University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene I.

—Exterior of the Proconsul's Palace. Steps leading to it. Enter Rudiger, disguised as a beggar.
Rud.
How long, ye awful deities, how long
Must this breast hide th' impatience of its beatings
Under these squalid rags, while here in triumph
Your enemy and mine, the hated Roman.
Resides in sumptuous state?—Or, is the Druid
Indeed a thing of the past, and his religion,
His ancient lore traditional (recorded
Only in faithful memories)—is it now
No longer the salt of the earth, the truth supreme,
But a detested fable, never more
To win belief from men? It cannot be!
The gods who gave the truth will yet avenge it.
To this rock have I clung though storms have beat
Upon this aged head, and though I've been
Abandoned solitary to their rage,
And darkness has involved me,—here I've clung,
And here will cling forever, in the faith
My fathers gave me, and which death itself
Shall not have power to vanquish or to shake.

(Enter Arnulf. Rudiger turns from him.)
Arn.
That form—that gait—I cannot be mistaken.
Old man, why turn from me?

Rud.
I know you not.

Arn.
But I know you—th' Arch Druid—Rudiger.

Rud.
And you? the renegade, Arnulf!

Arn.
Not so loud!
That's the proconsul's palace. Like yourself
Am I proscribed. We'll keep each other's secret.
They thought to hold me prisoner at Rome—
But I escaped amid a popular riot
Just as we entered the imperial city;
And I am here to help you put an end
To this fair state of things. And first, of Norma.

Rud.
Ah! but for her the Roman power in Gaul
Could be laid low to-morrow.

Arn.
Not a week
Returned, more have I done than all your Druids
In their own cause.

Rud.
Explain.

Arn.
First learn that Norma
Is the proconsul's wife.

Rud.
Norma! unfaithful
To that paternal dedication which
Pledged her a vestal priestess!—I'll proclaim it
To all the people—rouse their fury—send them
To burn and sack the Roman's palace—then
Consign her to the penalty prescribed
For such offenders.

Arn.
Wild—impracticable!
What care the people for your Druid laws?
Norma has but to claim from all the gods
(I beg their pardon—I forget their number)
A special vision abrogating all
Her virgin pledges, and commanding her
To wed Octavian, and the fatuous people
Will ratify the union with huzzas.
Be this your secret for the present.

Rud.
Well.
But should the power return, let her beware!
What wouldst thou do?

Arn.
What I have done is this:
Invoked the demon of domestic discord!
Long since, this dolt, Octavian, was becrazed
By the soft glances of a maid attendant
Upon the temple's service, Adalgisa.
Them, after interruption of his suit
By her seclusion, have I brought together
(How, when, and where, no matter) thro' one Bertha;
And the old flame now threatens to break forth
With added fury.

Rud.
But 't is sacrilege!

Arn.
(Aside.)
The duper his own dupe! Sacrilege truly!
(To Rud.)
Pshaw! What of that, so we inveigle Norma
To her own ruin—rend the tie that binds her
To the proud Roman—make her rouse the people
In your behalf—then leave her to be dealt with
(When all is won) after your gentle fashion?

Rud.
This must be thought of. You've gone deep, I see,
Into the possibilities.

Arn.
I'll show
Cause for reliance. On! We're interrupted.
(Looking off.)
Otho, the Roman knight, with an attendant,
Post-haste most like from Rome! There must be news.

(Exeunt Rudiger and Arnulf. Enter Otho and Marcus.)
Otho.
(To Marcus.)
See that our horses are provided for,
Then be within my summons at the palace.

(Exit Marcus. Enter Servant from the palace.)
Otho.
Is the proconsul stirring?

Servant.
He approaches.

(Exit Servant. Enter Octavian.)
Oct.
Otho! my friend! What could be more unlooked for
Than to see you in Gaul?

(Enter Arnulf, who listens a moment, then exit.)
Otho.
I bring the news
Of your recall. Rome wants you nearer home.
(Gives him a scroll.)
This from the emperor!

Oct.
(After reading.)
Recalled with honor.
An intimation, too, of something higher!—
Now shall I smile or frown at this discharge?
It does not take effect till my successor
Is on the spot.

