ACT IACT IIACT IIIACT IVACT ICHARACTERSRenier LusignanA Descendant of the Lusignan Kings of CyprusBerengereHis WifeAmauryHis Son, Commander of Famagouste under the VenetiansYolandaThe Ward of Berengere, betrothed to AmauryCamarinA Baron of Paphos, Guest in the Lusignan CastleVittia PisaniA Venetian Lady, also a GuestMoroA PriestHassanWarden of the CastleHalilHis Son, a BoyTremitusA PhysicianOlympioA Greek Boy, serving AmauryAlessa}Maga}Berengere's WomenCiva}Mauria}SmardaSlave To VittiaPietroIn Vittia's payPriests, Acolytes, etc.Time—The Sixteenth CenturyPlace—The Island of CyprusYOLANDA OF CYPRUSScene:A dim Hall, of blended Gothic and Saracenic styles, in the Lusignan Castle, on the island of Cyprus near Famagouste. Around the walls, above faint frescoes portraying the deliverance of Jerusalem by the Crusaders, runs a frieze inlaid with the coats-of-arms of former Lusignan kings. On the left, and back, is a door hung with heavy damask, and in the wall opposite, another. Farther down on the right a few steps, whose railing supports a Greek vase with jasmine, lead through a chapel to the sleeping apartments. In the rear, on either side, are guled lattice windows, and in the centre an open grated door, looking upon a loggia, and, across the garden below, over the moonlit sea. Seats are placed about, and, forward, a divan with rich Turkish coverings. A table with a lighted cross-shaped candlestick is by the door, left; and a lectern with a book on it, to the front, right. As the curtain rises, the Women, exceptCiva,lean wearily on the divan, andHalilnear is singing dreamily:Ah, the balm, the balm,And ah, the blessingOf the deep fall of nightAnd of confessing.Of the sick soul made whiteOf all distressing:Made white!...Ah, balm of nightAnd, ah the blessing![The music falls and all seem yielding to sleep. Suddenly there are hoof-beats and sounds at the gates below.Halilsprings up.Halil.Alessa! Maga! Voices at the gates![All start up.Some one is come.Alessa.Boy, Halil, who?Halil.Up, up!Perhaps lord Renier—No: I will learn.[He runs to curtains and looks.It is Olympio! Olympio!From Famagouste and lord Amaury!Mauria.Ah!And comes he here?Halil.As he were lord of skies!To lady Yolanda, by my lute!Maga.Where is she?Alessa.I do not know; perhaps, her chamber.Mauria.Stay:His word may be of the Saracens.Halil(calling).Oho![He admitsOlympio,who enters insolently down. All press round him gaily.Mauria.Well, what, Olympio, from Famagouste?What tidings? tell us.Maga.See, his sword!Olympio.Stand off.Mauria.The tidings, then, the tidings!Olympio.None—for women.Mauria.So-ho, my Cupid? None of the Saracens?Of the squadron huddling yesterday for havenAt Keryneia?Olympio.Who has told you?Mauria.Who?A hundred galleys westing up the wind,Scenting the shore, but timorous as hounds.A gale—and twenty down!Maga.The rest are flown?Olympio.Ask Zeus, or ask, to-morrow, lord Amaury,Or, if he comes, to-night. To lady YolandaI'm sent and not to tattle, silly, here.[He starts off, but is arrested by laughter within. It isCivawho enters, holding up a parchment.O! Only Civa.[Starts again withHalil.Civa.How, Olympio!Stay you, and hear!—May never virgin love him!Gone as a thistle! (turns).Mauria.Pouf! (laughs).Alessa(toCiva).Now what have you?Civa.Verses! found in the garden. Verses! verses!On papyrus of Paphos. O, to read!But you, Alessa—!Alessa(takes them).In the garden?Civa.ByThe fountain cypress, at the marble feetOf chaste Diana!Maga.Where Sir CamarinAnd oft our lady—!Civa.Maga, will you prattle?Read them to us, Alessa, read them, read.They are of love!Maga.No, sorrow.Civa.O, as a nunYou ever sigh for sorrow!—They are of love!Of princes bursting through enchanted boundsTo ladies prisoned in an ogre's keep!Then of the bridals!—O, they are of love!Maga.No, Civa, no!—of sorrow! see, her lips![She points toAlessa,who, reading, has paled.See, see!Civa.Alessa!Alessa.Maga—Civa—Ah![She rends the parchment.Mauria.What are you doing?Alessa.They were writ toher!Mauria.To her? to whom? what are you saying? Read!Read us the verses.Alessa.No.Mauria.Tell then his nameWho writes them, and to whom.Alessa.I will not.Mauria.ThenIt is some guilt you hide!—And touching herYou dote on—lady Yolanda!Alessa.Shame!Mauria.Some guiltOf one, then, in this castle!—See, her lipsBetray it is.Maga.No, Mauria! no! no! (holds her) hush![Forms appear without.Mauria.O, loose me.Maga.There, on the loggia! Hush, see—Our lady and Sir Camarin.Alessa(fearful).It is....They heard us, Maga?Maga.No, but——Mauria(toAlessa).So? that mouse?Alessa.You know not, Mauria, what thing you say.—He is troubling her; be still.[Stepping out asBerengereenters.My lady?Berengere(unwillingly).Yes.It is time, now, for your lamps,And for your aves and o'erneeded sleep.But first I'd know if yet lord Renier——[SeesAlessa'sface.Why are you pale?Alessa.I?Berengere.So—and strange.Alessa.We haveBut put away the distaff and the needle.Camarinenters.Berengere.The distaff and the needle—it may be.And yet you do not seem——Alessa.My lady—?Berengere.Go.And send me Hassan.