But I meant to save you, Phocion. My love would save you. Have I done wrong? Oh, tell me.
Phocion
(Low.) You have done—your—best. No one—no woman—can do more.
Lydia
I could not face life without you. I could not see you die. My love made the desperate plan. I bargained with Alexander’s queen—life with honour and glory for you in Egypt, the land you love. Oh, Phocion, beloved, do not judge me hardly. You do not speak.
Phocion
(Patiently.) There is something here I cannot understand.
[His hand touches the gift from Egypt. He looks at it curiously, then looks out away from her.
Lydia
I love you too much. Is that hard to understand?