University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Donato Palace.
Donato, Camilla and Laura.
Laura.
Camilla, why so drooping?

Cam.
This hath been
A long and weary day; there is a heat,
A gloom, a heavy closeness. See, this rose
Is withering too, that was so fresh and fair—
The white musk-rose—that which he used to love.

Laura.
It was no day for Venice. 'Twould have been
A calm sweet stillness in our country home,
Bowered amid green leaves and growing flowers,
With fragrant airs about us, and soft light,
And rustling birds.

Don.
The sky portends a storm.
To bed, Camilla!

Cam.
Father! dearest father,
Have I displeased thee?

Don.
No! To bed! To bed!
Laura, good night.

[Exit.
Cam.
He used to call me child,
His dearest child; and when I grasped his hand
Would hold me from him with a long fond gaze,
And stroke my hair and kiss my brow, and bid
Heaven bless his sweet Camilla! And to night
Nought but to bed! to bed!

Laura.
Believe it, Cousin,
A thing of accident.

Cam.
And Cosmo comes not;
He sends not to me—he that never broke
His plighted word before! And Laura! Laura!
Foscari is in Venice, is returned
Triumphant, and he comes not, sends not, Laura!
And when I ask of him my father frowns
Sternly on his poor child.

Re-enter Donato.
Don.
My pretty-one,
I could not go to rest, till I had said
Heaven bless thee!

Cam.
My dear father!

Don.
What is this?
A tear?

Cam.
Oh! gratitude and love and joy
Are in that tear, dear father!—and one doubt—
One fear—

Don.
Sweetest, good night!

Cam.
Foscari, father?

Don.
To bed my own Camilla!

[Exit.
Cam.
Not a word.

Laura.
Something works in him deeply.

Cam.
Yet how kind,
How exquisitely fond! Cosmo must know,
And, Laura, Cosmo never flies from thee,
And thou may'st ask—

Laura.
I will, I will, sweet Coz!
Look, dearest, at the glancing gondolas
Shooting along, each with its little light,
Like stars upon the water. Whither go they?

Cam.
To the proud Ducal Palace, where they hold
High feasting in his honour. There the dance,
And the quaint masque, and music's softer strains
Minister to his praises.

Laura.
And the ear
That would drink in so eagerly that sweet praise,
The heart that would leap up at every sound
Rejoicing, the glad eyes—Would thou wert there!

Cam.
Ah! would I were, since Foscari is there;
That is enough for me! Where'er he is,
In tent or battle-field—Hark! what is that?
That music? Oh 'tis he! 'tis Foscari!
Dost thou not know the strain, the wandering strain,
Trembling and floating like a spirit's song,
With many a—Hark again!—'Tis he! 'tis he!
That air belongs to him even as a name
It thrills my very heart. Am I not pale?

Laura.
No; the bright blood floats trembling in thy cheek,
Most like that wandering music.

Cam.
There is pain
In this excess of joy.

Laura.
He comes.

Enter Foscari.
Fos.
Camilla!
Sweetest Camilla!

Cam.
Thou art come at last
Francesco!

Fos.
My Camilla—Come at last!
Why this is chiding! Can'st thou chide, Camilla?

Laura.
Aye, or she were no woman.

Fos.
Lady Laura!
Forgive me that I saw you not. Camilla,
Chide on—nay thou art smiling—Come begin!
I'd rather hear thy chidings than the praise
Of all the world beside. Let me but hear
Thy voice, whate'er thou speakest.

Cam.
Dear Francesco,
Thou hast been long away.

Fos.
Oh very long!

Cam.
And where?

Fos.
Away from thee. That is enough;
Where thou art not I keep no count of place
Nor time, nor speech, nor act.

Cam.
Yet tell me where.

Fos.
Where I have dreamt of courts and camps and fields
Of glorious battle. A long weary dream
To him, who loves to bask him in thy smiles,
And live upon thy words.

Cam.
Yet hast thou lost
Ten weary hours to-day.

Fos.
Why this, indeed,
Is chiding, my Camilla. I have been
At the Palace, at the Senate hall, at Church,
Have undergone a grand procession, love,
And a long dreary feast.

Cam.
And is that all?

Fos.
And is not that enough? Would'st thou crowd in
More tediousness? Oh thou unmerciful!

Cam.
But why not first—sure he is thinner, Laura,
Thinner and paler?

Laura.
Nay, he is the same.

Cam.
Why not first come to me?

Fos.
Perhaps I love
To visit my heart's treasure by that light
When misers seek their buried hoards; to steal
Upon the loved one, like a mermaid's song,
Unseen and floating between sea and sky;
To creep upon her in love's loveliest hour,
Not in her daylight beauty with the glare
Of the bright sun around her, but thus pure
And white and delicate, under the cool moon
Or lamp of alabaster. Thus I love
To think of thee, Camilla; thus with flowers
About thee and fresh air, and such a light,
And such a stillness; thus I dream of thee,
Sleeping or waking.

