  CHARACTERS
ACT I
Ah, the balm, the balm, And ah, the blessing And of confessing. Of the sick soul made white Of all distressing: Made white!... Ah, balm of night And, ah the blessing!
Halil. Alessa! Maga! Stirrings at the gates!
Some one is come. Alessa. Boy, Halil, who? Halil. Up, up! Perhaps Lord Renier—No: I will learn.
It is Olympio! Olympio! From Famagouste and Lord Amaury! Mauria. Ah! And he comes here? Halil. As he were lord of skies! To lady Yolanda, by my lute! Maga. Where is she? Alessa. I do not know; perhaps, her chamber. Mauria. Stay: His word may be of the Saracens. Halil (calling). Oho!
Mauria. Well what, Olympio, from Famagouste? What tidings? tell us. Maga. See, his sword! Olympio. Stand off. Mauria. The tidings, then, the tidings! Olympio. None—for women. Mauria. So, so, my Cupid? None of the Saracens? Of the squadron huddling yesterday for haven At Keryneia? Olympio. Who has told you? Mauria. Who? A hundred galleys westing up the wind, Scenting the shore, but timorous as hounds. A gale—and twenty down! Maga. The rest are flown? Olympio. Ask Zeus, or ask, to-morrow, lord Amaury, Or, if he comes, to-night. To lady Yolanda I'm sent and not to tattle silly here.
O! Only Civa. (Starts again with Halil.) Civa. How, Olympio! Stay you, and hear!—May never virgin love him! Gone as a thistle! (Turns.) Mauria. Pouf! Alessa (to Civa). Now, what have you? Civa. Verses! found in the garden. Verses! verses! On papyrus of Paphos. O, to read! But you, Alessa—! Alessa (takes them). In the garden? Civa. By The fountain cypress at the marble feet Of chaste Diana! Maga. Where Sir Camarin And oft our lady—! Civa. Maga will you prattle? Read them to us, Alessa, read them, read. They are of love! Maga. No, sorrow. Civa. O, as a nun You ever sigh for sorrow!—They are of love! Of valour bursting through enchanted bounds To ladies prisoned in an ogre's keep! Then of the bridals!—O, they are of love! Maga. No, Civa, no! of sorrow! see, her lips!
See, see! Civa. Alessa! Alessa. Maga—Civa—Ah!
Mauria. What are you doing? Alessa. They were writ to her! Mauria. To her? to whom? what are you saying? Read! Read us the verses. Alessa. No. Mauria. Tell then his name Who writes them, and to whom. Alessa. I will not. Mauria. Then It is some guilt you hide!—And touching her You dote on—lady Yolanda! Alessa. Shame! Mauria. Some guilt Of one, then, in this castle!—See, her lips Betray it is. Maga. No, Mauria! no! (holds her) hush!
Mauria. O, loose me. Maga. There, on the loggia! Hush, see— Our lady and Sir Camarin. Alessa (fearful). It is.... They heard us, Maga? Maga. No, but—— Mauria (to Alessa). So? that mouse? Alessa. You know not, Mauria, what 'tis you say.
She is seeking us; be still. (Stepping out.) My lady? Berengere. Yes. Your lamps; for it is time Now for your aves and o'erneeded sleep. But first I'd know if yet Lord Renier——
Why are you pale? Alessa. I? Berengere. So—and strange. Alessa. We have But put away the distaff and the needle.
Berengere. The distaff and the needle—it may be. And yet you do not seem—— Alessa. My lady—? Berengere. Go; And send me Hassan.
Camarin—you saw? They were not as their wont is. Camarin. To your eyes, My Berengere, that apprehension haunts. They were as ever. Then be done with fear! Berengere. I cannot. Camarin. To the abyss with it. To-night Is ours—Renier tarries at Famagouste— Is ours for love and for a long delight! Berengere. Whose end may be— Camarin. Dawn and the dewy lark! And passing of all presage from you. Berengere (sits). No: For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypress We read the verses! And my dream that I Should with a cross—inscrutable is sleep!— Bring her deep bitterness. Camarin. Dreams are a brood She guesses not our guilt, and Renier Clasps to his breast ambition as a bride— Ambition for Amaury. Berengere. None can say. He's much with this Venetian, our guest. Though Venice gyves us more with tyranny Than would the Saracen. Camarin. But through this lady Of the Pisani, powerful in Venice, He hopes to lift again his dynasty Up from decay; and to restore this island, This venture-dream of the seas, unto his house. 'Tis clear, my Berengere! Berengere. Then, her design? And what the requital that entices her?
Evil will come of it, to us some evil, Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love. But, there; the women. Camarin. And too brief their stay. What signal for to-night? Berengere. Be in the garden. Over the threshold yonder I will wave The candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep. Camarin. And with the beam I shall mount up to you Quicker than ecstasy. Berengere. I am as a leaf Before the wind and raging of your love. Camarin. But to return unto your breast!
Berengere (looking up). Ah, you are come; I had forgotten. And it is time for sleep.—Hassan, the gates: Close them. Hassan. And chain them, lady? Berengere. Wait no longer. Lord Renier will not come. Hassan. No word of him? Berengere. None, though he yesterday left Nicosie With the priest Moro. Hassan. Lady— Berengere. Wait no longer. Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.
Hassan (staring after her). The reason of this mood in her? The reason? Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weeps In secret; all for what?—unless because Of the Paphian—or this Venetian. (Seeing Smarda.) Now, Slave! Scythian! You linger? Smarda. I am bidden— My mistress. Hassan. Spa! Thy mistress hath, I think, A portion in this castle. Is it so? Smarda. My lady is of Venice. Hassan. Strike her, God. Her smirk admits it. Smarda. Touch me not! Hassan. I'll wring Thy tongue out sudden, if it now has lies. What of thy lady and Lord Renier? Smarda. Off!
Hassan. Thy lady and Lord Renier, I say! What do they purpose? Smarda. Fool-born! look around. Hassan. Not till—— Smarda. Lord Renier, help. Hassan. What do you say?
A fool I am.... Renier. Where is my wife? Hassan. Why, she.... This slave stung me to pry. Renier. Where is my wife? Hassan. A moment since, was here—the women with her. She asked for your return. Renier. And wherefore did? Hassan. You jeer me. Renier. Answer. Hassan. Have you not been gone? Renier. Not—overfar. Where is Yolanda?—Well? No matter; find my chamber till I come. Of my arrival, too, no word to any.
You, Moro, have deferred me; now, no more. Whether it is suspicion eats in me, Mistrust and fret and doubt—of whom I say not, Or whether desire and unsubduable To see Amaury sceptred—I care not.
Slave, to your lady who awaits me, say I'm here and now have chosen. Moro. Do not! Renier. Chosen.
None can be great who will not hush his heart To hold a sceptre, and Amaury must. He is Lusignan and his lineage Will drown in him Yolanda's loveliness. Moro. It will not. Renier. Then at least I shall uncover What this Venetian hints. Moro. Hints? Renier. I must know. Moro. 'Tis of your wife?—Yolanda? Renier. Name them not. They've shut from me their souls. Moro. My lord, not so; But you repulse them. Renier. When they pity. No, Something has gone from me or never was Within my breast. I love not—am unlovable. Amaury is not so, And this Venetian Vittia Pisani—— Moro. Distrust her! Renier. She has power. Moro. But not truth. And yesterday a holy relic scorned. Renier. She loves Amaury. Wed to her he will Be the elected Governor of Cyprus. The throne, then, but a step. Moro. But all too great. And think; Yolanda is to him as heaven: He will not yield her. Renier. Then he must. And she, The Venetian, has ways to it—a secret To pierce her from his arms. Moro. Sir, sir?—of what? Renier. I know not, of some shame. Moro. Shame! Renier. Why do you clutch me? Moro. I—am a priest—and shame—— Renier. You have suspicion?
