I have also ordered the confections :
The cakes will have George Stanislas upon them.
The cakes will have George Stanislas upon them.
Krasinski - The Undivine Comedy
I have descended to an earthly marriage.
Because I've found the bride my spirit dreamed.
If I should ever cease to love her, may «
God's malediction fall upon my head!
* Not the true glory of self-sacrifice is here designated, but that of
pride and egotism.
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 179
SCENE IV. A saloon filled with guests. Music, dancing,
lights, aiid flowers. The Bride, after waltzing a few
turns, accidentally meets the Bridegroom, Joins him, and
rests her head upon his shoulder.
Bridegroom. How beautiful thou art in thine ex-
haustion,
While orange flowers and pearls in soft confusion,
Fall through the wavy masses of thy hair !
Oh ! thou shalt ever be my song of love !
Bride. Yes, as my mother taught, my own heart
teaches ;
I'll ever be to thee a faithful wife ! . . .
How many guests are gathered here ! How warm
It grows ! how wearisome the noise they make !
Bridegroom. Go, join the dance again, that I may
watch
Thee as thou floatest like a spirit round ;
Thus have I seen the angels in my dreams !
Bride. I will if so thy wish ; . . . but I am tired,
And my heart throbs. . . .
Bridegroom. Dearest, I pray thee, go !
(Music and dancing. ')
SCENE V. An Evil Spirit appears in the form of a
maiden. Midnight. The castle in the distance ; a gar-
den and cemetery.
Evil Spirit. At the same hour, and in such a night,
Not long ago, I also coursed the earth.
To-day the Demons drive me forth; command
Me to assume a saintly form.
(He floats over the garden. ')
Ye perfumed flowers, break from your fragile stems
And deck my hair !
{He alights atnong the graves. )
Fresh charms of buried maids,
Scattered in air and floating o'er these graves.
Gather upon, and paint my swarthy cheeks
With roseate hues of hope and youthful love !
l8o THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Under this mossy stone a fair-haired girl
Moulders in rottenness — will soon be dust, —
Gold tresses, come ! Shadow my burning brow !
Under this fallen cross two lustrous eyes
Of heavenly blue lie in their sockets dead, —
To me ! to me ! the pure and lambent flame
Which filled them once, and glimmered through their
lashes !
A hundred torches burn within those bars
To light the worms where kings repose in state ;
They buried a young princess there to-day, —
Ye costly robes of snowy satin, come !
Fluttering like downy doves, fly through the grate ;
Leave with the dead, undraped, the virgin corpse,
And cling around my scathed and fleshless form !
And now, on ! on !
SECOND PERIOD.
^
SCENE I. Midnight. A slceping-apartmctit in the castle.
A night-lamp stands t/pon a table, and shines upon the
face of the Husband.
The Husband {dreaming'). Ha ! whence com'st thou
whom I no longer see, —
Will never see again ? What weary years !
As water softly flows, so glide thy feet,
Like two white waves of foam !
A holy calm is on thy blessed face ;
All I have dreamed or loved unites in thee !
{Awaking suddenly. )
Where am I? . . . Ha ! I'm sleeping by my wife !
( Gazing long upon her. )
That is my wife !
Ah ! once I thought thou wert
My Early Dream, — but there I was deceived :
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. igi
// has returned. Mary, thou art it not,
Nor like it ! Thou art mild, and pure, and good ;
But she . . .
My God ! what see T there ? Am I awake ?
The Fhantom. Thou hast betrayed me !
{Vanishes? )
Husband. Gone ! Stay ! stay, my Dream !
Curst be the hour in which I took a wife.
Deserted and betrayed the. Love of youth, —
Thought of my thought, myself, soul of my soul !
Wife {awaking). What is the matter? Breaks the
morn so soon ?
To-day it is we make our purchases :
Is that the coach already at the door?
Husband. No ! 'tis far from morning. Go to sleep.
Wife. I fear that you are ill. I will arise
And get some ether for you.
Husband. Nay, nay ; sleep !
Wife. My darling, tell me what the matter is !
Your voice is changed ; your cheeks with fever burn.
Husband {rising). Air ! air ! I cannot breathe ! For
God's sake, sleep !
Mary, I pray you not to follow me.
{He leaves the room. ^
SCENE 11. The church with its adjoining grave-yard.
The Husband is seen standing in the garden of the
house, lighted by the moon.
