Lydia
Lysander chides me that I accept kindness from the queen of Athens’ conqueror.
Phocion
I see no harm in that, and possibly much good. Your love will ever guide you. Farewell, now, for a little while. And happiness go with you!
Lydia
I leave you. It is your friends who come to you at twilight now so often. The Fates protect you, my Phocion! (Whispers to Lysander as she goes.) Oh, save him, Lysander! Save him from himself—for me, his wife!
[Exit slowly, looking back fondly at Phocion as she goes. Lysander watches her with an expression that betrays doubt, anxiety and disapproval. He shakes his head. The knocking is repeated. It is a definite knock that has been pre-arranged.
Phocion
Open, Lysander. It is the Citizens.
[A dozen Citizens enter quietly. Their leader holds a scroll in his hand. In turn they greet Phocion with obvious respect, each giving the password, while Phocion replies with the countersign: