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Meredith, Owen, 1831-1891

"Lucile"



"You mistake, sir!" . . . responded a voice, calm, severe,
And sad, . . . "You mistake, sir! that other is here."
Eugene and Matilda both started.
"Lucile!"
With a half-stifled scream, as she felt herself reel
From the place where she stood, cried Matilda.
"Ho, oh!
What! eaves-dropping, madam?" . . . the Duke cried. . . "And so
You were listening?"
"Say, rather," she said, "that I heard,
Without wishing to hear it, that infamous word,--
Heard--and therefore reply."
"Belle Comtesse," said the Duke,
With concentrated wrath in the savage rebuke,
Which betray'd that he felt himself baffled . . . "you know
That your place is not HERE."
"Duke," she answer'd him slow,
"My place is wherever my duty is clear;
And therefore my place, at this moment, is here.
O lady, this morning my place was beside
Your husband, because (as she said this she sigh'd)
I felt that from folly fast growing to crime--
The crime of self-blindness--Heaven yet spared me time
To save for the love of an innocent wife
All that such love deserved in the heart and the life
Of the man to whose heart and whose life you alone
Can with safety confide the pure trust of your own."
She turn'd to Matilda, and lightly laid on her
Her soft quiet hand . . .
"'Tis, O lady, the honor
Which that man has confided to you, that, in spite
Of his friend, I now trust I may yet save to-night--
Save for both of you, lady! for yours I revere;
Duc de Luvois, what say you?--my place is not here?"

XII.


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