Rod. Donna Rodriguez, an it please you, sir.
Ped. Well then, be it so, Donna Rodriguez,
I've just met master coming from the castle,
Apparently in no good humour. He
Asked me if you'd given me a letter
Addressed to Donna Inez at the convent,
And bid me thither haste without delay,
Threatening me with mine instant dismissal
Should Mistress Inez fail to arrive to-morrow,
And thus with hasty step and moody brow
He passed me by, as if old retainers
Had not their privileges, eh? Rodriguez—
Donna Rodriguez, I should say. Pardon me.
Rod. Here is the letter; you had best be off.
Stay, Pedro. Did master look so savage?
Ped. Even so.
Rod. Something must have angered him.
Prithee, good Pedro, hast thou not of late
Noted a change in poor Don Silvio?
Ped. Faith, I cannot tell. Since I have known him
He hath been always the same moody man.
Rod. But has he not of late seemed more estranged,
More dull, more gloomy, just as if there were
Something of unusual import that
Were hanging o'er him?
Ped. In truth I know not.
Rod. He sees no company.
Ped. That's nothing new.
Rod. I mean—save that of that old haughty Don,
Old Don Diego from the neighbouring castle,
Who ne'er vouchsafes me word, but when he comes
Passes me by as the veriest slut,
With not so much as "Good-day, Rodriguez,"
But asks me sternly if my master's in.
His visits have been frequent here of late.
What think'st thou is the meaning of all this?
Ped. In faith, I know not, and do not much care.
Rod. Ha! thou carest not? Come now, good Pedro,
Wilt thou that I confide a secret to thee?
Ped. A secret that shall increase my wages,
Take more work off my shoulders? Then declare 't;
If it be ought else, then keep your secret.
I am tired of ever being the slave and drudge
Of my old master for such paltry pay.
I've served here now some twenty years and more.
But matters were not always thus. I've seen
The castle walls look handsomer in my day.
In Lady Dorothea's time I never
Had to wait for my wages, and my suit
Was always clean and new. Then were there more
Servants in the castle who took near all
The work off my hands. Now that they're dismissed
The burden of the household falls on me,
And the wages, 'stead of waxing more,
I have to wait for. I know not how long 'tis
I have not seen the colour of his gold.
Why, the castle's gone to rack and ruin.
I am ashamed to meet my former friends,
The well-fed menials of Don Diego's hall,
When they with grave and supercilious smile
Do thus accost me, "Ha! good man, Pedro,
How fares it with thee and thy poor master?
Thy suit, methinks, grows musty, like his castle,
And, to speak truth, I once have seen thee fatter."
Then straight they talk about their master's bounty.
"Look how we fare," say they; "an I were thou
I'd strike for higher wages or else leave."
And all these taunts I have to bear—for what?
Rod. Well, well, I fare but as yourself; but hark—
Something's astir within the castle.
Ped. (Turning round timidly.) Where?
Rod. Bah! I mean something's about to happen
In this old hall, an I do not mistake.
A change.
Ped. For the better? Out with it, Rodriguez.
Be quick, for with this note I must away. [Going.
Rod. Just so; the letter. What think'st thou there's in 't?
Ped. I never play the spy. Money, think you? [Holding it up to the light.
Rod. I trow not. I spoke but of it's import.
Ped. Marry, what should it be but just to bid
Young Mistress Inez home without delay?
Rod. Exactly; and canst divine the motive?
Ped. Faith! Perhaps the charges of the convent
Have grown too costly for the miser's purse,
Or 't may be having stayed there her full time,
She now returns unto her father's hall.
Rod. Not altogether that, for I well know
Don Silvio would fain have kept her longer.
Hark, Pedro! thou know'st that I've always been
A faithful follower of this ancient house,
And no time-server as some others are.
Ped. (Aside.) Humph! That's meant for me. Time-server, forsooth!
Rod. Ill would 't become a faithful old retainer
Not to take interest in her lord's affairs,
So with this sense of duty upmost, aye,
And marking something most unusual
In these frequent visits of Don Diego,
Then hearing once his voice in angry tones,
And that of our poor master, trembling, meek,
I naturally bent my ear until
It level stood with the chamber's keyhole.
Ped. Naturally, Donna Rodriguez. Well?
Rod. Ha! Now you take more interest in my tale.
Well, then I heard the whining piteous tones
Of our old master's voice in broken sobs.
"Think of her tender age, and your own years.
Can this disparity between you both,
This forced consent on her part, bring to her
Ought but unhappiness? Prithee, reflect.
Think of a father's feelings, and forbear."
"Think of your debts, old man, and of your past,"
Now said a sterner voice; "and if you fail
To have your daughter all in readiness
The next time that I call, so the wedding
May be solemnised within my private chapel
At whatsoever hour I please, hark ye!
I'll sell your ruined castle o'er your head,
Drive you houseless into the open air
To beg your bread; by force abduct your daughter,
And——
Ped. Did he say that?
Rod. Ay, he did, indeed.
Enter Don Silvio musingly behind—he stops and listens.
