Chapter 27

_Lilia_. How changed he is! Yet he looks very noble.

_Enter_ JULIAN.

_Julian_. My Lilia, will you go to England with me?

_Lilia_. Julian, my father!

_Julian_. Not without his leave. He says, God bless us both.

_Lilia_. Leave him in prison?

_Julian_. No, Lilia; he's at liberty and safe, And far from this ere now.

_Lilia_. You have done this, My noble Julian! I will go with you To sunset, if you will. My father gone! Julian, there's none to love me now but you. You _will_ love me, Julian?--always?

_Julian_. I but fear That your heart, Lilia, is not big enough To hold the love wherewith my heart would fill it.

_Lilia_. I know why you think that; and I deserve it. But try me, Julian. I was very silly. I could not help it. I was ill, you know; Or weak at least. May I ask you, Julian, How your arm is to-day?

_Julian_. Almost well, child. Twill leave an ugly scar, though, I'm afraid.

_Lilia_. Never mind that, if it be well again.

_Julian_. I do not mind it; but when I remember That I am all yours, then I grudge that scratch Or stain should be upon me--soul, body, yours. And there are more scars on me now than I Should like to make you own, without confession.

_Lilia_. My poor, poor Julian! never think of it;

[_Putting her arms round him_.]

I will but love you more. I thought you had Already told me suffering enough; But not the half, it seems, of your adventures. You have been a soldier!

_Julian_. I have fought, my Lilia. I have been down among the horses' feet; But strange to tell, and harder to believe, Arose all sound, unmarked with bruise, or blood Save what I lifted from the gory ground.

[_Sighing_.]

My wounds are not of such.

[LILIA, _loosening her arms, and drawing back a little with a kind of shrinking, looks a frightened interrogation_.]

No. Penance, Lilia; Such penance as the saints of old inflicted Upon their quivering flesh. Folly, I know; As a lord would exalt himself, by making His willing servants into trembling slaves! Yet I have borne it.

_Lilia_ (_laying her hand on his arm_). Ah, alas, my Julian, You have been guilty!

_Julian_. Not what men call guilty, Save it be now; now you will think I sin. Alas, I have sinned! but not in this I sin.-- Lilia, I have been a monk.

_Lilia_. A monk?

[_Turningpale_.]

I thought--

[_Faltering_.]

Julian,--I thought you said.... did you not say...?

[_Very pale, brokenly_.]

I thought you said ...

[_With an effort_.]

I was to be your wife!

[_Covering her face with her hands, and bursting into tears_.]

_Julian_ (_speaking low and in pain_). And so I did.

_Lilia_ (_hopefully, and looking up_). Then you've had dispensation?

_Julian_. God has absolved me, though the Church will not. He knows it was in ignorance I did it. Rather would he have men to do his will, Than keep a weight of words upon their souls, Which they laid there, not graven by his finger. The vow was made to him--to him I break it.

_Lilia_ (_weeping bitterly_). I would ... your words were true ... but I do know ... It never can ... be right to break a vow; If so, men might be liars every day; You'd do the same by me, if we were married.

_Julian_ (_in anguish_). 'Tis ever so. Words are the living things! There is no spirit--save what's born of words! Words are the bonds that of two souls make one! Words the security of heart to heart! God, make me patient! God, I pray thee, God!

_Lilia_ (_not heeding him_). Besides, we dare not; you would find the dungeon Gave late repentance; I should weep away My life within a convent.

_Julian_. Come to England, To England, Lilia.

_Lilia_. Men would point, and say: _There go the monk and his wife_; if they, in truth, Called me not by a harder name than that.

_Julian_. There are no monks in England.

_Lilia_. But will that Make right what's wrong?

_Julian_. Did I say so, my Lilia? I answered but your last objections thus; I had a different answer for the first.

_Lilia_. No, no; I cannot, cannot, dare not do it.

_Julian_. Lilia, you will not doubt my love; you cannot. --I would have told you all before, but thought, Foolishly, you would feel the same as I;-- I have lived longer, thought more, seen much more; I would not hurt your body, less your soul, For all the blessedness your love can give: For love's sake weigh the weight of what I say. Think not that _must_ be right which you have heard From infancy--it may----

[_Enter the_ Steward _in haste, pale, breathless, and bleeding_.]

_Steward_. My lord, there's such an uproar in the town! They call you murderer and heretic. The officers of justice, with a monk, And the new Count Nembroni, accompanied By a fierce mob with torches, howling out For justice on you, madly cursing you! They caught a glimpse of me as I returned, And stones and sticks flew round me like a storm; But I escaped them, old man as I am, And was in time to bar the castle-gates.-- Would heaven we had not cast those mounds, and shut The river from the moat!

[_Distant yells and cries_.]

Escape, my lord!

_Julian_ (_calmly_). Will the gates hold them out awhile, my Joseph?

_Steward_. A little while, my lord; but those damned torches! Oh, for twelve feet of water round the walls!

_Julian_. Leave us, good Joseph; watch them from a window, And tell us of their progress.

[JOSEPH _goes. Sounds approach_.]

Farewell, Lilia!

[_Putting his arm round her. She stands like stone_.]

Fear of a coward's name shall not detain me. My presence would but bring down evil on you, My heart's beloved; yes, all the ill you fear, The terrible things that you have imaged out If you fled with me. They will not hurt you, If you be not polluted by my presence.

[_Light from without flares on the wall_.]

They've fired the gate.

[_An outburst of mingled cries_.]

_Steward_ (_entering_). They've fired the gate, my lord!

_Julian_. Well, put yourself in safety, my dear Joseph. You and old Agata tell all the truth, And they'll forgive you. It will not hurt me; I shall be safe--you know me--never fear.

_Steward_. God grant it may be so. Farewell, dear lord!

[_Is going_.]

_Julian_. But add, it was in vain; the signorina Would not consent; therefore I fled alone.

[LILIA _stands as before_.]

_Steward_. Can it be so? Good-bye, good-bye, my master!

[Goes.]

_Julian_. Put your arms round me once, my Lilia. Not once?--not once at parting?

[_Rushing feet up the stairs, and along the galleries_.]

O God! farewell!

[_He clasps her to his heart; leaves her; pushes back the panel, flings open a door, enters, and closes both behind him_. LILIA _starts suddenly from her fixed bewilderment, and flies after him, but forgets to close the panel_.]

_Lilia_. Julian! Julian!

[_The trampling offset and clamour of voices. The door of the room is flung open. Enter the foremost of the mob_.]

_1st_. I was sure I saw light here! There it is, burning still!

_2nd_. Nobody here? Praise the devil! he minds his own. Look under the bed, Gian.

_3rd_. Nothing there.

_4th_. Another door! another door! He's in a trap now, and will soon be in hell! (_Opening the door with difficulty_.) The devil had better leave him, and make up the fire at home--he'll be cold by and by. (_Rushes into the inner room_.) Follow me, boys! [The rest follow.]

_Voices from within_. I have him! I have him! Curse your claws! Why do you fix them on me, you crab? You won't pick up the fiend-spawn so easily, I can tell you. Bring the light there, will you? (_One runs out for the light_.) A trap! a trap! and a stair, down in the wall! The hell-faggot's gone! After him, after him, noodles!

[_Sound of descending footsteps. Others rush in with torches and follow_.]

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