SCENE 3

ALEXANDRA. MARIAMNE.

ALEXANDRA (_aside_).

She comes! Ah, could she be decoyed from him And yield consent to follow me to Rome, Then--but she hates and loves him at a breath! Dare I arouse a last storm? To the deed!

[_Hastening towards_ MARIAMNE.

You seek for comfort where it may be found! Come to my heart!

MAR.

Comfort?

ALEX.

You need it not? Then I have known you ill! Yet I had grounds To judge you for the woman you are not. You have been slandered to me!

MAR.

I? to you?

ALEX.

I have been told of arms enlinked and kisses Bestowed upon a brother-murdering consort Hot on the deed by--Pardon! I had no right To give it credence.

MAR.

None?

ALEX.

No! ever No! And No, on more than one ground. Could you even Begrudge the bloody shadow of your brother, All heartless, the atonement of revenge Sisters should sacrifice, revenge that not Through Judith’s sword and not through Rahab’s[9] nail, No, merely through a notion of the mouth And merely through still folding of the arms Were better wreaked and to the Dead devoted, Then he, the very murderer, had not dared To come anear you, for you’re like the Dead One: And you could hurt his sight as ’twere the corse Of Aristobulus tricked in woman’s paint; He would have turned him from you shuddering.

MAR.

He did not do the one, nor I the other.

ALEX.

Then be----But no, perchance a doubt still lingers Touching his guilt. Will you then have the proof?

MAR.

I need it not.

ALEX.

You need----

MAR.

’Twere bootless to me.

ALEX.

Then--but I hold the curse even now in check, I see another one has lighted on you! You still walk in the fetters of a love That never shed a lustre----

MAR.

Yet I thought I had not picked a consort for myself, I had but yoked my neck beneath the doom That you and Hyrcan with a pious care Had hung above a daughter and a grandchild.

ALEX.

Not I! My coward father sealed the bond.

MAR.

And by that deed he pleased you ill?

ALEX.

Not that! Or else I had outstripped him with our flight. I had a refuge open down in Egypt. I only say the thing was clinched by him, By him, the first High Priest without a spine! And I but battled down the first repugnance With which I took his meaning. Yet I did it Because I found the coward’s tradesman-traffic Good in the main, and gave for Edom’s sword The Pearl of Zion, when he pressed me hard. Yea, had the serpent had a poisoned fang When it was dug that time in Cleopatra, Or had a lucky chance brought Antony Toward these regions when upon his march, I had said no! but, as it was, said yes!

MAR.

Yet in despite of that----

ALEX.

I hoped of you That you’d not fritter off the bargain-price, And touching Herod, that you----

MAR.

Ah, I know! It was my part, for every kiss I gave To haggle in advance for any head That had mispleased you, and at last when none Was left to cross you but his own, to spur him To his self-slaughter; or if that should fail, To couch and spy a chance in the still night And subtly second Judith’s catlike deed. Then would you have been proud to call me child!

ALEX.

Prouder than now, I give it no denial.

MAR.

I chose to be a wife unto the husband To whom your hands had led me, and for him Forget the Maccabean to the measure In which he should forget the King for me.

ALEX.

And yet it seems in Jericho that she Caused you a second thought: at all events You were the first to break in lamentation When I myself still held my wailings back To prove you. Was’t not so?

MAR.

In Jericho The hideous hap had dizzied all my mind. It came too swift--From board to bath, from bath To grave--a brother! Whirlwinds swept my brain! But if against my sovereign and my husband I barred the door, slant-thoughted and stone-hearted, I rue it now, and only can condone it Because ’twas done as though in fever’s heat.

ALEX.

In fever’s heat?

MAR. (_in a semi-aside_).

I’d not have done it either Were he not come to me in mourning-garments! In red, dark red, I could have borne to see him, But----

ALEX.

Ha! He found them quick! Before the deed He had them ordered, just as other murderers, Where possible, draw water ere they murder--

MAR.

Mother, forget not!

ALEX.

What? That you are wife Unto the murderer? You’re but late become This creature; only while you will you are so; Yea, and you are so maybe now no more. But you have ever been the Dead One’s sister And will remain so--yea, you will remain so Even when you call--thither, it seems, you tend-- Into his grave--“You had but justice done you!”

MAR.

I owe you debt of reverence, and I shrink From violence on it; therefore hold your peace. Or else I could----

ALEX.

What could you?

MAR.

Ask myself On whom this deed lays guilty onus--him That took it through because he must, or her Who wrung it from him! Let the Dead One rest!

ALEX.

Speak thus to one who did not give him birth! I bore him underneath my heart, and must Avenge him since I cannot waken him To wreak his own revenge.

MAR.

Avenge him then, Avenge him on yourself! You know right well It was the High Priest whom the shouting folk Ringed on his giddy pinnacle with joyance And that ’twas not the youngling Aristobulus Who brought upon himself the Thing that happened. Who was it drove the youngling, tell me that! Out of his old unthinking self-content? Surely he lacked not coats of many colours Wherewith to charm the eyes of pretty maids, And more he needed not for happiness. What should he do with Aaron’s priestly mantle You still must hang about him to his surfeit? And of himself he had no other thought Than “Does it suit me well?” But others deemed him Straight from the very moment it was donned The second Head of Israel; and you Had swift success himself so to befool That his puffed mind must think him first and sole.

ALEX.

’Tis blasphemy ’gainst him and me!

MAR.

’Tis none! For if this youngling, who it seemed had birth To show the world her first-born happy man, If he so swift, so dark an end has found, And if the man who, when his sword’s once drawn Shames every other man into a woman, If he--I know not if ’twas he, but fear it,-- Then, true, ambition, lust for power are cause, But not ambition that the Dead One hugged And not the lust for power that plagues the King. I’ll not accuse you--’twould beseem me ill-- But, to requite your sending of a ghost, A bloody ghost, into our marriage-chamber, I will not see you shed the tear of rue Though now we twain no more are side by side And, for the Third, it wilders so my sense That I am dumb when it were well to speak And speak when it were better to be dumb. Nay, nay, I will not quench your vengeful thirst Nor ask what you avenge--your plans or son. Do what you will! go further, check your foot-- Only, be well assured of this--the barb That reaches Herod reaches Mariamne! The oath that I withheld and he demanded In leaving me, I swear it now! I perish If he should perish! Act then, speak no more!

ALEX.

Then perish! Now! For----

MAR.

Yes, I understand! And this was why you thought I needed comfort? Oh no! You err. It frights me not That the men-slugs o’ the world, who only suffer The Elect because they owe man’s debt to death, Have with their mouths already struck him dead. What has the slave for solace when the King In gorgeousness and glory sweeps him by Than this--to say, “He gets his turn like me! I grudge it not! And when he mounts his throne Fresh from a field o’erstrewn with graves in thousands I’ll praise him for’t: it chokes his covetous mood!” Ah, but my Herod lives and he will live! So says my heart to me. Death flings a shadow And that falls on me here! (_pointing to her heart_).