University of Virginia Library

ACT III

Scene I

Midnight. A part of Castel-Roussillon showing a terrace beneath à balconied window on whose railing of stone the Lady Margherita leans speaking to Cabestaing, booted, spurred, and cloaked for travel.
Cabestaing:
I must be gone now. Soon it will be dawn.
Dawn! and the new life far away from thee.—
God grant me strength now, double strength to do,
To wrest from Fate the happiness we demand.
I will be brave; and be thou, sweet, the same.
Shed no more tears.—Look where the star of promise,
Bright in the east, climbs upward heralding dawn.—
The night is old. I must be far ere morn.

Margherita:
Thou wilt return not later than a sennight.
I will find means of ingress. In some way
I will contrive it. Love, when lovers will,
Can overbear all obstacles. The days
Will pass on iron feet until the night
When thou art here again.—Farewell, my troubadour.
I kiss thy mouth and eyes. Farewell again.

Cabestaing:
My heart is as a lute beneath thy eyes,
Responding each emotion of thy soul.
Removed from thee, dejection shall untune
Its chords and all its golden music fail.
I would not leave thee yet! But I must go.
I fear some harm may come to thee tomorrow,
And I would be here as thy true protector.—
'T is cockcrow.—Hark!—Oh grief that I must go!

Margherita:
Harm would come to thee by remaining here.
No greater grief than that could happen me.—
Yea, we must part now. There's no other way.

Cabestaing:
My songs, like prayers, shall ascend for thee,
And reach the shrine of Him who hath in care
The hearts of lovers.—I will write to thee.
God guard thee always.

Margherita:
And be kind to thee.—
Farewell again.

Cabestaing:
Farewell, my Margherita.

[Margherita retires slowly from the balcony. Cabestaing wraps his cloak about him and remains a moment watching the window where she disappeared. Then reluctantly turns to retrace his way through the garden when from behind a clump of roses steps the Baron of Roussillon.
Raymond
(hoarsely):
Dogs should be killed like dogs! (Plunges a poniard into the breast of Cabestaing.)
Thou didst not know a snake
Lay listening mid the roses, and would strike.

Cabestaing
(as he falls):
This is thy way then!—Oh, thou vile assassin!

Raymond
(with a snarl-like smile):
What? didst thou think that, sword to duelling sword,
I would seek satisfaction of a dog?—
Oh, no! my vengeance would be swift and sure
As is the lightning.—But thou liv'st too long!

[Stabs him again.
Cabestaing
(as by a supreme effort rising and leaning on one arm):
Warm from her arms I go to meet my God,
Her kisses on my lips!—To slay thy peace—
Let—that—thought—stab—thy—soul!—

[Dies.
Raymond:
Her kisses?—yea!—
May they turn fire to burn thee there in Hell!—
Thou liest still at last thy last song sung!—
Go! sing thy wild songs there, now, with thy fellows
Among the devils of Hell! (Spurns the body with his foot.)
Sing, carrion, sing!—
What! canst thou not?—What will Seduction say,—
To whom thou strung'st thy lute-strings,—when it learns
Its bard's hot heart is cold!
[Kneels and listens at Cabestaing's breast.
Yea; it is hushed.
I thought it would be singing—but 't is still.—
So full of song thy heart was, songs of love,
I feared that such a little thing as this,
A sliver of steel, could never still it.—So!—
[Rising and gazing down upon the body as he sheathes his poniard.
It sings no more, no more!—Where are they now
Those soaring strains? that mounting spirit of song?
That fluttered like a lark and nightingale
Around the yearning heaven of her soul ...
O thou once-singing heart that sang her well,
Thou shalt lie near her! closer to her breast
Than ever heart before.—I will be kind!—
To both of you be kind!—But she must never
Divine it till the last.—We will retire.—
Her balcony views this spot.—I 've work to do. ...

[Exit dragging the body of Cabestaing.

Scene II

Late Morning. The Banqueting Hall as in Act Second, Scene First. Margherita, Beatrix, Ermengard, Malamort, Aubert, and Giraud at table. Attendants and pages waiting.
Beatrix:
My Lord lies late.

