Scene 2[Bianca's boudoir in the palace at Fiori. Bianca with a mirror inher hand, having her hair done by a maid. Several maids about,holding perfume-flasks, brushes, and veils, articles of apparel ofone sort or another. Beatrice standing beside her, watching.]BIA. Look at me, Rose-Red. Am I pretty enough,Think you, to marry a King?BEA. You are too pretty.There is no justice in it. Marry a cobblerAnd make a king of him. It is unequal,—Here is one beggarly boy king in his own right,And king by right of you.BIA. Mario is notA beggarly boy! Nay, tell me truly, Beatrice,What do you think of him?BEA. La, by my soul!Have I not told you what I think of himA thousand times? He is graceful enough, I tell you,And hath a well-shaped head.BIA. Nay, is that all?BEA. Nay, hands and feet he hath, like any other.BIA. Oh, out upon you for a surly baggage!Why will you tease me so? You do not like him,I think.BEA. Snow-White! Forgive me! La, indeed,I was but jesting! By my sacred word,These brides are serious folk.BIA. I could not bearTo wed a man that was displeasing to you.Loving him as I do, I could not chooseBut wed him, if he wished it, but 'twould hurt meTo think he did not please you.BEA. Let me, then,Set your sweet heart at rest. You could not findIn Christendom a man would please me more.BIA. Then I am happy.BEA. Aye, be happy, child.BIA. Why do you call me child?BEA. Faith, 'tis the seasonO' the year when I am older than you. BesidesA bride is always younger than a spinster.BIA. A spinster! Do you come here to me, Rose-Red,Whilst I pinch you smartly! You, Arianna, push meHer Highness over here, that I may pinch her![To Loretta.] Nay, is it finished? Aye, 'tis very well.Though not so well, Loretta, as many a dayWhen I was doing nothing!—Nay, my girl,'Tis well enough. He will take me as I amOr leave me as I was.—You may come backIn half an hour, if you are grieved about it,And do it again. But go now,—all of you.I wish to be alone. [To Beatrice.] Not you.[Exeunt all but Bea. and Bia.]Oh, Rose-Red,I trust 'twill not be long before I see youAs happy as you see me now!BEA. Indeed,I could not well be happier than I am.You do not know, maybe, how much I love you.BIA. Ah, but I do,—I have a measure for it!BEA. Ay, for today you have. But not for long.They say a bride forgets her friends,—she cleaves soTo her new lord. It cannot but be true.You will be gone from me. There will be muchTo drive me from your mind.BIA. Shall I forget, then, When I am old, I ever was a child?I tell you I shall never think of youThroughout my life, without such tendernessAs breaks the heart,—and I shall think of youWhenever I am most happy, whenever I amMost sad, whenever I see a beautiful thing.You are a burning lamp to me, a flameThe wind cannot blow out, and I shall hold youHigh in my hand against whatever darkness.BEA. You are to me a silver bell in a tower.And when it rings I know I am near home.Scene 3[A room in the palace. Mario alone. Enter Beatrice.]BEA. Mario! I have a message for you!—Nay,You need not hang your head and shun me, Mario,Because you loved me once a little and nowLove somebody else much more. The going of loveIs no less honest than the coming of it.It is a human thing.MAR. Oh, Beatrice!What can I say to you?BEA. Nay, but indeed.Say nothing. All is said. I need no wordsTo tell me you have been troubled in your heart,Thinking of me.MAR. What can I say to you!BEA. I tell you, my dear friend, you must forgetThis thing that makes you sad. I have forgotten,In seeing her so happy, that ever I wishedFor happiness myself. Indeed, indeed,I am much happier in her happinessThan if it were my own; 'tis doubly dear,I feel it in myself, yet all the timeI know it to be hers, and am twice glad.MAR. I could be on my knees to you a lifetime,Nor pay you half the homage is your due.BEA. Pay me no homage, Mario,—but if it beI have your friendship, I shall treasure it.MAR. That you will have always.BEA. Then you will promise meNever to let her know. I never told herHow it was with us, or that I cherished youMore than another. It was on my tongue to tell herThe moment she returned, but she had seen youAlready on the bridge as she went by,And had leaned out to look at you, it seems,And you were looking at her,—and the first wordsShe said, after she kissed me, were, "Oh, sister,I have looked at last by daylight on the manI see in my dreams!"MAR. [Tenderly.] Did she say that?BEA. [Drily.] Ay, thatWas what she said.—By which I knew, you see,My dream was over,—it could not but be you.So that I said no word, but my quick bloodWent suddenly quiet in my veins, and I feltYears older than Bianca. I drew her headDown to my shoulder, that she might not see my face,And she spoke on, and on. You must not tell her,Even when you both are old, and there is nothingTo do but to remember. She would be witheredWith pity for me. She holds me very dear.MAR. I promise it, Rose-Red. And oh, believe me,I said no word to you last year that is notAs true today! I hold you still the noblestOf women, and the bravest. I have not changed.Only last year I did not know I could loveAs I love now. Her gentleness has crept soInto my heart, it never will be out.That she should turn to me and cling to meAnd let me shelter her, is the great wonderOf the world. You stand alone. You need no shelter,Rose-Red.BEA. It may be so.MAR. Will you forgive me?BEA. I had not thought of that. If it will please you,Ay, surely.—And now, the reason for my coming:I have a message for you, of such vast importShe could not trust it to a liv'ried page,Or even a courier. She bids me tell youShe loves you still, although you have been partedSince four o'clock.MAR. [Happily.] Did she say that?BEA. Ay, Mario.I must return to her. It is not long nowTill she will leave me.MAR. She will never leave you,She tells me, in her heart.BEA. [Happily.] Did she say that?MAR. Ay, that she did, and I was jealous of youOne moment, till I called myself a fool.BEA. Nay, Mario, she does not take from youTo give to me; and I am most contentShe told you that. I will go now. Farewell,Mario!MAR. Nay, we shall meet again, Beatrice!
