And all the heels and impress of the feet,
When measured, fit well with my footsteps here....
Pangs come on me, and sore bewilderment.
[As she ceases speaking Orestes comes forward
from his concealment
Orest. Pray, uttering to the Gods no fruitless prayer,
For good success in what is yet to come.
Elect. What profits now to me the Gods' good will?
Orest. Thou see'st those here whom most thou did'st desire.
Elect. Whom called I on, that thou hast knowledge of?