Part 9

Cleon. If thine honor bid thee stay, thy father will not tempt thee hence; but he may stay and suffer with thee the fate of the faithful [_throws off the mantle_].

Ion. Oh, my father, do not cast from thee the priceless boon of liberty. Think of thy broken-hearted wife, thy faithful followers, thy unconquered foes; think, Father, of thy country calling on thee for deliverance. What were my worthless life weighed 'gainst her freedom. And what happier fate for a hero's son than for a hero's sake to fall!

Cleon. Thou true son of Greece! Mayst thou yet live to wield a sword for thine oppressed land, and gird with laurels that brow so worthy them.

[Hassan _enters_.

Hassan. No longer may I stay: thine hour is past.

Ion. I come,--yet one moment more, good Hassan; it is my last. [_Exit_ Hassan.] Once more, my father, do I entreat thee,--go. Thou dost forget a guardian spirit watcheth over me, and the power that led me hither may yet accomplish my deliverance. If nought else can move thee, for my sake go, and win for me that freedom mine honor doth now forbid me to seek. Break not my heart, nor let me plead in vain.

Cleon. My boy, for thy dear sake do I consent. I _will_ earn thy deliverance bravely, as a soldier should; and thy dear image shall be to me the star that leads me on to victory.

Ion [_joyfully_]. Away! Hassan will guide thee past the guards. Then fly,--and Heaven guide thee, O my father! [Ion _again shrouds_ Cleon _in the mantle, concealing his chains in the thick folds_.] Thus muffle thy tell-tale fetters, that no sound may whisper to the Turks there walks a Greek under the free heavens forth to freedom.

Cleon. My Ion, one last embrace! God grant 'tis not our last on earth! Bless thee, thou true young heart! Heaven guard thee!

[Hassan _enters in haste_.

Hassan. Art ready? We must depart. [Cleon _bows his head and follows_. Ion _rushes after, looking from the tent_.]

Ion. Saved! saved! The morning sun that was to shine upon his grave, will smile upon him far, far from foemen's power. And Mohammed, thinking to look upon a dying slave, shall waken to the sound of his victorious war-trump. Ion, thy mission is accomplished. Thou hast given a saviour to thy fatherland, and mayst fall thyself without a murmur [_looks up thankfully; a loud noise without_].

[_Enter_ Abdallah _and_ Murad.

Abd. Where is the prisoner? Come forth!

Ion. I am here [_comes forward_].

Abd. Ha!--here is treason! Without there!--the prisoner hath escaped!

Murad. Who flieth yonder, past the camp?

Abd. 'Tis he! Forth, call for aid! Search without delay! Here is foul work abroad. First, seize yon boy; fetter the base spy; bear him before the king. Speed hence!

Murad [_to_ Ion]. Infidel dog, thou shalt learn what it is to brave Mohammed's ire!

[_They seize_ Ion, _and drag him away_.]

CURTAIN.

BIANCA.

OPERATIC TRAGEDY.

NOTE TO BIANCA.

The peculiarity of this opera was that while the words were committed to memory, the music was _composed_ and _sung_ as the scene proceeded.

In spite of its absurdity, this play was a great favorite; for Jo was truly superb as the hapless Bianca, while her trills and tragic agonies were considered worthy of the famous Grisi herself.

CHARACTERS.

Adelbert . . . . . . _Betrothed to Bianca._

Huon . . . . . . . _His Rival._

Juan . . . . . . . _A Page._

Bianca . . . . . . . _A Spanish Lady._

Hilda . . . . . . . _A Witch._

BIANCA.

OPERATIC TRAGEDY.

SCENE FIRST.

[_A wood._ _Enter_ Huon.]

Huon. Hist! All is still. They are not yet here. On this spot will the happy lovers meet. O wretched Huon! she whom thou so passionately doth love will here speak tender words to thy thrice hated rival. Yet I, unseen, will watch them, and ere long my fierce revenge shall change their joy to deepest woe. Hark! they come! Now, jealous heart, be still! [_Hides among the trees._]

[_Enter_ Bianca _and_ Adelbert.

