“You don’t know your father.  You’ve never seen him,” they cried.

Phaethon would not cry before them, but there were tears of shame and anger in his eyes as he told the story to his mother.

“Never mind, my boy,” she said soothingly, “To-morrow you shall tell them the name of your father, and that will stop their taunts.  Come, let me whisper it to you.”

When Phaethon heard what she had to tell him, his eyes shone with joy and pride, and he could scarce wait for morning to carry his news to his mocking friends.  He was first at the meeting-place, but he would say nothing until all his playmates were gathered.  Then he said, quietly, but O, so proudly: 

“My father is Apollo, the sun-god!”

For a moment there was silence; then came a burst of laughter from the group crowded about Phaethon.

“A likely story!  Who ever heard anything so ridiculous?  It’s quite plain that your mother is ashamed of your father, and is trying to throw you off the track.”

Again Phaethon ran home, his cheeks burning, his eyes flashing, and again he told his mother all that had passed.

“It’s too late to do anything about it to-day,” said Clymene, “but to-morrow you shall go yourself to your father’s palace, before he sets out on his trip across the sky; and if he is pleased with you, he will give you some proof that you are really his son.”

Long before daylight the next morning Phaethon set out, and with his mother’s directions in mind, walked straight east until he came to the dazzling palace of the sun.  Had he not been a bold youth, he would have been frightened and turned back; but he was determined to prove his boasts, and passed on into the palace.  At last, on a great golden throne, he saw his father—­surely a more glorious father than ever boy had before.  So glorious was he that Phaethon dared not approach him closely, as the light about the throne was blinding.  When Apollo recognized him, however, he took off the crown of rays from about his head and called to Phaethon to approach fearlessly.

As the boy stood before the throne, he was a son of whom no father, even Apollo, needed to be ashamed; and as he hurried into his story, the sun-god smiled at the signs of his impetuous temper.

“You’re willing to own me for your son, aren’t you?” finished Phaethon.

“To be sure I am,” replied the sun-god; “and that your mates may never have chance to doubt it more, I swear by the terrible Styx [Footnote:  The Styx was one of the great rivers of Hades.  The oath by the Styx was regarded as so binding that even a god could not break it without being punished severely for his perjury.  Any god who broke his oath was obliged to drink of the black waters of the Styx which kept him in utter unconsciousness for a year; and after his return to consciousness he was banished for nine years from Olympus.] to give you any proof you ask.”