sest."

The End draws near; Signs and Wonders

True to his character as a wandering beggar, Odysseus lay down to rest
on a pile of sheepskins in the portico of the house. His mind was full
of the events of the day, and of the terrible task which he had to
perform on the morrow. When he thought of all the insults which had
been heaped upon him in his own house, he ground his teeth with rage,
and muttered bitter curses against the wooers. As if on purpose to
provoke him further, just at this moment Melantho, and several of the
other women, who slept in the town, came forth from the house, and
passed by him with shrill laughter and merry gibes. Then his heart
growled within him, even as a mother-hound growls over her whelps when
she sees a stranger approaching, and in a sudden impulse of fury he
started up to slay those faithless women on the spot; but repressing
his mad purpose he smote his breast and rebuked his fiery spirit. Had
he not borne even worse than this on the day when the Cyclops devoured
his comrades in the cave?

When anger and shame had had their turn, other and more pressing
anxieties came crowding upon him, banishing sleep from his eyelids.
How was he with such help as Telemachus could give him to overpower
and slay a hundred men in the prime of their youth and strength? It
seemed an impossible feat, and his heart quaked within him as he
counted those fearful odds.

At last sleep came upon him unawares, and in a dream he saw his divine
friend and helper, Athene, standing by him, robed in awful beauty.
"Where is thy faith?" she asked, in sweet and solemn tones. "Dost thou
doubt my power to help thee? Know this, that with me at thy side thou
couldst rout and slay a thousand armed men. Sleep on, then, and vex
thyself no more; in a few short hours all thy trials shall be passed,
and thou shalt rest in triumph under thine own roof-tree." Then she
touched his brow with her finger, and departed; and after that he
slept on soundly until dawn.

In the first grey light of morning he awoke, roused by a sound as of
one wailing within the house. He sat up in his bed and listened: it
was the voice of Penelope, his wife; for she too had had her dreams,
sweet, indeed, while they lasted, but bitter to her waking memory. She
thought that her husband came to her, in all the glory of his manhood,
even as when he set out for Troy, and put his arms about her, and
kissed her tenderly. Therefore she wept and wailed