The Maid of Orleans: A Tragedy Part 28

Thou'rt loved by Count Dunois. His n.o.ble heart, Which virtue and renown alone inspire, With pure and holy pa.s.sion glows for thee.

Oh, it is sweet to know oneself beloved By such a hero--sweeter still to love him!

[JOHANNA turns away with aversion.

Thou hatest him?--No, no, thou only canst Not love him:--how could hatred stir thy breast!

Those who would tear us from the one we love, We hate alone; but none can claim thy love.

Thy heart is tranquil--if it could but feel----

JOHANNA.

Oh, pity me! Lament my hapless fate!

SOREL.

What can be wanting to complete thy joy?

Thou hast fulfilled thy promise, France is free, To Rheims, in triumph, thou hast led the king, Thy mighty deeds have gained thee high renown, A happy people praise and wors.h.i.+p thee; Thy name, the honored theme of every tongue; Thou art the G.o.ddess of this festival; The monarch, with his crown and regal state, s.h.i.+nes not with greater majesty than thou!

JOHANNA.

Oh, could I hide me in the depths of earth!

SOREL.

Why this emotion? Whence this strange distress?

Who may to-day look up without a fear If thou dost cast thine eyes upon the ground!

It is for me to blush, me, who near thee Feel all my littleness; I cannot reach The lofty virtue, thy heroic strength!

For--all my weakness shall I own to thee?

Not the renown of France, my Fatherland, Not the new splendor of the monarch's crow, Not the triumphant gladness of the crowds, Engage this woman's heart. One only form Is in its depths enshrined; it hath no room For any feeling save for one alone: He is the idol, him the people bless, Him they extol, for him they strew these flowers, And he is mine, he is my own true love!

JOHANNA.

Oh, thou art happy! thou art blessed indeed!

Thou lovest, where all love. Thou may'st, unblamed Pour forth thy rapture, and thine inmost heart, Fearless discover to the gaze of man!

Thy country's triumph is thy lover's too.

The vast, innumerable mult.i.tudes, Who, rolling onward, crowd within these walls, Partic.i.p.ate thy joy, they hallow it; Thee they salute, for thee they twine the wreath, Thou art a portion of the general joy; Thou lovest the all-inspiring soul, the sun, And what thou seest is thy lover's glory!

SOREL (falling on her neck).

Thou dost delight me, thou canst read my heart!

I did thee wrong, thou knowest what love is, Thou tell'st my feelings with a voice of power.

My heart forgets its fear and its reserve, And seeks confidingly to blend with thine----

JOHANNA (tearing herself from her with violence).

Forsake me! Turn away! Do not pollute Thyself by longer intercourse with me!

Be happy! go--and in the deepest night Leave me to hide my infamy, my woe!

SOREL.

Thou frighten'st me, I understand thee not, I ne'er have understood thee--for from me Thy dark mysterious being still was veiled.

Who may divine what thus disturbs thy heart, Thus terrifies thy pure and sacred soul!

JOHANNA.

Thou art the pure, the holy one! Couldst thou Behold mine inmost heart, thou, shuddering, Wouldst fly the traitoress, the enemy!

SCENE III.

DUNOIS, DUCHATEL, and LA HIRE, with the banner of JOHANNA.

DUNOIS.

Johanna, thee we seek. All is prepared; The king hath sent us, 'tis his royal will That thou before him shouldst thy banner bear, The company of princes thou shalt join; And march immediately before the king: For he doth not deny it, and the world Shall witness, maiden, that to thee alone He doth ascribe the honor of this day.

LA HIRE.

Here is the banner. Take it, n.o.ble maiden Thou'rt stayed for by the princes and the people.

JOHANNA.

I march before him? I the banner bear?

DUNOIS.

Whom else would it become? What other hand Is pure enough to bear the sacred ensign!

Amid the battle thou hast waved it oft; To grace our glad procession bear it now.

[LA HIRE presents the banner to her, she draws back, shuddering.

JOHANNA.

Away! away!

LA HIRE.

Art thou terrified At thine own banner, maiden? Look at it!

[He displays the banner.

It is the same thou didst in conquest wave.

Imaged upon it is the queen of heaven, Floating in glory o'er this earthly ball; For so the Holy Mother showed it thee.

[JOHANNA gazing upon it with horror.

'Tis she herself! so she appeared to me.

See, how she looks at me and knits her brow, And anger flashes from her threatening eye!

SOREL.

Alas, she raveth! Maiden, be composed!

Collect thyself! Thou seest nothing real!

That is her pictured image; she herself Wanders above, amid the angelic choir!

JOHANNA.

Thou comest, fearful one, to punish me?

Destroy, o'erwhelm, thy lightnings hurl, And let them fall upon my guilty head.

Alas, my vow I've broken. I've profaned And desecrated thy most holy name!

DUNOIS.

Woe's us! What may this mean? What unblest words?

LA HIRE (in astonishment, to DUCHATEL).

This strange emotion canst thou comprehend?