BIBESA.
Away ! I know thee. Thoa art one
With her who dnped me with like words last night.
Then I believed ; bat now my sense is closed,
My heart is dead as stone. I cast thee forth.
By heaven, I own thee not ! Thou dost forget
I am the Spagnoletto. Away, I say,
Or ere I strike thee. [He threatens her,
ANNICGA.
Woe is me ! Help, help !
[Exit.
BIBEBA.
So, the last link is snapt Had I not steeled
My heart, I fain had kissed her in farewell.
Tis better so. I leave my work unfinished.
Could I arise each day to face this spectre,
Or sleep with it at night ? — to yearn for her
Even while I curse her? No! The dead remain
Sacred and sweet in our remembrance still;
They seem not to have left us ; they abide
And linger nigh us in the viewless air.
The &]len, the guilty, must be rooted out
From heart and thought and memory. With them
No hope of blest reunion ; they must be
As though they had not been ; their spoken name
