O noble spirit! from what princely stock
Hast thou sprung, thou so loyal to thy friends!⁠610
Even such be he that of my father's house
Is left alive! For, stranger, brotherless
I too am not, save that I see him not.
Since thou wilt have it so, him will I send
Bearing the letter: thou wilt die. Ah, deep⁠615
This thy strange yearning unto death must be!

Whose shall be that dread deed, my sacrifice?

Mine; for this office hold I of the Goddess.

A task, O maid, unenviable, unblest.

Bowed 'neath necessity, I must submit. ⁠620

A woman, with the priest's knife slay'st thou men?

Nay, on thine hair I shed but lustral spray.

The slayer, who?—if I may ask thee this.