GENEVIVA.
O insolence!—
The virginal chill heart!—No intercession!
[to Carloman]
Our marriage is dissolved. How great a stranger
You have become to me! I should grow mad
To breathe by you another single hour.
[to Boniface]
And you, old man, who stand with such meek eyes,
Though you have robbed me of my name of wife,
And made my boy an orphan—go your way!
I cannot curse you, but I prophesy:
Dishonour motherhood, plant virgin homes,
Give to religion the sole charge of love,
And you will rear up lust of such an ice
As Death himself will shiver at.
[to Pepin] Lead on!
Now there is hope you may become a King,
There should be some high festival to keep
To-night in everlasting memory.
Lead me away.
PEPIN.
Brother, in all—good luck!
And may the Convent’s fare be angels’ food.
Your wife’s tears soon will dry.
[Exeunt Pepin and Geneviva.]
CARLOMAN.
The thing to do
Is simply just the sole thing to be done.
There should have been no tears, no taking leave;
A freeman can do anything he will.
MARCOMIR.
Take me along with you.