 | Madonna Pia |  |
67
ACT III.
A hall in a château. Door in centre. An apartment opens out on left; on the right, a window, barricaded with iron stanchions. A Gothic couch with a table.Count Nello
(discovered seated, with a book in his hand).
I'll read no more. Some fascinationdraws
Me ever back to this accursèd book.
“What wretch was he who gave his nights and days
“To wring from nature all her secret banes,
“Compound and label them, like vulgar wares,
“And make a ghastly merchandise of death?”
What I would have this shows me how to gain:
But oh, not thus, not thus!
(Rises; looks restlessly towards the door on the left.)
What keeps this monk
So long within her chamber? Does she trust
Him with the secret she withholds from me,
And make to him confession of the love
Which bars me from the portals of her heart?
“Oh, how I loved this woman! Loved? Love still!
“To know her soul mine, as her hand is, were
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Yet, if not mine, no other man shall boast,
He won the prize I wrestled for in vain.
Death only shall dispute my bride with me,
And him will I encounter by her side,
And give him welcome, come how soon he may!
(The Prior enters from the chamber of the Countess.)
At last he comes. Good even, holy father!
How fares it with my gentle lady, pray?
“Men laud your cunning in the leech's craft,
“Not less than they extol your piety.
“I look that she may profit much by both.”
What of her malady? Not grave, I trust?
How's this? You do not answer—and that look?
Prior.
You've sought my aid, sir, somewhat tardily.
Nello.
How! Tardily? “What means this freezing tone?
“Speak! Tell me all!” What fear is in your thoughts?
Within the last few days her eyes have gained
All their old lustre, and her cheek its bloom;
“Smiles sat upon her lips, her tones were glad,
“And health seemed living in her frame anew.”
What blight has come to change all in an hour?
Prior.
Trust not, my lord, this fleeting gleam. Our art
Warns us to dread it as a fatal sign.
Even death at times puts on a masking guise.
Nello.
Death! And no remedy?
Prior.
But one.
Nello.
“Say on—
“What must be done?”
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Remove her hence at once
From the Maremma's pestilential air!
To-morrow—nay, to-night, this very hour,
If it be not even now, perchance, too late!
Nello.
“Nay, nay, you must mistake. It cannot be!
“So soon to suffer—
Prior.
“I do not mistake.”
Nello.
I am to blame. “Intent upon the cares
“Of patching up old flaws, adjusting feuds,
“Stopping the breaches of ungainful waste,
“Which long neglect and absence had engendered
“In my domains in the Maremma here,”
I had forgot the dangers of the climate.
We shall depart to-morrow. Yet, now I think—
Not that I would make question of your skill,—
You, father, though a stranger—from the north,
'Tis said—have sojourned here some twenty years,
Defying death, yet daily fronting it;
How comes it, then, this malady, I pray,
Is so capricious, working, as 'twould seem,
In six short months, more mischief on my wife,
Than on yourself in twenty years? Go to!
'Tis something else—
Prior.
'Tis nothing else! The air
Of the Maremma blights more certainly,
That she is pining with an untold grief;
The heart's home-sickness,—“a consuming bane,
“That fires the eye with an unnatural light,
“Puts a wan wistfulness into the smile,
“Brings old familiar haunts and faces back
“In the brief radiance of a feverish dream,
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“That o'er a sick mind throws a deadlier gloom.”
Such is the malady, my lord, that now
Consumes the sources of your lady's life,
But which may be arrested by a prompt
Removal hence—by company—by change—
Nello.
Nay, sir, proceed! And by a lover—
Prior.
Count!
Nello.
Oh, holy father, you mistake my thought.
Heaven knows, though bowed, ay, to the dust with grief,
Tortured with jealousy, I hold my wife
Worthy of boundless honour and regard.
But did a husband's love suffice her heart,
Would she so droop and fade for weariness?
“Some far-off image—memory, perchance,—
“We are not always masters of our dreams.”
Here you are in the dark as much as I.
She is not like to trust her confessor
With what she dares not whisper to herself.
“In such case silence is no sacrilege.”
Prior
(indignantly).
My lord, my lord, you shall not snare me thus.
Nello.
“A most convenient weariness is this!
“Who ever died of weariness? No, no!”
(Rises.)
Prior
(aside)
.
Great heaven, forgive me my suspicious thoughts!