Of whom?—Of whom, and what? Vittia (lightly). My lord, of women.
So does the Holy Church instill him. Renier. You Come softly, lady of Venice. Vittia. Streets of sea In Venice teach us. Renier. Of what women, then? My wife? Yolanda? Vittia. By the freedom due us, What matters it? In Venice our lords know That beauty has no master. Renier. Has no.... That, That too has something hid. Vittia. Suspicious lord! Yet Berengere Lusignan is his wife! And soon Yolanda—But for that I'm here. You sent for me. Renier (sullen). I sent. Vittia. To say you've chosen? And offer me irrevocable aid To win Amaury? Renier. All is vain in me Before the fever for it. Vittia. Then, I shall. It must be done. My want is unafraid. Hourly I am expecting out of Venice Letters of power. And what to you I pledge is he shall be Ruler of Cyprus and these Mediterranean Blue seas that rock ever against its coast. That do I pledge ... but more. Renier. Of rule?... Then what? Vittia (going up to him). Of shame withheld—dishonour unrevealed.
Smarda. My lady— Vittia. Speak. Smarda. She! Vittia. Who? Yolanda? comes? She's not asleep as you averred to me, Was not asleep, but comes?... My lord—! Renier. I'll stay, Stay and confront her. Vittia. Ignorantly? No. Renier. I'll question her. Vittia. Blindly, and peril all? Renier. I will return. You put me off, and off.
(A pause.) Yolanda. Amaury's love.... You then would rend me there Where not Eternity could heal the wound Though all the River of God might be for balm! Cruelty like to this you could not do?
A swallow on the battlements to-day This, then, you would not—! Vittia. Yes. Yolanda. You cannot! Vittia. Yes. Yolanda (wrung for a moment then calm). I had forgotten, you are of Venice—Venice Whose burdening is vast upon this land. Good-night. Vittia. And you despise me! Yolanda. More am sick That love of him has led your thought so low. To-morrow— Vittia. Not to-morrow! But you must Choose and at once. Yolanda. Then——
Vittia. Ah! Amaury?—It is? His speed upon the road? now at the gates?
What then, what is your purpose—to renounce And force him from you, or to have me breathe To Renier Lusignan the one word That will transmute his wrong to madness? Say quickly. Centuries have stained these walls, But never a wife; never——
Yolanda. Mother?... Berengere. Amaury Secret and sudden. But ... what has befallen?
Yolanda. He comes here, mother? Berengere. At once. Yolanda. No! Vittia (coldly, to Yolanda). Then to-night Must be the end. Yolanda. Go, go. Berengere (as Vittia passes out). What thing is this? Yolanda. Mother, I cannot have him—here—Amaury! Defer him but a little—till to-morrow. I cannot see him now. Berengere. This is o'erstrange. Yolanda. Help me to think. Go to him, go, and say Some woman thing—that I am ill—that I Am at confession—penance—that—Ah, say But anything! Berengere. Yolanda! Yolanda. Say.... No use. Too late. Berengere. His step? Yolanda. Oh, unmistakable; Along the corridor. There!
Amaury (at the threshold.) My Yolanda!
My, my Yolanda! Is as the boon of battle to the strong! Yolanda. Amaury, no; release me and say why You come: The Saracens——? Amaury. Not of them now!
But of some tribute incense to this beauty! Dear as the wind wafts from undying shrines Of mystery and myrrh! I'd have the eloquence of quickened moons Pouring upon the midnight magical, To say all I have yearned, Now, with your head pillowed upon my breast! Slow sullen speech come to my soldier lips, Rough with command, and impotent of softness? Come to my lips! or fill so full my eyes That the unutterable, shall seem as sweet To my Yolanda. (Lifting her face, with surprise.) But how now? tears? Yolanda. Amaury—— Amaury. What have I done? Too pitiless have pressed You to this coat of steel? Yolanda. No, no. Amaury. My words, Or silence, then? Yolanda. Amaury, no, but sweet, Sweet as the roses of Damascus crusht, Your silence is! and sweeter than the dream Of April nightingale on Troados, Your every word of love! Yet—yet—ah, fold me, Within your arms oblivion and hold me, Fast to your being press me, and there bless me With breathÈd power of your manhood's might. Amaury!... Amaury. This I cannot understand. Yolanda (freeing herself). Nothing—a folly—groundless frailty. Amaury. You've been again at some old tale of sorrow,
Pining along the pages of a book— This, telling of that Italy madonna Whose days were sad—I have forgotten how. Is it not so? Yolanda. No, no. The tears of women Come as the air and sighing of the night, We know not whence or why. Amaury. Often, perhaps. I am not skilled to tell. But these—not these! They are of trouble known. Yolanda. Yet now forget them. Amaury. It will not leave my heart that somehow—how I cannot fathom—Camarin—— Yolanda (lightly, to stop him). No farther! Amaury. That Camarin of Paphos is their cause. Tell me—— Yolanda. Yes, that I love thee! Amaury. Tell me—— Yolanda. Love thee! And as the wind the forest! As the forest— What does the forest love, Amaury? I Can think of nothing! Amaury. Tell me then you have Never a moment of you yielded to him, That never he has touched too long this hand— Till evermore he must, even as I— Nor once into your eyes too deep has gazed! You falter? darken? Yolanda. Would he ne'er had come Into these halls! that it were beautiful, Holy to hate him as the Lost can hate. Amaury. But 'tis not? Yolanda. God shall judge him. Amaury. And not you? Yolanda. Though he is weak, there is within him— Amaury. That Which women trust? and you?
Mother? Berengere. A runner, A soldier of your troop within the forts Has come with word. Amaury (starting). Mother! Berengere. It is ill news? I've seen that battle-light in you before. 'Tis of the Saracens? you ride to-night Into their peril? Amaury. Come, the word, the word! Berengere. Only this token. Amaury. The spur? the spur? (Takes it.) They then Are landing! Yolanda. How, Amaury; tell your meaning! Amaury. The galleys of the Saracens have found Anchor and land to-night near Keryneia. My troops are ready and await me— So, no delay. Yolanda. I pray you (strangely, with terror) do not go. Amaury. Yolanda! Yolanda. If I am left alone—! Amaury. Yolanda! Yolanda (sinking to a seat). I meant it not—a breath of fear—no more. Go, go. Amaury. I know you not to-night. Farewell.
Berengere. Yolanda—— Yolanda. Mother, I will go to sleep.
Berengere. A change is over you—a difference Drawn as a veil between us. Yolanda. I am weary. Berengere. You love me? Yolanda. As, O mother, I love him, With love impregnable to every ill, As Paradise is. Berengere. Then— Yolanda. I pray, no more. To-night I am flooded with a deeper tide Than yet has flowed into my life—and through it Sounds premonition: so I must have calm.
Berengere (chilled). What fear—if it is fear—has so unfixed her? It is suspicion—Then I must not meet Him here to-night—or if to-night, no more. Her premonition!—and my dream that I Should with a cross bring her deep bitterness.
Had Renier but come, perhaps I might ...
O were I dead this sinning would awake me?... And yet I care not (dully.) ... No, I will forget.
Soon he will come up from the cool, and touch Away my weakness with mad tenderness. Soon he will ... Ah!