Otho.
Him you may look for daily.
Is it ill news? Dejected? Can it be
Octavian, once the courted, the caressed
By the high dames of Rome, I see content
To bury in provincial privacy
Endowments due to the metropolis?

Oct.
Jingle your gewgaws in the ears of boys.
Have you forgotten that I'm married? Hush!
'Tis still a secret.

Otho.
(Laughing.)
Ay, I had forgotten;
Or rather counted on your constancy
As on the west wind's blowing. Pardon me;
Your spouse must be a paragon indeed
To've kept you stable. But I've made you serious.

Oct.
O! speak of her with reverent admiration,
The brave, the gentle, the magnanimous,
The faithful Norma!

Otho.
There's a sequel to
That rhapsody.

Oct.
There is. Before I met her,
I had seen Adalgisa, and my heart
Is constant to that vision.

Otho.
(Laughs.)
Constancy
Is then thy failing here! Thou art too constant!

Oct.
When state necessity induced this marriage,
I struggled (and still struggle) to subdue
All memory of that other; but of late
The sight of her in all her loveliness,
Revives the dangerous transport, and when you
Told me of my recall, the coward thought
Shot through my brain, now can I fly with her,
Forsaking Norma.

Otho.
And does she—does Norma
Suspect your dereliction?

Oct.
No; the thought
Would come to her as the tornado comes
When you can see no cloud.

Otho.
A little rain,
A flash or two perhaps, and all is over.
Be not alarmed. I have myself inflicted
Some such surprises in my day, and found
A strange capacity of convalescence
In women being so wounded.

Oct.
(Aside.)
Ay, by you!

Otho.
Here is my counsel now: abandon both!
No? Then select the younger and the prettier—
In short, the one you fancy.

Oct.
I am pulled
By passion and by duty different ways.
O! like a strong man take me in the arms
Of a strong will, and carry me perforce
The way of right—for tho' 'tis plain before me,
My will is wavering, and my flesh is weak.

Otho.
Come then, it shall be Norma; for possession
Gives her the prior claim.

Oct.
But Adalgisa—
When she finds him she trusted in, a traitor—

Otho.
Well! you must be that either way. What's left?
The women both are fair, and both in love.
What if you take them both?

Oct.
You only sport
With my distress.

Otho.
Pardon an old campaigner.
Who never gave such trifles serious thought.—
Looking off.
Who is that stately woman in the veil,
Pacing yon garden walk?

Oct.
'Tis she! 'Tis Norma!
Now, Otho, would you see the veriest coward,
Look upon Rome's proconsul.

Otho.
(Going.)
Look on me!
Retreating panic-stricken from the danger
And leaving the wounded in the enemy's hands.

Oct.
Go in, and order all things as becomes
Octavian's guest.

Otho.
Looking off.
She lifts her veil. Octavian—
I say—I'd rather be where thunderbolts
Are falling thick, than, having wronged, confront her.

[Exit into the palace.
Oct:
What! shall this heart, that fluttered not to rush.
On the Sicambrian phalanx, sink and cower
Before a woman?—Ah! it is not she—
'Tis not the gloom and lightning of those eyes
That thus abashes—'tis the sickened conscience
Shuddering at wrongs which passion meditates.

(Enter Norma.)
Nor:
(Approaching to caress him.)
Octavian!

Oct.
Hold! not here in the public eye!

Nor:
The time has come when without fear we may
Proclaim our union.

Oct:
O, not yet, not yet!

Nor:
This separation from thee for long hours—
This seeing thee by stealth when I do see thee—
Is irksome and should end.

Oct:
And soon it shall.
We'll talk of it tomorrow.

Nor:
Well, tomorrow.
What troubles thee?

Oct:
Affairs of state. No more.

Nor:
Not so! I know the cause.

Oct.
Thou know'st the cause?

Nor.
Why this alarm if 'tis affairs of state?

Oct.
(Aside.)
Knows she?

Nor.
Come, be an honest husband—tell me—
Even though it be to my disquiet—tell me!
For 'twixt us, candor should be so complete
That not a quickened heart-beat should be felt
By one and not reported to the other.

