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ACT II

A Year Has Elapsed

Scene: A sala, or hall, in the house of Rizzio. Its spacious walls and ceiling are frescoed with Virgilian scenes of a simpler and more beautiful kind than was usual to the decaying art of the period, and its high-arched open doors in the rear look out upon the terrace of Act I, toward the city, the Bay, Vesuvius – the whole magic curve of the haunting coast.

Several antique terminal-statues, the bodies of which end strangely in their pedestals, stand on either side these doors, and about the hall a Venus and other rare objects of virtu recovered from the past are mingled with the furnishings of the room, which, arranged for joy and beauty, seems somehow sad when unoccupied, as now, tho the Neapolitan sun is shining brightly in from the blue.

An arrased doorway right leads thro a passage to the street gate, and one left to the penetralia of the house, from which Marina enters deeply troubled. She looks back, shakes her head, saying, "O my poor lady!" then crosses to door right, listens, and hearing nothing goes slowly to door rear, where she waits, singing sadly:

 
Shepherds down the mountain wind,
Wild pipes play in the street.
O Sicily, my Sicily,
I long for thee, my Sweet!
 
 
Once a year God takes his joy,
And that great joy is Spring,
He weds earth clad in blossom-robes,
For His enrapturing!
 

[She stops, listening, then resumes:

 
Once a year God takes his joy,
And that —
 

[She stops again hearing sounds at the gate, then is startled to paleness by the voice of Matteo; and as she listens a stern strong determination takes her.

 
Matteo.
Basta! am I to pass! son of a dog!
Snout of a swine! knave! door-bestriding fool!
Have I not matters to her from my master,
To the Signora, from her husband's brother?
 

[A scuffle.

 
The Devil's scullion feed you
On flame, until your liver shrivels black!
 

[He has pushed past and enters the Hall insolently.

 
O-hé! who's here! I come from Signor Osio!
 

[Sees Marina.

 
The little Sicilian? Luck then is my slave!
 

[Going to her.

 
Well, pretty fig! my little red pomegranate!
My fair forbidden fruit – pluckt in the moon!
I've come … (stopped by her mien) But,
Blood of the Holy Sepulchre!
 

[Looks around uncertainly.

 
What thing has happened here?
 
 
Marina.
That, Matteo,
 

[Speaks solemnly.

 
Which yet I do not know, and which I pray
Madonna you may be as ignorant of.
 
 
Matteo.
Eh?.. I, my beauty?
 
 
Marina.
You – who left this house
A year ago to-night with Signor Osio,
Left suddenly,
To serve his wealth and pleasure,
And who will leave it now as instantly,
If he is not in need – of absolution.
 
 
Matteo.
Of … (starting) absolution?
Body, now, of Bacchus!
Does he not go to the Mass – and if he does not
Am I a priest
To know his need of purging?
Or if he sins must I be damned with him?
 
 
Marina.
No, so the way from it —
 
 
Matteo.
The way! the way!
I want no way, but in unto your mistress.
Am I not sent here to her with commands?
Ecco! and must I turn with them upon me,
And say a wench denied me?
Or that I feared
Perchance to catch the fever
Of heresy your master's shackled with?
Pah, but you jest, my ruby rose of Aetna —
 

[Insinuatingly.

 
Whom yet I will not say but I will wed,
Tho you are from that Paynim-breeding isle
Of Sicily. You jest: so, in with you.
I seek your lady.
 
 
Marina.
Seek … and shall find more.
 
 
Matteo.
More! (Struck by her tone.) And from what and whom?
 
 
Marina.
I wait Aloysius,
The leech.
 
 
Matteo.
And that is what I am to fear?
 
 
Marina.
The child is ill.
 
 
Matteo (starting).
The child!
 
 
Marina.
My lady's child.
 

[With tenser solemnity.

 
For there has come of late into her mind
A dread that has dried life within her breasts.
 
 
Matteo (who pales).
And am I God, woman, to keep dread from her?
 
 
Marina.
Tending to it a strangeness comes upon her,
And with the sudden seizure of it, fear —
Shudders of horror, instincts of some evil
That she somehow has suffered, or committed —
 

[Pauses.

 
Matteo (paler).
What do you mean!
 
 
Marina.
As one within a trance.
 
 
Matteo.
And do you mean – ?
 
 
Marina.
A mood seizes her flesh
That creeps against her will whene'er unto her
The little one is pressed.
 
 
Matteo (trembling).
This is a lie!
 
 
Marina.
She cannot look upon it, but with terror,
That brings remorse
Awakening more terror!
The blight of heresy, she strives to think
Of her lord's heresy is sent upon her,
Or of her own refusal, it may be,
To wed the Convent, not the carnal world.
 
 
Matteo.
To you she said this?
 
 
Marina.
Ah! and Madonna! her sleep!
She walks with eyes wide open.
 
 
Matteo.
I say you lie.
You do! as if Eternity were not, —
 

[Seizes her wrist.

 
To frighten me and Signor Osio!
 
 
Marina (coldly, stingingly).
And yet you understand? ha, understand?
And hoarsely stare at words upon my lips
That should be meaningless as moony madness?
You penetrate
What not the Pope himself,
Nor any could, but with a guilty knowledge?
There's villainy I say, and you are in it,
The tool of a blind villain, who should be
Where now his brother rots, but that the Church
Is no more Christ's!
Ah, ah! my nails could tear
Your hated false caresses from my flesh,
Your kisses from my memory and fling them
Upon your wicked heart. And, for your master,
The Virgin strangle him! She – or another!
 

[Meaningly.

 
Another!
 
 
Matteo (startled).
What? what say you?
 
 
Marina.
That – one – will!
For do not think such sins go unavenged.
 

[Starts to go.

