  Scene: A tropical landscape. In the distance, a calm sea. A natural fountain—a mere thread of water—falls over a rock into a natural basin. An old sun-dial formed of the upper part of a broken pillar, round the shaft of which some creeping flowers are trained, stands on a small mound. The time is within half an hour of sunset. Mousta, a deformed, ill-favoured dwarf hump-backed and one-eyed, is discovered seated, reading a small black-letter volume. Mous. (reads). “To move a mountain.” That will serve me not, Unless, indeed, ’twill teach me how to lift This cursed mountain from my crippled back! “To make old young.” Humph! I’m but forty-two— But still, I’ll mark that page—the day will come When I shall find it useful. Ha! what’s this? “To make the crooked straight; to heal the halt; And clothe unsightly forms with comeliness.” At last! At last! Enter Vavir, who listens in amazement. (Reads) “Take scammony and rue, With henbane gathered in a fat churchyard— Pound in a mortar with three drops of blood, Drawn from a serpent’s tail at dead of night.” Yes, yes, that’s plain enough! (reads) “Take pigeon’s egg Wrapped in the skin of a beheaded toad, And then—” (sees Vavir) Who’s there? Vav. (astonished).Why, Mousta? Mous.Pardon me, I’m at my book. I did not hear thy step. Vav. Thy book hath lines both strange and terrible: Why Mousta, this is arrant sorcery! How camest thou with such a fearful thing? Mous. (whispering). An unseen spirit brought it to me—Ay, Brought it to me. An hour or so ago I saw a distant boat make for our shores, The wind was on her bow—she tacked as though Handled by one well-skilled in such small craft. Well—on she came—and I awaited her, Armed with a boat-hook. When within fair hail, “Sheer off!” I cried; “No stranger touches here!” But, heedless of my hail, she kept her course, And, when within a bow-shot of the beach, Down came her sail, and in she ran to shore! Vav. (alarmed). Whom did she carry, Mousta? Mous.Not a soul! The boat was tenantless! Some unseen power Had guided her! I overhauled the craft To find some sign of human agency, And found—this book. Vav. (shrinking from it). It is unholy lore! Oh, burn it, Mousta! Mous.Burn it? No, not I! See what I am—dwarfed, twisted, and deformed! I have a fancy to be tall and straight— This volume teaches me to have my will. My only eyeball flashes from its pit Like a red snake trapped in a sunken snare— I do not like my eye. As I’ve but one, I’d have it large and bright. This teaches me To make it so. My mouth is coarsely cut— I like a tempting mouth—a mouth that smiles— A mouth that’s smiled upon. This teaches me To make it so. I will not burn this book! The Lady Hilda has entered during the last line. Hil. And what would’st thou with beauty? Mous.What would I? Why, lady, look around; the isle is fair: Its feathery palms that tower towards the sky, Its prattling brooks that trickle to the sea, Its hills and dales, its sea and sky—are fair: The beasts that dwell upon it, and the birds That fly above it—even they are fair: And, beyond all, the ladies who have made This isle their chosen home are very fair! And what am I? Why, lady, look at me! I am the one foul blot upon its face: I am the one misshapen twisted thing In this assemblage of rare loveliness: I am the one accursed discord in This choir of universal harmony! Is this, think you, a proud pre-eminence? Or, rather, is it not a red-hot brand That stamps its damning impress on one’s heart, And changes man to devil before his time! (Sadly.) Ah! you are mocking me! Hil. (kindly).I mock thee not. We maidens all (save one) have dearly loved, And those we loved have died. We, broken hearts, Knit by the sympathy of kindred woe, Have sought this isle far from the ken of man; And having loved, and having lost our loves, Stand pledged to love no living thing again. Thou art our trusted servant and our friend; The only man of all the world of men Whom we admit upon our virgin shores. We know thee, and we trust thee, Mousta—Come, This thought might soften harder hearts than thine! Mous. (angrily). And why choose me alone of all mankind To serve you in your island loneliness? Because my limbs, though crooked, are strongly framed? Bah, there are tall straight men as strong as I. Because my heart goes with my fealty? Why half my wage would buy the heart and soul Of twenty well-proportioned servitors. Because by reason of my face and form I do not count as man? Yes! I’m an ape! A crippled, crumpled, devil-faced baboon, Who claims a place amid this loveliness By title of his sheer deformity! Now, monkey though I be, I am a man In all but face and form—I’ve a man’s heart, A man’s desire to love—and to be loved—(Hilda seems amused.) Ay, you may laugh—but those who seek to laugh May find, methinks, more fitting merriment In such mad love as deals with sun-dials, Trees, rocks, and fountains, and such baby game. My love at least is human in its aim. It’s well you should know this—be on your guard! [Exit Mousta. Hil. In truth, the love that Mousta laughs at tells How strangely ordered is a woman’s heart! Dost thou remember how, when first we came To this fair isle, I said, in thoughtless jest, “As woman’s heart must love, and we are women, So let us choose our loves”—then, looking round, “This running fountain shall be mine,” I cried, And, kneeling by the