But Chrysothemis made answer, “O my sister, how didst thou find such daring purpose as this, making ready thyself as for fight, and calling me to follow?  Knowest thou not that thou art a woman and no man, and that thou art weaker than thine enemies, and that their good luck ever increaseth and ours groweth less and less?  And what will it profit us if we get great renown, yet die in shameful fashion?  And yet to die I think not such loss, but to wish to die and not attain to it, suffering torture or bonds.  Keep thy anger within bounds.  What thou hast said I will count as unsaid.  Only yield to them that are stronger.”

And after many words, Electra urging her sister to this deed and the other excusing herself, the two parted in great anger.  And Chrysothemis went into the palace, but Electra abode where she was.  And to her, after a while, came Orestes, but disguised that no man might know him, and asked the Argive maidens that stood by, whether the house that he beheld was the palace of King AEgisthus, and when he heard that it was so, he bade them tell the King that certain Phocian strangers were come seeking him.  But when Electra heard it, she said, “Comest thou with proof of this ill news that we have heard?”

And Orestes made answer, “I know not what news thou speakest of, but the old man, Strophius, the Phocian, bade me bring tidings of Orestes.”

“What are thy tidings, though I tremble to hear them?”

“We are come bringing all that remaineth of him in this urn.”

And when Electra saw it she cried that they should give the urn into her hands; and Orestes bade them do so.  And she took it and said, “O Orestes, that wast dearer to me than all men else, how different is this coming of thine to that which I had hoped!  Lovely wert thou when I sent thee from this house, and now I hold thee in my hands and thou art naught.  Would to the Gods thou hadst died that day when thy father was slain; for now thou art dead, an exile, and in the land of strangers, and I paid thee no office of kindness nor took thy ashes from the funeral fire; but this did strangers for thee, and now thou comest a handful of ashes in a little urn.  Woe is me for the wasted pains of nurture and the toil wherewith out of a willing heart I tended thee!  For thy mother loved thee not more than I, nor was any one but I thy nurse.  And now all this hath departed.  My father is dead, and thou art dead, and my enemies laugh me to scorn, and thy mother that is no mother is mad with joy.  Let me die with thee, for ’tis the dead alone whom I see to be quit of pain.”

But while she so spake Orestes was much troubled in heart and knew not what to do.  But at the last he said, “Is this the Princess Electra whom I see?”

And she answered, “Even so, and very ill she fareth.”

Then he looked upon her again and said to himself, “What a noble lady is this, and in what ungodly fashion hath she been afflicted!”