There is authority in her tone and in her words, none the less compelling because of the tender humanity below them. It calms the disputants: and as they recount to her the cause of the quarrel, emotions ebb and leave the cold facts, hard and ugly. It is clear that Œdipus has been rash in his accusations; and Jocasta counsels him to accept the oath of loyalty that Creon offers. Then, when the peace is made, and she and Œdipus remain alone, she begs him to tell her all that has happened. Œdipus sums the cause of the brawl in a few words—he believes that Creon is plotting against his life, by accusing him, through the instrumentality of Tiresias the seer, of the murder of Laius. At the mention of the seer there is a flash of scorn in Jocasta’s eyes, followed by a shadow of pain, as memory brings back the time when she trusted in the vain words of a prophet to her sorrow. “_The seer?—Then tear thy terrors like a veil And take free breath. A seer? No human thing Born on the earth hath power for conjuring Truth from the dark of God. Come, I will tell An old tale._“[22] She recounts the story of the oracle that came to Laius, declaring that he should die by the hand of his son; and of the terrible means that they had taken to frustrate it, casting out their child to die upon the mountain. “_Thus did we cheat Apollo of his will. My child could slay No father, and the King could cast away The fear that dogged him, by his child to die Murdered.—Behold the fruits of prophecy! Which heed not thou! God needs not that a seer Help him, when he would make his dark things clear._“[22] As Jocasta speaks, we feel that time has not yet healed her wound. The thought of that unnatural deed of her young motherhood, is still so horrible to her that though she tries she cannot tell all the truth about it. She says that Laius gave the baby to the slave, whereas it was she herself. Remorse sweeps over her, and the bitterness which lies just below the surface of her life rises in revolt against the oracle which could tempt to such a deed. There is no impiety in her words. Her voice is reverent when she names the god. But for his corrupt interpreters her acute perception has nothing but contempt. Œdipus will do well to despise them too. But the king has not observed her emotion. Something that she has said about the manner of Laius’ death has startled him. He asks her to repeat it. Yes, it was in Phokis, at a place where three roads met; and it happened just before the stranger Œdipus arrived. Œdipus is recalling fearfully his own encounter on such a spot. But what was Laius like? JOC. _Tall, with the white new gleaming on his brow He walked. In shape just such a man as thou._[22]