University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Otho's Cell. Otho asleep. Achmet watching by his pallet—Otho awakes suddenly.
Otho.
(Sternly.)
—Who art thou?

Achmet.
Achmet, my Lord.

Otho.
Ah yes—I had forgotten thee.
Go to thy rest—thy last above the grave.—
To-morrow we will die—together! boy.—

Ach.
(Bowing on his hands.)
—Ah, yes!

Otho.
Thou hast a soul that should not stay on earth.
Hast thou a father boy?

Ach.
Only a mother.—

Otho.
No father!—what, no father.

(rising.)
Ach.
He is gone.—

Otho.
Thou hadst a father then?

Ach.
(Astonished)
—My chief!

Otho
(Not regarding him.)
—And hast a mother yet—thou'rt happy, boy—
For she will weep for thee—
(Taking his hand.)
Bear up—be proud—we'll die together boy—
And die like warriors too!—now to thy cell.
(Exit Achmet)
A woman veil'd—
Alone, at midnight—veil'd.—She seeks me out.
And why?—Young Ala!—let her answer that!
—If she should come,
I'll shake her memory with my youthful voice,
Until she sees the spectre of my youth.
I have a fiery trial—If she's firm
When I put forth my strength—and touch her brain,
I'll spare her!—worship her!—but if she yield,
O, God, then let me die!
(Enter Princess.)
Woman,—art thou come again.—Keeper, ho!
(Enter Keeper.)
Where were my commands!

Keeper.
That madman—

Otho.
Achmet!— (Fiercely.)


Keep.
(Sullenly.)
—Well, Achmet, then—he told me you had waked.

Otho.
Begone!—

(Exit Keeper.)
(Prince enters—observes Ala—stops—and passes into the shade unobserved.)
Ala.
Dark man—I cannot rest—I've gained thy life.
We meet no more on earth—
Otho—I've come to thank thee for the life
Of him I loved.—

Otho.
Loved!

Ala.
And do love yet—I've come to thank thee once;
And burst the charm that binds me—and depart—
'Tis true thy band did not restore the Prince;
But yet—the deed was wonderful!
And thy mysterious agency was there.
I—
(Pause.—Emotion.)
I am wretched now,—and thou hast made me so.
For now, I have a doubt—where doubt is death.
Where once my fate was strong—
I come to tell thee thou hast smitten me
With death—a lingering death—and now, farewell!

(going.)
Otho.
(Great feeling.)
Lady—a moment—those are my last hours—
We never meet again.—Let us part friends.
Thou to thy nuptial couch—and I to that!
Let us part friends—in peace—and charity:
For—Ala—thou'lt remember me for years,—
And this last hour will comfort thee, for aye,
Amid thy desolation—
(Ala much affected.)
When thou shalt wake and wonder at thyself,—
An awful mystery is o'er thee, Ala!
When thou art happy—Ala—and when I—
No, no—I dare not think of that—
I'll visit thee—and guard thee in the night.
Be ever round thee!—wilt thou think of me?
Of him who died for thee?—Who gave his soul,
That he might see thee smile—and hear thy voice.—
Lady, I tell thee, as a dying man—
That I have loved thee!—thou hast made me thus!

(Prince much agitated.)
Ala.
(Looking round fearfully.)
Stranger!—
I must not listen to thee—
There is enchantment in thy voice.—

Otho.
Woman!—

Ala.
Otho!

Otho.
Ala, I've thought too high, perhaps, but yet—
Ala!—I think, had I been near thee long,
Where we might meet and hear each other's hearts;
That I had now been free!
A valiant name!—on honour's blazing roll:
—And Ala,—thou
Hadst been the partner of a mighty heart,
That beat for glorious deeds!
O, Ala, had I seen an eye like thine
To brighten or to weep when I went forth
To combat for its smile,—a voice like thine,
To cheer me on my way,—a heart like thine,
To bid me welcome, though we were alone
In wretchedness—tho' all the world should frown
What might I not have been!
Ala!—I could have trodden on that world,
And died in silent martyrdom for thee!
Then, I had been what woman well might love;
But now—we've met too late.—
—I've loved thee much.
Shall love thee, yet—nay, lady—do not weep.—
I have one prayer—but one—I'm a man
Unus'd to supplication—cannot beg—
But I demand it.—
(The Prince emerges from his concealment in great agitation.)
To-morrow I shall die—I am resolved—
I've nothing left to wish for here on earth—
To-night thou art another's.—
(Extending his arms.)
—One last embrace!

Ala.
Art thou a man!—One last embrace, from me!
Young Irman's bride.—

Otho.
Thou'lt never be his bride!—I ask of thee
But one embrace—one kiss—

Ala.
(Exullingly.)
Farewell, farewell forever!—I am free!
O, thou hast stooped indeed.—

Otho.
(Seizing her hands.)
Not yet—one kiss—one innocent embrace,
Such as thou gav'st me once.—

Ala.
Oh, never—never! (Prince raises his hands.)


