De Mon. Why, of your lady. Said I not my sister?
Jer. The Lady Jane, your sister?
De Mon. (In a faultering voice.) Yes, I did call her so.
Jer. In truth, I cannot tell you where she went.
E'en now, from the short-beechen walk hard-by,
I saw her through the garden-gate return.
The Marquis Rezenvelt, and Freberg's Countess
Are in her company. This way they come,
As being nearer to the back apartments;
But I shall stop them, if it be your will,
And bid them enter here.
De Mon. No, stop them not. I will remain unseen,
And mark them as they pass. Draw back a little.
(Grimbald seems alarm'd, and steals off unnoticed. De Monfort grasps Jerome tightly by the hand, and drawing back with him two or three steps, not to he seen from the garden, waits in silence with his eyes fixed on the glass-door.)
De Mon. I hear their footsteps on the grating sand.
How like the croaking of a carrion bird,
That hateful voice sounds to the distant ear!
And now she speaks—her voice sounds cheerly too—
O curse their mirth!—
Now, now, they come, keep closer still! keep steady!
(Taking hold of Jerome with both hands.)
