these,--why make the sorrow heavier to bear, the
parting sadder still?

Ione. Thou dost forget, my lord, I have but done my duty. May it please
thee, listen to a message I bear thee from the queen.

Con. Say on. I will gladly listen to thy voice while yet I may.

Ione. She bid me tell thee that to-morrow, ere the sun shall set, the
Princess Irene will be here. [Constantine _starts and turns aside._]
Forgive me that I pain thee, but I must obey. Yet, farther: thy bride
hath sent her statue as a gift to thee, and thou wilt find it in the
queen's pavilion. She bid me say she prayed thee to go look upon it, and
remember there thy solemn vow.

Con. Oh, Ione, could she send none but thee to tell me this? To hear it
from thy lips but makes the tidings heavier to bear. Canst thou bid me
go, and vow to love one whom I have learned to hate? Canst thou bid me
leave thee for a fate like this?

Ione. My lord, thou art soon to be a king; then for thy country's sake,
remember thy hand is plighted to the princess, and let no kindly
thoughts of a humble slave keep thy heart from its solemn duty.

Con. I am no king,--'tis I who am the slave, and thou, Ione, are more to
me than country, home, or friends. Nay, do not turn away,--think only of
the love I bear thee, and listen to my prayer.

Ione. I must not listen. Hast thou so soon forgot the vow thou made that
no word of love should pass thy lips? Remember, 'tis a slave who stands
before thee.

Con. Once more thou shalt listen to me, Ione, and then I will be still
forever. Thou shalt be my judge, thy lips _shall_ speak my fate. I
cannot love the princess. Wouldst thou bid me vow to cherish her while
my heart is wholly thine? Wouldst thou ask me to pass through life
beside her with a false vow on my lips, and, with words of love I do not
feel, conceal from her the grief of my divided heart? Must I give up all
the bright dreams of a happier lot, and feel that life is but a bitter
struggle, a ceaseless longing but for thee? Rather bid me to forget the
princess and bind with Love's sweet chains the slave unto my side,--my
bride forever.

Ione. The _slave_ Ione can never be thy bride, and thou art bound by
solemn vows to wed the Princess Irene. My duty and thine honor are more
precious than a poor slave's love. Banish all thoughts of her, and prove
thyself a faithful lord unto the wife who comes now trustingly to thee.
Ask thine own heart if life could be a bitter pilgrimage, when a