Margherita:
He was an early riser,
So says Sir Malamort, who saw him ride
Forth from the castle, saddled for the chase.

Ermengard:
Haply he goes to hunt the boar I hear
Hath wasted half the County.

Malamort:
Nay: he hunts no boar.
It is a hart he hunts: a mighty stag
That haunts the forests round of Roussillon.

Margherita:
We will be served. He may not come till eve.

[Pages and attendants bring in various dishes.
Aubert
(to Beatrix):
As for the boar thou spokest of just now—
Would that our Lord would have the boarhounds out.
We have grown stale here for amusement.

Beatrix
(laughing):
Why,
Thou 'rt gallant to us Ladies!—Hunt thy boar;
I'll hawk for herons—or for hares like thee.

Giraud
(with enthusiasm):
A boar-hunt, Ladies! nothing could be better.

Margherita
(with decision):
Raymond shall have the honor of its slaying!
He hath grown strange of late; and I will wager
He hunts this monster without men or dogs.

Ermengard:
'T were death to any man.

Margherita:
But not to Raymond.
I'll wager that he hunt the beast alone,
And bring its head back to adorn our Hall.

Malamort:
I take thy wager, Lady Margherita.
A hundred ducats.

Aubert:
I will add to that
A hundred more.

Giraud:
And not to be alone
Out of this Danaë shower, whose gold shall make
A god of Raymond, I will wage a hundred.

Margherita:
Three hundred ducats then. The wager stands.

[Enter Raymond, pale, and cloaked and booted as if just returned from the hunt. All rise as he enters.
Raymond:
Be seated.

[They seat themselves again while Raymond remains standing.
Margherita
(looking at him intently):
Thou art tired and disturbed.—
But, that aside, we have a wager here,
These Chevaliers and I.

Raymond
(mechanically):
A wager?—Well:
Take care lest thou shouldst lose it.

Margherita
(laughing incredulously):
Nay; not I.
I know my Lord too well.—'T is of a boar,
A devastating beast which thou shalt hunt,—
[With slow, deep-measured emphasis.
Alone, with neither men nor dogs to aid thee.

Beatrix:
'T is a huge monster, Roussillon, that holds
The neighbouring peasantry in terror. Ay!
A child it hath devoured, and hath slain
Six stalwart men, they say, who went to slay it.

Malamort
(laughing):
And countless dogs its mighty tusks have ripped
Sending them howling to the Heaven of Dogs.

Raymond
(who has remained darkly silent):
Ay? is it so?—And thou hast wagered now
That I shall hunt, unmanned, undogged, this beast
That hath slain several men and many dogs?

[He stares steadily into the eyes of Margherita and slowly seats himself without removing his gaze from her face.
Margherita
(sneering):
Thou wilt not hunt it, and I lose my wager!
I see thou wilt not, for thy face is pale—
[Scornfully
With fear.—I lose my wager, Chevaliers.

Raymond
(smiling darkly):
Nay; nay; not yet. When monsters make me fear
Let dead men laugh.—Yea; I will hunt this boar;
Sans men, sans dogs; and, if thou ask it, too,
Sans arms and horse—But, I will hunt this boar.

Margherita
(eagerly):
Thy dagger must thou have, for thou must bring
Its huge head to us, as a proof 't is slain.

Raymond:
This poniard then (touching the dagger at his girdle)
shall do the bloody work—
Or shall it be a spear?

Margherita:
Either, I care not.
Dagger or spear, it matters not to me.

Beatrix
(aside to Ermengard):
She sends him forth to certain death, by Heaven!

Ermengard
(aside):
He knows it. But what purpose lies behind?

Beatrix
(aside):
Canst thou not see 't is Cabestaing?

Raymond
(hearing Cabestaing's name; solemnly):
He rose
Betimes, like any lark, our troubadour,
And bade me bid you all a long adieu.
I saw him off. He rode to Avignon—
Or so I think—to seek his fortune there
With other troubadours at the Court of Love.
Lord Robert and his Lady left with him.
He will beguile their way, I have no doubt,
And breach the fortress of my Lady's heart,
Ere they arrive, with chanson or a sonnet.—
But are you served?—

Margherita:
We are, my Lord.

