“Yes, I know.”
“And you did not tell me?”
“It was his business to confess, not mine.”
“What do you advise, Myrtale?”
“To wait until to-morrow.”
“Why?”
“To let Lycon sentence himself.”
“What do you mean?”
“One of two things will happen—either he will run away during the night and then his solicitude for himself will be greater than his repentance, or he will stay, and then his repentance will be deep enough to make him prefer to suffer everything rather than not obtain your forgiveness.”
Simonides drew Myrtale towards him and stroked her pretty brown hair.