that we have heard?"

And Orestes made answer, "I know not what news thou speakest of, but the
old man, Strophius, the Phocian, bade me bring tidings of Orestes."

"What are thy tidings, though I tremble to hear them?"

"We are come bringing all that remaineth of him in this urn."

And when Electra saw it she cried that they should give the urn into her
hands; and Orestes bade them do so. And she took it and said, "O
Orestes, that wast dearer to me than all men else, how different is this
coming of thine to that which I had hoped! Lovely wert thou when I sent
thee from this house, and now I hold thee in my hands and thou art
naught. Would to the Gods thou hadst died that day when thy father was
slain; for now thou art dead, an exile, and in the land of strangers,
and I paid thee no office of kindness nor took thy ashes from the
funeral fire; but this did strangers for thee, and now thou comest a
handful of ashes in a little urn. Woe is me for the wasted pains of
nurture and the toil wherewith out of a willing heart I tended thee! For
thy mother loved thee not more than I, nor was any one but I thy nurse.
And now all this hath departed. My father is dead, and thou art dead,
and my enemies laugh me to scorn, and thy mother that is no mother is
mad with joy. Let me die with thee, for 'tis the dead alone whom I see
to be quit of pain."

But while she so spake Orestes was much troubled in heart and knew not
what to do. But at the last he said, "Is this the Princess Electra whom
I see?"

And she answered, "Even so, and very ill she fareth."

Then he looked upon her again and said to himself, "What a noble lady is
this, and in what ungodly fashion hath she been afflicted!"

And when Electra would know why he was so troubled, he said, "It paineth
me to see thee excelling all women in sorrow."

"Nay," she said, "thou seest but a small part of my sorrows."

"Hast thou, then, yet worse to bear than these?"

"Yea, for I live with them that are murderers."

"Whom sayest thou they murdered?"

"They murdered my father--and I am constrained to serve them."

"Who constraineth thee?"

"A mother that is no mother."

"And is there none that can help thee?"

"None, for him that was my helper thou bringest in this urn. But why
pitiest thou me as doth no other man? Art thou, perchance, a kinsman?"

"Put down this urn and I will tell thee."

"Nay, stranger, take this not from me, for it holds all that is dearest
to me."