 | The Secret in Words |  |
SCENE II.
—A ROOM IN THE PALACE—EVENING.Enter LAURA.
LAURA.
Oh! how tardy is the dying
Of a day of hope! It seemeth
As if night had all forgotten
Its alternate realm to rule.
Since so slowly fall its shadows,—
Mournful birds descending lightly,
Beating their nocturnal pinions,
Spreading out their murky plumes;—
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Came that I would fly to see thee,
Then with thee would all my troubles
Be consoled and soothed to peace;
And Flerida:—Ah! my mistress,
Why those efforts art thou making,
By which thou thy scorn dissemblest,
And false favour dost pretend?—
I must pass to her apartment
Ere the dusky gardens call me,
As to some anticipated
Pang of my afflicted fate,—
By so doing, I shall compass
Two advantages, preventing
By the first her fear'd inquiries,
By the last my longing sighs;
Since so often occupation
Speeds the leaden-footed moments,
Making hours appear the shorter,
Though no shorter be their flight.
Enter FLERIDA. FLORA follows with lights.
FLERIDA.
Laura, cousin, does my friendship
Merit at thy hands this absence?
All this day I have not seen thee.
LAURA.
As a favour I esteem,
That you deigned to miss me, lady;
'Twas a slight and casual illness
Kept me from thy side so long:
And though yet but convalescent,
Ere retiring for the night-time,
I would kiss your hand in going,
And respectfully inquire
How you feel yourself, Señora.
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I am sorry that your absence
Was occasioned by your health,
But am glad that you have hither
Come to see me, even though late.
Since, indeed, this night, dear Laura,
I require your presence here,—
So, take notice, you continue
With me.
LAURA.
Think, reflect, Señora. ...
FLERIDA.
Why reflect? When you a thousand
Times have done the same through kindness,
Do it to oblige me once,—
For to thee alone, my cousin,
Can I tell a certain secret.
LAURA,
aside.
Was there ever such confusion?
If I answer, I but raise
Some suspicion, (Heaven assist me!)
And if not, I lose. ...
FLERIDA.
What say you?
LAURA.
That I ever am thy faithful
Servant.
FLERIDA,
to Flora.
Leave us here alone:—
[Exit Flora.
Laura, give me your attention.
I have ascertained, a lover
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Has but now received a letter
From some lady, with a promise
Him to meet to-night.
LAURA,
aside.
O heavens!
FLERIDA.
And although I know the lover,
I the lady do not know.
LAURA,
aside.
But I do.
FLERIDA.
I must discover
Who, from out these trellised windows
That look down upon the terrace,
Dares to outrage the decorum
Of my never-broken laws.
LAURA.
You do very right, for truly
'Tis a most unheard-of daring.
FLERIDA.
'Tis not fitting that in person
I descend, nor were it right;
And I thus, my lovely Laura,
Trust to you; for you alone,
You, of all the many persons
Unto whom imagination
Wandered in its searching flight,
Have escaped the smallest shadow
Of the most remote suspicion.
LAURA.
What are then your orders?
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These:
Once and many a time descending
To the garden through the night,
You become the watchful sentry
Of my honour, reconnoitring
Whom you meet within its bounds.
Think not that my care arises
Solely from decorum, Laura;
No, I wish to know the lady
Frederick loves—(with strange imprudence
Has my tongue declared his name;
But it matters little!)—cousin,
This is what I charge you with.
LAURA.
Needlessly thou dost implore me,
Since, attentive to thy pleasure,
And obedient to thy will,
Not alone, as thou commandest,
Shall I pay a thousand visits
To the garden,—no, till morn
Shall it be my joy to stay there,
Proud and happy thee to serve.
Takes the light, as if going.
FLERIDA.
I entrust my peace, my honour,
Unto thee, my friend and cousin;
Thou hast ready wit and prudence,
Laura mine, be these thy guide—
Go then, in the way thou wishest;
I will only say my feelings
Equal thine, and must be grateful.
Exit.
LAURA.
God preserve me! Oh! how many
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To my mind; upon each other
Crowd they so, and so depend,
That when I would make an ending
Of them all, I find I cannot
Choose the foremost to begin.
But why grieve thus? It is better
To leave all this tangled net-work
To the unravelling of time;
And to gain on time the sooner,
Silence is the best conductor,
Till with Frederick I can speak;
He must necessarily show me,
By his voice or by his face,
If he loves me or deceives me.
She enters at one side and returns by the other.
