University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

The Same. A Dungeon in the Same. Leonor de Guzman discovered.
Leonor.
I cannot master them: these gloomy thoughts
Crowd and bewilder reason. If a voice
Had cried from heaven, Thy latest hour has come,
I could not more believe it. Can the soul
Warn its dear body of their sad divorce,
Ere death confront them? Or am I the fool
Of dreadful fancies, nourished in the dark
Of this detested prison? Bounteous Heaven,
If yonder sun, that, like a traveller,
Pauses upon the boundaries of his land,
To take a survey of the things he loves,
Shall ne'er return to me,—grant one last boon!
That I may calmly lapse into thy arms,
With time to think of thy beneficence;
And not be hurried to the judgment-seat,
By thy grim officer, appalling Death,
Crying against the justice of my doom.
I fear thee not, O Death! The grave, the worm,
The noisome process of a slow decay,
Were naught to me, if being ended there,
And peace closed up the dying lids for aye.
But, O! the terrors that a sinful soul,
Bursting its slumber at the Archangel's trump,
Must feel when it remembers its last act,
Ere it lay down to sleep, was guilty fear,
That tugged and wrestled with its Maker's will!
O watchful Heaven, if my poor destiny
Have o'er engaged the service of thy thoughts,
Grant me my prayer! And, as my latter days
Are full of frowns and dreadful threatenings,
Smile at the last, and round my closing hours
With all the bounties thou 'st withheld so long!
I do not murmur, Lord,—I do not ask,
While all are taken, I alone should stay;
I would but choose my way of going hence,
Not as a voyager, as a suppliant.

(Enter Juana and Fadrique.)
Fadrique.
Mother!

[Embraces her.]
Leo.
My son! Sure Heaven has re-begun
Its broken blessings. But how cam'st thou here?
Where is Enrique?—hast thou heard from him?
They tell me he has fled to Portugal.
And Tello, too?—and all the little ones
Who call me mother? Stay, Fadrique, stay!
Answer no questions till I look at thee.
How thou hast grown!—Juana, has he not?—
An inch or more. Much like thy father, too:
His breadth of shoulder, and his girth of chest,
And the fixed eye that looked through coming years,
So like a prophet's. Now, the news, the news!
Thou seest they keep me from it in this cell.
Here time is stagnant; the vast tides of life
Flow by yon loop-hole, yet no ripple comes
To break the calm in which I idly sleep.
I am a foolish woman, for I think
That I am weeping.

[Weeps.]
Fad.
Mother, do not grieve!
Enrique, and my brothers, are quite safe;
And, as for me, I blush to recollect
How kind thy enemies have been to me.
Be of good cheer: I saw the king to-day,
And found his spirit was inclined to be
Most kindly towards thee. He, by special grace,
Sends me, as earnest for his good intents.

Juana.
Your hard imprisonment is well-nigh o'er.

Leo.
I know it, dear Juana. Days ago—
But more to-day than any former time—
I had undoubted notice.

Jua.
That is strange!
And yet you told me not.

Leo.
I could not then.
The words seemed doubtful. They are plainer now,—
Plainer and plainer, as the moments fly.

Fad.
What mean'st thou, mother?

Leo.
This: if one should say—
One of the playmates of my childhood—Why,
Why do my thoughts run backward to their source,
Keeping my childhood ever in my sight?

Fad.
I really know not. Thou began'st to say?—

Leo.
O, yes. If one should ask me, “Leonor,
Where wilt thou be to-morrow?” I 'd reply,
In heaven, beloved; and feel I spoke strict truth.

Fad.
Confinement has unstrung thy mind. Alas!
Who put these dreary notions in thy head?

Leo.
Why, so I ask; and shake my heavy brain,
And look around for comfort. Naught replies;
And once again my lonely spirit sinks
Beneath the pressure of a dismal doom.

Fad.
'T is the dark hour before the morning breaks.

Leo.
Ay, and the morning breaks in heaven.
(Doña Maria appears at the door, looks in, and retires.)
My son,
Dost thou believe the spirit can detect
The presence of things hurtful? For, just now,
I felt as if the shadow of death's wing
Passed over me, and chilled me to the soul.

