University of Virginia Library

[On the rising of the curtain two men-at-arms are discovered, keeping guard on each side of door B.
1st.

I like not this office. Hast any liquor about thee?

2nd.

Nay, I have not moistened these two hours. I
keep my pipkin dry for supper. There will be old wassail
to-night.

1st.

I doubt I cannot last till then. My gullet is
cracking like a lizard's back. How many hours ere nightfall?

2nd.

Not so many to thee as to our master, the Count.
With him, I warrant, 'tis the longest day.

1st.

Love was ever a midsummer madness: but, is the
Lady Bianca so fair as 'tis said?

2nd.

She had need be, and rich to boot, to weigh against
the crowns that will be cracked for her.

1st.

What, think you Count Carlo will up falcon, and
fly after?

2nd.

Why, man, he was to wed her, willy nilly, and her
lands beside.

1st.

Marry! Cannot a man wed a lass of his own
folk, without filching from his neighbour? An' I couldn't
compass a wife fair and peaceable, I'd as lief let her be.

2nd.

It's the blood, man, the blood that does it. There's
no more likelihood between his blood and thine, than
between good drink and standing water. Great folks be so
swelled out wi' what belongs to 'em, that they fall to hankering
after what don't: and the more it don't belong, the
more they hanker.

1st.

There's Mistress Teresa, the Castellan's lass; ain't
she tall enow and comely?

2nd.

Ay, but blind, man, blind. There's no cowing of
'em, when they can't look you in the face. In words, mark

you, they have the upper tongue of us. You can't tame
'em else. It's the eye that does it.

1st.

Well, there'll be knocks anon. I care little, so they
set not me to keep the door.

[During this conversation the men-at-arms have left their posts, and gradually advanced towards the front of the stage.
Enter Steward of the Household.
Steward.

Now, you scurvy knaves, what were my orders?
Stand to your posts. The bride is coming.
[They fly back to their posts.
So, stand there till the procession is past. Then close
up, fall in five paces to the rear, and follow.

[Exit B.
1st.

I'm all of a quake. There's a kind of backbiting here
betwixt my shoulders. Prithee, chafe me with thy halberd.

2nd.
Prate not; they are coming.

[Trumpets.
[Enter B, the bridal procession. First, Steward with wand, then singing-Boys, a Priest robed, Page carrying helmet and gauntlets, Alberto and Bianca, as affianced Bride and Bridegroom, Soldiers, Men and Women of the household, last, the Castellan, leading his blind Daughter. The latter totters, quits her father's hand, and sinks into a seat. The rest, followed by the two men-at-arms, pass out at door R.
Castellan.
Teresa, child, what ails thee?

Teresa.
I am sick,
And can proceed no further. Let me be.
Go thou and join the pageant.

Castellan.
Nay, nay, nay,
This must be looked to. Thou art more to me
Than all the pomps of pope and cardinal.
Without thee, dear, the wedding-mirth is marred,
The garlands withered, and the lights put out.
Can'st thou not cheer a little?

Teresa.
Father, father,
It is the mirth that maddens. What have I
To do with bridal feasts and merriment—
All the delights that I shall never know?—
A living corse, condemned by God to grope
In its own grave, dead without death's repose.

Castellan.
If death's dull handiwork can look like thee,
We'll have no burials, or inter the quick.
A living corse! Thou art more beautiful
Than any bride that e'er these eyes beheld,
Except—except thy mother.

Teresa.
Tell me, father,
Was she like me, so proud and passionate,
Quick to spurn insult and to plot revenge?
Had she all Etna boiling in her veins,
And spurting out in fire? or was she staid,
Sober and self-contained, meek and demure,
And cold as yonder northern icicle?
(Hoarsely in his ear)
Would she have killed you had you loved her not?

Castellan.
That would have killed me, to have loved her not.
O child! you fright me: this pent heat of heart
Springs not from her, or springs without the poise
Of that which tempered passion, the calm sway
Of a pure spirit that half lived in heaven.

Teresa.
Alas! alas! I am unworthy her,
Unworthy thee. My mind is on the earth,
And earth's a hell: I cannot think of heaven.

Castellan.
You must not, must not say it. Sometimes we lie
Deep in the sea's dark hollow, but anon,
Washed upward on its glittering back, we mount
Into the sunlight. Such a wave, perchance,
Of happiness awaits thee.

Teresa.
Such a wave
Of sorrow has engulfed me.

Castellan.
I have that
Within my mind, Teresa, which I fear
Almost to tell thee, and yet speak I must.

Teresa.
I can bear anything that thou would'st say.

