Wife. Save me, holy Mother of God!
This ghost is ghastly pale—its eyes are dying out—its voice is hollow as the rolling of the death-hearse with the corpse!
The Man. Thy white brow glitters; thy fair head is wreathed with flowers, O beloved!
Wife. A white shroud hangs in tatters from the shoulders to the feet!
The Man. Around and from thee rays the light of heaven! but once to hear thy voice—then die!
The Maiden. She who restrains and impedes thee is but an illusion; her life a passing breath; her love a dying leaf, to fall with thousands of its fellows at the first chill breath, lost and withered—but I will endure forever!
Wife. Henry—Henry! hide me! Oh do not leave me! the air is filled with sulphur, heavy with the breath of the grave!
The Man. Envy not, nor slander, O woman of dust and clay! Behold the Ideal in which God created you—His first thought of what you were meant to be. But following the counsel of the serpent, you became what you now are!
Wife. I will never leave you!
The Man. Beloved, I forsake my house, my all, and follow thee!