brink, then sealed the vow As all such vows are sealed ’twixt men and women— And thou, poor child, pleased with the jest, replied, “I take this dial to be my love for life!” Vavir, we little thought that in those words We pledged ourselves to an abiding love That rivals in its pure intensity The love that we had banished from our hearts! Yet so it is. We have so dwelt upon This idle fancy—keeping it alive With songs and sighs and vows of constancy, That we have tricked ourselves into a love Akin to that which we had all forsworn. I love this little fountain as my life! Vav. To me my dial is more, far more, than life; It is the chronicle of the World’s life, Written by Heaven’s own hand. As, rapt in thought, I watch its silent solemn shadow creep From hour to hour, and so from day to day, True as the Sun itself—an awful record Of Heaven’s most perfect and most glorious order— My love is lost in reverential awe. Oh I have chosen well in choosing this! It is a holy thing, that bears a warrant, Sent from the Source of Life, to tell the Earth That even Time is hastening to its end! What is mere world-love to such love as this? Hil. And yet thou hast no cause to shun world-love. When my great sorrow came and I withdrew To this lone isle with other broken hearts, Thou, heart-whole and untouched by love of Man, Yet gavest up the world and all it holds To bide with me. Vav. I do not love the world. My darling sister found her sorrow there— The world is naught to me. This tiny isle, But half a league in girth holds all I love. My world is where thou art—there let me stay For the few months that yet remain to me! I think my time on earth will be but brief. Hil. Hush, hush, Vavir. I will not hear these things. Vav. My life has been a very happy life, So free from pain and sorrow of its own That, but that I have shared my sister’s grief, I had not known what pain and sorrow are— Yet even this calm rest—this changeless peace, Saps my poor fragile fabric day by day, And the first shaft that sorrow aims at it, May shake its puny structure to the ground! Hil. Why, what sad silly fancy’s this, Vavir? Thou hast no pain, my child? Vav.No pain, indeed; But a calm happiness so strangely still, It comes not of this world. I am to die Ere very long. Pray Heaven I be prepared! Hil. It’s well for me and well for both of us I do not share these foolish fantasies! Why, silly child, believest thou that Time Will see the fruit that ripens on those cheeks, And note the dainty banquet of those lips, And not preserve such rich and radiant fare, For his own feasting in his own good time? Trust the old Epicure! [Exeunt Hilda and Vavir together. Enter Florian. He comes down, looking around him in admiration. Flor. All men who say I’m five-and-twenty, lie. I was born but to-day! An hour ago! Yes—this must be the World. The distant land In which I’ve passed so many years, and which I, in my puppy-blindness, called “The World,” Is but its antechamber. Enter Mousta (with book). Born to-day, And by a process which is new to me, My faculties are scarcely wide awake, But if my memory serves me faithfully, This twisted thing and I have met before. Mous. The ladies are at supper. Now’s my time To master, undisturbed by curious eyes, The ghostly secrets of my spirit book! Where was I? Oh! (reads) “Take scammony and rue, With henbane gathered—” Flor. (coming behind and taking book from him). Pardon me—that’s mine. Mous. Oh, Heaven and Earth—a Man! Thou hardy fool, What dost thou on this isle? (Draws knife.) Come, answer me. Flor. Give me that knife. (Twists it out of his hand.) That’s well! Now, what’s your will? Mous. Go—get thee hence at once. Flor.No, not just yet. This Paradise—if Rumour tells the truth— Is ruled by six fair ladies. I prefer To take my sailing orders from their lips. Mous. Their lips are mine! Flor.Then you’re a lucky dog! Mous. I am their mouthpiece. By their solemn rules No man may set his foot upon these shores. Those rules thy hardihood hath set at naught. How camest thou, and when? Flor.I am a Prince, Prince Florian of Spain. I landed here From yonder boat—about an hour ago. Mous. Liar! The boat was empty! Flor.No, not quite. I was on board. Mous. (puzzled). But I was on the beach— Flor. I know you were—with boat-hook in your hand To thrust her off. You hailed me angrily: I had no time to stop and parley then, So, in the hope that Fate would furnish me With some more fitting opportunity To offer you my best apologies, I kept her head to land, and jumped ashore. Those best apologies I offer now. Mous. (alarmed). If you’ll believe me, sir, I saw you not! Flor. I quite believe you, for I have the power To make myself invisible at will, And, having such a power, you’ll see at once That force will serve you nothing. Mous. (amazed).Say you true? Flor. Undoubtedly. I’ve but to wind this veil (producing a grey gauze veil with gold tassels) About my head, and I’m invisible, And so remain till I remove it. Mous.Why, This is a priceless Talisman, indeed! Invisible! I’d give one half my life To be invisible for half-a-day! Flor. Indeed? And why? Mous.There is no living thing But seeks a mate—What birds and beasts may do Mousta may seek to do—I want to mate! And whom d’ye think I want? Some kitchen-wench? One-eyed, hump-backed, and twisted like myself? I want the purest, fairest form on