the belief that he is yet living, and will one day come home. So for
three years she has put them off by a cunning trick. She began to
weave a shroud for her father-in-law, Laertes, promising that, as soon
as the garment was finished, she would wed one of the suitors. Then
all day long she wove that choice web; and every night she undid the
work of the day, unravelling the threads which she had woven. So for
three years she beguiled the suitors, but at last she was betrayed by
her handmaids, and the fraud was discovered. The princes upbraided her
loudly for her deceit, and became more importunate than ever. The
substance of Odysseus was wasting away; for day after day the wooers
came thronging to the house, a hundred strong, and feasted at the
expense of its absent master, and drank up his wine.

No hope seems left to the heartbroken, faithful wife. Even her son has
grown impatient at the waste of his goods, and urges her to make the
hard choice, and the hateful hour is at hand which will part her for
ever from the scene of her brief wedded joy.

[Illustration: Penelope]

II

It was the hour of noon, and the sun was beating hot on the rocky
hills of Ithaca, when a solitary wayfarer was seen approaching the
outer gateway which led into the courtyard of Odysseus' house. He was
a man of middle age, dressed like a chieftain, and carrying a long
spear in his hand. Passing through the covered gateway he halted
abruptly, and gazed in astonishment at the strange sight which met his
eyes. All was noise and bustle in the courtyard, where a busy troop of
servants were preparing the materials for a great feast. Some were