The cross!... My dream!... Yolanda!
Mercy of God, move in me!... Sacrilege!
Camarin (appearing after a pause an the loggia). My Berengere, a moment, and I come!
Berengere. No, no! nor ever, ever again, for ever!
Go from me and behind leave no farewell.... Camarin. This is—illusion. In the dew I've waited, And the night's song of you is in my brain— A song that seems—— Berengere. Withhold from words. At last Fate is begun! See, with the cross it was I waved you hither. Leave me—let me pass Out of this sin—and to repentance—after. Camarin. I cannot, cannot! Berengere. Pity, then, my fear. This moment were it known would end with murder, Or did it not, dishonour still would kill! Leave, leave. Camarin. To-morrow, then; but not to-night!
Give me thy being once again, thy beauty. For it I'm mad as bacchanals for wine.
Once more be to me all that woman may! Let us again take rapture wings and rise Up to our world of love, guilt would unsphere. Let us live over days that passed as streams O'er all the whispered nights that we have clasped Knowing the heights and all the deeps of passion! But speak, and we shall be amid the stars.
Berengere. Yolanda! Yolanda. Mother, mother!... Ah, his eyes! Berengere. What brings you here—to spy upon me? Yolanda. Listen!... Think not of me—no, hush—but of the peril Arisen up.... Your husband! Camarin. Renier? Yolanda. Was at that grating—heard. And from its sheath, A dagger—! Ah, he will come. Berengere (weakly). What does she say? Yolanda. Find calmness now, and some expedient.
Berengere. I cannot die. Yolanda. No, no. Berengere. My flesh is weak, Is poor of courage—poverished by guilt, As all my soul is! But, Yolanda, you—! Yolanda. Yes, something must be done—something be done.
Berengere. The shame ... the shame ... the shame! Yolanda. There yet is time. Berengere. You can deliver! you are innocent. Yolanda. Perhaps. Let me but think.—He came—— Berengere. You see? There is escape? a way from it? Yolanda. Perhaps. He came after your words ... yes ... could not see Here in the dimness ... but has only heard Sir Camarin? Berengere. I do not know! Yolanda. Go, go, Up to your chamber and be as asleep. There is a way—I think—dim, but a way. Go to your chamber; for there yet may be Prevention! Berengere. I—yes, yes. Yolanda. There is a way.
Strength now to walk it! strength unfaltering. Camarin. What do you purpose? Yolanda. Here to take her place, Here at the lowest of her destiny. Camarin. I do not understand. Yolanda. But wholly shall. Clasp me within your arms; he must believe 'Tis I and not his wife you have unhallowed, Your arms about me, though they burn! and breathe me Thirst of unbounded love as unto her.
Ah, it is he! Camarin. No. Yolanda. Yes, the words; at once! Camarin (hoarsely). With all my body and soul-breath I love you,
And all this night is ours for ecstasy. Kiss me with quenchless kisses, and embrace Me with your beauty, till——
Moro. My lord, my lord!... It is Yolanda. Renier. Then—
Why, then—Amaury!
Curtain. ACT IISeveral Days have Elapsed.
Civa. Look at him! Maga! Mauria! behold! Was ever sight so sweet upon the world! His eyes! his lips! a prince! Mauria (critically). Now, is he not? With the price of vinegar upon his face.
The price of vinegar! who'll buy!—Not I! Not I! Not I! Not I! Hassan. Wench. Civa. Verily! And not a man! he has discovered it! You're not a man, Mauria! we were duped.
But see him now—a mummy of the Nile! Who died of choler! Mauria. Then, a care, he'll bite. He's been in the grave a long while and he's hungry. A barley-loaf, quick, Maga! Civa. To appease him! But ssh! Beware! There's something of import.
What does he think of? Mauria. Sphinxes and the spheres. Civa. Or little ants and gnats that buzz about him. Mauria. And how to make them smart for sauciness. Civa. Or of Alessa! Maga. No, no, Civa! come; Enough of teasing. Civa. Of Alessa! Maga. No. Your pitcher, come. He's troubled by the tale Of lady Yolanda—— And waits for lord Amaury from the battle. Civa. The—! heigh! heigh-o! awaits! la, la! he does!
For lord Amaury! does he so indeed? Hassan. What do you know? Be silent. Civa. Ho! Hassan. Itch! would You have lady Yolanda hear? She comes Now, as she has this morning thrice, to ask.
Lord Renier's gall, remember, if she learns.
Yolanda. My want is still the same—words are unneeded. Hassan. To know of lord Amaury? Yolanda. Lord Amaury— He has not yet returned? Hassan (loathly). I have not seen him. Yolanda. Nor heard? Hassan. Nothing. Yolanda. I cannot understand.
Hassan (low). Liar that I am to say it! Yolanda. I cannot—cannot!
The Saracens we know were routed to Their vessels—all the Allah-crying horde. And lord Amaury—said the courier not?—— Rode in the battle as a seraph might To the Holy Sepulchre's deliverance. And yet no word from him. Hassan. Perhaps—with reason.
With reason!... knowing, lady, what, here, now, Is rumoured of a baron And lady Yolanda!... Pardon! Yolanda (slowly). Of a baron And lady Yolanda. Hassan. Yes: it is the women Who with their ears ever at secresy Rumour it. But, lady, it is a lie? This Camarin, this prinker, Whose purse is daily loose to us.... I curse him! His father.... Well, my mother's ten years dead And flower lips breathe innocent above her. But I'll avenge her shame. Yolanda. On—him? Hassan. On him! And—you, who do not hush this tale of you, Though it is truthless—hear: I have a stab for Camarin of Paphos Whenever he has lived—but say!—too long. Yolanda (who has listened rigidly. After a pause). Come here ... look in my eyes, and—deeper.... Shame!
Pity alone we owe to sin not blame. And they who love may stray, it seems, beyond All justice of our judging.— Is evil mad enchantment come upon The portals of this castle? Hassan. I would serve you. Yolanda. With murder? no. But if you would indeed, As oft you have—— Hassan. Lady, I will. Yolanda. Then watch The Venetian, and when Amaury comes Find me at once. What sound was that?... A bugle? It is! it is! Alessa! (Overjoyed.) Do you hear? His troop! Amaury's! O the silver chime! Again I breathe, I breathe! My heart as a bird's in May! Amaury!... Come! we'll go to him! we'll go! Before any within Lusignan—! Alessa. Lady! Yolanda. At once! it rings again! again! we'll go! Alessa. And tell him! Yolanda. Warn! Warn him a fever's here That he must fend his ear from. 'Twill suffice. And I again shall see him, hear him speak, Hang on his battle-story blessedly! And you, Hassan.... But why do you stand stone? You know something.... He's dead! Hassan. No, lady, no. Yolanda. Not? ah!... then what? 'Twas not his trumpet? Hassan (after a struggle). No. And I will lie to you no longer. Yolanda. You? Hassan. Though for obedience it be or life; And at Lord Renier's command.... It is Not true that lord Amaury from the battle Has not returned. Yolanda. But he—you mean—is here?
Hassan. Here: came on yesterday at dusk. Was led Up to his chamber.... So much Lord Renier who slipt him in Revealed, that I might guile you. Alessa (sharply). And you have? Hassan. Yes. Alessa. Though you boasted love to me? Hassan. Now, woman! Alessa. Lady, I would have wed him—wed this toad! Who'd kill the Paphian, too? Hassan. Yes! Alessa. Worm! with dust? Heeling away from him? Yolanda. Be still, be still.
