[To Orestes.] Here is the King himself! [To Pyrrhus.] Son of Achilles, I bring you this stranger, whom your handmaid, Andromache, commended to my care.
Pyrrhus.
Whence comes he, and what seeks he?
Priest.
From Acarnania, banished for the slaying of a man.
Pyrrhus.
He seeks not purification?
Orestes.
The blood is faded long ago from my hand. I seek but to rest a while at your castle; I will give payment either in battle with your enemies, or by tidings and songs from beyond Parnassus and the Waters of Pelops.
[Hermione looks up in amazement at the voice, utters a stifled cry, and peers round.