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108
THE ODYSSEY.
The old nurse doubts no longer. She lets the foot fall heavily, and upsets the bath.
"Surely thou art Ulysses—yes, thou art—
My darling child, and I not knew my king
Till I had handled thee in every part!"
My darling child, and I not knew my king
Till I had handled thee in every part!"
He puts his hand upon her throat, and forcibly checks her outcry; his purpose is not to be known openly as yet, for he feels there are few, even of his own household, whom he can trust. He charges her—even on pain of death, much as he loves her—to keep his secret; then, refusing all softer accommodation, he lies down in the vestibule on a couch of bull-hide, not sleeping, but nursing his wrath in a fever of wakefulness.