[The women leave.Camarin—you saw?They were not as their wont is.Camarin.To your eyes,My Berengere, that apprehension haunts.They were as ever. Then be done with fear!Berengere.I cannot.Camarin.To the abyss with it. To-nightIs ours—Renier tarries at Famagouste—Is ours for love and for a long delight!Berengere.Whose end may be—Camarin.Dawn and the dewy lark!And passing of all presage from you.Berengere(sits).No:For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypressWe read the verses! And my dream that IShould with a cross—inscrutable is sleep!—Bring her deep bitterness.Camarin.Dreams are a broodBorn of the night and not of destiny.She guesses not our guilt, and RenierClasps to his breast ambition as a bride—Ambition for Amaury.Berengere.None can say.He's much with this Venetian, our guest,Though Venice gyves us more with tyrannyThan would the Saracen.Camarin.But through this ladyOf the Pisani, powerful in Venice,He hopes to lift again his dynastyUp from decay; and to restore this island,This verdure-dream of the seas, unto his house.'Tis clear, my Berengere!Berengere.Then,herdesign?And, the requital that entices her?[Rises.Evil will come of it, to us some evil,Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love.—But, there; the women.Camarin.And too brief their stay.What signal for to-night?Berengere.Be in the garden.Over the threshold yonder I will waveThe candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep.Camarin.And with the beam I shall mount up to youQuicker than ecstasy.Berengere.I am as a leafBefore the wind and raging of your love.Go—go.Camarin.But to return unto your breast![He leaves her by the divan.[The women re-enter with silver lighted lamps; behind them areHassanand the slaveSmarda.They wait forBerengere,who has stood silent, to speak.Berengere(looking up). Ah, you are come; I had forgotten.And it is time for sleep.—Hassan, the gates:Close them.Hassan.And chain them, lady?Berengere.Wait no longer.Lord Renier will not come.Hassan.No word of him?Berengere.None, though he yesterday left NicosieWith the priest Moro.Hassan.Lady—Berengere.Wait no longer.Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.[The women go by the steps.Berengerefollows.Hassan(staring after her). The reason of this mood in her? the reason?Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weepsIn secret; all for what? By God! the Paphian?Or she of Venice? (seesSmarda). Now slave! Scythian!Why do you linger?Smarda.I am bidden—(snarls) byMy mistress.Hassan.Spa! Thy mistress hath, I think,Something of hell in her and has unpackedA portion in this castle. Is it so?Smarda.My lady is of Venice.Hassan.Strike her, God.Her smirk admits it.Smarda.Touch me not!Hassan.I'll wringYour tongue out sudden, if it now has lies.What of your lady and lord Renier?Smarda.Off!Renierenters behind, withMoro.Hassan.Your lady and lord Renier, I say!What do they purpose?Smarda.Fool-born! look around.Hassan.Not till——Smarda.Lord Renier, help.Hassan.What do you say?[Turns, and stares amazed.A fool I am ...Renier.Where is my wife?Hassan.Why, she ...This slave stung me to pry.Renier.Where is my wife?Hassan.A moment since she left—the women with her.She asked for your return.Renier.And wherefore did?Hassan.You jeer me.Renier.Answer.Hassan.Have you not been gone?Renier.Not—overfar. Where is Yolanda?—Well?No matter; find my chamber till I come.Of my arrival, too, no word to any.[Hassangoes, confused.You, Moro, have deferred me; now, I move.Whether it is suspicion eats in me,Mistrust and fret and doubt—of whom I say not,Or whether desire, and unsubduable,To see Amaury sceptred—I care not.[ToSmarda.Slave, to your lady who awaits me, sayI'm here and now have chosen.Moro.Do not!Renier.Chosen.[Smardagoes.None can be great who will not hush his heartTo hold a sceptre, and Amaury must.He is Lusignan and his lineageWill drown in him Yolanda's loveliness.Moro.It will not.Renier.Then at least I shall uncoverWhat this Venetian hints.Moro.Sir?Renier.I must know.Moro.'Tis of your wife?—Yolanda?Renier.Name them not.They've shut me from their souls.Moro.My lord, not so;But you repulse them.Renier.When they pity. No,Something has gone from me or never wasWithin my breast. I love not—am unlovable.Amaury is not so.And this Venetian Vittia Pisani——Moro.Distrust her!Renier.She has power.Moro.But not truth.And yesterday a holy relic scorned.Renier.She loves Amaury. Wed to her he willBe the elected Governor of Cyprus.The throne, then, but a step.Moro.But all too great.And think; Yolanda is to him as heaven:He will not yield her.Renier.Then he must. And she,The Venetian, has ways to it—a secretTo wrench her from his arms.Moro.Sir, sir?—of what?Renier.I know not, of some shame.Moro.Shame!Renier.Why do you clutch me?Moro.I—am a priest—and shame——Renier.You show suspicions.[Vittiaenters unnoted.Of whom?—Of whom, and what?Vittia(lightly).My lord, of women.