Adel. Nay, dearest love, fear not; no mortal eye beholds us now, and yon bright moon looks kindly down upon our love.

[_They seat themselves beneath the trees._

Bianca. Ah, dearest Adelbert, with thee I feel no fear, but thy fierce rival Huon did vow vengeance on thee, for I did reject his suit for thine. Beware! for his wild heart can feel no pity, tenderness, or love.

Adel. I fear him not. Ere long thou wilt be mine, and then in our fair home we will forget all but our love. Think not, dearest, of that dark, revengeful man; he does not truly love thee.

Bianca. Near thee I cannot fear; but when thou art far from me, my fond heart will ever dread some danger for thee. Ah, see the moon is waning; dear love, thou must away.

Adel. Ah, sweet moments, why so quickly fled? 'Tis hard to leave thee, thou bright star in my life's sky, and yet I must, or all may be betrayed. Fare thee well, dear love. One sweet kiss ere we part! [_They embrace._]

Bianca. Farewell! Ah, when shall I again behold thee? Oh, be not long away, for like a caged bird I pine for thee.

Adel. When next yon moon doth rise beneath thy lattice, thou shalt hear my light guitar.

Bianca. Fail not to come. I shall watch for thee the live-long night, and if thou comest not, this fond heart will grieve.

Both. Farewell, till yon bright moon doth rise, Farewell, dear love, farewell! Farewell, farewell, farewell! Farewell, dear love, farewell!

[_Exit_ Adelbert.

Bianca. Ah, love, thou magic power, thus ever make my breast thy home. Adieu, dear spot! I fly to happiness and--

Huon. _Me_--[Bianca _shrieks, and seeks to fly_. Huon _detains her_.]

Bianca. Unmanly villain, touch me not. What dost thou here concealed?

Huon. I listen to thy lover's fond and heartless vows. What is his love to mine? Ah, lady, he loves thee for thy wealth alone. Again I ask, nay, I implore thee to be mine! Oh, grant me now my prayer!

Bianca. Never! never! I will not listen to thee more. My heart is all another's; my hatred and contempt are thine.

[_Exit_ Bianca.

Huon. Now, by yon moon 'neath which thy tender vows were plighted, do I swear to win thee, proud and haughty lady, to these arms. Thou shalt curse the day when thou didst cast away my love, and wake my deep revenge.

[_Exit_ Huon.

CURTAIN.

SCENE SECOND.

[_A cave in the forest._ Hilda _leaning over a boiling caldron. Enter_ Huon.]

Hilda. Ha! who art thou, and what wouldst thou with old Hilda? Speak, and be obeyed.

Huon. O mighty wizard, I have sought thee for a charm to win a proud and scornful woman's love,--some mystic potion that shall make her cold heart burn for me. Ah, give me this, and gold uncounted shall be thine.

Hilda. I will give to thee a draught that shall chase her coldness and her pride away, and make the heart now beating for another all thine own. Hold! 'tis here,--three crimson drops when mingled in her wine, will bring the boon thou askest [_gives_ Huon _a tiny phial_].

Huon. Oh, blessed draught that wins for me the love I seek. Proud Bianca, now art thou in my power, and shalt ere long return the love of the once hated and despised Huon. Great sorceress, say how can I repay thee? Fear not to claim thy just reward.

Hilda. I ask no gold. But when thy prize is won, remember thou old Hilda's warning. Woman's heart is a fragile thing, and they who trifle with it should beware. Now go; I would be alone.

Huon. Farewell! When my love and my revenge are won, I'll bless this hour and Hilda's charm.

[_Exit_ Huon.

Hilda. Poor fool! thou little thinkest thy love-charm is a deadly draught, and they who quaff it die. When thou shalt seek thy lady, hoping for her love, a dead bride thou wilt win. Ha! ha! old Hilda's spells work silently and well.

CURTAIN.

SCENE THIRD.

