?\"\n\nAnd her words were sped down the wall, soft as dropping rose-leaves:\n\"Come soon.\" And King Menelaus returned to his quarters, glorying in his\nstrength.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis day he took counsel with King Agamemnon his brother, and with\nOdysseus, wisest of the Achaeans, and told them all. And while they\npondered what the news might mean he declared his purpose, which was to\nhave Helen again by all means, and to enter Troy disguised by night, and\nin the morning to drop with her in his arms over the wall, from the\ngarden of Paris' house. But Odysseus dissuaded him, and so did the King\nhis brother; for they knew very well that Troy must be sacked, and the\nAchaeans satisfied with plunder, and death, and women. For after ten\nyears of strife men raven for such things, and will not give over until\nthey have them. Also it was written in the heart of Hera that the walls\nof Troy must be cast down, and the pride thereof made a byword. So it\nwas that the counsel of King Menelaus was overpassed, and that of\nOdysseus prevailed. And with him lay the word that he should make his\nplan, and tell it over to Menelaus, that he might tell it again to Helen\nwhen he saw her on the wall.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAt this time a great heart was in Helen, and strong purpose. And it was\nso that while Paris marvelled to see her beauty wax ever the clearer,\nand while he loved her more than ever he had, and found her compliance\nthe sweeter, he guessed nothing of what spirit it was that possessed\nher, nor of what she did when she was by herself. Nor could he guess,\nsince she refused him never what he asked of her, how she weighed him\nlightly beside Menelaus her husband; nor, while she let herself be\nloved, what soft desires were astir in her heart to be cherished as a\nwife, sharer of a man's hearth, partaker of his counsels, comforter in\nhis troubles, and mother of his sons. But it came to pass that the only\njoy of her life was in the seeing King Menelaus in the morning, and in\nthe reading in his gaze the assurance of that peace which she longed\nfor. And, again, her pride lay in fitting herself for it when it should\ncome. Now, therefore, she forsook the religion of Aphrodite, to whom all\nher duty had been before, and in a grove of olive-trees in the garden of\nthe house had built an altar to Artemis Aristoboule. There offered she\nincense daily, and paid tribute of wheaten cakes kneaded with honey, and\nlittle figures of bears such as virgins offer to the Pure in Heart in\nAthens. And she would have whipped herself as they do in Sparta had she\nnot feared discovery by him who still had her. So every day after\nspeech with Menelaus the King about companionship and the sanctities of\nthe wedded hearth, she prayed to the Goddess, saying, \"O Chaste and\nFair, by that pure face of thine and by thy untouched zone; by thy proud\neyes and curving lip, and thy bow and scornful bitter arrows, aid thou\nme unhappy. Lo, now, Maid and Huntress, I make a vow. I will lay up in\nthy temple a fair wreath of box-leaves made of beaten gold on that day\nwhen my lord brings me home to my hearth and child, to be his friend and\nfaithful companion, sharer of his joys and sorrows, and when he loves my\nproved and constant mind better than the bounty of my body. Hear me and\nfail me not, Lady of Grace.\" So prayed Helen, and then went back to the\nhouse, and suffered her lot, and cherished in her heart her high hope.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen all was in order in the plans of the Achaeans, King Menelaus told\neverything to Helen his wife; and how Odysseus was to come disguised\ninto the city and seek speech with her. To the which she listened,\nmarking every word; and bowed her head in sign of agreement; and at the\nend was silent, looking down at her lap and deeply blushing. And at last\nshe lifted her eyes and showed them to the King, her husband, who marked\nthem and her burning color, and knew that she had given him her heart\nagain. So he returned that day to his quarters, glorifying and praising\nGod. Immediately he went over to the tents of Odysseus, and sought out\nthe prince, and said, \"Go in, thou, this night, and the gray-eyed\nGoddess, the Maiden, befriend thee! This I know, Helen my wife shall be\nmine again before the moon have waned.\"\n\n[Illustration: HELEN OF TROY\nFROM THE PAINTING BY SIR FREDERICK LEIGHTON]\n\nOdysseus nodded his head. \"Enough said, Son of Atreus,\" said he. \"I go\nin this night.