SCENE ELEVENTH.
[Norna's cave. Leonore and Adrian.]
Adrian. Dear lady, can I do nought to while away the lonely hours? Shall I go forth and bring thee flowers, or seek thy home and bear away thy bird, thy lute, or aught that may beguile thy solitude? It grieves me that I can do so little for thee.
Leonore. Nay, 'tis I should grieve that I can find no way to show my gratitude to thee, my brave deliverer. But wilt thou not tell me who thou art? I would fain know to whom I owe my life and liberty.
Adrian. Nay, that I may not tell thee. I have sworn a solemn vow, and till that is fulfilled I may not cast aside this sorrowful disguise. Meanwhile, thou mayst call me Adrian. Wilt thou pardon and trust me still?
Leonore. Canst thou doubt my faith in thee? Thou and old Norna are the only friends now left to poor Leonore. I put my whole heart's trust in thee. But if thou canst not tell me of thyself, wilt tell me why thou hast done so much for me, a friendless maiden?
Adrian. I fear it will cause thee sorrow, lady; and thou hast grief enough to bear.
Leonore. Do not fear. I would so gladly know—
Adrian. Forgive me if I make thee weep: I had a friend,—most dear to me. He loved a gentle lady, but ere he could tell her this, he died, and bid me vow to watch above her whom he loved, and guard her with my life. I took the vow: that lady was thyself, that friend Count Louis.
Leonore. Ah, Louis! Louis! that heart thou feared to ask is buried with thee.
Adrian. Thou didst love him, lady?
Leonore. Love him? Most gladly would I lie down within my grave tonight, could I but call him back to life again.
Adrian. Grieve not; thou hast one friend who cannot change,—one who through joy and sorrow will find his truest happiness in serving thee. Hist! I hear a step: I will see who comes.
[Exit Adrian.
Leonore. Kind, watchful friend, how truly do I trust thee!
[Re-enter Adrian.
Adrian. Conceal thyself, dear lady, with all speed. 'Tis Count Rodolpho. Let me lead thee to the inner cave,—there thou wilt be safe.
[They retire within; noise heard without. Enter Rodolpho.
Rod. At last I am safe. Old Norna will conceal me till I can find means to leave the land. Ha!—voices within there. Ho, there! old wizard, hither! I have need of thee!
[Enter Adrian.
Adrian. What wouldst thou?
Rod. Nought. Get thee hence! I seek old Norna.
Adrian. Thou canst not see her; she is not here.
Rod. Not here? 'Tis false,—I heard a woman's voice within there. Let me pass!
Adrian. 'Tis not old Norna, and thou canst not pass.
Rod. Ah, then, who might it be, my most mysterious sir?
Adrian. The Lady Leonore.
Rod. Ha!—how came she hither? By my soul, thou liest! Stand back and let me go. She is mine!
Adrian. Thou canst only enter here above my lifeless body. Leonore is here, and I am her protector and thy deadliest foe. 'Tis for thee to yield and leave this cell.
Rod. No more of this,—thou hast escaped me once. Draw and defend thyself, if thou hast courage to meet a brave man's sword!
Adrian. But for Leonore I would not stoop so low, or stain my sword; but for her sake I'll dare all, and fight thee to the last.
[They fight their way out. Enter Rodolpho.
Rod. At length fate smiles upon me. I am the victor,—and now for Leonore! All danger is forgotten in the joy of winning my revenge on this proud girl! Thou art mine at last, Leonore, and mine forever! [Rushes towards the inner cave. Spirit of Theresa rises.] There 'tis again! I will not fly,—I do defy it! [Attempts to pass. Spirit touches him; he drops his sword and rushes wildly away.] 'Tis vain: I cannot—dare not pass. It comes, it follows me. Whither shall I fly?
[Exit. Enter Adrian wounded.
Adrian. I have saved her once again,—but oh, this deathlike faintness stealing o'er me robs me of my strength. Thou art safe, Leonore, and I am content. [Falls fainting.]
