 | The Castle of Montval |  |
30
ACT III.
SCENE I
—The Great Hall. Enter the Countess and the Count of Colmars.COUNTESS.
Tempted by all the beauties of the scene,
Which caught new graces from the setting sun,
I thought not 'twas so late.
COUNT.
'Tis close of day.
COUNTESS.
So long shut up in all the smoke of Paris,
Loathing its noise, but more its hurrying life,
“Where ev'ry moment's fill'd, yet little done,
“By feeling hallow'd, or approv'd by reason;”
These balmy breezes, whisp'ring health and peace,
And the soft calm that steals upon the soul,
Turning its thoughts to meditations high,
And converse sweet, made me forget the hour.
I hope the dews will not affect your health?
COUNT.
By choice, accustom'd to a country life,
My nerves are strung to every change of season,
And brave, alike, the noon and midnight air.
You are too good to think of an old man
With so much kindness!
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Ven'rable yourself,
Were you not Albert's father's chosen friend:
And can my heart be cold to such a claim?
COUNT.
Your approbation charms, and honours me.
But now 'tis time to thank your courtesy,
And take my leave.
COUNTESS.
What, at so late an hour!
We quarrel if to-night you quit the castle.
COUNT.
What shall I say? Commanding every heart,
Mine bends before you, and obeys your pow'r.
But, with your leave, I must dispatch my servant,
T'inform my wife and daughter of my purpose,
Lest they expect and wait my late return.
COUNTESS.
At your good pleasure, sir.
[Exit Count of Colmar.
[Countess calls out Ho! call Teresa!
Enter Teresa.
TERESA.
O! my dear lady! I have heard such things!
COUNTESS.
What things, Teresa?—What new fable now
Excites thy wonder, and awakes thy fear?
TERESA.
Look, madam, at these keys! Blaise says they open
The haunted rooms!
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You rave! What haunted rooms?
TERESA.
Where a wild spirit walks, and groans by night;
And rattles chains and locks, and shakes the doors!
COUNTESS.
Dost thou not dream? What idle tale is this?
Give me the keys—How came they in your hands?
And what unknown apartments do they open?
TERESA.
The good old count's: he died in one of them.
COUNTESS.
And what of that? Somewhere we all must die.
Is this a reason why the rooms are haunted?
TERESA.
Indeed, my lady, it is very true!
These dreadful noises, and these groans were heard,
And ever since the rooms have been lock'd up,
And the count keeps the keys himself.
COUNTESS.
The count!
TERESA.
Yes, madam: not has any person since,
Except himself, presum'd to enter them.
COUNTESS.
Then by what means have you procur'd the keys?
TERESA.
As I was talking, madam, in the hall,
With good old Blaise, I found them on the table:
He told me what they open'd: and the count,
By some strange chance, must have forgotten them,
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Kept with the greatest caution—
COUNTESS
(interrupting her).
You may go.
Let not this foolish tale escape your lips,
Nor prostitute my Montval's honour'd name,
By bringing it in proof of such romance!
Desire my friends wou'd sup, nor wait my coming.
[Exit Teresa.
I'm lost in wonder!—What can all this mean?
But I will know if I have seen these rooms:
Perhaps I have, unconscious of their fame.
No, no! the castle's vast and intricate,
And if some myst'ry hangs o'er these apartments,
The count had mention'd it while shewing them.
Ha! I remember now, before we parted,
He anxious seem'd that I should wait his presence,
To wind th'entire lab'rinth of his castle!—
I hate concealments!—They alarm and wound me,
From him, to whom, without disguise, my heart
Is always open, and shou'd know, alike,
The secret thoughts and foldings of his own!
Before the night is past, I'll see these chambers!
Thinking no ill, I fear none.—Innocence
Is the best buckler, and the surest guard
'Midst every danger, and for every fear.
(As she is going out, meets Lapont.)
A word, Lapont!—Say, did you see my lord
After he left me to proceed to Paris?
