The Odyssey

TELEMACHUS AND HIS MOTHER MEET—ULYSSES AND EUMAEUS COME DOWN TO THE
TOWN, AND ULYSSES IS INSULTED BY MELANTHIUS—HE IS RECOGNISED BY THE DOG
ARGOS—HE IS INSULTED AND PRESENTLY STRUCK BY ANTINOUS WITH A
STOOL—PENELOPE DESIRES THAT HE SHALL BE SENT TO HER.


When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Telemachus
bound on his sandals and took a strong spear that suited his hands, for
he wanted to go into the city. “Old friend,” said he to the swineherd,
“I will now go to the town and show myself to my mother, for she will
never leave off grieving till she has seen me. As for this unfortunate
stranger, take him to the town and let him beg there of any one who
will give him a drink and a piece of bread. I have trouble enough of my
own, and cannot be burdened with other people. If this makes him angry
so much the worse for him, but I like to say what I mean.”

Then Ulysses said, “Sir, I do not want to stay here; a beggar can
always do better in town than country, for any one who likes can give
him something. I am too old to care about remaining here at the beck
and call of a master. Therefore let this man do as you have just told
him, and take me to the town as soon as I have had a warm by the fire,
and the day has got a little heat in it. My clothes are wretchedly
thin, and this frosty morning I shall be perished with cold, for you
say the city is some way off.”

On this Telemachus strode off through the yards, brooding his revenge
upon the suitors. When he reached home he stood his spear against a
bearing-post of the cloister, crossed the stone floor of the cloister
itself, and went inside.

Nurse Euryclea saw him long before any one else did. She was putting
the fleeces on to the seats, and she burst out crying as she ran up to
him; all the other maids came up too, and covered his head and
shoulders with their kisses. Penelope came out of her room looking like
Diana or Venus, and wept as she flung her arms about her son. She
kissed his forehead and both his beautiful eyes, “Light of my eyes,”
she cried as she spoke fondly to him, “so you are come home again; I
made sure I was never going to see you any more. To think of your
having gone off to Pylos without saying anything about it or obtaining
my consent. But come, tell me what you saw.”

“Do not scold me, mother,” answered Telemachus, “nor vex me, seeing
what a narrow escape I have had, but wash your face, change your dress,
go upstairs with your maids, and promise full and sufficient hecatombs
to all the gods if Jove will only grant us our revenge upon the
suitors. I must now go to the place of assembly to invite a stranger
who has come back with me from Pylos. I sent him on with my crew, and
told Piraeus to take him home and look after him till I could come for
him myself.”

She heeded her son’s words, washed her face, changed her dress, and
vowed full and sufficient hecatombs to all the gods if they would only
vouchsafe her revenge upon the suitors.

Telemachus went through, and out of, the cloisters spear in hand—not
alone, for his two fleet dogs went with him. Minerva endowed him with a
presence of such divine comeliness that all marvelled at him as he went
by, and the suitors gathered round him with fair words in their mouths
and malice in their hearts; but he avoided them, and went to sit with
Mentor, Antiphus, and Halitherses, old friends of his father’s house,
and they made him tell them all that had happened to him. Then Piraeus
came up with Theoclymenus, whom he had escorted through the town to the
place of assembly, whereon Telemachus at once joined them. Piraeus was
first to speak: “Telemachus,” said he, “I wish you would send some of
your women to my house to take away the presents Menelaus gave you.”

“We do not know, Piraeus,” answered Telemachus, “what may happen. If
the suitors kill me in my own house and divide my property among them,
I would rather you had the presents than that any of those people
should get hold of them. If on the other hand I managed to kill them, I
shall be much obliged if you will kindly bring me my presents.”

With these words he took Theoclymenus to his own house. When they got
there they laid their cloaks on the benches and seats, went into the
baths, and washed themselves. When the maids had washed and anointed
them, and had given them cloaks and shirts, they took their seats at
table. A maid servant then brought them water in a beautiful golden
ewer, and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands;
and she drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them
bread and offered them many good things of what there was in the house.
Opposite them sat Penelope, reclining on a couch by one of the
bearing-posts of the cloister, and spinning. Then they laid their hands
on the good things that were before them, and as soon as they had had
enough to eat and drink Penelope said:

“Telemachus, I shall go upstairs and lie down on that sad couch, which
I have not ceased to water with my tears, from the day Ulysses set out
for Troy with the sons of Atreus. You failed, however, to make it clear
to me before the suitors came back to the house, whether or no you had
been able to hear anything about the return of your father.”

