Part 22

Yea. And when he ended, came the Duke Down from the dais to kiss that Guido's hand Humbly, and said that poesy was king.

PIA.

Madonna, kissed by the Duke!

GUIDO.

And I, O God, I might have honor too Could I but break this prison where I drudge!

PIA.

Speak low, her sleep is light. Her road is hard As well as thine. For all this year, since thou Didst bring her to Rieto here to us, Hath she lain on her bed, broken with pain, This child that is thy wife and loveth thee.

GUIDO.

Aye, yes, 'tis true, she loveth me, she loveth me, And I love her. 'Tis worse--add grief to care, And Poesy fares worse.

PIA.

And she is grown most pale and still of late.

GUIDO.

Look, Pia, how she lieth there like death, That far-off patience on her face. Now, now, Surely I needs must make a song! And yet I may not; ashes and floor-sweeping clog My soul within me!

PIA.

Nay, let thy dreams pass. Look thou, how pale! Dear Lord, how blue her little veins do shine!

GUIDO.

Thou art most kind, good neighbor, to come here Helping our house. And it is very strange That when we are so kind we cannot know The heart also. For in my soul I hear A bell summoning me always--

PIA.

If I should stew in milk the peas, maybe-- Do you think the child would eat it?

GUIDO.

For thy world is not my world, kind old friend.

PIA.

Why do you not walk, Guido, for a while, I have an hour yet.

GUIDO.

Then I will go, Pia. But not for long, I will come back soon enough to my chores, be sure; Mine is a short tether.

[_He goes out. LISETTA on the bed opens her eyes._]

LISETTA.

Pia.

PIA.

Yes, dear child.

LISETTA.

Pia, turn my pillow, I am stifled.

PIA.

There! Thou hast slept well?

LISETTA.

I have not slept.

PIA.

Holy Virgin, thou hast not slept!

LISETTA.

Pia, think you I did not know? This month I scarce have slept for thinking on his lot. I read his fighting soul. Where are his songs, The great renown that waited him? Down, down, Struck by the self-same hand that shattered me. I listen night on night and hear him moan In his sleep--

PIA.

It is his love for thee, Lisetta.

LISETTA.

The padre from the village hemmed and said That God had sent me and my sickness here For Guido's cross to bear, his scourge. They thought I slept--

PIA.

Thou hast dreamed this, he loveth thee, Lisetta.

LISETTA.

Yea, loveth me somewhat but glory more. And I would have it so. O Mother of God, When wilt thou send me death? O Blessed Mother, I have lain so still!

PIA.

Beware, Lisetta, tempt not God!

LISETTA.

Death is the sister of all them that weep, Pia.

PIA.

Child, child, try thou to sleep.

LISETTA.

For thy sake will I try.

PIA.

Aye, sleep now. I will smooth thy bed. [_PIA begins to draw up the covers smooth. She stops suddenly to listen._] Hist!

LISETTA.

What, good Pia?

PIA.

Footsteps. Look, it is a monk.

[_FRANCIS OF ASSISI comes to the door._]

FRANCIS.

I have not eaten food this day. Hast thou Somewhat that I may eat?

PIA.

Alas, poor brother, sit thee here; there's bread And cheese and lentils, eat thy store. Poor 'tis, But given in His name.

FRANCIS.

I will eat then and bless thee.

PIA.

He taketh but a crust!

FRANCIS.

It is enough. He that hath eaten long The bread of the heart hath little hunger in him.

PIA.

Sit thou and rest, poor soul.

FRANCIS.

Nay, I must go on. My daughter, child, Thou sleepest not for all thy lowered lids. Tears quiver on thy lashes, hast thou pain?

LISETTA.

The tears of women even in dreams may fall, Good brother. Wilt thou not bide?

FRANCIS.

I must fare on.

LISETTA.

Aye, aye, the world lies open to thy hand, But unto me this twelvemonth is a death. The flesh is dead, and dying lies my soul, Shrunk like a flower in my fevered hand.

FRANCIS [_he goes over and stands beside the bed_].

My dear.

LISETTA.

I may not see the stars rise on the hills, Nor tend the flocks at even, nor rise to do Aught of the small sweet round of duties owed To him I love; but lie a burden to him, Calling on death who heareth not.

FRANCIS.

My life hath given me words for thee to hear.

LISETTA.

Surely thy life is peace.

FRANCIS.

There is a life larger than life, that dwells Invisible from all; whose lack alone Is death. There in thy soul the stars may rise, And at the even the gentle thoughts return To flock the quiet pastures of the mind; And in the large heart love is all thou owest For service unto God and thy Beloved.