Castellan.
The Count Luigi is a noble knight;
And I do think he loves thee. Were it so,
And so it is, say, would'st thou marry him?

Teresa.
Marry an asp, a viper, a vile toad
Tricked by some witch-wife, for despite of man,
Into the shape of manhood!

Castellan.
There it is!
I do but bruise thee with my blundering wit.
Go to! when blacksmiths can shoe butterflies,
Then shall I cope with maidens in their moods.

Teresa.
Nay, but first learn to read the moods of men.

Castellan.
To me he seemed a loyal gentleman:
And, sure, he doats upon thee.

Teresa.
I perceive,
Father, I must e'en tell thee all my tale.
Say, wilt thou heed it?

Castellan.
Ay.

Teresa.
Rememberest thou,
When first the plague of blindness smote our vale,
How Count Alberto, then a child, and I
Groped in the dark together? Oh, 'tis strange
How one great misery, falling upon twain,
So singling them, can sort the odds of birth
Or inward difference, and make yoke-fellows
Whom Nature else had strangered! Well, we roamed
Our little world together, and explored
A thousand nooks and crannies of the rocks,
And winding secrets of the vaulted gloom
Beneath the Castle-bases, till we learnt
To dare with eyeless footsteps what with eyes
Had scared us; so that one sense lost became,
By quickening of the rest, a new sense found.
Then came the wise physician, who had skill
To ope the filmèd orbs, let in the light;
And so we saw, yet saw not, being bound
Fast with closed eyelids for some certain days,
Lest seeing should unsight us.

Castellan.
Well do I
Remember, and our hope, and then the grief,
The bitter grief, when in the curtained room
Your eyes were opened, and you saw me not,
And the glad triumph of his eyes, that saw.

Teresa.
And so I lost my playmate; but the cause
None ever knew; and I will tell thee. When
The doctor left us we were set to sleep
In the same chamber; but no sleep had I,
Doubting and wondering, could I really see.
Methought the hours would stretch them into days,
The days seem years, ere I could solve my doubt.
So I lay tossing. 'Twas a fearful night—
I hear it now—the dykes of heaven were burst,
And the pent floods, a solid water-wall,
Drove up against the tower: all winds at once
Made rummage in the sky, whose huge dome shook,
Split like a potsherd, and came shattering down
In thunder. Then a sudden thought was born—
The lightning! I shall know if I can see,
See him! In a moment I had stole from bed,
And was beside him, with the band torn off,
That held my sight, almost my soul, within it.
I stood beneath the window; a flash came,
A quick, fierce spasm, convulsing heaven and me—
No fork, but blackness spattered o'er with fire.
O father, in that instant I beheld,
Beheld him, as he slumbered. A wild pang
Shot through both eyeballs, but his face was there,
Burnt in upon my brain. Then all was dark.
Long, long I waited: still the thunder rolled,
Ay, still the thunder, but no lightning more,
No lightning, nor no light; the face alone!
And from that moment—from that moment—

Castellan.
Ah!
What from that moment? nay, fear not to say it.

Teresa.
Methinks, methinks I have been—blind.

Castellan.
And I
Blinder. God send thee patience!

Teresa.
Not unless
He would unmake His handiwork. My blood
Is mixed with patience, as the fire with snow.
When men from flint strike water, or babes suck
Vesuvius' boiling bosom, when the sea
Lies flat beneath Sirocco, then will I,
Teresa, cower before the blasts of fate,
And curb me to quiescence. Let them blow!
My depths shall heave in answer. I have that
Seething within me which no heart could hold,
Such passion as would toss above the clouds
And crunch a thousand of such petty craft
As dare to override me. By the doom
Of that dread hour I claim him, by the bond
Writ red in lightning letters, and sealed fast
With pitch-black darkness!—Patience, father! no;
That is not in me, but revenge, or death!

[Trumpets.
Castellan.
Hush, hush! allay your ecstasy: they come!
This is mere madness. O my child! my child!

[Re-enter R the bridal procession, as before. The Boys, as they pass the door, begin singing.

Luigi.
Live, Count Alberto and his lovely bride!
Friends, give them welcome with your voices! Now!
[They all shout.
My noble kinsman, let that shout attest—
More eloquent than more preparèd speech,
That oft, like honey from a hollow trunk
Drips sweetness, when the heart is false within—
What love we bear you, and how every pulse,
Tuned to one note, as in one bosom beats.
We have been bred together, and sometimes,
It may be, a chance word, or a chance blow,
Put wrath betwixt us: we were men, not girls,
Now pecked like falcons, and now cooed like doves.
I have no skill, if aught be done amiss,
To salve the sore with words, nor will attempt it.
Rather let this poor gift my pleader be,
This sword, an emblem not of war, but peace.
The blade is past unkindness, which do thou
Bury in its fair sheath, forgetfulness.
If 'tis accepted, as 'tis offered, thus,
Then shall I know myself forgiven.
[Alberto takes the sword.
Wine ho!
And let us drink together.