(They start. Vittia enters from castle.) Lady, I will go in. Alessa. And I; to wait.
Yolanda (suddenly). But I to see Amaury. Vittia. What?
Yolanda. To see, Vittia Visani, who withholds Amaury—— Who came last night at dusk, as well you know.
What have you told him? Vittia. Hah? Yolanda. Insolence, false And feigning! But no matter; lies are brief. I'll go myself to him. Vittia. To be repelled?
Yolanda. If he could trust you—but he could not. Vittia. Knowing A Paphian ere this has fondled two? Yolanda. You hear, mother? (To Vittia.) Out of my way at once. Berengere. Stay, stay! She has not told him! nothing!... Yes, I too have been aware and kept you blind. But, nothing! for he still is overworn. And now his wound—— Yolanda. Wound! he is wounded? Berengere. He sleeps. Yolanda. And is in danger—jeopardy? Berengere. In none; If the leech Tremitus has any skill; And that you know. Yolanda. I thank ... Madonna ... thee!
But you, mother, are come at last to say Your promises, broken two days, are kept? You've spoken? won Lord Renier to wisdom? Pled him to silence which alone can save us? Dear mother——? Berengere. Do not call me so again.
I have not—and I will not. Yolanda. Oh! Berengere. I cannot.... Yolanda. But can leave me so laden here within This gulf's dishonour? Never!... So return And pledge him but to wait! For this Venetian has now, I bode, Something of evil more, When once Amaury hears all that has passed. Return! Berengere. I cannot. Yolanda (proudly). Then hear, hear me! I Too am a woman, and the woman wants, The beauty and ache and dream and glow and urge I will not lose Amaury; but will tell him Myself the truth. Berengere. Then—I'll not stay for death, And wait for shame. But now with Camarin Will go from here. Yolanda. Mother! Berengere. To some retreat Away! Yolanda. Where still pursuit would follow! even, I fear, Amaury's!— And overtake you though it were as far As the sea foams, or past the sandy void Of stricken Africa. It would be vain. Vain, and I cannot have you. No, but listen——
Renier. She troubles you too much. Berengere. My lord? Renier. Too much. You cherish her and reap unchastity For gratitude—unchastity against Our very son who was betrothed to her. Yet see her shameless. Berengere (dully). No; I think you wrong her.
Renier. Nobly you pity! But it will not veil her. Rather the convent and the crucifix, Matin and Vesper in a round remote, Is she demanding? Berengere. Little. Renier. Not the means Still to deceive Amaury? Berengere. Renier ... no.
But I have a request that, if you grant, Will lead peace back to us ... and from us draw This fang of fate. Renier. Ah. Berengere. Yes. Renier (slowly). And we might be As those that wedded love? Berengere. Perhaps. Renier. That—love!
Then it shall be, at once ... But no, I first Have a confession. Berengere. You? Renier. A pang!—For days
Before I found Yolanda on the breast Of Camarin of Paphos—— I suffered in the furnace of suspicion The fume and suffocation of the thought That you were the guilty one—you my own wife.
I did; but rue, rue it!... That you recoil even as now you do From stain upon your wedded constancy.... But Time that is e'er-pitiful may pass Soon over it— And leave only forgiveness. And perhaps Then I shall win you as I never have.— Now the request. Berengere. That now ... I cannot plead.
And yet I must ... It is that, till I bid Amaury may not know of this ... not know This trouble fallen from a night or evil— Pitiless on us as a meteor's ash. Renier. Not of it? he? not know? Berengere. Trust to me. Renier. How! And to this wanton's perfidy to bind Him witless to her—with a charm perhaps— Or, past releasing, with a philtre? She Whom now he holds pure as a spirit sped From immortality, or the fair fields Of the sun, to be his bride? Yolanda. Sir, no!... She means Not I shall wed him! (Winningly.) Only that you spare To separate us with this horror; that You trust me to dispel his love, to pall And chill his passion from me. For I crave Only one thing—innocence in his sight. Renier. I will—that you are mad. Yet madder I, if to this coil my brain Were blind. Yolanda. As it will be! with deadlier dark, If you attend me not! And may have destiny you cannot know. But you will heed? For somewhere in you there is tenderness. Once when you chafed in fever and I bore White orange blossoms dewy to your pillow You touched my hand gently, as might a father.
Once on the tower when alone at dusk I sang—I know not why—of lost delights, Of vanished roses that are ere recalling May to the world, you came and suddenly Lifted my brow up silent to your kiss. Ah, you remember; you will hear me? Renier. No! Though you are cunning.—Thus you wove the mesh About Amaury—till he could not move Beyond you. Yolanda. For his sake I ask it. Renier. For No sake but to o'ersway him with your eyes In secret, thus, and with Your hair that he believes an aureole Brought with you out of Heaven. Berengere. Again—wrong. Renier. So deem you and, my Berengere, I grieve, Desiring much your peace. Berengere. It grieves you not. Renier. Then not! and half I fear—you here?—it should not. There's midnight in this thing and mystery. Does she not love—Camarin? Yolanda (trembling). Say no more. Be all—all as you will. Renier. That brings you low: But brings to me no light—only again The stumbling in suspicion. Yolanda. It should not. Renier (with a sudden gleam). To-morrow then, unless Amaury runs Fitting revenge through Camarin of Paphos, Your lover, you shall clasp him openly Before all of Lusigman. Yolanda. No; no, no! The thought of it is soil!... Rather ... his death! Renier. What, what? Berengere. My lord, she knows not what she says. The unaccustomed wind of these ill hours Has torn tranquillity from her and reason. Yolanda (realising). Yes, as she says—tranquillity and reason.
These hours of ill! Renier. I'll send her Camarin.
Yolanda (turning, then, to Berengere). His mood and mien—that tremor in his throat, Unfaltering. I fear him. Berengere. Life is fear. No step was ever taken in the world But from a brink of danger, or in flight From happiness whose air is ever sin. It sickens me. Yolanda. Mother! Berengere. Nothing; a pain Here in my breast. (Sits.) Yolanda. And it is all through him Who as a guest came pledged into this house. Came with the chivalry and manly show Of reverence and grace, and on his lips Lore of the east and wonders of the west.
Ah, and he seeks us now! unwhelmed of it! Ready of step, impassive, cold! And see—
A flawless courtesy! as 'twere a king's. Can he not smile too on his handiwork? Our days were merciful and he has made Each moment's beat a blow upon the breast. Honour was here and innocence lies now A sacrifice that pain cannot consume.
Camarin. Or death. Yolanda. Then have you not, unshameable! So well the world and its unwonted ways! A man would have, a man. Camarin. And I am barren. My brain an arid waste under remorse. Only—one thing it yields—the love of her My love has made unholy. Yolanda. While to me The shame is left, and silence—no defence, When it is told Amaury, "See her you Blest with betrothal and the boon of faith, Chose as the planet-mate of your proud star! While, in the battle, You with the weal of Cyprus on your brow Dared momently peril, We found her" ... Ah, the memory is fire!—— I will not bear it. Camarin. Then how? What?... You must. Though for your suffering I am pitiful. You must! (Takes her wrist.) For to one thing, one only now I'm bent—— That Berengere be saved. Berengere. To-day ... no more. Camarin. Suspicion and the peril-feet of shame I must keep from her still. Yolanda. Though driven o'er My heart they trample the lone flower of hope.
