nd deep as Leman's lake
That lies before us.

_Roger._ Thus in our dreams we picture what we wish;
Not held to time or place; and while the body,
Like an anchor, sinks in mud, the winged craft
Swings with the tide of thought.
He's in Geneva now; Hester with him;
His daughter honorably married;
And all the pains of yesterday forgot.
I'll write it down. [_Roger makes notes._

_Dimsdell._ Good night, dear wife, good night.
The stars of Heaven melt into angel forms
Which stoop to lift me to the gates of bliss.
Farewell, farewell! Nay, weep not, Hester;
Our sins are now forgiven.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of th' shadow of death,
I will fear no evil.--Say it with me, Hester.

_Roger._ Will he die thus? [_Examines Dimsdell._
The pulse is weak--a clammy sweat--
'Tis but the culmination of the trance.
'Tis but a dream. A dream! Yet one must die;
And to our human thought that death were best
That came preceded by a flag of truce
To parley peace. To pass away in dreams--
Without the vain regret for work undone;
Without a load of sin to weight the soul;
With all the argentry of honored age
To frost our past; with all the fiercer heats
Of life burnt out into the cold, gray ash--
That were peace! Then might a man yield up
The willing ghost as calmly as a child
That falls asleep upon its mother's breast
To wake in paradise.

_Dimsdell starts up._

_Dimsdell._ I see thee now--and now I'll kill, kill, kill--
If thou be Satan I cannot harm thee--
But if a man--

_Dimsdell attempts to reach Roger, who keeps the one chair of the
room in front of him and thus wards off Dimsdell._

_Roger._ Madman, listen! Thou canst not harm me, yet I am not Satan.
My name is Roger Prynne. I am the husband of the woman you have
wronged.

_Dimsdell._ Thou Roger Prynne?

_Roger._ Aye, Roger Prynne and thine accuser.

_Dimsdell looks about the room as though dazed._

_Dimsdell._ Why, how is this?--But now, the Governor's garden--and
now, my room!--But now, just now, old Doctor Chillingworth--and now,
mine enemy, Roger Prynne! Thou art the Devil himself!--Thou shalt
not trick me thus.

_Band music in distance._

_Roger._ Trick thee? Why, madman, thou hast been in trance since
yester noon. Trick thee! I like the word! 'Tis now the time of day
when thou shouldst preach the great Election Sermon, the one event