[Shudders.]
Fad.
Dear mother, hear—

(Enter an Attendant.)
Attendant.
My lord, the king desires
Your instant presence.

Fad.
But a moment more.

Att.
My orders bade you speed.

Leo.
Kings never wait.
Go, my Fadrique; it may mar you else.

Fad.
Let it; I care not.

Leo.
But I do, my son.
I may behold thee, though thou seest not me,
Looking adown the sunny depth of heaven
Upon this troubled earth. A last farewell!
And tell Enrique, when he' s king—

Fad.
He 's king!

Leo.
I had it in a vision, and 't will be.

Fad.
Thou art the plaything of thy fantasy.
Farewell!—Yet stay a moment.—

Doña Maria.
(Without.)
Don Fadrique!

Fad.
'T is the king's voice.

Leo.
Or one that mimics it:
Yet go.—That voice was terrible to me.

[Aside.]
Fad.
Farewell! until we meet.

Leo.
In heaven.

[Embraces him.]
Fad.
Farewell!

[Exit.]
Leo.
I 've looked my last upon him! Gentle Heaven,
Withhold the blow no longer!—Strike, at once,
Before my coward fancies make me rave!

Jua.
Dear mother, thou art ill.

(Enter Doña Maria, masked and cloaked, with Attendants, also disguised.)
Leo.
My prayer is answered.

Jua.
Who are these masks?

Doña Maria.
Leonor de Guzman, hark!

Leo.
Maria de Portugal, I listen.

Doña M.
Ha!
Thou know'st me, then?

Leo.
I pray you, drop your mask;
It frightens me, yet does not hide your face.

Doña M.
Behold my face, and let it drive thee mad!
[Unmasking.]
Seest thou these furrows on my youthful brow,
This net-work web of scars and crooked lines?
Seest thou these grizzled locks—these withered hands,
Pinched by the grip of misery—this low stoop,
That bears the burden of a thousand cares—
These tear-scorched eyes—this breast, a home for sighs
And quivering inspirations?—Dost thou know
The heart within, the lonely heart, that aches
At each pulsation? This is all thy work,
And thou shouldst know it!

Leo.
Had you loved the king—

Doña M.
Hadst thou not lied, as thou art lying now,
He might have loved me. Love him! Did I not?
With passions to have burst thy puny heart,
Hadst thou but felt them. If they turned to gall,
And poisoned heart and brain, who was to blame—
I, or thou, wanton? Men have called thee fair,
Blaspheming sense, by saying thou wert born
To prove how plain the touch of heaven might show
In earthly clay; and they have said thy form
Was a poor casket for thy richer mind:
Now, in thy wisdom, why have I come here?

Leo.
Perhaps, to slay me.

Doña M.
Thou hast hit the mark
With thy first shaft.

Jua.
(Kneeling to Doña Maria.)
O, madam—please your grace!—

Doña M.
Back, bastard's drudge! Prepare to die.

Leo.
I have:
My life has been one act of preparation.

Doña M.
Thou sweet-faced hypocrite—thou who hast been
The minion of man's passions—thou prepare,
By such a life, to brazen heavenly wrath!
What dost thou fancy heaven?

Leo.
A blessed place,
Where the sincerely penitent may dwell,
Quite purified through mercy.

Doña M.
Purified!
Hast thou repented?

Leo.
You have given me time,
Here, in my prison, through the long, long nights,
To be alone with Heaven. I thank you, madam;
For, through your darkest clouds, grace dawned on me.

Doña M.
Fool that I was! Feel'st thou secure of grace?

Leo.
As far as mortal may.

Doña M.
Dost thou repent
Thy wrongs to me?

Leo.
I do, sincerely, madam,
With all the mischief my example did,
And pray your pardon heartily.

[Kneels.]
Doña M.
Thou dost?
I 'd add new fuel to the flames of woe,
Ere I 'd do this for thee. Dost thou repent
Thy sorceries,—the devilish arts employed
On me and Pedro, to o'ercome our lives,
While we lay, weakly, in one painful bed?