earth! Flor. Upon my word, you aim full high! Mous.I do! Why not? Suppose I loved a kitchen-wench, And told her so? Flor.A decent kitchen-wench Would soundly box your ears! Mous.You’re right—She would; My Lady can’t do more. As I must fail At least I’ll fail for game worth failing for! As yet I’ve breathed no word—were I unseen I could take heart of grace and tell my love! Flor. (laughing). What would you say? Mous.Ay, ay, you laugh at me; But I’ve a wily tongue, and I can woo Like an Adonis—when I’m in the dark! A blind girl loved me once—a fair young girl With gentle face and gentle heart—but blind! Flor. I’ll swear she was! Mous. (gently).Ah, mock her not—she died! Flor. Well, peace be with her—Find me some safe spot, Where I can pass the night—I’ll pay you well. Mous. Ha! ha! Flor.Why do you laugh? Mous.Had I your power To make myself invisible at will, I should take up my quarters in the castle Where all the ladies dwell! Flor.I’m sure you would, Unfortunately I’m a gentleman, And so that course is closed to me— Mous.Of course! I did but jest—I beg your pardon, sir. (Aside.) If I could get that veil for one short hour— Eh, but I’ve drugs to lull a man to sleep! If I can tempt this squeamish popinjay To trust himself to me, the thing is done! (Aloud). I’ve a poor cottage—it is close at hand, Though humble, it is clean and weather-tight: It will afford you shelter. Then for food I’ve some dried fish and eggs and oaten bread Quite at your service. Flor.Good. Mous. (quickly).But hide yourself, Some one approaches! [Florian covers his head with veil as Vavir enters with flowers. Flor. (aside to Mousta). Who is this fair maid? Mous. (aside). Lady Vavir. She always comes at eve To bid “good night” to this old sun-dial! Keep your ears open, and I’ll warrant you Yours eyes will open too! (Aloud.) Lady Vavir, I bid you fair good night. Vav.Good night to you. [Exit Mous. Flor. In truth a fair young girl! Vav.Dear sun-dial, Dost know what day this is? Flor. (aside).He ought to know, It comes within the radius of his calling! Vav. A year to-day, and we two were betrothed— One happy, happy year! Flor. (aside).Betrothed, i’ faith! They’re lovers, then! Vav.I must devise some gift To mark this happy day. What shall it be? I’ll weave a bower of rose and eglantine To place above thy head at eventide, When the full moon’s abroad. No foolish moon Shall cast false shadows on thy sleeping face, Or make thee mutter incoherent tales Of hours long since gone by or yet to come. No madcap moon shall mar thy nightly rest, Or in the mischief of half-witted glee Awake thy sleeping hours before their time. Flor. (aside). He doesn’t answer—the insensate dolt!— And yet such words are warm enough to rouse A tombstone into life! Vav.I’ve brought thee flowers To deck thy stem. They live their little life, And then they die; but others follow them— And thou shalt have thy garland day by day While I am here to weave it for thee? Flor. (aside).Well, This is the oddest wooing! On my word, A thousand pities that the lady’s love Should be lopsided! Come, arouse thee, dial— Be eloquent with thanks! I’ve half a mind To thank her for thee, in the interests Of all true horologes! Vav.I’m content To sit and deck thee, silent though thou art. And yet I would thou hadst the gift of speech For one brief second—time enough to say, “Vavir, I love thee with my whole, whole heart!” Flor. (aloud). “Vavir, I love thee with my whole, whole heart!” Vav. (recoiling, horrified). Who spake? Flor.’Twas I—thy dial! Vav. Oh, terrible! What shall I do? Flor.Fair lady—have no fear. Vav. “Fair lady”—It’s a man! My sisters, help! I am betrayed! Flor.Have patience for a while— Vav. Who and what art thou?—speak! Flor. (aside).What shall I say? (Aloud.) I am a poor, long-suffering, mortal man, Whom in the stony substance of thy dial, A cruel magician holds incarcerate! Vav. Oh, marvellous! Flor.And very pitiful! Vav. Aye, pitiful indeed, poor prisoned soul! (advancing.) Flor. “There shalt thou lie,” said he, “till some pure maid Shall have been constant to thine unseen self A twelvemonth and a day.” That maid art thou! Vav. Alas! poor man, I fain would set thee free. Yet I have loved not thee, but this thy tomb! Flor. Thou canst not separate me from my tomb Except by loving me. In loving it Thou lovest me who am bound up with it; And in so loving me—provided that Thy love, a twelvemonth old, lasts one day more— Thou givest me my freedom and my life! If thou hast loved thy dial thou hast loved me. Vav. Yes, I have loved my dial! Flor.But earnestly— With a surpassing love? Vav.I cannot say— I am ill-versed in the degrees of love. Judge for thyself—When I am weak and ill My sisters place my couch beside my dial That I may lay my poor thin hand on it: It gives me life and strength—I know not why. Judge for thyself— When the black winter comes my sisters weep To see me weep my darling’s brief day-life; And when the bright, long summer days return They join my joy—because with Light comes Hope, And Hope is Life—and they would have me live! Judge for thyself— At dawn of day I seek my dial alone, To watch its daily waking into life; At set of sun I come to it again, To kiss “good night” upon its fading shade: Then, with a prayer that I may lay to heart The lesson of its silent eloquence, I seek my bed. So speeds my little life. If this be