ACT IV

SCENE: _On board a galley off Athens. An open door left of centre, rear, shows a moonlit sea. Cressets burning within. Pyrrha discovered, seated and fingering a dagger. A diminishing sound of dipping oars and rowers singing._

God of the bold who ride With song o'er their dead Whose unsown graves wait wide, The singers' bed,-- Poseidon, befriend, befriend, And the good wind send!

The sirens are on their rocks; Like a piercèd moon Weeping her gold, their locks To the waters run. Poseidon, befriend, befriend, And the good wind send!

Fleet are the foam-toothed hounds That hunt unfed, With hunger that aches like wounds, And ships their bread. Poseidon, befriend, befriend, And the good wind send!

[_Enter Lysander_]

_Pyrr._ Lysander! You? Is 't battle?

_Lys._ At dawn we move Upon the Athenian ships.

_Pyrr._ They've come from harbor?

_Lys._ Nay, lurking still, fear-cabled to the land, Like weanlings round a skirt.

_Pyrr._ At last a battle! And Biades is true. The watch is done. I'm sick of spying, hanging on him like A doubt with teeth. He leaves this galley then?

_Lys._ Commands from the _Ino_, now so brave repaired She sits her place as though the sea and air Debated who should claim her, and she no more Adorns both elements than herself's adorned By our young admiral.

_Pyrr._ He is gone? So soon?

_Lys._ Went, but is here again, and here must stay These next three hours or more.

_Pyrr._ Why so, Lysander?

_Lys._ We sacrifice aboard Thrasyllus' ship, Where now the captains gather, and the hand Of one who leads the foe to his fathers' hearth Would cloud the omen. He must keep apart.

_Pyrr._ You've told him that?

_Lys._ We have not dared.

_Pyrr._ Not dared? Way, Spartan lions, for the Athenian puppy!

_Lys._ He's tender with his honor.

_Pyrr._ His honor!

_Lys._ Soft! We shunt all danger if you mew him here Unwitting of our hand.

_Pyrr._ I do not wear Athene's ægis on my jerkin, friend.

_Lys._ You can divinely drug his vanity Without immortal aid. Attach him by 't, For free he'll chafe. Drift with him in such wise He'll not suspect our rudder.

_Pyrr._ Ay, more lies.

_Lys._ Truth is no absolute virtue. 'Tis a vice If 't takes a screw from safety.

_Pyrr._ There is law Higher than Sparta utters. If not so, What mean our altars, and a kneeling world?

_Lys._ Hmm! I delay the sacrifice. Dost know I take my Dianessa? A virgin's hand Must weave the victim's garland.

_Pyrr._ Ah, the moon Of Artemis! A virgin's hand. They ask Not mine?

_Lys._ You are a bride in Sparta's eyes. Would Truth might speak it too! For Biades Has won all love but yours.

_Pyrr._ I'll wed no traitor.

_Lys._ What? He is false?

_Pyrr._ Ay, false to Athens.

_Lys._ Phut!

[_Enter Hieron_]

_Hie._ How like you this, sir? Biades has stripped The galley of its rowers,--sent them all To his gilded _Ino_,--every boat in charter To bear his trappings,--parchments, maps, and gifts From Phernes,--curtains, instruments----

_Lys._ The stuff Goes with the admiral, and what other way Than by the boats? Say naught of 't.

_Hie._ This a time To spend a feathering!

_Lys._ Nay----

_Hie._ And why send all? A half--a third--had answered. There's not left An oarsman on the galley save the men Who brought you from the _Thetis_.

_Lys._ You've the guard,-- Yourself its head. Give Biades his way When prudence pays no cost. We've hedged and hemmed His wrestling will until his pride is brashed To the rebel quick----

_Hie._ Sst! He is here.

[_Biades stands in door_]

_Bia._ Lysander, They hail you from Thrasyllus' ship. You stay The rites.

_Lys._ [_Troubled_] But is it time----

_Bia._ Full time.

_Lys._ My boat----

_Bia._ Is waiting.

_Lys._ I--you, sir----

_Bia._ You'll bear my grace To our priestly captains?

_Lys._ You stay here?

_Bia._ I shall, If you'll not press me other. As you pray For clearer omen and a morning battle, Let only those whose land holds them untainted Stand in the holy ring.

_Lys._ Above our prayers This act will speak to Heaven in Sparta's name And make her gods your own.

_Bia._ If that might be, Lysander! To have no altars is a fate Man can not bear for long.

_Hie._ The rowers, sir! How soon do they return?

_Bia._ They've leave to see The midnight toward with their fellow crew On the _Ino_.

