ACT II.
(A dark night. A dim moon casts a ruddy glow over a narrow gorge covered with small bushes and hemmed in by cliffs. The mountain mist, slightly stirred by the wind, fills all the hollows with a milky shroud. In the midst of the bushes, and on the bare hillocks, wherever one looks, lie in heaps the bodies of dead warriors killed in battle. Eagles and other birds of prey sit on the corpses in flocks, flying away in fright at every gust of wind. Two horses stand motionless with heads lowered over the bodies of their masters. All is quiet, silent, and ominous. There is heard in the distance the sound of the unsteady footsteps of the discouraged army of King Dodon. In the gorge, looking about and stopping, the warriors come down in a file, two abreast.)
Warriors.
The silent night is whispering fearful things.
All is waste; only a flock of birds
Guard the bodies of the fallen.
The pallid disc of the moon
Has risen, and is like a funeral taper.
A mournful and dreary wind
Steals through the darkness;
Stumbling on the bodies,
It blows moaning over the dead.
At times it is silent; and again dejectedly
It presses close to the faces of the fallen,
And plucks at their sleeves.
(Enter, riding their horses at a walk, King Dodon with his old Voevoda, plunged in gloomy thoughts, and stumble against the bodies of both the Princes.)
King Dodon
(throwing himself upon the bodies of his sons).
What terrible sight is this?
It is my sons! My own sons!
Without their helmets and their armour.
And both lie dead,—
The sword of each piercing the other.
Their horses wander o’er the meadows
Upon the grass trampled down
And red with blood.
Oh! Our support! My children!
Woe is me! Caught in a net
Are both my falcons.
O grief! My death is here.
Weep ye all, as Dodon does.
Let the deepest valleys groan
And the highest mountains shake with
Grief.
(All sob.)
King Dodon
(pitifully).
From henceforth I shall lead my army everywhere myself.
The young men enough have been
Exposed to the misfortunes of a martial life.
(Renewed sobbing.)
Polkan
(to Dodon).
Whatever has happened, it is past and done.
(To the army.)
Friends! Let us stand up for Dodon;
Let us give the enemy a lesson!
Warriors.
We shall! That we shall!
If only we can find the enemy.
(No answer. It begins to grow light. The mist rises a little, and the outline of a tent is seen. The rosy reflection of the dawn falls upon the bright, many coloured patterns of the brocade flaps of the tent. All are amazed.)
King Dodon.
Good heavens! A tent!
All in patterns.
(The first rays of the rising sun.)
(The flaps of the tent move. The warriors hastily disperse, leaving the cannon. From the tent emerges with an easy but imposing gait a beautiful, bright-eyed woman, accompanied by four female slaves with dulcimer, rebec, reed, and a drum. She wears a long silk garment of raspberry colour, plentifully adorned with pearls and gold. On her head a white turban with a high feather. The beautiful woman, as if she had noticed nothing, turns towards the bright sun, raising her hands to it in prayer.)
Queen of Shemakhan.
Answer me, bright orb of day!
Thou com’st to us from the East—
Hast thou visited my native land,
The country of fairy dreams?
Are the roses still glowing there
And the bushes of burning lilies?
Do the turquoise dragon-flies
Kiss the gorgeous leaves?
In the evening by the waters,
In the shy songs of the women and the maidens
Is there still that same intoxicating faintness,
The passionate dream of forbidden love?
Is the unexpected guest still welcomed—
Are there gifts prepared for him—
A modest feast—a secret look
Through the interfering veils?
When the blue night darkens,
Does the young mistress hasten to him
With a sweet avowal on her lips,
Having forgotten both fear and shame?
(The song being ended The Queen turns towards The King and looks for a long time at him in silence.)
King Dodon
(quietly poking Polkan with his elbow).
That’s a song for you!
Polkan
(with a wink).
If the young mistress wishes to entertain us
It is possible for us to pass a little time here.
(Dodon gravely goes nearer to the Queen. Polkan follows him. The others remain at a distance, not daring to approach.)
King Dodon.
Fair lady! Fear us not.
Be open with us in everything.
What is thy name? Who art thou?
And where is thy land?
Queen of Shemakhan
(modestly lowering her eyes).
By your leave I am the
Virgin Queen of Shemakhan.
I am stealing like a thief
To conquer thy city.
