“Could you get a special invitation to him? Then do so, by all means. You want him to come, don’t you, Menelaus?”

“I’d like very much to see him,” said Menelaus. “Is he going to return that armour you lent him, Eteoneus? It was my best set.”

“Oh, he’ll bring it back, Menelaus; I fancy he’s reliable in such matters. He’ll be wanting to get away from that place as soon as he can, and this would be the natural spot for him to hurry to.”

“He won’t care to stay near his mother very long,” said Helen. “This is the worst that has happened to Clytemnestra—to have her lover executed right on the domain, where she thought herself so powerful!”

“Will you give your consent now to the marriage?” said Hermione.

“No,” said Menelaus. “You have the logic of the situation, I admit, but I still don’t feel he’s the man for you. While Eteoneus has been telling us the news, I’ve been trying to explain why my heart is so depressed; I’m glad of the vengeance, but I suppose it’s the thought that now you’ll want to marry Orestes—nothing else could make me morbid. I feel as though I had lost my best friend, and Ægisthus wasn’t that.”

“Eteoneus,” said Helen, “what did Clytemnestra say?”

“Nothing.”

“And what did she do?”

“Nothing.”

Helen looked at him so steadily that they all looked at her, and noticed that the colour had left her face.

“You have bad news, too,” she said. “Tell us everything.”

“I see you’ve guessed it,” said Eteoneus, “and that makes it easier to tell. Clytemnestra’s dead.”

Helen rose to her feet, as if she were about to leave them. Then she stood perfectly still, while the others talked.

“That’s why Orestes handled it so smoothly,” said Menelaus. “If she had been alive then, I dare say she would have been on the watch.”

“No wonder Ægisthus took to sacrificing, with her gone. They really loved each other, I think,” said Hermione. “How did she die, Eteoneus?”

“Orestes killed her.”

“No!” cried Hermione.

“He killed her.”

“Not his mother!”

“His own mother.”

“Orestes!”

“Helen,” said Menelaus, “this is a good deal worse than my brother’s death. There is no forgiveness in Heaven or on earth for such a crime. Orestes is a lost soul. Clytemnestra, in comparison, was a good woman. I hope I may never see—”

“I think Hermione is fainting,” said Helen.

“I’m all right,” said Hermione. “I don’t blame you father—it’s impossible—even if I had seen him do it, I’d say it’s impossible. Orestes loved her, and he had the deepest sense of filial duty—it’s simply impossible!”