as usual in praise of God.
EPH. Rather late to remember then!
AB. I admit it was. Well, I hurried out to her cell, knocked on the window with my hand, and repeatedly called her by name.
EPH. And you called in vain, I suppose?
AB. I did not realise that yet. I asked her why she had been so remiss in her devotions; but I got not the slightest murmur in reply.
EPH. Then what did you do?
AB. When I grasped the fact that she had gone, my heart was struck with panic, my limbs shook with terror.
EPH. No wonder. To hear your account produces the same sensations in me.
AB. Then I filled the air with lamentations. I cried out: "What wolf has stolen my ewe-lamb? What robber has carried away my child captive?"
EPH. Naturally you bewailed her loss, seeing that you had brought her up.
AB. In the end some people came along who knew what had actually happened. They told me what I have just told you, that she had deliberately given herself up to the lusts of this world.
