University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

A Room in Agolanti's House in Florence. Agolanti discovered looking out of an open window, and then quitting it. Sound of lutes in the distance.
Agolanti.
That sound of homeward lutes, which I arose
Out of my restless bed, to feel companion'd with,
For some few passing moments, was the last
To-night in Florence. Not a footstep more
Touches the sleeping streets; that now seem witch'd
With the same fears that walk around me still,
Ready to greet me with unbearable eyes.
All air seems whispering of me; and things visible
Take meaning in their shapes, not safe to know.
Oh that a masculine and religious soul
Should be thus feeble! And why? what should I fear?
My name has worship still; and still will have it,
If honourable wealth and sacred friends
Can shield it from mad envy; and if I err'd
Sometimes as husband, she I loved err'd more,
With spirit so swelling as outstrain'd her life.
Oh, every man's infirmities, more or less,
Mix with his love; and they who in excess
Feel not all passions, felt not love like mine,
Nor knew what worlds, when my despair seem'd angriest,
I could have given for one, for but one look
Of sure and heartfelt pity in her eyes.
But she is gone; and for whate'er I did
Not well, I have humbled me to the god of power;
And given the shrine, near which her dust is laid,
New glorious beams of paintings and of gold,
Doubling its heaven to the white angelical tapers;
For which, they say, the sovereign Holiness
Himself will thank me. And yet,—thus, even thus,
I feel,—a shudderer at the very silence,
Which seems preparing me some angriness.
I'll close the window; and rouse Ippolito
To read to me in some religious book.
[Going towards the window, he stops and listens.
What was it? a step? a voice?

Ginevra
(is heard outside).
Agolanti!
Francesco Agolanti! husband!

Agolanti
(crossing himself and moving towards the window).
It draws me,
In horror, to look on it.—Oh God!—I see it!
There is—something there—standing in the moonlight.

Ginevra.
Come forth, and help me in—Oh help me in!

Agolanti.
It speaks! (very loudly.)
I cannot bear the dreadfulness!
The horror's in my throat, my hair, my brain!
Detestable thing! witch! mockery of the blessed!
Hide thee! Be nothing! Come heaven and earth betwixt us!
[He closes the shutters in a frenzy, and then rushes apart.
Oh God! a little life;—a little reason;—
Till I reach the arms of the living.—Ippolito!
Tonio! Giuseppe! Lights! Wake Father Angelo!

[He staggers out.