Cries are heard from within: the Chorus know that the deed is done.
_By the machinery of the roller-stage the interior of the Cottage is
displayed, with Orestes and Electra standing over the corpse of
Clytaemnestra_.
A revulsion of feeling has come over them; they did the deed in frenzy;
now, instead of triumph, they have no thoughts but for the act they
have done, and how they will carry a curse with them ever after, and
all will shun them. With horror they recall the details of the scene:
_Ores._ Didst thou see her when she drew {1338}
Her vests aside, and bared her breasts, and bow'd
To earth her body whence I drew my birth,
Whilst in her locks my furious hand I wreath'd?
_Elec._ With anguish'd mind, I know, thou didst proceed,
When heard thy wailing mother's piteous cries.
_Ores._ These words, whilst with her hands she strok'd my cheeks,
Burst forth, "Thy pity I implore, my son;"
Soothing she spoke, as on my cheeks she hung,
That bloodless from my hand the sword might fall.
_Chor._ Wretched Electra, how could'st thou sustain
A sight like this? How bear thy mother's death,
Seeing her thus before thine eyes expire?
_Ores._ Holding my robe before mine eyes, I rais'd
The sword and plung'd it in my mother's breast.
_Elec._ I urged thee to it, I too touch'd the sword.
_Chor._ Of deeds most dreadful this which thou hast done.
Cover thy mother's body; in her robes
Decent compose her wounded limbs.--Thou gav'st
Being to those who were to murder thee.