_Hie._ Midnight!

_Bia._ Loyal beggars, all. They're sad to lose their captain, and I pay Their grieving flattery with this stinted lease From duty here. They'll use 't in prayerful rite----

_Hie._ Not prayer! The casks will drip too free for that. If any prayers come from the heart to throat, They'll downward wash again, not out and fly. Say'st midnight, sir?

_Bia._ I do. They will return In time to set the galley from the cast Of morning danger.

_Hie._ Move again? The ship Is now to rearward, by some rods.

_Bia._ She is. And shall go farther. Here's no fighting deck.

_Hie._ Ay, these soft cabins, Corinth-modelled as A prince, would make a floating holiday, Put soldiers from their place.

_Bia._ The ship must lie Full east, on th' safest wave. We've treasure 'neath These sails that make their weathered woof more dear Than threaded gold of Hera's mantle.

_Hie._ Ah, You mean the women.

_Bia._ No,--a woman. Come, Lysander.

_Lys._ Sir, what time wilt take your place Aboard the _Ino_?

_Bia._ Give me till the midnight, I'll from that moment be your admiral. But for these gentle hours that lie between, I would as merest man use their light wings To chase a hope through heaven.

_Lys._ [_With a glance at Pyrrha_] And bring it down, My lord!

[_Exeunt Lysander, Biades, and Hieron_]

_Pyrr._ Now, Impudence, no more's to do! Go up and take thy crown. Before my eyes He teaches them he wooes me, and my pride Mutely abets his guile. [_Holds up the dagger_] My fine defence, Thou'rt warder to a bosom unbesieged. In Biades' contempt I have a guard That saves thine office. Go, you glittering mock! [_In a passion of resolution she throws the dagger through the door_] That's done. No matter. He does not look at me, Or looks as though his eyes begged pardon of him, For their chance stop on nothing.

[_Re-enter Biades, the dagger in his hand_]

_Bia._ Here's a toy Caught from the rigging. Yours, I think. [_Offers it to her. She does not take it_] It must be dear. I've seen you fondle it. Is it not yours?

_Pyrr._ It was.

_Bia._ Then is. And worth Your keeping. A good blade, though Spartan plain.

_Pyrr._ I'm weary of it. In Athens I shall find Another pattern.

_Bia._ [_Testing blade_] Fine and strong. Will wear A hundred years, then make a door for death. [_Turns it against his heart. She starts_] You'll take it, Pyrrha. To throw it to the sea Were waste for an Athenian.

_Pyrr._ Keep it then.

_Bia._ You give this blade to me?

_Pyrr._ I care not. Keep What you have praised.

_Bia._ [_Pressing it against his cheek_] A gentle weapon,--but I've somewhat 'gainst it. [_Goes to door and throws it far into the sea_] Kiss the waves, my friend!

[_Returns to Pyrrha and sits by her_]

_Bia._ [_Softly_] I leave the ship to-night.

_Pyrr._ [_Uneasy_] And time you led The fleet to battle. You've excused delay Till palling breath became the shroud of action, And yet refused it funeral.

_Bia._ I know How you have doubted. O, this soul of Sparta, That can not trust! It peeps from every eye, Deepest where kindest. Tags each friendly word With its unspoken dread,--and comradeship, That strives to wrap it in a gala cloak, Strains vainly round the huge, dun doubt, agape In dreary revelation.

_Pyrr._ You are free To leave us.

_Bia._ Free? Five Spartan nobles watch Beside me, move with every step, for so The admiral must be honored! Hieron Foregoes his place at sacrifice to serve My dignity. Not for his gods he'll put A furlong 'tween us.

_Pyrr._ He's the ship's good eye. And all the men except the lords of guard Are, by your grace, a-neighboring. Would you leave The galley without watch?

_Bia._ No, Pyrrha, sweet. But I would woo you with no ear at the door.

_Pyrr._ [_Rising_] My lord!

_Bia._ [_Indifferent_] Nay, then. I can't oppose the sex Of Aphrodite. My one frailty.

_Pyrr._ One!

_Bia._ What? I have more?

_Pyrr._ The moments of your life Are not so many!

_Bia._ Gods be thanked, I'm young! How may I change to please a Spartan scold?

_Pyrr._ Be anything you're not.

_Bia._ You have not heard I am the admiral of the Spartan fleet, With Persian Phernes yonder at my beck, Broad-winged with all Phoenicia? You know not I am a general?

_Pyrr._ Oh, to be that name, Not make 't thy bauble! What dost know Of secret, sleepless hours, and delving thought That nations may lie safe? By what grave right Wear you the title? What deep sacrifice?