(To Count Nello.)
My lord, 'tis fit that I be frank with you.
For some time past a rumour has been rife,
Which centres darkly on yourself. 'Tis said,
That goaded on by jealousy to seek
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You wittingly expose your innocent wife
To this miasmal atmosphere of death.
Nello.
What matters it to me what babblers say?
If there be danger, they must see I share it.
“This atmosphere, that shrivels up the lips,
“Has breathed on mine;—this fever of the blood,
“This languor of the soul, I too partake.”
Prior.
Think you I know it not? have I not read
In your wild eye the traces of your pangs?
Seen that a kindred fire consumes you, too,
And that, if death shall bear your lady hence,
You will go down with her into the grave?
This is your purpose—your desire, your hope.
Nello.
No more—no more! We shall depart to-night.
Prior.
Yes; save her, oh my son! She is most pure,
Loyal and loving,—such an one, as heaven
Gives to a man, when it would bless him most,
But, if untreasured, swiftly takes away.
“Sienna, when you wedded her, foretold
“A happy issue to the feuds that long
“Had ranged your sires in sanguinary strife.
“Blight not this golden promise. Watch yourself;
“Distrust the blood that courses in your veins.
“'Tis there, and not in her the mischief lies;”
No angel in yon heaven, where all is pure,
Is freer from the taint of aught should wake
The jealousy which gnaws you. Yes, my son,
Doubt her no more, and all may yet be well.
(Exit.)
Nello
(alone).
How cheaply may an angel's name be bought!
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“Some penitential words—the thing is done!
“Oh, this repentance may find grace above,
“But not with frail humanity like mine.”
I must have vengeance on this cruel girl,
Whom they call angel. She can see me suffer,
Can see me dying, yea, will die herself
Far rather than divulge her lover's name.
“Ah, would I ne'er had known her—ne'er been born!
“Fain would I die alone, no crime but one
“Upon my soul; but some fiend urges me
“To drag her down with me into the grave.
“Still is the image present to my thoughts
“Of one that dries her hypocritic tears,
“Rich with my treasure, with my jewel blest—
“Oh cruel Pia! How I love her still!
“A word would save her. Why conceal this name?”
That mystery broke, I would forgive her all,
Spare her, and die content, but to have seen
My rival for one moment face to face.
But yield her up to one, who now, perchance,
Even now, stalks like a phantom round these walls,
To pounce upon my wealth! Oh hell, to die
Ere our good swords have crossed! Bear witness, heaven,
'Tis he that tortures her—'tis he that kills,
'Tis he has roused this hell within my soul!
(A trumpet heard without.)
A trumpet!
(Goes to window.)
How! A horse, all white with foam!
The rider wears the Tolommei's garb.
“He bears a letter.” They have tracked us, then.
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He foiled me once, but shall not so again.
(Enter Flavio with a letter, which he delivers to Count Nello.)
'Tis even as I surmised. Her father's hand!
(Reads the letter, then turns to Flavio.)
The messenger saw no one? Talked with none?
Fla.
No one, my lord.
Nello.
'Tis well. Give order straight,
Admittance to the castle be denied
These next two days to all who may appear.
Away!
(Exit Flavio.)
Her father to be here to-morrow!
Well! Let him come! To-morrow? Ay, to-day!
(Sits down and resumes the book.)
Come, trusty counsellor, advise me now.
“Let me peruse the place again. Ha! Good!
“Tis here!” (Reads.)
‘The elixir of the Magian kings,
A subtle poison, of exceeding power,
Exhales a fragrance pleasant to the sense,
And works a gentle, easy, painless death.’
Good, I would have it so! ‘If smelt to only,
Slowly it works, but still with certainty;’
“Oh, excellent device of science, thus
“To deaden pain, delighting while it kills!
“Here is the poison, then, which freezes up
“The blood, yet pains not,—leaves no trace behind.”
Its action may be counteracted, too,
Should she relent, or I repent me. Here
I hold the antidote, in case of need.
Once more I'll see her; and this time, belike,
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“Oh, may she speak that word, and from herself
“Avert the peril to my rival's head!
“Grant, oh ye heavens! he fall into my hands,
“That she may live!” But let me forth awhile,
To cool the fever of my brain, and still
The raging pulses of my tortured heart,
Before I seek this final interview.
