ng to me. I thank you for that eternal
possession. Let it be a dream, austere and pure. Passion has its own
ascetic cell, where it can fast and scourge itself. I ask you for
nothing, Blanche. I am yours wholly. Do what you like with me.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Go back to your wife.

Denham.

Yes--my poor Constance! Well, Blanche, at least you and I can't
utterly spoil each other's lives. We can't _marry_ each other.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Don't say any more. Let us forget all this.

Denham.

Forget? No. But we must renounce. You, too, will wear the sackcloth.

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_petulantly_) Why should _I_ wear sackcloth?

Denham.

My dear Blanche, you are not such a fine coquette as you imagine.
(_Going close up to her._) Do you think I can't read those beautiful
eyes of yours? You love me! Your love fills the air like the
fragrance of a flower. (_He clasps her in his arms._)

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_impatiently_) Suppose I did. _Apres?_

Denham.

You do love me, Blanche? (_Kisses her._)

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_with inward rage_) Yes, I love you. (_Suddenly embracing him._) I
love you! What does it matter?

Denham.

Oh, it is the eternal tragedy! We must renounce.

(_Half releasing her._)

Mrs. Tremaine.

Why must we renounce? Now that you have gone so far, why turn back?

Denham.

(_releasing her_) It is the least of evils. How should I hide you
from the world's vile slanders? Let us keep our dream unsullied.
(_Crosses_ L.)

Mrs. Tremaine.

I have been through the fire already, and could face it again--for a
man I loved, and who loved me.

Denham.

But it would scorch you worse than before. Then, Constance!

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_with scorn_) Ay, Constance! You ought to have thought of her
before. (_Passionately._) Why have you spoken to me? Why have you
compelled _me_ to speak, if you are not bold enough to break the
bonds that are strangling you?

Denham.

Because I must. Don't tempt me, Blanche. We shall sometimes meet,
look in each other's eyes, and keep our secret. It is best so. I
love you so much that I would save you from yourself.

Mrs. Tremaine.

I don't understand such love. (_Turns away_ R.)

Denham.

Women never do. They prefer being treated like dogs. Is it nothing
that we have met heart to heart for one sweet moment, that you have
rested a moment in my arms? To me it is a glimpse of the
unattainable heaven of love. (_Going up to her._) Kiss me once,
Blanche, and farewell!