University of Virginia Library


96

Scene III.

—A wooded road near the villa. The garden-gate seen on the left. Lara leaning against a tree Evening.
LARA.
Sorrow itself is not so hard to bear
As the thought of sorrow coming. Airy ghosts,
That work no harm, do terrify us more
Than men in steel with bloody purposes.
Death is not dreadful; 't is the dread of death—
We die whene'er we think of it!
I'll not
Be cozened longer. When the page comes out
I'll stop him, question him, and know the truth.
I cannot sit in the garden of a night
But he glides by me in his jaunty dress,
Like a fantastic phantom!—never looks
To the right nor left, but passes gayly on,
As if I were a statue. Soft, he comes,
I'll make him speak, or kill him; then, forsooth,
It were unreasonable to ask it. Soh!
I'll speak him gently at the first, and then—

97

The Page enters by a gate in the villa-garden, and walks carelessly past the Count.
Ho! pretty page, who owns you?

PAGE.
No one now.
I was the Signor Juan's, but am no more.

LARA.
What, then, you stole from him?

PAGE.
Oh! no, Sir, no.
He had so many intrigues on his hands,
There was no sleep for me nor night nor day.
Such carrying of love-favors and pink notes!
He's gone abroad now, to break other hearts
And so I left him.

LARA.
A frank knave.

PAGE.
To-night
I've done his latest bidding—

LARA.
As you should—


98

PAGE.
A duty wed with pleasure—'t was to take
A message to a countess all forlorn,
In yonder villa.

LARA.
[Aside.]
Why, the devil! that's mine!
A message to a countess all forlorn?
[To the Page.]
In yonder villa?


PAGE.
Ay, Sir. You can see
The portico among the mulberries,
Just to the left, there.

LARA.
Ay, I see, I see.
A pretty villa. And the lady's name?

PAGE.
Ah! that's a secret which I cannot tell.

LARA.
[Catching him by the throat.
No? but you shall, though, or I'll strangle you!
In my strong hands your slender neck would snap
Like a brittle pipe-stem.


99

PAGE.
You are choking me!
Oh! loose your grasp, Sir!

LARA.
Then the name! the name!

PAGE.
Countess of Lara.

LARA.
Not her dressing-maid?

PAGE.
Nay, nay, I said the mistress, not the maid.

LARA.
And then you lied. Oh! woful, woful Time!—
Tell me you lie, and I will make you rich,
I'll stuff your cap with ducats twice a year!

PAGE.
[Smiling.]
Well, then—I lie.

LARA.
Ay, now you lie, indeed!
I see it in the cunning of your eyes;

100

Night cannot hide the Satan leering there.
Only a little lingering fear of heaven
Holds me from dirking you between the ribs!
Wo! wo!

[Hides his face in his hands.]
PAGE.
[Aside.]
I would I were well out of this.

LARA.
[Abstractedly.]
Such thin divinity! So foul, so fair!

PAGE.
What would you have? I will say nothing, then.

LARA.
Say every thing, and end it! Here is gold.
You brought a billet to the Countess—well?
What said the billet?

PAGE.
Take away your hand,
And, by St. Mary, I will say it all.
There, now, I breathe. You will not harm me, Sir?
Stand six yards off, or I will not a word.

101

It seems the Countess promised Signor Juan
A set of turquoise—

LARA.
[Starting.]
Turquoise? Ha! that's well.

PAGE.
Just so—wherewith my master was to pay
Some gaming debts; but yester-night the cards
Tumbled a golden mountain at his feet;
And ere he sailed, this morning, Signor Juan
Gave me a perfumed, amber-tinted note,
For Countess Lara, which, with some adieus,
Craved her remembrance morning, noon, and night;
Her prayers while gone, her smiles when he returned;
Then told his sudden fortune with the cards,
And bade her keep the jewels. That is all.

LARA.
All? Is that all? 'T has only cracked my heart!
A heart, I know of little, little worth—
An ill-cut ruby, scarred and scratched before,
But now quite broken! I have no heart, then:
Men should not have, when they are wronged like this
Out of my sight, thou demon of bad news!

102

O sip thy wine complacently to-night,
Lie with thy mistress in a pleasant sleep,
For thou hast done thy master (that's the Devil!)
This day a goodly service: thou hast sown
The seeds of lightning that shall scathe and kill!

[Exit.
PAGE.
[Looking after him.]
I did not think 't would work on him like that.
How pale he grew! Alack! I fear some ill
Will come of this. I'll to the Countess quick,
And warn her of his madness. Faith, he foamed
I' the mouth like Guido whom they hung last week
(God rest him!) in the jail at Mantua,
For killing poor Battista. Crime for crime!
[Exit