Enter Fife.
Fife. What is it? You have news.
Buchan. They are together—
The outlaw and your sister. They're at hand—
Three miles away—no more. A trusty spy
Told me just now.
Fife. Is there a band?
Buchan. Some score.
Fife. Then we will take them.
Buchan. Yes.
Fife. About it straight.
[Goes.
Buchan. I'll follow—Ho!
Enter Spy.
I thought you still were near.
I haven't thanked you yet. [Gives money.] How did she look?
Was there about her not a thievish air,
A truant aspect, frightened and yet free,
Shame-faced, but bold, and like an angel lost.
Spy. Who, my good lord?
Re-enter Fife.
Buchan. The queen—the outlaw's wife.
Spy. O no, my lord! She laughed, as she rode past
Where I lay hid, at something gaily said
By my good lady, your good lordship's wife.
They both looked happy, riding in the sun.
Buchan. Aye; that will do.
[Exit Spy.
I'm coming, Fife.
Fife. Stay yet.
Why did you try to lead him off the scent?
You meant my sister when you questioned him.
Tell me, what makes your jealousy so strong?
You never were in love with her I think.
Buchan. Nor am not now. I think—I know—I feel
What I have heard: true love is never jealous.
I am like other men; I love myself.
I cannot speak. I mean to act. Come on.
[They go out.
SCENE IV.—A Cave in the Wood of Drome, with a fire at the back. Bruce, Edward, Nigel Bruce, Douglas, Crombe, Isabella, Countess of Buchan, Lady Douglas, and others.
Bruce. Who would build palaces when homes like these
Our kingdom yields us bosomed in her hills!
What tapestry, where the gloss and colour fade
From some love-story, overtold and stale,
Or where a famed old battle stagnates dim,
Befits a room before these unhewn walls
Whose shifting pictures lower and shine and live,
Ruddy and dark in leaping of the fire.
No homely mice in cupboards cheep; the night
Is here not soothed by any mellow chirp
Of crickets, happily, devoutly busy;
But in the ivy and the hollow oak
The owl has heard and learnt through day-long dreams
The wind's high note when pines in ranks are blown,
Bent, rent, and scattered with their roots in air,
And sounds his echo loud and dwindling long,
Fearfully as he flutters past our door;
The wild-cat screams far off in the pheasant's nest;
The wehrwolf, ravening in the warren, growls.
Night is no gossip here, watching the world
Sick-tired, heart-sore, sleep weariness away;
But free and noble, full of fantasy,
Queen of the earth, earth-bound, ethereal.
Isabella [aside]. His spirit rises. We must hold it up.—
My lord, shall Lady Douglas sing?
Bruce. She shall.
Lady, I beg you sing us something sweet.
No trumpet notes, no war——
[1st Soldier appears at the entrance of the Cave.
Douglas whispers with him.
What does he want?
Douglas. He comes as spokesman for his fellows.
Bruce. Well?
1st Soldier [advancing].
I hope your Highness will be patient with me.
My mates have bade me ask a favour, strange
And difficult to ask; but not so strange
If it be thought of well, nor difficult
If I can keep my head.
Bruce. Go on.
1st Soldier. My lord,
For this great while we have seen no woman's face,
My mates and I: your Highness knows that well.
When we beheld these ladies enter here,
A longing seized us all to look on them;
To see their faces and their gentle shapes;
And even to have them turn their eyes on us;
Perhaps to hear them speak. We are true men,
And honest in our thought.
Bruce. Bring them all in.
[Exit 1st Soldier.
Countess of Buchan.
I know the mood that holds these men: brave lads!
If they were wed to women worth their love,
They would be nobler heroes than they are.
Isabella. We'll speak to them.
Countess of Buchan. I'll kiss that knave who spoke.
Lady Douglas. Will you?
Countess of Buchan. Yes; and I'll do it openly.
Enter Soldiers.
Bruce. Welcome all, heartily, most heartily.
Countess of Buchan [to 1st Soldier].
Have you a wife?
1st Soldier. I have.
Countess of Buchan. You love her?
1st Soldier. Yes.
Countess of Buchan. Is not the truest love the most capricious?
1st Soldier. I cannot tell. True love is fanciful.
Countess of Buchan. You long to kiss your wife?
1st Soldier. And if I do,
What matters to your ladyship?
Countess of Buchan [whispering] This, sir:
I also long to kiss one whom I love;
Perhaps I never shall; but I think now
In kissing you that I am kissing him.
[Kisses him.
1st Soldier. Thanks, noble lady. If you were my wife
I'd kiss you thus.
[He embraces and kisses her.
Bruce. Well said and bravely done!
Countess of Buchan. And can you fight
As deftly as you kiss?
Bruce. I warrant him!
Your song, my Lady Douglas; sing it now;
A love-song, something homely if you can.
Douglas. Sing "If she love me," sweetheart.
Lady Douglas. Shall I? Well.
But you should sing it rather.
Douglas. No; sing you.