about the history of these times is the turnkey of the Tower of London.
Simon Renard (who overhears these last words).
You are mistaken, my master; it is the executioner!
JOSHUA (low to Gilbert and Jane).
Let us move back a little!
[Simon Renard goes off slowly; when he has disappeared.
That is Master Simon Renard himself.
GILBERT.
I don't like to have all these men prowling about my house.
JOSHUA.
What the devil is he doing here? I must hurry back; I think he is getting work ready for me. Good-by, Gilbert! Good-by, my beautiful Jane, I knew you when you were no bigger than that, all the same!
GILBERT.
Good-by, Joshua! What are you hiding there under your cloak?
JOSHUA.
I've got my conspiracy, too!
GILBERT.
What conspiracy?
JOSHUA.
O lover who forgets everything else! I have just reminded you that the day after to-morrow is the time for Christmas presents. The nobles are plotting a surprise for Fabiani. Well, I am plotting a surprise too. The Queen may give herself the present of a brand-new favorite. I am going to give my child a doll. [He takes a doll from his cloak.] Brand-new, too! We will see which will be the first to break her toy. God keep you, my friends.
GILBERT.
Good-by, Joshua!
[Joshua departs. Gilbert takes Jane's hand and kisses it with passion.
JOSHUA (from back of stage).
How wise is Providence! She gives to each one his plaything. The doll to the child, the child to the man, the man to the woman, and the woman to the devil. [Exits.
SCENE III
Gilbert, Jane
GILBERT.
I must go, too. Good-by, Jane: sleep well.
JANE.
You are not coming in with me to-night, Gilbert?
GILBERT.
I can't. You know, I told you before, Jane, I have some work to do in my shop to-night. I must engrave the handle of a dagger for some Lord Clanbrassil, whom I have never seen, and who wants it to-morrow morning.
JANE.
Then good-night, Gilbert. Until to-morrow!
GILBERT.
No, Jane, wait a moment. Heaven! how it hurts me to leave you, even for a few hours. How true it is that you are my life and my joy. Yet I have to work—we are so poor. I won't go in, because I should stay; and yet I can't leave you, weak man that I am. Let us sit down by the door a few moments, on this bench. I think it will be easier to go from here than if I went into the house, and, above all, into your room. Give me your hand.
[He sits and takes her hands in his; she stands.
Jane, do you love me?
JANE.
Oh, I owe you everything, Gilbert. I know it, although you have concealed it from me a long time! When I was little, almost in my cradle, my parents abandoned me, and you took me. For sixteen years your hand has worked for me as if you were a father; your eyes have watched over me like a mother. What would I be without you, just Heaven! All I have, you have given me; all I am, you have made me.
GILBERT.
Jane, do you love me?
JANE.
What devotion yours has been, Gilbert! You work for me, night and day; you wear your eyes out, you kill yourself for me. You are going to sit up all night again to-night. And never a reproach to me, never an unkindness, never an angry word! You are very poor, yet you remember all my small womanly vanities; you gratify them. Gilbert, whenever I think about you, my eyes fill with tears. You have often gone without bread; I have never gone without my ribbons.
GILBERT.
Jane, do you love me?
JANE.
Gilbert, I would like to kneel down and kiss your feet.
GILBERT.
Do you love me, do you love me? All that does not prove that you love me. I want that word, Jane! Gratitude, always gratitude! Oh, I stamp it underfoot, your gratitude. I want love or nothing! Die! Jane, you have been my daughter for sixteen years; now you are to be my wife. I adopted you; now I am to marry you—in one week. You know, you promised me; you have consented; you are my betrothed. You loved me when you promised that. Oh, Jane, there was a time—do you remember it?—when you told me, "I love you," and you lifted your sweet eyes to heaven. That is the way I want you to be. For some months now, you have seemed different, especially during these last three weeks that my work has kept me away from here nights. Jane, I must have you love me! I am used to it. You were always so light-hearted; now you are sad and absent-minded—not cold, my poor child (you try your best not to be), but I feel your loving words do not come as tenderly and as naturally as they used. What is the matter? Don't you love me any more? I know I am an honest man, I know I am a good workman; but I would rather be a robber and an assassin, and be loved by you. Jane, if you knew how much I love you!
JANE.
I know it, Gilbert, and it makes me weep.
GILBERT.
For joy, isn't it? Say it is for joy! Oh, I need to believe it. There is only that in the world—to be loved. I have only a poor workingman's heart, but my Jane must love me. Why do you always talk to me about what I have done for you? One single word of love from you puts all the gratitude on my side. I will damn myself and commit a crime, whenever you wish it. You will be my wife, won't you, and you love me? Oh, Jane, for one look of your eyes I would give my work and my labor; for one smile, my life; for one kiss, my soul.
JANE.
What a noble heart you have, Gilbert.
GILBERT.
Listen to me, Jane—laugh at me if you will; I am mad, I am jealous! I will tell you why. Do not get angry! It seems to me, for some time I have seen several young lords prowling around here. Do you know, Jane, I am thirty-two years old. For a poor, clumsy, badly-dressed workman like myself, who am no longer young, who am not handsome, what a misery it is to love a charming, beautiful girl of seventeen, who attracts all the handsome, gold-bedizened young nobles
