O fires that build upon the seaTill wave and foam of ye are part,And burn in mated ecstasy,Ye build again within my heart.O clouds that breathe in flame and runIn linkèd dreams along the skyIn me the fire is never done,Though Eve's gray hand soon puts ye by.Christ be my Hand of Eve uponThe flame that tireless, fadeless leaps!Haste holily, O Mary's moon,With dew for fire that never sleeps!
O fires that build upon the seaTill wave and foam of ye are part,And burn in mated ecstasy,Ye build again within my heart.
O clouds that breathe in flame and runIn linkèd dreams along the skyIn me the fire is never done,Though Eve's gray hand soon puts ye by.
Christ be my Hand of Eve uponThe flame that tireless, fadeless leaps!Haste holily, O Mary's moon,With dew for fire that never sleeps!
[Ardia keeps a listening attitude, not heeding the entrance of her brothers who come on left]
Char.Well, sons?
Bion.Ay, well! That is the word we bring.Avesta's prince, the gracious Banissat,Is now your sworn defender.
Ard.[Turning]And asks no price?
Bion.No more than your fair self, my sister.
Vig.[As Ardia stands silent]You doubt?'Tis true. He'll make you princess!
Ard.He is old....
Bion.What call you old? He's in the fairest topOf manhood.
Vig.Old!
Ard.And cannot sing....
Vig.Not sing!
Ard.What need have we of him? Can Oswald scaleThese rock-barred heights?
Vig.Starvation can.
Ard.We've foodWill last three harvest moons.
Bion.And Oswald campsWhere plain and sea will feed ten thousand menAs many years.
Vig.While here our skeletonsWith bleachèd grin may watch the feast below!
Ard.To starve ... is that so terrible? 'Tis butOne way of dying.
Vig.Dying?
Char.Say no more.The morrow's dawn shall light my way to Oswald.
Bion.You'll go to him? Then death!
Vig.[To Ardia]See what you do?
Ard.Forgive me. [Runs to her father and clings to him]Now! Bind me to Banissat.
Char.Nay, thou art free.
Bion.[To Ardia]Our lives shall thank you.
Vig.Thanks?You speak her part.
[Ardia leaves her father and moves to edge of parapet]
Bion.[Following her] Dost know a better way?
Ard.I pray you, leave me.
Vig.Princess of Avesta!
Ard.Your supper waits.
Vig.[Starting right] Come, brother!
Char.Though I've supped,I'll sit with you, my sons. Discourse is everThe best dish at the board.
Bion.We thank you, sir.
[Exeunt Biondel, Vigard, Charilus, right]
Ard.And am I wooed and won? Dreams of a dream,Where are ye now?... A lover with no song.No carols stealing sweetness from the moon;No trembling hand to drop a morning roseWhere I may walk.[Takes a rose from her bosom and casts it away]No rose.... no Vairdelan!
[Re-enter Gaina]
Gaina.Here, mistress? Dearie dear, a-weeping?
Ard.No.
Gaina.Say you were, 'twere a better sight than this fetching of dry sighs. They 'most take the skin of a woe that a little tear-water would bring up easy enough.
Ard.O, Gaina, Gaina, did you see my mother buried?
Gaina.Ay, 'twas a sweet grave we laid her in over in Corinth. You'll never make as pretty a corpse, my dear.
Ard.Was I there?
Gaina.Troth, you were, and trouble enough you gave me. You wanted to climb into the coffin and go to sleep too, you said.
Ard.O, had you buried me with her I should not have seen this day!
Gaina.Most like you wouldn't. Come, honey dove, come to your room and brighten yourself a bit. There's the new veil just begging to be looked at. I'll put it on you, and——
Ard.No, I don't want you. [Going, right]
Gaina.O, ho, I can read his name you do want, and not kill a bird for it either.
Ard.[Turning] Who, magpie? Who?
Gaina.Your eyes may save my tongue if they squint sou'west.
Ard.Is he coming?
Gaina.Who, my cuckoo? Who?
[Bertrand enters left. Ardia starts off right]
Ber.Ardia!
Ard.[Weakly, pausing at her door] Vairdelan....
