University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

Scene.—Interior of the Palace of Truth.
Enter Gélanor, meeting King Phanor and Queen Altemire and Zeolide.
Gélan.
Welcome, my lord! Madam, I humbly trust
The palace realizes all the hopes
That you had entertained concerning it.

Altem.
Indeed, it far exceeds them, Gélanor.
There is no lovelier abode on earth!
And so says Zeolide.

Zeo.
Indeed she does!
Why, father, I have lived near eighteen years,
And never knew until three hours ago
That you possessed so lovely a domain!
Why have I wasted eighteen years on earth,
When such a heaven as this awaited me?

Gélan.
(aside to Phanor).
You have not told the Princess or your Court
The palace's peculiarity?

Phan.
Not I. The secret is our own, as yet—
The Queen's, and yours, and mine.

Gélan.
With you and me
The secret's safe. But then—Queen Altemire—
If you have told her all—

Phan.
No, no—not all!
Here is a secret which is yours and mine;
(producing crystal box)
And yours and mine the secret shall remain.
Protected by this talisman, I stand,
A sturdy rock amid the shifting sands—
A salamander in a world of fire—
Achilles in a crowd of myrmidons—
Achilles, with an iron-plated heel!
Go, send my courtiers—I anticipate
No ordinary sport from watching them.

[Exeunt Gélanor and Phanor.
Altem.
What are you reading, Zeolide?

Zeo.
(with scroll).
A song
Written by Chrysal set to Zoram's notes;
They gave it me before we left our home,
But in the hurry of the journey here,
I managed to mislay it—here it is.

Enter Zoram, Chrysal, and Aristæus.
Altem.
And here are author and composer, too—
And Critic, teeming with humanity.
Come let us hear it.

(Zeolide sings a song. At its conclusion Chrysal and Zoram applaud.)
Chrys.
(coming forward with all the action of a man who is expressing extreme approval).
Oh, I protest, my ears have never heard
A goodly song more miserably sung.
(Clapping hands)
Oh, very poor indeed—oh, very weak;
No voice—no execution—out of tune—
Pretentious too—oh, very, very poor! (Applauding as if in ecstasies.)


Altem.
(amused).
Indeed! I think I've often heard you say
No voice could rival Princess Zeolide's?

Chrys.
(enthusiastically).
I've often said so—I have praised her voice,
Because I am a courtier—paid to praise.
I never meant one word of what I said;
I have the worst opinion of her voice,
And so has Zoram.

Zor.
I? Oh, dear me, no!
I can form no opinion on the point,
I am no judge of music.

Chrys.
Eh?

Zor.
Not I!
I hardly know the treble from the bass,
And as to harmony—I know the word,
But hang me if I guess at what it means!

Zeo.
Oh, Zoram, you are jesting—why, you wrote
The air I sung!

Zor.
I wrote the air? Not I,
I paid a poor musician for his work,
And palmed it off upon you as my own.
A common trick with melodists who stand
Far higher in the world's esteem than I!

Altem.
Well, Aristæus there has still to speak.
What says that rollicking philosopher?
Come, growl it out!

Arist.
(gruffly, as if finding fault).
It's sweetly pretty, ma'am,
And very nicely sung. I like it much.

Zeo.
What! Aristæus pleased?

Arist.
(very savagely).
Of course I am;
I'm always pleased with everything.

Altem.
Indeed!
Men look on Aristæus as a man
Whom nothing satisfies.

Arist.
(with outrageous bluntness).
Then men are wrong,
No child's more easily amused than I.
But, here at Court, where every one is pleased
With everything, my amiability
Would go for nought; so I have coined myself
A disposition foreign to my own,
In hopes my clumsy boorish insolence
Might please you by its very novelty;
And prove, perchance, a not unwelcome foil
To Zoram's mockery of cultured taste,
And Chrysal's chronic insincerity!
I'm rough and honest, frank—outspoken—blunt.

Chrys.
Boor! when you dare to say I'm insincere
You tell the truth—there, make the most of that!

Zor.
Chrysal, your hand; I'm glad to find at last
Your eyes are opened to your many faults.

Chrys.
How, sir, is this intentional affront?

