Kitabı oku: «Charles Di Tocca: A Tragedy», sayfa 4

 
Of spial.
 
 
Cecco: Sir, I – no – that is —
 
 
Charles: That is
It does! Must I – persuade it from your throat?
(Makes to choke him.)
 
 
Cecco: It was of lord Antonio —
 
 
Charles: Speak then.
 
 
Cecco: Have you not marked him sundry of his moods?
 
 
Charles: Well?
 
 
Cecco: On his back in the wood as if the leaves
Sung fairy balladry; then riding wild
Nowhither and alone; about the castle
Yearning, yet absent to soft speech and arms!
He'll drink, sir, and not know if it be wine!
 
 
Charles: So is he! but to-day he bold unsheathed
His skill and bravery.
 
 
Cecco: And did not crave
A boon of you?
 
 
Charles: None. But you put not ill
My thought to it. His aspiration flags —
 
 
Cecco: Ah, flags.
 
 
Charles: New wings it needs and buoyancy.
My trust in him is ripe: the fruit of it,
He shall be lord of Arta – total lord.
 
 
Cecco: He begged no softer boon?
 
 
Charles: Cunning! again?
Sleek questions of a sleeker consequence?
 
 
Cecco: It was, sir, only of Antonio.
 
 
Charles: Worm, you began so. Stretch now to the end,
Or – will you?
 
 
Cecco: I would say – would ask – and hope
There is no thorny hint in it to vex you,
To prick your humor – may not he be sick,
Amorous, mellow sick upon some maid?
 
 
Charles: Have you so labored to this atom's birth?
Is a boy's passion so new under the moon
You gape at it?
 
 
Cecco: But if, sir —
 
 
Charles: I had thought
Would start up in your words some Titan woe,
No human catapult could war upon!
Some dread colossal doom, frenzied to fall!
Were it he's traitor gnawing at my throne,
Or ready with some potent cruelty
To blight this tenderness new-sprung in me —
I would – even have listened!
 

(Noise is heard at the postern. It is unlocked. Hæmon enters, and stops in consternation.)

 
Charles: Keys? To – this?
 
 
Hæmon: I – have excuse.
 
 
Charles: Perchance also you have
Them to my gems and secrecies? Shall I
Not show their hiding? – rubies, and fair gold?
 
 
Hæmon: Mistake me not, my lord.
 
 
Charles: I could not: you
Have come at midnight – a most honest hour.
Enter this postern – a most honest way,
And seem most honest – Why, I could not, sir!
 
 
Hæmon: You wrong me, and have wronged me. I but come
To loose my sister.
 
 
Charles: As to-day you would
Have loosed her with a piercing – into death?
 
 
Hæmon: Rather, could I! Antonio – yet neither.
Since you, not he, are here, my passion melts
Into a plea. Humbly as manhood may —
 
 
Charles: This fever still?
 
 
Hæmon: This fever! Must I be
As ice while soiling flames leap out at her?
And passionless – as one cold in a trance?
Rigid while she in stealth is drugged to shame?
Be voiceless and be vain, unstung, and still?
I must wait softly while her innocence
Is drained as virgin freshness from the morn? —
Though he were twice Antonio and your son,
An emperor and a god, I would not!
 
 
Charles: Ever,
And ever bent upon Antonio?
Be not a torrent, boy, of rush and foam.
Be not, of roar! – Yet – look: Antonio?
You said Antonio?
 
 
Hæmon: Yes.
 
 
Charles (troubled): You did ill
To say it! He's my son.
 
 
Hæmon: I care not.
 
 
Charles: Have
You cause – a ground – some reason? Men should when
Suspicions curve their lips.
 
 
Hæmon: Cause! reason!
 
 
Charles: No:
He is my son. His flesh has memories
That would cry out and curdle him to madness,
Palsy and strangle every pregnant wish,
Or bring in him compassion like a flood.
 
 
Hæmon (contemptuous): O – ?
 
