And the fierce-eyed Athene answered him, “O thou great Lord of the Lightning, Cloud-girt King! what a word hast thou spoken!  Wouldst thou indeed save a mortal long ago doomed by Fate?  Do as thou pleasest; but we Gods shall not praise thee.”

And her great father, the Cloud-Gatherer, answered with gentle words, “O Trito-born, my dear child! be of good cheer.  I spake not in earnest, and would fain please thee.  Do as seemeth good to thee.”  And Athene, full of joy, sped down from high Olympus.

Achilles, with all speed, was chasing the noble Hector, as the dogs hunt the fawn of a deer through dale and woodland; and though the fawn hideth behind a bush, they follow by the scent until they find it; so Hector could not escape from the swift-footed son of Peleus.  Often did Hector rush along the strong walls, in hopes that the Trojans within might succor him from above with their arrows.  But Achilles gained on him and turned him into the plain again.

And so, though Hector failed in his flight and Achilles in his pursuit, yet might Hector have escaped his doom, had not this been the last time that Apollo the Far-Darter came nigh to him, to nerve his heart and his swift knees.  Achilles had made a sign to his comrades, and forbade them to launch their darts against the noble Hector, lest one of them should gain high honor, and he come only second.  And when they had, for the fourth time, run round the walls and reached the springs, then Zeus, the Great Father, raised his golden scales, and placed in each the lot of gloomy death,—­one for Hector, and the other for Achilles.  And he held the scales by the middle, and poised them; and the noble Hector’s scale sank down to Hades; and Phoebus Apollo left him.

But the fierce-eyed goddess Athene came near to Achilles and spake winged words:  “Now, at last, O godlike Achilles! shall we twain carry off great glory to the Achaian ships!  He cannot now escape us, though the Far-Darter should grovel at the feet of Zeus with fruitless prayers.  But do thou stay and recover thy breath; and I will go and persuade Hector to stand up against thee in fight.”  And he gladly obeyed her voice, and stood leaning on his ashen spear.

And she, Athene, came to noble Hector in the likeness of his brother Deiphobus, and spake to him:  “Dear Lord and elder Brother, surely the fleet-footed son of Peleus hath done great violence against thee, chasing thee round the walls!  But let us twain make a stand against him!”

And the great Hector answered, “Deiphobus, thou wert ever the dearest of my brothers; now I honor thee still more, because thou hast dared to come out from behind the walls to aid me, while others skulk within.”

The fierce-eyed goddess, as Deiphobus, spake again:  “It is true that my father, and my queenly mother, and all my comrades, besought me to stay with them, so greatly do they fear the mighty son of Peleus; but my heart was sore for thee, dear brother!  But let us fight amain, and see whether he will carry our spoils to his ships, or fall beneath thy spear!” And so, with her cunning words, she led him on to death.