Jul. He no longer is my prisoner.
Egi. Escapes he then?
Jul. Escapes he—dost thou say?
O Egilona! what unworthy passion—
Egi. Unworthy, when I loved him, was my passion;
The passion that now swells my heart is just.
Jul. What fresh reproaches hath he merited?
Egi. Deeprooted hatred shelters no reproach.
But whither is he gone?
Jul. Far from the walls.
Egi. And I knew nothing!
Jul. His offence was known
To thee at least.
Egi. Will it be expiated?