Yolanda of Cyprus
Now of submission in me; numb and dead
The pleading of it. And upon you, back,
I cast the burden of your cruelty.
[Slowly.
And – if she dies in terror of the lips
Of Renier Lusignan – on your peace
The guilt be!
Vittia. Fa.
Yolanda. The heaping mass of horror!
Vittia (moved). Liar, on her own; for she has sinned.
Yolanda. And suffered!
But you —
Vittia. I say her own. I've done no crime.
And you will wed him.
Yolanda. Or, … Venetian —
Wed you to Remorse!
For there at the gates that guard your rest you hear
Dim now the risen phantom cries of it,
The presage beat of them like hungry hands
That will o'erwhelm you!
All that I could to spare her I have done;
All that was duty and of love the most.
But you it was who struck and kindled first
Within lord Renier fire of suspicion.
And you it is —
Since in the worst that live there yet is heaven! —
Must null his doubt and ease the sobbing ebb
And flood of her sick spirit; you who must
Go to his fear and with persuasion say
That it is folly of him and of you
So to suspect her, since in Camarin's
Arms I was found. You will!
Vittia. And – then go pray?
[Draws out the papers scornfully.
Rather I'll bring you this: – Authority
Sent me of Venice
To make Amaury lordly over Cyprus,
Or to abase him even of Famagouste;
Which I will do —
[Goes to her.
Unless I have the pledge that you will wed,
Though not to be his wife and free to leave him,
This Paphian,
And with him from Lusignan hence will pass.
[Camarin appears on loggia.
And he has come now for your answer.
Yolanda. Here!
In league with you! in this!
Vittia. Most loyally;
And ready skilfully to disavow,
With every force, your innocence – if you
Attempt betrayal! —
Enter, my lord of Paphos – I have spoken.
[Camarin enters desperately.
But she has pledged no further – though the life
Of Berengere Lusignan fall for it,
And though Amaury… But you may avail.
[Moves off. Yolanda stands silently between them. Camarin looks at her, falters, then turns on Vittia.
Camarin. As an anchorite covets, Venetian,
Immortal calm, I crave and covet this!
Yet … I will not entreat it of her more.
Vittia. What!
Camarin. Fate may fall. I swore in dread, but will not!
Yolanda (low). Madonna!
Vittia. You refuse?
Yolanda. He does.
Vittia. The whole?
Yolanda. Lady of Venice, yes; for very shame!
[With deep joy.
Bitterly tho' it be, he must, for shame!
For though he would waste the air of the world to keep
The breath still in the veins
Of her his love so wronged,
He cannot ask me more than breast can bear —
Knowing I have already borne for her
Infection worse than fetid marshes send
From Mesaoria —
Have lost the sky of love that I had arched
And all the stars of it. See, he is dumb! —
He cannot.
Camarin (coldly). No; but to your heart I leave her
And to your pity.
Yolanda. Say not pity to me!
[The word overwhelms her anew.
Am I not needy, fain of it, and can
Endurance ever dure!
What have I left …
Of joy to ripple in me or of light
To sway me to forgetting – I to whom
Dawn was enchanted incense once, and day,
The least of earth, an ides of heaven bliss.
What to me left! to me!
Who shepherded each happy flock of waves
Running with silvery foaming there to shore,
Who numbered the little leaves with laughing names
Out of my love,
And quickened the winds with quicker winds of hope,
That now are spent … as summer waters,
Leaving my breast a torrent's barren bed.
Pity and pity! ever pity! No.
[Enter Hassan.
A nun to pity I will be no more.
But you, cruel Venetian… Ah, ah,
Mother of God! is there no gentleness
In thee to move her and dissolve away
This jeopardy congealing over us?
[A pause.
Vittia. You see, none.
Yolanda. Ah, for sceptre and for might
Then to compel you.
Vittia. Still, there is none.
Yolanda. None…
[Sinks to a seat in despair.
Yet could I think!
Hassan. Lady Yolanda —
[Advances.
Yolanda. Were
My brain less weary!
Hassan. Lady Yolanda —
Yolanda. Well?
Hassan. There is a means – a might.
Yolanda. Well?
[Is half heedless.
Hassan. To compel her.
Yolanda. To … what?
Hassan. If you will dare it.
Yolanda. Will – ?
[Rises.
Hassan. I swear.
Yolanda. Your thought! I have no fear.
Hassan. Then … let me but
Seize her and shut her fast an hour within
The leprous keep, and she shall write whate'er
You order; then upon a vessel quick
Be sent to Venice whence she came.
Camarin. Mad! mad!
Venice would rise!
Hassan. And Cyprus, to be free! —
But 'tis not, lady! and lord Renier
Shall have a letter of her guile and flight.
Venture it, venture!
Yolanda (after a long pause). If it can be done,
It shall be.
Hassan. Ah!
Yolanda. And must be.
Vittia. Fools, to me!
[She stands defensive, as Hassan prepares to close in.
Yolanda. Quickly, and take her.
Hassan. Now.
Camarin (with sudden horror). No!.. Sateless God!
[His eyes are fixed on the balcony. All look, appalled. For slowly down the steps comes Renier following Berengere, whose eyes turn back in fluttering trance upon him.
Yolanda. Ah! … he will kill her! Stop, my lord! mother!
Lord Renier!
[Runs; takes Berengere in her arms.
Cold is she, stony pale,
And sinking!.. Go away from her, go, go!
Renier. No … she shall tell me.
Yolanda. Mother!.. Tell you that
You are her murderer?
Renier. The truth!
Yolanda. The truth!
[Laughs bitterly, and at a loss, as if amazed. Then, almost against her will —
It is suspicion! is that mad suspicion
That you have had of her.