Otho.
(Dropping at her feet.)
—Lady.—Look here!
I never knelt before.—
I've done with magnanimity on earth;
O, do not scorn me!—thou art in my power—
And I would leave thee hallow'd when I die.—
I love thee, Ala;
One innocent embrace—and then I'll go—
And leave thee spotless to my rival's arms;—
Thou should'st have been my bride—not his.—
Thou lov'st me like a husband, even now,
And yet, I'll leave thee.—

Ala.
(Struggling violently.)
'Tis false!—
I do not love thee, wretch.—

Otho.
(Rising)
Lady—thou dost—I swear it by my soul!
About to meet its Judge—thou dost!
But one embrace—in innocence—I ask.
'Twill cheet me in my death— (She struggles violently.)

—Nay, Ala! nay,
I'd have it freely—but, by heaven, I will!

Ala.
(Faintly.)
—Never!

Otho.
(Releasing her.)
Lady—then go—and go in purity!
I love thee yet too much for violence:
I've battled for thee, once—have sav'd thy life
Amid a fearful storm—and in those arms
And on this bosom bore thy sinking head,
All this I've done—farewell—
—Thou wilt not shed one tear
In charity upon my grave. Not one!
Upon unhallowed ground my bones will lie—
And know no solitude. The busy tread
Of living feet will still disturb my sleep.
And this—for thee!—
Remember thou—that all he asked of thee
To cheer him in the bitterness of death,
And pay thy mighty debt—
Was but one innocent embrace—one kiss,
Which he had taken had he loved thee less.—
And that thou didst refuse him—and he died
Deserted even by thee!—

Ala.
(Faintly.)
Otho!

(The Prince raises his hands to heaven.)
Otho.
(Half retreating.)
—Ala!—

Ala.
Otho, farewell—a vow withholds me.—

Otho.
(Passionately—aside.)
O, I could clasp her to my heart
(Prince moves—Otho observes him.)
—The Prince!
(aside.)
Nay then, I'll be revenged!—
Ala—thou knowest me!

Ala.
Yes—Otho—I do know thee—thy great heart
Is full of energy—and since that hour
When thou didst bear me through the billows safe,
My heart hath clung to thee, I know not why—
I shudder when I hear thy thrilling voice,
And yet I love to listen!—for it seems
Like voices that have call'd me in my sleep.
And then, that dark imperial eye of thine!
I felt familiar with its glance.—
Sure I have known thee in some other life!

Otho.
(Triumphantly.)
Thou hast indeed!

Ala.
(Looking at him a moment—and continuing in a melancholy tone.)
I know not why—but I'm constrained to speak—
Forgive me heaven!—I'll tell thee from my soul
That I would rather share thy stormy fate
In peril, wretchedness and solitude,—
If I were free—than his—now wilt thou live?

Otho.
O yes, with that embrace—without it, no!
So help me heaven!

Ala.
O make me not thy murderer!
(Prince, increasing emotion.)
My vow is registered above—

Otho.
What vow?—when made? to whom?

Ala.
In childhood!—to a boy!—

Otho.
In childhood!—to a boy!
Woman!—art thou withheld by this?

Ala.
(Passionate enthusiasm.)
Withheld by this!
Would he were here!—that boy!—before our eyes—
Thou would'st not wonder that I made the vow—
He was a god!—and he was virtuous too—
O, thou would'st tremble in his youthful gaze,
As I now do in thine.—O, Osmyn! Osmyn!

Otho
(Reeling and clasping his hands in agony.)
Ala!— (Faintly.)
—Ala!

Ala.
(Catching his hand wildly.)
Who called me then.
Didst thou not hear a voice!
(Pause—listening.)
My guardian angel fled!—

(Bewildered.)
Otho.
Merciful heaven!—what is woman's love?—
(Seems her hand—she retreats to the shade—Prince unsheathes his sword, advances, and then returns to the gloom.)
O, thou wilt grant my prayer!

Ala.
(Faintly repulsing him.)
No, never! never!

(Otho sees the Prince with his sword drown.)
Otho.
Nay then—in desperation!

(Ala struggles—Prince uplifts his sword—Otho presses her to his heart—imprinie a kiss upon her lips— releases his hold as horrour-struck, she sinks to the floor, and the Prince rushes out.)
Otho.
(Standing before her as she recovers.)
Ala!— (Starting cry.)
Farewell, forever!

Ala.
(Wildly.)
Oh, mercy! mercy, Osmyn!—Where art thou! (Rises—staggers,and falls at his feet.)

Oh, who art thou!

Otho.
(Retreating franticly)
Away!—away!
My heart is broke.—
Oh, woman! woman! ye would yield your souls
To those your souls should hate.
(Advancing towards her.)
O, woman! woman! why not call on heaven!
Thy guards were here— (low voice)
—the Prince himself was here!
I would have spared thee!

(retreating.)
Ala.
(Calmly)
The deed is done!—my heart is broken forever—
My innocence is gone—my pride—my strength.—
I feel my Osmyn's curse!—O, this is guilt!
O, Osmyn! Osmyn!— (reels.)

No arm to save me!—none!—I fall! I fall!
My husband!—Irman! save me! save me!

(faints.)
(Otho rushes to her support—gates are thrown open— guards and Prince enter and form a group around her. Curtain drops.)