“I will tell you then truth,” replied her son. “We went to Pylos and
saw Nestor, who took me to his house and treated me as hospitably as
though I were a son of his own who had just returned after a long
absence; so also did his sons; but he said he had not heard a word from
any human being about Ulysses, whether he was alive or dead. He sent
me, therefore, with a chariot and horses to Menelaus. There I saw
Helen, for whose sake so many, both Argives and Trojans, were in
heaven’s wisdom doomed to suffer. Menelaus asked me what it was that
had brought me to Lacedaemon, and I told him the whole truth, whereon
he said, ‘So, then, these cowards would usurp a brave man’s bed? A hind
might as well lay her new-born young in the lair of a lion, and then go
off to feed in the forest or in some grassy dell. The lion, when he
comes back to his lair, will make short work with the pair of them, and
so will Ulysses with these suitors. By father Jove, Minerva, and
Apollo, if Ulysses is still the man that he was when he wrestled with
Philomeleides in Lesbos, and threw him so heavily that all the Greeks
cheered him—if he is still such, and were to come near these suitors,
they would have a short shrift and a sorry wedding. As regards your
question, however, I will not prevaricate nor deceive you, but what the
old man of the sea told me, so much will I tell you in full. He said he
could see Ulysses on an island sorrowing bitterly in the house of the
nymph Calypso, who was keeping him prisoner, and he could not reach his
home, for he had no ships nor sailors to take him over the sea.’ This
was what Menelaus told me, and when I had heard his story I came away;
the gods then gave me a fair wind and soon brought me safe home again.”

With these words he moved the heart of Penelope. Then Theoclymenus said
to her:

“Madam, wife of Ulysses, Telemachus does not understand these things;
listen therefore to me, for I can divine them surely, and will hide
nothing from you. May Jove the king of heaven be my witness, and the
rites of hospitality, with that hearth of Ulysses to which I now come,
that Ulysses himself is even now in Ithaca, and, either going about the
country or staying in one place, is enquiring into all these evil deeds
and preparing a day of reckoning for the suitors. I saw an omen when I
was on the ship which meant this, and I told Telemachus about it.”

“May it be even so,” answered Penelope; “if your words come true, you
shall have such gifts and such good will from me that all who see you
shall congratulate you.”

Thus did they converse. Meanwhile the suitors were throwing discs, or
aiming with spears at a mark on the levelled ground in front of the
house, and behaving with all their old insolence. But when it was now
time for dinner, and the flock of sheep and goats had come into the
town from all the country round, 140 with their shepherds as usual,
then Medon, who was their favourite servant, and who waited upon them
at table, said, “Now then, my young masters, you have had enough sport,
so come inside that we may get dinner ready. Dinner is not a bad thing,
at dinner time.”

They left their sports as he told them, and when they were within the
house, they laid their cloaks on the benches and seats inside, and then
sacrificed some sheep, goats, pigs, and a heifer, all of them fat and
well grown.141 Thus they made ready for their meal. In the meantime
Ulysses and the swineherd were about starting for the town, and the
swineherd said, “Stranger, I suppose you still want to go to town
to-day, as my master said you were to do; for my own part I should have
liked you to stay here as a station hand, but I must do as my master
tells me, or he will scold me later on, and a scolding from one’s
master is a very serious thing. Let us then be off, for it is now broad
day; it will be night again directly and then you will find it
colder.”142

“I know, and understand you,” replied Ulysses; “you need say no more.
Let us be going, but if you have a stick ready cut, let me have it to
walk with, for you say the road is a very rough one.”

As he spoke he threw his shabby old tattered wallet over his shoulders,
by the cord from which it hung, and Eumaeus gave him a stick to his
liking. The two then started, leaving the station in charge of the dogs
and herdsmen who remained behind; the swineherd led the way and his
master followed after, looking like some broken down old tramp as he
leaned upon his staff, and his clothes were all in rags. When they had
got over the rough steep ground and were nearing the city, they reached
the fountain from which the citizens drew their water. This had been
made by Ithacus, Neritus, and Polyctor. There was a grove of
water-loving poplars planted in a circle all round it, and the clear
cold water came down to it from a rock high up,143 while above the
fountain there was an altar to the nymphs, at which all wayfarers used
to sacrifice. Here Melanthius son of Dolius overtook them as he was
driving down some goats, the best in his flock, for the suitors’
dinner, and there were two shepherds with him. When he saw Eumaeus and
Ulysses he reviled them with outrageous and unseemly language, which
made Ulysses very angry.

