Part 11 (1/2)

MOLOSSUS.

Mother, you are but a woman, and I am getting to be a man; I must grow past all that and throw it behind me.

_Enter_ ORESTES _unnoticed: he stands in the doorway, leaning against a pillar_.

ANDROMACHE.

May your eyes never see half the pain mine have seen! I grew past feeling for it, too, long, long ago. I saw men writhe and bite the dust, without caring for them or counting them. They were so many that they were all confused, and the noise of their anguish was like the crying of cranes far off; there was no one voice in it, and no meaning. And then, as it went on growing, and the sons of Priam died about me and the folk starved, and my husband, Hector, was slain with torment, all the voices gathered again together and seemed as one voice, that cried to my heart so that it understood.

MOLOSSUS.

What did it say, mother?

ANDROMACHE.

It spoke in a language that you know not, my son.

MOLOSSUS.

Did it speak Phrygian?

ANDROMACHE.

It spoke the language of old, old men, and those whose G.o.ds have deserted them.

[ORESTES _moves forward as though to speak, but checks himself_.

MOLOSSUS.

But you could tell me what it said.

ANDROMACHE.

[_Looking at him, and not answering._] Why did you ever _wish_ to kill that herd-boy?

MOLOSSUS.

We had taken their cattle before. They always fight us.

ANDROMACHE.

Would it not be better that they should live at peace with you?

MOLOSSUS.

Why should I fear their blood-feud? I would sooner be slain than ask favours of them. My father would avenge me well!

ANDROMACHE.

And who will be the happier? Listen. Can you hear that little beating sound--down seaward, away from the sun?