[Enter Leonore.
Leonore. They are gone. Ah, what has chanced? I heard his voice, and now 'tis still as death. Where is my friend? God grant he be not hurt! I'll venture forth and seek him [sees Adrian unconscious before her]. Oh, what is this? Adrian, kind friend, dost thou not hear me? There is blood upon his hand! Can he be dead? No, no! he breathes, he moves; this mask, I will remove it,—surely he will forgive.
[Attempts to unmask him; he prevents her.
Adrian [reviving]. Nay, nay; it must not be. I am better now. The blow but stunned me,—it will pass away. And thou art safe?
Leonore. I feared not for myself, but thee. Come, rest thee here, thy wound is bleeding; let me bind it with my kerchief, and bring thee wine. Let me serve thee who hath done so much for me. Art better now! Can I do aught else for thee?
Adrian. No more, dear lady. Think not of me, and listen while I tell thee of the dangers that surround thee. Count Rodolpho knows thou art here, and may return with men and arms to force thee hence. My single arm could then avail not, though I would gladly die for thee. Where then can I lead thee,—no place can be too distant, no task too hard for him whose joy it is to serve thee.
Leonore. Alas! I know not. I dare not seek my home while Count Rodolpho is my foe; my servants would be bribed,—they would betray me, and thou wouldst not be there to save. Adrian, I have no friend but thee. Oh, pity and protect me!
Adrian. Most gladly will I, dearest lady. Thou canst never know the joy thy confidence hath wakened in my heart. I will save and guard thee with my life. I will guide thee to a peaceful home where no danger can approach, and only friends surround thee. Thy Louis dwelt there once, and safely mayst thou rest till danger shall be past. Will this please thee?
Leonore. Oh, Adrian, thou kind, true friend, how can I tell my gratitude, and where find truer rest than in his home, where gentle memories of him will lighten grief. Then take me there, and I will prove my gratitude by woman's fondest friendship, and my life-long trust.
Adrian. Thanks, dear lady. I need no other recompense than the joy 'tis in my power to give thee. I will watch faithfully above thee, and when thou needest me no more, I'll leave thee to the happiness thy gentle heart so well deserves. Now rest, while I seek out old Norna, and prepare all for our flight. The way we have to tread is long and weary. Rest thee, dear lady.
Leonore. Adieu, dear friend. I will await thee ready for our pilgrimage, and think not I shall fail or falter, though the path be long, and dangers gather round us. I shall not fear, for thou wilt be there. God bless thee, Adrian.
[Tableau.
CURTAIN.
SCENE TWELFTH.
[Room in the castle of Louis. Leonore singing to her lute.]
The weary bird mid stormy skies,
Flies home to her quiet nest,
And 'mid the faithful ones she loves,
Finds shelter and sweet rest.
And thou, my heart, like to tired bird,
Hath found a peaceful home,
Where love's soft sunlight gently falls,
And sorrow cannot come.
Leonore. 'Tis strange that I can sing, but in this peaceful home my sorrow seems to change to deep and quiet joy. Louis seems ever near, and Adrian's silent acts of tenderness beguile my solitary hours, and daily grow more dear to me. He guards me day and night, seeking to meet my slightest wish, and gather round me all I hold most dear. [Enter a Page.] Angelo, what wouldst thou?
Page. My master bid me bring these flowers and crave thee to accept them lady.
Leonore. Bear him my thanks, and tell him that his gift is truly welcome. [Exit Page.] These are the blossoms he was gathering but now upon the balcony; he hath sent the sweetest and the fairest [a letter falls from the nosegay]. But what is here? He hath never sent me aught like this before [opens and reads the letter].
