_Zoe._ That is the ineffaceable curse of Cain. Of the blood that feeds my heart, one drop in eight is black--bright red as the rest may be, that one drop poisons all the flood; those seven bright drops give me love like yours--hope like yours--ambition like yours--Life hung with passions like dew-drops on the morning flowers; but the one black drop gives me despair, for I'm an unclean thing--forbidden by the laws--I'm an Octoroon! _George._ Zoe, I love you none the less; this knowledge brings no revolt to my heart, and I can overcome the obstacle. _Zoe._ But I cannot. _George._ We can leave this country, and go far away where none can know. _Zoe._ And our mother, she who from infancy treated me with such fondness, she who, as you said, had most reason to spurn me, can she forget what I am? Will she gladly see you wedded to the child of her husband's slave? No! she would revolt from it, as all but you would; and if I consented to hear the cries of my heart, if I did not crush out my infant love, what would she say to the poor girl on whom she had bestowed so much? No, no! _George._ Zoe, must we immolate our lives on her prejudice? _Zoe._ Yes, for I'd rather be black than ungrateful! Ah, George, our race has at least one virtue--it knows how to suffer! _George._ Each word you utter makes my love sink deeper into my heart. _Zoe._ And I remained here to induce you to offer that heart to Dora! _George._ If you bid me do so I will obey you-- _Zoe._ No, no! if you cannot be mine, O, let me not blush when I think of you. _George._ Dearest Zoe! [_Exit_ George _and_ Zoe, L. U. E. _As they exit,_ M'Closky _rises from behind rock,_ R., _and looks after them._ _M'Olosky._ She loves him! I felt it--and how she can love! [_Advances._] That one black drop of blood burns in her veins and lights up her heart like a foggy sun. O, how I lapped up her words, like a thirsty bloodhound! I'll have her, if it costs me my life! Yonder the boy still lurks with those mail-bags; the devil still keeps him here to tempt me, darn his yellow skin. I arrived just too late, he had grabbed the prize as I came up. Hillo! he's coming this way, fighting with his Injiun. [_Conceals himself._] _Enter_ Paul, _wrestling with_ Wahnotee, R. 3. E. _Paul._ It ain't no use now; you got to gib it up! _Wahno._ Ugh! _Paul._ It won't do! You got dat bottle of rum hid under your blanket--gib it up now, you--Yar! [_Wrenches it from him._] You nasty, lying Injiun! It's no use you putting on airs; I ain't gwine to sit up wid you all night and you drunk. Hillo! war's de crowd gone? And dar's de 'paratus--O, gosh, if I could take a likeness ob dis child! Uh--uh, let's have a peep. [_Looks through camera_] O, golly! yar, you Wahnotee! you stan' dar, I see you Ta demine usti. [_Goes_ R., _and looks at_ Wahnotee, L., _through the camera;_ Wahnotee _springs back with an expression of alarm._] _Wahno._ No tue Wahnotee.