And now Penelope came down, and sat by the fire, on a chair cunningly wrought of silver and ivory, with a footstool that was part of the chair. And soon the maidens came in, and took away the fragments of food that were left, and the cups from which the suitors drank, and piled fresh logs on the fire.

Then Penelope called to the nurse, saying, "Nurse, bring me now a settle with a fleece upon it, that the stranger may sit and tell me his story."

So the nurse brought the settle and the fleece, and Ulysses sat him down; and Penelope spake, saying: "Stranger, I will ask thee first who art thou? Whence didst thou come? What is thy city and thy father's name?"

Ulysses made answer: "Ask me now other things as thou wilt; but ask me not of my name, or my race, or my native country, lest I weep as I think thereon, for I am a man of many sorrows; and it is not fitting to mourn and weep in the house of another."

To him Penelope made reply: "Stranger, I am sore beset with troubles. For the princes of the islands round about, yea and of Ithaca itself, woo me against my will, and devour my house. Vainly have I sought to escape their wooing. For Athene put this into my heart that I should say to them: 'Noble youths that would wed me, now that Ulysses is dead, abide patiently, though ye be eager to hasten the marriage, till I shall have finished this winding-sheet for Laertes; for it were a shame, if he, having had great wealth, should lie in his grave without a winding-sheet.' So I spake, and they gave consent. Three years did I deceive them, weaving the web by day, and by night unravelling it; but in the fourth year my handmaids betrayed me. And now I have no escape from marriage, for my parents urge me, and my son is vexed because these men devour his substance, and he is now of an age to manage his own house. But come, tell me of what race thou art; thou art not born of an oak tree or a rock, as the old fables have it."

Then said Ulysses: "If thou wilt still ask me of my race, then will I tell thee; but thou wilt so bring sorrow upon me beyond that to which I am bound; for it is grief to a man who hath wandered far and suffered much to speak of the matter."

So Ulysses told his tale. False it was, but it seemed to be true. And Penelope wept to hear it. As the snow melts upon the hills when the southeast wind bloweth, and the streams run full, so did Penelope weep for her lord. And Ulysses had compassion on his wife, when he saw her weep; but his own eyes he kept as if they had been horn or iron.

But Penelope said: "Friend, suffer me to make trial of thee, whether this was indeed my husband Ulysses. Tell me now with what raiment he was clothed, and what manner of man he was, and what his company."

Then Ulysses made answer: "I remember that he had a mantle, twofold, woollen, of sea-purple, clasped with a brooch of gold, whereon was a dog that held a fawn by the throat; marvellously wrought was the dog and the fawn. Also he had a tunic, white and smooth, even as the skin of an onion when it is dry, which the women much admired to see. But whether some one had given him these things I know not, for, indeed, many gave him gifts, and I also, even a sword and a tunic. Also he had a herald with him, one Eurybates [Footnote: Eu-ryb'-a-tes.], older than he, dark-skinned, round in the shoulders, with curly hair."

When Penelope heard this she wept yet more, for she knew by these tokens that this man was indeed her lord. "This is true," she said, "O stranger, for I myself gave him these garments, and I folded them myself, and I also gave him the jewel. And now, alas! I shall see him no more."