\"\n\nNow, in these days of weariness of strife, when the leaguer was not\nstrict, the gates of Troy were often opened, now this one, now that, to\nlet in fugitives from the hill-country. Odysseus, therefore, disguised\nhimself as one of these, in sheepskin coat and swathes of rushes round\nhis legs; and he stood with wounded feet, leaning upon a holly staff, as\none of a throng. White dust was upon his beard, and sweat had made seams\nin the dust of his face and neck. Then, when they asked him at the gate,\n\"Whence and what art thou, friend?\" he answered, \"I am a shepherd of the\nhills, named Glykon, whose store of sheep the Achaeans have reived, whose\nwife stolen away, whose little ones put to the sword and fire. Me only\nhave they left alive; and where should I come if not here?\" So they let\nhim in, and he came and stood in the hall of Paris with many other\nwretches. Then presently came Helen of the starry eyes and sweet pale\nface, she and her women to minister. And she knelt down with ewer and\nbasin and a napkin to wash the feet of the poor. To whom, as she knelt\nat the feet of Odysseus, and rinsed his wounds and wiped away the dry\nblood, spake that crafty one in her ear, saying: \"There are other wounds\nthan mine for thy washing, lady, and deeper. For they are in the heart\nof King Menelaus, and in thy daughter's heart.\"\n\nShe kept her face hidden from him, bending to his feet; but he saw that\nshe trembled and moved her shoulders. So then he said again, \"I know\nthat thou art pitiful. I know that thou wilt wash his wounds.\"\n\nShe answered him, whispering, \"Yes; oh, yes.\"\n\nHe said, \"Let me have speech with thee, lady, when may be.\"\n\nAnd she, \"It shall be when my lord sleepeth toward morning. Watch thou\nfor me here, before the sun rise.\" And he was satisfied with what she\nsaid.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow, it was toward morning; and Odysseus watched in the hall of Paris.\nThen came Helen in, and stepped lightly over the bodies of sleeping men,\nand touched him on the shoulder where he sat by the wall with his chin\nupon his knees. Over her head was the hood of a dark blue cloak; and the\ncloak fell to her feet. Her face was covered, not so but that he could\nsee the good intention of her eyes. And he arose and stood beside her,\nand she beckoned him to follow after. Then she took him to the grove of\nolive-trees in the garden, and burned incense upon the altar she had set\nup, and laid her hand upon the altar of Artemis the Bright. \"So do that\nquick Avenger to me,\" she said, \"as she did to Amphion's wife, whenas\nher nostrils were filled with the wind of her rage, if I play false to\nthee, Odysseus.\" And Odysseus praised her. Then stooping, with her\nfinger she traced the lines of Troy in the sand, and all the gates of\nit; and told over the number of the guard at each; and revealed the\nhouses of the chiefs, where they stood, and the watches set.\n\nOdysseus marked all in his heart. But he asked, \"And which is the golden\nhouse of King Priam?\"\n\nShe said, \"Nay, but that I will not tell thee. For he has been always\nkind to me from the very first; and even when Hector, his beloved, was\nslain, he had no ill words for me, though all Troy hissed me in the\nshrines of the Gods, and women spat upon the doors of Paris' house as\nthey passed by. Him, an old man, thou shalt spare for my sake who am\nabout to betray him.\"\n\nOdysseus said, \"Be it so. One marvel I have, lady, and it is this: If\nnow, in these last days, thou wilt help thy people, why didst thou not\nbefore?\"\n\nShe was silent for a while. Then she said, \"I knew not then what now I\nknow, that my lord, the King, loves me.\"\n\nOdysseus marvelled. \"Why,\" said he, \"when all the hosts of the Achaeans\nwere gathered at his need, and out of all the nations of Hellas arose\nthe cry of women bereaved and children fatherless, so that he might have\nthee again! And thou sayest, 'He loved thee not!'\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said she quickly, \"not so. But I knew very well that he desired\nme for his solace and delight, as other men have done and still do: but\nto be craved is one thing and to be loved is another thing. I am not all\nfair flesh, Odysseus: I am wife and mother and I would be companion and\ncomforter of a man. Now I know of a truth that my husband loveth me\ndearly; and I sicken of Paris, who maketh me his delight. Hateful to me\nare the ways of men with women. Have I not cause enough to hate them,\nthese long years a plaything for his arms, and a fruit to allay the\ndrouth of his eyes? Am I less a woman in that I am fair, or less woman\ngrown because I can never be old? Now I loathe the sweet lore of\nAphrodite, which she taught me too well; and all my hope is in that\nBlessed One whom men call Of Good Counsel. For, behold, love is a cruel\nthing of unending strife and wasting thought; but the ways of Artemis\nare ways of peace and they shall be my ways.