Husband. Ay, since my marriage, I've dozed life
away.
Eating and drinking in a lethargy.
And sleeping like a German artisan !
The world around me sleeps in my own image ! . . .
We've visited relations ; gone to shops ; *
And for my child, yet to be born, I've sought
A nurse. . . .
{The great bell of the church tower strikes two. ')
It is the hour when I was wont to mount
My throne. Back ! back to me, my glorious kingdom !
i6»
1 82 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Ye shadowy forms, obedient to my thoughts,
Visions and images of grandeur, grace,
Come, throng around me as in earlier days !
{He 7uaiks tip and down, cofitmlsively wringing his hands. )
In very truth, my God, dost Thou make marriage?
Dost Thou give consecration to the vows
Binding two beings " until death shall part " ?
And hast Thou surely said that nauglit shall break
The bondage blessed by Thee in highest Heaven,
Even when the souls with constant, violent shocks
Repel each other? When, to advance at all.
They must upon opposing pathways move,
While their two bodies, chained, grow stiff, and freeze
Into two corpses? . . .
{The Phantom suddenly appears. )
Thou here, Beloved ? Thou who art mine own.
Oh, take me with thee ! If thou'rt but a dream,
A child fantastic of my seething brain, —
Then, child who temp'st thy father, wait for me
Until I, too, am shadow, — one with thee !
Phantom. When, where I call, wilt swear to follow^
me?
Husband. At every moment of my life, I'm thine !
Phantom. Remember !
Husband. Stay ! Melt not like mist away !
If thy dear beauty is above all beauty.
If thought of thee above all other thought, —
Why dost thou vanish like a dream away?
{^A window i? i the house is opened. )
Voieefrom the 7vi? idow. Dear heart, the night is chill ;
you will take cold.
I fear to stay alone in this vast room ;
The curtains sway; the shadows frighten me.
Comeback, mine own !
Husband. Yes, Mary, yes. I come. . . .
Vanished the vision ! . . . But she will return : —
And then farewell my House, my Garden, Wife,
Created for such things, — but not for me !
Voieefrom the window. Henry, for God's sake, come !
it grows so cold,
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 183
Husband. My child ! Must I forsake the child ? Oh,
God!
SCENE III. A saloon in the castle richly furnished.
Candelabra sta72dvpon an open piano, at which the Wife
is seated. A cradle is near it, in which lies a sleeping
infant. The Husband reclines upon a couch, his face
buried in his hands.
Wife. I've been to Father Benjamin ; he said
He would be here at the appointed hour.
Husba7id. Thanks !
Wife.
I have also ordered the confections :
The cakes will have George Stanislas upon them.
Husband. Thanks ! Thanks !
Wife. Nay, God be thanked, the rites will soon
Be all complete, and our boy quite a Christian !
The water may be poured upon his head
And yet, methinks, there may be something lacking.
I hope you have invited all our friends
To see our son baptized.
{She goes to the cradle and arranges the coveri? ig. ')
Sleep, darling, sleep ! What is it troubles thee?
Why dost thou toss the covering off thee so?
So, now, I tuck the cradle quilt around,
And cover thy bare arms. What ! off again ? .
My little baby, canst thou dream so soon ?
Lie still, my pretty George ! My baby love !
{She addresses her husband. )
I wonder why our infant cannot sleep?
{She returns to the cradle. )
My little George, my darling baby, sleep !
{She sings. )
Husband {aside). A storm approaches ! Heavens, what
stifling heat !
There strikes the lightning ! Here my own heart breaks !
( The wife seats herself at the piano, strikes a few chords,
ceases, and again begins to play, rises suddenly, and stands
beside her husba? ul. )
1 84 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Wife. You have not spoken to me once to-day,
Nor yesterday, nor during all this week ; —
God ! a month has passed since you've addressed
A word to me, save answering a question :
And all who see me think me so much changed.
Husband {aside). The hour is on me — cannot be
delayed 1
{To his wife). I do not think so. You look very well.
Wife. Ah ! that is quite indifferent to you ;
1 think you never hear, nor look at me !
When I come near, you turn your head away.
Or bury deep your face within your hands.
Oh, husband, tell me what I've done amiss !
Oh, that I could divine what is my fault !
I to confession went but yesterday.
Examined. my whole soul, probed' all my thoughts,
But nothing found which could offend you, Henry.
Husband. Nor have you me offended.
Wife. Oh, my God !
