Julian.
Did I say so, my Lilia?
I answered but your last objections thus;
I had a different answer for the first.
Lilia.
No, no; I cannot, cannot, dare not do it.
Julian.
Lilia, you will not doubt my love; you cannot.
—I would have told you all before, but thought,
Foolishly, you would feel the same as I;—
I have lived longer, thought more, seen much more;
I would not hurt your body, less your soul,
For all the blessedness your love can give:
For love's sake weigh the weight of what I say.
Think not that must be right which you have heard
From infancy—it may——
[Enter the Steward in haste, pale, breathless, and bleeding.]
Steward.
My lord, there's such an uproar in the town!
They call you murderer and heretic.
The officers of justice, with a monk,
And the new Count Nembroni, accompanied
By a fierce mob with torches, howling out
For justice on you, madly cursing you!
They caught a glimpse of me as I returned,
And stones and sticks flew round me like a storm;
But I escaped them, old man as I am,
And was in time to bar the castle-gates.—
Would heaven we had not cast those mounds, and shut
The river from the moat!
[Distant yells and cries.]
Escape, my lord!
Julian
(calmly).
Will the gates hold them out awhile, my Joseph?
Steward.
A little while, my lord; but those damned torches!
Oh, for twelve feet of water round the walls!
Julian.
Leave us, good Joseph; watch them from a window,
And tell us of their progress.