_Amaury._ Then, by Christ, and the world that craves His blood, I think She, if she would, or you, could point to me, Or you, Vittia Pisani, The reason of this sudden piteous death Hard on the haunted flight before my father, Whose lips refuse.
_Camarin._ Then will, still--if there Is need.
_Amaury._ A hollow word for what had never being.
_Amaury_ (_at bier_). Upon her face! Where not oblivion the void of death Has hid away, or can, the agony Of her last terror--but it trembles still. I tell you, no. Grief was enough, but now Through it has risen mystery that chokes As a miasma from Iscariot's tomb. And till this pall of doubt be rent away No earth shall fall and quicken with her dust! But I will search her face ... till it reveals.
_Yolanda_ (_gently_). That she may not grieve.
For--if 'tis near--her soul with this is wrung. Near! would it were to hear me and impart Its yearning and regret to us who live, Its dim unhappiness and hollow want. Yes, mother, were you now about us, vain, Invisible and without any voice To tell us of you! Were you and now could hear through what of cold Or silence wrap you, oh, so humanly And seeming but a veil-- Then would you hear me say--(_suddenly aghast_) Ah, God!
(_Consternation. Some fall to their knees._)
_Yolanda._ Mother! Her breast! Mother! She moves!
_Yolanda._ Stand off from her ... Mother!
_Amaury._ See; her lips! They strive to speak! O faintly, O so faint! Can you not hear?
_Berengere._ Christ, save me ... Christ! Yolanda's innocent, and I ... 'twas I.
(_She shudders and dies, amid low-uttered awe._ RENIER _bends, lays his hand a moment on her breast, then, with a cry of rage, springs from her and draws, and rushes on_ CAMARIN, _who awaits him, desperate._)
_Amaury_ (_confused, as they engage_). Yolanda; what is this?
_Yolanda._ Amaury, in! Compel Lord Renier back! he cannot live, You only could against Camarin now! Wait not to question, but obey me! if You ever--! (_As he rushes in_) Holy Magdalen, defend him!
Now, now defend him, if to chastity Thou'rt vowed in heaven.
_Camarin._ Oh!... Berengere!... treachery!
(_He staggers and sinks back heavily toward the pillar. There is breathless, strained suspense. Then he strikes the sacred column, and as he does so the image above sways, totters and crushes upon him. A cry, "The Magdalen!" goes up around._)