Zor.
No, not intentional. I tried to frame
A pleasant speech, but, by some awkward slip,
The truth escaped me quite against my will.
(With great admiration.)
You systematic liar!

Chrys.
Insolent!

Zor.
Sir!

Chrys.
This shall cost or you or me his life.
In half an hour you shall hear from me!
[Exit Chrysal.

Zor.
(in terror).
What have I said?

Altem.
(aside).
These boobies must not fight,
But how to stop them? Here comes Philamir!
Now he and Zeolide can meet. But first
I must get rid of Zoram. (To Zoram.)
Get you hence,
I will contrive to pacify your foe.

Zor.
But—

Altem.
Go!

Zor.
(piteously).
I'm sure I don't know what I've done!

[Exeunt Zoram and Queen Altemire.
Enter Philamir,—Zeolide runs to him and embraces him—he turns away.
Zeo.
My love, is Philamir unhappy?

Phil.
Yes.
I have heard people talking of our troth,
And prophesying that it will soon cease.

Zeo.
Indeed! They think you do not love me, then?

Phil.
They doubt not that—they doubt your love for me.
Some say it sleeps; some say that it is dead;
Some that it never lived. Oh, Zeolide,
If love for Philamir is yet unborn,
Why bring it now to light! Where will you find
A fitter nursery for love than this?
If that love lives, but sleeps, why, wake it now
And let it revel in these golden groves.
If it is dead, why, here's a paradise
That well might summon it to second life!

Zeo.
It sleeps not, Philamir, nor is it dead;
It lives and cannot die.

Phil.
But people say
That love should advertise itself in words
More fervid than the weary formula,
“I love you, Philamir.” You love your friends.
Why, Zeolide, I think I've heard you say
You love your horse!

Zeo.
Unjust! You ask me, then,
To limit my illimitable love,
And circle, with a boundary of words,
A wealth of love that knows no bounds at all!
There is a love that words may typify—
A mere material love—that one may weigh
As jewellers weigh gold. Such love is worth
The gold one pays for it—it's worth no more.
Why, Philamir, I might as well attempt
To set a price upon the universe—
Or measure space—or time eternity,
As tell my love in words!

Phil.
(astonished).
Why, Zeolide,
At last you speak! Why, this, indeed, is love!

Zeo.
(aside).
What have I said? (Aloud and coldly.)
Indeed, I'm glad to think
My words have pleased you!

Phil.
(with enthusiasm).
Pleased me? They've done more—
They've gratified my vanity, and made
Me feel that I am irresistible!

Zeo.
Indeed!

Phil.
Indeed, dear Zeolide, they have.
Why, how you frown!

Zeo.
(coldly).
If such a love as mine
Serves but to feed your sense of vanity,
I think it is misplaced.

Phil.
My vanity
Must needs be fed, and with such love as yours.
I have worked hard to gain it, Zeolide!
You are not nearly as attractive as
Five hundred other ladies I could name,
Who, when I said I loved them, stopped my lips—

Zeo.
(astonished).
I'm glad they did!

Phil.
With kisses, ere I could
Repeat the sentence; and it hurt me much
That you, who are comparatively plain,
Should give me so much trouble, Zeolide.

Zeo.
(aside.)
What can he mean? (Aloud)
Oh, you are mocking me—

Phil.
Mocking you, Zeolide? You do me wrong!
(With enthusiasm.)
Oh, place the fullest value on my words,
And you'll not overvalue them! I swear,
As I'm a Christian knight, I speak the truth!

Zeo.
Why, Philamir, you've often told me that
You never loved a woman till we met!

Phil.
(with all the appearance of rapture).
I always say that. I have said the same
To all the women that I ever woo'd!

Zeo.
And they believ'd you?

Phil.
Certainly they did.
They always do! Whatever else they doubt,
They don't doubt that! (He tries to embrace her.)


Zeo.
(horror-struck).
Away, and touch me not!

Phil.
What? Has my earnestness offended you,
Or do you fear that my impassioned speech
Is over-coloured? Trust me, Zeolide,
If it be over-charged with clumsy love,
Or teem with ill-selected metaphor,
It is because my soul is not content
To waste its time in seeking precious stones,
When paste will answer every end as well!

