 | Osbern and Ursyne |  |
SCENE I
Scene: The same as Act II. As curtain rises, Eadric comes out of the chapel, goes to the table where he had been sitting before, and sits there plunged in thought. A faint murmuring may be heard of the prayers in the chapel. This may last for two minutes, then the household come out of the chapel and pass up the stairs. Muriel, Jacqueline, and Blanche run across, followed by some men. Cecily and Henry are last.CECILY.
Canst catch me, Henry?
HENRY.
If I wished I could. Women are easily caught.
CECILY.
Yes, they are full of kindness.
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But they are better loved when they are less kind.
CECILY.
True, for man is such a reptile of ingratitude
that he can only give love with cheerfulness
where it is not wanted.
HENRY.
Dost doubt my love for thee, Cecily?
CECILY.
Nay, for I abhor—detest, loathe and repudiate
thee, therefore thou must love me for
ever. There's no cure either way. We may
make a happy marriage yet!
[She rushes past him up the stairs, and he follows her amid laughter from the other girls. Eadric, as the household comes out, has stood aside. Arlette now comes out and looks round to see if they are overheard before she speaks to him.
ARLETTE.
And must you go? O, is't good-bye between us?
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I cried to think such sorrow ever was.
EADRIC.
And shall you be Carliol's happy wife?
ARLETTE.
I am his wife, for I am bound to him.
EADRIC.
But you love me?
ARLETTE.
Yes, so I bid thee go.
I'll take my memory from its broken frame
And give it up to God. I shall not think of thee,
For, when I may, it will mean I love thee not.
Now leave my soul, my heart, my mind, my sight
While I can say good-bye and hear thee answer. ...
EADRIC.
Arlette!
ARLETTE.
Eadric!
EADRIC.
Yet he will call thee Arlette
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There's much for men to do, yet, when all's done,
All's said, all planned, all's thought, there still is much
That men have to forget. And this is hardest
Of all his labour underneath the sun.
Farewell, sweet Arlette, now an end is come
To time and words! All that remains is life.
[He kisses her hand; she unbars the door and lets him out. She leans against the doorpost and seems stunned with grief. Ursyne and Count Geoffrey come out of the chapel.
COUNT GEOFFREY.
I take it ill. There will be talk of this!
And an example of indifference
To Heaven's bounty. I fear lest swift rebuke
Is near upon him. He should have joined us.
[Ursyne, during this speech, has been looking down the stage to where she left Carliol; she now gives a piercing shriek, and throws herself upon her father, covering her eyes.
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O, I see forms and horrid spectres raised
To drive me mad!
COUNT GEOFFREY.
How now, what ails thee, Ursyne!
There are no spectres. This is some sudden sickness.
Look up, look well, defy these childish fears!
[Ursyne looks again, and this time seems petrified with terror. Geoffrey follows the direction of her gaze, and observes in the darkness the form of Carliol on the floor.
COUNT GEOFFREY.
[With a laugh.]
'Tis Alan drunk again. Ho! there—a torch!
Discipline at these times is hard maintained.
A torch, I say!
URSYNE.
[Slowly.]
Then, dost thou see it too?
[She leaves him and glides down to the body, kneels and lifts the head.
COUNT GEOFFREY.
[Going up and out, calling.]
Ho! there—a torch!
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ARLETTE.
But there is blood upon him—see—there is blood!
URSYNE.
[Slowly.]
This wound cannot be stanched—he hath been dead
A little while.
[After a long pause.
Who hath done this, Arlette?
ARLETTE.
How should I know, Ursyne?
URSYNE.
This is base murder.
ARLETTE.
Hath he an enemy?
URSYNE.
Thou couldst answer that.
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Indeed, there's no one who would hate Carliol.
URSYNE.
Oh, crowning falsehood! Cast no thorns in mine eyes!
ARLETTE.
What meanest thou by these harsh blamable words?
His very enemies praised him.
URSYNE.
A bad sign.
An enemy's praise heralds all treachery,
And grows the sweeter as revenge looks surer!
Who praised him last?
ARLETTE.
All truly praised him always!
URSYNE.
My life for yours if this crime hath no punishment!
I could have pardoned much hadst thou not lied.
But to stand there with innocent, startled face
As though some eagle had thee in his claw,
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Deceit past our conception and all credence—
That fear would rather be for honest eagle,
Who touched a thing so stuffed with perfidy!
Think of the name thou never utterest!
ARLETTE.
[With a cry of horror as though a sudden suspicion struck her.
Eadric!
[Then hastily covers her face with her hands.
URSYNE.
[Laughing.]
Had Eadric cause to work Carliol harm?
Say—had he cause, urged on by thy white evil
To plot and execute this coward's thrust?
[Gazing down on Carliol.
Death never gathered pain from face more tranquil.
No fearfulness is here. This filthy world
Has ta'en its cruellest tax.
[Kisses the brow.
I'll come again.
[She rises, quits the body, and goes towards Arlette.
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The vengeance that cries out in me still fails
From all its purpose, for as I loved thee once,
And thought thee pure—habit remains to bind
A judgment horribly reversed by proof—
By hideous proof of thy corruption.
Yet ... I cannot forsake thee. ...
But, for the mean, false, fierce, and brutish villain,
Who taught thee how to lie, and schooled thy glance
To look on murder with a little gaze,
There is no mercy—
[Enter Count Geoffrey, followed by Alan. Alan bears two torches, one in each hand.
URSYNE.
Come, why do ye wait?
Carliol hath been dead this little while.
COUNT GEOFFREY.
[Going over to the body and kneeling by it.
God in high heaven!
ALAN.
Is there a God or heaven?
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Aye, drunken ape! there are both, and something more.
Canst thou, through thy drugged wits, detect the hand
That could inflict a stab on heart so rare?
ALAN.
The Saxon hath done this. Did he not speak
Of hard farewells? This is that in good faith!
I did foretell it all. God rest his soul!
Help! help, there! help! God rest his soul! Here's murder!
[Some of the men of the household come down the staircase and go toward Count Geoffrey.
COUNT GEOFFREY.
Lift up his body with great reverence.
He was a king of princes, and a knight
Who fought no foe save infidelity, and loved
His enemy as himself. Most brave Carliol!
URSYNE.
Let the dead bury their dead! Shall we shed tears?
Shall we lament while we should be avengers?
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Then, when bare justice hath been satisfied,
There will be time enough to greet the sorrow
I dare not yet encounter, and, for this present,
Hold far away lest its kiss come too soon!
COUNT GEOFFREY.
Hath Eadric gone? Did any see him leave?
ALAN.
[Pointing to door of chapel.]
He knelt there by the door, and rose from's knees
Before the Fidelium Animæ was reached,
Or I had thought of waking. His gross step
Disturbed the servants' prayers, but when he murdered
He had a lighter grace! I heard no noise.
COUNT GEOFFREY.
Then let us hunt this hell-rat! I'll not sleep
Nor eat, nor rest, until the time to weep.
[The men lift the body on to a bench. Ursyne stands by, looking down upon the face. Arlette does not
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END OF SCENE I.
| Osbern and Ursyne | |