University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A small apartment in a solitary cottage in the country. Enter Count Zaterloo, supported by an attendant, and followed by the Countess in the disguise of a pilgrim; both of them wearing masks. She places a pillow for his head on a couch or sickchair, and he is placed upon it, apparently with pain.
Countess
(to attendant).
There, set him gently down; this will support him.
(To Count Zaterloo.)
How art thou now? I fear thou'rt very faint
After so long a journey.
(To attendant.)
We have no farther need of thine assistance:
Thou wilt retire, but be upon the watch.

[Exit attendant.
Zat.
(unmasking).
Now, charming Mira, lay disguise aside;
Speak thine own natural voice, and be thyself:
There is no eye to look upon us now;
No more excuse for this mysteriousness.
Let me now look upon thy face and bless it!
Thou hast done well by me: thou'rt wondrous gentle.
I knew thee fair and charming, but I knew not
Thou wast of such a soft and kindly nature.
[The countess unmasks and looks at him sorrowfully.
Ha, mother! is it you?

Countess.
Who should it be? where shouldst thou look for kindness?
When we are sick, where can we turn for suecour;
When we are wretched, where can we complain;
And when the world looks cold and surly on us,
Where can we go to meet a warmer eye
With such sure confidence as to a mother?
The world may scowl, acquaintance may forsake,
Friends may neglect, and lovers know a change,
But when a mother doth forsake her child,
Men lift their hands and cry, “a prodigy!”

Zat.
(taking hold of both her hands and kissing them.)
O mother! I have been a thankless child!
I've given thee hoary hairs before thy time;
And added weight to thy declining years,
Who should have been their stay.

Countess.
Be calm, my son, for I do not upbraid thee.

Zat.
Wretch that I am! I was an only son,
And therefore bound by no divided tie
To be to thee thy hold and thy support.
I was a widow's son, and therefore bound
By every generous and manly tie
To be in filial duty most devoted.
O I have vilely done! I feel it now;
But if I live to be a man again,
I'll prove a better son to thee, dear mother.

Countess.
I know thou wilt, my dearest Zaterloo;
And do not thus upbraid thyself too sharply;
I've been a foolish mother to thy youth,
But thou wilt pardon me.

Zat.
Of this no more—How came you by my letter?
If you did intercept it on its way,
Mira is faithful still.

Countess.
It was from Mira's hand that I received it.
She toss'd it at me with a jeering smile
When I with anxious tears inquired for thee.

Zat.
(rising half from his seat in great passion).
O faithless, faithless woman! she it was,
Who made of me the cursed thing I am!
I've been a fool indeed and well requited.
Base, avaricious, and ungrateful—oh!

[Putting his hand on his side, as if seized with sudden pain.
Countess.
Such agitation suits not with thy state:
What ails thee now?

Zat.
The pain, the pain! it has return'd again
With increased violence.

Countess.
God send thee ease! why dost thou look so wildly,
And grasp my hand so hard? What is't disturts thee?

Zat.
My time on earth is short.

Countess.
Nay, say not so: thou mayst recorer still.
O why this seeming agony of mind?
'Tis not the pain that racks thee.

Zat.
There's blood upon my head: I am accursed.

Countess.
Good heaven forefend! thou wand'rest? in thy speech.
Thy life I know is forfeit to the law
By some unlawful act, but oh no blood!

Zat.
O for a short respite! but 'twill not be:
I feel my time is near.

Countess.
Thou wand'rest much: there's something on thy mind,
Dark'ning thy fancy.

Zat.
'Twas I that did it—I that murder'd him:
He who must suffer for it did it not.

Countess.
What words are these? my blood rans cold to hear them.

Zat.
(alarmed).
Be still, be still! there's some one at the door:
All round me is exposed and insecure.

[Countess Zaterloo goes to the door and receives something from a servant, shutting the door immediately.
Countess.
It is a servant come to fetch me something.

Zat.
Has he not heard it? he has heard it all!

[In violent alarm and agitation.
Countess.
Be still, be still! it is impossible.
Thou'st waked the pain again; I see thee tremble.

Zat.
(writhing as if in great pain).
Ay, this will master me: 'twill have me now:
What can be done? O for a short reprieve!

Countess.
Alas, my child! what wouldst thou have me do?

Zat.
I would have time turn'd backward in its course,
And what is past ne'er to have been: myself
A thing that no existence ever had.
Canst thou do this for me?

Countess.
Alas! I cannot.

Zat.
Then cursed be thy early mother's cares!
Would thou hadst lifted up my infant form
And dash'd it on the stones! I had not lived—
I had not lived to curse thee for thy pains.

Countess.
And dost thou curse me then?

Zat.
(softened).
O no! I do not!
I did not curse thee, mother: was it so?

Countess.
No, no, thou didst not: yet I have deserved—
I was a mother selfish in my fondness;
And with indulgence, senseless and extreme,
Blasted the goodly promise of thy youth.

Zat.
(rising half up alarmed from his couch).
Hark! there's a noise again! hast thou more servants
Coming with errands to thee?—We're discover'd!

Countess.
Be not so soon alarm'd: it is impossible.

Zat.
Is there an inner chamber? lead me there;
[Pointing to a door.
I cannot rest in this.
[Stopping short eagerly as she is leading him out with great difficulty.
—Thine absence haply
From thine own house, suspicion may create:
Return to it again, and through the day
Live there as thou art wont; by fall of eve
Thou'lt come to me again.—I'm very weak;
I must lean hard upon thee.

[Exit, looking suspiciously behind him as if he heard a noise, and supported with great difficulty by his mother.