University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

A spacious apartment. Enter Balthazar, followed by Blas, carrying a case with papers, which he lays on a table.
Bal.
(after examining it).
Is Don Henriquez ready, gentle youth?

Blas.
He'll soon be here; the lady is at hand,
With others, who will witness what you read.

Bal.
I'm glad she comes to soothe his gloomy grief,
For I have that to read will move him greatly.

Blas.
I doubt it not: Don Juan loved him well,
As it was thought.

Bal.
Sayst thou, as it was thought!
I've often seen them spend whole days together,
Neglecting all the sports of hall or field,
In some sequester'd corner, side by side,
Pacing, though young, with the slow steps of age,
Each like the other's shadow; while, by turns,
Such power of words flow'd from them, and their eyes
With pleasure or with gentle anger flush'd,
As the keen wilful sporting of their minds
Through some wild chace of thought pursued the game.
I mark'd them oft: it was a pleasing sight.

Blas.
Were they, indeed, such dear and loving friends?

Bal.
Yes, gentle youth, they were. It seem'd, in truth,
As though each kept his thoughts i' th' other's breast,
Lock'd up e'en from himself, having when met,
And only then, free use of his own treasure.

Blas.
So closely knit?

Bal.
Yes; I have seen Henriquez
By Juan's sick-bed sit, night after night,
Like tenderest nurse watching her infant charge;
And then I've seen the tears course down his cheeks,—
His youthful face all shrunk and pale with grief.
Such dear and manly friendship knew I never.

Enter Leonora and Carlos, followed by Diego, who then retires with Blas to the bottom of the stage.
Leo.
(after a pause).
I think I hear him coming.

Car.
I think so too; yet grief is slow of foot,
And those are rapid strides like one in haste.

Enter Henriquez, who returns slight and sullen acknowledgments to their civilities, and going directly to a seat prepared for him, sits down without speaking.
Bal.
(to Henriquez, after a pause).
My lord, here is a will, with other papers,
Which your deceased friend, my noble master,
Committed to my keeping six days since,
When he departed from his native home.
His ancient fav'rite hound howl'd piteously
As from the gate we prick'd our steeds, and yet
We took no heed of it, nor thought, alas!
That he would ne'er return.—Please you, my lord,
That it should first be read?

Hen.
Proceed; I'll listen.

Bal.
From the great love, above all men besides,
Which living he did bear you—

Hen.
Nay, proceed;
There needs no prologue to it.

Bal.
(reading).

“The last will of me, Juan de Torva, written and signed by mine own hand, as these characters testify, is this. I bequeath to my beloved, my early, my only friend, Don Henriquez d'Altavera, the whole of my lands, my castles, my dependencies, my treasures, to be possessed by him and his heirs for ever; and for as much as I have more confidence in the wisdom and generous propriety of his judgment than my own, I leave those whose names (also by mine own hand) are herein written, to be provided for, as he, thinking and acting for me when I shall no longer be able to think and act for myself, shall deem right. These, with the last love and blessing of my heart I bequeath to him; desiring that my poor earthly remains may be laid in the same spot where he himself shall be interred.

May God have mercy on the soul of a humble sinner! Done with mine own signature. “Juan De Torva.”

Here follow names of many old dependants,
And witnesses who saw him sign this deed;
Shall I repeat them?

Hen.
(motions him to forbcar, and after covering his face with his hands for a moment or two).
You also spoke, I think, of other papers:
The date of this is, as I guess, remote.

Bal.
Nay, it is recent—only two months since.

Hen.
So late as that!—You mention'd other deeds.

Bal.
Yes, good my lord; entrusted to my keeping,
Here is besides a marriage contract made
Between himself and the fair Mencia.

Hen.
(starting from his chair with violent gesture).
What didst thou say? The sister of my wife?
Say it again: I know not what thou saidst.

Bal.
It is, my lord, a marriage contract made
Between himself and Donna Mencia,
The sister of your wife; to whom by stealth,
The lady being somewhat disinclined,
He has of late made frequent visits; hoping
Last night, with her consent, to have surprised you,
When as a masquer he should join the guests,
By asking from your love a brother's blessing.

[Henriquez falls back into his chair, uttering a deep groan.
Leo.
(rushing to him in great alarm).
Alas! so strong an agony is here,
The hand of death is on him.

Car.
'Tis but the pitch and crisis of his grief:
Be not alarm'd; he will recover quickly.

[Diego, coming forward, speaks aside to Leonora.
Diego.
Bid all withdraw, and be with him alone
When he recovers.

Leo.
(aside).
How when he recovers?
Alone with him! I know not what thou meanst.

Diego
(speaking to her aloud).
My lord has from his youth been thus affected,
When press'd by grief; I've seen him so before.
And when the fit goes off, I've known him also
Utter wild ravings. Solitude and stillness
Are necessary. Pardon me this boldness.

Leo.
Thou'st seen him thus before?

Diego.
It is a patural infirmity;
Let all retire and leave him.

Leo.
(motions all to retire but Carlos).
Don Carlos will remain.

[To Diego.
Diego.
None but yourself, I do beseech you, madam;
And I will watch by you till he recover.

[Exeunt all but Diego, Leonora, and Henriquez, who, while she hangs over him, groans as before.
Leo.
That groan again! My dear—my dear Henriquez!
Alas! that look! thine agony is great:
That motion too! (He rises.)
Why dost thou stare around?
We are alone; surely thou wilt not leave me.
Where wouldst thou be?

Hen.
I' the blackest gulf of hell;
The deepest den of misery and pain;
Woe bound to woe—the cursed with the cursed!

Leo.
What horrible words, if they have any meaning!
If they have none, most piteous!—
Henriquez; O, my lord!—My noble husband!
I thought not thou wouldst e'er have look'd on me
As thou hast done, with such an eye of sternness.
Alas! and hadst thou nothing dear on earth
But him whom thou hast lost?

Hen.
I had, I had! Thy love was true and virtuous.
And so it is: thy hand upon my breast.
[Pressing her hand, which she has laid upon his breast.
I feel it—O how dear!
[Is about to kiss it, but casts it from him.
It must not be!
Would thou wert false! Would grinding contumely
Had bow'd me to the earth—worn from my mind
The very sense and nature of a man!
Faithful to me! Go, loose thee from my side;
Thy faithfulness is agony ineffable,
It makes me more accursed. Cling not to me:
To taste the slightest feeling of thy love
Were base—were monstrous now.—Follow me not!
The ecstasy of misery spurns all pity.

[Exit.
Diego.
And do not follow him: O do not, madam!
This fearful fit will soon exhaust its strength,
And leave his reason free.

Leo.
God grant it may! It is a fearful fit.
But thou thyself lookst strangely, and thy visage
Seems haggard with a passing consciousness—
Thou dost not think—

Diego.
No, no! what should I think?
Retire to your apartment: I meantime
Will watch my lord, that none may cross his way
Till he be safely lodged within his chamber.

[Exeunt.