Scene 4[The ball-room of the palace at Fiori, raised place in back,surmounted by two big chairs, for Lorenzo and Octavia to sit whilethe dance goes on. Dais on one side, well down stage, in full sightof the audience, for Mario and Bianca. As the curtain rises thestage is empty except for Fidelio, who sits forlornly on the bottomsteps of the raised place in the back of the stage, his lute acrosshis knees, his head bowed upon it. Sound of laughter andconversation, possibly rattling of dishes, off stage, evidently afeast going on.]LAU. [Off stage.] Be still, or I will heave a plate at you!LUIGI. [Off stage.] Nay, gentle Laura, heave not the wedding-crockery,At the wedding-guest! Behold me on my kneesTo tell the world I love you like a fool!LAU. Get up, you oaf! Or here's a platter of gravyWill add the motley to your folly!LUIGI. Hold her,Some piteous fop, that liketh not to seeFine linen smeared with goose! Oh, gracious Laura,I never have seen a child sucking an orangeBut I wished an orange, too. This wedding irks meBecause 'tis not mine own. Shall we be marriedTuesday or Wednesday?LAU. Are you in earnest, Luigi?LUIGI. Ay, that I am, if never I was before.LAU. La, I am lost! I am a married woman!Water!—Nay, wine will do! On Wednesday, then.I'll have it as far off as possible.[Enter from banquet-room Guido, Giovanni and Raffaele.]GIO. Well met, Fidelio! Give us a song!FID. Not I!GUI. Why, is this? You, that are dripping with songWeekdays, are dry of music for a wedding?FID. I have a headache. Go and sit in a tree,And make your own songs.RAF. Nay, Fidelio.String the sweet strings, man!GIO. Strike the pretty strings!GUI. Give us the silver strings!FID. Nay then, I will that![He tears the strings off the lute and throws them in Guido's face.]Here be the strings, my merry gentlemen!Do you amuse yourselves with tying knots in themAnd hanging one another!—I have a headache.[He runs off, sobbing.]RAF. What ails him, think you?GIO. Troth, I have no notion.[Enter Nurse.]GUI. What ho, good Grazia! I hear my uncleIs ill again!GRA. Where heard you that, you raven?GUI. Marry, I forget. Is't true?GRA. It is as falseAs that you have forgotten where you heard it.Were you the heir to his power, which I bless GodYou're not!—he'd live to hide the throne from youFull many a long day yet!—Nay, pretty Guido,Your cousin is not yet Queen,—and when she is—Faith,She weareth a wide petticoat,—there'll beScant room for you beside her! [Exit Nurse across stage]GUI. [To his companions.] None the lessI do believe the king is ill.RAF. Who told you?GUI. His wife. She is much exercised about him.GIO. 'Tis like enough. This woman would rather lieThan have her breakfast served to her in bed.[Exeunt Guido, Giovanni and Raffaele.][Music. Enter Musicians and take place on stage. Enter four pagesand take places on either side the door as from the banquet-hall andon either side the throne in the back. Enter King and Queen, that isto say Lorenzo and Octavia, Lorenzo apparently quite well, and seatthemselves on throne in back. Enter courtiers and ladies, Carlottawith Anselmo, Laura with Luigi, etc., and stand in little groupsabout the stage, laughing and talking together. Enter Beatricealone, her train held by two pages in black. Enter twelve littleCupids, running, and do a short dance in the center of the room,then rush to the empty dais which is awaiting Mario and Bianca, andcluster about it. Enter Bianca and Mario, she in white and silver,with a deep sky blue velvet train six yards long, held up by sixsilver pages [or Cupids]; he in black and gold, with a purple velvettrain of the same length held by six gold pages [or Cupids]. His armis about her waist, she is leaning back her head against him andlooking up into his face. They come in slowly, talking softlytogether, as utterly oblivious of the court, the pages, the music,everything, as if they were a shepherd and a shepherdess walkingthrough a meadow. They walk slowly across the stage and seatthemselves on the dais. The music changes, strikes up a gay pavane,or the equivalent of the period of the costumes, the ladies andcourtiers dance. Guido, Giovanni and Raffaele re-enter just as themusic starts and go up to the ladies; Guido goes to Beatrice, andshe dances with him. In the midst of the dance Lorenzo slips alittle sidewise in his chair, his head drops forward on his chest;he does not move again. Nobody notices for some time. The dancecontinues, all who are not dancing watching the dancers, saveOctavia, who watches with great pride and affection Bianca andMario, who in turn are looking at one another. Octavia turns finallyto speak to Lorenzo, stares at him, touches him, then screams.Beatrice should then be in a conspicuous place in the dance. Musicstops in confusion on a dischord, dance breaks up wildly, everybodyrushes to throne.]
