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idow La Rue has returnedAnd is rocking on the porch--What is about to happen?For last night the phantom of the old soldierAppeared to her again--It followed her to the house of her friend,And appeared again.But more than ever was it her husband,With the iris of his eyes so black,And the white of his eyes so china-blue.And while she thinks of it,And wonders what is about to happen,She hears laughter,And looking up, beholds her daughterAnd the forbidden lover. * * * * * And then the daughter and her husbandCome to the porch and the daughter says"We have just been married in the village, mother;Will you forgive us?This is your son; you must kiss your son."And Widow La Rue from her chair arisesAnd calmly takes her child in her arms,And clasps his hand.And after gazing upon himImperturbably as Clytemnestra lookedUpon returning Agamemnon,With a light in her eyes which neither fathomed,She kissed him,And in a calm voice blessed them.Then sent her daughter, singing,On an errand back to the villageTo market for dinner, saying:"We'll talk over plans, my dear." V And the young husbandRocks on the porch without a thoughtOf the lightning about to strike.And like Clytemnestra, Widow La RueEnters the house.And while he is rocking, with all his spirit in a rythmic rapture,The Widow La Rue takes a seat in the roomBy a window back of the chair where he rocks,And drawing the shadeShe speaks: "These two nights past I have seen the phantom of the old soldierWho haunts the midnightsOf this summer loneliness.And I knew that a doom was at hand. ...You have married my daughter, and this is the doom. ...O, God in heaven!"Then a horror as of a writhing whitenessWinds out of the July glareAnd stops the flow of his blood,As he hears from the re-echoing roomThe voice of Widow La RueMoving darkly between banksOf delirious fear and woe! "Be calm till you hear me through. ...Do not move, or enter here,I am hiding my face from you. ...Hear me through, and then fly.I warned her against you, but how could I tell herWhy you were not for her?But tell me now, have you come together?No? Thank God for that. ...For you must not come together. ...Now listen while I whisper to you:My daughter was born of a lawless loveFor a man I loved before I married,And when, for five years, no child cameI went to this manAnd begged him to give me a child. ...Well then ... the child was born, your wife as it seems. ...And when my husband saw her,And saw the likeness of this man in her faceHe went out of the house, where they found him laterBy the entrance gateWith the iris of his eyes so black,And the white of his eyes so china-blue,And specks of blood on his face,Like a wall specked by a shake of a brush.And something like blubber or pinkish waxHiding the gash in his throat--The serum and blood blown up by the breathFrom emptied lungs. Yes, there by the gate, O God!Quit rocking your chair! Don't you understand?Quit rocking your chair! Go! Go!Leap from the bluff to the rocks on the shore!Take down the sickle and end yourself!You don't care, you say, for all I've told you?Well, then, you see, you're older than Flora. ...And her father died when she was a baby. ...And you were four when your father died. ...And her father died on the very dayThat your father died,At the verv same moment. ...On the very same bed. ...Don't you understand?"
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