r thy fatherly care, but we are
not so poor that we need to drive the stranger from our doors--heaven
forbid! Give him something; 'tis I that bid thee: but thou art ever
better at taking than at giving."

"I will give him something, thou malapert boy," answered Antinous,
grinding his teeth with rage, "something which will keep him from the
house for three months to come." As he spoke he thrust forward a heavy
footstool from under the table, and placed it ready at hand.

Meanwhile, Odysseus, having filled his wallet, was preparing to return
to his place on the threshold. But first he came to Antinous, and
addressed to him a long harangue in the common style of the
professional beggar, who had seen better days and been brought to want
by the malice of fortune. He concluded with a fragment of the story
which he had already told to Eumaeus.

Antinous heard him to the end with ill-disguised impatience, and then
broke out in angry tones: "Who brought this wretched fellow here to
vex us? Stand off from my table, thou shameless varlet! Egypt, sayest
thou? I will send thee to Egypt, and with a vengeance, too! It is a
shame to see how they have squandered good meat on a dog like thee";
and he pointed to the wallet, now filled with the cheap bounty of the
wooers.

Odysseus drew back and made for the door, saying as he went: "Of a
truth, I wonder to find so princely a presence wedded to so mean a
temper."

When he heard that Antinous began to curse and to swear, and lifting
the footstool he hurled it with all his force at the retreating figure
of Odysseus. It struck him on the shoulder, with a crash that vibrated
through the hall; but Odysseus heeded it not, but passed on without a
pause or a stumble to his place on the threshold. When he was seated
he complained loudly of the brutal conduct of Antinous. "Accursed be
he," he said, "who lifts up his hand against a helpless beggar; may
Heaven requite him for this foul deed!"

"Thou hadst best be quiet," said Antinous, "or we will drag thee by
the heels through the hall, until we have stripped the flesh off thy
bones."

But this was too much even for the wooers. "Antinous," said one of
them, "it was ill done of thee to strike the hapless wanderer. Take
heed that thou bring not a curse upon thyself, if there be gods in
heaven to see such deeds. And what if a god should visit this house in
some strange disguise, to make trial of our hearts? It were no new
thing."

A chill se