At this mention of his father Telemachus could not control his tears,
but covered his face with his mantle, and wept without restraint.
Menelaus saw his emotion, and began to suspect who he was; but for the
present he said nothing.

A slight stir was now heard at the back of the hall, and a low murmur
went round among the guests, who whispered to each other: "The Queen!
The Queen!" And in she came softly, with slow and stately step, Helen,
the daughter of Tyndareus, and wife of Menelaus, fairest among all the
high-born dames of Greece. Her wondrous beauty was now ripened into
matronly perfection, but now and then a shadow seemed to pass over her
face, like the ghost of an old sin, long repented and forgiven. A
handmaid set a chair for her, throwing over it a soft rug, and brought
a footstool for her feet, while another bare a silver basket, with
rims of gold, and placed it ready, filled with purple yarn. When Helen
was seated, she gazed long and earnestly at Telemachus, and then,
turning to her husband, she said; "Menelaus, shall I utter the thought
which is in my heart? Nay, speak I must. Ne'er saw I such a likeness,
either in man or woman, as is the likeness of this fair youth to
Odysseus. Surely this is Telemachus, whom he left an infant in Ithaca
when the host was summoned to Troy to fight in a worthless woman's
cause."

"I have marked it too," answered Menelaus. "Such were his very hands
and feet, and the carriage of his head, and the glance of his eye.
Moreover, when I made mention of Odysseus he covered his face, and
wept full sore."

Telemachus was still too much distressed to speak, and Pisistratus had