Scene 5[The same room later that evening, entirely empty, disordered.Musicians' benches overturned, for example, a couple of instrumentsleft about, garlands trampled on the floor, a wing of one of theCupids clinging to the dais of Bianca and Mario. Enter Beatrice,weeping, goes to her father's throne and creeps up into it, with herface towards the back of it and clings there, sobbing quietly. EnterBianca and Mario,]BIA. [Softly.] Ay. She is here. I thought she would be here.There are so many people by his bedEven now, she cannot be alone with him.MAR. Is there no hope?BIA. Nay, there is none. 'Tis over.He was a kind old man.MAR. Come, let us go,And leave her to herself.BIA. Nay, Mario.I must not leave her. She will sit like thatAll night, unless I bid her come away,And put her into bed.MAR. Will you come to meAfter she sleeps?BIA. Ay. If she sleeps,MAR. And if not?BIA. I could not leave her.MAR. Bianca, do you love me?BIA. Ay, Mario!MAR. Ah, but not as I love you!BIA. You do not mean that, Mario; you knowHow much I love you. But I could not be happyThinking of her awake in the darkness, weeping,And all alone.MAR. Oh, my sweet love.BIA. It may beShe will sleep.MAR. I shall be waiting for you. [They embrace.][Exit Mario. Bianca goes to Beatrice and sits at thefoot of the throne, putting her head against Beatrice'sfeet.]BIA. Sister.[After a moment Beatrice slowly reaches down her hand, andBianca takes it.]CURTAIN
Scene 1—Five years later.[A marketplace in Fiori, vegetables, fruits and flowers exposed forsale in little stalls and wagons, crowd of townspeople moving about,talking, laughing, buying. Group of children playing a game in aring. Supper time.]CHILDREN. One, two, three,The dough is in the oven!One, two, three,The bread is on the board!One, two, three.The dough is in the oven!One, two, three,The bread is on the board!One, two, three,All follow me!EUGENIA. Good-even, Giovanitta. Those are beautifulOnions you have there.GIO. Ay, it has been a good yearFor onions.EUG. I am taking seven.GIO. Each year,You buy another onion!EUG. Faith, each yearI have another mouth to thrust it in!Beautiful carrots, too, you have.GIO. Ay, carrotsAre well enough. One cannot complain. 'Tis a good yearFor carrots.CLARA. 'Tis a good year for many things.Prices are low,—but not too low for profit.GIULIANA. And there are fewer taxes than there once wereOn things one cannot live without.ANNA. 'Tis a good QueenWe have, it must be granted.GIO. Ay, and a wise one.GILDA. And pretty, too.GIULIANA. Ho, ho! When did you see her?GILDA. This morning, mother. I was at the edge of the woodWith Beppo, when they rode by to the hunt,Talking together, and laughing.BEPPO. [Calling from across the stage.] And the horsesWith feet like this![Arching his hands and feet to represent a horse stepping delicately.]GILDA. And glittering in the sunshineIn a thousand places, mother! I wanted to tell youWhen we returned, but you had gone to the brookWith the linen. They were so near us we could hear themTalking.BEPPO. [Coming up.] And hear the horses breathe!ANNA. What said they?GILDA. Well, one of them said—what was the name?BEPPO. Anselmo.GILDA. Oh, ay. She said, "Anselmo, am I getting thinnerDo you think? If I be not thinner than I was at starting,I shall descend at once! I like not this;It chatters my teeth."BEPPO. And then she said—GILDA. What said she?Oh, ay,—about the boat.BEPPO. She said, "Next timeI shall go fishing instead of hunting. A boatHath a more mannerly gait!"GILDA. There was one horse, mother,That was all white! There was not one hair upon himThat was not white!GIULIANA. And who was riding that horse?BEPPO. A man. And riding well.GILDA. He was dressed in green,And had a yellow beard. And there was a ladyWith hair the color of Adelina's, brightLike fire. She was dressed in blue, and was most beautiful.BEPPO. And she was mounted on a dappled mare.GILDA. But, oh, it was the Queen that was more lovely—Than any of the rest!GIO. How did you know, now,It was the Queen?GILDA. Nay, but you could not helpBut know! She was not laughing like the rest,—Just smiling; and I would not have been afraidTo toss a flower to her from the wood,If I had had a flower.BEPPO. You knew her, though,Because she was in scarlet. All the world knowsShe wears a scarlet mantle!GILDA. Nay, if that were all,It might have been the Pope!BEPPO. I would it had been.I never saw the Pope.GILDA. You never sawThe Queen until this morning!