THIBAUT enters, clad in black. RAIMOND follows him, and tries
to hold him back.

RAIMOND.
Stay, father Thibaut! Do not join the crowds!
Here, at this joyous festival you meet
None but the happy, whom your grief offends.
Come! Let us quit the town with hasty steps.

THIBAUT.
Hast thou beheld my child? My wretched child?
Didst thou observe her?

RAIMMOND.
I entreat you, fly!

THIBAUT.
Didst mark her tottering and uncertain steps,
Her countenance, so pallid and disturbed?
She feels her dreadful state; the hour is come
To save my child, and I will not neglect it.

[He is about to retire.

RAIMOND.
What would you do?

THIBAUT.
Surprise her, hurl her down
From her vain happiness, and forcibly
Restore her to the God whom she denies.

RAIMOND.
Oh, do not work the ruin of your child!

THIBAUT.
If her soul lives, her mortal part may die.

[JOHANNA rushes out of the church, without her banner.
The people press around her, worship her, and kiss her
garments. She is detained in the background by the crowd.

She comes! 'tis she! She rushes from the church.
Her troubled conscience drives her from the fane!
'Tis visibly the judgment of her God!

RAIMOND.
Farewell! Require not my attendance further!
Hopeful I came, and sorrowful depart.
Your daughter once again I have beheld,
And feel again that she is lost to me!

[He goes out. THIBAUT retires on the opposite side.