Julian.
Say what you will—only make haste and go.
Jew.
Say twenty pounds?
Julian.
Well, fetch the money at once,
And take possession. But make haste, I pray.
SCENE XXIV.—The country-churchyard. JULIAN standing by LILY'S new-filled grave. He looks very worn and ill.
Julian.
Now I can leave thee safely to thy sleep;
Thou wilt not wake and miss me, my fair child!
Nor will they, for she's fair, steal this ewe-lamb
Out of this fold, while I am gone to seek
And find the wandering mother of my lamb.
I cannot weep; I know thee with me still.
Thou dost not find it very dark down there?
Would I could go to thee; I long to go;
My limbs are tired; my eyes are sleepy too;
And fain my heart would cease this beat, beat, beat.
O gladly would I come to thee, my child,
And lay my head upon thy little heart,
And sleep in the divine munificence
Of thy great love! But my night has not come;
She is not rescued yet. Good-bye, little one.
[He turns, but sinks on the grave. Recovering and rising.]
Now for the world—that's Italy, and her!
SCENE XXV.—The empty room, formerly Lilia's.
Enter JULIAN.
Julian.
How am I here? Alas! I do not know.
I should have been at sea.—Ah, now I know!
I have come here to die.