THE WORLD'S OWN. THE WORLD'S OWN. JULIA WARD HOWE, AUTHOR OF " PASSION FLOWERS " AND " WORDS FOR THB HOCK." BOSTON: TICKNOR AND FIELDS M DCCC LVH. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by JULIA WARD HOWE, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. HOBART * BOBBINS, !Cw England Typ nd Stereotype Foundrj, B08TOS. 'PS DRAMATIS PERSONS. COUNT LOTHAIR. EDWARD, an artist. LORENZO, friend to Edward. JACQUES, a villager. BONIFACE, an inn-keeper. THE PRINCE. HUON, \ BERTO, \ Nobles, friends of Lothair. ORSETTI, ) JACOB, a Jew. LEONORA, the Queen of the village. KATCHEN, her friend and servant. BERTHA, \ SUSANNE, V village girls. LOULOU, ) A FLOWER GIRL. COUNTESS HELEN, wife to Count Lothair. ARTHUR, son of Lothair. ZINGARA, a Gypsy. PEASANTS, COURTIERS, MASKS, GUARDS. The scene in the first two acts is laid in a village in the mountains of Piedmont, near the Italian frontier ; in the third act, in an Italian town. The last two acts are supposed to take place at the court of a small Italian principality. The time is in the early part of the last century. 17 V 4 - GLISH THE WORLD'S OWN. ACT FIRST. SCENE I. A Village Green, with peasants dancing to the sound of rustic music. In the front stand EDWARD and JACQUES, looking on. The dance ceases; the villagers dis perse. EDWARD. COMES Leonora to the dance no more ? I thought to find her here. JACQUES. In other ways She wanders, with the stranger from the inn, That supercilious Signor Prettyman, Whose pleasure-travel stopped, some three weeks since, For the repairing of a carriage-spring. EDWARD. Three weeks to set so small a matter right ? Your smiths are bunglers. (T) 8 THE WORLD'S OWN. JACQUES (significantly). There '11 be more to mend, And worse, I fear. EDWARD. What mean you ? Tell me straight. You speak in riddles I am loth to read. Dares he aspire to Leonora's love ? JACQUES. Aspire ? I tell you he 's a gentleman, A man of courts no rustic. He aspire ? He has won, and wears it most familiarly. EDWARD (aside). I 've heard enough, yet let me learn the worst. Are they betrothed, then ? JACQUES. Do you dream such men Marry such maidens ? They are matched in naught On earth, save pride and beauty. EDWARD. Matched in beauty ? The matchless mated ? Could her pride avail To shield her better treasures, I 'd forgive it ; But all your words imply is new to me, Who went away two weary years ago, With other thoughts of her. You can relate THE WORLD S OWN. Doubtless, how all befell. Where did they meet ? How grew this liking ? JACQUES. I '11 inform you straight. At such an evening festival as this, Just over, ere the dancing was at end, The stranger passed, and saw what we have seen. He had left his carriage at the smithy yonder, For some repair, and, to beguile an hour, With listless air was wandering hither, thither. The music, haply, lured him to this spot, But with a vacant and abstracted brow, Scarce deigned he look upon the village-girls In holiday attire ; nay, scarcely paused Before the waterfall, our hamlet's pride, That many a foreign artist comes to view. The band, dividing, passed to either side, And from the ranks moved Leonore alone, To the majestic measure that she loves. White were her garments, white her twisted scarf, And white the flowers that garlanded her brow, Proclaiming her the hamlet's maiden-queen. EDWARD. 0, I have often seen her thus. And he ? Did this arrest him ? 10 THE WORLD'S OWN. JACQUES. Such a sudden spark Woke in his eye, it grew a flash, a flame, A thought, a purpose, and a destiny. I saw his breathing to her steps keep time. Unconscious she, her movement mastered him. So gazed he, 'ware of naught on earth beside, Drunk with her beauty, till she stopped to rest, And turning, saw him. EDWARD. Saw, but heeded not ? JACQUES. Surprised to stillness, with a sudden shock, As seeing one foreshadowed in a dream, She stood, intense and tremulous ; a blush (The only element her beauty lacks), Reddened like sunset; from her fair white brow To the soft limits of her virgin vest. 'T was but a moment, pale and recomposed, She launched an ice-bolt from her scornful eyes, And swift, but stately, vanished from the scene. EDWARD. 0, happy pride ! 0, rescue sent of Heaven ! She 's safe ! Those eyes have deadly weaponry. JACQUES. Be not too sure. The peril is not past. THE WORLD'S OWN. 11 She wears the vizard of her maidenhood Haughtily close, I grant you ; but her heart May prove the traitor in the citadel. EDWARD. Proceed. IIow looked the stranger when she left ? In gloom or anger ? JACQUES. He was still, and smiled ; The languid features showed a new intent. Beckoning his servant with a lordly gest, He briefly said, " We go not hence to-night." EDWARD. And then ? JACQUES. 0, then I know not what befell. Soon he was seen at Leonora's side, Close as her shadow ; nay, we see her not Without him. In the shelter of her cottage They pass snug days, of which the world knows naught Save the perpetual hum of lovers' voices. And now and then two heads that come to view, Touching almost, within the vine-clad window. He has taught her foreign music, foreign ways, Unknown among our mountains : daintier work Has put to shame the wholesome spinning-wheel. 12 THE WORLD'S OWN. Books, too, they have, plays, novels and such trash. Her table feeds him, and when day is done, EDWARD. She surely does not wander forth alone ? JACQUES. No, not alone his escort never fails. EDWARD. 0, strange imprudence ! 0, ill-counselled girl ! How stands she scathless from the village gossips ? JACQUES. They 're nursing scandal that will soon take wing And fly abroad, croaking its evil tale. The time 's not come ; he has not left her yet. EDWARD. There 's an abyss of woe ! Yes, he must leave her ! Who shall stand up to be her savior then ? I 've seen fair women tread those dangerous ways, Snatching the flowers that hide the fatal pit ; But thou, my Leonora ? JACQUES. It grows late, And supper waits. EDWARD. He thinks upon his meat ! Good Jacques, go before me to the inn, THE WORLD'S OWN. 13 I '11 seek you there anon, and make amends For present dulness, by some tales of travel, Enlivened by a friendly cup of wine ; I would remain a moment here alone. JACQUES (going). Edward, they 're very like to come this way. EDWARD. Well let them come I 'm now beyond surprise. (Exit JACQUES.) SCENE II. EDWARD. He knew not that his words were murderous, Else, surely, he had not plunged back the steel To widen out the ghastly wound he made. (Looks around him.) I)ark days of absence, comforted with hope Faithful and fervent, waking, sleeping dreams, Enfolding one fair vision, longing thoughts Intensified by distance, struggling ever Back to the charmed limits of her life, The rustic haunts that she made beautiful, Was this the end ye led to ? Even this. 0, swift and sudden sorrow ! Leonora Lost, grant it Heaven ! not to herself, but me. The very heart of innocent delight 14 THE WORLD'S OWN. Plucked out and trampled by a love profane ! She was not mine, true, true ; what was I then To claim her ? An unmannered, blushing boy, That durst not lift my looks or thoughts to her, Till the voice said, " Go forth and win renown ! Thou hast gifts to gather glory use them well. When all men praise thee, she may turn her eyes, Those fairest eyes, upon thee, and discern, Not angrily, thy merit in thy love." Fired with this thought I took the pilgrim's staff, Following the lofty dream with breathless steps ; I, who had been content in lowliness ! Nor have I stayed for pleasure or repose, Such restless need has urged me to this hour, This hour, the goal of striving and success, This hour, that smites success with emptiness. But I hear voices, no, we must not meet ; This rock shall spare them an unwelcome sight. (Hides behind a rock.