[_Room in the castle of_ Bianca. _Evening. Enter_ Huon.]

Huon. How can I best give the draught that none may see the deed? Ha! yonder comes her page, bearing wine. Now in her cup will I mingle these enchanted drops, and she shall smile on me when next I plead my suit. Ho, Juan, my boy! come hither; I would speak with thee. [_Enter_ Juan _with wine._] Where is thy lady now?

Juan. At her lattice, watching for Lord Adelbert, and gazing on the flowers he hath sent.

Huon [_aside_]. She shall never watch and wait for him again. [_Aloud._] Whence bearest thou the wine, Juan? Is it to thy lady?

Juan. Yes, my lord. She bid me haste. I must away.

Huon. Stay! clasp my sandal, boy; I will repay thee if thy mistress chide. [Juan _stoops;_ Huon _drops the potion into the wine cup._] Thanks; here is gold for thee. Away, and tell thy lady I will be here anon.

[_Exit_ Juan.

Ha, ha! 'tis done! 'tis done! My vengeance now is won, And ere to-morrow's sun shall set, Thou, haughty lady, shalt forget The lover who now hastes to thee, And smile alone, alone on me.

[_Exit_ Huon.

CURTAIN.

SCENE FOURTH.

[Bianca's _castle. A moonlit balcony. Enter_ Bianca.]

Bianca. He comes not. Yon bright moon will ere long set, and still I hear not the dear voice 'neath my lattice singing. Adelbert! Ah, come! Hist! I hear his light boat on the lake. 'Tis he! 'tis he! [_Leans over the balcony._]

[Adelbert _sings in the garden below._

The moon is up, wake, lady, wake! My bark is moored on yonder lake. The stars' soft eyes alone can see My meeting, dear one, here with thee.

Wake, dearest, wake! lean from thy bower, The moonlight gleams on tree and flower. The summer sky smiles soft above; Look down on me, thou star of love!

Bianca. Adelbert, dear love, now haste thee quickly up to me.

[_Enter_ Adelbert _upon the balcony._

Adel. Sweet love, why fearest thou? None dare stay me when I fly to thee. Ah, sit thee here, and I will rest beside thee. [Bianca _seats herself;_ Adelbert _lies at her feet._]

Bianca. Thou art weary, love. I'll bring thee wine, and thou shalt rest while I do sing to thee. [_She gives him wine; he drinks._]

Adel. Thanks to thee, dearest love, I am weary now no longer. When here beside thee, pain, sorrow, time are all forgot. Ah! what is this?--a deadly pang hath seized me. All grows dark before mine eyes. I cannot see thee. Yon cup,--'twas poisoned! I am dying, dying!

Bianca. Ah, nay, thou art faint! Speak not of dying, love. [Adelbert _falls._] Adelbert, Adelbert, speak!--speak! It is thine own Bianca calls thee! [_Throws herself beside him._]

Adel. Farewell, dear love, farewell! Huon hath won his vengeance now. God bless thee, dearest. Oh, farewell! [_Dies._]

Bianca. Awake! awake! All, cold and still! Thou true, brave heart, thou art hushed forever. Huon! yes! 'twas he; and he hath sought to win me thus. But 'tis in vain! Where is the poisoned cup that I may join thee, Adelbert? [_Takes the cup._] Ah, 'tis gone: there is no more. Yet I will be with thee, my murdered love. For me life hath no joy, and I will find thee even in death [_falls fainting to the ground_].

CURTAIN.

SCENE FIFTH.

[Bianca's _castle. The garden._ Bianca _singing._]

Faded flowers, faded flowers, They are all now left to cherish; For the hopes and joys of my young life's spring I have seen so darkly perish.

Cold, ah, cold, in the lone, dark grave, My murdered love lies low, And death alone can bring sure rest To this broken heart's deep woe.

Faded flowers, faded flowers, They are all now left to cherish; For ah, his dear hand gathered them, And my love can never perish.

