ACT III

Rhodope’schamber.Heroand other slave-girls occupied in arranging the room.EnterRhodope.

Rhodope.

Why are these mirrors round the walls unveiled?

Hero.

The mirrors, Queen?

Rhod.

The mirrors. And these doorsSo wide ajar—whose work is this?

The mirrors. And these doors

So wide ajar—whose work is this?

Hero.

You loveTo have your outlook towards the sunlit morningAnd draw into your lungs its freshening breath.

You love

To have your outlook towards the sunlit morning

And draw into your lungs its freshening breath.

Rhod.

Who tells you that? Enough—To with their bolts!Turn every mirror round!

Who tells you that? Enough—To with their bolts!

Turn every mirror round!

[Heroshuts the doors and turns round the mirrors.

My soul, ’tis true!Vain, vain the salve of flattering persuasionThat I have duped my senses. Turn thee, Night,And pall me in the dunnest of thy veils!I am defiled as never yet was woman.

My soul, ’tis true!

Vain, vain the salve of flattering persuasion

That I have duped my senses. Turn thee, Night,

And pall me in the dunnest of thy veils!

I am defiled as never yet was woman.

Hero.

This rose at least you will not all despise;Ere the sun’s self had risen I plucked it for you,

This rose at least you will not all despise;

Ere the sun’s self had risen I plucked it for you,

Rhod.

Away! Too soon it withers at my touch!

Hero.

My name is Hero and not Lesbia.

[She retires with her companions.

Rhod.

Eternal gods, could this thing come to pass?How many a time has my pure infant-handYielded your due of pious sacrifice!For you the first lock fell from off my headEre yet I guessed the source of every blessingThat prospers men was held within your hand.Nor was the virgin ever slow to tendYour service; rarely sent her altar-flameA twinned desire toward your lofty seat,Nay, every wish that threatened rise she stroveTo crush in shame and anguish to the depthsBeneath her conscious thought; for she would winOnly your benison and not your bounty,She would but thank, naught would she supplicate.The Woman, too, needed no ghostly dreamLike that which smote the Tyndarid with horror,To monish her of duty’s holy bond;She came herself and decked the altar roundAnd yet—why dedicates a mortal manTo you the choicest part of all his goodsIf ye show not the gracious will to shieldWhen he himself no more has power to shield?A man repels the lion with his swordWhen, by the goad of rage or hunger driven,He flashes rampant at the midday heat;No brave man calls on Zeus to hurl his bolts,But ward against the base snake’s crept surprisalWhen he is steeped in calm war-weary slumber;There is your work; to you belongs the night.And I—and I—rests then a curse on me,A curse from ancient time that holds your powerBounden in Styx, that god-affront so heinousThere’s none would even dare it on a slave-girlThe meanest of my train, falls on myselfSanctioned by you like a god-fearing deed?

Eternal gods, could this thing come to pass?

How many a time has my pure infant-hand

Yielded your due of pious sacrifice!

For you the first lock fell from off my head

Ere yet I guessed the source of every blessing

That prospers men was held within your hand.

Nor was the virgin ever slow to tend

Your service; rarely sent her altar-flame

A twinned desire toward your lofty seat,

Nay, every wish that threatened rise she strove

To crush in shame and anguish to the depths

Beneath her conscious thought; for she would win

Only your benison and not your bounty,

She would but thank, naught would she supplicate.

The Woman, too, needed no ghostly dream

Like that which smote the Tyndarid with horror,

To monish her of duty’s holy bond;

She came herself and decked the altar round

And yet—why dedicates a mortal man

To you the choicest part of all his goods

If ye show not the gracious will to shield

When he himself no more has power to shield?

A man repels the lion with his sword

When, by the goad of rage or hunger driven,

He flashes rampant at the midday heat;

No brave man calls on Zeus to hurl his bolts,

But ward against the base snake’s crept surprisal

When he is steeped in calm war-weary slumber;

There is your work; to you belongs the night.

And I—and I—rests then a curse on me,

A curse from ancient time that holds your power

Bounden in Styx, that god-affront so heinous

There’s none would even dare it on a slave-girl

The meanest of my train, falls on myself

Sanctioned by you like a god-fearing deed?

[EnterHero.

Hero.