\"\n\nA little longer he reasoned with her, and appointed a day when the entry\nshould be made; but then afterward, when light filled the earth and the\ncoming of the sun was beaconed upon the tops of the mountains, she arose\nand said:\n\n\"My husband awaits me. I must go to him;\" and left Odysseus, and went to\nthe wall to talk with Menelaus below it. In her hand was a yellow\ncrocus, sacred to Artemis the Bright. And Helen put it to her lips, and\ntouched her eyes with it, and dropped it down the wall to Menelaus her\nhusband.\n\nThen the Greeks fashioned a great horse out of wood, and set the images\nof two young kings upon it, with spears of gold, and stars upon their\nforeheads made of gold. And they caused it to be drawn to the Skaean Gate\nin the nighttime, and left it there for the Trojans to see. Dolon made\nit; but Odysseus devised the images of the two kings. And his craft was\njustified of itself. For the Trojans hailed in the images the\ntwin-brothers of Helen, even Castor and Polydeuces, come to save the\nstate for their sister's sake; and opened wide their gates, and drew in\nthe horse, and set it upon the porch of the temple of Zeus the Thunder.\nThere it stood for all to see. And King Priam was carried down in his\nlitter to behold it; and with him came Hecabe the Queen, and Paris, and\nAEneas, and Helen, with Cassandra the King's daughter.\n\nThen King Priam lifted up his hands and blessed the horse and the riders\nthereof. And he said, \"Hail to ye, great pair of brothers! Be favorable\nto us now, and speedy in your mercy.\"\n\nBut Cassandra wailed and tore at the covering of her breast, and cried\nout, \"Ah, and they shall be speedy! Here is a woe come upon us which\nshall be mercy indeed to some of you. But for me there is no mercy.\"\n\nNow was Helen, with softly shining eyes, close to the horse; and she\nlaid her hand upon its belly and stroked it. And Cassandra saw her and\nreviled her, saying, \"Thou shame to Ilium, and thou curse! The Ruinous\nFace, the Ruinous Face! Cried I not so in the beginning when they\npraised thy low voice and soft beguiling ways? But thou too, thou shalt\nrue this night!\"\n\nBut Helen laughed softly to herself, and stroked the smooth belly of the\nhorse where her promise lay hidden. And they led Cassandra away, blind\nwith weeping. And Helen returned to Paris' house and sought out\nEutyches, a slave of the door, who loved her. Of him by gentle words and\nher slow sweet smile she besought arms: a sword, breastplate, shield and\nhelmet. And when he gave them her, unable to deny her anything, she hid\nthem under the hangings of the bed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat night Paris came to her where she lay bathed and anointed, and\nsought her in love; and she denied him nothing. Him thought such joy had\nnever been his since first he held her in his arms in Cranae. Deeply and\nlong he loved; and in the middle of the night a great horn blew afar\noff, and there came the sound of men in the streets, running. That was\nthe horn which they kept in the temple of Showery Zeus, to summon all\nTroy when needs were. Paris, at the sound thereof, lifted up his head\nfrom Helen's fair breast, listening. And again the great horn blew a\nlong blast, and he said, \"O bride, I must leave thee. Behold, they call\nfrom the temple of the God.\" But she took his face in her two hands and\nturned it about to look at her; and he saw love in her eyes and the dew\nof it upon her mouth, and kissed her, and stayed. So by and by the horn\nblew a third time, and there arose a great shout; and he started away\nfrom her, and stepped down from the bed, and stood beside it,\nunresolved. Then Helen put her arms about his body and urged herself\ntoward him till her face touched his flank. And she clung to him, and\nlooked up at him, and he stayed.\n\n[Illustration: PARIS AND HELEN\nFROM THE PAINTING BY JACQUES LOUIS DAVID IN THE LOUVRE]\n\nNow did rumor break out all at once, about the house and in the city\nafar off. Men cried, \"The fire, the fire!\" and \"Save yourselves!\" and\n\"Oh, the Achaeans!\" and Paris tore himself away, and made haste to arm\nhimself by the light of the fire in the city, which made the room as\nbright as day. And he put on all his harness, and took his sword and\nbuckler, and ran out of the chamber and down the stairs, crying, \"Arm\nye, arm ye, and follow me!\" Then Helen arose and swiftly withdrew the\narms from below the bed, and called Eutyches to her from the gallery,\nand made him fasten the breastplate about her, and gird the thongs of\nthe shield to her white arm, and fix the helmet of bronze upon her head.\nSo he did, and trembled as he touched her; for he loved her out of\nmeasure and without hope. Then said she to Eutyches, \"Arm thyself and\nfollow me.\" And together, armed, they went down the stair.