[Renierstarts and turns.So does the Holy Church instil him.Renier.YouCome softly, lady of Venice.Vittia.Streets of seaIn Venice teach us.Renier.Of what women, then?My wife? Yolanda?Vittia.By the freedom due us,What matters it? In Venice our lords knowThat beauty has no master.Renier.Has no....That,That too has something hid.Vittia.Suspicious lord!Yet Berengere Lusignan is his wife!And soon Yolanda—But for that I'm here.You sent for me.Renier(sullen).I sent.Vittia.To say you've chosen?And offer me irrevocable aidTo win Amaury?Renier.All is vain in meBefore the fever for it.Vittia.Then, I shall.It must be done. My want is unafraid.Hourly I am expecting out of VeniceLetters of power.And what to you I pledge is he shall beRuler of Cyprus and these MediterraneanBlue seas that rock ever against its coast.That do I pledge...but more.Renier.Of rule?...Then what?Vittia(going up to him).Of shame withheld—dishonor unrevealed.[As he recoils.Hush! there are steps.[The slave re-enters.Smarda?Smarda(quickly).My lady!Vittia.Speak.Smarda.I've erred; she's not asleep.Vittia.Who?—Ah! Yolanda?Smarda.Yes; she is coming!Renier.Ha!Vittia.My lord——!Renier.I'll stay,Stay and confront her.Vittia.Ignorantly? No.Renier.I'll question her.Vittia.Blindly, and peril all?Renier.I will return. You put me off, and off.[By the loggia, withMoro,he goes; the slave slips out.Yolandaenters, sadly, her gaze on the floor. She walks slowly, but becoming conscious starts, seesVittia,and turns to withdraw.Vittia.Your pardon—Yolanda.I can serve you?Vittia.If you seekThe women, they are gone.Yolanda.I do not seek them.Vittia.Nor me?Yolanda.Nor any.—Yet I would I mightWith seeking penetrate the labyrinthOf your intent.Vittia.I thank you. And you shall,To-night—if you have love.Yolanda.That thread were vain.Vittia.I say, if you have love.Yolanda.Of guile?Vittia.Of herYou hold as mother, and who is Amaury's.Yolanda.Were it so simple, all designs that everLaired in you, would to my eyes have been as clearAs shallows under Morpha's crystal wave.Vittia.Unproven you speak so.Yolanda.And proven would.Vittia.If so, then—save her.Yolanda.Who? What do you—? (stops).Vittia(with irony).Mean?It is not clear?Yolanda.Save her?Vittia.The surety fliesOut of your cheek and dead upon your heart:Yet you are innocent—oh innocent!—O'er what abyss she hangs!Yolanda.O'er no abyss.Vittia.But to her lord is constant!Yolanda(desperate).She is constant.Vittia.And to his bed is true!Yolanda.True.Vittia.And this baronOf Paphos—Camarin—is but herfriend,And deeply yours—as oft you feign to shield her!Yolanda.He is no more.Vittia.Your heart belies your lips,Knows better than believing what you say.Yolanda.Were, were he then...(struggles) lord Renier knows it not!And never must. I have misled his thoughtFrom her to me. The danger thus may pass,The open shame.Sir Camarin departed, her releaseFrom the remorse and fettering will seemSweet as a vista into fairyland.For none e'er will betray her.Vittia.None?Yolanda.Your tone...!(Realising.) The still insinuation! You would do it!This is the beast then of the labyrinth!And this your heart is!Vittia.No, not ever: no.Butnow, if you deny me.Yolanda.Speak as a woman,If there is womanhood in you to speak.The name of Berengere Lusignan mustGo clean unto the years, fair and unsullied.Nor must the bloody leapOf death fall on her from lord Renier's sword,A death too ready if he but suspect.No, she is holy!And holy are my lipsRemembering that they may call her mother!All the bright world I breathe because of her,Laughter and roses, day-song of the sea,Not bitterness and loneliness and blight!All the bright world,Of voices, dear as waking to the dead—Voices of love and tender earthly hopes—O, all the beauty I was once forbid!For O!—She lifted me, a lonely convent weed,A cloister thing unvisited of dew,Withering and untended and afarFrom the remembered ruin of my home,And here has planted me in happiness.Then, for her, all I am!Vittia.Or—hope to be?Yolanda.The price, say, of your silence.—I am weary.Vittia.And would be rid of me.Yolanda.The price, the price.Vittia.It is (low and ashamed) that you renounce Amaury's love.[A pause.Yolanda.Amaury's love....You then would rend me thereWhere not Eternity could heal the woundThough all the River of God might be for balm!Cruelty like to this you could not do?[Waits a moment.
ACT IACT IIACT IIIACT IV
CHARACTERS
Scene:A dim Hall, of blended Gothic and Saracenic styles, in the Lusignan Castle, on the island of Cyprus near Famagouste. Around the walls, above faint frescoes portraying the deliverance of Jerusalem by the Crusaders, runs a frieze inlaid with the coats-of-arms of former Lusignan kings. On the left, and back, is a door hung with heavy damask, and in the wall opposite, another. Farther down on the right a few steps, whose railing supports a Greek vase with jasmine, lead through a chapel to the sleeping apartments. In the rear, on either side, are guled lattice windows, and in the centre an open grated door, looking upon a loggia, and, across the garden below, over the moonlit sea. Seats are placed about, and, forward, a divan with rich Turkish coverings. A table with a lighted cross-shaped candlestick is by the door, left; and a lectern with a book on it, to the front, right. As the curtain rises, the Women, exceptCiva,lean wearily on the divan, andHalilnear is singing dreamily:
Ah, the balm, the balm,And ah, the blessingOf the deep fall of nightAnd of confessing.Of the sick soul made whiteOf all distressing:Made white!...Ah, balm of nightAnd, ah the blessing!
