became the shadow
Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes!
Men call'd me vain--some mad--I heeded not;
But still toil'd on--hoped on--for it was sweet,
If not to win, to feel more worthy thee.

PAULINE. Why do I cease to hate him!

MEL. At last, in one mad hour, I dared to pour
The thoughts that burst their channels into song,
And set them to thee--such a tribute, lady,
As beauty rarely scorns, even from the meanest.
The name--appended by the burning heart
That long'd to show its idol what bright things
It had created--yea, the enthusiast's name,
That should have been thy triumph, was thy scorn;
That very hour--when passion, turn'd to wrath,
Resembled hatred most--when thy disdain
Made my whole soul a chaos--in that hour
The tempters, found me a revengeful tool
For their revenge! Thou hadst trampled on the worm--
It turned and stung thee!

PAULINE. Love, sir, hath no sting.
What was the slight of a poor powerless girl
To the deep wrong of this most vile revenge?
Oh, how I loved this man!--a serf--a slave!

MEL. Hold, lady! No, not a slave! Despair is free.
I will not tell thee of the throes--the struggles--
The anguish--the remorse. No, let it pass!
And let me come to such most poor atonement
Yet in my power. Pauline!--

PAULINE. No, touch me not!
I know my fate. You are, by law, my tyrant;
And I--O Heaven!--a peasant's wife! I'll work--
Toil--drudge--do what thou wilt--but touch me not!
Let my wrongs make me sacred!

MEL. Do not fear me.
Thou dost not know me, madam; at the altar
My vengeance ceased--my guilty oath expired!
Henceforth, no image of some marble saint,
Niched in cathedral aisles, is hallowed more
From the rude hand of sacrilegious wrong.
I am thy husband--nay, thou need'st not shudder!--
Here, at thy feet, I lay a husband's rights.
A marriage thus unholy--unfulfill'd--
A bond of fraud--is, by the laws of France,
Made void and null. To-night sleep--sleep in peace.
To-morrow, pure and virgin as this morn
I bore thee, bathed in b