[A Page brings wine.
Alberto.
Brother, thanks!
Thus wash we down all bitterness! I take
This blade of battle with the like goodwill
That prompted to the giving. And, friends all,
Believe I love you, though my words be few.
I am tongue-tied to-day. My heart swells o'er,
And cannot hold the too much happiness.
For Nature knows no measure in her gifts,
Or scants, or scatters bounty, drought or flood;
Nor can the soul build reservoirs, wherein
What's waste and over may be husbanded.
So now my bliss chokes utterance, and half drowns
What it should quicken. May the sweet excess
Flow over upon you. I thank you all.
To-night we will hold wassail, and, till then
Speed on the empty hours with dance and song.

[They all shout again. Teresa seizes a harp from the wall, with wild gesture, and sings.
Teresa.

[She rises, flings down the harp, totters, and sinks senseless into her father's arms. General consternation and uproar.
Alberto.
This from Teresa!

Luigi.
I had ne'er believed it.

Voices.
Away with her! She's mad. A witch! A witch!

Castellan.
Friends, I beseech you patience. Let her be.
I am quite sure that no unholy spell,
Or evil sprite, hath power upon my child.
'Tis but a passing passion, that at times,
Bred of dull musing and mere loneliness,
Brews like a storm within the heart, then breaks,
And all is clear again. It is the sound
Of mirth and happiness, she may not see,
So shakes her from herself. Pray, think of her
As of a bird, that, flying out of night
To the warm brightness of some festal hall,
Strikes the barred window, and falls hurt.

Priest.
Methinks
There is more in it. Either she hath held
Communion with forbidden arts, that are
Familiar to the darkness, that she dares
Pry into fate, and wag a wanton tongue,
Blighting with curses what the Church hath blest,
Or else some demon hath—which God forbid!—
Made his foul home in her fair form, and must
Be exorcised and ousted. In the name
Of God, I charge thee—

Castellan.
And I charge thee, keep
The holy charm for them that need it, lest
Nor scalp nor scapular protect thee.

[A trumpet is heard.
Luigi.
Hark!
I hear a trumpet! Has the curse come true?

Alberto.
Hie thee, Luigi, to the tower, and see
Who blows so loud a summons, friend or foe,
And, so that he come single, friend or foe,
Let him have entrance, and conduct him hither.

[Exit Luigi, B.
[A buzz of talk, then a pause, all eyes turned toward the door.
Enter Luigi, leading Envoy from Count Carlo.
Luigi.
A foe, my lord, but on such errand sent
As we perforce must countenance his suit,
Craves audience from Count Carlo.

Alberto.
Welcome, sir.
Your trumpet sounded no uncertain note:
Be the word spoken as concise and clear.

Envoy.
It shall, my lord. My master bids me ask
Why, like a ruffian-thief, with force and guile,
You have seduced from lawful custody
His ward, the fair Bianca—a foul scorn
Both to himself, and his affianced bride,
That cries aloud for vengeance. And unless
You shall make restitution here and now,
And, in my escort, send the lady home,
This very hour he'll thunder at your gate,
Break down the wall, o'erturn the battlements,
And leave you dangling from your tallest tower.

[Murmurs of indignation, amidst which
Teresa
(aside).
'Mid shriek and shout the lights go out,
And darkness ends the day.

Alberto.
A most clear message, and my answer this:
Say that you found us in fair bridal gear,
But at a word our armour shall be on,
Our bows strung ready, and our hearts as light
As the vain breath of his most idle boast.
We bore our lady with her sweet consent
From where a treacherous villain and a churl
Held her imprisoned, and with coward threats
Sought by main force to wed. His caitiff blood
Is all unworthy of my knightly sword,
But if he durst confront it, let him come.
And so farewell! Some of you, lead him safe
Beyond the barbican.
[Exit Envoy with guard.
Alack! dear friends,
We must defer our mirth. Castellan, see
The swords be keen, the arrows winged and trim,
And all our war-gear ready: then at once
Up with the drawbridge, man the walls, and so
Bid we fair welcome to our vaunting foe!

