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Nor dare again insult the misery That thou and thine have wrought. I called thee murderer!
And such thou art! Will gold redeem the dead?
Bribe the cold grave? Have these poor weeds so changed me, Has frenzy so deformed what once was fair, That recollection of me has escaped thee?
Then thus I'll shriek into thy ears--I was Camouse's wife--was mother of his sons; Those sleepers in the b.l.o.o.d.y grave thou gav'st them.
What am I now?--suspected and a wanderer!
Am mad--and worse than all,--I know I'm mad!
Look not on me--thy glance inflames my brain, And dries the curses on my parched tongue I long have sought to utter to thy face.
Blasted of Heaven! I will not meet thee more Till I shall meet thee _there_. (_pointing to heaven._) [_Exit WIDOW._
RICHE. Ho! seize the wretch!
And let fierce tortures--gone!--still do I hear her-- Still I shudder. Is conscience then no tale To frighten coward hearts, and is there truth In retribution?
_Enter VALANCOUR._
Ha! what has delayed thee?
VAL. But now I've left the council.
RICHE. The result!
The maid! has she then consented?
VAL. She has!
RICHE. 'Twas sure she would; and yet I guess not easily.
VAL. Compliance was most hardly wrung from her.
Remonstrance, argument, entreaty failed: Her constant answer was--"What Heaven gave charge To do, is done--I may no more essay In warrant of his will." In vain Du Nois Appealed to love of martial fame: she heard, Though not unmoved, yet resolutely firm: But when the king, half angered, turned away Half sorrowful, and thus reproachful said, "Then thou too wilt desert me in my need,"
Sudden she stayed her step, (for she was pa.s.sing,) One look inexplicable cast on him, Then springing to his feet she sobbed convulsed, "Though all the world desert thee will not I!"-- She leaves at dawn.
RICHE. Du Nois?
VAL. Will follow us.
Xaintrailles, myself, are ordered to attend her.
RICHE. Fortune doth smile on thee! the friend of both, Sharer of their toils!--needs of their felicity: The foe dispersed, the nuptial feast succeeds, And grateful to thy heart the thought, thy arm, Thy blood their fondest, gentlest wishes aided.
VAL. Forbear, my lord! the subject is no jest.
RICHE. What envy thou wilt raise! Friends.h.i.+p's just claims Must too be thine--to aid in his espousals.
VAL. (_aside._) He racks my heart.
RICHE. First in his train appear With smiling face, yielding alone to him In bliss.
VAL. No more.
RICHE. What joy to hear the vow That makes her his, and read the rapt'rous look Returned.
VAL. Hold! hold! she never shall be his!
RICHE. Then heed the counsel I have given thee.
VAL. It is too late.
RICHE. A better chance awaits thee; She meets the foe!--meets!--when shall she return?
VAL. Dip my hand in blood of her! I cannot.
RICHE. Nor hast thou need. Du Nois must be detained: My former counsel take. Thou knowst the plan.
Urge the attack--lead where escape is none!
VAL. My soul recoils at such a d.a.m.ned deed!
RICHE. Then play the gentler part--attune the lyre, Forthwith prepare thy gayest suit--be first To hail her bride of Count Du Nois! I leave thee, Fully to enjoy the blissful prospect.
[_Exit RICHEMONT._
VAL. Fierce madness fires my brain! a.s.sist me, Heaven, Or, better still, ye fiercest spirits aid me, Bride of Du Nois! myself despised, or worse, Pitied perhaps by both! held in contempt By Richemont too, and taunted for my weakness!
Sooner shall earth engulph, or lightnings blast me!
Farewell remorse!--farewell to pity!
[_Exit._
_WIDOW at the back._
WID. No!
Not by such villainy shall her career Be ended. I'll follow her, and save her!
SCENE V.--_Compeigne in the distance._ _Troops pa.s.s. A distant storm._
WIDOW.
WID. The city's walls are distant yet, And weary with the way I sink exhausted.
How black the sky! a fearful storm is near.
That flas.h.!.+ hark! the low thunder threat'ning growls!
The trumpet's call I hear: and now bright swords Gleam in the darkness! I must not tarry.
[_Exit._
_Field of Battle._
JOAN, XAINTRAILLES, FRENCH OFFICERS.
XAINT. The tide is fiercely set against our squadrons.
Thy presence only can restore the day.
JOAN. A cloud is on my mind, a dreadful weight Bears down my soul. Du Nois!
_Enter VALANCOUR._
VAL. (_aside,_) Nought but Dunois.