Ber.Will not you stay?
Ard.I will return. [Exit]
Ber.Your mistress is not well?
Gaina.You've eyes, sir.
Ber.This fear of Oswald——
Gaina.Her trouble's nearer home, sir.
Ber.Her father——
Gaina.Nay, it wears no beard, though it may in time.
Ber.What troubles her, dear Gaina?
Gaina.A man, my lord.
Ber.A man!
Gaina.There, don't feel for your sword, for that's at home, and I never heard yet of spitting a man with a flute, though it may e'en go to the heart of a woman if she be young and soft like my mistress.
Ber.The truth, Gaina!
Gaina.I can spare it, sir. My master's daughter is so in love with you——
Ber.Angels do not love!
Gaina.That may be. I'm speaking of my mistress, "Magpie!" Not meaning you, sir.
Ber.She can not love me!
Gaina.That's what I said—at first. A roaming creature with only his cloak for shelter, though it's a good gentleman's weave, I'll allow, and I know you'll go away before her poor heart gets too heavy for carrying. It's nigh that now, and before you came it was so light she was tripping and chirping till I could 'a' sworn she had no heart at all—just toes and wings. And now, dear soul,—but you'll go, sir? You know you'd have to hunt the door soon enough if her brothers got a breath of what's between you.
Ber.There's nothing between us!
Gaina.A bat could see it by daylight. It's been in your eyes all the time.
Ber.I never meant it!
Gaina.Shame to you then. You'll go, sir?
Ber.Yes, yes, yes!
Gaina.Here's my lady. Now don't tell her you're going. Just go.
Ber.Just ... go.
Gaina.[At right] Ay, you've got it.
[Exit Gaina as Ardia re-enters]
Ard.My brothers are at supper. Will you join them,Or do you fast?
Ber.I fast.
Ard.A stern religionIs yours, my friend.
Ber.I've chosen it. Ardia,You know me for a knight.
Ard.[Softly] Who wears no sword.
Ber.But in the English isle where I was born,I was a monk ... and true. True am I now,Save that my cell is what men call the world.
Ard.Spare speech and me. I know the rest.
Ber.Your prayersThen be my bond that Christ may search my heartAnd find no part not his.
Ard.No prayer of mineShall fetter youth to bloodless vows. And youLook not as one faith-leeched of life. Your cheekIs sudden gray, not changeless pale. 'Tis huedLike rebel morning pushing back a dawnToo eager for its peace. A monk. Our waysPart as our souls. Know you I am to wedPrince Banissat? So dumb?My father comes![Meets Charilus re-entering and leads him to a seat]Our guest was telling me of English days.Now you change tongue with him and speak the taleYou promised yester night. Why does this Oswald,This war-mad lord of England, on his wayTo free the holy tomb, forget his pathAnd turn his army's strength against a manNo greater than thyself?
Char.Yes, you shall know.
Ard.At last!
Char.For morning parts us.
Ard.Oh! Not that!
Ber.Shall I go in, my lord?
Char.Nay, Vairdelan.I'd have thee hear. Thou thinkest me a manOf holy heart.
Ard.Ah, who does not?
Char.There's oneHas cause for doubt. 'Twas I who slew in rageEarl Oswald's father.
Ard.You? These hands?
Char.These hands.
Ber.I've heard 'twas so.
Ard.You've heard?
Char.'Tis thirty yearsSince Oswald, with his father, John of Clyffe,Marched in Red Giles' crusade. You know of that?
Ber.My grandsire captained there.
Char.I served not Christ,At least as they, with pillage, fire and rape.But there were some among the English youthsWho took my heart, and Oswald was my choiceOf all who camped before the holy gates.
Ard.That man!
Char.I, too, was young ... and I was wed.Not to my Ardia's mother, but to herWhose heart yet boldly beats in my two sons.In her strange beauty John of Clyffe found death.He sought her, and I slew him. When his bloodRan at my feet, I fled,—not from the swordsHot on my path, but from that stream of blood.
Ard.Dear, dear my father! 'Twas a world ago!
Char.I was not of the many who can killAnd laugh again, nor yet of hermit-heart.But for myself had made a gentle godWhom my soul served.
