Secondly, it is unclear which noun is qualified by the two adjectives, dolia and mnamo¯n, that come between the two nouns (or whether dolia is even a noun, ‘a deceptive woman’). Most editors take dolia with oikonomos and mnamo¯n with me¯nis, ‘deceptive household manager’, ‘remembering wrath’, but it remains strictly uncertain, and possibly both adjectives can qualify both nouns.

Fagles attempts to maintain the ambiguity by translating dolia as ‘the stealth’ and leaving it juxtaposed to the other words of the sentence; Lloyd-Jones by closely following the word order of the Greek. Dolia means ‘deceptive’ and when taken closely with oikonomos suggests both the specific deception of Clytemnestra, and the way in which the narrative of revenge in the house will repeatedly depend on deception. It is precisely dolia peitho¯, ‘deceptive persuasion’ that the chorus prays to help Orestes as he enters the palace. Oikonomos dolia, ‘deceptive household manager’, may also recall, however, by contrast Penelope, Odysseus’ wife, who maintains her house by deception in the Odyssey. (We have seen the inevitable association between the two households in Greek literature since the Odyssey.) As much as Orestes is a model for Telemachus in the Odyssey, so Penelope and Clytemnestra are explicitly contrasted more than once in the epic. Oikonomos dolia,
‘deceptive household manager’, points thus to the different evaluations of deceptive women within the exemplary text of the patriarchal oikos. If dolia is taken closely with me¯nis, ‘deceptive wrath’, however, it indicates the way in which the violent anger which motivates revenge hides itself and uses deception to achieve its end.