The King!

Rhod.

So soon? ’Tis death that comes with him!Then good; it palls me in the night of nightsWhereof the earthly night is but a shade.Why tremble, then? It was my very wish.

So soon? ’Tis death that comes with him!

Then good; it palls me in the night of nights

Whereof the earthly night is but a shade.

Why tremble, then? It was my very wish.

[EnterKandaules.

Kan.

Do you forgive?

Rhod.

Sire, you can do no other,The appointed hour is now. Why this much asking?

Sire, you can do no other,

The appointed hour is now. Why this much asking?

Kan.

I understand you not.

Rhod.

Be open, King!You find me ready.

Be open, King!

You find me ready.

Kan.

Ready! To what end?

Rhod.

I know your duty and I give you thanksYou’re bent on swift fulfilment; of a truthIt must be mine were you of tardy will.You’ve searched, tracked down, and taken instant vengeance,It breaks out from your looks—now comes my turn!

I know your duty and I give you thanks

You’re bent on swift fulfilment; of a truth

It must be mine were you of tardy will.

You’ve searched, tracked down, and taken instant vengeance,

It breaks out from your looks—now comes my turn!

Kan.

Where do your strayed wits tend?

Rhod.

Are you not comeFor vengeance hither?

Are you not come

For vengeance hither?

Kan.

No, by all the gods!

Rhod.

And all have life that yesterday had life?

Kan.

Why not?

Rhod.

There’s many may have done foul crime.

Kan.

I know of none.

Rhod.

And what then brings you here?

Kan.

Should yesternight absolve my right of coming?Have you then changed? Did you not e’en refuseThe solitary kiss for which I beggedAs though you sat, the lily in your hand,Beneath the plane as in the olden time?

Should yesternight absolve my right of coming?

Have you then changed? Did you not e’en refuse

The solitary kiss for which I begged

As though you sat, the lily in your hand,

Beneath the plane as in the olden time?

Rhod.

You’ll live to thank me for it.

Kan.

Nay, but fear not.True, I was drawn to you as on the morningAfter our wedding; but a hint, a waveOf hand, and I am gone even as I came.Ay, swifter from your presence would I hastenThan if in search of drink I neared a fountainWith noiseless tread, and in the very actEspied a shrinking Naiad leave her bath.

Nay, but fear not.

True, I was drawn to you as on the morning

After our wedding; but a hint, a wave

Of hand, and I am gone even as I came.

Ay, swifter from your presence would I hasten

Than if in search of drink I neared a fountain

With noiseless tread, and in the very act

Espied a shrinking Naiad leave her bath.

Rhod.

Remain!

Kan.

No—not a breathing-span’s delay,If it distress you; and it does distress,I feel it deep. This is the hour for thatWhich has been christened in your lovely phraseYour “inmost self-communing.” I will notSully its sanctitude. Though Aphrodite,Kind-smiling on this oversoon approach,Threw me for your delight the golden girdleShe never gives away and scarcely lends,I’d come some other time and hand it you.

No—not a breathing-span’s delay,

If it distress you; and it does distress,

I feel it deep. This is the hour for that

Which has been christened in your lovely phrase

Your “inmost self-communing.” I will not

Sully its sanctitude. Though Aphrodite,

Kind-smiling on this oversoon approach,

Threw me for your delight the golden girdle

She never gives away and scarcely lends,

I’d come some other time and hand it you.

Rhod.

No more. That sounds too sweet and gives me fear;For aye my nurse would tell me, “When a manDraws near his wife with over-fond approachBe sure he’s done her feelings secret hurt.”

No more. That sounds too sweet and gives me fear;

For aye my nurse would tell me, “When a man

Draws near his wife with over-fond approach

Be sure he’s done her feelings secret hurt.”

Kan.

There too I’m touched. I’ve done your feelings hurt.I know your nature and as well I knowYou cannot change your ways. Your father rulesWhere Greek and Indian manners are immingled;Your veil’s a portion of your Being’s self,Yet must I ever pull and pluck at itAnd would have wrenched it bodily yesterday.Come then, I rue it, and I swear to you—This drove me here—’twill not be done again.

There too I’m touched. I’ve done your feelings hurt.

