Wears gold and azure?
JULIE. No; sable.
RICH. So you note his colours, Julie?
Shame on you, child, look loftier. By the mass,
I have business with this modest gentleman.
JULIE. You're angry with poor Julie. There's no
cause.
RICH. No cause--you hate my foes?
JULIE. I do!
RICH. Hate Mauprat?
JULIE. Not Mauprat. No, not Adrien, father.
RICH. Adrien!
Familiar!--Go, child; no,--not _that_ way;--wait
In the tapestry chamber; I will join you,--go.
JULIE. His brows are knit; I dare not call him
father! But I _must_ speak. Your Eminence--
RICH. (_sternly_). Well, girl!
JULIE. Nay,
Smile on me--one smile more; there, now I'm happy.
Do not rank Mauprat with your foes; he is not,
I know he is not; he loves France too well.
RICH. Not rank De Mauprat with my foes?
So be it.
I'll blot him from that list.
JULIE. That's my own father. [_Exit_ JULIE.
_Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer._
* * * * *
"DIOS TE GUARDE."
FROM THE SPANISH.
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