} SCENE III. Enter LOTHAIR and LEONORA. LEONORA. How soft the shadows gather in our train, Holding the dead Day's pall, while we go forth, Bearing heart-incense for her funeral ! THE WORLD S OWN. 11 This was a day on whose enamelled brow No marring break of separation came ; One golden web of happiness she wove ; Wherefore, God rest thee, gentle Day sleep well ! LOTHAIR. And this, the very charmed twilight hour, When pilgrim Love, his finger on his lips, Binds all to mystery. LEONORA. Shall we rest here ? LOTHAIR. A little further. LEONORA. You are still the guide, Leading, each day, to joys undreamed before. Into the sunset's fiery heart we fly, As in the rose the bee for ravishment. I know not places, when I walk with you ; I only know they are no earthly ways We tread together. LOTHAIR. Yet my Leonore At sudden fancies stays her pretty steps, Like to a tricksome steed that feigns alarm When he is fro ward. 16 THE WORLD'S OWN. LEONORA. Nay, I do not feign ; I love the light ; the very blaze of noon Frights not my courage ; on my hardy brow It lays a blessing and a kiss at once. So dear I prize it, I could walk abroad, Were you so minded, through the market-place, With dauntless presence, saying to the world, Behold Lothair, behold my love for him, That seeks its sanction in the face of Heaven ! LOTHAIR. Hush ! hush ! fair child ; that is no more to seek ; The heavens attest the love I bear you, listening To God's high name invoked ; th' attendant stars Give countenance to nuptials of the heart Where other priesthood were profanity. ( Giving a ring. ) This jewel shall record for thee my vows Beyond the power of distance or of doubt. Wearing it, thou becom'st my gentle thrall, Bounden to follow where thy master bids. LEONORA. Blest in obedience, when the word is, follow ! Though through hell's tortures led the burning way ; The fear were, you might stay my eager steps With the cold ban of separation. THE WORLD'S OWN. 17 Ev'n then I would be dutiful till death, And keep my faith unbroken to the end. But we '11 not think of that, Friend, Lover, Master ! Why, Master seems the crowning name of all, As you pronounce it ; so, command your slave, Only remembering that she yields to you, For faultless guidance, all she owes to God ! (Exeunt, he leading the way.) SCENE IV. EDWARD (coming from his concealment). I did not think t' have heard their stolen words, That stamp my sorrow beyond remedy ! But now my course is plain ; an orphan she, Brotherless, friendless ; I must urge her right With this fine wooer ; she shall be his wife, Or he must try my weapon ere he sleeps, And this shall be Love's crowning sacrifice. Still, still, my heart ! this only can avail. (Exit.) SCENE V. Enter BERTHA. BERTHA. I 've heard enough ! If lost indeed be lost, Why need I follow further for their hurt ? 2 18 THE WORLD'S OWN. 'T is no mean pleasure, certainly, to spin A rival's ruin from her smiling lips, Snatching Love's silver cord to strangle her. Yet this delights me most, that I was there, Breaking the charmed circle of their love, When least they deemed this possible ; the veil Was lifted from their hearts, and I, their foe, Stood near, to profit by their confidence. Whatever mischief I may bring to pass, This shall sting deepest this give deadliest wound ; Thus from her very bosom I shall pluck, Warm with her breath, the crimson flower of shame That crowns my triumph with her infamy. (Exit BERTHA.) SCENE VI. A Room in the Inn. Various tables are about ; at one of which are seated EDWARD and JACQUES, with wine, JACQUES. You sit uneasily, and have not drunk One manly measure since the wine was brought. For shame ! fill up the beaker ; clear your brow ; So much for mere good-fellowship ; to drink With an old comrade, ay, a friend of youth, Looking as if the very hangman pledged you I THE WORLD'S OWN. 19 EDWARD. Pardon, good Jacques ! JACQUES. Pardon I '11 accord Only to better conduct. You forget You promised to beguile this evening hour With copious annals of these sumptuous years Passed in the gold-and-purple lap of Rome. EDWARD (rising and lifting his cap). You touch a theme most fervent in my thoughts. I must be worn and wasted out of life When I respond not to that sacred name. (Reseating himself.) Though not the gold and purple of the robe Enchant the eyes devout that worship Beauty. The splendors you would name were irksome to me, As guests that stay when you would be alone With one you love. (Still run my thoughts on that ?) For those that seek them, Rome has pomps and shows, And men may play the villain or the child Before her, with majestic sufferance ; To them that love her, she unfolds her heart, Calm with the mighty sorrow, greatly borne. Yet oft, from Contemplation's higher ground, I Ve stooped to see the garish multitude ; 20 THE WORLD'S OWN. The pontiff, borne behind his triple crown, Ablaze with jewels, fanned with costly plumes Of Indian birds, the coffin following Unseen, but close and certain, while a crowd, That loved him not, did heartless reverence ; And men whose hope of power must pass beyond His deathbed, gave the kiss of fealty, Caressing in the gray, decrepit man, The idol each has longing to become. Such devil's service do the lips of men When the heart deigns to falsehood. On mine eyes Plashed the rude torchlight of their pageantry, Leaving its dazzle only. The divine Mingles no whisper with these pseans loud ; Flies, startled, to congenial solitudes, Where marble heroes keep the pensive grace Of the old time, that stood for Deity ; And where, immortal, hang upon the walls Th' intenser glories of Jerusalem. There, in a labyrinth of high delights I wandered, winding Memory's golden thread, There my weak faith, that bound and bleeding lay, Hose free, before the touch of Kaphae"!. JACQUES. Spoken with Southern fervor, on my word ! THE WORLD'S OWN. 21 Your diction smacks not of the mountain phrase Familiar to your childhood. EDWARD. 'T is the theme Lends finer meaning to the peasant's tongue ; But while we talk at random, it grows late, (Aside.) (And Leonora's lattice shows no light.) (He rises, looks at the clock, goes to the window.) JACQUES. Why do you look so wildly at the clock, And at the silent cottage opposite ? You have not come to your own story yet. Talk further ; tell me of your first success. EDWARD (resuming his seat). You can remember when I drew a head In charcoal, on a whitewashed village wall ? A figure followed ; then, a straggling group ; Then, all I could imagine, till men traced My ramblings by my work. JACQUES. If I remember ? Did you not spoil our kitchen in those days Just newly plastered, with a chevalier In armor, squinting every way at once, For which you fled, my father at your back ? 22 THE WORLD'S OWN. EDWARD. And you behind him, pleading loud for me ? Well, to be brief, I grew a sturdy boy, That would not tend the herds, or hunt the chamois ; And so the pastor taught me as he could ; But toil grew needful for my daily bread, While my heart sickened to give up its dream, And sink to sordid cares of vulgar life, Untried, the airy footing of its hope. So, things were dim before me, till one day A stranger, visiting the parsonage, Looked at my sketches, questioned my intent, Then gave a purse, and, staying not for thanks, Said, " Take this gold, and follow art in Rome. If you are diligent, I shall be paid ; If not, this ruins neither you nor me." I have been diligent, that 's all my merit ; The love, the aptitude, were nature's gifts. This year, my picture, at the Academy, Drew the great prize, and when my name was called, A voice behind me said, " I am repaid." I turned and saw th' Unknown, whose generous gift Unlocked for me the iron doors of Fate : But now he wore th' insignia of his rank, And when he offered me his princely hand, From the pleased crowd approving murmurs came, THE WORLD'S OWN. 28 That rose, till plaudits blent his name with mine. (Aside. ) She comes not yet, and I am idle here ! 0, could I rush to save her ! Enter SERVANTS, bearing lights. Who are these ? JACQUES. They wait upon the stranger, who returns At easy leisure from his evening ramble ; Love wanders late, they say, nor fears the dark. ( Yawning. ) I judge 't is nigh eleven of the clock. EDWARD (looking towards window). And Leonora lights her evening lamp. dim, uncertain light ! Comes he this way ? JACQUES. Ay ; that should be his step. EDWARD. This happens well. SCENE VII. The above. Enter LOTHAIR, escorted by SER VANTS with lights. LOTHAIR (to SERVANTS). Bid them bring supper to my room, and wine. (Exit SERVANTS.) 