University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The grand court of the castle.

Enter a pompous funeral procession by an arched way at the right side of the bottom of the stage, and crossing it in a diagonal line, passes out by the left side of the front; which joins the massed richness of a perspective to the distinctness of a side view.

SCENE II.

A small private apartment. Enter Leonora, walking thoughtfully across the stage; then enter Diego, upon which she turns, and goes up to him, without speaking.
Diego
(after pausing for her to speak first).
They told me, madam, you desired to see me.

Leo.
Yes, good Diego, I would speak with thee;
Yet what I have to say comes of no sense,—
Mere curiosity,—a woman's humour.
Looking from my apartment not long since,
Methought I saw thee in the inner court,
Earnest in conversation with Balthazar.
I mark'd you for a while, and his strange gestures
Seem'd those of anger rather than of grief.

Diego.
He was, in truth, somewhat intemperate.

Leo.
What has disturb'd him?

Diego.
He is a man by nature cross and captious,
And hardly to be satisfied.

Leo.
How so?
Has aught been wanting in the funeral honours
Paid to his master?

Diego.
No; it is not that.
He rather thinks we have been more intent
On idle pageantry, than truly zealous
In finding out the murd'rer of his lord;
'Twas this did move him to unseemly warmth,
And words which I may not repeat.

Leo.
(eagerly).
What words?
Does he suspect—No; what should he suspect?
[Pausing and gazing on Diego, who is silent.
Thy face looks pale and haggard. Did he name him?

Diego.
Name whom?

Leo.
No, no one. This bewilder'd brain
Will run on things too wildly fanciful.
I'll speak to him myself; he shall be satisfied.
Search shall be made without delay. Go to him,
And tell him I would see him privately.

Diego.
He is not here.

Leo.
What! not within the walls?

Diego.
Mounted upon his master's swiftest steed,
He left the castle short while since; ere this
He must be near Zamora.

Leo.
Why such haste?

Diego.
I know not; 'tis, perhaps, to gain admission,
Before the opening of his royal court,
To the king's private ear.

Leo.
(alarmed).
Most strange! some thought— some dark imagination
Has worked him to this frenzy.—Tell me truly
Where his suspicions rest: for he has spoken
Words which thou wouldst conceal. Spoke he in hints?
O tell me all!—He did not name Henriquez?

Diego.
No; by the noble house of Altavera,
Had he so done that word had been his last.
Diego Furnez, aged as he is,
Had ne'er stood by with rapier by his side
To hear his master's honour rudely stain'd
With horrid imputation.

Leo.
Hush! speak low.
I meant not that! a thing too wild and frightful
Even for a hasty thought.—But does he know
A lurking stranger in the wood was found,
With scared and hasty fear, confessing guilt?

[Mencia, entering behind them, and listening to the last words, rushes forward in grcat alarm.
Men.
Confessing guilt! O trust not his confession!
Believe not what he says! a frenzied dream!
For mercy's sake, my sister! O, for mercy!

Leo.
Mencia; what sudden madness seizes thee?
Mercy! for whom dost thou implore my mercy?

Men.
Cruel thou art to ask! My first, my dearest:
O had no other ever look'd upon me,
This misery had not been.

Leo.
It is Antonio, then, for whom thou fearest?
Is he the stranger who escaped their search?

Men.
Has he escaped? Then heaven be praised he has!

Leo.
And thou didst know that he was lurking here?

Men.
Catch not so eagerly my foolish words;
I think of him when any youth is mention'd.

Diego.
Lady, we only said, “a lurking stranger:”
It is yourself who marks him as a youth.

Men.
I know not what I say;—I'm most unhappy:
I will retire.

Leo.
Yes; thou hadst best retire;
And be appeased; Antonio is not found,
Though now we know on whom to fix the charge.
[Exit Mencia.
(Gladly to Diego.)
Now it is clear: it is a blest relief!
My good Diego, faithful, kind, old friend;
Even for the love which thou dost bear thy lord,
I call thee friend;—it is a blest relief. (Taking his hand.)

It comes upon my heart,—a loaded heart,
That was with horror press'd, and brings these tears.

Diego.
God bless you, lady! Had I sooner known
The steady truth and kindness of your nature,
It had been well, for I have been perverse;
But henceforth I will curb all wayward thoughts,
And honour you as Don Henriquez' wife,
And worthy so to be.

Leo.
Cease, friend; all thy perverseness is forgotten.
Enter Carlos.
In a good time thou com'st, my noble friend.

Car.
How's this? Strange joy has lighten'd up your eyes,
Unsuited to these hours of sable sadness.

Leo.
We have discover'd Juan's murderer.

Car.
I'm glad to hear it: have you certain proof?

Leo.
Antonio, Mencia's lover; a wild youth,
Whose most presumptuous love, not long ago,
She had for Juan's nobler suit rejected,
Is the mysterious stranger, here, by night,
Found lurking in the wood, whose hasty flight
So well betrayed his guilt.

Car.
I will, and instantly,
Despatch a swift pursuit, to trace his flight.
I've seen the youth, and can describe his mien,
And slender, graceful form. O most unlike
One who could do a fell and bloody deed!

Leo.
A gentle form the fellest heart may shroud.

