University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—Garden. View of a distant temple. Attendant busy in the illumination.
(Enter Selim, looking about, earnestly.)
Selim.
(To an attendant.)
The princess! has she passed?

Attendant.
Aye, but a moment since—to that alcove,
(Selim runs eagerly towards it.)
The prince is there—

(Selim retreats.)
Selim.
(Voices approach.)
—Hush! hush!—

(Enter Duke, Prince, Ala, and Friar.)
Duke.
What a glorious night!

Prince.
Well, well, my love; thine eye is brighter now;
Thy lip is fresh again;—I'll leave thee here.

Duke.
Trust her to me, my son; and to thy halls.
I'll cheer her for this trying hour—that seems
To press so heavily upon her heart.
(Raillery)
'Tis only coquetry—

Ala.
(Smiling faintly.)
O, no, my Lord!
(In a melancholy voice)
—'tis something here! (heart)


Duke.
(Throwing his arm around her waist and attempting to press her cheek. Ala repulses him gently.)
Sweet lady, pardon me!

Ala.
(Recovering, and in a sprightly tone, as the Duke still struggles—respectfully.)
No, no, my prince—it is the son I wed!

Duke.
(Releasing her.)
—So coy! and yet so young!
Well, heaven help my boy!

(Selim repeatedly advances and retires—with impatience.)
Ala.
But is it true, my Lord;—is this dark man—
Whose troops have hunted us so long in blood—
Who never seems to sleep—Can it be true,
That he is, now, a willing prisoner here?

Duke.
'Tis true—he's here, not willingly I think;
And yet, 'tis true he broke his blade himself,
When he had cloven the helm of my proud boy—
And sprang to earth—and stalked away unarmed!

Ala.
(Burst of admiration.)
And then was taken!
(Pause.)
And Irman—Oh, had he been taken in arms
Had he but conquered him!
[OMITTED]
Strange man!—It could not be from fear—and yet
He fled the soldier's eye—

Duke.
The Soldier! which of them?

Ala.
The Soldier—he has served thee long—

Duke.
Not that old man!—Dread Otho fly from him!
O, no—he would not shun that aged eye;
And yet, that eye is terrible in fight—
But terrible as 'tis—it would have quailed
Before that withering glance! that beam of blood
I've seen his falling like the thunderer's flash—
But Otho would not shun the thunderer's flash,
Nor raise his arm, lest it should look like prayer:
Like supplication! even to stay the bolt!
For he has trained it but for strife and blood.
But lady, (Nodding to the Friar and Selim to withdraw —they obey.)

We are all alone; and now,
I'll strive to tell thee that my gallant boy,
Young, generous, brave, and noble as he is,
Has yet one fault.

Ala.
(Startled)
My Lord!

Duke.
Art thou astonished that he has one fault!

Ala.
Not so, indeed—I know of one—he's rash.

Duke.
And passionate—
But these are faults that time,
And strife and love will every hour reform;
Not so with this:—time will but feed its root—
And love! that is its sunshine! air and heaven!
'Tis only such as mighty hearts can feel—
And only those, when loving and beloved!

Ala.
(Alarmed.)
Pray what is this?—Such preparation—

Duke.
Madness!—jealousy!

Ala.
Jealousy!—of me!

Duke.
O, no—your female fancies are so swift!
Not jealous yet—and may he never be,
Of thee, sweet girl!—But 'tis his mightiest fault:
And when it touches him, 'tis madness—death.

Ala.
(Passionately.)
Oh no!—It is the vice of little minds—
It cannot dwell in his!
He is so full of noble confidence,
That dark suspicion in his manly heart
Could find no mansion—and no resting place.

Duke.
A woman's reasoning!—from the heart—not head—
And, therefore wrong.
A noble nature, child,
Not jealous of its prize, must be secure
In vanity!—that brazen panoply!
Must bear that potent ægis to the sun,
Whose polished surface but reflects himself!
The vain man never trembles when he loves;
Is never jealous,
He never doubts that he is all the world
To that most happy being, he's embraced!
He is a cost of mail—

Ala.
And noble hearts, then, must be vain—or jealous'

Duke.
Or else,—indifferent—then they're safe indeed.

Ala.
'Tis said that jealousy is proof of love—
But, no; it cannot be—

Duke.
And yet it is!—The cold are never jealous;
Can never be—for what have they to fear?
But he who loves is oft consumed by thoughts
That never thawed the ice of their cold hearts.