—Mother, she ridesClothed like a man, almost!BEPPO. With sword at side!GILDA. And, oh, the sword had a jeweled—what is the name of it?BEPPO. Scabbard, of course!GILDA. A jeweled scabbard, mother!I wish I were a queen.BEPPO. Ho, you would makeA proper queen, with that droll nose of yours!GILDA. I know a boy who likes my nose!BEPPO. Ho, ho!He must be a hunch-back!GIULIANA. You must not tease her, Beppo.GILDA. I wish I were queen. If I were a queen,You would not dare to say my nose is droll.BEPPO. It would be, all the same.GIO. You should be contentWith what you have, not cry to rise beyond it.It is a sin to covet.GIULIANA. Being a queen,My bird, is not all riding to the huntOf a sunny morning.ANNA. Nay, 'tis riding backAt times, of a rainy night, to such a burdenOf cares as simple folk have little mind of.GILDA. I'd rather have a queen's cares than my own.BEPPO. Ho, ho! Your cares! What cares have you?GILDA. I haveA brother that will be teasing me all times!'Tis cares enough for one, I tell you.ADELINA. [Across stage.] Beppo!Come help me fetch the milk!GILDA. Oh, Mister Beppo,Your sweetheart calls you! Run and fetch the milk!LEONORA. [From a house, coming out.] Come in to supper, children!RIGO. Oh, not just yet!ELENORA. Father's not home yet!LEONORA. You need not wait for him.LOUIS. May we come out again?LEONORA. [Joining other women.] Ay, for a time.Till it gets dark.RIGO. [To Louis.] 'Tis dark now, almost.LOUIS. Hush!She does not know it.GIULIANA. 'Tis dark now.LEONORA. Ay, I know.I let them play a little after darkSometimes, when the weather's fine. I would not have themAfraid of shadows. They think I do not knowDarkness from light.ELENORA. There's father now!RIGO. I see him![Elenora, Louis and Rigo run off the stage and along the path.]LEONORA. He is late home today. I cannot thinkWhat may have held him. 'Twill be deep night alreadyIn the woods.CESCO. [Off stage, harshly.] Down! Down! Do you run back to your mother!See you not I am in haste?—Hang not upon me!EUG. La! He is in a temper!LEO. I never knew himSo out of patience with them.GIU. He is hungry, maybe.LEO. He is often hungry, but I never knew himSo out of patience. [The children come running back. To Elenora.]Why do you weep, my heart?LUI. Father is someone else tonight.ELENORA. [Weeping.] He pushed me![Enter Cesco, with game on his shoulder, or a basket of mushrooms.]SEVERAL WOMEN. Good-even, Cesco.CES. [To Leonora.] Look you, Leonora,Have we a bed fit for a queen to lie in?LEO. Nay, faith! Not we!GIL. She can have my bed, mother.GIN. Ay, true. There is a bed in my house, Cesco.GIO. What will the queen do here?GIU. I would indeedShe had let us know that she was coming!CES. The QueenKnew not herself. Nor is she coming of herself.They are bringing her,—on a litter of crossed boughs,GIL. She is not dead?CES. Nay. Wounded in the armA little, and in a swoon. But the young KingOf Lagoverde is no more!WOMEN. How so?CES. I tell you my two eyes have looked this dayOn a sad and useless thing!—A fine lad, young,And strong, and beautiful as a lad may be,And king of a fair country, thrust from horseBy a foul blow, and sprawled upon the ground,—Legs wide asunder, fist full of brown mud,Hair in his eyes,—most pitiful unkingly!Bring me a mug of wine, good wife! [Leonora goes out.]GIO. You, Gilda!There is a queen you would not be tonight,I'll warrant you,—the Queen of Lagoverde,With her two fatherless babes!EUG. Nay, now, good Cesco,What is this matter?CES. You'll know it quick enough.They will be bringing the queen here ere I have breathTo tell you. They are coming by the road,I took the mountain-path, and ran.GIU. I must hastenTo put fresh sheets on. [To Gilda.] Look you,—listen wellIf he should talk, and tell me afterwards. [Exit.]EUG. Here comes Horatio! The boats are in.[Some children rush down to the water-side.]A good day, husband?HOR. Ay, a heavy day.What think you of that?—A big one, eh?—Came inWith a school of little fish,—too greedy that time!What happens here?—The air is full of breathing![The men come up from the boats with children clinging to them.Beppo and Adelina return from another direction with the milk.]LEO. [Somewhat proudly.] Cesco will tell you.CES. In a word 'tis this: Today the Queen of Fiori,Returning from the hunt, is set uponBy brigands; where at the King of Lagoverde,Being hunting in that quarter and hearing cries,Comes up to give his aid; in rendering whichHe gives his life as well, and at this moment,On other men's legs, goes heavily home to supper.The Queen of Fiori, wounded, and in a swoonOnly less deep than death itself, comes this way.CROWD. Ay, here they come! [Enter Anselmo.]ANS. Make way, make way, good people—Fall back a little—leave a clear space—give air![Enter Laura and Francesca, Luigi, several gentlemen, severalattendants, four of them bearing a litter on which lies Beatrice, ina scarlet cloak, her hair flowing. Luigi is with Laura, who clingsto him. If possible to arrange, several of the party may lead ontheir horses and lead them off across the stage. The litter is setdown stage in full sight of the audience. Beppo comes down stagenear it, as does also, from another direction, Gilda. Giulianareturns.]ANS. Who has a bed that we may lay her on?She cannot leave this place tonight.GIU. This way, sir.[The attendants pick up the litter and go off, the crowd following.]GIL. [Stealing back.] Hist, Beppo!BEPPO. Ay?GIL. Heard you not something fall,When they picked her up again?BEPPO. Ay, that I did.GIL. What was it, think you? [They search.] Nay, 'twas nearer here.BEPPO. I have it.—'Tis her sword!GIL. The Queen's? Ay,—truly.How beautiful!BEPPO. [Slowly and with awe drawing it from its scabbard.]Look,—there is blood on it!