Ped. Why then he'll do 't; that is, if our old lord
Do not peaceably give up his daughter.
Rod. Oh, it's horrible, horrible. Poor child!
Ped. Horrible for us to be turned adrift.
Poor child, indeed! the best thing that could hap,
I wish the little jade no better luck.
The daughter of a threadbare miser. She
Turn up her nose at such a match as this!
I can't think what our master's scruples are
To such a union. Luck seems on his side.
Rod. Hush. You forget her age, the poor dear child
Has scarce arrived at puberty, and then
Knows nothing of the world, but cometh straight
From that old convent without time to taste
The sweets of life, or choose from out the crowd
Of motley youths who should encompass her
One of her choice, befitting more her age
Than this grey, grim, and surly Don Diego.
Ped. Don Diego is a proper gentleman.
A trifle old, perhaps; so much the better,
He will but die the sooner, and so leave
Our Inez mistress of his lordly hall.
Once left a widow, young and rich, she then
May marry any gallant that she likes.
First let her fill her mouth and clothe her back,
Then indulge her own caprice at leisure.
I'm for Don Diego, and will help his plan
With all my power.
Rod. Oh! you men, you men,
You're all alike, and have no sentiments.
Just such a one is master, who would sell
His only child to pay his debts withal.
Ped. Why, how can he help it? Debts must be paid.
And when the debt is cancelled in this way
I fancy I can see the old miser chuckle
To himself at having got off so cheap.
Don Silvio advances in their midst.
D. Sil. Discussing matters that concern ye not,
Eavesdropping hounds, unmannered miscreants!
Is this your duty and your gratitude?
Knaves that ye are, and base-born time-servers,
Off with ye both! Thou, Pedro, lazy lout,
Off to the convent, as I bade thee. Fly!
Rouse not my wrath; and thou, thou gossiping hag,
Back to thy room and give thy tongue a rest,
Else it will swell and choke thee. Would it might.
[Exeunt severally Pedro and Rodriguez. Don Silvio throws himself into an armchair, and covers his face with his hands.
Scene II.—Interior of the Convent of St. Ursula. Inez discovered pacing up and down dejectedly.
Inez. 'Tis passing strange that all these five long years
That I have lived within these convent walls,
A stranger to the world without, unless
To the narrow limits of our garden.
I ne'er remember to have passed a night
Like last night was. Most strange and fearful dreams
Disturbed my slumber, robbing me of rest;
Confused they were, and I can scarce recall
Aught of their substance, but methought that I
Was caught and roughly handled by rude men
With dark ferocious faces. By their dress
I should have deemed them gipsies; then methought
I saw a female—tall, majestic, old,
Or middle-aged, in strange and wild attire,
Who spoke to me, and questioned me in proud,
Yet calm and kindly accents, and that she
Rebuked the ruffians, so that they fell back
And did no harm to me; yet still I sat
Surrounded by the band, which kept close guard.
My fear was very great, so that I think
I must have fainted, for I knew no more.
It was a dream most unaccountable.
My aunt, the Lady Abbess, says that dreams
Are sent us oftimes by the saints to warn,
Guide, and admonish us. That holy men,
Ay, and women, too, have had many things
Revealed to them in dreams and visions.
Old nurse Rodriguez, too, I can recall,
Oft would relate me hers, and would declare
They all came true, or bore some hidden sense
That none save gifted sybils could explain.
And now, although my memory's much confused,
Methinks Rodriguez formed part of my dream.
Enter Lady Abbess.
Lady Ab. What! Inez, musing—art not well, my child?
Inez. I've slept badly, aunt, and have a headache.
Lady Ab. Here's that will cure it.
Inez. What! A letter?
Lady Ab. Ay, from thy father; it was hither brought
By an old servitor.
Inez. The good Pedro?
Lady Ab. I think the same; I've seen his face before.
Thou know'st, Inez, that it is my custom
To break the seal of all the letters that
Come here directed to my novices,
To prevent clandestine correspondence;
But knowing well my brother's handwriting,
And being well informed of the contents
By this same Pedro, I deemed it useless.
Read it then, dear, thyself.
Inez. (Reads.) "My dearest child,
The time has now come round when thou should'st end
Thy course of studies at St. Ursula's.
It is my wish that thou at once take leave
For ever of thy aunt, the Lady Abbess,
And without more delay prepare to start
In the company of my servant Pedro.
See that thou be not tardy, but straightway,
Quick after the perusal of these lines,
Set off upon thy journey, for I have
Much to say to thee. Greet my good sister.
Your loving father,
Silvio."
Dearest aunt,
I know not if I should laugh for joy or weep,
For, returning home to see my father,
I needs must bid farewell to you, who e'er
Have been a mother to me.
Lady Ab. Dearest child!
I am full loath to part with thee, but still,
In obedience to thy father's orders,
Thou must not tarry. Take my blessing then,
And may the blessed Virgin and the saints
Protect thee from all harm upon the road.
Kiss me, my Inez, and now straight commence
To get thy baggage ready.
Inez. And Pedro?
Lady Ab. He is without. I'll call him. What! Pedro.