University of Virginia Library

Scene II

The inside of a Cottage, around which flowers and plants of various kinds are seen. Discovers Alvar, Zulimez and Alhadra, as on the point of leaving.
Alhadra
(addressing Alvar).
Farewell then! and though many thoughts perplex me,
Aught evil or ignoble never can I
Suspect of thee! If what thou seem'st thou art,
The oppressed brethren of thy blood have need
Of such a leader.

Alvar.
Nobly-minded woman!
Long time against oppression have I fought,
And for the native liberty of faith
Have bled and suffered bonds. Of this be certain:
Time, as he courses onward, still unrolls
The volume of concealment. In the future,
As in the optician's glassy cylinder,
The indistinguishable blots and colours
Of the dim past collect and shape themselves,
Upstarting in their own completed image
To scare or to reward.
I sought the guilty,
And what I sought I found: but ere the spear
Flew from my hand, there rose an angel form
Betwixt me and my aim. With baffled purpose
To the Avenger I leave vengeance, and depart!
Whate'er betide, if aught my arm may aid,
Or power protect, my word is pledged to thee:
For many are thy wrongs, and thy soul noble.
Once more, farewell.
[Exit Alhadra.
Yes, to the Belgic states
We will return. These robes, this stained complexion,
Akin to falsehood, weigh upon my spirit.
Whate'er befall us, the heroic Maurice
Will grant us an asylum, in remembrance
Of our past services.

Zulimez.
And all the wealth, power, influence which is yours,
You let a murderer hold?

Alvar.
O faithful Zulimez!
That my return involved Ordonio's death,
I trust, would give me an unmingled pang,
Yet bearable:—but when I see my father
Strewing his scant grey hairs, e'en on the ground,
Which soon must be his grave, and my Teresa—
Her husband proved a murderer, and her infants
His infants—poor Teresa!—all would perish,
All perish—all! and I (nay bear with me)
Could not survive the complicated ruin!

Zulimez.
Nay now! I have distress'd you—you well know,
I ne'er will quit your fortunes. True, 'tis tiresome!
You are a painter, one of many fancies!
You can call up past deeds, and make them live
On the blank canvas! and each little herb,
That grows on mountain bleak, or tangled forest,
You have learnt to name—
Hark! heard you not some footsteps?

Alvar.
What if it were my brother coming onwards?
I sent a most mysterious message to him.

Enter Ordonio
Alvar.
It is he!

Ordonio
(to himself as he enters).
If I distinguish'd right her gait and stature,
It was the Moorish woman, Isidore's wife,
That passed me as I entered. A lit taper,
In the night air, doth not more naturally
Attract the night-flies round it, than a conjuror
Draws round him the whole female neighbourhood.
[Addressing Alvar.
You know my name, I guess, if not my person.
I am Ordonio, son of the Lord Valdez.

Alvar.
The Son of Valdez!

[Ordonio walks leisurely round the room, and looks attentively at the plants.
Zulimez
(to Alvar).
Why, what ails you now?
How your hand trembles! Alvar, speak! what wish you?

Alvar.
To fall upon his neck and weep forgiveness!

Ordonio
(returning, and aloud).
Plucked in the moonlight from a ruined abbey—
Those only, which the pale rays visited!
O the unintelligible power of weeds,
When a few odd prayers have been muttered o'er them:
Then they work miracles! I warrant you,
There's not a leaf, but underneath it lurks
Some serviceable imp.
There's one of you
Hath sent me a strange message.

Alvar.
I am he.

Ordonio.
With you, then, I am to speak:
[Haughtily waving his hand to Zulimez.
And mark you, alone.
[Exit Zulimez.
‘He that can bring the dead to life again!’—
Such was your message, Sir! You are no dullard,
But one that strips the outward rind of things!

Alvar.
'Tis fabled there are fruits with tempting rinds,
That are all dust and rottenness within.
Would'st thou I should strip such?

Ordonio.
Thou quibbling fool,
What dost thou mean? Think'st thou I journeyed hither
To sport with thee?

Alvar.
O no, my lord! to sport
Best suits the gaiety of innocence.

Ordonio
(aside).
O what a thing is man! the wisest heart
A fool! a fool that laughs at its own folly,
Yet still a fool!
[Looks round the cottage.
You are poor!

Alvar.
What follows thence?

Ordonio.
That you would fain be richer.
The inquisition, too—You comprehend me?
You are poor, in peril. I have wealth and power,
Can quench the flames, and cure your poverty:
And for the boon I ask of you but this,
That you should serve me—once—for a few hours.

Alvar.
Thou art the son of Valdez! would to Heaven
That I could truly and for ever serve thee.

