University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—A Chamber in the Castle.
Enter Martel and Louis.
Martel.
What uproar keeps this din without the castle?

Louis.
I know not, but the town is all astir;
Hither and thither fly the citizens.
What can it mean?

Martel.
Here's one will give the cause.
Enter Ambrose.
Well, Ambrose?

Amb.
Count de Marlez has been murder'd,
And cast into the street! his body hack'd
From head to foot.

Martel.
Who did it?

Amb.
Angelo
Martini.

Martel.
Was it in a quarrel, or
Did he assassinate him?

Amb.
I know not.
This moment come I from before the house
Of Angelo Martini, which the friends
Of the slain count beset; while, close at hand,
Those of Martini wait, as if prepared
To take part with the murderer; who, the while,
From open casement in the upper floor,
With savage looks, holds forth a gory arm,
Grasping a blade of the same ghastly hue,
And, waving 't o'er the body of his child,
Blanch'd milk-white of her blood, and half-exposed,
Declares he'll ne'er surrender, save a corse
Mangled like his below,

Martel.
Some love affair!
Conquerors will not brook coy mistresses!

Louis.
This falls out ominously, does it not,
Upon the nuptial day?

Martel.
The nuptial hour!
Strange nuptials, sir! It oft has moved my wonder,
The Governor, a stern and gloomy man,
Should so affect the young Sicilian.
Is't love? I have mark'd him oft, with looks that spoke
Aught but content, gazing upon Fernando
Minutes together; then, with deepest sigh,
Break off the scrutiny—for such it seem'd—
And turn to moody pondering. His daughter
Were better wed, methinks, to one of France
Than to a son of Sicily, of blood
Unknown, and all unfriended like her bridegroom.

Le Clerc
[without].
Prevent him! Stop him!

Guis.
[without].
Nay,
I will pass in!

Martel.
Suffer him, good Le Clerc;
I know him. He's Fernando's friend, and comes
Doubtless to speak with him.

Louis.
How wild he looks!

Amb.
And spectre-like.

Guis.
[Rushing in, followed by Le Clerc.]
Fernando! Sirs! Fernando!

Martel.
Why, what's amiss?

Guis.
Don't question me, dear sirs;
Fernando!

Martel.
Here he is.

Enter Fernando.
Guis.
[Catching Fernando by the arm.]
Come forth with me!
Come!—Angelo Martini!—

Fern.
[Resisting.]
Stop.

Guis.
Nay, come!
Come!

Fern.
What's the matter?

Guis.
Read it in my looks,
And save the time of telling on't!—or come,
And I will tell you as we go along!
Come!

Fern.
Hold! you'll tear my sleeve. Do you not know
It is my wedding-day?

Guis.
Do you not know
A man call'd Angelo Martini, and
Not that he's in danger?

Fern.
I infer so.

Guis.
Thou dost? and art not now upon the way
To his house? Thy tutor! Angelo Martini!
'Sdeath, art thou flesh or stone? Offer'st thou not
To move!

Fern.
You'll find it husbandry of time
To spend what's needed; else, you save to waste.
What of Martini?

Guis.
Ay!—So!—Is't the way?
Ought friends to take it leisurely in straits
Where hottest speed is slow for those they love,
Lying in jeopardy? Sit down, sir. Well
[Seats himself.
We sit as stand!—we progress either way
As fast! Sit down and listen. Yesternight—
Pray you your chair—I cannot well go on
Until I see you at your ease. [Fernando sits.]
—Last night,
As I said, a thief—not such as filches coin—
Was the unbidden guest of Angelo;
Chamber'd with his fair child, without her leave,
As her gored breast can vouch for you; Angelo—
I trust my tongue does not outstep your ear?

Fern.
Go on!

Guis.
In good time, sir. Well! Angelo
Waked by a shriek—'twas not without the house,
But came from the quarter where his daughter couch'd—
And—taking the strange summons with more heat
Of apprehension, than will suffer one,
That hath the use of limb, to lie abed,
Or sit his chair as we do—to afford
The aid was needed, rush'd where he might give it,
And at the door encounter'd him who had made him
A host without his privity or wish,
Dagger in hand, sir, slinking from the bier,
Had been, an hour before, the virgin's bed!

Fern.
What follow'd?

Guis.
One might guess, a blow!—Yes, sir—
While the blood runs 'twill heat or cool upon
Occasion. Yes, sir; Angelo, our friend,
A generous man, although we say it, like
To exact penalty for injury
Done to a common friend—and how much more
An only child!—struck—nor with naked hand,
Nor easily contented! Blow begot
Blow, till the body of the Count—

Fern.
What count?

Guis.
The Count de Marlez.

Fern.
Was he stabb'd by Angelo?

Guis.
And stabb'd till not a palm's breadth of his body
But bears the crimson seal that witnesses
The glut of ravening vengeance, as it lies
In the street, cast forth the casement, of whose sill
Angelo makes a bier to show his child
To some amaze-confounded lookers on.
While the retainers, countrymen, and friends
Of the Count assault the gate of Angelo
To get at him and tear him limb from limb;
The which thy timely presence had prevented.
But not enough thou know'st thy friend requires thee;
Behoves his need be woven a history;
And while the loom's a-going, which I must ply,
They massacre the man who taught and loved thee!

