Kitabı oku: «The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 06», sayfa 23
ACT II
A drop scene showing part of the garden. At the right, a garden-house with a balcony and a door, to which several steps lead up.
GARCERAN enters through the door.
GARCERAN. And so before I'm caught, I'll save myself!
The girl is beautiful, and is a fool;
But love is folly; wherefore such a fool
Is more to fear than e'er the slyest was.
Besides, 'tis necessary that I bring,
While still there's time, my good repute again
To honor,—and my love for Dona Clara,
Most silent she of all that never talk;
The wise man counts escape a victory.
A page of the KING enters.
PAGE. Sir Garceran—
GARCERAN. Ah, Robert, what's a-foot?
PAGE. The King, my lord, commanded me to see
If still you were with her entrusted you—
GARCERAN. If I am here? Why, he commanded—friend!
You were to see were I, perhaps, upstairs?
Just tell him that the girl is in the house,
And I outside. That answer will suffice.
PAGE. The King himself!
GARCERAN. Your majesty!
[The KING comes wrapped in a cloak. Exit PAGE.]
KING. Well, friend!
Still here?
GARCERAN. Why, did you not yourself command
That only with the evening's first approach—
KING. Yes, yes, but now on second thought it seems
Far better that you travel while 'tis day—
They say thou'rt brave.
GARCERAN. So you believe, O Sire—
KING. Methinks thou honorest the royal word
Which would unharmèd know what it protects.
But custom is the master of mankind;
Our wills will often only what they must.
And so, depart. But tell me, what doth she?
GARCERAN. At first, there was a weeping without end,
But time brings comfort, as the saying is;
And so 'twas here. Soon cheerfulness, yea jest,
Had banished all her former abject fear;
Then there was pleasure in the shining toys,
And wonder at the satin tapestries.
We measured every curtained stuff by yards,
Till now we've settled down and feel at home.
KING. And does she seem desirous to return?
GARCERAN. It sometimes seems she does, and then does not.
A shallow mind ne'er worries for the morrow.
KING. Of course thou didst not hesitate to throw
To her the bait of words, as is thy wont?
How did she take it, pray?
GARCERAN. Not badly, Sire.
KING. Thou liest! But in truth thou'rt lucky, boy!
And hover'st like a bird in cheerful skies,
And swoopest down wherever berries lure,
And canst adjust thyself at the first glance.
I am a King; my very word brings fear.
Yet I, were I the first time in my life
To stand in woman's presence, fear should know!
How dost begin? Pray, teach me what to do;
I am a novice in such arts as these,
And nothing better than a grown-up child.
Dost sigh?
GARCERAN. Oh, Sire, how sadly out of date!
KING. Well then, dost gaze? Does then Squire Gander gawk
Till Lady Goose-quill gawks again? Is't so?
And next, I ween, thou takest up thy lute,
And turning towards the balcony, as here,
Thou singst a croaking song, to which the moon,
A yellow pander, sparkles through the trees;
The flowers sweet intoxicate the sense,
Till now the proper opportunity
Arrives—the father, brother—spouse, perhaps—
Has left the house on similar errand bent.
And now the handmaid calls you gently: "Pst!"
You enter in, and then a soft, warm hand
Takes hold of yours and leads you through the halls,
Which, endless as the gloomy grave, spur on
The heightened wish, until, at last, the musk,
The softened lights that come through curtains' folds,
Do tell you that your charming goal is reached.
The door is ope'd, and bright, in candle gleam,
On velvet dark, with limbs all loosed in love,
Her snow-white arm enwrapped in ropes of pearls,
Your darling leans with gently drooping head,
The golden locks—no, no, I say they're black—
Her raven locks—and so on to the end!
Thou seest, Garceran, I learn right well,
And Christian, Mooress, Jewess, 'tis the same.
GARCERAN. We frontier warriors prize, for lack of choice,
Fair Moorish women, but the Jewess, Sire,—
KING. Pretend thou not to pick and choose thy fare!
I wager, if the maiden there above
Had given thee but a glance, thou'dst be aflame.
