When Clytemnestra overheard these words, she hastened to the door, and offered the hero her hand.  But he was abashed and drew back, for it was deemed an unseemly thing for men to speak thus with women.  Then Clytemnestra said, “Why, indeed, should you, who are about to marry my daughter, be ashamed to give me your hand?”

Achilles was struck with wonder, and asked her what she meant; and when she had explained the matter, he said: 

“Truly I have never been a suitor for thy daughter, neither has Agamemnon or Menelaus spoken a word to me regarding her.”

And now the queen was astonished in her turn, and cried out with shame that she had been so cruelly deceived.  Then the keeper of the door, who was the same that had been sent with the letter, came forward and told the truth regarding the whole matter.  And Clytemnestra cried to Achilles, “O son of silver-footed Thetis!  Help me and help my daughter Iphigenia, in this time of sorest need!  For we have no friend in all this host, and none in whom we can confide but thee.”

Achilles answered, “Long time ago I was a pupil of old Cheiron, the most righteous of men, and from him I learned to be honest and true.  If Agamemnon rule according to right, then I will obey him; but not otherwise.  And now, since thy daughter was brought to this place under pretence of giving her to me as my bride, I will see that she shall not be slain, neither shall any one dare take her from me.”

On the following day, while Agamemnon sat grief-stricken in his tent, the maiden came before him carrying the child Orestes in her arms; and she cast herself upon her knees at his feet, and caressing his hands, she thus besought him: 

“Would, dear father, that I had the voice of Orpheus, to whom even the rocks did listen! then I would persuade thee.  O father!  I am thy child.  I was the first to call thee ‘Father,’ and the first to whom thou saidst ‘My child.’”

The father turned his face away, and wept; he could not speak for sadness.  Then the maiden went on:  “O father, hear me! thou to whom my voice was once so sweet that thou wouldst waken me to hear my prattle.  And when I was older grown, then thou wouldst say to me, ’Some day, my birdling, thou shalt have a nest of thy own, a home of which thou shalt be the mistress.’  And I did answer, ’Yes, dear father, and when thou art old I will care for thee, and pay thee with all my heart for the kindness thou dost show me.’  But now thou hast forgotten it all, and art ready to slay my young life.”

A deep groan burst from the lips of the mighty king, but he spoke not a word.  Then, after a deathlike silence broken only by the deep breathings of father and child, Iphigenia spoke again:  “My father, can there be any prayer more pure and more persuasive than that of a maiden for her father’s welfare?  And when, the cruel knife shall strike me down, thou wilt have one daughter less to pray for thee.”  A shudder shook the frame of Agamemnon, but he answered not a word.