Why, then, without doubt It was Vivien! But yet do you know ‘Tis the Eve of Saint John, and here, last night, I dreamed that I saw my dream again! [_The hand and arm of the statue fall, broken, to the ground at the feet of_ THE MARQUISE. THE MARQUISE Ah! DE VARDES (_pushes the marble aside with his foot_) It is nothing! The stone was cracked last night. Some crack-brained peasant had no better mark! THE MARQUISE ‘Tis a _présigne_!—I feel it.— DE VARDES You shudder! THE MARQUISE One trod near my grave! I’m suddenly cold! DE VARDES The sun never shines on this terrace! THE MARQUISE No! ‘Twas an air from the Forest of Paimpont Came over me! [_Voices within._ DE L’ORIENT _sings_. DE L’ORIENT _In Ys they did rejoice, In Ys the wine was free; The Ocean lent its voice Unto that revelry!_ THE MARQUISE Oh, come away! Let us find the violins and the sun! There are other woods than Paimpont. Come away! [_Exeunt_ DE VARDES _and_ THE MARQUISE. YVETTE (_leaves the shadow of the statue_) ‘Twas he! That horseman who did waken me That Saint John’s Eve I strayed in Paimpont Wood! O Our Lady— SÉRAPHINE (_from the statue_) Saint Yves! There is bread! [YVETTE _takes from the table a loaf of bread and throws it to_ SÉRAPHINE, _who springs upon it like a famished wolf_. Ah—h—h! [_Setting her teeth in the loaf._ [YVETTE, _about to lay her hand upon another round of bread, sees the fan lying upon the cloth. She leaves the bread and takes up the fan. It opens in her hand._ YVETTE Oh!— [_She sits in the great chair and waves the fan slowly to and fro._ Were I a lady fair and free, I would powder my hair with dust of gold, I would clasp a necklace around my throat, Of jewels rare, and a gown I would wear, Blue silk like Our Lady of Toute Remède! My shoes should be made of golden stuff, And a broidered glove should dress my hand, My hand so white that a lord might kiss! I would spin fine flax from a silver wheel, I would weave a web for my bridal sheets, I would sing of King Gradlon under the sea, Were I a lady fair and free!