what dark-haired queen is that? She moves
As if her body were instinct with thought,
Moulded to motion by the music's waves,
As floats the swan upon the swelling lake;
Or as in dreams one sees an angel move,
Sweeping on slow wings through the buoyant air,
Then folding them, and turning on his track.
2_nd_.
You seem inspired; nor can I wonder at it;
She is a glorious woman; and such eyes!
Think—to be loved by such a woman now!
1_st_.
You have seen her, then, before: what is her name?
2_nd_.
I saw her once; but could not learn her name.
3_rd_.
She is the wife of an Italian count,
Who for some cause, political I think,
Took refuge in this country. His estates
The Church has eaten up, as I have heard:
Mephisto says the Church has a good stomach.
2_nd_.
How do they live?
3_rd_.
Poorly, I should suppose;
For she gives Lady Gertrude music-lessons:
That's how they know her.—Ah, you should hear her sing!
2_nd_.
If she sings as she looks or as she dances,
It were as well for me I did not hear.
3_rd_.
If Count Lamballa followed Lady Seaford
To heaven, I know who'd follow her on earth.
SCENE III.—Julian's room. LILY asleep
Julian.
I wish she would come home. When the child wakes,
I cannot bear to see her eyes first rest
On me, then wander searching through the room,
And then return and rest. And yet, poor Lilia!
'Tis nothing strange thou shouldst be glad to go
From this dull place, and for a few short hours
Have thy lost girlhood given back to thee;
For thou art very young for such hard things
As poor men's wives in cities must endure.
I am afraid the thought is not at rest,
But rises still, that she is not my wife—
Not truly, lawfully. I hoped the child
Would kill that fancy; but I fear instead,
She thinks I have begun to think the same—
Thinks that it lies a heavy weight of sin
Upon my heart. Alas, my Lilia!
When every time I pray, I pray that God
Would look and see that thou and I be one!
Lily
(starting up in her crib).
Oh, take me! take me!
Julian
(going up to her with a smile).
What is the matter with my little child?
Lily.
I don't know, father; I was very frightened.
Julian.
'Twas nothing but a dream. Look—I am with you.
Lily.
I am wake now; I know you're there; but then
I did not know it.
[Smiling.]
Julian.
Lie down now, darling. Go to sleep again.
Lily
(beseechingly).
Not yet. Don't tell me go to sleep again;
It makes me so, so frightened! Take me up,
And let me sit upon your knee.—Where's mother?
I cannot see her.
Julian.
She's not at home, my child;
But soon she will be back.
Lily.
But if she walk
Out in the dark streets—so dark, it will catch her.
Julian.
She will not walk—but what would catch her, sweet?
Lily.
I don't know. Tell me a story till she comes.
Julian
(taking her, and sitting with her on his knees by the fire).
Come then, my little Lily, I will tell you
A story I have read this very night.
[She
