His arrows never kill; sometimes,
indeed, they make life happier. Apollo now loved Daphne more than
anything else on earth. Daphne was more afraid of him than of anything
else in the sky.
On flew Daphne, hoping her misty cloud would hide her till she could
reach her river home. On flew Apollo, begging her to stop for fear his
arrows might hurt her. His great arrows of sunlight must do their work
even if his friends should perish by them.
As they neared the river he saw her face again. She sank on the river
bank. She was faint and he would comfort her but she cried to her
father, the river, "O father, help!" The earth opened, and before
Apollo could reach her he saw her waving hair change into glistening
leaves. Her arms became branches. Her skin changed to dainty bark, and
her face to a tree-top whose pink flowers show, even yet, the beauty of
Daphne's cheek. Apollo reached out and gathered the leaves and made
them into a crown.
[Illustration: DAPHNE. Changing into a laurel tree. From an old painting]
"This tree shall be called laurel, and it shall be mine," he said. "I
cannot grow old and the leaves of this tree shall be always green.
Daphne has won the race against Apollo, the wreath of these leaves shall
be her gift and mine to the bravest in every race.
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