auline. Would I? Ah, better death with him I love
Than all the pomp--which is but as the flowers
That crown the victim!--[Turning away.] I am ready.

[MELNOTTE rushes to DAMAS.

Damas. There--This is the schedule--this the total.

Beau. [to DESCHAPPELLES, showing notes]. These
Are yours the instant she has sign'd; you are
Still the great House of Lyons!

[The Notary is about to hand the contract to PAULINE, when MELNOTTE
seizes it and tears it.

Beau. Are you mad?

M. Deschap. How, Sir! What means this insult?

Mel. Peace, old man!
I have a prior claim. Before the face
Of man and Heaven I urge it; I outbid
Yon sordid huckster for your priceless jewel. [Giving a pocket-book.
There is the sum twice told! Blush not to take it:
There's not a coin that is not bought and hallow'd
In the cause of nations with a soldier's blood!

Beau. Torments and death!

Pauline. That voice! Thou art--

Mel. Thy husband!

[PAULINE rushes into his arms.

Look up! Look up, Pauline!--for I can bear
Thine eyes! The stain is blotted from my name.
I have redeem'd mine honor. I can call
On France to sanction thy divine forgiveness!
Oh, joy!--Oh, rapture! By the midnight watchfires
Thus have I seen thee! thus foretold this hour!
And 'midst the roar of battle, thus have heard
The beating of thy heart against my own!

Beau. Fool'd, duped, and triumph'd over in the hour
Of mine own victory! Curses on ye both!
May thorns be planted in the marriage-bed!
And love grow sour'd and blacken'd into hate
Such as the hate that gnaws me!

Damas. Curse away
And let me tell thee, Beauseant, a wise proverb
The Arabs have,--"Curses are like young chickens,
[Solemnly.] And still come home to roost!"

Beau. Their happiness
Maddens my soul! I am powerless and revengeless! [To MADAME.
I wish you joy! Ha! ha! the gardener's son! [Exit.

Damas [to GLAVIS]. Your friend intends to hang himself! Methinks
You ought to be his travelling companion!

Gla. Sir, you are exceedingly obliging! [Exit.

Pauline. Oh
My father, you are saved,--and by my husband!
Ah, blessed hour!

Mel. Yet you weep still, Pauline.

Pauline. But on thy breast!--these tears are sweet and holy!

M. Deschap. You have won love and honor nobly, sir!
Take her;--be happy both!