The star has shot. The dead come not again.
[He rises and again walks to and fro.
Happy the dead.—Ah, what of one who lives?
What of that mask in this fantastic dance
Who crowned herself with poison flowers and laughed
To see the lilies fade before her breath?—
O death! O love! O blasting treachery!
O face that in the prison of La Force
Visited my dreams—
[The door opens. Yvette leans against it, panting,