ACT II
A Year Has Elapsed
Scene: A sala, or hall, in the house of Rizzio. Its spacious walls and ceiling are frescoed with Virgilian scenes of a simpler and more beautiful kind than was usual to the decaying art of the period, and its high-arched open doors in the rear look out upon the terrace of Act I, toward the city, the Bay, Vesuvius—the whole magic curve of the haunting coast.
Several antique terminal-statues, the bodies of which end strangely in their pedestals, stand on either side these doors, and about the hall a Venus and other rare objects of virtu recovered from the past are mingled with the furnishings of the room, which, arranged for joy and beauty, seems somehow sad when unoccupied, as now, tho the Neapolitan sun is shining brightly in from the blue.
An arrased doorway right leads thro a passage to the street gate, and one left to the penetralia of the house, from which Marina enters deeply troubled. She looks back, shakes her head, saying, "O my poor lady!" then crosses to door right, listens, and hearing nothing goes slowly to door rear, where she waits, singing sadly:
Shepherds down the mountain wind,
Wild pipes play in the street.
O Sicily, my Sicily,
I long for thee, my Sweet!
Once a year God takes his joy,
And that great joy is Spring,
He weds earth clad in blossom-robes,
For His enrapturing!
[She stops, listening, then resumes:
Once a year God takes his joy,
And that—
[She stops again hearing sounds at the gate, then is startled to paleness by the voice of Matteo; and as she listens a stern strong determination takes her.
Matteo.
Basta! am I to pass! son of a dog!
Snout of a swine! knave! door-bestriding fool!
Have I not matters to her from my master,
To the Signora, from her husband's brother?
[A scuffle.
The Devil's scullion feed you
On flame, until your liver shrivels black!
[He has pushed past and enters the Hall insolently.
O-hé! who's here! I come from Signor Osio!
[Sees Marina.
The little Sicilian? Luck then is my slave!
[Going to her.
Well, pretty fig! my little red pomegranate!
My fair forbidden fruit—pluckt in the moon!
I've come ... (stopped by her mien) But,
Blood of the Holy Sepulchre!
[Looks around uncertainly.
What thing has happened here?
Marina.
That, Matteo,
[Speaks solemnly.
Which yet I do not know, and which I pray
Madonna you may be as ignorant of.
Matteo.
Eh?... I, my beauty?
Marina.
You—who left this house
A year ago to-night with Signor Osio,
Left suddenly,
To serve his wealth and pleasure,
And who will leave it now as instantly,
If he is not in need—of absolution.
Matteo.
Of ... (starting) absolution?
Body, now, of Bacchus!
Does he not go to the Mass—and if he does not
Am I a priest
To know his need of purging?
Or if he sins must I be damned with him?
Marina.
No, so the way from it—
Matteo.
The way! the way!
I want no way, but in unto your mistress.
Am I not sent here to her with commands?
Ecco! and must I turn with them upon me,
And say a wench denied me?
Or that I feared
Perchance to catch the fever
Of heresy your master's shackled with?
Pah, but you jest, my ruby rose of Aetna—
[Insinuatingly.
Whom yet I will not say but I will wed,
Tho you are from that Paynim-breeding isle
Of Sicily. You jest: so, in with you.
I seek your lady.
Marina.
Seek ... and shall find more.
Matteo.
More! (Struck by her tone.) And from what and whom?
Marina.
I wait Aloysius,
The leech.
Matteo.
And that is what I am to fear?
Marina.
The child is ill.
Matteo (starting).
The child!
Marina.
My lady's child.
[With tenser solemnity.
For there has come of late into her mind
A dread that has dried life within her breasts.
Matteo (who pales).
And am I God, woman, to keep dread from her?
Marina.
Tending to it a strangeness comes upon her,
And with the sudden seizure of it, fear—
Shudders of horror, instincts of some evil
That she somehow has suffered, or committed—
[Pauses.
Matteo (paler).
What do you mean!
Marina.
As one within a trance.
Matteo.
And do you mean—?
Marina.
A mood seizes her flesh
That creeps against her will whene'er unto her
The little one is pressed.
Matteo (trembling).
This is a lie!