I love it not, this folk, and yet I know
That what disfigures it, is our own work;
We lame them, and are angry when they limp,
And yet, withal, this wandering shepherd race
Has something great about it, Garceran.
We are today's, we others; but their line
Runs from Creation's cradle, where our God,
In human form, still walked in Paradise,
And cherubim were guests of patriarchs,
And God alone was judge, and was the law.
Within this fairy world there is the truth
Of Cain and Abel, of Rebecca's craft,
Of Rachel, who by Jacob's service wooed—
How hight this maiden?
GARCERAN. Sire, I know not.
KING. Oh!
Of great King Ahasuerus, who his hand
Stretched out o'er Esther; she, though Jewess, was
His wife, and, like a god, preserved her race.
Christian and Moslem both their lineage trace
Back to this folk, as oldest and as first;
Thus they have doubts of us, not we of them.
And though, like Esau, it has sold its right,
We ten times daily crucify our God
By grievous sins and by our vile misdeeds—
The Jews have crucified him only once!
Now let us go! Or, rather, stay thou here;
Conduct her hence, and mark well where she lives.
Perhaps some time, when worn by weary cares,
I'll visit her, and there enjoy her thanks.
(About to go, he hears a noise in the house and stops.)
What is't?
GARCERAN. Confusion in the house; it seems
Almost as if they bring thy praise to naught;
Among themselves they quarrel—
KING (going to the house).
What about?
ISAAC comes from the garden-house.
ISAAC (speaking back into the house).
Stay then, and risk your heads, if so ye will,
You've nearly lost them once. I'll save myself.
KING. Ask what he means.
GARCERAN. My good man, tell, how now?
ISAAC (to GARCERAN).
Ah, Sir, it is then you, our guardian!
My little Rachel speaks of you so oft;
She likes you.
KING. To the point. What babbling this—
ISAAC. Who is this lord?
GARCERAN. It makes no difference. Speak!
What is the cause of all that noise above?
ISAAC (speaking up to the window).
Look out, you're going to catch it—now look out!
(To GARCERAN.)
Yourself have seen my little Rachel-girl,
And how she wept and groaned and beat her breasts,
As if half crazed. Of course you have, my life!—
She hardly knew the danger had been passed
When back again her old high spirits came;
She laughed, and danced, and sang; half mad again
She shoved awry the sacred furniture
By dead men watched, and raves—as now you hear.
Hangs from her girdle not a chatelaine?
Her keys she tries in every closet lock,
And opens all the doors along the wall.
There hang within all sorts of things to wear,
And angels, devils, beggars vie with kings
In gay attire—
KING (aside to GARCERAN).
Our carnival costumes.
ISAAC. She chose, herself, a plumèd crown from these,—
It was not gold, but only gilded tin—
One tells it by the weight, worth twenty pence;
About her shoulders throws a trained robe
And says she is the queen—
(Speaking back.)
Oh yes, thou fool!
Then in the ante-chamber next, there hangs
A picture of the King, whom God preserve!
She takes it from the wall, bears it about,
Calling it husband with endearing words,
And holds it to her breast.
[KING goes hastily toward the garden house.]
GARCERAN. Oh, mighty Sire!
ISAAC (stepping back).
Alas!
KING (standing on the steps, quietly).
That game is worth a nearer look.
What's more, 'twill soon be time for you to go;
You should not miss the favorable hour.
But you, old man, must come. For not alone,
Nor unobserved would I approach your children.
[Goes into the house.]
ISAAC. Was that the King? Oh, woe!
GARCERAN. Proceed within.
ISAAC. If he should draw his sword, we all are doomed!
GARCERAN. Go in. And as for being afraid, 'tis not
For you nor for your daughter that I fear.
[He pushes the hesitating ISAAC into the garden house and follows him.]
* * * * *
_Room in the pavilion. In the background to the left a door; in the foreground to the right, another door. RACHEL, with a plumed crown on her head and gold embroidered mantle about her shoulders, is trying to drag an armchair from the neighboring room, on the right._ ESTHER has come in through the principal entrance.
