Scene IV.—Gardens.
Richemont. Attendant.
Riche. Hast found the wretch?
Att. She stands hard by.
Riche. Summon her!
I must be rid of thee, maid of Orleans!
The cup or poniard were an easy way!
But this were simple vengeance—poor revenge!
Disgrace! yes infamy must stain her glory,
Shame, public hate. But much I fear her firmness,
High belief of Heaven's consenting will.
Yet shall she yield! To Compeigne, not to Domremie
Must she depart. The hag must aid me then.
Persuade her to depart—their meeting known,
Shall stamp suspicion first of foulest crime;
And in the event of victory or defeat
Shall work her ruin!
Enter Widow.
Wid. Am I then so near him?
Lie still, my heart, lest these convulsive throbbings
Mar my last wish.
Riche. Time wears—dares she delay?
(perceives her,) I sent for thee.
Wid. And I, at risk of life,
Am come. What wouldst thou have from me?