_Peter_ (_aside_). A pin! what dire misgivings wring my heart! [Hops forward with a cold dignity, holding one foot in his hand. You seem in some excitement, Emily? _Emily_ (_wildly_). _You_, Peter!... tell me--have you found a pin? _Peter_ (_with deadly calm_). Unhappy girl--I _have_! (_To_ Bridesmaids.) Withdraw awhile, And should we need you, we will summon you. [_Exeunt_ Bridesmaids; EMILY _and_ PETER _stand facing each other for some moments in dead silence._ The pin is found--for I have trodden on it, And may, for aught I know, be lamed for life. Speak, Emily, what is that maid’s desert Whose carelessness has led to this mishap? _Emily_ (_in the desperate hope of shielding herself_). Why, should the fault he traced to any maid, Instant dismissal shall be her reward, With a month’s wages paid in lieu of notice! _Peter_ (_with a passionless severity_). From your own lips I judge you, Emily. Did they not own just now that you had heard The falling of a pin--yet heeded not? Behold the outcome of your negligence! [_Extends his injured foot._ _Emily_. Oh, let me kiss the place and make it well! _Peter_ (_coldly withdrawing foot_). Keep your caresses till I ask for them. My wound goes deeper than you wot of yet, And by that disregarded pin is pricked The iridescent bubble of Illusion! _Emily_ (_slowly_). Indeed, I do not wholly comprehend. _Peter._ Have patience and I will be plainer yet. Mine is a complex nature, Emily; Magnanimous, but still methodical. An injury I freely can forgive, Forget it (_striking his chest_), never! She who leaves about Pins on the floor to pierce a lover’s foot, Will surely plant a thorn within the side Of him whose fate it is to be her husband! _Emily_ (_dragging herself towards him on her knees_). Have pity on me, Peter; I was mad! _Peter_ (_with emotion_). How can I choose but pity thee, poor soul, Who, for the sake of temporary ease, Hast forfeited the bliss that had been thine! You could not stoop to pick a pin up. Why? Because, forsooth, ’twas but a paltry pin! Yet, duly husbanded, that self-same pin Had served you to secure your gaping train, Your self-respect--and Me. _Emily_ (_wailing_). What have I done? _Peter_. I will not now reproach you, Emily, Nor would I dwell upon my wounded sole, The pain of which increases momently. I part from you in friendship, and in proof, That fated instrument I leave with you [_Presenting her with the pin, which she accepts mechanically._ Which the frail link between us twain has severed. I can dispense with it, for in my cuff [_Shows her his coat-cuff, in which a row of pins’-heads is perceptible._