RACHEL. The armchair should stand here, here in the middle.
ESTHER. For Heaven's sake, O Rachel, pray look out;
Your madness else will bring us all to grief.
RACHEL. The King has given this vacant house to us;
As long as we inhabit it, it's ours.
[They have dragged the chair to the centre.]
RACHEL (looking at herself).
Now don't you think my train becomes me well?
And when I nod, these feathers also nod.
I need just one thing more—I'll get it—wait!
[Goes back through the side door.]
ESTHER. Oh, were we only far from here, at home!
My father, too, comes not, whom she drove off.
RACHEL (comes back with an unframed picture).
The royal image taken from its frame
I'll bear it with me.
ESTHER. Art thou mad again?
How often I have warned thee!
RACHEL. Did I heed?
ESTHER. By Heaven, no!
RACHEL. Nor will I heed you now.
The picture pleases me. Just see how fine!
I'll hang it in my room, close by my bed.
At morn and eventide I'll gaze at it,
And think such thoughts as one may think when one
Has shaken off the burden of one's clothes
And feels quite free from every onerous weight.
But lest they think that I have stolen it—
I who am rich—what need have I to steal?—
My portrait which you wear about your neck
We'll hang up where the other used to be.
Thus he may look at mine, as I at his,
And think of me, if he perchance forgot.
The footstool bring me hither; I am Queen,
And I shall fasten to the chair this King.
They say that witches who compel to love
Stick needles, thus, in images of wax,
And every prick goes to a human heart
To hinder or to quicken life that's real.
[She fastens the picture by the four corners to the back of the chair.]
Oh, would that blood could flow with every prick,
That I could drink it with my thirsty lips,
And take my pleasure in the ill I'd done!
It hangs there, no less beautiful than dumb.
But I will speak to it as were I Queen,
With crown and mantle which become me well.
[She has seated herself on the footstool before the picture.]
Oh, hypocrite, pretending piety,
Full well I know your each and every wile!
The Jewess struck your fancy—don't deny!
And, by my mighty word, she's beautiful,
And only with myself to be compared.
[The KING, _followed by _GARCERAN and ISAAC, has entered and placed himself behind the chair, and leans upon the back of the chair, watching her.]
(RACHEL, continues)
But I, your Queen, I will not suffer it,
For know that I am jealous as a cat.
Your silence only makes your guilt seem more.
Confess! You liked her? Answer, Yes!
KING. Well, Yes!
[RACHEL, starts, looks at the picture, then up, recognizes the KING,and remains transfixed on the footstool.]
KING (stepping forward).
Art frightened? Thou hast willed it, and I say 't.
Compose thyself, thou art in friendly hands!
[He stretches his hand toward her, she leaps from the stool and flees to the door at the right where she stands panting and with bowed head.]
KING. Is she so shy?
ESTHER. Not always, gracious Sire!
Not shy, but timid.
KING. Do I seem so grim?
(Approaching her. RACHEL, shakes her head violently.)
Well then, my dearest child, I pray be calm!
Yes, I repeat it, thou hast pleased me well;
When from this Holy War I home return
To which my honor and my duty call,
Then in Toledo I may ask for thee—
Where dwell you in this city?
ISAAC (quickly).
Jew Street, Sire—
Ben Mathes' house.
ESTHER. If not, before you come,
We're driven out.
KING. My word! That shall not be.
And I can keep a promise to protect.
So if at home you are as talkative
And cheerful as I hear you erstwhile were—
Not shy, as now, I'll pass the time away,
And draw a breath far from the fogs of court.
But now depart; the time has long since come.
Go with them, Garceran; but, ere you go,
My picture now return to where it was.
RACHEL (rushing to the chair).
The picture's mine!
KING. What ails thee, child? It must
Go back into the frame where it belongs.
RACHEL (to GARCERAN).
The picture touch not, nor the pins therein,
Or I shall fix it with a deeper thrust
(Making a motion toward the picture with a pin.)
Behold, right in the heart!
KING. By Heaven, stop!