Zeo.
Why, Philamir, dare you say this to me?

Phil.
All this, and more than this, I dare to say.
I dare to tell you that I like you much,
For you are amiable, refined, and good—
Saving a little girlish diffidence
I have no serious fault to find with you!

Zeo.
You're very good!

Phil.
Indeed, I think I am,
But let that pass. In truth I like you much.
At first I loved you in an off-hand way!

Zeo.
At first?

Phil.
Until the novelty wore off,
And then, receiving but a cold response
To all the seeming fury of my love,
My pride was nettled, and I persevered
Until I made you tell me of your love,
In words that bore comparison with mine.
I've done that, and I'm amply satisfied.

Zeo.
(in blank astonishment).
And this is Philamir, who used to breathe
Such words of passion and such songs of love!
Those words that fiercely burnt with such false fire,
Those songs that sung so lovingly of lies,
Bore unsuspected fruit—I gathered it
And garnered it away. Oh, Philamir,
As misers store up gold, I stored my love
In all the inmost corners of my heart,
Dreading to speak or look at Philamir,
Lest some unguarded word or tell-tale glance
Should give a clue to all the wealth within!
I laughed within myself, as misers laugh,
To find my hoard increasing day by day,
And now—the coin I hoarded up is base—
The flowers that decked my life are worthless weeds—
The fruit I plucked is withered at the core—
And all my wealth has faded into air!

Phil.
Faded? Why, Zeolide, what do you mean?
I do not love you as a lover should,
Yet you reproach me! Oh, you are unjust.

Zeo.
Indeed, I'll not reproach you! Let me go.
My grief shall be as silent as my love.
Farewell!

[Exit
Phil.
That woman's mad! Unquestionably mad!
My show of love has sent her brain adrift.
Poor girl! I really like her very much.
I tell her that I love her—and in words
Which never yet were known to miss their mark
When uttered by Prince Philamir—in words
So charged with passion that they well might charm
The very proudest maid in Christendom;
And off she bounces as indignantly
As if I'd told the very plainest truth!

Enter Chrysal.
Chrys.
Your Royal Highness seems disturbed.

Phil.
I am!
I'm much annoyed with Princess Zeolide.
You know how coldly she has hitherto
Received the protestations of my love?

Chrys.
(politely).
I do indeed. You've been the laughing-stock
Of all the Court for months on that account.

Phil.
(amazed).
Oh, have I so?

Chrys.
Upon my soul, you have.

Phil.
You're candid, sir.

Chrys.
(still as if paying a compliment).
I can afford to be
Extremely candid with Prince Philamir.
But let that pass. You were reminding me
How coldly Princess Zeolide received
Your vows. What then?

Phil.
Why, not ten minutes since
Her manner changed, and all her pent-up love
Burst from her lips in frenzied eloquence.
I was astounded!—I, of course, began
To echo all her sentiments tenfold.
I picked the very fairest flowers that grow
Upon the dreamy plains of metaphor,
And showered them upon her. White with rage
She started from me—telling me, with tears,
Her dream of love had melted into air!
I see you don't believe me, Chrysal—

Chrys.
Well,
I half believe you. I can scarcely think
The Princess spoke with rapture of your love;
But I can quite believe that when you spoke
In what you're pleased to think is metaphor,
The well-bred Princess shrank instinctively
From such a florid prince as Philamir

(with a respectful bow).
Phil.
(haughtily).
This form of compliment is new to me!

Chrys.
My lord, my speciality consists
In framing novel forms of compliment.
But who comes here?—a modest little maid—
Enter Azèma—she starts on seeing Philamir and Chrysal.
And rather pretty, too.

Phil.
(angrily).
She hears you, sir!
(Politely to Azèma.)
I fear we've frightened you?

Azèma.
Oh no, indeed,
I am not frightened, though I seem to be.

(Azèma's manner is characterized by the extremest modesty and timidity throughout this scene.)
Chrys.
But why affect a fear you do not feel?

Azèma
(with extreme timidity).
Because, although I entered here to seek
Prince Philamir, I'm anxious he should think
This meeting is a simple accident.
Do not suppose that this is modesty;
'Tis but an artifice to make you think
That I am timid as a startled fawn!