24 THE WORLD'S OWN. EDWARD (aside). What, you '11 carouse ? I '11 bear you company. (Rising, and accosting LOTHAIR.) A word with you, sir ! LOTHAIR (haughtily). I am not at leisure. If you have business, seek my servant yonder. He keeps my books. EDWARD. My business is with you. Sir, you walk late. LOTHAIR (commanding himself). As I am wont to do ! EDWARD. And in good company, I warrant me ! LOTHAIR. I choose my own companions, and endure None others. Stand aside, sir ! Let me pass ! EDWARD. When I am satisfied I '11 give you way, But, by my faith in God, no moment sooner. You have mysterious habits, noble sir ! You come unquestioned, and depart unknown ; You find your way to honest, humble roofs, And palm yourself on inexperienced girls ; And if the fairest should be fatherless, THE WORLD'S OWN. 25 And in unguarded beauty dwell alone, You 'd violate her maiden sanctity, And bring dishonoring ruin on her head. That 's what I think of you ! LOTHAIK. What gives you right T" insult me thus ? Detain me at your peril ! EDWARD. A moment longer. You were best give ear ; One reparation lies within your power, The right to bear your name, whate'er it be, Give it ; you have no choice but infamy. LOTHAIB. Upon my word, this passes sufferance ! I '11 hear no more. Your hand upon my cloak ? Nay, have it then ; there 's for your insolence ! Carlo! (Calls.) EDWARD (drawing his rapier). A blow ! Draw, coward ! for your life. We '11 try the issue thus ! Heaven help the right ! LOTHAIR. I '11 not cross weapons with a village brawler, Nor perish vilely by his hand. ( Going to the ivindmo. ) What, ho ! Help, friends ! I am attacked. Here 's treachery 1 26 THE WORLD'S OWN. EDWARD. None but your own, you villain ! Draw, I say ! LOTH AIR (draws, but retreats). Where are my servants ? JACQUES. Edward, are you mad ? EDWARD. I 'd have his life-blood, though my mother stood Covering his caitiff body with her own ! (EDWARD makes a deadly pass at LOTHAIR. LEONORA leaps in at the window, in her night-dress, and rushes between the combatants with a shriek. ) LEONORA. Ah, I have saved him ! ( Turning to EDWARD, and pointing to her breast. ) Here, strike here, good friend ! He 's safe ; I have no further need of life. Lothair, they have not harmed you ? EDWARD. Leonore ! LEONORA. What, Edward ? thou, my friend, my friend of youth, TV assassin, who would take my life in his ? This is too much ! Put up your luckless sword. I see, you knew not that I loved this man ; Some sudden passion moved you, on some point THE WORLD'S OWN. 2t Of that strange lunacy that men call honor. I can forgive you. I will make your peace. You will not ? 0, be sure, then, you shall wound The saints in heaven, within God's crystal armor, Ere you attain him, shielded by my love ! EDWARD. I have no heart to harm the meanest thing Your love could rest upon. 'T was for your sake, Yours only. LEONORA. For my sake depart in peace ! This is no time for further speech. To-morrow You shall explain this foolish fray ; and I, Whom most it wrongs, will promise to forgive. EDWARD. I have an explanation to demand, Before I offer one. LOTHAIR. Make good your claim, And I will not be wanting. LEONORA. What ! no more. Edward, there lies your way. I '11 follow straight. (JACQUES draius EDWARD aivay, at the same moment LEONORA resls on the shoulder of LOTHAIR. A noise of people is heard, and lights appear be hind the scenes. ) 28 THE WORLD'S OWN. JACQUES. Edward, the house is rising in alarm ; Let us avert the scandal of this scene Before your quarrel grow the village talk. (To LEONORA.) My pretty one, this is no place for you. Come home with us. LEONORA. I stay but for a word. Lothair, this evening might have been our last ! 0, thought beyond all tears ! Look in these eyes, These eyes to which thou art the universe, And say we meet to-morrow ! LOTHAIR. Do not doubt. Surely, we meet. LEONORA. So sits my heart at rest, Serenely anchored ; never storm can rise To shake its peace, while thou dost harbor it. We meet to-morrow. I shall dream till then, Dream of thy voice, and sleep as on thy breast. Good-night. Leonora's angel stays with thee ! To-morrow ! LOTHAIR (looking suddenly in her eyes, and holding her hand). Ay, to-morrow, fare thee well 1 THE WORLD'S OWN. 29 (EDWARD and JACQUES take LEONORA forcibly away. ) SCENE VIII. BONIFACE, SERVANTS, LOTHAIR. BONIFACE. What is the matter ? SERVANT (to LOTHAIR). Are you hurt, my lord ? LOTHAIR. How durst you loiter when you heard me call ? SERVANT. I was alone, and stayed to gather help. LOTHAIR. You come when need is passed, a coward knave That saves his own throat first. Nay, I '11 not strike you; The hangman should do that. Go to my room ! See that you render better service there, Or dread the reckoning. So, good Boniface, These are your country manners, fair and simple. A quiet traveller seeks his inn at night, And is insulted, what say I ? attacked With ready weapons, threatened for his life ! BONIFACE. A gentleman assaulted in my house ? 30 THE WORLD'S OWN. I 've been an innkeeper these thirty years, And never seen the like ! You are not hurt ? LOTHAIR. I thank you, no. BONIFACE. 1 What daring man was this That set upon you ? LOTHAIR. I should ask you that. Two brigands, with their faces half concealed. BONIFACE. Brigands, assassins, in our quiet village ? LOTHAIR. One finds them everywhere. You see, they leapt In at the window. BONIFACE. On my life, 'tis true ! I must alarm the hamlet. LOTHAIR. Let them go. They had the worst of it, I promise you. 'T is ill to hunt such gentry in the dark ; They have one at advantage. BONIFACE. Very true ; But I '11 report this matter to the judge. THE WORLD'S OWN. 31 LOTHAIR. To-morrow ! No one loses time, you know, By taking it. Be vigilant with bolt And bar. I '11 close this friendly window up That lent such invitation to the rogues. ( Closes window.) Take heed no further, honest Boniface. D' ye know a youth called Edward ? BONIFACE. If I know him ? One of our own ; a quiet youth enough, Before he left us. LOTHAIR. Wherefore did he go ? BONIFACE. He thought himself above his father's lot. An artist would he be, a gentleman ; And some rich man (a greater fool than he, For all his money) gave him means thereto. What of him ? LOTHAIR. Nothing. Did you tell me where He learned his art ? I have forgot. BONIFACE. In Rome. 32 THE WORLD'S OWN. They say that he consorts with noblemen. Could he molest my lord ? LOTHAIR. No, no, not he. Good host, it may be I shall send for you. BONIFACE. I 'm always wakeful to your lordship's will ; Meantime I take my leave. LOTHAIR. Good-night, good friend SCENE IX. LOTHAIR (solus). This foolish tangle must be cut at once, Ere life and limb draw after. ( Goes to window.) Leonore I There lies she, 'neath yon lattice, where so oft The summer wind has sped our mutual sighs, Freighted for love's sweet commerce ; from my eyes Thick walls conceal her ; but my daring thought O'erleaps the bounds of slumber's sacredness, To seize her as she lies. Her shadowy hair, Flinging its wild delights from brow to breast, While the fair arms are twin-enclasped above, In such repose as lends its thrill to marble. THE WORLD S OWN. 33 Sleep holds the high-strung frame in mastery ; But I command him. Not of childish joys Thou dreamest, longing for thy mother's breast, Nor of thy beauty's virgin festivals. Lo I the magician smites the crystal doors, Ceases the hymn, and in the mirror clear The mystic angels vanish. Innocence Dissolves, a pearl, in Passion's fervent cup. By Heaven, a costly draught for queenlike lips, That, peace contemning, offer life for love, And close on all thereafter ! Perish thus The cold to-morrow of a day like this ! (He walks up and down in agitation; then more calmly. ) Hold fast the visioned sweetness, Leonore ! Thou hast sipt the goblet at its brim. Not I, But Fate, conceals the poison in the dregs. Nay, never chide me, 't was thy will, thy will. Thy beauty spread its banner to the sun ; I passed, and it stood there to challenge me. Unequal combat followed, not for thee The odds ; for thee nor rescue, nor repair. Yield thee ; the conquered from the conqueror's eyes Claims the unwonted tribute of a tear. (Curtain fatts.) 