 | Love |  |
SCENE IV.
—A Room in the Castle.Enter Countess.
Count.
All is confirm'd—Each gives the same account
His mistress sees her mate. Of all her court
He is the only one, whose duties to her
She takes as favours, not as things of course.
He comes! Who stops him thus untimely? Oh,
How changed he is!—The fiery hardihood
Of the life he hath of late made consort of,
Has given another spirit to his eyes.
His face is cast anew, as circumstance
Could alter Nature's modelling and work,
Improving, on her mould. Is that the man,
Was, once, my father's serf? whom once I scorn'd?
Fell ever at my wayward frown that brow?
Or stoop'd that knee, for me, to kiss the ground?
Would it do it now? Fell ever at my feet
That form, as prostrate as the hand of death
Had struck it to the floor? 'Twould take that hand
To lay it, now, there—and a wave of mine
Had done it, once! If he confesses hold
Of any other, never shall he learn
His hold of me! If he bears me love,
I bless my stars I have the 'vantage-ground.
Huon enters, and remains standing at a distance, with his eyes on the ground.
Countess.
Is Huon here, and does not Huon speak?
[Pauses.
Absent so long, no greeting for a friend—
[Pauses.
A woman, too! [Pauses]
—No salutation, kind,
Prelude of happy news she'd joy to hear,—
Relation of adventures she would thrill
To listen to,—exploits she would wonder at,
And the next moment at her wonder blush,
Knowing whose arm achieved them!
Huon.
I am glad
To find you well.
Countess.
You are glad to find me well?
I hope you are! It were not saying much,
I trust, to say I know you are! You are glad
To find me well! Is that your news?
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Huon.
You wish'd to see me,
And I am here to learn your will.
Countess.
More news!
You are a friend worth parting with, you bring
Such marvels home with you. Some time methinks
Since last we met together, and you are glad
To find me well; and, as I wish'd to see you,
You are here to learn my will! You were not here, then,
Had not I sent for you.
Huon.
It would have been
Presumptuous.
Countess.
Presumptuous!
Huon.
Yes, madam,
In the serf.
Countess.
[With sudden indignation.]
No, sir, not in the favourite
Of the Empress!—Huon, this is not the way
We ought to meet! It should not be in anger!
You are come home, and you are welcome home.
Requires my tongue a backer to get credence?
Well! there's my hand beside. Do you not take
My hand?
Huon.
You are a noble lady, madam,
Whose father was my lord, by leave of whom,
I thought and had a will—did what I did—
Yea, kept the very blood within my veins.
Behoves it I should take his daughter's hand?
Countess.
You mock me!
Huon.
Would I did, and 'twere a dream!
But dreams are not repeated, day by day,
And day by day reminds me of a time
I was your father's serf.
Countess.
No more of this.
Huon.
Oh! would no more! The wounded body heals,
The pain is over, all is sound again,
A scar reminds you of it—nothing more!
Not so the heart, you lacerate it once!
Habit may dull, pursuit engross—divert—
But never are you ransom'd from the throe!
Live your meridian out, it comes again,
Fresh as at first, to make you writhe anew.
Countess.
We do not meet to talk of grievances,
Huon. I offer'd you my hand just now.
Why do you weep? I did not give it you
To kiss it with your tears!
Huon.
O, 'tis a hand
Thou hast forbidden mine to meet.
Countess.
No, Huon,
Not as a friend's!— [Recovering herself.]
—I'll see him clearly first—
[Aside.
Sit down and let us talk. I have fifty things
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To begin with. Huon, do you like the Empress?
Huon.
Like her?
Countess.
Yes; like her,—that's the word I said.
Perhaps it should be “love her?”
Huon.
Love her, madam!—
Countess.
[Interrupting him.]
I see you do! Go on? What were you going
To say?
Huon.
O contrast marvellous! beyond
Belief of nature!
Countess.
Ay! 'twixt her and me!
Go on! The contrast? Best we understand
Each other! Well? The contrast?
Huon.
'Twere as one
Should find the sun by following the night!
Should plunge into her regions, and for chill,
And gloom, and sterileness, find light, and warmth,
And verdure,—such as should belong to day!
'Twere as death own'd a heart, and life had none
But with the shows of animation
Harbour'd, within its breast, a core of stone,
While the still ribs of death held throbs beneath them!
Countess.