Ber.I know, my lord, that sweetIdolatry, and dream what thou didst sufferSo shaken from it.
Char.Far as man knows the worldI fled the scarlet stream that followed me,And on the skyward slope of Himalay,Between the white of snows and blue of heaven,Saw it no more.
Ard.[Kissing his hands] O, white, forgiven hands!
Char.There, near to God as man may come nor loseThe body's mould, I saw in solvent thoughtThat knows not time, a sinless star,—this earthThat shall be. Back unto my world I came,And that my dream might live I lived my dream,Servant to love even where the slaves of hateWhet sword and knife.
Ard.O, true!
Ber.'Tis sung of thee!
Char.Now am I old, but love does not deny meOne service more. To-morrow I shall goTo die at Oswald's feet——
Ber.[Eagerly]You will go down?
Ard.No, no! He shall not go! Prince BanissatWill save him! He has promised!
Ber.[Gazing at Ardia] Banissat?So 'twas a bargain. Thou'rt fair goods to beOn th' vender's table. [Turns to Charilus]You choose well, my lord.
Ard.What words!
Ber.I bring a message from th' earl.
Ard.From Oswald? [Shrinking] You know him?
Ber.If any manMay know him,—but I better know his son.
Ard.The vicious Bertrand?
Ber.Vicious?
Ard.O, so foulHe shuns the day, and walks on moonless nightsMost like his soul!
Ber.You speak of Bertrand?
Ard.Ay!More wolfish than his father,—beast whose swordShould be his body's part as tigers wearTheir claws from birth!
Ber.A bold delusion this!
Char.She speaks untempered rumor. Slander, sir,Is out of breath with sporting Bertrand's name,And giveth way to winds that blow it pastBelief's last border.
Ard.Slander?
Ber.What will shakeThese fancies from your heart?
Ard.A miracle.Naught less.
Ber.Hard terms. [Turns to Charilus]I know this Bertrand well.If any happy merit in myselfHas won your love, bestow the same on him.What I may share is his.
Char.Here's living hope!
Ber.He, like myself, was cloister-bred, and passedPeaceful, uncounted days until the deathOf his three brothers, slain in one mad hour.Earl Oswald then bethought him of the sonSo early given to Christ. "I have no heir,"He said, "but God lacks not for monks." And straightWith power and gold bought full release for Bertrand,Save that release his soul and God might give.
Char.You make me love his story.
Ber.True to peaceEven in the camp of war, he lives withdrawn,And so gives Rumor sweep for what she would,While in her swollen report the earl concealsHis monkish son's true nature.
Char.I'll know this youth!
Ber.He keeps his tent by day, and steals at nightTo forest glens, his armor but a cloak,His sword a flute——
Ard.O, light from Heaven!
Ber.SometimesHe farther goes, even far as Kidmir heights,And at the feet of Charilus he learnsA love more true than fane and cloister taught,—The love that made the houseless, barefoot Christ,With open breast to all unbrothered woe,—And now he kneels and of that gentlest loveAsks pardon.
Char.Bertrand, son of Oswald, rise.There's no forgiving in the sinless star.
Ber.[Rising, to Ardia] And you?
Ard.Ah ... when I've breath!
Ber.What I have said,My lord, makes way for what is yet to say.To-day I waited by Avesta's gateFor this [taking out paper] my father's word, response to mineSent days ago to him. Here, sir, he says: [Reads]
"Son of my hope, your words are not more strange to me than these I write with my own hand. If Charilus will come to Suli Castle, the which my swords have taken while you sang and slept, my door shall open to him as Kidmir gates have opened unto you. By Christ, I swear the treatment that he gave my blood he shall have again from me. But if he come not down, then shall I reach him through Avesta's heart, and the love he now spurns will be cold in my sword. Despatch this, I pray you, for I would hasten to Jerusalem, leaving you my conquered princedom, whose head is Ilon and whose foot is the city of Ramoor. Thine as thy heart speaks, Oswald."
Char.Your father's hand?