[Exit with Bianca.
[Castellan leads Teresa to a seat, where she remains. All the rest hurry from the chamber.
Teresa.
When all the earth is full of stir, to lack
What makes the meanest creature serviceable!
Enter Luigi, B
When all the vault is full of burning eyes,
To be a dull dead orb, that cannot shine,
Quenched and forgotten in the firmament!

Luigi.
Not quenched, and not forgotten; yet there lives,
Whose bark were lost, but for thy saving ray;
By Heaven! who holds thee for the brightest star
That ever swum the welkin!

Teresa.
Stop; no more!
The love whereto your tongue importunes me—
No need of eyes for blackness to be seen—
Sorts not with honour; and I spit upon it.
You have oft dared it; let me tell you, then,
For the last time, wild beasts are for the woods,
Not ladies' bowers. We are of gentle birth,
Our blood more wine than water: and I bear
That in my bosom which can ward off shame.

[Handling a dagger.
Luigi.
He were thrice knave, and ten times o'er a fool,
Who, knowing you, should need it. Your scorn cuts
Deeper than any dagger.

Teresa.
To what end
So thriftless of your breath then?

Luigi.
How if love
Had from a beast transformed me to a man?

Teresa.
A man, with eyes, were face to face with men
At such an hour, not paltering with a girl.

Luigi.
A man, with eyes to read a woman's heart,
As I read yours—

Teresa.
As you read mine! ah ha!
What read you there?

Luigi.
Love, jealousy, and hate.

Teresa.
I have heard say that love is born of sight;
And, without love, no jealousy. But hate—
Hate is the child of darkness: I can hate.

Luigi.
Well then, how hate you your new mistress?

Teresa.
How?
As the bare foot the hidden flint, as fire
The wave that's dashed upon't, as dying beasts
The vulture, as—

Luigi.
Nay, hearken then to me.
I too have cause to hate her, for she stands
Betwixt me and my hope.

Teresa.
What hope is that?

Luigi.
To be the lord of these fair lands and thee,
When a chance blow in some wild border war
Has robbed me of his Countship. Nay, you know
He is my brother by the half-blood only:
I am the elder, but the bastard's ban
Rests on my birth. Were that not hard enough,
Once in a moment of wild anger he
Put that vile name upon me, half a score
Of grooms and lackeys listening, and with scoffs
Drave me from door. Therefore I love him not.

Teresa.
And to this ‘love him not’ what sequel, say;
My aid, belike, to deal him a chance blow,
As you so delicately frame the phrase?

Luigi.
Men, who make booty of betrothèd brides,
Fall ere they ripen, in rough times like these:
But let him live, so he live single.

Teresa.
Ha!
What hell-snake wreathes his coils about my heart?
Is villainy so catching?

Luigi.
Marked you not,
With what a glance she eyed you?

Teresa.
You forget
I see no glances, but, O God! I feel them.

Luigi.
And heard you not, ‘Alberto, who is that
Proud vassal, whom you smile on, she who blights
Our bridal with a frown, like frost in May?’
And then his answer, ‘She is blind and poor;
Sweet, set it down to her infirmity:
You have no rival. I am only thine?’

Teresa.
Can souls, that swim in fire, so thirst for more?
Then welcome hell hereafter!

Luigi.
Think of it.
To be in bondage to the thing you hate!
How, on the rack of injured pride, one hour
Is, with the sufferer, stretched to thrice its bulk!
And then to linger out days, months, and years
In hearing of her praises, while she twines
Close and yet closer round his fostering stem,
Incorporate, grown indissolubly one,
And bears him goodly clusters! you the while
Outsplendouring her beauties, as the dark
Yet fiery mantle of a stormy sun
The pale-rimmed ocean ere he rose.

Teresa.
I knew it!
I knew the colour from her voice and touch.
God! how I hate their happiness!

Luigi.
Dare then
To thwart it, and divorce them. I have means
Of secret access to Count Carlo. He,
Though confident of conquest, fears some slip
Of fortune, lest the prey, within his grasp,
Thrid some dark outlet, or amid the crash
Of falling towers escape him.

Teresa.
Hie thee back,
Bid him await her, and set men to watch
All day till sunset by the fallen oak,
That hides the entrance of a low-browed cave
Beneath the western tower. She shall be there,
I leading by a subterranean way
Known to none else. For I can shape it so,
Persuading her to safety. If to-night
She come not, then to-morrow, or whene'er
Terror or treachery drives her from the hold.