“There you go,” cried he, “and a precious pair you are. See how heaven
brings birds of the same feather to one another. Where, pray, master
swineherd, are you taking this poor miserable object? It would make any
one sick to see such a creature at table. A fellow like this never won
a prize for anything in his life, but will go about rubbing his
shoulders against every man’s door post, and begging, not for swords
and cauldrons144 like a man, but only for a few scraps not worth
begging for. If you would give him to me for a hand on my station, he
might do to clean out the folds, or bring a bit of sweet feed to the
kids, and he could fatten his thighs as much as he pleased on whey; but
he has taken to bad ways and will not go about any kind of work; he
will do nothing but beg victuals all the town over, to feed his
insatiable belly. I say, therefore—and it shall surely be—if he goes
near Ulysses’ house he will get his head broken by the stools they will
fling at him, till they turn him out.”

On this, as he passed, he gave Ulysses a kick on the hip out of pure
wantonness, but Ulysses stood firm, and did not budge from the path.
For a moment he doubted whether or no to fly at Melanthius and kill him
with his staff, or fling him to the ground and beat his brains out; he
resolved, however, to endure it and keep himself in check, but the
swineherd looked straight at Melanthius and rebuked him, lifting up his
hands and praying to heaven as he did so.

“Fountain nymphs,” he cried, “children of Jove, if ever Ulysses burned
you thigh bones covered with fat whether of lambs or kids, grant my
prayer that heaven may send him home. He would soon put an end to the
swaggering threats with which such men as you go about insulting
people—gadding all over the town while your flocks are going to ruin
through bad shepherding.”

Then Melanthius the goatherd answered, “You ill conditioned cur, what
are you talking about? Some day or other I will put you on board ship
and take you to a foreign country, where I can sell you and pocket the
money you will fetch. I wish I were as sure that Apollo would strike
Telemachus dead this very day, or that the suitors would kill him, as I
am that Ulysses will never come home again.”

With this he left them to come on at their leisure, while he went
quickly forward and soon reached the house of his master. When he got
there he went in and took his seat among the suitors opposite
Eurymachus, who liked him better than any of the others. The servants
brought him a portion of meat, and an upper woman servant set bread
before him that he might eat. Presently Ulysses and the swineherd came
up to the house and stood by it, amid a sound of music, for Phemius was
just beginning to sing to the suitors. Then Ulysses took hold of the
swineherd’s hand, and said:

“Eumaeus, this house of Ulysses is a very fine place. No matter how far
you go, you will find few like it. One building keeps following on
after another. The outer court has a wall with battlements all round
it; the doors are double folding, and of good workmanship; it would be
a hard matter to take it by force of arms. I perceive, too, that there
are many people banqueting within it, for there is a smell of roast
meat, and I hear a sound of music, which the gods have made to go along
with feasting.”

Then Eumaeus said, “You have perceived aright, as indeed you generally
do; but let us think what will be our best course. Will you go inside
first and join the suitors, leaving me here behind you, or will you
wait here and let me go in first? But do not wait long, or some one may
see you loitering about outside, and throw something at you. Consider
this matter I pray you.”

And Ulysses answered, “I understand and heed. Go in first and leave me
here where I am. I am quite used to being beaten and having things
thrown at me. I have been so much buffeted about in war and by sea that
I am case-hardened, and this too may go with the rest. But a man cannot
hide away the cravings of a hungry belly; this is an enemy which gives
much trouble to all men; it is because of this that ships are fitted
out to sail the seas, and to make war upon other people.”

