Joan. Du Nois! thou here?
Oh say, what brings thee to this sad abode?
Alas! has evil too befallen thee?
Du N. The anguish of a mind that ne'er has learnt
To bear a load exertion may not soothe.
My life was set to see thee once again,
Though in the gloom, the horrors of a prison.
Joan. Thou dost not deem me then accursed, forsaken,
Stained with foulest crime?
Du N. Thee cursed, forsaken!
Oh, yes! thou'rt cursed indeed with too much merit,
And greater crime is none.
Joan. By thee acquitted!
Oh! happiness! oh! unexpected bliss!
I yet possess a friend!
Du N. (Burst, heart, thy bonds!)
Doth friendship's sacred garb clothe friendship only?
Recall the past, remember Orleans' walls,
The battles fought, the warring perils shared,
The blessings joined—how have I wounded thee?
Joan. I stand upon the confines of the grave,
And must not, dare not think upon the past.
The reed hath bounds, and by the tempest spared,
May sink beneath an insect. I've borne much,
And this unlooked-for kindness overpowers me.
But one request.
Du N. Name it—give me some share
In thee, though in the giving it must cease.
Joan. The seal of death is on me now. This chain, the king—
'Twill tell its own sad tale—but say to him—
No—down throbbing heart—farewell. Oh! leave me!
Yet let me gaze once more upon a friend,
Ere I and earthly comfort part for ever.
Thou'lt sometimes think of me when I am gone,
And midst the shouts of victory, perhaps,
Will hear the voice, will see the form of her
Who often shared those triumphs by thy side,—
Wilt mark the vacant place with kindly sorrow?
Once more I'll press this valiant hand—and then—
Farewell, for ever.
Enter Countess.