Page:Sophocles (Collins).djvu/182

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170
SOPHOCLES.

Argive maidens. Something in their hearts tells them that the day of vengeance is nigh at hand. Neither the spirit of the murdered man, nor the axe which struck that felon stroke, "though dimmed by the rust of years," has ever forgotten the deed of blood. They can already see the shadow—nay, they can almost feel the breath and hear the approaching tramp—of the "brazen-footed fury with many hands and feet." And then their thoughts revert to the fountainhead of all these troubles—the curse invoked on the treacherous Pelops by Myrtilus, as he was "dashed headlong from his golden chariot, and sent to his last sleep beneath the waves."[1]

There is a pause upon the stage, and a low murmur of expectancy runs through the audience, as the Chorus respectfully move back to make way for Clytenmestra, who comes forward with a haughty and defiant mien, and whose speech shows that she is as "man-minded" as of old. She at once sharply rebukes Electra for taking her ease abroad in the absence of Ægisthus; and then she vindicates her murder of Agamemnon. He had slain his daughter, and she had only slain her husband in retaliation; and why should she not?

Electra is not slow to reply, and her tone and manner are as defiant and insulting as her mother's. It was the wrath of Diana, she says, reverting to a "wasted theme," and the contrary winds at Aulis,

  1. Myrtilus was the charioteer of Œnomaus, and was bribed by Pelops to take out the linch-pins from his master's chariot. Pelops won the race, but, unwilling to give him his reward, threw him from Cape Geræstus.