SCENE II
CALAF.
(Stepping in front of the footlights.) I am Prince Calaf, 'sh! Nobody must know my name. Calaf—I don't mind telling you. My father is Timur, once the mighty King of Astrakhan—the cruel Sultan of Taschkent drove us out of our own country. O miserable fate! O heavenly gods! I wandered for months and months with my parents in the desert. Our foe, the Sultan, sent riders after us. At the Court of Kaikobad, King of the Carcasenes, I served as a gardener. His daughter, the Princess Adelma, fell in love with me. I had to flee again, and came to Berlas. There I kept my poor parents by carrying burdens, and by begging. Then a happy chance gave me these fine clothes, a horse, and this purse of gold. I set out in quest of adventure. And here I am now in Pekin.
(Noise behind the scenes. Enter BARAK from the city.)
SCENE III
CALAF, then BARAK.
BARAK.
Whence come you, stranger?
CALAF.
Who asks?
BARAK.
Dare I believe, my eyes?
CALAF.
Do I see right?
BARAK.
It is he!
CALAF.
None else!
BARAK.
My Prince!
CALAF.
My tutor, friend!
BARAK.
Prince Calaf!
CALAF.
Barak!
BARAK.
Yet alive!
CALAF.
You here?
BARAK.
And you, Prince?
CALAF.
Quiet. Betray me not. But whisper low,
How comes it that in Pekin you are found?
BARAK.
When your ill-fated army fought and lost
Before the gates of Astrakhan, and fled
Close followed by the Sultan of Taschkent,
Who, barbarous, o'er the battlefield careered,
I in my helpless rage and wounded sore
Sought refuge in the city. There I heard
Timur, your noble father, like yourself,
Had fallen in the battle. Weeping then,
I hastened to the Palace, with intent
To save Elmase, your mother, from the foe.
I could not find her. And already raged
The Sultan o'er the unresisting town.
I turned my back on hope, and fled away.
And after months of wandering I came hither,
And took a false name, calling myself Hassan
The Persian, and as such I came to know
A widow in distress. By virtue of
My few remaining jewels which I sold
For her, and by the good advice I gave,
I rescued her from utter penury.
She was not thankless, I disliked her not,
And in the end I married her. And she
Even to this very day thinks that I am
A Persian, and she calls me Hassan, not
Barak. And so I live with her, and I
Am poor indeed after my former state,
But richer than a prince now that I find
You who are dearer to me than a son,
Now that I find my Prince Calaf alive.
(Kneels.)
CALAF.
'Sh! Speak no name! On that disastrous day
I hied me with my father to the Palace.
We snatched what precious things we could, and fled,
We and my mother, out of Astrakhan,
All three in beggars' garb.
BARAK (weeps).
Prince, say no more!
My heart is breaking. Timur, my noble King,
The Queen herself in such sad lowliness.
But are they yet alive?
CALAF.
They are alive,
Barak. They both are living. And after that,
Wandering still farther, in the end we came
Unto the city of the Carcasenes.
BARAK (rises).
O say no more! I have heard enough of grief...
And yet I see you as a knight attired.
Tell me how fortune favoured you at last.
CALAF.
Tell you how fortune—favoured me? You jest!
But I will tell you how I fared. The Khan
Of Berlas hath a favourite sparrow-hawk,
That with his jesses to the forest flew.
By some good chance I caught this hawk, and brought him
Home to the Khan, who questioned of my name.
I hid my birth, and painted myself poor,
A porter of burdens, and my parents ill.
Straightway he sends them to the hospital... (Weeps.)
Barak, thy King, thy Queen, in a hospital!
BARAK.
Merciful God!
CALAF.
To me he gives this purse here;
A horse he gives me, too, and this attire.
I throw myself into my parents' arms,
And weeping say: "I will no longer bear
To see you so. Now I will fare in quest
Of the jade Fortune, and either I will lose
My life, or you shall hear from me anon."
They clung around my, neck, would come with me.
(God grant they have not followed at my heels
In their blind love!) Now to Pekin I come
Where in the Emperor's army I will 'list;
And if I rise!—The day of vengeance dawns!—
Why is the city full to overflowing?
Stay! I will seek thee out again, Barak;
But now I burn to see what festival
Swells such a crowd.
BARAK.
O go not, my dear Prince.
And spare your eyes the pitiable sight
Of most ignoble butchery.
CALAF.
Butchery?
BARAK.
It cannot be but you have heard the fame
Of Turandot, the Emperor's only daughter,
Who, beautiful as she is cruel, fills
Pekin with death and mourning without end?
CALAF.
Something I heard of this kind at the Court
Of Kaikobad. Indeed, they told me there
That Kaikobad's own son mysteriously
In Pekin found his death. And this was why
King Kaikobad waged war against Altoum.
But these are tales told for an idle hour.
Well, what comes next?
BARAK.
What next? Why, Turandot,
The mighty Emperor's daughter, unexcelled
In the mind's keenness, and of beauty such
That never master's pencil limned her (spite
Of the innumerable pictures of her
Which travel round the world), is so conceited,
And hates all men with such a ruthless hate,
The greatest princes woo her hand in vain.
