CATILINE. How blank The stare is in your eye. Like Sylvia's shade You seem to me in this dim candle light.
[He rushes out; the lamp with the sacred fire goes out.]
FURIA. [After a pause.] Yes, now I understand it. From my eyes The veil is fallen,—in the dark I see. Hatred it was that settled in my breast, When first I spied him in the market-place. A strange emotion; like a crimson flame! Ah, he shall know what such a hate as mine, Constantly brewing, never satisfied, Can fashion out in ruin and revenge!
A VESTAL. [Enters.] Go, Furia, go; your watch is at an end; Therefore I came—. Yet, sacred goddess, here— Woe unto you! The vestal fire is dead!
FURIA. [Bewildered.] Dead, did you say? So bright it never burned;— 'Twill never, never die!
THE VESTAL. Great heavens,—what is this?
FURIA. The fires of hate are not thus lightly quenched! Behold, love bursts forth of a sudden,—dies Within the hour; but hate—
THE VESTAL. By all the gods,— This is sheer madness!
[Calls out.]
THE VESTAL. Come! Oh, help! Come, help!