wallowing down from his
throne in swinish shape, or
taking any
other
brutal form, Ulysses looked even more manly and king-like
than before. He gave the magic
goblet a toss, and sent it
clashing over the
marble floor to the
farthest end of the
saloon. Then,
drawing his sword, he seized the
enchantress by
her beautiful ringlets, and made a
gesture as if he meant to
strike off her head at one blow.
"Wicked Circe," cried he, in a terrible voice, "this sword
shall put an end to thy
enchant meets. Thou shalt die, vile
wretch, and do no more
mischief in the world, by
tempting human
beings into the vices which make beasts of them."
The tone and
countenance of Ulysses were so awful, and his
sword gleamed so
brightly, and seemed to have so intolerably
keen an edge, that Circe was almost killed by the mere fright,
without
waiting for a blow. The chief
butler scrambled out of
the
saloon, picking up the golden
goblet as he went; and the
enchantress and the four maidens fell on their knees, wringing
their hands, and screaming for mercy.
"Spare me!" cried Circe. "Spare me, royal and wise Ulysses. For
now I know that thou art he of whom Quicksilver forewarned me,
the most
prudent of mortals, against whom no
enchantments can
prevail. Thou only
couldst have conquered Circe. Spare me,
wisest of men. I will show thee true
hospitality, and even give
myself to be thy slave, and this
magnificent palace to be
henceforth thy home."
The four nymphs,
meanwhile, were making a most piteous ado; and
especially the ocean nymph, with the sea-green hair, wept a
great deal of salt water, and the
fountain nymph, besides
scattering dewdrops from her fingers' ends, nearly melted away
into tears. But Ulysses would not be pacified until Circe had
taken a
solemn oath to change back his companions, and as many
others as he should direct, from their present forms of beast
or bird into their former shapes of men.
"On these conditions," said he, "I consent to spare your life.
Otherwise you must die upon the spot."
With a drawn sword
hanging over her, the
enchantress would
readily have consented to do as much good as she had hitherto
done
mischief, however little she might like such employment.
She
therefore led Ulysses out of the back entrance of the
palace, and showed him the swine in their sty. There were about
fifty of these
unclean beasts in the whole herd; and though the
greater part were hogs by birth and education, there was
wonderfully little difference to be seen betwixt them and their
new brethren, who had so recently worn the human shape. To
speak critically, indeed, the latter rather carried the thing
to
excess, and seemed to make it a point to
wallow in the
miriest part of the sty, and
otherwise to outdo the original
swine in their own natural
vocation. When men once turn to
brutes, the
trifle of man's wit that remains in them adds
tenfold to their
brutality.
The comrades of Ulysses, however, had not quite lost the
remembrance of having
formerly stood erect. When he approached
the sty, two and twenty
enormous swine separated themselves
from the herd, and scampered towards him, with such a
chorus of
horrible squealing as made him clap both hands to his ears. And
yet they did not seem to know what they wanted, nor whether
they were merely hungry, or
miserable from some other cause. It
was curious, in the midst of their
distress, to observe them
thrusting their noses into the mire, in quest of something to
eat. The nymph with the bodice of oaken bark (she was the
hamadryad of an oak) threw a
handful of acorns among them; and
the two and twenty hogs scrambled and fought for the prize, as
if they had tasted not so much as a noggin of sour milk for a
twelvemonth.
"These must certainly be my comrades," said Ulysses. "I
recognize their dispositions. They are hardly worth the trouble
of c
hanging them into the human form again. Nevertheless, we