SCENE II: _A bedchamber, mysteriously lighted. The room is vast and

magnificent. In the centre, by a divan couch, Calaf is seated in deep brooding._

CALAF

If she should guess!—If she should fail to guess! If she should fail to guess!—If she should guess! O endless, awful night, you are like thought— Hollow, unanswering and full of echoes! And like my heart you, too, are sleepless, yearning With dim and palpitating mystery. If she should guess?—Then would I doubly lose My love—my life. If she should fail to guess? Then how might I dare hold her to my bond And wed against her will?—If she should guess— If she should fail—Ah, God! The night gives back Only my emptiness, and moment builds On moment mountains of hell, and here I sit Alone.

[_Rising, he reaches his arms with a low cry_]

Alone!

CAPO.

[_Entering in the dimness_]

There is no loneliness Where thoughts are merry.

CALAF

[_Staring at him for a moment_]

Merry!—Sire, I have Forgot the meaning of that word.

CAPO.

Recall it, Then, quickly, for I bring you pleasant news.

CALAF

[_Eagerly_]

From her? from _her_, O Sire?

CAPO.

From Turandot. The lady loves you.

CALAF

Loves me! You are mad, Or jesting.

CAPO.

To the sober-serious Jesting’s a sort of madness.—But no matter. The lady loves you none the less.

CALAF

How is it Possible?

CAPO.

You’ve forgot my specialty So soon?—or am I skilled in guessing riddles?

CALAF

I should have failed without you.

CAPO.

Will you try me Again?

CALAF

But how—

CAPO.

Come hither in more light.

[_Calaf moves out of the deeper shadow. Capo tips Calaf’s face upwards, examining it_]

What color are your eyes?

CALAF

I do not know.

CAPO.

[_Nods approvingly_]

Sapphire.—That might describe them, with some license Of love and rhetoric.

CALAF

What have my eyes To do with guessing riddles?

CAPO.

Much to do! They have to close and go to sleep, before The guessing. Softly now: lie down and close them Until to-morrow.

CALAF

Would I might!

CAPO.

Then do so! For on to-morrow morn, I promise you Delight—and perfect marriage with your love.

CALAF

O friend, I am too weary to refuse. I will lie down and dream it is to-morrow.

[_He lies on the couch. A far chiming is heard_]

What bell is sounding?

CAPO.

Midnight.—Merry dreams!

[_Capo steals out. Calaf closes his eyes and is still. The room is silent and dim. After a few moments, out of the darkness there emerges, scarlet and pied, the Figure of Harlequin, who tiptoes toward the couch. At a sigh from Calaf, the Figure starts back, returning more reticently. Again Calaf murmurs in his sleep_:]

CALAF

Turandot! Lady beloved!

[_Standing in a shaft of vague light, the Figure of Harlequin lifts cautiously a vial and, unstopping it, dances softly three times around the divan; then pauses close to Calaf, who murmurs once more_]

Princess! Love.

THE FIGURE OF HARLEQUIN

[_Chants in a low voice_]

Reveal, O dreamer: What is he, His true-born name, His father’s fame, Who, desperate for love of me, Assumed from far Beloochistan The false name—Keedur, Khan!

[_Bending above the dreaming form of Calaf, the Figure sprinkles from the vial upon his lips; then draws back and listens_]

CALAF

[_Murmurs louder in his sleep_]

Be gracious unto me: Calaf, the son Of Timur, King of Astrakhan!

THE FIGURE OF HARLEQUIN

[_Laughing silverly_]

Aha! Calaf! Calaf, the son of Timur, King Of Astrakhan!

CALAF

[_Starting up on the divan_]

Who calls me?

THE FIGURE

[_Lifting a mandolin strung from the shoulder, strikes a swift chord and bounds away toward the door_]

Ahaha!

CALAF

[_Leaping to the floor, and following_]

What are you? Stop!

[_The Figure pauses_]

Come from your shadow!

[_The Figure takes a timid step forward, and stops_]

You! You, the dumb player, servant of our lord The emperor! What brings you here?

THE FIGURE

Aha! Reveal, O Lady: What is he His true-born name, His father’s fame—

CALAF

How’s that? Can the dumb speak?

THE FIGURE

Calaf, the son Of Timur—hail!

CALAF

By heaven, a spy!

[_He springs toward the door. The Figure tries to pass him but, thwarted, leaps back_]

Not yet! You shall not go till I have plucked the face Out of that mask.