(As he turns to go out, he is met by Nina, who enters with a bouquet in her hand, and starts back, alarmed, on seeing him.)
Ha, Nina, still with the accustomed gift!
Nina
(with embarrassment).
My lord!
Nello
(taking the bouquet).
What brilliancy! what charming tints!
They grow choice flowers in the Maremma, girl!
Nina.
Sir, my betrothed—
Nello.
Ha, Beppo? A good youth.
Nina.
Oh no!
Nello.
Luigi?
Nina.
No, sir.
Nello.
How, another?
His name is—Ah, well, well, I see you blush.
But, Nina, have a care. Not yet sixteen,
And with a secret! (Aside.)
Heavens! What fire is here!
(Aloud.)
When girls are silent, 'tis because they love.
(Aside, and crossing to the left.)
This lily never bloomed in the Maremma,
These flowers were by no rustic's hand arranged.
Perhaps they hide some letter? No! yet stay.
Have I not somewhere heard, that in the East
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To bear the secret messages of love?
I charge these flowers with mine.
(Empties the contents of a phial on the bouquet.)
Nina.
Heavens, what a look!
I pray you, let me have my flowers, my lord!
Nello.
I never saw more beautiful.
Nina.
Indeed
I had to travel for them many a mile.
You are not angry, sir?
Nello.
Angry? Oh no.
At such sweet thoughtfulness how could I be?
Take back your flowers.
Nina.
Oh, thanks!
(She is about to smell to them when Count Nello snatches them from her.)
Nello.
On second thoughts,
I will myself present them to the Countess.
Go, child, and say that I await her here.
Nina.
Oh, thanks, my lord, this is so kind of you!
(Exit.)
Nello
(alone).
“they are all leagued against me. Yes, not one
“Can I find open to assault, not one.
“Why, even this girl, I've had her dogged in vain.
“There is a general compact to betray me.
“So near the goal, I feel my purpose fail.”
(Looking at the bouquet.)
Poor flowers! The tears lie heavy on your leaves.
Weep on, weep on, for ye are brimmed with death.
No, let her live! I will destroy them. Yet
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Perchance he culled them for her yesterday.
And though he did, what matter? Such a doom
Were much too cruel. Let me hence!
Fla.
(appearing at centre door).
Are you
Alone, my lord?
Nello.
Speak low!
Fla.
(advancing).
One of our people
Has just come in, who tells me that he saw
Near Civitella, at the break of day,
A troop of cavaliers, all armed, upon
The march to this chateau.
Nello
(aside).
Ha, is it so?
Her father here already!
Fla.
Striking off
By a cross path, he distanced them an hour
Or more.
Nello.
'Tis well! An hour? That will suffice.
Fla.
One word, my lord! One of the party sent
A bunch of flowers by Nina, who, no doubt,
Expected them.
Nello.
Ha, flowers? (Aside.)
'Tis he, 'tis he!
Father and lover both arrayed against me.
(To Flavio.)
Go find this man, and bid him wait for me.
(Exit Flavio.)
And so, Count Tolommei, you would fain
Surprise us; but you'll find us on the watch.
Now to prepare to give you fitting welcome!
(Places the bouquet on the table, and exit through door in centre.)
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Nina.
How! no one here? Gone! and my flowers? Oh shame!
Pia.
Nina, you must not blame my gracious lord.
Seeing me suffer, girl, he suffers too,
And he has much beside to task his thoughts.
This makes him wayward,—moody.
Nina.
For all that,
I can't see why he should be so with you,
So good, so kind! 'Tis not for me to speak;
But if he loved you truly, he would be
More thoughtful for you, would not keep you here
In this dull place, that's plainly killing you,
And for no reason else, that I can see,
Except to have you wholly to himself,
To torture with his whims and moody fits.
Pia.
Hush, Nina, you forget yourself. I know,
'Tis not without a cause, he is so changed;
But while his love's unchanged, I am content.
Nina.
“His love! Content! The peevish boy, whose bird,
“Caged from the sunshine and the rushing breeze,
“Droops plume by plume, and frets, until its song
“Dies down into a broken fitful wail,
“Will say he loves his bird, would break his heart
“To think of losing it, but not the less
“One day no flutter answers to his call,
“And on its withered turf the bird lies dead.
Pia.
“Hush! Hush!” My pain is somewhat less to-day;
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My spirits are more cheerful, and I long
To look upon the sky.
