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"'Ulysses,' he answered, 'noble son of Laertes, I was not lost
at sea in any storm of Neptune's raising, nor did my foes
despatch me upon the mainland, but Aegisthus and my wicked wife
were the death of me between them. He asked me to his house,
feasted me, and then butchered me most miserably as though I
were a fat beast in a slaughter house, while all around me my
comrades were slain like sheep or pigs for the wedding
breakfast, or picnic, or gorgeous banquet of some great
nobleman. You must have seen numbers of men killed either in a
general engagement, or in single combat, but you never saw
anything so truly pitiable as the way in which we fell in that
cloister, with the mixing bowl and the loaded tables lying all
about, and the ground reeking with our blood. I heard Priam's
daughter Cassandra scream as Clytemnestra killed her close
beside me. I lay dying upon the earth with the sword in my body,
and raised my hands to kill the slut of a murderess, but she
slipped away from me; she would not even close my lips nor my
eyes when I was dying, for there is nothing in this world so
cruel and so shameless as a woman when she has fallen into such
guilt as hers was. Fancy murdering her own husband! I thought I
was going to be welcomed home by my children and my servants,
but her abominable crime has brought disgrace on herself and all
women who shall come after--even on the good ones.'
"And I said, 'In truth Jove has hated the house of Atreus from
first to last in the matter of their women's counsels. See how
many of us fell for Helen's sake, and now it seems that
Clytemnestra hatched mischief against you too during your
absence.'
"'Be sure, therefore,' continued Agamemnon, 'and not be too
friendly even with your own wife. Do not tell her all that you
know perfectly well yourself. Tell her a part only, and keep
your own counsel about the rest. Not that your wife, Ulysses, is
likely to murder you, for Penelope is a very admirable woman,
and has an excellent nature. We left her a young bride with an
infant at her breast when we set out for Troy. This child no
doubt is now grown up happily to man's estate, {96} and he and
his father will have a joyful meeting and embrace one another as
it is right they should do, whereas my wicked wife did not even
allow me the happiness of looking upon my son, but killed me ere
I could do so. Furthermore I say--and lay my saying to your
heart--do not tell people when you are bringing your ship to
Ithaca, but steal a march upon them, for after all this there is
no trusting women. But now tell me, and tell me true, can you
give me any news of my son Orestes? Is he in Orchomenus, or at
Pylos, or is he at Sparta with Menelaus--for I presume that he
is still living.'
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