O thou fair and beauteous garden,
Whose eternal green republic
Is the chosen clime of April,—
April only dwelling here,
It the God that makes thy spring-time,
It the King that rules thy year;
She who oft came hither freely
To thy fair and fertile bowers,
To confide her love's sweet secrets,
To thy flowers and to thy fountains,
To thy fountains and thy flowers;
Now comes hither, forced and bidden,
Sleepless, anxious, full of fear,
To discover who has hidden,
With perfidious hand, the aspen
Jealousy, within my breast.
A noise within at the grate.
In the street the signal's given;
Full of terror, full of doubt
Beats my heart: but for what reason?
If, in all the world, no being
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Since 'tis jealousy defends me ......
Who is there?
Frederick appears at the grated window.
FREDERICK.
Oh! do not ask me,
Beauteous Laura mine, unless
You desire my sure enjoyment
Should be changed to sad distrust;
If not I, who could it be?
LAURA.
Do not wonder, do not murmur,
That I did not recognise thee,
Since, indeed, you are another
Person from the one I thought.
FREDERICK.
In what manner?
LAURA.
In this manner:—
Frederick, at this grate, the duchess
Left me to find out the lady
That to-night did here invite thee;
From which clearly I infer
That you have betrayed my favours.
FREDERICK.
May the listening Heaven, my Laura. ...
Mine I said, do not reproach me,
That when truths I came to utter,
I thus falsely should begin;—
May the angry heavens destroy me,
May a bolt of forkéd lightning
Strike me dead, if from my breast
Faintest accents ever issued,
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Why need more to undeceive you,
Than that she confides in you?—
And moreover, how, I pray thee,
Could she tell thee watch for me,
When she must suppose me absent
On a journey, of whose nature
I have not now time to tell?
LAURA.
Though so far you exculpate you,
Now explain to me the cause
Of the interest she taketh,
Frederick, in thus detecting
Who it is that favours you?
FREDERICK.
As to that, though I am doubtful,
That the cause of these inquiries
Springs from me and not herself,
Were it not to give thee, Laura,
Even a greater triumph still,—
And to bring thy love in deeper
Debt to mine, to speak my thought?—
He who wins what's not resisted
Scarcely can be said to win:—
Do not baffle my complainings,
Since they have a surer base
In Lisardo, there exchanging
Seeming ills for certain woes;—
Say, ah Laura! must you wed him?
LAURA.
I wed not: it is misfortune
Forms the wish, and not my heart.
FREDERICK.
One who loves can conquer all things.
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That is true: 'tis also certain,
One who loves, all danger fears.
FREDERICK.
Then why write to me that letter,
Laura, where you fondly vowed,
Ere you'll lose me, life shall leave thee;—
That my portrait I should bring
In return for thine you sent me?
LAURA.
There was not the inconvenience,
Frederick, that has since arisen.
FREDERICK.
What a poor excuse you give me,
For your sudden change! Ah! Laura,
If your firm resolve is taken,
Why waste time at such a moment?
Why waste words in speaking to me?—
See the portrait that you asked for
Comes to be the only witness
Of my jealousy:—behold!
In its setting, it appeareth
Similar to that dear image
That you sent me, when with joy
Looked my happy fortune on me;—
For it was my poor ambition,
Since the jewel was not equal,
That the case that hid it were:—
Take it, and but this I ask thee,
If another thou shouldst wed,
Look not on it: though but painted,
It will silently upbraid.
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Frederick, I .... But hark! I hear
Footsteps through the street approaching.
FREDERICK.
Ah! perhaps you then had told me
Something would have given me joy,
If you were not interrupted?
LAURA.
Thine I am, and thine for ever,
Had I said, and now I say it.
FREDERICK.
Let him come, whoe'er is coming;—
No, they turn another way.
LAURA.
Notwithstanding that, 'tis needful
That I close the grating now.
Frederick, let my word of parting
Be a word of caution too:
Jealous eyes are watching o'er us.
FREDERICK.
Need we more for our protection
Than to watch them too?
LAURA.
And how?
FREDERICK.
I shall send to you a cipher
In the morning, which will show,
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You can speak direct to me;—
And without the least suspicion,
In the presence of them all,
Loudly speak, and loudly answer.
LAURA.
This will be, unless I err,
What is called the spoken secret.
FREDERICK.
Use all caution in the reading
Of the letter I shall bring.
LAURA.
I will do so. God defend thee!
FREDERICK.
Heaven protect thy precious life.
LAURA.
Love! what bitter pangs you cost me.
FREDERICK.
Laura! what to me you owe!
Exeunt.
| The Secret in Words | |