The King enters the stage accompanied by Cassandra, the prophetic daughter of Priam, thus giving visible proof of his contempt for Apollo, the Trojan protector and inspirer of the prophetess. He has heard the Chorus' welcome and promises to search out the false friends and administer healing medicine to the city. Clytemnestra replies in a second speech of double significance. "The Argive Elders well know how dearly she loves her lord and the impatience of her life while he was at Troy. Often stories came of his wounds; were they all true, he would have more scars than a net has holes. Orestes their son has been sent away, lest he should be the victim of some popular uprising in the King's absence. Her fount of tears is dried up, not a drop being left." After some words of extravagant flattery, she bids her waiting women lay down purple carpets on which Justice may bring him to a home which he never hoped to see. Agamemnon coldly deprecates her long speech; the honour she suggests is one for the gods alone; his fame will speak loud enough without gaudy trappings, for a wise heart is Heaven's greatest gift. But the Queen, not to be denied, overcomes his scruples. Giving orders that Cassandra is to be well treated, he passes over the purple carpets, led by Clytemnestra who avows that she would have given many purple carpets to get him home alive. Thus arrogating to himself the honours of a god, he proceeds within the palace, while she lingers behind for one brief moment to pray openly to Zeus to fulfil her prayers and to bring his will to its appointed end. Thoroughly alarmed, the Chorus give free utterance to the vague forebodings which shake them, the song of the avenging Furies which cries within their hearts. "Human prosperity often strikes a sunken rock; bloodshed calls to Heaven for vengeance; yet there is comfort, for one destiny may override another, and good may yet come to pass." These pious hopes are broken by the entry of the Queen who summons Cassandra within: when the captive prophetess answers her not a word, Clytemnestra declares she has no time to waste outside the palace: already there stands at the altar the ox ready for sacrifice, a joy she never looked to have; if Cassandra will not obey, she must be taught to foam out her spirit in blood.