FRANCESCA DA RIMINI ELKOXORA DUvSE AS FRANCESCA DA RIMINI FRANCESCA DA RIMINI By GABRIELE D' ANNUNZIO TRANSLATED BY ARTHUR SYMONS NEIV YORK ■ FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY • PUBLISHERS H mor che al cor gentil ratto s'apprende mor che a nullo amato amar perdona . mor condusse noi ad una niorte. Copyright, 1902, By Frederick A. Stokes Company. Francesca da Rimini ; Tragedia Gahriele D'j4nnun^io, i Copyright, 1902, By Fratelli Treves. 4 Fd+t:'^ n '^ TO THE DIVINE ELEONORA DUSE SJ-MIS INTRODUCTION. *' Francesca da Rimini " was acted for the first time at Rome, by Eleouora Duse and her company, on December 9, 1901. Has there, since " Her- naui," been such a battle over a play in verse? The performance lasted five hours, and many of the speeches were inaudible oa account of the noise in tlie theatre. Since then the play has been freely cut, it has been acted with the greatest suc- cess in the chief cities of Italy, and has raised more discussion than any play in verse of this century. The translation which follows has been made from the unabridged text. The play is written in blank verse, but blank verse so varied as to he almost a kind of vprs lihre. This form of blank verse is not new in Italian. It is to be found in the pastoral tragedies of the Renaissance, in Tasso's "Aminta," in Guarino's " Pastor Fido." We need only open Leopardi to see almost exactly the same structure of verse. Take these lines of Leopardi (" Sopra un basso re- lievo antico sepolcrale ") : " Morte ti chiama ; al cominciar del giorno 1/ ultimo istantf. Al iiido onde ti parti Non torncriii. Ij'asjHitto !)(•' tiioi dole! iiarciiti Lasci per senipre. 11 loco viii INTRODUCTION. A cui mova, h sotterra: Ivi fia d' ogui tempo il tuo soggiorno." Now take these lines, chosen at random from ■' Francesca" : " Ma giammai m'eran fiorite, come in questo maggio, tante, tante ! Son cento, son pill di ceuto. Guarda ! S' io le tocco, m' abbruccio. Le vergini di feant' Apollinari non ai'dono cosi nel loro cielo d'oro." In English we shall find the most perfect exam- ple of blank verse varied into half-lyi"ic measures in some of the choruses and speeches of " Samson Agouistes." " But who is this? What thing of sea or land — Female of sex it seems — That so bedecked, ornate, and gay, Comes tliis way sailing, Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for the isles Of Javan and Gadire, With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails filled, and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play?" Matthew Ai'nold, in " Empedocles on Etna," " The Strayed Reveller," and some of his most famous meditative pieces, has used the same metre, carrying his experiment indeed further, and playing with pauses in a more complicated way, not always, to my ear, with entire success. I am not sure that metre such as this can ever really become an English metre: " Thou guardest them, Apollo! Over the grave of the slain Pytho, IX TB OB UCTION. ix Though jf'unr:, intolerably severe! Thou keepest aloof the profane, But the solitude oppresses thy votary, The jars of meu reach him not in thy valley, But can life reach him? Thou fencest him from the multitude: Who will feuce him from himself? Mr. Henley has made for himself a rough, service- able metre in unrhymed verse, full of twitching nerves and capable of hurrying or dragging. " Space and dread and the dark — Over a livid stretch of sky Cloud-nionsturs crawling like a funeral train Of huge primeval presences Stooping beneatli the weight Of some enormous, rudimentary grief ; While in the haunting loneliness The far sea waits and Avanders with a sound As of the trailing skirts of Destiny Passing unseen To some immitigable end With her gray henchman, Death." Now the essential difference between the metre of d'Annunzio and these other instances of a simi- lar metre is that, with d'Annunzio, the metre is purely a means to an end, a dramatic end. He has aimed at giving variety and emphasis to blank verse, so as to make the verse render the speaker's mood with the greatest exactitude. Where, in ordinary blank verse, a single line is broken up into two or three small speeches, which have to bo fitted into thoir five feet with an ingenuity which on the stage at least, goes for nothing, he lets his short linos stand more frankly by themselves And lie moulds a long speech into greater flexi- X INTRODUCTION. bility, letting the voice pause on a single short line coming after longer lines, for emphasis, or running a short, unaccentuated line rapidly into the next, in a very effectual kind of enjambement. Yet, with all its variety, this metre is not, as is so much contemporary French vers libre, a vague, unregulated metre, which may be read equally as prose or as verse, and in which one has to search for the beat while one is reading it. The beat is always regular, clear, unmistakable. With the exception of a few dactylic passages, of which the most important occurs in the address to the fire, it is strictly iambic, and it is made of the normal verse of five feet, subdivided into verse of three feet and two feet.* As far as I recollect, the verse of four feet is never used, nor can I find a verse of four feet in the blank verse of Leopardi, though it is freely, and, I think, legitimately, used by every English experimenter in this metre. Italian verse, with its incessant elisions, its almost invariable double endings, lends itself , better than that of any other living language, to a metre which, in d'Annunzio's hands, becomes so easy, so much like prose, and yet so luxurious, so rich in cadence. In the translation which follows, I have of course rendered the double endings, for the most part, by single endings, using double endings at my discretion, as in ordinary English * Sig. d'Annunzio writes to me: "I have added to the verse of eleven and of seven syllables, the verse of five, which is also iambic in structure. Thus the metre is formed of the hendecasyllable and of its two hemistichs (11-7-5.)." INTRODUCTION. xi blank verse. My version is literal, alike in words and rhythm, but my lines do not in every case correspond precisely with the lines of the original. They are intended to reproduce every effect of the original, as that can best be done in English verse, written on the principle of d'Annunzio's Italian verse. In order to render the form of the original as closely as possible, I have often used weak endings which I should not have used had I been writing verse of my own. Take, for instance, these lines, which will be found on p. 25 of the Italian and also of the English : " Con qui parlavi ? Con le donne ? Come sei venuto ? Rispondi mi ? Sei tu di Messer Paolo Malatesta ? Su, rispondi !" In my elisions I have tried to follow the exam- ple of the Italian as far as I could, without abso- lutely violating the principles of English verse, and, in short, I have done all I could to make a faitliful copy, at the risk of leaving it " a mere strict bald version of thing by thing," which, Browning tells us in the preface to his translation of the " Agamemnon," is after all, what the reader of a translation should first of all look for and expect to find. The motto of " Francesca da Rimini '" might well be the line of Dante: " .Voi che tingcmmo il mondo di sanguigno," and the play is more than a tragedy of two lovers, it is a study of an age of blood, the thirteenth cen- tury in Italy. In the real story, Paolo and Fran- xii INTRODUCTION. cesca were both married, she a mother and he a father of children, and it was only after ten years of marriage that Gianciotto surprised them to- gether and stabbed them. 'Dante, in the fifth canto of the " Inferno," leaves out all but the bare facts of love and death. D'Annunzio refers once or twice to the wife, Orabile, but not to the children, nor does he leave any long interval between the beginning and end of the passion. But he gives us two people of flesh and blood, luxurious, pondering people, who love beautiful things, and dream over their memories; yet peo- ple who have no characteristics that might not have existed in an Italian man and woman of the thirteenth century. Paolo is a perfect archer, we see liim shoot an arrow from the battlements, which, we are told later, has gone through the throat of one who mocked his brother to his face; we hear of his armour, his hor.se, as well as of his skill in music and the gentler arts. Francesca is full of tender feeling, and some of the most beau- tiful lines in the play are the lines which she speaks to her sister. But, as the man-at-arms on the battlements says of her: " Quell a Non e gia donna di paura." She questions him about the Greek fire which he is stirring hi a cauldron, and lights one of the fiery staves, indifferent to the danger, intent only on the strange, new, perilous beauty. She is exalted by the sight of the blood-red roses growing in the sar- cophagus, and she cries to the roses. Violent deeds go on around her wherever she is. In her father's INTRODUCTION. xm house brother fiojhts with brother, and it is her brother's bleediug face which appears to het through the barred window, witli ominous signifi- cance, at the close of the first act, as she sees Paolo for the first tirae, and offers him a rose. In the house of her husband she sees fighting from the walls, and her husband's brother, Malatestiuo, is brought in wounded in the eye. There is a prisoner wliose cries come up from the dungeons underground, while Malatestino, who is after- wards to betray her to her husband, persecutes her with his love. She hates cruelty, but like one to whom it is a daily, natural thing, always about her path. " To fight in battle is a lovely thing. But secret slaying in the dark I hate," she says to her husband, as she tells him of his brother's thirst for blood. Towards her hus- band her attitude is quite without modern sub- tlety; he has won her unfairly, she is unconscious of treachery towards him in loving another; she has no scruples, only apprehensions of some unlucky ending to love. And when that end- ing comes, and the lover is caught in the trap- door, as he is seeking to escape, and the husband pulls him up by the hair, and kills them both, the husband has no moralising to do; he bends his crooked knee with a painful movement, picks up his sword, and breaks it across the other knee The action of the play moves slowly, but it moves; beiiind all its lyrical outcries there is a hard grip on the sheer facts of the age, the defi- nite realities of the passion. D'Annunzio has XIV INTR OD ITCTION. learnt something from Wagner, not perhaps the best that Wagner had to teach, in his over-ampli- fication of detail, his insistence on so many things beside the essential things, his recapitulations, into which he has brought almost the actual Wagnerian "motives." When the moment is reached which must, in a play on this subject, be the great moment or the moment of failure, when the dramatist seems to come into actual competi- tion with Dante, d'Annunzio is admirably bi'ief, significant, and straightforward. In the scene in which " Galeotto fu il libro, e chi loscrisse," he has made his lovers read out of the actual book out of which Dante represents them as reading, the old French romance of "Lancelot du Lac," and the words which they repeat are the actual words of the book, put literally into Italian. It is not any part of my purpose to compare " Francesca da Rimini " with Mr. Stephen Phillips' "Paolo and Fi-ancesca," but, after translating this scene, I had the curiosity to turn to the corre- sponding scene in the English play. The diifer- ence between them seemed to be the difference between vital speech, coming straight out of a situation, and poetising round a situation. In d'Annunzio you feel the blind force and oncoming of a living passion; and it is this energy which speaks throughout the whole of a long and often delaying play. Without energy, " la grace litte- raire supreme," as Baudelaire has called it, beauty is but a sleepy thing, decrepit or born tired. In "Francesca da Rimini" beauty speaks with the voice of life itself. Arthur Syraons. DRAMATIS PERSONS DRAMATIS PERSONS. OSTASIO. Banning. Francesca. Samaritan A. BlANCOFIOBE. Alda. Garsenda. Altichiara. r AnONELLA. ' The Slave. J Ser Toldo Berardengo. ASPINKLLO ARSKNDI. ViviANO De' Vivii. Bertrando Luko. An Archer. Giovanni, " The Lame," known a.s Gianciotto. Paolo "The Beautiful." Malatestino "The One-eyed." OoDo Dalle Caminate FoscoLO D'Olnano. Archers. Men-at-Arms. Son.s and Daughters of Guido Minore da Polenta. Francesca's Women. Partisans of Guido. Sons of Mala- testa da Ver- rucchio. Partisans of Mala- testa. The Merchant. The Merchant's Boy. The Doc- tor. The Jester. The Astrolofrer. The Musi- cians. The Torchbearers. Scene : At Ravenna, in the Iloune of the Polentani; at Rimini, in the House of the Malatesti. FRANCESCA DA RIMINI FKANCESCA DA KIMINI ACT I. Court in the House of the Polentani, adjacent to a garden that shines brightly through a marble screen, pierced in the form of a transept. A log- gia runs round it above, leading on the right to the women^s apartments, and in front, supported on small pillars, affords a double view. On the left is a flight of steps leading down to the thres- hold of the enclosed garden. At the back is a large door, and a low, barred window, through which can be seen a range of arches surrounding another larger court. Near the steps is a Byzan- I tine sarcophagus, without a lid, filled xoith earth, I like a flower pot, in which grows a crimson rose- bush. The Women are seen, leaning over the loggia, and coming down the stairs, gazing curiously at the Jester, who carries his viol hanging by his side, and in his hand an old jerkin. Alda. Jester, hey, Jester ! 