Luc. Upon which I have just left a kiss. (Cha. moves.) You have sworn never to part with it. Good! Should you persist in your fatal project, at the moment when you are about to commit this frightful act, perhaps my poor little sprig may catch your eye; perhaps it will remind you of the days of your childhood, those happy days that have fled away; those Sundays when your mother’s smile was upon you as you filled your little arms with flowers, and brought your childish offering to her knees.
Cha. Keep still, my heart!
Luc. If you should have such thoughts, your courage will be tried; for, in speaking to you of me, my little sprig will also remind you of your mother; and if you should still desire—
Cha. (seizing sprig). No, no! I have no longer any such desire (seizing her hand, and kissing it, slides upon his knees). I swear it to you on my knees. But I must see the angel who—(Lifts his head, when Lucy turns away). Ah, cruel! This hand at least I hold.
[Covers it with kisses.
Luc. Give me my hand, sir, or else—
Cha. Or else—
Luc. Tell me your name.
Cha. Shall I see your face?
Luc. No, no! I cannot possibly—