Thou almost frightenedst me. Who art thou,
girl?
Art mistress of the black and criminal arts,
That I should feel in my own breast the thrust
Thou aimèdst at the picture?
ESTHER. Noble Sire,
She's but a spoiled child, and a wanton girl,
And has no knowledge of forbidden arts!
KING. One ought not boldly play with things like these.
It drove my blood up to my very eyes,
And still I see the world all in a haze.
(To GARCERAN.)
Is she not beautiful?
GARCERAN. She is, my lord.
KING. See how the waves of light glow o'er her form!
[RACHEL has meanwhile taken of the picture and rolled it up.]
KING. Thou absolutely wilt not give it up?
RACHEL (_to _ESTHER).
I'll take it.
KING. Well, then, in the name of God!
He will prevent that any ill befall.
But only go! Take, Garceran,
The road that down behind the garden leads.
The folk's aroused; it loves, because it's weak,
To test that weakness on some weaker one.
GARCERAN (at the window).
Behold, O Sire, where comes th' entire court,—
The Queen herself leads on her retinue.
KING. Comes here? Accursed! Is here no other door?
Let not the prying crew find here false cause
To prattle!
GARCERAN (pointing to the side door).
Sire, this chamber
KING. Think you, then,
Before my servants I should hide myself?
And yet I fear the pain 'twould give the Queen;
She might believe—what I myself believe,
And so I save my troubled majesty.
See to it that she very soon depart.
[Exit into the side room.]
ESTHER. I told you so! It is misfortune's road.
Enter the QUEEN accompanied by MANRIQUE DE LARA and several others.
QUEEN. They told me that the King was in this place.
GARCERAN. He was, but went away.
QUEEN. The Jewess here.
MANRIQUE. Arrayed like madness freed from every bond,
With all the tinsel-state of puppet-play!
Lay off the crown, for it befits thee not,
Even in jest; the mantle also doff!
[ESTHER has taken both off.]
What has she in her hand?
RACHEL. It is my own.
MANRIQUE. But first we'll see!
ESTHER. Nay, we are not so poor
That we should stretch our hands for others' goods!
MANRIQUE (going toward the side door).
And, too, in yonder chamber let us look,
If nothing missing, or perhaps if greed
With impudence itself as here, has joined.
GARCERAN (barring the way).
Here, father, call I halt!
MANRIQUE. Know'st thou me not?
GARCERAN. Yes, and myself as well. But there be duties
Which even a father's rights do not outweigh.
MANRIQUE. Look in my eye! He cannot bear to do it!
Two sons I lose on this unhappy day.
(_To the _QUEEN.)
Will you not go?
QUEEN. I would, but cannot. Yes,
I surely can, by Heaven, for I must.
(To GARCERAN.)
Although your office an unknightly one,
I thank you that you do it faithfully;
'Twere death to see—but I can go and suffer—
If you should meet your master ere the eve,
Say, to Toledo I returned—alone.
[The QUEEN and her suite go out.]
GARCERAN. Woe worth the chance that chose this day of all,
To bring me home—from war to worse than war!
RACHEL (to ESTHER, who is busied with her).
And had my life been forfeit, I'd have stayed.
ESTHER (to GARCERAN).
I pray you now to bring us quickly home.
GARCERAN. First, let me ask the King his royal will.
(Knocking at the side door.)
Sire! What? No sign of life within? Perchance
An accident? Whate'er it be—I'll ope!
[The KING steps out and remains standing in the foreground as the others withdraw to the back of the stage.]
KING. So honor and repute in this our world
Are not an even path on which the pace,
Simple and forward, shows the tendency,
The goal, our worth. They're like a juggler's rope,
On which a misstep plunges from the heights,
And every stumbling makes a butt for jest.
Must I, but yesterday all virtues' model,
Today shun every slave's inquiring glance?
Begone then, eager wish to please the mob,
Henceforth determine we ourselves our path!
(Turning to the others.)
What, you still here?
GARCERAN. We wait your high command.
KING. If you had only always waited it,
And had remained upon the boundary!
Examples are contagious, Garceran.