As they were thus talking, a dog that had been lying asleep raised his
head and pricked up his ears. This was Argos, whom Ulysses had bred
before setting out for Troy, but he had never had any work out of him.
In the old days he used to be taken out by the young men when they went
hunting wild goats, or deer, or hares, but now that his master was gone
he was lying neglected on the heaps of mule and cow dung that lay in
front of the stable doors till the men should come and draw it away to
manure the great close; and he was full of fleas. As soon as he saw
Ulysses standing there, he dropped his ears and wagged his tail, but he
could not get close up to his master. When Ulysses saw the dog on the
other side of the yard, he dashed a tear from his eyes without Eumaeus
seeing it, and said:

“Eumaeus, what a noble hound that is over yonder on the manure heap:
his build is splendid; is he as fine a fellow as he looks, or is he
only one of those dogs that come begging about a table, and are kept
merely for show?”

“This hound,” answered Eumaeus, “belonged to him who has died in a far
country. If he were what he was when Ulysses left for Troy, he would
soon show you what he could do. There was not a wild beast in the
forest that could get away from him when he was once on its tracks. But
now he has fallen on evil times, for his master is dead and gone, and
the women take no care of him. Servants never do their work when their
master’s hand is no longer over them, for Jove takes half the goodness
out of a man when he makes a slave of him.”

As he spoke he went inside the buildings to the cloister where the
suitors were, but Argos died as soon as he had recognised his master.

Telemachus saw Eumaeus long before any one else did, and beckoned him
to come and sit beside him; so he looked about and saw a seat lying
near where the carver sat serving out their portions to the suitors; he
picked it up, brought it to Telemachus’s table, and sat down opposite
him. Then the servant brought him his portion, and gave him bread from
the bread-basket.

Immediately afterwards Ulysses came inside, looking like a poor
miserable old beggar, leaning on his staff and with his clothes all in
rags. He sat down upon the threshold of ash-wood just inside the doors
leading from the outer to the inner court, and against a bearing-post
of cypress-wood which the carpenter had skilfully planed, and had made
to join truly with rule and line. Telemachus took a whole loaf from the
bread-basket, with as much meat as he could hold in his two hands, and
said to Eumaeus, “Take this to the stranger, and tell him to go the
round of the suitors, and beg from them; a beggar must not be
shamefaced.”

So Eumaeus went up to him and said, “Stranger, Telemachus sends you
this, and says you are to go the round of the suitors begging, for
beggars must not be shamefaced.”

Ulysses answered, “May King Jove grant all happiness to Telemachus, and
fulfil the desire of his heart.”

Then with both hands he took what Telemachus had sent him, and laid it
on the dirty old wallet at his feet. He went on eating it while the
bard was singing, and had just finished his dinner as he left off. The
suitors applauded the bard, whereon Minerva went up to Ulysses and
prompted him to beg pieces of bread from each one of the suitors, that
he might see what kind of people they were, and tell the good from the
bad; but come what might she was not going to save a single one of
them. Ulysses, therefore, went on his round, going from left to right,
and stretched out his hands to beg as though he were a real beggar.
Some of them pitied him, and were curious about him, asking one another
who he was and where he came from; whereon the goatherd Melanthius
said, “Suitors of my noble mistress, I can tell you something about
him, for I have seen him before. The swineherd brought him here, but I
know nothing about the man himself, nor where he comes from.”

On this Antinous began to abuse the swineherd. “You precious idiot,” he
cried, “what have you brought this man to town for? Have we not tramps
and beggars enough already to pester us as we sit at meat? Do you think
it a small thing that such people gather here to waste your master’s
property—and must you needs bring this man as well?”

And Eumaeus answered, “Antinous, your birth is good but your words
evil. It was no doing of mine that he came here. Who is likely to
invite a stranger from a foreign country, unless it be one of those who
can do public service as a seer, a healer of hurts, a carpenter, or a
bard who can charm us with his singing? Such men are welcome all the
world over, but no one is likely to ask a beggar who will only worry
him. You are always harder on Ulysses’ servants than any of the other
suitors are, and above all on me, but I do not care so long as
Telemachus and Penelope are alive and here.”

But Telemachus said, “Hush, do not answer him; Antinous has the
bitterest tongue of all the suitors, and he makes the others worse.”

Then turning to Antinous he said, “Antinous, you take as much care of
my interests as though I were your son. Why should you want to see this
stranger turned out of the house? Heaven forbid; take something and
give it him yourself; I do not grudge it; I bid you take it. Never mind
my mother, nor any of the other servants in the house; but I know you
will not do what I say, for you are more fond of eating things yourself
than of giving them to other people.”

“What do you mean, Telemachus,” replied Antinous, “by this swaggering
talk? If all the suitors were to give him as much as I will, he would
not come here again for another three months.”