Ala.
(Ferrour)
If this be true—may I be never loved!
O, I should die to meet a loved one's doubt.
O, he should be—
So full of confidence and generous faith,
That he should joy to prove my loyalty
By fiery, trials!—Oh, if this be love,
May I be never loved!

Duke.
Nay, Lady, thou hast known what 'tis to love:
Hast never trembled with a hateful thought?
Started at shadows?— (Ala appears moved)

Been oppressed by dreams?
(She throws around a glance of terror to the garden.)
And pressed thy pillow, prayed and wish'd for morn!
Woke unrefreshed? And prayed again for night?
Asked confirmation of thy thronging doubts?
But yes—I see thou hast! 'twas jealousy!
There is no proof of madd'ning love like that:
So unequivocal; so past all doubt—
As this consuming jealousy!

Ala.
But how degrading to the doubted one!

Duke.
(Solemnity, and emotion)
O, think not lady, that I mean the pang,
That shoots athwart the brain in living fire,
When was suspect the faith of our young wife!
O, no! I mean the chilling, dreadful fear,
That we are not beloved. I do not mean
That watchful spirit racked by looks and words—
That broods alone, and preys on insect food,
And hunts for guilt—nor that which bursts the heart
And lightens through the brain!
But this, that finds itself deceived—is mute—
Utters no sound—no words—complaints or tears—
But, with his last look on his loved one—dies!
'Tis the exalted earnestness of men
Whose love ennobles all they breathe upon—
But once assailed, they die—

Ala.
Indeed, I cannot think so; for I feel
That I could trust my chosen one away—
Where—when—with whom it would—all free!

Duke.
And so would he!—Such is the doubt mean.
Alike sublime in confidence and fear.
He would not wed an angel till he strove
With others for her choice—and gained a prize
Irman would be preferred—and not received
Could never love till he had learnt to fear,
And both would bloom—and both decay together.
—He loves with all his soul,
Would never doubt till thunderstruck with proof.
He would not guard his jewel like the man
That fears its loss; but, like a blazing crown
Would place it on his brow, and bid the world
Assay to dim its splendour if they could!

Ala.
(Enthusiasm)
Noble indeed! Such is the heart I love!
But this is confidence—not jealousy.

Duke.
Well, lady, be it so; it is the power
That sways his soul.

Ala.
O, I could worship him for that!

Duke.
(Great solemnity)
And I would warn thee, should he ever smile
A melancholy smile at meeting thee;—
Be seeking thee, forever, with his eyes—
Yet turning from thee, when he meets with thine,
In tenderness and tears;—if he appear
More soothing, hurried, absent in his speech—
Or leave thy couch to seek the morning chase
In suddenness and silence—then, beware!
O, probe his heaving bosom to the quick!
He will be dying with some fearful doubt
With which his spirit wrestles night and day!
And thou can'st save him—
(Music approaching)
It is a fearful passion, unsubdued—
But we have talked too long—that strain
Comes blithely on the night wind,—I'll away—

(Exit Duke.)
(The Princess is slowly following him in deep thought, when Selim suddenly appears before her.)
Selim.
Princess—

Ala.
(Starting in terror)
Ah!—Selim!—

Selim.
Forgive me, lady—here's a ring—

Ala.
A ring! (Examines it, faintly)
Who gave it thee?—

Selim.
The captive—Otho—

Ala.
Otho!—the rebel chief!
(Great agitation.)
Who broke his sword
And—He!—Who would have torn me from my prince?
—Where is he, Selim?
(A rustling heard)
(Grasping Selim's arm and looking round fearfully)
Hush, hush!—is he here—

Selim.
Oh, no—he's in the dungeon—

Ala.
Lead me there! (Hesitation)


Selim.
I lead thee there!—

Ala.
(Dignity)
Yes—I must see that man.
Nay wait—and tell the prince—should he appear,
That I am at the chapel: wait me here;
And thou shalt guard me to the rebel chief. (Exit Ala)


Selim.
That dreadful man!—indeed, I fear I'm wrong;
But no, I must not speak. (Voice calling, approaches)


Attendant.
Selim! Selim! (entering)
Fly to the prince!

Selim.
(Trembling)
To the prince!—

Att.
Yes—yes, away. (Exit servant)


Selim.
(Going reluctantly)
What can be want?
Yes, yes—he knows it all,—and yet—perhaps—
No, no—I'll not betray that man!

(Exit)