Oct.
My heart beats placidly.

Nor.
(Putting forth her hand.)
That let me test.
How? Dost thou shrink?

Oct.
Not here!

Nor.
Why art thou troubled?

Oct.
Why ask me, if thou knowest?

Nor.
For I'd have it
From thy own lips in full sincerity,
Even though to spare me pain thou keep'st it back.
But do not fear for that. The pain is over—
All that the news could give!

Oct.
(Aside.)
What does she mean?

Nor.
Who was the stranger, on whose parting heels
I came but now?

Oct.
An officer from Rome.

Nor.
What message brought he?

Oct.
Message?

Nor.
I will tell you:
You are recalled: you fear the news will be
A blow to Norma: therein lies your trouble.
Were you so tender of my reckoned grief
You dared not tell me this? Did you distrust
My readiness to quit home, country, people,
For thy dear sake? Ah! 'tis no sacrifice
To love like mine—rather a joy to show thee
How prompt, how faithful, how uncalculating
Its action is.

Oct.
(Aside.)
So! she knows nothing more.
(To Norma.)
Think of the journey's dangers.

Nor.
Thou wilt meet them!
Why should not I? In thy sweet company
Dangers shall not affright—hardships shall wear
An ever smiling front. Should duty lead thee
To rugged climes of everlasting snow.
Or to those regions, courted by the sun.
Where reptile life is rank, and beasts of prey
Lurk in the torrid swamps, would I not go
With thee, watch by thee, wert thou ill or wounded.
And count it happiness, in every peril
Befalling thee, to be a constant sharer?
Indeed I would!

Oct.
(Aside.)
On, on, and thou'lt prevail!
(To her.)
But there are ties detaining thee in Gaul—
Public and pious ties, forsaking which,
Regret will sting.

Nor.
Regret—while thou art kind?
Ties?—O! what ties can have the sanctity
Of those the promise of a wife takes in,
Binding her to that circle of attraction
Which is her husband's sphere of love and duty?
Was it with half a heart I wedded thee,
Keeping the other for a round of thoughts
And occupations, that to thee pertained not?
No! The true wife must be her husband's wholly.
And there's a magic in her fast affection,
Exalts even homeliest drudgery to an act
Of queenly moment—finds a recompense,
Richer than wealth could compass, in a smile!
Establishes a palace of content
In a pure heart, let outward circumstance
Frown as it may, and makes her happiness
O'erflow in loving and in being beloved!
Ah! even the service of the gods grows irksome.
Compared with thine—my pray'rs all follow thee.
If still I hold my station in the temple
'Tis but to meet thy wish; and my release
From all that can abridge a wife's devotion,
Will be a joyful freedom.

Oct.
(Aside.)
She prevails.
And makes my intent seem hateful. (To her.)
We will go
Together, Norma. With thee ever near
I shall be strong. To-night I'll visit thee,
And we'll decide upon an instant course
Touching the proclamation of our marriage.

Nor.
Wilt thou come early? My expecting moments
Lag wearily, and bring a troop of fancies,
That make my heart their sport, presenting thee
In all varieties of danger, till,
Sick of their conjurations, I rush forth
Into the night to find thee.

Oct.
Thou shalt be
Requited in the future.

Nor.
The requital
Comes when we meet. Remember!

Oct.
I'll not fail.
[Exit Norma
So shall it be!
And I will shun, as I would mortal danger,
Another interview with Adalgisa.
Why not proclaim at once my marriage? That
Will terminate temptation!

(Enter Arnulf and Adalgisa.)
Arn.
There you see him,
Nursing his grief, torn by despairing thoughts.
He flies from Gaul—abandons every hope—
Because of thy rejection—that he may,
In distant scenes, o'ercome his unrequited,
His fatal passion. He has planned to go,
Taking no leave, shunning the sight of thee.
O! give him, for content in future years,
One parting word, if not of love, of kindness.

[Exit
Adal.
Yes, prudence shall not bar that poor return.

