unate, he was unhappy when he remembered the
brave men who had died for his sake at Troy. But above all he was
miserable for the loss of the best of them all, Ulysses, who was so long
unheard of, and none knew whether, at that hour, he was alive or dead.
At these words Telemachus hid his face in his purple mantle and shed
tears, so that Menelaus guessed who he was, but he said nothing.

Then came into the hall, from her own fragrant chamber, Helen of the
fair hands, as beautiful as ever she had been, her bower maidens
carrying her golden distaff, with which she span, and a silver basket to
hold her wool, for the white hands of Helen were never idle.

Helen knew Telemachus by his likeness to his father, Ulysses, and when
she said this to Menelaus, Pisistratus overheard her, and told how
Telemachus had come to them seeking for news of his father. Menelaus was
much moved in his heart, and Helen no less, when they saw the son of
Ulysses, who had been the most trusty of all their friends. They could
not help shedding tears, for Pisistratus remembered his dear brother
Antilochus, whom Memnon slew in battle at Troy, Memnon the son of the
bright Dawn. But Helen wished to comfort them, and she brought a drug of
magical virtue, which Polydamna, the wife of Thon, King of Egypt had
given to her. This drug lulls all pain and anger, and brings
forgetfulness of every sorrow, and Helen poured it from a golden vial
into the mixing bowl of gold, and they drank the wine and were
comforted.

Then Helen told Telemachus what great deeds Ulysses did at Troy, and
how he crept into the town disguised as a beggar, and came to her house,
when he stole the Luck of Troy. Menelaus told how Ulysses kept him and
the other princes quiet in the horse of tree, when Deiphobus made Helen
call to them all in the very voices of their own wives, and to
Telemachus it was great joy to hear of his father's courage and wisdom.

Next day Telemachus showed to Menelaus how hardly he and his mother were
treated by the proud wooers, and Menelaus prayed that Ulysses might come
back to Ithaca, and slay the wooers every one. 'But as to what you ask
me,' he said, 'I will tell you all that I have heard about your father.
In my wanderings after I sailed from Troy the storm winds kept me for
three weeks in the island called Pharos, a day's voyage from the mouth
of the river "Aegyptus"' (which is the old name of the Nile). 'We were
almost starving, for our food was done, a