 
Matteo.
I say, what do you hint! Stand! there is more!
 

[Seizes her and clasps her to him.

 
More! and I'll have it, by the crater of Hell!
More – and your lips shall tell it with a kiss.
 
 
Marina.
Off me! (Struggling.) And if you do not get from here —
 

[Breaks free.

 
Before Signora Bianca —
Matteo.
Ah! Ahi!
It has to do then with the Florentine?
Who is as pagan as that devil Venus,
 

[Points to statue.

 
Yet prates to priests as subtly as my master
Who will not play Love with her?
By the Passion and Blood of God, has she again
Gone jealous to Monsignor Querio,
To get undone the doors of the Inquisition,
So that your master …? has she?
 
 
Marina.
They are open! —
O would I who o'erheard might tell my lady! —
And Signor Rizzio goes free to-day!
Free to return here unto his own home!
Free to cast from him a year's ignorance,
A year's imprisonment beyond the pale
Of any word or message
And learn how on his wedding-day when he
Was seized and on his wedding-night when he
Expected to return… At that you quail?
Begone then, or —
 
 
Matteo (gnashing).
The jealousy of women!
Their hearts are devil-pots that ever boil. —
But this is cud for Signor Osio,
So get you in at once unto your mistress
And say —
 

Enter Bianca suddenly in agitation

 
Bianca (looking about, with alarm).
Where is my cousin? (Calls) Porzia! Porzia! —
She must return at once – unto the child:
Her mood is perilous and must be pent.
 

[As they stare.

 
Did you not see her? (Impatient.) Am I Proserpine
To make such gaping ghosts of you? I say,
Was she not here?
 
 
Marina.
Signora – ?
 
 
Bianca.
She hung, haunted,
 

[Searching again.

 
By the child's cradle – there a little since,
But suddenly rose up and fled from it,
Saying – she would wed death!
 
 
Marina.
Wed death! Signora!
 
 
Bianca.
Yes; I was near. Her words – that struck me stark.
I could not speak. Do you know aught of this,
You who have seen these dark distractions in her?
Or does this … drone of Signor Osio?
 

[Toward Matteo.

 
What brings him here?
 
 
Matteo.
Marina there.
 
 
Bianca.
Ha, yes!
 

[At door rear.

 
The honey from that flower – but what else?
 

[At door right.

 
Marina, yes, for you have been with her
Too often under the moon, but there is more
Behind you than yourself. Your master has
Not sent you?
 
 
Matteo.
Yes, Signora. To your beauty
He sends salute; and to your lady cousin
Who … O Signora, see! (staring) upon the terrace!
 

[He has broken off awestruck.

 
See, see! Oh, in her hand there is … Oh! – oh!
 

[They turn and behold Porzia trancedly approaching, a stiletto before her and her lips moving obliviously.

 
Porzia.
And should I not, Madonna, if … O should I?
Would you in heaven not assuage and shrive me?
Make the wound seem as holy as were Christ's?
Miraculously make —
 
 
Bianca.
Porzia!
 
 
Porzia.
Make – (dazed)
 
 
Bianca.
Porzia, do you dream!
 
 
Porzia (startled).
Bianca! (dropping blade) You?
 

[A pause.

 
Bianca.
This speech to weapons! this distraction. What
And whence and why is it? Your child —
 
 
Porzia (quickly).
Yes, yes!..
 

[A little incoherent.

 
I went into the garden to wait Aloysius,
My uncle Aloysius, who is a leech.
I have not slept… What is it I am saying?
 

[Seeing Matteo.

 
Is that one come to tell —
 
 
Bianca.
He is the servant —
Of Osio.
Porzia (with recoil).
Of Osio?.. Of Osio?
 

[Trembling.

 
Matteo.
Signora, yes. He sends me with a message.
He begs that he may see you.
 
 
Porzia.
See?
 
 
Matteo.
Implores
That this strange shrinking from him and aversion,
This pale … and unintelligible … repulsion
You have of late —
 
 
Porzia.
Go back to him! go, go!
 

[Struggling: with solemn abhorrence.

 
And say I cannot see him. He is my brother,
My husband's brother,
Whom I pray to honor.
And is much like my husband:
A likeness that unreasonably, it may be,
I shudder to look upon: and yet —
 
 
Matteo.
He bade me
To say, Signora, nothing must prevent;
That it concerns —
 
 
Porzia.
See him I will not, ever!
 

[With utter repugnance.

 
And cannot and should not tho he sought me in
That time which lies beyond eternity,
That space which is beyond the brink of all.
What thing it is haunting his heart I know not.
But in his presence all my flesh becomes
A shudder of horror,
All my soul a fear.
My husband's brother is he, my poor husband's,
But he… Go, go!.. and tell him that strange drawings
And strange repulsions pass the hearts of those
Whom grief has gathered upon; and that I who
Upon my wedding-day had torn from me —
 

[Suddenly, uncontrollably.

 
Say, say I would he were not on the earth!
 
 
Bianca (amazed, suspicious).
Porzia! what is this!
 
 
Porzia.
I know not: go!
 

[He goes, then Marina, fearful. An over-fraught pause.

 
Bianca (at length, jealously).
For this there is a reason – and but one.
You love, you love him!
 
 
Porzia.
Love … whom?
 
 
Bianca.
Osio!
Yet dare not so you draw him with denials,
Knowing that to repel is to entrain him.
 

[As Porzia stares, stupefied.

 
O mockery of it! fools my eyes were, fools,
That stood within my head and did not see!
To me he spoke of love – yearning for you,
And in me heard but echoes of you … ever!
Yet, since you loved him,
Why unto his brother,
A heretic o'erturning God with stars,
Did you —
 
 
Porzia (sinking to a divan).
I pray you speak things possible,
Tho to your sight I seem and to my own