Oct.
Ha! Adalgisa! Now the gods bear witness,
Thee, of all human objects I would shun!
Yet here thou com'st with thy imploring eyes
And gaze of innocent wonder, to undo me
And fool to ruin. Hence! thou sorcery! hence!
Or I shall grow to hate thee.—Nay, forgive me;
But, go! in mercy, leave me! Let me not
Hear those soft tones, or see that face again.
Remorse and shame, despair and death are in them!
(Exit Adalgisa.)
Gone! (Calls.)
Adalgisa! (She reënters.)

Dost thou leave in anger?

Adal.
Anger? O, no! Obeying, I believed
'T was thy heart's wisdom spake—and so, 't was well
That we should part forever, and in silence.

Oct.
Forever?

Adal.
Thou wilt leave us.

Oct.
Thou didst know it,
And yet couldst part so calmly?

Adal.
Ay; so calmly.
'T is the calm grief abideth.

Oct.
Thou wilt grieve?

Adal.
'T is probable.

Oct.
O! perfect in thy art!
Now dost thou know, that hadst thou come with signs
Of anguish, hair dishevelled, streaming eyes,
Speech-breaking sobs and accents of upbraiding,
I had been disenchanted—thou hadst lost me!
And so thou play'st the calm and frigid maid,
Kindlest my fire with ice: but thou shalt fail—
I'm not the dupe thou look'st for.

Adal.
Peace be with thee!
Farewell! (Going.)


Oct.
Stay! Whither goest thou?

Adal.
To the temple—
Whence I should ne'er have wandered.

Oct.
To the temple!
With all the lustre of thy youth about thee
To sink into its gloom!—'T is Fate waylays me,
And in his fierce and unrelenting grasp
Bears me along! Why wrestle with him further
Since I at last must yield?

Adal.
My lord, farewell!

Oct.
Thou shalt not leave me. Thou shalt go with me
To Rome—there be my honored wife.

Adal.
To Rome?

Oct.
Ay! Thither I return tomorrow—now—
Soon as my equipage is ready! Come!
Thou shalt be my companion. We will make
The journey short; and I will watch thy litter
As parent eagles do their nest. Delay
Is fraught with danger. Come! Thou dost refuse?
Dost calculate? Thou lov'st me not!

Adal.
Too well!
Or I were not so tempted.—But the vow
That binds me to the temple—

Oct.
Wert thou bound
By chains of tested steel, love's flame should melt them!
And still thou waverest?

Adal.
Norma can release me.

Oct.
Norma! Fly rather to the end of the earth
Than seek for such release.

Adal.
Do what thou wilt!
I'll go with thee.

Oct.
'T is bravely said. Prepare!
An hour hence, meet me in yon garden walk
Ready for flight. A host of things press on me,
Claiming despatch. The reasons for this speed
Are vital. Trust me for them. Be discreet,
[Exit Adalgisa
'T is the irrevocable die! Now, Norma,
One word to keep thee quiet—then for Rome!

[Exit
(Reënter Adalgisa.)
Adal.
My lord Octavian! Gone? He thought of Norma
As of a harsh, unsympathizing mistress.
That is she not. My hope is, she'll absolve me
From my religious vows. 'T were to defy
The gods, and bring perhaps their persecution
On me and him, should I forsake their service
In an unsanctioned haste.—Norma shall have
My confidence—and speed me with her blessing!

[Exit

SCENE II.

An apartment in Norma's house. Chairs placed for two. Enter Norma and Bertha.
Nor.
Now, girl, thy story. (Sits.)
Why this mystery?

Ber.
Are we not overheard?

Nor.
That risk be mine!

Ber.
No tale-bearer am I; but, when a maid,
Pledged to the temple's service, strays so far
From duty as to listen to a man
Protesting love, 'tis time for me to speak—
That you'll allow.

Nor.
Well.

Ber.
Adalgisa, lady—

Nor.
What of her?

Ber.
She's the culprit. She's in love.

Nor.
Is't true? Poor thing!

Ber.
(Aside.)
Poor thing? And is that all?
Won't she be hung, or burnt, or drowned in a sack?
Poor thing! I'll fall in love myself to-morrow.
I've had temptations—quite enough of them—
As well as other folks—I'm no more marble
Nor snow than they—but honest flesh and blood.
Poor thing indeed!