I know your nature and as well I know

You cannot change your ways. Your father rules

Where Greek and Indian manners are immingled;

Your veil’s a portion of your Being’s self,

Yet must I ever pull and pluck at it

And would have wrenched it bodily yesterday.

Come then, I rue it, and I swear to you—

This drove me here—’twill not be done again.

[Rhodopelaughs.

For ne’er I longed as now that I might wardNot just the grief that burrows to the boneAnd leaves its scars to sharp the after-sting,Nay, but to scare the tiniest shadow henceThat might o’ercast your soul with its annoy,Though such a shadow’s source should be myself.I will watch o’er you as the trusty lashesWatch o’er your eye; down comes their latch and barsNot only sand-grains but the sunny beamWhen over-ardent and too swiftly come.

For ne’er I longed as now that I might ward

Not just the grief that burrows to the bone

And leaves its scars to sharp the after-sting,

Nay, but to scare the tiniest shadow hence

That might o’ercast your soul with its annoy,

Though such a shadow’s source should be myself.

I will watch o’er you as the trusty lashes

Watch o’er your eye; down comes their latch and bars

Not only sand-grains but the sunny beam

When over-ardent and too swiftly come.

Rhod.

Too late! Too late!

Kan.

What is too late, dear wife?

Rhod.

I—No, I will not say it—I cannot say it;Mayhap he’ll guess it, and if he should guess,I’ll seek my knees, dumb, stripped of speech before him,Pointing upon his sword-blade and my breast.

I—No, I will not say it—I cannot say it;

Mayhap he’ll guess it, and if he should guess,

I’ll seek my knees, dumb, stripped of speech before him,

Pointing upon his sword-blade and my breast.

Kan.

Some dream has given you fright?

Rhod.

A dream? Oh no!None was to waste on me; warning was lostOn my poor worth. The stone in crashing fallMay have its shadow for the eye to mark,The sudden sword its flash, but on my head—Kandaules, speak! I see—you wish a question!Then question and be done!

A dream? Oh no!

None was to waste on me; warning was lost

On my poor worth. The stone in crashing fall

May have its shadow for the eye to mark,

The sudden sword its flash, but on my head—

Kandaules, speak! I see—you wish a question!

Then question and be done!

Kan.

I? Yes—why, yes!But more than all—your hand!

I? Yes—why, yes!

But more than all—your hand!

Rhod.

Withhold your touch! No water rids you of the ’filingspot.

Withhold your touch! No water rids you of the ’filing

spot.

Kan.

O Gyges!—Come, since thus your hand’s refused me—(And without that your cheek tells tale enough).You’re hot with fever; but the goodliest leechStands at the door. Why is it barred and boltedWhen such a morn as all the trooping hoursLade with their sweets, beggar-like knocks outside?Quick, fling it back, and on the act you’re healed!

O Gyges!—Come, since thus your hand’s refused me—

(And without that your cheek tells tale enough).

You’re hot with fever; but the goodliest leech

Stands at the door. Why is it barred and bolted

When such a morn as all the trooping hours

Lade with their sweets, beggar-like knocks outside?

Quick, fling it back, and on the act you’re healed!

[Kandaulesis about to open it.

Rhod.

Halt! Ope more readily a charnel-vault!Not darklier-browed the stainless god o’ the sunAverts his face from shattered urns of deathThan from the woman you have named your own.

Halt! Ope more readily a charnel-vault!

Not darklier-browed the stainless god o’ the sun

Averts his face from shattered urns of death

Than from the woman you have named your own.

Kan.

Unhappy one!

Rhod.

Speak! Was there in the chamber—Speak at all costs——!

Speak! Was there in the chamber—

Speak at all costs——!

Kan.

A murderer? No, why, no!Come, ask yourself now, would I not have slain him?

A murderer? No, why, no!

Come, ask yourself now, would I not have slain him?

Rhod.

Ay, if you saw him.

Kan.

And I must have seen him.The lamp had scarce been lit a moment sinceAnd brightly burned.

And I must have seen him.

The lamp had scarce been lit a moment since

And brightly burned.

Rhod.

’Twould seem so—yet I heardA many various stirrings. Not from youNor yet from me they came.

’Twould seem so—yet I heard

A many various stirrings. Not from you

Nor yet from me they came.

Kan.

