Chapter 2

_Voice above._ No sail as yet!

_Regent._ Ah, pardon, sirs! My ears are strung to-day, And play false airs invented by the wind. Methought a hawse-pipe rattled ...

_Gamba (chants to his viol). Shepherds, see-- Lo! What a mariner love hath made me!_

_Regent._ What chants the Fool?

_Gamba._ Madonna, 'tis a trifle Made by a silly poet on wives that stand All night at windows listening the surf-- _Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no!_

_Lucio._ Peace, lively! Madam, there is news--brave news! I'm from the watch-house. There the pilots tell Of sixteen sail to the southward! Sixteen sail, And nearing fast!

_Regent._ Praise God! dear Lucio!

[_She has seated herself again. She takes Lucio's hand and speaks, petting it._

What? Glowing with my happiness? That's like you. But for yourself the hour, too, holds release.

_Lucio (between sullenness and shame, with a glance at Cesario)._ "Release?"

_Regent._ You will forgive? I have great need To be forgiven: sadly I have been slack In guardianship, and by so much betrayed My promise to our mother's passing soul. Myself in cares immersed, I left the child Among his toys--and turn to find him man-- But yet so much a boy that boyhood can _(Wistfully)_ Laugh in his honest eyes? Forgive me, Lucio! Tell me, whate'er have slackened, there has slipped No knot of love. To-morrow we'll make sport, Be playmates and invent new games, and old-- Wreath flowers for crowns--

[_He drags his hand away. She gazes at him wistfully, and turns to the Captain of the Guard._

Cesario, What are the suits?

_Cesario._ They are but three to-day, Madonna. First, a scoundrel here in irons For having struck the Guard.

_Regent (eying the culprit)._ His name, I think, Is Donatello Crocco. Hey? You improve, Good man. The last time 'twas your wife you basted. At this rate, in another year or two You'll bang the Turk. Do you confess the assault?

_Prisoner._ I do.

_Regent._ Upon a promise we dismiss you. Your tavern, as it comes into our mind, Is the 'Three Cups.' So many, and no more, You'll drink to-day--have we your word? Three cups, And each a _Viva_ for the Duke's return.

_Prisoner._ Your Highness, I'll not take it at the price Of my good manners. I'm a gallant man: And who in Adria calls. 'Three cheers for the Duke!' But adds a fourth for the Duchess? Lady, nay; Grant me that fourth, or back I go to the cells!

[_The Regent laughs and nods to the Guard to release him._

_Regent._ What next?

_An Old Woman (very rapidly)._ Your Highness will not know me--Zia Agnese, Giovannucci's wife that was; And feed a two-three cows, as a widow may, On the marshes where the grass is salt and sweet As your Highness knows--and always true to pail Until this Nicolo--

_Nicolo._ Lies! lies, your Highness!

_Old Woman._ Having a quarrel, puts the evil eye On Serafina. She's my best of cows, In stall with calf but ten days weaned.

_Nicolo._ Lies! lies!

_Old Woman._ I would your Highness saw her! When that thief Hangs upon Lazarus' bosom, he'll be bidding A ducat for each drop of milk he's cost me, To cool his tongue.

_Regent._ Ay--ay, the cow is sick, I think; and mind me, being country-bred, Of a cure for such: which is, to buy a comb And comb the sufferer's tail at feeding-time. If Zia Agnese do but this, she'll counter The Evil Eye, and maybe with her own Detect who thieves her Serafina's hay.

_Old Woman._ God bless your Highness!

_Nicolo._ God bless your Highness!

_Regent (taking up a fresh suit)._Why, what's here? "_Costanza, Wife of Giuseppe Boni, citeth him And sueth to live separate, for neglect And divers beatings, as to wit----_" H'm, h'm-- _Likewise to keep the child Geronimo, Begotten of his body._ You defend The suit, Giuseppe?

_A Young Peasant (shrugs his shoulders)._ As the woman will! I'll not deny I beat her.

