Even when she heard all the ghastly story of the slaying of the suitors, and came into the hall where her husband stood awaiting her, she could not realize that it was he. _Then from her room she descended, and deeply she pondered in spirit Whether to hold her aloof from her lord and to test him with questions Or to approach and embrace him and kiss him on hands and on forehead. So, when at length she had entered the hall and had stept from the door-stone, Fronting Odysseus she seated herself, in the light of a brazier, Close to the opposite wall; and with eyes cast down he was sitting Nigh to a pillar that rose to the roof; and he waited expectant, Hoping his beautiful wife would speak when she saw him before her. Long while silent she sat, with her spirit amazed and bewildered._[8] Telemachus could not comprehend the reason for his mother’s silence, and broke into impulsive chiding. He could not see that the very steadfastness of her nature would not allow her to be lightly convinced. _Then answer made Penelope the wise: “My child, the soul is dizzy with surprise Within me; no word can I speak to him, Nor question him nor look him in the eyes._ _“But if he comes indeed, and this is he, We shall know one another certainly. For we have tokens that from all men else Are hidden, and none know but only we.”_[7] Truly, it is Greek meeting Greek, in this encounter between the wit of Penelope and that of the man she dare not hope is really her husband. Odysseus grows angry at last, and that gives the victory to his wife. For when he orders that a bed shall be made for him apart, she says cunningly to the maid: “_Now, Eurycleia, lay the goodly bed Without the chamber firmly-stablished That his own hands made: take it out from thence, You and the women, and upon it spread_ _The broidered blankets, that he soft may lie, And rugs and fleeces._“[7] Now Odysseus had built the bed himself, literally round the trunk of a standing tree; and by this token she is trying him. In his answer she perceives that he truly is her husband, for none but he could know how wonderfully their bed was built. “_Verily, wife, this word thou hast spoken is grievously cruel. Who hath removed it—the bed that I built? ‘Twere difficult truly E’en for a man right skilful, unless some deity helped him. ... Great is the secret Touching that fine-wrought bed—for I made it myself and in private. Once was a long-leaved olive that stood inside the enclosure, Thriving and grown to the full; and its stem was as thick as a pillar. Round it I built me a chamber and laboured until it was finished._“[8]