Don't worry, love—we know it wasn't your fault.
Just like it wasn't Phaeton's.
But at least you didn't fail the sun; you only failed yourself.
And didn't your hounds feed well?
You should have known better than to hunt in her forest, Actaeon.
You should have known, after all, what becomes of mortals who dare to see the Gods.
Goddesses, despite their beauty, are quite timid.
They feel the need to compensate when women nearly surpass them.
Just ask Arachne, dear hunter; that gentle weaver has quite a story to tell.
Now—I get off topic.
You were in the right. You did not know, could not;
You are a man. You could not help it.
The Moon Lady is such a gorgeous creature, like the moon itself;
It was not your fault you felt compelled.
And in the end, what does that change?
We know, we who come after.
We know and we feel for you.
Poor man, poor hunter; your eyes saw too much.
But, at least, your hounds fed well on your flesh.