Chrys.
(aside to Philamir).
This is a character. I'll open fire,
And storm her weakest point—her vanity.
Now, my artillery of compliments,
A salvo, if you please. (Aloud, with the air of one who is paying an elaborate compliment.)
I have remarked
That you've a certain girlish prettiness,
Although your nose is sadly underbred.
(Aside.)
That's rather neat!

Azèma.
Are you Prince Philamir?

Chrys.
Not I, indeed, fair lady. This is he—
The most conceited coxcomb in the world (with an elaborate bow to Philamir, who starts angrily).

No thanks—indeed 'tis true.

Azèma
(to Chrysal).
Then go your way—
I don't want you! I only want the prince.
'Twas Philamir I came to captivate.

Chrys.
Here's candour if you like!

Azèma.
Oh, leave us, sir!
Find some excuse to go, that he and I
May be alone together.

Phil.
Leave me, sir.
I'll give your tongue a lesson ere the night!

Chrys.
How has my tongue offended?—Oh, I see—
Exactly—don't explain! (Aside.)
Poor Zeolide!

[Exit.
Phil.
Insolent scoundrel! (following him).


Azèma.
Oh, don't follow him.
I want you here alone. You can begin—
I am not shy, though I appear to be.
Indeed, I entered here ten minutes since,
Because I heard from those outside the gates,
That you, Prince Philamir, had just arrived.

Phil.
Then you're a stranger here?

Azèma.
I am, indeed!
The people told me any one was free
To enter.

Phil.
Yes, quite right. Did they say more?

Azèma.
Oh yes, much more. They told me then that you
Received but sorry treatment at the hands
Of Princess Zeolide. They told me, too,
That your betrothal might ere long collapse;
(With extreme modesty.)
So, thought I, as I am beyond dispute
The fairest maid for many a mile around—
And as, moreover, I possess the gift
Of feigning an enchanting innocence,
I possibly may captivate the prince,
And fill the place once filled by Zeolide.

(Sits; her ankle is exposed.)
Phil.
The Princess has a candid enemy!
I beg your pardon, but the furniture
Has caught your dress.

Azèma
(re-arranging her dress hastily).
Oh, I arranged it so,
That you might see how truly beautiful
My foot and ankle are (as if much shocked at the exposé).


Phil.
I saw them well;
They're very neat.

Azèma.
I now remove my glove
That you may note the whiteness of my hand.
I place it there in order that you may
Be tempted to enclose it in your own.

Phil.
To that temptation I at once succumb.

(Taking her hand—she affects to withdraw it angrily.)
Azèma
(with affected indignation).
Go on! If you had any enterprise,
You'd gently place your arm around my waist
And kiss me. (Struggling to release herself.)


Phil.
It might anger you!

Azèma.
Oh no!
It's true that I should start with every show
Of indignation, just in order to
Maintain my character for innocence—
But that is all.

Phil.
(puts his arm round her and kisses her).
There, then—'tis done!

Azèma
(starting, with a great show of rage).
How, sir?
I think it's time that I should take my leave.
(Very indignantly.)
I shall be in the Avenue of Palms.
At ten o'clock to-night. I mention this
That you may take the hint and be there, too! (going.)


Phil.
One moment, pray. Let me assure you now,
That such an unmistakable coquette,
And one who shows her cards so candidly,
Will not supplant the Princess Zeolide!

Azèma
(surprised).
Supplant the Princess Zeolide? Why, sir,
By what authority do you imply
That I have cherished any such design?

Phil.
Your own admission.

Azèma.
Oh, impossible!
(Indignantly.)
But as it seems that I've no chance with you,
I'll try the gentleman who left us here.
He comes!
Enter Chrysal.
Oh, sir, I crave a word with you!
Are you a wealthy man? (with extreme delicacy of manner.)


Chrys.
I am, indeed.

Azèma.
And you've a title?

Chrys.
Yes, of highest rank.

Azèma.
A bachelor.

Chrys.
A bachelor as yet,
Betrothed to Palmis.