love, then have I loved indeed! Judge for thyself. (Rises.) Enter Melusine (a small hand-mirror hangs from her waist). Mel. Vavir, the evening dews are falling fast; The night air teems with damp. So, come, dear love, Return at once with me. Vav.Oh, Melusine, I have a secret. (Aside to dial.) May I tell it? Flor. (whispering).Yes. Mel. A secret? Vav.Ay, a wondrous secret, too! My sun-dial hath ears to hear withal— And eyes to see withal—and a sweet voice, A gentle, tender voice to woo withal! Mel. Oh, marvellous! Oh, fortunate Vavir! To woo—and to be woo’d—and, being woo’d, To keep her vow intact! I’d give the world If my loved mirror were endowed with speech! Flor. Have then thy wish, fair lady! Mel.Why, who spake? Vav. Thy mirror spake! Mel.Oh, day of wonderment! Who gave thee speech? Art thou enchanted too? Flor. Ay, that in truth I am, as all must be On whom those eyes are turned so lovingly! Mel. A very polished mirror! Flor.As for that, We mirrors are as other gallants are— Teeming with compliment to fair young maids— But apt to be extremely curt and rude With old and wrinkled faces. On the whole We are good gallants as good gallants go! Mel. And dost thou love me? Flor.Love thee, gentle maid? Have I not laughed with thee, and wept with thee, And ever framed my face in sympathy With all the changes of thy varying moods? Hast thou e’er cast thine eyes upon my face And found me light of heart when thou wast sad? Or sad when thou wast light of heart? Mel.No! no! Most wonderful! Flor.And yet not wonderful! I am but one of many. This fair isle Teems with poor prisoned souls! There’s not a tree— There’s not a rock, a brook, a shrub, a stone, But holds some captive spirit who awaits The unsought love that is to set him free! Mel. (to Vavir). We’ll keep this secret safely to ourselves. If it should get abroad, this little isle Will barely hold the maidens who will come, Prepared to pass the spring-time of their lives In setting free these captives! Come, Vavir, And we will warn our sisters. Vav.Fare thee well, Beloved dial: I go to dream of thee, Dream thou of me! God send thee Sun. Good night! [Exeunt Vavir and Melusine. Flor. Two maids, at once bewitching—and bewitched! One loves a mirror—well, that’s not so strange, Though she’ll grow angry with it ten years hence! The other loves a dial—a cold stern fact That surely marks the deadly flight of time! Wonders will never cease! let none despair— Old Chronos, enemy of womankind, Has found a pretty sweetheart, after all! Enter Lady Hilda, singing and playing on mandolin. Far from sin—far from sorrow Let me stay—let me stay! From the fear of to-morrow Far away—far away! I am weary and shaken, Let me stay—let me stay, Till in death I awaken Far away—far away! [Towards the close of the song, she sinks on her knees as a ray of moonlight falls on her. Florian has watched her eagerly during the song, with every symptom of the profoundest admiration. Flor. Oh, Heaven enlighten me—is this fair thing A soul of Earth—a being, born of woman, Conscious of sin and destined to decay? Oh, Good and Ill, how share ye such a spoil! Can this pure form, instinct with Heaven’s own light, Clothed in the majesty of innocence, Have aught in common with the vapid toy We break and cast aside? Oh, sordid Earth, Praise Heaven that leaves this angel yet unclaimed. Oh, heart of mine—oh, wilful, wayward heart, Bow down in homage—thou art caught and caged! [During these lines Hilda, seated by the fountain, has been playing with its water, and kissing her wet hands. Hil. The sun has set—the fierce hot thirsty sun Who, like a greedy vampire as he is, Drinks my love’s life-blood till it pines away, And dwindles to a thread. The moon’s abroad— She is not jealous of my fountain love; She sheds her gentle light upon our tryst And decks my love with diamonds of her own! Flor. (aside). Poor, senseless fount! To have thy home in Heaven And not to know it! Hil.Shall I tell thee how I came to give my poor bruised heart to thee? Or art thou of those churlish lovers who Can brook no love that is not born of them? Why, then, I am unworthy in thine eyes, For I have loved, as women love but once! He was a prince—a brave, God-fearing knight— The very pink and bloom of Chivalry, Proud as a war-horse—fair as the dawn of day— Staunch as a Woman—tender as a Man! He knew not that I loved him. Who was I That he should mark the flushing of my face, Amid a thousand maids whose stricken hearts Danced to their lips, as he, my prince, rode by? One sullen winter day—dark as his doom, He left his home to seek a distant land. A weary while I wept—months passed away, And yet no tidings came. Then tales were told Of ships o’erwhelmed by boisterous wintry seas; And rough men prayed, and maidens wept aloud, For he was loved of all! Then came the news; At first in shuddering whispers, one by one— Then babbled by ten thousand clamorous tongues— The cold fierce sea had robbed me of my love! My star—my light—my life—my Florian! Flor. (aside). Oh, senseless dullard—to have turned away From Heaven’s own threshold at thine own free will! Hil. I wept no more. Tears are the balm of sorrow—not of woe. I fled my home— A gentle sister whose poor little life Lives on the love I bear it, fled with me; So, hand in hand, we wandered through the world Till, in this haven of pure peace and