Husband. I feel I ought to love you !
Wife. Oh, not that !
I cannot bear those drear words, " ought to love ! "
They freeze my very heart, I know not why !
Tell me you do not love me ! Truth is best,
If bitter ; then I would at once know all !
{She goes to the cradle and holds up the child. ^
Forsake him not ! Not mine, he is your son !
Oh, let your anger fall on me alone !
Look on your child ! our boy ! My pretty George !
{She kneels before him, with the infant in her arms. )
Husband {raising her from the ground). Forget it,
Mary ! dreams and gloomy hours . . .
Wife. It is forgotten ! Promise ! . . . one word more: . . .
Say that you ne'er will cease to love your son I
Husband. Nor him, nor you, — I'll love you both, —
believe !
{He kisses her brow. She throws her arms around him ;
rests her head upon his shoulder. At that moment a loud
clap of thunder is heard, followed byzvildand melancholy
music. )
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 185
Wife. Look ! What is that ?
{She presses ihe child to her bosom ; the Diusic ceases. ')
Phatitom {etjterifig). Hail, my beloved ! I come
To bring thee peace and bliss. Throw off thy chains,
The earthly fetters which enslave thee here !
I come from a free world, great, limitless,
Where casts the Past no shadows. I am thine !
Wife. Mother of God protect me ! Guard my George !
This ghost is ghastly, — pallid as the dead;
The eyes are dying out, — the voice is harsh
As when the death-hearse grides the corpse within the grate !
Husband. Thy brow is radiant, my Beloved ! Thy
curls
Are gemmed with sweetest flowers !
Wife. A dismal shroud
For drapery !
Husbaiid. Thy form is streaming light !
Let me but hear thy voice again — then die !
Phafitom. She who impedes thee is but an illusion ;
Her life is fleeting as a passing sigh ;
Her love, a dying leaf condemned to fall
With myriad other fading, blasted leaves !
But I will live forever.
Wife {th? 'o'wing herself into the arms of her husband).
Save me, Henry !
Save yourself! the air is thick with sulphur;
Heavy with vapors from the charnel-house !
Husba7id. Blaspheme not, child of clay ! Insult her
not,
Nor envy ! Lo ! The ideal in which God
Conceived you ! You let the Serpent tempt you,
Became what now you are !
Wife. I leave you not !
Husband {to the Spectre). Beloved, I forsake house, wife,
and child
To follow thee !
{He goes. )
Wife. O Henry ! Henry ! . . . Gone !
(-5"//^ falls fainting to the floor with the infant in her arms.
The stor7n without grows wilder. )
1 86 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
SCENE IV. The Baptism. Kinsmen and Guests. Father
Benjamin the Priest ; Godfather and Godmother; Nurse
with the Child in her arms ; the sick Wife reclining upon
a sofa. Relations and Servants ifi the background.
First Guest. I wonder that the Count should not be
here.
Second Guest. He may have been detained ; forgotten
it,
Absorbed in writing verses, — who can tell?
First Guest. How pale and tired the young Countess
looks !
She speaks to no one, welcomes not her guests.
Third Guest. This christening reminds me of a ball
I once attended. The host had lost that day
His whole estate at cards; was bankrupt quite,
Yet he continued to receive his guests
With perfect, if despairing, courtesy.
Fourth Guest. I left my lovely princess, and came
here
Expecting a good breakfast, merry company,
But I have only found, as Scripture says,
" Weeping and wailing, gnashing of the teeth ! "
Father Benjamin. George Stanislas, I sign thee with
the cross !
Wilt thou receive our Holy Baptism?
Godfather and Godmother. I will.
A Kinsman. Look ! look ! the Countess wakens up ; —
How her eyes glare ! She rises wildly, — moves
As in a dream, — comes slowly toward the priest. . . .
Second Kinsman. She stretches out her arms toward
the child.
What is she murmuring? Poor thing, how pale!
She totters — she will fall ! give her yotir arm !
Father Benjamin. George Stanislas ! Dost thou in
truth renounce
The Devil and his works ?
Godfather and Godmother. I do renounce them.
First Kinsman. The Countess tries to speak. Her
white lips writhe
And twist, . . . her eyes roll. . . . Hush ! what does she
say?
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 187
Countess. Where is thy father, George, my pretty boy ?
(^She lays her hand softly on the head qf the infant. ^
Father Benjamin. I pray you let the sacred rite pro-
ce§d !