(Approaches the window.)
How beautiful!
Ye spreading pines, ye old primeval oaks,
And thou, calm lake, the mirror of the sky,
How fair ye are! What fragrance from the earth
Exhales as from an altar heaped with flowers!
And yonder sea, that stretches far away,
Its deep blue fading in a silver line!
I love and bless thee, thou fair Tuscan land.
And yet, and yet, another place it is
To which I fain had spoke my last farewell.
Hear me, kind heaven, show it these eyes once more,
That so my sunset may reflect my dawn;
Though but a moment, grant me yet to see
My own sweet native soil! My prayer is heard!
Is this the murmur of my childhood's stream,
Laving the long hair of the willows? Hush!
My garden's balmy breath salutes my cheek!
Yes, yes, it is no dream! What joy to tread
This velvet sward again! Who spoke of dying?
Nina.
Oh, my poor mistress!
Pia.
Castle of my sires,
Grand even in ruin! War has scathed thy front,
And o'er the scars of thy proud battlements
The ivy and the jasmine thickly creep.
See, Nina, see the white swans in the fosse,
The towers reflected in the trembling waves,
And yon old man! It is my father! Hark,
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Know you it is my father? Let me go!
My father! Ah, these bars! Where am I, then?
What dream was this? Ah me, death comes so slowly!
(Nina assists her to the couch.)
What have I said? Nay, child, dry up your tears!
Nina
(observing the bouquet on the table).
No, let me weep! But look, here are my flowers!
Pia
(taking the bouquet in her hand).
See how unjust you were! 'Tis plain he left
Your gift for me, and will no doubt return.
But tell me, child, how came you by these flowers?
How's this! You hesitate?
Nina.
I was forbid—
But what of that? What is there to conceal?
One day, as I was walking by myself
Down by the river, on the opposite bank
I spied a flower so lovely, I resolved
To have it; so I bared my feet, and stepped
Into the stream, and having plucked the flower,
Had reached the bank, when all at once a man
Sprang from the thicket and stood full before me.
Pia.
A robber?
Nina.
No, a youth of noble air,
Who bore a hooded falcon on his wrist.
Pia.
Proceed.
Nina.
For whom these flowers? he said. I answered,
Sir, for my mistress! Do you serve, said he,
The noble lady, whom her lord, they say—?
But 'tis no matter what he said.
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He said?
Nina.
What we all see and know, alas! too well.
He'd give his life, he said, could he but bring
The flush of health into your cheek, and make you
The bright and happy thing you were of yore,—
That something must be done to set you free,
That something should be done, and quickly, too,
And asked a thousand questions with an air
So tender!—
Pia.
You replied? You stayed to hear?
Nina.
How could I else? He spoke to me of you,
And my heart warmed to every word he said.
Besides, he had my slippers in his hand,
Which I had taken off to cross the stream.
You smile—but could I go with feet all bare?
Well, in a word, he would not let me part
Till I had promised him to come again,
To meet him there the Tuesday afterward.
Pia.
Ah, foolish girl! That is to-day.
Nina.
It is.
Pia.
You will not go?
Nina.
I have but just returned.
He met me,—but to-day, armed head to foot.
The hour approached for your release, he said,
Again he pressed me close about your health,
And gave this nosegay to me. How, my lady,
Do you reject it?
Pia.
(aside, and turning away).
Oh! alas, alsa!
Nina.
The very thing he dreaded. Should their beauty
Surprise your mistress, were his very words,
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Nor what I've said to you, but tell her this,
And then she scarcely will refuse the gift,
These flowers, the present of no stranger's hand,
Bloomed in her father's gardens yester morn.
Pia.
My father's, do you say? Oh blessèd gift!
I may then press them freely to my heart,
Inhale, without a blush, their sweet perfume!
My father's gardens! “Oh, my soul revives!
“These lovely flowers!” Remember, if I die,
That I would have them near me in the tomb.
Look at this golden broom, this dazzling rose!
“Heaven has sown beauty wide through every land,
“But underneath no other skies, methinks,
“Shall one behold such gardens, flowers so fair,
“As those that bloom around my father's halls.”
This smilax must have drunk my own dear stream.
“They used to praise its dark enamelled tints
“Against my cheek, its coral tendrils twined
“Among my dusky tresses. Put it on.
Nina.
“No, place it on a brow more fit to wear it.”