_Regent._ But neglect! How came you to neglect her? Look on her-- The handsome, frowsy slut, that, by appearance, Hath never washed her body since she wed. A beating we might pass. But how neglect To take her by the neck unto the pump And hold her till her wet and furious face Were once again worth kissing? Well--well--well! Neglect is proven. She shall have deserts: _(To a Clerk)_ But--write, "Defendant keeps his lawful child."

_Young Peasant._ My lady--

_Wife._ Nay, my lady--

_Regent._ Eh? What's this?

_Wife._ The poor _bambino_! Nay, 'twas not the suit! How should Giuseppe, being a fool, a man--

_Young Peasant._ Aye, aye: that's sense. I love him: still, you see--

_Regent._ An if my judgment suit you not, go home, The pair. _(As they are going she calls the woman back.)_ Costanza! hath your husband erred With other woman?

_Young Peasant_. Never!

_Wife_. I'll not charge him With that.

_Regent_. But, yes, you may. This man hath held Another woman to his breast.

_Wife_. Her name? That I may tear her eyes!

_Regent_. Her name's Costanza. The same Costanza that, with body washed, With ribbon in her hair, light in her eyes, Arrayed a cottage to allure his heart. Go home, poor fools, and find her!... Heigh! No others? [_Heaves a sigh._ Captain, dismiss the Guard. The watch, aloft-- Set him elsewhere. We would not be o'erlooked. You only, Lucio--you, Lucetta--stay; You for a while, Cesario.

[_Exeunt Courtiers, Guard, Crowd, etc._

Heigh! that's over-- The last Court of the Regent; and the books Accounts of stewardship, my seven years all, Closed here for audit. Nay, there's one thing more-- Brother, erewhile I spoke you sisterly, You turned away, and still you bite your lip: Signs that may short my preface. It concerns The Countess Fulvia.

_Lucio_. Ha!

_Regent_. Go, bring her, Captain.

[_Exit Cesario_.

List to me, Lucio: listen, brother dear, First playmate-child, tending whose innocence Myself learned motherhood. Shall I deny Youth to be loved and follow after love? There is a love breaks like a morning beam On the husht novice kneeling by his arms; And worse there is, whose kisses strangle love, Whose feet take hold of hell. My Lucio, Follow not that!

_Lucio_. Why, who--who hath maligned The Countess?

_Regent_ Not maligned. Lucetta, here--

_Lucio_. Lucetta! Curse Lucetta and her tongue! Am I a child, to be nagged by waiting-maids?

_Regent_. No, but a man, and shall weigh evidence.

_Lucio_. But I'll not hear it! If her viper tongue Can kill, why kill it must. But send me a man, And I will smite his mouth--ay, slit his tongue-- That dares defame the Countess!

_Regent_. Stay: she comes.

[_Enter the Countess Fulvia, Cesario attending._

Madam, the reason wherefore you are summoned No doubt you guess, from a rude earlier call Our Captain paid you. Certain practices, Which you may force me name, are charged upon you On testimony you may force me call And may with freedom question.

_Fulvia_. I'll not question: No, nor I will not answer.

_Lucio_. Then I'll answer!' For me, for all, she is innocent!

_Regent_. For you? We'll hope it: but 'for all' 's more wide an oath Than you can swear, sir. I'll not bandy you Words nor debate. Myself the ladder saw; Lucetta, here, the ladder and the man. _What_ man she will not say. Cesario Has tracked his footprint on her garden plots. Must we say more?

_Fulvia_. No need. Her fingering mind Is a close cupboard turning all things rancid.

_Lucio_. Yea, for such wry-necks all the world's a lawn To peek and peer and pounce a sinful worm; The fatter, the more luscious.

_Regent. _ Lucio, This woman nought gainsays.

