_Cly._ Oh, woe is me! What can I answer? Pity-- But I merit none!--And yet if in my heart, Daughter, thou couldst but read--ah, who could look Into the secret of a heart like mine, Contaminated with such infamy, And not abhor me? I blame not thy wrath, No, nor thy hate. On earth I feel already The guilty pangs of hell. Scarce had the blow Escaped my hand before a swift remorse, Swift but too late, fell terrible upon me. From that hour still the sanguinary ghost By day and night, and ever horrible, Hath moved before mine eyes. Whene'er I turn I see its bleeding footsteps trace the path That I must follow; at table, on the throne, It sits beside me; on my bitter pillow If e'er it chance I close mine eyes in sleep, The specter--fatal vision!--instantly Shows itself in my dreams, and tears the breast, Already mangled, with a furious hand, And thence draws both its palms full of dark blood, To dash it in my face! On dreadful nights Follow more dreadful days. In a long death I live my life. Daughter,--whate'er I am, Thou art my daughter still,--dost thou not weep At tears like mine? Clytemnestra confesses that Aegisthus no longer loves her, but she loves him, and she shrinks from Electra's fierce counsel that she shall kill him. He enters to find her in tears, and a violent scene between him and Electra follows, in which Clytemnestra interposes. _Cly._ O daughter, he is my husband. Think, Aegisthus, She is my daughter. _Aeg._ She is Atrides' daughter! _El._ He is Atrides' murderer! _Cly._ Electra! Have pity, Aegisthus! Look--the tomb! Oh, look, The horrible tomb!--and art thou not content? _Aeg._ Woman, be less unlike thyself. Atrides,-- Tell me by whose hand in yon tomb he lies? _Cly._ O mortal blame! What else is lacking now To my unhappy, miserable life? Who drove me to it now upbraids my crime! _El._ O marvelous joy! O only joy that's blessed My heart in these ten years! I see you both At last the prey of anger and remorse; I hear at last what must the endearments be Of love so blood-stained. The first act closes with a scene between Aegisthus and Clytemnestra, in which he urges her to consent that he shall send to have Orestes murdered, and reminds her of her former crimes when she revolts from this. The scene is very well managed, with that sparing phrase which in Alfieri is quite as apt to be touchingly simple as bare and poor. In the opening scene of the second act, Orestes has returned in disguise to Argos with Pylades the son of Strophius, to whom he speaks: We are come at last. Here Agamemnon fell, Murdered, and here Aegisthus reigns. Here rose In memory still, though I a child departed, These natal walls, and the just Heaven in time Leads me back hither.