Luigi.
O glorious woman! were one word unsaid,
I could set foot on fate, bestride the clouds,
Storm heaven! We must about it, I and thou;
Be those three words my motto, ‘I and thou!’
No tenderer thought possess thee till 'tis done,
And I return—

Teresa.
Return no more! If God
Have any vaster gulf than hell and heaven,
Further than east from west, or north from south,
Two points so hugely sundered as scarce leaves
An inch of distance between pole and pole,
I pray Him of His bounty place us there,
Housed each in one, for time so long as makes
Eternity a moment, and to weld,
Wherefrom His fiercest thunderbolts are wrought,
Through point and point a sacramental ring,
Our troth-plight of abhorrence! Thus will I
Wed thee. And now begone! Yet, ere thou go,
First be one lie unspoken: for behold!
As fire bursts upward, breaks the mountain's heart,
That bred, but cannot hold it, and anon
Spills over in destruction, so this deed
Is measure of the might wherewith I love,
Love, love him, as I loathe myself and thee.

[Sinks into a seat.
Luigi.
Loving or loathing, she shall yet be mine.

[Exit, R.
Enter B, Bianca.
Bianca.
Our poor blind maiden here, and all alone?
Nay, do not stir; the terror is so great,
That by your leave I'll bear you company.

Teresa.
Madam, you may command. I pray you sit.

Bianca.
Nay, but we'll sit together. How brave you are!
I see it in your face—a troubled face,
Albeit so beautiful: a while ago,
Indeed, I almost feared it, feared some wrong
Had reft you of the sweetness that must dwell
Within the heart that owns so fair a face,
And left you seared and smarting. Is it so?

Teresa.
O madam! you are kind—I know not well—
Something there is that visits me at times,
A gloom, not of the body, that hath power
To make me what you saw: regard it not.

Bianca.
What is your name?

Teresa.
Teresa.

Bianca.
A sweet name:
My husband told me, I remember now,
And said how you and he—why do you start?—
Were blind together. You would blush to know
How much he praised you: happily for me
I am not jealous.

Teresa.
He is very good:
I do not well deserve it. What was that?
Hark!

Bianca.
I heard nothing more than the dull thud
Of the ram battering at the wall, and that
Less loud than my own heart against my ribs.
Is it so very dreadful to be blind?
I shut my eyes, and try to picture it,
But cannot.

Teresa.
None so blind as they that see.

Bianca.
That is all one as if you said outright
I am the blinder.

Teresa.
Madam, there is that,
Which too much seeing will not let you see.
Sight, like a silk-rigged vessel of the mind,
Skims but life's surface; if it burn or break,
The thought sinks deeper.

Bianca.
Ah! I dread the depth,
And would float ever with the stars to guide.
Who knows, alas! what shadowy monster-shapes
Loom into being as you dive below?

Teresa.
All happy souls are cowards, and fear change.

Bianca.
Then not to be so happy may be best.

Teresa.
That is a comfort which is sure to come.

Bianca.
You speak too sadly; for methinks that God
Had never made us what we are, the world
So full of tender uses, to break up
Our brooding solitude, nor hung from heaven
So many a curtain to shut out despair,
Were we not meant to move toward happiness.

Teresa.
Out of the heart's abundance the mouth speaks:
My heart is empty, therefore I speak not.

Bianca.
See now, my talk offends you; but 'tis best,
At such an hour, whate'er the theme, to stir
Dull musing with some ripple of discourse.
I seem to have known you, oh, so long, so long!

Teresa.
And I myself ne'er to have known myself.
Terrible! terrible!

Bianca.
There, take my hand;
'Twill comfort both of us: the strength of two
Is more, methinks, than twice the strength of one.

Teresa.
I cannot do it: mine is a raging fire:
One touch of it would burn you to the bone.

Bianca.
Dear child, I care not: 'tis the best of grief
That in its bitter bulk a loadstone lies,
To draw sad hearts together.

Teresa
(aside).
Would that I
Were deaf as blind, since hearing strikes me dumb!

Bianca.
See! we are almost strangers, and yet I
Love you, Teresa; and will you not, too,
Love me a little for my dear lord's sake?

Teresa.
Did you say—love me—for my dear lord's sake?
O God! my wits are reeling! let me rise
And pace the room awhile.

Bianca.
Try to be calm;
And let us wait the issue. I have known
Worse hours than this, that, like a feverish night,
Passed, and 'twas sunny morning. That was when
Yon tiger-Count, now ramping at the gate,
Had me in clutch—the man that knew not love,
Yet would have wed me. Then my hero shone,
And wrought deliverance. I could laugh at death
If he came now. To love and to be loved—
What need we more? that is the perfect sum.