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Yes, madam.
COUNTESS.
Did he send me any message?
LAPONT.
None, lady, but his love and deep regret
To be, so soon, divided from your arms.
But though he sent no message, he express'd
An earnest wish that you wou'd follow him,
As long this business might demand his absence.
COUNTESS.
Long might demand!—He said not so to me!
LAPONT.
Madam, if I may counsel—
COUNTESS
(haughtily interrupting him).
You may counsel!
Pray know yourself, Lapont!—I always make
My equals, or my heart, my counsellors,
In the nice points of duty, or of love.
My noble guests may offer their advice;
But you presume in giving, till I ask it.
[Exit.
LAPONT.
School'd and contemn'd! confusion on her pride!—
Yet, high as she may think herself above me,
And far beyond my puny pow'r to touch her,
I yet may reach, and daunt her tow'ring soul!
I wou'd almost risk my life to humble her!—
Too well, before, I mark'd her scornful eye;
It seem'd to penetrate my inmost soul!—
But tho' her pride has cut me to the quick,
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About the keys, and their important trust.
All, then, is yet secure!—Cou'd I but meet
Her fav'rite woman, whose unguarded tongue
Tells all its knows, and whose unbounded fears
Dread ev'ry passing sound, much might be done!
But, to my wish, she comes!
Enter Teresa, hastily.
Why, thus, in haste?
TERESA.
My terrors brought me here?
LAPONT.
What causes them?
Why sits pale fear upon thy lovely brow,
Like clouds that intercept the chearful day,
Obscuring all its charms?
TERESA.
You flatter, sir;
But I have cause, and cause enough for fear!
LAPONT.
What cause, my fair one? Whisper it to me!
You know not, yet, your influence o'er my heart,
Which cannot taste content, while you are sad.
TERESA.
O! you have, doubtless, heard the horrid tale,
Of midnight noises, and the haunted rooms?
LAPONT.
What! has imprudent Blaise betray'd the secret
—For only he and I are privy to it—
The count has guarded with such jealous care?
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And only death can stop his busy tongue!
No doubt he told you ev'ry circumstance!
TERESA.
He did! he did! And I shall die with fear,
If forc'd to wind the long dark galleries,
Without one friend to hear or comfort me!
LAPONT.
I'll be that friend, if you will take my counsel.
Beware you mention not this marv'llous story
Among the servants! 'Twou'd offend the count,
And lose his favour!—But, still more beware
Not to be prying for the troubled spirit!—
Once I but tried to open the apartment,
Daringly curious! where it nightly walks,
Groaning, and clanking chains, and spouting fire,—
When suddenly my hand received a shock,
And then my heart, which long as life remains
I shall remember! Heav'n forbid the hand
Which took some keys were left upon this table
Shou'd open with them the mysterious chambers!
TERESA.
Unhappy wretch! O! heav'n have mercy on me!
Why did I take those unknown fatal keys,
And then deliver them to my dear lady?
LAPONT
(aghast).
What! has the countess got the fatal keys?
TERESA.
She has! She has!—'Twas I who gave them her!
LAPONT
(eagerly).
And did you talk to her about the ghost?
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O!—yes! Alas! I told her every thing!
LAPONT
(hastily).
What did she say?
TERESA.
She treated it with scorn;
And if we can't persuade her from her purpose,
Her dauntless soul, which mocks my prudent fears,
Will surely tempt her to her own destruction!
LAPONT.
Prevail with her to wait the count's return:
She knows his fondness can deny her nothing;
And if she loves him, she will shun his anger
By circulating, once again, the tale
His better judgment took such pains to silence:
But shou'd your warning voice be disregarded,
Think you she'll dare to enter those apartments
Even by night?
TERESA.
No, surely, not by night,
But in the morning she'll not fail to view them.
Pray you, good sir, attend me to the room
Where sit the ladies' women!
LAPONT.
I will guard you.