_Bia._ Leave sacrifice to fools and women! Ay, More lies are huddled in that saintly word Than ever smirked outside it. The strong soul Low bowing there, lies to his god,--the weak Lies to the world behind a holy shield That turns the spear of justice. Pallas, hear! A general makes himself a master, lest The State make him a servant.

_Pyrr._ True in _Athens_! But you've another name. I've heard you called The young philosopher. Play you at that. 'Twill tire naught but the tongue. Yours will go far.

_Bia._ Nay, spare me toil of spirit searching through Earth, sea, and sky for phrases magical To wrap creation in, as 'twere a babe Each man might call his own could he but find Some good-wife fancy to deliver it. No other hope?

_Pyrr._ They name you poet, too. Build round your spirit an Elysian cheat And buzz it through upon a golden wing. Is that not idle enough?

_Bia._ You touch me now With flattery's gold point. I wince and love The pain. Yet I'd not be a frolic breath At play with Spring and florets in the dew, Or move in rhymèd courtesies before The smile or frown of gods. Trick my dear soul In May-day rags to catch a languid eye. Babble of moods and minds, how some think this, Some that, and some have never thought. Drone how On such a day one struck another down, Or led a fleet, or laid a city wall.

_Pyrr._ What would you sing then, pray?

_Bia._ I would not sing. Was there not poetry before men spake? I'd go behind the broidered veil we've wrought Before the face of one that we loved much And then forgot for beauty of the shroud. The old lere's lost, the new but irks our dream. We listen to ourselves, while round us ever Are worlds that vainly pluck us to their doors, Giving us sign in lightning, heat, and wave, In flake of snow, flint-spark, and crystal rock, In stones that make the iron creep, and color, Fair flag and challenge to our shuttered minds.

_Pyrr._ [_Moving nearer_] Oh!

_Bia._ [_Seeming to forget her_] Round our lives is life whose destiny Is that frontier no word of ours has crossed, But man to come shall plant and harvest there, Where his soul sets the plough.

_Pyrr._ [_Softly_] You know that too?

_Bia._ That life shall warm his barest common way Of in and out. In field and market-place, He'll lay his cheek 'gainst its unbodied love And flush translations of its silent touch. Then will be poets! Thought that now must fail In bird-wing flight, shall from a violet's eye O'erlook the sun. Till then I will not sing.

_Pyrr._ Not fight, philosophize, or sing! What's left for an Athenian?

_Bia._ [_Remembering her_] Love, fair Pyrrha! You know the tale how Chaos once uncurled Her laboring bulk from round a fire-leafed rose And sent its petals drifting down to fields Where mortals foot with chance? Whoso they touch Are lovers always, and one came to me.

_Pyrr._ Now here's ambition! And you live for that?

_Bia._ Ay there's the charm contents me with dull earth, And puts a rainbow in my listless hand. The way is pleasant if the road be love's, And I'd not shorten it by one maid's eye. To be a lover,--that's the graceful thing. Then one moves velvetly, forgets no curve, And lives his picture, line and color true.

_Pyrr._ That rôle's struck from your play, you'll find, my lord. Maidens will smile, but scorn will set the lip, And women's eyes be warm, but hate their fire For you, the traitor.

_Bia._ Traitor?

_Pyrr._ [_In the door_] See the gleam On Athens, yours no more. The softest breast Within her walls is steel when you are named.

_Bia._ But there are maids in Sparta.

_Pyrr._ Not for you, A traitor to the soil that gave you life.

_Bia._ That soil first cast me off.

_Pyrr._ A mother strikes Her child, but should the child return the blow Gods would droop eyes and blush.

_Bia._ But were I true To my own land, I should be false to yours.

_Pyrr._ A virtue that. A maid might love you then.

_Bia._ A Spartan maid?

_Pyrr._ A Spartan maid. But now We hold you as no more than loathèd bait To capture Athens. Used as a stuck fly To hook a chub!

[_Enter Hieron_]

_Bia._ What saucy fury sports With Hieron? His even smile's unfixed As the middle of two minds.

_Hie._ Sir, Phernes sends Six maidens from his ship to dance before you. The noble Persian chooses time most fit For wantoning,--the hour of sacrifice And battle prayer.

_Bia._ You're justly kindled. What Though it be royal custom in his East,-- A grace from king to king,--to garnish danger With frillet of relief that makes death seem The last-dropped toy, we'll dare to let him know That we are Greeks, and walk the edge of graves With eyes upon the gods. Go, pack them off!

