University of Virginia Library

Scene IV.

—Beatrice's chamber. A Venetian screen on the right. As the scene opens, Jacinta places lamps on a standish, and retires to the back of the stage. Beatrice sits on a fauteuil in the attitude of listening.
BEATRICE.
Hist! that's his step. Jacinta, place the lights
Farther away from me, and get thee gone.
[Exit Jacinta.
And Florian, child, keep you behind the screen,
Breathing no louder than a lily does;
For if you stir or laugh 't will ruin all.

FLORIAN.
[Behind the screen.]
Laugh! I am faint with terror.

BEATRICE.
Then be still.
Move not for worlds until I touch the bell,
Then do the thing I told you. Hush! his step
Sounds in the corridor, and I'm asleep!

Lara enters with his dress in disorder. He approaches within a few yards of Beatrice, pauses, and looks at her.
LARA.
Asleep!—and Guilt can slumber! Guilt can lie
Down-lidded and soft-breathed, like Innocence!
Hath dreams as sweet as childhood's—who can tell?—
And paradisal prophecies in sleep,
Its foul heart keeping measure, as it were,
To the silver music of a mandoline!
Were I an artist, and did wish to paint
A devil to perfection, I'd not limn
A hornéd monster, with a leprous skin,
Red-hot from Pandemonium—not I.
But with my delicatest tints, I'd paint
A Woman in the splendor of her youth,
All garmented with loveliness and mystery!
She should be sleeping in a room like this,
With Angelos and Titians on the walls,
The grand old masters staring grandly down,
Draped round with folds of damask; in the alcoves,
Statues of Bacchus and Endymion,
And Venus's blind love-child: a globed lamp
Gilding the heavy darkness, while the odors
Of myriad hyacinths should seem to break
Upon her ivory bosom as she slept;
And by her side, (as I by Beatrice,)
Her injured lord should stand and look at her!

[Pauses.
[Beatrice sighs.
[Unsheathes a dagger
BEATRICE.
[Springing up.]
So, you are come—your dagger in your hand?
Your lips compressed and blanchéd, and your hair
Tumbled wildly all about your eyes,
Like a river-god's? Oh! love, you frighten me!
And you are trembling. Tell me what this means.

LARA.
Oh! nothing, nothing—I did think to write
A note to Juan, to Signor Juan, my friend,
(Your cousin and my honorable friend;)
But finding neither ink nor paper here,
Methought to scratch it with my dagger's point
Upon your bosom, Madam! That is all.

BEATRICE.
You've lost your senses!

LARA.
Madam, no: I've found 'em!

BEATRICE.
Then lose them quickly, and be what you were.

LARA.
I was a fool, a dupe—a happy dupe.
You should have kept me in my ignorance;
For wisdom makes us wretched, king and clown.
Countess of Lara, you are false to me!

BEATRICE.
Now, by the Saints—

LARA.
Now, by the Saints, you are!

BEATRICE.
Upon my honor—

LARA.
On your honor? fye!
Swear by the ocean's feathery froth, for that
Is not so light a substance.

BEATRICE.
Hear me, love!

LARA.
Lie to that marble Io! I am sick
To the heart with lying.

BEATRICE.
You've the ear-ache, Sir,
Got with too much believing.

LARA.
Beatrice,
I came to kill you.

BEATRICE.
Kiss me, Count, you mean!

LARA.
[Approaching her.]
If killing you be kissing you, why yes.

BEATRICE.
Ho! come not near me with such threatening looks,
Or I'll call Florian and Jacinta, Sir,
And rouse the villa: 't were a pretty play
To act before our servants!

LARA.
Call your maids!
I'll kill them, too, and claim from Royalty
A golden medal and a new escutcheon,
For slaying three she-dragons—but you first!

BEATRICE.
Stand back there, if you love me, or have loved!

As Lara advances, Beatrice retreats to the table and rings a small hand-bell. Florian, in the dress of a page, enters from behind the screen, and steps between them.
FLORIAN.
What would my master, Signor Juan, say—

LARA.
[Starting back.]
The Page? now, curse him!—What? no! Florian?
Hold! 't was at twilight, in the villa-garden,
At dusk, too, on the road to Mantua;
But here the light falls on you, man or maid!
Stop now; my brain 's bewildered. Stand you there,
And let me touch you with incredulous hands!
Wait till I come, nor vanish like a ghost!
If this be Juan's page, why, where is Florian?
If this be Florian, where 's—by all the Saints,
I have been tricked!

FLORIAN.
[Laughing.]
By two Saints, with your leave!

LARA.
The happiest fool in Italy, for my age!
And all the damning tales you fed me with,
You Sprite of Twilight, Imp of the old Moon!—

FLORIAN.
[Bowing.]
Were arrant lies as ever woman told;
And though not mine, I claim the price for them—
This cap stuffed full of ducats twice a year!

LARA.
A trap! a trap that only caught a fool!
So thin a plot, I might have seen through it.
I've lost my reason!

FLORIAN.
And your ducats!

BEATRICE.
And
A certain set of turquoise at Malan's!

LARA.
[Catching Beatrice in his arms
I care not, love, so that I have not lost
The love I held so jealously. And you—
You do forgive me? Say it with your eyes.
Right sweetly said! Now, mark me, Beatrice:
If ever man or woman, ghoul or fairy,
Breathes aught against your chastity—although
The very angels from the clouds drop down
To sign the charge of perfidy—I swear,
Upon my honor—

BEATRICE.
Nay, be careful there!
Swear by the ocean's feathery froth—

LARA.
I swear,
By heaven and all the Seraphim—

BEATRICE.
[Placing her hand on his mouth.
I pray you!

LARA.
I swear—if ever I catch Florian
In pointed doublet and silk hose again,
I'll—

BEATRICE.
What?

LARA.
Make love to her, by all that's true!

BEATRICE.
O wisdom, wisdom! just two hours too late!
You should have thought of that before, my love.

LARA.
It 's not too late!

BEATRICE.
[To Florian.]
To bed, you dangerous page!
The Count shall pay the ducats.

[Exit Florian.]
LARA.
And to-morrow
I'll clasp a manacle of blue and gold
On those white wrists. Now, Beatrice, come here,
And let me kiss both eyes for you!