of, his return; and she inquires of every
stranger, that she may learn something of the wanderer. Penelope is also
a devoted mother. Ever anxious about her son, she grieves for him when
absent, and when at home guards him as far as possible from the
insolence of the wooers. In her obedience to her son, she seems to have
followed the Greek custom expected of a widow.

In her relations with the wooers, Penelope adopted the only attitude
which was possible for a woman who would wait indefinitely for the
return of her lord. Parents and son, Greek custom and precedents, all
expected that a widow should remarry after so long an interval. And the
wooers were insolent, overwhelming the palace and rapidly making away
with the patrimony of Telemachus. Hence, only by coquettish dallying
could she postpone the evil day.

In all things Penelope was a model housewife, ever engaged in feminine
tasks, overseeing her maidens at their work, watching over the younger
servants with the solicitude of a mother, and observing toward the aged
slave the deference of a daughter. But when the uncivil Melantho is
deficient in respect, the queen calls her severely to a sense of her
duty. When her husband returns, for whom she has waited during twenty
long years of widowhood, she does not throw herself straightway into his
arms. She fears a god may deceive her, and, the better to preserve for
Odysseus the treasures of the tenderness stored up in her heart, she
devises every cunning test to make sure it is really he. Never was there
in woman's heart a more ardent flame of love and devotion; never in a
woman's head intelligence so subtle, judgment so sure. When we fully
appreciate the charm of Penelope's character, we better understand how
the hero should sacrifice the devotion of a goddess for the love of such
a woman.

"These two meet at last together, he after his long wanderings, and she
after having suffered the insistence of suitors in her palace; and this
is the pathos of the Odyssey. The woman, in spite of her withered youth
and tearful years of widowhood, is still expectant of her lord. He,
unconquered by the pleasures cast across his path, unterrified by all
the dangers he endures, clings in thought to the bride whom he led
forth, a blushing maiden, from her father's halls. O just, subtle, and
mighty Homer! There is nothing of Greek here more than of Hebrew, or of
Latin, or of German. It is pure humanity."

Closely interwoven with the pl