"Valentine, my poor fellow, you may as well come out; the game is up with you!"
A moment passed, and then Valentine, indeed, appeared above the opening.
"Give me time to change my dress, Mr. Pomfret," he said, for he was still in his woman's gown.
This was granted. The change was soon effected, and he came forth and gave himself up, only saying, as they took him away:
"Mother, tell my friends that the traitor at your side betrayed me to death!" And he regretted these words as soon as they were spoken.
Phædra had not heard them; she seemed praying—she had really fainted.
CHAPTER IX.
THE TRIAL.
You few that love me,
And dare be bold to weep for such as I—
My gentle friends and fellows, whom to leave
Is only bitter to me, only dying—
Go with me, like good angels, to mine end,
And when the long divorce of death falls on me,
Make of your prayers one most sweet sacrifice,
And lift my soul to heaven.—Shakespeare.