University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

—The Convent of the Celestines.—The Duke of Orleans and Iolande.
Orleans.
You knew not, Iolande, but I knew well,
The import of that word which Passac brought,—
“He bade us take away his sword.” Poor soul!
So long as sense is with him he takes thought
For all, and ever as the clouds within
Speak to his spirit of a coming storm,
Desires to be disarm'd.

Iolande.
Alas! Alas!

Orleans.
Take courage and take comfort; look not back;
'Tis that way darkness lies. God knows thy heart;
He knows thou wrought'st devoutly and in faith,
And though He grant thee not a Kingdom's health,
'Tis for the Kingdom's sins, and not thine own,—
For mine and for the Kingdom's sins,—none else,
That He denies thee; nor for these for long;
Thy power, supernal even now in me,
Through me shall work its way to purge the realm,
And victory and peace shall yet be thine,
Though now defeated. Forth then from the Past,
And bid it get behind thee. Hope and joy
Shall blossom from this ruin.

Iolande.
With joy and hope
Let never more my name be named on earth.
Wrought I in faith? But what then are the fruits?
I wrought in sin, and shame is my reward.

Orleans.
Nay, never, never yet have sin or shame
Stain'd thy resplendent soul, nor ever shall.
One gift hath been refused thee, one reward,
But thou art still Heaven's chosen child, and Heaven
Is in thine eyes and lips and brow and voice;
Nor even in the rapture of that rite
Believed in through belief in Heaven's behest,
Wert thou so like an Angel sent to save
As in thine anguish now. If not the King,
Yet surely me hast thou been sent to save,
Nor wilt thou cast me,—oh! no, no, not now,—
From that pure presence which is safety's self.
Oh! say not now our paths must be apart;
I could have borne,—I thought I could have borne,—
To leave thee and to see thy face no more,
Caught in a gust of triumph and of joy
That swept thee out of sight; but as thou art
Not Earth nor Hell shall part us.

Iolande.
Earth and Hell!
It is for Heaven to part us. Earth and Hell
Are closing round and pressing in upon us
And shutting out the very sight of Heaven.
Oh, leave me; I have told thee I am weak,
Weak through the overthrow of faith and hope,
Weak through the triumph of malignant Powers,
And weak through what beside I will not say.
But in the chambers of my soul, one light
Still burns, and shows me, wildered though I be,
That saving strength is found in self-distrust.
If thou wouldst learn of me, learn that.

Orleans.
Oh God!
But canst thou not believe .... I plead not now
Nor ever will, though fifty fiends should rise
And clutch in fury at their former prey,
For aught but what is gracious and divine,
Thy gracious guidance, thy divine support
To rescue from their rage, not me alone,
But many a million more; for France through me
Is blasted and accursed, and her through me
May'st thou redeem from darkness and from death,
And ransom and assoil. 'Tis France that pleads.

Iolande.
Prince, tempt not me, nor tamper with thyself.
Nor thou nor I are Saviours of mankind:
They have another. Oh! in Him, not me,
Seek grace and strength, and in His armour clad
Go forth and conquer. No, not me, not me!
For never was it meant when God array'd
Thy spirit with a lustre more than man's
That it should bend with less than manhood's might
And seek support in me.

Orleans.
Oh, Iolande,
Thy mandate if the demon dared dispute,
That dare not I. The very ground thou tread'st
Is holy; it is dedicated earth
Which never more shall foot of mine profane.
But wheresoe'er it journeys, ever there
The vision of thy presence floating round
Shall every path and every precinct guard,
And he that was the slave of sense and sin
Shall be thy soldier in the cause of Christ,
Far from thee and yet near.

Enter Flos de Flavy.
Flos.
Where is she? Iolande, oh fly! Begone!
Take instant flight; a message has been brought
From Raiz de Vezelay in fearful haste;
The people clamour and the Council sits
To judge thee; and no safety but in flight.

Iolande.
Great God! one Angel watcheth o'er me still,
Sent by Thy pardoning love,—the Angel Death.

Orleans.
The Council sits to judge her! Who hath dared
Without my summons to convene it?

Flos.
Sir,
The people rage and say they will have blood.
His Grace of Burgundy in Council sits,
And, to appease them, he hath pledged his faith
That judgment should be pass'd.

Orleans.
His Grace is mad;
Or else 'tis in the dark he strikes, nor knows
Why nor at whom. Fear not for Iolande;
I'll to the Council instantly, and all
Will then be right. My cousin and myself
Are now in amity, and were we not,
We ever have been, as we ever shall,
Frank friends or open foes. All will be right.
I'll tell them it is I shall answer this;
For 'twas of my devising.

Iolande.
Oh! no, no;
You shall not go; all was well done by you;
The guilt was only mine.

Orleans.
Sweet Iolande,
Your arms about me thus would once have strain'd
The staunchest of my purposes—but now ...

[Breaks away.
Robert the Hermit enters.
Robert.
Is this a time for clippings and embracings?
Kneeling in prayer were meeter; know'st thou not
What threatens thee, and hear'st thou not thy knell?

Orleans.
I know what threatens those that threaten her.

[Exit.
Flos.
It is the people that I fear the most;
They are as cruel as that dangerous Duke,
And madder than their King.

Robert.
Unhappy maid,
Haste thee to Sanctuary; a dreadful fate
Awaits thee else.

Iolande.
Hermit, it is but death.
Let me stay here. What death am I to die?
Is it by fire? God grant it be by fire!
For holiest men aforetime have so died.
Oh Hermit! am I utterly unworthy
To die like them?

Robert.
Maiden, the hand of God
Hath written up thy sin. Thy fatal touch
Polluted and depraved the inherent grace
Of those most holy tears.

Iolande.
Oh 'tis most true;
My guilt is great; the visions of the sense
Beguiled my wandering soul, and I misdeem'd
Fallen nature's ecstacies for grace divine.

Robert.
Look further for thy fault. How and whence came
That treachery of the sense? the love of God
Enamours not the sense, nor, being pure,
Conspires with that, like losels o'er their cups,
To inebriate the soul and so betray;
For love of God the Father, God the Son,
And God the Holy Ghost, comes not with heat,
With seizure, transport, and with ravishment;
Since these are wild and fugitive as the lights
That dance and flicker o'er a new-fill'd grave,
And where these are, there are the fumes of death
And savour of corruption—amorous love
Tainting the love of Christ. I saw even now
Him that went hence reluctantly let go.
Search thou thy heart; avoid the wrath of God;
And that thou may'st avoid it, take thou heed,
Nor brave in wantonness the wrath of man.
It were presumptuous sin to court that death
Which God in His great mercy and good time
Grants or withholds.

Flos.
Yes, Iolande, oh yes;
'Tis tempting Providence to linger. Come.

Iolande.
Take me to Sanctuary. I will wait God's time.