And even now perhaps Amaury hears And turns away in horror! Camarin. What? Come, come. Enough is here without—— Yolanda (as before). I'll go to him! Despite of them! in to his side and say That I am innocent—as the first dawn And dew of Eden!... Yes! Camarin. A frenzy! Mere Folly! you wander! Yolanda (listening). Whose that anguish? whose? Camarin. Amaury still is many leagues away—
At Keryneia! Do you hear me? Yolanda. Hassan!
I hear you, speak. His wounds I know. The rest! They've told him? Hassan. The Venetian, who nurst him Last night, pouring his potions— She and Lord Renier. They broke his sleep. He listened to them as one in a grave. Then they besought of him Some oath against you, were they right: he would not. Now he has risen, Silent and pale and suffering in leash. He's coming here. Camarin. Why, you are mad! Yolanda. Be still. Camarin. Amaury was not then delayed? is—here?
Amaury. I'll not return unto my couch though twice These wounds and all your wants were urging it! Yolanda! my Yolanda!—Never, never!
Until I prove you that a word against Her that I hold here in my arms is more To me than any peril. Tremitus. But, sir—!... Aeih! My precious physic wasted! Amaury. Till I prove it! For ... my Yolanda!... You who are purity if Mary still Is mother of God and lighteth Paradise! You in whose presence I am purged as one Bathing a thousand years in angel song! They say, you, who are stainless to my eyes As is the sacring-bell to holy ears, So undefiled even the perfect lily Pendant upon your breast fears to pollute it! Listen, they tell me you—A fool, a fool Would know it unbelievable and laugh. Renier. As now a fool is doing? Amaury. O, sir, pardon. You are my father, and, I must believe, Mean well this monster breath's unchastity, But you were tricked; it was illusion swum Before your sleep. Therefore my purpose is Now to forget it. Tremitus. Aeih! and to return Now to my drugs. Renier. Stand off!—As dogs forget The lash in hunger of the wonted bone?
Amaury. A poison so incredible and dark You cannot duped innoculate me with. Trust in my veins makes of it but more love. And to dispel your minds (goes to Camarin) I'll clasp his hand Whom you have so accused. Vittia. O do, my lord!
And then embrace him in whose arms three nights Ago she was embraced. Yolanda (to her). Can you so say! Vittia. Yes, and will add—— Amaury. Lady of Venice, nothing! But this to all, I answer!— There is my mother, see, Wounded with wonder of this plight, and pity. Yolanda has dwelt by her As the fawn By the white doe on mount Chionodes. I would as quick believe that she had given As that Yolanda—— Yolanda. Amaury, enough!... I know! Amaury. As quickly! Yolanda. Then ... quell this delirium!
Out of your thought forever let it fall, Hear no more of it, ever! Be deaf to it as to a taunt of doom, In triple mail to every peaceless word, Granite against even its memory. Say that you will, and now!... Renier. So that you may Allure him yet to wed you? Amaury. Sir! Renier. She would. Yolanda. No, no! But let him.... Then I will go far Away from here to any alien air, To opiate India, a lost sea-isle! To the last peak of arid Caucasus. Renier. With Camarin of Paphos? Yolanda. With whoever Your peace and this compelling pain ... Ah no! Renier. With him, with him, I say?... Amaury. You drive and drain her. To me her words shall be—me and no other. So my Yolanda now dissolve the cling Of this invisible but heavy hydra; I've striven with it till no more I can. Upon the April vision of our love, Say it at once that I may rend and fling it Away from us. Say it! Renier. Vainly implored.— Yet ask her this, If she three nights ago—— Amaury. I will not so insult her—— Tremitus. Aeih—— Renier. Insult? She knows what I would bid and does she hurl Her soul in any disavowal? Amaury. I Will speak to her alone. Go all of you There to the fountain. Yolanda. Yes, Amaury, then One searching of my face shall free your fear. Alone, alone. Renier. Still to befool him! Yolanda (warningly). Choose! I cannot suffer more of this. Amaury. Nor I To breathe ever the burning of this mist Of anguish and insatiate accusal.— This wound upon my throat, fever it not With longer fire of doubt, Yolanda. Yolanda. Ah! Berengere. I am not well. I will go to my chamber.
Renier. But I never until this guiler grants Drinking the frenzied wine of passion he Poured from his soul. Amaury. Yolanda? Renier. She is silent; Dumb to deny it. Amaury. But she will, she will. You've driven her with dread and awe. Vittia (lightly). And truth? Amaury. Have wounded her. But do not fear, Yolanda, Fiercely disown. Yolanda. Amaury ... it is true.
No, no; I have not been faithless to you— Even a moment To the divinity of love high-altared Here in my breast! to the immutable Beauty of it!... look, look not on me so— As I had struck, murdered a little child! Or palsied one who put a hand to help me; Or through eternity had desecrated, Vainly, virginity and trust and truth! No, my Amaury! I ... do you not see?
Not faithless, hear! it is not true! not true! But only this—— Camarin. Yolanda! Yolanda. I—— Camarin. Yolanda!
Amaury. The day you first set step in Lusignan An image of the Magdalen within The chapel yonder fell—presaging this. Only your death, your death or mine stands pale Between us now, awaiting silently. Draw, and at once. Camarin. Amaury, I will not. Amaury. Out, quickly. Camarin. Do your will. I'll put no more To the guilt I bear, or to the misery That guilt has brought upon you. Amaury. Coward! Camarin. Strike! Amaury. You play a part! (Raves.) And 'tis that you may live Still in the love that you a thief have stolen. So, with your steel——! Camarin. It stays within its sheath. Amaury. Then I will not be thwarted though I must Crush you as one a viper with his heel, Though I must take your leper throat into My hands and strangle life from it! For the same sky you breathe I will not. The sun that falls upon you shall not foul My being—
Yolanda. His wound! Tremitus. Aeih, aeih! at last. Yolanda. Amaury! Oh!
Amaury! Amaury! Amaury. Stand away from me.
I to believe her pure as my own mother! Vittia. Had you but trusted me, Amaury. Amaury. You?
Henceforth I will. Vittia. And wholly? Amaury (significantly). She ... shall do it.
Yolanda (dauntedly). Amaury! what is this? Vittia. That, ere a dawn, Guileless Yolanda, you shall wed with him Your paramour of Paphos—— Yolanda. Camarin? Vittia. And from these gates be led wanton away.
Curtain. ACT IIIThe Same Day.
Vittia. Smarda—— Smarda (springing up). Lady ... your slave! Vittia. I think you are. Think that you are—if ever the leopard yields. Smarda. To you, lady? A-ha! let him refuse. Command! Vittia. And you will heed it well; I fear not. But first I have thought of requital. Smarda (avidly). Ouie! Vittia. Those amulets—— Smarda. Of jade—and sard! Vittia. And which You prize so—— Smarda. From my home in Scythia Across the sea (darkening) they came with me. Vittia. The home Whence you were torn by the Moor who was your master.
Is it not so? Smarda. The spirits strangle him!
Vittia. Well, if I win to-night what is begun You shall not want, I think, Of gold for weightier witchery upon him.
But listen, every sinew will be needed Still to achieve this wedding, though we have Camarin with us, willing. So I've learned A ship has come from Venice. Smarda (quickly). Pietro! Vittia. Yes, Pietro, it must be, has arrived With papers that will help. Smarda. Ha! Fortune's touch! Vittia. It is, but tardy. Therefore I must have Smarda. Ere he has time, lady, To vaunt of love in Lusignan and babble. Vittia. A wooing dolt! but safe—because he fears.— I shall be in this place with lord Amaury, Whom I must ... but no matter. He left me suddenly A season since, seeing his father's look Strangely upon his mother: for that doubt, His father's, still I've been compelled to feed, To move Yolanda.— Here I shall be, then, here within this place.