Teresa.
Death, yes: but thraldom, how if that ensue,
To mar your sum's perfection? My lord Death
Comes late or early, ne'er in nick of time.

Bianca.
Thraldom! to whom? Teresa, if you think—
I would live on—ah! then, you have not loved.
Why, girl, a prick, a leap, a plunge would do it.
I hold it were no sin to save from shame.

Teresa.
Methinks the noise comes nearer.

Enter a Soldier.
Bianca.
Now, what news?

Soldier.
My lord commends him to his noble wife.

Bianca.
Say, is he well?—What fortune?—find thy tongue!

Soldier.
The wall was breached, and they had thrice poured in,
And thrice their back-flung bodies dammed the moat,
When Count Luigi—ne'er had I believed it,
Had not mine own eyes seen him—slips aside,
Unbolts the postern, and lets in the flood,
That washed us, flank and rear, with bloody waves—

Teresa.
O noble brother!—

Soldier.
And beat us from the wall,
That many fell. He bids you have good hope,
For God fights with him: every sword-swing cleaves
Some breast or basnet, and his war-axe, whirled,
Mows like the scythe in summer. Fare you well.

Bianca.
Say that, whate'er the issue, I am his,
And know not fear. Back to his side, and fight!
[Exit Soldier.
Out on these tidings! How my heart belies
The courage of my tongue!

Teresa.
Lady, I fear
The best of life is over. Say that I
Could in a minute, by some secret way,
Such as the blind may thrid, through dripping vaults
Beneath the lowest dungeons, and by stairs
Of slippery rock, that know no foot but mine,
Now lead you safe to the grey convent walls
That crown the mere's steep edges—would you come?

Bianca.
My answer?—nay, you know it. The hounds of hell,
With Carlo mounted on Death's carrion flanks
Behind them, and Luigi's hunting-cry,
Choked with the sulphurous breath from whence he came,
Should never stir nor scare me, while he lives.
But, O Teresa! if indeed you know
Of such a haven, and have learnt the way
To find it, and dare tread it all alone,
Now, while the doors are fast, the strong walls stand,
And no red fire-tongues leap from floor to floor,
Leave me, my sister: you are young, and free,
And beautiful; and surely some brave arms
Wait to enfold you, and on your sweet breast
Some heart to find its heaven.

Teresa.
O God! O God!

Bianca.
Hark! I hear hurrying steps! 'tis he, 'tis he!

[Enter Alberto, B. The noise outside increases.
Alberto.
Bianca, my Bianca, one last kiss,
And then—and then—

Bianca.
Hush! hush! you shall not say it.

Alberto.
Love, all is lost. Teresa, my poor child,
Your father's—slain.

Teresa
(wildly).
I knew it. 'Tis well, 'tis well.
I saw him hurl into the foemen's ranks,
And leap on damned Luigi. A good end!

Bianca.
She is half mad with sorrow: mark her not.

Alberto.
No man died better; I can tell you that;
But all fought nobly, and the day seemed won,
When, by a treacherous hand the gate thrown wide,
Outwitted and outnumbered, fast we fell.
So sick of slaughter, where no hope appeared,
Still fighting backward, till the door was gained,
I bade the remnant for dear life give o'er,
And seek a happier master. It is done.
I am the last man left alive and free.

Bianca.
And now?

Alberto.
Our halls are empty, but you hear
The guest knock loud for entrance; and anon
The host will open, and to no mean fare
Of iron entertainment, if God will,
Give him such welcome as may pierce his heart.
O my white wonder, is it come to this?—
A few short minutes—

Bianca.
And we die together.
Seems it so bitter hard?

Alberto.
It cannot be.

Bianca.
That is the first harsh word that you have spoke
In all our wedded life—one dear long day.

Alberto.
Think it unspoken then. Forgive me, sweet,
But love like ours can say to Time, ‘Stop here’:
So will you live, live always in this hour,
No past, no future: you will feel and know
My arms wound close about you, and amid
The aching silence hear each accent still.
Look, what the heart speaks, that alone is true:
Death is a liar: you can laugh at lies.

Bianca.
Yea, were time longer, I would laugh at yours.
Love, 'tis a lie to say it cannot be:
See how I cling! one sword shall end us both.

Alberto.
Nay, you say nothing, sweet. Why, who would strike
A lily-flower, a snow-flake?

Bianca.
I know who.
There is a man, or else a woman, shall.
Give me this dagger, if you fear to do it.
[He holds her hand.
Fie on your love then; would you let me drop
Back into hell, that am halfway to heaven?
I live to be—I cannot name the thing—
The minion of a miscreant!

