University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

A cell.
Vivia alone.
VIVIA.
If I could only breathe, or have but one
Of all those myriad idle water-drops
Playing in light around my garden-fountains!
Patience!—I know it, and I would be patient;
Only this whirling round and round within
Strangles those thoughts should bring me strength and peace.
These faces, looking at me through my hands,—
These voices, moaning in my ears like winds,—
If they would go! Now, now, how loud they are!
All fancy—fancy; reason says 'tis fancy.
The sense is all that's mad. A dreadful story!
So mad 'twill get the better. Air!—To the door.
[She rises.
All things are dizzy; and the slimy wall
Goes sliding down beneath my hands. That flash
Across the eyes,—how real! how like the lightning!
How could the lightning see to find its way?
I know not which is real, and which is mad.
Hark, there's a crash! Sure that was from without.
Silence again. No; a faint cry,—“My child,—”
My child,—he wants me, cries for me. Help! open!
The iron burns; my heart on fire, dries up
The fount should slake the flame consuming him.
Open the door!

VIVIUS
(without).
My child!—open the door!
Quick!—quick!

VIVIA.
My father! Help, Almighty God!

[She sinks.
Enter Vivius.
VIVIUS.
Thou call'st on Jupiter! I knew 'twas false.
(Keep ope that door,—in mercy, shut it not.)
Vivia, my girl! look up—look up; thou'rt safe!
Thou'rt in thy father's arms. There—courage, courage!
Come, kiss me; wind thine arms about his neck,
Who never knew he lov'd thee until now.
Thou call'st on Jupiter; and he will hear thee!
He, the Great Thunderer, on their heads shall wreak
A tenfold vengeance. Shrink not! us will he spare,
When he beholds how child and father love,—
Never till now knew I how well, nor thou.
Thou canst not tell what I will be to thee!
Thou call'st on Jupiter! My hope, my Vivia,
That one appeal unto our ancient god
Summons a thousand deities around
To light thy prison-gloom with radiant promise.
A few short hours, and all our cares are o'er.
Oh! I will lead thee forth, like to a Grace
(As thou wert ever!) deck'd with rosy wreaths,
A chaplet in thy hand, which thou shalt lay
Upon the altar of almighty Jove;
While thousands rend the air with shouts of joy,
To hail alike thy beauty and my triumph!

VIVIA.
Oh, speak not thus!

VIVIUS.
The tone doth startle thee.
How thou dost quiver! Gentle!—I will be gentle
To thee—to those who thus have shatter'd thee—

VIVIA.
My boy—my Thascius!

VIVIUS.
Why, what a burst is this?
He shall come to thee. Peace! Nay, nay, thou'rt weak;
Lean on me. Cling, cling! I will bear thee yonder.
Gods! and is this thy couch? Stay, let my robe,—
There—rest!—Thy father's breast will serve for pillow.

VIVIA.
No resting-place for me;—alas, alas!

VIVIUS.
Rock not thy body thus. What should I do?
Jove! what a reck'ning will I have for this!
But listen! There stays one without, who came
Earnest to see thee: 'tis a faithful youth;
For when denied, he laid him down beside
The prison-gate, and ne'er hath stirr'd him since.
See, I will send my tablets by Cæcilius,
To bid them bring the child to thee with speed.

VIVIA.
Away, my father, thou!

VIVIUS.
Go for him? well,
Aught for thy peace. And now be well prepar'd:
One trial more—but one; it is the last.
To-morrow they will lead thee to the Forum.
Fear not; I will be there.

VIVIA.
Oh, no, no, no!

VIVIUS.
What, canst thou doubt it? 'tis thy weakness speaks,
And not thyself. Courage, my Vivia, courage!
The boy shall bring thee ease, and ease bring sleep.
All will go well. I dare not tell thee now
What hopes, what plans:—why, the bare words have thrill'd thee.
I do thee harm; I'll send, not come again:
Though I would be the gentlest nurse, my blood
Leaps to redeem our wrongs. Forgive—farewell!

VIVIA.
Forgive! farewell!—oh, those are words for me.
Once more thine arms about me, O my father!

VIVIUS.
I will not quit thee thus.

VIVIA.
You must, you must!
Have I not lov'd thee?

VIVIUS.
Well.

VIVIA.
And love thee still?

VIVIUS.
Who doubts thy love?

VIVIA.
It may be thee, full soon!
But never when home-hours were at their sweetest,
When thou unto thy child didst shew the fondest,
And she most loving, gentle to thy will,—
Oh, never did she love thee thus, nor pray
As now she prays to heav'n for thee. O God
Our Father, save and bless him!

VIVIUS.
And bless thee.—
Hush, do not speak again—thou art bewilder'd.
Soon, very soon, thy comfort comes; and then
All will be well. These tears again!—no more:
Remember, hope and triumph are the words.
A kiss! Hush!—quiet, quiet! Now, farewell.