3 ACT SECOND. SCENE I. A Bedroom in LEONORA'S Cottage. A bed with drawn curtains. Enter KATCHEN (on tiptoe). KATCHEN. SHE slumbers late, poor child ! The morning meal Grows cold with waiting ; here 's a letter, too, That came an hour ago. She shall not see it Till she has prayed, and dressed, and broken fast. (Hides letter in her bosom.) Ev'n lovers must be fed ; and I 've observed That, has she but a billet from his hand, She will not eat, nor speak, nor hear me speak ; But wanders, like a creature in a dream, And, looking at me with those great, fixed eyes, Sees, Heaven knows what not anything that is. Ah, me ! those eyes those eyes ! I 've seen of late A thousand signs that bode no good. Well, well, Would she but take my counsel, talk of that ! Would I take hers, could we but change in age (34) THE WORLD'S OWN. 35 And circumstance ? I cannot swear, forsooth ! Edward 's returned, true-hearted, faithful Edward ; I always praised him to my wayward girl. But she, there is a fate in likings, too, An ill one, sometimes. All may yet be well. Meanwhile my slow affection waits to help, Should the far need I dare not think of, come. LEOXORA (pushing back the curtains). Where am I ? Is this waking ? Did I sleep ? 0, not if slumber be forgetfulness. My dreams but shadowed out my daily thought, And that which makes my being, since its end Was given. Forbid it, God ! that sleep should come So deep that I could let his image drop, And lose the sacred nearness he has sworn To make eternal. Death itself hath not This power ; since death brings heaven, and heaven must give His presence, or be forfeit to my faith. (Looking at the ring.) What 's this ? The crystal prison of a smile ? Love's fervor, looking from a thousand eyes In one ? Nay, more, the gem that makes me his, Bound, as a shining seal, upon my hand ; Lothair has brought me many a precious flower, Whose dead delight is woven in my life, 36 THE WORLD'S OWN. But when he swore undying 1 love, his pledge Was this immortal emblem. (Kisses it.) Katchen here ? Good-morrow. Do not plague me with thy break fast ; I am full, and would not eat. But hast thou not A morsel I could greedily devour ? A letter not a letter ? Give it me ? KATCHEN (shaking her head). I have new milk, with the fresh morning in it, The cakes, and curds, and hill-side strawberries ; If you ask more, you 're but a froward child, And cannot be indulged. I 've spread it out I' the garden-porch, where best you love to sit. LEONORA. Yes, we have held some merry banquets there, Lothair and I, and thou didst serve us well. Dost thou remember when he brought the wine, The costly foreign wine, so full of fire, And drank it to my praise ? So kind he shared Our simple pleasures, and our humble fare, And he a creature of another world, A thing to walk on sunbeams ! Do I speak As if these things were past, when he shall come To bring the benediction of the day Before his wont, and shame his messenger '( THE WORLD'S OWN. 31 So, help me dress ; give me the gown he chose ; Lace quick the bodice ; smooth this tangled hair, And I '11 wear roses in it. 0, my white ones ! How did I crush them ? KATCHEN. Marry, in your sleep You held them. LEONORA. Bring me others, not like these ; The red shall blossom in my hair to-day, With warmer meaning. Haste, be quick, good Katchen ! A day has but so many hours in all. What if he came at once, and I should lose Some precious moments of his company ? It is no day till I have seen Lothajr ! (A loud knock below.) Who knocks ? Look out, dear Katchen ! is it he ? KATCHEN (going to the window). 'T is Bertha. LEONORA. An ungracious, envious girl 1 And never more unwelcome than to-day. KATCHEN. She has her comrades with her. LEONORA. That is strange ; 38 THE WORLD'S OWN. They should be busy at their wheels ere this. Tell her I will not see her. KATCHEN. Be advised, Do her no slight. I '11 say you 're coming straight. LEONORA. If you will have it so, I '11 wait on them. (Exit KATCHEN.) And I must braid my hair without the flowers ! Well, they will be the fresher when he comes ; That 's well, at least. KATCHEN (without). Stay, she '11 be down forthwith. BERTHA (without). She need not be so formal with her friends ; We 're bound to save her ladyship these steps. Nay, stand aside, we will come in. LEONORA. What means this ? SCENE II. The above. Enter BERTHA and companions. LEONORA. Good-morrow, Bertha ; would you aught with me ? BERTHA. Our homage, gracious countess, we would pay, And ask, how doth your precious health to-day ? THE WORLD'S OWN. 39 LEONORA. Why, I am well. What mean these words of yours These mocking looks ? Why do you call me countess ? BERTHA. Such is your worthy title, we infer, After those sacred nuptials of the heart, At which the priest, indeed, did not attend, Having good cause for absence, as I judge ! The bridal ring, see, girls ! upon her finger. That is a troth-ring for a village maid, A school prize for the first in modesty. Pardon, your virtuous, blushing excellence ! We '11 call you Countess, Duchess, Paragon, Whatever your la'ship pleases ; but henceforth We please to keep no company with you. LEONORA. I stand amazed at these injurious words. Dare you insult me thus ? And, if you dare, What moves your malice to break out on me Who never wronged you ? These, my village mates, Are they come here to cast their jibes upon An unoffending comrade ? Loulou, Blanche, Susanne, are you become my enemies ? I thought you loved me. GIRLS. Bertha speaks for us. 40 THE WORLD'S OWN. LEONORA. Nay, take your miserable pleasure then ; I leave it for the meanest. Yet, be sure, I have a friend whose watchful love and zeal Shield me from outrage. Vex me not too far, Or he may answer. BERTHA. He ? How brave she talks ! He 's gone ! LEONORA. Who 's gone ? BERTHA. Your spiritual spouse, Count, duke, or devil. LEONORA (to herself). Do I heed these words ? (To BERTHA.) Bertha, your envious heart is strong in hate, Weak in invention he is close at hand. BERTHA. He 's gone, I say ! LEONORA. They want to make me mad, For cruel laughter ; so, I will not rave. (To them.) I do not doubt my being, person, place, THE WORLD'S OWN. 41 Nor that my usual senses help my thought ; Here are my old surroundings, here myself; Yonder 's the sun, that stands for God in heaven, And morning clouds that do him reverence ; The trees, the waters are unchanged ; 't is there, The glorious world I walked in, yesterday. Xow, if there 's truth in aught that I discern, There is no need to question. He 's not gone ! SUSANNE. My father 's master of the post, you know ; His horses left at daybreak. LEONORA. That may be. What need I care what traveller ordered them ? BERTHA. Perhaps his empty chamber at the inn, The bed unruffled, would confirm your faith. LEONORA (suddenly}. His chamber, who has seen it ? BERTHA, AND GIRLS. All of us ! LEONORA. There is no truth in this ; and yet, and yet, I cannot live until it be disproved. BERTHA. She changes countenance. 42 THE WORLD S OWN. LEONORA. I '11 seek him there, Or anywhere, to rid myself of you. BERTHA. Think you we '11 stay ? We would not miss the scene For the brave diamond in your wedding-ring ! LEONORA. Beware, lest shame o'ertake the shameless tongue : Katchen, I cannot tarry, follow me ! (Exeunt.) SCENE III. A Chamber at the Inn. A bed that has not been slept in; various marks of confusion, papers scattered about, <5fc. BONIFACE, at a table with money, etc. BONIFACE. I care not what the man may be, I know His gold is good, and he right free withal ; No haggling at the price of wine and wax, Nor hint, nor question, paid and pocketed. Your half-way people now, Lord, how they save Their candle-ends, and, better than yourself, Can count you every morsel you have served ! (Looking at the bill.