Countess. I bless thee, George !
Because I've found the bride my spirit dreamed.
If I should ever cease to love her, may «
God's malediction fall upon my head!
* Not the true glory of self-sacrifice is here designated, but that of
pride and egotism.
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 179
SCENE IV. A saloon filled with guests. Music, dancing,
lights, aiid flowers. The Bride, after waltzing a few
turns, accidentally meets the Bridegroom, Joins him, and
rests her head upon his shoulder.
Bridegroom. How beautiful thou art in thine ex-
haustion,
While orange flowers and pearls in soft confusion,
Fall through the wavy masses of thy hair !
Oh ! thou shalt ever be my song of love !
Bride. Yes, as my mother taught, my own heart
teaches ;
I'll ever be to thee a faithful wife ! . . .
How many guests are gathered here ! How warm
It grows ! how wearisome the noise they make !
Bridegroom. Go, join the dance again, that I may
watch
Thee as thou floatest like a spirit round ;
Thus have I seen the angels in my dreams !
Bride. I will if so thy wish ; . . . but I am tired,
And my heart throbs. . . .
Bridegroom. Dearest, I pray thee, go !
(Music and dancing. ')
SCENE V. An Evil Spirit appears in the form of a
maiden. Midnight. The castle in the distance ; a gar-
den and cemetery.
Evil Spirit. At the same hour, and in such a night,
Not long ago, I also coursed the earth.
To-day the Demons drive me forth; command
Me to assume a saintly form.
(He floats over the garden. ')
Ye perfumed flowers, break from your fragile stems
And deck my hair !
{He alights atnong the graves. )
Fresh charms of buried maids,
Scattered in air and floating o'er these graves.
Gather upon, and paint my swarthy cheeks
With roseate hues of hope and youthful love !
l8o THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Under this mossy stone a fair-haired girl
Moulders in rottenness — will soon be dust, —
Gold tresses, come ! Shadow my burning brow !
Under this fallen cross two lustrous eyes
Of heavenly blue lie in their sockets dead, —
To me ! to me ! the pure and lambent flame
Which filled them once, and glimmered through their
lashes !
A hundred torches burn within those bars
To light the worms where kings repose in state ;
They buried a young princess there to-day, —
Ye costly robes of snowy satin, come !
Fluttering like downy doves, fly through the grate ;
Leave with the dead, undraped, the virgin corpse,
And cling around my scathed and fleshless form !
And now, on ! on !
SECOND PERIOD.
^
SCENE I. Midnight. A slceping-apartmctit in the castle.
A night-lamp stands t/pon a table, and shines upon the
face of the Husband.
The Husband {dreaming'). Ha ! whence com'st thou
whom I no longer see, —
Will never see again ? What weary years !
As water softly flows, so glide thy feet,
Like two white waves of foam !
A holy calm is on thy blessed face ;
All I have dreamed or loved unites in thee !
{Awaking suddenly. )
Where am I? . . . Ha ! I'm sleeping by my wife !
( Gazing long upon her. )
That is my wife !
Ah ! once I thought thou wert
My Early Dream, — but there I was deceived :
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. igi
// has returned. Mary, thou art it not,
Nor like it ! Thou art mild, and pure, and good ;
But she . . .
My God ! what see T there ? Am I awake ?
The Fhantom. Thou hast betrayed me !
{Vanishes? )
Husband. Gone ! Stay ! stay, my Dream !
Curst be the hour in which I took a wife.
Deserted and betrayed the. Love of youth, —
Thought of my thought, myself, soul of my soul !
Wife {awaking). What is the matter? Breaks the
morn so soon ?
To-day it is we make our purchases :
Is that the coach already at the door?
Husband. No ! 'tis far from morning. Go to sleep.
Wife. I fear that you are ill. I will arise
And get some ether for you.
Husband. Nay, nay ; sleep !
Wife. My darling, tell me what the matter is !
Your voice is changed ; your cheeks with fever burn.
Husband {rising). Air ! air ! I cannot breathe ! For
God's sake, sleep !
Mary, I pray you not to follow me.
{He leaves the room. ^
SCENE 11. The church with its adjoining grave-yard.
The Husband is seen standing in the garden of the
house, lighted by the moon.
Husband. Ay, since my marriage, I've dozed life
away.
Eating and drinking in a lethargy.
And sleeping like a German artisan !