Diego.
I have known such to anger and to blood
More prone than sterner men.

Car.
You seem offended with me, but I meant not
To question what you say. The time is precious:
I'll send, without delay, on every track,
Those who, I trust, will shortly seize upon him.
Guilty or innocent. I came to say
Those maids and holy men, as you appointed,
Are in the chapel met, and wait your presence,
To sing a nightly requiem for the dead,
Who, in the vault beneath, his first still night
Of the grave's rest doth pass.
But we'll postpone these rites till we have done
What must not be delayed.

Leo.
Ay; let us lose no time.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The burying vault of the castle, with monuments of the dead; and near the front of the stage, a newly covered grave, seen by the light of a lamp placed on a neighbouring tomb, the stage being otherwise dark. A solemn requiem for the dead is heard at a distance, sounding from above. As it draws to a close, Henriquez appears at the further end of the vault with a light in his hand, which he holds out from him, as if in search of some object, and, seeing the grave, casts the light from his hand, and rushes towards it
Hen.
(after gazing some time on the grave).
And here thou liest with all thy noble parts,
Thy lofty, liberal soul, and goodly form,
And heart of love so thorough and so true!
This is thy rest, the meed and recompense
Thy generous worth hath from thy friend received!
Thy friend! O savage heart and cruel hand!
Fell, hateful, faithless, cowardly, and base!
Of every baleful thing, by heaven cast off,
Most cursed and miserable!—
O that ere this the dust had cover'd me
Like a crush'd snake, whose sting is yet unsheath'd!
Would in the bloody trench some sabred Moor
Had lanced this hold of life—this latent seat
Of cruelty! or rather that some dart,
Shot erring in our days of boyish sport,
Had pierced its core! Then by my early grave
He had shed over me a brother's tears;
He had sate there and wept and mourn'd for me,
When from all human hearts but his alone
All thoughts of me had been extinguished. Juan!
My Juan, dear, dear friend! Juan de Torva!
Thy name is on my lips, as it was wont;
Thine image in my heart like stirring life;
Thy form upon my fancy like that form
Which bless'd my happy days. How he would look,
When with his outspread arms, as he return'd
After some absence!—Oh, it tortures me!
Let any image cross my mind but this!
No, no! not this!—Sable, sepulchral gloom!
Embody to my sight some terrible thing,
And I will brave it. (Pausing and looking round.)

It doth! it doth! there's form and motion in it.
Advance, thou awful shade, whate'er thou art!
Those threat'ning gestures say thou art not Juan.
[Rubbing his eyes.
It was but fancy.—No; the soul to Him
Who is the Soul of souls ascended hath,
Dust to its dust return'd. There is nought here
But silent rest that can be rous'd no more.
Beneath this mould, some few spans deep he lies.
So near me, though conceal'd!—Curs'd as I am,
The cords of love e'en through this earth have power,
Like a strong charm, to draw me to him still.
[Casting himself upon the grave.
Burst, guilty heart! rend every nerve of life,
And be resolved to senseless clay like this,
So to enlap his dearer clay for ever.

Enter Carlos.
Car.
(looking round him).
He is not here: nought see I through the gloom
Save the cold marble of those tombs which, touch'd
With the wan light of yon sepulchral lamp,
Show their scroll'd ends to the uncertain sight,
Like shrouded bodies rising from the earth.
[Going towards the grave.
Ha! something stirring on the new raised earth!
It is Henriquez, wrapped in frantic sorrow.
[Advancing to him.
Henriquez! hearst thou not, noble Henriquez?
Nay, nay! rise from the earth: such frantic grief
Doth not become a man, and least of all
A man whose firm endurance of misfortune
Has hitherto so graced his noble worth.
Giv'st thou no answer but these heavy groans?
Thou canst not from the tomb recall the dead,
But rouse thy spirit to revenge his death.

Hen.
(raising his head).
What saidst thou?

Car.
Quit this dismal bed of death,
And rouse thee to revenge thy murder'd friend.

Hen.
He is revenged; heav'n deals with guilt so monstrous:
The hand of man is nothing.

Car.
Ay, but the hand of man shall add its mite.
[Taking hold of his hand to raise him.
Up from the earth! I've found the murderer.

Hen.
(springing up fiercely, and seizing him by the throat).
Layst thou thy hand on me?
What is or is not,
The God of heaven doth know, and He alone.
Darest thou with mortal breath bestow that name,
To the dishonour of a noble house,
On one of ancient princely lineage born?

Car.
Let go thy frenzied grasp! Should brave Castilians
Thus grapple hand to hand, like angry boys?
Fit time and place shall justify my words,
If they indeed offend.—Our watch hath seiz'd
In hiding near the castle, most suspiciously,
A youth who hath to Mencia's love pretended,
Whose hand, we cannot doubt, hath done the deed;
But if he be of such high lineage born,
'Tis more than he hath claim'd or we will credit.
Why drop your arms thus listless by your side;
Your eyes upon the ground? Will you not go
And see the prisoner, and hear him question'd?

Hen.
Ay, ay, this is required: I'll go with thee;
I comprehend thee now.

Car.
And yet thou mov'st not:
Does any sudden pain arrest thy steps?

Hen.
I am benumb'd and faint.—I'll follow thee.

[Exeunt.