 
Charles: Never! – Yet, a lurking at my brain!
 

Enter Paula, hurriedly

 
Paula: My lord Antonio! my lady! (Seeing Charles.) O!
 
 
Charles (strangely): Come here.
 
 
Paula: O, sir!
 
 
Charles (taking her wrist): Were you not in a haste?
 
 
Paula: I – I – I do not know.
 
 
Charles: Girl! – Why do you
Drop fearful to your knees?
 
 
Paula: 'Tis late, sir, late,
Let me go in!
 
 
Charles: You have a mistress who
Keeps quick temptation in her eyes and hair.
A shy mole too lies pillowed on her cheek —
Does she rest well?
 
 
Paula: My lord —
 
 
Charles: Ah, you would say
She sometimes walks asleep: and you have come
To fetch her?
 
 
Paula: Loose me, sir!
 
 
Charles: Or she has left
Her kerchief in some nook: you seek it?
 
 
Paula: O,
Your eyes! your eyes!
 
 
Charles: I have a son: are his
Not like them?
 
 
Paula: My wrist, sir!
 
 
Charles: It was night, then – night?
You could not see him clearly?
 
 
Paula: Mercy!
 
 
Charles (looking about): Yet
Perchance he too walks in his sleep. Were it
Quite well if they have met – these two that walk?
 
 
Paula: My lady, my sweet lady!
 
 
Charles (releasing her): Go, for she
Still wonderful may lie upon her couch,
One arm dropt whitely. If you prayed for her —
If you should pray for her – Something may chance:
There is so much may chance – we cannot know!
 

(Paula goes.

 
(Disturbed.) This child who hath but dwelt about her, touched
And coiled the mystery of her hair, has might
Almost too much!
 
 
Hæmon: You cloud me with these words.
Were they Antonio's —
 
 
Charles: If I but think
"Helena" must you link "Antonio" to it!
Can they not be, yet be apart? Will winds
Not bear them, and not sound them separate!
If angels cry one at the stars will they
But echo back the other? – This is froth —
The froth and fume of folly. You are thick
In falsity, and in disquietude.
Another rapture rules Antonio's eye,
Not Helena.
 
 
Hæmon: You know it – yet have led
Her to his arms?
 
 
Charles: His arms! Ah, mole to burrow
Thus under blind and muddy misbelief!
To mine is she come here. (Terribly.) Were he a seraph,
And did from Paradise desire to fold her —
No mercy! – But, I will speak as a child,
As he who woke with Ruth fair at his feet;
Long have I gleaned amid the years and lone.
She shall glean softly now beside me – softly,
Till sunset fail in me and I am night.
 
 
Hæmon: This is a gin, a net, and I am fast!
 
 
Charles: A net to snare what never has been free?
 
 
Hæmon: Still must it be this tenderness lives false
Upon your lips.
 
 
Charles: "Must," say you, "must," yet stand —
 
 
Hæmon: Then shall he rest – lie easy down and rest In treachery?
 
 
Charles: He – ?
 
 
Hæmon: Yes.
 
 
Charles: You mean – ?
 
 
Hæmon: Yes! – yes!
 
 
Charles: Antonio?
 
 
Hæmon: Is it not open?
 
 
Charles (confusedly): No:
Glooms start around me, glooms that seethe and cling.
 
 
Hæmon: This maid who called, did she come idly here?
You stir? you rouse?
 
 
Charles: A coldness runs in me.
 
 
Hæmon: And have not I come strangely on the hour!
 
 
Charles: It 'gins to burn!
 
 
Hæmon: Not entered a strange way?
 
 
Charles: You pause and ever pause upon my patience.
'Twill heave unbearably!
 
 
Hæmon: Then hear me, hear! —
Senseless against a bank I found a boy,
Hurled by some ruthless hoof. Near him this key
And writing —
 
 
Charles: Tell it!
 
