[MELNOTTE opens the door silently, and pauses at the threshold. Beau. No! let me rather thus console it; let me snatch from those lips one breath of that fragrance which never should be wasted on the low churl thy husband. Pauline. Help! Claude!--Claude!--Have I no protector?' Beau. Be silent! [showing a pistol.] See, I do not come unprepared even for violence. I will brave all things--thy husband and all his race-- for thy sake. Thus, then, I clasp thee! Mel. [dashing him to the other end of the stage]. Pauline--look up, Pauline! thou art safe. Beau. [levelling his pistol]. Dare you thus insult a man of my birth, ruffian? Pauline. Oh, spare him--spare my husband!--Beauseant--Claude--no--no [faints]. Mel. Miserable trickster! shame upon you! brave devices to terrify a woman! Coward!--you tremble--you have outraged the laws--you know that your weapon is harmless--you have the courage of the mountebank, not the bravo!--Pauline, there is no danger. Beau. I wish thou wert a gentleman--as it is, thou art beneath me.-- Good day, and a happy honeymoon.--[Aside.] I will not die till I am avenged. [Exit. Mel. I hold her in these arms--the last embrace Never, ah never more, shall this dear head Be pillow'd on the heart that should have shelter'd And has betray'd!--Soft--soft! one kiss--poor wretch! No scorn on that pale lip forbids me now! One kiss--so ends all record of my crime! It is the seal upon the tomb of hope, By which, like some lost, sorrowing angel, sits Sad memory evermore; she breathes--she moves She wakes to scorn, to hate, but not to shudder Beneath the touch of my abhorred love. Places her on a seat. There--we are strangers now! Pauline. All gone--all calm Is every thing a dream? thou art safe, unhurt I do not love thee;--but--but I am woman, And--and--no blood is spilt? Mel. No, lady, no; My guilt hath not deserved so rich a blessing As even danger in thy cause. Enter WIDOW. Widow. My son, I have been everywhere in search of you; why did you send for me? Mel. I did not send for you. Widow. No! but I must tell you your express has returned. Mel. So soon! impossible! Widow. Yes, he met the lady's father and mother on the road; they were going into the country on a visit. Your messenger says that Monsieur Deschappelles turned almost white with anger when he read your letter. They will be here almost immediately. Oh, Claude, Claude! what will they do to you? How I tremble! Ah, madam! do not let them injure him--if you knew how he doated on you. Pauline. Injure him! no, ma'am, be not afraid;--my father! how shall I meet him? how go back to Lyons? the scoff of the whole city! Cruel, cruel, Claude [in great agitation]. Sir, you have acted most treacherously. Mel. I know it, madam. Pauline [aside.] If he would but ask me to forgive him!--I never can forgive you, sir. Mel. I never dared to hope it.