8 FRANCESCA DA RUflNL Garsenda. Adonella, Adonella, here is the Jester In the court! O Biancofiore, The Jester ! he has come ! Adonella. Are the gates open yet ? Biancofiore. Let's make the Jester sing. Alda. Hey, tell me, are you that Gianni . . . Jester. Sweet ladies . . . Alda. That Gianni who was coming from Bologna ? Gian Figo ? Garsenda. Are you Gordello who is coming from Ferrara? Jester. Dear ladies ... Adonella. r What are you seeking there ? The trail of the scent. Biancofiore. We brew in limbecs oils of lavendei'. And oils of spikenard. Jester. I am no apothecary's pedlar, I. Altichiara. '' You shall have a bunch though, my good night- ingale. If you will sing. FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 9 Garsenba. Look at him, how he droops ! Jester. Fair ladies, have you . . . BlANCOFIOEE. Yes, Heaps upon heaps. Adonella. Bags full And coffers full of it. Madonna Francesca Can dip her beauty, if she has a mind to, In oil of lavender. Jester. I thought rather to find the smell of blood In the house of Guido. Alda. Blood of the Traversari : in the streets, In the streets you will find it. All. Polenta! Polenta! Down with the Traversari ! Jester. Heigho! Catch who catch can, go free who may ! The sparrows are becoming sparrow-hawks. [Shouts of laughter ring down the staircase, 6e- tween the tvoi-horned head-dresses.] All. Grapple with the Ghibelline! Jester. Be quiet now, don't let the archer near you, 10 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Or he will fetch me suddenly such a bolt As will lay me out my length for all my life. Alda. You swear you are a Guelph? Jester. By San Mercuriale of Forli (That sets the belfry crumbling on the pate Of the Feltran people) I tell you I am Guelph, As Guelph as Malatesta da Verrucchio. Garsenda. Good then, you are safe; only be circumspect: You have leave to smell. Jester. To smell? Aud not to eat? I am a dog, then? How many bitches are there in the place? Let's see. [He goes down on hands and feet like a dog, and makes for the woinen.\ Garsenda. Ah nasty dog ! Alda. Filthy dog! Altichiara. Wicked dog I Take that! Jester. Ahi, ahi, you have smashed ray viol, You have broken my bow. Adonella. Take that! FBANCESCA DA RIMINI. 11 Garsenda. And that! BlANCOFIORE. And that! Jester. They are all in heat! I would I knew which one of you the most! [Theij all strike him on the back vrith their fists, laughing. And as the Jester jumps about amongst them like a dog, they begin to dance round him, shaking out their perfumed skirts.^ BiAjsrcorioRE. Take hands, and dance a round! Adonella. Do you smell the spice, Lavender and spikenard? Altichiara. I am flame and ice, I am flame and ice! BlANCOFIORE. Fresh in cool linen is sweet lavender! Alda. Come in, brigfht eyes, into my garden fair! Altichiaka. An odour comes, no garden can I find. Adonella. How comes this lovely odour on the wind? All. Smell! Smell! Garsknda. Sweet shift that long in lavender has lain; 12 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Sweetheart, the time of May has come again. All. Smell! Smell! Adonella. I would I had my sweetheart near my side, And nearer than my shift is near to me. Dear love is dear to me ! Dear love is dear to me! All. Smell! smell! smell! Jester [Standing up and trying to catch one of them]. Catch who catch can ! If I catch one of you. . . [ With cries of laughter, they run up the stairs then stand panting with merriment.} Alda [With a contemptuous gesture], Tou are no sheep dog, you ! Garsenda. Tou are a pantry dog. Poor Jester! have you not More stomach now for food than bantering? Jester [Scratching his throat]. May be I have. I dined some while ago. Fine scents fill no lean paunches. Garsenda. Well then, well, Go rather to the Archbishop Bonifazio, He is the biggest glutton FRANCEtiCA DA RIMINI. 13 That eats in the world : the Genoese. This house Is Guido da Polenta's. Jester. Yellow with flower of the black hellebore, Because there is no juniper in the world, May all be salt to me, Ravenna women have it ... in the round, Salt be to me ! Garsenda. Round-pated you yourself 1 You thought to get the better of us, eh? We have got the better of you. BlANCOFIOBE. Sing, Jester! Alda. Dance, Jester I Jester [Picking up Ids rng]. You have pulled me all to pieces. Mischief o' me ! Have you, by chance, a little. . . Garsenda. A little bacon? Jester. ' Have you a little scarlet? Adonella. Are you for jesting with us? We are ready. BlANCOFIORE. But who are you? that Gianni. . . Altichiara. O, Biancofiore, look what clothes he has! The doublet is at loggerheads with the hose. 14 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Garsenda. He is Giau Figo, who was coming from Bologna. BlANCOFIOBE. Come from Bologna without a bolognino. Alda. I am sure he is of the Lambertazza party. Garsenda. An evil race! Alda. He has been put to shame By the Geremei. Altichiara. Have you iiot lost a princedom, noble sir? Garsenda. O, Adonella, look at him: he has fled In nothing but his trousers. Jester. And you will have them off me. Adonella. "What a poor thing! Look at yourself in the glass, As crooked as a cross-bow on its stock. Biancofiore. Now you will sing the spoiling of Bologna, And how King Enzo was made prisoner. Garsenda. Have I not told you he is from Ferrara? Jester [Impatiently]. I am from Ferrara and I am from Bologna. FEANCESCA DA BIMINI. 15 Gabsenda. Was it then you Who escorted from Bologna to Ferrara Ghisolabella de' Caccianiraici To the good Marchese Opizzo? Jester. Just so, just so, 'twas I, just as you say. Garsenda. It was you too who made The match between the sister of the Marquess And that old and rich judge, him of Gallura, A shrivelled, wizened thing That had the help of his big man-servant ? Jester. Just so, 'twas I, just as you say; and I had In thanks for it. . . Alda. A bone? Adonella. Two chestnuts? BlANCOFIORE. Three Walnuts and a hazel-nut? Altichiara. A stump of pimpernel? Garsenda. A pair of snails And an acorn? Jester. This mantle that you see, of Irish frieze? No; or of purple Tyrian samite'.' no; 16 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. But all of velvet ciimson-coloux-ed, lined With skins of miniver. Gabsenda. Look, look, Altichiara, The thing he is holding! Altichiara. A little threadbare cloak. Gaksenda. No, no, it is a Romagua jerkin. Alda. Then You are Gordello, you are not Gian Figo. Adonella. But no, he is a Jew. BlANCOFIOBE. He is the huckster Lotto Of Porto Sisi. Altichiara. Sells fripperies and songs. Adonella. What have you with you? Have you rags or ballads? Jester. Fool that I am, I thought to find myself In the palace of the nobles of Polenta, And here I am in a chirping nest of swallows. Garsenda. Comfort yourself, I ara satisfied by now That I have taught you. Master Merrymaker, Ravenna women are not easily beaten At the game of banter. PRANCESCA DA ElMINL 17 Jesteb. And of the pole, too. Alda. You chuckle over it? Adonella. Will you whet your whistle? Biancofioke. No, Alda: come now, make him sing to us. Garsenda. Do you not see the sorry sort of viol He trails here, Adonella? It seems to me a sort of pumpkin cowled, With its big belly and its monstrous neck. The rose is meanly cut. Here's a peg missing, here The bass and tierce are gone. Well, if he barks, his viol gapes in answer. Go, scrawl arpeggios Upon a rebeck, let the bow alone. Biancofiore. You let the joke alone, then, Mona Berta. Let us see now if he knows how to sing. Come on then, Jester, And sing us, if you can, a pretty song. Do you know any of that troubadour Who calls himself the Notary of Lentino? Madonna Francesca knows a lovely one Beginning this way: "Very mightily Love holds me captive." Do you know the song? Jestkr. Yes, I will say it now. If you have a little scarlet. 18 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Altichiara. But what is it you want then, with your scarlet? Adonei.la. We are waiting, we are waiting I Jester. I want you, if you will, To put a patch for me Upon this jerkin. Altichiara. What a mad idea, To patch Roraagna woollen, and with scarlet! Jester. I pray you, if you have it, do for me This service. There is one tear here, in front, Another on the elbow; here it is. Have you two scraps? Altichiara. I will put it right for you If you will sing to us. But I assure you, 'tis a novelty To set the two together. Jester. T go about in search of novelties, As novel as myself: That's just the reason. But not long since I found a novelty, As I was on my way : I met with one, Not two miles on'o of here, That had his head of iron, His legs of wood, and talked with both his shoulders. FRANCESCA DA BIMINI. 19 BlANCOFIORE. This is a novelty in very deed, But tell us how. Adoxella. We are waiting! we are waiting! Jester. Listen, and I will tell you. I met with one That wore an iron headjjiece on his head And went to gather fir-cones in the wood Here at Ravenna, and he went on crutches, And when I asked him had he seen about A little friend of mine, he shrugged his shoul- ders. Saying by this means He had not seen him. BlANCOFIORE [contemptuously\. But this is a true thing. Jester. Am I not novel, That tell true things for fables? Catch who catch can ! So, you will do then what I asked of you? And after you have done it, You shall wait no great while before you learn, The occasion offering, that Gian Figo. . . Garsenda. Ah! You have let it out at last. A I. J.. He is Gian Figo! so FBANCESCA DA RIMINI Jester. Before you learn Giaa Figo is as wise As Dinadan the King of Orbeland's son, Tliat found his wisdom by forgetting love . Altichiara. But now enough of this: time for a song! BlANCOFIORE. " There comes a time to rise ..." Do- you not know the song King Enzo made, The King that lost his kingdom in a battle Against Bologna, and was put in prison In a big iron cage, and ended his life there. Singing his sorrows? Seven years ago in March: I can i-emember. " There comes a time to rise, a time to fall, A time for speaking and for keeping silence." Adonella. No, no, Gian Figo, Tell us instead the song Made by King John, John of Jerusalem, " For the flower of all the lands." Garsenda. No, tell us that of good King Frederick, " A song of pure delight." (Madonna Francesca, the flower of all Ravenna Knows it) made for the flower Of Soria when the sire of Suabia Loved a most worthy maiden His wife had brought with her from over sea. And brought to honour; and this wife of the King Of Suabia was no other than the daughter FRANCESCA DA BIMINl. 21 Of John, King of Jerusalem, and her name Was Isabella, and she died, and then Kincj Frederick took for his wife tlie sister Of the simple Henry of Enj^land ; and he loved her Exceedingly, because, like our Madonna Francesca, she was skilled In music, and all ways of lovely speech ; And this was the third wedding; and she, then, That sang and played all day and all night long, Had . . . [BiAJjcoFiOKE covers her mouth loith her hand.] Jester. AVhat a bibble babble ! O poor King Enzo, There never is a time here to be silent. What's to be done with nil your merchandise, (iian Figo, chitter, chatter, chattering. Here are four voices, and more like a thousand ! Altichiara. Listen to me now. Jester. Let the King Alone. He is d(>ad and buried. Say instead " O mother mine, (five me a husband." " Tell me why, my child." "That he may give me happy. . . " Alda. That is old; Listen to me, Jester. Altichiara. Then, " Monua Lapa, She spun and span. . ." Alda. No I 22 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Altichiara. Then: " O garden-close, I enter and nobody knows." Alda. Hush! Altichiaka. . Then: "Let's all Have seven lovers, That's one for every day of the week." Alda. Hush! Altichiaka. Then: " Monna Aldruda, don't be a pinide, a Piece of good news. . ." Alda. O hush ! Biancofiore, Do shut her mouth. Jester, listen to me : These are old songs. . . Adonella. There's a new troubadour Xnown at Bologna: surely you have heard him ? He's the new fashion ; They call him Messer Guido. . . Messer Guido Di . . . di . . . Jester. Di Guinizello. He was one that went out with the Lambertazzi, Took refuge at Verona, and there died. Alda. Good, let him die: he's for the Emperor. May he go now and make his rhymes in hell! FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 23 Listen to me, Jester; tell us a story Of knights. BlANCOFIOBE. Yes, yes, the knights of the Round Table ! Do you know their stories? The love of Iseult of the golden hair? Jestp:b. I know the histories of all the knights And all the knightly deeds of chivalry Done in King Arthur's time, And specially I know of Messer Tristan And Messer Lancelot of the Lake, and Messer Percival of the Grail, that took the blood Of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of Galahad, And of Gawain, and the rest. I know them all, Alda. Of Guenevere? Adonella. Good luck, Jester, good luck! We will tell Madonna Francesca what you know, Will we not, Alda? She takes delight in them; Jester, she will reward you bountifully. Jestkk. She will give me the remainder . . . Adonei-i-a. What remainder? Jester. Why, the two scraps of scarlet. Adonella. She will give you Quite other \i,\li&, the bountifuUest gifts. 24 FEANCESCA DA liUIUII. Rejoice that she is marrying; Messer Guido marries her to a Malatesta; The wedding day is close at hand. BlANCOFIORE. Meanwhile Tell us a story: we are all ears. " There is time To listen," said the prisoner. [They group themselves about the Jester, lean- ing towards 1dm: he begins.] Jester. How the fay Morgana sent to Arthur's Court The shield foretelling the great love to be Between good Tristan and the flower-like Iseult; And this shall be between the loveliest lady And the most knightly knight in all the world. And how Iseult and Tristan drank together The draught of love that Iseult's mother, Lotta, Had destined for her daughter aud King Mark. And how the draught of love, being perfect, brought Both these two lovers to one single death. [The women stand listening, the J esteb preludes on the viol and sings.] " Now, when the dawn of day ivas nigh at hand. King Mark of Cornwall and good Tristan rose. . ." The voice of Ostasio [behind the scenes]. Tell him, the Puglian thief. Tell him, I say, that I will wash my hands And feet in his heart's blood ! Alda. Messer Ostasio ! FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 25 Garsenda. Come away, come, come! {They scatter, and rush up the stairs, with laugh- ter and cries, and along the loyyia.] Jester. My jerkin, my good jerkin! 