The angry priests, muttering together, draw near—fall upon her, fling over her the black veil of death, and bear her away to the burning pile.
High blaze the flames, lapping about her—falls on the body of the slain husband the flickering red light—the Roman, who has died, pierced by scores of wounds.
The victim is sacrificed. Let them march on to victory. Their god is appeased! the sin which was amongst them, which has drawn the favor of heaven from them, is purged away by fire. Now, let the Romans fall—let Gaul be free!
High blaze the flames, the red reflexions shimmering from each white-robed priest, from the robes even of her weeping father. Higher and higher till the victim is turned to light ashes for the wind to drift whithersoever it will!
ROBERTO IL DIAVOLO. (Meyerbeer.)
ROBERT THE DEVIL.
THE PROLOGUE.
Richard II., Duke of Normandy, who lived some forty years before the conquest of Great Britain by William, was without an heir to his dukedom. He prayed wearily for an heir—but never a child had he. At last he made a vow, in the presence of his courtiers, that if the demon’s power could grant him a son, he would dedicate that son to the demon himself—sell him and his soul to the fallen angel!
The courtiers were breathless with astonishment.
Soon they remarked a change in the king, of which he himself was not aware. His face altered—his brow grew dark and heavy—his step slow, firm, and yet light. All color left his cheeks, and his lips grew pale and thin. The veins of his forehead could be traced—a deep blue color wandering beneath the skin; and his eyes grew mournful in their light. His hair fell about his head in deep waving folds—and he seemed the victim of utter despair. Yet he was known by all as the duke—the same as ever, and yet wholly changed. Nobody who had known him before this change came on but bowed to him as the duke; yet all who had so known him whispered that he was changed as never man changed who was not possessed of a devil.