I said how gracefully his mantle lay
Beneath the rings of his light hair?
Mil. Brown hair.
Guen. Brown? why, it is brown: how could you know that?
Mil. How? did not you—Oh, Austin 't was declared
His hair was light, not brown—my head!—and look,
The moon-beam purpling the dark chamber! Sweet,
Good night!
Guen. Forgive me—sleep the soundlier for me! [Going, she turns suddenly.
Mildred!