Ah, the balm, the balm,And ah, the blessingOf the deep fall of nightAnd of confessing.Of the sick soul made whiteOf all distressing:Made white!...Ah, balm of nightAnd, ah the blessing!
[The music falls and all seem yielding to sleep. Suddenly there are hoof-beats and sounds at the gates below.Halilsprings up.
Halil.Alessa! Maga! Voices at the gates!
Halil.Alessa! Maga! Voices at the gates!
[All start up.
Some one is come.Alessa.Boy, Halil, who?Halil.Up, up!Perhaps lord Renier—No: I will learn.
Some one is come.
Alessa.Boy, Halil, who?
Halil.Up, up!Perhaps lord Renier—No: I will learn.
[He runs to curtains and looks.
It is Olympio! Olympio!From Famagouste and lord Amaury!Mauria.Ah!And comes he here?Halil.As he were lord of skies!To lady Yolanda, by my lute!Maga.Where is she?Alessa.I do not know; perhaps, her chamber.Mauria.Stay:His word may be of the Saracens.Halil(calling).Oho!
It is Olympio! Olympio!From Famagouste and lord Amaury!
Mauria.Ah!And comes he here?
Halil.As he were lord of skies!To lady Yolanda, by my lute!
Maga.Where is she?
Alessa.I do not know; perhaps, her chamber.
Mauria.Stay:His word may be of the Saracens.
Halil(calling).Oho!
[He admitsOlympio,who enters insolently down. All press round him gaily.
Mauria.Well, what, Olympio, from Famagouste?What tidings? tell us.Maga.See, his sword!Olympio.Stand off.Mauria.The tidings, then, the tidings!Olympio.None—for women.Mauria.So-ho, my Cupid? None of the Saracens?Of the squadron huddling yesterday for havenAt Keryneia?Olympio.Who has told you?Mauria.Who?A hundred galleys westing up the wind,Scenting the shore, but timorous as hounds.A gale—and twenty down!Maga.The rest are flown?Olympio.Ask Zeus, or ask, to-morrow, lord Amaury,Or, if he comes, to-night. To lady YolandaI'm sent and not to tattle, silly, here.
Mauria.Well, what, Olympio, from Famagouste?What tidings? tell us.
Maga.See, his sword!
Olympio.Stand off.
Mauria.The tidings, then, the tidings!
Olympio.None—for women.
Mauria.So-ho, my Cupid? None of the Saracens?Of the squadron huddling yesterday for havenAt Keryneia?
Olympio.Who has told you?
Mauria.Who?A hundred galleys westing up the wind,Scenting the shore, but timorous as hounds.A gale—and twenty down!
Maga.The rest are flown?
Olympio.Ask Zeus, or ask, to-morrow, lord Amaury,Or, if he comes, to-night. To lady YolandaI'm sent and not to tattle, silly, here.
[He starts off, but is arrested by laughter within. It isCivawho enters, holding up a parchment.
O! Only Civa.
O! Only Civa.
[Starts again withHalil.
Civa.How, Olympio!Stay you, and hear!—May never virgin love him!Gone as a thistle! (turns).Mauria.Pouf! (laughs).Alessa(toCiva).Now what have you?Civa.Verses! found in the garden. Verses! verses!On papyrus of Paphos. O, to read!But you, Alessa—!Alessa(takes them).In the garden?Civa.ByThe fountain cypress, at the marble feetOf chaste Diana!Maga.Where Sir CamarinAnd oft our lady—!Civa.Maga, will you prattle?Read them to us, Alessa, read them, read.They are of love!Maga.No, sorrow.Civa.O, as a nunYou ever sigh for sorrow!—They are of love!Of princes bursting through enchanted boundsTo ladies prisoned in an ogre's keep!Then of the bridals!—O, they are of love!Maga.No, Civa, no!—of sorrow! see, her lips!
Civa.How, Olympio!Stay you, and hear!—May never virgin love him!Gone as a thistle! (turns).
Mauria.Pouf! (laughs).
Alessa(toCiva).Now what have you?
Civa.Verses! found in the garden. Verses! verses!On papyrus of Paphos. O, to read!But you, Alessa—!
Alessa(takes them).In the garden?
Civa.ByThe fountain cypress, at the marble feetOf chaste Diana!
Maga.Where Sir CamarinAnd oft our lady—!
Civa.Maga, will you prattle?Read them to us, Alessa, read them, read.They are of love!
Maga.No, sorrow.
Civa.O, as a nunYou ever sigh for sorrow!—They are of love!Of princes bursting through enchanted boundsTo ladies prisoned in an ogre's keep!Then of the bridals!—O, they are of love!
Maga.No, Civa, no!—of sorrow! see, her lips!
[She points toAlessa,who, reading, has paled.
See, see!Civa.Alessa!Alessa.Maga—Civa—Ah!
See, see!
Civa.Alessa!
Alessa.Maga—Civa—Ah!
[She rends the parchment.
