NOT many days later a quarrel broke out, down in the country, among Menelaus’ farm-hands, and some were killed who had drunk rather too much. So Menelaus had to go down and settle the affair. And Lucretia said to him:

‘My dear husband, you are a heavy man and none too strong; the movement of your horse tires you. Why not borrow a nag from someone?’

And, as Menelaus was hesitating and wondering where he would find one, Pandalus spoke:

‘If I am not mistaken, Euryalus has an excellent nag, and he would willingly lend it, if you would let me ask him.’

‘Do so,’ said Menelaus.

When this request was made to him, Euryalus ordered his horse to be brought round immediately, and took it as a signal for rejoicing. And, said he to himself, ‘You will mount my horse, Menelaus, but I will mount your wife.’ So it was agreed that, at the fifth hour of the night, Euryalus should be in the lane, and should hope for the best if he heard Pandalus singing.

Menelaus was gone, and night had already fallen. The lady stayed in her room till the appointed time, and Euryalus was outside the gates, awaiting the signal. But he heard no song, not even the clearing of a throat. The hour was well past, and Achates tried to persuade him to come away, saying he had been cheated. But the lover was loth to go, and made one excuse after another for remaining.

Now Pandalus was not singing, because Menelaus’ brother had stayed at home, and was examining all the doors in case of a plot, and would not go to sleep. So Pandalus asked him:

‘Are we never going to bed to-night? It is past midnight, and I am heavy with sleep. I cannot understand that you, who are young, should have the nature of old men, whose dryness robs them of sleep so that they never slumber, except a little towards morning, when the wain of the northern constellation is rolling in its course, and it is already time to get up. But do let us go to bed at last. What do you want with all this vigilance?’

‘Let us go, then,’ said Agamemnon, ‘since you wish it. But first we must examine the gates and see that they are properly fastened, and will not open for any thieves.’

And going to the gate-way, he tried now this lock, now that, and shot another bolt. Now there was a huge iron bolt, which two men could only just lift, and sometimes the gate was fastened with this. So, when Agamemnon found he could not move it, he cried,

‘Come and help me, Pandalus; let us put this bolt against the gate, that no burglars may break in. Then we can sleep in comfort upon both ears.

When Euryalus heard this, ‘I am done for,’ thought he, ‘if they shoot that bolt as well.’ But Pandalus said:

‘What are you doing, Agamemnon? You would reinforce that door as though the house were besieged. Are we not safe in our own town? We all enjoy the same freedom here and the same peace, for the only enemies we are at war with, the Florentines, are far away. If it is burglars you are afraid of we have locked up safe enough, and if it is an enemy, nothing in all this house can protect you. I at any rate will not raise that weight to-night, for I have got pains in my shoulders and am quite broken down; I am not fit to lift heavy weights. Lift it yourself or else leave it alone.’

‘Oh, it will do,’ said Agamemnon, and went off to bed. Then said Euryalus:

‘I will stay here another hour, in case somebody comes and opens.’

Achates was getting tired of wasting his time, and he cursed Euryalus under his breath, for keeping him out of bed so late. But they had not waited long, when, through a chink, they saw Lucretia carrying a little lamp. Then Euryalus leaned towards her and said:

‘Good evening, Lucretia, my soul!’ But she was terrified, and would at first have run away. Then she asked, 'What man are you?’

‘I am your Euryalus,’ said he. ‘Open, my darling, I have been hiding here for you quite half the night.’

She recognized his voice but feared some trick, so did not dare open till she had seen the secret tokens, known only to themselves. Then, with much difficulty, she turned the keys, but the gates were fastened by many bolts that no woman’s hands could possibly lift. Still, she managed to open the gates about half a foot.

‘That won't hinder me,’ said Euryalus, and, flattening out his body, he pushed himself in, right side first, and took the lady in his arms. Achates remained outside to keep watch.

Then Lucretia, fainting with too much fear or too much joy, collapsed in Euryalus’ arms. She grew pale, her voice failed her, and her eyes closed; she looked like death, but for a little warmth that remained and the faint beating of her pulse. He was terrified at such a sudden disaster, and did not know what to do. He said to himself:

‘If I go away now, I deserve to die, leaving a woman in such a plight. But if I stay, Agamemnon will turn up, or some other member of her household, and I’ll be killed. Oh unhappy love, more cruel than you are kind! Absinth is not so bitter as you. How many deaths have you brought upon my head? How many perils have you prepared for me? Only this remained, that you should make my lady faint in my arms. Why did you not kill me first—throw me to the lions? Alas, how much more gladly had I died on her breast, than have her die on mine!’

But love got the upper hand. Casting aside all thought for his own safety, he stayed with her, and lifting up her speechless body and kissing it and raining tears, he cried:

‘Alas, Lucretia, where in all the world have you gone? Where are now your ears? Why don't you answer me? Smile at me, as you are wont to. For I, your Euryalus, am here, your lover embraces you. My darling, why not kiss me in return? My heart, are you dead, or asleep? Where shall I look for you? And if you wished to die, why not tell me, that I might kill myself with you? Unless you listen to me, see, my sword will even now pierce my side, and the same death will take us both. Oh my life, my sweet, my darling, my only hope and true repose, must I lose you like this, Lucretia? Raise your eyes, lift up your head. You are not dead yet. I can see you are still warm, still breathing. Why don’t you speak to me? Is this how you welcome me? Call me to these pleasures? Give me a night like this? Arise, I implore you, my joy. Look at your lover. For I, your Euryalus, am here.’

And, as he spoke, his tears flowed in a stream over her brow and temples, till refreshed by them, as by rosewater, she moved, sat up, as though awakening from a deep sleep, and seeing her lover, cried:

‘Alas, Euryalus, where was I? Why did you not rather let me die? For I’d have died happy in your arms. Would I might depart like that, before you leave this city!’