Classics Retold – World's Greatest Tales Adapted for the Youngest. Гарриет Бичер-Стоу
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must have heard her glad cry, had not Athene at that moment made her deep in thoughts of other things. Quickly Odysseus bade the old nurse be silent, and the old woman obeyed him.
Before Penelope went to rest she said sadly to Odysseus: "I feel that the end is drawing near. Soon I shall be parted from the house of Odysseus. My husband, who was always the best and bravest, used to set up the twelve axes ye see standing here, and between each axe he shot an arrow. I have told the wooers that I shall marry whichever one of them can do the like. Then I shall leave this house, which must be for ever most dear to me."
Then answered the old beggar-man: "Odysseus will be here when they shoot. It will be Odysseus who shoots between the axes."
Penelope, longing for his words to be true, went up to her room and lay crying on her bed until her pillows were wet. Then Athene sent sleep upon her eyelids and made her forget all her sorrows.
Odysseus, too, would have tossed all night wide awake, with a heart full of anger and revenge, had not Athene gently laid her hands on his eyes and made him fall asleep.
Next day the wooers came to the palace, and with rough jest and rude word they greeted Odysseus.
"Who harms this man must fight with me," said Telemachus, and at that the wooers shouted with laughter.
But a stranger who sat among them cried out in a voice of fear:
"I see your hands and knees shrouded in blackness! I see your cheeks wet with tears! The walls and the pillars drip blood; the porch is full of shadows, and pale ghosts are hastening out of the gray mist that fills the palace."
At this the wooers laughed the more, for they thought the man was mad. But, as in a dream, he had seen truly what was to come to pass.
Weeping, Penelope then brought forth from the armory the great bow with which Odysseus had shot in years that were past. Her heart was full of love for Odysseus, and she could not bear to wed another.
Telemachus then threw aside his red cloak and ranged out the bronze axes.
One by one the wooers tried to move the great bow and make it drive a swift arrow before it. One by one they failed.
And when it seemed as if no man there was strong enough to move it, Odysseus took it in his hands, and between each axe he shot an arrow. When the last arrow was shot he tore off his rags, and in a voice that rang through the palace he cried to Telemachus: "Now is it time to prepare supper for the wooers! Now, at last, is this terrible trial ended. I go to shoot at another mark!"
With that he shot an arrow at the wooer who had ever been the most insolent and the most cruel. It smote him in the throat, his blood dripped red on the ground, and he fell dead.
The others gave a great cry of rage, but Odysseus looked at them with burning eyes, and with a voice that made them tremble he cried:
"Ye dogs! ye said I should never return, and, like the traitors ye are, ye have wasted my goods and insulted my queen. But now death has come for you, and none shall escape."
In vain did the cowards, their faces pale with fear, beg for mercy. Mercy there was none that day. It was useless for those who drew their swords and rushed on Odysseus to try to slay him, for ere their swords could touch him, his bow had driven sharp arrows into their hearts.
One of the servants of the palace treacherously climbed into the armory and brought spears and shields and helmets for the wooers. But even that did not daunt Odysseus and his son. Telemachus, with his spear, slew man after man. When his arrows were done Odysseus also snatched a spear, and they fought side by side. Beside them fought the swineherd and one other man, and they all fought the more fearlessly because, all the time, Athene put fresh courage in their hearts.
There were four men to very many others when that fight began. When it was ended the floor ran with blood, and Odysseus, like a lion at bay, stood with the dead bodies of the wooers piled in heaps around him and his face and hands stained with blood.
When all lay dead, the old nurse gave a great cry of joy.
"Rejoice in thy heart, old nurse," said Odysseus. "It is an unholy thing to rejoice openly over slain men."
The nurse hastened to Penelope's room.
"Penelope, dear child!" she cried, "Odysseus is come home, and all the wooers lie dead."
At first Penelope would not believe her. Too good did it seem to be true. Even when she came down and saw Odysseus leaning against a tall pillar in the light of the fire, she would not believe what her own eyes saw.
"Surely, mother, thy heart is as hard as stone," said Telemachus. "Dost thou not know my father?"
But Penelope saw only a ragged beggar-man, soiled with the blood of the men he had slain, old and ugly and poor.
Then Athene shed her grace upon Odysseus, and once more he was tall and strong and gallant to look upon, with golden hair curling like hyacinth flowers around his head. And Penelope ran to him and threw out her arms, and they held each other close and wept together like those who have suffered shipwreck, and have been tossed for long by angry seas, and yet have won safely home at last.
And when the sun went down that night on the little rocky island of Ithaca in the far seas, the heart of Odysseus was glad, for he knew that his wanderings were ended.
The Arabian Nights Entertainments
(Andrew Lang)
ADAPTED BY AMY STEEDMAN
I ALADDIN AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP
I
ALADDIN AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP
Far away on the other side of the world, in one of the great wealthy cities of China, there once lived a poor tailor called Mustapha. He had a wife whom he loved dearly and an only son whose name was Aladdin.
But, sad to say, although the tailor was good and industrious, his son was so idle and bad that his father and mother did not know what to do with him. All day long he played in the streets with other idle boys, and when he grew big enough to learn a trade he said he did not mean to work at all. His poor father was very much troubled, and ordered Aladdin to come to the workshop to learn to be a tailor, but Aladdin only laughed, and ran away so swiftly that neither his father nor mother could catch him.
"Alas!" said Mustapha sadly, "I can do nothing with this idle boy."
And he grew so sad about it, that at last he fell ill and died.
Then the poor widow was obliged to sell the little workshop, and try to make enough money for herself and Aladdin by spinning.
Now it happened that one day when Aladdin was playing as usual with the idle street boys, a tall, dark, old man stood watching him, and when the game was finished he made a sign to Aladdin to come to him.
"What is thy name, my boy?" asked this old man, who, though he appeared so kind, was really an African Magician.
"My name is Aladdin," answered the boy, wondering who this stranger could be.
"And what is thy father's