Christ was betrayed by treason of a man,
And scourged and hung upon a tree by men;
And the sad women who were at his cross,
And sought him early at the sepulcher,
And since that day, in gentle multitudes
Have loved and followed him, have been man's slaves,--
The victims of his power and his desire.

_Mary_.

And you, a wedded wife-well wedded, too,
Can say all this, and say it bitterly!

_Grace_.

Perhaps because a wife; perhaps because--

_Mary_.

Hush, Grace! No more! I beg you, say no more.
Nay! I will leave you at another word;
For I could listen to a blasphemy,
Falling from bestial lips, with lighter chill
Than to the mad complainings of a soul
Which God has favored as he favors few.
I dare not listen when a woman's voice,
Which blessings strive to smother, flings them off
In mad contempt. I dare not hear the words
Whose utterance all the gentle loves dissuade
By kisses which are reasons, while a throng