Ber.Doubt flies from it, althoughThe vein is alien, sir. It is his hand.And, I do think, his heart, wherein, my lord,Your gentleness to me, like creeping rain,Has moistened love's dry root, whose pent-up bloomIs by that nurture freed, and magicalNow glows before us.
Char.This I would believe. [Starts off right]Vigard and Biondel must have this newsFrom my slow lips, lest with the sudden truthThey strike ablaze. They have their mother's fire.Albanian Gartha was not one to dieAnd leave her sons no part in her wild race. [Exit]
Ber.You are not Gartha's daughter?
Ard.No, my lord.Claris of Corinth bore me, and my flameIs joy, not anger. O, this miracleYou've wrought for me!
Ber.I wrought?
Ard.'Tis no less strangeWhen God through his bare tool reveals his hand,Than when invisible his power stirsAnd makes a chasm in sense. So when you stoodBefore me, Bertrand's self, with yet the voice,The eyes, the heart of Vairdelan, I knewThat was my miracle. O Heaven-signAt which my world grew blithe and shook May-boughsWith birds in every branch!
Ber.You've no more fearFor Charilus?
Ard.None, none.Nor for myself.
Ber.Yourself?
Ard.O, seems no soul need trouble nowIn this vast world!
[Re-enter Charilus and sons]
Bion.You are not Vairdelan?
Vig.You're Bertrand, Oswald's son?
Ber.'Tis true.
Vig.That truthShould cut your throat, and I could lend my swordFor such a matter.
Bion.Come! What knightly pleaCoats this deceit with honor?
Ber.None, my lord.If I've made trespass deeper than your loveWill bear me out, my hope is in your pardon.
Bion.A lie made you our guest, and guest you areUntil we meet on Suli plain.
Char.My son!
Ard.Call you that pardon, Biondel?
Bion.I speakNo pardon.
Ard.But you shall—you must. O, say it!You know our father goes to Oswald.
Vig.KnowThat fools and women talk! The gates are sealed.
Bion.I'll guard the pass against my father's selfIf so much rudeness may make stand betweenHis death and life.
Char.My sons, I thank your love,But I go down. The guards, the gates are mine,And to my will they open.
Vig.'Tis that girl,That silvery Greek——
Char.If your quick blood must stir,Let manners grace it.
Ard.O, my dearest brothers,Do you not love me?
Bion.Better than you know.We love you, serve you, though yourself obstructThe way to safety.
Vig.You would trust the manWho wrapped him in a lie to enter here?Sat at our father's board and brake his breadTo feed an enemy?
Ber.The bread I brakeFed friendship's heart in me, and made this roofA temple. Do you not know me, Vigard?
Vig.Nay,I knew a Vairdelan—you are not he.
Bion.If Oswald means no harm to Charilus,Let him pass on. Jerusalem awaitsHis savage sword.
Char.My son, that Oswald thusCompels me to him is to me but proofThat hearts may greet above long years of hate.In this I see Love beckoning Man acrossThe wastrel lands of war to fields unwetWith blood, to days——
Vig.Unhearted cowards then!Praise Allah, we yet live where rapiers threshThe fields of men and leave the bravest standing!Is 't not the Prophet's word that ParadiseLies 'neath the shade of swords?
Char.Allah be yours!But I would walk beneath unrisen stars,Beyond hate's eyeless clouds——
Bion.O, spare us, sir!Each day brings its own sun, and by that light,No other, men must walk. If this our timeBe dark to you, 'tis in your vision, notIn the lit heavens, from whose shoreless depthNo hook of prayer or prophecy may drawOne star before its hour. Pray you be doneWith this moon madness. Banissat will meetThe force of Oswald. With the morn he comesTo seal his troth with Ardia——
Char.By no wordOf mine. If you have given him pledge, your honorShall dip to dust and drudge your forfeit out,Ere virgin bondage pay it. Hark, Biondel,And hear me, Vigard! I alone shall meetEarl Oswald. If the blood I shed yet criesFor blood, here are the veins shall make it dumb.
Bion.But, sir,——
Char.No more. Your sister stays with you.Regard her will, nor ope these doors unbiddenTo Banissat.
Ard.I stay? O, never thinkI shall not go with thee!
Char.You go?
