AMELIA. Adored, you mean.
CHARLES. Ha!
AMELIA. Oh, you would so have loved him?—-there was so much, so much in his face—in his eyes—in the tone of his voice,—which was so like yours—that I love so dearly! (CHARLES casts his eyes down to the ground.) Here, where you are standing, he has stood a thousand times— and by his side, one who, by his side, forgot heaven and earth. Here his eyes feasted on nature's most glorious panorama,—which, as if conscious of his approving glance, seemed to increase in beauty under the approbation of her masterpiece. Here he held the audience of the air captive with his heavenly music. Here, from this bush, he plucked roses, and plucked those roses for me. Here, here, he lay on my neck; here he imprinted burning kisses on my lips, and the flowers hung their heads with pleasure beneath the foot-tread of the lovers.*
*[In the acting edition the scene changes materially at this point,
and the most sentimental part of the whole drama is transformed
into the most voluptuous. The stage direction here is,—(They give
way to their transports without control, and mingle their kisses.
MOOR hangs in ecstacy on her lips, while she sinks half delirious
on the couch.) O Charles! now avenge thyself; my vow is broken.
MOOR (tearing himself away from her, as if in frenzy). Can this be
hell that still pursues me! (Gazing on her.) I felt so happy!
AMELIA (perceiving the ring upon her finger, starts up from the
couch). What! Art thou still there—on that guilty hand? Witness
of my perjury. Away with thee! (She pulls the ring from her
finger and gives it to CHARLES.) Take it—take it, beloved
seducer! and with it what I hold most sacred—take my all—my
Charles! (She falls back upon the couch.)
MOOR (changes color). O thou Most High! was this thy almighty
will? It is the very ring I gave her in pledge of our mutual
faith. Hell be the grave of love! She has returned my ring.
AMELIA (terrified). Heavens! What is the matter? Your eyes roll
wildly, and your lips are pale as death! Ah! woe is me. And are
the pleasures of thy crime so soon forgotten?
MOOR (suppressing his emotion). 'Tis nothing! Nothing! (Raising
his eyes to heaven.) I am still a man! (He takes of his own ring
and puts it on AMELIA'S finger.) In return take this! sweet fury of
my heart! And with it what I hold most sacred—take my all—my
Amelia!
AMELIA (starting up). Your Amelia!
MOOR (mournfully). Oh, she was such a lovely maiden, and faithful
as an angel. When we parted we exchanged rings, and vowed eternal
constancy. She heard that I was dead—believed it—yet remained
constant to the dead. She heard again that I was living—yet
became faithless to the living. I flew into her arms—was happy
as—the blest in Paradise. Think what my heart was doomed to feel,
Amelia! She gave me back my ring—she took her own.
AMELIA (her eyes fixed on the earth in amazement). 'Tis strange,
most strange! 'Tis horrible!
MOOR. Ay, strange and horrible! My child, there is much—ay, much
for man to learn ere his poor intellect can fathom the decrees of
Him who smiles at human vows and weeps at human projects. My
Amelia is an unfortunate maiden!
AMELIA. Unfortunate! Because she rejected you?
MOOR. Unfortunate. Because she embraced the man she betrayed.
AMELIA (with melancholy tenderness). Oh, then, she is indeed
unfortunate! From my soul I pity her! She shall be my sister.
But there is another and a better world.">[
CHARLES. He is no more?
AMELIA. He sails on troubled seas—Amelia's love sails with him. He wanders through pathless, sandy deserts—Amelia's love clothes the burning sand with verdure, and the barren shrubs with flowers. Southern suits scorch his bare head, northern snows pinch his feet, tempestuous hail beats down on his temples, but Amelia's love lulls him to sleep in the midst of the storm. Seas, and mountains, and skies, divide the lovers—but their souls rise above this prison-house of clay, and meet in the paradise of love. You appear sad, count!
CHARLES. These words of love rekindle my love.
AMELIA (pale). What? You love another? Alas! what have I said?
CHARLES. She believed me dead, and in my supposed death she remained faithful to me—she heard again that I was alive, and she sacrificed for me the crown of a saint. She knows that I am wandering in deserts, and roaming about in misery, yet her love follows me on wings through deserts and through misery. Her name, too, like yours, is Amelia.
AMELIA. How I envy your Amelia!