University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Evening. Before Valmont's Castle. Enter Alferenzi.
Alferenzi.
This is the hour, when on yon lofty terrace
Honoria comes to taste the evening air,
And with the dulcet tinkling of her lute
Bids the lorn nightingale forget his tale,
And pause, in wonder rapt! The crimson west
Gilds the grey battlements with blushing gold,
And viewless myriads o'er the fainting flow'rs
Close their long sultry day with humming song.
As through the valley pensively I wander'd,
At ev'ry cottage door the weary hind
Sat 'midst his infant race, with ditty old,
Cheating the trav'ller Time; while twilight's hand
O'er the still landscape drew a dusky veil:
Ere now, the freckled carle forgets the world,
And in his unbarr'd chamber sweetly sleeps,
Lull'd by the music of the mountain breeze!

Enter Valmont, from the castle.
Valmont.
I thought to find the victor—Alferenzi!

Alferenzi.
Then thou art not deceived, for I am he—

Valmont.
It ill becomes a valiant son of honour
To lurk at this still hour, and seek occasion
To act a scene of darkness. Turn thy thoughts
To the broad field of conquest and renown;
Nor waste in am'rous folly manhood's prime,
While glory and ambition claim your sword.

Alferenzi.
I do not need your counsel, for I know
A soldier's valour is his country's fame!
Yet Heaven forbid ambition's furious tide
Should whelm the milder virtues of the soul:
The proudest triumphs that await the brave
Look not so beauteous in the sight of Heav'n
As mercy's humblest tear!

Valmont.
A weak evasion!
Again I tell thee, that Honoria's heart
Is pledg'd to brave Montalva's only heir!

Alferenzi.
Her hand, thou mean'st; but may the God of battle
Amidst whole legions of the foe forsake me,
May foul dishonour blight my fairest hopes,
If ever I renounce thy peerless child!
Curst be the sordid wretch whose grov'ling soul
Would bind in golden chains a trembling slave;
Or, like a dastard, traffic with the base,
To sell that freedom Heav'n design'd for all!

Valmont.
Thy rage, rash youth, can only move my pity;
Nor will I dim the lustre of my sword
To curb or to chastise—a daring stripling.

Alferenzi
(drawing his sword.)
Defend thyself!—yet, soft, a moment's pause—
Thou art the father of my soul's best darling;
The source of all the light that gilds my days!
And therefore—I forgive thee.

Valmont.
Vaunting slave!
What then, at last thou prov'st thyself a braggart!
An empty, bold, an arrogant presumer!
Boy, the young blood forsakes thy quiv'ring lip—
Is it the touch of fear or secret malice? [Alferenzi raises his sword, then lowers it.

Guilt! conscious guilt unnerves thy trembling arm,
While her pale ensign blanches o'er thy cheek;
Nay, frown again, while I, with smiles repay
The foe I scorn to combat.

Alferenzi
(sheathing his sword.)
Have a care!
I do conjure thee, venerable man,
Urge not my hand to do a deed of horror!
I would not be thy murd'rer—

Valmont.
Nobly said!
Then swear, by faith, by honour, and your sword,
Never again to see her. Dost thou pause?

Alferenzi.
O! bid me rather curse yon glorious orb,
That rolls his burning chariot thro' the sky!
Tell me, with base and sacrilegious hands
To murder smiling infants, or profane
Religion's still and consecrated shrine:
Bid me rush forth, a damned parricide,
And drink the life-stream of a parent's heart!
There is no deed of horror so abhorr'd
As violation of my faith to her.

Valmont.
She will but mock you; for to-morrow's dawn
Will see her Albert's bride; and till that hour
She keeps her chamber: such are my commands;
And she respects a father's right too much
To think of Alferenzi!

Alferenzi.
'Tis false as hell.
She will not so degrade the soul she owns,
Nor will I brook a rival! Tell him so;
Tell the vain boaster that a father's pride
Shall by a lover's vengeance be chastis'd.

[The Castle bell strikes.
Valmont.
The bell now calls me home to ev'ning pray'r.
Mark me, rash boy; if ever you approach
These castle walls again, without my bidding,
That hour shall be your last! Think, and be wise.

[Exit.
Alferenzi.
To-morrow! if thou op'st thy golden eye
To see Honoria wedded to duke Albert,
Thy parting glance shall shine upon my grave!
Now will I to my solitary home,
To taste a lover's only food, sharp sorrow!
To paint on fancy's tablet my soul's joy,
And dream of bliss—tho' I should wake to madness.

[Exit.