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DUNOIS.
And could Saintrailles consent to give his voice To such a shameful compact?
SENATOR.
Never, sir!
Long as the hero lived, none dared to breathe A single word of treaty or surrender.
DUNOIS.
He then is dead?
SENATOR.
The n.o.ble hero fell, His monarch's cause defending on our walls.
CHARLES.
What! Saintrailles dead! Oh, in that single man A host is foundered!
[A Knight enters and speaks apart with DUNOIS, who starts with surprise.
DUNOIS.
That too!
CHARLES.
Well? What is it?
DUNOIS.
Count Dougla.s.s sendeth here. The Scottish troops Revolt, and threaten to retire at once.
Unless their full arrears are paid to-day.
CHARLES.
Duchatel!
DUCHATEL (shrugs his shoulders).
Sire! I know not what to counsel.
CHARLES.
Pledge, promise all, even unto half my realm.
DUCHATEL.
'Tis vain! They have been fed with hope too often.
CHARLES.
They are the finest troops of all my hosts!
They must not now, not now abandon me!
SENATOR (throwing himself at the KING'S feet).
Oh, king, a.s.sist us! Think of our distress!
CHARLES (in despair).
How! Can I summon armies from the earth?
Or grow a cornfield on my open palm?
Rend me in pieces! Pluck my bleeding heart Forth from my breast, and coin it 'stead of gold!
I've blood for you, but neither gold nor troops.
[He sees SOREL approach, and hastens towards her with outstretched arms.
SCENE IV.
The same. AGNES SOREL, a casket in her hand.
CHARLES.
My Agnes! Oh, my love! My dearest life!
Thou comest here to s.n.a.t.c.h me from despair!
Refuge I take within thy loving arms!
Possessing thee I feel that nothing is lost.
SOREL.
My king, beloved!
[looking round with an anxious, inquiring gaze.
Dunois! Say, is it true, Duchatel?
DUCHATEL.
'Tis, alas!
SOREL.
So great the need?
No treasure left? The soldiers will disband?
DUCHATEL.
Alas! It is too true!
SOREL (giving him the casket).
Here-here is gold, Here too are jewels! Melt my silver down!
Sell, pledge my castles--on my fair domains In Provence--treasure raise, turn all to gold, Appease the troops! No time to be lost!
[She urges him to depart.
CHARLES.
Well now, Dunois! Duchatel! Do ye still Account me poor, when I possess the crown Of womankind? She's n.o.bly born as I; The royal blood of Valois not more pure; The most exalted throne she would adorn-- Yet she rejects it with disdain, and claims No other t.i.tle than to be my love.
No gift more costly will she e'er receive Than early flower in winter, or rare fruit!
No sacrifice on my part she permits, Yet sacrificeth all she had to me!
With generous spirit she doth venture all Her wealth and fortune in my sinking bark.
DUNOIS.
Ay, she is mad indeed, my king, as thou; She throws her all into a burning house, And draweth water in the leaky vessel Of the Danaides. Thee she will not save, And in thy ruin but involve herself.
SOREL.
Believe him not! Full many a time he hath Perilled his life for thee, and now, forsooth, Chafeth because I risk my worthless gold!
How? Have I freely sacrificed to thee What is esteemed far more than gold and pearls, And shall I now hold back the gifts of fortune?
