Man. [Calmly.] I entreat you to be calm. Call reason to your aid. I understand and respect your distress, but let not your anxiety prompt you to do me wrong. Consider! How could I have prepared such a snare, and even were it in my power, how have I ever given you the right to think me capable of such baseness?
Mar. [Passing L.] All that I know of you gives me that right. For what purpose do you enter our house, under a false name, in a false character? We were happy before you came. You have brought us sorrow, misery, which we dreamed not of. To attain your object, to repair the breach in your fortune, you have usurped our confidence, sported with our purest and most holy sentiments. Have I not seen all this? And when you now pledge to me your honor—that honor which was too poor and weak to save you from these unworthy actions—have I not reason to doubt? Have I not the right to scorn and disbelieve?
Man. Marguerite, listen to me! I love you, it is true, and never did love more ardent, more disinterested, more holy, live in the heart of man. But here, with the eyes of Heaven upon us, I swear that, if I outlive this night, all beloved as you are, were you upon your knees at my feet, never would I accept a fortune at your hand. Never! My heart is yours, yours to break, to crush, to trample in the dust, if it so please you, but my honor, Madame, is my own and that I will preserve. And now pray—pray for a miracle. It is time.
[Runs to the tower.
Mar. What would you do? God of mercy! You shall not—you shall not!
Man. Think, Marguerite, your name!
Mar. You shall not! Forgive me! If you love me, forget what I have said, for pity's sake, for mine!
Man. [Disengaging himself.] Loose your hold.
[He repulses her, and leaps upon tower. Singing heard afar off.
Mar. [Falling on her knees.] Manuel! Manuel! Madman! hear me. It is death!