The swineherd and neatherd listened with amazement, willing to believe, but still half in doubt; but when Odysseus showed them the scar, which they had seen many a time before, they were convinced, and embraced their old master with tears and cries of joy.  Having allowed them some moments to indulge their feelings, Odysseus checked them with a warning gesture.  “Take heed to yourselves,” he said, “or your cries will betray us.  And now mark what I shall tell you.  I will go back to the house first, and do ye two follow me one by one.  To thee, Philoetius, I give charge to make fast the gate of the courtyard, with bolt, and with bar, and with cord.  And thou, Eumaeus, when the time comes, shalt bring the bow and place it in my hands, whether the wooers cry out on thee or not; and when thou hast given me the bow, go straightway and command the women to make fast the doors of their apartments, and remain quiet by their work until I have finished what I have to do.”

At the moment when Odysseus returned to his place in the hall, Eurymachus was just making a last attempt to bend the bow.  “Out on it!” he cried, finding all his efforts of no avail.  “It is a shame to think how far beneath Odysseus we all are in the strength of our hands; ’tis this that stings me, much more than the loss of the lady.”

“Thou mistakest the cause,” answered Antinous.  “This day is the holy feast of the divine archer, Apollo, and doubtless he is jealous because we try our skill in his own art on his sacred day.  Let us leave the axes where they stand, and try our fortune again to-morrow.”

The proposal was received with general applause, and forthwith the whole company called loud for wine, and began drinking heavily to drown their disappointment Odysseus watched the progress of the revel with grim satisfaction, and when the flushed faces and thick talk of the wooers showed that they were far gone in drunkenness he asked, with an air of deep humility, to be allowed to try his hand at stringing the bow.  His request was greeted with a loud cry of contempt and indignation from all the wooers; and Antinous especially was highly incensed, threatening him with dire pains and penalties for his presumption.  Hereupon Penelope interposed, and rebuked Antinous for his violence.  “Why should not the stranger try his skill with the rest?” asked she.  “Thinkest thou that the poor man will win me for his wife if he succeeds?  Sure I am that he is not so foolish as to entertain such a thought.”

“’Tis not for that,” said Eurymachus, answering her.  “He cannot be so mad as that.  But what a shame to all this noble company if a houseless beggar should accomplish a feat which none of us was able to perform.”

“Talk not of shame,” replied Penelope with scorn.  “Are ye not covered with shame already, by your foul deeds done in this house in the absence of its lord?  Give him the bow, I say!  And if he string it, by Apollo’s grace, I will clothe him in a new cloak and doublet, and give him a sharp javelin, to keep off dogs and men, and a two-edged sword, and sandals for his feet, and give him safe conduct to whatsoever place he desires to reach.”