SCENE VI

_A room in the Castle of Nepi._

_In front is a fireplace, flanked by two chests bearing the monograms of_ DON ALFONSO _and_ DONNA LUCREZIA. _To the right is a narrow window beaten with rain. To the left, in a dark corner of the apartment_, DONNA LUCREZIA’S _Secretary_ MESSER CRISTOFERO _stands by his desk before a pile of papers and documents_. DON FEDERICO ALTIERI, _a young Roman gentleman of the_ PRINCESS’S _escort, leans against the desk_.

DON FEDERICO.

But speak of her, But give me leave to speak--perplexity Is on us of her escort: we were bid Accompany her as she were led to prison; And in this Nepi that is hers we know She is a captive--we would rescue her; She is a victim--we would slay the tyrant. Oh, she is like a girl, a younger sister, Still shut up with her tutors, whose fair face Climbs from a narrow casement, and spreads torture, Cursing and disbelief through idle time. What dwells within those plaits of saffron hair? Speak, secretary, for all our patience ends.

CRISTOFERO.

It must not. Hers will never end. Her passions Lie in a bed of patience.

DON FEDERICO.

In a sea That overwhelms them!

CRISTOFERO.

No, in a bed of patience; And there she fosters them. She will not die.

DON FEDERICO.

Will she be wed again, again revive As the seasons alternate from cold to hot, With a great patience till the years be spent?

CRISTOFERO.

Don Federico, she will never wed Save as her father’s policy decrees; She is a sainted daughter.

DON FEDERICO.

And a sister-- How would you rate her there?

CRISTOFERO.

It is the Duke himself That banished her: he could not tolerate The tears he caused to flow. If you would serve her, Let those in Rome about His Holiness Be taught she languishes for Rome; effect Her swift recall. I will provide you taste Sweetness of her sweet gratitude. I have served her Through many bitter days and found her sweetness As the perfume of her patience.

_Enter_ DONNA LUCREZIA.

She approaches. My orders are most strict: you must retire.

DON FEDERICO.

[_After a profound obeisance._] But in the name of your whole escort, sovereign, If we can aid----

[LUCREZIA _looks down on him and remains dumb_.

CRISTOFERO.

[_To_ DON FEDERICO.] Receive our sovereign’s thanks.

[_Exit_ DON FEDERICO.

LUCREZIA.

There are so many letters. So many letters that I cannot write. My poor Cristofero, We meet this way together every morning; I cannot write; I cannot sign my name. It startles me to see my name.... Put by your papers.

[CRISTOFERO _lays manuscripts into drawers_.

But there is an action: Write to the Cardinal San Severini That he may have new prayers, new prayers--all day Said in the monasteries on account Of the great sorrow I have had to bear.

[_Laying her hand on_ CRISTOFERO.

Provide that Vincent take The gold I gave him to the Cardinal, That a great requiem be solemnised For the Prince Duke my husband--for his soul. The glory of the saints play over him And mingle him among them in their bliss! I cannot bear my shadowy court of folk That make no feast, that speak in low-toned voices, And yet are raising up no prayers to Heaven To draw down peace on him. There must be peace; And I must lay my sorrow down to rest Soft and for ever as I laid my dead.

[CRISTOFERO _begins to write_; LUCREZIA _looks from the window_.

There is no truth In staying here, in all this haggard country, With all its miles on miles of withering turf. Must I be sovereign of this sultry air, This land that gapes on me? And there are chasms, Great fissures that affright.... Of the miasma too My babe may die. Are there no posts from Rome?

CRISTOFERO.

None, Excellency--yet I would convey News of your health, of the young Prince’s health, If it should please you, to his Holiness.

LUCREZIA.

Nay, we must not be forward. Posts will come To Nepi, if at Nepi I abide....

_Enter_ DONNA HIERONYMA BORGIA _with little_ DON RODRIGO. DONNA LUCREZIA _runs to her_.

Give me the child.

HIERONYMA.

Fie, he will set you weeping!

LUCREZIA.

[_Throwing back her widow’s veil._ While he smiles? Bambino, How thou wilt charm thy grand-dad. Up and down, Then up again--ha, ha!

HIERONYMA.

The child is growing.

LUCREZIA.

Is it possible to grow--away from Rome?

[_She sets_ RODRIGO _on a table before her_.

Hieronyma, see the small, beating feet! This babe will dance before he learn to walk.

HIERONYMA.

His mother’s babe!

LUCREZIA.

Roble, we must to Rome! ’Tis there one dances.

HIERONYMA.

Gently, kinswoman, The child is here in safety.

LUCREZIA.

From what foe? In safety? The child is mine.... He will protect the child. [_Dancing_ RODRIGO.] Pat, pat--bare toes! Cristofero, your Prince Is clad as quaintly as a traveller In haste, and seeking refuge. Write to Vincent That he send quickly stuffs and broideries; Write for the little coat, Punctured with gold, I wrought him.

HIERONYMA.

Not the gold one; Our Prince wears mourning.

_A_ SERVANT _enters: he confers apart with_ CRISTOFERO _and goes out_.

LUCREZIA.