_Fulvia (fiercely)._ As why should I? I'll question not, nor answer. 'Neath your brow My sentence hunches, crawls, like cat to spring. Pah! there's no prude will match your virtuous wife You'd banish me?

_Regent._ I do. Cesario, See to it the City gate shuts not to-night. And she this side.

_Fulvia (laughs recklessly)._ To-night? To-night's your own. Most modest woman! Duchess, there's a well By the road, some seven miles beyond the town. There, 'neath the stars, I'll dip a hand and drink To the good Duke's disport. But have a care! That cup's not yet to lip.

_Regent. _ Captain, remove her. Lucio, remain.

_[Exeunt the Countess Fulvia, Cesario following]_

_Lucio._ I'll not remain--When ice Sits judge of fire, what justice shall be done? Sister, there be your books--peruse them. There The sea-line--bide you so with back to it. While the cold inward heat of cruelty Warms what was once your heart, now crusted o'er With duty and slimed with poisonous drip of tongues. God help the Duke, if what he left he'd find!

_[Exit Lucio]_

_Regent._ Is't so, I wonder? Go, Lucetta, fetch My glass, if haply I may tell.

_[Exit Lucetta.]_

Is't so? And have these years enforced, encrusted me To something monstrous, neither woman nor man? My lord, my lord! too heavy was the load You laid! Yet I'll not blame you: for myself Ruled the straight path the long account correct As in these books, my ledgers....

[_While she turns the pages, Gamba the Fool creeps in and hoists himself on the balustrade. He tries his viol, and sings_.

SONG: _Gamba_.

Bird of the South, my Rondinello--

_Regent_. Hey? That Song!

_Gamba_. Hie to me, fly to me, steel-blue mate! Under my breast-knot flutters thy fellow; Here can I rest not, and thou so late. Home, to me, home! 'Love, love, I come!' --Dear one, I wait! _Quanno nacesti tu, nacqui pur io: La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio_! You know the song, madonna?

_Regent_. Ay, fool. Sit Here at my feet, sing on.

_Gamba (sings)._

Bird of the South, my Rondinello Under thy wing my heart hath lain Till the rain falling on last leaves yellow Drumm'd to thee, calling southward again. Home, to me, home! 'Love, love, I come!' Ah, love, the pain! _Addio, addio! ed un' altra volt' addio! La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio! (Pause)._ A foolish rustic thing the shepherd wives In our Abruzzi croon by winter fires, Of their husbands in the plains.

_Regent_. Gamba!

_Gamba_. Madonna?

_Regent_. I'd make thee my confessor. Mindest thou, By Villalago, where from Sanno's lake The stream, our Tasso, hurls it down the glen? One noon, with Lucio--ever in those days With Lucio--on a rock within the spray, I wove a ferny garland, while the boy Roamed, but returned in triumph, having trapped A bee in a bell-flower--held it to my ear, Laughing, dissembling that he feared to loose The hairy thief. So laughed we--and were still, As deep in Vallescura wound a horn, And up the pathway 'neath the dappling bough Came riding--flecked with sunshine, man and horse,-- My lord, my lover; and that song, that song Upon his lips....

_Voice of Watchman_. Sail ho! a sail! a sail!

_[Murmur of populace below. It grows and swells to a roar as enter hurriedly courtiers, guards, and others: Cesario; Lucetta with mirror._]

_Lucetta_. My lady! O my lady!--

_Cesario_. See, they near! Galley on galley--look, there, by the point!

_Regent_. O, could my heart keep tally with the surge That here comes crowding!

_Lucetta_. Joy, my lady! Joy!

_All_. Joy! Joy, my lady!

_[They press flowers on her. A pause, while they watch. On the canal the galleys come into sight. They near: and as the oars rise and fall, the rowers' chorus is borne from the distance. It is the Rondinello song_

_Chorus in Distance. La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!_

_Regent_. Thanks, my good, good friends! And deem it not discourteous if alone I'd tune my heart to bliss. My glass, Lucetta!

