University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Royal Palace.
D'Alba, Bertone.
D'Alba.
I've parted them at last. The livelong night
The little King lay, like a page, before
Her chamber door; and ever as he heard
A struggling sigh within, he cried, alas!
And echoed back her moan, and uttered words
Of comfort. Happy boy.

Bert.
But he is gone
Towards the gate: be sure to meet Prince Julian.

D'Alba.
For that I care not, so that I secure
The vision which once flitted from my grasp
And vanished like a rainbow.

Bert.
Yet is Julian
Still dangerous.

D'Alba.
Why after noon to day—
And see the sun's already high!—he dies
If he be found in Sicily. Take thou
Two resolute comrades to pursue his steps,
Soon as the time be past. Didst thou not hear
The proclamation? Know'st thou where he bides?
And Melfi?

Bert.
Good, my lord, 'tis said the Duke
Is dead.

D'Alba.
Dead!

Ber.
Certain 'tis that yesternight
He walked from out the Judgment Hall like one
Dreaming, with eyes that saw not, ears that heard
No sound, staggering and tottering like old age
Or infancy. And when the kingly robe
Was plucked from him, and he forced from the gate,
A deep wound in his side burst forth; the blood
Welled like a fountain.

D'Alba.
And he died?

Bert.
He fell
Fainting; and Julian, who had tended him
Silently, with a spirit so absorbed
His own shame seemed unfelt, fell on his neck
Shrieking like maddening woman. There we left him,
And there 'tis said he hath outwatched the night.

D'Alba.
There on the ground?

Bert.
So please you.

D'Alba.
Thou hast known
A softer couch, Prince Julian. Is the litter
Prepared? And the old groom?

Bert.
My lord, he waits
Your pleasure.

D'Alba.
Call him hither.
[Exit Bertone.
Blood welled out
From a deep wound! Said old Leanti sooth?
No matter! Either way he's guilty.
Re-enter Bertone with Renzi.
Ha!
A reverend knave. Wast thou Prince Julian's huntsman?

Renzi.
An please you, Sir, I was.

D'Alba.
Dost know the Princess?—
Doth she know thee?

Renzi.
Full well, my Lord. I tended
Prince Julian's favourite greyhound. It was strange
How Lelia loved my lady,—the poor fool
Hath pined for her this week past,—and my lady
Loved Lelia. She would stroke her glossy head,
And note her sparkling eyes, and watch her gambols,
And talk of Lelia's beauty, Lelia's speed,
Till I was weary.

D'Alba.
And the angel deemed
This slave as faithful as her dog! The better.
Dost thou love ducats, Renzi?
(Tossing him a purse.
Canst thou grace
A lie with tongue and look and action?

Renzi.
Aye.

D'Alba.
Go to the Princess; say thy master sent thee
To guide her to him, or the young Alfonso,—
Use either name, or both. Spare not for tears,
Or curses. Lead her to the litter; see
That Constance follows not. Bertone 'll gain
Admittance for thee. Go.
(Exit Renzi.
Bertone seek me
A supple churchman;—Know'st thou any? One
Not scrupulous; one who loves gold, and laughs
At conscience. Bring him to me. I must hasten
Silently home. Let not the Princess guess
That I have left the palace.

Bert.
No, my Lord.

(Exeunt severally.