old intercourse with us." Thus, too, she marks
unconsciously the limit of her people.

(2) The reader, along with Nausicaa, is to see the transformation of
the beggarly wanderer, who, having taken his bath and put on his
raiment, comes forth like a God. This is said to be the work of Pallas,
"who caused him to appear taller and more powerful, with flowing locks,
like the hyacinth." He becomes plastic in form, beautiful as a statue,
into which the divine soul has been transfused by the artist. Such a
transforming power lies within him, yet is granted also by a deity; the
godlike in the man now takes on a bodily, or rather a sculpturesque
appearance, and prophesies Greek plastic art.

The echo of this change is heard in the words of the maiden: "Hear me
attendants; not without the will of the Olympians does this man come to
us; lately I thought him unseemly, now he is like the Gods who hold the
broad Heavens." Such is her lively admiration now, but what means this?
"Would that such a man might be called my husband, dwelling here in
Phaeacia!" That note is indeed deeper than admiration.

(3) The third phase of this little play is the bringing of Ulysses to
the city and home of Nausicaa. He, having satisfied his hunger, and
being ready to start, receives some advice from the maiden, who seeks
to conduct him at once to the center of the home. They will pass first
through the outlying country, which shows cultivation; then they will
go up into the city, with its lofty tower and double harbor; the
seafaring character of the people is especially set forth by Nausicaa,
whose name is derived from the Greek word for a ship. Particularly we
must notice her fear of gossip, which also existed in Phaeacia, ideal
though the land was. She must not be seen with Ulysses; men with evil
tongues would say: "What stranger is this following Nausicaa? Now she
will have a husband." The sharp eye of Goethe detected in this passage
the true motive; it is love, always having the tendency to deny itself,
which dictates so carefully this avoidance of public report; the thing
must not be said just because there is good reason for saying it. Her
solicitude betrays her feeling. In pure simplicity of heart she pays
the supreme compliment to Ulysses, likening him indirectly to "a God
called down from Heaven by her prayers, to live with her all her days."
Still further she intimates in the same passage, that "many noble
suitors woo her, but she treats th