Azèma
(shrinking).
Oh! (Hopefully.)
But possibly
You do not love her much?

Chrys.
(with enthusiasm).
Oh, not at all!

Azèma.
You'll do—give me your arm. (He does so— she shrinks.)
Oh, sir, indeed—
(Impatiently to Chrysal, who hesitates)
Do take my hand and put it through your arm.
(He does so.)
That's it! Oh, sir, indeed I know you not!

[Exeunt Chrysal and Azèma,—Azèma affecting to try and release herself. Philamir stands astounded for a moment.
Phil.
I've found a clue that solves these mysteries!
This palace is enchanted ground! It's plain
That there's some subtle influence at work,
Affecting everybody here—but me!
Chrysal, the honey-tongued, turns out to be
A blunt and scurrilous outspoken boor;
Zoram, the musical enthusiast,
Can hardly tell the treble from the bass;
Then Aristæus, surly, blunt, and gruff,
Turns out to be the gentlest soul alive;
And, most inexplicable change of all,
The amiable but prudish Zeolide
Becomes a foolish vixen, blind with love,
Maddened with jealous and unreasoning rage!
Then comes a girl—a commonplace coquette—
Who, while she lays her plans with practised skill,
Explains their aim, and holds them to the light
That all may see their arrant hollowness!
It's evident there's some enchantment here
That shows up human nature as it is,
And I alone resist its influence!
Ah, here is Mirza—lovely paragon—
I'll notice how it operates on her.

Enter Mirza.
Mirza
(starts).
I beg your pardon. I was looking for
My diary; I've dropped it hereabouts.

Phil.
Allow me to assist you in your search?

Mirza
(hastily).
No, no; that must not be. My diary
Must ne'er be seen by other eyes than mine!

Phil.
Indeed! and why?

Mirza.
My very inmost thoughts—
The secret utterances of my heart—
Are there inscribed. I would not for my life
That any eyes but mine should rest on it.

Phil.
Can Lady Mirza harbour any thought
That all the world may not participate?
I'll not believe it.

Mirza
(eagerly).
Hush—I charge you, sir!
Ask me no questions here—for I have learnt
That this is fairy ground, where every one
Is bound, against his will, to speak the truth.
If you interrogate me, I am bound
To answer truly. I need say no more
To such a courteous knight as Philamir.

Phil.
(aside).
It is then as I thought! (Aloud.)
I guessed the truth—
This palace doubtless is enchanted ground,
And I alone resist its influence!

Mirza.
Indeed!

Phil.
I had occasion some time since
To feign unbounded love for Zeolide
(For whom I don't particularly care):
Well, notwithstanding my indifference,
I spoke with all my usual gush of love,
From which I venture to conclude that I
Am unaffected by this magic power.

Mirza.
You do not love the Princess Zeolide?
You who professed unutterable love?

Phil.
I liked her well enough at first, but now
I'm weary of my liking. She displays
So much unreasonable petulance,
Such causeless anger—such unbridled wrath,
That I'm resolved to break the weary link
That binds us. I'll be free to love again.

(Taking Mirza's hand.)
Mirza
(releasing herself).
Oh, Philamir! Oh, shame upon you, sir.
She loves you! You are loved by Zeolide!
Why, there's a heaven opened to your eyes,
And you'll not enter, Philamir! Oh, shame
To blight so true a heart as hers! Oh, fool,
To throw aside in wrath so fair a prize!

Phil.
But listen—I've a fairer prize in view.
Mirza—I love you!

Mirza
(shuddering with terror).
Spare me, sir, I pray!

Phil.
Now by this castle's mystic influence,
I challenge you to answer truthfully—
Do you love me?

Mirza
(shrinking from him).
Have pity, Philamir!
Withdraw your question, I beseech you, sir!
If you insist, I must perforce reply—
I charge you, on your knighthood, press me not!

(Philamir pauses, struggling with his feelings.)
Phil.
(releasing her).
My Lady Mirza, you are free to go.
[Exit Mirza hastily.
How subtly works the mystic influence,
That all seem subject to,—excepting me!
And from the fearful ordeal only one
Of all the women here comes out unscathed.
The peerless Mirza—good, and wise, and pure,
Most excellent and unapproachable!
To know that Mirza loves me, is to know
That she is mortal—that I knew before.
To know that Mirza's worthy of my love,
And that, despite the searching influence
That I alone resist—oh, this indeed
Is happiness!—I'm sure she loves me well!