Nor.
What art thou muttering, girl?

Ber.
Only a pray'r that you'll be merciful
To Adalgisa. Must she die?

Nor.
The day
Is gone when such offence could be so punished.
Under the Druid rule it might have been.

Ber.
But she'll be scourged?

Nor.
When wert thou privileged
To question my intents; and how art thou
Concerned to know her punishment?

Ber.
(Aside.)
I would know
If 't will be such as I could bear.

Nor.
Her fault
Is doubled by concealment. Canst thou tell me
What man has dared address her?

Ber.
That is what
Will most amaze you, seeing that Adalgisa
Is no way notable for sense or beauty,
But quite inferior in both to many
Of her associates. Then she has no style—
No—I cannot describe it—loftiness
Of manner, which we some have.

Nor.
Cease thy prating.
Tell me her lover's name.

Ber.
You'll be—

(Enter Adalgisa.)
Nor.
But here
She comes to answer for herself. (To Bertha.)
Begone.

Ber.
(Aside.)
“Poor thing!” Mayhap, I'll be a poor thing, too!

[Exit
Nor.
(Aside.)
She's mute with apprehension. How can I
Rebuke her, needing as I do myself
An equal exculpation? (To her.)
Adalgisa,
Draw near—be seated—I have heard thy story. (Adal. sits.)


Adal.
And have no anger for me—no reproaches?
But how—but when—what have you heard?

Nor.
That thou
Hast dared to hold discourse with one who urges
A lover's suit.

Adal.
O! let me tell you all.
He has my word to fly with him this day.

Nor.
Imprudent! And thou'st ventured—

Adal.
(Kneels.)
Could you know
With what renewals of thick-coming tears,
What vigils, supplications, I have striven
To root from my heart the passion driving me
To this conclusion, you'd be pitiful,
Perchance would pardon.

Nor.
(Aside.)
So did I contend—
So yield! I almost feel the same wild throbs
That then made tumult here. I almost see
Him at my feet again, and hear his voice—
His music-shaming voice—that pleaded so
That I relented and surrendered all—
A cheap exchange for love.

Adal.
Dismiss me not
Unpardoned, unreleased.

Nor.
Have all thy wish.
I pardon; I release thee with this kiss
Upon thy brow from all there is of bondage
In thy religious state.

Adal.
(Rises.)
O! joyful freedom!
Without a crime now can I love and be
Beloved. O! Norma, you so pure, so true,
In your self-abnegation, your adhesion
To vestal sanctity, say, how can you
Have such quick sympathy with one whose weakness
Could not withstand her first, her only trial?

Nor.
Norma claims no preëminent exemption
From human frailty, girl; the strongest of us
May one day find that her security
Is based on air. But come, thou hast not told me
Aught of thy lover.

Adal.
'T was no outside bravery
That won me first, but words that found their way
Straight to the heart—uplifting it and showing
Affinity with all in thought and deed
That we can best admire in our best moods.

Nor.
(Aside.)
Such was the path my own affections followed.
(To her.)
Who spake such words?

Adal.
No countryman.

Nor.
A Roman?

(Enter Octavian.)
Adal.
Behold him here!

Nor.
(Rising.)
Octavian!

Oct.
(Aside.)
All is ruined!

Nor.
Girl! Do thy wits wander? He thy lover? He?
Thou must be blinded. Look again. (Laughs.)
Octavian,
What a mistake!

Adal.
'T is he! no other, Norma.

Nor.
Idiot! he—he thy lover? Wilt thou mock me?
Octavian, undeceive her with thy voice.

Adal.
It is the truth.

Nor.
The truth? Audacious wanton!
Never was lie blacker begot in hell.
Hear him with but a word transfix it such,
And make thy crazy freak matter for scorn.
Speak it, Octavian!

Oct.
Leave us, Adalgisa. (She is going.)


Nor.
Stay, girl!

Oct.
I charge thee, go!

Nor.
And I, remain!

Oct.
Wilt thou obey?

