bow, and shot an arrow through a line of
axes set up in the hall, was to be rewarded by the hand of Penelope.

"Mother, it is time!" whispered Telemachus, soon after the departure
of Theoclymenus. Obeying the signal, Penelope, who had been sitting in
the hall listening to the talk of the wooers, left her place, and
ascending a steep staircase made her way to the store-room, which was
situated at the farther end of the house. In her hand she carried a
brazen key with a handle of ivory; and when she came to the door, she
loosened the strap which served to draw the bolt from the outside, and
inserting the key drew back the bolt. The double doors flew open with
a crash, and the treasury with all its wealth was revealed. Great
coffers of cedar-wood lined the walls, filled with fine raiment, which
her own hands had wrought. It was a cool and quiet retreat, dimly
lighted, remote from all rude sounds, full of fragrant odours, and fit
to guard the possessions of a prince. And there, hanging from a pin,
and heedfully wrapped in its case, was seen the fatal bow. She took it
down, and, sitting on one of the coffers, laid it on her knees, and
gazed on it fondly with her eyes full of tears. How often had she seen
it in the hands of Odysseus, when he went forth at sunrise to hunt the
hare and the deer! How often had she taken it from him when he came
back at evening loaded with the spoils of the chase! And now a keen
shaft from this very bow was to cut the last tender chord of memory,
and make her another man's wife!

With a heavy heart she took the bow with its quiver in her hands, and
descending the staircase re-entered the hall, followed by her maidens,
who carried a chest containing the axes.

"Behold the bow, fair sirs!" she said to the wooers, "and behold me,
the prize for this fine feat of archery!" Therewith she gave the bow
to Eumaeus, who received it with tears; and Philoetius wept likewise
when he saw the treasured weapon of his lord. These signs of emotion
stirred the anger of Antinous, who rebuked the herdsmen fiercely.
"Peace, fools!" he cried. "Peace, miserable churls! Why pierce ye the
heart of the lady with your howlings? Has she not grief enough
already? Go forth, and howl with the dogs outside, and we will make
trial of the bow; yet me thinks it will be long ere anyone here shall
string it"

"Anyone save thyself, thou wouldst say!" rejoined Telemachus with a
loud laugh. Then, seeing his mother regarding him wit