\n\nThere was a great press of men fighting about the doors of Paris' house,\nand loud rumor. But beyond in the city the Achaeans in a multitude\ncarried fire and sword from house to house. And there was the noise of\nwomen crying mercy, and calling their children's names. And the flames\nleaped roaring to Heaven; and the Gods turned away their faces; and Troy\nwas down.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow Paris, fighting, came backwards into the hall where Helen was; and\nMenelaus came fiercely after him, and in the doorway drove a spear at\nhim that went through the leather of his shield, through all the folds\nof it and ran deep into the flesh of his throat where it fastens to the\nshoulder. Then Paris groaned and bent his knees, and fell, calling Helen\nby her name. Then came she in her bright harness, with a burning face,\nand stood over the body of Paris, and held out her arms to the King,\nsaying, \"Husband, lord, behold, here am I, by your side!\" Eutyches came\nafter her, armed also.\n\nThen Menelaus, with the bloody spear in his hand newly plucked from the\nneck of Paris, gazed at his wife, not knowing her. So presently he said,\nweak-voiced, \"What is this, O loveliest in the world?\" But he knew\nEutyches again, who had been with him and her in Sparta, and said to\nhim, \"Disarm her, but with care, lest the bronze bruise her fair flesh.\"\nSo Eutyches, trembling, disarmed her, that she stood a lovely woman\nbefore the King. And Menelaus, with a shout, took her in his arms and\ncried out above the fire and dust and shrieking in the street, \"Come,\ncome, my treasure and desire! Love me now or I die!\"\n\nBut she clung to him, imploring. \"Not here,\" she said, \"not here,\nMenelaus. Take me hence; let me fare by thy side this night.\"\n\nBut he pressed her the closer, saying, \"Come, thou must love me now,\"\nand lifted her in his arms and ran up the stair and through the gallery\nof the house to the great chamber where of late she had lain. And he\ncalled her women to disrobe her; and Helen fell to crying bitterly, and\nsaid, \"Oh, I am a slave, I am a slave: I am bought and sold and handed\nabout.\" And she could not be comforted or stayed from weeping. But\nnothing recked King Menelaus for that.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen the walls of wide-wayed Troy were cast down, and of the towers and\nhouses of the chiefs nothing stood but staring walls and rafters charred\nby fire; and when the temples of the Dardan Gods had been sacked, and\nscorn done to the body of Priam the Old; and Cassandra in the tent of\nKing Agamemnon shuddered and rocked herself about; and when dogs had\neaten the fair body of Paris, then the Achaeans turned their eyes with\nlonging to their homesteads. So there was a great ship-building and\nlaunching of keels; and at last King Menelaus embarked for peopled\nLacedaemon, and took his lovely wife with him in the ship, and stayed his\ncourse at Rhodes for certain days, resting there with Helen. There he\nset a close guard about her all day; and as Paris had loved her, so\nloved he. But she was wretched, and spent her days in weeping; and grew\npale and thin, and was for ever scheming shifts how she might be\ndelivered from such a life as she led. Ever by the door of the chamber\nstood Eutyches, and watched her closely, marking her distress. And she\nknew that he knew it; for what woman does not know the secret mind of a\nman with regard to her?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo, on a day, sat Helen by the window with her needlework in her lap,\nand looked out over the sea. Eutyches came into the room where she was,\nsilently, through the hangings of the door, and kneeling to her, kissed\nher knee. She turned to him her sad face, saying, \"What wouldst thou of\nme, Eutyches?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" he said, \"thy pardon first of all.\"\n\nShe smiled upon him. \"Thou hast it,\" she said; \"what then?\"\n\nHe said to her, \"Lady, I have served thee these many years, and no man\nknows thy mind better than I do, who know it only from thy face. For I\nhave been but a house-dog in thy sight. But I have never read it\nwrongly; and now I know that thou art unhappy....\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, \"it is true. I am very unhappy, and with reason.\"\n\nEutyches drew from his bosom a sharp sword and laid it upon her knee.\n\"Take this sovereign remedy from thy servant,\" he said. \"No ills can\nwithstand it, so sharp it is.\" And he left her with the bare sword upon\nher knees. She hid it in the coverings of the bed.\n\nNow, when King Menelaus had feasted in the hall, he came immediately\nafter into the Queen's chamber. And he said to her, \"Hail, loveliest of\nwomen born!