Excerpt from Paris of Troy

We rode on. With every hour we put between ourselves and the city his spirits rose, he laughed and 'chattered like the child he really was. But he never forgot that the jour ney was part of his training as a prince and a soldier. His quick glance missed nothing, and his comments were shrewd.

There was a rude sort of cottage at the edge of a deep wood on the lowest slope of the mountain, where I planned to spend the night. The herdsman who lived there with his wife was known to me, and Pielus had arranged our coming, or we might not have supped so well, as it was a kid steeped in milk, some small cakes and fruit were set before us. The herdsman's wife would have fussed over Aeneas, had not the old man muttered to her that the boy was not to be treated so. Aeneas had been in the saddle most of the day, and was soon asleep on the low couch piled with skins that had been prepared for him. Archelaus and I sat in the doorway, and evening came down on the Trojan plain. The stars came out, slowly at first, then by constella tions, the woman Rhodope watched sleeping Aeneas hungrily.

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