“My name is Mentes,” answered the stranger, “and I am a prince of the Taphians, a bold race of sailors.  I am a friend of this house, well known to its master, Odysseus, and his father, Laertes.  Be of good cheer, for he whom thou mournest is not dead, nor shall his coming be much longer delayed.  But tell me now of a truth, art not thou the son of that man?  I knew him well, and thou hast the very face and eyes of Odysseus.”

“My mother calls me his son,” replied the youth, who was indeed Telemachus himself, “and I am bound to believe her.  Would that it were otherwise!  I have little cause to bless my birth.”

“Yet shalt thou surely be blest,” said Mentes; “thou art not unmarked of the eye of Heaven.  But answer me once more, what means this lawless riot in the house?  And what cause has brought all these men hither?”

“This also thou shalt know,” replied Telemachus.  “These are the princes who have come to woo my mother; and while she keeps them waiting for her answer they eat up my father’s goods.  Ere long, methinks, they will make an end of me also.”

“Fit wooers indeed for the wife of such a man!” said Mentes with a bitter smile.  “Would that he were standing among them now as I saw him once in my father’s house, armed with helmet and shield and spear!  He would soon wed them to another bride.  But whether it be God’s will that he return or not, ’tis for thee to devise means to drive these men from thy house.  Take heed, therefore, to my words, and do as I bid thee.  To-morrow thou shalt summon the suitors to the place of assembly, and charge them that they depart to their homes.  And do thou thyself fit out a ship, with twenty rowers, and get thee to Pylos, where the aged Nestor dwells, and inquire of him concerning thy father.  From Pylos proceed to Sparta, the kingdom of Menelaus; he was the last of the Greeks to reach home, after the fall of Troy; and perchance thou mayest learn something from him.  And if thou hearest sure tidings of thy father’s death, then get thee home, and raise a tomb to his memory, and keep his funeral feast.  Then let thy mother wed whom she will; and if these men still beset thee, thou must devise means to slay them, either by guile or openly.  Thou art now a man, and must play a man’s part.  Hast thou not heard of the fame which Orestes won, when he slew the murderer of his sire?  Be thou valiant, even as he; tall thou art, and fair, and shouldst be a stout man of thy hands.  But ’tis time for me to be going; my ship awaits me in the harbour, and my comrades will be tired of waiting for me.”

“Stay yet awhile,” answered Telemachus, “until thou hast refreshed thyself with the bath; and I will give thee a costly gift to bear with thee as a memorial of thy visit.”  But even as he spoke Mentes rose from his seat and, gliding like a shadow through the sunlit doorway, disappeared.  Telemachus followed, in wonder and displeasure; but no trace of the strange visitor was to be seen.  Looking upward he saw a great sea-eagle winging his way towards the shore; and a voice seemed to whisper in his ear:  “No mortal was thy guest, but the great goddess Athene, daughter of Zeus, and ever thy father’s true comrade and faithful ally.”