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."