University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—A Room in Count Lambertazzi's House.
Count Lambertazzi alone.
Lam.
This scroll from Millaflores stings indeed
My heart as it had ne'er been stung before!—
The appointment that I stooped to ask for—sought
With pertinent diligence, and zeal persistent,
Given to my mortal Enemy!—I choke!—
I die with rage!—but he shall suffer yet!—

Enter Millaflores.
Milla.
I lost no time in sending thee the tidings!—

Lam.
No!—seldom is time lost in giving torture!—
'Tis not the World's way!—

Milla.
Nay!—but be more just!—
Thou didst desire me—

Lam.
(fiercely.)
Silence on the subject!—
I must forget or madden!—Hath the Duke
Discovered yet thy dark insidious plot?—
Thy foul cabal?—

Milla.
Mine?—

Lam.
Thine!—

Milla.
Now, by the Gods!
This passes Patience!—wouldst palm off on me
The wild creations of thine own dark fancy?—
I have repented and reformed—nor would
Even in such show and seeming wrong a Prince!—

Lam.
Be still!—I charge thee, say no more!—Be still!—
'Twas thou conceived'st it all!—the Plot was thine!—
Mine was pretence, till thou didst make it real!—
Thou didst not know it, but thy brilliant converse
First made me dream of such a glorious change!—
(Aside.)
Now will I make him think 'twas all his deed—
If the Duke will not trust, nor think me innocent—
At least the worst guilt shall his shoulders bear!—
(Aloud.)
We failed, and all that was sublime indeed,
Became at once most vile and dark and loathsome!—
So it is still on earth!—but if this wretch
Escapes my summary vengeance, let us yet
Contrive and plan and execute what may—
All swallow up in one enormous ruin!—
(Aside.)
Oh! I am mad to bare my Soul to him—
Yet silence is intolerable torture!—

Milla.
I did not know that I had so inspired thee!—
I felt I was most eloquent!—but yet—
I fear, if we once more should fail—'twill be
A ruin for ourselves indeed enormous!—

Lam.
Here and hereafter!—that I doubt not!—yes!—
I do believe the Powers that rule the World,
Themselves are influenced by success or failure!—
'Twould prove most likely to your loss of Soul!—

Milla.
My Soul, indeed!—my Soul!—deuce take my Soul!—
It is my title I am thinking of!—
My title and my office!—Oh! my office!—
Think!—Lord High Treasurer!—No! I will not join thee!—

Lam.
Though Fiorilina's hand be thy reward?—

Milla.
Ah! sweetest Fiorilina!—could she see
The forty Volumes—and the Funeral Vault!—
But by the way! I heard to-day such tidings
As shake me in my wish to marry her—
'Tis said the family place of sepulture
Is strangely shabby—scarce three ells of velvet
On all the coffins there—the plates too—paltry!—

Lam.
(laughing.)
Away! I jeer myself with maniac mockery!—
A hissing Devil laughs in my despair—
But now that mood is past, and it is well!—
Come!—deathly Vengeance! sweep into my Soul
With all your brooding shadows of the grave!—

Milla.
(aside.)
'Twere best I left him—he is raving, raving!—
I never fancied much the talk of madmen—
My ancestors like me were sane and sage!—
[Exit Millaflores.

Lam.
What ho! who waits?—what, Nicolo!—

Enter Nicolo.
Nico.
My Lord!—

Lam.
This instant seek the notary—send him here
Without delay!—

Nico.
I will not spare my speed.
[Exit Nicolo.

Lam.
I have resolved, my whole of worldly wealth,
(Save a most humble sum reserved,) at once
To yield up to Lorenzo—to my Nephew—
For such he shall be—let who will oppose it!—
Henceforth I feel my life will darkly be,
A chaos of all strifes, and stratagems!—
The doom is on me—and it must be so!—
My punishments shall never fall on thee,
Costanza!—never!—and the boundless wealth
To which—thy Brother lost—myself succeeded—
And which when I am gone, shall come to thee—
Transferred for my Life's length unto thy Lord—
Shall be preserved from fine or confiscation!—
Henceforth I feel I am a dark adventurer—
A masked intriguer—visionary schemer!—
The game I only played at—I will act—
Act in right earnest, bearded thus and braved!—
Look to it!—look!—my Prince!—for thou—thou hast made
Thy faithful subject—thy determined foe!—
Unchanged—irreconcileable—and desperate!—
My hate for him—this smooth-cheeked stripling—soon
(When he has gained his portion and deserts,)
Shall be transferred to thee—thou service-scorner!—
Thou trampler of these hairs of grey! thou tyrant!—
Thou who thus think'st it rests with thee alone,
To be the setter-up and taker-down
Of men whose minds are 'stablished, and assured—
Once great and ever great!—once trusted, honoured,
To be for ever honoured—ever trusted!—
Enter Visconti.
This is most kind, my Friend!—my little leisure
Prevented me from seeking thee to-day—
Thou mightst well think I should be glad to see thee!—

Vis.
I fear my presence will be deemed less welcome,
When I confess to thee I come to plead
For thy poor ward, thy sweet adopted child.

