Most honoured Aegisthus,
I was much touched by your letter and I will give you the one more
trial you ask for so humbly and so touchingly.
Paris has arrived. I don’t know if you know him. He is the second
son of the King of Troy. He made an unfortunate marriage with a girl
called Œnone, the daughter of a rather disreputable river-person.
They were miserable about it. He is very good-looking--if one admires
those kind of looks, which I don’t. He dresses in an absurd way and he
looks theatrical. Besides, I hate men with curly hair. He has a few
accomplishments. He shoots well and plays on the double flute quite
remarkably well for a man who is not a professional; but he is totally
uninteresting, and, what is more, impossible. But Helen likes him.
Isn’t it extraordinary that she always has liked impossible men? They
sit for hours together saying nothing at all. I don’t in the least mind
his paying no attention to me--in fact, I am too thankful not to have
to talk to him; but I do think it’s bad manners, as I am his hostess.
Helen is certainly looking better this year than she has ever looked;
but she still dresses in that affectedly over-simple way, which is
a pity. I don’t know how long he is going to stay. I don’t mind his
being here, but Helen and he are really most inconsiderate. They use
my sitting-room as though it were theirs, and they never seem to think
that I may have things to do of my own, and they expect me to go out
with them, which ends in their walking on ahead and my being left with
Menelaus, whom I am very fond of indeed, but who bores me. He talks of
nothing but horses and quoits. It is a great lesson to Queen Hecuba
for having brought up her son so badly. Paris was educated entirely
by a shepherd, you know, on Mount Ida. The result is his manners are
shocking. Helen doesn’t see it. Isn’t it odd? I must say he’s nice with
children, and Orestes likes him.
I am your sincere friend,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.
_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_