Joan of Arc Part 22

DU N. Never has it failed me, Nor shall it fail me now--nay, doubt me not; I swore to lay thee in a grave that's free-- Rouen is cursed by the usurper's foot, And here thou shalt not die, so hear me Heaven!-- But not another moment may I linger.

When next we meet--'twill be in bliss.

[_Exit._

JOAN. When next We meet 'twill be, I trust, in bliss, but bliss That waits in heaven.

COUNT. May I not speak to thee?

I would not give thee pain, no, not in thought.

I knew thee brave, so brave I feared thy name, And never had I dared to venture near thee; But now to see thee thus, so sweet, so gentle, I feel as if some silver chord had linked Our hearts together, and would claim thee sister.

And thou canst weep!

JOAN. Tears are woman's birthright, Starting to her relief in joy or sorrow.

I thought myself abhorred, cast off by all, And I have found a friend, midst all unchanged, And sweeter still--compa.s.sion in my s.e.x.

COUNT. Thou must not, shall not die. I'll to my Warwick.

JOAN. It is in vain, and the swift moments fly.

Lady, leave me. I must be calm in death, Lest nature's weakness make my foes to triumph.

The blessing of a spirit thou hast soothed Gild thy bright path and cheer thy parting hour.

Farewell, for ever.

COUNT. No; Du Nois, Warwick, Shall save thee yet.

[_Exit._

JOAN. Alas! hope cheats me not.

My hour is come, and I content to die.

It was a trying hour; for hard it is To measure back our steps to life, when we Have almost knocked at death's grim portals.

One tear for thee, Du Nois, the last I shed.

One prayer for thee, my country and my king.

My king! a princely diadem is his, And mine this murky dungeon and these chains: Yet have I placed him there--and mine The hand that stemmed his fortune's tide, and broke The fetters that enslaved the land.

Enough. The bitterness of death, is past.

That thought has robbed the flames of all their terrors.

Farewell to earth! farewell to earthly ties!

When next I think of him, of thee, my country, Then will eternity have set its impress Upon remembrance.

SCENE VII.--_Street in Rouen._

OFFICER. SOLDIERS.

OFF. Place upon every gate a double guard.

Let none have egress: line the leading streets, And death to him who dares to quit his post.

[_Exit._

_Enter DU NOIS, XAINTRAILLES_, &c.

DU N. Now mark me! that we may escape detection, We must divide our fifty into tens, And mingle in the train.

XAINT. Where rendezvous?

DU N. By yonder church. The narrow turn must break In part the line. Upon the signal given Rush through the guards, promptly secure the maid, And whilst confusion reigns we'll force a pa.s.sage To the eastern gate. I have already gained it.

XAINT. The time?

DU N. The first deep toll of yonder bell.

XAINT. Enough! all hearts are in the cause.

[_Exeunt._

_Another part of the Street in front of the Prison._

_Enter SPECTATORS._

FIRST SPECTATOR. What crowds collect! each avenue is filled, And every street appears a solid ma.s.s: E'en to the topmost ridge each house is crammed With earnest gazers; not an eye but turns Towards the black prison-walls; yet 'tis an hour Ere the gates open for the sad procession.

Are scenes of death and agony so pleasant That such a throng of eager witnesses Should press to view them?

SECOND SPEC. Such a death is new, And thoughts of men are differently moved.

Some deem the maid condemned a tool of h.e.l.l, And some a chosen instrument of Heaven.

Fain would they see which will a.s.sert its claim; Whether the fiend will leave her to her fate, Or some great miracle be worked to save her.

_Enter several of DU NOIS' FRIENDS._

FIRST VOICE. What sound is that?

SECOND VOICE. It is the abbey bell.

None can mistake its toll.

THIRD VOICE. It cannot be; 'Tis not the hour.

_Enter XAINTRAILLES._

XAINT. The governor suspecting Treason perchance, or some attempt at rescue, Has changed both hour and route. The walls are manned, And every part is thronged with bristling spears.

[_The Procession partly seen in the distance._

_Enter DU NOIS._

DU N. Lose not an instant, or the maid is lost!

Hurry down yonder avenue: by this We meet you at the church.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE VIII.

_Enter DU NOIS._

DU N. The guards, it seems, suspected me, and made Access impossible.