_Hie._ Why,--so I meant. The act struck rudely on Our ritual hour. But if his Eastern mind Paints it a courtesy----

_Bia._ A sovereign honor.

_Hie._ He is of haughty blood,--burns at rebuff----

_Bia._ Ay, like a hornet blind. A thousand times I've eased his fret and run his humor's mould Like summer wax, lest he should break from Sparta That stood in rigid ruin. Now I leave it! His anger can be put to gentlest sleep, But 'tis no babe when stirred. Choose as you will.

_Hie._ The honor is to you. Be yours the answer.

_Bia._ I'm worn with him. Three hours to-day I played His vanity, while chance touched either side, Waiting the word that should cut through suspense And seal him ours for battle.

_Hie._ To huff his pride 'Tween this and dawn would poorly soothe our own At an uncertain cost. But let him leer I' the oracles' face....

_Bia._ He has not sent Alissa?

_Hie._ There's one so calls herself. Spoke out the name As we should fall before it.

_Bia._ She's most free In Phernes' heart. Knows all the honey-ways To his secret soul, and what is said to her He'll hear ere morn. As you love victory, I hope you met her gently.

_Hie._ If surprise Made greeting harsh, I will undo that harm With softer welcome. And beseech you, sir, To suffer this mistimed civility For Sparta's sake.

_Bia._ I will, dear Hieron, Since 'tis your suit.

_Hie._ Thanks, thanks, my lord.

_Bia._ Let them come in. I'll see their briefest dance, And give Alissa one commending word, Which straight as faithful bee she'll hive In Phernes' ear. [_Exit Hieron_] What think you of it, Pyrrha? You do approve me?

_Pyrr._ Approve your wits, my friend. Had they been Spartan trained, you'd bring them off, Untarnished still, from argument with Zeus.

_Bia._ When Pallas praises, bow.

_Pyrr._ Poor Hieron Is now the sweating agent of your will To see these callets dance.

_Bia._ Unpitiful! I'd touch my lips to Lethe, and you'd snatch The oblivious drop from me! You know how dear The bond that shall be cut with sword of dawn,-- So close no seer may tell which shall bleed most, Athens or her lost son.

_Pyrr._ Art low at last?

_Bia._ Dun, dun, my Pyrrha, as a Barbary pigeon! So low not all my pride can vaunt me up. Then let me have my wine,--the draught of eyes, Of music and of smiles, till I be drunk And sleep.

[_Enter six Athenian youths, led by Clearchus, all disguised as Persian dancers. As they dance before Biades his pleasure quickens to abandonment_]

_Bia._ Ah, Pyrrha, you've denied my heart All noble love, but here's a pleasure left. Soft eyes and gentle bosoms may be mine Where scorn is taught to sleep and never sting. ... That is Alissa. We must honor her.

[_He signals Clearchus, and the others pass out, leaving him to dance alone. As he ventures more flirtatiously about Biades, Pyrrha's disgust increases and she retreats. Clearchus, dancing mockingly, follows her to door, and when she has passed through audaciously closes it_]

_Bia._ Now! Quick! In name of Zeus! The senators Received my message?

_Clea._ [_Darting to Biades_] Ay, the answer's here! [_Gives him a parchment_] Full pardon! Athens will lay down her walls To make your entry proud! Her gates are small, For honor she intends you!

_Bia._ [_Glances at parchment and sobs_] My Athens! Mine! Though she should take my life, And my bruised body fling unburied forth, Yet would my shade drop kisses on her soil And weep to leave it for Elysium! [_With sudden control_] What of my plan?

_Clea._ Adopted, in each item. Soon as the dropping moon is in the sea, The Athenian rowers, coming as your own, Will board this galley and bear her a bird To th' harbor nest.

_Bia._ They've force to meet the guards?

_Clea._ Thrice measured, sir. The _Theia_----

_Bia._ My own ship!

_Clea._ Your own--will meet you, every sailor true As when he wept your banishment. And Phaon, Critias, Pelagon, Antiganor, With twenty senators and men of name, Wait on her deck in welcome.

_Bia._ Back, ye tears! The rowers know my signal?

_Clea._ Yes, my lord. Three cressets on the left,--set here in this Embrasure. They will watch, near as they dare, And instantly as darts your triple gleam Their oars will sweep you answer.

[_A commotion without_]

_Bia._ Hist! What's wrong?

[_Enter Hieron and Pyrrha. Hieron goes to Clearchus and tears off his veil and head-dress_]

_Clea._ O, pardon! I'll confess!