[_At the door he turns the key and takes it_]

The door is locked. Reveal Yourself!

[_The Figure draws away. He strides toward it. It escapes_]

Light footed imp! Now by my soul, You shall not live to blab beyond these walls The secret you have stolen from my sleep.

[_He starts again toward the Figure. It dances away from him, striking the strings of its mandolin. Round the great couch and about the shadowy room he pursues it, ever eluding him. Suddenly he pauses, and stares_]

Stay! Am I, then, asleep? Are you indeed Some imp of dreamland, sent to plague my soul With fever shuttle-dances, a pied phantom Painting the dark, and tinkling with your timbrel These rafters of my riddle-tortured brain?— If she should guess—If she should fail to guess!— O Night, it is your Echo, mocking me: ’Tis but a Question, and beneath that mask There are no lips to answer!

[_Desperately, he throws himself down by the couch, burying his face against it. After a moment, the Figure approaches, cautious, surveys his prone form closely, bends as if to snatch at his robe, but draws back and stands hesitant; then with a gesture half frightened removes its mask, and speaks low_]

THE FIGURE

Calaf, son Of Timur—grace! Give me the key!

[_Turning, Calaf slowly staggers to his feet, gazing with awe on the face of Turandot_]

CALAF

O Dream! Dream of my love transmuted to a boy— O little dream in motley, speak once more!

TURANDOT

The key! Unlock the door, and let me forth.

CALAF

My lady—and her voice! Yet, shining boy, Before my soul loses belief in you, Still let me wonder, looking on your image, And worship at your shrine—Saint Harlequin!

[_He kneels before her_]

TURANDOT

I do not ask for worship—but a key.

CALAF

The key you ask for locks the gate of heaven And we are shut within. Love builds him bars To stablish heaven where lovers are locked in.

TURANDOT

Lovers? You dare much.

CALAF

[_Rising_]

He dared more, to say You love me, and I dared believe.

TURANDOT

[_Amazed_]

Who dared To say it?

CALAF

He who shuttles through our lives, Unriddling and riddling, like a restless loom— The motley emperor.

TURANDOT

Capocomico! He is a jester, Sir.

CALAF

Did he, then, jest To furnish you that vial in your hand And charm the fateful secret from my lips Into your power? Ah, if you do not love me, Why have you stolen here now to drag my name From dreams—Calaf, your father’s enemy, Doomed unto death?

TURANDOT

[_Struggling with herself_]

Nay, ask not.

CALAF

Turandot, Princess of Pekin, stoops not to betray Her enemy, nor steal a riddle’s answer Thiefwise by night, to slay her enemy. The thought is slander. No!—Therefore you love me: So you have robbed—to save me.

TURANDOT

Turn your eyes Away!

CALAF

Is it not so, Lady beloved?

TURANDOT

Oh, ask not with your eyes!—Nor with your thoughts Ask not why this bold Harlequin is here Thiefwise by night, to steal your secret name; But let me go!

CALAF

[_Holding out the key, gazes at her_]

Will you, then, go?

TURANDOT

[_Reaches for it, but pauses and turns back her hand, screening her face_]

Your eyes! They blind the space between. I cannot grope The key I reach for.

CALAF

Will you go?

TURANDOT

The air Is dim, but bright with pathways to your face, And where they lead I falter, like a moth To where the lamp shines.

CALAF

[_In hushed triumph_]

You will stay!

TURANDOT

O dark! What light and darkness and the murmur of waters Lure me toward you?

CALAF

Night and yearning stars And rush of winds blend us, beloved. Listen! Look in my eyes, O love!—Lean to my lips!

TURANDOT

[_Closing her eyes_]

I lean: Let me not fall!

CALAF

Thus will I save you!

[_Reaching his arms passionately, he kisses her_]

TURANDOT

[_Starting back, with a cry_]

Ah me! I am betrayed.

CALAF

By Buddha, I swear—

TURANDOT

Destroyed. O shame of all my vows forsworn, Where have I fallen?

CALAF

On your lover’s heart. Look, it is I.

TURANDOT

Who’s there?

CALAF

Calaf, your prince.

TURANDOT

Calaf!—Now shame put acid on my lips And sere them of your kiss! A prince hath touched me! O you poor bloody heads on Pekin’s wall, Have you, then, died for this?—and Turandot Shamed by a prince at last!

