University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

—The Palace of the Cæsars.
Nicephorus and Theodora.
Nicephorus.
The Count not yet arrived! still more and more
He shows a purposed tardiness.

Theodora.
Not he!
'Tis not his way to measure out the time
As huxtering the minutes.

Nicephorus.
True—but still . . .
The tidings that Alexius is recalled
Cannot have reached him yet?

Theodora.
Surely they cannot.

Nicephorus.
Unless by treachery.

Theodora.
Whom suspect you now?

Nicephorus.
Nay, no one—none—but yet it may be so;
And he might thence surmise some ill intent
Was harboured here against him.

Theodora.
If he should
It were more like he came before the time
Than lingered. But you bear an evil mind
Towards him, and 'tis looking in that glass
You see distrust and thence suspect suspicion.

Nicephorus.
On both sides cause enough; but none so blind
As they that will not see.

Theodora.
And none so lost
As they that know not and that will not know
How dangerous is fear. By phantoms scared
You left the safe and sought the perilous road,
And you have found it.

Nicephorus.
Perils there may be;
But such as I shall know the end of soon.
'Tis time this tampering with an enemy
Should cease. 'Tis now a tedious half-year
That it has stumbled on to humour thee,
And thou art not content.

Theodora.
To humour me!
Yes, 'twas my humour that your head and crown
Should not be ventured in a needless strife
Nor staked for sport.

Nicephorus.
Thou answerest idly, child.
The strife will come—more desperate by delay.
Advances have been made, if seemly all,
Or less than seemly some, I spare to speak;
And not by deed, I doubt if ev'n by word,
Is aught vouchsafed that we can call a pledge.

Theodora.
Count Isaac's lightest words mean something more
Than in court-currency they pass for. You
Nor any man beside can say how far
His heart is pledged.

Nicephorus.
Why, thus much may be said;
Were it his choice to join his house to mine
And take a safe succession for thy dower,
Knowing the contract might be made at once,
Nought would be left in doubt. All the light words
Of courtesy on which thou build'st thy hopes
Do but dissimulate the other choice—
A choice resolved—to wit, to try his strength
With ours in war.

Theodora.
'Tis you drive on the trial;
He never would have sought it, so your fears
Had let him live in peace; but evermore
You feared and feared till dangerous you made him.

Nicephorus.
Have I not shown him every favour due—
Ordered the triumph for his victories,
Myself partaking the festivities?

Theodora.
‘Twould scarcely be acknowledged as it ought
Since that ill accident, the taster's death
Who tasted of the cup you proffered him.

Nicephorus.
Ill accidents are ever in thy mouth.

Theodora.
And since his triumph in the frontier war,
What has been wanting—what but open strife,
To bid him be prepared for self-defence?
Have you not loosed the hydra of the State—
Have you not stirred the vermin of the Church—
Made compact with the natural enemies
Of order and of empire to molest him?
And you would have him move no step to meet you?

Nicephorus.
Too many steps—too many and too long,
Too many strides Count Isaac has advanced
That ever he should stay his foot in peace
Short of the throne. An enemy he is,
And as such must be dealt with. Cease not thou,
Meantime, to show him favour. But beware
Thou lead'st to no surmise that aught impends . . .
That aught . . . I bid thee once again beware
That thou endanger not thy filial faith.
It is not fitting that I meet him now:
Wherefore, thus warned, I leave thee.

[Exit.
Theodora.
Warned, and feared.
Had I been trusted freely from the first
A better claim to my good faith were his.
Where trust is not, there treachery cannot be.
Were but the Count as quick to apprehend
My leaning to his side, as long has been
My father to suspect my falling off,
We had ere this been better understood
Each of the other. He shall know me now.
Enter Comnenus.
Enough, Count Isaac, rise; you still forget
The well-deserved exemption you enjoy
From all except the first prostration.

Comnenus.
Ah!
Great is my privilege in Byzantium!
In truth, to stand upon two legs at court
Is what is not infrequently forgotten.

Theodora.
But tell me, Count—we should have met ere this—
Where have you been then?

Comnenus.
Sleeping out the noon.

Theodora.
Asleep?

Comnenus.
Why wherefore not? Sleep, only sleep
Houses the fugitive; sleep shuts the door
Against the hour's too saucy creditors
And bids them rail unheeded and unheard;
Sleep bears the flag of truce to foreign foes;
Sleep stills intestine discord; what but sleep
Can separate the combatants within
Till Time and Death may meet and come to terms
And arbitrate the sole perpetual peace.

Theodora.
Oh, it is no time for your race to sleep,
Unless it were indeed the sleep of death;
And there were tumults in the streets to-day
Might all but wake the dead.

