University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

The Interior of a Prison.
Enter Fredolfo, leaning on Urilda. Attendants belonging to the Prison.
Atten.
(with compassion)
Please you, my lord, rest here.

Fred.
(not heeding him)
I thank thee, it is very well!

Atten.
The air, I fear, blows chilly through that grating.

Fred.
Perchance it does—I do not feel it yet!

Atten.
Will you not rest upon this matted couch?

Fred.
(sits down, holding Urilda)
I thought I had, even now—I crave your pardon—
Where is my daughter?

Uril.
I am here—I'm here!
Clasping your dear hand, clinging to your neck.
Will you not look at me?

Fred.
The place is dark—
Mine eyes are dim o' the sudden—things look strangely—
But you will pardon me—and all is well.

Uril.
(weeping)
Oh! rend not mine heart in twain!
My friends, depart!

[Exeunt attendants.
Fred.
(anxiously)
There is a thick and heavy breathing here,
The very air seems shackled:—
It comes o'er me like an embracing prisoner,—
Who, in his salutation, feels his chain
Grate on the breast he clasps.

Uril.
It is not so!
The air through yon light grating blows full pleasantly.

Fred.
Urilda, this dark air hath been empoison'd
By many a murderer's breath.

Uril.
But thine shall consecrate it—thine, my father!
Oh! future sufferers here shall sit in pride,
Shall hug the chains that now I clasp in agony,
And proudly say, when from its horrid walls
They tread, “I have been in Fredolfo's dungeon!”

Fred.
Away! many a murderer shall here abide!
Dally not with my chains—thou canst not break them.

Uril.
Thy country's arm shall break them!

Fred.
A mightier arm (pointing to heaven)

Alone can break the chain that binds the soul!
Sit down—and if thou wilt on subjects talk
That hold alliance with this horrid place,
I'll talk of such to thee.—
There was a man, I knew him once, I thought,
But even his daughter would not know him now.

Uril.
It cannot be—his daughter still must know him.

Fred.
He was unhappy—

Uril.
Then she loved him better!

Fred.
But—he was guilty!

Uril.
Oh! impossible!
A father guilty in his daughter's eyes!

Fred.
I must go on.
That wretched man, through years of misery,
Had gone to where the guilty meet their fate—
None knew the thought that brought him there; perchance
They deem'd it pity!—No—he watch'd in anguish
How the pale wretch did on the scaffold stare—
Because—and if he had a daughter—then—
(Pauses in dreadful agitation, then proceeding with great difficulty, and sometimes glancing at Urilda, who sits by him in progressive and horrible stupefaction.)
The night came on—beside his couch of stone
His daughter sat—as now thou dost by me—
(Another pause—she looks at him long, without speaking.)
(Pointing upwards)
There was a dungeon o'er them—its dark vaults
A merciful shadow on his damp brow cast,
And she, who came with heart as light as thine,
(She lets go hold of his chains.)
Clasping her father's chains in triumph—
When she did hear that father's tale of crime,—dropp'd them!

Uril.
(after a pause)
But then she smiled upon him—did she not?
Or tried to smile? (forcing a convulsive smile.)


Fred.
(tossing his chains in sudden agony)
I am a murderer!

Uril.
(starting from him, and bursting into a horrible laugh)
My father! and a murderer! Ha, ha, ha!
(Recovering and going up to him tenderly, and hanging on him.)
Nay, do not try me so—thou speak'st in jest—
But try me so no more!

[Hides her head in his breast.
Fred.
I—I have spoken!

Uril.
(struggling with him in desperation)
Retract—retract! for Heaven's—for mercy's sake!

Fred.
Horrible truth!

(She rushes away from him, and remains at a great distance, gazing on him with a look of horror.)
Fred.
(holding out his arm to her)
My child! my child! if crime like mine may plead
Extremest wrong, and passion urged to madness—
These fetters will not plead to thee in vain;—
She will not speak—she will not listen to me—
My child and nature have abandoned me!

Uril.
(flying into his arms and clasping him)
Oh no!—no!—no!—they have not!

Fred.
(quite exhausted)
Leave me—leave me!
There is, perchance, a nook in this dark dwelling,
Where I may, trembling, supplicate for mercy
Alone—for in this moment's agony,
Even thine—thy sight is painful to mine eyes!

[He retires slowly to a recess in the prison.
(Urilda remains alone, fixed and stupified, in the front of the stage.)
Wallenberg enters silently, and approaches her— she does not see him till he is close to her— she then starts, and clings to him, with a dreadful scream.
Uril.
Save him, oh! save him! Thou alone canst save him!

Wall.
Why this appealing shriek—this frantic clasp—
These lifted hands—this prostrate agony?
What does Fredolfo's daughter seek from me?
You shrink, you turn away, you veil your face—
What! is it possible? Speak—answer me—
Is he then guilty? Is your father guilty?
Speak! I must hear the word—your father guilty?—

Uril.
(falling on the ground)
He is—my father!

