Chapter 10

IRENE; _afterwards_ GYCIA.

_Ire._ What! am I mad, or does some devilish power Possess me heart and soul? I once loved Gycia; I love Asander with o'ermastering love, And yet these frequent rumours of dissensions Marring the smooth course of their wedded life Bring me a swift, fierce joy. If aught befell To separate those lovers, then might Fate And Chance open for me the golden doors That lead to Love's own shrine; and yet I know not If any power might melt to mutual love That too-cold heart. But still, no other chance Is left but this alone: if I should force Those loving souls apart, then 'twere my turn. Am I a monster, then, to will this wrong? Nay, but a lovesick woman only, willing To dare all for her passion. Though I loathe Those crooked ways, yet love, despite myself, Drives me relentless onward.

_Enter_ GYCIA.

Dearest lady, Why art thou thus cast down? Some lovers' quarrel, To be interred with kisses?

_Gycia._ Nay, Irene, This is no lovers' quarrel.

_Ire._ Tell me, Gycia, What was the cause?

_Gycia._ The King of Bosphorus Is ailing, and desires to see his son, Who fain would go to him.

_Ire._ And thou refusedst To let thy lover go?

[_Laughs mockingly._

_Gycia._ Nay, 'twas not so; But politic reasons of the State forbad The Prince's absence.

_Ire._ Well, whate'er the cause, The old man fain would see his son, and thou Deniedst.

_Gycia._ I denied him what the State Denied him, and no more.

_Ire._ The State denied him! What does it profit thee to be the daughter Of Lamachus, if thou art fettered thus In each wish of thy heart? If it were I, And he my love, I would break all bonds that came Between me and my love's desire.

_Gycia._ Irene, Thou know'st not what thou say'st.

_Ire._ It may be so; _I_ do not love by halves.

_Gycia._ I do not need That thou shouldst tutor me, who am so blest In love's requital. I have nought to learn From thee, who bearest unrequited love For one thou wilt not name.

_Ire._ Wouldst thou that I Should name him? Nay, it were best not, believe me, For me and thee.

_Gycia._ Why, what were it to me, Thou luckless woman?

_Ire._ What were it to thee? More than thou knowest, much.

_Gycia._ And therefore 'tis That thou dost dare to tutor me to deal With the man I love, my husband.

_Ire._ Gycia, Love is a tyrannous power, and brooks no rival Beside his throne. Dost thou, then, love indeed, Who art so filled with duty?

_Gycia._ Do I love? Ay, from the depths of my enamoured heart! I am all his own to make or break at will. Only my duty to the State my mother And the thrice-blessed memory of my sire Forbids that I should sink my soul in his, Or, loving, grow unworthy. But, indeed, Thou pleadest his cause as if thyself did love him.

_Ire._ As if I loved!--as if!

_Gycia._ Indeed, 'tis well Thou didst not, were he free, for he, it seems, Has known of thee, and speaks not kindly words. I know not wherefore.

_Ire._ Did he speak of me?

_Gycia._ Ay, that he did.

_Ire._ And what said he?

_Gycia._ I think 'Twere best thou didst not know.

_Ire._ Tell me, I prithee; I can bear to hear.

_Gycia._ 'Twas but a hasty word, And best forgotten.

_Ire._ But I prithee tell me, What said he?

_Gycia._ That 'twere best I were alone Than commercing with thee, since thou wert not My fit companion.

_Ire._ Said he that, the coward?

_Gycia._ I am his wife, Irene.

_Ire._ What care I? I have loved this man too well, before he saw thee. There, thou hast now my secret. I have loved him, And he loved me, and left me, and betrayed me. Was it for him to brand me with this stain? Unfit for thy companion! If I be, Whose fault is that but his, who found me pure And left me what I am?

_Gycia._ What! dost thou dare Malign my husband thus? I have known his life From his own lips, and heard no word of thee.

_Ire._ He did confess he knew me.

_Gycia._ Ay, indeed, Not that he did thee wrong.

_Ire._ My Lady Gycia, Did ever man confess he wronged a woman? If thou believe not me, who am indeed Disgraced, and by his fault, thou once didst love My brother Theodorus--send for him. He is without, and waits me. Ask of him, Who has long known my secret.

_Gycia._ I will ask him. Thou wretched woman, since thou art polluted, Whate'er my love may be, go from my sight, And send thy brother. Then betake thyself To a close prison in the haunted Tower, Till I shall free thee. Out of my sight, I say, Thou wanton!

[_Exit_ IRENE.

