University of Virginia Library

The Last Scene.

—The Tent of the Regent.—The Storm dispersing.—Adrian discovered with Officers of his staff.
ADRIAN.
Bring forth the noblest prisoners; they shall first
Atone their treason.
[Mondeiar brought in guarded.
Who is this?

MONDEIAR.
My name
Is Mondeiar.

ADRIAN.
Do I, in you, behold the brother
Of the arch-rebel's wife?

MONDEIAR.
You see the brother
Of an heroic lady who exults
In the affection of the noblest soldier
Castile has nurtured,—who, if his loyal heart
Had not refused to listen to our prayers,
Would have, ere this, been rebel to such end
That you had pray'd him, on your knees, to take
From you the anointing oil. I wait my doom.

ADRIAN.
You see it; yonder hillock bounds the course
Of your life's journey.
[Alphonso is brought in guarded.
Who is this—a stripling?
Set him before me. You are very young
To choose revolt; it may be older traitors
Constrain'd you; if it was so, and you answer
My questions frankly, I may show you grace.
Who took you into battle?

ALPHONSO.
My free heart,
Following a glorious father.

Enter Soldier.
SOLDIER.
My lord, a priest
Who says that, if you grant his terms, he'll give
Padilla to your justice, craves admission.

ADRIAN.
Admit him instantly.

ALPHONSO.
A priest so vile!

ADRIAN
(to Alphonso).
Your speech is bold, but your faint heart belies it;
You tremble and grow pale; 'tis well; there's hope
Your stubbornness may yield.

Enter Padilla in the disguise of a Friar.
ADRIAN.
Are you the priest
Who can betray Padilla?

PADILLA.
I will place him
Within your grasp, if you accept my terms.

ADRIAN.
Name them.

PADILLA.
First, pardon for these prisoners.

ADRIAN.
These?
Why care for them?

PADILLA.
No matter; 'tis my will.

ALPHONSO
(recognising Padilla's voice).
That voice! Do not believe this Friar's rash promise;
Send him away, and let your sentence fall
At once upon my life.

PADILLA.
Peace—lest I curse you.

ADRIAN.
Be silent, boy.

PADILLA.
He'll not offend again.

ADRIAN.
I pledge my word for their release; what else?

PADILLA.
Your promise that Toledo shall be free
From spoil and insult, and her sons from vengeance.

ADRIAN.
If you consign Padilla to the axe,
The great example shall not be obscured
By meaner acts of punishment.

PADILLA.
Enough.
Thus I resign him to you.

[Padilla throws off the Friar's dress.
ADRIAN.
'Tis himself—
My knees sink under me as if constrain'd
To bend before him.

PADILLA.
You will keep your word?

ADRIAN.
In all things.

PADILLA.
Let me clasp my son and die.

[Alphonso rushes into Padilla's arms.
ALPHONSO.
Why did you rescue me?

PADILLA.
To live for Spain.

ADRIAN.
Your son! If you would speak apart, you may.

PADILLA.
I thank you; I can teach him nothing more:
He has seen his father's life; he'll see his death;
He'll learn no other lesson. Let me gaze
One moment on my glorious birth-place, clad
In solemn beauty by the storm that yields
Her towers to fill my vision's grasp. Toledo,
The crown of Spain; fortress of Christian faith,
That from the ages of the mighty Goths,
Hath kept thy liberties unblemish'd, take
Fond benediction of thy dying son,
John de Padilla,—who in death enjoys
The sense that his last hour has served thee well,
And, with the strength of life's last rally, prays
Duration for thy grandeurs while the rocks
On which thou sitt'st in queenly state shall last,
And glory for thy children while Castile
Shall tower among the nations!

MARIA
(without).
I am his wife—
Padilla's wife—make way.

PADILLA.
'Tis my wife's voice;
Pray let her pass; she will less trouble you
Hereafter if she see me.

ADRIAN.
Let her pass;
She must not hold you long.

PADILLA.
Fear not; she'll speed me.

Enter Maria, who embraces Padilla.
PADILLA.
Forgive me that I stole away to save
Our son; he is pardon'd.

MARIA.
At what cost? Your life!

PADILLA.
He would have laid down his young life to add
An hour to mine, which I have nobly used,
Not worth the purchase of a day, to save him
To you for many years.

MARIA.
Ay; many years.

PADILLA.
They will appear like moments when we meet
Beyond those sunbreaks.

MARIA.
Then you think me pardon'd?

PADILLA.
As certainly, Maria, as I stand
Enfolding you, and presently shall die;
In the serenity that fills my soul
I recognise assurance for us both
Of full remission.

ADRIAN
(to his Officers).
Why was such a heart
A traitor's?

MONDEIAR.
Do you dare to call him traitor?

PADILLA.
Forbear, my brother; when in arms, 'twas meet
To hurl such imputation back, but now
Meek resignation to the will of Him
Who calls me to His bar, alone should rule
The parting throbs of life. I would not tax
The Regent's patience further; so, at once,
Farewell. Rejoice to think that e'er yon cloud,
That waits upon the sun, shall drink its light
Our own Joanna's little face will shine
Direct upon her father's.
(To Adrian.)
You'll give passage
For these to their old home?

MARIA.
Not there!—the joys
Our dear abode has nurtured, crush'd on earth,
Will have no portion in etherial realms
Where we shall meet; and I must henceforth breathe
To dream of the Eternal.

PADILLA.
Think not, dearest,
Our old delights will fail us; no—I feel
Upon this giddy margin of two worlds,
That there is nothing beautiful in this
The passion'd soul has clasp'd, but shall partake
Its everlasting essence; not a scent
Of rain-drench'd flower, nor fleece of evening cloud
Which blended with a thought that rose to Heaven
Shall ever die; but link'd with joy that drew
Colour and shape from this fair world, shall shed
Familiar sweetness through the glorious frame
After a thousand ages.

MONDEIAR.
Will you speak
Nothing of public import;—of your course?

PADILLA.
Nothing—my course is of the past—afar
Already I survey it, as I stand
Assoil'd from mortal strife, in hope to win
Eternal peace. So take at once farewell.

MARIA.
Let me go with you to the end.

PADILLA.
No farther;
The way I see is short. Farewell for this world.
[Exit Padilla, guarded.

[Donna Maria remains standing in the centre of the scene, gazing after Padilla and supporting Alphonso.
ADRIAN.
Lead her away; thence she will see him die.

MARIA.
Lead me away! Think you I fear the block,
The headsman, and the axe? No—I behold
A sainted hero turn those ghastly shapes
To images of triumph; while it lasts
These eyes shall drink his mortal greatness in;
Kneel down, my son, and gaze with me; you'll see
Nothing so beautiful on this side heaven.

[Alphonso falls on his knees before Maria, but covers his face with his hands; she stands erect fixedly gazing in the same direction.
ALPHONSO.
Forgive me; 'tis not possible.

MARIA.
He treads
Lightly as on the evening when I changed
Love's vow for his; he lays his robe aside
With airiest grace; he turns his head—thank God
I caught that look and know it met my own—
He kneels before me; while the sun sheds forth
A slanting glory through the lurid clouds
That falls upon him as a visible track
From earth to heaven; and now the headsman wields
His feeble axe in air.

ALPHONSO.
It falls? It falls?

MARIA.
No—it has caught the sunbeam—and revolves
Above him like a crown of glory sent
To wreathe his head. He spreads his hands; his soul
Breathes prayer through parted lips that keep the hue
They wore in freshest youth.

ALPHONSO.
And now?

MARIA.
With God.