[Exit.]
MARCOMIR.
Not use the rod!
Not use it when I feel incitements rapid
As points of fire awake me to the knowledge
That all my flesh is burning! Every flint
Becomes a new temptation. How confess
To him I love his wife, and guiltily!
O Geneviva, do the swans still crowd
Round you to feed them? Are you mistress still
In the old palace? Can there be a doubt?
If Pepin dare insult you—O this frock,
This girdle, not a sword belt! And your husband
Who brought you to such peril with his dreams,
Let the light wake him!
[Marcomir unlocks the prison-door, flings it open and draws back behind the trellis of vines.]
CARLOMAN.
What has struck my eyes?
Is it the air, the sun, an open door?
Oh, it is dark with brightness, and half-blinds,
So rushing in! I would have been with God
When the light broke in answer to His cry;
I would have seen it pushing its broad leaves
Through Chaos as it travelled!—
MARCOMIR.
[advancing] I am come
To give you freedom.
CARLOMAN.
[seizing his hand like a boy]
Are the throstles fledged
I left within the orchard?