1 commend you, My jerkin, and the scarlet! Altichiara [leaning over the loggia]. Come back at noon : It shall be ready. OsTASio DA Polenta enters hy the great door at the back, accompanied hy Ser Toldo Berajr- DENGO. OSTASIO [seizing the terrified Jester). What are you doing here, rascal? Wiiom were you talking with, the women? How Did you come here? Answer nie, I say. Arc you From Messer Paolo Malatesta? Now, Answer! Jkstku. O sir, you arc holding me too hard. Ahi! OSTASIO. Did you come here with Messer Paolo? jESTEIt. No, sir. 26 FEANCESCA BA BIMINI. OSTASIO. You lie ! Jester. Yes, sir. OSTASIO. You were talking with The women; wliat did you say? something, no doubt, Concerning Messer Paolo. What was it? Jester. No, sir, no, sir, only of Messer Tristan. OSTASIO. Take care; you do not trifle with me twice, Or you shall keep this tryst of yours with Tristan Longer than you intend, unseemly fool. Jester. Ahi, ahil what have I done to vex you, sir? I was only singing something. I was only singing a song of the Kound Table. The ladies asked me for a history Of knights. . . I am a Jester and I sing From hunger, and my hunger Hoped better things than beating in the house Of the most noble Messer Guido. I, That keep no hack, have footed From the Castle of Calbeli All the way here: I left Messer Rinieri fortifying his keep With some seven hundred strong Of infantry. FBA2s^CESCA DA 2?/J/I^V7. 27 OSTASIO. You come from Calbeli? Jester. Yes, sir. OSTASIO. Were you ever with the Malatesti At Rimino? Jester. No, sir; never, sir. OSTASIO. Then You do not know Messer Paolo, the Beautiful, That dotes on jesters, and would have them sing And play at all times in his company? Jester. Unluckily I do not know him, sir, But I would ghidly know him. And if I find him, I pray to l)e found always at his side. Lonpf life to Messer Paolo Malatesta! [He iff about to retire hastily. Ostasio catches hold of him arjain, and calln the Archer who is on guard in the other Court.] Ostasio. Jacomello! Jester. What have I done, and why Do you do me violence? Ostasio. Too much talk. 28 FllANCESCA DA RIMINI. Jestek. I am mute. It is hunger barking in me. Keep me prisoner In the kitchen, and I will be as still as oil. OSTASIO. Will you be silent, rascal? Jacomello! I give this prattle-seller to your charge, See that you bit and bib him. A spice cake, Givo me a spice cake. OSTASIO. Give him a box ou the ears. Jester [As the Archer thrusts him out]. When Madonna Francesca knows how you have used me. . . . I am to sing at her wedding. Long life to Messer Paolo Malatesta! [Eaginy, and full of suspicion, Ostasio dravis the Notary totvards the sarcopharjus.] Ostasio. These jesters and the like men of the Court Here in Romagna are a very plague, Worse than the Emperor's rabble. They are tongues Of women; they know everything, say every- thing; They go about the world FRANCESCA DA BIMINI. 29 Spreading abroad their news and novelties; Their ears are at the keyholes of us all. Who wants to know how the good Papal Rector Lay with the wife of Lizio da Valbona? Who wants to know How much Kinieri da Calbeli has taken Out of the purses of the Geremei? As for this rascal That gossipped with the women of Francesca, If he had been a jester Of the Malatesti By now the women had heard all the news There is to tell of Paolo, And all the cunning plan had been vain, Ser Toldo, that you counselled Out of your manifold wisdom. Ser Toldo. As for him, He was so poor and threadbare, How could I take him for a follower Of such a lordly knight as Paolo, He being so bountiful With gentry such as these? But you are well-advised in bitting him. These creatures of the Court May 1)e by way of being .soothsayers, And often steal the trade Of the astrologers. OSTASIO. True. And this slave Of Cyprus, that my sister loves so dearly, I have my doubts of her; she too, I think, Is something of a soothsayer; I know 30 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. That she interprets dreams. The other day I saw my sister full of heavy thoughts, And almost sorrowful, As if some evil dream had come to her; And only yesterday I heard her heave such a long, heavy sigh As if she had a trouble in her heart, And I heard Samaritana Say to her: "What is it, sister? Why do you weep?" Ser Toldo. Messer Ostasio, it is the month of May. OSTASIO. In truth there is no peace for us until This marriage is well over. And I fear, Ser Toldo, lest some scandal come of it. Ser Toldo. Yet you know well, what sort Of woman is your sister, and how high Of heart and mind. If she see this Gianciotto, So lamed and bent, and with those eyes of his. As of an angry devil, Before the marriage-contract Be signed and sealed, why, neither will your father Nor you, nor any, of a certainty Bring her to take The man for husband, not although you set Your dagger at her throat, or haled her through Ravenna by the haii-. Ostasio. I know it well, Ser Toldo, for my father FBANCESCA DA RIMINI. 31 Gave her for foster-mother A sword of his of a miraculous edge, That he had tempered in Cesena blood When he was Podesta. Sek Toldo. Well then, I say, If this be so, and yon desire the match, There is no other way to compass it. And seeing that Paolo Malatesta comes As procurator of Giauciotto here, And with full powers For the betrothal of Madonna Francesca, I say you should proceed Instantly to the marriage. If you would sleep in peace, Messer Ostasio. Paolo is a fair and pleasant youth, And makes a brave decoy. Undoubtedly; yet it is far too easy To learn that he is married to Orabile. And you, did you not beat this jester but For fear of idle talk'^ Ostasio. Yes, you are right, Ser Toldo; we must put an end to this. My father is returning from Valdoppio This very night; we will have all prepared And ready for to-morrow. Sek Toldo. Very good, Messer Ostasio. Ostasio. Yet . . . What will come of it ? S2 FRANCESCA ba biminl Ser Toldo. If you do all, as all this should be done, With secrecy and prudence. Madonna Fraucesca Will find out nothing till at Rimino, She wakes, the morning after Her wedding day, and sees Beside her . . . OSTASIO. Ah, it is like some vile revenge 1 See Toldo. And sees beside her rise Gianciotto. OSTASIO. O, she is so beautiful ! And we avenge ourselves upon her beauty. Almost as if she wronged our house and us In coming to be born Here like a flower in the midst of so much iron. We are giving her to the lame Malatesta For the sake of that poor hundred infantry ! But is she not herself Worth more than all the lordship of Romagna ? False notary, how did you poison first My father's mind ? All this Is your base bargaining. I will not have it. Do you understand ? Sek Toldo. Why, what tarantula bites you, Messer Ostasio ? Surely you will not find A better match to make in all Romagna ? FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 33 OSTASIO. The Malatesti ? Who then after all Are these Verrucchio folk ? By this alliance Shall we have crot Ceseiia, Cervia, Faeuza, Forli, Civitella, Half of Roraagna? A hundred uifantry ! To hunt the Traversara region, O The mighty succour ! And Dovadella, and Zello, and Montaguto Already in our pt)wer perhaps. Giauciotto ! But who is he, Giauciotto ? When I think How that Traversarian widow. That ancient scabhy bitch, has mated with (After the nephew of the Pope) the son Of Andrea, the King of Hungary. . . . Ser Toldo. What is the King of Hungary to you ? OSTASIO. But here are we, witli this Puglian clodhopper. This (iuglielmetto that now vaunts himself As tlie legitimate lieir Of I'aolo Travcrsari, And harries us; and we shall never break him With this mere hundred infantry, and he Will surely conu^ again with help from Foglia. What shall we hope for then From Malatesta ? Ser Toi.do. Malatesta is the chief of all the Guelphs Now in Pi(jniagna, and tlic chief defender 34 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Of the Church, and he has the favoui* of the Pope, And he was made the governor of Florence Under King Charles, and whosoever seeks A captain. . . . OSTASIO. Notary. Guido di Montefeltro shattered him, Once, at the bridge of San Px'ocolo. Notary, Guglielmino de' Pazzi drove him back At Reversano, and has made him since Give up the fortress of Cesena. Ser Toldo. Ay, But the victory at Colle di Valdelsa Against the Sienese, The time he slaughtered Provenzan Salvani? But when he made Count Guido prisoner On the borders of Ancona, and brought him back, Him and his men, to Rimino? But when He intercepted The famous secret letters From the Emperor Baldwin to King Manfred? Come, In truth it seems to me, Messer Ostasio, Your memory is then no longer Guelph. Ostasio. If the Devil comes to me and lends me a hand That I may root and ruin the evil race Of the slave Pasquetta and the Puglian hag, I am for the Devil, notary. FRANCESCA DA HI MINI. 35 Ser Toldo. All, ah! I guessed the trutli: It is the tarantula of Puglia bites you. OSTASIO. The Emperor Frederick (God, for this thing Grant him a cup of water down in hell ! ) Had utterly destroyed the seed of them, When he hurled Aica Traversari headlong Into the fiery furnace. And lo, one day there comes into Ravenna A certain slave, Pasquetta, with her sweetheart, And tells you: " I am Aica," And comes on one Filippo, an Archbishop, And he affirms her the legitimate heir, And with the taking over of the Dukedom Makes her the lady mistress I And from that The filthy vagabond of a husband holds The headship of the very Ghibelline party Against the house of Polenta I O Ser Toldo, Now we are doing deeds of chivalry Against Guglielmo Francisio, bastard Of shepherd-folk. Do you understand? Ser Toldo. But you, Have you not driven him out of Ravenna? OSTASIO. With the infantry of Gianciotto Malatesta? Ser Toi.do. You arc ungrateful, Mesf-er Ostasio. Gianciotto Malatesta in two days Broke ;ill the bars and gratings in the streets; Between Sant' Agata and Porta San Mamante, M PeANCESCA da BIMINl. He massacred the gang Of the Anastagi; Between San Simoue and Porta San Vittore His heavy cross-bolts cleared The whole pack in a breath. Nor is he ever one to spare himself, But proved his courage, There, with a buckler braced about his arm, A rapier in his hand ; And always in the crush Set on his priceless horse, A raging beast that gave his enemies What travail more he could, so that he had Always some dozen more or less of men Under his horse's hoof; and Stefano Sibaldo, that stood by, Swears, when the Lamester does A feat of arms, it is beautiful to see him; He is a master in the art of war ! OSTASIO. Ser Toldo, you had certainly your share Of the booty I You will take away their skill From those who sang the song of the twelve barons Of Charlemagne, Lord of the flowing beard. How much, I pray. Came to your share? Ser Toldo. The tarantula of Puglia Is a certain sort of spider, That brings all kinds of luck to those he bites. 1 am not now, alas, All that I have been once ! FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 37 But the Malatesti always liave been ill Bearers of shame, and now Gianciotto knows The way by which one gets inside the walls Here at Ravenna. . . . But you might give your sister, No doubt, to the Prince Royal of Salerno, Or to the Doge of Venice. OSTASIO [absorbed]. Ah ! is she Not worth a kingdom? How beautiful she is 1 There never was a sword that went so straight As her eyes go, if they but look at you. Yesterday she was saying: " Who is it You give me to?" When she walks, and her hair Falls all about her to her waist, and down To her strong knees (she is strong, though very pale) And her head sways a little, she gives forth joy Like flags that wave in the wind When one sets forth against a mighty city In polished armour. Then Slie seems as if she held The eagle of Polenta Fast in her fist, like a trained hawk, to fling him Forth to tlie prey. Yesterday she was saying: *' Who is it you give me to? " Why should I see her die? Sku Toi-do. Now you might give your sister To the King of Hungary Or better, to the Paleologue. 38 FBANCESCA BA RIMINI. OSTASIA. Be silent, Ser Toldo, for to-day I am not patient. The Voice of Banning. Ostasio! Ostasiol OSTASIO. By God! here is Bannino, here is the bastard That pants and lolls his tongue. I knew it. Banning appears at the door at the back of the stage, jjanting and dishevelled, like a fugitive, with AspiNELLo, Aksendi, Viviano de' Vivii, and Bektkando Luko, loho are bleeding and covered lolth dust. Banning. Ostasio ! The men of Forli have attacked the waggons Of salt, by Cervia; They have put to flight the convoy and over- turned The waggons. Ostasio [Shouting]. Ah, I knew it! But they have not cut your throat? ASPINELLG. The Ghibellines that were exiled from Bologna. With those too of Faeuza and Forli FEANCESCA DA RnilNI. 39 Gather iu companies over all the laud And are laying all things waste with fire and sword. OSTASIO. Jesu our Lord, good tidings for your Vicar! ViVIANO. And they have burned Monte Vecchio, Valcapra, Piauetto. They have laid waste Strabatanza and Biserno For Lizio da Valbona, They have laid waste, for the Count Ugo da Cerfugnano, The country of Rontana and of Quarmento. OSTASIO. God of mercy, still good tidings, Good tidings to thy servants, and good tidings! Bertrando. Guide di Montcfcltro Takes horse to Calbeli With engines, and balistas; And he will have the castle. OsTASIO. More? more! Christ Jesus, to thy praise always I ViVIANO. Tliere was Scarpetta Of the OrdelafTi witli the Forli folk. BANNIAfO. They have put to fliglit the convoy and over- turned The waggons and taken cattle 40 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. And horses, and have killed Malvicino da Lozza And many soldiers, and made prisoner Paji^ano Coffa; and the others in disorder Have fled iu search of safety towards the sea. OSTASIO. And yon, you towards the laud, As fast as horse could carry you. I knew it I knew it well. Where did you leave your sword? And you have thrown away your helmet too. Save himself he who can! That is your cry. Banning. My sword? I broke my sword In the very rage of striking blows with it. There were three hundred, maybe four, against us. Aspinello, Bertrando, Say, both of you, and you Viviano, say if I did well or no. I had against me more than twenty men That would have taken me; and I carved my life With my own hand out of their flesh and bone. Say, all of you ! OSTASIO. You see They cannot answer for yon; they are tasked To stanch the flowing of their blood, and wipe The dust away that clings about their faces. But you are clean, you; cuirass, sleeves, all clean, FBANCESCA DA EIMINI. 