“Lady,” answered Odysseus, “there is but one interpretation of thy dream, and thy husband declared it with his own voice.  Death looms near at hand for the wooers, and not one of them shall escape.”

But Penelope shook her head.  “It is ill trusting in dreams,” she said, “and hard to discern the false from the true.  There are two gates from which flitting dreams are sent to men:  one is of horn, and the other of ivory:  and the dreams which pass through the ivory gate are sent to beguile, while those which come from the gate of horn are a true message to him who sees them.  And my dream, I believe, was sent me from the gate of ivory.  Yea, the day is approaching, the hateful day, which shall part me for ever from the house of Odysseus; and this shall be the manner of the trial whereby I will prove which of the wooers is to win me:  I will set up twelve axes, like the trestles on which the keel of a ship is laid, in the hall, and he who can send an arrow through the line of double axeheads from the further end of the hall shall win me for his bride.  This device I learnt from Odysseus, who was wont thus to prove his skill in archery.  Then farewell my home, the house of my lord, the home of my love, so fair, so full of plenty, which will haunt me in my dreams even unto life’s end.”

“Tis well-imagined, this trial of the wooers,” answered Odysseus, “and I counsel thee to put them to the proof without delay; for I am sure that Odysseus will return here again before ever one of these men shall string his bow and shoot an arrow through the line of axes.”

“Well, my friend,” said Penelope, “I will now bid thee good-night, though gladly would I sit here till to-morrow’s dawn, and let thee discourse to enchant mine ear.  But there is a time for all things, and I would not rob thee of thy needful rest.  Therefore I will go and lay my head on my uneasy pillow, and the women shall lay a bed for thee here, or where thou choosest.”

The End draws near; Signs and Wonders

True to his character as a wandering beggar, Odysseus lay down to rest on a pile of sheepskins in the portico of the house.  His mind was full of the events of the day, and of the terrible task which he had to perform on the morrow.  When he thought of all the insults which had been heaped upon him in his own house, he ground his teeth with rage, and muttered bitter curses against the wooers.  As if on purpose to provoke him further, just at this moment Melantho, and several of the other women, who slept in the town, came forth from the house, and passed by him with shrill laughter and merry gibes.  Then his heart growled within him, even as a mother-hound growls over her whelps when she sees a stranger approaching, and in a sudden impulse of fury he started up to slay those faithless women on the spot; but repressing his mad purpose he smote his breast and rebuked his fiery spirit.  Had he not borne even worse than this on the day when the Cyclops devoured his comrades in the cave?