Penelope replied again: "Nay, I cannot believe it. The gods may have slain the suitors under the guise of Odysseus, but he has perished far away from home and never will return."
"My daughter," said the aged nurse, "what words are these? I recognized Odysseus myself by the well-known scar made by the boar's tusk. I turned to tell thee, but he laid his finger on my lips and said: 'Be silent. Let no one know that I am here until the suitors all are slain, or else they will destroy me.' Now follow me. I pledge my life that I speak the truth."
Penelope descended from her royal bower uncertain how to meet her lord. She crossed the threshold and sat down at the hearth, opposite Odysseus, who was seated beside a stately column in the blazing light of the fire. He did not lift his eyes to look at his wife, but waited for her to make the way open for him to speak. Penelope was speechless. She looked at her husband and seemed sometimes to recognize him, and then the resemblance faded out and he did not seem at all like Odysseus.
Telemachos became impatient and spoke to her, chiding her. "Mother," he said, "thou art hard-hearted and unkind. Any other woman would extend a hearty welcome to her husband after he had suffered so many years of hardship, wandering in foreign lands. Take thy place at my father's side and question him. Verily thy heart is harder than a stone." "My son," answered Penelope, "I seem to have lost the power to speak. I am dazed and cannot even command myself to look at him. If this is indeed Odysseus we soon shall know each other, for there are secrets known to us two only."
Odysseus smiled and said: "My son, be patient, and let thy mother put me to the test. She does not know me in these rags, but she will soon be convinced that I am Odysseus. It is more important now to prevent the news that the suitors have been slain from spreading. They have friends all over the city. Who knows but what they may rise up against us. I deem it best that we bathe and put on fresh garments, and let the servants do the same.
"And let the minstrel bring his lyre and strike up such music as prompts the dance, so that those living near us may report that a wedding is being celebrated. Then we may safely venture forth and see what is to be done."
Thus spoke the monarch, and his commands were gladly obeyed. Telemachos and the servants went their way to the baths and arrayed themselves in splendid clothing. The bard took his harp and woke the pleasing strains, and the palace halls resounded with mirth and dancing.
After awhile those outside were heard to say: "Shame on Penelope! She weds a second time, and does not even know whether her absent lord is dead or living. She might have waited for him to return."
Meantime Odysseus followed a servant to the bath, and when he had been bathed and anointed he put on garments suitable for a king. Athena gave him a more majestic appearance, and caused his hair to fall in heavy curls, like the petals of the hyacinth. When he came back to the great hall and stood before the queen, he looked like an immortal.
"Lady," he said, "the gods have given thee a stubborn heart. Any other woman would have given a glad welcome to her husband after he had been absent twenty years." To this Penelope responded: "Not so; I have no pride nor a cold heart. But I should be unworthy of my lord if I accepted a stranger without putting him to the proof. I remember well when thou didst go to Troy. Thou didst command Eurycleia to carry thy massive bed out into the open air and cover it with fleeces."