“I will clothe him, and arm him with a sword, and give him a little to help him on his way,” said Telemachus, “and that most gladly. But I cannot take him to the palace. The suitors would ill-use him because of his age, perhaps they would kill him for sport. I cannot restrain them; I am young; and what is one against so many? Moreover, so great is the hate they bear towards me, they would surely slay any guest of mine.”
Then Ulysses rose from his seat and bowed. “Lord,” he said, “if I may dare to speak and you will hear, I say foul wrong is wrought against you in your palace, and my blood rages when I think of it.”
“Old fellow, you are right enough,” said the boy, sadly. “Oh, for my dead sire! to sweep these dogs from Ithaca!”
“Yes, the king!” said Eumæus, with a deep sigh.
Suddenly Ulysses saw the tall figure of Athene was standing by his side.
The other two were looking towards him, but could see nothing of her presence. The goddess looked at him with kindly eyes and touched him with her spear.
Telemachus and Eumæus crouched trembling and speechless against the furthest side of the hut.
The bronze came back to the face of the king, his hair fell from his head in all its old luxuriance, his figure filled out, and he stood before them in his full stature and all the glory of his manhood.
Eumæus fell upon his knees and covered his eyes with his hand.
“A god! a god!” he cried, “a god has come to us! Hail, oh Immortal One, guest of my poor homestead!”