The quick ear of Menelaus caught his last words, and he answered, smiling:  “Nay, my friend, no mortal may vie with the everlasting glories of Zeus.  But whether any man can equal me in riches, I know not.  For indeed I wandered far and long to gather all this treasure, to Cyprus, and Phoenicia, and Egypt, to AEthiopia, and Sidon, and the Afric shore, a land unmatched in its countless multitudes of sheep.  There the ewes bring forth young three times a year, and the poorest shepherd has abundance of cheese, and flesh, and milk.  From all these lands I gathered many a costly freight, and now I dwell in the midst of plenty.  Nevertheless my heart is sad, when I think of all that I have lost.  Had I returned home straight from Troy, I should have come back a poor man, for my house had gone to waste in my absence; but I should not have had to mourn for the death of my brother, struck down, as doubtless ye have heard, by a murderer’s hand.  And then the thought lies heavy upon me of all those who fell in my cause at Troy, and especially of one who was dear to me above all, Odysseus, ever the foremost in every toil and adventure.  His image haunts me by day and by night, marring my slumbers, and making my food taste bitter in my mouth.  He was a man of many woes, and sorrowful is the lot of his wife Penelope and Telemachus his son.”

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 to answer for him:  “Thou sayest truly, my lord; it is Telemachus himself.  Nestor sent me with him to inquire of thee, and crave counsel of thy wisdom.  He is left like an orphan in his home, with none to aid him, and take his father’s place.”