O God! O God! I’m weary of the light!
Now, now thou too wilt die unless—unless—
Ah, let me go—Farewell, a little while!
De Vardes
Not till I know where thou dost go, and why.
Yvette
Rémond Lalain gave me that paper.
It was an order, written by himself,
Whom even Carrier would not offend—
A secret paper not for every eye.