Enter Zeolide.
Zeo.
Indeed she does! If half an hour ago
She spoke abruptly to her Philamir,
She bitterly repents it. Oh, my love,
Forgive me, for in truth I love you well!

Phil.
(embracing her fondly).
But my remark did not apply to you;
I spoke of Lady Mirza.

Zeo.
(recoiling).
Mirza?

Phil.
Yes,
I'm quite convinced she loves me!

Zeo.
Philamir,
You should not jest with such a sacred word.
You've played your joke upon me, and you've seen
How readily I fell into the trap;'
Let that content you. There—I'm not annoyed—
I'll not be caught again!

Phil.
(earnestly).
Dear Zeolide,
Indeed I do not jest—nor did I when
You left me in unwarrantable rage.
I love the Lady Mirza—she loves me.

Zeo.
(horrified).
She told you so?

Phil.
Well, no. I'm bound to say
She did not tell me so in open words:
Her love for you restrained her. She's too good—
Too pure—too honourable—to allow
A passion for her dearest friend's betrothed
To master her. You should have heard her plead
Your hopeless cause. She struggles with her love,
And tries to keep it down—but still she loves.

Zeo.
(astounded).
And you return this love?

Phil.
Most heartily.
(With affectionate gesture.)
I'm getting weary of you, and I wish
That I could find sufficient argument
To justify me in releasing you. (She shrinks from him.)

Why, now you frown again! Oh, Zeolide,
This wilfulness is insupportable!

Zeo
(enraged).
Support it then no longer, Philamir!
There—you are free—our bond is at an end;
Choose your path, I'll choose mine. Our roads diverge.
We part and may not meet again. Farewell!
(Changing her manner.)
Oh Philamir, heed not my words; I spoke
In reckless haste—I spoke my death-warrant!
Philamir, do not leave me, let me live;
See how I love you! I am at your feet—
I, Zeolide, whom once you thought so cold—
I, Zeolide, who am not wont to kneel!
Oh, give me till to-night, and pass the hours
That intervene in marshalling the past,
And let that plead my cause! You loved me once,
You asked me for my love—I gave my life,
For I must die if you abandon me!
Have mercy on me! Give me till to-night!
There's some enchantment in this fearful place.
This is not Philamir—it is his shape,
But does not hold his soul. Before the night
I'll seek my father, and I'll gain from him
The key that solves this fearful mystery.
Go now—nay, do not speak—no—not a word—
I'll not believe that this is Philamir.
Go, leave me now—and we will meet to-night!
[He hesitates; then exit
Oh, Philamir, my love, my love, my love! (She falls sobbing on couch.)


Enter Palmis.
Palmis.
What? Zeolide in tears? Has Philamir
Been too emphatic in his vows of love?
Have pity on him!

Zeo.
Palmis, pity me—
He loves me not!

Palmis.
Indeed!

Zeo.
He told me so.

Palmis
(relieved).
Oho! He told you so?

Zeo.
Most openly.

Palmis.
Then there is hope for you. Come, dry your eyes;
When men are over head and ears in love,
They cannot tell the truth—they must deceive,
Though the deception tell against themselves!
Here Chrysal comes— (astonished)
a lady on his arm!

Enter Chrysal and Azèma—he leaves Azèma abruptly on seeing Palmis.
Palmis.
Why, Chrysal, who is this? Where have you been?

Chrys.
(affectionately).
I have been wandering through shady groves
With that exceedingly attractive girl.

Palmis.
You have been flirting, sir?

Chrys.
(putting his arm round her waist).
Exceedingly!
I always do when I'm away from you.

Palmis
(to Azèma).
Oh, you're a brazen woman!

Azèma
(with great modesty).
That I am!
An ordinary every-day coquette
Who lives on admiration, and resolves
To gain it by whatever means she can.

Zeo.
(aside to Palmis).
Palmis, there's some enchantment in this place—
I know not what—it influences all.
Do not dismiss him yet, until we learn
Its nature!