Ordonio.
The slave begins to soften.
[Aside.
You are my friend,
‘He that can bring the dead to life again,’
Nay, no defence to me! The holy brethren
Believe these calumnies—I know thee better.
Thou art a man, and as a man I'll trust thee!

Alvar
(aside).
Alas! this hollow mirth—Declare your business.

Ordonio.
I love a lady, and she would love me
But for an idle and fantastic scruple.
Have you no servants here, no listeners?

[Ordonio steps to the door.
Alvar.
What, faithless too? False to his angel wife?
To such a wife? Well might'st thou look so wan,
Ill-starr'd Teresa!—Wretch! my softer soul
Is pass'd away, and I will probe his conscience!

Ordonio.
In truth this lady lov'd another man,
But he has perish'd.

Alvar.
What! you kill'd him? hey?

Ordonio.
I'll dash thee to the earth, if thou but think'st it!
Insolent slave! how dar'dst thou—
[Turns abruptly from Alvar, and then to himself.
Why! what's this?
'Twas idiotcy! I'll tie myself to an aspen,
And wear a fool's cap—

Alvar.
Fare thee well—
I pity thee, Ordonio, even to anguish.

[Alvar is retiring.
Ordonio.
Ho!

[Calling to Alvar.
Alvar.
Be brief, what wish you?

Ordonio.
You are deep at bartering—You charge yourself
At a round sum. Come, come, I spake unwisely.

Alvar.
I listen to you.

Ordonio.
In a sudden tempest
Did Alvar perish—he, I mean—the lover—
The fellow—

Alvar.
Nay, speak out! 'twill ease your heart
To call him villain!—Why stand'st thou aghast?
Men think it natural to hate their rivals.

Ordonio.
Now, till she knows him dead, she will not wed me.

Alvar.
Are you not wedded, then? Merciful Heaven!
Not wedded to Teresa?

Ordonio.
Why, what ails thee?
What, art thou mad? why look'st thou upward so?
Dost pray to Lucifer, Prince of the Air?

Alvar.
Proceed. I shall be silent.

Ordonio.
To Teresa?
Politic wizard! ere you sent that message,
You had conn'd your lesson, made yourself proficient
In all my fortunes. Hah! you prophesied
A golden crop! Well, you have not mistaken—
Be faithful to me and I'll pay thee nobly.

Alvar.
Well! and this lady!

Ordonio.
If we could make her certain of his death,
She needs must wed me. Ere her lover left her,
She tied a little portrait round his neck,
Entreating him to wear it.

Alvar.
Yes! he did so!

Ordonio.
Why no: he was afraid of accidents,
Of robberies, and shipwrecks, and the like.
In secrecy he gave it me to keep,
Till his return.

Alvar.
What! he was your friend then?

Ordonio.
I was his friend.—
Now that he gave it me,
This lady knows not. You are a mighty wizard—
Can call the dead man up—he will not come.—
He is in heaven then—there you have no influence.
Still there are tokens—and your imps may bring you
Something he wore about him when he died.
And when the smoke of the incense on the altar
Is pass'd, your spirits will have left this picture.
What say you now?

Alvar.
Ordonio, I will do it.

Ordonio.
We'll hazard no delay. Be it to-night,
In the early evening. Ask for the Lord Valdez.
I will prepare him. Music too, and incense,
(For I have arranged it—music, altar, incense)
All shall be ready. Here is this same picture,
And here, what you will value more, a purse.
Come early for your magic ceremonies.

Alvar.
I will not fail to meet you.

Ordonio.
Till next we meet, farewell!

[Exit Ordonio.
Alvar
(alone, indignantly flings the purse away and gazes passionately at the portrait).
And I did curse thee!
At midnight! on my knees! and I believed
Thee perjur'd, thee a traitress! thee dishonour'd!
O blind and credulous fool! O guilt of folly!
Should not thy inarticulate fondnesses,
Thy infant loves—should not thy maiden vows
Have come upon my heart? And this sweet Image
Tied round my neck with many a chaste endearment,
And thrilling hands, that made me weep and tremble—
Ah, coward dupe! to yield it to the miscreant,
Who spake pollution of thee! barter for life
This farewell pledge, which with impassioned vow
I had sworn that I would grasp—ev'n in my Death-pang!
I am unworthy of thy love, Teresa,
Of that unearthly smile upon those lips,
Which ever smiled on me! Yet do not scorn me—
I lisp'd thy name, ere I had learnt my mother's.
Dear portrait! rescued from a traitor's keeping,
I will not now profane thee, holy image,
To a dark trick. That worst bad man shall find
A picture, which will wake the hell within him,
And rouse a fiery whirlwind in his conscience.