CONSTANCE. Oh! thou wilt yet relent, for woman's heart Was formed to suffer and to melt. VITTORIA. Away! Why should I pity thee?-Thou wilt but prove My spirit to that dark power :-there was no guilt! Anselmo! wherefore didst thou talk of guilt? ANSELMO. Aye, thus doth sensitive conscience quicken thought. Lending reproachful voices to a breeze, Keen lightning to a look. VITTORIA. Leave me in peace! Is 't not enough that I should have a sense Of things thou canst not see, all wild and dark, And of unearthly whispers, haunting me With dread suggestions, but that thy cold words, Still may thy voice be in my twilight-paths; -Here I but meet despair! [Exit VITTORIA. ANSELMO (to CONSTANCE). Despair not thou, My daughter!-he that purifies the heart With grief, will lend it strength. CONSTANCE (endeavouring to rouse herself). Did she not say That some one was to die? ANSELMO. I tell thee not Thy pangs are vain—for nature will have way. CONSTANCE. Have I not heard Some fearful tale?-Who said, that there should rest Blood on my soul?-What blood ?-I never bore Raimond doth know it well.-Raimond !-High heaven, For my sake-e'en for mine! ANSELMO. Her words were strange, And her proud mind seem'd half to frenzy wrought— -Perchance this may not be. To give their stern and unrelenting hearts A victim in his stead. ANSELMO. Stay! wouldst thou rush On certain death? CONSTANCE. I may not falter now, -Is not the life of woman all bound up In this bleak world alone?-It may be well ANSELMO. Thou fair and gentle thing, Unused to meet a glance which doth not speak Or face the king of terrors? CONSTANCE. There is strength Deep bedded in our hearts, of which we reck As high in its devotion. [Exit CONSTANCE. ANSELMO. She is gone! Is it to perish?-God of mercy! lend Will bear her to destruction faster far Than I can track her path. [Exit ANSELMO. SCENE III.-Hall of a Public Building. PROCIDA, MONTALBA, GUIDO, and others, seated as on a Tribunal. PROCIDA. The morn lower'd darkly, but the sun hath now, With fierce and angry splendour, through the clouds This, our high triumph.-Lead the prisoner in. (RAIMOND is brought in fettered and guarded.) Why, what a bright and fearless brow is here! |