LISETTA.

Little Brother!

FRANCIS.

May you have God's peace, dear friends. Farewell.

[_He goes out. PIA stands a moment wiping her eyes, then returns to shelling the peas. There is a silence for a while._]

PIA.

Why dost thou look so long upon the door?

LISETTA.

Pia, the spring smiles on the tender grass, Surely the sun is brighter where he stood.

PIA.

'Tis a glaring sun for twilight.

LISETTA.

Pia, 'twill be the gentlest of all eves. Surely God sent the brother for my need, To give His peace.

PIA.

Aye, and my old heart ripens at his words Like apples in the sun. 'Tis a sweet monk.

LISETTA.

Who is he, think you?

PIA.

One of the Little Poor Men, by his brown. They are too thin, these brothers, and do lack Stomach for life. [_She returns to the peas._] Mark, oh, 'tis merry now To see the little beggars from their pods Popping like schoolboys from their shoes in spring! The season hath been so fine and dry this year My peas are smaller and must have more work. Well, well, labor is good, and things made scarce Are better loved.

LISETTA.

Pia, thou art a good woman.

PIA.

Child, do not make me cry. 'Tis thy pure heart Deceives thee. Stubborn I am and full of sloth, And a wicked old thing.

LISETTA.

I would not grieve thee. Pia, 'twas my love That sees thy goodness better than thyself.

PIA [_hanging the kettle of peas over the coals_].

Lisetta, I see the sky at the chimney top.

[_PIA begins to sing in her sweet, old, cracked voice, as she stirs the pot_:]

_Firefly, firefly, come from the shadows, Twilight is falling over the meadows, Burn, little garden lamps, flicker and shimmer, Shine, little meadow stars, twinkle and glimmer. Firefly, firefly, shine, shine!_

LISETTA.

Pia.

PIA.

Yes.

LISETTA.

Pia, come near me here. [_PIA kneels by the bed._] Can you not see How much I love? If I could only speak To him or he to me, Guido, my love!

PIA.

Surely he is beside thee often.

LISETTA.

His hand is near, but not his heart.

PIA.

Nay, child, 'tis Guido's way. He speaks but little. When I speak to him look what he says, "Yes, good Pia," 'tis not much.

LISETTA.

Aye, tell me not. On winter nights I lay Hearing the tree limbs rattle there like hail, And from the corner eaves the dropping rain Like big dogs lapping all about--and he Spoke not to me. He sat beside his taper But never a line wrote down. Once I had words, Bright dreams, that shone through him, the same fire shone Through both, his songs were mine!

PIA.

Yes, thine--rest thee, rest thee!

LISETTA.

But more his, Pia, more his!

PIA.

Aye, his. Wilt thou not eat the broth?

LISETTA.

Not now, good Pia, 'tis not for food I die. 'Tis not for food.

PIA.

Yet thou must eat.

LISETTA.

Wilt thou not read one song of these to me?

PIA.

Close then thine eyes and rest.

[_LISETTA closes her eyes. A shepherd's pipe far-off and faint begins to play; from this on to the end of the play you can hear the shepherd's pipe. PIA takes up at random a sheet of the manuscripts. She sighs a great sigh, and begins to mimic LISETTA's voice._]

THE BALLAD OF THE RUNNING WATER

O music locked amid the stones, Beside the--amid the--

LISETTA.

Read on--and thou hast told me day by day Thou couldst not read.

PIA.

I read from hearing thee from day to day Repeat the verses.

LISETTA.

Fie! Give them to me here.

[_She takes the paper and holds it in her hands on her breast, and reads without looking at it._]

_O music locked amid the stones, My love hath spoken like to thee,_

Pia, think you--Pia, do you not hear The mowers and the reapers in the fields Singing the evening song, and the twilight pipes? The twilight is the hour when hearts break! How many lonely twilights will there be Ere God will spare me?

PIA [_kneeling_].

Hush, child, hush, darling!

[_LISETTA turns her face to the window by the bed. PIA strokes her hand and sings softly:_]

_Firefly, firefly, come from the shadows--_

There!--he is coming now, I hear his steps Upon the gravel road. Good-night, sweet child, I'll get me home.

LISETTA. Pia, good-night once more.

[_PIA slips away. GUIDO enters softly. The twilight is gone and the moon falls through the window over the bed. The hill outside is bright with moonlight._]

GUIDO [_softly_].

Asleep, Lisetta?