Pia
(while Nina is engaged in adjusting the flowers in her hair).
Would you believe, my girl, that far, far hence,
Hearts have been found,—thank heaven! not often found,—
Corrupted so by the polluting air
And dreary life of cities—men so vile,
And sometimes women, too, alas!—who've mixed
Poison with the pure perfume of a flower!
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(aside).
Poison! Great heaven! This deadly paleness—
(Snatches the nosegay from the hand of Pia. Count Nello, who has entered a short time before, advances and takes it from her.)
Ah!
Nello.
What is the matter, Nina? (Smells to the bouquet.)
I rejoice
To find you stirring, madam. (To Nina.)
You may go
I would be private with your mistress here.
(Exit Nina.)
(Nello restores the bouquet to Pia, who throws it hastily down upon the table.)
It is enough my hand has touched the flowers,
To make you cast them from you with disdain.
Your pardon.
Pia.
Ever this sarcastic tone?
“You do me wrong, my lord, most heavy wrong.”
What are the flowers to me, when you are by?
Your eyes with sorrow wan are all I see,
In them I read the pangs that rack your heart,
Seek in them, oh in vain! some glimpse of joy.
Ah, to rekindle that—one gleam, but one—
Chase with my words the trouble from your brow,
Calm for one day the fever of your brain,
I'd give my life—alas! I would, I would.
Nello.
Madam, I doubt it not. Death is your hope.
'Twill rid you of a bondage you detest.
And so the tomb for you is but a bed,
Fragrant with flowers, and wooing, where you yearn
To sink into a long luxurious sleep.
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Ah no, my lord. Life, even when bitterest, is
A tyrant whom we love, although he wounds.
Oh, with what rapture would I cling to it,
If in your eyes I saw the old fond smile,
If trusted, loved, as once, my days rolled on
Betwixt my father and yourself in peace.
Think you, for aught beyond the sphere of time
I'd barter such dear certainty of bliss.
Speak but the wish, I am ready to live on.
Nello.
Oh say, resigned to bear a life you loathe!
No, Pia, no, you die without regret,
Clasping your secret to your heart—cold, calm,
Too proud to sully my name or your own,
But all too full of his, for mine to find
The sorriest corner there! What is the world,
What sunshine or our weary life to you?
You look to find a better world beyond,
A world where souls that love shall meet once more,—
Oh, I am jealous of the heavens themselves!—
A world where I shall never meet you, for
Within its limits I may never come!
Pia
(rising).
You fright me, Nello. What wild words are these?
Nello.
So death but part us, you will smile on death.
(Sits down.)
Pia
(going up to him).
Nello, this frenzy drives me to despair.
Come forth from these black labyrinths of doubt,
Rend from your eyes this curtain of thick night,
And recognise your wife for what she is.
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Living I suffer—suffer if I die.
Death, as I see it through a mist of tears,
Is blank to me as life, and as unlovely.
Yet would you but forget that hour of pain,
And be the Nello of our early love,
Oh, how you might enamour me of life,
By giving me an aim, a proud desire,
A hope, howe'er remote, to win you back!
Then, Nello, then, oh I should fear to die.
“How sweet a task it were for you and me,
“Bravely to tread this new path side by side,
“Each cheered by each, and bearing each our load,
“Which every day should lighten in the joy
“Of the returning dawn of golden hours.
“So cheered, the heart would falter not, nor fail,
“And we might find again—”
Nello.
No more, no more!
“(Aside.)
Oh, how her words confound me! Who, to hear,
“To see her, but must deem her pure from guile?”
(Aloud.)
And so my cruelty, my fell designs,
Might in your pity be redeemed at last?
Oh, could I hope for that!
Pia.
I see your thought.
“That this should be, to you seems hopeless, wild;
“'Tis hard, I own, yet not impossible.
“For one who bears a noble knightly name
“To hide him in a pestilential waste,
“To kill a wife there, is an act abhorred,
“And marked for infamy by all mankind:
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“His victim with a gentler eye can look.
“Passion so erring, such dark frenzied thoughts
“Deserve her pity, who hath caused them all;
“And when this man, blameless till then, and brave,
“Who, if he fell, fell by his love o'erthrown,
“Led back by love, regains his former self,
“Stoops for forgiveness, begs to be beloved,
“Then—”
Nello.
Then?
Pia.
