Joan of Arc Part 11

CHA. She claims thy grat.i.tude, As well as mine, my lord.

RICHE. But not the grant Of royal dignity, I ween. 'Tis said, The arms of France, by leave express from you, She partly wears upon her impious standard-- Insult to royal blood.

CHA. What's n.o.bly won She justly wears. The wanderer, Charles, betrayed By his own kin, forsaken by false friends; Scorned, hated, persecuted by his mother, Chased through his own domains like hunted deer; Unnatural compacts leagued 'gainst him and France, Compelled to view the sacrifice of hearts, Whose only crime was loyalty unshaken-- Now, through that maiden, holds another state, And can reward his friends, chastise his foes.

RICHE. But to a woman owe a crown!

CHA. Why not?

The prize is sweeter made as woman's gift: We strengthen ties by woman's aid with kings, Then why not owe a crown?

RICHE. For insult this?

CHA. If so received.

RICHE. 'Tis well: we met as friends, Are we to part as foes?

CHA. As suits thy humour.

We sought not to detach thee from our cause, Nor care we for the loss of what has been So haughtily conceded. To be plain-- Monarch acknowledged as we soon shall be, Henceforth, my lord, we reign our own free master-- Thou shalt retain the station justly thine; But not, as heretofore, forgetting ours, Shalt thou exert undue authority.

Nor at our coronation shalt thou aid us-- Our will is said. Farewell.

[_Exit._

RICHE. What have I heard?

Dares he address such words as these to Richemont?

Not at his coronation to appear!

Fling in my face defeat!--shake off control!

Shall I submit to such indignity?

Cringe to the man who thus has wounded me?

No, never.--I will be revenged on her-- On him, though my own ruin be the issue.

If there be strength on earth, or artifice In h.e.l.l--thou shalt repent this outrage.

SCENE IV.--_Chapel._--_Rouen._--_Evening._

JOAN.

JOAN. What means this tumult in my soul? Restless, Irresolute, or sad, I shun each eye, Yet fly from solitude to fly from self.

Mysterious pow'rs! twelve times that full-orbed moon Has scarce o'erspread these towers with silver light, And I have lived more years than weeks before.

'Twould seem, indeed, I never lived till now, Though now existence is beyond myself.

How strange the knowledge thus of self obtained!

Astonished o'er the deep of my own heart, First to my startled view revealed I stand, And almost trembling ask--Can this be so?

_Enter DU NOIS._

DU N. How ill in unison the sounds I fly With that which pa.s.ses here! This calm may soothe me.

Ha! 'tis herself. Shall I advance? She sees me.

Forgive, if inadvertently my steps Have led me to intrude.

JOAN. Du Nois! thou'rt welcome.

Intention like my own, no doubt, hath brought thee Here to plead the peace of our loved country.

We've fought for her, have bled for her together; Meet then our prayers together should arise For her prosperity.

DU N. Together, saidst?

Together! (word awakening strange delight In hearts where love has hidden him.) For thee, As her I would implore all Heav'n can give; But ere my willing lips may frame such prayer, I must forgiveness ask of thee.

JOAN. Forgiveness!

All that the n.o.blest nature shows most n.o.bly I owe to thee!

DU N. Yet do I need thy pardon-- Thou once, of all that bears my Maker's impress, Thou wert my scorn, aversion. Canst forgive-- Forget?

JOAN. Oh! sweeter far the kindness felt Than injury atoned. I know thee but As thou hast seemed, nor wish to know thee other.

Now on yon altar's steps.

DU N. Before the altar!

Knows't thou what thou sayest?

JOAN. What place so meet?

Give me thy hand that thus--why dost thou tremble?

DU N. Wilt thou indeed then plight, wilt vow with me, To share through danger's hour, through sunny days-- What mean those tears?

JOAN. I know not more than thou.

Some pang inexplicable called them forth, Waked, it may be, by some prophetic feeling.

The soul hath intimations of the future, Sep'rate from all corporeal impressions, And now, perhaps, some hov'ring spirit whispers That in my parting hour thou wilt be near me, And the unbidden drops that fill my eyes Will then be welcomed in thine own. Promise Thou'lt lay me in a grave whose mould is free.

DU N. So Heaven be true to me! I thought to pledge Another, happier vow. My spirit's chill'd, And the bright hope just called to life is faded.

Footsteps approach. Farewell.

[_Exit._

_Enter BERTHA._

BER. Why here alone?

Why, when thy hopes have nearly gained their height, Is thus thy cheek so pale, thy look so pensive?

JOAN. Hast thou then never felt that bliss approached So near as just to meet the grasp, becomes Extreme of pain?

BER. May not a softer cause-- Turn not thy cheek away--some n.o.ble knight--

JOAN. The dove of my desire may find no place On earth to rest her chilled and weary foot.

I feel that Heaven has marked me from my kind, From social life, from all endearing ties, And dare not harbour thought of tender bliss.

BER. Banish the fear, and with myself believe The treasures of thy heart shall be the prize Of kindred worth.

JOAN. My lot is cast, and lone I must pursue my path till it be ended.

For common love too proud,--too mean, alas!

To win such love as only could delight me.

Above e'en kindred ties, whose modest worth I prize, but no a.s.similation find, The gus.h.i.+ng tide of fond affection checked, I boundless pour upon my native land; But no returning stream the waste supplies, To make me richer for the theft from self.

BER. No common love is seeking thy acceptance-- Look at yon banner, waving in the wind.

Ah, wherefore start? How at the sudden sight Of ought connected with the form we love, The conscious heart stops in its full career!