Wall.
Prostrate at my feet!
The flower that scorn'd the touch must court the tread—
Rise, lady, rise! you much debase yourself
To clasp the knees of a rejected wooer!

Uril.
(writhing at his feet in agonizing humiliation)
Let not my gracious lord in wrath remember
The frantic folly of a wayward girl!

Wall.
(with increasing bitterness)
And when I trembled at Urilda's feet,
What was my answer?—“Never! never! never!
No, Wallenberg—no, Austrian—never! never!”

Uril.
Oh! I was proud—was mad—I did not know
That I was the vile thing I'm sunk to now.

Wall.
I was a villain—liar—was't not so?
Ay—liar was the term!

Uril.
Oh! no—not so—
How can you crush a worm, to see it writhe?

Wall.
(changing his whole manner)
Urilda, I can—pity, and forgive!

Uril.
(looking at him, then shuddering)
Can you?—Oh, never, never—Oh! forgive—
Can you forgive me?
Can you indeed? (clinging to his vest.)


Wall.
I can, and more—relieve—
Can give your father liberty and life!

Uril.
(with convulsive laughter)
Life!—liberty! and the poor guilty man—
Blessings, oh blessings!

Wall.
Hold—till I deserve them.
I dare not, in my duty's awful trust,
Rend ope the doors of an arraigned felon;
I cannot, as a son, from the loathed arm
That slew my father strike the clasping fetter,
And say, with horrid gratitude, Kind murderer!
You stabb'd my sire—your guerdon is your liberty!

Uril.
Well, well, my lord— (impatiently.)


Wall.
But, may not this be done?
Is there not yet among the patriot's friends
Some youth of bold and enterprising arm,
Who, with small cost of noisy eloquence,
May tempt the rabble on his prison-doors
To try their hands' rude strength, and not in vain—
While I to distant quarters lead the Austrians,
And leave the pass unguarded? May this be?

Uril.
(clasping her hands)
Oh, heaven! it may—it may!

Wall.
Know'st thou of such?

Uril.
Perchance there may be one.

Wall.
And one whom thou canst trust—whom thou couldst love?

Uril.
My lord!

Wall.
Oh! summon him! on the instant summon him!

Uril.
(kissing his hand eagerly)
Nay, do not wrest thy generous hand from me!
And he shall live?—Oh! from our distant home,
In poverty, in exile, yea in death—
How blessings shall steam up like incense for thee!
“Oh! think of a rich offering of full hearts,
“Burning upon an altar lit for thee,
“Bow'd knees, clasp'd hands, strong, eager, trembling prayers,
“That melt the saints, and take the heavens by storm!”

Wall.
And he thou lov'st—he too will pray for me!

Uril.
My lord!

Wall.
And may not luckless Wallenberg—
Albeit an exile from your soft retreat—
Steal with light step upon its paradise,
Gaze on your slumbers in its bowers of balm,
And smile on you, as I do now!

Uril.
Oh, God! (hiding her face)

Not that dread smile—Nay, do not turn from me—
Be not incensed—for my heart is sick
With doubts, with bodings, and with many fears.

Wall.
Thy fears and doubts, ere midnight, shall be ended—
Summon thy friend—prepare thee for the hour!
When the bell tolls, remember Wallenberg!

Uril.
For ever, and for ever, in my prayers!

[Kneeling.
Fred.
(rushing forward)
Hold, frantic wretch! he mocks thee—Wallenberg! (seizing Urilda's arm.)

If thou art here in scorn, I pity thee—
If thou art here in mercy, I disdain—

Uril.
(struggling with, and trying to soften Wallenberg)
Oh! heed him not!

Fred.
Heed him not, thou lost girl!
(Urilda struggles between them.)
I call on Heaven for mercy—not on man!
I've lived the champion of my country's rights,
I'll die the victim of my country's justice!

Wall.
(rushing furiously away)
Die, and despair!

Uril.
(clinging to him, as he drags her along)
Oh! he must not die!
Thou'lt save him yet—thou wilt—thou'rt merciful,
Piteous, and good—I will be thine!
(He dashes her from him.)
Thou wilt not spurn me—thou hast knelt to me—

Wall.
(with horrible irony, repeating his last words as he turns on her, while she kneels)
When the bell tolls, remember Wallenberg!

Uril.
(not understanding the menace)
Oh! yes—remember thee—with blessings! blessings!
[Wallenberg rushes out.
(She kneels, knocking in agony at the door.)
Hear me! Oh, hear me!—Oh! the door is closed—
The door of hope is closed!—Yet hear me, Wallenberg!
[Dashing her head in desperation against the door, then rushing back to her father.
(Falling at his feet.)
Lost! lost! for ever lost!

Fred.
(calmly clasping her hand, and pointing to heaven)
Not lost for ever!!!

[Curtain drops.