At the same time Menelaus came back, sorrowful and repentant.  “You were right, my brother,” said he.  “What, indeed, has Iphigenia to do with this enterprise, and why should the maiden die for me?  Send the Greeks to their homes, and let not this great wrong be done.”

“But how can I do that now?” asked Agamemnon.  “The warriors, urged on by Odysseus and Calchas, will force me to do the deed.  Or, if I flee to Mycenae, they will follow me, and slay me, and destroy my city.  Oh, woe am I, that such a day should ever dawn upon my sight!”

Even while they spoke together, the queen’s chariot drove up to the tent door, and the queen and Iphigenia and the little Orestes alighted quickly, and merrily greeted the king.

“It is well that you have sent for me, my father,” said Iphigenia, caressing him.

“It may be well, and yet it may not,” said Agamemnon.  “I am exceeding glad to see thee alive and happy.”

“If you are glad, why then do you weep?”

“I am sad because thou wilt be so long time away from me.”

“Are you going on a very long voyage, father?”

“A long voyage and a sad one, my child.  And thou, also, hast a journey to make.”

“Must I make it alone, or will my mother go with me?”

“Thou must make it alone.  Neither father nor mother nor any friend can go with thee, my child.”

“But when shall it be?  I pray that you will hasten this matter with Troy, and return home ere then.”

“It may be so.  But I must offer a sacrifice to the gods before we sail from Aulis.”

“That is well.  And may I be present?”

“Yes, and thou shalt be very close to the altar.”

“Shall I lead in the dances, father?”

Then the king could say no more, for reason of the great sorrow within him; and he kissed the maiden, and sent her into the tent.  A little while afterward, the queen came and spoke to him and asked him about the man to whom their daughter was to be wedded; and Agamemnon, still dissembling, told her that the hero’s name was Achilles, and that he was the son of old Peleus and the sea-nymph Thetis.

“And when and where is the marriage to be?” asked the queen.

“On the first lucky day in the present moon, and here in our camp at Aulis,” answered Agamemnon.

“Shall I stay here with thee until then?”

“Nay, thou must go back to Mycenae without delay.”

“But may I not come again?  If I am not here, who will hold up the torch for the bride?”

“I will attend to all such matters,” answered Agamemnon.

But Clytemnestra was not well pleased, neither could the king persuade her at all that she should return to Mycenae.  While yet they were talking, Achilles himself came to the tent door, and said aloud to the servant who kept it, “Tell thy master that Achilles, the son of Peleus, would be pleased to see him.”