The goatherd Melantheus now came along and could not pass the stranger without threatening and insulting him. Next came Philœtius, a master-herdsman. He, too, like good Eumæus, hated the suitors at heart and would long ago have gone away had not love for Ulysses’ house detained him, and a fear lest the herds might fall into bad hands. He saw the beggar standing in the courtyard, and going to the swineherd he asked him softly: “Good Eumæus, who is the strange man there? He appears like a king, although bowed down by misery.” Speaking thus, he approached Ulysses, offering his hand and speaking cordial words to him. While they were talking together, the suitors, who had assembled as usual in the market place, were making new plots against the life of Telemachus, whose bold tongue was becoming daily more threatening. Amphinomus tried to dissuade them, and for the present they agreed to let him go. The noisy crew now stormed into the palace. In the hall each laid aside his mantle. Then they offered up fat goats, young lambs, and fatted boars and beeves; others mixed the wine. While they were eating Telemachus placed a table for the old man at the door and gave him food and drink. In the midst of their sport the suitors could scarcely curb their insolence. A young fellow, son of a rich father in Same, now called out loudly to the company: “Listen, ye generous suitors, the stranger at the door has indeed had his portion of the feast, but I shall now present him with a special gift. He may give it to the maid who prepared his bath or any of the servants. See this splendid bull’s hoof. May it agree with him!” He threw it swiftly at Ulysses’ head, who jumped aside and avoided it cleverly. The suitors roared with laughter, in which Ulysses joined while nursing rage in his heart. Telemachus sprang up like a flame, crying angrily: “It is fortunate for thee, Ktesippus, that thou didst not strike the stranger, or I should have pierced thee with my lance, that thy father might have celebrated thy burial feast instead of thy wedding. And I advise no one to try anything more of that kind, for I will not permit it. That you consume my flocks and herds is bad enough, and ye may even murder me, as ye design—do so! I would rather die than see strangers abused in my house! Even my noble mother’s maidens have ye not spared!” All were silent until Agelaus began: “Friends, I am glad that ye do not reply, for Telemachus is not entirely wrong. But I should like to give thee some advice, Telemachus. Now that thou art grown and able to manage thy house, thou shouldst speak with thy mother and urge her to proceed to the choice of a husband as soon as possible, for there is certainly no longer any hope that thy father will return. When she has left thy house thou canst enjoy thy substance in peace, and none of us will further disturb thee in the possession of thy herds and acres.”