University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—The Coliseum by Moonlight.
Montalba (discovered).
Mont.
Would she were come! a fierce impatience drives
My shrieking Soul along.—I scarce can breathe
Beneath this load of deadly secrecy—
That weightier seems and weightier still to grow.
How have I borne it for so long? Now,—now,—
Each moment seems to add a mountain more
To this o'erpowering burthen!—Hush!—she comes!
Enter Eva.
My gentle, loving One! thou hast well redeemed
Thy solemn pledge.—Stand there,—no, nearer,—THERE!—
Dost love me, Eva!—speak!—

Eva.
Montalba!—

Mont.
Hush!
Say not thou lov'st me!—but I LOVE THEE—yes!—
And I have loved thee with most fatal love.
Now listen—and prepare thyself!—prepare!
Oh! Eva, love me never more!—discard
Each thought of tenderness—destroy at once
Each gentler feeling—fill thy heart with hate—
Look on me with all loathing, teach thy soul
To spurn me and to curse—

Eva.
Montalba!

Mont.
Aye!
Ev'n so is called the loathliest monster—Earth
Ere yet engendered—Eva!—hist!

Eva,
(tremblingly.)
My Lord!

Mont.
my Lord! soh!—well!—this is as it should be!
No kinder word, I pray, to cut my heart
Even to the core!—Now listen and be sure
With all extremity of withering hate!—
Disnatured, let thy lovely soul be armed
To loathe and to condemn, despise, abhor,—
'Tis at thy hands I ask my punishment—
Let every look—so blessed once and bland—
Smite like the sword of justice—to my soul.
Let every word most poignantly express
Thine utter, wild abhorrence.—Yes! I ask
My punishment at thy dear hands—and pray
That thou wilt pour on this devoted head
Those coals of fire—which—

Eva.
Oh! my husband!—haste!—
Come back with me!—come home!—'tis all a dream!
The ruinous beauty of this awful place—
Gleaming in ghostly moonlight startlingly—
Troubles thy mind and wakes strange fancies there.
Here Time seems changed into th'Eternity!—
All things around us—still as Night and Death
Do yet appear immortal as the Soul!—
Stupendous Presences come gathering round!
Communing with each other—not in words!—
And to our shrinking souls oppressed and stilled—
The Majesties of Heaven and Earth appear!—
Entwined with mysteries of tremendous might!
My soul faints, faints away beneath its dread—
Come hence with me, my Husband!—come away!—
The annihilating awe o'erpowereth me—
O'erpowereth thee!—thus doubly am I shaken!
I cannot bear to see thee thus o'erwrought—
Thus—thus—

Mont.
Nay! hear me out—at least, at least
I may claim thus much, Eva!—Wife!—from thee—
From thee—for whom I gave—so madly gave
That everlasting Soul I owed to God!—
And grew a murderer—for the hopeless wretch
That stands before thee—is indeed condemned
In sight of Heaven!—of that most heinous crime!
Through my means, Bianca Bellafiore died,
And I her death but compassed for thy sake—
By poison compassed it—and slew her so!

Eva.
Beloved Montalba! (aside)
aye! distraught! distraught!
The maniac glares in every withering look!—
My heart is dead!

Mont.
And what!—thou darest—thou darest!—
Woman! I charge thee, never more on me
Bestow such epithet of mockery—no!
I will not bear it—I have borne enough!—
Too much have borne!—and I am crushed at last.
I ask thee to abhor me—beg thy hate,
As starving men beg charity's last boon.
Entreat thy sternness,—thy severity—
This cruel kindness mads my guilty soul!—
With such a crime upon my spirit, still
Have I dared feast on Love's deliciousness—
(While every breath of bliss I dared to draw
Still seemed a crime and fathered fresh remorse!—)
Have bared my heart to blessedness of joy—
Drunk of the cup o'ermantling with delight,
And culled affection's life-enchanting flowers!
And yet how often from thy presence even
Have I rushed forth to agonize alone,
And glut the worm that revelled on my vitals—
The never-dying worm!—Oh! couldst thou know—
(Thou never shalt!—for thou would'st pity me)—
The tortures that have ground me to the dust,
The miseries that have mastered me, and martyred—
Oh!—Eva! Eva!—

[She goes up to him and takes his hand in both hers, and kisses it, saying,
Eva.
Let me but entreat—

[Mont. wildly flings her away from him.
Mont.
Away! away! Couldst kiss this murtherer's hand?
Couldst outrage nature, justice, feeling thus?
Mock Heaven, and wrong pure womanhood so much!
All shame be on thee! Is't thy vanity
Is pleased to think on this foul sacrifice—
This hellish deed committed for thy sake—
This hideous proof of a most hateful love?
All shame be on thee!—Couldst thou—couldst thou kiss
This reeking hand, all dripping with her blood!
Her heart's-blood?—Since it ceased to flow, through me!
I had looked forward to this dreadful hour—
Feeling thy horror and thy agony,
Sharp as the headsman's axe had pierced me through!
And proved some punishment for my dark crime!
And I have yearned—longed—thirsted—maddened—pined—
For some deep retribution of my sin,
And felt thy shrinking from me would have been
Almost an over-payment of despair!
I have a very hungering after hell!
Oh! for the dog's death—let me die at once!
But still—but still!—nay!—I am not yet prepared!
And, oh! my old gray father!—that forbids.
Thou dost not shrink from me. I do believe
Thou dost approve the deed!—Come!—curse me! come;
Take heaven to witness that thou hat'st me now!
Or, shame be on thee!—

Eva.
(Aside.)
Hope! farewell!—farewell!
The truth that slays me stares out to my soul,
And blinds and blasts it—there's no loophole left
At which the least doubt might creep in—'tis done;
His mind is all a ruin, madness holds
Her empire o'er his once proud intellect.—
Oh! can I see that ruin and not share it?

Mont.
(who has been walking about hurriedly and restlessly, suddenly stops and says,)
Thinkst thou 'tis mercy that thou art showing me?
I tell thee 'tis not mercy. No! no! no!
Heaven! it is the direst cruelty!—Stand back!
Shrink from me!—fear me!—shun my basilisk look!—
Mutter thine execrations in mine ear.
I do desire thy loathing!—I demand
Thy wild upbraiding!—claim it as a right—
Command—conjure it!—spurned—would revel in
Such agony of chastisement—would drink
Thy desperate curses to my shuddering soul,
With keener thirst than ever yet I drank
Thy trembling vows of love! Do thus—do thus—
Or cursed be that false love!— (Eva faints.)

Ha! what is this?
Have I slain thee too? Oh! my Bride! my Bliss!
My Beautiful! my gentle!—and thy fault
Was but thine ever-during gentleness,—
Thy nature's melting tenderness of truth!—
Oh! I have shocked thee from all sense—from thought—
From life—though not from love!—return, return—
That I may die through joy and grief conflicting—
Thou beautiful death!—be life and love once more!

Eva
(recovering).
Oh! my Montalba!—leave me not—art near?
Yes! yes! and thou'rt not angered now!—dear Lord,
Hast thou forgiven me?—Say!—

Mont.
Forgiven thee? thee—
For what, poor dove?

Eva.
Alas!—I know not well.

Mont.
Come, lean on me, and I will lead thee forth—
Thy hand is ice, thy brow is ghastly!—Come,
Forget awhile what thou hast heard.—Oh! come,
Court dear repose upon thy quiet couch—
Since—Ah! thou art changed as by an age of grief!—
What world of woe hath crushed thy fragile form?
Thy life seems half in the empire of cold Death!

[He leads her out.