SCENE I

_The Vatican--Sala dei Pontifici._

_The_ LORD ALEXANDER VI. _and_ MONSIGNORE GASPARE POTO.

ALEXANDER.

How high the storm is rumbling! Crack! What fell? Look through the window.

POTO.

’Tis an old ilex-bough, That sails along like a black, ruffled swan A space above the ground.

ALEXANDER.

Draw in, draw in, draw in, My light of service, Gaspare--the wind Would, if it could, extinguish you. Go yonder! Set further in upon the table there That vase ... enamel with the whirl-blast round it, And the enamel matchless! Did you tell me My lord Antoniotto Pallavicini Waits for an audience? Of a truth, the tempest Drove not His peace from Christ within the ship. Well--introduce the Cardinal St. Praxede. [_Exit_ POTO. Vespers will sound directly; but the bell Of the old, dying day will shape a tinkle In this mad, hammering gale, and no one hear.

[_Re-enter_ MONSIGNORE GASPARE POTO _with the_ LORD CARDINAL ANTONIOTTO PALLAVICINI.]

Good even, lord Antoniotto.

CARDINAL PALLAVICINI.

Holiness, What wind!

ALEXANDER.

Santi, it wrenches everything it handles-- No touching, but possession. Lord Antoniotto, You come to seek the dispensation. Poto Will tell you when I reached my bed last night; Yet with all industry your business lingered Still far beyond my goal. I crave your patience. So many festivals this jubilee, Processions, triumphs! O my Lord Cardinal, Think--and the great rejoicing yesterday When our young Duke received from Holy Church The Order of the Mystic Rose that blossoms Upon the banks of the abundant rivers-- Crown of the Church triumphant, militant. My lord, the pity you were held at sea, Delayed at Ostia too! Our Duke knelt down; He took the emblem, kissed the hand, and kissed The foot of Christ’s vicegerent; then together We stood erect, and he advanced; for once He went before me--that was joy!--before me, The Rose in his right hand, the hovering Dove On his beretta, with its fretted rays, A nimbus round him from the monster pearls, And he before me like a star of heaven! You have heard the Sacred College makes him Vicar, Duke of Romagna, Count of Imola, Forli? There were some seventeen Cardinals Signed, when I signed the Bull.

CARDINAL PALLAVICINI.

And I away from Rome!

ALEXANDER.

Poto, shut down that casement. Hoo! I shiver--shiver! A cold so keen and violent.

CARDINAL PALLAVICINI.

I will aid him. Your Holiness is prudent. [_At the window._] What a shock And surge among the roofs.

[_With a crash the ceiling falls in over the_ POPE.

O God! What is it? What has happened? Is he dead?

POTO.

Oh, oh, oh! The Pope is dead.

CARDINAL PALLAVICINI.

The Pope Is dead, is dead.

[_They rush out to the_ GUARD--_a cry down the galleries “The Pope is dead!”_

POTO.

[_Re-entering._] What horror! His Blessèdness, where is he? Jammed behind Those ribs of vaulting--but the throne still stands, Veiled by a dais-curtain.

_Re-enter the_ LORD CARDINAL ANTONIOTTO PALLAVICINI _and the_ PAPAL GUARD. _The vesper bell begins to ring._

O my lord, look there!

[_They discover the_ POPE.

CARDINAL PALLAVICINI.

Ah, God on earth, he keeps his throne! Not dead; See, see, he moves the ruin from his hands.

POTO.

His brow bleeds.... [_to Guard._] Gently, the great daïs-nails Will harrow up his arm.

CARDINAL PALLAVICINI.

But he is still as death! Now pass him through the crevice the dropped vaultings A-tilt have made.

[_They bring the_ POPE _out and raise him slowly on his feet_.

ALEXANDER.

Yes ... to my room,

[_He is helped into the next chamber._

CARDINAL PALLAVICINI.

Thank God!

_Enter_ DUKE CESARE DE VALENTINOIS DELLA ROMAGNA.

CESARE.

My father ... The Lord Lorenzo Chigi is stone-dead Above.... My father!

CARDINAL PALLAVICINI.

Excellency, safe; But hurt, but bleeding.

CESARE.

Publish wide the news; Shout his escape! Send doctors, send the best-- The Bishop of Venosa.

[_Exit into the_ POPE’S _chamber_.

[CARDINAL PALLAVICINI _goes out, as_ CARDINALS _and_ PHYSICIANS _pass in_.

_After a while_ DONNA LUCREZIA BORGIA D’ARAGON _enters and stands waiting till some one passes out of the bed-chamber_.

CARDINAL SEGOVIA.

[_Passing out._] Your Excellency, the Pope’s Holiness Has at the very edge of death been spared.

LUCREZIA.

I am so thankful! [_Physicians come out._

BISHOP OF VENOSA.

Nothing of danger! He is torn, he is shaken. He asked for you.

LUCREZIA.

I will go straight.

BISHOP OF VENOSA.

No, no, Madonna, He is asleep, and even your steps would rouse him! He will demand you later as his nurse, His cook, his smiling comfort. God be thanked!

[_They pass out._

LUCREZIA.

I am so thankful ... That chasm--the marbles in their deadly blocks, I feel them as their falling were on me. Cesare! [_He comes out of the chamber._

CESARE.

Pearl, how white!

LUCREZIA.

But you are whiter far. You are not hurt? Cesare, are you reeling? Take my hand.

CESARE.

Nothing--a chasm.... As from the pit of hell, When I look up through this destruction, up! I will not look. It is all over now; That snatch of Chaos is an empty mouth. The tower fell--four were killed above this room; No matter there, nor who.... But have you thought, Lucrezia, how brief our dazzled hours? This tower a’crumble, had it buried him, Instead of bruising! Diva, we are gods, But all Olympus perishes with Jove, And Jove we know must perish. Come away! I will conduct you.

LUCREZIA.

No, no, Cesare. There will be need to swiftly publish forth A Brief to calm the people from their fear.

CESARE.

Lucrezia, but you lay The cool of softest snow to my hot brain. Our Queen of Beauty love you!

LUCREZIA.

Take some wine-- The light, white wine.... To-morrow we shall laugh At this big rent.

CESARE.

Avernus, we shall laugh!

[_They go out, the wind blowing on them from the gap._