Scene 2[A room in the palace at Lagoverde. Bianca and her two littledaughters discovered at the rise of the curtain, she in a big chair,they at her feet.]BIA. And so the fairy laid a spell on her:Henceforth she should be ugly as a toad.But the good fairy, seeing this was done,And having in no wise power to alter this,Made all toads beautiful.LITTLE ROSE-RED. They are not beautifulNow, mother!LITTLE SNOW-WHITE. That was in another country!—What country, mother? [Bianca, lost in thought, does not answer.]LITTLE ROSE-RED. Where is father, mother?—I have not seen him in so many days!BIA. Father is gone away.LITTLE ROSE-RED. Will he come back?BIA. Nay. He will not come back. But we shall goWhere he is.LITTLE SNOW-WHITE. Soon?BIA. God grant it may be soon!Now—-shall we play a game?[Enter Octavia.]OCT. Bianca.BIA. Ay.OCT. It is a folly to remain indoorsLike this. You should be out in the sunshine.BIA. Nay.I have no business with the sunshine.OCT. Ah,My daughter, say not so!—The children, then,—They have much need of it, and they have needOf you, at the same time. Take them without.BIA. I do not wish to be in the sunshine.LITTLE SNOW-WHITE. Mother,Come out of doors!OCT. You see, now!BIA. Do you run out, dears,And play at ball. Mother will join you later.LITTLE ROSE-RED. Where is my ball?BIA. Nay, do you not remember?We put it in the ear of the stone griffin,Because he hears too much.LITTLE ROSE-RED. Ay, so we did!LITTLE SNOW-WHITE. Come on, Rose-Red! [Exeunt children.]OCT. It is a curious thingThis friend of yours you rate so monstrous highHas not come nigh you in your sore affliction!BIA. I beg you not to speak of that again,Mother. 'Tis the third time today you have said that,Or hinted at it. And I answer always,"There is some reason for it," as I should answerThough you cried daily till the day of doom,"It is a curious thing!" There is some reason,There is some good reason why she does not come.OCT. Oh, ay, I doubt it not! But there are reasonsAnd reasons!BIA. And what am I to learn from that?OCT. 'Tis scarce by reason of too much love for youShe leaves you friendless in your greatest need.BIA. I cannot say. 'Tis one thing or another.You have no words can turn me to believeShe has forgotten me, or loves me less.'Tis a big thing, to leave me thus alone,—And there is some big reason.OCT. Ay. Oh, ay.'Tis possible she grieves for Mario's deathNo less than you,BIA. [Simply] Ay, it is possible.I mind she told me on my marriage-dayShe was as happy as I.OCT. 'Tis a curious thing,When he was here she came to see you often,But now that he is gone comes not at all.BIA. [Simply.] Ay, it is curious. [Catching Octavia's expression.]BIA. Nay, what evil thingIs in your mind, gives you that evil smile?OCT. Only a little thought.BIA. A little thought,I'll warrant you!—You'd have me to believeShe loved my husband?OCT. Ay, I know she loved him.BIA. It is a lie!OCT. How dare you say I lie!BIA. Oh, do not be so proud! Let us speak truthAt length, a little! We are so garnished upWith courtesies, so over-sauced and seasoned,We cannot taste each other! Why do you tell meA thing like that?—-You have no love for me!OCT. [Weeping,] I love you too much—you are the only thingI do love!BIA. Nay, it is not love of meFor my own self. Else would you do the thingWould make me happiest. You know how I have loved her,Since we were children. You could not be to meWhat she was; one forgets too many things.You could not know my thought. I loved you dearly;But you were hard to love; one never knewWhether you would be hot or cold to touch.Whilst she and I,—oh, we were two young treesSo nearly of a height we had the same worldEver within our vision!—Yet all these years,Even from the time we first went to Fiori,You have been bearing me your little tales,—"She had done this and that, she was thus and so—",Seeking to stir and poison the clear waterOf my deep love for her! And now this thing.Which is not true. But if it had been true,It would not be so out of all reason cruelAs that you should have told me of it now.Nay, do not weep. All day 'tis one of usMaking the other weep. We are two strange,Unhappy women. Come, let us be at peace.[Pause. Bianca rises suddenly.]Mother, farewell a little while. I go nowTo her, seeing that she does not come to me.But not to question her, not to demand,"How comes it this? What can you say to that?"Only to sit beside her, as in the old days,And let her lay her quiet on my heart.