King Dodon
(in astonishment, almost roughly).
Thou art an amusing jester,
Wilful maiden.
To wage war, an army is necessary;
Without it, it’s a sorry business.
Queen of Shemakhan.
In this thou art mistaken.
An army is not needful for a victory.
Beauty alone makes all bend low
Before her.
(Claps her hands. Two more slaves come out of the tent with silver pitchers and pour wine into goblets.)
I am glad of unexpected guests.
The goblets are full of the fiery juice of the vine;
They are frothing to the rim.
(She bows and strikes the face of Dodon who recoils in distrust.)
Your Health!
King Dodon.
Thou shalt drink first,—
We after.
Queen of Shemakhan.
I did not expect this.
Look in my eyes, which glow
Brighter than the dawn itself.
How could I, with such a heavenly look,
Regale the stranger with poison?
(Smilingly she raises her eyelashes. Dodon, in confusion, drinks the wine. Polkan does the same. The slaves who brought the pitchers again appear, spread out a carpet in their midst, and arrange pillows for them to sit on. At a sign given by the Voevoda, the warriors withdraw to a distance, for a prolonged rest and to gather the bodies of the slain. Dodon, Polkan, and The Queen seat themselves. The first two are perplexed and silent. The Queen smiles enigmatically.)
Polkan
(making an effort, suddenly bows to The Queen, trying to be easy in manner and agreeable).
How has the Queen been pleased to
Pass the night?
Queen of Shemakhan.
I thank thee, I slept not badly.
But at dawn something happened to me;
The air became intoxicating—
Moist, heavy, and spicy—
Like the aroma of night flowers,
Like the play of tangled dreams.
Someone unseen was breathing,
Oppressed by secret passion.
I heard a voice, tender as the air of Spring,
Teasing the ear with the words:
“Dearest! Let me go.”
Louder—softer—farther—nearer.
Polkan
(with a smile).
They will come. Do not grieve.
(The Queen arises in great emotion.)
Queen of Shemakhan.
King! Drive away this monster!
I do not love thy Voevoda.
(Polkan is put out of countenance.)
King Dodon.
Why, indeed, old dotard,
Dost thou stare like an owl?
Thou seest the damsel is put to shame—
Still fears us men.
Away with thee! Go!
Behind the tent.
(Polkan gets up hurriedly and goes behind the tent, from where his long beard is seen sticking out from time to time. The Queen moves her pillow close to Dodon.)
Queen of Shemakhan
(almost in Dodon’s ear).
My business is with thee.
King Dodon
(still more confused by the danger of propinquity).
Well, what is it?
Queen of Shemakhan.
I should like to know for certain
If the virgin beauty of the Queen
Is really so brilliant;
Or is it empty talk.
(Looks straight into Dodon’s eyes.)
What sayest thou?
King Dodon
(hesitating).
I … that is … in truth …
Queen of Shemakhan.
Is that all?
Thou art to be pitied knowing
The Queen only in her garments.
I am not so bad without them.
When I go to sleep, I look a long time in the mirror.
(Thoughtfully admiring herself. Becomes more and more carried away.)
I throw off my garments,
And as a ray of sunlight in the mist
Falling on a silver statue
I shine within the tent.
I look and see if anywhere
There is a mole or any blemish on my body.
I remove the pearly fastenings, and
Wanton masses of hair,
Not embarrassed with any head-dress,
Pour forth in black torrent
Over my supple marble thighs.…
So that my sleep may be fresh and sweet
For the night, I sprinkle myself with dew.
On my breasts fall drops of liquid fire—
And I have breasts indeed!
They vie with glory of the southern roses—
Magnificent and firm—and they are
As white, light, and transparent as a dream.…
What is the matter, my friend? Art thou not
Thyself? Is thy little head turned?
King Dodon
(controlling himself).
There is something the matter with my liver.
Queen of Shemakhan.
Rubbish! I shall sing.
Listen to my song!
(With a look commands her slaves to accompany her.)
“Dark and narrow
Is my gaily-decked tent;
Warm and soft is the carpet in it.…”
Dost thou wish, old man, to see
What is within?
King Dodon.
Why dost thou wish to offend us? You know
I am not old. These are not wrinkles, but——
Queen of Shemakhan.