Make me your confident, whatever befalls,
And it may save you from some dire misfortune!
[Goes out with her, but soon returns.
This proud and daring woman shakes my soul!
She curbs my power, and baffles all my art.
What can be done? I dread her deep discernment!
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Yet, she may search, and search, and not discover!—
There lies some comfort! Let her pause to-night,
And I'll defy her prying spirit after.
To-morrow's early dawn will bring the count,
And then I earnestly will urge a measure
Shall bid good-night, for ever, to our fears.
If he deny me, he must stand the trial,
But stand alone; for I'll abandon him
To all the shame and peril of his fate.
[Exit.
SCENE—Changes to the Saloon.
Where appear the Count of Colmar, the Marquis, and Matilda.
MATILDA.
I fear the countess has fatigued herself,
Did you not mark her heavy alter'd eye?
COUNT.
I did: but more there seem'd to me of thought,
Of careful thought, in her expressive face,
Than weariness.—
MARQUIS.
I own, I think with you:—
A something surely presses on her mind,
To cause this sudden change.—When she return'd
Was she thus absent, and absorbed in thought?
COUNT.
Quite the reverse! Her walk had giv'n her spirits:
Enchanted with the glories of the scene,
Her pure and animated heart expanded
At feeling, once again, the country's freedom,
And all the charms of renovated nature.
39
The dullness, and the lour of little minds,
Like the thin clouds that fleet before the breeze,
Affect me not: but when superior souls
Turn inwards on themselves, with such deep musing,
The cause is weighty, and I dread th'event.
COUNT.
Take it not thus! We all have serious hours,
Which oft' depend on thoughts we can't command,
Born of those exquisite nerves, whose finer tones
Discordant thrill, we know not how or why.
MATILDA.
Yet mov'd without a cause, I never knew her,
Free as she is from vapours or caprice,
And of a temper even, firm, and chearful.
Profoundly touch'd she very rarely is;
And never, but to some important purpose.
MARQUIS.
My dear Matilda, do not be alarm'd!
I trust your love, and not your judgment, construes
A serious manner into serious care.
“Remember too, that her dear lord is absent;
“For the first time, divided from her arms!
“This, to a heart so finely strung as her's,
“Is cause enough to give her pensive moments.”
MATILDA.
Alas! I fear, there is some other cause;
Tho' whence it cou'd arise I cannot guess.
MARQUIS.
And is there need of other for her sadness?
From the warm temper of your tender heart,
Which, form'd for purest love, but light esteems
40
When parted from the object of its choice;
From your own heart, judge truly of your friend.
MATILDA.
“Your kind and generous nature, well I know,
“Would guard my timid soul from ev'ry care.
“But yet, remember, your own fears erewhile!
MARQUIS.
“Those fears were premature.—Be satisfied!
“Nothing but Montval's absence, rest assur'd,
“Has clouded over the fair countess' brow.”
MATILDA.
Pray heav'n it be so!—But the count can tell us,
From his long intimacy in the castle,
What is the character of this Lapont.
The countess likes him not.—
COUNT.
She shews her judgment.
His soul a compound is of art and vice:—
Before his death, my friend discarded him
For poisoning the morals of his son,
By his base counsels.—Vile ingratitude!
For all the honors, and the favors done him!
And, I confess, it touches me with wonder,
And, I may add, with grief, to see the son,
Th'accomplish'd son of such a matchless father
Caress a villain who disgracees him!
MATILDA.
No wonder that my friend, so pure herself,
Should feel repulsion at the wretch's presence.
O! if the count respects her as he ought,
He will abandon.—But the countess comes.—
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You'll pardon me, my friends, this little absence.
To-morrow shall atone for my omissions.
With you I shall be under no restraint.
How wears the night?
COUNT.
'Tis a late hour for sober folks like me.
COUNTESS.
After our walk, we all must wish to rest;
And sweet the sleep that waits on exercise!
May it be your's, my friends, and so good-night!
