SCENE IV--HOME OF CORNELIA.

_Apartment spacious and luxurious, with hangings of various kinds. Cornelia, who is reclining in an arm chair, occupies the center of the room; a female stands behind her in the act of arranging her hair. On the left is a boy in rich patrician dress, seated beside an oblong bath, engaged in sailing a tiny fleet of vessels on the surface of the water. On the right are a number of attendants, conversing in undertones._

_Cor._ Ah, gods! I am most sad and most aweary Of this routine of state, unrestful splendor. My lovers love not me but my possessions, My friends are envious of my delights. Wretched aristocrats! Unhappy we Who call ourselves patricians, and who swear Our race is blessed of the most blessed gods! Say rather cursed, and with a heavy curse! How can I give my heart to those who are By _noble_ blood worthy and eligible, After the Roman laws, to sue for it? Eros with them is but an empty name; Passion and lust and horrible ambition Form the emotions of these "blessed" ones. And I, unhappy, love with pure desire Sicinius, a soldier and a pleb! Yet hath the Ten forbidden intermarriage, Just when those bars of difference were about To fall away and Heaven ope for me. [_To the attendant._ Sufficient, Julia.

_Julia._ Nay, a few light touches And thou wilt shine more fair, my lovely mistress, Than heavenly Venus in her myrtle bower.

_Cor._ (_smilingly_). But I am dark as night; she as the day, Thou foolish maid.

_Julia._ Believe me, thou in thy Rich, languid charm would cast enchantment o'er Adonis, as would keep him from the chase Where Venus pled in vain.

_Cor._ Tut, flatterer!

_Julia_ (_slyly_). Methinks I'd make a model lover then If I do flatter. Is't not so, sweet lady?

_Cor._ (_bitterly_). Lovers are mockeries in this blackened age. A maid may wed the low-souled fool so long As he's high-born! The man of noble mind Is numbered, if a common, 'mongst the dead.

_Julia_ (_idly_). Methinks Sicinius comes here anon?

_Cor._ (_in displeasure_). What! Insolent! Who bade thee speak, I pray?

_Julia_ (_softly_). Lady, mine eyes are clear and quick to see, And thy heart's sentinels are slumbering. I mean no insolence, by all the gods! My motive only love and sympathy. I, too, am a plebeian, and rejoice To see thy gracious, noble condescension. Yet in my joy I well could weep with pain, Seeing the darkness of thy doubtful future.

_Cor._ Darkness! It is a void as empty as My heart this day is full. Begone, I pray, Each one of you; nay, thou, my Julia, stay And bid the bards perform a soothing lay.

[_Exeunt maids. Sounds of a harp without in soft accompaniment._

_Cor._ Tiberius, come hither unto me.

[_The boy approaches her._

Now kiss me, child, and talk a space with me.

_Tib._ What melancholy broods upon thy brow, Curves thy dear lips, and glooms within thine eyes?

_Cor._ Brother, thou art too young to comprehend.

_Tib._ Mayhap, for I am only twelve years old; Yet I'm no dullard, sister, and I weep Because I see thee sad. Methinks Sicinius Would weep for thee as well.

_Cor._ (_starting in dismay_). Ye gods of love! Does all Italia observe my heart, Which I had deemed secure within my breast? Or possibly (although the gods forbid!) My maidens have been gossiping to thee?

_Tib._ (_disdainfully_). No, never; gossip reacheth not mine ears. But oft I hear thee sigh and then, within The selfsame breath, breathe forth a name I know; A name all Romans know--Sicinius. Ay, and I oft have heard thee sob, although I fain had heard it not, since thou desirest Thy grief held secret. Sister mine, how canst Thou hope to wed a soldier and a pleb?

_Cor._ Alas! Alas! Mine own Tiberius! No hope have I, and yet I love my strength Away--my heart and soul are all aflame With a wild conflagration. Boy, thou seemest Inclined to comprehend my fierce emotions, Bitter despair and strange besieging hope, That scarce is conscious hope, but mocked and crushed By the stern laws of Rome and tyranny Of the false Ten, since ever it was born. Thy bright brown eyes are luminous with soul; Wise, gentle brother, dost thou weep for me?

_Tib._ (_sobbing passionately_). A curse upon those false and dreadful Ten! Cornelia, would that I might succor thee!

_Cor._ Most dear, my brother, weep no more for me; The gods, who love true lovers, do despise Tyrants and murderers, and sure will aid Our cause if we be patient to the end. Time is a greybeard, and he will not haste At any whim, and Fate, a bigot stern, Who acts according to his quick desire; He preys on Innocence as well as Guilt, And none can change the fashion of his ways. [_A pause._ Now, tell me, wast thou playing mariner, But now, and was yon bath a mighty sea?