Ah! Why do I think of it—
Only to open the wound afresh?
My grief is as boundless
As the wide expanse of the blue sea.
O! Take my life!
(through her tears)
Where shall I find someone who will be able
To contradict me in everything;
(as in a dream)
Who will place a limit to my desires,
Firmly and masterfully?
King Dodon
(solemnly).
Cease weeping, and rejoice,
Maiden Queen of Shemakhan.
Thou hast sought and found.
Thy life will now be bright.
I shall thwart thee and
Contradict thee in everything;
In fine—without unnecessary words—
I am ready to do all for thee.
Queen of Shemakhan
(in amazement).
Me? Thwart?
I am very glad
(joyfully)
Such happiness! Such bliss!
(Takes Dodon by both hands, who is unutterably happy.)
And for this occasion let us dance,
Forgetting our exalted rank.
King Dodon
(in fear).
’Tis true I have not danced from childhood.
Queen of Shemakhan.
Well! Be once more a child.
King Dodon
(gloomily).
I am not going to dance in the presence of people.
Queen of Shemakhan.
Then, Polkan must be with me.
Here, Polkan! Come hither, my friend!
(Polkan sticks his head out from behind the tent, but dares not to approach.)
King Dodon
(seeks a reconciliation).
Do not get angry, darling!
Although I do not know how to dance,
I shall not spare myself.
Queen of Shemakhan.
Well, let us begin. People, come hither!
Our Dodon is going to dance.
(Polkan and the Warriors cautiously draw near to the carpet, stand in a circle and try not to look at Dodon. The female slaves begin a measured and graceful dance; The Queen with a tambourine joins in, slowly and light as air.)
Queen of Shemakhan
(dancing).
At first I shall dance.
Having lowered my veil,
Modestly, languidly.—Now it is
Thy turn, Dodon. Come! Step in front
Like a turkey cock, full of conceit,
And sideways, as if by accident,
Knock up against me.
(Dodon dances as commanded and awkwardly jostles the Queen.)
Good! I, striking my tambourine,
Shall fly away from thee,
Silently, supple as a little fish,
And then thou, a loathsome old crab,
Must try and catch me.
(Dodon dances again.)
Queen of Shemakhan
(angrily).
Not that way! Thou hast the ways of a camel.
Don’t keep your heels out.
(Dance becomes livelier.)
And now, wave your hand,
Turn around, take mincing steps;
Stamp thy feet until thou art ready to fall down;
Whilst I sit down here.
(The Queen sits to one side and laughs continually, amused at Dodon. Dodon waves his hand despairingly and starts the mad dance. Black boys run out from the tent and form a circle around Dodon. His strength exhausted, he falls down on the carpet. The dance ends, and the black boys re-enter the tent.)
King Dodon
(on his knees).
Stop! I have no more strength.
(Gets up.)
If I am so dear to thee,
Take me and all my Kingdom;
For all I have is thine, and likewise I myself.
Queen of Shemakhan
(disdainfully).
What shall I do with thee?
King Dodon.
What shalt thou do? Eat sweetmeats—
Rest, and listen to fairy tales.…
Except birds’ milk,
Everything will be provided for my little darling;
I shall spare nothing.
Queen of Shemakhan.
There is no reason to linger;
My preparations are made quickly.
Let us be on our way at once!
(Out of the tent there come in an endless file, every time moving apart the flaps of the tent, the slaves of The Queen, carrying looking-glasses, fans, coffers of precious things, pitchers, carpets, etc. They array The Queen. The army also get ready to move.)
King Dodon.
Ho! A horse!
A golden chariot
To carry the Queen!
Queen of Shemakhan
(standing beside Dodon).
I am ready. Ha, ha!
(To her slaves.)
Sing the praises of the Bridegroom.
Slaves.
Sisters! Who limps beside
The resplendent beauty?
He is a King by rank and dress—
But a slave—by body and soul.
With what shall we compare him?
Because of his rolling gait, he is like a camel!
Because of his wry face and odd ways,
He is like a real ape!
He is like a spectre!
(They bring in the chariot.)
King Dodon
(beside himself with joy).
Ho! Polkan! Sound the trumpets for
A victory!
I am going home with a bride!
(Trumpets, and cries of the army.)
The Soldiers.
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Hurrah!
CURTAIN.