Marina.
She cannot look upon it, but with terror,
That brings remorse
Awakening more terror!
The blight of heresy, she strives to think
Of her lord's heresy is sent upon her,
Or of her own refusal, it may be,
To wed the Convent, not the carnal world.
Matteo.
To you she said this?
Marina.
Ah! and Madonna! her sleep!
She walks with eyes wide open.
Matteo.
I say you lie.
You do! as if Eternity were not,—
[Seizes her wrist.
To frighten me and Signor Osio!
Marina (coldly, stingingly).
And yet you understand? ha, understand?
And hoarsely stare at words upon my lips
That should be meaningless as moony madness?
You penetrate
What not the Pope himself,
Nor any could, but with a guilty knowledge?
There's villainy I say, and you are in it,
The tool of a blind villain, who should be
Where now his brother rots, but that the Church
Is no more Christ's!
Ah, ah! my nails could tear
Your hated false caresses from my flesh,
Your kisses from my memory and fling them
Upon your wicked heart. And, for your master,
The Virgin strangle him! She—or another!
[Meaningly.
Another!
Matteo (startled).
What? what say you?
Marina.
That—one—will!
For do not think such sins go unavenged.
[Starts to go.
Matteo.
I say, what do you hint! Stand! there is more!
[Seizes her and clasps her to him.
More! and I'll have it, by the crater of Hell!
More—and your lips shall tell it with a kiss.
Marina.
Off me! (Struggling.) And if you do not get from here—
[Breaks free.
Before Signora Bianca—
Matteo.
Ah! Ahi!
It has to do then with the Florentine?
Who is as pagan as that devil Venus,
[Points to statue.
Yet prates to priests as subtly as my master
Who will not play Love with her?
By the Passion and Blood of God, has she again
Gone jealous to Monsignor Querio,
To get undone the doors of the Inquisition,
So that your master ...? has she?
Marina.
They are open!—
O would I who o'erheard might tell my lady!—
And Signor Rizzio goes free to-day!
Free to return here unto his own home!
Free to cast from him a year's ignorance,
A year's imprisonment beyond the pale
Of any word or message
And learn how on his wedding-day when he
Was seized and on his wedding-night when he
Expected to return.... At that you quail?
Begone then, or—
Matteo (gnashing).
The jealousy of women!
Their hearts are devil-pots that ever boil.—
But this is cud for Signor Osio,
So get you in at once unto your mistress
And say—
Enter Bianca suddenly in agitation
Bianca (looking about, with alarm).
Where is my cousin? (Calls) Porzia! Porzia!—
She must return at once—unto the child:
Her mood is perilous and must be pent.
[As they stare.
Did you not see her? (Impatient.) Am I Proserpine
To make such gaping ghosts of you? I say,
Was she not here?
Marina.
Signora—?
Bianca.
She hung, haunted,
[Searching again.
By the child's cradle—there a little since,
But suddenly rose up and fled from it,
Saying—she would wed death!
Marina.
Wed death! Signora!
Bianca.
Yes; I was near. Her words—that struck me stark.
I could not speak. Do you know aught of this,
You who have seen these dark distractions in her?
Or does this ... drone of Signor Osio?
[Toward Matteo.
What brings him here?
Matteo.
Marina there.
Bianca.
Ha, yes!
[At door rear.
The honey from that flower—but what else?
[At door right.
Marina, yes, for you have been with her
Too often under the moon, but there is more
Behind you than yourself. Your master has
Not sent you?
Matteo.
Yes, Signora. To your beauty
He sends salute; and to your lady cousin
Who ... O Signora, see! (staring) upon the terrace!
[He has broken off awestruck.
See, see! Oh, in her hand there is ... Oh!—oh!
[They turn and behold Porzia trancedly approaching, a stiletto before her and her lips moving obliviously.
Porzia.
And should I not, Madonna, if ... O should I?
Would you in heaven not assuage and shrive me?
Make the wound seem as holy as were Christ's?
Miraculously make—
Bianca.
Porzia!
Porzia.
Make—(dazed)
Bianca.
Porzia, do you dream!
Porzia (startled).
Bianca! (dropping blade) You?