} Come, come, old Boniface, if things go on In this wise, we shall have our daughter portioned, Our age kept warm with comfort, as is right. THE WORLD'S OWN. 43 God send me many gentlemen like him ! What noise is that without ? SCENE IV. The above. Enter LEONORA, followed by BER THA and her comrades. LEONORA stands a moment and looks around her in surprise. BONIFACE. Well, girls, what now? LEONORA (to BONIFACE). I do not see him. Where is. Count Lothair ? BONIFACE. What 's that to you ? LEONORA. Enough, enough, good friend I Say where he is. BONIFACE. Why, gone where'er he likes, As you methinks may see. This was his room. LEONORA. Was ? What an idle jest is this ! (So, so, Let me not anger him.) So, Boniface, Bertha and you contrived this merry trick, A harmless one, that cannot ruffle me. But now, if you and she have laughed enough, Be kind, and tell me, whither went the count. 44 THE WORLD'S OWN. BONIFACE. A trick, indeed ! I 've told you all I know, And so much more than I had need. He 's gone ; Whither, and wherefore, you must ask elsewhere. LEONORA. Here 's money for thee tell me, pray thee, tell ! BONIFACE. I want no money, and have naught to tell. Where are your wits ? BERTHA. They left her when he came ; Now that he 's gone who knows ? they may return. LEONORA. ! ye are all in league to torture me, Like fiends, who know how falsehoods vex the soul 1 Enter EDWAKD. BONIFACE. Well, we shall hold a rural chapter here ; The syndic next. So, will you go in peace ? Or must I hunt this hubbub from my house ? LEONORA. 1 will not stir until I know the truth, So, Heaven be kind to me I THE WORLD'S OWN. 45 EDWARD. Leonora here ? I sought an interview with Count Lothair, Or one who bears that name. BONIFACE. The count again ; He left at daybreak. EDWARD. I am much surprised ; lie promised me a meeting. BONIFACE. Did he so ? Well, you '11 not meet him here ! LEONORA. Is this a dream, Or truth, that breaks with lurid glare upon me ? ( Going up to EDWARD with violence. ) You had your weapon at his throat, last night ; I rushed to part you ; with my naked breast 1 shielded, rescued him whose life is mine ; But what befell when I was there no more ? Confess, explain, his blood lies at your door. EDWARD (with astonishment). His blood ? LEONORA. Say how you did it ? Where ye met ? 4:6 THE WORLD'S OWN. Does he lie bleeding in the copsewood yonder ? Or have you dug his grave with hasty hands ? where ? where ? BERTH A. 'T is better than a play ! LEONORA. Say, if he 's dead, I '11 leave you all in peace ; Why should I stay to plague you with my moan, Who never knew such sorrow ? I '11 depart ; (To EDWARD.) But bid them lead me gently to the spot, Where, like a fallen sun, his beauty lies Veiled in the death-cloud. Ah, I see it now ! I see him dead before me ! EDWARD. Leonora ! Am I condemned to speak the sentence out That renders death itself a boon of peace ? He lives you are deserted and betrayed! BERTHA. Did we not tell you so an hour ago ? But she is struck with blinding idiocy, And, having played the wanton, plays the fool. BONIFACE. What does she hold by ? There 's his money paid. THE WORLD'S OWN. 4.7 Trunks, boxes, servants, all are packed and gone ; So, mistress, let us make an end of this. KATCHEN (suddenly'). Ah, me, that letter ! Come with me, dear child ! Here 's something that may make all right. LEONORA. Give here ! (Sfie reads it.) BERTHA. Look at her, will you ? See those eyes of hers, That bloodless face, that swol'n vein in her forehead. So, Leonora, you believe us now ? LEONORA. Believe you? Never! (She falls.) EDWARD. Stand back, all of you ! (He raises her head. BERTHA makes a gesture of defiance. KATCHEN bends over her. Scene changes.) SCENE V. The Place in front of the Inn. Various youths and maidens in groups, as if conversing . Enter BERTHA. BERTHA. All has befallen as I told you, boys ; Leonora is deserted by her Count. 48 THE WORLD'S OWN. She slighted you and all of us for him ; So, let us raise a friendly voice or two To speed her homeward ; rather, let 's unite To hunt her from our village. FIRST YOUTH. Where is she ? BERTHA (pointing to the inn). Yonder, within. She fainted ; on my life She had need, I think. Let 's help her to her senses. (Sings.) " Leonore, come to the door, Your true-love is a-waiting, With clerk and priest for nuptial feast, And we to see your mating." Join in the chorus, will you ? FIRST YOUTH. Willingly. ALL SING. " With clerk and priest for nuptial feast, And we to see your mating." BERTHA. Now that I call a tolerable song. I made it on the moment. SECOND YOUTH. Brava, Bertha ! Hurra, I say, for Bertha ! THE WORLD'S OWN. 49 ALL. One verse more I Enter EDWARD. FIRST YOUTH. Here 's Edward ! EDWARD. Let these ribald strophes cease ; They outrage decency. SECOND YOUTH. Ho, sirrah, Edward ! We '11 sing as long as suits us, and as loud. Why should our song disturb you ? EDWARD. Listen, friends ! Within those walls a suffering creature waits, New-smit with sorrow ; let her pass in peace To her own door. So much I ask of you. BERTHA. Think not that she shall pass without our greeting. Let her come forth, and show her bridal-ring, The ring, ho I ho ! the glistering diamond ring ! Let 's form a ring, to view the bridal-ring ! ( They shout. ) A ring ! a ring ! to view the bridal-ring ! EDWARD (with forced calmness], I know the goodness of your hearts belies 4 50 THE WORLD'S OWN. The roughness of your manners. So, good friends, Depart in peace ; it is not well to mock. The evil day may come to all of us. BERTHA AND OTHERS. There, Parson Edward, you have preached enough ! The music 's better suited to our taste. (Sings.) " Whip, spur, and gallop, and the steed 's away, The steed that bore her lover. She may wait for him ever and a day ; It boots not, courtship 's over ! " Now, chorus ! ALL SING. " Leonore, come to the door, And keep your true-love ever more." (As (hey sing, the door opens, and LEONORA slowly emerges, veiled, and leaning upon KATCHEN. Th,ey form a ring around her. ) BERTHA. Take off that veil, let's see your pretty face. Don't hide your maiden blushes, Innocence ! (They shout.) Off with the veil, or it shall hang in tatters ! EDWARD. Leonora, fear not ! I '11 stand up for you Against the world ! Who dares impede her way, THE WORLD'S OWN. 51 Or follow her with one injurious word, Accounts for it to me. LEONORA (lifting her veil). When I need help, I have a knee to bend, a voice to call, And God is not so far but he can hear. I thank you, Edward ! ( She passes out. EDWARD follows. ) FIRST YOUTH. That 's strange, by Jove ! SECOND YOUTH. He was her lover once. BERTHA Pitiful soul ! his suit may prosper now. Good luck attend your wooing, Signer Edward ! ( Tliey pair off, and depart in confusion.) SCENE VI. The same. Enter EDWARD. EDWARD. She must not stay for further insult here. Best she departs at once. Yet whither go, Since disappointment lies along her way, And the grim host, at ending, is Despair ? I '11 follow at a distance', for defence And counsel. She has need of me, although 52 THE WORLD'S OWN. Her heart is rebel to the thought. That need Makes me her follower. Why did they mock, Those cruel ones, because I shielded her From their rude pleasure ? Was it strange that I, Who loved her, should stand up to plead her cause Against the brutal judgment of the crowd ? Had I kept back, because she loved me not, Because she loved a wretch who sought her ruin, Because the evil left her for the good To help and cherish, what an empty name, A thing to scoff and spit upon, were love ! SCENE VII. LEONORA; KATCHEN. KATCHEN. So, they have fairly chased us from the village ! I never thought to see this evil day. ( Weeps. ) LEONORA. Stay not for tears ; or, if thou 'rt loth to go, Return, and let me take my way alone. KATCHEN. Thou know'st I cannot choose but go with thee ; Yet leaving on this wise is hard indeed. LEONORA. Now, Katchen, I must hold you to a bond, THE WORLD'S OWN. 53 Or you shall try no further step with me. The way I seek is swift and terrible ! Faith, with its fervent passion, hurries me, Ev'n as it blindly guides yon flock in air, Whose whitherward is known to God alone. Can you be strong and steadfast ? KATCHEN. Help of Heaven Forsake me else ! yet, do not chide the thought, I would that Edward bore us company ! LEONORA. Edward ! KATCHEN. The bravest, faithfulest of friends. LEONORA. I would not be his debtor. KATCHEN. Can you choose ? Did he not raise you, fainting, in his arms ? Did he not silence Bertha and her crew, With such an earnest, valiant countenance ? LEONORA. Hush, Katchen ! never speak of things like these. I do forbid your mention of this day In all our future converse. I must walk Without a weight would drag me down to hell. 54 THE WORLD'S OWN. (Looking towards the setting sun.) My way lies where the morning-red is clear ; Where purple shadows stream towards golden light, When the Day gathers up his wide-blown robes For the cold plunge of darkness. I shall tread Where angels watch that spring-tide flowers may rise ; Rest where the vestal evening trims her lamp For prayer and offering ; all the loving helps Of nature will impel me towards the spot, The goal of fate, to which all ways must lead, 0, towards my love ! 