Mauria.What are you doing?Alessa.They were writ toher!Mauria.To her? to whom? what are you saying? Read!Read us the verses.Alessa.No.Mauria.Tell then his nameWho writes them, and to whom.Alessa.I will not.Mauria.ThenIt is some guilt you hide!—And touching herYou dote on—lady Yolanda!Alessa.Shame!Mauria.Some guiltOf one, then, in this castle!—See, her lipsBetray it is.Maga.No, Mauria! no! no! (holds her) hush!
Mauria.What are you doing?
Alessa.They were writ toher!
Mauria.To her? to whom? what are you saying? Read!Read us the verses.
Alessa.No.
Mauria.Tell then his nameWho writes them, and to whom.
Alessa.I will not.
Mauria.ThenIt is some guilt you hide!—And touching herYou dote on—lady Yolanda!
Alessa.Shame!
Mauria.Some guiltOf one, then, in this castle!—See, her lipsBetray it is.
Maga.No, Mauria! no! no! (holds her) hush!
[Forms appear without.
Mauria.O, loose me.Maga.There, on the loggia! Hush, see—Our lady and Sir Camarin.Alessa(fearful).It is....They heard us, Maga?Maga.No, but——Mauria(toAlessa).So? that mouse?Alessa.You know not, Mauria, what thing you say.—He is troubling her; be still.
Mauria.O, loose me.
Maga.There, on the loggia! Hush, see—Our lady and Sir Camarin.
Alessa(fearful).It is....They heard us, Maga?
Maga.No, but——
Mauria(toAlessa).So? that mouse?
Alessa.You know not, Mauria, what thing you say.—He is troubling her; be still.
[Stepping out asBerengereenters.
My lady?Berengere(unwillingly).Yes.It is time, now, for your lamps,And for your aves and o'erneeded sleep.But first I'd know if yet lord Renier——
My lady?
Berengere(unwillingly).Yes.It is time, now, for your lamps,And for your aves and o'erneeded sleep.But first I'd know if yet lord Renier——
[SeesAlessa'sface.
Why are you pale?Alessa.I?Berengere.So—and strange.Alessa.We haveBut put away the distaff and the needle.
Why are you pale?
Alessa.I?
Berengere.So—and strange.
Alessa.We haveBut put away the distaff and the needle.
Camarinenters.
Berengere.The distaff and the needle—it may be.And yet you do not seem——Alessa.My lady—?Berengere.Go.And send me Hassan.
Berengere.The distaff and the needle—it may be.And yet you do not seem——
Alessa.My lady—?
Berengere.Go.And send me Hassan.
[The women leave.
Camarin—you saw?They were not as their wont is.Camarin.To your eyes,My Berengere, that apprehension haunts.They were as ever. Then be done with fear!Berengere.I cannot.Camarin.To the abyss with it. To-nightIs ours—Renier tarries at Famagouste—Is ours for love and for a long delight!Berengere.Whose end may be—Camarin.Dawn and the dewy lark!And passing of all presage from you.Berengere(sits).No:For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypressWe read the verses! And my dream that IShould with a cross—inscrutable is sleep!—Bring her deep bitterness.Camarin.Dreams are a broodBorn of the night and not of destiny.She guesses not our guilt, and RenierClasps to his breast ambition as a bride—Ambition for Amaury.Berengere.None can say.He's much with this Venetian, our guest,Though Venice gyves us more with tyrannyThan would the Saracen.Camarin.But through this ladyOf the Pisani, powerful in Venice,He hopes to lift again his dynastyUp from decay; and to restore this island,This verdure-dream of the seas, unto his house.'Tis clear, my Berengere!Berengere.Then,herdesign?And, the requital that entices her?
Camarin—you saw?They were not as their wont is.
Camarin.To your eyes,My Berengere, that apprehension haunts.They were as ever. Then be done with fear!
Berengere.I cannot.
Camarin.To the abyss with it. To-nightIs ours—Renier tarries at Famagouste—Is ours for love and for a long delight!
Berengere.Whose end may be—
Camarin.Dawn and the dewy lark!And passing of all presage from you.
Berengere(sits).No:For think, Yolanda's look when by the cypressWe read the verses! And my dream that IShould with a cross—inscrutable is sleep!—Bring her deep bitterness.
Camarin.Dreams are a broodBorn of the night and not of destiny.She guesses not our guilt, and RenierClasps to his breast ambition as a bride—Ambition for Amaury.
Berengere.None can say.He's much with this Venetian, our guest,Though Venice gyves us more with tyrannyThan would the Saracen.
Camarin.But through this ladyOf the Pisani, powerful in Venice,He hopes to lift again his dynastyUp from decay; and to restore this island,This verdure-dream of the seas, unto his house.'Tis clear, my Berengere!
Berengere.Then,herdesign?And, the requital that entices her?
[Rises.
Evil will come of it, to us some evil,Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love.—But, there; the women.Camarin.And too brief their stay.What signal for to-night?Berengere.Be in the garden.Over the threshold yonder I will waveThe candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep.Camarin.And with the beam I shall mount up to youQuicker than ecstasy.Berengere.I am as a leafBefore the wind and raging of your love.Go—go.Camarin.But to return unto your breast!
Evil will come of it, to us some evil,Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love.—But, there; the women.
Camarin.And too brief their stay.What signal for to-night?
Berengere.Be in the garden.Over the threshold yonder I will waveThe candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep.
