[Kissing her.]
—no, not farewell; I come. Years hold not back, they lead me on to thee. Yes, they will also lead me on to her.
Enter a Jew.
Jew.
What is your pleasure with me? Here I am, sir.
Julian.
Walk into the next room; then look at this,
And tell me what you'll give for everything.
[Jew goes.]
My darling's death has made me almost happy.
Now, now I follow, follow. I'm young again.
When I have laid my little one to rest
Among the flowers in that same sunny spot,
Straight from her grave I'll take my pilgrim-way;
And, calling up all old forgotten skill,
Lapsed social claims, and knowledge of mankind,
I'll be a man once more in the loud world.
Revived experience in its winding ways,
Senses and wits made sharp by sleepless love,
If all the world were sworn to secrecy,
Will guide me to her, sure as questing Death.
I'll follow my wife, follow until I die.
How shall I face the Shepherd of the sheep,
Without the one ewe-lamb he gave to me?
How find her in great Hades, if not here
In this poor little round O of a world?
I'll follow my wife, follow until I find.
Re-enter Jew.
Well, how much? Name your sum. Be liberal.
Jew.
Let me see this room, too. The things are all
Old-fashioned and ill-kept. They're worth but little.