eptre
New-swinging o'er the world!

Char. Then you risk much
For an unstable throne.

Car. Not risk!

Char. The men
Who've governed Mexico, for the most part,
Have paid their heads for it.

Mar. O, Charles!

Char. 'Tis true.

Car. Our safety is in the Emperor of France.
He's the strong angel in this noble scheme!

Char. Safety in him? Nay, madam, by my soul,
The lightest smile that breaks upon his lips,
As though a breeze but touched there, hides a plot
May hang our hearts with lead!

Car. How you misjudge him!
In Paris when he pledged his faith to us
His eyes more than his words assured his heart
Unto our cause. I trust him, yea, I trust him!

Char. There is a woman on the throne of France!
She is the Eve to this slow-blooded Adam,
Dutch-born Napoleon, and holdeth up
The globe as 't were an apple for his hand.
She builds mock images of dreams that died
On Helena's lone rock, and teaches him
They are not ghosts of dream but dream indeed!
Mexico, burning with gold and sunset's fire,
Pouring the crimson of internal strife,
To her is but a jewel in crude bed
She'd have you pick and polish for her crown!

Car. Had you but heard her sweet devoted voice
Pleading with us for sake of the true Church
To finish now this great emprise begun,
You would believe her holy.

Char. If she is holy,
And if Napoleon be true in this,
Then is he God's perfection of a man,
And she earth's sole and sainted paragon!
But wait--O wait and see ere you risk life
And honor!

Car. You're wrong--so wrong--but this is strange.
O why are we not happy? (Turning to window and gazing out)

Char. (Following her) Because, my cousin,
This is not Miramar as we have known it.
The scholar's home, the soldier's fair retreat,
The noble heart's sweet fane and altar spot,
But Miramar with great ambition's storm
Rolling