Scene 3[The garden at Fiori, same as in Act I, Scene 1. Discovered seatedon a stone bench in the sunshine, Beatrice, clad in a loose gown,looking very ill. Fidelio sings off stage.]FID. [Singing.]"Let the little birds sing,Let the little lambs play.Spring is here, and so 'tis spring,—But not in the old way.I recall a placeWhere a plum-tree grew,—There you lifted up your faceAnd blossoms covered you.If the little birds sing,And the little lambs play,Spring is here, and so 'tis spring,—But not in the old way."BEA. It is a pretty song. There be some thingsThat even the tortured heart's profoundest anguishCannot bring down from their high place. MusicIs one of them. [Enter Grazia carrying a bowl.]GRA. Now, will you drink this broth,Or will you not? I swear upon my shroud—And 'tis a solemn oath—I never nursedSo vaporous a patient!—Come, my bird!BEA. [Taking the bowl, then setting it down.] Nay, Nurse, I cannot.GRA. Oh, alackaday!What shall I do with you? Come now, and drink meThe pretty broth, my dear!BEA. I will drink it later.'Tis too hot.GRA. Ay, and in a moment 'twill beToo cold! And you'll not drink it! I could cry![Exit Grazia.][Enter Fidelio.]BEA. Fidelio, as you love me, do you drink this,And quickly, man!FID. [With grief.] Oh, my dear mistress!BEA. Drink!FID. [Sadly, drinking.] I best would leave a little, else she'll know'Twas never you.BEA. Ay, so you would. I' faith,It is a knave's trick, but I cannot touch it.Go now, Fidelio, ere she come again.[Exit Fidelio.][Enter Bianca.]BIA. [Softly.] Rose-Red.[Beatrice looks up and listens, thinking it a dream.]BIA. Rose-Red, dear sister!BEA. [Bowing her head and weeping.] Oh, my heart!BIA. [Coming towards her.] Why do you weep?BEA. [Looking up startled and seeing her, jumping to her feet.]Oh, no! Oh, God above!Go back! Go back!BIA. [Amazed, quietly.] Beatrice, are you mad?'Tis I, Bianca.BEA. [More quietly.] Ay, I know 'tis you.And you must go away.BIA. [Breaking down.] You are mad, my dear!BEA. I would I were. For madmen have their momentsOf light into the brain.—Hear me. Bianca,You must return at once to Lagoverde,And come to me no more, and think of meNo more.BIA. Ay. I will go. But ere I goTell me you do not love me, 'Tis apparentYou do not. I but wish to hear the words.BEA. Nay, that I will not say. It would be well,To say it, and let it be. But I'll not say it,It is not true.BIA. You love me still?BEA. I love youMore than all else on earth. But I have wronged youSo hugely that I cannot think of itAnd stand here talking with you—I am ill—[She staggers.]You must pardon me—I have been very ill—BIA. Then it is true?BEA. [With a cry as of relief.] Ay, it is true! Who told you?BIA. My mother told me. I said it was not true.But if 'tis true—I pity you, Rose-Red,I pity him. I pity us all together.BEA. [Feverishly.] Ah, I can see it now!—the quiet roadIn the deep wood's gathering darkness, the reins looseOn the horses' necks, that nodded, nodded, and weSpeaking from time to time, and glad to thinkOf home,—and suddenly out of nowhere,—fury,And faces, and long swords, and a great noise!And even as I reached to draw my sword,The arm that held the scabbard set on fire,As if the sleeve were burning!—and my horseBacking into the trees, my hair caught, twisted,Torn out by the roots! Then from the road behindA second fury! And I turned, confused,Outraged with pain, and thrust,—and it was Mario!BIA. [Wildly.] What are you saying? What are you saying? What is thisYou are telling me? That it was you? Your hand—?Oh, God have mercy upon me! Let me go!BEA. [Pitifully, reaching out her arms towards her.]Snow-White! Snow-White!—farewell!BIA. [Without turning.] Oh, God have mercy![Exit Bianca.][Beatrice falls unconscious to the floor.]CURTAIN
