University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The pavilion, beside the Arno:—a table, lute, and drawing implements:—Demetria seated near a window opening to the evening sky.
Dem.
I feared some evil chance.—O! Cosmo, Cosmo!
Have I deserved such bitter punishment?—
If thou hast ceased to love, methinks, at least,
Thou mightst have broke the heavy truth more gently!
Such looks! such coldness! O, they chill to death.
Knowing the child I am in my affections,
Thou shouldst have weaned me tenderly. It had been
A generous tribute paid a wretch whose peace
Is gone for ever.—What can I have done?—
Sure, he 's not angered that I listed not
His suit, while tears (renewed at sight of him)
Streamed for a buried mother.—'T were not like him:—
It cannot be. (Pauses.)
O, time!—a change indeed!—
The night before he left us, here we sat;
Yon trees, the sky, the yellow-gleaming hills,
Thus beautiful! Then, when I weeping wished
To ope the volume of futurity,
How he consoled me! How he spoke, the while,
Of fading friendships, of forgotten love,
And when I warned him how new scenes, new hopes,
The intoxicating world, renown, and grandeur,
Might banish from his heart the faithful friends
And simple joys he loved at Belvederé,
Ah! what a look he gave me!—All forgotten!—
Had I foreseen it,—could I have believed it!—
The long, long interval,—and now at last,
The death of hope—O, Cosmo! Cosmo!
(Overcome with emotion, covers her face.)
It cannot last—my heart is not so stubborn.—
(Unties a small parcel of letters lying on the table.)
This reached me,—O! I well remember it,—
My hand clasped fast in my sweet mother's!—Hours
Of rapture! that 't is death to think on now!—
One parting look, and I have done.

(Unfolds a letter, which she peruses with a fluctuating countenance. Meanwhile a fishing boat, containing two persons in masks, glides from behind a woody point towards the pavilion. The Masks step out, and approach Demetria, who is too much abstracted to perceive them.
First Mask.
Well, Signorina,—

Dem.
(springing up.)
Ha! what seek ye here?

First Mask.
No treachery. Can you tell us—

Dem.
(retreating.)
Heavens! Why do you follow me?

First Mask.
(still advancing.)
We lost our way, Madonna,—we stopped here—
(Seizing her.)
No noise,—no screaming,—not, as life is dear,—
Be still—hush! hush!—no harm shall come to ye.

(Forces her towards the boat.)
Dem.
(tearing his hand from her mouth.)
Help!—mercy!—help!

Second Mask.
(covering her mouth.)
Hush!—silence!—else the Arno 's near—

(Just as they lay hands on her, Cosmo is seen approaching with a gloomy air along the path from the wood. Startled by her cry, he stops to observe; then rushes towards her with frantic speed, arriving, as she faints and they are proceeding to lay her in the boat.)
Cos.
Ha, ruffian!
(Stabs one of the Masks, who falls in the water:—the other retreats a step, draws, and advances fiercely upon him. Cosmo wounds him, and pressing him, he leaps into the boat and pushes off.)
What fiends are these?
(Tears off the mask of the fallen man.)
What can it mean?
(Raising Demetria in his arms.)
How pale!
Good heaven! she 's dead—or dying! What 's the best?
Merciful Father!—is there none to help me?—
(Hangs over her in terror, sprinkling water in her face.)
She 's gone!—her cheek 's death white!—Demetria!
My angel! O my only love! Have I
Frowned on thee? I been angry?—Now, she 's gone!
Curse, curse upon my cruelty! (Dem. sighs.)
She lives!
She breathes!
(Loosens her sash, and bears her to one of the seats of the pavilion.)
Demetria!—speak!—O, speak to me!
How deep—heart-breaking was that sob!—Ha! hold!

(He retires a little, and stands watching her: in a few moments she half rises, and looks wildly round, without perceiving him.)
Dem.
Where am I? Was it—could it be a dream?
Methought a sweet and mournful voice, but now,
Was murmuring in my ear— (Perceives Cosmo.)


Cos.
(coming forward.)
How farest thou, lady?

Dem.
Have I been dreaming, or a moment since
Was set upon?

Cos.
Your piercing cries alarmed me.
Know you the villains?

Dem.
No, my lord.
What came of them?

Cos.
One fled; the other lies there.

Dem.
(seeing his sleeve stained with blood.)
Heavens! art thou wounded, Cosmo?

Cos.
(with deep emotion.)
Wounded?—No,—
He only grazed me.

Dem.
O! you bleed apace!

Cos.
There are—there is a wound—
(Falters and pauses.)
Lady, your handkerchief—pray bind it there—

(She knots her handkerchief round his arm.)
Dem.
Let me assist you homeward—Lean on me—
You 're growing paler.

Cos.
(rises, and sinks back.)
Yes—I have a wound—
Deep—mortal,—that the grave must answer.

Dem.
(terrified.)
O, heaven!—

Cos.
A stab most cruel—but a bloodless one.

Dem.
(her eyes resting on the floor.)
My lord,—
Will 't please you to escape the chill night air?

Cos.
And wherefore?—'t is not like a cold false heart.

Dem.
(gathers up the letters, and binds the riband round them, while Cosmo sits speechless, watching her.)
Here are some letters,—which,—my lord,—in days
Best now forgotten— (Faintly.)
Receive them, Sir.

Cos.
(grasping the letters.)
All very well.

Dem.
You had a picture—valueless indeed—
A little portrait,—will you give it me?

Cos.
A picture?

Dem.
Scarcely worth remembrance—

Cos.
(who had involuntarily put his hand into his bosom, withdraws it.)
Lady,—that picture—I was robbed—one night,
Crossing a forest in the Tyrol mountains—
In a dark gorge, some brigands rushed upon me—
They took purse, ring, and all,—a precious ring,—
I much deplored the chance.—The ring I had
From an Archduchess' daughter.

Dem.
I'll send you aid.

(Passes him swiftly, and leaves the pavilion.)
Cos.
(watching till she disappears.)
So then—all 's over!—
Here are my letters—scorn'd—given up;—though dyed
With my heart's blood!—O, murderous memory!
(Lays them down, and looks round him.)
Beside that lattice I confessed my passion,—
Yon eglantine she drew to shade her face!—
O, heaven!—O, hell!—

(Starts up, tears the letters in fragments, and hurries away into the thick part of the wood.)