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Rh whether his news be not welcome, and the sight of Electra's unfeigned sorrow, rouse in her a feeling of triumph and relief. Now at last, she says, she may sleep soundly, and pass her days in peace. Then, bidding the disguised attendant follow her, she retires within the palace, while Electra bemoans her own fate, left thus desolate and friendless. Her day-dreams of vengeance have come to an end for ever, since the brother on whom she had built her hopes has died cruelly, trampled to death under horses' feet, in a strange land—

Suddenly Chrysothemis runs eagerly in with what she conceives to be good news. She had found her father's tomb covered with flowers, and moist with freshly-poured libations, while on its summit lay a lock of hair, which she at once divines to be a token from Orestes. "My poor sister!" says Electra, "your Orestes is dead;"—and then she tells the story she has heard; but though he be dead, she continues, let us, women as we are, take upon ourselves the work of vengeance, and earn a glorious renown by slaying Ægisthus, our mother's paramour.

"All men love to look

On deeds of goodness. Dost not see full clear

All the fair fame thou'lt gain for thee and me,

If thou obey my counsels? Who, seeing us,

Or citizen or stranger, will not greet us

With praises such as these: 'Behold, my friends,

Those sisters twain, who saved their father's house,