Scene 1[A room in the palace at Fiori. Anselmo and Luigi.]LUIGI. Nay, is that true, Anselmo?ANS. Aye, 'tis true.But no one saw save me, I drew her swordOut of his heart and thrust it in its scabbard,Where she lay senseless.LUI. Oh, unhappy Queen!ANS. Ay, she does not forget. Has it not struck youShe rides no more? Her black horse stands in stable,Eating his head off. It is two years nowSince she has visited Lagoverde; and the QueenOf Lagoverde comes not nigh this place.LUI. There's not the reason that there was to comeBefore Octavia's death.ANS. Nay, 'tis not that.LUI. Think you that Beatrice told her?ANS. Ay,I doubt it not.LUI. 'Tis hard. They were close friends.ANS. And since that day her hand upon the scepterTrembles,—and Guido sees. She goes too muchAmong the people, nursing them. She loves them;Their griefs are hers, their hearts are hers, as well.But Guido has a following in this courtThat hangs upon his word, and he has taught themHer gentleness is weakness, and her loveFaint-hearted womanish whims, till they are eagerTo pull her down, and see a man in place of her.LUI. Her throne is like a raft upon a sea,That shifts, and rights itself, and may go downAt any moment.ANS. The more especiallyFor all these drowning beggars that cling to it,Chattering for help. She will not strike them off.LUI. Unhappy Queen. And there's a storm approaching,If ever I smelled wind.ANS. I fear it Luigi.[Exeunt Anselmo and Luigi. Enter Guido and Francesco.]FRA. How do I know you love her still?—I know,The way you fall a-tapping with your fingers,Or plucking at your eye-brows, if her nameIs spoken, or she move across the court.How do I know?—Oh, Guido, have I learned youSo little, then, in all these bitter years?I know you very well.GUI. You know too muchI'll have an end of this, I tell you!FRA. Ay.You've told me that before.—An end of what?What is this thing you'll put this mighty end to?'Fore God I would I know. Could I but name it,I might have power to end it then, myself!GUI. I'll have an end of these soft words at twilight,And these bad mornings full of bile! I'll have an endOf all this spying on me!FRA. [Gently.] 'Tis not so.I do not spy upon you. But I see youBigger than other men, and your least gesture—A giant moving rocks.—Oh, Guido, tell meYou do not love her! Even though I knowYou lie, I will believe you,—for I must!GUI. [Pause.] Nay, I am done with you. I will tell you nothing.Out of my way!—I have that on my mindWould crush your silly skull like the shell of an egg!Od's body, will you keep your ugly clawsFrom scratching at my sleeve?[He thrusts her roughly aside and rushes out.]FRA. [Creeping away, sobbing.] Oh, God—oh, God—I would whatever it is, that were over.[Exit.][Enter Fidelio, and crosses the stage, singing.]FID. [Singing.]"Rain comes downAnd hushes the town.And where is the voice that I heard crying?Snow settlesOver the nettles.Where is the voice that I heard crying?Sand at lastOn the drifting mast.And where is the voice that I heard crying?Earth nowOn the busy brow.And where is the voice that I heard crying?"[Exit Fidelio.]
Scene 2
[The court-room in the palace at Fiori, extremely crowded with restless and expectant people. The crowd is arranged on both sides of the stage, in such a way that a broad avenue is left in the middle, leading from the footlights to the back of the stage and gradually narrowing to a point at Beatrice's throne. On the extreme right and left of the stage, along the back of the crowd, stands the guard, a large body of armed soldiers, at attention, in double row. On either side the throne stands an armed soldier. As the curtain rises the court is all standing and looking off stage in a certain direction. Enter the Queen, Beatrice, from that direction, walks in, looking straight ahead, goes to the throne and seats herself. The court sits. The clerk begins to read.]