[A pause.
Bianca.
This speech to weapons! this distraction. What
And whence and why is it? Your child—
Porzia (quickly).
Yes, yes!...
[A little incoherent.
I went into the garden to wait Aloysius,
My uncle Aloysius, who is a leech.
I have not slept.... What is it I am saying?
[Seeing Matteo.
Is that one come to tell—
Bianca.
He is the servant—
Of Osio.
Porzia (with recoil).
Of Osio?... Of Osio?
[Trembling.
Matteo.
Signora, yes. He sends me with a message.
He begs that he may see you.
Porzia.
See?
Matteo.
Implores
That this strange shrinking from him and aversion,
This pale ... and unintelligible ... repulsion
You have of late—
Porzia.
Go back to him! go, go!
[Struggling: with solemn abhorrence.
And say I cannot see him. He is my brother,
My husband's brother,
Whom I pray to honor.
And is much like my husband:
A likeness that unreasonably, it may be,
I shudder to look upon: and yet—
Matteo.
He bade me
To say, Signora, nothing must prevent;
That it concerns—
Porzia.
See him I will not, ever!
[With utter repugnance.
And cannot and should not tho he sought me in
That time which lies beyond eternity,
That space which is beyond the brink of all.
What thing it is haunting his heart I know not.
But in his presence all my flesh becomes
A shudder of horror,
All my soul a fear.
My husband's brother is he, my poor husband's,
But he.... Go, go!... and tell him that strange drawings
And strange repulsions pass the hearts of those
Whom grief has gathered upon; and that I who
Upon my wedding-day had torn from me—
[Suddenly, uncontrollably.
Say, say I would he were not on the earth!
Bianca (amazed, suspicious).
Porzia! what is this!
Porzia.
I know not: go!
[He goes, then Marina, fearful. An over-fraught pause.
Bianca (at length, jealously).
For this there is a reason—and but one.
You love, you love him!
Porzia.
Love ... whom?
Bianca.
Osio!
Yet dare not so you draw him with denials,
Knowing that to repel is to entrain him.
[As Porzia stares, stupefied.
O mockery of it! fools my eyes were, fools,
That stood within my head and did not see!
To me he spoke of love—yearning for you,
And in me heard but echoes of you ... ever!
Yet, since you loved him,
Why unto his brother,
A heretic o'erturning God with stars,
Did you—
Porzia (sinking to a divan).
I pray you speak things possible,
Tho to your sight I seem and to my own
Like one unnatural beyond belief!
A child I have whom fever now is burning,
A husband all unhallowed in a prison ...
Tho to my dreams last night he seemed to come.
[Bianca starts.
And so you must forgive me if blind shrinkings,
That to your sight seem semblances of love,
Unhelpably o'ertake me.
Bianca.
Then—confess
Why Osio seeks you and why so you shun him?
And with the child why are your ways so wild?
You fear sometimes to touch it,
As if it were another's, or at your breast
Could only drink of horror.
Porzia (rising).
Ah!... ah, ah!
Bianca.
Love is it, love, I say, of Osio,
That motherhood itself cannot amend,
And Rizzio shall hear of it—this day.
Porzia.
He ... there in the darkness ... can hear naught!
Leave me, I pray, to wait Aloysius.
Why comes he not?... Ah, and why do you rend me?
For you would not indeed to Rizzio
Add demon doubts ...
Of me who am to him there in the night
Sun, moon and the white galaxy of stars
Such as not even Messer Bruno dreams....
For, if you would, are you indeed Bianca
Who, as a child, sang with me under the olives
And cypresses; or watched with wonder eyes
The fisherman draw marvels from the deep,
Then homeward wing at eve to Ischia?
I cannot think it!... yet ...!
[Again distraught.
O what is it I dread! what thing has changed
All natural thoughts within me to repugnance,
All instincts and desires into terror?
I cannot touch my flesh, but I turn cold
As if I had touched pollution, cannot press
My child unto my breasts, but ... true, Oh, true!...
A madness whispers in me, "Take it away!"
[Staring, hauntedly.