\" and again, \"Hail, thou Rose of the World!\"\n\nShe answered him nothing, but went to her women and suffered herself to\nbe made ready. Then came the King in to her and began to woo her; but\nshe, looking strangely upon him by the light of the torch in the wall,\nsat up and held him off with her hand. \"Touch me not, Menelaus,\" she\nsaid, \"touch me no more until I know whether thou art true or false.\"\n\nHe was astonished at her, saying, \"What is this, dear love? Dost thou\ncall me false who for ten bitter years have striven to have thee again;\nand have forsworn all other women for thy sake?\"\n\nBut her eyes were hard upon him, glittering. \"Ay,\" she said, \"and I do.\nFor to thee, through those bitter years, I was faithful in heart, and\nutterly; and that which thou lovest is the bounty of my body, the which\nif I should mar it, thou wouldst spurn me as horrible. And now I will\nprove thee and my words together.\" So, while he gazed at her in wonder,\nshe drew out the sword. \"With this sword,\" she said, \"I will do one of\ntwo things. Choose thou.\"\n\nThe King said, hollow-voiced, \"What wilt thou do?\"\n\nShe said, \"With the sword I will lay open this poisonous face of mine;\"\nand she touched her right cheek; \"or with it I will cut off this my\nwicked breast;\" and she put her hand upon her left breast, and said\nagain, \"Choose thou.\"\n\nBut Menelaus with a loud cry threw himself upon her, and took each of\nher wrists in a hand, and held her down on the bed. The sword dropped\nout and fell to the floor; but he let it lie. Now his love waxed the\ngreater for the danger she had been in. And in the morning, when as she\nlay as one dead, he picked up the sword and brake it, and threw it out\nof the window. Also before he left her he gave straight order that she\nshould be watched throughout the day. But he gave the order to Eutyches,\nbelieving him to be faithful for his former and latter service.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBy and by came Eutyches and spoke again with her, saying, \"Lady, I fear\nme thou didst not use my remedy aright.\"\n\nShe heard him in a stare, and answered in a dry voice, \"I fear so too.\"\n\nThen said Eutyches, \"There is but one way to use it. So shalt thou be\nfree from pain and sorrow of heart.\" She would not look at him, but he\nknew that she understood his thought. \"If thou wilt swear to me by\nArtemis the Bright,\" he said, \"that thou wilt never use it against\nthyself, I will put another remedy on thy knees, lady.\"\n\nShe swore it; and he fetched her a sword, and put it on her knees. That\nnight, in the dark, she slew her husband Menelaus, as he lay asleep by\nher side; and she knew that he was dead because, after groaning once, he\nneither moved nor stirred, and because his foot which was upon her ankle\nwas heavy as lead.\n\nThen came Eutyches in with a torch, and asked her if all was well. She\ntold him what she had done; and Eutyches came close with the torch and\nsaw that the King was dead. Then he said, \"Before dawn we must depart,\nthou and I.\"\n\nShe said, \"Where can I go? What will become of me?\"\n\nHe gazed upon her, saying, \"I will love thee for ever, as I have these\ntwelve years and more.\"\n\nShe said to him, \"I will go now if thou wilt help me, Eutyches.\"\n\nHe said, \"I will help thee when I can.\"\n\nThen Helen looked at him, and saw his eyes, and was horribly afraid. She\nsaid, \"I know not whether I can trust thee;\" but he answered her:\n\n\"Have I not proved that to thee? Did I not give thee the sword with\nwhich to free thyself?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" she said, \"but have I freed myself indeed?\"\n\nHe stretched out his arms to her, saying, \"Free? Yes, thou art free,\nmost glorious one. And now I too am free to love thee.\"\n\nBut she used craft in her fear, saying, \"I am soiled with wicked blood.\nStay thou here, Eutyches, and I will purify myself, and be as thou\nwouldst have me.\"\n\nAnd he let her go with a kiss, saying, \"Be quick. Have I not waited\ntwelve years?\"\n\nThen Helen arose and went out of the chamber, and out of the house into\nthe garden. And she stood before the altar of Artemis Eileithyia, and\nprayed before it, saying, \"O Holy One, I give thee thanks indeed that\nnow I know the way of peace.\" And then she went farther into the grove\nof ilex-trees where the altar and the image stood, and took off her\ngirdle and bound it straightly round her neck. And she clomb the tree,\nand tied the end of the girdle about the branch thereof; and afterward\ncast herself down, and hung there quite still. And the cord which she\nused was of silk, and had girt her raiment about her, below her fair\nbreasts.\n\n\nTHE END","title":"The Ruinous Face","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":7200}