“In this case Charitas won’t talk,” said Helen. “You forget she is hiding the missing husband. As for Hermione, I meant what I said—we are powerless. But whether we are or not, I stand by Adraste. It’s a point of honour. I love the girl, and she is in trouble. After all, Menelaus, don’t you think it’s too late? You are a kind man, and naturally easy-going, and you’ve put up with too much to discover a shocking scandal in this wretched little tragedy. You took me back, and you’ve done nothing to avenge your brother’s death. I’m not complaining, of course, but after those exhibitions of magnanimity you are not convincing when you improvise righteous indignation over Adraste and her child. Now, if you don’t think it’s too late, you may change your character, become quite firm, and rule us with a rod. Put Adraste out, lock me up when Pyrrhus comes, see to it that Hermione doesn’t marry Orestes. There were to be other penalties, weren’t there, if we didn’t obey you? Impose them all now, Menelaus, for if you are cruel to Adraste I shall become your implacable enemy. My family has a gift for hate—though until now I never cultivated it.”

“I dare say you could emulate Clytemnestra if you wished,” said Menelaus.

“My dear husband, if I wished, I could surpass her! Clytemnestra was crude and unnecessarily vulgar. But I shan’t become your enemy unless you force the issue—and only for a principle, never for a lover. I want to keep the debate on a high plane.”

“I hope I may be able to discern the difference when you stick the knife into me,” said Menelaus. “Meanwhile, I’ll take my chance. Adraste is to go; that’s understood. You and I are to be mortal enemies; that’s understood also. Do you mind telling me just how the war between us is to begin?”

“There are several possible ways,” said Helen. “You might kill me—consider Troy merely postponed. That would be rather neat; Agamemnon’s brother getting even with Clytemnestra’s sister! Or you might carry out your threat and tell your men to put Adraste on the street. If they disobey, you might carry her out yourself. I advise the first course.”

“And I dare say, in your present resigned mood, you’ll wait for the fatal blow to fall.”

“Yes,” said Helen, “unless Pyrrhus arrives first.”

“Ah, that’s it, is it? What will he do for you?”