The night is rifeWith echoes and with startling curious noisesAnd sleepless ears hear much.

The night is rife

With echoes and with startling curious noises

And sleepless ears hear much.

Rhod.

There was a rustling.

Kan.

A worm i’ the wall!

Rhod.

A clink as of a swordGrazing on something.

A clink as of a sword

Grazing on something.

Kan.

Maybe. Where’s the toneThat Nature, in a fit of mimic fun,Has not embodied in some drollish beastTo serve a voice’s turn? If you’ll but tearYour robe in two and mark the sound, I’ll tellWhat insect-buzz it is to the very life.

Maybe. Where’s the tone

That Nature, in a fit of mimic fun,

Has not embodied in some drollish beast

To serve a voice’s turn? If you’ll but tear

Your robe in two and mark the sound, I’ll tell

What insect-buzz it is to the very life.

Rhod.

I heard a sighing, too.

Kan.

What, sighs from murderers?

Rhod.

No, no! And there’s the rub.

Kan.

’Twas the cool night-wind.About your cheeks and mouth it would be playingAnd sighed at breaking only on the walls.I tell you there are trees that, like the stoneWhich drinks the light of day and waits for darknessTo give it back, steep them in sounds and echoes,And thus they babble, sing, and moan at night.

’Twas the cool night-wind.

About your cheeks and mouth it would be playing

And sighed at breaking only on the walls.

I tell you there are trees that, like the stone

Which drinks the light of day and waits for darkness

To give it back, steep them in sounds and echoes,

And thus they babble, sing, and moan at night.

Rhod.

You take it so? But wait—I’ve lost a dainty——

Kan.

A precious stone perhaps? A diamond?This one?

A precious stone perhaps? A diamond?

This one?

Rhod.

You have it—You?

Kan.

Who else? See there!

Rhod.

Thanks, everlasting thanks, ye gods! ForgiveThe doubting of a heart whose innocenceMisdeemed her trod and torn. Oh, ye are nearAs light and air!

Thanks, everlasting thanks, ye gods! Forgive

The doubting of a heart whose innocence

Misdeemed her trod and torn. Oh, ye are near

As light and air!

Kan.

Erinnyes, down, you hounds!There! (giving her the jewel).

Erinnyes, down, you hounds!

There! (giving her the jewel).

Rhod.

Take it to the temple-hoard! I oweThe gracious gods thank-offering opulent,And chiefly Her, All-Linker of earth’s love.From golden baskets shall her doves be given,To-day and ever, softest grains for picking;From marble beakers shall they quench their thirst;And you, Kandaules, you——

Take it to the temple-hoard! I owe

The gracious gods thank-offering opulent,

And chiefly Her, All-Linker of earth’s love.

From golden baskets shall her doves be given,

To-day and ever, softest grains for picking;

From marble beakers shall they quench their thirst;

And you, Kandaules, you——

Kan.

The youth will kiss,When thinking of his maiden, his own handShe pressed for greeting ere she took farewell;The man needs something more.

The youth will kiss,

When thinking of his maiden, his own hand

She pressed for greeting ere she took farewell;

The man needs something more.

Rhod.

O happy day!You hold your wife so dear? Ah, then I beg youForgive my close-hugged wrong. I inly fretted’Twas pride in the possession more than loveLay in the feeling that enchains you to me,And your heart’s leaning flame must have the grudgeOf others, if it be not wholly quenched.I fear that now no more.

O happy day!

You hold your wife so dear? Ah, then I beg you

Forgive my close-hugged wrong. I inly fretted

’Twas pride in the possession more than love

Lay in the feeling that enchains you to me,

And your heart’s leaning flame must have the grudge

Of others, if it be not wholly quenched.

I fear that now no more.

Kan.

And nevermoreShall come that fear on you. I know what thingSet canker at your heart. You thought your swayTrenched on by Gyges, and ’tis true enoughI passed full many a day with him for comrade,And nigh turned huntsman since himself is one.Yet that touched not your privilege’s pale,For that whereby the man and man are bondedIs null for woman, needed at her sideAs little as the war-mood for a kiss.Yet though I could but name your fear a follyI spare no means to bring you speedy healing,For, hear my word—my favourite, Gyges, goes!

