But how is Mneme dreaded by the race,
Who scorn her warnings and despise her grace?
By her unveil'd each horrid crime appears,
Her awful hand a cup of wormwood bears.
Days, years mispent, O what a hell of woe!
Hers the worst tortures that our souls can know.

It was my greatest triumph... and I never looked back. You think I was afraid fleeing Brennenburg? Quite the contrary. I knew it was my purgatory - hellfire made to wash away my sins. There's no denying the things I've done. But I have paid my tribute. I gave them that awful man... I did the right thing.