University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—An Arbour in the Castle Gardens. Dawn beginning to break.
Enter Francesca with a book, Nita following with lamp.
Franc.
I cannot sleep, Nita; I will read here.
Is it dawn yet?

[Nita sets lamp down.
Nita.
No, lady: yet I see
A flushing in the East.

Franc.
How still it is!

Nita.
This is the stillest time of night or day.

Franc.
Know you why, Nita?

Nita.
No, my lady.

Franc.
Now
Day in a breathless passion kisses night,
And neither speaks.

Nita.
Shall I stay here?

Franc.
Ah, no!
Perhaps in the dawn silence I shall drowse.
If not, I'll read this legend to myself.

Nita.
Is it a pretty tale?

Franc.
Pretty, ah no!
Nita; but beautiful and passing sad.

Nita.
I love sad tales: though I am gay, I love
Sometimes to weep. But is it of our time?

Franc.
It is an ancient tale of two long dead.

Nita.
O, 'tis a tale of love!

Franc.
Of love, indeed.
But, Nita, leave me to myself: I think
I would have no one stirring near me now.
[Exit Nita.
The light begins, but he is far away.
[She walks to and fro.
Better than tossing in that vacant room
Is this cool air and fragrance ere the dawn.
Where is the page which I had reached? Ah, here!
Now let me melt into an ancient woe.

[Begins to read. Enter Paolo softly.
Pao.
Francesca!

Franc.
Paolo! I thought you now
Gone into battle dim, far, far away.

Pao.
And seems it strange that I should come, then?

Franc.
No,
It seems that it could not be otherwise.

Pao.
I went indeed; but some few miles from hence
Turned, and could go no further. All this night
About the garden have I roamed and burned.
And now, at last, sleepless and without rest,
I steal to you.

Franc.
Sleepless and without rest!

Pao.
It seemed that I must see your face again
Then nevermore; that I must hear your voice,
And then no more; that I must touch your hand,
Once. No one stirs within the house; no one
In all this world but you and I, Francesca.
We two have to each other moved all night.

Franc.
I moved not to you, Paolo.

Pao.
But night
Guided you on, and onward beckoned me.
What is that book you read? Now fades the last
Star to the East: a mystic breathing comes:
And all the leaves once quivered, and were still.

Franc.
It is the first, the faint stir of the dawn.

Pao.
So still it is that we might almost hear
The sigh of all the sleepers in the world.

Franc.
And all the rivers running to the sea.

Pao.
What is't you read?

Franc.
It is an ancient tale.

Pao.
Show it to me. Is it some drowsy page
That reading low I might persuade your eyes
At last to sleep?

Franc.
It is the history
Of two who fell in love long years ago;
And wrongly fell.

Pao.
How wrongly?

Franc.
Because she
Already was a wife, and he who loved
Was her own husband's dear familiar friend.

Pao.
Was it so long ago?

Franc.
So long ago.

Pao.
What were their famous and unlucky names?

Franc.
Men called him Launcelot, her Guenevere.
Here is the page where I had ceased to read.

Pao.
[Taking book.]
Their history is blotted with new tears.

Franc.
The tears are mine: I know not why I wept.
But these two were so glad in their wrong love:
It was their joy; it was their helpless joy.

Pao.
Shall I read on to you where you have paused?

Franc.
Here is the place: but read it low and sweet.
Put out the lamp!

[Paolo puts out the lamp.
Pao.
The glimmering page is clear.
[Reading.]
“Now on that day it chanced that Launcelot,
Thinking to find the King, found Guenevere
Alone; and when he saw her whom he loved,
Whom he had met too late, yet loved the more;
Such was the tumult at his heart that he
Could speak not, for her husband was his friend,
His dear familiar friend: and they two held
No secret from each other until now;
But were like brothers born”—my voice breaks off.
Read you a little on.

Franc.
[Reading.]
“And Guenevere,
Turning, beheld him suddenly whom she
Loved in her thought, and even from that hour
When first she saw him; for by day, by night,
Though lying by her husband's side, did she
Weary for Launcelot, and knew full well
How ill that love, and yet that love how deep!”
I cannot see—the page is dim: read you.

Pao.
[Reading.]
“Now they two were alone, yet could not speak;
But heard the beating of each other's hearts.
He knew himself a traitor but to stay,
Yet could not stir: she pale and yet more pale
Grew till she could no more, but smiled on him.
Then when he saw that wished smile, he came
Near to her and still near, and trembled; then
Her lips all trembling kissed.”

Franc.
[Drooping towards him.]
Ah, Launcelot!

[He kisses her on the lips.
Curtain.