And too, and too ... in solitude the want
Of Rizzio imprisoned comes to me;
Yet when I reach for him I seem enclasped
By unknown arms ... in the sere dark, that ... Oh!
Now, now I feel them! off!
[A knock at the gate.
(Starting)Ah, ah, Aloysius!...
With healing! he at last! (moving toward door) Uncle, the child—
[Stops rooted to the floor for Osio has suddenly entered. He does not speak, nor she, but only Bianca, who looks at them, uttering his name then turning goes.
Osio (at length, tortured).
You shut me from your presence and your doors,
My messages return to me unopened,
My messengers unhonored—yet I've come,
For speak to you I must, and utterly!
Porzia (gazing).
Lord Jesu!
Osio.
Ai, Lord Jesu! let Him hear!
For if ever He huddled in a Manger,
Or hung, a red atonement, on the Cross—
If you are not soul-bound to heresy,
You must....
Porzia.
Oh, oh! why are you here?
Osio.
Why?... Peace!
Can you not listen to me without terror
Not look upon me
Without eyes where awe
Sits like a murdered thing, or without hands
That flutter at your heart unfalteringly?
I am your brother.
Porzia.
I ... will hold you so.
Osio.
But more than sister are you to my breast.
Porzia.
Ah!
Osio.
More, and I would save you from the flames
That bind you to a heretic and Hell.
Nay, stay! do not start from me; stay, do not!
But hear me, for not that alone has led me,
Not that alone,
But love unbearable—
Such as not any lips in all the world
Have sung, or any famed for it have breathed
Upon the pagan pages of a book:
For they were heathen all, in penance now
Upon the sulphur winds that sweep Inferno,
While I—
Porzia (whose look stops him).
While, you, you, inordinate,
Speak baseness so unto your brother's wife?
Osio.
His, no! no more! no more! for heresy
Has rent from him all rights, therefore I dare
To hunger for you, and to pledge the Pope
Will grant us dispensation—
Porzia.
Oh! Oh, oh!
[Overwhelmed with loathing.
Osio.
You will not heed it, will not come with me?
Porzia.
Madonna, wash his words out of my brain,
[Her hands lifted.
And from my memory purge their pollution!
(To him) Go, go!...
And may the poison of you never pass
Across my sight again.
Osio.
It will—to save you,
For mine you are—God wills it!—and ... have been!
Porzia.
Oh!
Osio.
Have!—it was predestined—by His breath.
Was he to see you mate a heretic,
Or from your body spring the Anti-Christ?
A year ago you wedded one, and I
Was ready with the hands of the Inquisition.
They seized him with his pagan pride upon him,
And from this house of feasting and of flowers
He went. You had a message brought from Matteo
Saying he would return to you at midnight.
I came, and in the darkness of the bower,
Which God made darker,
You took my arms for his!—were mine, were mine!
Porzia (who has sunk to a seat, rising).
Never!—But now I know what I have feared,
What dread it is invisibly has bound me—
Invisibly, unvariably!... I know,
And so shall break it!
Your thought has been to shadow me about
With this unceasing thing, to make me so
Believe—and so obtain me!
Your voice, eyes, lips and being with this purpose
Have held my soul unswervably to fear,
But now it is free! free, free!
Osio.
And will be when
Rizzio comes?
Porzia.
Rizzio?
Osio.
Out of prison?
[As she gazes at him.
I tell you the child is mine! for Rizzio
Returned not to you. Mine, mine, and you must
Protect it and yourself.
Porzia.
From—?... do you mean?
O do you mean that he may come? that you
Expect him, O and soon? and that Bianca—?
Osio.
I mean no mysteries, but that the child
Is mine—
And you may be—
And all be well.
Porzia.
But he will come? you have some intimation?
Some waft of his release, some prescience?
But say it and I will forgive you all!
Say that my arms once more shall clasp him to me!
Say that my heart once more shall beat to his!
Say that my eyes once more shall drink the dawn
From his, and I—
Osio.
Be still. For if you will not
Now, now be mine, one thing must be assured
Beyond the sway of peril:
It must be kept from him there is a child.
Porzia.
Never! but I will lay it in his arms,
Unto the cradle of his bosom bring it—
While I have hands of purity to lift it—
And—
Osio.
