“Strange sir,” Penelope replied, “that can think me hard-hearted, or proud, or forgetful of what my husband was before he rowed away for Troy; for he was just such a man as you. Yet it shall be as you ask: Eurycleia shall make your bed outside the room. It shall not be a mattress, however” she added, watching his face carefully; “she shall take the whole bed from within the chamber, and bring it forth.”

At this Odysseus snorted. “Strong she must be” he said “to make such a bed! For I myself fashioned that bed from an olive tree, young and vigorous, even where it stood, its roots still fast in the earth beneath!” Round this tree, he reminded her, he had built the royal bedchamber, and the polished trunk had become the bedpost, all inlaid with gold, silver and ivory.

As soon as she heard him, Penelope knew the truth. Her heart melted and her legs shook; but she rose and flung her arms around her King. And so would rosy-fingered dawn have found them, had not Athene stayed the rising of the sun, that the two lovers might not be parted in their joy.