The world around me sleeps in my own image ! . . .
We've visited relations ; gone to shops ; *
And for my child, yet to be born, I've sought
A nurse. . . .
{The great bell of the church tower strikes two. ')
It is the hour when I was wont to mount
My throne. Back ! back to me, my glorious kingdom !
i6»
1 82 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Ye shadowy forms, obedient to my thoughts,
Visions and images of grandeur, grace,
Come, throng around me as in earlier days !
{He 7uaiks tip and down, cofitmlsively wringing his hands. )
In very truth, my God, dost Thou make marriage?
Dost Thou give consecration to the vows
Binding two beings " until death shall part " ?
And hast Thou surely said that nauglit shall break
The bondage blessed by Thee in highest Heaven,
Even when the souls with constant, violent shocks
Repel each other? When, to advance at all.
They must upon opposing pathways move,
While their two bodies, chained, grow stiff, and freeze
Into two corpses? . . .
{The Phantom suddenly appears. )
Thou here, Beloved ? Thou who art mine own.
Oh, take me with thee ! If thou'rt but a dream,
A child fantastic of my seething brain, —
Then, child who temp'st thy father, wait for me
Until I, too, am shadow, — one with thee !
Phantom. When, where I call, wilt swear to follow^
me?
Husband. At every moment of my life, I'm thine !
Phantom. Remember !
Husband. Stay ! Melt not like mist away !
If thy dear beauty is above all beauty.
If thought of thee above all other thought, —
Why dost thou vanish like a dream away?
{^A window i? i the house is opened. )
Voieefrom the 7vi? idow. Dear heart, the night is chill ;
you will take cold.
I fear to stay alone in this vast room ;
The curtains sway; the shadows frighten me.
Comeback, mine own !
Husband. Yes, Mary, yes. I come. . . .
Vanished the vision ! . . . But she will return : —
And then farewell my House, my Garden, Wife,
Created for such things, — but not for me !
Voieefrom the window. Henry, for God's sake, come !
it grows so cold,
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 183
Husband. My child ! Must I forsake the child ? Oh,
God!
SCENE III. A saloon in the castle richly furnished.
Candelabra sta72dvpon an open piano, at which the Wife
is seated. A cradle is near it, in which lies a sleeping
infant. The Husband reclines upon a couch, his face
buried in his hands.
Wife. I've been to Father Benjamin ; he said
He would be here at the appointed hour.
Husba7id. Thanks !
Wife.
I have also ordered the confections :
The cakes will have George Stanislas upon them.
Husband. Thanks ! Thanks !
Wife. Nay, God be thanked, the rites will soon
Be all complete, and our boy quite a Christian !
The water may be poured upon his head
And yet, methinks, there may be something lacking.
I hope you have invited all our friends
To see our son baptized.
{She goes to the cradle and arranges the coveri? ig. ')
Sleep, darling, sleep ! What is it troubles thee?
Why dost thou toss the covering off thee so?
So, now, I tuck the cradle quilt around,
And cover thy bare arms. What ! off again ? .
My little baby, canst thou dream so soon ?
Lie still, my pretty George ! My baby love !
{She addresses her husband. )
I wonder why our infant cannot sleep?
{She returns to the cradle. )
My little George, my darling baby, sleep !
{She sings. )
Husband {aside). A storm approaches ! Heavens, what
stifling heat !
There strikes the lightning ! Here my own heart breaks !
( The wife seats herself at the piano, strikes a few chords,
ceases, and again begins to play, rises suddenly, and stands
beside her husba? ul. )
1 84 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
Wife. You have not spoken to me once to-day,
Nor yesterday, nor during all this week ; —
God ! a month has passed since you've addressed
A word to me, save answering a question :
And all who see me think me so much changed.
Husband {aside). The hour is on me — cannot be
delayed 1
{To his wife). I do not think so. You look very well.
Wife. Ah ! that is quite indifferent to you ;
1 think you never hear, nor look at me !
When I come near, you turn your head away.
Or bury deep your face within your hands.
Oh, husband, tell me what I've done amiss !
Oh, that I could divine what is my fault !
I to confession went but yesterday.
Examined. my whole soul, probed' all my thoughts,
But nothing found which could offend you, Henry.
Husband. Nor have you me offended.
Wife. Oh, my God !
Husband. I feel I ought to love you !
Wife. Oh, not that !
I cannot bear those drear words, " ought to love ! "
They freeze my very heart, I know not why !