CALAF.
That ancient fable. And what follows next?
BARAK.
This fable is a fable that is true.
Her father often sought to have her wed—
For she is sole heir to his mighty throne—
But she said "no" to every prince that came,
And his soft heart would not constrain her "yea."
Not seldom her refusal led to war,
And, though his arms were yet victorious,
He felt the approach of age, and so one day
He spake to her, deliberately resolved:
"Make up thy mind to take a husband now,
Or else show me a means to spare my land
The throes of war. Age bows my shoulders down,
And I have made too many kings my foes
By breaking faith with them for love of thee.
So once again I charge thee, promptly wed,
Or show the means I seek, then live and die
Even as it pleases thee." The proud maid then
Used every artifice to thwart his will,
Was sick with fury, yea, was nigh to death!
And when the Emperor would not bate a jot,
Hark what this wild she-devil then devised....
CALAF.
I know the tale! She craves an edict: this—
That any prince be free to sue for her.
With this condition: She will set the suitor
Three riddles, and before the whole Divan.
If he can solve them, he shall be her consort,
And heir of China. If he cannot solve them,
Altoum by most solemn oath is bound
To rid the reckless suitor of the head
Which could not solve the riddles of his daughter.
Goes not the fable so? Well, you go on with it;
It bores me.
BARAK.
Fable! Would to Heaven it were!
The Emperor would not hear of it at first;
But she with threats and feints and flattering
Forces the old man's gentle heart to yield,
Convincing him by saying: "No one ever
Will risk his head on it; and if he should,
In any case the Emperor would be blameless,
Since it were question of an edict sworn,
And noised abroad." And what she willed was done.
A fable, is it? Is it a fable, all
That this inhuman law has brought to pass?
CALAF.
Well, if you say it is so, I will credit
The edict. But I never will believe
That any fool has known, and risked his head.
BARAK.
You won't believe it? Pray you, look up here!
(Points to the heads on the wall.)
All those are heads of hopeful princes, who
Have tried their luck and could not solve the riddles,
And hence... are where they are.
CALAF (horror-struck).
Most horrible!
But, tell me, who could ever be so mad,
So crazy, as to risk his head to win
A monster of a maiden such as this?
BARAK.
Prince, he who sees her picture is so lost,
That to possess the living picture he
Would blindly walk into the arms of death.
CALAF.
A fool might.
BARAK.
Yes, and a wise man, too.
Hark to the people pouring out to see
The wise and handsome Prince of Samarkand
Beheaded now. The Emperor himself weeps,
But the she-devil puffs herself with pride.
(In the distance a beating of muffled drums.)
This muffled rolling is the headsman's sign.
It was to see it not I left the town.
CALAF.
These are strange things you tell me, Barak
How
Could Nature ever fashion such a thing,
And call it woman, as this Turandot,
So harnessed against love, so pitiless?
BARAK.
My own wife's daughter serves her in the harem,
And tells such things about her—things, my
Prince!—
Worse than a tigress is this Turandot;
And worst of all her vices is her pride.
CALAF.
To Hell with such a monster! If I were
Her father,, I would burn her at the stake....
BARAK (looking towards the city gate.)
See, there comes Ishmael, the friend and guide
Of the young Prince they slaughtered even now.
My poor friend!
SCENE IV
ISHMAEL. The foregoing.
ISHMAEL (Enters weeping from the city).
Oh, my friend! Now he is dead.
My Prince is dead! Accursed headsman's axe,
Why hast thou severed not this neck of mine?
(Breaks out into despairing weeping.)
BARAK.
But why didst thou not hinder him in time,
My friend?
ISHMAEL.
Dost thou on all my misery
Heap reprimands, Hassan! I have done my duty
To the uttermost. I might, indeed, have summoned
His father hither, if there had been time;
But there was not.
BARAK.
Be calm, my friend, be calm.
ISHMAEL.
Calm? I be calm? Like arrows stinging sharp
The last words that he spoke stick in my breast:
"Weep not," he said, "for I am glad to die,
Since I may not possess her. Bear my greeting
Unto my father. May he pardon me
That when I fared I took no leave of him.
Tell him it was for fear lest his denial
Should force my disobedience. And show him
This picture.
(Draws a picture from the folds of his robe.)
When he sees such loveliness,
He will forgive, and weep my fate with thee."
Thus speaking, my dear Prince a hundred times
Kissed the accursed picture, and then bowed
His neck to the stroke. Blood spurts on high.
The trunk
Quivers, and falls. High in the headsman's hands
The head I love. Blind, dazed with pain I flee....
(Hurls the picture to the ground and tramples on it.)
Thou devilish, accursed witchery!
I tread thee in the dust, thou spawn of Hell!
And O that I could trample with these feet
The witch herself! Haha! I was to take thee
Unto his father, unto Samarkand?
I fancy
That Samarkand will never see me more.
(Exit in desperation.)