_Hie._ 'Tis you, my lord, I now unmask, not this bought wretch.

_Bia._ What, sir?

_Hie._ Your Persian dancers are Athenian boys, All slim as lizards. We o'er-eyed their steps, And on suspicion gave them such a pinch The truth flew out.

_Bia._ Their guilt does not prove mine. Is it my crime that Athens touched me near With bribe of pardon?

_Pyrr._ Hear the boy. You are Clearchus? And of Athens?

_Clea._ I am.

_Pyrr._ You brought His pardon. Did he welcome it?

_Clea._ He did.

_Bia._ He lies! The coward lies!

_Clea._ He did agree That Phernes should draw off his fleet and join With Athens.

_Bia._ Oh! Where are the Olympian thunders That they now let you live?

_Hie._ Draw off his fleet To-night?

_Clea._ Ere dawn.

_Bia._ That such an atom--such A trifle of a body could enclose So great a lie!

_Clea._ The Persian is at watch, Waiting the signal----

_Bia._ Toad!

_Clea._ If pardon came, Two cressets set----

_Bia._ I'll shred him!

_Clea._ At the left---- Just here, my lord, would start the Persian ships For Athens.

_Bia._ Oh!

_Clea._ But if three cressets burnt, Then he would hold to Sparta.

_Hie._ Three?

_Clea._ Three, sir. Look in his bosom if you'd read the proof. His pardon's there.

_Bia._ By the altars I have lost, By Sparta's yet unwon, I swear he lies!

[_Pyrrha snatches the parchment from his bosom_]

_Bia._ You bat--you mole--you cur-born flea----

_Clea._ [_To Hieron_] O, sir, Your mercy! Save me from him!

_Hie._ Wait without.

_Pyrr._ Full pardon! Bring the irons! We are sold! Irons for Biades!

_Bia._ [_Accepting defeat_] Ay, let me wear My honor's livery. Every foe-locked gyve Will be my country's kiss, and make my blood Flow proud beneath it. Irons! Load me down, Now that you know me man, and not the thrall Of vilest fear that buys suspected breath With a mother-city's doom.

_Pyrr._ I'll grant you, sir, That by this act you do no longer lie In the unconsidered trash of estimation, But have crept up in my surprisèd mind To where I keep my jewels of regard. That is soon said,--but for the rest, you die. And more than die, for we shall hurl your name A palsy over Athens.

_Bia._ You'll not fight Athens and Persia!

_Pyrr._ Persia is not lost. Your signal is unlit.

_Hie._ But we'll light ours! Three cressets----

_Pyrr._ [_Stopping him_] Wait! The event's too great To helve with such slight word. That snivelling blab May've lied, or crossed the signals, for the young Are easiest dyed in craft, and take its hue As natively as innocence doth wear Its smile in sleep.

_Hie._ What then?

_Pyrr._ You'll go to Phernes.

_Hie._ There are no boats.

_Pyrr._ Tut, take the boats that brought Those purfled cymlings here. Their rowers too. Ah, Biades, you'll serve us still. And thought To trap all Sparta with this tip-toe bait! We have a saying. "Wit against the world,--" And there's another too, "The last lie wins." Hast heard it, Biades? We'll bear your word To Phernes that with dawn you move with him Upon the Athenian sails.

_Bia._ He'll hear no word From Spartan mouth. So 'twas agreed between us, To annul such move as this if chance should strip My bent of cover. I alone may reach His ear with Sparta's prayer.

_Pyrr._ We'll cast for proof Of that. If true, we shall remember, sir, That Sparta has won cities with no aid From Persia.

_Bia._ You'll not go alone to meet The strength of Athens?

_Pyrr._ Your far-wingèd name And sea-born battle-skill shall go with us. Your single arm's no loss, but in your fame, Yet ours to use, the Spartan strength Is doubled. Ha! They call us landmen,--say We must have feet on ground ere we can fight. But you they fear, bred to the wave, and first Of their commanders.

_Bia._ Let me die, but leave My name unmurdered.

_Pyrr._ It shall be outflung In challenge to the Athenians. They know well The sailor rabble loves you, and will oppose But half a heart to Biades. Some too, Of higher place, believe you wronged, and fear The angered gods will station on your side. By spearman Ares, you shall keep the oath Great-sworn on Sparta's ground, to set her lance Through Athens' triple shield! Ay, though you lie In irons waiting death.

_Bia._ The sunken souls Of deepest, damnèd Dis have never borne So vile a sting! You can not mean it, Pyrrha. Cast on my soul what Pluto would disbar From his fire-vaulted hell? I'll proudly die For treachery to you, but clear my name To Athens. Take not life and honor too!