Oh then, far, far from all can wake
Remembrance of that dark unhappy time,
For these twin hearts are blessings yet in store.
Nello.
“And in this pilgrimage you'd follow me?
Pia.
“I would!
Nello.
“You could find courage for the task!”
But he, this lover—he, who masked in night
Held parley with you at your balcony,
He, whom your silence shields from my revenge,
Shall he, I pray thee, bear us company?
(Pia covers her face with her hands; the Count continues pacing up and down the chamber as he speaks.)
This phantom who makes havoc of my sleep,
This man, whose hand, perchance, I've clasped in mine,
This mask, that vanished in the shapeless night,
But left a stinging whisper in mine ear,
Which murmurs evermore, ‘She loves thee not!’
Pia.
Nello!
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Who at this very hour, belike,
Boasts of his triumph 'mongst his wassail friends,
And pledging my dishonour in his cups,
Completes the revel with his mistress's name!
Pia.
Nello!
(Falls fainting at his feet.)
Nello.
Good heavens! What have I done?
(Raises her and places her on the couch.)
Pia.
Fear not.
I am dying, Nello; this blow is the last.
Yet is there something I would say before
I die; heaven knows it is the very truth.
That fatal interview—
Nello.
Ay, what of that?
Pia.
It was not of my seeking—with my will
Should ne'er have been, nor know I how he found
His way that night to me, upon whose heart
He dreamed,—why dreamed, it recks not now to think,—
He held some claim, which in his absence had
Been thrust aside too roughly.
Nello.
Then it was—
Pia.
The object of that love of early years,
Whose story I have told you. It was rash,
Wilful, unjust to me, to seek me so;
Yet, knowing all, I can forgive the mood,
Which yearned to wrest assurance from myself,
That with my hand I gave my heart to you,
That though the act, which made me yours, had made
Division of our paths for evermore,
He still might live in my regard, might claim
A sentence not ungentle from my lips,
A farewell not unkind—the heart needs such!
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Sentence? Farewell? What proof have I of that?
Pia.
The oath I swear in this my dying hour,
These lonely walls, these iron bars, yourself!
Nello.
What surety have I in these iron bars?
Can love not force them in a thousand ways?
Lacks he a messenger—a bird will serve,
An arrow, or a nosegay waft his tale.
Pia.
I understand your meaning. Be it so!
I'll not defend myself. Yet one word more!
Look in my face; then say, if you read there
The traces of disloyalty and shame!
Nello.
No, no, guilt never spoke in tones like these.
I feel your words are true. That look, that voice,
Suspicion cannot live within their sphere.
Oh, Pia, to forget, and be once more
The same as in the days, when this wild heart
Drew charmèd life from every word of thine;
When all its golden dreams came rushing back
At one sweet gleam of kindness in your eyes!
Then at your feet I was content to live,
Or die—I cared not, if 'twere pity, duty—
You loved me, Pia—loved, and I was happy.
My watchful tenderness had won your soul,
When this man came—
Pia.
He could not alter me.
Nello.
Then, wherefore do you countenance his suit?
Emboldened by your silence he hopes on,
Believes you love him—
Pia.
As a sister might.
Did I not know he holds your honour dear,
88
I now, perforce, must pity and respect.
Nello.
By heavens, I long to see him more and more!
But this true squire, this brother, this tame slave
Of duty, has made shipwreck of my life,
To black perdition hurled my soul, and I
Will not believe you, madam, till your lips
Reveal the caitiff's name. Your life and mine
Depend upon that word. Do you consent?
Pia.
No!
Nello.
If I vowed I should forget this name,
That undivulged thus tortures me, or, say
Oblivion were impossible, should swear
To crush all thoughts of vengeance in my heart?
Pia.
Still would I not. That name, my lord, my tongue
Shall never speak. Revenge, with all your race,
Is native in the blood, and, though you swore
By every holiest vow, a day would come,
When words, oaths, all would fail to curb your hand.
Nello.
“Ah, how you love this man!
Pia.
“Love? Love? I would
“Save both from crime.
Nello.
“And make a double victim.
Pia.
“Would I might fall the only sacrifice,
“And by my death redeem another's life!
Nello.
“And whose that other's? His alone, ay, his!”
Mock me no more! I read it in your soul,
'Tis some base churl you shroud up from my wrath:
Shame, and not love, puts gyves upon your tongue;
89
My rival's name—
Pia.