And nevermore

Shall come that fear on you. I know what thing

Set canker at your heart. You thought your sway

Trenched on by Gyges, and ’tis true enough

I passed full many a day with him for comrade,

And nigh turned huntsman since himself is one.

Yet that touched not your privilege’s pale,

For that whereby the man and man are bonded

Is null for woman, needed at her side

As little as the war-mood for a kiss.

Yet though I could but name your fear a folly

I spare no means to bring you speedy healing,

For, hear my word—my favourite, Gyges, goes!

Rhod.

What?

Kan.

And to-day.

Rhod.

Impossible!

Kan.

Would thatMislike you now? You seemed to wish it else.

Would that

Mislike you now? You seemed to wish it else.

Rhod.

O fool, that this, in drunken rush of joy,I could forget!

O fool, that this, in drunken rush of joy,

I could forget!

Kan.

Why, what?

Rhod.

Show me your hand!’Twas he. He sudden stood before my eyesAs though his outline, fiery-limned in air,Remained to trace him. Oh how terribleThe tallying proof! Your hand! He has the ring.

Show me your hand!

’Twas he. He sudden stood before my eyes

As though his outline, fiery-limned in air,

Remained to trace him. Oh how terrible

The tallying proof! Your hand! He has the ring.

Kan.

It is my very own.

Rhod.

Speak, have you notAt some time laid it by since you have worn it?Lost it or missed the thing some other way?

Speak, have you not

At some time laid it by since you have worn it?

Lost it or missed the thing some other way?

Kan.

Unhappy soul! Why make flesh quail with shadows?

Rhod.

He shirks my test! You’re sending Gyges forth,And on the instant like a miscreant?And why?

He shirks my test! You’re sending Gyges forth,

And on the instant like a miscreant?

And why?

Kan.

I said not that. He goes himself.

Rhod.

He goes himself? What drives him from among us?

Kan.

I do not know, nor have I questioned him.

Rhod.

You do not know? I’ll tell you then the wherefore,He’s done you viler shame than e’er was plottedAnd you must punish as you ne’er have punished.

You do not know? I’ll tell you then the wherefore,

He’s done you viler shame than e’er was plotted

And you must punish as you ne’er have punished.

Kan.

Fie on those words, Rhodope! Past all doubtHe’s noblest of the noble.

Fie on those words, Rhodope! Past all doubt

He’s noblest of the noble.

Rhod.

Is he so?How can you let him go without a tremor?

Is he so?

How can you let him go without a tremor?

Kan.

For this, that even the goodliest, all unwilling,May spread in place of blessing secret curse.

For this, that even the goodliest, all unwilling,

May spread in place of blessing secret curse.

Rhod.

Is that his case? And has himself then felt it?

Kan.

Well, if not that—his heart looks high, he aimsAt large emprise, ay, and he dares the venture.

Well, if not that—his heart looks high, he aims

At large emprise, ay, and he dares the venture.

Rhod.

You think that?

Kan.

There’s no throne too high for him,And if he goes and keeps his reasons hid—But mark me, crown in hand he’ll be returning,And tell us with a smile:—“This drove me forth.”

There’s no throne too high for him,

And if he goes and keeps his reasons hid—

But mark me, crown in hand he’ll be returning,

And tell us with a smile:—“This drove me forth.”

Rhod.

Even so?

Kan.

Dear wife, the night’s unnerved your mind,The fright——

Dear wife, the night’s unnerved your mind,

The fright——

Rhod.

Maybe.

Kan.

You heard this here, that there——

Rhod.

And naught to hear! Myself gives half belief,For, now I mind me, sight as well was false.You have not doffed the ring since wearing it,You have not lost it, did not find it gone—Yet still I had the thought—my glance was keen,And it was morning and I saw all else,’Twas missing from your hand. So it would seemSense tallies here with sense. The blinded eyeBears out the blunted ear. Then pardon meFor giving you such hurt of heart, and grantAn hour alone to balance my tossed mind.

And naught to hear! Myself gives half belief,

For, now I mind me, sight as well was false.

You have not doffed the ring since wearing it,

You have not lost it, did not find it gone—

Yet still I had the thought—my glance was keen,

And it was morning and I saw all else,

’Twas missing from your hand. So it would seem

Sense tallies here with sense. The blinded eye

Bears out the blunted ear. Then pardon me

For giving you such hurt of heart, and grant

An hour alone to balance my tossed mind.