Fern.
Go forth, my friends, and succour Angelo.
Take others with you—all the aid you can!
Dissuade his enemies from violence.
Use the Duke's name! Command them to forbear,
And leave rebuke to him.

[Martel and others rush out.
Guis.
Go'st thou not too?
Play'st thou the friend by heartless deputy,
To foil the foes that work with all their hearts!
Keep'st thou the castle when Martini's house
Is made the stall of savage butchery?
Lend'st him a finger when he wants thy hand,
Thy limbs, and body?

Fern.
'Tis my wedding-day;
The very hour I lead my bride to church.

Guis.
Thou wast his son to Angelo Martini,
And when thy presence would be life to him,
And it is ask'd of thee, thou givest it not,
But send'st him that of men who would look with coldness,
If not with joy, upon Martini's carcass;
Because thy nuptials may not be delay'd!
Ached thy bride's head, would it not stop them?—or
Would they go on, fell the Duke sudden sick?
Or chanced to shake Messina with a fit
Of the earthquake? or the Cataracts of Ætna
Began to play?—But not a pause, although
Thou heard'st the life-blood gurgling in the throat
Of Angelo Martini! Fare thee well—
If well ingratitude fared ever.
Mingle thy blood with those, at thought of whom,
Wast thou the tithe of a Sicilian,
Thy blood would curdle! We were brothers once;
One mind—one soul! We now are two—apart!
Disjoin'd! Opposed! Never to meet again
Except to the woe of the one or t'other of us.

[Goes out.
Fern.
Come back! Fool! Meddler! Braggart!

Iso.
[Entering.]
How is this?
What dost thou with thy weapon in thy hand!
Ha! by thy looks, it was not without need
Thou drewest it! Sweet heaven! I saw thee thus
Last night!

Fern.
Where, dearest?

Iso.
In my dreams, Fernando;
That brought me naught but fearful images!
Tumults, where daggers gleam'd and blood ran free
Along the kennels of the streets, instead
Of its own channels. There, my friend, were you
And I in the midst, your one arm circling me,
Your other my defence 'gainst horrid men
That stood around, a stride or two aloof,
Like hounds, awhile at bay, prepared to spring!
Ah! then I knew the taste of death—great Heavens!
The sickness on't! Yet e'en that sickness still
Sweetness, methought, to die along with thee.
They struck—you fell! I waked while yet the room
Rang with a shriek. Put up thy sword, lest now
A prodigy should harrow up my soul,
And drops of gore, uncall'd, start on its blade!
Is't up?

Fern.
It is.

Iso.
'Tis very strange, Fernando;
This is our wedding-day, and yet I feel
As though we should not marry.

Fern.
Wouldst thou, then,
Our nuptials should be marr'd?

Iso.
No!—would you think
'Twas the coy maid of but a week ago
That answer'd, now, so promptly? 'Twas not quickly,
I learn'd to love you—though, to do you justice,
No master ever labour'd more to teach.
But now, methinks, I have the lesson better
By heart than you have.

Fern.
Better!

Iso.
Yes, Fernando!
And so you'd find, were you to slight the pupil
You took such pains with once. I would not have
Our nuptials marr'd,—and, more, they shan't be so,
Have I the power to help it.

Fern.
Isoline—
Thy father!—

Iso.
Well?—Say on;
I'd hear thee say't, though all the world were by.

Fern.
I bless thee for thy bounteous love!

Enter Governor.
Gov.
Come, child!
And on my other hand, Fernando, come.
The bridal company, in readiness
To attend you to the altar, wait for you.
[As they are going, Martel and Louis enter hastily.
What would you, friends?

Martel.
A word, sir, with Fernando.

Gov.
Be brief, then, as you may.

[Leading Isoline off.
Iso.
[Stopping and turning.]
Fernando!

Fern.
Love,
A moment and I'm with you!

Gov.
Isoline!

Iso.
I come!—the ground appears to hold my steps.

[She goes out with the Governor.
Fern.
Well, friends; were you in time?

Martel.
To see the house
Of Angelo Martini in a blaze;
Lit by his own hand, the funereal pyre
Of his slain child! Whence, soon as 'twas in flames,
Taking advantage of the pause in which
Amaze enchain'd his foes, with clotted blade
Old Angelo burst forth, a spectacle
Of blood-congealing horror, that awhile
Deprived of use the members which, except
For such a frost, had dealt him fifty deaths.
But soon it turn'd to thaw, yet not until
Martini's friends surrounded him; and now
Along the streets a running fight they keep,
Marking an ample, ghastly track, with blood,
And here and there a body drain'd of it.

Fern.
For mercy's sake provide you with a guard
And use all pains to stop this hideous fray,
And above all to save Martini's life!
Fly friends! O spare not speed! Do all you can
This fray, untimely, to o'ertake, and stop!

[Martel and Louis go out; Fernando following.