University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

The great hall: a shouting heard without.
Enter Pietro, calling as he enters.
Pie.
Where is the countess?

Enter Sophera, by the opposite side.
Soph.
Thy voice calls gladly; dost thou bring good tidings?

Pie.
I do; but stop me not! Where is the countess?

Enter Countess in haste.
Countess.
What joyful shouts were those? My soldiers' voices!
Some happy chance has changed the fate of battle.

Pie.
Ay, changed most happily.

Countess.
And heaven be praised!
How has it been, good Pietro? Tell me quickly.

Pie.
When we were panic-strick'n, reft of our wits,
Treading, like senseless sheep, each other down,
Heav'n sent us aid.

Countess.
And be its goodness praised!
So near the verge of merciless destruction,
What blessed aid was sent?

Pie.
By our fierce enemy, as I have said,
So sorely press'd, a powerful voice was heard
Calling our courage back; and on the sudden,
As if the yawning earth had sent it up,
A noble form, clad in the hermit's weeds,
But fighting with such fury irresistible
As armed warrior, no, nor mortal man
Did ever fight, upon our side appear'd,
Inspiring us with valour. Instantly
We turn'd again on our astonish'd foe,
Who fled to gain the breach by which they enter'd.
Few have escaped; and by our noble hermit
Tortona's lord is slain.

Countess
(after looking up to heaven in silent adoration).
That mighty Arm which still protects the innocent.
Weak woman, helpless infancy, and all
Bereft and desolate, hath fought for us!
But he, the blessed agent of its power,
Our brave deliv'rer, lead me to him instantly!
Where is the marv'llous man?

Pie.
I left him, madam, on the eastern rampart,
Just as Tortona fell.—See Ludovico,
Who still fought nearest to him; he'll inform you.

Enter Ludovico.
Countess.
Brave Ludovico!—But that woeful look,
In such a moment of unhoped-for triumph!
Is the brave being safe who hath preserved us?

Lud.
Alas! e'en as we shouted at the fall
Of proud Tortona, conquer'd by his arm;
E'en as he stoop'd to soothe his dying foe,
The hateful caitiff drew a hidden dagger
And plunged it in his breast.

Countess.
Alas, alas! and is his life the forfeit
Of his most gen'rous aid!
O lead me to him! let me thank and bless him,
If yet his noble mind be sensible
To words of gratitude.

Lud.
They bring him hither. He himself desired
That they should bear him to your presence. See!
With sad slow steps they come.

Enter soldiers bearing the hermit on a low bier, and set him down near the front of the stage. The Countess stands in woeful silence till he is placed, and then throws herself at his feet, embracing them.
Countess.
Devoted, generous man! Heav'n's blessed minister!
Who hast, to save us from impending ruin,
Thy life so nobly sacrificed; receive,—
While yet thy soul hath taste of earthly things,—
Receive my thanks, my tears, my love, my blessing;
The yearning admiration of a heart
Most grateful! Generous man, whoe'er thou art,
Thy deeds have made thee blood and kindred to me.
O that my prayers and tears could move thy God,
Who sent such aid, to spare thy precious life!

Hermit
(uncovering his head, and discovering the face of Garcio).
Margaret!

Countess.
My Garcio!
[Throwing her arms round him for some time, then raising herself from the bier, and wringing her hands in an agony of grief.
This is my wretched work! Heaven was his judge,
Yet I, with cruel unrelenting sternness,
Have push'd him on his fate. O Garcio, Garcio!

Gar.
Do not upbraid thyself: thou hast done well:
For no repentance e'er could make me worthy
To live with thee, though it has made me worthy
To die for thee.

Countess.
My dear and generous Garcio!
Alas, alas!

Gar.
O calm that frantic grief!
For had my life been spared, my dearest Margaret,
A wand'ring banish'd wretch I must have been,
Lonely and sad: but now, forgiven by thee,—
For so my heart assures me that I am,—
To breathe my parting spirit in thy presence,
For one who has so heavily offended,
Is a most happy end. It is so happy
That I have faith to think my deep contrition
Is by my God and Judge accepted now,
Instead of years of wretchedness and penance.
Be satisfied and cheer'd, my dearest wife!
Heaven deals with me in mercy.
Where is thy hand? Farewell, a long farewell!

Soph.
See, he revives, and strives to speak again.

Gar.
Could I but live till I have seen my child!
It may not be: the gripe of death is here.
Give him my dying love. [Dies.
[Curtain drops.