Smarda (recalling the pledge; evilly). A-ha! Ha-ha! Ha-ha! If she but win! A talisman with might upon the Moor!
If she but win! a-ha! a curse on him!
Pietro (after her). Hold, fair one! Stay!
Smarda. Pietro! Pietro. Slave! (Vainly.) I greet you.
(He is startled.) My lady has no doubt bid you to sail From Venice. Pietro. Slave? Smarda. And she will hear with love That you delay the powers of the Senate Sent in your keeping to her. Pietro. She! Smarda. Oh, with
Love and delight—for urgently she waits them! And then—then of your amorous mouthings yonder! Pietro. You will not, slave! but quickly take them to her,
Dear slave, you will—and say if she inquire That I was led astray By the little Cyprian with guiling eyes Who fell enamoured of me at the gate. Smarda. Civa! Pietro. The same! I sought to run away,
O slave, say to her, but I could not for— For—for a lady by the marble knight, That is, by the fountain, swooned, as—— Smarda. Swooned! Pietro. She did. Out by the fountain. Smarda. As you came? who? which? Lady Yolanda? lady Berengere?
Did no one say?... My mistress must know this! The papers, quickly! Pietro. Slave, you——! By my sins!
Amaury. Not here yet.... There is more in this than seems.
More, Camarin of Paphos, than is clear!
And she must tell me! (Sees Vittia.) Lady, you I mean.
What is beyond this shame upon Yolanda? Vittia. My lord——? Amaury. What! It is moving in me clouded, Deeper than sight but pressing at my peace. My father's look! you saw it! Vittia. Ah! Amaury. And saw Fear in my mother! Vittia. Yes, implanted deep. Amaury. And did not wonder? Vittia (sits). When I knew its source? No need, my lord—though your pang too I marked— For, trust me, ere to-morrow it will cease— If you are firm. Amaury. I? who know nought? In what? Vittia. That do not ask, I pray. (Deftly.) Another could Fitly reply, but I—— Amaury. No other better! Vittia. Then ... it will cease, my lord— So as a flail of doubt it should not still Beat in you—when Yolanda Is wed with Camarin ... no, do not speak; The reason for your sake I must withhold. Amaury. Though as under sirocco I am kept. (Sits.) Sirocco!
Yet you speak gently. Vittia. No; unblushingly!
Unblushingly to one who knows—though by A chance—my love to him.
And yet I cannot rue That he awaking sudden from the potion Surprised the dew of it upon my lips. No, and I would that gentle words might be As waters of enchantment on his grief—— But of Yolanda—
Amaury. Still I love her, still! Vittia (strainedly). As well she knows, so may refuse to wed With Camarin. Amaury. She? Vittia. Since you are Lusignan, Heir of a sceptred line, And yet may reach—the realm. Amaury (pierced). No ... not for that Her hope was? Vittia. Were it folly to make sure?
Amaury. How? speak. Vittia. Again unshameful? No; one thing My tongue to falter. Amaury. Be it so. Vittia. And yet ...
My lord, my lord, I will! Will ... for you suffer! Will, though indelicacy seem to soil What bloom I boasted. Let her think ... let her, But for to-day, That you, for she's aware of my affection, Have chosen—to wed me. Amaury. You! Vittia. For to-day. To-morrow I return to Venice, then— Denial. Amaury (moved). Lady—? Vittia. Yes. Amaury. This is most kind.
Kind; I will do it. Vittia. Will? Amaury. Grateful, intent For the issue's utterance. And this wear you, This token of our race,
For a proof to her of any tie soever.
But now—for the sails make home along the sea— Now of my mother. Vittia. More, my lord? Amaury. This only;
To-morrow ... Scythian! Vittia. Who! My lord?...
Smarda! Why are you here?... Those papers—but your lips!
Not these alone have brought you thus; then what?
Of lord Amaury? Smarda. Of his mother. Vittia. How! Smarda. She swooned of terror at the castle gate. She lies in danger. Hear—'twas as she fled The lord of Lusignan. Amaury. My father? Smarda. He. And you are sought below, I heard it said: Some officer of Famagouste—and men.
Vittia (with fervour, then—yet awed). This is again fortune!... fortune! Smarda. Lady? Vittia. Is! though an instant since it seemed disaster. Smarda. And how? Vittia. Yolanda, does she know? Smarda. Nothing. Nothing. She was returning from the rocks Where nest the windy gulls (gloatingly) As I came hither. I stole there at noon To see her suffer. Vittia. Then.—I can compel her. She will come here. Go to the curtains, see. If she is near, the Paphian is in The bower by the cypress: go, tell him, The loggia—at once ... Ah!
Yolanda (to herself). "Ah" indeed.
Vittia. My gratitude! I wished, and you are here. Yolanda. And—for some reason of less honour—you. Vittia. I, a dear guest? fa! Yolanda. Were you! and not one This ne'er-before-envenomed air would banish. (Slowly) One whose abiding These walls would loathe aloud—had they a tongue To utter. Vittia. Yet I may be mistress of them, Ere all is done—since still it is my purpose. Yolanda. Gulfs wide as the hate of God for infamy Would lie preventing; so there is no fear.
Vittia. A prophesy! Yolanda. A deeper than disdain. Vittia. Or than your love of Camarin of Paphos! Yolanda. Which you would feign, but cannot. Vittia. Still, before Evening is done, you will become his wife? Yolanda. If, ere it come, all under Lusignan Do not look scorn on Vittia Pisani.
Vittia. What! how? Yolanda. Plentiful scorn! (With joy.) A thing may still Be done to lift my hope out of this ruin! To bring Amaury grateful to my feet! And I will do it. Vittia. Tell?... vowing him first To win his father's lenience?... No ... I see! You would when she who's guilty And this enamoured Paphian are fled!
When they are fled! ha ... And it is too late. Yolanda. Too—? You by some trick—a trick have—! Vittia. Hindered? Little I needed ... Her wings are flightless. She is ill, Verging—go learn!—to death. Yolanda. No! Vittia. To the grave. And you alone, she knows, can put it far— Since she is numbed and drained Momently by the terror of her husband, Whose every pulse seems to her a suspicion. Yolanda. And it is you ... you who have urged again His doubt that would have sunk! Vittia. It was enough Merely to sigh—and fear her innocence Can only seem simple again as dew If you wed freely Camarin of Paphos. Yolanda. And that, you could! though in her heart remorse Trampled and tore! Though with the wounds of battle he you "love" Is livid still. Vittia. And grieves?—Be comforted! For he is—now security has come.
As he is, do not fear. Yolanda. Amaury!... Oh! He is not! no, Amaury!... He? so soon?— Ah, you are merciless! Vittia. Only aware How to compel your pity to my ends; For you will spare his mother. Yolanda. Yielding—still, And past all season of recovery? Shattering love for ever at my feet? No, you are duped. For empty, cold are the veins Now of submission in me; numb and dead The pleading of it. And upon you, back, I cast the burden of your cruelty.
And—if she dies in terror of the lips The guilt be! Vittia. No. Yolanda. The heaping mass of horror! Vittia (moved). No, on her own; for she has sinned. Yolanda. And suffered! But you—— Vittia. I say her own. I've done no crime. And you will wed him. Yolanda. Were I Venetian! But am not; so remorse has come in you! There at the gates that guard your rest you hear Dim now the risen phantom cries of it, The presage beat of them like hungry hands That will o'erwhelm you! All that I could to spare her I have done; All that was duty and of love the most. But you it was who struck and kindled first Within Lord Renier fire of suspicion. Then yours the penance! Vittia. Liar!... ah ... enough.
