To her in her frenzy I can scarcely make a brief reply, a deeply moved gasp with broken words: ‘I live indeed, and drag on my life through all extremes; doubt not, for what you see is real � Ah!

What face has befallen you, since you lost such a husband? What fortune worthy of you, Hector’s Andromache, is yours again? Are you still wedded to Pyrrhus?’ She cast down her eyes, and with lowered voice spoke:

“‘O happy beyond all others, maiden daughter of Priam, bidden to die at a foeman’s tomb, beneath Troy’s lofty walls, who never bore the lot’s award, nor knew, as captive, a conquering master’s bed! We, our homeland burnt, borne over distant seas, have endured the pride of Achilles’ son and his youthful insolence, bearing children