Cam.
Dost thou dream of me?

Fos.
Do I! without that lovely mockery,
That sweet unreal joy, how could I live
When we are parted? Do I dream of thee!
Dearest, what ails thee? Thou art not to night
As thou art wont, thine eyes avoid my gaze,
Thy white hand trembles and turns cold in mine.
What ails thee, dearest? Hast thou heard—What fear
Disturbs thee thus, Camilla?

Cam.
I will tell thee.
Cosmo is absent; my dear father grieved;
There is high feasting in thy princely home
And I not there; and thou not here till now,
At midnight, when my father sleeps, and Cosmo
Is still away. Are ye all friends? Say Foscari
The very truth.

Fos.
Well! Thou shalt hear the truth.
Cheer thee! 'Tis nought to weep for. At the Senate
There were to-day some hasty words.—Erizzo,
Thy subtle kinsman, he was most to blame—
I was too hot, too rash; but I implored
Donato's pardon, and am half forgiven;
Though yielding to the crafty Count, he shunned
To sup with us to-night.

Cam.
Ah! I had feared—

Fos.
There is no cause for fear. This sudden storm
Is but a July shower that sweeps away
The o'erblown roses. Cosmo is our friend,
Our truest warmest friend; and well thou know'st
Thy father's kindly heart; he loves thee so;
Aye, and he loves me too; and he shall love me
Better than ever.

Laura.
He shall love! Lord Foscari
Thou'rt a true soldier. Wilt thou conquer love?

Fos.
Surely.

Laura.
And how?

Fos.
By love, and gratitude,
And deep respect, and true observance, Laura.
Shake not thy head, Camilla. He shall love me.
What is he not thy father! Smile on me.
Think'st thou that if I feared to lose thee I
Should be thus tranquil?

[Exit Laura.
Cam.
No. But at my heart
There is a heavy sense of coming pain,
A deep and sad foreboding.

Fos.
Thou hast been
Vexed to-day, sweetest, and thy weary thoughts
Tinge the bright future with the gloomy past.

Cam.
Well, be it so. And yet I would to heaven
That this one night were over!—Where is Laura?

Fos.
She glided off, with a kind parting smile,
And a quick sparkle in her eye, that said
Ye will not miss me!

Cam.
Aye, her merry glance;
But we do miss her. 'Twas a saucy thought,
My pretty gentle Laura!

Fos.
She is grown.

Cam.
Yes, tall and beautiful and rarely good.
Oh 'tis the kindest heart! We think she'll make—
What is that noise?

Fos.
Nothing. A distant door.
What startles thee, Camilla?

Cam.
My own heart.
Hark how it beats, painfully, fearfully!
Hush! hush! Again that noise!

Fos.
'Tis thunder, love,
And that hath stirred thy spirits. Cheer thee, dearest;
A soldier's wife should be as brave as steel.
What did'st thou say of Laura?

Cam.
She will make
A sweet wife for our Cosmo.

Fos.
And doth he
Love the young beauty?

Cam.
He hath scarce forgot
To treat her as a child, the dearest child,
The loveliest and the gentlest,—but a child.
Francesco, thou must praise her—Ha! again!
That is no thunder-clap. My father's door!—
Oh go! go! go!

Fos.
My dear Camilla, no!
Thou can'st not fear me, I will be as calm,
As humble—

Cam.
Go! go! go! I die with fear;—
He is so rash, so sudden;—He will kill thee!

Fos.
Here! Under his own roof! In thy dear sight!
Thy own dear father!

Cam.
He will part us, Foscari!
Go!

Fos.
Well, I go. But my Camilla—

Cam.
Go!

Fos.
Dearest, farewell!

Cam.
Not that way!—That! there! there!
Leap from the window in the corridor,
From the low balcony!

Fos.
Farewell!

[Exit.
Cam.
I'm glad
That he is gone. Fear hath so mastered me
I stumble on the level floor. Thank heaven
They are both safe, my dearest Foscari,
My dearest father! There's no danger now;
And yet the night grows wilder. What a flash!
And I have sent him forth into the storm,
I, that so love him! I have sent him forth
Into this awful storm! Protect him, Heaven!
I thought I heard the window—Can those steps
Be his?

Don.
(without)
Help! help! base traitor! Foscari!
Murder!

Enter Laura.
Laura.
What's that?

Cam.
Undo the door—I cannot—
Undo the door! My father!

[Exeunt.
Laura.
(behind the scenes)
Who hath done
This horrible deed?

Cam.
(behind the scenes)
My father! muder! murder!