Lam.
What mean'st thou?—

Vis.
This! there can be little doubt
The bright Costanza loves not young Lorenzo—
And thou wouldst wed her 'gainst her gentle will
To him—who never can receive her Heart!—
Choice should be left her in such heart-dear matter!—

Lam.
Thou know'st she fancies—the object of this choice
Is this pernicious meddler—this Algarves—
Even he, the unknown and the unsuspected Brother!—
For such I feel convinced he is in truth!—
When he is lost to sight, as he shall be—
Conveyed from Florence, as he needs must be—
And I have trumped some story up, shall serve
To lull suspicion 'gainst myself, and rouse
Suspicions dark and mystical 'gainst him!—
Her dream-born love will gradually give way,
And she will yet be happy with Lorenzo!—

Vis.
At least coerce her not, nor yet speed on
The ceremonial of her dreaded marriage!—
No! by thy love for her!—

Lam.
And by that love
I feel I must speed on that wished conclusion—
Henceforth my Life is hurry—fury—trouble—
She must be sheltered under roof more sure!—
My love for her!—aye! 'tis a love that mocketh
The petty passion of the puling Lover—
A rooted, holy, high, paternal love—
And more than that, a gratitude profound—
Long years of gladness and of healthful interests
I owe to her—since she became my child—
Herself was made, by her exalting influence,
As 'twere the Maiden-Mother of my Soul!—
In her perpetual presence sweet and sacred—
It sprang into a better, loftier life—
A higher state!—

Vis.
Ah! sacrifice her not!—

Lam.
Myself far sooner!—but thou much mistakest!—
To change the theme, hast thou yet learned, my Friend,
Algarves' new appointment?—

Vis.
Yes!—I have heard it,
But scarcely credited the tale—is't true?—

Lam.
As true as hell, if that at least may be
True in all ruinous realities!—

Vis.
Thou bear'st it nobly!—

Lam.
Do I so?—I did—
By dedicating at the time when first
I heard it—the ignominious infamy!—
His blood and mine, to all the Infernal Gods!—

Vis.
Nay! nay!—thou rav'st—spare speech!—thy niece approaches!—
Enter Costanza.
Save thee, sweet Lady!—in thy looks I read
That thou hast communications for the Count,
Of nature confidential and peculiar—
I haste to rid thee of my needless presence!—
[Exit Visconti.

Lam.
Hast thou heard too, my child—hast thou yet heard,
How this vile plotter—this pestiferous minion—
This base intriguer—and this servile place-man—
The worm that calls himself Algarves—speeds?—
Hast heard that the office I myself demanded—
(Demanded too with instance and entreaty,
Because I felt peculiarly 'twas suited
To what I dared deem mine especial talent,)
Is given unto that beardless boy?—

Cos.
Alas!—

Lam.
Alas!—is that thy sole remark!—Speak!—say!—
Canst feel no sacred fire glow in thy breast
At this recital of my mortal wrong?—
(Passionately.)
Curse him! Costanza!—let me hear thee curse him!—

Cos.
Oh! but forgive him!—

Lam.
Yes! when earth no more
Shall be encumbered with his hateful life!—

Cos.
His life! touch not his life!—

Lam.
Ha! shall I not!—
Whose life then?—prithee! listen!—doom for doom!—
What is the dark price of the Soul's own blood?—
That price must yet be paid—the fate fulfilled!—
I am made Bankrupt of the Soul for ever!—
Who, 'midst his new friends—flatterers—followers—fools,
Will take his place and suffer in his stead—
Who will groan out their souls for his remorse,
Who bear disgrace for him—die for him?—

Cos.
I!—

Lam.
Thou!—thou'rt disgraced, enough, by even that thought!—
Die for him?—Hark!—I tell thee—and 'tis true—
As he and hell are false—if in exchange—
If in his stead, ten thousand tens of thousands
Offered themselves, I would not yield my victim!—

Cos.
(weeping.)
Thy victim! but thou mean'st it not!—
Oh! no!—
Thou art too good, too kind, too just!—

Lam.
Too just!—
And too unjustly used!—yes! yes!—thou'rt right!—
Thou'rt right!—I am too just, and will be so—
And he shall feel the justice I will deal him!—
Nothing and none shall save him from my hate!—

Cos.
Suffer me leave thee, for I scarce can stand!—
My limbs seem melting with unwonted tremours—
Mine eyes seem darkening with unnatural films—
My brain grows blind with unaccustomed mists!—

Lam.
Begone then!—and forget to say forgive!—
[Exit Costanza.
Nothing and none shall save him!—I will go
And challenge him this night—this very night—
Though he were fifty times my Brother's Son—
And thine, Luigia—saint and sufferer! thine!—
'Tis strange that melts me not!—but true, in him
Is nought that mindeth in the least of her!—
His eye—a deep dark fire!—his brow—a throne
Of haughty thoughts and wild ambitious dreams—
His proud curved lip—no! nothing there is thine—
And nothing in the Soul!—my lost Luigia!—
My mighty—melancholy love for thee
Is all Costanza's!—she is indeed thy child!—
Thou wert the mother of her heart and aspect!—
Now Vengeance!—Vengeance!—lead me where thou wilt—
I follow! to the Heart of Hell would follow!—
[Exit Lambertazzi.