 
Hæmon: That avows, mid lines
Clandestine of purport, Antonio
And Helena, under these shades at twelve —
 
 
Charles: You bring on me a furious desolation.
But Fulvia, ah, she —
 
 
Hæmon: Not there is trust!
She is aware and aids in his deceit.
This writing says it of her.
 
 
Charles: Fulvia? No!
No, no! – Though she had sudden whispers for him!
A lie – Yet fast belief fixes its fangs
On me and will not loose me – for against
My hope she set a coldness and a doubt!
O woman woven through all fibres of me!
(Starting up.) But he – !
 
 
Hæmon: Ah then, it runs in you, the rush
And pang that answer mine?
 
 
Charles (quietly): If they are still —
 
 
Hæmon: Under these shades?
 
 
Charles: And – lips to lips —
 
 
Hæmon: Ah, God!
You will? – you will?
 
 
Charles: Hush! something – No, it was
But fate cried out in me, not any voice.
 
 
Hæmon: We must be swift.
 
 
Charles: It cries again. I will
Not listen! He's not flesh of me – not flesh!
A traitor is no son, nor was nor shall be!
Though it shriek desolation utterly
I will not listen!
 
 
Hæmon: Do not!
 
 
Charles: And to-day
He shook, ashen and clenched, remembering
The guilty secret in him!
 
 
Hæmon: Still he's free.
 
 
Charles: My words fell warm as tears – "A rift has come,
A rift, a smile, a breath" – men speak so when
They creep from madness up into some space
Whose element is love.
 
 
Hæmon: And will you sink
To a weak palsy – who should o'erwhelm
With penalty!
 
 
Charles (rousing): No! all and ever false
Was he who's so when most he should be true!
I will make treachery bitter to all time.
Bring dread on all to whom are given sons!
Down generations shall they peer and tremble,
Look on me as on majesties accursed! —
Search every shade – search, search! You stand as death.
I am in famine till he gives me groan!
 

(They go in opposite directions.

Enter Fulvia, distressed, and Giulia

 
Fulvia: He was with Hæmon?
 
 
Giulia: On that seat.
 
 
Fulvia: Convulsed,
 
 
Yet passionless?
 
 
Giulia: His words were low
 
 
Fulvia: Why were
You not asleep?
 
 
Giulia: I —
 
 
Fulvia: Did he beat his hands
Briefly – and then no more?
 
 
Giulia: I was behind —
 
 
Fulvia: And could not see? But heard their names?
The Greek is still without?
 
 
Giulia: My lady, yes.
 
 
Fulvia: Your voice is guilty. How came Hæmon in?
Answer me, answer! No, go quickly! If
The duke has entered now and sleeps! Or if – !
 

(Words and swords are heard, then a shriek from Helena. Charles rushes in furious and wounded in the arm, followed by Helena, Antonio, who is dazed, and from the Castle side by Hæmon, guards, etc.)

 
Antonio: You, you, sir? father? I knew it not, so swift
Your rage fell on me.
 
 
Charles (to a guard): Gaping, ghastly fool!
Do you behold him murderous and lay
No hand on him!
 
 
Antonio: But, sir – !
 
 
Charles: Let him not fawn
About me! Seize him! God forgives not Hell.
Not this blood only but my soul's be on him.
 
 
Helena: O, do not, he —
 
 
Charles: Stand! stand! Touch me not with
Your voice or eyes or being! They are soft
With perfidy, and stole me to believe
There's sweetness in a flower, light in air,
And beauty in the innocence of earth.
Bind him! Leucadia's just cliff awaits
All traitors – 'tis the law, they must be flung
Out on the dizzy and supportless wind.
 
 
Fulvia: But this shall never be! No, though your looks
Heave out with hate upon me.
 
 
Charles (convulsed, then coldly): You are dead,
And speak to me. Once you were Fulvia —
No more! And once my friend, now but a ghost
Whom I must gaze upon forgetlessly.
Obey, at once! and at to-morrow's sunset!
 

(Antonio is taken and led out.)

