When Ulysses reëntered the hall and seated himself in his old place by the door, the bow had just reached the hands of Eurymachus, who was sitting by the hearth seeking to make it more pliant with grease and the warmth of the fire. He then made trial of it ten times, but could not draw. At last, much discomfited, he laid it down. The boastful Antinous, who was no longer anxious to try his skill, proposed to wait until the morrow, this being a feast day. “Then,” said he, “we will make sacrifice to Apollo and try the bow once more. Now fill up the cups, for to-day is a feast day and we must drink a double portion.” This speech pleased everyone and the servants did as they were bid. When drinking had been resumed, Ulysses arose and began: “Listen to me, ye suitors of the esteemed princess, and especially ye two lords, Antinous and Eurymachus, I would make a proposal to you in jest. As ye do not care to bend the bow on this day of the feast, let me try it and see if any of my youthful strength remains, or if old age and hardships have sapped it.” As he had expected, murmurs arose on all sides and Antinous answered for the rest: “Miserable stranger, hast thou taken leave of thy senses? The wine hath led thee to these unseemly words! Take care that thou be not put aboard a ship and sent to King Echetus, the scourge of strangers! There wouldst thou hardly escape with nose and ears uncut. Thou hadst better keep quiet and take what is given thee, and leave such business to younger men.” Penelope had remained in the hall with her ladies to await the result of the contest and now she spoke. “Antinous, I think thou art not just. Why should we omit the strangers who are our guests? Perchance thou thinkest that if this man should draw the bow that he would wed me? Let not this scruple disturb thee, for that is impossible.” “Oh, it is truly not that, noble Queen,” said Eurymachus. “But we fear the tongues of men, should a miserable wandering beggar man draw the bow which all we younger men have been unable to bend. It would be an eternal disgrace for us.” Telemachus now arose and spoke with dignity and emphasis. “Mother, thou hast spoken well. But no one in this house but I has a right to the bow, and I shall give it to whom I will, and woe to him who would hinder me. But do thou go up to thy chamber, attend to thy duties there, and direct the women servants. This is men’s business and mine most of all, for I am the head of the house.” Wondering, she withdrew, musing upon the wise words of her son. As she lay upon her couch she wept for her dear lord, until Pallas Athene gently closed her eyes in slumber. Meanwhile the swineherd, who had been awaiting a sign from Ulysses, boldly fetched the bow and handed it to him. The suitors sprang from their seats as though they would lay hands on him, but Telemachus cried in a threatening voice: “Thou hast done well, father—for thou canst not obey all, and I am master here!”