resentment. {14} She it was who now lighted Telemachus to his room, and she loved him better than any of the other women in the house did, for she had nursed him when he was a baby.  He opened the door of his bed room and sat down upon the bed; as he took off his shirt {15} he gave it to the good old woman, who folded it tidily up, and hung it for him over a peg by his bed side, after which she went out, pulled the door to by a silver catch, and drew the bolt home by means of the strap. {16} But Telemachus as he lay covered with a woollen fleece kept thinking all night through of his intended voyage and of the counsel that Minerva had given him.

Book II

Assembly of the people of Ithaca—­speeches of telemachus and of the suitors—­telemachus makes his preparations and starts for pylos with Minerva disguised as Mentor.

Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared Telemachus rose and dressed himself.  He bound his sandals on to his comely feet, girded his sword about his shoulder, and left his room looking like an immortal god.  He at once sent the criers round to call the people in assembly, so they called them and the people gathered thereon; then, when they were got together, he went to the place of assembly spear in hand—­not alone, for his two hounds went with him.  Minerva endowed him with a presence of such divine comeliness that all marvelled at him as he went by, and when he took his place in his father’s seat even the oldest councillors made way for him.

Aegyptius, a man bent double with age, and of infinite experience, was the first to speak.  His son Antiphus had gone with Ulysses to Ilius, land of noble steeds, but the savage Cyclops had killed him when they were all shut up in the cave, and had cooked his last dinner for him. {17} He had three sons left, of whom two still worked on their father’s land, while the third, Eurynomus, was one of the suitors; nevertheless their father could not get over the loss of Antiphus, and was still weeping for him when he began his speech.

“Men of Ithaca,” he said, “hear my words.  From the day Ulysses left us there has been no meeting of our councillors until now; who then can it be, whether old or young, that finds it so necessary to convene us?  Has he got wind of some host approaching, and does he wish to warn us, or would he speak upon some other matter of public moment?  I am sure he is an excellent person, and I hope Jove will grant him his heart’s desire.”