41 Spotless. Your euemies Had got no veins then in their bodies? You Have not a scratch upon your whited face, mighty man of valour in your words! [The Three Soldiers, taking their harness off their backs, and wiping it, move away.] Banning Ostasio! Ostasiol Enough! OSTASIO. 1 knew it well, I had but laughter when My fatlier picked you out To lead the waggon safely in. I said: " May the good Bishop of Cervia Preserve him with his crozier! In Ravenna 'Tis very certain we shall have no salt." Did I say wrong? Go, go, Bannino, go And mince the lungs of hares into a dish For sparrow-hawks. Banning. You should be silent, you, While I was in the fray. Stayed safe at home, plotting with notaries. Ostasio. O lord and leader of harlots, you shall know That if the men of Forli did not catch you, Because you were too nimble, 'Tis I will catch you. Banning. What? with treachery, After your fashion? 42 FBANCESCA DA EIMINI. OstaSio. I will do it so that you, This time at least, do not go whimpering home To tell my father. Seb Toldo. Peace! peace! Banning. I will tell him Something I know, this time. OSTASIO. What do you know? Banning. You know the thing I mean. Ser Tgldo. Peace, peace, O peace! Be brothers! OSTASIG. He is from another nest. Ser Toldo. Messer Ostasio, he is but a boy. OSTASIO. Sijeak then, if you know how to wound a man At any rate with your tongue. Banning. You know the thing I mean. I keep my counsel, Ostasio. Ng, pour out Your gall, that is now painted in your face, Or I will wring you up as if I wrung A wet rag out. FRANCESCA DA EUUNI. 43 Banning. Ostasio, I am not so skilled in pouring out my gall As you your wine With an unshaken hand. Ostasio. What wine? Banning, Your wine, pure wine, jjure wine, I mean. OSTASIG. Listen to me, bastard ! Banning. Our good old father Fell sick one day. With what a tenderness You watched about him, O you best of sons! Do you know now? do you know? I know a thing That you too know. God dry your right band up! Ostasio. Ah, what a woman's lie is that! O bastard, Your day has come at last; No use in flying from the enemy! [lie drawn kin sword and rushes upou BANNING, who leaps aside and avoids the blow. lie is about tofoUov) him, lohen Seb Toldo tries to drav) him back. | Sek Toldo. Messer Ostasio, what is it you would do? Let him alone! Let him alone! He is Your brother. Wbat wouM you do to him? I'l'he .Si.AVK comes out on the loyjia and watchis.] 44 FRANCESGA DA BIMINL Banning [terrified]. O father, father, help ! Francesca, O sister, help ! No! you will kill me. Wretch! Wretch! No, no, pardon, Ostasio! No, I will not tell . . . [Seeing the point at his throat, he kneels down.] The poison Was not yours. [The Three Soldiers, unarmed, have come hack.] No, I will not tell! O pardon! [Ostasio wounds him in the cheek. He swoons.] Ostasio. Nothing, nothing, it is nothing, [He leans over and looks at him.] It is nothing; He has fainted; I have only pricked the skin; Not in a bad place, no; and not in anger. 1 pricked him just a little That he might learn not to fear naked steel. That he might bear him better in the fray And not lose sword and helmet When he turns tail next on the Ghibelline. [The Three Soldiers lift Banning.] Take him away to Maestro Gabbadeo, And let his wounds be staunched With salt out of the Cervia salt-mines. [He watches the wounded man as he is borne away, then closes the great door with a clang. The Slave silently retires from the loggia.] Come, Ser Toldo, let us go. FRANCESCA DA UIMINI. 45 Seu Toldo. AVhat will your father Say when he comes? OSTASIO. My father Is much too kind to this young bastardling. [He looks gloomily on the ground.] He is from another nest, and he was hatched Not by the eagle, no, but by a jay. Did you not hear what he was stuttering? About a wine, a wine . . . [lie pauses grimly. \ It was a stock Suborned by some one of the Anastagi. Christ guard my father and my house from traitors ! Seb Toldo. And Madonna Francesca then? OSTASIO. Yes, we will give her To the Malatesta. Ser Toldo. May God prosper itl OSTASIO. The vengeances that wait for us are great And many, and some tears shall flow in the world, Please God, more bitter than the salt in all The salt-mines of this Cervia. Come with me, Ser Toldo, Paolo Malatesta waits. [T/uy go out.\ 46 FBANCESCA DA EIMINL The Slave reappears, carrying a bucket and a sponge. She comes down tlie stairs in silence, barefooted. She looks at the bloodstains on the pavement and goes dowyi on her knees to wash them up. From the rooms above is heard the song of the Women. Chokus of Women. All me, the sorrow of heart In the heart that loves too well. Ah me! Ah me, if the heart could tell How love in the heart is aflame. Ah me! [Francesca and Samakitana are seen coming out on the loggia side by side, with their arms about each other. The chorus of Women follows t/iem,, carrying distaffs of different colours; but pauses on the lighted loggia, standing as in a singing gallery, ichile the two sisters go down the stairs to the level of the garden. The slave, having washed out the stains, hurriedly pours the bloodstained water in her bucket into the sarcophagus among the flowers.] Fbancesca \pausing on the stairs]. It is love makes them sing! [She throws hack Iter head a little, as if abandon- ing herself to the breath of the melody, light and palpitating.] Women. Ah me, the sorrow and shame, In the sad heart on the morrow Ah me! FBANCESCA DA RIMINI. 47 Francesca. They are intoxicated with these odours. Do you not hear them? With a sighing fall Sadly they sing The things of perfect joy. [She loithilrmvs her arm from her niHter^a tvaist, and moves a little away, paualng while the other takes another step downward.] Women. Ah me, the hitter sorrow. All life long. Ah me ! Francesca. Like running water That goes and goes, and the eye sees it not, So is my soul. Samaritana With a sudden alarm, cUnylng closer to her sister]. Francesca, Where are you going, who is taking you? FllANCESCA. Ah, you awaken me. [The Sony pauses. The Women turn their backs, looking down into the other court. They seem to be on the loatch. The twi-horned headdresses and the lull distaffs shine in the sun, and now and then there is a whisperimj and rustlinf/ of lips and garments in the clear sunlight.] Samakitana. O, sister, sister, Tiisten to me: stay with me still I O stay With nio! wf; wore born hen;, D(j nens the rjrating, closes it furtively behind her, and dlsajjpears into the garden.] Francesca. Be silent, ba silent! [She turns, covering her fare with both her hands; when she withdraws thetn, her face appears transfigured. She goes down the first stairs slowly, then icith U sudden rapiaiUj throws lierself into the arms of her sister, lohu awvM^ her at the foot of the staircase.] Altichiara. Messer Ostasio is coming back alone. 58 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. BlANCOFIOKE. The slave, where is she goiug ? She is running Down through the garden. Gaksexda. Smaragdi runs and runs Like a hound unleashed. Where is she going? Adonella. Sing Together, sing the song of the fair Isotta: "6 date, O :eafy date! ..." [The women form into a circle on the loggia.] Chorus of Women. O date, O leafy date, O love, O lovely love. What loilt thou do to me? [Francesca, held close in her sisler^s arms, sud- denly begins to weep. The chorus breaks off. The Women s})eak together in low voices.] BlANCOFIORE. Madonna weeps. ADONEr,LA. She weeps ! Alda. Why does she weep? AlTICHIAPvA. She weeps because her heart is sick with joy. Garsenda. Straight to the heart He wounded her. If she is beautiful, He is beautiful, the Malatesta! FRANCESCA DA EIMINI. 59 Adonella. Born One for the other Under one star. Garsenda. O happy he and she ! Alda. Long may he live who crowns Their heads with garlands! BlANCOFIOBE. First rain of the season To the corn brings increase! And the first tears of love To the lover bring peace. Adonella. She smiles, she smiles Now. BlANCOFIORE. And her tears Laugh like the hoar-frost. Garsenda. Go, warm the bath, Get the combs ready. ]The WoMKJi scatter over the loggia, with their garments fluttering, nimble as birds on the bough, vjhile the tall staves of their distaffs pass and repass, shaken like torches against the blue strip of the sky. Nome go into the rooms and come out again. Olhers stand as if watching. And they talk in subdued 60 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. voices and they move without sound of foot- steps. ] BlANCOFIOKE. These smelling-bottles Of bright new silver We have to fill With water of orange flower and water of roses. Alda. We have to fill Four mighty coffers With sheets of linen fringed with silken lace. Altichiara. And stores of pillows We have wrought for a marvel. We have wrought so many That never in dreams the people of Rimino Have seen such store ! Adonella. Ah, we have much to be doing 1 Garsenda. And we must fold the quilts Of cloth of linen And all the embroidered coverlets of gold. BlANCOFIORE. And count the nets and ribbons for the hair And all the girdles and the belts of gold. Adonella. We have much to be doing! Gaesenda. I take my oath A better dowry brings to Malatesta FRA^'C'ESCA DA lilMINL 61 The dausliter of Messer Guido than the daughter Of Boemoudo, King of Servia, To the Doge of Venice. Adonella. And if she go by sea we have store enough Of oil and lavender To perfume all the sea. Alda. And we will teach the women. Of Kimino, that are a little raw, The art of odours. BlAXCOFIORE And the art of playing. And of singing and of d^^ncing. Altichiara. O, I forgot That I have yet to put a patch of scarlet On the jerkin of Giau Figo. He comes again at noonday. BlANCOFIOKK. He will do well to finish The story of Morgana and the shield, And of the magic potion. Alda. Hey, hey, the wedding in May! Tlie table must 1)0 i:iid for thirty dishes And for a hundred trenchers. BlANCOFIORE. We must ]>ring word To Mazarollo To have the music ready. 62 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Adonella. Ah, we have much to be doing! Gaesenda. Hey, hey, to work, to work ! Adonella. Come, lay our distaffs down And take our garlands up. [They go into the room xvith a murmur, like a swarm of bees into the hive. Fbancesc A has raised her head, and her tears are suddenly lit up by a smile. While the Women on the loggia loere chattering in a low voice among themselves, she 7viped the tears from her face and the face of her sister with her fingers. Now she speaks, and her first ivords are heard through the last words of the Women.) Francesca. sister, sister. Weep no more. Now I weep no more. See DOW, 1 am smiling. Tears and smiles Are not enough now. Close And narrow is the heart to hold this power, And weeping is a virtue all outspent, And laughter is a lirtle idle play; And all my life seems now, With all the veins of it, And all the days of it, And all old things in it, far away things. From long ago in the old time, the blind And silent time, when I Was but an infant on my mother's breast, FRANCi:SCA DA lilMINL &i And you were not, Seems all to tremble In one lonj^ shuddering Over the earth ; And now tlirou<;h all the streams That laugh and weep in the places That I have never known, The forces of my being are cast abroad; And I hear the air cry with a terrible cry. And I hear the light Sound like a trurapet-peal, And the shouting that I hear And the tumult cry out louder than the sound In days of vengeance, sister, when the blood Colours the portals of our father's house. Samakitaxa. O Francesca, my Francesca, O dear soul. What have you seen? What is it you have seen? FlJANCESCA. No, do not be afraid ! AVhat is it your eyes speak? What sickness am I stricken with, and what, What have I seen? It is life runs away, Kuns away like a river, Kavening, and yet cannot find its sea; And the roar is in my ears. Hut you, but you, Take me, dear sister, take me with you now, And let mo be with you! Carry me to my room, And shut the shutters fast. And give me a little shade, 64 FRANCESCA DA BIMIMI. And give me a di'aught of water, And lay me down upon your little bed, And with a covering cover me and make A silence of the shouting, make a silence Of the shouting and the tumult I hear within my soul! Bring stillness back to me, That I may hear again The bees of May Beat on the window, and the cry of the swallows, And some of your soft words. Your words of yesterday, Your words of long ago And long ago, Out of an hour that comes to me again Like an enchantment. And hold me close, dear sister. And hold me close to you ! And we will wait for night Night with its prayer and sleep. Sister; and for the morning we will wait That brings that morning-star. Garsenda \ri(shinrj in upon the loggia]. He is coming, he is coming! O Madonna Francesca! see, he is coming by the way Of the garden. I have seen him from the room Of the coffers, I have seen him Under the cypi'esses. Smaragdi shows him The way. [The other WoMENjom her, curious and mirth- ful; and they have garlands on their heads for joy: and they have xmth them three Girls, FBANCESCA DA BIMINL 65 lute-players and viol-players and flute- players.] Francesca [lohite with fear, and beside herself]. No, no, uo! Run, Run, women, run ! Let him not come! Run, run! Women, go out to meet liim, Let him not come! Shut to The gates, and bar tlie way, and say to him Merely that I sahite him ! and you, you, Samaritana, help me. Because I cannot fly; but my knees fail And my sight fails me. But you, my women, run, Run now, and meet him. And bid him turn again! Go out to meet him. And say that I salute him ! The Women. He is here ! He is here, he is here at hand ! [Aided by her sister, Francesca is about to go up the stairs; but suddenly she sees Paolo Malatesta, close to her, on the other side of the marble screen. She stands motionless, and he slops, in the midst of the arbutiises; and they stand facing one another, separated by the railing, looking at one another, without word or monernent. The Slave is hidden behind the leaves. The Women on the loggia form in a circle, and the Players sound their instruments.] 