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RAIMOND.

Who hath done this?

Father!-if I may call thee by that name—
Look, with thy piercing eye, on those whose smiles
Were masks that hid their daggers.—There, perchance,
May lurk what loves not light too strong. For me,
I know but this there needs no deep research
Το prove the truth-that murderers may be traitors
Ev'n to each other.

PROCIDA (to MONTALBA).

His unaltering cheek

Still vividly doth hold its natural hue,

And his eye quails not !-Is this innocence?

MONTALBA.

No! 'tis th' unshrinking hardihood of crime.

-Thou bear'st a gallant mien!-But where is she
Whom thou hast barter'd fame and life to save,

The fair Provençal maid?-What! know'st thou not
That this alone were guilt, to death allied?
Was 't not our law that he who spared a foe,

(And is she not of that detested race?)
Should thenceforth be amongst us as a foe?

-Where hast thou borne her?-speak!

RAIMOND.

That Heaven, whose eye

Burns up thy soul with its far-searching glance,

Is with her; she is safe.

PROCIDA.

And by that word

Thy doom is seal'd.-Oh God! that I had died
Before this bitter hour, in the full strength
And glory of my heart!

(CONSTANCE enters, and rushes to RAIMOND.)

CONSTANCE.

Oh! art thou found?

-But yet, to find thee thus !-Chains, chains for thee! My brave, my noble love!-Off with these bonds; Let him be free as air :-for I am come

To be your victim now.

RAIMOND.

Death has no pang

More keen than this.-Oh! wherefore art thou here?

I could have died so calmly, deeming thee

Saved, and at peace.

CONSTANCE.

At peace! And thou hast thought

Thus poorly of my love!-But woman's breast
Hath strength to suffer too.-Thy father sits
On this tribunal; Raimond, which is he?

RAIMOND.

My father!—who hath lull'd thy gentle heart
With that false hope?-Beloved! gaze around—
See, if thine eye can trace a father's soul

In the dark looks bent on us.

(CONSTANCE, after earnestly examining the countenances of the judges, falls at the feet of PROCIDA.)

CONSTANCE.

Thou art he!

Nay, turn thou not away!-for I beheld

Thy proud lip quiver, and a watery mist

Pass o'er thy troubled eye; and then I knew
Thou wert his father!-Spare him!—take my life,

In truth a worthless sacrifice for his,

But yet mine all.-Oh! he hath still to run

A long bright race of glory.

RAIMOND.

Constance, peace!

I look upon thee, and my failing heart

Is as a broken reed.

CONSTANCE (still addressing PROCIDA).
Oh, yet relent!

If 'twas his crime to rescue me, behold

I come to be the atonement!

Let him live

To crown thine age with honour.-In thy heart
There's a deep conflict; but great nature pleads
With an o'ermastering voice, and thou wilt yield!
-Thou art his father!

PROCIDA (after a pause).

I am as calm as that dead

Maiden, thou 'rt deceived! pause of nature

Ere the full thunder bursts.-A judge is not

Father or friend. Who calls this man my son?

-My son!-Aye! thus his mother proudly smiled— But she was noble !-Traitors stand alone,

Loosed from all ties.-Why should I trifle thus?

-Bear her away!

RAIMOND (starting forward).

And whither?

MONTALBA.

Unto death.

Why should she live when all her race have perish'd?

CONSTANCE (sinking into the arms of RAIMOND.) Raimond, farewell!-Oh! when thy star hath risen To its bright noon, forget not, best beloved,

I died for thee!

RAIMOND.

High heaven! thou seest these things;

And yet endur'st them!-Shalt thou die for me,
Purest and loveliest being?-but our fate

May not divide us long.-Her cheek is cold

Her deep blue eyes are closed-Should this be death!

-If thus, there yet were mercy!-Father, father!

Is thy heart human?

PROCIDA.

Bear her hence, I say!

Why must my soul be torn?

(ANSELMO enters, holding a crucifix.)

ANSELMO.

Now, by this sign

Of Heaven's prevailing love, ye shall not harm
One ringlet of her head.-How! is there not
Enough of blood upon your burthen'd souls?
Will not the visions of your midnight couch

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