Babe, what we must wear! But I shall make your garments, one by one, Even till you grow a man. He snatches pearls! I love their slide about my throat--nay, Roble, Their touch is silkier than a baby’s thumb. Fie, little cricket!

CRISTOFERO.

Donna!--

LUCREZIA.

[Turning.] Posts from Rome? You have tidings?

CRISTOFERO.

No, Madonna....

LUCREZIA.

Say!

CRISTOFERO.

Duke Valentino Is here, is at the doors.

LUCREZIA.

I have not seen....

CRISTOFERO.

None ever sees, Madonna: from the ground His army springs.

LUCREZIA.

[_Standing quietly and wringing her hands._

And his commands?

CRISTOFERO.

To bid farewell. Madonna, he is busy, His one thought of his conquests. But an instant, Give him an instant’s audience and God speed.

LUCREZIA.

Where is he?

CRISTOFERO.

In soft converse with Capello.

LUCREZIA.

And whither--?

CRISTOFERO.

Sweet mistress, ask him whither; that will make Matter of speech between you. Ask him whither.

LUCREZIA.

I cannot see him! If he come, he comes As the thunder that one cannot bear, or as The earthquake that one suffers.

CRISTOFERO.

He was most tender You should not be disturbed.

[HIERONYMA _is taking the sleepy child away_; LUCREZIA _motions it is to remain_.

The Duke must march Within an hour....

LUCREZIA.

[_To_ HIERONYMA.] But I will mind the child.

[CRISTOFERO _goes out_; HIERONYMA _draws back_; LUCREZIA _lays_ RODRIGO _to sleep on a cushion and remains by him_.

_Enter_ DUKE CESARE DE VALENTINOIS DELLA ROMAGNA. _He is dressed in black, rain-streaked velvet, and a coat of fine mail; his belt and sword are gold; from the black beretta in his hand a white, rain-drenched feather sweeps to the ground. He is followed by_ DON MICHELOTTO CORELLA, MONSIGNORE GASPARE TORELLA, MESSER AGAPITO DE AMALIA _and the_ CAVALIERE VINCENZO CALMETA.

CESARE.

Your benediction Upon our arms and our diplomacy!

[LUCREZIA _lifts her eyes and salutes his_ CAPTAINS _and trains_.

We start for Pesaro. None in the army Has learnt that secret. We are here in conclave. I go to conquer Pesaro. Giovanni De Sforza has made havoc of your fame-- In tongue and hand He shall be rendered impotent. [_Drawing closer_]. For you I fight, Lucrezia: you burned so hot For vengeance of that enemy. I marked The rage enkindled in your very substance, As it must be when women are traduced. Lucrece, I am no more a Cardinal; I am a soldier with an army, such As princes covet, and my first assault Will be on Pesaro. Are you a corpse, A sentinel beside the child? You stand So solid and so simple, like a block Of marble that is dragged into a room Long as its beauty pleases, and dragged forth, If it can take no lustre from our moods.

LUCREZIA.

[_Moving a little forward._] There is my lord Torella, always faithful; Agapito, who loves you--I commend The Duke to you, to you.... [_Turning back._] The child awakens!

[CESARE _lifts_ RODRIGO, _who resists_.

He will not ... but he must.

[_She shudders as_ CESARE _kisses the child and gives it to her_.

... At Pesaro You will find my lute; I remember where I left it-- In the fourth chamber: you will find my books; Take care of them. Farewell....

CESARE.

_A rivederla!_ The lady here would haunt us. Will you fear, Michelotto, you, a pacing ghost? You have laid many such! [_To his cortege._] I led you here That you might look on her, and Pesaro Fall without aid of cannon. Ha, a fool!

[_He laughs and turns on his heel._

LUCREZIA.

[_Looking after him wistfully and addressing_ CALMETA.

Your lord may be a king--I have dreamed it thus-- I would your lord should be a king.... Dear captains, And soldiers, and the poet ... give him glory.

CALMETA.

But we would fight for you.

LUCREZIA.

Then give him glory.

CESARE.

[_Half turning._] I am ashamed a poet should behold you! Cavaliere, she was in our thoughts A statue of fair Victory, a winged And silent creature that creates the air She flees along.... Turn from her, she will damp The stoutest hearts--a weather to discourage An army from the field! [_Taking up a fold of_ LUCREZIA’s _veil_.] In widow’s weeds-- For my assassin! These are widow’s weeds, Are they not? They displease me; they deform.

LUCREZIA.

[_In a low, firm voice, while she trembles._

They will remain upon me the full time; Their darkness on me my whole life till death.

CESARE.

Your future is irrelevant. Till death? But nothing matters then. [_Addressing his cortege._ To Pesaro!

[_Turning again to_ LUCREZIA.

You look a lady fit to nurse the wounds Of men who fight for other women’s love.

[_He coldly touches her hand--his followers bowing low to her, move aside as he passes to the door: there he steps back and surveys_ LUCREZIA, _who is shaken with agitation, then, smiling maliciously, he goes out_.

LUCREZIA.

Demon! [_She weeps bitterly._] ... I am a toy In hands that play their game of rivalry Over the stream of death. O child!

[_She crushes_ RODRIGO _to her breast_.