‘My ruby, thy pearl is so frightened, it dare not look upon thee. Wicked men! ‘tis I whom they hate, ‘tis I whom they would destroy.’
‘There is no danger, sweet. ‘Tis over now. Speak not, nay, do not think of it.’
‘Ah! wicked men! There is no joy on earth while such things live. Slay Alroy, their mighty master, who, from vile slaves, hath made them princes! Ungrateful churls! I am so alarmed, I ne’er shall sleep again. What! slay my innocent bird, my pretty bird, my very heart! I’ll not believe it. It is I whom they hate. I am sure they will kill me. You shall never leave me, no, no, no, no! You shall not leave me, love, never, never! Didst hear a noise? Methinks they are even here, ready to plunge their daggers in our hearts, our soft, soft hearts! I think you love me, child; indeed, I think you do!’
‘Take courage, heart! There is no fear, my soul; I cannot love thee more, or else I would.’
‘All joy is gone! I ne’er shall sleep again. O my soul! art thou indeed alive? Do I indeed embrace my own Alroy, or is it all a wild and troubled dream, and are my arms clasped round a shadowy ghost, myself a spectre in a sepulchre? Wicked, wicked men! Can it indeed be true? What, slay Alroy! my joy, my only life! Ah! woe is me; our bright felicity hath fled for ever!’
‘Not so, sweet child; we are but as we were. A few quick hours, and all will be as bright as if no storm had crossed our sunny days.’
‘Hast seen Asriel? He says such fearful things!’
‘How now?’
‘Ah me! I am desolate. I have no friend.’
‘Schirene!’