Camarin.And with the beam I shall mount up to youQuicker than ecstasy.
Berengere.I am as a leafBefore the wind and raging of your love.Go—go.
Camarin.But to return unto your breast!
[He leaves her by the divan.
[The women re-enter with silver lighted lamps; behind them areHassanand the slaveSmarda.They wait forBerengere,who has stood silent, to speak.
Berengere(looking up). Ah, you are come; I had forgotten.And it is time for sleep.—Hassan, the gates:Close them.Hassan.And chain them, lady?Berengere.Wait no longer.Lord Renier will not come.Hassan.No word of him?Berengere.None, though he yesterday left NicosieWith the priest Moro.Hassan.Lady—Berengere.Wait no longer.Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.
Berengere(looking up). Ah, you are come; I had forgotten.And it is time for sleep.—Hassan, the gates:Close them.
Hassan.And chain them, lady?
Berengere.Wait no longer.Lord Renier will not come.
Hassan.No word of him?
Berengere.None, though he yesterday left NicosieWith the priest Moro.
Hassan.Lady—
Berengere.Wait no longer.Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.
[The women go by the steps.Berengerefollows.
Hassan(staring after her). The reason of this mood in her? the reason?Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weepsIn secret; all for what? By God! the Paphian?Or she of Venice? (seesSmarda). Now slave! Scythian!Why do you linger?Smarda.I am bidden—(snarls) byMy mistress.Hassan.Spa! Thy mistress hath, I think,Something of hell in her and has unpackedA portion in this castle. Is it so?Smarda.My lady is of Venice.Hassan.Strike her, God.Her smirk admits it.Smarda.Touch me not!Hassan.I'll wringYour tongue out sudden, if it now has lies.What of your lady and lord Renier?Smarda.Off!
Hassan(staring after her). The reason of this mood in her? the reason?Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weepsIn secret; all for what? By God! the Paphian?Or she of Venice? (seesSmarda). Now slave! Scythian!Why do you linger?
Smarda.I am bidden—(snarls) byMy mistress.
Hassan.Spa! Thy mistress hath, I think,Something of hell in her and has unpackedA portion in this castle. Is it so?
Smarda.My lady is of Venice.
Hassan.Strike her, God.Her smirk admits it.
Smarda.Touch me not!
Hassan.I'll wringYour tongue out sudden, if it now has lies.What of your lady and lord Renier?
Smarda.Off!
Renierenters behind, withMoro.
Hassan.Your lady and lord Renier, I say!What do they purpose?Smarda.Fool-born! look around.Hassan.Not till——Smarda.Lord Renier, help.Hassan.What do you say?
Hassan.Your lady and lord Renier, I say!What do they purpose?
Smarda.Fool-born! look around.
Hassan.Not till——
Smarda.Lord Renier, help.
Hassan.What do you say?
[Turns, and stares amazed.
A fool I am ...Renier.Where is my wife?Hassan.Why, she ...This slave stung me to pry.Renier.Where is my wife?Hassan.A moment since she left—the women with her.She asked for your return.Renier.And wherefore did?Hassan.You jeer me.Renier.Answer.Hassan.Have you not been gone?Renier.Not—overfar. Where is Yolanda?—Well?No matter; find my chamber till I come.Of my arrival, too, no word to any.
A fool I am ...
Renier.Where is my wife?
Hassan.Why, she ...This slave stung me to pry.
Renier.Where is my wife?
Hassan.A moment since she left—the women with her.She asked for your return.
Renier.And wherefore did?
Hassan.You jeer me.
Renier.Answer.
Hassan.Have you not been gone?
Renier.Not—overfar. Where is Yolanda?—Well?No matter; find my chamber till I come.Of my arrival, too, no word to any.
[Hassangoes, confused.
You, Moro, have deferred me; now, I move.Whether it is suspicion eats in me,Mistrust and fret and doubt—of whom I say not,Or whether desire, and unsubduable,To see Amaury sceptred—I care not.
You, Moro, have deferred me; now, I move.Whether it is suspicion eats in me,Mistrust and fret and doubt—of whom I say not,Or whether desire, and unsubduable,To see Amaury sceptred—I care not.
[ToSmarda.
Slave, to your lady who awaits me, sayI'm here and now have chosen.Moro.Do not!Renier.Chosen.
Slave, to your lady who awaits me, sayI'm here and now have chosen.
Moro.Do not!
Renier.Chosen.
[Smardagoes.
None can be great who will not hush his heartTo hold a sceptre, and Amaury must.He is Lusignan and his lineageWill drown in him Yolanda's loveliness.Moro.It will not.Renier.Then at least I shall uncoverWhat this Venetian hints.Moro.Sir?Renier.I must know.Moro.'Tis of your wife?—Yolanda?Renier.Name them not.They've shut me from their souls.Moro.My lord, not so;But you repulse them.Renier.When they pity. No,Something has gone from me or never wasWithin my breast. I love not—am unlovable.Amaury is not so.And this Venetian Vittia Pisani——Moro.Distrust her!Renier.She has power.Moro.But not truth.And yesterday a holy relic scorned.Renier.She loves Amaury. Wed to her he willBe the elected Governor of Cyprus.The throne, then, but a step.Moro.But all too great.And think; Yolanda is to him as heaven:He will not yield her.Renier.Then he must. And she,The Venetian, has ways to it—a secretTo wrench her from his arms.Moro.Sir, sir?—of what?Renier.I know not, of some shame.Moro.Shame!Renier.Why do you clutch me?Moro.I—am a priest—and shame——Renier.You show suspicions.
