Again, in "The Return of the Druses" there is a complicated clash between the ideal of religious reverence for the incarnation of divinity in Djabal and human love for him in the soul of Anael, resulting at the end in the destruction of the idea of Djabal's supernatural divinity, and his reinstatement perceived by Anael as divine through the complete exaltation of his human love for Anael. These examples, however, while they illustrate Browning's attitude toward human love, are far enough removed from nineteenth-century conditions in England. In "Pippa," the social conditions of nineteenth-century Italy are reflected; in "The Druses," the religious conditions of the Druse nation in the fifteenth century. In the "Blot in the 'Scutcheon" a situation is developed which comes home forcibly to the nineteenth-century Englishman despite the fact that the scene is supposed to be laid in the eighteenth century. The poet's treatment of the clash between the ideal, cherished by an old and honored aristocratic family of its own immaculate purity, and the spontaneous, complete and exalted love of the two young people who in their ecstasy transcend conventions, illustrates, as perhaps no other situation could, his reverential attitude upon the subject of love. Gwendolen, the older, intuitional woman, and Mertoun, the young lover, are the only people in the play to realize that purity may exist although the social enactments upon which it is supposed to depend have not been complied with. Tresham learns it only when he has wounded Mertoun unto death; Mildred never learns it. The grip of conventional teaching has sunk so deeply into her nature that she feels her sin unpardonable and only to be atoned for by death. Mertoun, as he dies, gives expression to the essential purity and truth of his nature in these words: "Die along with me, Dear Mildred! 'tis so easy, and you'll 'scape So much unkindness! Can I lie at rest, With rude speech spoken to you, ruder deeds Done to you?--heartless men shall have my heart And I tied down with grave-clothes and the worm, Aware, perhaps, of every blow--O God!-- Upon those lips--yet of no power to bear The felon stripe by stripe! Die Mildred! Leave Their honorable world to them! For God We're good enough, though the world casts us out."