Comnenus.
So noisy were they?
'Tis true there was some shouting in the Forum;
It is a trick of the citizens; when it rains
And corn is mildew'd, straight we have a swarm
Of curious knaves will find us out the cause,
And having found, they noise it in the streets,
Which makes this outcry.

Theodora.
Howsoever made
It might have kept you wakeful, for your name
Bore the chief part.

Comnenus.
I verily believe it;
To-day am I the cause; to-morrow, you;
The next day, it may chance, your royal sire.
'Tis all hap-hazard.

Theodora.
Truly think you so?
Then you think wrong; there is a hidden source
Of these dissensions: but I know not yet
What thanks or whether any should be mine
For confidence unsought.

Comnenus.
Dismiss your doubts;
There are two values in a trust reposed;
The first, the knowledge from the trust derived;
The second, the goodwill of those who give it.
For so much as 'tis given in free goodwill
I value it.

Theodora.
Supposing it so given,
What then to recompense this free goodwill
Would you adventure?

Comnenus.
Oh, the infinite pain
Of hearing an interminable secret—
But not upon the instant unprepared,
For I must fast a month and pray to God.
Meantime I take my leave,—unless perchance
There's aught your Highness would command me in?

Theodora.
You came at leisure—why this haste to go?
Is the escaping from my confidence
A matter so immediate?—Thankless friend!

Comnenus.
There you misjudge me: for the warning given
You have my thanks; for what remains behind
I can surmise its import to this length,
That 'tis intelligence more dangerous
For you to give than me thus warned to want.
I am content: that I am thankful too
Time may prove or may not: 'tis true the same.
So fare you well.

Theodora.
For my sake speak you thus?
Oh, if my peace you tender,—ay, or my life,
Know whence the dangers come that threaten them.
I am an Emperor's daughter, but my heart,
Imperial if it be, is womanly:
One arrow is there and one poisoned cup
I have to dread—Oh! turn but them aside
And lightly as yourself will I defy
All else that can assail me; whilst for you
My woman's wit should weave a panoply
That nothing could transpierce:—turn them aside
And let our counsels be of one accord
And we will share the issue.

Comnenus.
That can we never.
Nature has set apart our destinies
And each must follow out the course assigned;
I mindful of this token of goodwill,
Nor you regardless of your household ties.

Theodora.
Talk you of Nature? Well, then, hear my creed.
The strongest ties have Nature's strongest sanction,
And if the ties of blood be not the strongest
Nature doth abrogate and make them void.

Comnenus.
Where these are not the strongest which are they
That are not frail?

Theodora.
Most moral Sophist! Say
That there were sin, the burden of my sins
Is on my conscience, none of it on yours;
Then whom concerns it?

Comnenus.
Happy is the man
Who, unpartaking of the evil thing,
Reaps the full harvest of another's sins.
But then what says the casuist?—

Theodora.
What he says
This is no time to tell. What profits it
Thus to make answer in didactic vein
To overtures like mine? 'Tis fit you know
They touch on life and death. This (learn from me)
Is not the time to ponder and to poise,
But with a resolute mind to choose your part.

Comnenus.
Thanks for the words of wisdom! excellent
And profitable counsel had this been
Were it not that—one melancholy night—
So long ago that I but then reposed
From my triumphal honours—on this night—
Lying awake through indigestion caught
At the Imperial board—my part was chosen.

Theodora.
Then act your part—a rash and obstinate part
And like to prove a tragical—act your part;
Your life is in my hands; a few words less
And it had there been safe—but do your will—
Rush headlong to your ruin—I should have known
That never was there a Comnenus yet
Who would take part with any but his kin
Or counsel save of pride that courts a fall
And plays at dice with Fate.

Comnenus.
If so it be,—
If it be true mine ancestry and kin
Have all so stubbornly maintained this course,
It were presumption in my humble self
To wander from their ways. But rest assured
If nature made us not for facile friends
We are not easily made enemies
Nor eager in ill-will. So peace be with you.

[Exit.
Theodora.
Great God! preserve my heart from breaking yet
And grant me strength to stagger through the world
Till I have struck a blow. But can it be?
No, he will not be stubborn to the last;
'Tis but his pride, and when his power runs low
That feeds it, he will turn to me. If not
He'll have an enemy more dangerous
Than all that now surround him. Who are you?

Enter a Domestic.
Domestic.
His sacred Majesty commanded me
To ask if yet your Highness was at leisure
And could attend him?

Theodora.
Tell him that I come.
[Exit Domestic.
That is a sleuth-hound sent to pry about
And watch my motions. Ay; the time is past
For putting trust in me.