Raymond:
'T is well.—
I have a dainty for thee. 'T is prepared.
Let it be served.

[Motioning a page who retires.
Margherita:
Is 't fish or fowl, my Lord?

Raymond:
'T is neither fowl nor fish; but most sweet flesh.
It is a heart—of which thou art right fond.

Margherita
(smiling):
Yea, I am fond of hearts. Let it be served.

[A heart on a golden platter is brought in by the page and placed before Margherita.
Raymond:
This is a delicate morsel. Good Pierre,
Our excellent cook, prepared it only now
According to a recipe I had
Of that stout epicure, my brother Robert.

Margherita:
'T is served in state; on gold; and must be royal.

Raymond
(significantly):
Ay; royal was it when it throbbed with life.

Margherita:
A stag's, perhaps.—A stag's, thou hast just slain?

Raymond:
A noble stag's. The heart of a great stag I slew this morning.
[Margherita tastes of the heart. Raymond never removes his eyes from her face. Then perceiving that, under the intensity of his gaze, she hesitates:
Yea; wilt thou not eat?—
There is no heart like this in the whole world.

Margherita
(a look of fear gradually coming into her face):
The heart! (shuddering)
—its savour is most strange! most sweet!—
I never tasted flesh like this before.—
I can not, can not!—
(recoiling from Raymond's

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eyes):
Why dost thou glare so
With thy fierce eyes?— (terror in her voice):
Tell me, what thing was this,
Whose heart thou 'dst have me eat?

Raymond
(producing the head of Cabestaing from beneath his hunting-cloak here he has held it concealed during all this time):
This was the stag,
Whose heart was served thee now.—Wilt thou refuse it?

Malamort
(starting up from the table with the others):
'T is Cabestaing! The head of Cabestaing!

[Cries of Cabestaing! throughout the Hall, which quickly empties itself of guests indiscriminately mingled with pages and attendants. Margherita sits staring at the head which Raymond has placed on the table immediately facing her. Then, rising like an automaton, with her eyes fixed upon the ghastly countenance of Cabestaing, she speaks in a voice that seems to come from

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an immeasurable distance, thin, strained and full of unspeakable horror.
Margherita:
The heart of him I love?—Of Cabestaing?—
Oh, no, no, no!—It is some horrible jest!—
No man that lives could do a thing like this!—
A demon's deed like this!— (maddening at his silence and the intensity of his gaze):
Say thou hast jested!—
Say it, thou fiend!—Say that this heart,
Which thou hast served here, is not his!—It is
Some fawn's!—some animal's of the woods!—a dog's!—

Raymond
(mercilessly):
A dog's!—Ay! 't was a dog's!—A dog that fawned
And licked my hand and looked with lecherous eyes
Upon my wife, who loved the hound too well!—
The dead dog Cabestaing's!—

Margherita
(tottering; with closed eyes; her voice almost inarticulate with horror and anguish):
O God! O God!—
'T is true! 't is true!—He speaks the truth.—The head
Is Cabestaing's! the heart—my God!—was his!—
[Opening her eyes, that seek Raymond's face.
Never was crime like this before!—I see
The demon in his eyes that did this deed,
Exultingly, as devils torture souls.—
O God! O God!— (blazing into fury):
Unutterable beast!
Since this is true (speaking low and with strained intensity):
that I have eaten of
The heart of love and song,—know now—for fear
That I may ever lose the taste of flesh
So sweet, so poignant sweet—as long as life
Homes in this wretched body that I loathe,
No other food shall pass these lips.—May God
Have mercy on my soul!—

Raymond
(infuriated):
Magnificent harlot!—
Not to thy God, but Hell, commend thy soul!
Go meet thy lover there!—This steel, (drawing his dagger)
that drank
The life of Cabestaing, thirsts now for thine.
I should have sent you shrieking there last night
When here I found you, hungering face to face.

[He approaches her slowly from the end of the table. She retreats, facing towards him, till she reaches the casement opening on the stone balcony at the farther end of the Hall that overlooks the bastioned precipice of the castle's foundations.
Margherita:
Clean of thy touch my soul shall meet his soul!

[Leaps into the abyss.
Raymond:
That way was best.—Now I will hunt my boar!

Curtain