Ard.I'm safeWith thee, my father. Here....
Vig.Here you have brothers!
Ard.I mean no slight upon you, but my fateKeeps with my father.
Char.I should doubt the GodWho bids me go if I denied you this.Thyself art Peace, and where thou goest movesHer radiance. Make you ready. And good-night, all!Sir Bertrand, know the sleep that fits the heartFor journeying. [Exit right, rear]
Vig.[To Ardia] There's one will stop your way—Prince Banissat!
Bion.We'll send him word this hour,For while the edge be on his sudden loveHe'll thank us to be swift.
Ber.You loved me once,My lords.
Bion.True, son of Oswald.
Ber.Though you usedSome bitter words, I know your inmost heartHolds me a man undoubted. There I'm stampedIn honor's verity; and when I vow,By my soul's faith, that Charilus is safe,You know 'tis truth.
Bion.Be you our father's hostage,If this mad thing must be. Stay you with us,And we are silent.
Ard.Stay? You ask too much.
Vig.No fear, soft sister. Mark him. We're refused.He'll stuff the air with words, not clear it withOne pinch of proof.
Ber.My lords, were I to stay,'Twould make an act of faith lose point and purpose,And blazon doubt before my father's face.
Vig.You mark?
Ber.'Twould louder cry of war; uprootLove's seedling in its tenderest hour, and makeOnce more the bane and night-weed spring. But hearAn oath of mine. If Charilus meet harmIn Oswald's camp, I shall return and askThe same stroke from your hands.
Ard.O, do not swear!
Ber.By every hope I have to enter Heaven,By the right hand of God, by this white crossThat knew my mother's last, death-holy kiss,By every sacred thing I know and love,If Charilus comes up these heights no more,Here shall I lay my life beneath your sword.
[Barca re-enters right]
Barca.[To Bertrand] The master asks a word with you, my lord.
[Exit Bertrand with Barca]
Ard.Will you accept his oath?
Vig.Go to your room.
Bion.We'll talk alone.
Ard.Nay, hear me first. You thinkTo force me to the arms of Banissat.Give over that wild thought.
Bion.'Twas not so wildAn hour ago.
Ard.Fate lifts the hand that laidCompulsion on me. I am free. O, free!No strait of life or death can make me lessThan mistress of myself.
Bion.Our destinyIs bound with Banissat. Make him our foe,And where shall we find peace? Not on these peaks.
Ard.Is he our jailer then? This Banissat?Our prison his good favor? Nay, the worldHas many roads, and courage even yetMay blaze a new one.
Bion.Rooted life is best.I am not one to make my bed on winds,Or stroll the earth for fortune's grudgèd scrapsSnatched from a rapier's point.
Ard.Know this. My handShall never lie in Banissat's. Give upA hope so barren. There's better pasturageFor wits so bold as yours. Now Oswald holdsThe breadth of Suli plain, the heights of Tor,Winged by the sea from Ilon to Ramoor—A principality whose circuit leavesAvesta as a fly pinned to a wall.
Vig.What's Oswald's fief to us? We are no sons of his.
Ard.Lord Bertrand holds the princedom hereWhile Oswald goes to wars in Palestine.
Bion.He told you this?
Ard.Did you not read as muchIn Oswald's letter? There 'twas plainly said.
Bion.Still is our surest hope with Banissat.
Ard.When Bertram! is your friend? O, more than friend!A brother!
Bion.Ah ... do you say "brother"?
Ard.TrueAs though he had been born our father's son!
Bion.[To Vigard] You hear?
Vig.With more than ears.
Bion.We have been blind.
Vig.A brother!
Bion.All is clear enough, now thatWe've eyes for it. Your pardon, sister.
Ard.Pardon?
Bion.Pray you! We thought your scorn of BanissatMarked you of creeping spirit, when your aimShot o'er our lowered eyes.
Vig.Ay, she has spedBefore our boldest care of her, and leftOur duty lurching.
Ard.These are drunken words.
Vig.If you would wed Lord Bertrand,——
Ard.O, you think....
Bion.Your hope has shown its wing. Best bid it fly.
Vig.Speak without fear. This changes all.