LISETTA.

Guido! Ah, I have need of naught, Guido. Thou needst not leave yet the pleasant air.

GUIDO.

Lisetta, my love, I have been long from thee.

LISETTA.

Let not that trouble thee, my needs are few, And Pia is most kind.

GUIDO.

So little I may do.

LISETTA.

Thou hast already served to weariness.

[_He kneels beside her bed._]

GUIDO.

My love, I have been long from thee, but now I will not leave thee any more. Oh, God, Let these kisses tell my heart to her.

LISETTA.

Guido, my love, perhaps I dream of thee! Perhaps God sends a dream to solace me.

GUIDO.

Along the stream I went and where it crossed Bevagna road--where the chestnut grows, thou knowest-- Lisetta, I saw him.

LISETTA.

Yes, yes, I know, whom sawest thou?

GUIDO.

The brother, Francis of Assisi.

LISETTA.

Guido, sawest thou him?

GUIDO.

Aye, him. There had he stopped to rest, being spent; And round him came the birds, beating their wings Upon his cloak and lighting on his arm. I saw him smile on them and heard him speak! "My brother birds, little brothers, ye should love God Who gave you your wings and your bright songs and spread The soft air for you." He stroked their necks And blessed them. And then I saw his eyes. "Father," I cried, "speak thou to me, I faint Beside my way!"

LISETTA.

Aye, and he said? Guido, what said he?

GUIDO.

"Thou art as one that lieth at the gate Of Paradise and entereth not. For God Hath given thee thy soul for its own life, And not for glory among men."

LISETTA.

Guido!

GUIDO.

Lisetta, from his kind eyes I drank, and knew How God had magnified my soul through him, And sent me peace. And I returned to thee; For here in thee have I my glory.

LISETTA.

Guido, the old spring comes back again. And now I may speak. Guido, look through my window vines there Where the stars rise. O Love, I have not slept For lacking thee. And often have I seen The moonlight lie like sleep upon the hill, And in the garden of the sky the moon Drift like a blown rose, Guido, and yet I might not speak.

GUIDO.

Thou art my saint and shrine!

LISETTA.

Now shall my dream become thy song again, And the long twilight be more sweet, Guido!

GUIDO.

I pray thee rest thee now and sleep. Good-night. My full heart breaks in song; and I will sit Hearing the blessed saints within my soul, And will not stir from thee lest thou shouldst wake When I might not be near to serve thy need.

[_The shepherd pipe far-off and faint is heard playing._]

[THE CURTAIN.]

THE MASQUE OF THE TWO STRANGERS[50]

By LADY ALIX EGERTON

[Footnote 50: Reprinted by special arrangement with Gowans & Gray. Ltd., Glasgow. The acting rights are reserved.]

Between the Lady Alice Egerton, who acted in the masque of _Comus_, which Milton composed for presentation before John, earl of Bridgewater, then President of Wales, and the Lady Alix Egerton, author of _The Masque of the Two Strangers_, lie three hundred years; but throughout these centuries the descendants of the first earl of Bridgewater have cherished consistently the great traditions of English literature. The family has owned for many generations the Ellesmere Chaucer and the Bridgewater manuscript of _Comus_, both of which have recently been edited by the twentieth century Lady Alix Egerton.

Her _The Masque of the Two Strangers_ here reprinted was given at the Washington Irving High School in March, 1921. The designs for the costumes used in this production are here illustrated. The following notes will help the reader to reconstruct the costumes from the pictures:

I. _The Princess_ White soft material. Spangled trimming. Mantle of blue. Veil of blue net. Hennin (head dress) in silver.

II. _Hope_ Glass ball. Lavender under slip. Veil of rose pink.

III. _Joy_ Draping of orange yellow. Flowers of various colors. Vermilion scarf.

IV. _Love_ Long, full cape of deep purple; cowl falling back. Cerise costume. Silver surcoat and helmet.

V. _Laughter_ Yellow and black. Trimming of bells.

VI. _Poetry_ Light green with silver; paper design on border.

VII. _Song_ Robe dyed in rainbow hues. Silver wings.

VIII. _Dance_ Vermilion.

IX. _Power_ Bright blue. Gems. Gilt headpiece jeweled. Mantle and sash of purple.

X. _Fame_ Robe of deep green. Gold border. Laurel leaves on gold crown.

XI. _Riches_ Knight's close-fitting short coat of henna. (Flannel dyed to represent felt or leather.) Gold lacings; gold paper design on coat; gold and henna helmet.

