Zuleika [_folding a dark mantle round him_]. Thus shrouded, in safety thou mayst reach his cell; this ring will spare thee question. Hassan will guide thee, and I--will pray for thy success. Farewell! May Allah aid thee!
Ion. Lady, though I may never know thee, never look on thee again, the memory of this brief hour will never fade. The blessed gift of mercy thou dost bestow will I ever treasure with the deepest gratitude, and my fervent prayer that all Heaven's blessings may rest upon thee cease but with my life [_falls on his knee and kisses her hand_]. Pardon,--'tis my only thanks. Spirit of mercy, farewell! farewell! [_Follows_ Hassan; Zuleika _gazes after him, then sinks down weeping_.]
[_Tent of_ Cleon _the Greek_. Cleon, _chained, pacing to and fro_.]
Cleon. A few short hours and all is o'er,--Cleon sleeps with his fathers. I could have wished to die like a hero in my harness, and have known my grave were watered by my loved one's tears; to take my wife once more unto my bosom; once more bless my noble Ion; and pass hence with the blest consciousness of victory won. 'Tis bitter thus to die, ingloriously and alone. [_Proudly raising his head._] But the name of Cleon is too dear unto his people e'er to be forgotten. The memory that he strove ever for his country's welfare shall strew with tearful blessings his unhonored grave. [_Steps approach; voices are heard._] Ah, they come! They shall find me ready. [_Enter_ Ion.] Has mine hour come? I am here.
[Ion _casts off his cloak, and springs forward_.]
Cleon [_starting back wildly_]. Thou? Here!
Ion. Yes, thy Ion; bless me, Father [_kneels_].
Cleon [_raising and clasping_ Ion _to his breast_]. Here, on my heart, dear one. I turn to meet my executioners, and see thee, my boy. Great Heaven, I bless thee! [_They embrace tenderly and weep._] Thou camest thither--how?
Cleon. Thy guide through the perils of the way, my child?
Ion. The good Father who doth guide all who trust in him.
Ion. To behold thee, my father, and with my life to strive for thy release.
Cleon. My noble boy, thou hast come unto thy death. Oh, who could bid thee thus brave the doom that must await thee?
Ion. My mother bid me forth; and as she girded on my sword, she bid me seek my father, with her blessing on my mission.
