Melitta: One day we shall face each other upon the sand and have true decision. What would really happen? If you had to face each other, sine missione? No quarter given, no mercy shown?
Gannicus: I would give your husband a glorious death.
Melitta: You joke of killing a man you love when someday you may be asked to.
Gannicus: Oh, you two are a perfect match, are you not? Both always fretting about what tomorrow may bring. We are slaves. Burden of choice and conscience equally removed. We are truly free when we fight.
Melitta: It is you and my husband who are of a perfect match. One hides true thought in brooding silence. The other in boastful jest, meant to hold all at a fair distance.