this host, and none in whom we can confide but thee."

Achilles answered, "Long time ago I was a pupil of old Cheiron, the
most righteous of men, and from him I learned to be honest and true.
If Agamemnon rule according to right, then I will obey him; but not
otherwise. And now, since thy daughter was brought to this place under
pretence of giving her to me as my bride, I will see that she shall not
be slain, neither shall any one dare take her from me."

On the following day, while Agamemnon sat grief-stricken in his tent,
the maiden came before him carrying the child Orestes in her arms; and
she cast herself upon her knees at his feet, and caressing his hands,
she thus besought him:

"Would, dear father, that I had the voice of Orpheus, to whom even the
rocks did listen! then I would persuade thee. O father! I am thy
child. I was the first to call thee 'Father,' and the first to whom
thou saidst 'My child.'"

The father turned his face away, and wept; he could not speak for
sadness. Then the maiden went on: "O father, hear me! thou to whom my
voice was once so sweet that thou wouldst waken me to hear my prattle.
And when I was older grown, then thou wouldst say to me, 'Some day, my
birdling, thou shalt have a nest of thy own, a home of which thou shalt
be the mistress.' And I did answer, 'Yes, dear father, and when thou
art old I will care for thee, and pay thee with all my heart for the
kindness thou dost show me.' But now thou hast forgotten it all, and
art ready to slay my young life."

A deep groan burst from the lips of the mighty king, but he spoke not a