lga speaks to her, herself without faith. During the long
journey they have both had time to recall the whole circumstances; the
first exultation had given place to reflection. The gloomy silence and
the repulsive glances of the guards who surround the tent serve still
further to augment their despondency.

The trumpets sound. Marfa is irresolute whether she shall advance to
meet Demetrius. Now he stands before her alone. The little that was
left of hope in her heart altogether vanishes on seeing him. An unknown
something steps between them--Nature does not speak--they are separated
forever. The first impulse is an endeavor to approach; Marfa is the
first to make a movement to recede. Demetrius observes it, and remains
for a moment paralyzed. Significant silence.

DEMETRIUS. Does thy heart say nothing? Dost thou not recognize thy
blood in me?

MARFA is silent.

DEMETRIUS. The voice of nature is holy and free; I will neither
constrain nor belie it. Had thy heart spoken at the first glance then
had mine answered it; thou shouldst have found a pious, loving son in me.
The claim of duty would have concurred with inclination and heartfelt
affection. But if thou dost not feel as a mother for me, then, think as
a princess, command thyself as a queen! Fate unexpectedly gave me to
thee as a son; accept me as a gift of heaven. Though even I were not thy
son, which I now appear to be, still I rob thy son of nothing. I
stripped it from thy foe. Thee and thy blood have I avenged; I have
delivered thee from the grave in which thou went entombed alive, and led
thee back into the royal seat. That thy destiny is linked with mine thou
knowest. With me thou standest, and with me must fall. All the people's
eyes are upon us. I hate deception, and what I do not feel I may not
show; but I do really feel a reverence for thee, and this feeling, which
bends my knee before thee, comes from my heart.

[Dumb show of MARFA, to indicate her internal emotion.

DEMETRIUS. Make thy resolve! Let that which nature will not prompt be
the free act of thy will! I ask no hypocrisy--no falsehood, from thee; I
ask genuine feelings. Do not seem to be my mother, but be so. Throw the
past from thee--grasp the present with thy whole heart! If I am not thy
son yet I am the Czar--I have power and success upon my side. He who
lies in his grave is dust; he has no heart to love thee, no eye to smile
upon thee. Turn to the living.

[MARFA bursts into