Am I that day, that life, compared to which
Death, night, are e'en so rich? Is she thou servest
That death, that night, preferr'd to life and day?
Huon.
O, I did love thee to oblivion
Of myself! What Nature gave me, to assert
The man, neglecting, as despiséd things
Compared to thee! That she intended me
For deeds of nobleness, I may confess,
Seeing that others own I have achieved them;
Yet I abused her bounties,—and, for what?
Scorns—wrongs—through love of thee, preferr'd them!
And which I bore, until the cause itself,
That made me bear them, thou wouldst make a means
Of yet unknown oppression. That I bore!
But, patience there gave up! Yes!—Not, until
Coercéd there—where, spared, I were content
To last the thrall of passion's lethargy—
Did I rebel! But when I was struck down
Prostrate, as, for the sake of flesh and blood,
Behoves not slave to lie,—with marvel on't
I waked to the sense of what I ought to be!
Of what, against my will, 'twas past the sport
Of power to change me from! A MAN!—and straight
A man I started up! a man, resolved
To use his attributes as fits a man;
To vindicate the ancient, common birth-right,
And answer the design of Him that framed him!
Countess.
So! You have register'd your debts to me,
No item overlook'd thou knowest of.
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Would blot out all the rest?—not known to thee;
A debt thy fairest dreams ne'er gave thee glimpse of,
Howe'er they buoy'd thee up; when, cast away
The clog that day put on, thou soar'dst as high
As e'er ambition left at large could wing,
Daring the eagle himself to follow thee!
Huon.
No debt that thou couldst name were gain to me.
I keep no register of aught between us.
Or, if I do, I never turn'd to it,
Unless enforced, as now. Whate'er has pass'd,
Is pass'd, and, profitless to memory,
Were better be forgotten.
Countess.
Ay? Indeed!
So easily done? Well, be it so! 'Tis past,
And, so, should be forgotten. Please you now
Turn to the Empress. You have painted me;
Proceed to her. Come, let me see what hand
You will make of her picture. When I ask'd you now
If you liked her, you but echo'd me!—and then
I ask'd you if you loved her, and again
You echo'd me! I want an answer, not
An echo! Well, sir? well?
Huon.
Madam, I love
And honour her.
[She starts from her seat; he rises also.
Countess.
Thou art rewarded, pride!—
Meet'st thy deserts! Show thy high breeding now!
Tread stately! throw thy spurning glances round!
And talk as mighty things as though the earth
Were made for thee alone! Where's thy domain?
Gone! And thy palace, what is it? a ruin!
And what art thou thyself? a beggar now!
Huon, you loved me once!
[Bursting into tears.
Huon.
I loved thee once!
Oh, tell me, when it was I loved thee not?
Was't in my childhood, boyhood, manhood? Oh!
In all of them I loved thee? And were I now
To live the span of my past life, twice told,
And then to wither, thou surviving me,
And yet I lived in thy sweet memory,
Then mightst thou say of me, “He loved me once;
But that was all his life!”
Countess.
'Twas heart for heart!
I loved thee ever! Yes! the love that now
Thrills on the woman's tongue; the girl's had told thee,
Had I been bold as fond; for, even then,
I saw thy worth; but did not see thy station,
Till others, not so well affected towards thee,
Reveal'd it to me by their cold regards.
I could not help my nature. From that time
Two passions strove in my divided soul
For mastery—scorn of thy station—love
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And growing stronger, till I thought their strife
Would shake my frame to dissolution! Yes!
O, Huon! when my brow sat cloudy, oft,
O'er my cold eye, that look'd askant at thee,
Thou little thought'st what friend there was within
Would make that brow clear as a summer sky,
That eye bright, glowing as a summer's sun,
To kindle thee—as they, their world, with life,
And health, and wealth, and gladness!
Huon.
Say'st thou this
To me? or do I dream I hear thee say it?
Or is the past a dream? I did not yield
At thy command, to marry Catherine?
Thou didst not see me wed her? Fancy forged
The ring I thought I put upon her finger?
Thou wast not by at all? From first to last,
Hadst not a hand in it? or, if thou hadst,
Why, then, untimely this unfold to me?
For well I know thee to be prime of all
Proud honour's children! Art thou offspring prime
Of cruelty as well? O, Heaven, to think
She loved me, and could give me to another,
Nor yet to her alone!—another!—
Countess.
Ha! Well?
