University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

A room in Livia's house.
LIVIA
(Slowly pacing the floor, with a letter in her hand).
Renounced, and half forgotten, still the world
Has power to hurt! I know the mirror false
Which makes a grim distortion of my face,
And yet it pains me while I look. What creed
Is theirs, to whom my love gives more offence,
Man's habit broken, than hath done my faith,
To them a fatal heresy of soul!
Those Pagans, to their monstrous idol bowed,—
Once Moloch named, but now Society,—
Defile, when turned to their forgotten Lord,
His altars with false fire. Ah! had I found
One pure male soul among them, not ashamed
To seek, believe, aspire, and overcome,—
With love's white heat to clarify my own,
And dear dependence on my differing force,—
I had remained! But thus, forbade to seek,
Insulted by insipid tenderness,
That into weakness fain would coddle power,
That shuts men's brains lest ours should be confused,
And hides strong aberrations of the sex,
Which, knowing, we might guide to purity,—
Why, what was left me but a fierce escape?
Thank Heaven, the line is passed! I've not to do
With threatened shame, or vain self-questioning, more;
I give my being for a large return.
[Enter Rhoda: both stand for a moment, looking at each other, in silence.]
Forgive me, Rhoda, if I show surprise;
Forgive me, also, that my doubt deterred
The due approach, which now your coming here
So gently chides!

RHODA
Do not mistake my heart,
Or set it lower, for the thing I do.
Save you perceive me as I verily am,
I cannot speak my message, or may mar.
I come, by sore necessity constrained,
Or I had never come.

LIVIA
(Aside.)
Her words awake
A new surprise: is this the fond, weak wife
I thought her, petulant instead of proud,
And simply sulking over fancied loss?
(Aloud.)
Your speech is bitterer, surely, than you mean;
But, seeming in the wrong, I must endure.

RHODA
Be not offended! I must needs suppose
Some curious resemblance in our hearts,
Else—yet it must be said!—you had not loved.
Let there be more, in this,—that, loving him,
You know no better service of your life
Than guarding his.

LIVIA
There read me by yourself!
I'll not explain my passion, since the words
Might sting with needless pangs. I thought you weak,
And find you strong: thus silence is enough.
You come because of him; forget the rest,
For partnership or rivalry in us
Has here one aim.

RHODA
I feel before I see,
And that which shakes me with continual dread
Dissolves when I would closelier scan its form.
The missing man, his wife's most real alarm,
The Gentile rumors, threatening David's place,
If not his freedom, and the ruin of all,—
These have a link which must be found and cleft.
Help me, therein: I am not quick of thought,
But I will follow, letting you direct.
You cannot, surely, unobservant be
Of each least danger, when you watch for him!

LIVIA
Less I may see, because I fear it less
Than you do. He must triumph as a chief,
Ere love can peacefully possess his life.
Unhelping there, love in its duty fails,
And all too anxiously may guard itself;
For opportunity wears danger's face
When first it comes; and now it may be so.
What you declare, I knew: I muse thereon,
To save, if the occasion shrinks to that;
But, if it broaden, to exalt as well!

RHODA
And you delay? to gain I know not what!
How can you thus so coldly, proudly talk
Of triumph won by risk? Ah! yes, I see
My heart's distress is folly unto yours:
I am a woman, and you know me not.
I show you all I dread; I give you chance
To set yourself above me in desert,
And on the remnant of my bliss to feed,
And you—seek “opportunity”!

[She turns to leave.
LIVIA
Not yet,—
You do mistake! and I should only wound
By picking words more nicely: all are edged
Which we two use. Twice have you made reproach,
Perhaps not meaning; I will let it pass,
And answer, since I pity your alarm,
With offered help: you may accept or leave.
How much of faith in Nimrod, the high-priest,
Do you preserve?

RHODA
(After a pause.)
If one's right hand could be
Unfaithful to the will? for so it seems.
But service, then, would measure treachery;
And that's too montrous!
(Aside.)
Ah! what have I said?
Her words provoked the doubt I should conceal,
And this may do a mischief.

LIVIA
'Tis enough.
I know the thought, that, frightened, hides its face
Even from itself; but I will look on mine.
'Tis well you came to me: some sheltered plants
First note the distant changes of the air,
And here—the thing is possible: I thought
It might be later—Ha! if it be now,
I must to work!

RHODA
Give me a little part
When you have found it! so much is my right.

LIVIA
Ay, ay! I promise: now, I pray you, go!
For his sake, then!
[Exit Rhoda.]
Oh! she may have her share;
But I, that dare and save and win and crown,
Shall sit by him as Zion's rightful queen!