Antigone had expected no less than the death penalty for herself; but she will by no means allow Ismene to be included in it. For, first, Ismene had refused her help; and then, she is too slight and weak a creature for such a terrible ordeal. Antigone sees that there is a sharp struggle coming. Some attendants have brought her sister from the palace, and she comes weeping for Antigone’s fate. Creon turns upon her in a fury. Without a sign of proof, he roundly accuses her of complicity in the deed.
To Ismene, who does not know what has passed, it seems clear that Antigone has in some way implicated her. But she will not deny it. On the contrary, there is in her tender heart some sense of relief, despite her fear, that she can now prove to Antigone her loyalty. Ever since she first refused her help, remorse has stung her. But now there is an opportunity to redeem her weakness, and she makes a pathetic attempt to share Antigone’s fate. It is not a very bold effort, however: she seems almost to tremble as she tells Creon that she did help in the burial—if Antigone said so; and none but a man who was blind with rage could have been deceived by it. But to Creon the poor little declaration has all the appearance of truth; and Antigone, knowing his inexorable nature, sees that he will assuredly condemn Ismene to death. She must interpose, quickly and decisively. She is still sore with disappointment at her sister; her own burden, since the glow of her magnificent defence passed, has grown heavier at every moment; and there is, moreover, a very natural resentment that Ismene should claim merit where it is not due. She breaks in with an emphatic denial of her sister’s help.
Ismene. Alas! and must I be debarred thy fate?
Antig. Life was the choice you made: Mine was to die.
Ismene. I warned thee—
Antig. Yes, your prudence is admired
On earth. My wisdom is approved below.
Ismene. Yet truly we are both alike in fault.
Antig. Fear not; you live. My life hath long been given
To death, to be of service to the dead.[[24]]
Hurt and baffled, Ismene now turns to Creon with an appeal that she thinks must touch him. Will he not save Antigone for Hæmon’s sake, his son, to whom she is betrothed? Surely he will not break the heart of his own child, too? His reply is a brutal jest that wrings from Antigone the first sign of her anguish. The pity of her broken life, to herself and to the lover she must leave, elicits a poignant cry:
“O dearest Hæmon! How thy father wrongs thee!”[[24]]