DE VARDES She’s dead, Who was so fair. Why do you say alas? YVETTE Too late!—O God, I thought that all was well! DE VARDES Why, so it is! With her ‘tis well. She’s dead. They say the dead are happy. YVETTE You loved her! DE VARDES Goddess of Reason, no! Mere friends were we. But I’ve a preference for my friends alive! YVETTE Oh, woe is me! DE VARDES Thou hast what thou didst seek. Return to Olympus and hear “All hail, Well done, and like a deity!” YVETTE The paper! DE VARDES Thou dream of Paimpont Wood!— YVETTE The purse of gold! DE VARDES Thou picture of the Duchess Jeanne! YVETTE The purse! Give, give! DE VARDES The purse!—I gave it to Grégoire. YVETTE What! DE VARDES It bought five minutes—I did not know ‘Twas thine. YVETTE To Grégoire! You did not open it! DE VARDES No! YVETTE Oh, woe, woe is me! DE VARDES Thou standest there! Still, still the herd girl on the green cliff head Who waves her hand to a lost boat at sea! Still, still the vision of a haunted wood Soulless as is the stone thou leanest on,— Vivien musing on the thing she’s done! YVETTE A slip of paper in a silken purse— DE VARDES Wilt thou begone? The Mountain waits. YVETTE Too late! Where is Grégoire? DE VARDES I know not. He’s away; He has thy gold—I’m sorry for’t. YVETTE No hope?— I thought the bridge was built and both were o’er. Then as I passed I heard “To-morrow morn Carrier himself will judge that ci-devant” DE VARDES The Mountain waits— YVETTE I’ll to Lalain again. DE VARDES Ha! YVETTE She is dead; I’m lost. But thou—But thou— Farewell! Farewell! DE VARDES