0, Katchen, towards my love I KATCHEN. Doubt not that God shall guide us. Let us go ! (Exeunt slowly, LEONORA leading the way.) SCENE VIII. A Room in an Inn. LOTHAIR. I 've travelled like the devil in a storm, Leaving this folly league on league behind. Gods, what a game I played ! Was this for me ? A man who sees the danger in the pleasure, And draws the fang before the serpent's head Rests on his bosom ? Fie, Lothair ! Confess THE WORLD'S OWN. 55 No school-boy could have done a wilder thing. And yet, I swear, / am a cautious man ! (Goes to window.) A tiresome journey, and a gloomy night ; A night for dreams to bring those troubles back Our will holds banished from our waking thought. Beside my bed, last night, a Fury stood, Whose stony eyelids nailed me where I lay, While with an evil smile she drew a blade, Red from her heart, and held it aimed at mine. But, as I waited for the death-blow fain, As that should end my agony, she flung The weapon from her for a Lounce-like spring ; And with wild hands about my neck, and shrieks More wild, more dismal than the ghosts in hell, She dragged me down a bottomless abyss, Whose very vacancy seemed sharp with pangs. I woke in torment. ,Bah ! I '11 dream no more I Why should I, when there 's better to be done ? Orsetti 's here, with Huon and Alberto, And other nobles ; they have sent for me. I am not merry, but 'tis time to break This sombre web that suits not with my humor. So, ye distasteful fantasies, depart ! Here 's for gay gossip, and a night at cards ; And generous wine, the princely friend of man, 56 THE WORLD'S OWN. That helps him, like a father, out of straits, With such a twinkling, swaggering soberness. Back, I can blow you backward with a breath, Ye owlet brood ! Here 's for the old Lothair ! (Goes.) SCENE IX. An Apartment brilliantly lighted. In the further part of the room a table covered with ivines and fruits. In front a smaller one, with cards and dice. At the latter are seated HUON and BERTO. ORSETTI, leave me to deal with him alone. LOTHAIR. So far my manhood hath not left me yet. ( Going to the door. ) You say you are a friend to Count Lothair ; How shall I trust you ? VOICE. By three angles bound, Three arcs, one circle, and the mystic word We only speak in presence. LOTHAIR. He must enter. Whate'er your errand, welcome, in God's name ! Enter MESSENGER, hooded and cloaked. LOTHAIR. I know you not. MESSENGER (showing a blazon}. You know the badge I wear. THE WORLD'S OWN. 115 One of the ancient Brotherhood am I, Fellow of yours and Huon's. LOTHAIR. Whoso bears That mark, is in my house as light and air. Ev'n on my death-bed I attend his need. ITow can I serve you ? MESSENGER. Nowise in the world ; 'T is I must serve you. We should speak alone. LOTHAIR. Leave us, dear Helen ! HELEN. Do not bid me go ; Let the new danger, falling, crush us both, Nor single one to bear the other's torture. LOTHAIR. Fear not, 't is one of a Fraternity Whom fearful oaths have bound for mutual help ; And, though 'tis like we never met before, We are, till death, beholden to each other. HELEN. I 'm loth to leave you. Heav'n protect us all I (Exit.) Well, friend ? LOTHAIR, MESSENGER. LOTHAIR. 116 THE WORLD'S OWN. MESSENGER. My errand is best quickest done ; Great needs must crowd the wheels of strategy. Who, single-handed, keeps the pass of Fate, Should have a far eye, and a fearless hand. I can but warn you of the danger nigh, And trust your high resolve to save yourself. LOTH AIR. Speak plainly. MESSENGER. You are ruined with the Prince ; Your fellows met the doom of banishment ; Your turn is next, not banishment, but death. LOTHAIR. I cannot find a sin against my Prince In my most deep remembrance. He and I Are of one age, were play-fellows in youth, And friends thereafter. Should he do me harm, When naught could move him to it ? MESSENGER. Let me ask, How did you vex the demon of the palace ? LOTHAIR. Your words strike deadly terror through my veins. What mean you ? MESSENGER. Why the Prince's Favorite ; THE WORLD'S OWN. lit 'T is she doth lead him to these cruelties, So new, so strange. She draws him with a hair ; She binds him in a chain of perfumed breath, Padlocked with kisses. What she wills, he does ; Our lives are in her hand. LOTHAIR. 0, hideous dream ! Who is she ? MESSENGER. God and Satan only know. No man has seen her ; but her evil power Shows its malignant presence everywhere. LOTHAIR. Is this a nightmare ? MESSENGER. Do not think it such. Your time is short ; the morrow is your own ; Beyond that, nothing but eternity. LOTHAIR. Can I not fly ? MESSENGER. Your every step is watched Spies are about you in your very bed. LOTHAIR. Great Heaven ! What help remains ? MESSENGER. One sole resource, The deed of Brutus, swift and terrible ! 118 THE WORLD'S OWN. Cleave the false heart, and let the murderous arm Drop powerless, ere the fatal bolt be hurled. (Shows a dagger.) LOTH AIR (turning away his head). No, no ! not bloodshed ! MESSENGER. Whose blood ? His, or yours ? What if I had your sentence in my bosom, ( Takes out a paper. ) Caught on its way ? Read this. LOTHAIR. It is not signed. MESSENGER. It wants a signature that will not fail. Why, man, we would not leave the task to you ; A dozen stouter hearts and surer hands Direct the swift-descending tool of death. We only want your name and countenance ; Record them here. (Showing a parchment.) LOTHAIR. I must have time to think. Leave me this night ; come back at early dawn. I shall be ready. MESSENGER. It will be too late. Necessity is not a merchant's clerk, THE WORLD'S OWN. 119 To be put off from payment for a day ! Give me your name, or keep your tardy courage For the confessor and the headsman's axe. LOTHAIR. Give here ! (Signs.) MESSENGER. So, so ! the thing is bravely done ; 1 give you rendezvous to-morrow night At the Redoubt. You '11 meet a domino In black and yellow. Touch your vizard thus, And he shall bring you to our company. Now go to rest, and think your life is safe. (Exit.) LOTHAIR. lie 's gone, as if the earth had swallowed him. I do not rightly know what I have done, Such horrors hedge my footsteps everywhere. Shall I lie down ? For me is no repose. Sleep shall o'ercome mo with her awful shapes, And pin me helpless in my agony. There is one refuge. Death shall find me there ! Helen ! to thy protecting arms I come ! (Exit.) SCENE IV. A Room in the Palace. LEONORA. I had not thought t' have found mankind so vile I I looked for shame, at least, where villains trade 120 THE WORLD'S OWN. In blood and falsehood. I discern it not. Where'er I need an instrument of ill To speed my dreadful work, straightway appears, As from an ambush, some vile human tool That begs my using. Royalty itself Takes service with its sceptre and its sword, Staining its dainty fingers in my quarrel. Thus, all things favor me save yonder Heaven, Whose stern compression keeps my forehead bent, Lest evil eyes, aspiring to its sunshine, Should dare to claim its promise. What of that ? Avenging God ! it is thy work I do, Though Thou disown it. Smile where Thou likest best, I do not seek thy favor. Downward lies My way ; but, ere I plunge, the shrieks of one Dragged struggling from the bosom of delight, And hurled before, make hideous sacrifice, And spread my fall, as soft as feathery night. (A pause. She hears a step.) The Prince ? Enter the PRINCE. PRINCE. You sent for me, my Beautiful ? LEONORA. Forgive me, gentle sovereign, if I erred. THE WORLD'S OWN. 121 PRINCE. You know how dear these precincts are to me ! How sacred, how my leaping heart awaits Your messenger, too seldom and too slow For rny desires ! The Prince can summon all But Leonora ; she must summon him. LEONORA. I am too much beholden to your goodness To find a ready answer. Gratitude Weighs down my utterance ; let me rather break At once th' unwelcome business of this hour, Set for me by my duty. PRINCE. Do not fear ! Ill tidings should be sweet, love, told by you. LEONORA. 