Ard.You meanYou'll not delay us? You will let us go?
Vig.And speed you too! High stroke, this anxious hourTo journey in his care!
Bion.Yet shielded byOur father's dignity.
Ard.How you mistake!He does not woo me!
Vig.Now the modest foot!But we have seen the other. Trust us, sister.
Bion.Mistake? I now recall his looks, his sighs,As from a love immured,—his songs, too warmFor piety's cool breath,—and more that tendsTo happy proof.
Vig.How dare he woo thee whenMere Vairdelan? This blade had stood between!
Bion.Such beggar suit would then have cheapened theeBeneath a prince's wearing. [Leading her to door, right]No drooping now!The way lies clear.
Ard.O, brother——
Bion.Get you in.
Ard.Will you not listen?
Bion.Leave your hope with us,Your secret is our own. [Closes door upon her]
Vig.Here's change of sky.You trust Lord Bertrand?
Bion.That is now our course.Our father will go down.
Vig.What's in your heart?I'll open mine.
Bion.I beg you do.
Vig.RamoorAnd Ilon now are crownless. Suli's princeMust have new governors.
Bion.But Christian ones.That bars our way.
Vig.The Prophet's cloak fits wellWith any fortune.
Bion.Ah....
Vig.We've but to changeThe color, not the cut.
Bion.[Listening] He comes!
Vig.We'll speak.
Bion.Not yet, my Vigard. Let this fruiting hopeSwell to a golden fall. Wait with the sun.No green and forward plucking.
[Re-enter Ardia]
Ard.Hear me, brothers——
Bion.Not now. The prince!
[Re-enter Bertrand, right]
Ber.I pray your answer, friends.Let us go down unhindered, and my oathI leave with you, a hostage sure as thoughWith iron bonds you held my breathing form:For in that oath I leave no treasure lessThan honor, knighthood, and what in me movesDeathless to God.
Bion.It is enough. Our guestIs free.
Ber.Once more my brothers!
Bion.Know us everBy that dear name.
Vig.And this deep oath you takeFor Charilus' sake, is sworn too for our sister?
Ber.For Ardia? No, my lord.
Vig.Do you say no?
Ber.I must so answer you. For the fell harmThat touches her would of myself make end.My honor so impeached would cease to breatheThe air itself made foul. I could not comeHaving no life to bring me.
Bion.We believe you.Go with our father. Take our sister too.And we upon these heights shall pray, as youOn Suli plain, that Charilus may seeHis sons again.
Ber.Come, let him know! This wishedObedience will give him sleep.
[Exeunt Bertrand, Vigard, and Biondel, right rear]
Ard.Is 't bestThat Truth be dumb? I'll watch this weaving Fate,And feed her web with silence.... Oh, with hope!
[Curtain]
Scene 1.A hall in the castle of Suli. Heavy doors open left, half-way up. Large window with iron grating, rear. Couches, chairs, scattered. Tables from which servants are removing the remnants of a feast. They are quarrelling, chaffing, singing, as the curtain risen.
First Ser.Shifty, there!
Second Ser.What, can't a soldier eat?
First Ser.You a soldier, lickspoon?
Second Ser.I've drawn a sword, sir!
First Ser.Ay, and cut a cheese.
Third Ser.[Lifting flask] Here's to——
Fourth Ser.[Seizing flask] No man shall guzzle my master's wine before me. [Drains vessel]
Third Ser.[Sadly, turning up empty flask] Not after you, either.
Fifth Ser.Well, well, and two moons back we were saying grace over ditch-water!
Sixth Ser.Ay, we were good Christians then. A full stomach makes lean prayers. Now we've such a plenty we can spare the devil a fillip, and never a grace for it.
First Ser.[Tugging at table] Take a leg there! This is no grasshopper. [Others help him move table to wall, right] Look about you! The maskers will be in here.
Second Ser.Here? They'll be everywhere to-night. Such a jig-making over the new prince!
Second Ser.Not a corner to drop into and sleep off a good supper with a clear conscience!
Sixth Ser.Sleep? What have we to do with sleep? We fight, we eat, we dance. That's my soldier!
