Bluphocks. Only, cannot you tell me something of
this little Pippa I must have to do with? One could
make something of that name. Pippa—that is, short for
Felippa—rhyming to Panurge consults Hertrippa—Believest
thou, King Agrippa? Something might be done55
with that name.
2nd Policeman. Put into rhyme that your head and a
ripe muskmelon would not be dear at half a zwanziger!
Leave this fooling, and look out; the afternoon 's over
or nearly so.60
3rd Policeman. Where in this passport of Signor
Luigi does our Principal instruct you to watch him so
narrowly? There? What's there beside a simple signature?
(That English fool's busy watching.)
2nd Policeman. Flourish all round—"Put all possible65
obstacles in his way"; oblong dot at the end—"Detain
him till further advices reach you"; scratch at bottom—"Send
him back on pretense of some informality in the
above"; ink-spirt on right-hand side (which is the case
here)—"Arrest him at once." Why and wherefore, I70
don't concern myself, but my instructions amount to
this: if Signor Luigi leaves home tonight for Vienna—well
and good, the passport deposed with us for our
visa is really for his own use, they have misinformed the
Office, and he means well; but let him stay over tonight—there75
has been the pretense we suspect, the accounts of
his corresponding and holding intelligence with the Carbonari
are correct, we arrest him at once, tomorrow
comes Venice, and presently Spielberg. Bluphocks
makes the signal, sure enough! That is he, entering the80
turret with his mother, no doubt.
III.—EVENING
Scene.—Inside the Turret on the Hill above Asolo. Luigi and his Mother entering.
Mother. If there blew wind, you'd hear a long sigh, easing
The utmost heaviness of music's heart.
Luigi.Here in the archway?
Mother.Oh, no, no—in farther,
Where the echo is made, on the ridge.
Luigi.Here surely, then.
How plain the tap of my heel as I leaped up!5
Hark—"Lucius Junius!" The very ghost of a voice
Whose body is caught and kept by—what are those?
Mere withered wall flowers, waving overhead?
They seem an elvish group with thin bleached hair
That lean out of their topmost fortress—look10
And listen, mountain men, to what we say,
Hand under chin of each grave earthy face.
Up and show faces all of you!—"All of you!"
That's the king dwarf with the scarlet comb; old Franz,
Come down and meet your fate? Hark—"Meet your fate!"15