Adal.
Not while this mystery
Involves me—frights my reason—menaces
I know not what of dreadful. Ah! what is it?

Nor.
Come hither: is this he who has played thy lover
And planned to fly with thee this very day?

Adal.
As I do hope for mercy, he it is!

Nor.
O, Adalgisa! (Covers her face with her hands.)


Adal.
Norma, do not weep.

Nor.
O, would that I could weep!

Adal.
What great distress
Has come to thee I know not, but I share it.

Nor.
Thou dost! The blow is double, smiting both.
In that man see my husband!

Adal.
Ah! (Retires and sits.)


Nor.
To me bound
By all that law could lend of sanctity—
By all of multiplied and tender bonds
Honor could feel and cherish. I so loved him
I would have plucked my heart out to uphold him
In health and safety—would have looked on death
As a slight thing, encountered in his service.
And now. ... O! fool, fool, fool! what thou hast spurned
Was such a treasure as a god might roam
On earth long years to win—was such a sum
Of deep, devoted, deifying love
As would have crowned with its felicity
Thy life, and shed celestial radiance on it.
Now, like a star hurled from its sphere and lost
In utter gloom, 'tis gone—gone—gone! O, day
Of anguish insupportable! O, hour
To which none darker can succeed, tho' death
Come black with every horror!

Oct.
Hear me, Norma.

Nor.
Ay, I have waited long. I'm all attention.

Oct.
I would have spared thee this abrupt disclosure—
Would have untied with gentle, cautious hand,
The knot to thee so sacred.

Nor.
To me sacred?
Only to me? Well: what wouldst thou have done?

Oct.
I would have waited till time's gradual power
Had weaned thee from me—one by one unclasped
Most tenderly the tendrils of thy love—
Ere thou hadst known what this unheeding maid
Has rashly uttered.

Nor.
For thy kind intents
All gratitude.—O, miscreant! Could such words
Issue from any heart that ever loved!
“Time's gradual power!” “Weaned!” “Tendrils!” Think you love—
(Love! the immortal, amaranthine flower!)
Is but a creeping ivy which the winter
May loosen from one tree, the spring re-fasten
On to another?—But I interrupt you.

Oct.
Thou know'st the worst—and all that I would say
Is to assuage—console.

Nor.
Console! O, mockery!

Oct.
One circumstance, if 'twill not justify,
At least may serve me in extennuation.
Arnulf spake truly: when I came to woo thee
'Twas in my country's service; and my marriage,
Ordained by state necessity, was binding
Only while that might last. So do not blame
Me, but the system by which Rome would win
Dominion here in Gaul.

Nor.
I live to hear it!
Dupe that I was! self-seeking, wretched dupe!
Myself abandoned, and my country sold
To my betrayer!—All your honeyed words
Were then a lie—a trap—to ruin me
And to enslave my people. You could play
The matchless hypocrite in what's most holy
To compass my perdition!—But, your pardon!
Rome's the offender—Rome!
O! how convenient, when a man concurs
In a foul wrong, to spread the shame of it over
An unaccountable, uncertain mass,
A state—a public body—as if he
Could thereby make his individual share
Attenuate past the weighing! I deny
Thy plea—'tis false—ignoble—he but sins
In magnified proportion, who would help
A nation in its crime!— (Her ring suddenly attracts her notice.)

That ring—look on it—
And recollect the words with which you gave it.
O! hollow, hollow, hollow! Take it back.

(Takes off ring and offers it to Octavian, who receives it.)
Oct.
Before I met thee, I had met and loved
(As she'll attest) this maiden. (Adal. rises.)
How I strove to
Displace her shrined image with thine own,
Only my heart can know. In vain I strove;
And when I found that in her breast was kindled
An answering flame, mine swept that way to join it,
And both became as one.

Adal.
(To Norma.)
Ah! do not weep.

Nor.
Who weeps? Give me thy hand.
(She leads Adalgisa to Octavian.)
Take her, my lord.
But, if ye prize each other's life, begone
At once—without a pause—putting such speed
Into your flight that the celerity
Of vengeance shall be slack. I'm almost calm
Now; but, another moment, such a frenzy
May come to unpoise me, 'twill be dangerous
To abide its wildness. Go! without a word!