Have him fling it forth? Hush! what is here?
[A knocking at the gate: amazed cries: then Rizzio's voice.
Porzia.
Rizzio! Rizzio! Rizzio!
Rizzio (without).
Porzia! Porzia!
[He enters, weak and worn, in tattered raiment, and comes down to where she gazes too overcome to embrace him.
Rizzio.
My Porzia! (With a clasp.) O do I look upon you,
Not on some prison vision that will vanish
Between my arms to nothingness of air?
Some wan and hollow haunting of the night?
Look up into my soul and speak to me
With eyes that are incarnate songs of love!
Ah, what, you cannot?
The swiftness of my coming has undone you?
Porzia.
No, no!
Rizzio.
Then give reality to dreams,
Linking your lips to mine!... Oh, oh! at last!
At last I know I live
And am more than
A madness in miasmic night immured!
And that eternity of want can end—
Upon your breast—within this house where—(Seeing Osio) You?
[With inexplicable antagonism.
Osio.
I ... and I have no welcome for you, knowing
That heresy is still hot in your heart.
Rizzio.
For which you with accursèd joy are glad?...
[Osio goes rankling into garden.
What does he here, my Porzia? what does he?
[Troubled.
Has he been much with you? Sometimes there in
My fetters I have fought strange dreams of him,
Battled against him as against a brood
Of elemental horrors and contagion.
Yet when I would awake—
Porzia (clinging fearfully).
My Rizzio!...
Rizzio.
Ai, yours! when hope was darkest, when the links
Of wolvish steel were feeding on my bone.
[Holds out wrists.
Or like a python wound me as I slept.
Porzia.
The pity of my heart and lips shall heal them.
[With caresses.
Rizzio.
They and the passion of you, and the peace
And beauty of your body and your soul,
That were torn from me at the very altar,
But now—purer for waiting—shall be mine.
Porzia (trembling).
Yes, yes, Rizzio!
Rizzio.
Say, say it again!
For oh, the jealous fears that have defiled me,
The visions I have called a lie in vain,
The hot hands I have seen laid on your beauty!
[To her look of helplessness.
O say it! for you gaze—as if you could not!
As if ... O what is wringing you! You can
Not say it—that no arms but mine have held you,
No lips but mine have ever lingered, ever—?
[A pitiful cry of distress breaks from within, then a hurry of feet and Marina rushes on anguished.
Marina.
My lady! O my lady!... the child! the child!
Porzia (swaying).
What is it? Speak!
Marina.
My lady, it is dead!
[A wild pause.
Porzia.
Dead? dead? my child? my little one? my own?
My baby?... Oh; oh, oh!... oh, oh, oh, oh!
[She stretches her arms distractedly before her and goes.
Rizzio (who has staggered, dazed, and is frenziedly realizing).
God, God, the madness ... is this then the madness....
At last!...
Her child? her child? and I—never a husband?
She has a child and I am childless! I!...
Have I been tricked, beaten, betrayed, undone,
Duped by a lie of low inconstancy.
[To Marina.
Speak, quean!
Marina.
O sir, I know not what to say!
Rizzio.
Tho truth bays wild, fool-face!
Marina.
Sir, sir, I cannot!
But hold, I pray you! for she is ... she ... Ah!
[Has cried out, for the curtains have parted and Porzia is entering—the dead child in her arms, her eyes gazing sightlessly.
Rizzio (who looks at her, racked, laughs wildly, then rushes to door).
At last, at last the heretic's in Hell!
[Breaks past Aloysius entering, and is gone.
Marina (to the leech).
O Signor Aloysius, my poor, poor lady!
[Weeping.
My lady! O what now, what now shall heal her!
Aloysius.
Go in, prepare her bed, and I will bring her.
In, in, I say! (as she goes; to the mother) Porzia!
[Gently.
[She does not answer.
Come, Porzia!
Porzia.
Yes, yes; is the grave ready?
Then let the clod fall softly, and the shroud
Not wake him, for he sleeps. And let there be
Some orange blossoms too ... some orange blossoms!
[She permits him to lead her in, still gazing before her.
Curtain.