“There’s something in that,” said Menelaus, “but you haven’t answered the whole question. Even if we grant that Orestes is in trouble not of his making, and that he knows his own mind, he still may be the wrong husband for you. How’s it all going to come out? How am I to arrange the wedding for you? I can’t have anything to do with Ægisthus, and I wouldn’t be found in the same town with Clytemnestra. We’ll have to wait till Agamemnon comes home and puts his house in order; then we can see what’s left. In the meantime, hadn’t you better postpone making up your mind about Orestes? Oh, yes, I know, you’re in love with him—no objection to that—but don’t do anything hasty. I don’t let Helen’s prejudices influence me, but the more I think of Orestes, the more I wish he belonged to another family. You must be happy, if your mother and I can assure it. And I’ll confess I’d like to recover thoroughly before we take on another quarrel.”

“See here, father, how did you and mother come to have this obsession about marrying me off? In the five years before you two got back, I hadn’t thought so much about marriage as you’ve made me think in the last few days. My mind was on you and her, and on your troubles and I was concerned for the family reputation; I had Orestes and his difficulties to worry over, and what sort of advice I ought to give him. Really, I haven’t thought of myself at all. In a general way I knew I should marry Orestes, sometime in the future, when all these other things were completely straightened out; meanwhile he was my best friend, my one companion. We are made for each other, I believe. When mother asked me if I loved him, I said yes, and I told her I expected to marry him. It made me feel rather brazen to say it right out, but she was insistent. I felt in my bones she wouldn’t approve of him; of course, he entirely disapproves of her. But I certainly was surprised when she scolded me for not telling her more bluntly what my plans were. Have you heard her talk on the virtue of being perfectly frank? But I must say, father, you are now almost as difficult as she; you ask me whether I have the love of life, and other facetious questions, and then you abruptly turn serious and advise me to think it over and not marry Orestes in haste. What made you think I was going to marry him in haste? Won’t you tell me frankly, as mother would say, what you really want of me? Don’t you wish me to marry any one at all? Very well, I won’t, if you need me at home. I dare say Orestes won’t be able to think of matrimony for some time. Or are you hard on Orestes just because his parents aren’t happy together? I naturally can’t see any justice in that reasoning.”