ORESTES (_as before_).

Thou, thou, didst bid me kill My mother: which is sin.

ELECTRA.

How brings it ill To thee, to raise our father from the dust?

ORESTES.

I was a clean man once. Shall I be thrust From men's sight, blotted with her blood?

ELECTRA.

Thy blot Is black as death if him thou succour not!

ORESTES.

Who shall do judgment on me, when she dies?

ELECTRA.

Who shall do judgment, if thy father lies.

Forgotten?

ORESTES (_turning suddenly to_ ELECTRA).

Stay! How if some fiend of h.e.l.l, Hid in G.o.d's likeness, spake that oracle?

ELECTRA.

In G.o.d's own house? I trow not.

ORESTES.

And I trow It was an evil charge! [_He moves away from her._

ELECTRA (_almost despairing_).

To fail me now!

To fail me now! A coward!--O brother, no!

ORESTES.

What shall it be, then? The same stealthy blow ...

ELECTRA.

That slew our father! Courage! thou hast slain Aegisthus.

ORESTES.

Aye. So be it.--I have ta'en A path of many terrors: and shall do Deeds horrible. 'Tis G.o.d will have it so....

Is this the joy of battle, or wild woe? [_He goes into the house._

LEADER.

O Queen o'er Argos throned high, O Woman, sister of the twain, G.o.d's Hors.e.m.e.n, stars without a stain, Whose home is in the deathless sky, Whose glory in the sea's wild pain, Toiling to succour men that die: Long years above us hast thou been, G.o.d-like for gold and marvelled power: Ah, well may mortal eyes this hour Observe thy state: All hail, O Queen!

_Enter from the right_ CLYTEMNESTRA _on a chariot, accompanied by richly dressed Handmaidens_.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Down from the wain, ye dames of Troy, and hold Mine arm as I dismount.... [_Answering_ ELECTRA'S _thought_.

The spoils and gold Of Ilion I have sent out of my hall To many shrines. These bondwomen are all I keep in mine own house.... Deemst thou the cost Too rich to pay me for the child I lost-- Fair though they be?

ELECTRA.

Nay, Mother, here am I Bond likewise, yea, and homeless, to hold high Thy royal arm!

CLYTEMNESTRA.

Child, the war slaves are here; Thou needst not toil.

ELECTRA.

What was it but the spear Of war, drove me forth too? Mine enemies Have sacked my father's house, and, even as these, Captives and fatherless, made me their prey.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

It was thy father cast his child away, A child he might have loved!... Shall I speak out?

(_Controlling herself_) Nay; when a woman once is caught about With evil fame, there riseth in her tongue A bitter spirit--wrong, I know! Yet, wrong Or right, I charge ye look on the deeds done; And if ye needs must hate, when all is known, Hate on! What profits loathing ere ye know?

My father gave me to be his. 'Tis so.

But was it his to kill me, or to kill The babes I bore? Yet, lo, he tricked my will With fables of Achilles' love: he bore To Aulis and the dark ship-clutching sh.o.r.e, He held above the altar-flame, and smote, Cool as one reaping, through the strained throat, My white Iphigenia.... Had it been To save some falling city, leaguered in With foemen; to prop up our castle towers, And rescue other children that were ours, Giving one life for many, by G.o.d's laws I had forgiven all! Not so. Because Helen was wanton, and her master knew No curb for her: for that, for that, he slew My daughter!--Even then, with all my wrong, No wild beast yet was in me. Nay, for long, I never would have killed him. But he came, At last, bringing that damsel, with the flame Of G.o.d about her, mad and knowing all: And set her in my room; and in one wall Would hold two queens!--O wild are woman's eyes And hot her heart. I say not otherwise.

But, being thus wild, if then her master stray To love far off, and cast his own away, Shall not her will break prison too, and wend Somewhere to win some other for a friend?

And then on us the world's curse waxes strong In righteousness! The lords of all the wrong Must hear no curse!--I slew him. I trod then The only road: which led me to the men He hated. Of the friends of Argos whom Durst I have sought, to aid me to the doom I craved?--Speak if thou wouldst, and fear not me, If yet thou deemst him slain unrighteously.

LEADER.

Thy words be just, yet shame their justice brings; A woman true of heart should bear all things From him she loves. And she who feels it not, I cannot reason of her, nor speak aught.

ELECTRA.

Remember, mother, thy last word of grace, Bidding me speak, and fear not, to thy face.

CLYTEMNESTRA.

So said I truly, child, and so say still.

ELECTRA.