Is peer, sir, to your own,
And were my life now to begin anew,
I would desire no better, nobler name;
For he that bears it bears a soul as high
As his proud titles, and a heart as pure.
Brave, but the terror of his foes alone,
Respecting my position, sir, and yours,
Bearing his sorrow meekly, he would ne'er,
Like a foul spider, have enmeshed his prey
Within his coils in loathsome nook obscure,
To gnaw it slowly, surely, noiselessly.
Lover or spouse, if love had warped his brain
To murderous thoughts against his mistress, he
Had slain her by one open blow, not slunk
Accomplice of the vaporous pestilence!
Nello.
My wrath shall make thee tremble!
Pia.
Tremble? I,
A daughter of the Tolommei? Oft
Our ancestors have met in battle gripe;
When did they quail before each other's frown?
Their sinews, sir, are yours—their heart is mine!
Slay, but no outrage! Take such vengeance as
Befits your lineage. My life is yours,
To expiate my fault. Let that suffice!
Urge me no more; I bear unto my grave
That name, nor you, nor any one shall know.
Nello.
Defend your lover, madam, to my shame!
Pia.
Count della Pietra, I defend your wife;
Against yourself defend your honour—mine.
90
Longer to urge a parley, which but serves
To quicken wounds that rankle. What, beside,
Would it avail me? The disguise is dropped,
And the conditions of the bargain clear:
Die, or denounce the object of your hate!
My choice is made. Death! Let him take his prey.
Nello.
False to the last! I looked for nothing less.
Madam, but one word more, and I have done.
Your father—
Pia.
My father!—
Nello.
Instigated by
The slanders of that traitor, Jacomo—
Pia.
Is coming?
Nello.
Ay, to-day.
Pia.
My father! I
Shall see him—
Nello.
See, I hold his letter here.
Pia.
Oh, thanks, kind heaven! Then all may yet be well.
Nello.
Within an hour your father should be here.
But mark me, madam, as my foe he comes.
You shall not see him.
Pia.
How! Not see him! Who
Shall step between the father and his child?
Nello.
Death, that even now sits darkly in your eyes.
Pia.
Who told you what my sufferings are?
Nello.
My heart,
That shares them—my blood, iced in my veins like yours,
By the same poison!
91
Whose hand gave it?
Nello.
Mine!
Mine, in these flowers my hate suspected.
Pia.
How!
These flowers. Just Heaven! And is it thus I die?
Alas! 'Tis death indeed. When hope had dawned—
My father—
Nello.
Listen! You may see him still—
You still may live to nurse his failing years.
Pia.
Ah, you deceived me, then?
Nello.
No, madam! But
The hand that dealt the wound can heal it too:
This perfume (holding out a phial)
—
Pia.
Give it me!
Nello
(music heard without).
Hark, hark! that air,
The Tolommei's March! Live for your father! Live!
Pia.
The air I loved.
O yes! I would live still! Give me!
(Grasps the phial, and is about to smell to it.)
Nello.
His name?
Pia
(pushes away the phial).
Never!
(Dies.)
Nello
(drawing his sword).
Dead with her secret!
Dead! My vengeance foiled!
Ho, Flavio!
Fla.
(enters hastily).
My lord, your people have thrown down their arms.
Count Tolommei—
Nello.
Admit him! Let him come;
He'll find his daughter with her bridegroom here!
(Tolommei and Guido rush in.)
92
Thou ravening hell-kite, give me back my child!
Nello
(pointing to Pia).
Go, claim her for thy bidding! There she lies!
Tol.
(rushes forward, and raises her from the couch).
Oh, murderous hypocrite! Too late, too late!
Guido.
Pia! My love! My Pia!
Nello.
Thine! Ha! then
At length I meet my rival front to front!
Look to thyself! She loved thee, and 'tis meet,
That with thy blood her bier should be baptised.
Guido.
Loved me? No, fiend, she loved but thee alone!
And thus thou hast repaid her! Oh, my soul's bride,
I live but to avenge thee.
(They fight. After a few passes Nello drops his sword.)
Nello.
Hold! My brain
Is dizzy—my arm withers! See, see there!
Pia! She looks at me! No light, no smile!
All dark—dark!
(Dies.)
Tableau. Curtain falls.
| Madonna Pia | |