[KANDAULESis about to speak.

’Tis good, ay good! Forgive me, Sire, and go!

[ExitKandaules.

Rhod.

None other ’tis than Gyges—that is clear,And he has had the ring—that is still clearer,The King suspects, must do so—that is clearest!He’s bound the appalling deed appallinglyT’avenge on him, yet suffers him escape.Thereby one riddle needs another riddleTo solve it; and ’tis like to mad my brainIf it be kept in shroud. A husband seesHis wife defiled—defiled? Speak roundly—murdered!Murdered! Nay more, condemned herself to murderIf this God-mocker pay not answering blood.The husband is a monarch, bears the swordOf Diké, nor need crave from the ErinnyesHer borrowed dagger; knows ’tis holy dutyThe hideous sin to punish, even if loveSpur not revenge; is bound before the godsTo yield their victim, if to me denied.And yet this husband, yet this monarch drawsNo sword, no dagger—lets the accursed fly!But that shall have its thwart; not more than heI lack for trusty servants; not as slave-girl,As royal daughter came I in this house,Ay, and my following was a royal one!I’ll summon them, old hearts of staunchest faith,And bid them baulk the runagate of flight;Then to Kandaules thus:— “Lo, here am I;There is the favourite! Make your choice. This daggerWill pierce myself unless your sword pierce him!”

None other ’tis than Gyges—that is clear,

And he has had the ring—that is still clearer,

The King suspects, must do so—that is clearest!

He’s bound the appalling deed appallingly

T’avenge on him, yet suffers him escape.

Thereby one riddle needs another riddle

To solve it; and ’tis like to mad my brain

If it be kept in shroud. A husband sees

His wife defiled—defiled? Speak roundly—murdered!

Murdered! Nay more, condemned herself to murder

If this God-mocker pay not answering blood.

The husband is a monarch, bears the sword

Of Diké, nor need crave from the Erinnyes

Her borrowed dagger; knows ’tis holy duty

The hideous sin to punish, even if love

Spur not revenge; is bound before the gods

To yield their victim, if to me denied.

And yet this husband, yet this monarch draws

No sword, no dagger—lets the accursed fly!

But that shall have its thwart; not more than he

I lack for trusty servants; not as slave-girl,

As royal daughter came I in this house,

Ay, and my following was a royal one!

I’ll summon them, old hearts of staunchest faith,

And bid them baulk the runagate of flight;

Then to Kandaules thus:— “Lo, here am I;

There is the favourite! Make your choice. This dagger

Will pierce myself unless your sword pierce him!”

[EnterLesbia.

Lesbia.

O Queen, do you forgive?

Rhod.

Why, what, my child?Your coming back to me? Do you, O youForgive me that I could have let you from me.I seemed—myself I knew not what I did,And yet I seem to think the King had told meYou went not loath; and ah, I had been forcedThat night, that night to make him such denialI’d not the heart to say another “no”!

Why, what, my child?

Your coming back to me? Do you, O you

Forgive me that I could have let you from me.

I seemed—myself I knew not what I did,

And yet I seem to think the King had told me

You went not loath; and ah, I had been forced

That night, that night to make him such denial

I’d not the heart to say another “no”!

Lesbia.

Ah, then I’m free no more, and yet againMay count myself among your waiting-maidens?

Ah, then I’m free no more, and yet again

May count myself among your waiting-maidens?

Rhod.

Nay, nay! As sister lay you on my breast!

Lesbia.

Why, what has passed? So moved I ne’er have seen you.

Rhod.

A hideous thing, a thing that has no name,For when I come to name it, lo ’tis alteredAnd looks a deathlier horror than before!Yea, Spawn of Night, that grins upon my eyes,Your first-shown face methinks I could have kissedNow that your second’s bared in doubtful dark.

A hideous thing, a thing that has no name,

For when I come to name it, lo ’tis altered

And looks a deathlier horror than before!

Yea, Spawn of Night, that grins upon my eyes,

Your first-shown face methinks I could have kissed

Now that your second’s bared in doubtful dark.

Lesbia.

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