University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE SECOND.

An Apartment in the House of Despard.
(Despard leading in Julia, from the vestibule, or hall of the house, in which he had met her, attempting to make her escape.)
DESPARD.
I THOUGHT I had completely frustrated
The possibility of such a meeting.
(To Julia).
Where in such haste, good madam?

JULIA.
Any where!
Any where, so that I may make escape
From this ill mansion.

DESPARD.
But should I bring
Good tidings?—I one promise asked from you
A short time since; you gave it; and your flight
Precipitate, induces me to think
You are disposed to break it. I have so
But poor encouragement to challenge you
To another promise, on a strict compliance
With all whose terms, and on whose strict fulfilment,
All the complexion, of the hopes which rule
Your future fate, exclusively depends.

JULIA.
What mean you, sir?

DESPARD.
Did I not, some hour past,
Promise to inform you of the present state
Of the Duke D'Ormond, having first expressed
To you some other slight preliminaries,
If you would promise that you would not seek
T'escape from my protection? Did you not
To all these terms agree?—How am I then
To understand this unannounced attempt
At an elopement from your room, to which
I thought that you were reconciled, at least
For this one night?

JULIA.
I reconciled!—If so,—
It is the reconcilement of despair.
But by what right do you assume the power
To interrogate me with authority?—
'Tis a poor boast to trample thus on one
Too weak for self-protection! who has not—
Or you would not presume to do it—one
To stand her friend! When I that promise made,
(Whence you infer such plausible pretence
To shackle me, and rivet so my chains
That I am thus your wretched thrall for life)
Had I not every reason to suppose
That the disclosure you would make to me
Of D'Ormond—if not satisfactory—
Would be, at least, definitive, and clear?—
Whereas, by that which you have utter'd you
Have raised in me such horrible surmise,
That I have now no hope, but in the hope
That your reports are not authentical!

DESPARD.
Be calm, be patient, madam! In my power
Now are you, and—

JULIA.
For this I can't be calm!—
You're like an executioner, who lifts
The griding axe above his victim's head,
And bids him—from th' unutterable depth
Of his perception of power paramount,
From the extreme of his despair—to smile!
Calm,—calm, indeed!

DESPARD,
(Stupidly and doggedly going on; and from self-complacency not adverting to the apostrophe of Julia).
I hold the clue, by which
'Tis in your power t'unwind this labyrinth.
It now depends on me, whether or ere
To-morrow noon, or whether you no more
Behold the Duke.

JULIA
(aside).
E'en on the very verge
Of what a precipice do I seem tottering?
All my life's hopes are turned to casualties.
When I look at him, the vile instrument
Seems incommensurate with such dread sway!

DESPARD.
You answer not!

JULIA.
Almighty God, is this
In human nature? Calmly to behold—
Breathless with earnestness—a fellow creature
Enduring absolutely, as it were
Death-pangs t'obtain a good, which though it be
Fantastic, is the all of earthly bliss
To that heart-stricken one,—yea, every thing?
Yet, like an angler, can a human being—
Dallying with th'expectation of another,
Torturing a writhing victim, which alas!
He has inextricably snared already—
Extract—from mere indulgence of his power
To agonize—a calm, malicious joy.

DESPARD.
These are mere rhapsodies of powerless passion.

JULIA.
They're powerless, granted; not rhapsodical.
For mercy's sake, not unrelentingly
View pangs like mine! You calmly play a part:
While on the issue of the present hour
I am a bankrupt, or enriched for ever!—
From house of mourning, from a death-bed scene
I am but just released. But that was heaven—
For there religion was—compared with this!—
There pious trust was, there tranquillity!—
E'en in my tears was there infused a balm!—
But now my brain is dry; or if I weep,
Like marble damps, my unrelieving tears
Unreconciling seem, unreconciled,
As are the pangs which wring them from their source!
This, this is madness! I am unprepared,
Unfit, for such a conflict.—

DESPARD.
Madam, think you
That what I have to say will lessen it?—
I fear 'twill not! At least, not if the Duke
Be its distinguish'd object.—Oh, that I
Had, in your favour, such an interest,
As to suffice to change your grief to joy!

JULIA.
You're practising on my credulity;
My ignorance of the world, and apprehensions!
Into compliance would you torture me
With that to which my lips can frame no utterance.
(In an altered and softened tone).
But I forget. Count Colville told me this.
He hinted to me.—Oh, it is too much.

[Sinks down in a chair.
DESPARD.
There is no method but to tell her all.
If I do not, she ne'er will listen to me.

JULIA,
(With an hysterical wildness, which Despard, in his stupidity, mistakes for rage).
What art thou muttering there thou fiend of hell?

DESPARD.
(Approaching her, and endeavouring to throw his arms around her).
If you will have recourse to violence,
I will give proof that I too can be violent.
Are you for open war? You, in this house,
Are quite defenceless! Here, I reign supreme!—
With a forbearing generosity,
Which you abuse, too long I have treated you.

JULIA.
You generous! you forbearing! I despise
Your mean unmanly threats! You may destroy me,
But till that's done my will shall master your's.
Oh, D'Ormond, could'st thou see thy Julia now!

DESPARD,
(Wrapt up in himself and not condescending to heed her).
Self-love is ruling principle of all,
Of good, and bad alike.—The difference this.—
Whose self-love is in sympathy with that
Of other men, are called the good:—the bad,
Wretches whose self-love is anomalous!
You think your bliss depends on D'Ormond; I
That mine on you. Thus are we crossed alike.
Which has most reason to upbraid the other?
You are averse from my love, he from your's,—
Or at least I, which comes to the same thing.
Yet for an interview 'twixt him and you
Willing am I to afford facilities,
But only on the terms, as, on your part,
Of certain condescensions, so on mine,
Of certain stipulations.