_Tib._ (_brightly_). I was AEneas, our great forefather, And I was sailing from our ancient Troy. Oft Juno dashed our ships against the rocks In spite, because the Trojans she abhorred; Yet, by a miracle, lo! I was saved.

_Cor._ And didst thou then encounter and escape Scylla's dread arms, Charybdis' frightful jaws?

_Tib._ Ay, and therefrom lost I three goodly men-- Two oarsmen and my helmsman.

_Cor._ Cruel fate! Perchance thou hast survived these perils, so Thou mayst give comfort to thy troubled sister. Methinks--but what familiar sound is that? Surely his voice dismissing his attendant-- And now a knocking on the outer door! The porter cometh nigh. Tiberius, 'Tis he! I dreamed not he could come this day!

_Tib._ Then I'll begone, sister; give me a kiss; I'll seek thee later and relate my voyage. [_Exit._

_Cor._ Ah! gods! I feel as fluttered as a maid Of the plebeians might. Thus do I share The simple nature of his simple class, Through my deep love for him. My haughty mien, Patrician dignity, desert me when Mine own beloved cometh unto me.

(_Voice of porter without._) Most gracious mistress, I await thy pleasure, To usher in a visitor to thee.

_Cor._ (_aside_). I must not seem too eager, comprehensive, Lest e'en my faithful porter, noting it, Let slip without my doors some foolish scandal. [_To porter._ Who is the visitor?

_Porter._ Sicinius.

_Cor._ Admit Sicinius into my presence. [_Enter Sicinius and porter._

(_Aside._) Dear Heaven! My Love! (_Aloud._) Thou Gaius, to thy post Begone! And Julia, do thou too withdraw.

[_Exeunt the two. A silence falls. Cornelia remains seated, a still form, most beautiful, endeavoring to calm her loving passion, one hand upon her bosom and her eyes fixed on the face of Sicinius, who stands motionless with admiration._

Sicinius!

_Sic._ What can I say, oh, God! Thou art too fair, thou art too wondrous fair For me to break the spell. Awake! Awake! Dreamer I am not wont to be, save when Thy beauty casts a web of visions o'er me.

_Cor._ My beauty paleth in the greater light, O my Sicinius, of thy manhood's worth. Awake, indeed, and greet me. I can face Thy gaze no longer; art thou turned to stone?

_Sic._ (_advancing, with his arm outstretched in a sudden warmth of passion_). I turn to stone only upon the day When I can neither claim nor clasp my love. Till then mine arms continue flesh and blood, My lips as warm as thine; thou radiant Soul! (_Embracing her._)

_Cor._ Oh! stay a space! Is every curtain drawn?

_Sic._ I do not know, for thou hast dazzled quite My goodly eyesight, and I only see Cornelia here and there and everywhere.

_Cor._ Alas! I fear so greatly for our love; Pray Heaven thou lose me not entirely!

_Sic._ Nay, rest thee, rest thee, tremble not, beloved. The life of Appius will soon be spanned, And a great wave of revolution shake Rome's center; soon I drop a mighty pebble On her dark surface, and the rings therefrom Into a rush of water thence shall widen.

_Cor._ (_partly rising from her chair, her eyes alight_). The Fates be thanked that now the foul stagnation Of Rome, enslaved, is stirring into life; And _thine_ the hand! Thou'rt worthy of the cause, Thou patriot and model of a man!

_Sic._ Oh! but I love my city and my race! Thank God that my stern duty lieth on The selfsame path as love for thee, my sweet. My conscience and my happiness alike Demand that I should aim to liberate Rome and the Romans from the yoke of men Who are defiling and defiled--the Ten! [_Starts suddenly._ I came, that I might steal one glimpse of thee. The sun is high--I may not tarry more.

_Cor._ So soon departing? Whither wouldst thou go?

_Sic._ Straight to the Forum--then unto the camp. The movements of our foemen, the Sabines, Are grave. Methinks I'll soon be called upon To enter into active services. Farewell, Cornelia! kiss me once again! Sweet mistress, noble lady! fare thee well! [_Exit swiftly._

_Cor._ Gone! Gone! So swiftly, like an eager shaft From Roman bow. Vanished, my gallant love! Where shall I see him when he doth return To me? May Mars attend and favor him, And Victory with laurel wreath adorn His earnest brows. Sicinius, farewell!