rest, We found safe sanctuary from our woe. Flor. (aloud). Who would not die to be so mourned by thee? [Hilda expresses alarm and intense surprise. Fear nothing. I who speak am but a voice— The murmur of the waters, shaped to words By the all-potent alchemy of Love! Hil. Oh, foolish maid—this is some madcap dream! Flor. No dream indeed—or if it be, dream on! Hil. Canst thou then hear the words I speak to thee? Flor. Ay, that I can—and every word I hear Adds fuel to my love! Hil.Oh, wonderful! Hast thou the power to love? Flor.Indeed I have! Hil. And is thy love akin to mine? Flor.It is So near akin that, as it comes of thine, And lives on thine, so, without thine, it dies! Hil. If my poor love Hath called thine into life—so is my love In duty bound to thine—its kith and kin! Flor. But if the rumours of thy Florian’s death Should prove, as rumours often prove, untrue? If he should be alive—loving thee well— Eager to tell his love to thee—what then? Hil. (sadly). Thou jealous fount, what untold miracle Would bear the tidings to this lonely isle? Flor. Say that in wandering through the unknown world Chance led Prince Florian to these shores, and he, Flushed with the radiance of thy loveliness, Stood manifest before thine eyes—what then? Hil. Oh, Heaven, what then! Joy kills as sorrow kills. I dare not think what then! Let it suffice That I have given thee all—that I am thine For ever and for aye! Enter Mousta unperceived; he places himself so that the dial conceals him from Florian and Hilda. Flor.“Ever and aye” Are fragile flowers that fade before the breath Of an old love long lost! Hil.Oh, gentle voice, Born of the falling water—have no fear— In Heaven’s sight I pledge myself to thee— What love is in me, that I give to thee— What love thou hast to give, I take from thee— Kiss thou my hands—(holding her hands for the water to fall on)—henceforth we twain are one! Scene, same as Act I. Time, Sunrise. Enter Mousta, cautiously. Mous. I left him sleeping soundly in my hut, He did not drink the wine—but still he sleeps. (Producing veil.) I stole it from his pillow! Here’s a prize! Poor devil that I am—whose only hope Of meeting other men on equal terms, Lies in his chance of keeping out of sight! Ha! someone comes. I’ll hide thee carefully. [Places it under a stone of dial. Some day, maybe, thou’lt do as much for me! Enter Florian, angrily. Flor. So here you are: I’ve sought you everywhere— Mous. Ay, I am here. You’re early from your bed— Well, it’s no bed for such fine folk as you; I’m very sorry, but ’twas all I had. Flor. The bed was well enough. I have been robbed. Mous. Ay, ay? And how was that? Flor.There is a thief Upon this isle. Mous.It’s very possible. When people come and go invisibly, It’s hard to say who is or is not here. What has the villain robbed? a woman’s heart? Two women’s hearts? How many women’s hearts? If there’s a thief here, it is you or I, It comes to that. Now, what is it you’ve lost? Flor. My Talisman. Mous.Your Talisman? Oh ho! Flor. I see no cause for jest. Mous.You don’t? Observe— A prince, or someone who so styles himself, With power to make himself invisible, Employs that power to gain admission to An isle where certain maidens dwell—when there His Talisman is stolen and he stands Revealed before their eyes—the helpless butt Of all their ridicule, with naught to say But “Ladies, pray forgive me—I had thought To enter unobserved—to wander here And watch your movements—also unobserved; And when grown weary of this novel sport To take my leave of you—still unobserved, But as I’ve failed, so pray you pardon me.” And off he goes, his tail between his legs, Like a well-beaten hound! Flor. (seizing him).Misshapen imp, Have you so little care for such dog-life As warms your twisted carcase, that you dare To bandy jests with me? Mous.Release me, sir! Had I your Talisman, do you suppose I should be here before your eyes? No, no— Whoever has the veil is using it. There are but six of us, besides myself. If one of those is missing, why, be sure That one hath taken it. I’ll go and see. [Exit Mousta. Flor. The imp is right, and yet the Talisman Was safe with me last night. But, who comes here! Confusion! ’tis Vavir. I shall be seen! Where can I hide myself? Enter Vavir; she starts in intense alarm on seeing Florian. Vav.Kind Heaven protect me! Who art thou, and what dost thou on this isle? Flor. Fair maiden, have no fear. I am a knight, Sworn on the sacred code of Chivalry, To hold all womankind in reverence. Listen, and I will tell thee all— Vav. (who has recognized his voice, kneels as in adoration.) No need! Thy voice hath told me all! I know thee now! Oh, foolish heart, be still, for all is well— He will not harm thee; this is he whose words, Through the still watches of the long, long night, Rang like a mighty clarion in mine ears, “Vavir, I love thee with my whole, whole heart!” Thou art the messenger of hope and life, For Heaven hath not bestowed this joy on me To take me from it. Yes, I am to live! Flor. (raising her). Why, Heaven forgive me, maiden—can it be That thou hast loved this dial of thine with love Akin to that which women bear to men? Vav. Ay, that I have, as I’ve a soul to save! Why, I have sat for hours and clung to it, Until I half believed I felt a heart Beating within its frame—and as I clung Methought I drew both warmth and life from it! I wondered then that such a thing could be— Oh, my dear love, I do not wonder now! (Embracing him.) Flor. (aside). God help thee, gentle maid! I little thought My heedless words, conceived in arrant jest, Chimed in so aptly with thy fantasies! (Aloud.) Be not deceived; I am a mortal like thyself, in all Except thine innocence!