A Book of Myths, by Jean Lang - Umnet

thou dost race with me, the goal is assuredly the meadows of asphodel
near where sit Pluto and Persephone on their gloomy thrones."
But Milanion said, "I am ready, Atalanta. Wilt race with me now?" And
steadily he looked in her eyes until again they fell as though at last they
had found a conqueror.
Like two swallows that skim across a sunny sea, filled with the
joyousness of the coming of spring, Atalanta and Milanion started.
Scarcely did their feet seem to touch the solid earth, and all those who
stood by vowed that now, at length, was a race indeed, a race worthy
for the gods to behold.
[Illustration: SHE STOPPED, AND PICKED UP THE TREASURE]
But as they ran, almost abreast, so that none could tell which was the
gainer, Milanion obeyed the bidding of Aphrodite and let fall one of the
golden apples. Never before had Atalanta dreamed of such a thing--an
apple of glistening gold! She stopped, poised on one foot as a flying
bird poises for a moment on the wing, and picked up the treasure. But
Milanion had sped several paces ahead ere she was again abreast of
him, and even as she gained on him, he dropped the second apple.
Again Atalanta was tempted. Again she stopped, and again Milanion
shot ahead of her. Her breath came short and fast, as once more she
gained the ground that she had lost. But, yet a third time, Milanion
threw in her way one of the golden illusions of the gods. And, yet again,
Atalanta stooped to pick up the apple of gold.
Then a mighty shout from those who watched rent the air, and Atalanta,
half fearful, half ashamed, yet wholly happy, found herself running,
vanquished, into the arms of him who was indeed her conqueror. For
not only had Milanion won the race, but he had won the heart of the
virgin huntress, a heart once as cold and remote as the winter snow on
the peak of Mount Olympus.
ARACHNE