Hermione.
She bids him remember!—He will awake. I can feel that he will wake and follow us!
Andromache.
By the bitter hate wherewith once I hated thee; by the blood in the streets of Troy and the death-cry of Hector's child; by the love wherewith I have loved thee in spite of all—[the body moves]—and love thee still——
Hermione.
[With a shriek.] O God! He is waking! [Grovelling in terror and hiding her eyes.] Oh, smite off his feet that he shall not pursue, and his hands that he may never lay hold of me!
Andromache.
Before thy soul is fled far away, hearken to me and put away thine hatred.
Hermione.
[As before.] Smite off his hands and his feet!