ARGOT, CLAUDE MARIE, ETIENNE, BERTRAND.

MARGOT.
Saw you our sister?

CLAUDE MARIE.
She in golden armor,
Who with the banner walked before the king?

MARGOT.
It was Johanna. It was she, our sister!

LOUISON.
She recognized us not! She did not feel
That we, her sisters, were so near to her.
She looked upon the ground, and seemed so pale,
And trembled so beneath her banner's weight
When I beheld her, I could not rejoice.

MARGOT.
So now, arrayed in splendor and in pomp,
I have beheld our sister--who in dreams
Would ever have imagined or conceived,
When on our native hills she drove the flock,
That we should see her in such majesty?

LOUISON.
Our father's dream is realized, that we
In Rheims before our sister should bow down.
That is the church, which in his dream he saw
And each particular is now fulfilled.
But images of woe he also saw!
Alas! I'm grieved to see her raised so high!

BERTRAND.
Why stand we idly here? Let's to the church
To view the coronation!

MARGOT.
Yes! perchance
We there may meet our sister; let us go!

LOUISON.
We have beheld her. Let us now return
Back to our village.

MARGOT.
How? Ere we with her
Have interchanged a word?

LOUISON.
She doth belong
To us no longer; she with princes stands
And monarchs. Who are we, that we should seek
With foolish vanity to near her state?
She was a stranger while she dwelt with us!

MARGOT.
Will she despise, and treat us with contempt?

BERTRAND.
The king himself is not ashamed of us,
He kindly greets the meanest of the crowd.
How high soever she may be exalted,
The king is raised still higher!

[Trumpets and kettle-drums are heard from the church.

CLAUDE MARIE.
Let's to the church!

[They hasten to the background, where they are lost among the crowd.

SCENE VIII.

THIBAUT enters, clad in black. RAIMOND follows him, and tries
to hold him back.

RAIMOND.
Stay, father Thibaut! Do not join the crowds!
Here, at this joyous festival you meet
None but the happy, whom your grief offends.
Come! Let us quit the town with hasty steps.

THIBAUT.
Hast thou beheld my child? My wretched child?
Didst thou observe her?

RAIMMOND.
I entreat you, fly!

THIBAUT.
Didst mark her tottering and uncertain steps,
Her countenance, so pallid and disturbed?
She feels her dreadful state; the hour is come
To save my child, and I will not neglect it.