JULIA.
Sir, proceed.

DESPARD.
Now hear me, madam—that to which I will,
Without prevarication, pledge myself
To execute, provided, on your side,
You will an acquiescence promise me
In consequences I anticipate.

JULIA.
Name them, sir.

DESPARD.
I, to-morrow, promise you,
Unspotted as you are, to yield you up
To the Duke's arms, if you will likewise promise,
If he reject you, to return to mine.

JULIA,
(Aside, and deeply affected).
Oh God! Is he so fallen? Somewhat of him
This man must know! Can he so fallen be
As with such caitiffs live in fellowship?

DESPARD.
What say you, madam, to this compromise?

JULIA
(aside).
Oh, could I now prevaricate? My God,
What shall I do? Do thou protect and guide
My inexperienc'd youth? Count Colville said
That he at noon would call at the Duke's door.
Did I not in the Duke find a protector,
Surely I should in his once valued friend!—
Could I but stipulate that I should be
At that hour taken to Duke D'Ormond's house?—

DESPARD.
You seem absorbed in thought.—Pray answer me.

JULIA
(still aside).
Yet should I not be safe, at any rate,
If I were once admitted to his presence?
There's comfort in that thought! But should I be
The dupe of hypocritical pretences!

DESPARD.
Sure you've had time enough to meditate
Upon my proposition.

JULIA.
Yes—no—yes!—
What shall I say? It is a fearful venture.
Suppose he take me to some lonely place
Far from the city! I'm perplexed.
(To Despard.)
What hour
Would you appoint for th' interview?

DESPARD
(aside).
What hour!—
Beshrew me if she's not her stratagems,
As well as I my own.
(To Julia).
At what hour? What
Can the hour signify? Why, at the hour
Which I shall chuse.—The matin bell shall be
The signal for our going.

JULIA.
Better 'twere
At noon!

DESPARD.
My fair enchantress, no!
(Aside).
I'faith,
I 'gin to think she has her emissaries
To do her bidding. Can she—no—have tamper'd
With Madame D'Orville, or my pursuivants?
That is impossible! But yet it looks
Suspicious, thus to stipulate the time.
However, 'tis enough, that hour should not
Be, since 'tis her, my choice.
(To Julia).
No, at the hour
Of matins; I thought you were all impatient
To see Duke D'Ormond. What can work this change?
If all impatient, why thus cruelly
Defer the interview?—

JULIA
(aside).
Hypocrisy,
How difficult to those to simulate
Untaught by thee!
(To Despard).
Because, sir—why because—
I wish,—I think,—the hour of matins sure
Is too importunate for the modes of Paris.
Because—sir—why because—I wish it so—
Is it not early?

DESPARD
(aside).
And I do not wish it,
Because you wish it. Here is artifice.
Besides with one who is so dear to you,
As you affirm Duke D'Ormond is, to whom
You are so dear, vain ceremony 'tis
To make exception at an early hour.

JULIA
(aside).
Should he have fixed upon that early hour,
Because with less chance of detection, he
May thus decoy me into further danger?
I fear—I greatly fear—his purposes.—
How wretched 'tis to be defenceless thus,
Defenceless utterly, and in the power
Of one who has the will to work your ruin!—

DESPARD.
Madam, attend! My last proposal hear!
At hour of matins, and no other hour,
Will I go with you to Duke D'Ormond's house.
If he receives you, I surrender you
To him, if not, you're mine.

JULIA
(aside).
If he receives me!
What dreadful ambiguity is there,
What ominous mystery of fearful import,
Contain'd in these few words! The time has been
This were incredible! What can I do?—
I cannot yield to this. Perhaps 'twere best
To ask this man to give me till to-morrow
His project to consider.—Thus shall I
Gain time; and something in my favour may
Occur 'twixt now and then. I shall but then
Be forced to do his bidding, not worse off
Than now I am. At all events, I ought
To avoid provoking him to violence.
I now am in his power. Utter refusal
Would only be a signal for fresh insult.
(To Despard).
I have one favour, sir, to ask of you.

DESPARD.
Well, what is it, my fair one?—

JULIA.
Till to-morrow
Give me to think of your proposal. I
Beseech you, give me till its earliest dawn.

DESPARD
(aside).
I'faith, her innocence as prolific seems
In stratagems as guilt! To-morrow's dawn?—
Passion forbids it! It is hard!—But still
I may derive advantage to my schemes
From one more consultation yet with Courtenaye,
Or ere I fix them quite, except this siren,
Like to spell-muttering necromancer, have
Agents invisible to do her bidding.
A thought has struck me. I'll make Colville's name,
Spite of his will, subservient to my projects.
Courtenaye must be consulted.
(To Julia).
I consent.—
At sun-rise I receive to-morrow morn
Your answer, but
(Advancing to salute her)
You owe to me, at least,
Some courteous recompence for this forbearance.
To Madame D'Orville now! She must be well
Tutor'd to watch this stipulating fair one.

[Despard rings, and Julia is conducted into another apartment by Madame D'Orville, and a servant with her.]
DESPARD
(alone).
Yes, I will go to Courtenaye. 'Twixt us both,
We will contrive, as written by the Count,
A letter to my prisoner, urging her,
At hour of matins, to repair—with view
Of meeting him there—to Duke D'Ormond's house.
Surely by such a bait she will be caught.

[Exit Despard.