None can be great who will not hush his heartTo hold a sceptre, and Amaury must.He is Lusignan and his lineageWill drown in him Yolanda's loveliness.
Moro.It will not.
Renier.Then at least I shall uncoverWhat this Venetian hints.
Moro.Sir?
Renier.I must know.
Moro.'Tis of your wife?—Yolanda?
Renier.Name them not.They've shut me from their souls.
Moro.My lord, not so;But you repulse them.
Renier.When they pity. No,Something has gone from me or never wasWithin my breast. I love not—am unlovable.Amaury is not so.And this Venetian Vittia Pisani——
Moro.Distrust her!
Renier.She has power.
Moro.But not truth.And yesterday a holy relic scorned.
Renier.She loves Amaury. Wed to her he willBe the elected Governor of Cyprus.The throne, then, but a step.
Moro.But all too great.And think; Yolanda is to him as heaven:He will not yield her.
Renier.Then he must. And she,The Venetian, has ways to it—a secretTo wrench her from his arms.
Moro.Sir, sir?—of what?
Renier.I know not, of some shame.
Moro.Shame!
Renier.Why do you clutch me?
Moro.I—am a priest—and shame——
Renier.You show suspicions.
[Vittiaenters unnoted.
Of whom?—Of whom, and what?Vittia(lightly).My lord, of women.
Of whom?—Of whom, and what?
Vittia(lightly).My lord, of women.
[Renierstarts and turns.
So does the Holy Church instil him.Renier.YouCome softly, lady of Venice.Vittia.Streets of seaIn Venice teach us.Renier.Of what women, then?My wife? Yolanda?Vittia.By the freedom due us,What matters it? In Venice our lords knowThat beauty has no master.Renier.Has no....That,That too has something hid.Vittia.Suspicious lord!Yet Berengere Lusignan is his wife!And soon Yolanda—But for that I'm here.You sent for me.Renier(sullen).I sent.Vittia.To say you've chosen?And offer me irrevocable aidTo win Amaury?Renier.All is vain in meBefore the fever for it.Vittia.Then, I shall.It must be done. My want is unafraid.Hourly I am expecting out of VeniceLetters of power.And what to you I pledge is he shall beRuler of Cyprus and these MediterraneanBlue seas that rock ever against its coast.That do I pledge...but more.Renier.Of rule?...Then what?Vittia(going up to him).Of shame withheld—dishonor unrevealed.
So does the Holy Church instil him.
Renier.YouCome softly, lady of Venice.
Vittia.Streets of seaIn Venice teach us.
Renier.Of what women, then?My wife? Yolanda?
Vittia.By the freedom due us,What matters it? In Venice our lords knowThat beauty has no master.
Renier.Has no....That,That too has something hid.
Vittia.Suspicious lord!Yet Berengere Lusignan is his wife!And soon Yolanda—But for that I'm here.You sent for me.
Renier(sullen).I sent.
Vittia.To say you've chosen?And offer me irrevocable aidTo win Amaury?
Renier.All is vain in meBefore the fever for it.
Vittia.Then, I shall.It must be done. My want is unafraid.Hourly I am expecting out of VeniceLetters of power.And what to you I pledge is he shall beRuler of Cyprus and these MediterraneanBlue seas that rock ever against its coast.That do I pledge...but more.
Renier.Of rule?...Then what?
Vittia(going up to him).Of shame withheld—dishonor unrevealed.
[As he recoils.
Hush! there are steps.
Hush! there are steps.
[The slave re-enters.
Smarda?Smarda(quickly).My lady!Vittia.Speak.Smarda.I've erred; she's not asleep.Vittia.Who?—Ah! Yolanda?Smarda.Yes; she is coming!Renier.Ha!Vittia.My lord——!Renier.I'll stay,Stay and confront her.Vittia.Ignorantly? No.Renier.I'll question her.Vittia.Blindly, and peril all?Renier.I will return. You put me off, and off.
Smarda?
Smarda(quickly).My lady!
Vittia.Speak.
Smarda.I've erred; she's not asleep.
Vittia.Who?—Ah! Yolanda?
Smarda.Yes; she is coming!
Renier.Ha!
Vittia.My lord——!
Renier.I'll stay,Stay and confront her.
Vittia.Ignorantly? No.
Renier.I'll question her.
Vittia.Blindly, and peril all?
Renier.I will return. You put me off, and off.
[By the loggia, withMoro,he goes; the slave slips out.Yolandaenters, sadly, her gaze on the floor. She walks slowly, but becoming conscious starts, seesVittia,and turns to withdraw.