Dearest Lady,—Wilt thou pardon the bold words I here address to thee, and forgive me if I grieve one on whom I would bestow only the truest joy. In giving peace to thy heart I have lost mine own. I was thy guide and comforter, and soon, unknown to thee, thy lover. I love thee, Leonore, fondly and truly; and here I ask, wilt thou accept the offering of a heart that will forever cherish thee. If thou canst grant this blessed boon, fling from the casement the white rose I send thee; but if thou canst not accept my love, forgive me for avowing it, and drop the cypress bough I have twined about the rose. I will not pain thee to refuse in words,—the mournful token is enough. Ask thine own heart if thou, who hast loved Louis, can feel aught save friendship for the unknown, nameless stranger, who through life and death is ever
Thy loving Adrian.
Oh, how shall I reply to this,—how blight a love so tender and so true? I have longed to show my gratitude, to prove how I have revered this noble friend. The hour has come when I may make his happiness, and prove my trust. And yet my heart belongs to Louis, and I cannot love another. Adrian was his friend; he loved him, and confided me to him. Nobly hath he fulfilled that trust, and where could I find a truer friend than he who hath saved me from danger and from death, and now gives me the power to gladden and to bless his life. Adrian, if thou wilt accept a sister's love and friendship, they shall be thine. Louis, forgive me if I wrong thee; for though I yield my hand, my heart is thine forever. This rose, Adrian, to thee; this mournful cypress shall be mine in memory of my blighted hopes [goes to the window and looks out]. See! he is waiting yonder by the fountain for the token that shall bring him joy or sorrow. Thou noble friend, thy brave, true heart shall grieve no longer, for thus will Leonore repay the debt of gratitude she owes thee [flings the rose from the window]. He hath placed it in his bosom, and is coming hither to pour forth his thanks for the poor gift bestowed. I will tell him all, and if he will accept, then I am his.
[Enter Adrian with the rose.
Adrian. Dear lady, how can I tell thee the joy thou hast given me. This blessed flower from thy dear hand hath told thy pardon and consent. Oh, Leonore, canst thou love a nameless stranger who is so unworthy the great boon thou givest.
Leonore. Listen, Adrian, ere thou dost thank me for a divided heart. Thou hast been told my love for Louis; he was thy friend, and well thou knowest how true and tender was the heart he gave me. He hath gone, and with him rests my first deep love. Thou art my only friend and my protector; thou hast won my gratitude and warmest friendship. I can offer thee a sister's pure affection,—my hand is thine; and here I pledge thee that as thou hast watched o'er me, so now thy happiness shall be my care, thy love my pride and joy. Here is my hand,—wilt thou accept it, Adrian?
Adrian. I will. I would not seek to banish from thy heart the silent love thou bearest Louis. I am content if thou wilt trust me with thy happiness, and give me the sweet right to guide and guard thee through the pilgrimage of life. God bless thee, dearest.
Leonore. Dear Adrian, can I do nought for thee? I have now won the right to cheer thy sorrows. Have faith in thy Leonore.
Adrian. Thou hast a right to know all, and ere long thou shalt. My mysterious vow will now soon be fulfilled, and then no doubt shall part us. Thou hast placed thy trust in me, and I have not betrayed it, and now I ask a greater boon of thy confiding heart. Wilt thou consent to wed me ere I cast aside this mask forever? Believe me, thou wilt not regret it,—'tis part of my vow; one last trial, and I will prove to thee thou didst not trust in vain. Forgive if I have asked too much. Nay, thou canst not grant so strange a boon.
Leonore. I can—I will. I did but pause, for it seemed strange thou couldst not let me look upon thy face. But think not that I fear to grant thy wish. Thy heart is pure and noble, and that thou canst not mask. As I trusted thee through my despair, so now I trust thee in my joy. Canst thou ask more, dear friend?
Adrian. Ever trust me thus! Ah, Leonore, how can I repay thee? My love, my life, are all I can give thee for the blessed gift thou hast bestowed. A time will come when all this mystery shall cease and we shall part no more. Now must I leave thee, dearest. Farewell! Soon will I return.
[Exit Adrian.
Leonore. I will strive to be a true and loving wife to thee, dear Adrian; for I have won a faithful friend in thee forever.
CURTAIN.