Oct.
Now thou'rt thy noble self; now thou art Norma!
Fear not but thy control in Gaul's affairs
Shall still be paramount; that thou shalt keep
Her freedom unimpaired, her welfare ever
The first concern. The friend of my successor,
Lucilius Lollius, I will so commend
To him thy worth, no other counsellor
Shall be so heeded. He is young, unmarried,
Noble, discreet: perhaps, a happier tie
Than that we sunder now, may consecrate
In a brief while your friendship.

Nor.
Execration
Upon thee for that thought!
What! Would'st transfer me like a common wanton
From one to the other? Thou hadst seemed to reach
The utmost height of all potential wrongs—
But there was one, conception could not scale—
Inhuman, gross, o'ertopping all the rest—
And thou hast added that! Beware! Remember
My blood is half barbarian, and despair
Makes doubly strong. Go! I abjure compunction.
This heart, so late the paradise of love,
Is now a desolation for the Furies,
And they are here. Fly ye! Fly both, before
Their sport begins!

Oct.
Time shall abate thy grief
And show me as thy friend, do what thou wilt.
Come, Adalgisa! All is ready.

Adal.
Back,
Roman!

Oct.
Delay not. Solitude shall bring
Composure to her soul.

Nor.
Thee I blame not,
Poor child. Farewell! Be happy.

Adal.
And could Norma
Suppose, but for a moment, I could be
The recreant wretch to leave her in her sorrow—
Leave her for him—her husband—her betrayer!
Those high and holy lessons that she gave me
From childhood up, by precept and example,
In every nobleness, in every virtue,—
Thinks she they were so fruitless, I can stoop
To such a partnership in wrong and shame
As he would take me to—be happy in it!

Nor.
Thou'rt my own pupil!

Oct.
Thy constraining presence
Drives her to this. I fear not for the issue
When she is free.

Adal.
There's such a separation
Betwixt us twain, that neither gods nor men
Can close it up. You think me meek and yielding,
And so I am, except where conscience bars,—
Then, not the firmament less moveable
By human hand! Be undeceived in that.

Oct.
Women! ye drive me to the inmost trench.
I'm still proconsul! Ye shall find it. I
Have tried forbearance; if ye spurn it, there's
Another way, and that my purpose takes
Rather than fail. The maiden goes with me
To Rome. Be sure of that. I'll hear no more
Of your hysterical ravings. My resolve
Is fixed. Prepare to see its execution.

[Exit
Nor.
What wilt thou do?

Adal.
Die, Norma! Have I not
This steel, to baffle outrage?

Nor.
Hapless maid!

Adal.
What are my griefs to thine? what to thy wrongs?

Nor.
O! for some way to save thee! to defeat
His violent purpose. War and havoc! welcome,
If ye'll do that! Methinks with this right hand
I now could smite him to the earth. Alas!
My own weak confidence has here undone me,—
Transferred to him my power—disbanded all
Our Gallic men of battle—driven to caves
The Druid foes of Rome—reposed in him
The means to enforce his threat!

(Enter Arnulf disguised.)
Arn.
There's yet a way
To foil him.

Nor.
Who art thou?

Arn.
Rome's enemy.

Nor.
My friend, then! In aught else be spy or traitor,—
Deliver us from the proconsul's power,
Thou'rt my good genius!

Arn.
Soon his guards will be
Around this house to cut off your retreat.
Fly instantly. I'll lead you where the name
Of Norma is a spell to rouse and rally
Thousands. In his security through thee
The Roman has sent home the better part
Of his late army.

Nor.
True!

Arn.
Thou'lt have at once
A force about thee, equal to resist,
If not o'erwhelm him.

Nor.
Hah! Through fire and flood
I'll follow thee. Lead on! Come, girl! Thy hand!
'Tis firm.

Adal.
Not firmer than my will.

Nor.
Lead on!
[Exit Arnulf
Not every hope is gone! One's left! It beckons
From yonder cloud of blood, and smiles revenge!

[Exeunt