_Ger._ (_half waking_). I can't read. When I get to the bottom of the page, I wonder what it was all about. I shall never get to Garibaldi! and if I don't, I shall never get farther. If I could but keep that one line away! It drives me mad, mad. "He took her by the lily-white hand."--I could strangle myself for thinking of such things, but they _will_ come!--I _won't_ go mad. I should never get to Garibaldi, and never be rid of this red-hot ploughshare ploughing up my heart. I will _not_ go mad! I will die like a man. _Con._ Arthur! Arthur! _Ger._ God in heaven! she is there! And the others are behind her!--Psyche! Psyche! Don't speak to those women! Come alone, and I will tear my heart out and give it you.--It is Psyche herself now, and the rest are gone! Psyche--listen. _Con._ It's only me, Arthur! your own little Constance! If aunt would but let me stay and nurse you! But I don't know what's come to her: she's not like herself at all. _Ger._ Who's that behind you? _Con._ Behind me? (_looking round_). There's nobody behind me. _Ger._ I thought there was somebody behind you. William!--What can have become of William? _Con._ I dare say aunt has sent him somewhere. _Ger._ Then he's gone! he's gone! _Con._ You're not afraid of being left alone with me, Arthur? _Ger._ Oh no! of course not?--What can have become of William? Don't you know they sent him--not those women, but the dead people--to look after me? He's a good fellow. He said he would die for me. Ha! ha! ha! Not much in that--is there? _Con._ Don't laugh so, dear Arthur. _Ger._ Well, I won't. I have something to tell you, Constance. I will try to keep my senses till I've told you. _Con._ Do tell me. I hope I haven't done anything more to vex you. Indeed I am sorry. I won't speak to that man again, if you like. I would rather not--if you wish it. _Ger._ What right have I to dictate to you, my child? _Con._ Every right. I am yours. I belong to you. Nobody owned me when you took me. _Ger._ Don't talk like that; you will drive me mad. _Con._ Arthur! Arthur! _Ger._ Listen to me, Constance. I am going to Garibaldi. He wants soldiers. I must not live an idle life any longer.--We must part, Constance.--Good-bye, my darling! _Con._ No, no; not yet; we'll talk about it by-and-by. You see I shall have ever so many things to make for you before you can go! (_smiling_). _Ger._ Garibaldi can't wait, Constance--and _I_ can't wait. I shall die if I stop here. _Con._ Oh, Arthur, you are in some trouble, and you won't tell me what it is, so I can't help you! _Ger._ I shall be killed, I know. I mean to be. Will you think of me sometimes? Give me one kiss. I may have a last kiss. _Con._ (_weeping_.) My heart will break if you talk like that, Arthur. I will do anything you please. There's something wrong, dreadfully wrong! And it must be my fault!--Oh! there's that man! (_starting up_.) He shall _not_ come here.