_Cha._ Ah! then, in reading my letter, you evidently did not understand, did not comprehend. _Luc._ Comprehend what? _Cha._ The country that my mother is gone to. _Luc._ No. _Cha._ It is the Country of Peace, of Repose,—the only land from which the mother cannot return to console her child. _Luc._ (_making a movement as if to show herself_). Then, sir, am I to understand that if you lost—you would—(_stops, and reseats herself_)—he has no mother! _Cha._ It would not interest you, madam, to learn all these details; but please to remember that you are not my friend George, and that I’ve not absolutely gone on my knees to you to read my letter. _Luc._ (_aside, looking at_ CHARLES). Just imagine if it were him! (_Rising with animation._) Well, sir, I don’t repent of having read your letter: in fact, I congratulate myself on having done so; and I am also glad to see you here, for now I can implore you, beseech you, to renounce such fatal plans; to beg of you with clasped hands to do so, in the name of your mother. _Cha._ Madam! _Luc._ Listen, sir. I cannot explain to you my object in being so curious; but what is your name? _Cha._ Charleston King. _Luc._ Sir! _Cha._ That is my veil. If you want to take it off, remove your own. _Luc._ No, sir: that is impossible; but— _Cha._ In that case, madam, I am Charleston King, too lazy to do any thing, but quite at your service. _Luc._ (_aside_). What shall I do? (_Looking round, sees flowers._) Ah! (_Takes a sprig of May, and comes towards_ CHA.) Sir, we are about to part, probably never to meet again; would it be repugnant to your feelings to accept a souvenir? _Cha._ Pardon, madam, but you don’t propose giving me a dressing-case? _Luc._ Don’t be alarmed. The souvenir I give you, do you promise to keep it? _Cha._ For ever, madam, I swear it. (_Aside._) What can it be? _Luc._ (_kissing sprig, and leaning against back of_ CHA.’S _chair_). Take it. _Cha._ (_looking at it, but not taking it_). A sprig of May! _Luc._ Upon which I have just left a kiss. (CHA. _moves_.) You have sworn never to part with it. Good! Should you persist in your fatal project, at the moment when you are about to commit this frightful act, perhaps my poor little sprig may catch your eye; perhaps it will remind you of the days of your childhood, those happy days that have fled away; those Sundays when your mother’s smile was upon you as you filled your little arms with flowers, and brought your childish offering to her knees. _Cha._ Keep still, my heart! _Luc._ If you should have such thoughts, your courage will be tried; for, in speaking to you of me, my little sprig will also remind you of your mother; and if you should still desire— _Cha._ (_seizing sprig_). No, no! I have no longer any such desire (_seizing her hand, and kissing it, slides upon his knees_). I swear it to you on my knees. But I must see the angel who—(_Lifts his head, when_ LUCY _turns away_). Ah, cruel! This hand at least I hold.