66 FRANC ESC A DA RIMINI. Chorus of Women. Over the land of May The archer with his band Goes out to seek his prey. At a feast of fears, In a far-off land, A heart slglis with tears. [Francesca leaves her sister and goes slowly towards the sarcophagus. She picks a large redrose, and offers it to Paolo Malatesta across the ba)'S. Samaritana loith boioed head goes up the stairs weeping. The women take up the song. At the barred window, at the back, Banning appears, with his face bandaged; then draioing back, he beats at the door closed by Ostasio. Francesco trembles.'] The voice of Banning. Fraucesca, open, Francesca! ACT II. A cross-shaped room, in the house of the Malatesti, with projecting side beams and strong pillars, two of which, at the back, support an arch which leads through a narrow closed entrance between two walls pierced by loopholes, to the platform of around tower. Two side staircases of twelve steps run from the entrance to the leads of the tower; a third staircase, between the two, runs from the leads to the floor underneath, passing through a trap-door. Through the archway are seen the square battlements of the Guelfs, provided with blockhouses and openings for pouring down molten lead. A huge catapult lifts its head out of its supports and stretches out its framework of twisted ropes. Heavy crossbows, with large- headed, short, and square bolts, balistas, arco- balistas, and other rope-artillery, are placed around, loith their cranks, pullies, wheels, wires, and levers. The summit of the tower, crotoned with engines and arms that stand out in the murky air, overlooks the city of liimino, where can be dimly seen the wing-shaped battlements of the highcM Ghibclline lower. On the right of the room is a door; on the left, a narrow fortiflcd window looking out on the Adriatic. 68 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. In the closed entrance is seen a Man-At-AKiMS stir- ring the fire under a smoking cauldron. He has piled against the wall the tubes, syphons and poles of the fiery staves and darts, and heaped about them all sorts of prepared fires. On the tower, beside the catapult, a young Archer stands on guard. Man-At-Akms. The meadow of the Commune is still empty? Archer. As clean and polished as my buckler. Man-At-Arms. Still Not a soul stirring! Archer. Not the shadow even Of a Gambancerro or of an Omodeo. Man-At-Arms. They seem then to be dead already, those That have to die. Archer. Quite otherwise than dead! If all we did not buckle breastplates well, And if the gates were not cross-bolted fast, You would soon hear a hammering of hearts In the regions about Rimino. . . . Ah, there goes A donkey. Man- At- A RMS. It is Messer Montagna, eh? Of the Parcitadi, or Messer Ugolino Cignatta. Archer. Both of them, my Berlingerio, FHANCESCA DA IIIMINI. 69 Stand with the right foot ready lu the stiiiup of the crossbow, for the sign To come out aud to face the bolts and bars. Man-At-Arms. What sign? The Parcitade Lacks his astrologer. He waits and hopes For succour from Urbino. But long before Count Guido comes to us, By the body of San Giulian the martyr, We shall have burnt the city to the ground. We have enough to do with burning down Half of Komagna. 'Tis warm work this time, I warrant you! The Lamester Wanted to singe his horse's mane with one Of these fire-bearers: Sure sign we are in salamander weather. Akchkk. He loves the stench of singeing, it would seem, More than the civet of his wedded wife, That woman of Ravenna! another thing Than firebrands or this sulphur and bitumen! A smile of hers would set the city alight And all the country and the territory. Man- At- A RMS. She smiles but little. She is always overcast With thinking, and svith anger. She is restless. I see her almost every day come up Upon this tower. She scarcely speaks. She watches The sea, and if she sees Some galley or some frigate on the sea, She fdllows it witli her eyes (Blacker than pitch, her eyes !) TO FRANCESCA LA RIMINI. Until it fades away, As if she waited for a message or Longed to set sail. She goes From tower to tower, From the Mastra to the Kubbia, And from the Gemmana to the Tanaglia, Like a lost swallow. And sometimes I fear. When slie is on the platform, That she will take a flying leap and fall. Misericordia! Archer. The Lamester is well made To ride astride upon the Omodeo, To batter strongholds, and to ford the streams, And to force palisades, To plunder and to pillage all the earth. But not to labour in the lovely vineyard That God has given him. Man-At-Arms. Hush! You must not speak So loud; we should not hear him if he came. He goes about more softly than a panther. You cannot hear him when he comes. He makes A goodly pair with Messer Malatestino, That comes upon you always suddenly Without your knowing how or whence he camo, And gives you the same start, Always, as if you had come upon a ghost. A rcher. This is the day we are to lay about us. The women will be all shut up. Man-At-Arms. This one fbajs-cesca da EIMINI. 71 Is not a lady to be frightened. Look, See what is stirring. Archer [returning to his j^ost]. I see the friars, The hermits of Sant' Agostino, pass To the exorcising. I can smell the stench Of singeing in the cool air. Man-At-Arms. And the gate Of the Gattalo is closed still? Archer. Ay, closed still. Our men, that had to come Verrucchio way, Will be by now with trumpets and flags flying At the bridge of the Maone. Messer Paolo Came with the infantry by the postern gate Of the sea. Man-At-Arms. The mixture now Is ready brewed. Since midday I have stirred The ladle, mixed and moulded it together. We are to sling barrels and casks of it Upon tlie excommunicated houses. But what is it we wait for? The conjunction Of Mars witli Venus? This astrologer. Come from IJaldach, does not quite seem to me A modern Balaam. God be on our side! Look if you see him now Upon the belfry of Santa Colomba. He is to ring the l)oll tineo times, to say The fates are in our favour. 72 FllAyCESCA DA BUIINI. Aechek. I can see A great long beard. Man-At-Arms. May he be tarred all over with his tow, And brayed into a mortar! I suspect him. He was with Ezeliuo at Padua, And other of hell's own Ghibellines. I know not Why Messer Malatesta Keeps in his company. Archer. Guido Bonatto, of Forli, I know To be a true astrologer of battles. I saw him on the great day of Valbona, And his prognostic never faulted. Man-At-Abms. Now The cursed Feltran has him. Thunder strike His eyesight and his astrolabe! [Fbancesca enters by the door on the right, and advances as far as the pillar that supports the arch. She wears about her face a dark band that passes under her chin and joins a kind of skull-cap that covers her hair, leav- ing visible the tresses knotted on her neck.] Archer. The dust Begins to rise over toward Aguzano. Man-At-Arms. Are they Count Guide's horsemen That ought to come from Petramala? But who, FEANCESCA BA BIKINI. 73 Akchek. No. May God cast down their eyes Out of their visors into the dust! Majj-At-Abms. Who are they? Francesca. Berliugerio ! Man-at-Arms [starting]. O, Madonna Francesca! [The Aechek remains silent and stares at her blankly, leaning on the catapult.] Francesca. Messer Giovanni Is at the Mastra yet? Man-At-Arms. Not yet, Madonna. We expect him now, Fha>xesca. And no one else? Man-At-Arms. Yes, Messer Malatesta, The old man. He himself it was wlio made The mixing in tJie cauldron; and I am here Since midday with this ladle, stirring it. Francesca [going nearer]. And uo one else? Man- At- A RMS. And no one else, Madonna. •74 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Francesca. What are you doing here? Man-At-Arms. Making Greek fire, Distaffs and staves and spouts and lines and pots And fiery darts, and much Other caresses for the Parcitadi, Because we trust to come to blows to-day And give them from this quarter what shall prove A good part-payment of their coming hell. Francesca. {Looking vwnderingly at the boiling mass in the cauldron) Greek fire! Who can escape it? I have never Seen it before. Tell me, is it not true That there is nothing known so terrible In battles for a torture? Man-At-Arms This is indeed most terrible; 'tis a secret That Messer Malatesta Had from an aged man of Pisa, who Was with the Christians at the famous taking Of Damiata. Francesca. Tell me, is it true That it flames in the sea, Flames in the stream, Burns up the ships. Burns down the towers, Stifles and sickens, Drains a man's blood in his veins, iitraightway, and makes FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 75 Of his flesh and his hones A little black ashes, Draws from the anguish Of man the wild cry of the beast, That it maddens the horse, Turns the valiant to stone? Is it true that it shatters The rock, and consumes Iron, and bites Hard to the heart Of a breastplate of diamond? Man-At-Akms. It bites and eats All kinds of things that are, living and dead; Sand only chokes it out, But also vinegar Slacks it. Francesca. But how do you Dare, then, to handle it? Man-At-Arms. We have the license Of Beezlebub, that is the prince of devils, And comes to take the part Of the Malatesti. Francesca. How do you scatter it? Man-at-Arms. With tubes and syphons Of a long range; or at the point of pikes With distaffs full of flax We shoot it by the help of our balistas. 78 FRANC ESC A DA RIMINI. See here, Madonna, these are very good Distaffs; they are The distaffs of the Guelfs That without spindle weave the death of men. [He takes up a staff prepared for the fire and shows it to FitANCESCA, toho takes it by the handle and shakes it vehemently.] Francesca. Light one for me. Man-at-Arms. The signal is not yet Given. Francesca. I would have you light this one for me. Man-at-Arms. Who is to put it out? Francesca. O, I must see The fiame that I have never seen as yet. Light it! Is it not true that when you light it It darts marvellous colours, like no other Creature of flight. Colours of such a mingling that the eye Cannot endure them, Of an unspeakable Variety, innumerable In fervour and in splendour, that alone Live in the wandering planets and within The vials of alchemists; And in volcanoes full of many metals, And in the dreams of blind men? Is it true? FRANCESCA DA BIMINI. 77 Man-at-Akms, In very deed, Madonna, It is a beautiful and pleasant thing To see at night these lighted distaffs fly And light upon a camp Of the imperial ragamuffianry; And that knows well Messer Giovanni, your Good husband, who takes pleasure to behold it. Francesca. Light it, then, man-at-arms! for I must see it. Man-at-Arms. 'Tis not yet night, nor is the signal given. Francesca. Light it! I bid you. And I will hide my.self here in the dark To see it, by the stairway leading down, Where it is darker. MAN-AT-AKAfS. Do you want to burn The tower with all the archers, And please the Parcitade folk? [Francesca (lipn the fiery staff into the caul- dron, then rapidly liyhts it loith a fire- brand.] Francesca. And I Light it! [The violent and many-coloured flame crackles nt the point of the pike that she holds in her hand like a t or <)i, fearlessly]. O, fair flame, conqueror of day! All, how it lives, how it lives vibrating, •78 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. The whole staff vibrates with it, and my hand And my arm vibrate with it, and my heart. I feel it nearer me Than if I held it in my palm. Wouldst thou Devour me, fair flame, wouldst thou make me thine? I feel that I am maddening for thee. (Her voice rises like a song. The Man-at- Abms and the Archek gaze in astonish- ment at the flame and the woman, as at some work of sorcery]. And how it roars! It i-oars to seek its prey. It roars and longs for flight; And I would fling it up into the clouds. Come, charge the arbalest. The sun is dead, and this, This is the daughter that he had of death. O I would fling it up into the clouds. Why do you linger? No, I am not mad, No, no, poor man-at-arms, who look at me In wonderment. [She laughs.] No, but this flame is so Beautiful, I am drunk with it. I feel As I were in the flame and it in me. You, you, do you not see how beautiful. How beautiful it is? The bitter smoke Has spoilt your eyes for seeing. If it shines So gloriously by day, how will it shine By night? [She approaches the trap-door through which the stairs go down into the toioer, and lowers FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Id the burning staff into the darkness.] A miracle ! A miracle ! Man-at-Arms, Madonna, God preserve us, you will burn The whole tower dowu. Madonna, I pray you! [He hastily draws back out of the way of spai'ks the staves prepared for fire which are lying about]. Fbancksca [Intent on the light]. It is a iniracle! It is the joy of the eyes, and the desire Of splendour and destruction. In the heart Of silence of this high and lonely mount Shall I spread forth these gems of frozen fire, That all the terror of the flame unloose And bring to birth new ardours in the soul? Tremendous life of swiftness, mortal beauty! Swift through the night, swift through the starless night, Fall in the camp, and seize the arniJ^d man, Enswathe his sounding armour, glide between Strong scale and scale, hunt dowu The life of veins, and break The bones asunder, suck the marrow out. Stifle him, rend him, blind him, but before The final darkness falls upon his eyes, Let all the soul within him without hope Shriek in the splendour that is slaying him, [She listens in the direction of the trap-door.] Some one is coming up the stairs here. Who Is coming? 80 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Man-at-Akms On each floor We have a hundred men, Archers and those that work the manganels, Hidden, and bidden not to move or breathe, Crammed in together like a sheaf of arrows Inside a quiver. Perhaps They saw the flame. Francesca. It is one man alone. His armour clanks upon him. Who is it coming? Man-At-Akms. Lift up the staff, turn it away. Madonna Francesca, it is surely not an enemy. Or you are like to burn him in the face. Perhaps it is Messer Giovanni. Fkancesca [bending over the opening]. Who are you? Who are you? The Voice Of Paolo. Paolo! [Francesca is silent; she draws back the fiery staff, and the flame, heighteyied by the sud- den movement, lights up the helmet and gor- gerin of Paolo Malatesta. Paolo appears, up to the waist, in the opening of the stairs, and turns to Francesca rvho has moved back against the wall, still hold- ing in her hand the iron handle of the staff, which she has lowered to the ground, so that FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 81 the fire hums perilously near her feet. The Archer Acts returned to hispost.