_3rd St_. You see angels always, Where others, less dim-sighted, see but mortals. She is a pretty child. Her eyes are splendid. I wonder what the old fellow is about. Some crazed enthusiast, music-distract, That lingers at the door he cannot enter! Give him an obol, Frank, to pay old Charon, And cross to the Elysium of sweet sounds. Here's mine.
[_3rd Student offers the money to_ JULIAN.]
_Julian_ (_very quietly_). No, thank you, sir.
[_Stretching-her hands toward a lady stepping out of a carriage_.]
[_The lady looks round, and _LILY _clings to her father_. Women _talking_.]
_1st W_. I'm sure he's stolen the child. She can't be his.
_2nd W_. There's a suspicious look about him.
_3rd W_ True; But the child clings to him as if she loved him.
SCENE XV.--JULIAN _seated in his room, his eyes fixed on the floor_. LILY _playing in a corner_.
_Julian_. Though I am lonely, yet this little child-- She understands me better than the Twelve Knew the great heart of him they called their Lord. Ten times last night I woke in agony, I knew not why. There was no comforter. I stretched my arm to find her, and her place Was empty as my heart. Sometimes my pain Forgets its cause, benumbed by its own being; Then would I lay my aching, weary head Upon her bosom, promise of relief: I lift my eyes, and Lo, the vacant world!
[_He looks up and sees the child playing with his dagger_.]
You'll hurt yourself, my child; it is too sharp. Give it to me, my darling. Thank you, dear.
[_He breaks the hilt from the blade and gives it her_.]
'Here, take the pretty part. It's not so pretty As it was once!
[_Thinking aloud_.] I picked the jewels out To buy your mother the last dress I gave her. There's just one left, I see, for you, my Lily. Why did I kill Nembroni? Poor saviour I, Saving thee only for a greater ill! If thou wert dead, the child would comfort me;-- Is she not part of thee, and all my own? But now----
_Lily_ (_throwing down the dagger-hilt and running up to him_). Father, what is a poetry?
_Julian_. A beautiful thing,--of the most beautiful That God has made.
_Lily_. As beautiful as mother? _Julian_. No, my dear child; but very beautiful.
_Julian_ (_opening a book_). There, love! _Lily_ (_disappointedly_). I don't think that's so very pretty, father. One side is very well--smooth; but the other