A babe I am so to be fed with fright. You—well I know—will not desert her thus To ... the medusa of his doubt. Yolanda. I will not.
Will, will not, will not, will not! But you it is— Must null his doubt and ease the sobbing ebb And flood of her sick spirit; you who must Go to his fear and with persuasion say That it is folly of him and of you So to suspect her, since in Camarin's Arms I was found. You will! Vittia. And—then go pray?
Rather I'll bring you this:—Authority Sent me of Venice To make Amaury lordly over Cyprus, Or to abase him even of Famagouste; Which I will do—
Unless I have the pledge that you will wed, Though not to be his wife and free to leave him, This Paphian, And with him from Lusignan hence will pass,
And he has come now for your answer. Yolanda. Here! In league with you! in this! Vittia. Most loyally; And ready skilfully to disavow, With every force, your innocence—if you Attempt betrayal!— Enter, my lord of Paphos—
I have spoken. She has not pledged to wed you—though the life Of Berengere Lusignan fall for it, And though Amaury ... But you may avail.
Camarin. As an anchorite for immortality, Venetian, I covet this—covet! Yet ... I will not entreat it of her. Vittia. What! Camarin. I swore in dread, but will not! Vittia. Now! Yolanda (low). Madonna! Vittia. Now you refuse? Yolanda. He does—he does! Vittia. The whole? Yolanda. Lady of Venice, yes; for very shame!
Bitterly tho' it be, he must, for shame! Though he would waste the air of the world to keep The breath still in the veins Of her his love so wronged, He cannot ask me more than breast can bear Knowing I have already borne for her Infection worse than fetid marshes send From Mesaoria— Have lost the sky of love that I had arched And all the stars of it. See, he is dumb!— He cannot. Camarin (coldly). No; but to your heart I leave her And to your pity. Yolanda. Say not pity to me!
Am I not needy, fain of it, and can Endurance ever dure! What have I left Of joy to ripple in me or of light To sway me to forgetting—I to whom Dawn was enchanted incense once, and day, The least of earth, an ides of heaven bliss. What to me left! to me! Who shepherded each happy flock of waves Running with silvery foaming there to shore, Who numbered the little leaves with laughing names Out of my love, And quickened the winds with quicker winds of hope, That now are spent ... as summer waters, Leaving my breast a torrent's barren bed. Pity and pity! ever pity! No.
A nun to pity I will be no more. But you, cruel Venetian ... Ah, ah, Mother of God! is there no gentleness In thee to move her and dissolve away This jeopardy congealing over us?
Vittia. You see, none. Yolanda. Ah, for sceptre and for might Vittia. Still, there is none. Yolanda. None ...
Yet could I think! Hassan. Lady Yolanda—
Yolanda. Were My brain less weary! Hassan. Lady Yolanda— Yolanda. Well? Hassan. There is a means—a might. Yolanda. Well?
Hassan. To compel her. Yolanda. To ... what? Hassan. If you will dare it. Yolanda. Will—? Hassan. I swear. Yolanda (rising). Your thought! I have no fear. Hassan. Then ... let me but Seize her and shut her fast an hour within The leprous keep, and she shall write whate'er You order; then upon a vessel quick Be sent to Venice whence she came. Camarin. Mad! mad! Venice would rise! Hassan. And Cyprus, to be free!— But 'tis not, lady! and Lord Renier Venture it, venture! Yolanda (after a long pause). If it can be done, It shall be. Hassan. Ah! Yolanda. And must be. Vittia. Fools, to me!
Yolanda. Quickly, and take her. Hassan. Now. Camarin (with sudden horror). No!... Sateless God!
See, see!... Berengere! Oh! fury of hell!
Yolanda. Ah!... he will kill her! Stop, my lord! mother! Lord Renier!
Cold is she, stony pale, And sinking!... Go away from her, go go! Renier. No ... she shall tell me. Yolanda. Mother!... Tell you that You are her murderer? Renier. The truth! Yolanda. The truth!
It is suspicion! is that mad suspicion That you have had of her. Renier. It is! It is! Yolanda. And—all because I have these days delayed To wed with Camarin. Renier. Delayed? Yolanda. Because I show befitting shame that I was here Found in his arms ... when to Amaury I was betrothed! Renier. Power of—! No! Yolanda. Because I grieve to leave Lusignan, this my home— Where I have dwelt as under tented love— Though I am bidden. Renier. This can be? Berengere (faintly). Yolanda! Renier. I say—only delayed? and you—? Yolanda. Yes, yes. Now I will wed him, heedless, wantless, wild. Send for the priest and for Amaury, for Laughter and lights and revelry—for all Within this castle. But first to her bed, And to tranquillity, She must be borne, she your cold violence Has driven here.... Alessa—Tremitus!
Lead her within. O mother! piteous mother!—— Ah, it was ruthless, kindless! Renier. We shall see.
Bid Moro and Amaury.—As for her, I soon may come and seek forgiveness. Berengere. No!
My brain and breath!... the pall ... where am I ... how Long must I lie!... Tremitus. She speaks to visions. So, So can the blood do—trick us utterly!
Yolanda (as all stand silent). Speak, speak, and tell him! Renier. Yes, Amaury ... you Are sent for to behold Yolanda wed, As you commanded, Here unto Camarin. Shame has till now Withheld her, but ... what ails you? Amaury. On; go on. The sudden blood up to my wounds. Renier. It has, I say, withheld her. But she now has chosen. Amaury. So; and ... it is well. And here are her Vows I have kept—
Vows and remembrances ... I shall aspire—
That I may loathe her not o'ermuch; and to Muffle my sword from him that now she weds.
Come, let it be. Yolanda. Amaury! Amaury (angrily.) Priest, be brief! Moro (before them; as Camarin takes Yolanda's hand). The Church invests me and the powers of This island here to make you man and wife. Be joined, ye who have sinned, In soul, peace and repentances for ever.
Yolanda (with dread, awe, premonition). Alessa! Alessa. Lady Yolanda! you have wed him? Yolanda (pausing.) Yes. Alessa. Lady Berengere is dead. Yolanda. No!... No!
It cannot be! mother! cannot! awake her! And tell her I have wed him! mother! cannot!
Curtain. ACT IV
Alessa. Good father! Father Moro!... He is not here.
The dead are strange! I knew not all their power. It is as if her spirit still imprisoned Hovered beneath the pallor of her face And strove to speak. Good father!
Ah, you were There in the sacristy. Moro. Yes. Your desire? Alessa. The acolytes summoned from Famagouste To aid your rites before her burial Have come, and wait. Moro. Send hither two.
(Is going. He stops her.) Moro. Woman, this passes silence. There must be Some question. Do you understand this wedding? The evil that has risen in this house? Speak. Alessa. I may not. Moro. As says Yolanda, who Has been to-day impenetrable in all. But who, now, in a lofty grief above The misery that blasted her, seems calm, And answers only, "God in His season will, I trust, unfold it soon; I cannot, now!" ... And yet I heard Her darkly bid the Paphian be gone—— From here—without her. Alessa. And he would not? Moro. No.
Does she not see lightnings now in Amaury, Plunging for truth? What is't? Alessa. The acolytes Are waiting. Moro. Go ... But if this hour bring forth What you shall rue—— Alessa. Father!