Vittia.Your pardon—Yolanda.I can serve you?Vittia.If you seekThe women, they are gone.Yolanda.I do not seek them.Vittia.Nor me?Yolanda.Nor any.—Yet I would I mightWith seeking penetrate the labyrinthOf your intent.Vittia.I thank you. And you shall,To-night—if you have love.Yolanda.That thread were vain.Vittia.I say, if you have love.Yolanda.Of guile?Vittia.Of herYou hold as mother, and who is Amaury's.Yolanda.Were it so simple, all designs that everLaired in you, would to my eyes have been as clearAs shallows under Morpha's crystal wave.Vittia.Unproven you speak so.Yolanda.And proven would.Vittia.If so, then—save her.Yolanda.Who? What do you—? (stops).Vittia(with irony).Mean?It is not clear?Yolanda.Save her?Vittia.The surety fliesOut of your cheek and dead upon your heart:Yet you are innocent—oh innocent!—O'er what abyss she hangs!Yolanda.O'er no abyss.Vittia.But to her lord is constant!Yolanda(desperate).She is constant.Vittia.And to his bed is true!Yolanda.True.Vittia.And this baronOf Paphos—Camarin—is but herfriend,And deeply yours—as oft you feign to shield her!Yolanda.He is no more.Vittia.Your heart belies your lips,Knows better than believing what you say.Yolanda.Were, were he then...(struggles) lord Renier knows it not!And never must. I have misled his thoughtFrom her to me. The danger thus may pass,The open shame.Sir Camarin departed, her releaseFrom the remorse and fettering will seemSweet as a vista into fairyland.For none e'er will betray her.Vittia.None?Yolanda.Your tone...!(Realising.) The still insinuation! You would do it!This is the beast then of the labyrinth!And this your heart is!Vittia.No, not ever: no.Butnow, if you deny me.Yolanda.Speak as a woman,If there is womanhood in you to speak.The name of Berengere Lusignan mustGo clean unto the years, fair and unsullied.Nor must the bloody leapOf death fall on her from lord Renier's sword,A death too ready if he but suspect.No, she is holy!And holy are my lipsRemembering that they may call her mother!All the bright world I breathe because of her,Laughter and roses, day-song of the sea,Not bitterness and loneliness and blight!All the bright world,Of voices, dear as waking to the dead—Voices of love and tender earthly hopes—O, all the beauty I was once forbid!For O!—She lifted me, a lonely convent weed,A cloister thing unvisited of dew,Withering and untended and afarFrom the remembered ruin of my home,And here has planted me in happiness.Then, for her, all I am!Vittia.Or—hope to be?Yolanda.The price, say, of your silence.—I am weary.Vittia.And would be rid of me.Yolanda.The price, the price.Vittia.It is (low and ashamed) that you renounce Amaury's love.
Vittia.Your pardon—
Yolanda.I can serve you?
Vittia.If you seekThe women, they are gone.
Yolanda.I do not seek them.
Vittia.Nor me?
Yolanda.Nor any.—Yet I would I mightWith seeking penetrate the labyrinthOf your intent.
Vittia.I thank you. And you shall,To-night—if you have love.
Yolanda.That thread were vain.
Vittia.I say, if you have love.
Yolanda.Of guile?
Vittia.Of herYou hold as mother, and who is Amaury's.
Yolanda.Were it so simple, all designs that everLaired in you, would to my eyes have been as clearAs shallows under Morpha's crystal wave.
Vittia.Unproven you speak so.
Yolanda.And proven would.
Vittia.If so, then—save her.
Yolanda.Who? What do you—? (stops).
Vittia(with irony).Mean?It is not clear?
Yolanda.Save her?
Vittia.The surety fliesOut of your cheek and dead upon your heart:Yet you are innocent—oh innocent!—O'er what abyss she hangs!
Yolanda.O'er no abyss.
Vittia.But to her lord is constant!
Yolanda(desperate).She is constant.
Vittia.And to his bed is true!
Yolanda.True.
Vittia.And this baronOf Paphos—Camarin—is but herfriend,And deeply yours—as oft you feign to shield her!
Yolanda.He is no more.
Vittia.Your heart belies your lips,Knows better than believing what you say.
Yolanda.Were, were he then...(struggles) lord Renier knows it not!And never must. I have misled his thoughtFrom her to me. The danger thus may pass,The open shame.Sir Camarin departed, her releaseFrom the remorse and fettering will seemSweet as a vista into fairyland.For none e'er will betray her.
Vittia.None?
Yolanda.Your tone...!(Realising.) The still insinuation! You would do it!This is the beast then of the labyrinth!And this your heart is!
Vittia.No, not ever: no.Butnow, if you deny me.
Yolanda.Speak as a woman,If there is womanhood in you to speak.The name of Berengere Lusignan mustGo clean unto the years, fair and unsullied.Nor must the bloody leapOf death fall on her from lord Renier's sword,A death too ready if he but suspect.No, she is holy!And holy are my lipsRemembering that they may call her mother!All the bright world I breathe because of her,Laughter and roses, day-song of the sea,Not bitterness and loneliness and blight!All the bright world,Of voices, dear as waking to the dead—Voices of love and tender earthly hopes—O, all the beauty I was once forbid!For O!—She lifted me, a lonely convent weed,A cloister thing unvisited of dew,Withering and untended and afarFrom the remembered ruin of my home,And here has planted me in happiness.Then, for her, all I am!
Vittia.Or—hope to be?
Yolanda.The price, say, of your silence.—I am weary.
Vittia.And would be rid of me.
Yolanda.The price, the price.
Vittia.It is (low and ashamed) that you renounce Amaury's love.
[A pause.
Yolanda.Amaury's love....You then would rend me thereWhere not Eternity could heal the woundThough all the River of God might be for balm!Cruelty like to this you could not do?
Yolanda.Amaury's love....You then would rend me thereWhere not Eternity could heal the woundThough all the River of God might be for balm!Cruelty like to this you could not do?
[Waits a moment.