University of Virginia Library

Scene IV.

Changes to the Inner Chamber, where, while the Countess still doses; a long and deep Groan is heard, she starts, and half rising, exclaims.
COUNTESS.
Did I not hear some noise?—Or was't the wind?
[Another deep groan; on which she starts up, greatly agitated.]
What dismal sound was that?—Whence cou'd it come!
[Repeated groans.]
Again!—again!—It came from that alcove!
Be not appall'd, my soul!—Thou'st done no wrong!
[As she advances, with great emotion towards the alcove, another groan is more distinctly heard.]
Almighty God! if 'tis some troubled spirit
Permitted, by thy will, to walk by night;
Give me the grace to send it to the grave,
Whate'er his cause of misery, in peace!
[More groans; she starts aghast.]
O!—speak!—appear!—reveal the secret trouble
That forceth thee to leave the silent tomb,
And roam 'midst darkness, and the midnight airs!
[Groans repeated.]
Now Heav'n sustain me, and enlighten me,
To fathom this dread secret!—Hence! e'en hence
The moaning issued, as if under ground!
[She looks with wild horror round the alcove.]
Yet, more distinct, as from some hollow cavern!
Hah!—From the tapestry!—My soul's wound up
To utmost agony of dread suspense,
And I shall madden if—
[Lifts up a loose part of the tapestry, and discovers a door.]
What's here!—A door!
A secret door! And this the fateful key
[Hastily snatching the keys; unlocking the door.]
That leads to what, at once, I wish, and fear!—
[Groans very distinct.]
Nay, then, there is no pause!—Narrow, and dark,
And steep, as is the way, and chill the air,
Something impels me on, and I must go!
Be God my great protector, and my guide!—
[She disappears, but soon rushes back with looks of amazement and horror.]
Eternal pow'rs!—I saw it thro' the gloom!
Tho' indistinct!—I heard its hollow groans!—
They pierc'd my heart, and curdled up my blood!—
Base fears! Why have ye thus subdued my soul!
If it shou'd follow, I will speak to it.—
Hark!—It approaches!—O! ye pow'rs above!
Equal my courage to the dread occasion!—

[The tapestry is lifted up slowly, and discovers the pale, and haggard, yet reverend figure of an Old Man, with a long hite beard, and disordered hair, and dressed in a long flowing black robe, who speaks, as he enters.]
OLD MAN.
This way it beckon'd me, and I will follow.
[Seeing the Countess, he is awe-struck, and exclaims.]
What heavenly vision's this!—Angel of light!
Say! Art thou come,—so long, so often call'd!—
To end my misery, and bear my spirit,
Where it, at last, may rest?—

COUNTESS.
(Approaching)
Art thou the ghost?

OLD MAN.
I am, indeed, the shadow of myself,
My former self!—But what art thou, bright vision?

COUNTESS.
A weak, and erring creature, like thyself.—

OLD MAN.
If not an angel, as I fondly hop'd!
Come to release me from my secret dungeon;
Where lingering years of agonizing grief,
And racking pain, without one ray of comfort,
Have bow'd me down in hopeless misery!—
Why art thou here? And wherefore didst thou come
To shoot one cheering glance athwart my gloom,
Then quick withdraw the beam?—

COUNTESS.
Years, didst thou say!
Years hast thou languish'd in that dreary place,
The very glimpse of which appall'd my soul?

OLD MAN.
Alas! 'tis very long, or so it seems,
To one who only knows to count the hours
By the chill damps that drop upon his head,
Or by his sighs, and tears!—'Tis very long!
Since I was torn from the dear light of day,
Rest of all comfort, and cut off from man!

COUNTESS.
I'm almost breathless with astonishment, and pity,
And scarce can ask if Montval!—if my husband!—
If by his rigour, thou so long hast suffer'd?

OLD MAN.
(aside)
“O! 'tis his wife! Resign'd,—so near my end,
“I won't accuse him!—They may live in peace!”

COUNTESS.
Why dost thou turn, and mutter to thyself?
Speak out thy griefs, and tell me for what crime—

OLD MAN
(interrupting her)
Be Heav'n my judge that none have brought me here!

COUNTESS.
Then who?—what tyrant, rough and pityless!
Immur'd thee thus, to die a living death?

OLD MAN.
Know you Lapont?—That villain was the cause!

COUNTESS
(exultingly).
I said he was a villain!—O! a load,
A heavy load is taken from my heart!—
Whate'er thy guilt, I wou'd not that Montval,
My dear Montval! had been so base of soul,
To take such vengeance on thy helpless age,
For worlds, on worlds!—But, he must know thy fate!—

OLD MAN.
Plac'd on the brink of dread eternity,
I dare not lie!—He does;—but is misled
By the vile miscreant whom you justly hate.

COUNTESS.
Misled!—O bitter!—Can he see thy dungeon,
And look upon thy anguish, and thy age,
And not relent!—It cuts me to the soul!—
But tell me what, and whence, and who thou art?

