So Ulysses followed her into the oval saloon, where his two and twenty comrades had devoured the banquet which ended so disastrously for themselves.  But all this while he had held the snow-white flower in his hand, and had constantly smelt of it while Circe was speaking; and as he crossed the threshold of the saloon, he took good care to inhale several long and deep snuffs of its fragrance.  Instead of two and twenty thrones, which had before been ranged around the wall, there was now only a single throne, in the centre of the apartment.  But this was surely the most magnificent seat that ever a king or an emperor reposed himself upon, all made of chased gold, studded with precious stones, with a cushion that looked like a soft heap of living roses, and overhung by a canopy of sunlight which Circe knew how to weave into drapery.  The enchantress took Ulysses by the hand, and made him sit down upon this dazzling throne.  Then, clapping her hands, she summoned the chief butler.

“Bring hither,” said she, “the goblet that is set apart for kings to drink out of.  And fill it with the same delicious wine which my royal brother, King AEetes, praised so highly, when he visited me with my fair daughter Medea.  That good and amiable child!  Were she now here, it would delight her to see me offering this wine to my honored guest.”

But Ulysses, while the butler was gone for the wine, held the snow-white flower to his nose.

“Is it a wholesome wine?” he asked.

At this the four maidens tittered; whereupon the enchantress looked round at them, with an aspect of severity.

“It is the wholesomest juice that ever was squeezed out of the grape,” said she; “for, instead of disguising a man, as other liquor is apt to do, it brings him to his true self, and shows him as he ought to be.”

The chief butler liked nothing better than to see people turned into swine, or making any kind of a beast of themselves; so he made haste to bring the royal goblet, filled with a liquid as bright as gold, and which kept sparkling upward, and throwing a sunny spray over the brim.  But, delightfully as the wine looked, it was mingled with the most potent enchantments that Circe knew how to concoct.  For every drop of the pure grape-juice there were two drops of the pure mischief; and the danger of the thing was, that the mischief made it taste all the better.  The mere smell of the bubbles, which effervesced at the brim, was enough to turn a man’s beard into pig’s bristles, or make a lion’s claws grow out of his fingers, or a fox’s brush behind him.

“Drink, my noble guest,” said Circe, smiling as she presented him with the goblet.  “You will find in this draught a solace for all your troubles.”

King Ulysses took the goblet with his right hand, while with his left he held the snow-white flower to his nostrils, and drew in so long a breath that his lungs were quite filled with its pure and simple fragrance.  Then, drinking off all the wine, he looked the enchantress calmly in the face.