SCENE III
_The Vatican: a room overlooking the Tiber. It is twilight._
DON JOFFRÉ BORGIA _and_ DONNA SANCIA D’ARAGON, _who is weeping, look out from a distant window; near at hand the_ LORD CARDINALS FRANCESCO BORGIA _and_ BARTOLOMEO OF SEGOVIA _are also looking out_.
_The_ LORD ALEXANDER VI. _is pacing backward and forward_.
ALEXANDER.
[_Pausing by the_ CARDINALS.]
Those lights ... those fireflies Out on the river, do they dance above him Fast as they swarm and change?
CARDINAL BORGIA.
You must not watch them.
ALEXANDER.
It takes my mind off from the pictures sweeping As in a fever, through it. Fast they come....
[_He begins to pace again, his arm in_ CARDINAL SEGOVIA’S.
Cesare’s picture Of how they parted on the Banchi Vecchi; The strange masked figure that Giovanni swung Up to his saddle as he rode away, Away-- I see him in the midsummer, calm night-- Toward the Jews’ quarter in Sant’ Angelo, Toward the dark Sistine Convent, and beyond ... Ha, to the quarter of our deadly foemen, The Bears, the vile Orsini.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
That looks ill.
ALEXANDER.
And he was never seen again. His brother Says the masked recreant came behind a vine-stock, And motioned to Giovanni secretly: He says Giovanni Was red and vehement as he turned back To feasting at the table.... Ah, more pictures! A new one, painted wet upon my brain Over the rest!
[_Stopping suddenly in the middle of the room._
Where is he,--my young son, My beautiful Giovanni? You stand round, Wise with the Church’s wisdom, but where is he? He may be living, tortured, gagged.... He is not! No, there is come a change in me; I know He is not breathing with me any more, And yet I cannot bid you pray for him; I do not count him dead. He is but lost, And lost so deep I do not think a creature, Nor even his Creator knows the place That he has wandered to. The lost must wander, They have no goal, not even hell, no rest. They have their freedom as the unbaptized To rove in horror where none plucks the sleeve Or questions them or bids good-day. They wander on till they are flitting ghosts, Till they are elemental and dissolved, And when they would entreat us, they must rail In the howling wind about our chimney-stacks. So I encounter my Giovanni--so! So I was tutored of the storm last night. He is not breathing with us any more!
CARDINAL BORGIA.
Have faith, his body will be found.
ALEXANDER.
His body! When last I saw the boy He shook his golden poll with merriment That I received his Spanish mistress here, A most devout and humble Catholic, With eyes dark wells for Cupid’s thirst. He laughed, Till all the room was sunbeams from his mirth.
DONNA ADRIANA ORSINI _enters, supporting_ DONNA LUCREZIA BORGIA. _They are deeply veiled._
If God Turn such a thing as that to carrion--then I shall curse God. [_He makes a gesture of imprecation._ [_Turning to_ LUCREZIA.] Well, wanton, you look white! What comfort have you? Would you be a nun That you crept to San Sisto from your palace Soon as you heard? Is not this missing boy Your brother? You would steal from any noise. The tumult of the people and its rage Is round Giovanni’s name; but yesterday The bruit of the town was of Lucrezia. If any, you should suffer from men’s tongues, And you refuse to suffer. All reproaches Drive you more dumb. But now you shall not cloak This mystery as if it were a relic. You have been with the boy: you know Where he loved, where he was hated. All our loves And hates are in your hands. You have grown more blind Than any woman ever made herself That she might see in the dark. Give up your witness.
[LUCREZIA _remains before him silent, with open mouth_.
A little devil, circumspect, When I would have rank truth. [_To the_ CARDINALS.] Are these my children? Oh, but I spare them ... we must spare our bastards, It says in Holy Writ. [_He goes towards the further window._
LUCREZIA.
[_In a whisper to_ ADRIANA.] Giovanni.... Yes.... He is very rash and very quick to wrath, Yet dear in his quick temper. I have seen him Too little since he came from Spain. Pray God I may look on him again!
ALEXANDER.
[_From the back._] Joffré, you stand Like a fixed statue draughty in a niche: I do not pin you there. Go all of you! Go hence! Sancia, I am ashamed that you should sit Weeping what is not of your blood. Get up! Out of my presence! You all stand and gaze As at a play--perhaps a comedy.
[JOFFRÉ _and_ SANCIA _go out_.
[_To_ LUCREZIA.] And you--unnatural, go hence!
[ADRIANA _makes a gesture of appeal_: ALEXANDER _waves his hand wrathfully. As the women go out, an usher meets them, closely followed by_ MADONNA DE’ CATANEI.
God’s breath, His mother!
[_The usher speaks to_ LUCREZIA. LUCREZIA _puts her arms round her mother’s neck_.
We are here in privacy.
_To_ CARDINAL BORGIA.] Bring her in hither to me.
[VANOZZA, _holding_ LUCREZIA’S _hand, is conducted to the_ POPE. _She falls at his feet: he raises her._
O Vanozza, Poor heart!
VANOZZA.
My Lord, your Holiness, I came-- Forgive me.
ALEXANDER.
Nay! [_He falls sobbing on her shoulder._ We mourn together. Where we had a son For eyes’ delight, there is nothing. [_Soothing and patting_ VANOZZA.] Hush, you must not! Little beloved, you suckled him. You must not! Go home; pray to Madonna.--She will hear. And let me see your face. [_Drawing her veil._] It is the same; As honest and as good.
[_He holds her face in his hands._
VANOZZA.
I have good children. I am so richly blessed ... and this dear boy, A Prince from Spain, came back again and kissed me.
ALEXANDER.
