University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

The inside of a Convent.
Enter Zelinda, Leonora, and Abbess.
LEONORA.
Alas! she wanders still—wide, wide from reason;
When, even the terrors of a day like this
Moved not her fear,—not even her notice.

ABBESS.
Truly
Her heart is overcharged; its vessels fill'd
With misery of its own, can echo to
None other. How she sighs! Oh! speak to her.

LEONORA.
Do you not know me, gentle friend?

ZELINDA.
How should I?
The world was peopled once with friends of mine,
When my dear father lived; but now they say
He's dead, and all my friends have left me too:
Yet you're a gentle lady, on whose face
I look with pleasure, for 'tis sorrowful.

LEONORA.
'Tis sorrowful indeed to see you thus.

ZELINDA.
Well, you may soon be satisfied; for death
May come as soon to me, as to my father.
Oh! can so great a change as death be wrought
In such an instant?—Life will scarce believe it.
Now living, moving, speaking, loving me;
And now insensible as yonder cloud
That makes, not hears, the thunder. Are the drums
To beat no more?

LEONORA.
Peace is restored, thank Heaven!

ZELINDA.
Peace! what is peace? You call the silence, peace,
That trembles after slaughter: nay, you give
The artful trick of nations, who will pause
But to gain strength, and so begin again,
The blessed name of peace! But if within
It dwell not—if its spirit be not here—
You talk a language, wilder than the wind
Conversing with the night, to call it peace,
When 'tis but quiet. Misery is quiet,
And I am quiet. Would I were at peace

LEONORA.
You see she noted the loud uproar too.
Is not this strange?

ABBESS.
'Tis oft with madness thus,
That though, to outward seeming, it observe not
The present thought or action, future chance
Will touch some string, that shews the memory,
In her crazed dwelling, to have treasured it.

Enter a Nun.
NUN.
Oh, Holy Mother, such a sight!

ABBESS.
Say, daughter, what sight?

NUN.
A wounded warrior at the gate,
Faint from the loss of blood, entreats admittance.

ABBESS.
Be he of Spain, such comfort as the place
Affords shall never be denied to him.

NUN.
He is of Spain; and, by his dress and bearing,
Of no inferior note.

ABBESS.
Conduct him hither.

[Exit Nun.
LEONORA.
I can look on the dead, but not the dying,
And this man comes to die.

ABBESS.
He's here already.

Enter Durazzo, wounded and bloody.
LEONORA.
Merciful powers! Durazzo! Come, my friend,
[To Zelinda.
This is no place—this is no sight for you.

DURAZZO.
Force not the beauteous ruin from mine eyes,
For I am come to gaze on it and die.

LEONORA.
Have you not done enough to make her wretched?

DURAZZO.
No; I must search her heart with one pang more,
And then my fate's fulfill'd.

LEONORA.
'Tis monstrous wrong.

DURAZZO.
'Tis justice, and not wrong, that brings me here.
Good mother, pardon me this seeming rudeness;
[To the Abbess.
The battle fever still is in my brain
And shoots my words out angrily; but I
Am grateful. Let me have a moment's speech
With yonder sweet unconscious sufferer,
Then, for my soul, say masses.

ABBESS.
Will you consent?
[To Leonora.
He will not harm her.

DURAZZO.
Harm her! If my heart,
Torn from its living cell, could give her rest
Or respite, you should see it at her feet:—
This hand should shew it you. Harm her!—harm Heaven!
Either were impious and impossible.

ABBESS.
I said you would not.

DURAZZO.
Look at her, Oh! look,
And judge how true you spoke. Is she not lovely,
And innocent, and gentle as the zephyr,
That blows the odour of the blossom round,
But never hurts the bloom? Harm her! my life!
A devil could not harm her.

ZELINDA.
Ha! that voice!
There is but one voice in the world I know,
And that it is I hear. What feeling 's this?
A sudden change, a consciousness I had not,
Breaks on the dark infirmity of mind—
Is madness giving way within me?

