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"I believe you it's a splendid name. There's no better. It's the name of a Roman Emperor of Rome and Sultan of Padua he was who killed a giant called Oreste, having first caused him to become a Christian." "But why did he kill him when he had made a Christian of him?" asked Silvestro, greatly interested; "or why did he make him a Christian, if he was going to kill him?" "Pouf!
In his letter to the Duchess of Maine, prefixed to Oreste, he relates how, in his early youth, he had access to a noble house where it was a custom to read Sophocles, and to make extemporary translations from him, and where there were men who acknowledged the superiority of the Greek Theatre over the French.
When all was over, Count Nobili was carried up the hill back to Corellia, in triumph, on the shoulders of Pietro the baker, and Oreste, the strongest of the brothers. Every soul of the poor townsfolk women as well as men who had not gone down to help had risen, and was out. They had put lights into their windows. They crowded the doorways. The market-place was full, and the church-porch.
Forgetful of her own instigation, she demands who it was that suggested to him the horrible deed 'Qui te l'a dit? she shrieks: one of those astounding phrases which, once heard, can never be forgotten. She rushes out to commit suicide, and the play ends with Oreste mad upon the stage.
Oreste, who, with his brother Pilade, both wearing snow-white aprons, are squaring themselves at their open doorway, over which hangs a copper basin, shaped like Manbrino's helmet, looking for customers Oreste and Pilade turn pale. Then Oreste tells the baker, Pietro, who, naked as Nature made him, has run out from his oven to the open door, for a breath of air. Now the carriage stops.
Zadig and Zaïre, Mérope and Charles XII. still linger, perhaps, in the schoolroom; but what has become of Oreste, and of Mahomet, and of Alzire? Où sont les neiges d'antan? Though Voltaire's reputation now rests mainly on his achievements as a precursor of the Revolution, to the eighteenth century he was as much a poet as a reformer.
There is going to be represented a translation of Hamlet; who when his hair is cut, and he is curled and powdered, I suppose will be exactly Monsieur le Prince Oreste. T'other night I was at "Mérope." The Dumenil was as divine as Mrs. Porter ; they said her familiar tones were those of a poissonnière.
At that time Oreste was being played at the Comedie-Francaise; its success did not answer the author's expectations. "All that could possibly give a handle to criticism," says Marmontel, who was present, "was groaned at or turned into ridicule. The play was interrupted by it every instant.
"Mais, seigneur, cependant s'il epouse Andromaque. Oreste. Hé, madame. Her. Songez quelle honte pour nous, Si d'une Phrygienne il devenoit lepoux. Oreste. Et vous le haissez!" &c.
Oreste and Pilade heard him. They came tumbling out. Ser Giacomo roused the sindaco who in his turn woke his clerk; but when Mr. Sindaco was fairly off down the hill, this much-injured and very weary youth turned back and went to bed. Some bore lighted torches, others copper buckets. Pietro, the butcher, brought the municipal ladder.
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