—A sinning man, Unworthy of thy love. Be not deceived. Vav. I know thee, and I love thee as thou art— Not as the Spirit of my nightly dreams, But as thou art—a man of Life and Death. Flor. Hast thou then seen a Spirit in thy dreams? Vav. I have—the Spirit of the Sun-dial— A godlike form of fearful excellence, Clad, like the Sun, in golden panoply— His head surmounted with a diadem That shed eternal rays—and, in his hand, A mighty javelin of gold and fire. So pictured I the Sun’s Ambassador— A god to worship—not a man to love! (Leaning on his breast.) I had not guessed at half my happiness! Flor. (aside). Now, by my knighthood, I would give ten years— To find some way to break the truth to her! Vav. Time was when I was very glad to die; I did not fear what others seem to fear. I have heard say that brave, stout-hearted men, Whose reckless valour has withstood the test Of many a battle-plain, will quail and blanch Brought face to face with unexpected death. I am a poor weak girl, whose fluttering heart Quakes at the rustle of a leaf, and yet I did not fear to die—I prayed to die! But now thou hast so bound me to the earth, Thou, oh my first, my last, my only love, I dare not think of death! Oh, let me live, My life is in thine hands—Oh, let me live! Flor. Yes, thou shalt live, Vavir, so have no fear. Vav. Thou wilt not leave me? Flor.Only for a while; I will return to thee. Vav.So, hand in hand We shall grow old, and die, still hand in hand? Flor. Yes, ever hand in hand. Vav.Oh, gentle Heaven, I have more happiness than I can bear! [Exit Vavir. Flor. Poor soul, what shall I say? To tell her now Would be to kill her! [Pauses irresolute, then exit. Enter Mousta, watching them. Mous. Oh, ho! young knight! I’m sorry for Vavir! Well, it concerns me not: the girl is fair; And traps are set for her because she’s fair, And she’ll fall into them because she’s fair. Good looks Should pay some penalty—that’s only fair. Better be such as I am, after all; No one sets traps for me. Ha! who comes here? The Lady Hilda, parting from Vavir— Come forth, my Talisman, the time has come To test thy power. [Takes veil from behind stone as Hilda enters hurriedly. He winds it about his head. Hil.Oh, Spirit of the Well, I’ve wondrous news! The poor enchanted soul, Till now entombed within the sun-dial, Hath taken human form! Oh, gentle spirit, grant my trembling prayer, If thou hast power to quit thy silver stream And stand in human form before mine eyes, Then by my long and faithful love, I pray That thou wilt suffer me to see thy face! [Mousta hobbles across behind the fountain, and replies as Florian. Mous. Yes, I can take such form, but press me not—— Hil. And wherefore not? Mous.I dare not show myself Lest all thy love should fade? Hil.Ah, have no fear, My love runs with my life. Mous.So women say, Who live but once, yet love a dozen times! Hil. I am not such as they! Mous.I know it well— Hil. Then let me see thy face—but once—but once— Then thou shalt hie thee to thy well again For ever if thou wilt! Mous.That may not be— Once seen in human form I must remain A man—with more than man’s infirmities. I am no shapely spirit framed to catch A woman’s fancy—I am roughly hewn— Somewhat uncouth—misshapen, some might say— Dost thou not fear to look on me? Hil.No, no. Take thou thy form, whate’er that form may be! Mous. But stay— Thou hast a serving man—a crumpled wretch— One-eyed and lame—but passing honest—say That I am such a twisted thing as he? What then? Hil. (tenderly). Oh, Spirit of the Well, fear not, My love is not a thing of yesterday; Nor does it spring from thought of face and form. I love thee for thy boundless charity, That seeks no recompense—doing good works In modest silence from the very love Of doing good—bestowing life and strength On high and low, on rich and poor alike; Embracing in thy vast philosophy, All creeds, all nations, and all ranks of men! Holding thyself to be no higher than The meanest wretch who claims thy charity, Yet holding none to be of such account As to deserve thine homage. Just to all, Lovely in all thy modest deeds of good, Excelling type of godliest charity, Show thyself in whatever form thou wilt, Oh, Spirit of the Well, And I perforce must love thee! Mous.Be it so! Thou shalt behold me as I am. But first, Ere I do that which cannot be undone, Give me a solemn token that shall serve As evidence of troth twixt thee and me. Hil. Dost thou still doubt me then? Mous.I doubt myself— I doubt my rugged form, my rough-hewn face, My crumpled limbs!