Second Ser.We kill, we cut, we caper! [Sings]The soldier rides on Fortune's wheel,
All.Round we go,Round we go!
Second Ser.Now up the head and now the heel,
All.Round we go,Round——
[Enter seventh servant]
Seventh Ser.Quiet, you devils! The master's coming.
Second Ser.What, can't a soldier sing? Haven't we fought like true men? When did we give quarter? When did we show mercy? And now can't we be happy? Can't we take breath?
Seventh Ser.Sh! and I'll tell you what I've seen. I've seen the daughter of Old Wisdom.
Sixth Ser.He get a daughter!
Seventh Ser.The maid of Kidmir. Ardia of the Stars they call her, but if the sun could shine in the middle of a dark night she would be like that.
First Ser.Foh, the Lady Berenice will put out her candle.
Seventh Ser.The Lady Berenice is as like her as the back of my hand to Juno's cheek!
First Ser.A heathen comparison! There's a Christian blow for it!
[They scuffle. Enter Oswald in talk with Bertrand. Servants finish their work quietly and go out]
Osw.My heart is whole again, now you've escapedThe claws of Kidmir.
Ber.Say the arms that closedLike God's around me!
Osw.Fox, and lion too.That's Charilus. I knew him young,—when bloodTells nature's truth,—ere he had suckedPhilosophy's pale milk and made his truceWith prudence and long life. The heart then hisHe carries now——
Ber.Then, sir, you must have knownThe Maker's marvel,—youth that outstripped ageAnd grayest saints in virtue.
Osw.Tut! No matter.You're safe. And he is here ... within these walls.
Ber.A guest of faith who holds your honor boundHigh hostage for his life.
Osw.My honor? Trust me!I'll care for that. No more I'll blush to liftMy shield i' the sun. The spot of thirty yearsShall be wiped out.
Ber.With love, my father?
Osw.[After a pause]Ay,'Tis love shall do it.
Ber.[Lifting his father's hand to his lips]You bind my heart to you.
Osw.Too soft, my warrior. Keep such woman's playFor Berenice. She will thank you for it.I'm rough and old, and need the soldier clapTo start the singing blood. [Clapping Bertrand]A blow with goodRed heart in 't!
Ber.Berenice?
Osw.Ah, that takes you!She's here at last. Prince Frederick arrivedThree days ago, and with him his fair daughter,Too dear of value to be left behind,The prey of quarrelling kings. You'll dance with herTo-night.
Ber.You'll pardon me. I shall not dance.
Osw.Faugh, there's the monk again! Why, boy, we'll prayThe better for a little tripping,—fightThe better too. One dance with Berenice!A beauty, sir, who makes me hate the yearsThat lie 'tween youth and me. She was to wedA son of mine by vow above her cradle,And I have buried every son save you.
Ber.May I not keep one vow?
Osw.The pope long sinceReleased you. Now——
Ber.My compact was with Christ.
Osw.Why cling to one when all the rest are broken?
Ber.It is the one lies wholly in my choice.
Osw.You left your cell.
Ber.Do you forget 'twas youWho shook to ground my cloister walls, and lockedAll holy doors against me?
Osw.True, I did it.And with good warrant. Broadest ChristendomUpheld my right and gave me back my heir.Small gain if you refuse to wed. My needIs not for sons but grandsons now. My boy,You'll let me see your children at my knee?Ho, hide your face? Then there's a heart in you.Why should I toil through blood and groans and fireTo make a name my shroud will wrap with me?
Ber.Toil then to give this land to God, and liveSo long as love shall live in men.
Osw.Pale fame!Have you no blood of mine? How could my fireFather this sluggish monk? There was a maidOn Kidmir, Charilus' daughter, who has comeIn wag of him, which speaks a fearless wench,—She taught you nothing in those moons you passedUpon her peaks?
Ber.Sir?
Osw.When I saw her faceFlash from her veil, I could have swornYour vow was drowned in her lake-eyes, and thatHer captured softness had made easy wayFor royal Berenice. Now you talkOut of your cowl——
Ber.Not so! I am a knight!Your words have made me one! Now could I drawThis sword that knows not blood——
Osw.I'll bout with theeFor any woman. Come! Thou'lt be a manEre long. Come, sir!