CALAF

Lady, I beg—

TURANDOT

Not that!—Ah, do not stab me with that word, And make me bleed for one who _begs_.—The key, Give me the key!

CALAF

Mistress, your words go by me Like leaves blown wildly. I cannot gather them.

TURANDOT

Sir prince, I blow them wildly, and I care not Whither they whirl.

CALAF

Love changes blood to wine. The kiss of our communion hath turned wine To madden you.

TURANDOT

The key!

CALAF

[_Giving her the key_]

Take it, my lady, So you may know your freedom and my love, And me your lover, Calaf.

TURANDOT

Calaf, not My lover.—Calaf, or Keedur, Khan, you are Mine enemy in my power.—Until to-morrow, Good-night!

[_She hastens toward the door. Grasping her arm, his eyes glow passionately_]

CALAF

You came here to betray me?—Speak!

TURANDOT

I came to win your secret, and to shame you To-morrow at the trial. Let me pass.

CALAF

No! We are in each other’s power. Let doom Strike on us both together.

[_Inexorably he compels her. She sinks on the couch_]

TURANDOT

In your power! What, I? You would not dare—

CALAF

Who would not dare? Infinite ages climbed to this little moment; Infinite ages shall sink after it. I stand here on its peak to make it mine.— Open the door!

TURANDOT

[_Trembling_]

_Open_ it?—What will you do?

CALAF

Now shall the rafters of your palace ring With “Turandot, the Harlequin, Calaf’s lover Stolen to his arms beside his midnight couch!”

TURANDOT

[_Shrinking from his gesture_]

Touch me not!

CALAF

[_Seizing her_]

Wine! Your kiss turns in my blood To wine of fire poured foaming, and the flames Burn outward toward your lips.

TURANDOT

Kiss not again! Be merciful, and hear me!

CALAF

Mercy cries To God, not to our enemy.—Your lips!

TURANDOT

[_With fearful appeal_]

My lover, then!

CALAF

[_Drawing back amazed_]

Your lover!

TURANDOT

Yea—my love! Your eyes—_another_ blazes in your eyes.

CALAF

Another! Who?

TURANDOT

The noblest in this world: I love him. I have sworn it. Yet—O Yet— My flesh cries out to yours, my soul to yours, My lips, my lips to yours.

CALAF

[_Clasping her_]

Ha, mine at last!

TURANDOT

[_Repulsing him_]

Clasp me not, lest I cling to you.—No more! I _will_ not. I am his. No kiss of yours Can quench his burning image. Let me go! But ah, the spell and rapture of your arms— Reach them where yearning lovers starve in hell, And bless them.—Stop! My body and soul are _his_. I hate you—I hate you—hate you!

[_She rushes into the dark. Calaf reaches—groping—with a wild cry._]

_Curtain_

ACT FOURTH

_The scene is the same as the second act, scene second, except that the back of the great hall of the emperor’s Divan is now hidden by a decorated curtain. The assembly is gathered as before: Capocomico, Turandot and Altoum seated on their larger and lesser thrones._

_Before them, Harlequin, Scaramouche, Punchinello and Pantaloon are performing a dance._

_At its conclusion Capocomico rises, and addresses the Maskers._

CAPOCOMICO

Enough! Go, bring the nameless prince before us.

[_Dismissing them with a gesture, he turns toward Altoum_]

Altoum,—our greater emperor, the Sun, Sits higher even than our august selves, And soon shall set his throne at highest noon. Then must I abdicate my one day’s reign, First having sealed your daughter’s perfect marriage, Ending in joy her doleful year and a day. Therefore, in those brief minutes which are left me To consummate these little things, I pray you Deign of your courtesy to take my seat And let me do the honors.

ALTOUM

[_Rising from his lesser place_]

As you will! Till noon, my thanks for hospitality.

CAPO.

Oh, not at all!

[_Pointing to his seat_]

Pray, make yourself at home.

[_As they pass each other to change places, Altoum speaks to Capo in lower voice_]

Have you performed your task, and saved your head?

CAPO.

My head was never more attached to me.

TURANDOT

[_Bending from her throne_]

A word, my liege?

CAPO.

Nay, but a hundred, lady!

[_He goes to her side. She speaks to him low_]

TURANDOT

Have you kept faith with me? Ah—is he found— My heart’s desire?

CAPO.

Your heart’s desire is found, And waits for you.

TURANDOT

[_Excitedly_]

Where is he?

CAPO.

Lo, he comes!