[_Weeps._

[_Enter_ Huon _and kneels at her feet._

Bianca [_starting up_]. Fiend! demon! touch me not with hands that murdered him! Hence! out of my sight,--away!

Huon. Nay, lady, nay! I swear by Heaven it was not I. The spell I mingled in thy cup was but to win thy love. The old witch hath deceived me, and given that deadly poison. Forgive me, I implore thee, and here let me offer thee my love once more.

Bianca [_repulsing him_]. _Love!_ darest thou to speak of love to me, whose bright dream of life thou hast destroyed? _Love!_ I who loathe, scorn, hate thee with a deep and burning hate that death alone can still! Oh, Heaven, have mercy on my tortured heart, and let it break.

Huon [_aside_]. His death hath well-nigh driven her mad. Dear lady, grieve not thus. Let me console thee. Forget thy love, and seek in mine the joy thou hast lost.

Bianca. Forget! Ah, never, never, till in death I join him! Forgive thee? Not till I have told thy crime. Yes, think not I will rest till thou, my murdered Adelbert, art well avenged. And thou!--ah, sinful man, tremble, for thou art in my power, and my wronged heart can feel no pity now.

Huon [_fiercely_]. Wouldst thou betray me? Never! Yield thou to my love, or I will sheathe my dagger in thy heart, and silence thee forever!

Bianca. I will not yield. The world shall know thy guilt, and then sweet death shall be a blessing.

Huon. Then die, and free me from the love and fear that hang like clouds above me [_stabs her_].

Bianca. Thy sin will yet be known, and may God pardon thee! O earth, farewell! My Adelbert, I come, I come! [_Dies._]

Huon. Dead! dead! Oh, wretched Huon! Where now seek rest from bitter memories and remorse. Ha, a step! I must fly. Angel, fare thee well!

[_Exit_ Huon.

CURTAIN.

SCENE SIXTH.

[Huon's _room._ Huon _asleep upon a couch. Enter_ Bianca's _spirit. She lays her hand upon him._]

Huon [_starting in affright_]. Ha! spirit of the dead, what wouldst thou now? For long, long nights why hast thou haunted me? Cannot my agony, remorse, and tears win thee to forget? Ah, touch me not! Away! away! See how the vision follows. It holds me fast. Bianca, save me! save me! [_Falls and dies._]

[_Tableau._

CURTAIN.

THE UNLOVED WIFE;

OR,

WOMAN'S FAITH.

CHARACTERS.

Count Adrian . . . . . _Nina's Husband._

Don Felix . . . . . . _His Secret Rival._

Nina . . . . . . . _The Unloved Wife._

Hagar . . . . . . . _A Fortune Teller._

THE UNLOVED WIFE;

OR,

WOMAN'S FAITH.

SCENE FIRST.

[_Room in the palace of_ Count Adrian. _Enter_ Nina.]

Nina. 'Tis a fair and lovely home and well befits a gay young bride; but ah, not if she bear a sad and weary heart like mine beneath her bridal robes. All smile on me and call me happy, blessed with such a home and husband; and yet 'mid all my splendor I could envy the poor cottage maiden at her spinning-wheel. For ah, 'mid all her poverty one sweet thought comes ever like a sunny sky to brighten e'en her darkest hours, for she is loved; while I yet sigh in vain for one kind word, one tender glance, from him I love so fondly. Ah, he comes, no sad tears now, sorrow is for my lonely hours and I will smile on _him_ e'en though my heart is breaking.

[_Enter_ Count Adrian.

Adrian [_coldly_]. Good-even, madam, I trust all things are placed befitting a fair lady's bower and thou hast found thy home a pleasant one.

Nina. Adrian, husband, speak not thus to me. I could find more joy in some poor cell with thee, than all the wealth that kings could give if thou wert gone. Look kindly on me and I ask no more. One smile from thee can brighten all the world to these fond eyes. Oh, turn not away, but tell me how have I angered thee, and grant thy pardon for thy young wife's first offence.

