heard the raiment and
ornaments which her husband was wearing the last time she saw him thus
described down to the minutest detail! For a long time she remained
silent, overpowered by her feelings; and when she spoke again there
was a ring of sincere warmth and friendliness in her voice. "I pitied
thee before," she said, "seeing thee thus forlorn, but now thou shalt
be my dear and honoured guest, for I know that thou hast spoken the
truth. These garments, and the golden brooch, were a gift from my own
hands to my dear lord. Alas! I shall never see him again. Cursed be
the day that parted me from him, and sent him to the land of Troy,
that name abhorred of my soul!"

"Lady," answered Odysseus, "no one could blame thee, or say that thou
sorrowest beyond measure, for such a husband as thine. He was indeed a
man of rare and god-like gifts. Nevertheless be comforted; for ere
many days are passed thou wilt see him here, safe and sound, and
loaded with the wealth which he has gathered in his wanderings." Then
he went on to repeat the story which he had already told to Eumaeus,
with some further facts, drawn from his own experience in the last ten
years; and concluded with this solemn adjuration: "Witness, this
hearth of Odysseus, to which I am come, and witness Zeus, the supreme
lord of heaven, if I lie! Ere yonder moon hath waned, Odysseus will be
sitting under this roof."

Penelope shook her head sadly, as she replied: "It will be a happy day
for thee, if thy prophecy is confirmed by the event. But what am I
saying? 'Tis an empty dream. But come, let the maidens prepare a bath
for thee, and afterwards them shalt sleep sound in a soft, warm bed.
Well hast thou deserved to receive all honour and worship at my hands,
and woe unto him that shall seek to harm thee! I will put a speedy end
to his wooing. For what wilt thou say of me, when thou art wandering
in distant lands, if I suffer thee to abide here thus poorly clad,
unwashed, and uncared for? Few and evil are the days of our life; and
the best we can do is to win a good name by our gentle deeds while we
live, and leave a fair memory behind us when we die."

"I doubt not thy goodness," replied Odysseus; "but I have long been a
stranger to the comforts of which thou speakest, and they suit not my
forlorn and desolate state. Nor would I that any of thy handmaids
should wash my feet, and mock my infirmities; but if thou hast here an
aged house-dame, like unto me in years an