other's arms. I could renounce you! I could bear your hate! CHARLES. Hush! hush! No further! BURGUNDY. I this English king Could crown! Swear fealty to this foreigner! And you, my sovereign, into ruin plunge! CHARLES. Forget it! Everything's forgiven now! This single moment doth obliterate all.    'Twas a malignant star! A destiny! BURGUNDY (grasps his hand). Believe me, sire, I'll make amends for all. Your bitter sorrow I will compensate; You shall receive your kingdom back entire, A solitary village shall not fail! CHARLES. We are united. Now I fear no foe. BURGUNDY. Trust me, it was not with a joyous spirit    That I bore arms against you. Did you know? Oh, wherefore sent you not this messenger?        [Pointing to SOREL. I must have yielded to her gentle tears. Henceforth, since breast to breast we have embraced, No power of hell again shall sever us! My erring course ends here. His sovereign's heart Is the true resting-place for Burgundy. ARCHBISHOP (steps between them). Ye are united, princes! France doth rise A renovated phoenix from its ashes. The auspicious future greets us with a smile. The country's bleeding wounds will heal again, The villages, the desolated towns, Rise in new splendor from their ruined heaps, The fields array themselves in beauteous green; But those who, victims of your quarrel, fell, The dead, rise not again; the bitter tears, Caused by your strife, remain forever wept! One generation hath been doomed to woe; On their descendants dawns a brighter day; The gladness of the son wakes not the sire. This the dire fruitage of your brother-strife! Oh, princes, learn from hence to pause with dread, Ere from its scabbard ye unsheath the sword. The man of power lets loose the god of war, But not, obedient, as from fields of air Returns the falcon to the sportsman's hand, Doth the wild deity obey the call Of mortal voice; nor will the Saviour's hand A second time forth issue from the clouds. BURGUNDY. Oh, sire! an angel walketh by your side. Where is she? Why do I behold her not? CHARLES. Where is Johanna? Wherefore faileth she To grace the festival we owe to her? ARCHBISHOP. She loves not, sire, the idleness of the court, And when the heavenly mandate calls her not Forth to the world's observance, she retires, And doth avoid the notice of the crowd. Doubtless, unless the welfare of the realm Claims her regard, she communes with her God, For still a blessing on her steps attends. 

  

       SCENE IV.     

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