\ Man-At-Arms. You have come just iu time, Messer Paolo, just In time, for all we here Were like to have been roasted living, we And all the towers along with us. You see: Madonna plays With the Greek fire As if she held A lap-dog in a leash. [Francesca, pale and leaning against the loall, laughs icith a trouhled laugh, letting the staff all from her hand.] It is a miracle That we are not all here iu open hell. You see ! [He pours sand on f he flame in order to extin- guish it. Paolo runs up the remaining steps; as he sets foot on the platform of the tower, the Arciieb points towards the city, to show where the battle is beginning. \ Archer. There is tumult in the San Cataldo quarter. It is breaking out at the Mombruto bridge Over the Patara trench. And they are lighting at the fullers' mill Under the gun tower, there, by the Masdogna. [Francesca. moves away, stepping uncertainly among the u/rrows and engines heaped around, and goes towards the door by which she had come; she pauses by the pillar that hides her from the eyes o/Paolo|. 82 FRANCESCA DA RIMim. Man-At-Akms. We are still waiting For the signal, Messer Paolo. It is almost vespers. What are we to do ? [Paolo does not seem to hear, possessed by a single thought, a single anguish. Seeing Francesca has gone, he leaves the toiver, and goes down one of the little side staircases to rejoin her.] Paolo. Francesca I Francesca, Give the signal. Paolo, give The signal ! Do not fear For me, Paolo. Let me stay here and hear The twanging of the bows. I cannot breathe When I am shut into my room, among My trembling women, and I know there is fight ing Out in the city. I would have you give me, My lord and kinsman, a fair helmet. Paolo. I Will give you one. Francesca. Have you come from Cesena? Paolo. I came to-day. Francesca. You stayed A long while thei-e. FBANCESCA DA EIMINL 83 Paolo. It took us forty days With Guido di Monforte in the field To take Cesena and the castle. Francesca, Ah I Tou have toiled, I think, too much. You are a little thinner and a little Paler, it seems to me. Paolo. There is an Autumn fever Among the thickets on the Savio. Fbancesca. No, But you are sick? You tremble. And Orabile, Has she no medicine for you? Paolo. This fever Feeds on itself; I ask no medicine, I seek no herb to heal my sickness, sister. Francesca. I had a healin<5 herb When I was in my father's house, tlie house Of my good father, God protect him, God Protect him ! I had a herb, a healing herb, Tliere in the garden where you came one day Clothed in a. garment that is called, I think. Fraud, in the gentle world; B>it you set foot on it, and saw it not, And it has never come up any more. However light your foot may be, my lord And kinsman. It was dead. S4 FRANCESCA DA EIMlNt. Paolo. I saw it not, I knew not where T was, Nor who had led my feet into that way, I did not speak, I did not hear a word, I had no bounds to cross. No barriers to break down, I only saw a rose That offered itself up to me more living Than the lips of a fresh wound, and a young song I heard in the air, and I heard angry blows Beaten upon a loud and terrible door. And I heard an angry voice that cried your name In anger. Only that, nothing but that. Nor from that way did I come back by will Of coming back ; Because the ways of death Are not so secret as that other way, O sister, if God wills. Feancesca. I also saw With my own eyes the dawn, The dawn that brings with it the morning star, TJie nurse of the young heavens, That had but newly waked to give its milk When the last dream of sleep Came to my pillow ; and I also saw, With my own eyes I saw. With horror and with shame, About me as it were an impure stream Of water flung suddenly outraging A palpitating face FRANCE6CA DA RIMINt. So Lifted to drink the light. This did I see with my owu eyes; aud this I sliall see always till the night has fallen, The night that has no dawn, Brother. Paolo. The shame and horror be on me ! The light that came again Found me awake. Peace had foruvci- fled Out of the soul of Paolo Malatesta; It has not come again, it will not come Ever again ; Peace and the soul of Paolo Malatesta Are enemies from now in life or death. And all things were as enemies to me From the hour that you srt foot Upon the threshold, and without escape, And I turned back and followed with the guide. Violent deeds Were the one mfdicino for my disease, That niglit: violent deeds. And then I killed Timlaro Omodei And burned his roofs about him. I gave to the harsh guide another prey. Francesca. God shall forgive you this, God shall Un-'X''\'^ y<^n rill the Mood yon shed, And all the rest, But not the tears I did not weep, but not The eyes tliat were still dry win n the (lawn came. I cannot weep now, brother! Another draught You gave me at the ford 86 F11Aj\CESCA da RIMINI. Of the beautiful river, do you remember it? With your false lieart, Filled full with madness and with treachery, That was the last, that was the last that quenched My thirst; and now no water Can quench my thirst, not any more, my lord. And then we saw the walls of Eimino, And then we saw the Galeana gate, And the sun was going down upon the hills, And all the horses neighed against the walls, And then I saw your face, Silent, between the spears Of the horsemen. And a wicked thing it was That you did not let me drift upon the stream, That would have taken me and laid me down Softly upon the seashore of Ravenna, And some one would have found me, and brought me back To my good father, to my most kind father That without thought of wrong had given me To whom he would, yes, without thought of wrong; God have him in his keeping, give him always More and more lordship ! Paolo. Your rebuke, Francesca, Is cruel over-much, sweet over-much. And my heart melts within me, and my sad soul Is shed before the strangeness of your voice. My soul is shed before you, All that is in me have I cast away. And I will no more stoop to pick it up. How would you have me die? FBANCESCA DA RIMINI. 87 Fbancesca. Like to the galley-slave Rowing in the galley that is called Despair, So would I have you die ; and there and then The memory of that draught You gave me at the ford Of the beautiful river, Before we had come to the water of treachery And to the walls of fraud, should buru in you And should consume you. My brother iu God, In the Most High God, And in Saint John, better it were for you That you should lose your life than stain your soul. [The bells of Santa Colomba are heard. Both shiver as if retnrnuvj to consciousness.] Ah! where are we? Wiio is it calling us? Paolo, what hour is that? What are you doing? [The Man-at-Ak.ms and the Akcher, busy loading the bulistas and cocking the Jiery staves, start at the sound.] Man-at-Arms. The signal ! It is the signal ! It is the bells of Santa Colomba 1 Arcueb. Fire! Fire! Long live Malatesta! [A. Troop ov Archkrs hurry shouting up tln-ouijh the trnp-door, and through the jilatform of the tower, and seize weapons and engines.] 88 FBANCESCA DA RIMINI. Archers. Long live Messer Malatesta and the Guelfs! Down with Messer Parcitade and the Ghibel- lines! [On the battlements is a great sheaf of fiery staves,whichglows in the dusky air. Paolo Malatesta takes his helmet from his head and gives it to Francesca.] Paolo. Here is the helmet that I have to give you. Francesca. Paolo ! [Paolo rushes upon the tower. His bare head overtops the Men-at-Arms as they work. Francesca, throwing down the helmet, follows, calling to him through the noise and clamour.] Paolo. Give me a crossbow ! Francesca. Paolo! Paolo! Paolo. A bow ! A crossbow ! Francesca. Paolo! Paolo! [An Archer is knocked over by a bolt which takes him in the throat.] Man-at-Arms. Madonna, get you gone, for God's sake; now They are beginning here to bite the leads. FRAXCESCA BA lilMINI. 89 \Some Archers raise their large painted shields in the way of FiJANCESCA as she tries to follow Paolo. ] Archers. The Galeana Tower is answering! C'ignatta's men are coming By tlae Masdogna! Long live Messer Malatesta and the Guelfs! Verrucchio! Verrucchio! [Fraxcesca tries to get past the Archers, who stop her way.] Man-at-Arms. Madonna, By any God you worship! Messer Paolo, Pay a little heed here! Here is Madonna Fran- ce sea Out in the open. It is death here. I Paolo, snatching a crossbov:, stands on the rampart, tiring furiously, in full view of the enemy, like a inadman.] Francesca. Paolo I [Paolo turns at the cry, and sees the woman in the glare of the fires. He snatches a shield from one of the Archers and coveis her.] Paolo. Ah, Francesca, go, go! What is this madness? [lie pushes her towanl shelter, holding the shield over her; she gazes at his angry and beautiful face from under the shield.] Franckrca, You Are the madman ! You are the madman ! 90 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Paolo. And was 1 not to die? {He leads her back to shelter and throios doion the shield, still holding the crossbow. ] FkancescA. Not now, not now, It is not yet the hour. Archers. — Malatesta! Malatesta! — Cignatta's men are there, under the Rubbia! — This side, this side! [They come down by the stairs on the left and set the crossbows to the arrow-slits in the walls. The bells ring in all directions. A distant sound of trumpets is heard.] Verruchio ! Down with the Parcitade ! Death To the Ghibelline! — Long live Messer Malatesta! Long live the Guelf s ! Paolo. This is the hour, if you will see me die, If you will lift my head out of the dust With your two hands. What other could I have? I will not die the death of the galley-slave. Francesca. Paolo, steel your heart against your fate, Be silent as that day Under the heavy guidance, as that day Among tlie spears of the spearmen. And let me not Stain my own soul for your sake ! FBANCESCA DA RIMINI. 91 Paolo. Ay, to play With fate is what I will, Is what my false heart wills, Filled full of madness and of treachery. [ With an impetuous gesture he drmos her toumrds the fortified ivindow, and j^uts into her hand the curd that hangs from the portcullis.] Throw tlie portcullis open! A child's hand opens it, The mere touch of an innocent hand. [He gathers a bundle of arrows and throios them at the feet of Fkancesca. Then he loads the crossbow.] Fbancesca. Ah, madman! Madman! And do you think My hand will tremble? Do you think to tempt My soul after this fashion? I am ready For any mortal ^^anie men play with fate, Knowiiifi I shall not lose, Seeinj^ that all is lost. But you now stand Upon tremendous limits, where God help you! I o]>en for you. See! Look straight before you, And take tlie sign, if you would not have me laiigli. [She pulls the portcullis open with the cord, and through the opening is seen the open sea, shining under the last rays of light.] The sea! The sea! [Paolo aims the crossbow and fires.] 92 FRANCESCA LA lilMINL Paolo. A good stroke ! It is gone Through neck and neckpiece. That's my good forerunner In the laud of darkness ! [Fkancesca lowers the portcullis, and the re- turn arrow is heard against it. Paolo re- loads the crossbow.] Archers [0)1 the tower]. — Victory! Yictoryl Death, death to the Parcitadi! Long live Messer Malatesta and the Guelfs! — Victory! Victory! the Ghibelline is broken At the Patara bridge. — The fuller's mill is empty! — Messer Giovanni galloping vpith the spears At the Gattolo gate! Cignatta scampering! — Be careful not to wouud Our own folk in the fray ! — Victory to Malatesta! Francesca [In great emotion]. I have seen the sea, The eternal sea, The witness of the Lord, And on the sea a sail That the Lord set to be a sign of saving. Paolo, brother in God, I make a vow If the Lord of mercy Have you in keeping! FRANCESCA DA EIMINI. 93 Paolo. Baise the portcullis up ! Francesca I will not let it down again. This hazard Shall be God's judgment, this judgment of the arrow. Man is deceit, but God is very truth. Brother in God, the stain of fraud you have Upon your soul, Let it be pardoned to you with all love, And let the judgment of God Make proof of you Now by the arrow That it touch you not; Or it were better That you give your life, And I with you. [Holdiny the tightened cord in her hand she kneels and prays, with her wide-open eyes fixed on Paolo's smarmed head. Through the raised portcullis can be seen the shining sea. Paolo loads and fires the crossbow without a pause. From time to time Ghibel- line missiles enter by the window and strike on the opposite wall or fall on the pavement without wounding him. The cruel suspense convulsrs the fare of the woman in prayer. The syllables hardly form themselves on her parted lips.] Our Fatlier which art in heaven, II;iil()wcd be thy name, Tliy Kingd<)m como, Tliy will be done in earth 94 FRANCESCA DA ElMINI. As it is in heaven. Father, give us this day Our daily bread. [Paola, having failed in several shots, takes aim more carefully, as if for a master-stroke. He fires ; a clamour is heard among the enemy.] Paolo [With fierce delight]. Ah, Ugolino, I have found you out! Fbancesca. And forgive us our debts, as we Forgive our debtors. And lead us not Into temptation, But deliver us fi-om evil. So be it, Amen. {Meanwhile there is great rejoicing among the Archers on the tower. Some carry the killed and ivounded down through the trap- door.] Archers. — Victory to Malatesta! — Death to the Parcitadi and the Ghibelliues! Montagna's men are flying By the San Cataldo gate. — See, see, the fire Is spreading. There's a powder-bai-rel burst Over the house of Accarisio. See, The fire is spreading! — Victory! Malatesta! — Ah, Messer Ugolino Cignatta has fallen from his horse. He is dead ! FBANCESCA DA RIMINI. 