in another
land may----

MELLEFONT.

I hope that myself. Silence! She is coming! How my heart throbs!

Scene VI.

Sara, Mellefont, Norton.

MELLEFONT (_advancing towards her_).

You have had a restless night, dearest Sara.

SARA.

Alas, Mellefont, if it were nothing but a restless night.

MELLEFONT (_to his servant_).

Leave us!

NORTON (_aside, in going_).

I would not stay if I was paid in gold for every moment.

Scene VII.

Sara, Mellefont.

MELLEFONT.

You are faint, dearest Sara! You must sit down!

SARA (_sits down_).

I trouble you very early! Will you forgive me that with the morning I
again begin my complaints?

MELLEFONT.

Dearest Sara, you mean to say that you cannot forgive me, because
another morning has dawned, and I have not yet put an end to your
complaints?

SARA.

What is there that I would not forgive you? You know what I have
already forgiven you. But the ninth week, Mellefont! the ninth week
begins to-day, and this miserable house still sees me in just the same
position as on the first day.

MELLEFONT.

You doubt my love?

SARA.

I doubt your love? No, I feel my misery too much, too much to wish to
deprive myself of this last and only solace.

MELLEFONT.

How, then, can you be uneasy about the delay of a ceremony?

SARA.

Ah, Mellefont! Why is it that we think so differently about this
ceremony! Yield a little to the woman's way of thinking! I imagine in
it a more direct consent from Heaven. In vain did I try again, only
yesterday, in the long tedious evening, to adopt your ideas, and to
banish from my breast the doubt which just now--not for the first time,
you have deemed the result of my distrust. I struggled with myself; I
was clever enough to deafen my understanding; but my heart and my
feeling quickly overthrew this toilsome structure of reason.
Reproachful voices roused me from my sleep, and my imagination united
with them to torment me. What pictures, what dreadful pic