[_Pointing toward the entrance, he goes to the lesser throne. With music of their stringed instruments, the four Maskers usher in Calaf, haggard and dishevelled. Turandot starts, with a cry and look of bewilderment at Capo. Capo addresses Altoum and the Divan_]

Your Majesty and lords, the nameless prince Awaits to learn his name from Turandot.

CALAF

[_Stepping forward fiercely_]

He waits not, for his name has been betrayed To her—and you, false jester, have betrayed it.

ALTOUM

[_Amid commotion_]

What’s that?

CALAF

My liege, why should I play the fool In a Masker’s comedy? Death holds less scorn Than being duped to dance in a puppet-show To tinkling mandolins.

ALTOUM

Speak out your grievance!

CALAF

I stand here in your power, and his.—At midnight, By secret sprinkling of a sleeping-charm, This masker sent to rob my dreaming lips Of the answer to my riddle—

ALTOUM

Gods! to rob? Your proofs of this!

CALAF

The proofs stand up in me. I who did deem it heaven to love your daughter Have proved it hell. Your daughter knows my secret, And all the ravage hidden in my name, Yet am I nothing, my damnation—nothing To her, who loves another.

ALTOUM

[_Startled_]

What—other? Who?

CALAF

“The noblest in the world.”—O noble world, There aspiration earns its crown of scorn, And baseness wins nobility! In such, I’d liever be a beggar. But enough! My fate indeed is nothing, and my name— My name is—

TURANDOT

Stop! your riddle goes unanswered. Go you in peace—and friendship. You, Sir Capo, Who keep your faith so strangely, set before me The heart of my desire.

CAPO.

He stands before you.

TURANDOT

Trick me not also. Keep your promise still. This man is Calaf, Son of Timur, not My heart’s desire.

ALTOUM

[_Rising, wrathful_]

How! Calaf, Son of Timur!

CALAF

Not drowned my liege, in water—but in grief.

ALTOUM

My darkest enemy.—So, Capo, this Is he whom you would wed within my house To my own daughter—Prince of Astrakhan! Now by my star, the doom upon his head Shall fall on yours—and doubly. I, it seems, I, too, am duped!

TURANDOT

[_Brokenly_]

He has betrayed us all.

CAPO.

A single day is short to make all snug. The Lord took six.

ALTOUM

A single day is all My word allowed. I see! You bungled, fool, Striving to save your neck, but now your time Hangs at the stroke, and you have failed me. Doom Falls on you and your fellows!

THE MASKERS

[_Trying unsuccessfully to salaam_]

Mercy, Sire!

CAPO.

[_Behind his hand chiding them_]

Where are your manners, my Prime-minister? Venetian bows are still the mode in court, Whilst we are emperor.

[_Giving a sign to Harlequin, who runs out, he turns to Altoum_]

O Sire—elect! Before the ominous gong sounds in mine ears That ushers me unto oblivious rags To stroll the world again, let me rejoice That you have turned your wrath from this brave youth Upon _my_ humble head.—Congratulations! And with exchange of courtesies, I pray you Felicitate me and these fellow-players On the happy curtain of our comedy.

[_At his gesture, Punchinello and Pantaloon run to the curtain at back_]

ALTOUM

Say rather—tragedy.

CAPO.

We stand corrected: Or say—romance, where true love laughs through tears: Name it Romance, and grant us your applause.

[_Punchinello and Pantaloon draw the curtain, revealing an oriental altar, with idol, beside which stand two priests_]

ALTOUM

What’s there?

CAPO.

The altar for our ceremony: The Wedding of the Princess and the Beggar.

[_Reënter Harlequin, bringing in Barak, who rushes to Calaf and embraces him_]

BARAK

My prince!

CALAF

[_Overwhelmed_]

Barak—old friend!

TURANDOT

[_To Zelima_]

Look, look, ’tis he! My beggar’s gaffer.

ALTOUM

[_Before whom Harlequin presents three tokens_]

What are these?

CAPO.

Our trophies: The secret of your daughter’s malady—

[_Leading Calaf bewildered before Turandot_]

Lady, receive them with your heart’s desire: A ring, a rose, a beggar’s wallet.

TURANDOT

You— Are _you_ my beggar?

CALAF

[_Taking from Barak his old cloak_]

I am he who won In Astrakhan—this rose, at Pekin gate— This ring, and in this ragged beggar’s cloak You once did smile upon, I now depart.

