University of Virginia Library

Scene IV.

—The Vestibule of the Church of St. Nicholas. —At the further end of it Van Ryk is seen keeping guard over the door which gives access to the church tower.—In front, Clara appears, followed at a little distance by Van Aeswyn.
Clara.
Still he pursues me; but this must not be.
How now, good Sir? whom seek you?

Aeswyn.
With your leave,
I have an errand for your private ear.

Clara.
My private ear! I have no private ear.
My ears will not be private.

Aeswyn.
I beseech you
To pardon my presumption.

Clara.
Well, what then?
It is not past forgiveness; no, no, no;
I freely pardon you.

Aeswyn.
I thank you, madam;
And were I but permitted to speak out
All that he bade me say—

Clara.
That he!—what he?

Aeswyn.
The Lord of Arlon, madam.

Clara.
Lord of what?

Aeswyn.
Sir Walter, Lord of Arlon.

Clara.
Oh! Sir Walter,—
Sir Walter D'Arlon—a good Knight, they say:
He sent his service, did he?—a good Knight.
I knew him once—he came to Ghent—O God!
I'm sick—the air is hot, I think—yes, hot!
I pray you pardon me—we get no rest
In this beleaguer'd town—no anything—
This is the time of day I use to faint;
But I shall miss to do it for this once;
So please you to proceed.

Aeswyn.
There's here a bench;
If you'll be seated: for you look so pale. . . .

Clara.
No, I can stand—I think—Well then, I'll sit.
So now, your errand?

Aeswyn.
The Lord of Arlon, madam,
Imparted to me that of all the griefs
That Fortune had dealt out to him, was none
So broke his spirit as the cruel thought
That you in some sort must partake the woes
Of this so suffering city: he could ne'er
Lay lance in rest or do a feat of arms
But thoughts arose that stung him to the heart,
And each success that should have brought him joy
Was turn'd to bitterness, seeming nought else
But injury to his love. Thus is he now
A man whose heart resents his handiwork,
And all his pleasure in the war is poison'd.

Clara.
Poor D'Arlon! but I cannot help him.

Aeswyn.
Well,
Himself thinks otherwise; he bade me say
That he implores you to fly hence to him.

Clara.
No; never, never!

Aeswyn.
And his aunt at Bruges,
The Prioress, will have you in her care
Till it shall please you to permit his suit.

Clara.
I tell thee, never! I a fugitive! No;
Whilst Philip lives and holds the city out,
Nor pestilence nor famine, fire nor sword,
Shall part us, though an Angel called me hence.
Much may he lose, and much that's far more worth,
But never this reliance.

Aeswyn.
With your leave,
I would make bold to ask you if your flight
In these extremities might not rejoice
Rather than grieve him?

Clara.
No, Sir, you mistake,
Knowing nor him nor me: we two have grown
From birth on my side, boyhood upon his,
Inseparably together, as two grafts
Out of the self-same stock; we've shared alike
The sun and shower and all that Heaven has sent;
I've loved him much and quarrell'd with him oft,
And all our loves and quarrels past are links
No adverse Fates can sever. We are one.
And I am useful, too; he'll tell you that;
We Arteveldes were made for times like these;
The Deacon of the Mariners said well
That we are of such canvas as they use
To make storm-stay-sails. I have much in charge,
And here I stay.

Aeswyn.
Then must I say you never—

Clara.
Alas, poor D'Arlon! said I never? No;
That is a sharp, unkindly-sounding word.
Tell him to ask me when the siege is raised.
But then he shall not need: he can come hither;
But tell him—of your knowledge—not from me—
The woman could not be of Nature's making
Whom, being kind, her misery made not kinder.

Aeswyn.
The thought of that may solace him. Farewell.

Clara.
Farewell. I mount the tower to look abroad.
After your conference at noon, they say,
My brother arm'd himself and bade his horse
Be ready harness'd in his mail complete;
And though you keep his secret, I surmise
That were I mounted on the church-tower top,
There's something I might see.

Aeswyn.
To come from Bruges?
No, nothing, Lady, thence.

Clara.
But yet I'll look.

[She approaches the door of the Tower and meets Van Ryk, who plants himself before her.
Van Ryk.
You cannot pass, my Lady.

Clara.
How! not pass?

Van Ryk.
The door is lock'd; your brother keeps the key.
My orders are of rigour, come what may,
To suffer none to pass.

Clara.
How could they pass,
If what thou say'st be true? Thou hast the key.

Van Ryk.
Upon my faith I have it not.

Clara.
So, so!
A courteous usage for a lady this!
But hither comes my prince of spies, the Page,
To tell what's doing.

Enter Page.
Page.
Here's a feat indeed!
A glorious enterprise afoot!

Clara.
Nay; what?
What is it? tell us true.

Page.
Illustrious Lady!
The name of Artevelde shall live for ever!
For Master Philip leads five thousand men
This very night to storm the gates of Bruges.

Clara.
Thou dost not say it?

Page.
True as written book.

Clara.
There's that then shall make Flanders hold her breath,
There's that shall startle Ghent with fearful hope,
And though 'tis shame in such an hour as this
To think of aught so idle, yet 'tis true
There's liberty for me: if Philip goes,
What bondage bids me stay?

Aeswyn.
Most surely none;
And therefore hence to Bruges whilst yet time serves.

Clara.
Nay, nay, Sir, not so fast; gain Philip first,
And then come back to me and take your chance.

[Exeunt Clara, Van Aeswyn, and Page.
Enter Artevelde,who advances to the door of the Tower where Van Ryk is stationed.
Artevelde.
How fares our friend within? set ope the door.

Van Ryk.
Oh, Sir! you must not enter; he is mad.
I would not give a denier for the life
Of any that should enter now; he's arm'd,
And storms and rages like a man possess'd.

Artevelde.
Whence tak'st thou that conclusion?

Van Ryk.
For three hours
He strove and shouted as though fifty fiends
Did battle on the narrow stair; and once
He flung his body with such desperate force
Against the door, that I was much in doubt
Whether the triple bars could hold their own.
Then—God be merciful! the oaths and curses!
Faster they came than I could tell my beads.

Artevelde.
But all is silent now.

Van Ryk.
The last half-hour
I have not heard him.

Artevelde.
Open me the door.

Van Ryk.
Surely you will not enter?

Artevelde.
Nay, I must.
We must be friends again. I want his aid.

Van Ryk.
He will assault you ere a word be said.

Artevelde.
He is a hasty man; but we must meet.

Van. Ryk.
Then I will enter with you.

Artevelde.
No, Van Ryk;
I seek his confidence; a show of force
Were sure to baffle me. I go alone.

Van Ryk.
For mercy's sake, forbear. Should you go in,
Or you or he will ne'er come out alive.

Artevelde.
Nay, nay, thou know'st not with what winning ways
I can sleek down his wrath. Stand fast below,
I charge thee, and let no intrusive step
Trouble my conference with Van den Bosch.

[Exit.
Van Ryk.
It shall not trouble him to creep up behind
And hearken on the stair. No sin in that.