CARLOMAN.
Were I dead,
You would not be so violent: in a trance
Of resignation you would think of me,
With tears, not gasping laughter.
GENEVIVA.
[pacing the room excitedly] Pilgrimage!
Did you say, pilgrimage? To think of you
Growing each day more cramped about the mouth,
More full of resolution in the eyes.
What shall I do? Pray for you—but the dead,
You have just told me, should be left unmourned,
Forgotten as last summer’s autumn-leaves.
[facing him coldly] My lord, I am no reliquary-urn;
There is no widow in me.
[with still greater change of manner] If you leave
Your Kingdom, there are certain things to do
Before you start. There is that Gothic King,
The captive Hermann—you must break his chains.
CARLOMAN.
Hermann is dead. Count Marcomir reports
Last night he found him lifeless.
GENEVIVA.
[gasping] Late last night?
Marcomir!—Take your fingers from my sleeve;
But summon Marcomir, and if again
There is intelligence to break to me
Likely to hurt, give him the charge of it.