Good son and enviable righteousness To kiss this face in filial piety. There, there, you must forget him!
[GASPARE POTO _approaches_.
Poto, You pull my skirts.
POTO.
Come quick. A waterman....
ALEXANDER.
[_Steadying himself against_ VANOZZA.
Then tell me, Poto.... Let me know from you.
[_He moans._
POTO.
I cannot tell you more; he waits to speak.
[POTO _supports the_ POPE _to where the waterman_ GIORGIO _stands with an Inquisitor at the further end of the room_.
LUCREZIA.
[_Suddenly coming to_ VANOZZA.
Cesare!... Mother, we must cling to him.
VANOZZA.
Where is he? In these halls? It dazes me....
[_Watching the_ POPE.
God’s image on the earth! I was profane.... And you a Princess, too! O my Giovanni! You, all of you, are but as visitants; You are enskied afar. Happy, unhappy mother! Child! O sweet, floating hair against my cheek, And your cold cheek....
LUCREZIA.
Mother, but you were happy When Cesar and Giovanni supped together?
VANOZZA.
I never saw them both more gay or fair; They plagued each other like two golden lances Crossed in the sunshine at a tournament-- And so till Cesare had warned the hour.
LUCREZIA.
We must cling to him.
VANOZZA.
Can I give a thought To any but my lost, my lost Giovanni, My all but God--and to my God? Lucrece Turns with her mother to His Throne of Mercy? O Child! [_Her cry echoes one from the_ POPE.
ALEXANDER.
Hush, hush!... It is incredible. The horror swallows me. Hush, hush! Laid over The white horse!...
[_Advancing._] O Madonna de’ Catanei, Go with the girl away. You shall have tidings. His mother--go! My blessing, child. I have no more to say.
[_Exeunt_ VANOZZA _and_ LUCREZIA.
Good Adriana, follow them.
ADRIANA.
And you, Rodrigo?
ALEXANDER.
Follow them. [_Exit_ ADRIANA.
_Sancta Dei Genetrix, Turris Davidica, Refugium Peccatorum, Virgo clemens!_--
[_Returning._] What is this, Francesco, He tells you further? Nay, You will not broach the facts? He saw these men Creep back and other two come stealing downward, And the white horse--and what it bore.
[_To_ CARDINAL SEGOVIA.] Your arm!
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Spare yourself, Holiness.
GIORGIO.
I told the Inquisitors All as it happened.
ALEXANDER.
Tell me.
GIORGIO.
By the Tiber They turned the horse and swung the body down In heavy mire and litter. I could see A bulrush sucked at by the risen billow, And how a winding object swam along, Lapped by the current--’twas the dead man’s cloak. They pelted it with stones: then....
ALEXANDER.
[_To_ CARDINAL BORGIA, _who supports him_.] Cousin--O Francesco, And I have wit to ask where this was seen.
POTO.
On the Rispetti, by the Ospedale.
ALEXANDER.
[_To_ GIORGIO.] Then go and tell the fishermen; direct Those foolish, flitting lights that drive me mad.
[GIORGIO _moves away_.
Why have you held your peace?
GIORGIO.
A hundred times, From my beached boat What I have seen I saw--none cared to hear.
[_Exit with Inquisitor._
ALEXANDER.
Thrown out as dust and refuse to the river, My worship!--leaving me As one who is no more. My life’s high hope Snatched under darkness, sodden, A dead boy, who was proud and beautiful. Francesco, in a single night! O Cousin, I thought that he was comforting his youth In a kind Thaïs’ arms and he was down At the bottom of that river!
CARDINAL BORGIA.
Nay, dear Holiness, Has not this Giorgio seen a hundred times....
ALEXANDER.
You think Giovanni lives?
CARDINAL BORGIA.
God grant it!
ALEXANDER.
He has ridden Beyond the walls, at some castello wooing Maiden or wife, since summer bans the chase; A foolish pastime ’mid infested country! But now the vineyards are as silken tents For Amor’s camp. I am too precipitous In passion: I must wait another night, And then ... fold him again Upon my heart! Go back, go back, my heart! Patience! [_He finds himself at the window._ But see, there, see The lights are sailing to one point. Out yonder What is that spot of dusk?
POTO.
The Ospedale.
ALEXANDER.
A constellation! Malign, bright stars! Giovanni! But the lights Are moving onward to Sant’ Angelo. They move along in state. It is my son! They dazzle me.... They pass me....
_Enter_ MONSIGNORE BURCHARD.
BURCHARD.
Holy Father, The illustrious Duke of Gandia has been found In velvet coat and cloak, the dagger sheathed, His ducats in his purse.
ALEXANDER.
It sails, it sails, it sails On to Sant’ Angelo. The torches....
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Nothing is stol’n?
BURCHARD.
No, not a single gem.
CARDINAL SEGOVIA.
Vendetta? Are there wounds?
BURCHARD.
I counted seven; One mortal in the throat. His hands were tied.
ALEXANDER.
[_With a howl like a lion’s._] God, by God’s blood, my curse!
[_He falls in a swoon._
BURCHARD.
[_Lifting both hands._] His Vicar here on earth!
CARDINAL BORGIA.
[_Who kneels and supports the_ POPE.] Beware! His father must not see him.
BURCHARD.
Washed and habited As Gonfalonier, on an open bier, He will be borne, With flambeaux, to his mother’s private chapel, And will be swiftly hidden! [_Shrugging his shoulders._] But, my lords, The populace is ribald: it acclaims His Holiness the fisher of his son, Though not, by rights, of men.
[POTO _and the_ CARDINALS _laugh_.
ALEXANDER.
[_Slowly opening his eyes._] Francesco, are they talking of my son?