OLD MAN.
Ask not what never shall escape my lips,
For potent reasons:—nought can wrest it from me!

COUNTESS.
“Amazing!—But thou shalt no longer suffer!
“I will release thee, of my own free will;
“And thou shalt live, and be restor'd to comfort!
“Thy miseries well may expiate thy guilt!—
“And for Lapont! if he has injur'd thee,
“That hateful villain! he shall have his meed!
“Be sure he shall!”—

OLD MAN.
Dim is my spark of life!
Yet, to the last, we cherish liberty!
But all revenge is dead within my heart,
And ill I shou'd repay your generous pity,
By sowing discord 'twixt your lord and you.

COUNTESS.
O! soul of nobleness and charity!
Rever'd old man! Tax me to th'very utmost!
And I can much!—Tax all my pow'r and fortune!
For guilt ne'er harbour'd in a heart like thine.

OLD MAN.
Thou noble creature!—I am too weak to bear
This rush of gratitude, so long weigh'd down
By wrong, and cruelty, and pain, and sorrow!

COUNTESS.
Be not dejected!—Hide not, thus, your face!

OLD MAN.
A thousand tender, painful recollections
Press down, and almost suffocate my heart!

COUNTESS.
What can this mean!—What dreadful mystery!

OLD MAN.
O! may it still a mystery be to you!—

COUNTESS.
'Tis wonderful! But go with me from hence!
“I hate to be so near that horrid dungeon!”

OLD MAN.
I will, on this condition.—That your lord
Shall never see me more. That you ne'er ask
Of him, or others, who, or what I am;
And that I part unseen by all but you!

COUNTESS.
Astonishing!—But only go with me,
And have thy wish—My lord is gone to Paris.
Why then delay?

OLD MAN.
Allow me yet some pause!
What is the hour? For, buried from the light,
Darkness and day have been alike to me!

COUNTESS.
'Tis scarce above two hours from now to morn.

OLD MAN.
How learn'd you I was here? Or how depart,
At such an undue hour, without alarm?

COUNTESS.
How I discover'd you, at full, hereafter,
You shall be told:—to leave this night the Castle,
Without suspicion, were not possible.
But if resolv'd to go without delay,
To-morrow's dawn shall find the ready means
To send you hence, unknown to all but me.

OLD MAN.
“Have you the keys?

COUNTESS.
“I have.

OLD MAN.
“But how procur'd?

COUNTESS.
“By a mere chance, it were too long to tell.
[Recollects Blaise, and looks into the anti-room.]
“Hah I had forgot!—'Tis well, he's fast asleep.

OLD MAN.
(alarmed)
“Who's in that chamber?

COUNTESS.
“Only Blaise, the steward;
“Set there by me, to watch, and give alarm,
“If aught requir'd.—

OLD MAN.
“But has he overheard us?

COUNTESS.
“O'erspent with watching, he profoundly sleeps.

OLD MAN.
Then, by my sufferings, and my innocence!
By that benevolence, which born of heaven,
Lives in your gen'rous heart, and from your eye
Beams melting pity on a stranger's woe,
Back to my dungeon let me go, once more,
And pass the interval from now, till morn!—
O! grant me this request!—

COUNTESS.
Not for the world!
My pow'r, if needful, shall protect you here
From every wrong.

OLD MAN.
Dear lady! be advis'd!
Lapont must miss the keys, and will be waking;
For guilt, like his, is ever on the watch:
Too well I know my cruel, crafty goaler!
“And now, when all your bidding might command,
“Are, thro' the castle, sunk in deep repose,
“It were not safe to trust a villain's vengeance.
“So great his malice, and so black his crimes,
“That even your rank, and pow'r might fail to save you:
“I wou'd not, for the world, he saw us here!
“'Twou'd, surely urge him to some desperate deed!
“Nor shall my name, or person be reveal'd
“To your domestics: This my firm resolve,
“The hope of liberty shall never alter!”

COUNTESS
(Aside.)
“Blaise must know nothing. It were better thus:”
I'm loth to leave you in that dismal place.

OLD MAN.
The brightness of your angel countenance,
Still present to my soul, shall give me light,
And spread effulgence thro' surrounding gloom!
At morn I will attend you.

COUNTESS.
“Be it so,
“Since so you will. But I shall count the hours,
“Till sweet deliverance greets you by my hand.
[Aside.]
“Myself will watch and guard him till the dawn.”

OLD MAN.
“Think you a few short hours which surely lead
“To light, and liberty, and long-lost friends,
“Think you they can seem long, to me seem long,
“Who years on years have languished in a dungeon?

COUNTESS.
“At least these conserves, and this added light,”
May help to cheer you, till we meet again!
I will myself, conduct you to your prison.
Nay, no reply. I will not be refus'd.

[Exeunt, she supporting him.]