The voices of the women entering her chamber roused her
from that strange sleep, and sitting up she rubbed her cheeks and
said: "Wondrous soft was the slumber which overtook me in my sorrow!
Would that it were death which had come upon me with like softness,
that I might no longer waste away in mourning for the excellence of my
dear, dear lord!"
Thereupon she arose, and descending the stairs stood in the open
doorway of the hall, with a handmaid on either side. A murmur of
surprise and admiration went round the whole company, for never had
she seemed so wondrous fair. Turning to Telemachus she said: "My son,
with grief I perceive that thy understanding increaseth not with thy
growth, but rather becometh less. Who would think, seeing thee thus
tall and comely, like a prince's true son, that thou wouldst suffer
such deeds to be wrought upon the stranger within thy gates? What if
he had come by his death through this violence? What shame and infamy
to thee!"
"Mother," answered Telemachus, "thou hast some reason for thine anger.
Howbeit, I have a man's wit, and am not, as thou sayest, more foolish
than a child. But what can one do against so many? And as to this
stranger, thou wouldst know that thy fears are idle, if thou couldst
see Irus as he now sits at the gate, rolling his head like a drunkard,
with no strength to stand on his feet or stir from his place. Would
that all the wooers were in the same plight!"
While Telemachus was defending himself, Eurymachus had been gazing
with bold eyes on that fair lady; and now he addressed her with smooth
words of flattery: "Daughter of Icarius, sage Penelope, if all the
Greeks could behold thee as now thou art, this house would not contain
the multitude of thy wooers.
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