 
Helena (falling at Charles' feet): You cannot, will not – O, he is your son
And loves you much!
 
 
Charles: Touch me not! touch me not!
(To Hæmon.) Lead her away – and quickly, quickly, quickly! (Hæmon goes with Helena through the postern.
Friends – friends – (unsteadily) I am – quite – friendless now – ? (Clutching his wounded arm.) Ah – quite! (He faints.)
 
 
Fulvia: Charles! Charles! my lord! return! – A numbness
Has barred the way of soothing to his breast!
 

Curtain

ACT FOUR

Scene. – A chamber in the Castle, opening on the right to a hall, curtained on the left from another chamber. In the rear is a window through which may be seen silvery hills of olive resting under the late afternoon sun: by it a shrine. Enter the Captain of the Guard and a Soldier from the Hall.

 
Soldier: There is no more?
 
 
Captain: Not if you understand.
 
 
Soldier: That do I – every link of it! I've served
Under the bold de Montreal, and he
For stratagems – well, Italy knows him!
 
 
Captain: You must be quick and secret.
 
 
Soldier: As the end
Of the world!
 
 
Captain: Our duty's with the duke. But then
Antonio has our love.
 
 
Soldier: That has he! Ah,
That has he!
 
 
Captain: Well, be close. None must escape,
Remember, none be hurt. As for the princess,
We'll hear the chink of ducats with her thanks.
 
 
Soldier: Madonna save her! – The Judas of a father
Who robs her rest!
 
 
Captain (looking down the hall): 'Tis she who comes this way.
So go, and haste. But fail not.
 
 
Soldier: If I do,
Bury me with a pagan, next a Turk!
 

(Goes.

Enter Fulvia

 
Captain: Princess —
 
 
Fulvia: Our plans grow to fulfilment – are
No way misplanted?
 
 
Captain: Lady, all seems now
Seasonable for their expected fruit.
 
 
Fulvia: No accident appears to threat and thwart them?
 
 
Captain: Doubt not a fullest harvest of your hope.
The duke himself shall for this deed at last
Have benediction.
 
 
Fulvia: May it be! He's quick,
Though quicker in forgetting. I will move
Him as I may.
 
 
Captain: The kind and wise assaults
Your words shall make must move him, gracious lady.
 

Enter Hæmon

 
Hæmon: I seek the duke.
 
 
Fulvia (dismissing Captain with a gesture):
You would seek penitence
Were you less far in folly.
 
 
Hæmon (as going): O – if he's
Not here, then —
 
 
Fulvia: Sorrow too would strain your lips,
Not cold defiance.
 
 
Hæmon: Pardon: if you know,
Where is he?
 
 
Fulvia: Was it easy to o'erwhelm
Under the ruin of her dreams a sister?
 
 
Hæmon: Better beneath her dreams than under shame.
 
 
Fulvia: Your rashness cloaks itself in that excuse,
Your ruth, and your suspicion that has doomed
One innocent.
 
 
Hæmon: One innocent! His thought
Had but betrayal for her!
 
 
Fulvia: 'Tis the Greek
In you avows it, no true voice.
 
 
Hæmon: Then 'tis
My father murdered whose last moan I hear
Driven about me in this castle's gray
Cold spaces. And the dead speak not to lie.
 
 
Fulvia: No, no. You cannot brave your action with
The spur of that belief.
 
 
Hæmon: What want you of me?
 
 
Fulvia: This: ache and restlessness are on you.
 
 
Hæmon (impatiently): No.
 
 
Fulvia: And doubt begins in you that as a wolf
Will scent the wounded quarry of your conscience.
 
 
Hæmon: After he lured and wooed her under night
And secrecy?
 
 
Fulvia: Not running there will you
Escape its dread pursuit.
 
 
Hæmon: He frauded – duped
His father's trust!
 
 
Fulvia: Or there! But one refuge
Have you against its bitter ceaseless tooth,
And that above the wilds of self-deceit.
 