0, how my woman's nature hates this work ! I must unmask a traitor to your eyes. Suspecting long, I hold the proofs at last ; But guilt so black, my heart had ne'er alleged. I pause and tremble with the dreadful work ; The Count Lothair conspires to take your life ! PRINCE. Lothair ! My fairest, you are misinformed. He 's an offender in another sense. Lothair's worst treasons are to womankind. 122 THE WORLD'S OWN. LEONORA. A man that can betray a woman's love Avoids no crime for its enormity. PRINCE. You must not be too stern, my Puritan ! Our courtiers keep not the chivalrous faith Of their grim grandsires. LEONORA. Pardon ! I forgot The times we live in. I have surely heard That loyalty to Sovereigns and to Women Went out of date together. PRINCE. You are keen ! I pity him who is your enemy. LEONORA. But Count Lothair, PRINCE. Call him a reprobate, A man capricious, thriftless, passionate. Do you not see he has too little weight For good or evil ? Like this sword of mine, With jewelled hilt and gold-encrusted blade, 'T is a rare bauble for a holiday For service, now, what fool would borrow it ? THE WORLD 8 OWN. 12(5 LEONORA. Read but this document. ( Giving paper.} PRINCE (reading}. I am amazed ! His name upon the villauous enrolment ? Why, this is unimagined infamy ! What could have brought him to it ? LEONORA. Urgent need, With hope and promise of high dignity. How often is a daring public deed Hatched vilely from the occasion of the hour, As from an egg a viper ! PRINCE. 'T is most true. I know that he hath been in straits of late, And thought to help him for his father's sake, And for a careless friendship that I bear him ; While his false eyes took measure of my throat ! Such faith doth follow princes. Are you sure He signed this devil's patent knowingly, Having possessed the tenor of the bond ? LEONORA. My royal master, look into this face ; A sad one, you are pleased to say, a fair. 124 THE WORLD'S OWN. You would not think it were a marble mask Of falsehood, that should put his crime to shame ? PRINCE. The very words are impious ! LEONORA. Hear me, then ! By every feature that you love, I swear Lothair 's a perjured, faithless, ruthless villain I PRINCE. Your oath is awful ; it commands my faith As 't were a word from God. LEONORA. I thank your Grace. PRINCE. 0, I am sad to think upon this man, Whose thankless graces made him dear to me ! I thought him gentle, spite of grievous faults. ( With emotion. ) I loved him ! LEONORA. How this tenderness of heart Exalts the hate I bear him ! PRINCE. We must act. When should the deed be done ? THE WORLD'S OWN. 125 LEONORA. This very night. I 've a device shall bring him in our toils ; Sign but this warrant leave the rest to me. PRINCE. Must he then die ? LEONORA. Justice should turn on us Her awful anger did we falter here. Think, 't is my life he plots against, sweet prince ! And for the love you bear me, waver not ! PRINCE. Those lips can never miss the thing they ask. Ev'n this sad boon I grant them. (Signs.) ACT FIFTH. SCENE I. A Dark Room in the Palace, Several figures in masks stand in the background. In front, LEONORA and the PRINCE, also masked. On the left, wearing no mask, the MESSENGER. LEONORA. Well met. The hour and the man approach. PRINCE. I hear a step along the corridor. LEONORA. My trusty messenger has brought him safe, Through winding paths, to meet his fellows here. PRINCE. Who is that yonder ? LEONORA. He to whose keen scent We owe the tracing of this shameful plot. He shall be spokesman. Enter LOTHAIR, blindfold, led also by a mask. MESSENGER. Take the bandage off. (126) THE WORLD'S OWN. 127 LOTHAIR (looks around him). Where am I ? MESSENGER. In the presence of your friends. LOTHAIR. Why are they masked ? MESSENGER. In risks so desperate, Men must be cautious of their fellowship. These wait to be assured of your good faith. LOTHAIR. Whatever other treason I intend, I mean none here. MESSENGER. Turn, then, and tell them so. LOTHAIR. Methinks my coming hither was enough, Without more words. MESSENGER. You waver in your mind ; Men name you as a man of no resolve. LOTHAIR. Wait till I give you cause for this reproach. (Turning towards the otters.) Friends, I '11 not praise th' intent that calls us here ; Not choice doth make it, but necessity. 128 THE WORLD'S OWN. Where sudden danger leaves no chance of good*, It is the lesser evil we embrace. MESSENGER. We are agreed ; like must be met by like. A tyrant must be tyrannously quelled. He has his troops, his hangman ; what have we ? Only the resolute heart and daring hand. LOTHAIR. What else, indeed ? The need is imminent ; The remedy the only one in sight, However we deplore its urgency. MESSENGER. This paper bears your lawful signature ? LOTHAIR. It is my name. MESSENGER. Signed freely? LOTHAIR. As you know. MESSENGER. Unmask, then, brothers in a noble cause ! First by an oath devote yourselves to death, Or to success ; the tyrant's death, or ours ! Your swords, quick ! let them clang the harsh refrain ? .(They all draw their swords.} Now, then, the watchword ! give it, Count Lothair ! THE WORLD'S OWN. 129 LOTHAIR (with effort"). Death to the tyrant ! Infamy and death ! LEONORA (unmasking}. Death to the traitor first ! LOTHAIR. What do I see ? Vengeance of God ! LEONORA. Do you remember me ? LOTHAIR. fool ! I am betrayed ! I see it all ! Here was the tool, and there the cunning hand I PRINCE (unmasking). And here the breast at which your steel was aimed ! LOTHAIR. My Prince, although in this aspect I stand, 1 do implore your sovereign leave to speak, And show a thousand damning proofs of crime In those who urged me to this enterprise. PRINCE. What boots it, man, who tempted you ? The devil Tempts every cutpurse, stabbing on the road. The gallows does not heed his argument. Can you deny your guilt ? LEONORA. Deny it ? Yes, 9 130 THE WORLD'S OWN. He would deny the mother's face that bore him, Could it but serve his purpose. LOTH AIR. I am dumb. PRINCE. Chief of my guards, arrest this gentleman ! Strike off the spurs from his unknightly heels. To the state dungeon lead him. Give the priest And headsman leave to do their ghostly work At the cock's crow. His hours on earth are num bered. LOTHAIR. Grant but one mercy to a fallen man, For all your former favors, gracious Prince I One parting moment with my wife and child, The gift of tears, my only legacy ! LEONORA (to the PRINCE). The countess is arrested. It is clear She lent her aid in this. LOTHAIR. No ! on my word ! LEONORA. Traitor, that thing you lack ; you have no word ! HELEN (without). Lothair ! Lothair ! THE WORLD'S OWN. 131 She enters, escorted by two GUARDS, breaking furiously from them. Let me have room, I say I Our child ! our Arthur ! LOTHAIR. What of him ? HELEN. He 'B lost ! They say a gypsy lured him from the house. I only know he 's gone ! God, he 's gone ! (She comes close to LOTHAIR.) I went to kiss my darling in his bed, You know I always do, he was not there ! He 's hiding now, I thought, and paused a while, To let the little creature have his play ; Then called, then shrieked, then searched the whole house over In vain ; then fled distracted through the streets, Crying my child ! my child 1 till these men came And brought me hither. LOTHAIR. God I must I bear this ? HELEN. Why do you stand there ? we must search the town. He may be dead or dying while I speak, Or hidden where we ne'er shall see him more ! 