comes up to the simple reality of this, although critics may object that it is not in the highest style of art.[1]
But this is not a time for caresses and embraces. Orestes remembers that there is sterner work before them, and that
"Much speech might lose occasion's golden hour."—(P.)
And while Electra still clings to her brother, as though loath to leave him even for a moment, the old attendant roughly breaks in upon their dialogue. Are they weary of their lives, he asks, that they stand thus idly prating on the brink of danger? It is well that he has kept good watch. Let them go in, and they will find Clytemnestra alone within the palace. Then Orestes and Pylades obey his advice and enter. For a while there is a dead silence; but suddenly the silence is broken by a woman's shriek, and Electra turns exultingly to the Chorus:—
"A cry goes up within; friends, hear ye not?
Cho. I heard what none should hear—ah, misery!—
And shuddered listening.
Clytem. (within) Ah me! ah me! Woe, woe!
Ægisthus, where art thou?
Elec. Ha! List again.
I hear a bitter cry.
Clytem. (within) My son, my son,
Have pity on thy mother!
Elec. Thou hadst none