Leo.
I never practised them.

Doña M.
'T is false!

Leo.
Indeed,
I ne'er had cause to pray to Heaven for that.

Doña M.
Dost thou repent the shameless life thou 'st led
With King Alfonso,—the bold, guilty love?

Leo.
The life, perhaps, I do regret; the love
Never, O never!

Doña M.
(Laughing.)
Ha! there 's still one spot—
There 's still one damned spot upon thy soul—
Which the infernal flames shall kindle to!

[Seizes her.]
Jua.
O murder!—murder!—

Doña M.
Stop that screech-owl's breath!

[Attendants seize Juana.]
Leo.
Spare me—be merciful—O let me go!
[Struggling with her.]
I am a woman—not a heroine—
One of thy sex! I would not use thee thus!

Jua.
Help!—murder!—murder!—Hark!

[Noise without.]
Leo.
O, pardon me!
I loved Alfonso—that is my excuse!

Doña M.
And that my retribution!

[Stabs her.]
Leo.
It is well!
God's purpose, and I bow to it.

[Falls.]
(Juana rushes forward and raises her.)
Alburquerque.
(Without.)
Stand by!

Sentinel.
(Without.)
The queen commanded—

Alb.
(Without.)
Curse the queen's command!
(Hurls the Sentinel through the door, and enters, followed by armed Attendants.)
Ho! Leonor de Guzman; wake, look up!
I 've brought another—surer than the first—
Another warrant—try to gull me now—
Strangle that woman!

[His Attendants advance towards Leonor.]
Doña M.
(Interposing.)
Murderers, back! or I
Will strike you with my poniard!

Alb.
Murderers, hey?
By what new title have you dubbed yourself?

Doña M.
Avenger, and not murderer. No, my lord,
You shall not harm a single hair of her.
She 's all my own, by virtue of my wrongs.

Alb.
And mine, by virtue of my rights.

Jua.
Peace, peace!
A little quiet for a parting soul!

Leo.
Let the wolves rage, according to their kind.
I am content with Heaven's decree. If fate
Were in our hands, we 'd make but sorry work.
O, hapless queen! the tears you'll shed for this
Cannot be numbered by a count of years.
Forlorn, heart-broken, lonely, cast aside
By him, your son, the only soul you love,
You shall drag on a train of painful days,
Darker and longer than the arctic nights.
Despised by all, pitied by none, you'll die
A death as sudden as my own!

Alb.
And I?—
Now, while the gift of prophecy is strong,
A word for me; for I deserve your care;—
My fate?

Leo.
Dead, in Enrique's cause; and then—

Alb.
The sky will fall, and we'll catch larks!—Amen!

Leo.
Scoffer, your jeers fall blunted on my ear;
The shield of death is spread above my head,
And mocks are useless.

Alb.
Prophetess, what then?
We'll pry fate's doors a little wider; speak!

Leo.
Your carrion shall be borne before a host,
Till it offend the decency of sense.
Living, you made Castile your foul abode—
Dying, you'll make it loathsome! Wretched man,
The hand you've raised shall crush you to the earth;
The snares you lay shall tangle your own feet;
The friends you've made shall make themselves your foes;
The foes you've made shall be your only friends!
And, in the sight of triumph, murderous death
Shall snatch you suddenly!

Alb.
Hey! Coronel—
What was it, Coronel?—a crown of thorns?
Right, strangely right!—a crown of thorns, indeed!
Methinks, I feel them sting!

[Exit slowly.]
Leo.
Juana, daughter,
'T is sweet to die within thy loving arms;
But take thy hand away; thou hold'st me back—
Remove thy hand, and let the wound alone—
Thou hold'st me back from heaven. That's kindly done!
See, how the little river steals away!
On that I'll float to heaven. Forgive the queen;
And say good-night to all, for Leonor.
When thy Enrique 's king—Pray, trim the lights—
I faint with thirst—some drink—Alfonso—O!

[Dies.]
Doña M.
I know not that I am avenged, at last.