  Now at length Ulysses allowed the old nurse to carry the news to his sleeping spouse. Breathless she entered the chamber where the queen slumbered. “Penelope!” she cried. “Awake, my daughter! This is no time for sleep! He is here! Ulysses has come! All is over! Look down into the court. There they all lie in heaps. And hast thou heard nothing? Come quickly!” “Oh,” cried Penelope, stretching herself and rubbing her eyes; “silly woman, how canst thou wake me thus and with such a fairy tale? Wouldst thou deceive me with false hopes? Oh, I slept so sweetly! How canst thou play such a trick on me? Only thine age protects thee from my anger.” “I am not jesting, my daughter,” answered the old woman. “He is here, and with Telemachus’ aid has killed all the suitors. It happened whilst thou slept.” “Mother, tell me the truth! How could he come so quickly?” She had sprung up and hung about the old nurse’s neck with anxious glances. Euryclea laughed. “He has been in the house since yesterday and thou thyself hast spoken with him.” “What, Euryclea! The ragged old beggar?” “Indeed, yes. The beggar with the greasy wallet whom the suitors made sport of. If they had but known!” “Alas, mother, how disappointed I am. That is not my husband. No, that is not Ulysses.” “Not Ulysses? Child, you are strange. I knew it last evening when I washed his feet and recognized the great scar—you remember it—from the boar’s tusk. But he would not allow me to speak.” “It cannot be! It cannot be!” repeated Penelope. “But tell me what has happened?” And then Euryclea had to tell the whole story of what she had seen and heard of the horrible massacre. “Thy long-desired, beloved husband is below and awaits thee, daughter. Come quickly to embrace him.” “Ah, mother, do not rejoice too soon. Thou knowest how I long for Ulysses, but I know the gods. They often wander about over the earth to reward the good, surprise the wicked, and punish long-continued evils. If the suitors are really killed, it must have been by a god, whom my misery has touched. How could a mere man, even though he were stronger and bolder than Ulysses, undertake so unequal a task? I did indeed admire the stranger’s mind, but he did not remind me of Ulysses. No, that was not my vigorous, impetuous husband. But I will go and view the horrible scene and talk with my son. If the stranger is my husband I shall know him by secret signs. But if he is a god, as I believe, we will sacrifice before him and worship him.” They descended and entered the hall, where they found Ulysses sitting by the fire leaning against a pillar. He did not look up, but waited for what his wife would say. She sat opposite him a long time in silence. Sometimes, as she looked earnestly at him, she thought it was he; then when she looked upon his rags, she could not believe it. “Mother,” cried Telemachus, “hast thou no greeting for my father? Thou hast a heart in thy breast that is indeed harder than a stone.” “My dear son,” answered his mother, “thou dost me a wrong. I am dumb with astonishment. I cannot grasp the miracle and do not venture to address this wonderful man nor to look in his face. But if he is really my Ulysses, we shall soon recognize each other. We have secret signs between us that none others know.” “My son,” said Ulysses, smiling gently, “let thy mother study me a while longer. She certainly has reason to doubt me clad in these ugly rags. But now let us consult together how we may conceal the death of the suitors from the people to-day, for they all have relations and retainers who will seek to avenge them. We have killed not one, but one hundred. How shall we save ourselves?” “Dear father,” replied the modest son, “thou must know, for no mortal is as wise as thou. It shall be as thou sayest. We will follow thee and aid thee as far as we are able.” “Then I will tell thee, what seems wise to me,” answered the resourceful Ulysses. “Let each one go first to the bath and put on his best garments. Let the women also don their holiday robes, as is seemly on the day of their master’s return. The gifted minstrel must strike his harp, that all the passers by may suppose that Penelope is celebrating her marriage day. Then early in the morning we will leave the house and flee to Laertes’ country-place, where the gods shall give us further counsel.” The household at once carried out all these commands, and soon the hall, which an hour before had resounded with the deadly blows of Ulysses’ spear, and had looked like a bloody battlefield, was filled with gay strains of song and music of the lute. Meanwhile Ulysses, too, had gone to rid himself of his dirt and ugly rags. The old housekeeper conducted him to a warm bath and afterward anointed his head with precious oil. And behold, as he left the bath the goddess Athene suddenly clothed him with beauty, so that he appeared taller and stronger. The bald crown disappeared and his head was once more crowned with shining brown locks. His cheeks became rosy and the fire returned to the dull eyes. Blinded by the miracle, the housekeeper presented him the handsome tunic and cloak, and thus the conqueror reËntered the hall in the guise of a king and hero. Everything was hushed, while all eyes gazed at the newcomer in admiration. Joyfully Penelope sprang up. Yes, this was her Ulysses, just as he had left her. But was it not a delusion? Doubting she sank back in her chair. But Ulysses stepped before her and held out his arms joyously. “Now wilt thou not accept me again for thy husband, dear wife?” he cried. “What! Thou art not ready? Alas, in vain have I longed for thee! Go, Eurynome, make ready my couch, that I may sorrowfully retire to rest.” “Do so, good mother,” said Penelope. “Set his bed out of our chamber wherever thou wilt and prepare it with fine soft covers and skins.” It was the test by which the queen could recognize her husband. Ulysses had once built a sleeping chamber about the trunk of a great olive tree which stood in the court and had built the couch hard and fast into the trunk of the tree, so that no one could have carried it out until he should first chop down the tree. “Someone has destroyed my sleeping chamber, if the bed may be carried out,” cried Ulysses. “And I had joined it so well to the trunk of the olive tree.” ULYSSES REVEALS HIMSELF TO PENELOPE Penelope burst into tears at these words and she trembled. “Ulysses, my dear Ulysses!” she cried as she threw her arms about his neck and covered his face with a thousand tender kisses. “Now I know it is thee, for no one in this house knoweth the secret but thyself and me. And now welcome, my precious husband, for whom I have wept a thousand sleepless nights, praying to the gods for thy safe return. Welcome! Welcome! But do not be angry with me because I did not know thee at once, nor trust the first assurance like a giddy young girl. There are so many crafty deceivers. Ah, hadst thou been able to see the struggle in my heart while I was burning to embrace thee. My seeming coldness was only caused by the innumerable sufferings due to my mighty love.” Their tears mingled, and Penelope lay upon the heart of her newly found lord in silent rapture, her emotion expressing itself only in deep sighs. Midnight was long past when Eurynome brought her torch to guide them to their rest. |
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