_Pyrr._ One you may save,--your life.

_Bia._ What do you say?

_Pyrr._ Draw Phernes back to us, and you shall live.

_Bia._ You offer me but death, knowing I could not live A traitor.

_Pyrr._ You choose to die as one?

_Bia._ Oh, Zeus, All-giver, hear!

_Pyrr._ What gain is death to you If reputation dies eternally In Athens' hate? Sparta will do as much As spare your life.

_Bia._ Nay----

_Pyrr._ She shall nothing know Of this hour's lapse----

_Bia._ O, bitter stars! O, Death Past fatal!--reaching o'er thy charnel bound To usurp the immortal garden! Die a traitor! Never will dew from a forgiving eye Fall on my grave!

_Pyrr._ Nor will the upbraiding gaze Of Heaven be more tender. For you chose To risk your country's life on turn of chance, Having no surety that drawn to danger You then could pluck her out. Ah, made her fate Your stake at dice, because, escaped the hazard, You'd toss with her to fortune! And your guilt Is heavy in her fall as though your hand Bore down her last defence and fierce untrussed Her heart to th' wolvish air.

_Bia._ Oh, Pyrrha, Pyrrha!

_Pyrr._ Then why haste on to death? The noblest shades Will make no room for you where'er they walk. Why rush through the first gate to meet their cold Immortal scorn?

_Bia._ But life with honor gone!

_Pyrr._ If death could buy it, then 'twere wise To buy so goldenly. But that's too late. Choose life,--with honor such as Sparta lays On those who serve but her. This treachery That we've by hap unbagged in 'ts eanling hour Shall be safe snugged again. And cherished too! For in my eyes it is the one brave flower Of your most barren being. None shall know it, And Sparta, as she will, may laurels weave About your faith.

_Bia._ But Hieron?

_Pyrr._ [_To Hieron_] You'll swear with me? [_He hesitates_] In Sparta's name? [_Takes his hand_] And mine?

_Bia._ No, no!

_Hie._ I'll swear.

_Bia._ Oh, not that price! No, till the end O' the world!

_Pyrr._ Life, Biades, life!

_Bia._ I will not do it! Athens may singly conquer!

_Pyrr._ Then you die By Sparta's hand, and Athens holds your name Accursed through time. The irons, Hieron.

[_Biades hunches despairingly, his face hidden_]

_Pyrr._ [_Apart_] Gods! He will yield!

_Bia._ [_Looking up_] I'll do it,--dare to live,-- And Attica may call me what she will. A traitor breathes, and feels the blessed sun. He's ne'er so poor but can his housing find In alms-lapped Nature. Her unchoosing airs Ask not his name before they touch his brow And tell him when 'tis spring. He yet may dream In unrebuking shades, and birds will sing As liquidly as though he were not by. Food is yet food, and wine is ever wine. I will not die. [_Rises_] By Maia's son, I'll live! What is my country but the bit of earth Where chance did spawn me? 'Tis no treachery. We're traitors unto love, not hate,--to trust, Not doubt and slander such as Athens poured Upon me guiltless.

_Pyrr._ [_Crossing to him_] So you've found a way To save both life and honor!

_Bia._ May a worm Not creep to cleaner dust? Pyrrha, be kind. Spare me the trampling foot.

_Pyrr._ We've lost an hour. You'll send to Phernes?

_Bia._ First we'll signal him. He may be setting off. We must despatch, For if he saw no sign he meant to draw His fleet from doubtful waters and give aid To neither side. [_Taking up a light_] Three cressets--that was true. When once these lights have spoken, he'll receive Your envoy as myself. Then Hieron May bear confirming word to him, and bring Assurance back.

_Hie._ [_To Pyrrha_] You do not doubt?

_Pyrr._ Doubt now? Nay, Hieron. I'll trust him with his _life_.

_Hie._ But----

_Bia._ [_Trembling_] O, ye gazing gods, must it be done? In Athens' living heart set up the torch That leaves her a charred blotch where she lay white 'Neath heaven and smiled up to sister stars!

_Pyrr._ Come, Biades!

_Bia._ Shall not the earth be lost To God's own eye when Athens, quenched, no more Marks where we wander? I can not do it!

_Pyrr._ [_Taking the cresset_] Too late, My lord!

[Fixes light in the open embrasure, then places two others. Biades falls back, mantling his face]

_Hie._ To Phernes now! We must not boggle this!

_Pyrr._ If you've a doubt, sir, look on that. [_Points to Biades_]

_Hie._ I'll hasten back to you.