What have I done, how have I sinned, that Heaven Tortures me thus? How can I doubt this creature Speaks something of the truth? Did he not say At first he never knew that wanton's name? Did he not afterwards betray such knowledge Of her and of her life as showed the lie His former words concealed? And yet how doubt My dear, who by two years of wedded love Has knit my soul to his? I know how lightly The world holds manly virtue, but I hold The laws of honour are not made to bind Half of the race alone, leaving men licensed To break them when they will; but dread decrees Binding on all our kind. But oh, my love, I will not doubt thee, till conviction bring Proofs that I dare not doubt!

_Enter_ THEODORUS.

_Theo._ My Lady Gycia, I come at thy command.

_Gycia._ Good Theodorus, Thou lovedst me once, I think?

_Theo._ I loved thee _once_! Oh, heaven!

_Gycia._ I am in great perplexity And sorrow, and I call upon thy friendship To succour me, by frank and free confession Of all thou knowest.

_Theo._ I can refuse thee nothing, Only I beg that thou wilt ask me nought That answered may give pain.

_Gycia._ Nay, it is best That I know all. I could not bear to live In ignorance, and yet I fear to grieve thee By what I ask. Thy sister late has left me----

_Theo._ Ask not of her, I pray; I cannot answer.

_Gycia._ Nay, by thy love I ask it. Answer me.

_Theo._ Have me excused, I pray.

_Gycia._ Then, I am answered. My husband, she affirms, betrayed her honour In Bosphorus, and now denies the crime. Thou knowest it true.

_Theo._ Alas! I cannot doubt it. I have known all for years.

_Gycia._ Ye saints of heaven! Is there no shame or purity in men, Nor room for trust in them? I am a wife Who thought she did possess her husband wholly, Virgin with virgin. I have thought I knew His inmost heart, and found it innocent; And yet while thus I held him, while I lay Upon his bosom, all these happy hours The venom of a shameful secret lurked Within his breast. Oh, monster of deceit, Thou never lovedst as I! That I should give The untouched treasure of my virgin heart For some foul embers of a burnt-out love, And lavish on the waste a wanton left My heart, my soul, my life! Oh, it is cruel! I will never see him more, nor hear his voice, But die unloved and friendless.

[_Weeps._

_Theo. (kneeling at her feet)._ Dearest Gycia, Thou canst not want a brother, friend, and lover While I am living. Oh, my love, my dear, Whom I have loved from childhood, put away This hateful marriage, free thee from the bonds Of this polluted wedlock, and make happy One who will love thee always!

_Enter_ LYSIMACHUS _unperceived._

_Gycia._ Rise, Theodorus. I have no love to give. I am a wife. Such words dishonour me.

_Theo._ Forgive me, Gycia. I know how pure thy soul, and would not have thee Aught other than thou art.

_Gycia._ I do forgive thee. 'Twas love confused thy reason; but be brave. Set a guard on thy acts, thy words, thy thoughts. 'Tis an unhappy world!

[THEODORUS _kisses her hand and exit._

_Lys._ Most noble lady, Forgive me if at an unfitting time, Amid the soft devoirs of gallantry, I thus intrude unwilling; but I seek The Prince Asander.

_Gycia._ I have nought to hide My husband might not know.

_Lys._ Then, thou art, doubtless, His wife, the Lady Gycia. Good my lady, With such a presence to become a crown, We would you were at Bosphorus.

_Gycia._ 'Tis clear Thou art a stranger here, or thou wouldst know That never would I leave my native city To win the crown of Rome.

_Lys._ Madam, 'tis pity.

_Gycia._ Sir, this is courtly talk. You came to see My husband; I will order that they send him At once to you.

[_Exit_ GYCIA.

_Lys._ That was indeed good fortune brought me hither When her lover knelt to her. I do not wonder That kneel he should, for she is beautiful As Helen's self. There comes some difference Between her and Asander, and 'twere strange If I might not so work on't as to widen The breach good fortune sends me, and to bind, Through that which I have seen, the boy her husband To execute my will.

_Enter_ ASANDER.

_Asan._ Lysimachus, I am rejoiced to see thee.

_Lys._ Good my lord, How goes the world with thee? Thou art in mien Graver than thou wast once.

_Asan._ I am ill at ease! I am ill at ease! How does the King my father?

_Lys._ Alas! sir, he is ailing, and I fear Will never mend.

_Asan._ Is he in present danger?

_Lys._ Ay, that he is. A month or less from this May see the end.

_Asan._ Keeps he his bed as yet?

_Lys._ Nay, not yet, when I left him; but his mind Turns always to his absent son with longing, And sometimes, as it were 'twixt sleep and waking I hear him say, "Asander, oh, my son! Shall I not see thee more?"