Bring in the lights!
[Servants attend with lights.]
Attend my noble guests
Unto their several chambers!—Nay! no form!
MARQUIS., MATILDA., COUNT.
Fair be your dreams!—Adieu!—Lady, good night!
[Exeunt.
COUNTESS.
That's as it may be!—As the spectre wills,
Which haunts my fancy in a thousand shapes,
And will not quit my troubled soul one instant!—
“If I knew what to fear, it less wou'd move me:
Yet rather apprehension 'tis, than terror;
A solemn feeling, than a weak dismay,—
Were not the name of him I love, involv'd
In this mishapen tale, I should despise it!
This makes me silent to my noble guests.
Yet!!—And I bless the thought!—This goblin story
May have induc'd the Count,—and wisely too—
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And pride, should suffer blemish from the rumour,
Spread widely round, and turn'd, and magnified,
As ignorance, and superstition prompted!—
This shall allay the tumult in my breast,
And flatter downy slumber to my pillow!—
To-morrow then!—What ho! Terese there!
Call up Teresa!—'Twas a blessed thought!
I wou'd have done, just as my lord has done!
Enter Teresa, trembling.
COUNTESS.
Why dost thou tremble? Is it at thy shadow?—
TERESA.
O! be not angry!—If you did but know!—
COUNTESS.
(angrily.)
What!
TERESA.
What Lapont has told: what dreadful things!
COUNTESS.
Lapont!!!
TERESA.
O! he has often heard the ghost,
And swears that trying to unlock the door,
It gave him such a shock!—
COUNTESS.
(solemnly)
I too am shock'd!
TERESA.
Ah! for the love of Heaven restore the keys,
Or the fierce spirit will endanger you!
And so Lapont believes.
COUNTESS.
(interrupting her)
Only Lapont!—
Can thy hoarse voice sound nothing but Lapont!—
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I shall not need your services to night.—
But not a word to them about the spectre!
On my displeasure, silence to them, and all!—
Yet, as you go, bid honest Blaise come hither!—
[Exit Teresa.
My soul's on fire!—I will be satisfied,
Betide what may!—Lapont is in the Plot!—
I've heard there are antipathies in nature,
And he is mine!—Why should my lord caress him?
And yet he does Caress, with confidence.
Nay, makes a favourite of the dangerous villain!—
But why a villain?—'Tis his face alone,
The damning characters imprinted there,
That make me call him so!—I hope, unjustly!—
Enter Blaise.
Lady, your servant humbly waits your orders!
COUNTESS.
Blaise! if your face belies you not, you're honest?
Honest, I hope, and firm: say, shall I trust you?
BLAISE.
Lady, my hand, heart, life, are at your bidding!
COUNTESS.
I'll never tempt thee to a dangerous service,
Nor to a deed that shall dishonour thee!
Thou can'st be secret too?
BLAISE.
Else were I base,
And little merited this condescension.
COUNTESS.
Be silent, or you forfeit my esteem!
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Are haunted by a ghost?—What is their number?
BLAISE.
An anti-room, a bed chamber, and closet.
COUNTESS.
Direct me to them!—
BLAISE.
(astonished)
Madam!—
COUNTESS.
No reply!
I laugh at spectres, and am bent to clear
These useful chambers, of their ill report.
BLAISE.
(terrified)
Lady! indeed, my duty makes me speak.—
COUNTESS.
I've heard it all, and know 'tis some imposture.
Be thou my guide! for I will pass this night,
Within the chamber where the spirit walks!
BLAISE.
Now, Heav'n forbid!—
COUNTESS.
No more of foolish fears!
Ev'ry attempt were vain to shake my purpose:
A chearful book and lights are all I need
To comfort, or defend me:—Thou shalt watch
In th'anti-chamber by:—Now to my closet,
And thence attend me to the haunted rooms.
[Exeunt.
END OF THE THIRD ACT.
| The Castle of Montval | |