_[Takes mirror.]_

Some thoughts there are--some thoughts----

_Courtiers_. God save you, madam!

_[They go out, leaving the Regent alone._]

_Regent (she loosens the clasp of her robe)._ Some thoughts --some thoughts-- Fall from me, envious robe! Rest there, my crown--thou more than leaden ache! Ah!-- God! What a mountain drops! I float--I am lifted Like thistledown on nothing. Back, my crown-- Weight me to earth! Nay, nay, thy rim shall bite No more upon this forehead ... Where's my glass? O mirror, mirror, hath it bit so deep? My love is coming, hark! O, say not grey, Sweet mirror! Tell, what time to cure it now? And he so near, so near! How shall I meet him? Why how but as the river leaps to sea, Steel to its magnet, child to mother's arms?

[_She catches up flowers from the baskets left by the courtiers, and decks herself mildly._

Flowers for my hair, flowers at the breast! Sweet flowers, He'll crush you 'gainst his corslet. He has arms Like bands of iron for clasping, has my love. He'll hurt, he'll hurt ... But oh, sweet flowers, to lie And feel you helpless while he grips and bruises Your weak protesting breasts! You'll die in bliss, Panting your fragrance out.-- Wh'st! Hush, poor fool! I have unlearned love's very alphabet. Men like us coy, demure ... Then I'll coquet And play Madam Disdain--but not to-day. To-morrow I'll be shrewish, shy, perverse, Exacting, cold--all April in my moods: We'll walk the forest, and I'll slip from him, Hide me like Dryad 'mid the oaks, and mark His hot dark face pursuing; or I'll couch In covert green, and hold my breath to hear His blundering foot go by; then up I'll leap, And run--and he'll run after. O this lightness! I'll draw him like a fairy, dance and double-- Yet not so fast but he shall overtake At length, and catch me panting. O, I charge you, I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, Wake not my love beneath the forest bough Where we lie dreaming!

_[Fanfare of trumpets in the distance.]_

Trumpets, hark! and drums! They have landed! From the quay they march! Flowers! flowers! They are near ... I see him!... Carlo! lord and love! He looks--waves--O 'tis he! O foolish heart!-- I had feared he'd ta'en a wound. What is't they shout? Eh? 'Victory!'--yes, yes. He's browner, thinner; And the dear eyes, how gaunt!... Yes 'Victory!' 'Victory!' ... lord, and love!,..

_[The shouts of acclamation are heard now close under the terrace. Spears and banners are seen trooping past. Beside herself, she throws flowers to them, laughing, weeping the while. Then, running to the Chapel door, she prostrates herself before the image of the Virgin that crowns its archway.]_

O Mary, Mother! Thou, in whose breast all women's thoughts have moved, All woman's passions heaved. Lo! I adore! Sweet Mother, hold my hands, rejoice with me: My bridegroom cometh!

[_During this invocation the Countess Fulvia has crept in, a stiletto in her hand. She leans over the Regent and stabs her twice in the breast.]_

_Fulvia._ Then with that!--and that! Go meet him!

_Regent_ (_turns, looks up, and falls on her face_). Oh! I am slain!

_Fulvia._ And I am worse! But there's my flower, my red flower, on your breast.-- Go, meet your lord and show it!

[_She passes down the steps as Lucetta runs in.]_

_Lucetta._ Madam! Madam! The Duke is at the gate--Madam!-- Christ! she is murdered! Murder! Murder!

_Regent._ Fie, Lucetta! peace! What word to greet the Duke For his home-coming! Lift me ... Quick, my robe-- My Crown! Call no one. O, but hasten!

_Lucetta_ (_helpless, wringing her hands_). Madam!

