e proceeding further. Herein the woman
comes out in her own peculiar province; no man would ever have noticed
the dress so closely; Alcinous did not, and wise Ulysses in this case
did not forecast so far out of his masculine domain. But the poet had
made the subtle observation and uses it as a turning-point in his
little drama. Now we see the queen before us: imagine a pair of dark
eyes shooting indignation upon the man clothed with garments intrusted
this very morning to the daughter.

Nor should we fail to scan her second question: "Do you not say that
you have come hither a wanderer over the deep?" Verily the case is
suspicious. Ulysses sees his plight, and at once offers the most
elaborate explanation, going back and giving a history of himself for
the last seven or eight years. Now we know why the poet specially
praised the mind of Arete, and why her husband so honored her, and why
she could be judge of disputes among men. She shows the keenest
observation united with reasoning power; she stands out in contrast
with the Phaeacian men, who follow impulse more readily than she, as she
keeps the judicial balance, though a woman, and demands evidence of
truth from the uncertain stranger.

We may draw from this scene certain traits of the Phaeacians, as we see
here a man, a typical man probably who is outside of the royal family.
An ideal humanity seems to live in them; they will receive the
unfortunate wanderer and succor him to the fullest extent. More
impressive still is their religious faith; they live in intimate
communion with the Gods, who appear in person at the feast "sitting
among us;" nor do the deities conceal themselves from the solitary
wayfarer; "since we are as near to them as are the Cyclops and the wild
tribes of Giants." So speaks Alcinous, hinting that kinship, which has
been previously set forth; both himself and Arete are the descendants
of savages, who were children of the Gods of nature. But they have
risen into fellowship with the higher Gods of Olympus. The words of the
king seemed to be tinged with sarcasm at those inferior deities,
parents of savagery, from whom, however, they themselves are sprung. He
cannot forget the Cyclops, the men of violence who once did his people
wrong.

In these mythical allusions, obscure enough just here, we have already
traced the rise of Phaeacia into an ethical existence. The worship of
the higher Gods is the emotional side of such a condition, and the
trea