—See, lady, I exchange My immortality for Life and Death, My demi-godhead for the state of Man— Man, undersized and crippled, and accurst! All this I do for thee—Let me be sure That when I’ve done all this, thou wilt not cry, “Away, distorted thing, My love is not for such a one as thou!” Hil. Oh, doubting Spirit, take this sacred ring. It is a holy relic—and a vow Spoken thereon binds her who utters it Through life to death. Upon this sacred stone, I do repeat my vow of yesternight! I am thy bride! (Throws ring into the fountain.) Mous. (taking the ring out of the fountain). Then, lady, have thy will! But, bear in mind that modest virtue oft Will clothe herself in most unlikely garb— Mistrust all prejudice—well-favoured hearts May underlie ill-favoured heads. We spurn The dirt beneath our feet—but never less We grovel in such dirt for diamonds, And sometimes find them there! A comely face Is but the food of Time—a kindly heart Time touches but to soften—think of this, And in thy breast some pity may be found, For the poor wretch to whom thy troth is given! [Mousta reveals himself. Hilda, whose fears have been gradually aroused during this speech, recoils in horror and amazement at seeing him. Hil. Mousta! Oh, Heaven, what have I said and done! Was thine the voice that spake? Mous. (abashed).My lady, yes! Hil. Oh, cruel, cruel! Mous.Lady, pardon me. I knew not what I did! Hil.Oh, wretched man! I pardon thee—thou dost not, canst not know How deep a wound thine idle words have riven! Oh, heart! my broken heart! (Sinks on to ground by dial.) My Mousta, shame upon thee for this jest— This heartless jest—this scurril mockery! When thou wast sick to death I tended thee, Through weary days, and weary, weary nights, And bathed thy fevered brow, and prayed with thee, And soothed thy pain with such poor minstrelsy As I am mistress of—I sang to thee, And brought thee pleasant books to help thee speed The lagging hours of thy recovery. Has my heart seemed to thee so stony hard That it could bear this deadly blow unbruised? Oh, Mousta, shame upon thee for this jest! Mous. Jest, Lady Hilda? Nay, I did not jest! Why, look at me! Hil. (gazing at him). Oh, Mousta! Can it be That thou hast dared—No, no, impossible,—— It is too terrible! Mous.Ay, I have dared! I studied necromancy—and I learnt To weave a mighty engine for myself— A web that gives invisibility. (Producing veil.) Shrouded in this, I woo’d thee yesternight! Oh, I can woo—At least, I’ve shown thee that! A voice rang music in thine ears—’twas mine! Words thrilled thee to the core—I spake those words! Love filled thy very soul—’twas I that woo’d! My very self, stripped of the hideous mask In which my soul stands shrouded from the world. I’ll woo like that all day! But shut thine eyes, Or turn thine head away, and I shall make As fair a husband as the best of them! Hil. Oh, horrible! Go—get thee hence, away— Take money—what thou wilt—but get thee hence! Oh, madman! madman! Mous.Why, what could I do? Should I have reasoned with myself, and said, “Mousta, when thou wast sick and like to die, The Lady Hilda came to thy bedside, And sat, and nursed thee day by day—’twas nothing! When writhing at thy very worst, her tears Fell on thy face like rain,—a woman’s trick! When baffled Death was tugging at thy throat, Her gentle prayers rose to the gate of Heaven, Mingled with the insensate blasphemies Of thy delirium—account it naught! Go to thy labour—get thy spade and dig, And when a foolish sob of gratitude Rises unbidden to thy choking throat” (They sometimes will—one can’t be sure of them), “Swear a big oath and whistle it away, Lest it take root and blossom into love!” Was this my duty, think ye? No, no, no, My body’s twisted, lady, not my heart. Hil. (with forced calmness). But say that, bound in duty to the troth That thou hast wrung from me, I taught myself I will not say to love—to bear with thee— How could I hope to live at peace with one Armed with so terrible a Talisman? A Talisman that vests in him the power, To come to me and go from me, unseen, And play the truant at his own free will? Thou askest more than womankind can grant. Mous. (trembling with excitement). Oh, lady, lady, give me but thy love, And in that gift will lie the surest proof That I will not misuse my Talisman! Hil. It may be so—but Time’s an alchymist, Who changes gold to dross. Some day, may be, This love of thine will sicken, wane, and die. How could I bear this widowhood of soul, Knowing that thou hast power to come and go, Unseen? Mous. (overjoyed). Be sure I’ll neither come nor go: My place is at thy side. Such love as thine Would surely chain the proudest prince on earth, And how much more so poor a wretch as I! Hil. I’ll trust thee not. Doubt would lie heavy at my heart, not less Because I had no reason for that doubt. Give me thy Talisman. Mous.Nay, bear with me. Hil. Give me thy Talisman. Mous.Well, well, ’tis thine. But bear in mind, the troth that thou hast pledged Upon this ring can never be recalled. Hil. I know it well. I’ll keep my troth. Give me thy Talisman. Mous. Lady, ’tis thine. See how I trust in thee. Do with it as thou wilt—rend it apart, And cast it to the winds—its work is done! (giving it to her) Behold me now unarmed. Hil. (changing her manner). Unarmed be thou As all should be who use a deadly power To such foul traitorous ends! I am thy bride— I am thy bride! Make thou the very most Of such poor comfort as those words may hold. Proclaim thy victory—say to thyself, “She is my bride—I wrung an oath from her, With miserable lies—she is my bride! She saved my wretched life, and in return I poison hers—but still she is my bride. She shudders at my all-polluting touch— She loathes my mean and miserable soul: What matters it, so that she be my bride?” Oh, purblind fool—thy plot so subtly laid Is laid too subtly—and the cunning snare That trapped thy bird is laid too cunningly; For as it made me thy poor prisoner, So shall it hold me from thy deadly grasp For ever and for ever! Raise thine head, And look upon thy bride for once and all, For by the Heaven above, the eye of man Shall never rest upon my face again! [She covers her face with veil, and exit. Mous. (furiously). Fiends tear your throat to rags!