Moro. In blindness still! For Vittia Pisani, who alone Seems with these twain to share this mystery Is silent to all importunity. Oh, Berengere Lusignan! But 'tis mine To pray and to prepare. (Listens.) The acolytes.
(To First.) Come here ... You're Serlio, Of the Ascension. You? 2nd Acolyte. Hilarion. From Santa Maria by the Templars' well, Which God looks on with gratitude, father. For though we're poor and are unworthy servants We've given willingly our widow's mite. And now we ... Moro. You are summoned to this place For ministrations other than the tongue's. Prepare that altar—masses for the dead. Hilarion. Man is as grass that withers! Moro. Kindle all Hither for holy care and sacred rest. So do—then after Look to that image of the Magdalen, Once it has fallen. Serlio. Domine, dirige!
Hilarion (insolently, lighting a taper). We'll have good wine for this! Serlio. The Chian! Hee! None's like the Chian! and to-morrow, meat! Last week old Ugo died and we had pheasant. Hilarion. When we are priests we'll give no comforting To wife or maid—till we have sipped! Serlio. And supped! Though 'tis a Friday and the Pope is dead!
Hilarion. There, it is done. Now to the image. Serlio. Well, Olympio, the cock who fetched us, said That image fell first on the day—— Hilarion. Tchuck! tchuck! Better no breath about that lord of Paphos Or any here. For till the dead are three Days gone, you know—! But there's the woman. Feign.
The blessed dead! in Purgatory may They briefly bide. Serlio. Aye! aye! Alessa (still troubled). What say you? Hilarion. Ah! I lay that it is wise never to foul The dead, even in thinking, For they may hear us, none can say, and once My mother saw a dead man who had gone Unshriven start up white and cry out loud When he was curst. Serlio. O Lord! Alessa (staring). No!... Well, such things There are perchance. And now they say that Venus, The Anadyomene, who once ruled this isle, Is come again.... But you have finished? Soon They bring her body here. Hilarion. Now have I, now! It will not totter again. (Descends.) Alessa Would that it might Upon the head of —— (catches herself; calmly) You are awaited There in the sacristy.... The chant begins!
Begins! and lady Yolanda still awaits Heedless, though Lord Amaury's desperate As is the Paphian!... They near!... The curtains!
Moro (as Amaury bows, shaken). No moan or any toil of grief be here Where we have brought her for sainted appeal. But in this holy place until the tomb Let her find rest. Amaury. Set down the bier.
Moro. Lone rest! Then bliss Afar for ever! Amaury (rises). Be it so!
But unto any, mother, who have brought thee Low to this couch, be never ease again. To any who have put thy life out, never! But in them be the burning that has seemed To shrivel thee—whether with pain or fear! And be appeaseless tears, Salt tears that rust the fountain of the heart.
Moro. My son, relentless words. Amaury (up again). To the relentless! Moro. God hear you not! Amaury. Then is He not my God. Moro. Enough, enough. (To the rest.) But go and for her soul Freight all of you this tide of night with prayer. Amaury. Never! Moro. I bid. Amaury. And I forbid those who Have prized her not! For though nought's in the world but prayer may move, Still but the lips that loved her Should for her any sin beseeching lift.
They and no other! Yolanda. And, you mean——? Amaury. Not one. Yolanda. Then, mother——
Amaury. That name again? Yolanda. While I have breath. (Nobly.) Yes, though you hold me purgeless of that sin Only the pale arch-angels may endure Trembling to muse on! Or though yon image of the Magdalen, Whose alabaster broke amid her tears And her torn hair, forbade me with a voice. And you, whose heart is shaken As in a tomb a taper's flame, would know I speak with love. Camarin. Unswerving love. Amaury. Then, by Christ, and the world that craves His blood, I think She, if she would, or you, could point to me, Or you, Vittia Pisani, The reason of this sudden piteous death Whose lips refuse. Camarin. She knows no shred of it. Amaury. You lie to say it. Camarin. Then will, still—if there Is need. Amaury. Because you love her? Yolanda. Peace, peace, peace. Amaury. A hollow word for what had never being. Yolanda. Look on her face and see. Amaury (at bier). Upon her face! Where not oblivion the void of death Has hid away, or can, the agony Of her last terror—but it trembles still. I tell you, no. Grief was enough, but now Through it has risen mystery that chokes As a miasma from Iscariot's tomb. And till this pall of doubt be rent away No earth shall fall and quicken with her dust! But I will search her face ... till it reveals. Camarin. He raves. Amaury. Iscariot! yes! Yolanda. Again, peace, peace! Amaury. That you may palter! Yolanda (gently). That she may not grieve.
For—if 'tis near—her soul with this is wrung. Near! would it were to hear me and impart Its yearning and regret to us who live, Yes, mother, were you now about us, vain, Invisible and without any voice To tell us of you! Were you and now could hear through what of cold Or silence wrap you, oh, so humanly And seeming but a veil— Then would you hear me say—(suddenly aghast) Ah, God! Amaury. Yolanda!
Yolanda! Renier. Girl, what rends you? Yolanda. Saw you not?
Mother! you hear me? mother! Renier. Girl! Yolanda. She breathes!
Vittia. What? What? Yolanda. Mother! Her breast! Mother! She moves! Amaury. God! God! Yolanda. Stand off from her ... Mother! Camarin. Her eyes!... They open! open! Yolanda. Mother!... Amaury. See; her lips! They strive to speak! O faintly, O so faint! Berengere. Yolanda! Yolanda. Mother! Berengere. Renier! Renier. Yes, yes? Berengere. Yolanda— Renier. Speak! Berengere. Christ, save me ... Christ! Yolanda's innocent, and I ... 'twas I. Amaury. What? what is it she says? Berengere. Camarin! Ah!
Amaury (confused, as they engage). Yolanda; what is this? Yolanda. Amaury, in! Compel Lord Renier back! he cannot live, You only could against Camarin now! Wait not to question, but obey me! if You ever—! (As he rushes in) Holy Magdalen, defend him!
Now, now defend him, if to chastity Thou'rt vowed in heaven. Vittia. Fool!—Camarin, strike! Yolanda. He's wounded! Camarin. Oh!... Berengere!... treachery!
Hassan (hurrying to him; after awe and silence). He's dead. Alessa. The Magdalen! Hassan. No breath in him.
Renier (low, harshly). Bear him without then ever from this place, That never more shall know a holy rite— And from these gates, I care not to what tomb.
Then shall you hear this mystery's content, That still as a madness measures to your sight. Bear him without.
Now you shall hear, with shame, But with exalted pride and happy tears; Then come obliteration! Speak, girl ... Nobility Had never better title to its truth.
Amaury. Yolanda!... he!... this reverence as to An angel? Speak! Yolanda. Amaury—— Amaury. O pause not! Yolanda. Then—to save her who's dead—from death and shame, I took her place within the Paphian's arms. Amaury. O!... and by me, driven by me, bore this! (Overcome) Pure as the rills of Paradise, endured? Yolanda. For you!—and her who sleeps forgiven there,
Now while her spirit weightless overwingeth Night, to that Throne whose seeing heals all shame! For her I did! but oh, for you, whose least Murmur to me is infinite with Spring, Whose smile is light, filling the air with dawn, Whose touch, wafture of immortality Unto my weariness; and whose eyes, now, Are as the beams God lifted first, they tell us, Over the uncreated, In the far singing mother-dawn of the world!— Come with me then, but tearless, to her side.
While there is sin to sway the soul and sink it Pity should be as strong as love or death!
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