CLERK. The first case to be heard is that of Lisa,A widow with two small children, who residesNear the Duke's wood, and has been caught in the actOf cutting trees there, and hauling them home to burn.BEA. Stand, Lisa. You are a widow, I am told.With two small children.LISA. Ay, your Majesty,Two little boys.BEA. I know another widow, Lisa,With two small children,—but hers are little girls.Have you been cutting trees on the Duke's land?LISA. No, Majesty. I could not cut a tree.I have no axe.BEA. And are you strong enoughTo break a tree with your hands?LISA. No, Majesty.BEA. I see. What do you do, then? There must beSome reason for this plaint.LISA. I gather woodThat's dead,—dried boughs, and underbrush that's beenA long time on the ground, and drag it home.BEA. Have you a wood-pile?LISA. Nay. I gather enoughEach day for the day's need. I have no timeTo gather more.BEA. And does the dry wood burnAs well as other wood?LISA. Oh, better!BEA. I see.You would as lief, then, have this wood you gather,This dead wood, as a green tree freshly cut?LISA. Ay, I would liefer have it, Majesty.I need a fire quickly. I have no timeTo wait for wood to season.BEA. You may sit down,LISA. Is the Duke's agent here?AGENT. Ay, here.BEA. What is it the Duke's custom to have doneWith this dead wood on his estate?AGENT. He burns it,Your Majesty.BEA. You mean to say, I think,He pays a price to have it gathered and burned.AGENT. Ay, Majesty.BEA. Where is it burned?AGENT. In a clearing.BEA. And what is cooked upon it?AGENT. Nothing is cooked.The Duke is not a gypsy. [With irritation.][Pause.][Slight titter in court-room, instantly hushed into profound silence.]BEA. [Evenly.] If he were,He would be shrewder, and not be paying moneyFor what this woman is glad to do for naught.Nothing is cooked, and nobody is warmed,—A most unthrifty fire! Do you bid the Duke,Until he show me sounder cause for plaint,Permit this woman to gather unmolestedDead wood in his forest, and bear it home.—Lisa,Take care you break no half-green boughs.—The next case?CLERK. Is that of Mario, a miller, accusedOf stealing grain. A baker, by name Pietro,Brings this complaint against him,MESSENGER. [Rushing in and up to throne.] Majesty,Bianca of Lagoverde lies a-dying,And calls for you!BEA. [Rising.] She calls for me?MESSENGER. Ay, Majesty.[Beatrice stands very still a moment, then turns to the townspeople.]BEA. [Earnestly and rapidly,] You people, do you go now and live kindlyTill I return. I may not stay to judge you;Wherefore I set you free. For I would ratherA knave should go at large than that a just manBe punished. If there be a knave among you,Let him live thoughtfully till I return.[She steps down from the throne, and is immediatelyseized by the arm on either side by the two guards whohave been standing beside the throne.]BEA. Why, what is this, Enrico? [Looking up at the soldier on her right.]Nay, it is notEnrico! [Looking to other side.] Nor is it Pablo! How is this?[From each side of the stage one row of the doublerow of soldiers detaches itself, marches down around thefront of the stage and up towards the throne, making anarmed alley for the Queen to walk down, and entirelysurrounding the crowd.]Nay, all new faces. So! Upon my word,And keep your fingers from me!—I see you there,Angelo! Do not turn your head aside!And you, Filippo!—Is the sick hand betterI bound the bandage on?—Is't well enoughTo draw a sword against me?—Nay, I am sick.I, that have loved you as your mothers love you—And you do this to me! Lead me away.[The two guards lead out the Queen. Nobody else moves. Thetownspeople cower and stare. The two little pages that bore hertrain as she entered remain back of the throne, not knowing what todo. As she goes by them, her train dragging on the ground, the tworagged little boys of Lisa, the wood-gatherer, run out from thegroup of citizens, pick up the ends of her train, and go out,holding it up, one of them with his arm over his eyes.]
Scene 3[A dungeon. Beatrice alone, sitting on a bench, her head bowed inher hands. Enter Guido]BEA. Guido, is't you!GUI. Ay, it is I, my Queen.You sent for me, am I mistake not?BEA. Ay.Guido, you will not keep me when I tell youSnow-White is dying and calls my name!GUI. I knew that.BEA. You knew that, and you hold me here. Oh, Heaven!What are you?GUI. I am a man. You should have thoughtOf that before. I could have been your friendIf it had pleased you. Failing that, I amYour enemy. I am too aware of you,And have been ever, to hold me in at less.BEA. Guido. I beg of you upon my kneesTo let me go!GUI. And why should I do that?BEA. For pity's sake!GUI. I do not know the word.BEA. Then for the sake of my sworn hand and sealUpon a paper yielding fair to youThis sovereignty you prize. It is to meLittle enough tonight. I give it gladly.GUI. You have no power to give what I have takenAlready, and hold upon my hand, Rose-Red,BEA. Oh, do not call me that! Oh, Guido, Guido,I cannot suffer further! Let me go!If only for a moment, let me go!I will return,—I will but take her hand,And come away! I swear it! Let me go!GUI. On one condition only.BEA. Ay! 'Tis granted,Ere it is spoken!GUI. That upon returningYou come to me, and give yourself to me,To lie in my arms lovingly. [She is stricken speechless.] You hear?To lie in my arms lovingly.BEA. Oh, God!GUI. It is my only word.BEA. Oh, God! Oh, God!GUI. 'Tis granted?BEA. Nay,—I cannot! I will dieInstead. Oh, God, to think that she will lie thereAnd call for me, and I will never come!GUI. Goodnight. [He goes to door.]BEA. [In a quiet voice.] Guido!It shall be as you say.GUI. [Rushing to her.] Ah, Beatrice!BEA. Nay, touch me not yet.I will return. [She laughs like a child.] Why,—'tis a simple matter!I wonder now that even for a momentI held myself so dear! When for her sakeAll things are little things!—This foolish body,This body is not I! There is no I,Saving the need I have to go to her!