’Twill be the bridal hour?
Raim. It will not, love!
That hour will bring no bridal! Naught of this
To human ear; but speed thou hither—fly,
When evening brings that signal. Dost thou heed?
This is no meeting by a lover sought
To breathe fond tales, and make the twilight groves
And stars attest his vows; deem thou not so,
Therefore denying it! I tell thee, Constance!
If thou wouldst save me from such fierce despair