_Regent._ I need your strength, and must I steady you? Lucetta, years ago you disarrayed me Upon my bridal night. I would you'd whisper The rogueries your tongue invented then. I have few moments, girl ... I'd have them wanton. Make jest this mantle hides the maid I was. I'll have no priest, no doctor--Fetch Tonino! I must present his son-- [_Lucetta runs out._ All's acted quick: Bride-bed, conception, birth--and death! But he Shall sum it in one moment death not takes ... What noise of trumpets!... Is the wound not covered?

[_She wraps herself carefully in her mantle as the courtiers pour in. The child Tonino runs to her and stands by her side. Lucio, Cesario, all the Court, group themselves round her as the Duke enters. He rushes in eagerly; but she sets her teeth on her anguish, and receives him with a low reverence._

Welcome my lord!

_Duke._ Ottilia!

_Regent._ Good my lord, Welcome! This day is bright restores you to Your loyal Duchy.

Duke (_impatient_). Wife! Ottilia!

_Regent_ (_she lifts a hand to keep him at distance_). There must be forms, my lord--some forms! Cesario, Render the Duke his sceptre. As bar to socket, When the gate closes on a town secure, So locks this rod back to his manly clutch-- Cry all, 'Long live the Duke!'

_All._ Long live the Duke!

_Duke._ Wife, make an end with forms!

_Lucio_ (_to Cesario_). And so say I! A man would think my sister had no blood In her body.

_Cesario_ (_watching the Regent_). Peace, man: something there's amiss.

_Regent._ Yet here is he that sceptre shall inherit. Lucetta, lead his first-born to the Duke. His first-born!--Nay but look on him how straight Of limb, how set and shoulder-square, tho' slender! He'll sit a horse, in time, and toss a lance Even with his father.

_Duke._ There's my blessing, boy! But stand aside. Look in my face, Ottilia-- Hearken me, all! One thing these seven years My life hath lacked, which wanting, all your cannon, Your banners, _vivas_, bells that rock the roofs, Throng'd windows, craning faces--all--all--all Were phantasms, were noise.--

_Lucio_ (_exclaims_). Why look, here's blood! Here, on the boy's hand!

_Regent._ Ay! a scratch, no worse, Here, when I pinned my robe.

_Duke_ (_continuing_). Nay, friends, this moment My Duchy her dear hand restores to me To me's a dream. More buoyant would I tread Dumb street, deserted square, climb ruin'd wall, Where in a heap beneath a broken flag Lay Adria.-- So that amid the ruins stood my love And stretched her hands so faintly--stretched her hands So faintly. See! She's mine! She lifts them--

_Regent_ (_totters and falls into his arms with a tired, happy laugh, which ends in a cry as his arms enfold her_). Ah!

[_She faints._

_Duke_. (_after a moment, releasing her a little_). What's here? Ottilia!

_Lucetta._ My mistress swoons!

_A Courtier._ 'Tis happiness--

_Duke._ Fetch water!

_Lucio._ Nay this blood-- Came of no scratch!

_Lucetta._ Loosen her bodice--

_Duke._ Blood? Why blood? Where's blood?

(_Stares as the mantle is imclasped and falls open_). Ah, my God!

_Lucetta._ Murder! murder! The Countess Fulvia--

_Cesario._ Speak!

_Lucetta._ There--while she knelt-- Stabbed her, and fled.

_Cesario._ Which way?

[_Lucetta points to the stairs. He dashes off in pursuit._

_Duke._ All-seeing God! Where were thine eyes, or else thy justice? Dead? O, never dead!

_Lucio._ Ay, Duke, push God aside, As I push thee. I have the better right: I killed her--I. O never pass, sweet soul, Till thou hast drunk a shudder of this wretch, Thy brother, playmate, murderer!

_Duke._ Wine! bring wine--

_Regent_ (_as the wine is brought and revives her_). Flower, he will crush thee--but the bliss, the bliss! I swim in bliss. What ... Lucio? Where's my lord? Dear, bring him: he was here awhile and held me. Say he must hold, or the light air will lift And bear me quite away.