GARCERAN. A righteous prince will punish every fault,
His own as well as others'; but, immune,
He's prone to vent his wrath on others' heads.
KING. Not such a one am I, my friend. Be calm!
We are as ever much inclined to thee;
And now, take these away, forever, too.
What's whim in others, is, in princes, sin.
(_As he sees _RACHEL approaching.)
Let be! But first this picture lay aside,
And put it in the place from whence you took 't.
It is my will! Delay not!
RACHEL (to ESTHER).
Come thou, too.
(As both approach the side door).
Hast thou, as is thy wont, my picture on?
ESTHER. What wilt
RACHEL. My will—and should the worst betide—
[They go to the side door.]
KING. Then to the border, straight I'll follow thee;
And there we'll wash in Moorish blood away
The equal shame that we have shared this day,
That we may bear once more the gaze of men.
[The girls return.]
RACHEL. I did it.
KING. Now away, without farewell!
ESTHER. Our thanks to thee, O Sire!
RACHEL. Not mine, I say.
KING. So be it; thankless go!
RACHEL. I'll save it up.
KING. That is, for never!
RACHEL. I know better.
(To ESTHER.) Come.
[They go, accompanied by GARCERAN, ISAAC bowing deeply.]
KING. And high time was it that she went; in sooth,
The boredom of a royal court at times
Makes recreation a necessity.
Although this girl has beauty and has charm
Yet seems she overbold and violent,
And one does well to watch what one begins.
Alonzo!
[Enter a servant.]
SERVANT. Mighty Sire?
KING. The horses fetch.
SERVANT. Toledo, Sire?
KING. Nay, to Alarcos, friend.
We're for the border, for the war, and so
Make ready only what we need the most.
For in Toledo four eyes threaten me;
Two full of tears, the other two, of fire.
She would not leave my picture here behind,
And bade defiance unto death itself.
And yet there needed but my stern command
To make her put it back where it belonged.
She tried her actress arts on me, that's all;
But did she put it in the frame again?
Since I am leaving here for many moons
Let all be undisturbed as 'twas before;
Of this affair let every trace be gone.
[He goes into the ante-chamber. A pause as one of the servants takes up from the chair the clothes which RACHEL had worn, but holds the crown in his hand. The KING comes back holding RACHEL'S picture.]
KING. My picture gone—and this one in its place!
It is her own, and burns within my hand—
(Throwing the picture on the floor.)
Avaunt! Avaunt! Can boldness go so far?
This may not be, for while I think of her
With just repugnance, this her painted image
Stirs up the burning passion in my breast.
Then, too, within her hands my picture rests!
They talk of magic, unallowèd arts,
Which this folk practises with such-like things
And something as of magic o'er me comes—
(To the servant.)
Here, pick this up and spur thee on until
Thou overtake them.
SERVANT. Whom, my liege?
KING. Whom? Whom?
The girls of course, I mean, and Garceran;
Return this picture to the girls and ask—
SERVANT. What, Sire?
KING. Shall my own servants then become
The sharers in the knowledge of my shame?
I'll force th' exchange myself, if it must be!
Take up the picture—I will touch it not!
[The servant has picked up the picture.]
KING. How clumsy! Hide it in your breast; but nay,
If there, it would be warmed by other's glow!
Give 't here, myself will take it; follow me—We'll
overtake them yet! But I surmise,
Since now suspicion's rife, there may some harm,
Some accident befall them unawares.
My royal escort were the safest guide.
Thou, follow me!
[He has looked at the picture, then has put it in his bosom.]
Stands there not, at the side,
The Castle Retiro, where, all concealed,
My forebear, Sancho, with a Moorish maid—!
SERVANT. Your Majesty, 'tis true!
KING. We'll imitate
Our forebears in their bravery, their worth,
Not when they stumble in their weaker hours.
The task is, first of all to conquer self—And
then against the foreign conqueror!
Retiro hight the castle?—Let me see!
Oh yes, away! And be discreet! But then—Thou
knowest nothing! All the better. Come!
[Exit with servant.]