Alberto.
Nay, but hear
How I shall save you both from death and hell.
Yon heart of oak, time-tough, and ribbed with iron,
Will blunt them many an axe, bend many a bar.
Ay, and they know it, for the knaves e'en now
Hew faggots, and bring fire-brands, and full soon
The valves will blacken, and the ribs glow red,
And the beams burst; for what can fight with fire?

Bianca.
So your white maid, that was, becomes a heap
Of whiter ashes: nay, if die I must,
Quicker and colder is the death for me.

Alberto.
All through the battle he has shunned my sight;
But when the doors go down, and the smoke clears,
Backed by some fifty, he perchance will dare it.
He has met fortune, and with traitors dealt:
There shall I meet him: he must deal with me.
Now hark, Teresa: to your faithful charge
I yield your mistress. There is store of food,
Water to drink, and covering from the cold:
Take them, and lead her to the secret cell
In the thick dungeon-wall, below the crypt.
You know the mystery of the door: no fire
Could ever reach it, and no foe surprise.
So one more kiss, and then good night—good night!

[She sinks clinging to his knees.
Teresa.
Men are brave lovers for an hour or twain,
And some few faithful, if the wind hold fair:
But when it comes to this—quick easy death,
And glory with it, or life's dull decay,
Marry! to perish is man's privilege;
But for the woman—oh, 'tis good enough
To wear black weeds, and waste in solitude,
Stretched, a pale martyr, on Time's torturing cross,
That pride, called courage, doomed her to endure.

Bianca.
Alberto, she but speaks the bitter truth:
I do not leave you, or you leave not me.

[She rises and clings closer.
Teresa
(Aside).
Dare I to do it? yes, I dare and must.
I lived not till this moment: they are mine.
(Aloud)
My lord, do you remember, years ago,
Ere darkness fell upon us, how we strayed,
Child-playmates, by the margin of the mere,
And came to a low cave, and hand in hand
Entered, and feared the blackness?

Alberto.
Ay, right well.

Teresa.
'Twas fringed with daisies at the mouth, whereof
You wove a wreath to crown me; and we knelt
Together on the turf, and feigned to wed.
Then on we groped, and lo! it wound and wound
By tortuous ways, now narrow, and now wide,
Now soaring to a dome, now sinking low,
That I for fear fell weeping, till you said,
‘Maids that are married should take shame to fear.’
And so we walked or crawled, till the one way
Split into many:—that to rightward leads
To a blind outlet by a fallen oak
Beneath the western tower—but we held on,
And came at last unto a little door
That opened in a wall, and, peering up,
Saw stairs in the wall's thickness, and you too
Grew fearful, and we fled. That door I found
In a forgotten vault. The way is hard,
And dark, and slippery; but once learn the clue,
And win to that low cave, the lake is nigh:
Ere nightfall you will gain the convent towers.

Alberto.
I could not find it with a thousand eyes

Teresa.
And I, with none, can guide you.

Alberto.
This indeed
Is light from darkness.

Bianca.
Let us go.

Alberto.
But how
Can memory serve you to retrace the way?

Teresa.
Perchance things vanish from the boy's quick brain,
Which girls forget not. 'Tis enough to say,
Waking or sleeping, I could find the track.
Dear was the spot to me in life, and, dead,
My ghost shall haunt it. Will you come, my lord?

Alberto.
Lead forward in God's name. Count Carlo, live
Till our next meeting!

Teresa.
First, strip off your arms:
Their bulk would sore impede you, and one clank
Against the hollow rock might ruin all.

Alberto.
How if we meet the foe?

Teresa.
That must be dared:
There is no going else. The narrow walls
So pinch and hamper, 'tis with much ado
A great-limbed man may pass them. I smell fire!

Bianca.
Alberto, we may trust her.

[She unbinds his armour, which, with his sword and dagger, he lays on the table.
Teresa.
Follow me.

[Exeunt, B.
[A short pause, during which the stage remains empty, and the battering of the outer door is heard, till a louder crash, followed by shouts, announces that it has fallen. A sound of footsteps approaching; after which enter, B, Luigi, followed by an Officer and five or six of Count Carlo's soldiers. Twilight falls gradually.
Luigi.
This is the chamber where I left her last,
And thought to find both; but the birds are flown.

Officer.
Being no birds, it is not to be thought
They can have quit the castle, therefore search.

[To the soldiers, who begin searching.
Luigi.
Search as you please, and yet 'tis like enough
They have escaped our clutches, birds or no,
Having a mole to guide them.

Officer.
So to fall
Into Count Carlo's ambush?

