Ve. Hold! detain her! Josepha, that I suffer—that I feel for you—it were fruitless to deny; but alas! unfortunate, your fate is decided; your fate and mine! the prior—the unrelenting prior—oh, so guilty as I am, I dare not look on death. Yield, then, Josepha, yield! all hope is lost to you—
Jose. Nay, not so, lady! strong as are my fetters, heaven may one day break them; but robbed of innocence, then, indeed, not heaven itself could save me. When rains beat heavy, the rose for awhile may droop its head oppressed; but the clouds will disperse, and the sun will burst forth, and the reviving flower will raise its blushing cup again; but all the flames of the sun and all the zephyrs of the south can never restore its fragrance and its health to the once-gather’d lily.
Ve. Alas, alas! to protect you is beyond my power! you will be plunged once more alive into the grave—will be deprived of every comfort—
Jose. No, lady, no! even in the depth of your subterraneous dungeon, one comfort still is mine, and never will forsake me: tis the consciousness that my sufferings are transitory, but that my reward will be eternal; tis the consciousness of an hereafter! tis this which supports me during all my daily sorrows; tis this which irradiates all my nightly dreams. Then this poor wretched globe with all its crimes and all its follies rolls away from before me: then all seems fair, and pure, and glorious: cherubs shed the roseate lustre of their smiles upon my stony couch, and guardian saints encourage me to suffer with patience, to hope, and to adore!—such are my dreams: now, lady, paint if you dare, the visions which you behold in your own.
Ve. She tortures my heart; her reproaches fire my brain—I can endure them no longer—remove her! away!
Jose. (kneeling) Oh! drive me not from you! pity me! protect me! save me!—
Ve. I cannot! I dare not! take her from my sight, and—and for ever!
Jose. (rising) For ever? no, cruel woman; do not hope it! listen to these sighs; look upon these tears! in your gayest happiest moments, such sighs shall scare away delight; when you lift to your lips the cup of pleasure, you shall find the draught embittered by such tears; and when that hour arrives which you dread so justly, a form like mine shall stand beside your pillow and a voice like mine shall shriek in your ear—“Welcome, murderess! welcome, to that grave, to which you sent me!”
Ve. Insupportable! away with her! she kills me!
Jose. Oh! let me stay yet a few moments more! let me gaze but a little longer on the lovely, friendly, blessed light! let me still hear a human voice, even though it threaten me; let me still look upon a human face, even though it be the face of an enemy; (the nuns endeavour to force her away) mercy! mercy! help me—aid me!