keep Belamy away from Georgette, the sly Squire has conducted him to
the wine-cellar, and the officier [Transcriber's note: officer?], now
half-drunk admits having had a rendez-vous with Rose.--When Thibaut has
retired, Belamy again kisses Georgette, and lo, the bell does not ring
this time!

Meanwhile Rose comes down the hill, neatly clad and glowing with joy
and pride and Georgette disregarding Thibaut's reproofs offers her the
wedding-garland. The whole village is assembled to see the wedding,
but Silvain appears with dark brow and when Rose radiantly greets him,
he pushes her back fiercely, believing that she betrayed the refugees,
who are, as he has heard, caught. Rose is too proud to defend herself,
but when Georgette tries to console her, she silently draws from her
bosom a paper, containing the information that the refugees have safely
crossed the frontier.--Great is Silvain's shame and heartfelt his
repentance.--Suddenly Belamy enters, beside himself with rage, for his
prey has escaped and he has lost his patent as lieutenant together with
the remuneration of 200 pistoles, and he at once orders Silvain to be
shot. But Rose bravely defends her lover, threatening to reveal the
dragoon's neglect of duty. {68} When therefore Belamy's superior
appears to hear the important news of which the messenger told him, his
corporal is only able to stammer out that nothing in particular has
happened, and so after all, Georgette is saved from discovery and Rose
becomes Silvain's happy bride.

THE DUSK OF THE GODS.

Third day of the Nibelungen Ring by WAGNER.

This is the end of the great and beautiful tragedy and really it may be
called both a sublime and grand conclusion, which unites once again all
the dramatic and musical elements of the whole and presents to us a
picture the more interesting and touching, as it is now purely human.
The Gods who, though filled with passions and faults like mortals,
never can be for us living persons, fall into the background, and human
beings, full of high aspirations, take their places. The long and
terrible conflict between the power of gold and that of love is at last
fought out and love conquers.

In the Dusk of the Gods we see again the curse, which lies on gold, and
the sacred benediction of true love. Can there be anything more noble,
more touching, than Bruennhilde's mourning for Siegfried and the grand
sacrifice of herself in expiation of her error?

The third