GRÉGOIRE Just the same. [_The prisoners move toward the door._ DE VARDES _touches_ GRÉGOIRE _on the arm_. DE VARDES I find the stones no colder than their wont, Time moves no heavier here than everywhere, And here, Grégoire, I will remain. The Church Will give me up when Carrier calls my name! DE L’ORIENT I will keep you company— GRÉGOIRE As you will— To-morrow you’ll be called—you have one night. (_To the other prisoners._) Follow me. [_Exeunt all but_ DE VARDES _and_ DE L’ORIENT. _The latter flings himself upon the bench beneath the window_; DE VARDES _paces to and fro. A silence, then_ DE L’ORIENT _sings_. DE L’ORIENT _There is an herb, they say, Gives light to all the blind. ’Twill be a gracious day When I that herb shall find. And lighten all the blind!_ _There is a leaf that springs. Will heal the very sad. Ah, would that I had wings To find that leaf so glad, And heal the very sad!_ _There is a bloom o’ grace Will bring the dead again. Ah, for the flowret’s face! Ah, for an end to pain! Ah, for the dead again!_ DE VARDES Why, that’s a mournful thing! DE L’ORIENT It was so meant. Oh, happy days we sing the saddest things!— My heart is eased. I’ll sleep awhile and dream. [_He pillows his head upon his arm and sleeps._ DE VARDES _walks slowly to and fro_. DE VARDES