Tell me you do not love me ! Truth is best,
If bitter ; then I would at once know all !
{She goes to the cradle and holds up the child. ^
Forsake him not ! Not mine, he is your son !
Oh, let your anger fall on me alone !
Look on your child ! our boy ! My pretty George !
{She kneels before him, with the infant in her arms. )
Husband {raising her from the ground). Forget it,
Mary ! dreams and gloomy hours . . .
Wife. It is forgotten ! Promise ! . . . one word more: . . .
Say that you ne'er will cease to love your son I
Husband. Nor him, nor you, — I'll love you both, —
believe !
{He kisses her brow. She throws her arms around him ;
rests her head upon his shoulder. At that moment a loud
clap of thunder is heard, followed byzvildand melancholy
music. )
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 185
Wife. Look ! What is that ?
{She presses ihe child to her bosom ; the Diusic ceases. ')
Phatitom {etjterifig). Hail, my beloved ! I come
To bring thee peace and bliss. Throw off thy chains,
The earthly fetters which enslave thee here !
I come from a free world, great, limitless,
Where casts the Past no shadows. I am thine !
Wife. Mother of God protect me ! Guard my George !
This ghost is ghastly, — pallid as the dead;
The eyes are dying out, — the voice is harsh
As when the death-hearse grides the corpse within the grate !
Husband. Thy brow is radiant, my Beloved ! Thy
curls
Are gemmed with sweetest flowers !
Wife. A dismal shroud
For drapery !
Husbaiid. Thy form is streaming light !
Let me but hear thy voice again — then die !
Phafitom. She who impedes thee is but an illusion ;
Her life is fleeting as a passing sigh ;
Her love, a dying leaf condemned to fall
With myriad other fading, blasted leaves !
But I will live forever.
Wife {th? 'o'wing herself into the arms of her husband).
Save me, Henry !
Save yourself! the air is thick with sulphur;
Heavy with vapors from the charnel-house !
Husba7id. Blaspheme not, child of clay ! Insult her
not,
Nor envy ! Lo ! The ideal in which God
Conceived you ! You let the Serpent tempt you,
Became what now you are !
Wife. I leave you not !
Husband {to the Spectre). Beloved, I forsake house, wife,
and child
To follow thee !
{He goes. )
Wife. O Henry ! Henry ! . . . Gone !
(-5"//^ falls fainting to the floor with the infant in her arms.
The stor7n without grows wilder. )
1 86 THE UNDIVINE COMEDY.
SCENE IV. The Baptism. Kinsmen and Guests. Father
Benjamin the Priest ; Godfather and Godmother; Nurse
with the Child in her arms ; the sick Wife reclining upon
a sofa. Relations and Servants ifi the background.
First Guest. I wonder that the Count should not be
here.
Second Guest. He may have been detained ; forgotten
it,
Absorbed in writing verses, — who can tell?
First Guest. How pale and tired the young Countess
looks !
She speaks to no one, welcomes not her guests.
Third Guest. This christening reminds me of a ball
I once attended. The host had lost that day
His whole estate at cards; was bankrupt quite,
Yet he continued to receive his guests
With perfect, if despairing, courtesy.
Fourth Guest. I left my lovely princess, and came
here
Expecting a good breakfast, merry company,
But I have only found, as Scripture says,
" Weeping and wailing, gnashing of the teeth ! "
Father Benjamin. George Stanislas, I sign thee with
the cross !
Wilt thou receive our Holy Baptism?
Godfather and Godmother. I will.
A Kinsman. Look ! look ! the Countess wakens up ; —
How her eyes glare ! She rises wildly, — moves
As in a dream, — comes slowly toward the priest. . . .
Second Kinsman. She stretches out her arms toward
the child.
What is she murmuring? Poor thing, how pale!
She totters — she will fall ! give her yotir arm !
Father Benjamin. George Stanislas ! Dost thou in
truth renounce
The Devil and his works ?
Godfather and Godmother. I do renounce them.
First Kinsman. The Countess tries to speak. Her
white lips writhe
And twist, . . . her eyes roll. . . . Hush ! what does she
say?
THE UNDIVINE COMEDY. 187
Countess. Where is thy father, George, my pretty boy ?
(^She lays her hand softly on the head qf the infant. ^
Father Benjamin. I pray you let the sacred rite pro-
ce§d !
Countess. I bless thee, George !