95 — A bolt from a crossbow took him in the mouth. Who was it killed him? Was it Bartolo Gambitta? — Who, who killed him? One of ours? A splendid stroke! — Deserves a hundred lire, A thousand golden crowns! — Victory! Victory! [^1 shaft fjruzea the head o/Paolo Malatesta, parsing throuyh his hair. Francesca ut- ters a cry, letting go the cord; starting to her feet, she takes his head in her hands, feeling for the wound. A mortal pallor overspreads his face at the touch. The cross- bow falls at his feet.] Fijancesca. Paolo! Paolo! [She looks at her hands to see if they are stained with blood. They are lohite. She again searches anxiously.] O, what is this? Oh, God ! Paolo! Paolo! You are not bleeding, and you have No single drop of blood upon your head, Yet you look deathly. Paolo! Paolo [In a choking voice]. I am not dying, Francesca. Iron has not touched me. Fhancesca. Saved ! O saved and pure! Cleansed utterly of fraud! Give thanks to God! Kneel, brother! 06 FRANCESCA da RIMINI. Paolo. But your hands Have touched me, aud the soul Has fainted in my heart, and icy cold Takes hold on all my veins, and no more strength Is in me now to live; But of this other life That comes to meet me — Fkancesca. Kneel, kneel, on your life I Paolo. Ah! an unspeakable fear takes hold on me. And a scorn deeper even than the fear — Fbancesca. Kneel ! Kneel ! Paolo. Since I have lived With such an infinite force, Fighting apart, yet ever on the lonely Height of your prayer. And in the fiery solitude of your eyes — Fbancesca. Kneel! Kneel! Give thanks to God ! I will not lose you now over again ! Paolo. Fighting apart, and slaying Men — Fkancesca. You are pardoned now. And you are cleansed, and yet you will be lost! Paolo. And all my courage drawn Vehemently about my angry heart. PHANCESCA DA EIMINL 91 And all within me now The power of ray most evil love sealed up. Fbaxcesca, Lost! Lost! Say you are mad, Say, on your life, that you are mad, and say That your most wretched soul Has heard no word of all your mouth has said ! By the arrow that passed by And struck you not. By the death that touched you with its finger-tip And took you not, Say that your life shall never, never speak Those words again ! Archers. Long live Mcsser Giovanni Malatesta! [Giovanni Malatesta comes up by the stairs of the Mastra Tower, armed from head to foot, and liohlimj a Sardinian rod in his hand. He limps up the stairs, and, when he has reached the top, raises fiis terrible spear, while his harsh voice cuts through the clamour l Gianciotto. By God, you craven creatures, You cut-throat spawn, I am well niiiided To pitch you all headlong into the Ausa, Like carrion that you are. Francesca. Your brother! [Paoi.o jiicks up the crossbow]. 98 FBANC'ESCA DA RIMINI. GlANCIOTTO. You are more ready To cry rejoicings Than to belabour this tough Gliibelliue hide. How should you work your crossbows without sinews? Had I not come to aid you with my horse, Cignatta would have battered down your gates; God break the arms of all of you for cowards ! Archeks. — We had used almost all our stock of arrows. — The Astrologer was late in signalling. — We have silenced them on the Galassa tower. — We have piled up a heap on the Masdogua. GlANCIOTTO. Poor fire, by God ! There are not many houses To be seen burning. Badly thrown, your fire. Archers. — The house of Accarisio is still burning. — And the good Cignatta, who unhorsed him then? — It was one of us that slit his windpipe for him? GlANCIOTTO. Which one of you was standing at the window? Akcheks. — Was not this one here something of the cut? A thousand golden crowns to the company ! GlANCIOTTO. Who was it at the windovr? FRANC ESC A DA IlIMIXI. 99 Archers. — We have been slavinf^on au empty stomach. — We are dead with hunger and with thirst. — Long live Messer Gianciotto the never-satisfied ! [Paolo pickn up his helmet, jmts it on and goes towards the tower. Francesca goes to- wards the door by which she had entered, opens it and calls.] Francesca. Smaragdi ! Smaragdi ! Gianciotto [To the Archers]. Be silent there. Your tongues dry up in you! No talking while you work: I like you silent. But come now, there is a great cask to hurl; 1 will teach you the right way of it; and I will send it To the old Parcitade for leave-taking In my good father's name. Here, Berlingerio, Where is my brother Paolo? Did he not come up here? [The Slave appears at the door; then, after an order from her mistress, disappears. Fran- cesca remains standing on the threshold. | Paolo. Here. I am here, Gianciotto. It was I Who shot out of the window. The dumb thing .Struck through the throat of one whose mouth was open To jest at you. [There is a murmur among the Auchers.] 100 FllANCESCA DA RlMlNl GlANCIOTTO. Brother, much thanks for this. [He turns to the Men-at-arms]. So sure a shot must needs Come from a Malatesta, My braggart bowmen. [The Slave reappears ivith a jar and a cup. Francesca covies forward. Gianciotto comes down towards his brother.] Paolo, I bring you news, Good news. [He sees his wife. His voice changes to a gentler tone.] Francesca! Francesca. All hail, my lord; you bring the victory. [He goes up to her and embraces her.\ Gianciotto. Dear lady, why are you iu such a place. [She draws back from the e^nbrace.] Francesca. You have blood upon your armour. Gianciotto. Have I painted you? Francesca. Tou are all over dust. Gianciotto. Lady, the dust Is bread to me. Francesca. You are not wounded? FEANCESCA DA RnilNI. 101 GlANCIOTTO. Wounds? I feel none. Francesca. But you must be thirsty. GlANCIOTTO. Yes, I am very thirsty. Francesca. Samarafjdi, bring the wine. [The Slave comes forward with the jar and the cup.] GlANCIOTTO [With delighted surprise]. What my dear lady, you have talcen thought I might be thirsty? Why, you must have set Your slave to watch for me, that you should know My coming to the minute. [Francesca pours out the wine and hands the cup to her husband. Paolo stands aside in silence, vmtrhing the men who are preparing the fiery cask.] Francesca. Drink, it is wine of Scios. GlANCIOTTO. Drink first, I pray you. A draught. Francesca. I have not poisoned it, my lord. GlANCIOTTO. ^'()U laugli at ma. Not for suspicion's .sake, But for the favour, for the favour of it, 102 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Francesca, my true wife. I have no fear of treachery from you. My horse has not yet stumbled under me. Drink, lady. [Francesca touches the cup with her lips.] It is sweet, After the fight, to see your face again, To take a strong wine from your hands, and drink it Down at a draught. [He empties the cup.] So. Why this warms my heart. And Paolo? Where is Paolo? Why has he not a word for you? He comes Back from Cesena, and not A word of welcome has my kinsman from you. Paolo, come here. Are you not thirsty? Leave Greek fire for Greek wine. Then We will burn up the Parcitadi living! Lady, pour out for him a cup brimful And drink with him a draught, to do him honour; And welcome him, welcome the perfect archer. Francesca. I have already greeted him. GlANCIOTTO. But when? Francesca. When he was shooting. Paolo. Do you know, Gianciotto, I came up on the tower FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 103 And found her iu the act of making trial With Berlingerio of a fiery dart? GlANCIOTTO. Is that the truth ? Paolo. She played With lighted fire, and the poor man-at-arms Was crying out for fear the tower should burn, And she the while was laughing. I heard her laugh. While the fire lay as geutle at her feet As a greyhound iu leash. GlANCIOTTO. Is that the truth, Francesca? Francesca. I was weary of my rooms And of my whimpering women. And of a truth I had rather look, my lord, on open war Than feed fear closeted. GlANCIOTTO. Daughter of Guido, Your father's seal is on you. May God make you Fruitful to me, that you may give me many Ami many a lion's cub! [Francesca knits her brow.] Paolo, you have not drunk! Drink, you art; pale, Pour out a cup for him, My woman warrior, fnll, and drink a draught. He shot a splendid bolt. 104 FBANCESCA DA RIMINI. Paolo. , Do you know, Gianciotto, Who lifted up the window while I shot? She ! In her hand she held the little cord That lifts it, like the children of our soldiers; And steady was her hand and firm her eye. Gianciotto. Why, come then, come, my lady, and make war Among the castles! I will make for you A breastplate of fine gold, and you shall go Riding with sword and spear. Like the brave Countess Aldruda di Bertinoro, When she went out to fight with Marchesella Against the Councillor of Magonza. Ah! You have been apart from me too long, dear lady. Now with that dark band underneath your chin And round your neck, you seem to wear a gor- get: It gives you a wild sort of grace. True, eh, Paozzo? But you have not yet drunk! Drink, now. Drink, you are pale. You have worked well. This night We shall not sleep, two in our beds. So, lady, Pour out the wine. Francesca. See, I am pouring it. Gianciotto. It is almost dark here; one can hardly see; You might have spilt it. FRANC ESC A DA RIMINI. 105 Francesca. Drink, my lord and kinsman, Out of the cup in which your brother drank. God give you both good fortune, Each as the other, and alike to me! [Paolo cZrinA^s, looking straight into Francesca' s eyes.] Gianciotto. Good fortune, Paolo, I had begun to tell you, and I stopped ; I have happy tidings for you. In the hour Of victory there came to our good father Envoys from Florence, saying you are elected The Captain of the People and the Commune Of Florence, Paolo. Envoys came! Gianciotto. Why, yes. You are sorry? Paolo. No, I will go. [Francesca turns her face to the shadow and moves afevi steps nearer the tower. The Slave retires to one side and stands motionless. ] Gianciotto. You must go within three days. You will have time to go to Ghiaggiolo To your Orat»ile, who is used by now To being a widow. And from there you will go To the city of gay living th;it has thriven Under the gnifhuice of tlin joyous friars, Full of fat merchants, and of merry-makers, 106 FRANC ESC A DA RIMINI. And gentry of the Court, and there the tables Are spread both niglit and morning, and tliey dance there And sing tliere, and you can sport to heart's content. [Ills face clouds over and he becomes bitter again.] We will stay here and set the trap for wolves And slit the throats of lambkins. Iron shall knock On iron for the pleasure of our ears, Sardinian rod and hatchet of Orezzo On bolt with rounded edge, morning and night And night and morning. Here then we will wait Till in some escalade another stone Fracture another knee. And then, why, then, Giovanni, the old Lamester, Gianni Ciotto, Shall have himself tied tightly on the back Of a stallion with the staggers, and so slung Neck and crop ravaging down the ways of hell. [Francesca moves restlessly to and fro in the shadoio, Through the archway is seen the evening sky reddened by the flames]. Paolo. Giovanni, are you angry with me? GlANCIOTTO. No, Did you not split the tongue of him who cried His jests against me? " At him ! At him ! Ha! The Lamester with the lovely wife! " cried out Ugolino as he rode. His voice was loud : FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 107 Did it reacli you at the window? I was there, Eye upon eye, aud stirrup against stirrup, When your good shaft went straight Into his snarling mouth, Aud through, and out the back way of the head. And yet you might have missed. I felt the feathers of the arrow -shaft Whistle against my face. You might have missed. Paolo. But since I did not miss, why think of it? GIA^'CIOTTO. It is your way to run these sorts of risks. At Florence be more cautious. You are going To a hard post. Have sharp and rapid sight But also prudent hand. Paolo. Since you advise me, Does it not seem to you, brother, as if 'Twere wiser let it go? We shall have need Of all our forces here. The year is turniua Not over fortunately for the Guelfs, Since the defeat of that Giovanni d'Appia And the rebellion since in Sicily, In favour of the Angevins. Glanciotto. Wo must needs Accept, and that without delay. You now Shall be the keeper of the jicace where once Our mighty father was the Governor Under King Charles, in the one great Guelf city 108 FEANCESCA DA BIMINI. That prospers still. And so beyond the bounds Of our Eomagna shall the name of us Sound high and spread abroad; and each of us Shall follow where his rising star leads on. I go my way, my sword has eyes for me ; My horse has not yet stumbled under me. [While he speaks, Malatestino is brought, wounded, down the stairs of the tower, be- tween lighted torches, like a corpse. The shadow grows darker]. Francesca [From the back]. O, what is this? Horror! Do you not see Malatestino, there, Malatestino, The soldiers carrying him in their arms Between the torches? They have killed his father ! SJie runs towards the Men, who are coming down the side stairs, and passing through the midst of the archers, who leave off their work and make way in silence. Gianciotto and Paolo run forward. Oddo Dalle Cami- NATE andFoscoLoD'OLNANO are carrying the bleeding Youth. Fouk Akchers with long quivers accompany them with torches. Francesca [Bending over the Touth]. Malatestino! O God, His eye is black with blood. His eye is cut and toin. How have they killed him? FRANCESCA DA RnilNI. 