hee to Troy. In no way
am I bound to serve thee."

"Do as you will," said Menelaus, going away in wrath.

Soon after this, there came a herald to the king, saying, "Behold, your
daughter Iphigenia has come as you directed, and with her mother and
her little brother Orestes she rests by the spring close to the outer
line of tents. The warriors have gathered around them, and are
praising her loveliness, and asking many questions; and some say, 'The
king is sick to see his daughter, whom he loves so deeply, and he has
made up some excuse to bring her to the camp.' But I know why you have
brought her here; for I have been told about the wedding, and the noble
groom who is to lead her in marriage; and we will rejoice and be glad,
because this is a happy day for the maiden."

Then the king was sorely distressed, and knew not what to do. "Sad,
sad, indeed," said he, "is the wedding to which the maiden cometh. For
the name of the bridegroom is Death."

At the same time Menelaus came back, sorrowful and repentant. "You
were right, my brother," said he. "What, indeed, has Iphigenia to do
with this enterprise, and why should the maiden die for me? Send the
Greeks to their homes, and let not this great wrong be done."

"But how can I do that now?" asked Agamemnon. "The warriors, urged on
by Odysseus and Calchas, will force me to do the deed. Or, if I flee
to Mycenae, they will follow me, and slay me, and destroy my city. Oh,
woe am I, that such a day should ever dawn upon my sight!"

Even while they spoke together, the queen's chariot drove up to the
tent door, and the queen and Iphigenia and the little Orestes alighted
quickly, and merrily greeted the king.

"It is well that you have sent for me, my father," said Iphigenia,
caressing him.

"It may be well, and yet it may not," said Agamemnon. "I am exceeding
glad to see thee alive and happy."

"If you are glad, why then do you weep?"

"I am sad because thou wilt be so long time away from me."

"Are you going on a very long voyage, father?"

"A long voyage and a sad one, my child. And thou, also, hast a journey
to make."

"Must I make it alone, or will my mother go with me?"

"Thou must make it alone. Neither father nor mother nor any friend can
go with thee, my child."

"But when shall it be? I pray that you will hasten this matter with
Troy, and return home ere then."

"It may be so. But I must offer a sacrifice to the gods before we sail
from