and Aegisthus. But there came to Argos one day a rumor that Orestes
himself had died in Phocis, and the poor princess gave up all hope of
peace; while Clytemnestra and Aegisthus made no secret of their relief,
but even offered impious thanks in the temple, as if the gods were of
their mind! They were soon undeceived.

Two young Phocians came to the palace with news of the last days of
Orestes, so they said; and they were admitted to the presence of the
king and queen. They were, in truth, Orestes himself and his friend
Pylades (son of King Strophius), who had ventured safety and all to
avenge Agamemnon. Then and there Orestes killed Aegisthus and
Clytemnestra, and appeared before the Argives as their rightful prince.

But not even so did he find peace. In slaying Clytemnestra, wicked as
she was, he had murdered his own mother, a deed hateful to gods and
men. Day and night he was haunted by the Furies.

These dread sisters never leave Hades save to pursue and torture some
guilty conscience. They wear black raiment, like the wings of a bat;
their hair writhes with serpents fierce as remorse, and in their hands
they carry flaming torches that make all shapes look greater and more
fearful than they are. No sleep can soothe the mind of him they follow.
They come between his eyes and the daylight; at night their torches
drive away all comfortable darkness. Poor Orestes, though he had
punished two murderers, felt that he was no less a murderer himself.

From land to land he wandered in despair that grew to madness, with one
only comrade, the faithful Pylades, who was his very shadow. At length
he took refuge in Athens, under the protection of Athena, and gave
himself up to be tried by the court of the Areopagus. There he was