_Asan._ Oh, my dear father! And dost thou love me thus, who have forgot thee These two long years? Beloved, lonely life! Beloved failing eyes! Lysimachus, I must go hence, and yet my honour binds me. O God, which shall I choose? They do forbid me-- The ruler of this place and that good woman Who is my wife, but holds their cursed State More than my love--to go.

_Lys._ My prince, I come To find a way by which thou mayst go free From that which binds thee fast. This festival To the dead Lamachus will give the occasion To set thee free. If thou dost doubt to break Thy word, yet doth a stronger, straiter chain Bind thee--thy oath. Thou hast not forgot thy oath To Bosphorus?

_Asan._ Nay, I forget it not. But what is it thou wouldst of me?

_Lys._ Asander, The night which ends the festival shall see us Masters of Cherson.

_Asan._ Nay, but 'twere dishonour To set upon a friendly State from ambush-- 'Twere murder, and not battle.

_Lys._ Art thou false To thy own land and to thy dying father?

_Asan._ That I am not; but never could I bear To play the midnight thief, and massacre Without announcement of legitimate war Whom daily I have known. My wife I love With all the love of my soul. If she seem cold When any word is spoken which may touch The safety of the State, think you she would love The husband who destroyed it? All my heart Is in her keeping.

_Lys._ It is well indeed To have such faith. Doubtless the Lady Gycia Returns this pure affection.

_Asan._ I would doubt The saints in heaven sooner than her truth, Which if I doubted, then the skies might fall, The bounds of right and wrong might be removed, The perjurer show truthful, and the wanton Chaste as the virgin, and the cold, pure saint More foolish than the prodigal who eats The husks of sense--it were all one to me; I could not trust in virtue.

_Lys._ Thou art changed Since when thy ship set sail from Bosphorus; Thou didst not always think with such fond thought As now thou dost. Say, didst thou find thy bride Heart-whole as thou didst wish? Had she no lover Ere yet thou camest?

_Asan._ Nay, nay; I found my wife Virgin in heart and soul.

_Lys._ My Lord Asander, Art thou too credulous here? What if I saw her On that same spot, not half an hour ago, In tears, and kneeling at her feet a gallant Noble and comely as a morn in June, Who bade her break, with passionate words of love, Her hateful marriage vows, and make him blest Who must for ever love?

_Asan._ Thou sawest my wife Gycia, my pearl of women, my life, my treasure? Nay, nay, 'tis some sick dream! Thou art mistaken. Who knelt to her?

_Lys._ She called him Theodorus.

_Asan._ Irene's brother! Who was it who said He loved her without hope? Lysimachus, What is it that thou sawest? Come, 'tis a jest! Kneeling to Gycia, praying her to fly! Nay, nay, what folly is this?

[_Laughs._

_Lys._ My lord, I swear It is no jest indeed, but solemn earnest. I saw him kneel to her; I heard the passion Burn through his voice.

_Asan._ And she? What did my lady? She did repulse him sternly?

_Lys._ Nay, indeed, She wept; was greatly moved, and whispered to him, "I am a wife."

_Asan._ Peace, peace! I will not hear Another word. How little do they know thee, My white, pure dove! My Lord Lysimachus, Some glamour has misled thee.

_Lys._ Well, my lord, I should rejoice to think it, but I cannot Deny my eyes and ears. Is not this noble The brother of the lady who was once At Bosphorus at Court, and now attends The Lady Gycia?

_Asan._ Ay, indeed he is.

_Lys._ Well, she is near at hand; if thy belief Inclines not to my tale--which yet is true-- Couldst thou not ask of her if ere your marriage Her brother was enamoured of your wife, And she of him?

_Asan._ That might I do indeed. But, sooth to say, I would not speak again With her you name; and it may be indeed, Since well I know her, that the Lady Gycia, Who is angered with her for what cause I know not, Might well resent the converse.

_Lys._ Prince Asander, There is no man so blind as he who closes His eyes to the light and will not have it shine, As thou dost now.

_Asan._ Then will I see this lady, Though knowing it is vain.

[_Exit_ ASANDER.

_Lys._ I do not know What he will hear, but this at least I know: That woman loves him, and will lie to sow Dissension 'twixt these lovers--which accomplished, The rest is easy, and I hold this Cherson In the hollow of my hand. Ha! a good thought. I will send a message to the Lady Gycia Which shall ensure't. If she mislikes her friend, It is odds of ten to one some jealous humour Has caused it, or may grow of it.

[_Writes._

"Dear lady, Thou art wronged; the Prince Asander presently Is with Irene alone. Seek them, and wring Confession of their fault."

[_Summons a_ Messenger.

Ho there! convey These to the Lady Gycia, but stay not To tell her whence they come.

_Mess._ I go, my lord.