ELECTRA: Where are you going? And those offerings— the ones you’re carrying—who are they for? CHRYSOTHEMIS: Mother sent me out to take libations and these offerings to our father’s grave. ELECTRA: What are you saying? She’s sending those for her worst enemy? CHRYSOTHEMIS: “The one she murdered”— that’s what you’d like to add. ELECTRA: What friend of hers persuaded her to do it? Whose idea was it? CHRYSOTHEMIS: I think it was a vision in the night—it frightened her. ELECTRA: O my ancestral gods, stand by me now at last! CHRYSOTHEMIS: Why does her fear rouse in you such hope? ELECTRA: I will explain that, once you have described her vision to me. CHRYSOTHEMIS: I don’t know much about it—just a little. ELECTRA: Tell me what you know. Some minor details have often tripped men up or saved