the blood of that false heart. I shall not forget it.
(_Standing in the middle of the stage._) [30]To strangle whatever nature
is in me, neither to love nor to be loved, neither to pity nor to be
pitied. Ay! it is an oath, an oath. Methinks the spirit of Charlotte
Corday has entered my soul now. I shall carve my name on the world, and
be ranked among the great heroines. Ay! the spirit of Charlotte Corday
beats in each petty vein, and nerves my woman's hand to strike, as I
have nerved my woman's heart to hate. Though he laughs in his dreams, I
shall not falter. Though he sleep peacefully I shall not miss my
blow.[30] Be glad, my brother, in your stifled cell; be glad and laugh
to-night. To-night this new-fledged Czar shall post with bloody feet to
Hell, and greet his father there! [31]This Czar! O traitor, liar, false
to his oath, false to me! To play the patriot amongst us, and now to
wear a crown; to sell us, like Judas, for thirty silver pieces, to
betray us with a kiss![31] (_With more passion._) O Liberty, O mighty
mother of eternal time, thy robe is purple with the blood of those who
have died for thee! Thy throne is the Calvary of the people, thy crown
the crown of thorns. O crucified mother, the despot has driven a nail
through thy right hand, and the tyrant through thy left! Thy feet are
pierced with their iron. When thou wert athirst thou calledst on the
priests for water, and they gave thee bitter drink. They thrust a sword
into thy side. They mocked thee in thine agony of age on age. [32]Here,
on thy altar, O Liberty, do I dedicate myself to thy service; do with me
as thou wilt![32] (_Brandishing dagger._) The end has come now, and by
thy sacred wounds, O crucified mother, O Liberty, I swear that Russia
shall be saved!

CURTAIN.

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV.

SCENE.--_Antechamber of the CZAR'S private room. Large window at the
back, with drawn curtains over it._

_Present._--PRINCE PETROVITCH, BARON RAFF, MARQUIS DE POIVRARD, COUNT
ROUVALOFF.

PRINCE PETRO. He is beginning well, this young Czar.

BARON RAFF (_shrugs his shoulders_). All young Czars do begin well.

COUNT R. And end badly.

[1]MARQ. DE POIV. Well, I have no right to complain. He has done me one
good service, at any rate.

PRINCE PETRO. Cancelled your appointment to Archangel, I suppose?

MARQ. DE POIV. Yes; my head wouldn't have been safe there for an
hour.[1]

(_Enter GENERAL KOTEMKIN._)

BARON RAFF. Ah! General, any