Adrian. The pardon I could give were worthless for the time is past. 'Tis too late to ask forgiveness now. It matters not, then say no more [_turns away_].

Nina. My lord, I charge thee tell me of what dark crime thou dost think me guilty! Fear not to tell me; innocence is strong to bear and happy to forgive. Ah, leave me not, I cannot rest till I know all, and if the deep devotion of a woman's heart can still repair the wrong, it shall be thine--but answer me.

Adrian. Canst thou unsay the solemn words that bound us at the altar three short days ago? Canst thou give back the freedom thou hast taken, break the vows thou hast plighted, cast away that ring and tell me I am free? Do it, and my full forgiveness shall be thine.

Nina. Give thee back thy freedom; am I a chain to bind thee to what thou dost not love? Take back the vows I made to honor thee; what dost thou mean? I am thy wife and dost thou hate me?

Adrian. I do.

Nina. God help me now. Tell me, Adrian, I implore thee, tell me what have I done to tempt such cruel words from thee? I loved thee and left all to be thy wife, and now when my poor heart is longing for one tender word to cheer its sorrow, thou, the husband who hath vowed to love and cherish me, hath said thou dost hate me. Ah, am I sleeping? Wake me or the dream will drive me mad.

Adrian. 'Tis a dream I cannot banish. We must part.

Nina. Part--go on, the blow hath fallen, I can feel no more. Go on.

Adrian. Thou knowest I wooed thee. Thou wert fair and wondrous rich; I sought thy gold, not _thee_, for with thy wealth I would carve out a path through life that all should honor. Well, we were wed, and when I sought to take thy fortune it was gone, and not to me, but to thy father's friend, Don Felix. It was all left to him, and thou wert penniless; and thus I won a wife I loved not, and lost the gold I would have died to gain. Thinkest thou not I am well angered? But for thee I might yet win a noble bride whose golden fetters I would gladly wear.

Nina. And this is he to whom I gave my heart so filled with boundless love and trust. Oh, Adrian, art thou so false? What is gold to a woman's deathless love? Can it buy thee peace and all the holy feelings human hearts can give? Can it cheer and comfort thee in sorrow, or weep fond, happy tears when thou hast won the joy and honor thou dost seek? No, none of these, the golden chains will bind thee fast till no sweet thought, no tender hope can come to thee. I plead not now for my poor self, but for thine own heart thou doth wrong so cruelly by such vain dreams.

Adrian. Enough. Thou hast a noble name and men will honor thee, thou wilt suffer neither pain nor want. I will leave thee and wander forth to seek mine own sad lot. Farewell, and when they ask thee for thy husband, tell them thou hast none, and so be happy [_turns to go_].

Nina. Oh, Adrian, I implore thee stay. I will bear all thy coldness, ay even thy contempt. I will toil for thee and seek to win the gold for which thou dost sigh, I will serve thee well and truly, for with all my heart I love thee still. Leave me not now or I shall die! [_Kneels and clasps his hand._]

Adrian. I am a slave till death shall set me free. We shall not meet again. Nay, kneel not to me. I do forgive thee, but I cannot love thee [_rushes out_].

Nina. This is more than I can bear. Oh, Father, take thy poor child home, and still the sorrow of this broken heart.

CURTAIN.

SCENE SECOND.

[_Home of_ Hagar, _the gypsy. Enter_ Hagar _and_ Nina.]

Hagar. What brings thee hither, gentle lady, and how can the wanderer serve the high-born and the fair?

Nina [_sadly_]. There is often deeper sorrow in the palace than the cot, good Hagar, and I seek thee for some counsel that will cure the pain of a lonely heart. I have tried all others' skill in vain, and come to thee so learned in mystic lore to give me help. I am rich and can repay thee well.

Hagar. I can read a sad tale in thy pale and gentle face, dear lady. Thou art young and loving, but the hope of youth is gone; and thou art sorrowing with no fond heart whereon to lean, no tender voice to comfort and to cheer. Ah, have I read aright? Then the only charm to still thy pain is death.

