So late it grows, so long I’ve waited here! I feel the morning air!—Will he not come? O God! what if they’ve slain him otherwhere? Ha! Death is busy far and near to-night! They may have shot him yonder by the sea! He may have sunk above, below this place! Though Grégoire swore to me it would be here, Here where they brought me would they bring him too, And ere the set of moon we would be gone!— O God! The cries of drowning men I’ve heard, But not his voice among them! No, no, no! He’ll make no moan, he will die loftily!— Ah, God! only to see him ere I drown! THE VOICES Miséricorde! SOLDIERS Prenez garde! Halte là! A MAN’S VOICE I die who fought for France in bloody fields; At Lille I fought, at Bordeaux, Avignon! YVETTE A soldier! [_Another voice sings hoarsely._ THE VOICE _Tremblez, tyrans! et vous perfides, L’opprobre de tous les partis! Tremblez, vos projets parricides Viennent enfin recevoir leur prix! Tout est soldat pour vous combattre—_ [_The voice dies._ YVETTE A soldier! ANOTHER VOICE Diantre! A whiff of grapeshot now, A sabre-cut, or e’en a trampling charge! But this cold death— [_The voice dies._ YVETTE A soldier! ANOTHER VOICE Baste! I’ll tell The Duc de Biron— YVETTE All soldiers! _Enter_ DE VARDES _and_ GRÉGOIRE. GRÉGOIRE I tell you truth, monsieur— DE VARDES So dense the throng I have looked up and down for this long hour,— This hour so long, this hour so fatal short, Seeing it is my latest hour of life, And that I cannot find her whom I seek! GRÉGOIRE She is not dead, monsieur! DE VARDES So many are! GRÉGOIRE I would have known. DE VARDES Some æons past thou wast A serviceable fellow! Get thee gone! And if thou findest her, I’ll give thee thanks, I have no gold— GRÉGOIRE Monsieur le Baron— DE VARDES Go! [_Exit_ GRÉGOIRE.