The Troy War took place. Achille died. In Pharsale, in Thessaly, his son Neoptolemus, alias Pyrrhus, received, in taking of war, the flower of the spoil: the Trojan queen Andromaque. He made it his mistress, had a child of her. For the time being, he is absent, giving his thanks to Apollo in Delphi. Hermione, his legitimate wife, suspects the slave and his philtrs to be the cause of his infertility. A Barbare can only be a witch. The two women fight each other, the fallen queen and the humiliated queen. On the pretext of the wretched quarrel of women, the men will intervene: Pelee, the king, the father of Achilles, Menelas de Sparta, father of Hermione, Oreste de Mycènes, matricid. With their vices now revealed, and their irreconcilable stakes forever, the Greeks, among themselves, continue the war. The murder of Neoptolemus is no longer even an event, at most a confirmation. It all happens as if, after Troy, no more poems were possible, no more a word of love, no more utopia.