 
Hæmon: Why do you wind so sinuously about me?
No refuge can be from an hour that's done.
Shall we invert the glass or tilt the dial
To bring it back?
 
 
Fulvia: But if there were?
 
 
Hæmon: Where is
The duke – I will not bauble.
 
 
Fulvia: If there were?
 
 
Hæmon: I will no longer listen to the worm,
You set to feed upon me – torturing!
The sun melts to an end, and with the night
Antonio will not be.
 
 
Fulvia: Yet there is time.
 
 
Hæmon: The duke is fixed.
 
 
Fulvia: No matter: 'gainst the swell
And power of this peril you must lean.
 
 
Hæmon: I – ?
 
 
Fulvia: Yes.
 
 
Hæmon: You have a plan?
 
 
Fulvia: One that is sure. (Steps are heard.)
But through those curtains, quick. For more seek out
The Captain of the guard. The duke comes hither.
 

(Hæmon goes through the curtains.

Charles enters, worn, dishevelled, and followed by Cecco. He sees Fulvia and pauses

 
Fulvia: I come to plead.
 
 
Charles: (turning away): Ah! Nature should have pled
With her your mother, 'gainst conception.
 
 
Fulvia: Your trust is causelessly withdrawn. Yet for
A breath again I beg it – for a moment!
 
 
Charles: A moment were too much – or not enough.
Is trust a flower of sudden birth we may
Bid bloom with a command?
 
 
Fulvia: Ah, that it were,
Or bloomed as amaranth in those we love,
Beyond all drought and withering of ill!
But hear me – !
 
 
Charles: Leave these words.
 
 
Fulvia: Will you not turn
Out of this rage?
 
 
Charles: Leave them, I say, and cease!
Still down the vortex of this destiny
I would not farther have you drawn.
 
 
Fulvia: Then from
It draw yourself!
 
 
Charles: Myself am but a hulk
Whose treasures have already been engulfed.
 
 
Fulvia: Yet shrink from it!
 
 
Charles: A son, a friend, a – No,
She was not mine! – I will not turn.
 
 
Fulvia: It is
Your fury that distorts us into guilt.
Although he will not render up his heart,
But flings you stony and unfilial speech,
Fearing for her —
 
 
Charles: Leave!
 
 
Fulvia: We —
 
 
Charles: Thrice have I said it!
 
 
Fulvia: Yet must I not until your will is wasted.
Charles (angrily): Ah!
 

(Fulvia sighs then goes slowly.)

 
Charles: Cecco!
 
 
Cecco: My lord?
 
 
Charles: The hour?
 
 
Cecco (going to window): It leans to sunset.
 
 
Charles: The sky – the sky?
 
 
Cecco: A murk moves slowly up.
 
 
Charles (wearily): There should be storm – gloating of wind and grind
Of hopeless thunders. Lightnings should laugh out
As tongues of fiends. There should be storm.
(His head sinks on his breast.)
(Suddenly.) Yet! – yet! —
 
 
Cecco: My lord?
 
 
Charles: The glow and glory of her seem
Dead in me!
 
 
Cecco: Of – the Greek?
 
 
Charles: And yearning has
Grown impotent – as 'twere a moment's folly,
A left and quickly quenched desire of youth
Kindled in me! – To youth alone love's sudden.
 
 
Cecco: Sir, dare I speak?
 
 
Charles: Speak.
 
 
Cecco: When Antonio —
 
 
Charles: Cease: but a whisper of his name and I
Am frenzy – frenzy – though the stillness burns
And bursts with it!
 

(Cecco steps back. A pause.)

 
Charles: The sun, how hangs it now?
 
 
Cecco (going to window): Above the bloody waving of the sea,
Eager to dip.
 
 
Charles (staggering up): Ah, I was in a foam —
Bitten by hounds of fury and despair!
Did you not, Fulvia, pleading for them say
They quailed but would not flee and leave me waste?