I am displeased. Have I not reason, Charles?
’T was very wrong of her to dress in black
When Maximilian comes. I will go in.
I ’m tired—but I am very happy. Ah! (Exit)
Char. O wounded heart! Thus every day she hopes,
And every day begins her hope anew.
It is my penance now to watch her sorrow,
To guard perfection’s wreck in her sad body,
And hear the name of Maximilian fall
Each moment from her lips. O, God, remember
When once I am in hell, I ’ve suffered here!
(Re-enter Carlotta)
Car. I can not stay away. This is my place.
Here will I catch the first light on his sail.
O Charles, dear Charles, to-morrow we shall see him!
Look in his noble eyes,—ah me, what eyes!
Dost not remember? Talk of him, cousin.
It brings him faster to me. My heart! my heart!
This waiting breaks it though ’t is but a day!
An hour that keeps him from me lengthens like
The drawn out ages ’tween the ends of time!
But oh, to-morrow! Let me think of that!
Then will the small globe of mine eye contain
The wide and complete world of my desires!
... Have you forgot Aseffa? You do not speak;
But you have not forgot. She said—Oh, cruel!—
That he, my Maximilian, should lie cold
While yet my arms were warm and reaching for him.
How could she say it? But you stood by him—you—
His faithful friend. You knew ’t would ne’er be true!
... Do you remember, Charles, the winter day
He climbed to Valtelina’s ice-bound huts
To bear the starving people food?
Char. Yes—yes!
’T is my sole virtue to remember his!
Car. And when the flooding Ambro left her banks,
Rolling a very sea o’er farm and town,
Who was the first to ride the dangerous waves,
A rescuing angel saving man and child?
Car. Yes, our Maximilian.
I feared the Mexicans would take his life.
Was not that foolish, cousin? I should have known
God could not spare him from His world. Hast heard
The men of Licio tell how he was first
To bring them aid when all their silkworms died
And silence struck the looms that gave them food?
This man will say ‘I have a son alive
Because of Maximilian!’ And that will say
‘I have a daughter now to tend my age,
Because the Lombard governor brought bread
Unto her cradle.’... And he is coming back.
... Beautiful Miramar! We ’ll never leave thee,
Though stars should beckon to a golden world!
To-morrow he ’ll come! Maximilian!
(Holds out her arms toward the sea, looking radiantly into distance)
Charles! (Turns suddenly, laying her hand on his arm)
Look! What men are those? Do you not see them?