Nina. 'Tis death I long for. That still, dreamless sleep would bring me peace. But 'tis a fearful thing to take the life God gave, and I dare not. Canst thou not give me help?

Hagar. Within this tiny casket there is that which brings a quiet sleep filled with happy dreams, and they who drink the draught lie down and slumber, and if not awakened it will end in death. But thou, sweet lady, wouldst not leave this fair world yet. Tell me more, for this old heart is warm and tender still, and perchance I can help thee.

Nina. 'Tis strange that I can feel such faith in thee, kind friend, but I am young and lonely and I seek some heart for counsel. Thou art from my own fair land and I will tell thee of my sorrow. 'Tis a short, sad tale. I loved, was wed, and then--oh, darksome day--I learned my husband felt no love, and sought me only for my gold. I was penniless, and thus he cast me off; and now for long, long weeks I have not seen him, for he would not dwell with her who loved him more than life itself. Now give me some sweet charm to win that lost heart back. Ah, Hagar, help me.

Hagar. I can give thee no truer charm than that fair face and noble soul, dear lady. Be thou but firm and faithful in thy love and it will win thy husband back. God bless and grant all happiness to one who doth so truly need it.

Nina. Give me the casket; and when life hath grown too bitter to be borne then will I gladly lay the burden down, and blessing him I love so well sleep that calm slumber that knows no awaking. Farewell, Hagar, thou hast given me comfort and I thank thee.

[_Exit_ Nina.

CURTAIN.

SCENE THIRD.

[_One year is supposed to have elapsed._ _A room in the palace of_ Nina. _Enter_ Adrian _disguised_.]

Adrian. Here last I saw her one long year ago. How the wild, sweet voice still rings in my ear imploring me to stay. I can find no rest save here; and thus do I seek my home, worn out by my long wandering, and trusting to learn tidings of poor Nina. If she be true and love me still I will cast away my pride, my coldness, and all vain hopes of wealth, and let the sunlight of that pure, young life brighten my life henceforth. I hear a step, and will hide here, perchance I may thus see her [_hides behind curtain_].

[_Enter_ Nina.

Nina. No rest for thee poor heart, ever whispering that dear name, ever sorrowing for those hard words that gave so deep a wound. All is dark and lonely, for he is gone. Only these withered flowers, dearer by far than my most costly gems, for his hand hath touched them, and he smiled on me when they were given. Oh, Adrian, wilt thou never give one tender thought to her who still loves and prays for thee? Death will soon free thee from thy hated wife.

[_Exit_ Nina.

Adrian [_stealing forth_]. And this is she, whose pure young love I have cast away, the fond, trusting bride I left alone and friendless. She still loves on, and offers up her prayers for one who sought to break that tender heart so cruelly. I will watch well and guard thee, Nina; and if thou art truly mine thou shalt find a happy home with him thy patient love hath won.

[_Exit_ Adrian _and re-enter_ Nina.

Nina [_with_ Adrian's _picture_]. Ah, these cold eyes smile kindly on me here, and the lips seem speaking tender words. Other faces are perchance more fair, but none so dear to me. Oh, husband, thou hast cast me off; and yet, though lonely and forsaken, I still can cherish loving thoughts of thee, and round thy image gather all the tender feelings that a woman's heart can know. Thy cruel words I can forgive, and the trusting love I gave thee glows as warmly now as when thou didst cast it by and left me broken-hearted [_weeps_; _enter_ Don Felix]. My lord, what seekest thou with me? Thou dost smile. Ah, hast thou tidings of my husband? Tell me quickly, I beseech thee.

Don Felix. Nay, dear lady--But sit thee down and let me tell thee why I came. [_He leads her to a sofa._] Thou knowest I have been with thee from a child. I stood beside thee at the altar, and was the first to cheer and comfort thee when thou wast left deserted and alone. Let me now ask thee, Wouldst thou not gladly change thy sad lot here for a gay and joyous life with one who loves thee fondly?