[_Re-enter Cesario. In one hand he carries his sword, in the other a dagger._

_Lucio._ Cesario! What! Is that devil escaped? To think--to think I drank her kisses!--What? Where is she?

_Cesario._ Dead. I raised the cry: the people pointed after; Ran with me, ravening. Just this side the bridge She heard our howl and turned--drew back the dagger Red with our lady's blood, then drove it home Clean to her own black heart.

_Regent._ God pardon her! I would what blood of mine clung to the blade Might mix with hers and sweeten it for mercy.

_Lucio._ Will you forgive her? Then forgive not me!

_Regent._ Dear Lucio!--You'll not pluck away your hand This time? Hush! Where's Cesario?... Friend, farewell. Where lies the body?

_Cesario._ Sooth, madonna, I flung it To the river's will, to roll it down to sea Or cast on muddy bar, for dogs to gnaw.

_Regent._ The river? Ah! How strong the river rolls! Hold me, my lord--

_Duke._ Love, love, I hold you

_Regent._--Ay! The child, too--You will hold the child?... This roar Deafens but will not drown us.

[_Within the Chapel the choir is chanting a dirge. Gamba goes and closes the door on the sound: then creeps to the foot of the couch. The dying woman gently motions aside the cross a priest is holding to her, and looks up at her husband._

[_Below the terrace a voice is heard singing the Rondinello song._

Look! beyond Be waters where no galley moves with oar, So wide, so waveless,--and, between the woods, Meadows--O land me there!... Hark, my lord's voice Singing in Vallescura! Soft my, love, I am so tired--so tired! Love, let me play! [_Dies._

[_The Courtiers lift the body in silence and bear it to the Chapel, the Duke and his train following. The doors close on them. On the stage are left only Cesario, standing by the balustrade; and Gamba, who has seated himself with his viol and touches it, as still the voice sings below--_

Addio, Addio! ed un'altra volt'addio! La lundananza tua, 'l desiderio mio!

[_On the last note a string of the viol cracks, and with a cry the Fool flings himself, heart-broken, on the empty couch. Cesario steps forward and stands over him, touching his shoulder gently._

CURTAIN.

POEMS

EXMOOR VERSES

I. VASHTI'S SONG

Over the rim of the Moor, And under the starry sky, Two men came to my door And rested them thereby.

Beneath the bough and the star, In a whispering foreign tongue, They talked of a land afar And the merry days so young!

Beneath the dawn and the bough I heard them arise and go: And my heart it is aching now For the more it will never know.

Why did they two depart Before I could understand? Where lies that land, O my heart? --O my heart, where lies that land?

II. SATURN

From my farm, from hèr farm Furtively we came. In either home a hearth was warm: We nursed a hungrier flame.

Our feet were foul with mire, Our faces blind with mist; But all the night was naked fire About us where we kiss'd.

To her farm, to my farm, Loathing we returned; Pale beneath a gallow's arm The planet Saturn burned.

III. DERELICTION

O'er the tears that we shed, dear The bitter vines twist, And the hawk and the red deer They keep where we kiss'd: All broken lies the shieling That sheltered from rain, With a star to pierce the ceiling, And the dawn an empty pane.

Thro' the mist, up the moorway, Fade hunters and pack; From the ridge to thy doorway Happy voices float back ... O, between the threads o' mist, love, Reach your hands from the house. Only mind that we kiss'd, love, And forget the broken vows!

TWO FOLK SONGS

I. THE SOLDIER

(_Roumanian_)

_When winter trees bestrew the path, Still to the twig a leaf or twain Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath, But that foreknown forlorner pain-- To fall when green leaves come again._

I watch'd him sleep by the furrow-- The first that fell in the fight. His grave they would dig to-morrow: The battle called them to-night.

They bore him aside to the trees, there, By his undigg'd grave content To lie on his back at ease there, And hark how the battle went.

The battle went by the village, And back through the night were borne Far cries of murder and pillage, With smoke from the standing corn.