_Bia._ But note our light. The galley rowers may return ere you, And move us to the east.

_Hie._ I shall not lose you.

_Bia._ What escort will you take? A noble one Will best please Phernes.

_Hie._ Mirador and Agis Shall go with me. Meanthes shall remain To be your watch.

_Bia._ You'll tell them nothing?

_Hie._ Sir, I've sworn. I shall say naught but this. That Athens Proffered you pardon, and you hold to Sparta.

[_Exit Hieron. Pyrrha watches from the door until the boats put off. The sea is now dark. Biades takes up a harp and strums it_]

_Pyrr._ [_Turning_] You can do that? And I--I held my heart At halt, there at the door, nor turned my head Lest pity should emburn my eyes to tears. [_Crosses to him_] Dost know that all the juniper in the world, Burnt in thy house of honor, would not cleanse Its doors of stench? [_Throws the harp aside_] And you can use that air For breath of song!

_Bia._ Those are the bitterest words That ever dropped me gall, but I can find A crushèd balsam in them,--for they say You might have loved me, Pyrrha.

_Pyrr._ I might.

_Bia._ You did. The moment that I cast my Spartan mask And showed me true to Athens, you were mine. That instant there was joy-fall on your heart That swept its icy sentinels with fire, And they were down. Oh, had I then proved staunch, Ta'en helmet off to death and bade him strike, You would have closed my eyes with kisses warm As rose-drift on a tomb----

_Pyrr._ Nay, I'd have kept Those eyes to be my light on earth, not star Elysian skies. Had fought for you against My mother Sparta. Fought as woman fights For her one love,--with wit and armèd tongue, And cunning that throws puzzle on the gods. Fought till subduèd Death had knelt to Fate And prayed your life for me!

_Bia._ Have I lost that?

_Pyrr._ You yielded--sank--unlustred even your soul For a poor pinch of time----

_Bia._ But if some touch Of heaven could make me true again----

_Pyrr._ Look on Those lights, that you with single breath could turn To weeping smoke,--they've lit a quenchless wreck That all your sighs blow vain against,--a flame Ungovernable to remorse. Not furrowing winds That split the watery fields to Thetis' bed, And make a foamy Ural of her shore, Can sweep it out. Ay, groan and shake, And draw your mantle up! Behind a cover Thick as Taygetus' sides, I'd see you limned In shame!

_Bia._ [_Springing up_] What's shame to love? To love fire-sprung From instant meeting of fore-strangered eyes? And such was ours, there in that Athens' grove. Imperial of itself, it asks no loan Of subject virtue's smock to drape it royal. As fen-born vapors seem to nest the stars, Yet far below them do but thatch the world When they look down, the vassal qualities May lift no touch to love, that yet must wear, To earth's unvantaged eyes, their reek and hue.

_Pyrr._ Aerial love is but an earthling still, It must come down for food or mortal die, And what but virtues feed it?

_Bia._ Nay, you speak Of a fair, lesser thing,--a grace not lit From thurible in uncreated Hand, But coaxed from clay to a persuaded life. Garbed as the days,--patched, plastered, hung with dear Possessive vanities, it serves to make Contentment's bed, and cook a patient meal On comfort's hearth,--even snuggles in the void That else might ache, sings low, and makes Companioned feet tread bravely to the grave. It has a thousand names, but never one Is love. Be thine that white, ungendered spark, And naught can feed it, naught can make it less. Virtue and vice, nobility and shame, Are rags that drop away, while you sweep on, Stripped as a flame, with arms about your star.

[_Pyrrha is silent. Both start at sound of a noise on the water_]

_Pyrr._ What sound is that?

_Bia._ The rowers are returning.

_Pyrr._ So quietly?

_Bia._ [_Goes to door and closes it_] The world shall not come in On me and you. Be mine this broken hour, And Hieron may flute through after-time At secret doors where you lock up your favors. For you will go with him.

_Pyrr._ A prophet too?

_Bia._ You'll make his home, but I shall come and go The unseen master there.

_Pyrr._ Now for the vision!

_Bia._ You'll watch your door,--the unheard step is mine,-- And rock the babe born of a dream of me. And I, far-wandered, lost unto myself, Shall never lose you, Pyrrha. As the light Wrapping the wave reveals its silver dance, My being shall exult through shade and wear The chlamys of your gleam. Your voice behind The wind shall draw me lover-lipped to meet Adventure's breath. You'll lie upon the hush That girdles evening,--be the thrill within The throstle's note, and silence when His song is done.

