Chapter 3

CALAF, _then_ BARAK.

BARAK.

Whence come you, stranger?

CALAF.

Who asks?

BARAK.

Dare I believe, my eyes?

CALAF.

Do I see right?

BARAK.

It is he!

CALAF.

None else!

BARAK.

My Prince!

CALAF.

My tutor, friend!

BARAK.

Prince Calaf!

CALAF.

Barak!

BARAK.

Yet alive!

CALAF.

You here?

BARAK.

And you, Prince?

CALAF.

Quiet. Betray me not. But whisper low, How comes it that in Pekin you are found?

BARAK.

When your ill-fated army fought and lost Before the gates of Astrakhan, and fled Close followed by the Sultan of Taschkent, Who, barbarous, o'er the battlefield careered, I in my helpless rage and wounded sore Sought refuge in the city. There I heard Timur, your noble father, like yourself, Had fallen in the battle. Weeping then, I hastened to the Palace, with intent To save Elmase, your mother, from the foe. I could not find her. And already raged The Sultan o'er the unresisting town. I turned my back on hope, and fled away. And after months of wandering I came hither, And took a false name, calling myself Hassan The Persian, and as such I came to know A widow in distress. By virtue of My few remaining jewels which I sold For her, and by the good advice I gave, I rescued her from utter penury. She was not thankless, I disliked her not, And in the end I married her. And she Even to this very day thinks that I am A Persian, and she calls me Hassan, not Barak. And so I live with her, and I Am poor indeed after my former state, But richer than a prince now that I find You who are dearer to me than a son, Now that I find my Prince Calaf alive.

(_Kneels._)

CALAF.

'Sh! Speak no name! On that disastrous day I hied me with my father to the Palace. We snatched what precious things we could, and fled, We and my mother, out of Astrakhan, All three in beggars' garb.

BARAK (_weeps_).

Prince, say no more! My heart is breaking. Timur, my noble King, The Queen herself in such sad lowliness. But are they yet alive?

CALAF.

They are alive, Barak. They both are living. And after that, Wandering still farther, in the end we came Unto the city of the Carcasenes.

BARAK (_rises_).

O say no more! I have heard enough of grief... And yet I see you as a knight attired. Tell me how fortune favoured you at last.

CALAF.

Tell you how fortune--_favoured_ me? You jest! But I will tell you how I fared. The Khan Of Berlas hath a favourite sparrow-hawk, That with his jesses to the forest flew. By some good chance I caught this hawk, and brought him Home to the Khan, who questioned of my name. I hid my birth, and painted myself poor, A porter of burdens, and my parents ill. Straightway he sends them to the hospital... (_Weeps._) Barak, thy King, thy Queen, in a hospital!

BARAK.

Merciful God!

CALAF.

To me he gives this purse here; A horse he gives me, too, and this attire. I throw myself into my parents' arms, And weeping say: "I will no longer bear To see you so. Now I will fare in quest Of the jade Fortune, and either I will lose My life, or you shall hear from me anon." They clung around my, neck, would come with me. (God grant they have not followed at my heels In their blind love!) Now to Pekin I come Where in the Emperor's army I will 'list; And if I rise!--The day of vengeance dawns!-- Why is the city full to overflowing? Stay! I will seek thee out again, Barak; But now I burn to see what festival Swells such a crowd.

BARAK.

O go not, my dear Prince. And spare your eyes the pitiable sight Of most ignoble butchery.

CALAF.

Butchery?

BARAK.

It cannot be but you have heard the fame Of Turandot, the Emperor's only daughter, Who, beautiful as she is cruel, fills Pekin with death and mourning without end?

CALAF.

Something I heard of this kind at the Court Of Kaikobad. Indeed, they told me there That Kaikobad's own son mysteriously In Pekin found his death. And this was why King Kaikobad waged war against Altoum. But these are tales told for an idle hour. Well, what comes next?

BARAK.

What next? Why, Turandot, The mighty Emperor's daughter, unexcelled In the mind's keenness, and of beauty such That never master's pencil limned her (spite Of the innumerable pictures of her Which travel round the world), is so conceited, And hates all men with such a ruthless hate, The greatest princes woo her hand in vain.

CALAF.

That ancient fable. And what follows next?

BARAK.

This fable is a fable that is true. Her father often sought to have her wed-- For she is sole heir to his mighty throne-- But she said "no" to every prince that came, And his soft heart would not constrain her "yea." Not seldom her refusal led to war, And, though his arms were yet victorious, He felt the approach of age, and so one day He spake to her, deliberately resolved: "Make up thy mind to take a husband now, Or else show me a means to spare my land The throes of war. Age bows my shoulders down, And I have made too many kings my foes By breaking faith with them for love of thee. So once again I charge thee, promptly wed, Or show the means I seek, then live and die Even as it pleases thee." The proud maid then Used every artifice to thwart his will, Was sick with fury, yea, was nigh to death! And when the Emperor would not bate a jot, Hark what this wild she-devil then devised....

CALAF.

I know the tale! She craves an edict: this-- That any prince be free to sue for her. With this condition: She will set the suitor Three riddles, and before the whole Divan. If he can solve them, he shall be her consort, And heir of China. If he cannot solve them, Altoum by most solemn oath is bound To rid the reckless suitor of the head Which could not solve the riddles of his daughter. Goes not the fable so? Well, you go on with it; It bores me.

BARAK.

Fable! Would to Heaven it were! The Emperor would not hear of it at first; But she with threats and feints and flattering Forces the old man's gentle heart to yield, Convincing him by saying: "No one ever Will risk his head on it; and if he should, In any case the Emperor would be blameless, Since it were question of an edict sworn, And noised abroad." And what she willed was done. A fable, is it? Is it a fable, all That this inhuman law has brought to pass?

CALAF.

Well, if you say it is so, I will credit The edict. But I never will believe That any fool has known, and risked his head.

BARAK.

You won't believe it? Pray you, look up here!

(_Points to the heads on the wall._)

All those are heads of hopeful princes, who Have tried their luck and could not solve the riddles, And hence... are where they are.

CALAF (_horror-struck_).

Most horrible! But, tell me, who could ever be so mad, So crazy, as to risk his head to win A monster of a maiden such as this?

BARAK.

Prince, he who sees her picture is so lost, That to possess the living picture he Would blindly walk into the arms of death.

CALAF.

A fool might.

BARAK.

Yes, and a wise man, too. Hark to the people pouring out to see The wise and handsome Prince of Samarkand Beheaded now. The Emperor himself weeps, But the she-devil puffs herself with pride.

(_In the distance a beating of muffled drums._)

This muffled rolling is the headsman's sign. It was to see it not I left the town.

CALAF.

These are strange things you tell me, Barak How Could Nature ever fashion such a thing, And call it woman, as this Turandot, So harnessed against love, so pitiless?

BARAK.

My own wife's daughter serves her in the harem, And tells such things about her--things, my Prince!-- Worse than a tigress is this Turandot; And worst of all her vices is her pride.

CALAF.

To Hell with such a monster! If _I_ were Her father,, I would burn her at the stake....

BARAK (_looking towards the city gate._)

See, there comes Ishmael, the friend and guide Of the young Prince they slaughtered even now. My poor friend!