O terrible! And yet
No news to me--to me.

Lou. You'll tell her, sir?

Char. There is no need, my lord. Her reason's fled.
She's mad.

Bel. 'Tis Heaven's mercy!

It. Unhappy woman!

Char. She is not wild, but gentle, and thinks, my lord,
You've granted her request.

Lou. Noble Carlotta!
My lords, forbear awhile. I'd be alone.

It. God grant you rest.

(All go out but Napoleon)

Lou. These kings I've called here to a dance must lead
A funeral. What can I say to them?
To Austria--his brother! England--his own cousin!
To Belgium--_her_ brother! Spain-- O, all
The _world_, that loved him!... An Emperor--and shot.

(Musical procession passes in street. Shouts of
'Vive l'empereur! Vive l'empereur!')

He too heard shouts like those--saw fires ascend
To write his triumph--ay--and he is cold--
Quite cold--shot dead.... Carlotta! prophetess!
I feel--I know--thy oracle's from God!

(Falls at the foot of the imperial chair)

(CURTAIN)

Scene II: Miramar. A balcony overlooking the sea. Lady Maria
alone.

Mar. Here they went out together--arm in arm,--
Sweet, healing spirits to a bleeding land.
Down yonder terrace to the sea they passed,--
He unto death, and she--to--(Sighs deeply)

Car. (Without) Cousin!

Mar. Ah!

(Turns smiling to greet Carlotta who enters carrying
flowers)

So early out? What treasures have you there?

Car. The sweetest flowers that ever peeped up head.
They grow along the path in that dear wood
Where Maximilian took me gypsying
When we grew weary of the world.

Mar. I'm sure
That was not often.

Car. True. We loved too well
Our work among the people to hide ourselves
In little corners of delight. But oh, those times!
How he would catch me as I ran and say
His little wild-girl with her flower crown
Was dearer than his princess ermine-gowned.
And so I'll wreathe these buds into my hair,