For (turn thy face aside, and let me whisper
The horror to thine ear) then did I learn
That he that Adrien-that my husband-knew
The king's polluting suit, and deem'd it honour!
Then all the terrible and loathsome truth

Glared on me; coldness, waywardness, reserve,
Mystery of looks, words, all unravell'd, and
I saw the impostor where I had loved the god!

RICHELIEU.

I think thou wrong'st thy husband; but proceed.

JULIE.

Did you say "wrong'd" him? Cardinal, my father,
Did you say "wrong'd?" Prove it, and life shall grow
One prayer for thy reward and his forgiveness.

RICHELIEU.

Let me know all.

JULIE.

To the despair he caused

The courtier left me; but amid the chaos

Darted one guiding ray--to 'scape-to fly

Reach Adrien, learn the worst; 'twas then near midnight:

Trembling, I left my chamber, sought the queen,
Fell at her feet, reveal'd the unholy peril,

Implored her aid to flee our joint disgrace.

Moved, she embraced and soothed me; nay, preserved;
Her word sufficed to unlock the palace gates:

I hasten'd home, but home was desolate;
No Adrien there! Fearing the worst, I fled
To thee, directed hither. As my wheels
Paused at thy gates, the clang of arms behind,
The ring of hoofs-

RICHELIEU.

'Twas but my guards, fair trembler. (So Huguet keeps his word; my omens wrong'd him.)]

JULIE.

Oh, in one hour what years of anguish crowd!

RICHELIEU.

Nay, there's no danger now. Thou needest rest.

Come, thou shalt lodge beside me.

Tush! be cheer'd,

My rosiest Amazon; thou wrong'st thy Theseus. ·
All will be well; yes, yet all well.

[Exeunt through a side door.

SCENE II.

Enter HUGUET-DE MAUPRAT, in complete armour, his

visor down.

(The moonlight obscured at the casement.)

HUGUET.

DE MAUPRAT.

Not here!

Oh, I will find him, fear not. Hence, and guard
The galleries where the menials sleep; plant sentries
At every outlet; chance should throw no shadow
Between the vengeance and the victim! Go!

Ere yon brief vapour that obscures the moon,
As doth our deed pale conscience, pass away,
The mighty shall be ashes.

HUGUET.

A second arm?

DE MAUPRAT.

Will you not

To slay one weak old man?

Away! No lesser wrongs than mine can make
This murder lawful. Hence!

HUGUET.

A short farewell!

[Exit HUGUET.

Re-enter RICHELIEU (not perceiving DE MAUPRAT).

RICHELIEU.

How heavy is the air! the vestal lamp
Of the sad moon, weary with vigil, dies
In the still temple of the solemn heaven!
The very darkness lends itself to fear,
To treason-

Ay, thy spirits

Huguet! Montbrassil! Vermont ?

DE MAUPRAT.

Forsake thee, wizard; thy bold men of mail
Are my confederates. Stir not! but one step,
And know the next-thy grave!

RICHELIEU.

Thou liest, knave!

I am old, infirm, most feeble, but thou liest!
Armand de Richelieu dies not by the hand
Of man: the stars have said it,* and the voice
Of my own prophet and oracular soul

Confirms the shining Sibyls! Call them all—
Thy brother butchers! Earth has no such fiend;
No! as one parricide of his father-land,
Who dares in Richelieu murder France!

DE MAUPRAT.

Thy stars

Deceive thee, cardinal; thy soul of wiles
May against kings and armaments avail,

And mock the embattled world; but powerless now
Against the sword of one resolved man,

Upon whose forehead thou hast written shame!

RICHELIEU.

I breathe; he is not a hireling. Have I wrong'd thee? Beware surmise, suspicion, lies! I am

Too great for men to speak the truth of me.

* In common with his contemporaries, Richelieu was credulous in astrology and less lawful arts. He was too fortunate a man not to be superstitious.

G

DE MAUPRAT.

Thy acts are thy accusers, cardinal!

In his hot youth, a soldier, urged to crime
Against the state, placed in your hands his life;
You did not strike the blow; but o'er his head,
Upon the gossamer thread of your caprice,
Hover'd the axe. His the brave spirit's hell,
The twilight terror of suspense; your death
Had set him free: he purposed not, nor pray'd it.
One day you summon'd, mock'd him with smooth
pardon,

Shower'd wealth upon him, bade an angel's face
Turn earth to paradise-

RICHELIEU.

Well!

DE MAUPRAT.

Was this mercy!

A Cæsar's generous vengeance? Cardinal, no!
Judas, not Cæsar, was the model! You

Saved him from death for shame; reserved to grow
The scorn of living men; to his dead sires,
Leprous reproach; scoff of the age to come;
A kind convenience; a Sir Pandarus
To his own bride, and the august adulterer!
Then did the first great law of human hearts,
Which with the patriot's, not the rebel's, name
Crown'd the first Brutus, when the Tarquin fell,
Make misery royal; raise this desperate wretch
Into thy destiny! Expect no mercy!
Behold De Mauprat!

RICHELIEU.

(Lifts, his visor.)

To thy knees, and crawl

For pardon; or, I tell thee, thou shalt live

For such remorse, that, did I hate thee, I

Would bid thee strike, that I might be avenged!

It was to save my Julie from the king,

That in thy valour I forgave thy crime;

It was when thou, the rash and ready tool

Yea, of that shame thou loath'st-didst leave thy hearth To the polluter—in these arms thy bride

Found the protecting shelter thine withheld.

(Goes to the side door.)

Julie de Mauprat-Julie !

Enter Julie.

Lo! my witness!

DE MAUPRAT.

What marvel's this? I dream! My Julie-thou!
This thy beloved hand?

JULIE.

Henceforth all bond

Between us twain is broken. Were it not
For this old man, I might in truth have lost
The right, now mine, to scorn thee!

RICHELIEU.

So, you hear her?

DE MAUPRAT.

Thou with some slander hast her sense infected!

JULIE.

No, sir he did excuse thee in despite

Of all that wears the face of truth. Thy friend,
Thy confidant, familiar, Baradas,

Himself reveal'd thy baseness.

Where is thy thunder, Heaven? Duped! snared! un

done!

Thou-thou couldst not believe him! Thou dost love me!

Love cannot feed on falsehoods!

Be still, my heart! Love you I did: how fondly,