Oh, leave me, you are insupportable!
You bring me word of kingdoms and of monks,
And thoughts of things that have not come to pass,
Or should be quite forgotten. We could spend
So sweet a moment now, for you are loved,
My Carloman—What need is there of talk
Concerning other matters?—loved of me,
Dreamed of when I am dreaming, when I wake
Wept for, sighed after. I have never cared
To listen to the minstrels, for the praise
My beauty covets most is in your eyes.
How wild they look and solemn!
[Carloman folds her in his arms quietly. Then with great effort bends over her and speaks]
CARLOMAN.
Marcomir
Is restless for a pilgrimage to Rome.
I think we shall be starting presently:
And afterward ... If I am long away ...
GENEVIVA.
[breaking from him]
Oh, think a little! Can you leave this hair
So crisp and burnished? When the sun is bright
Across your shield, it has no livelier flash—
Confess, it has not? But you come to me
Stale, weary from your dreams and abstinence,
And tingle my suspicion.
CARLOMAN.
If these dreams
Were growing all the world to me!—You start,
You turn away, you will not understand.
The fear of hurting you has made me keep
So distant from you lately, and my eyes
You thought were worn with vigil and with books
Have burnt with tears at night for many a month
To think you have not known the tyrant-joy
That moves a soul to change and severance,
Except upon the day when for my sake
You parted from your home: but by the rapture
That made such tumult in the daughter’s grief
When she became a bride, your husband now
Implores your comprehension.
All thou hast,
So the Church teaches, family and spouse,
The child thou hast begotten, thine own life
Thou must abhor, if thou would’st have new days
Of blessing on the Earth. I feel this law
Is written in my very heart of hearts,
There is such haunting freshness deep below
The sorrow of farewell.
GENEVIVA.
[defiantly] My God is Love—
The God who made a bower in Paradise,
Who wedded Eve and Adam, who abode
In the sweet incense of His Church to bless
My marriage.
[Carloman stretches out his hand to support her.]
Have no fear that I shall fall,
I cannot swoon while I remember it—
How in the songful hush a restless hand
Grew tight about my fingers, and a vow
Thrilled all the girl in me to womanhood,
And stung the future lying at my heart
To joy and frankness. That was years ago ...
[She breaks into a bitter laugh]
O Carloman, you know not what you do,
You know not what I am, nor what a blank
Of mercy there is in you!