TURANDOT

Stay, love—_You_ are my noblest in the world!

[_Calaf turns in wonder and kneels to her. She bends and embraces him. A great gong resounds_]

CAPO.

[_Presenting his crown to Altoum_]

My liege, I abdicate. And you applaud?

ALTOUM

Yea, marvel, Capo. Kingdoms will I give To these your fellows.

THE MASKERS

[_Bowing Venetian_]

Hail!

ALTOUM

And to yourself yourself— Whate’er you ask for.

CAPO.

Then, my liege and lady, I beg—this withered rose.

CALAF

[_Giving it to him_]

Only a flower?

CAPO.

Lovers, that lives beyond its little hour In memory.—Adieu!—My players, rule Your kingdoms still in masks.—Now for the world!

[_Tossing his gorgeous emperor’s cloak to Harlequin, he springs away in his tattered motley_]

TURANDOT

[_Calls after him_]

What seek you there?

CAPO.

[_Kissing to her and Calaf the withered rose_]

_More_ roses and romance!

_Curtain_

END OF PLAY

APPENDIX

TURANDOT’S DREAM

In the acted performance of this play, the third act commences with a scene which sets forth, wholly in pantomime, a dream of Turandot, representing—by suggestions of mystic light and sound—the state of her distracted mind, trying to solve the riddle of Keedur Khan.

The pantomime takes place in two imaginative settings—a mountain top and an oriental street—blending the one into the other.

Out of darkness first appears the outline of the dark summit, against a blue-gray radiance of sky. Etched upon this Zelima enters, like a shadow-phantom, beckoning. Following her to strange music Turandot appears, unsubstantial as shadow, painted opaque on the glowing background, like some silhouetted, featureless figure on an ancient vase, imbued as by magic with motion and antique gesture.

Bowing in awe above the brink of darkness, the figure of Turandot is led downward (and forward) into obscuring mists, tinged with green lights and gules. Out of the mist, voices—shrill, bizarre, bell-toned, menacing, mysterious—echo the words: “Khan, Keedur Khan, Khan, Khan!”

While the female forms grope below, the figure of Capocomico now appears on the summit, beckoning to his four maskers, whose shadow-forms gesticulate weirdly toward Turandot.

“Reveal, O Lady: What is he— His true-born name, His father’s fame—?”

Through the interpretive music, the teasing words of the riddle are chanted by the varied voices, amid strange hiatuses filled with mocking laughter.

Lastly, alone, appears the shadow form of Calaf, who follows the Maskers downward into the mist, searching with arms outgroped toward Turandot.

There, as the unreal forms pass and disappear, the silhouette of Capocomico stands fluting on the mountain top, while below echoes the basso and falsetto laughter of the Maskers, and the low taunting cry: “Keedur Khan!”

As this tableau shuts in darkness, there comes vaguely to light in the foreground a street scene. Here, at a gateway, beggars with yokes are huddled; before the gate, a moving frieze of dream figures, noiseless, pass fantastically: Chinese soldiers, high stepping; Turandot again, downcast, gliding like a captive with Zelima; Calaf, swift searching in pursuit; the Maskers, lithe, grotesque, pointing after him; rearguarded by Capocomico—blithely dominant in gesture, triumphant with fantasy.

Last of the dream images he also fades in darkness, out of which rise the merry strains of a chorus:

“O Lady, Lady, let fall your tears No more, no more for foolish fears, But let in your blithe playfellow——”

and Turandot, sobbing beside Zelima on her bench in the harem, awakes from her haunting dream of Keedur Khan.

Zelima bends over her.

“Alas, my lady, what ails you? You cried in your swoon!”

The merry voices of the Maskers outside sing louder.

“Oh, I have dreamed, Zelima! Drive them away!”

Thus follows the first spoken scene of Act Third, as here printed.

As acted, the stage management and lighting of this pantomime have been movingly devised by Mr. J. C. Huffman.

Here in description its visionary quality can only be suggested.

Footnote 1:

Since the date of the commission for my play, the translation of “Turandot” by Jethro Bithell has been published in America by Duffield & Company, New York, so that the Gossi-Schiller-Voellmueller dramatic version of the folk-tale is thus made available for English readers.

Footnote 2:

See Appendix.

THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS GARDEN CITY, N.Y.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Table of Contents added by transcriber. 2. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. 3. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. 4. Footnotes have been re-indexed using numbers and collected together at the end of the last chapter. 5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.