Chrys.
(with affection).
Yes, my Palmis, wait awhile,
Do not dismiss me yet; although it's true
I never loved you, yet I want your love
Because you have much influence at Court,
And have it in your power to help me on
To further favour.

Palmis
(astounded).
Chrysal, are you mad?
You never loved me?

Chrys.
(enthusiastically).
Never, on my soul!
In point of fact, I always hated you,
And mean to tell you so when I have won
The highest rank your mistress can confer.
In the mean time, however, I am fain
To make you think that I adore you still.
Observe the heaving of my swelling heart;
My fervid manner—my ecstatic gaze—
It's all assumed!

Palmis.
Oh, miserable man!
Go—get you hence, sir.

Chrys.
(astonished).
Palmis, what on earth
Possesses you?

Palmis.
Don't speak to me again;
I can't endure you!

Re-enter Zoram.
Zor.
I am glad of this.
Dear Palmis, I for many a weary day
Have sought to win your love from Chrysal here,
By every mean, contemptible device
That my unequalled cunning could suggest.

Chrys.
(amazed).
And you admit this to my very face?

Zor.
(cordially).
With pleasure, Chrysal. I have sought in vain,
By daily blackening your character,
To sicken pretty Palmis of her love.
I've told her you're an unexampled rake,
A gambler and a spendthrift, mean, poor, base,
Selfish and sordid; cruel, tyrannical;
But all in vain, she loves you all the more.
(Taking his hand.)
Forget the angry words you spoke to-day;
In the glad glow of hope that I shall gain
Your Palmis' love, I freely pardon you.

Chrys.
(in furious rage).
This evening, in the Avenue of Palms,
I shall await you, sir.

Zor.
(in blank astonishment).
Oh dear, oh dear,
What have I said?

Enter Gélanor.
Gélan.
Hush, gentlemen—the Queen.

Re-enter Queen Altemire hastily.
Altem.
(in a rage).
Where is the King? Go, send him here to me.
Oh, Zeolide, go, get you hence away,
For I have words for Phanor that 'twere best
His daughter did not hear.

Zeo.
My father comes.

Re-enter Phanor and Mirza.
Altem.
Now, sir, I've every reason to believe,
From what I've heard, that you're deceiving me!
I'll question you—oh, infamous old man!

Phan.
(aside).
The Queen is jealous. Where's my talisman? (Finds it.)

All right—it's well I have it with me now.
(Aloud.)
Interrogate me. Conscious innocence
Has little fear of palaces of Truth!

Altem.
You have been walking in the shrubbery;
What were you doing there?

Phan.
(with great show of love for Altemire).
Why, making love
To Mirza. I invariably do
Whenever I've a chance; but all in vain.
She's a good woman, and despises me.
(To Mirza.)
Haven't I offered love to you?

Mirza.
You have.

Phan.
And you despise me, don't you?

Mirza.
Heartily.

Phan.
(to Altemire).
I told you so, and she endorses it.
Believe me, I am bound to speak the truth!

Altem.
(bitterly).
I do believe you.

Phan.
(taking her by the hand).
Thank you, Altemire.

Altem.
Stand off, don't touch me, horrible old man!
You tell me you've made love to Mirza?

Phan.
(astonished).
No!
Did I say that?

Altem.
Most unmistakably.

Phan.
Oh, come, I say!

Zor.
You did indeed, my lord!

Phan.
I said that I made love to Mirza?

Chrys.
Yes,
Those were the very words!

Phan.
Oh, Mirza, come,
You can deny this!

Mirza.
Would, my lord, I could.
To spare the Queen I would be silent, but
Some unknown power masters me, and makes
Me own, against my will, that it was so!

Altem.
There, sir—you hear her words!

Phan.
(aside to Gélanor).
Why, Gélanor,
How's this? The talisman is out of gear!

(Showing box to Gélanor.)
Gélan.
Let me examine it. (Takes it and returns it.)
A forgery!
A clever imitation; virtueless!
It lacks the small inscription on the hinge!

(Phanor falls breathless into a chair.
Phan.
To-morrow morning we go home again!