And then he took a higher moral tone; his manner was no longer cynical; he was not angry even--only deeply wounded, and there was something fine and striking in the stern sadness of his brow. 'So this,' he said, 'was to have been my fate? I was to return, a war-worn warrior, to the hearth and home from which I had been absent so long--so long--to be ruthlessly parboiled the very moment after my arrival, by the partner of my throne! Was this kind--was this wifely, Clytemnestra?' 'That comes so well from you, does it not?' she retorted. 'Why--why--what do you mean?' he stammered. 'You know very well what I mean,' she said. 'Bah! why play the hypocrite with me?' 'Is it possible,' he cried, 'that you can suspect me of not having been near Troy all this time--tell me, Clytemnestra--is this monstrous thing possible?' 'Quite,' she replied; 'I _know_ you haven't!' 'What--when I tell you that there is a poet, a fellow called Homer or something, who has got a sort of reputation already by putting the campaign into verses, rather long, but quite readable (you must order them); well, there's a lot about _me_ in them.' 'Did Homer _see_ you there?' 'Now that's a most ridiculous question,' he protested, with a feeling that she was coming round, and that he should convince her directly; 'the poet's blind, Clytemnestra, quite blind. But I will not argue--you must be content with a warrior's assurance.' She laughed. 'I'm afraid,' she said, 'that even a warrior's assurance will find it difficult to account satisfactorily for this--and this--and these!' And as she spoke, she handed him a variety of articles: a folding hat, a guide to Corinth, a conversation manual, several unused tourist tickets, one or two theatre programmes, a green veil, some supper bills, a correct card for the Olympian races, with the names of probable starters, and three little jointed wooden dolls. Agamemnon took them all helplessly; all his virtuous indignation had evaporated, and he looked very red and foolish as he said with a kind of nervous laugh, 'You've been looking in my pockets!' 'I have,' she said, 'and now what have you to say for yourself? I don't believe there is any such place as Troy.' 'There is indeed,' he pleaded; 'I can show it to you on the map!' 'Well,' she said, 'if there is, _you_ never went near it!' 'Send those people away,' he said, 'and I will tell you all!' And when they had gone, he confessed everything, explaining that he really had meant to go to Troy at first, and how, as he got nearer, he found himself less and less inclined for fighting--until at last he determined to travel about and see life instead, and, as he expressed it, 'pick up a little character.' 'Well,' said Clytemnestra, 'I will have no little characters in _my_ palace, Agamemnon.'