XII. _Service_ Soft yellow shaded to brown at bottom of skirt and sleeves. Front panel of dark green forming part of head drapery.

XIII. _Sorrow_ Gray.

XIV. _Herald_ Dark red and gold.

_PROLOGUE_

[_Enter a JESTER._]

Good people, of your gentle courtesy, I pray your patience, now, and list to me. Before you I will here present to-day A story told in the medieval way. Now sad--now merry--here and there a song, While through it all a meaning runs along. On this side is the Court of Youth where dwells A Princess who is held by magic spells. On that is the vast Otherworld from whence The great Immortals come for her defense. Betwixt the greater and the lesser Power, That duel that goes on from hour to hour Throughout the ages, I would have you see Depicted in this passing phantasy.

[_Music of Masque begins._]

The players come and I had best away; I'll come back afterwards and end my say.

THE MASQUE OF THE TWO STRANGERS[51]

[Footnote 51: I am indebted to Miss Italia Conti for the original scenario of the Masque, and to former Editors of _Vanity Fair_ and _The Crown_ for permission to reprint the two songs which were published in their journals.--ALIX EGERTON.]

CHARACTERS

JOY. LAUGHTER. SONG. DANCE. SERVICE. POETRY. HOPE. JOY. PRINCESS DOUCE-COEUR. SORROW. FAME. RICHES. POWER. LOVE.

_JOY and LAUGHTER run in laughing, chase each other round the stage and pelt each other with flowers._

LAUGHTER [_flinging herself on the ground, breathless_]. Ah, it is good to run and laugh again. I am so weary of these somber days.

JOY. And I of sitting silent in the house. We used before to have such merry games, Now Douce-coeur will not even smile.

LAUGHTER [_mysteriously_]. She says that she will never laugh again.

JOY. And when I called to her to come and play At hide-and-seek down in the rose-garden, She said her playing days were over now.

LAUGHTER. It seems so strange. Only a while ago We played at ball across the laurel hedge, And when the ball fell in the fountain-court And rolled into the water, floating out To where the lilies lay half closed in sleep, 'Twas she who went in barefoot, with her dress Kilted above her knees, and laughed to feel The flicking of the golden fishes' tails. She said her pink toes looked like coral shells, And splashed the water just to see it shine Like diamonds in the sun upon my hair. A while ago she was a child with us.

JOY [_sighs_]. Laughter, I like not living at the Court. [_Starting._] Someone is coming.

[_They run and hide behind a seat. SONG enters, humming to herself and twisting flowers into a garland. JOY and LAUGHTER spring out upon her and catch hold of her hands one on each side._]

LAUGHTER. Why, 'tis only Song. For three days now we have not heard thy voice.

SONG. No, Douce-coeur says life is too sad for songs. Yet music is a gift of the high gods And like the birds I sing or I must die.

JOY [_coaxingly_]. Sing us a ballad while we are alone. Old Service is asleep beside the well And will not hear thee.

SONG [_sitting on the seat_]. Well, what shall I sing? How would you like "All on an April Day?"

JOY [_clapping her hands_]. About the knight who rode to Amiens Town?

LAUGHTER. Then will we sing the refrain, Joy and I.

SONG [_begins very softly, and, forgetting, sings louder to the end_].

_A lover rode to Amiens town (All on an April day); He looked not up, he looked not down But fixed his gaze on Amiens town (Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._

_The cuckoo sang above his head (All on an April day); The blossoming trees were white and red, Yet still he never turned his head (Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._

_The dappled grass with daisies strewn (All on an April day) Was trodden by his horse's shoon; He heeded not those daisies strewn (Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._

_He wore a ragged surcoat green (All on an April day) But no device thereon was seen. Nor blazon on that surcoat green (Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._

_He rode in by the Eastern Gate (All on an April day); Though poor and mean was his estate Kings have gone through that Eastern Gate (Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._

_He stood by the Cathedral door (All on an April day) And watched of ladies fair a score Pass in through the Cathedral door (Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._

_A knot of ribbon at his feet (All on an April day) And one swift smile, such radiance sweet Fell with the ribbon at his feet (Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._

_He hid the token in his breast (All on an April day) Yet to his lips full oft he prest The ribbon hidden in his breast (Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._

_A lover rode to Amiens town (All on an April day), A beggar wore a starry crown And a King rode out of Amiens town (Sing hey!--the Lover's Way)._

[_After the 4th verse enter DANCE, who dances through the remaining verses._]

[_Enter SERVICE hurriedly._]

SERVICE. How now, what noise is this? Thou knowest, Song, thy voice may not be heard at all, and ye children too, ye will get sent away. Sure, that ye will. Here am I sent packing off to seek for the Wise Woman Poetry. The heralds too are up and down the land with proclamations. Go in, go in; Douce-coeur is wandering with the Gray Stranger in the garden, and when she comes, may want your company.