LEONORA.
Go:
The terror of your presence—

[To Durazzo.
DURAZZO.
Wakes her reason:
You would not, therefore, have me leave your friend!
She faints— (Zelinda falls into Leonora's arms.)
Now she revives, and the blue orbs
Of meaning, gather up their beams in thought.
She knows me—yes, she knows me! Oh, Zelinda!
I dare not clasp you, but I'll weep with you.

ZELINDA.
Stand off! By what miraculous power you wield
My senses at your will, I know not; but,
As you have power, have saintly pity in
The exercise. Let me be mad again.
Ha! Are you not a murderer?

DURAZZO.
Behold—
I bleed while you reproach.

ZELINDA.
Is't your own blood?
Sweet Leonora, are you with me too?
Oh! pity him. 'Twould be a crime in me.

LEONORA.
Pray you retire.

[To Durazzo.
DURAZZO.
Will she not hear me first?

ZELINDA.
Some other time.

DURAZZO.
I stand upon the verge
Of time, and you must hear me now or never.

ZELINDA.
What would you ask?

DURAZZO.
Forgive—

ZELINDA.
But that I see
The rapid strides of life to get away
From your embrace, I dare not utter pardon;
Yet, as we shall be soon in separate worlds,
Bear my forgiveness with you to the next.

DURAZZO.
Kneeling, I thank you; and thus measuring
The distance which my crimes should set between us,
Even after pardon, I stretch out mine arms
To bless—but not to touch you.

ZELINDA.
Oh! Durazzo,
There was a time—

DURAZZO.
Talk of that time, sweet maid;
Ambition stifled love awhile; but now
Love comes, as if to peep into my grave.
You said there was a time! say on.

ZELINDA.
Forget it,
For then my father lived, and you were guiltless.
You weep!

DURAZZO.
If lions weep, they weep such tears.
There is more anguish in one drop of mine
Than floods that fall from patient gentleness;
For mine are tortured from me: others flow,
But mine are tears that bleed.

ZELINDA.
Dry them, and leave me!

DURAZZO.
Zelinda, we shall never meet again;
'Twere wrong that we should part till all is perfect.

ZELINDA.
What is there more?

DURAZZO.
I will not pain you with
The story of my wrongs, nor strive to palliate
My great offences; what I could I did
This day to make atonement to the state.
But you, whom most I love, I most have injured.
No matter what contemptuous spurns, what taunts,
What provocations, drove me to the deed,
Nor what high domineering of the stars:
'Twas cruelty to you; and, being so,
Shall be revenged.

ZELINDA.
I understand you not;
Your eye is wild with passion.

DURAZZO.
Look on me
For the last time.

ZELINDA.
What mean you?

DURAZZO.
To be just.

ZELINDA.
Be merciful, and leave me.

DURAZZO.
Doubt it not.
My hour is come.—Look on me once—now turn
Thy face away. Farewell, thou last remember'd!
Death makes a sluggish journey in my veins,
But thus I bid him haste.

[Stabs himself.
ZELINDA.
Almighty Heaven!

DURAZZO.
The blood upon this dagger be the seal
Of peace between us.

ZELINDA.
Oh! Durazzo.

DURAZZO.
Speak!
For in such accents angels speak of mercy.

ZELINDA.
I cannot.

DURAZZO.
Then, farewell! The silent look
Shall satisfy,—and now—you are revenged.

[Dies.
ZELINDA.
He's dead! Durazzo's dead! The hand that saved
My life is lifeless; but I'll kiss the clay.
Who's there? my father! interposing—frowning!
I bow me to the interdict, and leave
The body to its last receptacle.

LEONORA.
Haste from this scene, my friend.

ZELINDA.
Oh, Leonora!

[Faints.
Enter King, Perez, Nobles, &c.
PEREZ.
Alas! my fears were true; there lies Durazzo.

KING.
The night upon his brow is that alone
In which his troubled spirit could find rest;
But he shall lie amongst the gallant slain,
And his last deeds shall speak his epitaph.