 | Romiero |  |
323
SCENE II.
An old Gothic gallery, with doors leading to different apartments. Enter Jerome, carrying a light, and followed by Don Maurice.Maur.
I am the first at our appointed place,
Which is beseeming in affairs of love.
I hope, meantime, she is upon the way.
List, dost thou hear a step?
Jer.
My ears are not so quick.
Maur.
Am I again deceived? and hearst thou nothing?
Jer.
I hear the swallows stirring in their nests,
Disturb'd with sudden light. Such creatures build
In ev'ry crevice of those mouldering arches.
Maur.
Didst thou not tell me these adjoining chambers
Are all untenanted, and no one near us.
Jer.
(pointing).
Yes, all are empty but that further room,
In which Don Guzman chooses to abide,
That from its lofty windows he may see
A more extensive prospect.
Maur.
Would he were at the utmost verge of all
That may be thence survey'd!—I like it not:
He is a dangerous neighbour.
Jer.
But he is tired and gone, ere this, to rest:
You need not fear to be disturb'd by him.
Maur.
I hear a footstep now she comes, she comes!
O she is good and punctual to my wish!
Do thou retire, good Jerome.
Enter Beatrice attended, and Jerome with her female attendant keep on the background, while Maurice, running eagerly to her, leads her nearer the front.
My charming Beatrice! may I indeed
Believe that thou art here; that thou vouchsafest
To come with thoughts of favour for thy slave?
Bea.
Perhaps I do but dream I am so bold.
It is so strange,—my mind is so bewilder'd!
Maur.
And why bewilder'd, love? There's nought to fear.
Bea.
I've heard sounds of alarm, and seen faint forms,
That seem'd to follow me, and yet were nothing.
I thought the very stones of the old walls
Did call my name and know me as I pass'd.
Maur.
Fear nothing, love: this place is unfrequented:
Swallows or bats may whisper of our meeting,
But nought besides.—Oh! how I have desired
To tell thee all my heart; on bended knee
To plead my cause!—My fate is in thy hands;
And since thou hast such pity of my pain
As thus to listen to me, may I hope
Thou wilt be better still?
Bea.
Go not so fast: perhaps I am but come
To chide thee for thy most presumptuous message.
Maur.
And if thou do, I'll bear it all so meekly,
That thou wilt say within thy cunning self,
“This man, in truth, is made to be a husband.”
Bea.
It were no cunning but a foolish self
Could hold such inward parley. Every gallant
Would laugh most certainly within himself,
On hearing such a sober, grave conclusion
Join'd to the noted name of gay Don Maurice.
Maur.
Nay, do not twit me now with all the freaks,
And levities, and gambols charged upon me
By every lean-faced dame that wears a hood.
I will be grave, and dismal, and punctilious
As heir at miser's funeral, if thou wilt,
And all the while as blithe o' heart as he.
I have as many fashions and demeanours,
As mantles in a lady's wardrobe; choose,—
I'll be whate'er thou wilt, if in return
Thou wilt obey me but for some few hours.
Bea.
I hear a noise.
Maur.
Only the wind that moves yon creaking door.
Step farther this way.
[Leading her to the opposite side of the stage, near the door of Guzman's chamber.
The time is precious, my most charming mistress!
Let me speak plainly in few words. Thou knowst
How much I fear Romiero's apt suspicion.
Delay were dangerous: therefore by the dawn,
In the dark grove of pines, meet me, prepared
To quit with me the castle, and for life
To share my lot. Deny me not: time presses:
O let me urge thee!—As for life I plead.
Bea.
(after a pause).
What can I say?—I feel I should not say it,
And yet I feel thou dost not plead in vain.
Maur.
Thou'lt meet me then,—do not retract thy words.
There is no time for slow deliberation.
Thou'lt meet me by the dawn?
Bea.
Yes; I will meet thee in the grove of pines.
Enter at the bottom of the stage a Servant, who whispers to Jerome, and then retires, upon which Jerome advances hastily to Maurice.
Maur.
What is the matter?
Jer.
Romiero is not yet in bed. A spy
Who stood on watch without has given me notice.
He wanders through the house like one possess'd,
And may at last invade your privacy.
Maur.
He is not yet so near us. We shall hear him
Ere he approach.
Jer.
His motions oft are sudden.
Bea.
Retire, retire! I'll meet thee by the dawn;
So, till that time, adieu.
[Exeunt.
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