[_Enter POETRY._]

POETRY. I am the mouthpiece of the Eternal Gods, And in my voice, that down the ages rings, Men hear the ceaseless heart-beats of the world. Without me all that has been would have died And lain forgotten in a silent grave. The present echoes what I once have sung, The future holds the secrets I have read.

SERVICE. Hail, and well met! I was but starting forth to seek thee. Thou who hast the wisdom of all time mayst help us in our hour of need; an evil spell has been cast about the Princess, and how it is to be broken, none of us know.

POETRY. Good Service, tell me all; for I presume, Despite the tender care which through her life Has shielded Douce-coeur like a ring of steel, That to her side some foe has won his way And dimmed the peaceful mirror of her soul.

SERVICE. Yea, truly, one evening as the sun was setting a woman clad in long gray robes entered the Palace gates and meeting the Princess on the terrace walk led her down among the cypresses. They sat long together in the twilight and ever since Douce-coeur is changed. No smile curves her lips, the sunlight is gone from her face, and she goes always with veiled head, and sad unseeing eyes. I heard but now her companions are to be sent away. Joy, Laughter, Song and Dance, all to be banished. This is the Gray Woman's doing, but why, no man can say.

POETRY. The stranger in gray robes of whom ye speak Is Sorrow's self, whose other name is Pain. She comes, and when she comes none may resist. Against her none have power to bar their gates. Ye who have always cherished Douce-coeur And guarded her from knowledge of the World, Have left her ignorance a prey to pain. Thus night has fallen on a tender heart That never saw the shadows for the sun. Queen Sorrow, who can hide the stars of heaven, Has torn the golden veil from top to hem, And in the outer darkness Douce-coeur stands, Seeing no rift to tell of light eclipsed, Knowing no key to all the mystery.

SERVICE. The King, her father, has sent proclamations forth that whoso can bring back the smiles to Douce-coeur's lips, the sunshine to her face, whoso can win her from the Gray Woman's side, on him shall half the kingdom be bestowed and Douce-coeur's hand in marriage. The Heralds have gone crying this abroad, and we have word three suitors are traveling here post-haste.

POETRY. I know not who these suitors chance to be But not by them may Sorrow be cast out. One only holds a mightier spell than hers, And I will send my constant messenger To seek him to the ends of all the Earth. Come to me, Child, who holdst Eternal Youth.

[_Enter HOPE._]

HOPE. Didst call me, Poetry?

POETRY. Yea, child of my Heart, Go out into the wilderness for me. Find me the Stranger in a Pilgrim's garb Around whose head the song birds pipe their lays, Beneath whose feet the withered flowers revive. Say, "In the Court of Youth Queen Sorrow reigns And shadows lie like night on Douce-coeur's heart."

HOPE. In the great Court of Youth, Queen Sorrow reigns And shadows lie like night on Douce-coeur's heart.

POETRY. Bid him come hither. Haste thee on thy way.

[_Exit HOPE. Trumpet music. Herald heard off. "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!"_]

SERVICE. Here comes the Herald!

[_Enter HERALD repeating "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!"_]

HERALD [_facing audience_]. Know all whom it may concern throughout this realm, that as One has come and brought darkness on the Land, to all good people is this Proclamation made. Whoso can drive the Gray Woman forth, whoso can free the Princess Douce-coeur from her spell, whoso can bring back the sunshine to the Land, unto him will be given the half of the kingdom, and the Hand of the Princess Douce-coeur in marriage. Given on this day of June. "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!"

[_Exit HERALD. "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!" dies away in the distance._]

[_Music. Enter JOY, LAUGHTER, SONG and DANCE, followed by PRINCESS DOUCE-COEUR and SORROW._]

SORROW. Ye children of the Court, your hour has struck. Your doom of banishment has been pronounced, For where I am there can ye never be.

SONG. Douce-coeur, I pray thee hear me. Let me sing One of the old songs that we loved--may be The memory of those happy days will rise And lift the weight of sadness from thy face.

POETRY. Douce-coeur, I charge thee, listen. All the past Of Childhood calls thee in the voice of Song.

DOUCE-COEUR. Sing if thou wilt. Those days were long ago.