As he spoke he drew the stool on which he rested his dainty feet from
under the table, and made as though he would throw it at Ulysses, but
the other suitors all gave him something, and filled his wallet with
bread and meat; he was about, therefore, to go back to the threshold
and eat what the suitors had given him, but he first went up to
Antinous and said:

“Sir, give me something; you are not, surely, the poorest man here; you
seem to be a chief, foremost among them all; therefore you should be
the better giver, and I will tell far and wide of your bounty. I too
was a rich man once, and had a fine house of my own; in those days I
gave to many a tramp such as I now am, no matter who he might be nor
what he wanted. I had any number of servants, and all the other things
which people have who live well and are accounted wealthy, but it
pleased Jove to take all away from me. He sent me with a band of roving
robbers to Egypt; it was a long voyage and I was undone by it. I
stationed my ships in the river Aegyptus, and bade my men stay by them
and keep guard over them, while I sent out scouts to reconnoitre from
every point of vantage.

“But the men disobeyed my orders, took to their own devices, and
ravaged the land of the Egyptians, killing the men, and taking their
wives and children captives. The alarm was soon carried to the city,
and when they heard the war-cry, the people came out at daybreak till
the plain was filled with soldiers horse and foot, and with the gleam
of armour. Then Jove spread panic among my men, and they would no
longer face the enemy, for they found themselves surrounded. The
Egyptians killed many of us, and took the rest alive to do forced
labour for them; as for myself, they gave me to a friend who met them,
to take to Cyprus, Dmetor by name, son of Iasus, who was a great man in
Cyprus. Thence I am come hither in a state of great misery.”

Then Antinous said, “What god can have sent such a pestilence to plague
us during our dinner? Get out, into the open part of the court,145 or I
will give you Egypt and Cyprus over again for your insolence and
importunity; you have begged of all the others, and they have given you
lavishly, for they have abundance round them, and it is easy to be free
with other people’s property when there is plenty of it.”

On this Ulysses began to move off, and said, “Your looks, my fine sir,
are better than your breeding; if you were in your own house you would
not spare a poor man so much as a pinch of salt, for though you are in
another man’s, and surrounded with abundance, you cannot find it in you
to give him even a piece of bread.”

This made Antinous very angry, and he scowled at him saying, “You shall
pay for this before you get clear of the court.” With these words he
threw a footstool at him, and hit him on the right shoulder blade near
the top of his back. Ulysses stood firm as a rock and the blow did not
even stagger him, but he shook his head in silence as he brooded on his
revenge. Then he went back to the threshold and sat down there, laying
his well filled wallet at his feet.

“Listen to me,” he cried, “you suitors of Queen Penelope, that I may
speak even as I am minded. A man knows neither ache nor pain if he gets
hit while fighting for his money, or for his sheep or his cattle; and
even so Antinous has hit me while in the service of my miserable belly,
which is always getting people into trouble. Still, if the poor have
gods and avenging deities at all, I pray them that Antinous may come to
a bad end before his marriage.”

“Sit where you are, and eat your victuals in silence, or be off
elsewhere,” shouted Antinous. “If you say more I will have you dragged
hand and foot through the courts, and the servants shall flay you
alive.”

The other suitors were much displeased at this, and one of the young
men said, “Antinous, you did ill in striking that poor wretch of a
tramp: it will be worse for you if he should turn out to be some
god—and we know the gods go about disguised in all sorts of ways as
people from foreign countries, and travel about the world to see who do
amiss and who righteously.”146

Thus said the suitors, but Antinous paid them no heed. Meanwhile
Telemachus was furious about the blow that had been given to his
father, and though no tear fell from him, he shook his head in silence
and brooded on his revenge.

Now when Penelope heard that the beggar had been struck in the
banqueting-cloister, she said before her maids, “Would that Apollo
would so strike you, Antinous,” and her waiting woman Eurynome
answered, “If our prayers were answered not one of the suitors would
ever again see the sun rise.” Then Penelope said, “Nurse,147 I hate
every single one of them, for they mean nothing but mischief, but I
hate Antinous like the darkness of death itself. A poor unfortunate
tramp has come begging about the house for sheer want. Every one else
has given him something to put in his wallet, but Antinous has hit him
on the right shoulder-blade with a footstool.”

