Sincerely wretched now indeed once more Shimei appeared; effrontery of fraud And his vain confidence of hope forlorn Abashed in him, intolerably rebuked-- Not more by this access of evidence (Unlooked for, since that muzzle to his mouth Had so well served to hold the soldier mute From mention of the Hebrew lad)--not more Abashed thus and rebuked, than by the mere Aspect of the clear innocence and truth And virtue, honor and high mind, in fair And noble person there embodied seen In Stephen beamy with his taintless youth. Was it some promise of retrieving yet Possible for this soul, so lost to good, That, broken from that festive confidence Once his in the omnipotence of fraud To answer all his ends, he thus should feel Pain in the neighborhood of nobleness? Unconsciously so working, like a wand Wielded that cancels a magician's spell, To shame back wretched Shimei to himself, Nor ever guessing, in his guileless mind, Of possible other posture to affairs Than full exposure of the criminal Already reached, no need of word from him-- Stephen to Julius frugally replied: "Paul's case was happy, sir, if this thou meanest, How fared he in the hap which him befell;" Then, conscious of a look not satisfied In Julius, added: "If instead thou meanest What hap was threatened him but came to naught, Then I shall need to answer otherwise." "This I would learn," said Julius, "dost thou know, Of certain knowledge, thine own eye or ear, Where Paul was, and what doing, through the hours Of last night's darkness? How was he bestead? That tell me, if thou knowest, naught else but that. Fact, first; thereafter, fancy--if at all." A little puzzled, but withal relieved, Not to be witness against Shimei, "It happened," Stephen said, "that as the dark Drew on, Paul with his sister Rachel talked, They two apart; but nigh at hand I sat, With others, on the deck. As the night waxed, With darkness from the still-withdrawing sun, And then from clouds that blotted out the stars, Almost all went to covert one by one; But Paul abode, and I abode with him. Yet were we from each other separate, And Paul perhaps knew not that I was nigh; But I lay watching him and nursed my thoughts. At first he paced, as musing, up and down, Then, still alone, and still as musing, leaned, In absent long oblivion of himself, Over the vessel's side--into the sea Gazing, like one who read a mystic book. This and naught else he did, until a dash Of rain-drops shredded from the tempest broke His reverie; and then both he and I, Meeting a moment but to say good-night, Housed us for the forgetfulness of sleep."