—No, no, I rave—— Hilda—come back to me—I’ll be thy slave, Thy willing slave once more! I did but jest: My jest is dead and gone—come back to me! I will release thee from thy plighted troth: I love thee—love thee—love thee! Oh, come back, And save my soul and body! ’Twas a jest— An idle jest. I am thy drudging slave, No more than that! I never thought of love— ’Twas but a jest—’twas idly done, but well— Oh, Lady Hilda—oh, come back to me! Enter Florian. Flor. What is this outcry? Mous.It concerns you not. Flor. Where is the Lady Hilda? Mous.Who shall say? Flor. Why, thou shalt say. As there’s a heaven above I’ll wring a civil answer from thy lips. Mous. Take any answer that may fit your mood, And leave me to myself. I’m not in cue For more cross-questioning. Flor.Thine impish tongue Is set awry to-day. Mous. (savagely). It is awry. Take care! But stay; when you were seeking for Your Talisman, you bade me ascertain, If any one were missing. Very well, The Lady Hilda’s missing. Flor.Foolish ape, Dost thou infer— Mous.I draw no inference. I state the figures—add them for thyself. Enter Hilda, still veiled; she gazes in amazement at Florian. Hil. (aside). Merciful Heaven, restore me if I rave— His form, his face, his voice! Flor. (to Mousta).Base liar, know That we are plighted lovers, she and I— She gave her heart to me but yesternight; Why should she hide herself from me to-day? Mous. Perhaps excess of joy hath driven her mad! Flor. I’ll not believe thy tale. The maid is here, And can and shall be found! Mous.Well, go and search. And if thou findest her, why, I’m a liar— Reward me as thou wilt! Flor.A fit reward Will be a yard of steel between thy ribs, And thou shalt have it! Mous.Thank you kindly, sir! [Exit Mousta; Florian sits dejectedly by fountain. Hil. ’Twas he that spake to me! How can I doubt? Are there two such as he? Oh, Heaven, is this The senseless herald of a mind unstrung? Let me be sure. He spake of me, who long had mourned him dead— He told how, shrouded from my gaze last night, He gave his love to me. Oh, gentle Heaven, Give me more strength to bear this weight of joy! [She advances to reveal herself, when Vavir enters, and sits lovingly at Florian’s feet. Hilda, horrified, veils herself again. Vav. At last I’ve found thee, Florian—far and near I’ve sought thee, for I’m very strong to-day. Why, what a wise physician is this Love! For see—my eyes are bright—my face is flushed— Flushed with the glow of health. This new-born love Gives me a new-born strength. Oh, Florian, Place thine arms round me—let me rest on thee; I draw my life from thee—my heart—my heart! Flor. (aside.) Alas, poor maiden—I must tell thee all, May Heaven help me break the truth to thee! (Aloud.) Dear little lady, yield not up thine heart Too readily. The world is set with traps And hidden pitfalls. Keep thy gentle heart For one who, by his pure and godly life, Hath given thee proof of his right worthiness. Vav. (surprised). Why speakest thou in parable? Behold, Have I not loved thee for a long, long year? Flor. What proof hast thou that I indeed am he Whom thou hast loved so long? Vav.I have thy word, And had I not thy word, I have my heart To tell me whom to seek and whom to shun. Flor. Mistrust that little heart. It is not framed To guide thee of itself. Like virgin gold Untainted by alloy, it is too pure For this rough-ready world of work-a-day! I have a tale to tell. There was a knight Who, as he journeyed, met a gentle maid, With whom he, light of heart and light of tongue, Conversed in playful strain. The maid was fair, And he, in jest, spake loving words to her, Believing that she knew them to be feigned. (At this point it begins to dawn upon Vavir that Florian is referring to her.) She, pure as Faith—having no thought of guile Tender and trustful in her innocence— Believed the madcap knight’s unworthy words, And nursed them in her heart. He, smit with shame, For he was plighted to her sister (Vavir, finding her fears confirmed, rises, shrinking from Florian, expressing extreme pain. He rises after her) whom He loved with an exceeding love, essayed, With clumsy hint and far-fetched parable, To break the truth to her. At length—at length, By very slow degrees—light came to her! Shall I go on? Vav. (faintly). No need—I know the rest! The maiden died—she pardoned him, and died! (Vavir during the ensuing lines shows symptoms of fainting.) Flor. (passionately). No, no—Vavir—she lived—the maiden lived! He was not worth a tear—she loved him well, But still she lived, Vavir—but still she lived! If only for the gentle sister whom She loved so tenderly, and for whose sake She, in the blushing day-break of her life, Had yielded up the world. Oh, say she lived! [Vavir falls senseless in Florian’s arms. Hilda, who has been listening eagerly to the latter part of Florian’s tale, kneels, praying, as the act drop falls.
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