Helen was perturbed and looked at the goddess. When she observed the beauty of her neck and her lovely breasts and sparkling eyes, she was struck with awe. But she made no pretence of being deceived. ‘Lady of mysteries,’ she said, ‘what is the object of this mummery? Now that Menelaus has beaten Paris and is willing to take home his erring wife, you are plotting, I suppose, to carry me off to some still more distant city, in Phrygia or in lovely Maeonia, for some other favourite of yours who may be living in those parts? So you begin by coming here, and try to lure me back to Paris. No; go and sit with him yourself. Forget that you are a goddess. Never set foot in Olympus again, but devote yourself to Paris. Pamper him well, and one day you may be his wife – or else his slave. I refuse to go and share his bed again – I should never hear the end of it. There is not a woman in Troy who would not curse me if I did. I have enough to bear already.’

The Lady Aphrodite rounded on her in fury. ‘Obstinate wretch!’ she cried. ‘Do not provoke me, or I might desert you in my anger, and hate you as heartily as I have loved you up till now, rousing the Trojans and Achaeans to such bitter enmity as would bring you to a miserable end.’

Helen was cowed, child of Zeus though she was. She wrapped herself up in her white and glossy robe, and went off without a sound. Not one of the Trojan women saw her go: she had a goddess to guide her.

When they reached the beautiful house of Paris, the maids in attendance betook themselves at once to their tasks, while Helen, the great lady, went to her lofty bedroom. There the goddess herself, laughter-loving Aphrodite, picked up a chair, carried it across the room and put it down for her in front of Paris. Helen, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, sat down on it, but turned her eyes aside and began by scolding her lover: ‘So you are back from the battlefield – and I was hoping you had fallen there to the great soldier who was once my husband! You used to boast that you were a better man than the mighty Menelaus, a finer spearman, stronger in the arm. Then why not go at once and challenge him again? Or should I warn you to think twice before you offer single combat to the red-haired Menelaus? Do nothing rash – or you may end by falling to his spear!’