Agamemnon replied, “For this cause be not thou more kind than wise to any woman.  Let not thy words express to her at any time all that is in thy mind, keep still some secrets to thyself.  But thou by any bloody contrivances of thy wife never needst fear to fall.  Exceeding wise she is, and to her wisdom she has a goodness as eminent; Icarius’s daughter, Penelope the chaste:  we left her a young bride when we parted from our wives to go to the wars, her first child suckling at her breast, the young Telemachus, whom you shall see grown up to manhood on your return, and he shall greet his father with befitting welcomes.  My Orestes, my dear son, I shall never see again.  His mother has deprived his father of the sight of him, and perhaps will slay him as she slew his sire.  It is now no world to trust a woman in.—­But what says fame? is my son yet alive? lives he in Orchomen, or in Pylus, or is he resident in Sparta, in his uncle’s court? as yet, I see, divine Orestes is not here with me.”

To this Ulysses replied that he had received no certain tidings where Orestes abode, only some uncertain rumours which he could not report for truth.

While they held this sad conference, with kind tears striving to render unkind fortunes more palatable, the soul of great Achilles joined them.  “What desperate adventure has brought Ulysses to these regions,” said Achilles, “to see the end of dead men, and their foolish shades?”

Ulysses answered him that he had come to consult Tiresias respecting his voyage home.  “But thou, O son of Thetis,” said he, “why dost thou disparage the state of the dead? seeing that as alive thou didst surpass all men in glory, thou must needs retain thy pre-eminence here below:  so great Achilles triumphs over death.”

But Achilles made reply, that he had much rather be a peasant-slave upon the earth, than reign over all the dead.  So much did the inactivity and slothful condition of that state displease his unquenchable and restless spirit.  Only he enquired of Ulysses if his father Peleus were living, and how his son Neoptolemus conducted himself.

Of Peleus Ulysses could tell him nothing; but of Neoptolemus he thus bore witness:  “From Scyros I convoyed your son by sea to the Greeks:  where I can speak of him, for I knew him.  He was chief in council, and in the field.  When any question was proposed, so quick was his conceit in the forward apprehension of any case, that he ever spoke first, and was heard with more attention than the older heads.  Only myself and aged Nestor could compare with him in giving advice.  In battle I cannot speak his praise, unless I could count all that fell by his sword.  I will only mention one instance of his manhood.  When we sat hid in the belly of the wooden horse, in the ambush which deceived the Trojans to their destruction, I, who had the management of that stratagem, still shifted my place from side to side to note the behaviour of our men.  In some I marked their hearts