28 LITERATURE AND DRAMA 



Sophocles does not allow lole to speak. Had she spoken 

 we must have been led into the sorrows of a new group of people 

 in whom we have no interest. So Deianira with kind words 

 ushers the silent captive across the threshold, and as she follows 

 pauses at a word from that same garlanded messenger, his 

 garland tossed aside now. Cunningly, being a poor creature, 

 he had brought the good news, leaving Lichas to tell the 

 evil truth ; but now that he has seen the sweet queen deceived 

 by another, even his heart goes out to her in pity, and he 

 blurts out all the facts. lole is no slave, nor unregarded, but 

 sent by Heracles to reign at home, for all his heart is kindled 

 with desire. The full measure of her misery cannot break oil 

 Deianira in an instant. Stunned, she sinks into her chair, 

 bewildered, turns even to the band of inexperienced girls for 

 counsel. What counsel can there be but to question Lichas, 

 who returns, hastening to quit the palace before the in- 

 evitable blow falls? Unable to rise, she sits and questions, 

 and he who reads the words must try to hear the hardened 

 voice as it comes from the tightened throat must try to see the 

 rhythmic spasms of pain that shake the body as Deianira sits 

 striving to be as she had been, but will never be again. Lichas 

 can but lie and lie again, till the old messenger fiercely taxes 

 him with treachery to his queen. The two men wrangle, and 

 she listens, and as she listens learns that there is hardly room 

 for doubt; yet, knowing that Lichas lies, she still hopes against 

 hope, rises, comes to the unhappy man, and questions him her- 

 self, no longer striving to conceal her misery, but with terrible 

 appeal begging for the truth, even though the truth be a very 

 sword that slays. Solemnly, almost calmly, she first adjures the 

 man in the name of the highest god to speak the truth. She 

 is no weak woman, but one who knows the ways of man ; she 

 too knows love. She will not blame her lord no, nor the 

 woman. Only not a lie a lie can be no kindness ; and as 

 the herald, all unmanned, trembles in his grief and doubt, she 

 towers for a moment in fierce indignation and contempt : 



To one free born 

 The name of liar is a hateful lot, 

 And thou canst not be hid. 