Luigi.
Ay, unless—
But no, for there's naught womanish in her,
Though woman; and what makes the weak heart crack,
Fierce jealousy, and fire of slighted love,
Welds her stern fibre into constant iron.

Officer.
Whose are these weapons, and this armour?

Luigi.
Ah!
Whose but my brother's? 'tis the very sword
I gave him for his bridal-gift to-day,
Unbrotherly, ungraciously cast off,
As in assurance of escape.

[Goes to the window.
Officer
(to soldiers).
What ho!
Leave loitering here, and search the castle through,
Some this way, and some that. (Exeunt soldiers.)
Now, by your leave,
I'll after them, and rummage high and low,
From roof to dungeon.

Luigi.
Stop! Betrayed, by heaven!

Officer.
Ha! see you aught?

Luigi.
Come hither! Is it so,
Or are mine eyes fooled by the failing light?

Officer.
I see a boat that creeps along the lake
In the dark shadow of the shore.

Luigi.
And in it?

Officer.
Two forms, methinks, a woman and a man.

Luigi.
Yes, yes, but where's the third? there should be three.
Yet no, she would not join them, howsoe'er
The plot miscarried, but would break away,
Mad with baulked passion, or creep back to die.
Hie thee to Carlo! while I tarry here.

[Re-enter soldiers hastily.
Officer
(to soldiers).
Well, what's amiss? why stand you gaping thus?

Soldier.
The castle's wrapped in fire that gains apace:
Black smoke e'en now comes billowing up the stair,
And smothers all. We know not where to turn.

Luigi.
Death and confusion! I had thought to trap
The fox in her own hole, and you must needs
With your curs'd fire-brands smoke me out of it.
I'll guide you to the water-gate, then back,
And the fiend help me: there may yet be time.

[Exeunt, B.
[Another short pause. Music. Smoke curling up in places through the floor. The dusk increases.
Enter Teresa, B, with distracted air.
Teresa.
What have I done? I cannot compass it.
God, help me to remember! O undo
This double being, or make me not to be!
Two visions are before me: ay, two hearts
Knock at my bosom, two brains burst my brow!
And all I can serves nothing to atone
The clamorous discord. Let me think it out.
[Sinks into a seat.
First, step by step, that, like an anvil's clang,
Smote on the winding stair; the strait low door,
That would not yield, and yielded; the loud breaths
In the pent passage, the slow-feeling hands
And groping feet between the gallery-walls,
Walking and crouching, till we came—we came
To the diverging ways. There doubt begins.
Which did I take, and whither? That is what
Confounds me. Am I doomed never to know?
Yet it seems plain; the pause, the leftward path,
The low-browed cavern, and the fallen oak,
The rush of men, the shriek, Alberto dead!
Alberto dead! Yes, yes, for now I scent
The breath of hell already! hell within,
Hell all around! both smouldering, soon to burst!
O what wild storm of greeting will there be,
When fire meets fire! Yet tarry, not so fast!
As plain, or plainer, to my thought comes back
The quick turn rightward, the heaped stones to scale,
Scarce yielding body-room, where the low roof
Bowed down to meet them; the one stone that fell,
And woke the yelping echoes; the five bells
Pealing and dinning in mine ear through all,
‘Alberto, we may trust her’; then at last
That other cave, our childhood's bridal bower;
Yes, yes, the daisied turf, the lake, the boat,
And in it I beside them; the wild leap
To shore, and the wet garments! Let me feel:
Joy! I have found it: they are dripping still!
But is it blood—Alberto's blood? No, no,
[Putting her face to them.
The sweet lake water! I have lost, and won.
Burn up, brave fire! seethe, curdling smoke! 'tis yours
To crown this sacrifice!

Luigi
(without).
Teresa, where,
Where art thou?

Teresa.
Hark! It is the fiend that calls!
No, no, not now, you cannot claim me now.
The sweet lake water, it has washed me pure.

Luigi
(without).
'Tis I, Luigi! help is at hand:
Wait but a moment!

Teresa.
Where's my dagger?—gone!
[Takes Alberto's from the table.
Ah! here's a better. (Kisses the hilt.)
Be Alberto's self,
Dear dagger; pierce me to the heart!

[She thrusts it into her side, and sinks to the ground.
Luigi
(bursting in, B, through the smoke).
Help ho!
Teresa, wake! I come to rescue thee.

Teresa
(half-rising).
Rescued—already!

[Dies.
Luigi.
Death and hell! too late!

[He staggers towards door, R, but falls stifled by the smoke
Curtain.