132 THE WORLD'S OWN. Come with me, come ! I have strength for everything. I '11 drag the sewers, dig the dung-heaps through, Search wizard houses as the lightning leaps ; I '11 cope with witches, in their murderous dens, But I will bring him back ! Nay, more ; methinks I 'd tear the earth's hard bosom with these hands, If it could hide him. Who are these that stare ? If they have children, they will lend us aid, And we will serve them all our mortal lives ! LOTHAIR. Helen, I am a prisoner to the state ; My head is forfeit. This o'erwhelming hour Takes life and all its blessings at one blow. HELEN. My sight grows dizzy. No, I '11 not sink down Until I know the worst I (Perceiving the PRINCE.) Our Sovereign, too ! What does he here ? PRINCE. Your husband is a traitor, And so condemned to meet a traitor's doom I HELEN. 'T is false, I say ! 'T is slanderous as hell ! Who says Lothair is faithless to his prince ? (She sees LEONORA, who comes foi^ward.) 'T is she, the woman with the wicked smile 1 THE WORLD'S OWN. 133 She called the curse down ; it has come at last ! How the room darkens ! Help me, dear Lothair ! 0, to have kissed my boy before I die ! (She sinks, LOTHAIR bends over her.) Part softly, Helen ! LEONORA. She shall never kiss him ! PRINCR. Convey her hence, and bid the leech attend. ( Tliey bear HELEN away. ) LOTHAIR (coming close to LEONORA). Fiend ! are you satisfied ? Is this enough ? Could not my ruin glut your greed of blood, But my pure wife, my guiltless child, must perish, To heap the measure of your fell revenge ? 'T was little that a nobleman should die, Vilest of spiders, strangled in your web I PRINCE. Silence ! LEONORA. I pray your highness, let him speak. LOTHAIR. Cornc to my dungeon, I invite you there, Come with your butchering myrmidons, and hold Your midnight feast of blood. The torture waits For her whose malice is its only term. 134 THE WORLD'S OWN. In life or death you shall not make me moan. I have not lived as I was born to live, Nor kept the faith and courage of my youth ; But here, my steps find footing on the grave. With this brief breath, whose latest gasp shall curse The day we met, I give you back your hate ; I scorn you, spit upon you, and defy you ! (The guards lead away LOTHAIR. Scene changes.} SCENE II. LEONORA'S Bedchamber. On the bed a child asleep. LEONORA. 'T was great, 't was godlike ! I have drunk to the full The costly wine of vengeance ; and I feel Its mighty madness coursing through my veins I What pang was left forgotten ? What disgrace ? 0, man, so gallant and so reckless once, Crushing the poor girl's heart in your white hands I Where are you now ? Your glozing tongue is dumb ; The flashing falsehoods of your eyes are spent ; And Death and you, of all disguises stript, Glare grimly on each other. Here 'B his boy ; I shall be mad, no ! I must see his face. THE WORLD'S OWN. 135 (She goes to the bed, and draws the curtain.) These are the features of my girlhood's dream ; Thus looked my idol, ere it fell, to seam The upturned forehead with the gash of shame. 0, what a god he seemed ! He stood on clouds ; Stars shot their glances through his azure eyes That were my Sun, my Heaven, rny Universe ! It is the folly of my heart, to think (A masked figure appears behind her.) That something bears his form in yonder skies ; Some heavenly delight must look as he did. For things divine have twin-antipodes, And Lucifer hath left his shining peer Where he hath no hereafter. Night wears on, And brings no pause. The hours drop off like pearls Into the silver silence. (Taking a phial from her bosom.) Here 's a draught Shall help me to a moment of repose, With this concluding thought, I am revenged ! MASK. You shall not close your brilliant eyes to-night, My countess. I have work for them to do. The midnight summons up strange visitors, And here 's a friend that knows you through your paint, 136 THE WORLD'S OWN. And all your wicked bravery. LEONORA. What 's this ? I am betrayed. MASK. 'T were justice if you were, The only justice you are knowing to. LEONORA. I '11 call my guards, what, ho ! MASK. A.11 doors are closed ; Your sentinel is absent by my leave. What if I stood, Heaven's righteous messenger, To deal with you a little in your sort ? You have o'erthrown your mortal enemy, Who 's he that doth avenge mankind of you ? LEONORA. Your speech is haughty as your voice is rude. Talk as you will, one thing alone dare not, To think I fear you. MASK. I could show you that Should make you tremble. LEONORA. Show it then, your face ? THE WORLD'S OWN. 137 MASK. That has no office in this interview. If I could show you what you were and are, You 'd feel a keener anguish than your foe Who cannot cry to Heaven for cursing you. I had your portrait of a man who wore That blushing slander of all womanhood (Shows picture.) For very mockery. See, how fresh, how pure ! How dewy sweet a morsel for the fiend In whose wide jaws she leaped with open eyes ! LEONORA. 'Tis my young face, my fair and innocent face. What wretch art thou, to torture me with this ? MASK. She was as wild and arrogant in her love As in the hate to which the scorched bud ripened. Too proud to bear the fortune of her sex ; Wronged ever more than wronging, save this" one, She grew a fiend in malice. Help was near In faithful hearts, and in the priceless power To shame misfortune with true nobleness. From loving hands held out she turned away, And plunged from passion into infamy ; Not for the weakness of a second love, Or sordid need, or lust of leprous splendor, 138 THE WORLD'S OWN. But for the ruin of one wretched soul, She gave, what God till then held innocent, The glories of her youth. The prince's mistress, There is her portrait ; you behold her now ! LEONORA. Is this enough ? MASK. Her measure is not full ; The prince's love she might have ruled for good, As thieves are generous with unrighteous gold. The patient angel kept his record back ; Hope sent her leaping scouts along the road ; Here she may pause, and tremble, and turn back ; Here, when she meets the infant's pleading eyes, She may forgive the father. Further still, When all his heart-strings quiver in her hand, The thought may dawn, " Why should I crush thee, worm ? " And she may dash her deadly purpose down, A costly offering, broken in God's face. This, too, she did not. What remains for her But the Ghoule's feast, corruption, horror, blood ? LEONORA. This man seems risen from the depths of hell, With all its torment burning in his speech. Speak ; what remains ? THE WORLD'S OWN. 139 MASK. The fate of ruined souls, To prosper and grow fat in wickedness. I 've seen your prototype a thousand times : Lucretia, not the Heav'n-avenging one, The poisoning Borgia, fiend-like, false, and cruel ; Or Messalina, with the cold sly look, Or other dames, whose pictures give us fright Lest they should claim our human fellowship. Rather than you should grow a thing so vile, (Shows a dagger.) Methinks 't were merciful to slay you here ; A brother's deed, if ev'n a brother's love Could follow you so far. LEONORA (snatches the dagger). Give here the steel. Wrest not from me my right of sacrifice. To one who loved me as a brother should, I give the latest struggle of my heart. (Stabs herself '.) EDWARD (unmasking). Leonora ! LEONORA. Edward, we are haply met 1 EDWARD. 0, rash, heroic deed ! 140 THE WORLD'S OWN. LEONORA. Why should you grieve ? See how this life-blood lets the madness out, That pressed, so closely-packed, upon my heart ; And I grow calm at last ; and, as in dreams, Behold the peaceful visions of my youth. Deep in the mountain's heart the chalet lies, And, in the sun, the rustling waterfall Leaps gladly evermore. A maiden band Dance rustic measures to its cool refrain ; And one in white moves, taller than the rest. D' ye see it, Edward ? EDWARD. I am there with you. LEONORA. Who 's he that passes with the haughty eyes ? The tall girl stopped her dancing when he came, That he might speak, and cheat her of her soul. Then, there was vengeance ! what became of it ? 'T is gone. I see you, know myself again, And what I come from. 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