_Pyrr._ Nay, it will speak of Phania, Of Sybaris.----

_Bia._ Ay, and a hundred more In whom I've sought for thee, my Pyrrha, always thee! 'Twill speak of them as statues speak of shards About their feet,--the sculptor's broken dreams That made the perfect one. [_The ship rocks_] _Pyrr._ We're moving!

_Bia._ Yes, You know,--to safer waters. Listen, Pyrrha, To me--to _me_!

_Pyrr._ Those sounds----

_Bia._ [_Kneels_] Hear _me_! My head I'll votive lay till you may set your feet Like tangled roses in my curls----

[_Pyrrha springs toward the door, but Biades is before her. The noises increase. Groans, blows, shouts_]

_Pyrr._ Aside! I'll pass!

_Bia._ O, save our bones. I am the stronger. You know 't.

_Pyrr._ You! I'll wind you like a thread!

_Bia._ You didn't.

_Pyrr._ Didn't....

_Bia._ When we wrestled.

_Pyrr._ When.... Oh, _then_! My arm was lame. Come, I will pass!

_Bia._ Nay, 'twas your heart that spared me!

_Pyrr._ Ay, like this!

[_Throws him aside. He staggers against the wall for support. She opens door. Two soldiers in armor silently oppose spears to her passage. She slowly closes the door_]

_Pyrr._ Where are we going?

_Bia._ You love me. What an arm! 'Twas never lame!

_Pyrr._ Come! Tell me what's our port, Then I shall know one place we do _not_ go.

_Bia._ Tut, love! Pry into men's affairs? Be calm----

_Pyrr._ What does this mean? [_Advancing_] I'll know!

_Bia._ [_Retreating_] You shall! It means "The last lie wins." We go to harbor.

_Pyrr._ Ah!... Those rowers....

_Bia._ Faithful and fleet as ever bore An Athenian general home. They came upon Your signal----

_Pyrr._ Mine?

_Bia._ They lay at watch, not Phernes. Look on those lights! O, trinal star, set high By my beloved! My honor's flaming hedge----

_Pyrr._ You fly, But in a net! The Spartans heard those shouts. They are in chase--you'll see----

_Bia._ They're unprepared. The captains off their ships, the guards in doubt, And oarsmen half asleep. But let them come Far as they dare, and if they dare too far From Persia's shelter, the Athenian fleet Will close like jaws about them.

_Pyrr._ [_Sits, with sudden hopelessness_] You have won, My lord.

_Bia._ I have.

_Pyrr._ What will you do with me?

_Bia._ I'll wed thee, sweet.

_Pyrr._ I'll not----

_Bia._ Yes, love, you will. There is a dagger hangs in Phelas' shop, Shall be your bridal gift. A prizèd blade Of coppered gold, hued like a battle morning. Smooth-cheeked as Artemis, although inlaid With pictured tale. A captured Amazon, Wrought palely in alloy,--a silvered fear On th' bronzen flush of courage,--bows before Her conqueror, a knight who gently bends As I do now----

_Pyrr._ [_Thrusting him off_] No! Never! I'll not trust Your dolphin nature! Long as fish have fins You'll sport in every sea! Go--go to Phania!

_Bia._ [_Turns angrily from her_] Ay, by my gods that I have found again, I shall wed none but an Athenian maid! [_Pyrrha swoons. He rushes to her_] Her heart is still. O, curse my double-tongue! She's dead--she's dead! She takes the Spartan way-- To die, not yield! Oh, Pyrrha, Pyrrha, Pyrrha! [_Rushes about distractedly_] I will not live! I'll leap into the sea!

_Pyrr._ [_On her elbow, as he reaches door_] You might catch cold. [_He stares at her. She sits up_] Is this your grace in love? Your pictured ease, with no dissuasive line?

_Bia._ O, Pyrrha, peace! Let us be done with cheat And mockery!

_Pyrr._ [_Rising_] My heart on that, my lord!

_Bia._ Own thou art mine! My world when sunsets die! My breath of meadows lying past the moon! Compassionate this earth, and in my soul Fix thee its centre. Say thou'lt come!

_Pyrr._ My lord, Could I be sure....

_Bia._ Ah, Pyrrha, there's no light Falls from thine eye that does not sway me like A bee in rose wind-shaken. I am thine. There'll be no battle, but a nuptial feast With three great armies for our brothered guests. Your land and mine are one. Give me your hand.

_Pyrr._ I will. For Sparta's sake.

_Bia._ And love's!

_Pyrr._ [_Giving her hand_] And love's.

[_Curtain_]