WIDOW. Poor lady--dare I tell her, Claude? Know you not, then, madam, that this young man is of poor though honest parents? Know you not that you are wedded to my son, Claude Melnotte? PAULINE. Your son! hold--hold! do not speak to me. [_Approaches_ MELNOTTE.] Is this a jest? is it? I know it is, only speak--one word--one look--one smile. I cannot believe--I who loved thee so--I cannot believe that thou art such a--no, I will not wrong thee by a harsh word! Speak. MEL. Leave us. [_To_ WIDOW.] Have pity on her, on me; leave us! WIDOW. Oh, Claude, that I should live to see thee bowed by shame! thee of whom I was so proud! [_Exit._ PAULINE. Her son--her son! MEL. Now, lady, hear me. PAULINE. Hear thee! Ay, speak--her son! have fiends a parent? speak, That thou mayst silence curses--speak! MEL. No, curse me; Thy curse would blast me less than thy forgiveness. PAULINE [_laughing wildly_]. This is thy palace, where "the perfumed light Steals through the mist of alabaster lamps, And every air is heavy with the sighs Of orange groves and music from sweet lutes, And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth I' the midst of roses!--Dost thou like the picture?" This is my bridal home, and thou my bridegroom! O fool--O dupe--O wretch! I see it all. The by-word and the jeer of every tongue In Lyons. Hast thou in thy heart one touch Of human kindness? if thou hast, why kill me, And save thy wife from madness. No, it cannot-- It cannot be; this is some horrid dream; I shall wake soon. [_Touching him._] Art flesh? art man? or but The shadows seen in sleep? It is too real. What have I done to thee? how sinn'd against thee, That thou shouldst crush me thus?