Thus did she talk with her maids as she sat in her own room, and in the
meantime Ulysses was getting his dinner. Then she called for the
swineherd and said, “Eumaeus, go and tell the stranger to come here, I
want to see him and ask him some questions. He seems to have travelled
much, and he may have seen or heard something of my unhappy husband.”

To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “If these Achaeans, Madam,
would only keep quiet, you would be charmed with the history of his
adventures. I had him three days and three nights with me in my hut,
which was the first place he reached after running away from his ship,
and he has not yet completed the story of his misfortunes. If he had
been the most heaven-taught minstrel in the whole world, on whose lips
all hearers hang entranced, I could not have been more charmed as I sat
in my hut and listened to him. He says there is an old friendship
between his house and that of Ulysses, and that he comes from Crete
where the descendants of Minos live, after having been driven hither
and thither by every kind of misfortune; he also declares that he has
heard of Ulysses as being alive and near at hand among the
Thesprotians, and that he is bringing great wealth home with him.”

“Call him here, then,” said Penelope, “that I too may hear his story.
As for the suitors, let them take their pleasure indoors or out as they
will, for they have nothing to fret about. Their corn and wine remain
unwasted in their houses with none but servants to consume them, while
they keep hanging about our house day after day sacrificing our oxen,
sheep, and fat goats for their banquets, and never giving so much as a
thought to the quantity of wine they drink. No estate can stand such
recklessness, for we have now no Ulysses to protect us. If he were to
come again, he and his son would soon have their revenge.”

As she spoke Telemachus sneezed so loudly that the whole house
resounded with it. Penelope laughed when she heard this, and said to
Eumaeus, “Go and call the stranger; did you not hear how my son sneezed
just as I was speaking? This can only mean that all the suitors are
going to be killed, and that not one of them shall escape. Furthermore
I say, and lay my saying to your heart: if I am satisfied that the
stranger is speaking the truth I shall give him a shirt and cloak of
good wear.”

When Eumaeus heard this he went straight to Ulysses and said, “Father
stranger, my mistress Penelope, mother of Telemachus, has sent for you;
she is in great grief, but she wishes to hear anything you can tell her
about her husband, and if she is satisfied that you are speaking the
truth, she will give you a shirt and cloak, which are the very things
that you are most in want of. As for bread, you can get enough of that
to fill your belly, by begging about the town, and letting those give
that will.”

“I will tell Penelope,” answered Ulysses, “nothing but what is strictly
true. I know all about her husband, and have been partner with him in
affliction, but I am afraid of passing through this crowd of cruel
suitors, for their pride and insolence reach heaven. Just now,
moreover, as I was going about the house without doing any harm, a man
gave me a blow that hurt me very much, but neither Telemachus nor any
one else defended me. Tell Penelope, therefore, to be patient and wait
till sundown. Let her give me a seat close up to the fire, for my
clothes are worn very thin—you know they are, for you have seen them
ever since I first asked you to help me—she can then ask me about the
return of her husband.”

The swineherd went back when he heard this, and Penelope said as she
saw him cross the threshold, “Why do you not bring him here, Eumaeus?
Is he afraid that some one will ill-treat him, or is he shy of coming
inside the house at all? Beggars should not be shamefaced.”

To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “The stranger is quite
reasonable. He is avoiding the suitors, and is only doing what any one
else would do. He asks you to wait till sundown, and it will be much
better, madam, that you should have him all to yourself, when you can
hear him and talk to him as you will.”

“The man is no fool,” answered Penelope, “it would very likely be as he
says, for there are no such abominable people in the whole world as
these men are.”

When she had done speaking Eumaeus went back to the suitors, for he had
explained everything. Then he went up to Telemachus and said in his ear
so that none could overhear him, “My dear sir, I will now go back to
the pigs, to see after your property and my own business. You will look
to what is going on here, but above all be careful to keep out of
danger, for there are many who bear you ill will. May Jove bring them
to a bad end before they do us a mischief.”

“Very well,” replied Telemachus, “go home when you have had your
dinner, and in the morning come here with the victims we are to
sacrifice for the day. Leave the rest to heaven and me.”

On this Eumaeus took his seat again, and when he had finished his
dinner he left the courts and the cloister with the men at table, and
went back to his pigs. As for the suitors, they presently began to
amuse themselves with singing and dancing, for it was now getting on
towards evening.