‘May it please your Majesty,’ said Lachesis, ‘I am doubtful whether we have the power of expelling anyone from Hades. It is not less the law that a mortal cannot remain here; and it is too notorious for me to mention the fact that none here have the power of inflicting death.’
‘Of what use are all your laws,’ exclaimed Proserpine, ‘if they are only to perplex us? As there are no statutes to guide us, it is obvious that the King’s will is supreme. Let Orpheus depart, then, with his bride.’
‘The latter suggestion is clearly illegal,’ said Lachesis.
‘Lachesis, and ye, her sisters,’ said Proserpine, ‘forget, I beseech you, any warm words that may have passed between us, and, as a personal favour to one who would willingly be your friend, release Eurydice. What! you shake your heads! Nay; of what importance can be a single miserable shade, and one, too, summoned so cruelly before her time, in these thickly-peopled regions?’
‘‘Tis the principle,’ said Lachesis; ‘‘tis the principle. Concession is ever fatal, however slight. Grant this demand; others, and greater, will quickly follow. Mercy becomes a precedent, and the realm is ruined.’
‘Ruined!’ echoed the Furies.
‘And I say preserved!’ exclaimed Proserpine with energy. ‘The State is in confusion, and you yourselves confess that you know not how to remedy it. Unable to suggest a course, follow mine. I am the advocate of mercy; I am the advocate of concession; and, as you despise all higher impulses, I meet you on your own grounds. I am their advocate for the sake of policy, of expediency.’
‘Never!’ said the Fates.
‘Never!’ shrieked the Furies.
‘What, then, will you do with Orpheus?’