Half a Hundred Hero Tales of Ulysses and The Men of Old
General
Half a Hundred Hero Tales of Ulysses and The Men of Old
Mythology, Classical -- Juvenile literature
But the beautiful woman now clapped her hands; and immediately there
entered a train of two-and-twenty serving-men, bringing dishes of the
richest food, all hot from the kitchen fire, and sending up such a
steam that it hung like a cloud below the crystal dome of the saloon.
An equal number of attendants brought great flagons of wine of various
kinds, some of which sparkled as it was poured out, and went bubbling
down the throat; while of other sorts, the purple liquor was so clear
that you could see the wrought figures at the bottom of the goblet.
While the servants supplied the two-and-twenty guests with food and
drink, the hostess and her four maidens went from one throne to
another, exhorting them to eat their fill, and to quaff wine
abundantly, and thus to recompense themselves at this one banquet for
the many days when they had gone without a dinner. But, whenever the
mariners were not looking at them (which was pretty often, as they
looked chiefly into the basins and platters), the beautiful woman and
her damsels turned aside and laughed. Even the servants, as they knelt
down to present the dishes, might be seen to grin and sneer while the
guests were helping themselves to the offered dainties.
And once in a while the strangers seemed to taste something that they
did not like.
"Here is an odd kind of a spice in this dish," said one. "I can't say
it quite suits my palate. Down it goes, however."
"Send a good draught of wine down your throat," said his comrade on
the next throne; "that is the stuff to make this sort of cookery
relish well. Though I must needs say, the wine has a queer taste, too.
But the more I drink of it the better I like the flavor."
Whatever little fault they might find with the dishes, they sat at
dinner a prodigiously long while. They forgot all about their homes,
and their wives and children, and all about Ulysses, and everything
else, except this banquet, at which they wanted to keep feasting
forever. But at length they began to give over, from mere incapacity
to hold any more.
"That last bit of fat is too much for me," said one.
"And I have not room for another morsel," said his next neighbor,
heaving a sigh. "What a pity! My appetite is as sharp as ever."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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