When Martha the nun returns, having prepared all things for her elopement, she finds Don Juan fainting upon the ground.—“I am no longer your husband,” says he, upon coming to himself; “I am no longer Don Juan; I am Brother Juan the Trappist. Sister Martha, recollect that you must die!” This was a most cruel blow upon Sister Martha, who is no less a person than an angel, an angel in disguise—the good spirit of the house of Marana, who has gone to the length of losing her wings and forfeiting her place in heaven, in order to keep company with Don Juan on earth, and, if possible, to convert him. Already, in her angelic character, she had exhorted him to repentance, but in vain; for, while she stood at one elbow, pouring not merely hints, but long sermons, into his ear, at the other elbow stood a bad spirit, grinning and sneering at all her pious counsels, and obtaining by far the greater share of the Don’s attention. In spite, however, of the utter contempt with which Don Juan treats her,—in spite of his dissolute courses, which must shock her virtue,—and his impolite neglect, which must wound her vanity, the poor creature (who, from having been accustomed to better company, might have been presumed to have had better taste), the unfortunate angel feels a certain inclination for the Don, and actually flies up to heaven to ask permission to remain with him on earth. And when the curtain draws up, to the sound of harps, and discovers white-robed angels walking in the clouds, we find the angel of Marana upon her knees, uttering the following address:— LE BON ANGE. Vierge, à qui le calice à la liqueur amère Fut si souvent offert, Mère, que l’on nomma la douloureuse mère, Tant vous avez souffert! Vous, dont les yeux divins sur la terre des hommes Ont versé plus de pleurs Que vos pieds n’ont depuis, dans le ciel où nous sommes, Fait éclore de fleurs. Vase d’élection, étoile matinale, Miroir de pureté, Vous qui priez pour nous, d’une voix virginale, La suprême bonté; A mon tour, aujourd’hui, bienheureuse Marie, Je tombe à vos genoux; Daignez donc m’écouter, car c’est vous que je prie, Vous qui priez pour nous. Which may be thus interpreted:— O Virgin blest! by whom the bitter draught So often has been quaffed, That, for thy sorrow, thou art named by us The Mother Dolorous! Thou, from whose eyes have fallen more tears of woe, Upon the earth below, Than ’neath thy footsteps, in this heaven of ours, Have risen flowers! O beaming morning star! O chosen vase! O mirror of all grace! Who, with thy virgin voice, dost ever pray Man’s sins away; Bend down thine ear, and list, O blessed saint! Unto my sad complaint; Mother! to thee I kneel, on thee I call, Who hearest all. She proceeds to request that she may be allowed to return to earth, and follow the fortunes of Don Juan; and, as there is one difficulty, or, to use her own words,—