a deep
slumber. Then Tlepolemus's widow comes and triumphs over her enemy, who
has fallen so easily into her hands. She will not kill him as he killed
her husband. "Neither the peace of death nor the joy of life shall be
yours," she exclaims. "You shall wander like a restless shade between
Orcus and the light of day.... The blood of your eyes I shall offer up
at the tomb of my beloved Tlepolemus, and with them I shall propitiate
his blessed spirit." At these words she takes a pin from her hair and
blinds him. Then she rushes through the streets, with a sword in her
hand to frighten anyone who might try to stop her, to her husband's
tomb, where, after telling all her story, she slays herself.

Thither Thrasyllus followed her, declaring that he dedicated himself to
the Manes of his own free-will. He carefully shut the tomb upon himself,
and starved himself to death.

This is by far the best of the stories in which we find a vision of the
dead in sleep playing an important part; but there is also the
well-known tale of the Byzantine maiden Cleonice.[76] She was of high
birth, but had the misfortune to attract the attention of the Spartan
Pausanias, who was in command of the united Greek fleet at the
Hellespont after the battle of Plataea. Like many Spartans, when first
brought into contact with real luxury after his frugal upbringing at
home, he completely lost his mental balance, and grew intoxicated with
the splendour of his position, endeavouring to imitate the Persians in
their manners, and even aspiring, it is said, to become tyrant of the
whole of Greece. Cleonice was brutally torn from her parents and brought
to his room at night. He was asleep at the time, and being awakened by
the noise, he imagined that someone had broken into his room with the
object of murdering him, and snatched up a sword and killed her. After
this her ghost appeared to him every night, bidding him "go to the fate
which pride and lust prepare." He is said to have visited a temple at
Heraclea, where he had her spirit called up and implored her pardon. She
duly appeared, and told him that "he would soon be delivered from all
his troubles after his return to Sparta"--an ambiguous way of
prophesying his death, which occurred soon afterwards. She was certainly
avenged in the manner of it.

Before leaving these stories of visions of the dead, we must not omit to
mention that charming poem of Virgil's younger days, the _Culex_ (The
Gnat). Just as