Ber.You've set a foot most foulUpon the flower of time!
Osw.It seems I've hitThe mark i' the very eye.
Ber.The whitest thoughtThat holds her first must shrive itself!
Osw.So, so!Come, end the song. She's yours. 'Tis not the moonYou cry for, take an old man's word.
Ber.The moonWere nearer to me!
Osw.Trrr-rrr-rr!
Ber.My lord?
Osw.A woman. Ask and have. I'll send her here.This is the hour to bait you, and I'd not lose itFor half of Suli.
Ber.Stay! I will not see her.I dare not look upon her lest I loseChrist and myself.
Osw.Are you so tuned? We'll haveA wedding yet.
Ber.Forget that word, and IForgive you for it.
Osw.A wedding, prince of Suli.This plain shall ring to Antioch.
Ber.Nay, father,—And yet I thank you that your heart would makeSo fair a maid my bride.
Osw.Fair? That's no word.She's glory's darling pearl,—the morning's eyeThat makes the night forgot! When you have seen her——
Ber.When I have seen her?
Osw.Ay,——
Ber.Do you not speakOf Ardia?
Osw.Ardia! Gods! Wed Kidmir's trull?Make me a doting grandsire to the heirOf Charilus? Hear it, stars! Am I the foolO' the earth? Give up my English forests, bareMy purse for troops, and foot by foot fight wayTo Suli sands,—all this that I may setA droning dotard's line upon a throne,And be the ass of chronicle? O, poison!Well, well, I'm done. The girl is fair enough.And you shall have her if she pleases you.But Berenice—there's your bride, my boy!
Ber.Wed Berenice? With that name you save me.By that I see the darkness coiling deepAlong my bridal way. 'Twas Ardia's nameThat lit the path till I dared let my eyes,Though not my will, go venturing on 't.
Osw.My son,——
Ber.Never again, my father, speak to meIn this night's strain. Till morning I shall pray.And then I fast. Good-night.
Osw.One moment. One!The sunrise feast? Will you not be with us?I drink with Charilus the cup of peace.
Ber.And love that breaks no peace?
Osw.[Assenting] See how you bend me?All that you ask I give, but you to meYield nothing.
Ber.Sir, this sword, my knightly suit,And princely title, make denial for me.
Osw.Your pardon. I forget you count it muchTo give a crust and cell for this broad kingdom.I who have paid my heart out for a crownMust thank you now to wear it.
Ber.Good-night.
Osw.O, son,Have you no patience with a man grown oldIn many battles? Now feel I my age,Knowing the dearest blows of my long lifeHave bought me but this shadow. In you is drainedAmbition's heart,—my every burning aimFails here in you, and cools unforged, unshapen.Yet do you turn from me as though 'twere INot you who gave the wound that parts us.
Ber.I?
Osw.Of all my sons I loved you best. You thinkI gave you to the friars with no twingeHere at my heart? Your mother said "One sonWe must return to God," and I said "Yea,So it be not my Bertrand." But her willRan 'gainst me. When she had her way, I longedThrough many a day to have you at my side,While you were happy with your songs and saints,Your father quite forgot.
Ber.[Stirred] Nay, not forgot.And I am with you now.
Osw.O, let me feelMy son is mine! I'll yield you anything.Ay, even Ardia! She shall be my daughter——
Ber.By heaven that keeps me true, I will not hearThat name again! There's maddest music in it.I see her when I hear it. [Covering his eyes]
Osw.[Aside]I see the limeWill catch you.
Ber.Again, good-night.
Osw.One favor, son.And slight too, by 'r lady!
Ber.Speak it, sir.
Osw.I gave my word you'd wait on Berenice.I' faith, I know not what excuse to makeTo Frederick. 'Tis barest courtesyTo give her greeting.
Ber.I will welcome her,Our guest.
Osw.Enough! [Going] You'll wait us here?
Ber.I'll wait.
[Exit Oswald. Bertrand sits with head bowed and does not heed maskers who enter and dance about him. They cover him with their garlands as they go off. A song is heard within]