Huon.
One who ne'er set eyes on me, until
An outcast, by her deed of hate, who loved me!
Saw me, a stranger, hunting after fortune,
And gave her hand to me could help me up!
Lavish'd her favours on me!—decorates
With honours, till beside the bright themselves
I lost no brightness!
Countess.
To the Empress?
Huon.
Yes!
Thou lovest me?—O, fate! There was a time,
'Twere more than bliss, if more could be, to know it;
But now 'tis misery!
Countess.
'Tis misery!
[Countess starts up again; Huon also rising.
Art thou in such a strait indeed as that,
To give my love for thee so harsh a name?
What shall I call it then? Coin me a name
Will stand for something worse than misery—
Will paint the case of a high, noble maid,
Who stoop'd to love a serf; nay, stopp'd not there,
But told her passion to him—Misery!
Huon.
I am no more a serf.
Countess.
Thou art ennobled;
Yet art thou still the same; thou hast won honours,
Rewards of deeds, in spite of thy base blood
Achieved by thee!
Huon.
Nay, madam, spare my blood,
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It is not base.
Countess.
It is!—What should it be
But base? A serf gave it to thee, a serf
Gave him his blood! Trace back the current, sir,
Far as you can, and you will find it base,
Nothing but base!
Huon.
Madam, men's natures are
Their blood; they have no other—high or low.
If base the current hitherto of mine,
It ceased with me. Born in thy father's house
A serf, I left it one, to seek my fortune,
Make it or mar it, for promotion having
No other patron than my own right arm,
And my own heart and head to guide and nerve it;
And with their help, I see that house again,
An independent, self-exalted man,
While many a son, who left a noble home.
With blood untainted for a thousand years,
Returns to it no better than he left it.
Is my blood base?
Countess.
No, Huon! mine was base
To let me call it so. Alas! alas!
And hast no better welcome for my love
Than that sad word thou spok'st?
Huon.
What word so fit?
What is it to a man condemn'd to die,
To tell him of a treasure left to him?
Shall he be glad and thank his lucky stars,
Or shall not that, their bounty, aggravate
The ruin, makes it vain!
Countess.
Condemn'd to die?
Resemblest thou a man condemn'd to die?
Huon.
Why didst thou drive me from thee by that act?
Countess.
That act was nothing; 'twas thy flight,
And that which follow'd it. Thou art entangled—
And thank thy flight. Oh! Huon, were thy love
In daring enterprise the tithe of mine,
'Twould attempt something to enlarge thee from
The cause thou art prisoner to!
Huon.
It cannot cease,
Except with life.
Countess.
The Empress loves thee, Huon!
Huon.
No.
Countess.
But she does.
Thou art her favourite. She
Hath chain'd thee to her throne.
Huon.
No.
Countess.
But she has!
Thou hast made merchandise,
Most shameful merchandise, of thy allegiance!
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Will fall to powder!
Huon.
Broken oaths!
Countess.
Yes, oaths!
Thy life was all one oath of love to me!
Sworn to me daily, hourly, by thine eyes,
Which, when they saw me, lighten'd up, as though
An angel's presence had enhanced their vision,
That I have seen their very colour change,
Subliming into hues past earthliness.
Talk of the adjuration of the tongue—
Compare love's name, a sound which any lip
May pipe! a breath!—with holy love itself!
Thou'rt not forsworn, because thou took'st no oath?
What were thy accents then? thy accents, Huon?
Language that turn'd thy lightest words to oaths,
Vouching the burden of a love-fraught soul!
Telling a tale which my young nature caught
With interest so deep, 'twas conn'd by heart
Before I knew the fatal argument!
Huon, I charge thee quit the service of
The Empress!
Huon.
'Twere against all honour.
Countess.
No!
Give up her service!
Huon.
'Twere ingratitude.
Countess.
Ingratitude for what!
Huon.
She has advanced me
Past my deserts.
Countess.
No, I deny it! No!
Not equal to them! No! Thy golden deeds
She has repaid with tinsel!
Ulrick.
[Entering.]
Please you, sir,
The Empress summons you.
Countess.
You are not going?
Huon.
My presence is commanded.
Countess.
Are you going?
Ulrick.
My lord!
Huon.
I come.
Countess.
You are going, then?
Huon.
I must go.
Countess.
You must? Then go! Go, and farewell for ever!
[They go out.
| Love | |