O why shouldst thou look back; who hast so much

Of joy before thee?

Eus.

Joy for me?-in what?

In constant fears that those in whom I trust

Will leave me to the loneliness of those
Who trusted me? Is there a spot on earth,

A hue in heaven, which hath not something in it
Which we have dwelt upon together? Something
To frown remembrance, penitence, despair?

Is there a virtue blooming in this world

Which will not show thee in thy meek forgiveness?
Is there a crime which will not make me shrink
By claiming kindred with the one 'gainst thee?
Is there a beauty, bright above the rest,
Which will not tell me she whom I forsook
Possess'd it in a blush more paramount?

O, Annabelle! I came to thee in fear

But still prepared, and anxious for reproach;
Not to be cursed with pardon.

Ann.

Must I not

Remain your friend? This morn, while yet the sun
Dwelt with a crimson mist upon our vineyard,

And purple clouds, like happy lovers, stole
With smiles and tears into each other's bosom,

I threw my lattice wide to drink the stream

Of liquid odours rolling from the south;
And then came mix'd with it a marriage song,
Whose distant melody did seem to dance
Upon a hundred lips of revelry,

And bells and flageolets, and all the sounds
Befitting happiness and summer sunshine.
'Twas a strange thing to weep at, yet I wept-
I know not why.-Some weep for grief, and some
For joy-but I for neither, or for both

Mix'd in a feeling more beloved than either,
Which weigh'd my heart down like a drooping bough
O'erloaded with its luxury of roses.

And then- and then-the thoughts of silly maids
Run wilder than these roving vines-I found
My hands were clasp'd together, and my spirit
Stole from my eyes with a dim sense of prayer,
Which had no words. I begg'd a gentle fortune
Upon the newly wedded-pray'd I not

For thee, Eustache ?

Eus.

To tell thee.

Ann.

I thought I had no more

Nor thou hast, Eustache; I'll guess it.

I know not-I-I shall speak presently.

I pray thee think not that I grieve thou'rt happy ;
For e'en the victim that courts immolation

To win the garden, blooming with bright stars,
Will writhe beneath the blow that sends it thither.
Eus. O, if thou meet'st the life that's due to thee,
How oft thou❜lt drop a pitying tear for him
Who madly did desert his share of it!

Ann. Not madly-no. Be cheerful, dear Eus-
tache-

I shall do well enough-I must love still,

For that is life, and that thy bride will spare me;

But here is that which I have worn for years,

Smiled with, and wept with, and almost believed
It understood me. O, if 'twere but so,

And could but speak, I would enjoin it tell thee
Whene'er a truer heart did beat against it.
Take it—it is Mathilde's—but do not think
I yield it up in anger or in pride—

No, dear Eustache-no more than dwells within
The fond kiss given with it then and now.

Eus. The first dear present of accepted love!
O, hide it—stamp on it-let it be dust—

For such I made the lineaments of one

More faithful, and, like thee, forsaken.

Ann.

Ah!

The fierce Merzon! Mathilde's deserted lover!

I have a chill foreboding—he hath neʼer

Enjoy'd the bliss of pardoning a wrong,

And has a heart that would not shrink from blood, Though 'twere his father's.

Eus.

He is freely welcome

To every drop of mine, for I do long

For some dire, speedy vengeance to o'ertake me. Thou ne'er wilt know the shuddering of that pause

When guilt awaits its meed.

Ann.

What men are these?

Eus. A troop of minions from the city bandits, Reeking from carnage, and in search of fresh.

Ann. O, wherefore should th' unhallow'd mis

creants

Bring here their death-denouncing steps? Eustache,

Thou'st shown too oft thy manly indignation

Against the murderers-thou hast cross'd their path, With speech and sword till thou hast roused their

hate

Ah me! thy virtue was enough for that!

Indeed thou must not meet them.

Eus.

Nor avoid

I scorn'd the wretches when my life was preciousI have less need to fly them now.

ANNABELLE, EUSTACHE, GERAULT, OFFICER,

Ger.

AND GENS-D'ARMES.

Thy hand-we once were comrades.

Eus. (turning from him).

of.

Eustache,

Once.

Thou hast

Some certain friends, Eustache, who see with pity

Thy daily horror at these grievous times

Some who would spare thee its continuance.
Eus. 'Tis kind, indeed; and, for the courtesy,

pray

I'll
The good you give, and that right speedily—
Come, sir, unfold.

for them and thee that you may find

Ger.

Thou'rt summon'd to thy trial.

Eus. Most rapid payment! fatal, but most just! Sir, I am too straightforward to love forms

Death cannot come more welcome than to him

That's out of love with life. Your mock tribunal

Will never hear me plead to it, nor revel
In the sweet pastime of denying mercy

To suppliant Eustache; therefore, at once,
Beseech you, feed your longing to behold

The blood that spurns you. (To Annabelle) Mute, thou faithful one!

Thou'lt not be so where tones like thine are heard.

On, sir-I am as ready to be led

As thou to lead me.

Ger.

Now, by heaven, young soldier,

Thou'st made me hate my office. I have heard

The howling of a thousand recreants

Unmoved, but tamely to destroy the brave

Is the worst blot on bravery.

Ann. (rushing to him).

Bless thee, bless thee!

Thou wilt return, and take, instead of blood,

All good men's prayers for ever!

Ger.

Would I could

But see (pointing to his attendants), 'tis past my

power to befriend him;

A word would make me partner in his fate.

Ann. Art thou not human?

Of. (advancing to Eustache).

We delay too long.

Ann. (flinging one arm round Eustache, and oppos

ing with the other).

Stand off! who dares to place a villain's hand
Upon Eustache? I can be proud as humble,
And will not sue to these for e'en thy life—
Do you not hear? lead on!

Eus.

And so farewell!

Ann. Leave thee! I leave thee! Let Mathilde enjoy Thy sunshine-in the storm thou'rt mine again!