109 O, has bis father seen it? Does he knoAv? [GiA-SCioTTO feels over his body and listeiis to his heart.] GlANCIOTTO. Francesca, no, he is not dead! He breathes, His heart is beating still. Do you not see? He is coming to. The blow has struck him senseless; But he is coming to. The life is sound in him; he has good teeth To keep it back from going. Courage, now! Set him down gently here, here on this heap Of ropes. [As the Bearers are setting him down, the Youth begins to revive.] Oddo, how was it? Oddo. From a stone While they were scaling the Galassa tower. FOSCOLO. All by himself he had made prisoner Montagna Parcitade, And bound him with his sword-belt, and led him back To Cesser Malatesta; and returned To take the Tower. Oddo. Just as he was, without A visor to his helmet, heedlessly: You know how hot he is! FoSCOLO. And he was angry 110 FRANCE SC A DA BIMINI. Because his father would not suffer him To cut the prisoner's throat. [FRANCESCApowrs a few drops of wine between the lips of the Youth. Faol,o follows every movement greedily with his eyes.] GlANCIOTTO [Looking at the wound], A stone out of the hand; not from a sling. Come, it is nothing. Lean as he is, he needs Crow-bar and catapult to put him under. This is a heart of metal, a tough liver. He bears the sign of God now, as I do, In warfare. He shall be Named, from henceforth, as I am, by his scar. [He kisses Mm on the forehead.] Malatestino ! [The Youth shakes himself and recovers con- sciousness.] Drink, Malatestino! [He drinks some of the wine, which Francesca puis to his lips. Then he shakes his head, and is about to raise to his wounded left eye the hand still wearing its gauntlet. Fran- cesca prevenis him.] Malatestino. [As if suddenly awaking, ivith violence]. He will escape, I say. He is not safe In prison. I tell you he will find a way To escape presently. Father, give me leave To cut his throat! I took him for you! Father, FRANCESCA DA BIMINI. Ill Dear Fathei-, let me kill him. I am sure He will find a way to escape presently. He is an evil one. Well, you then, give him One hammer-stroke upon the head; one blow, And he will turn upon himself three times. Francesco. Malatestino, what do you see? You are raving, What do you see, Malatestino? Oddo. Still He is raging at Montagu a. GlANCIOTTO. Malatestino, do you not know me? See, You are on the Mastra Tower. Montagna is in good clutches. Be assured He will not run away from you. Malatestino. Giovanni, Where am I? O Fraucesca, and you too? [He again raisea Ida hand to his eye.] What is the matter with my eye? GlANCIOTTO. A stone That caught you in it. Francesca. Are you suffering much? [The Youth rises to his feet and shakes his head.] Malatestino. The Ktone-throw of a Gliibelline carap- follower To make me suffer? Come, come, there's no use now 112 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. No time to weave new linen with old thread. Put on a bandage, quick, Give me to drink, and then To horse, to horse ! [Francesca takes off the band that surrounds her chin and throat.] GlANCIOTTO. Can you see? Malatestino. One's enough for me. GlANCIOTTO. Try now If the left one is lost. [He takes a torch from one of the Archers.] Close your right eye. Francesca, Put your hand over it. He has his gauntlet. [She closes his eyelid with her fingers. GiANCi- OTTO jJiits the torch before his face.] Look! Do you see this torch? Malatestino. No. GlANCIOTTO. Not a glimmer? Malatestino. No, no! [He takes Francesca' s wrist and pushes it away.] But I can see with one. Archer [Excited by the Youth's courage]. Long live Messer Malatestino! Malatesta! PRANCESCA DA ttlMINL 113 Malatestino. To horse, to horse! Giovanni, though the day is won, yet, yet. Is not old Parcitade living still, And waiting i-einforcements? We must not Be blinded. Oddo, Foscolo, the best Is still to have. GlANCIOTTO [turning to the Archers]. The cask ! is the cask ready? [He goes towards the tower, to direct the opera- ations of the catapult.] Oddo. You will fall half-way there. Francesca. Stay, Malatestino, Do not go back into the fight! Stay here, And I will bathe and heal you. Run, Smaragdi, Prepare the water and the linen; send For Maestro Almodoro. Malatestino. No, kinswoman, Put on a bandage, quick. And let me go. I will come back again To find the doctor: bid the doctor wait. I feel no pain at all. But bandage me, I beg of you, kinswoman, With the band that you have taken off your face. Francesca. I will do the best I can fi>r you, God knows, 114 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. But it will not be well done. [She binds up his eye. He observes Paolo, ivho has not taken his eyes off Fkancesca.] Malatestino. O, Paozzo, What are you doing there? dreaming? Francesca. 'Twill not Je well done. Malalestino. You have been elected Captain Of the People at Florence. When I haled Montagna Up to our father, bound, I saw the envoys, The Guelfs of the Red Lily, Who were with him then. [A guttural cry is heard as the Men raise the cask upon the catapult. Above the battle- ments the glow of the fire spreads over the sky. The bells ring in all directions. Trum- pets are heard.] They have shut up Montagna In the sea prison. He will get away. I begged my father, I begged him, on my knees, To let me finish. The envoys smiled. My father would not let me, Because of them, I know, To seem magnanimous. Another night Montagna must not sj^end here. Will you help me? Come to the prison ! Have you done, kinswoman? But do not tremble. FRANCE SC A DA EIMINL 115 Francesca [Tying the knot]. Yes, yes, but it is not well done. Your forehead Is burning. You ai'e feverish. Do not go, . Malatestiuo. Listen to me. Stay, For God's sake! GlANCIOTTO [On the toioer]. Heave it! Let it go! [The noise of the catapult is heard as it discharges the cask with its lighted fuses] Abcher. Long life To Malatesta! Long life to the Guelfs ! Death to the Ghibellines and Parcitade! Malatestino [turning and running forward]. To horse ! to horse ! to horse ! [Oddo, Foscolo, and the Archers with their torches follow him.] [The stage darkens. The reflection of the fire reddens the shadow in which Paolo and Fkancesca remain alone.] Paolo. Farewell, Francesca. [As he approaches her, she draws back with terror.] GlANCIOTTO [From the tower]. Paolo! Paolo! 116 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Fbancesca. Brother, farewell ! Brother! [Paolo goes towards the Tower, from which the aery staves are again being thrown. Fkan- CESCA, left alone in the shadow, makes the sign of the cross and falls on her knees, bowing herself to the ground. At the back a still brighter illumination lights up the sky.] Akcheb. Fire! fire! Death to the Ghibellines! Fire! Death To Parcitade and the Ghibellines! Long live the Guelfs and long live Malatesta! [The fiery shafts are let fly through th. battle- ments. The bells ring in all aireciions. The triunpets sound in the miasv of cries rising from the streets of the burning and blood-stained city.] ACT III. A room painted in fresco, elegantly divided into panels, portraying stories out of the romance of Tristan, between birds, beasts, flowers, and fruits. Under the moulding, around the walls, runs a frieze in the form of festoons, on which are written some words from a love-song: '' Meglio 7ft'e dorinire gaudendo C avere penzieri veghiando.^' On the right is a beautiful alcove hidden by rich curtains ; on the left a doorway covered by a heavy hanging ; at the back a long window with many panes, divided by little columns, looking out on the Adriatic; a j)ot of basil is on the window-sill. Near the door, raised two feet above the floor, is a musicians^ gallery, with compartments decorated ivith open carv- ings. Near the window is a reading desk, on which is open " The History of Launcelot of the Lake," composed of large illuminated pages, firmly bound together by thin boards covered in crimson velvet. Besides it is a couch, a sort of long chair without back or arms, v)ilh many cushions of samite, almost on the level of the windoW'Sill, on which any one leaning back can see over the lohole sea- shore of Rimini. A chamber organ of small 118 FRANCESCA DA RIMINt. size, xoith chest, pipes, keys, bellows, and reg- isters finely worked, stands in the corner, a lute and a viol beside it. On a small table is a silver mirror, amongst scent-bottles, glasses, purses, girdles, and other trinkets. Large iron candlesticks stand beside the alcove and the musicians^ gallery. Footstools are scattered about, and in the midst of the Jloor is seen the bolt of a trap-door, through which a passage leads to the lower rooms. |Francesca is reading in the book. The Women, seated on the footstools in a circle, embroidering the border of a coverlet, listen to the story ; each of them has a little phial of seed pearls and gold threads hanging from, her girdle. The March sunlight beats on the crimson taffeta, and sheds a diffused light on the faces bent over the needlework. The Slave is near the window-sill, gazing into the sky.] France sc A [reading]. " Thereat Galeotto comes to her and says : 'Lady, have pity on him, for God's sake, And do for me as I would do for you, If you should ask it of me.' ' What is this That I should pity ?' ' Lady, you well know How much he loves you, and has done for you, More than knight ever did for any lady.' ' In truth he has done more for me than I Can ever do for him again, and he Could ask of me nothing I would not do ; But he asks nothing of me, and he has FRANCE SC A DA RIMINI. 119 So deep a sadness, tliat I marvel at it." And Galeotto saj's: ' Lady, have pity.' ' That will I have,' says she, ' and even such As you would have me ; hut he asks of me Nothing. . .' " [The Women laugh. Francesca throws her- self back on the cushions, troubled and ener- vated.] Garsenda. Madonna, How ever could a knight, and Launcelot, Have been so shamefaced? Alda. All the while the queen, The poor queen, only longing she might give Her lover what he would not ask of her I BlANCOFIORE. She should have said to him: " Most worthy knight, Your sadness will avail you not a mite." Altichiara. Guenevere did but jest with him, and chose To wait her time; but nothing in the world Was iu her mind more than a speedy bed. Adonella. And Galeotto, though indeed he was A noble prince, knew well enough the art That is called — Francesca. Adonella, hush I I tire 120 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Of listening to your chattering so long. Smaragdi, tell me, is the falcon back? Slave. No, lady; he has lost his way. Francesca. Do you hear His little golden bell? Slave. I cannot hear it. My eyes are good, and yet I cannot see him. He has flown too high. [Fbancesca turns to the window and gazes out] Alda. He will be lost, Madonna. It was not well to let him out of leash. He was a little haughty. Garsenda. He was one They call the Ventimillia breed, brave birds; This one had thirteen feathers in his tail. Altichiara. Their home is on an island ; He will have flown back to his island home. BlANCOFIORE. He followed cranes, was good at catching them; And Simonetto begs of you, Madonna, That he may have a crane, to make two fifes Of the two leg-bones, and he says they sound Sweetly as might be. FRANCESCA DA EIMINL 121 Garsenda. No, He is not coming back; he was too proud; Ah, like the one who gave him to you, Messer Malatestino, I would say: may he Not hear me ! If you had but rubbed his beak, At dead of night, With horse's belly-grease, He would have come to love you so. Madonna, He never would have flown out of your hand. [The Women burst out laughiny.] Adonella. Now listen to the learned doctoress! Alticuiara. At dead of night with horse's belly-grease! Garsenda. Why, yes, I have read the book that Danchi wrote. The first and best master of falconry; It gives you all the rules. Francesca. Go, Adonella, Run to the falconer, tell him what has hap- pened. And bid him go with his decoy, and call And search all over. He has fiown, perhaps, Up to some tower, and perched there. Bid him go And search all over. I Adonella drops her needle and hurries out.] 122 FBANCESCA DA RIMINI. Altichiara. He has fled away, Madonna, after the first swallows. Alda. See, The blood of all the swallows Is raining on the sea. BlANCOFIOEE [singing]. " Fresh in the Calends of March, O swallows, coming home, Fresh from the quiet lands beyond the sea." Francesca. O, yes, yes, Biancofiore ! Some music, give me music! Sing over a low song In the minor key! Leave off your sewing, go And bring me music. [The WoMEK rise quickly and fold up the taffeta.] Look For Simonetto, Biancofiore. Biancofiore. Yes, Madonna. Francesca. And you, Alda, look for Bordo And Signorello and Rosso, And bid them come and bring the instruments And bring the tablature For maKing music in the room here. FEANCESCA DA RIMINI. 123 Alda. Yes, Madonna. Fhancesca. Altichiara, if you see The doctor, send him to me. Altichiara. Yes, Madonna. Francesca. And you, Garsenda, if you come across The merchant who is here from Florence bid him Come hither. Garsenda. Yes, Madonna, I will seek him. Fkancesca. Bring me aparland of March violets* To-day 'tis the March calends. BlANCOFIORE. Madonna, you shall have one, and a fair one. [All fjo out.] [Francesca turiiH to the Slave, who is still gazing into the sky]. Francesca. O Smaragdi, he is not coming back? Slave. He is not coming back. The falconer will bring him back again. Do not be troubled. Fkancesca. But I am troubled, yes; Malatestino 124 FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. Will be enraged with me, because I have kept His gifts so ill. He tells me that he gave me The king of falcons. I have lost it. Slave. Wild And thankless and unkind, if so it flies From the face of man. [Fkancesca is silent for a feio instants.] Fbancesca. I am afraid of him. Slave. Afraid of whom, lady? Fkancesca. I am afraid Of Malatestino. Slave. Is it his blind eye That frightens you? Fkancesca. No, no, the other one, The one he sees with : it is terrible. Slave. Let him not see you, lady. Fkancesca. Ah, Smaragdi, what was the wine you brought That night, upon the Mastra tower, when all The city was in arms? Was it bewitched? Slave. Lady, what are you saying? Fkancesca. It is as if you brought me a drugged wine ; FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. 125 The poison is takiufr hold Upon the veins of her that drank of it, And all my fate grows cruel to me again. Slave. What is this sadness, lady? Although the falcon has not yet come back, He has come back to you, Lady, who is the sun that your soul loves. Francesca [turnimj pale, and speaking with repressed anger]. Unhappy woman! How do you dare to speak it? Treachery Even in you? Accursed be the hour In which you brought him to me, and his fraud With him ! Was it not you Who made the way that leads me to my death? Three cups of bitterness I do not leave you; It is you that set them down before me, you That brim them up each day, without a tear. [The Si.A\E flings herself on the ground.] Slave. Tread on me, tread on me! Between two stones Crush in my head! FliANCESCA \More calmli/]. Rise up, It is no fault of yours, my poor Smaragdi, It is no fault of yours. Sii