hunting. His crime is not discovered, and he begins to press his suit
for her hand to her parents almost immediately. The widow's grief is
heart-rending. She refuses food and altogether neglects herself, hoping
that the gods will hear her prayer and allow her to rejoin her husband.
At last, however, she is persuaded by her parents, at Thrasyllus's
instance, to give ordinary care to her own health. But she passes her
days before the likeness of the deceased, which she has had made in the
image of that of the god Liber, paying it divine honours and finding her
one comfort in thus fomenting her own sufferings.

When she hears of Thrasyllus's suit, she rejects it with scorn and
horror; and then at night her dead husband appears to her and describes
exactly what happened, and begs her to avenge him. She requires no
urging, and almost immediately decides on the course that her vengeance
shall take. She has Thrasyllus informed that she cannot come to any
definite decision till her year of mourning is over. Meanwhile, however,
she consents to receive his visits at night, and promises to arrange for
her old nurse to let him in. Overjoyed at his success, Thrasyllus comes
at the hour appointed, and is duly admitted by the old nurse. The house
is in complete darkness, but he is given a cup of wine and left to
himself. The wine has been drugged, however, and he sinks into 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