Renier. It is! It is!
Yolanda. And – all because I have these days delayed
To wed with Camarin.
Renier. Delayed?
Yolanda. Because
I show befitting shame that I was here
Found in his arms … when to Amaury
I was betrothed!
Renier. Power of – ! – No!
Yolanda. Because
I grieve to leave Lusignan, this my home —
Where I have dwelt as under tented love —
Though I am bidden.
Renier. This can be?
Berengere (faintly). Yolanda!
Renier. I say – only delayed? and you – ?
Yolanda. Yes, yes.
Now I will wed him, heedless, wantless, wild.
Send for the priest and for Amaury, for
Laughter and lights and revelry – for all
Within this castle. But first to her bed,
And to tranquillity,
She must be borne, she your cold violence
Has driven here… Alessa – Tremitus!
[They have entered.
Lead her within. O mother! piteous mother! —
Ah, it was ruthless, kindless!
Renier. We shall see.
[To Hassan.
Bid Moro and Amaury. – As for her,
I soon may come and seek forgiveness.
Berengere. No!
[Hassan goes.
My brain and breath! … the pall … where am I … how
Long must I lie!..
Tremitus. She speaks to visions. So,
So can the blood do – trick us utterly!
[He supports her – with Alessa —slowly up steps and off. Yolanda covers her eyes. Hassan returns with Moro, then, and with Amaury, whose look seeks Vittia.
Yolanda (as all stand silent). Speak, speak, and tell him!
Renier. Yes, Amaury … you
Are sent for to behold Yolanda wed,
As you commanded,
Here unto Camarin. Shame has till now
Withheld her, but … what ails you?
Amaury. On; go on.
The sudden blood up to my wounds.
Renier. It has,
I say, withheld her. But she now has chosen.
Amaury. So; and … it is well. And here are her
Vows I have kept —
[Takes a packet from his breast.
Vows and remembrances … I shall aspire —
[Hands it; she lets it fall.
That I may loathe her not o'ermuch; and to
Muffle my sword from him that now she weds.
[His voice breaks tonelessly.
Come, let it be.
Yolanda. Amaury!
Amaury (angrily). Priest, be brief!
Moro (before them; as Camarin takes Yolanda's hand).
The Church invests me, and the powers of
This island, here to make you man and wife.
Be joined, ye who have sinned,
In soul, peace and repentances for ever.
[He signs the cross. Yolanda stands dazed. A silence. Then a shuddering cry and all turn toward the balcony, where Alessa bursts, pale and wild and striving to speak.
Yolanda (with dread, awe, premonition). Alessa!
Alessa. Lady Yolanda! you have wed him?
Yolanda (pausing). Yes.
Alessa. Lady Berengere is dead.
Yolanda. No!.. No!
[Chokes rebelliously.
It cannot be! mother! cannot! awake her!
And tell her I have wed him! mother! cannot!
[Goes trembling, belieflessly, up the balcony. A strange doubt seizes Amaury. On the rest is silence, consternation, and fear.
CurtainACT IV
Scene: The Chapel of the Castle – or Chapel of the Magdalen – a few hours later. It is of stone, low-arched, gloomy, and adorned with Byzantine mosaics of gaunt saints on backgrounds of gold. The altar is in the rear, and above it a large window, through which pours the still moon. In front of it, to either side, rise two pillars supporting the roof, and on one of them, halfway up, stands a stone image of the Magdalen. Forward are two other pillars whose bases form seats. The right wall has, set midway, a large door hung with heavy curtains. In the rear are smaller doors leading to a sacristy. The altar lamp and a few tapers burn. Alessa enters, rubbing her eyes as if to clear them of vision, looks around, then calls uncertainly —
Alessa. Good father! Father Moro!.. He is not here.
[Rubs her eyes again.
The dead are strange! I knew not of their power.
It is as if her spirit still imprisoned
Hovered beneath the pallor of her face
And strove to speak. Good father!
[Enter Moro.
Ah, you were
There in the sacristy.
Moro. Yes, Your desire?
Alessa. The acolytes summoned from Famagouste
To aid your rites before her burial
Have come, and wait.
Moro. Send hither two.
[Looks closely at her.
Alessa. At once.
[Is going. He stops her.
Moro. Woman, this passes silence. There must be
Some question. Do you understand this wedding?
The evil that has risen in this house?
Do you?
Alessa. I may not speak.
Moro. And wherefore may not?
Alessa. I may not. It is best.
Moro. As says Yolanda,
Who is to-day impenetrable in all.
But who, now, in a lofty grief above
The misery that blasted her, seems calm,
And answers only, —
"God in His season will,
I trust, unfold it soon; I cannot, now!" …
And yet I heard
Her darkly bid the Paphian be gone —
From here – without her.
Alessa. And he would not?
Moro. No.
Does she not see Amaury dangerous
For truth – which you conceal?
Alessa. The acolytes
Are waiting.
Moro. Go… But if this hour brings forth
What you shall rue —
Alessa. Father!
[Goes quickly, troubled.
Moro. In blindness still!
For Vittia Pisani, who alone
Seems with these twain to share this mystery
Is silent to all importunity.
Oh, Berengere Lusignan! —
But, 'tis mine
To pray and to prepare. (Listens.) The acolytes.
[Two enter, sleek, sanctimonious.
(To Them.) Come here… You're Serlio,
Of the Ascension. You?
2nd Acolyte. Hilarion.
From Santa Maria by the Templars' well,
Which God looks on with gratitude, father.
For though we're poor and are unworthy servants
We've given willingly our widow's mite.
And now we…
Moro. You are summoned to this place
For ministrations other than the tongue's.
Prepare that altar – masses for the dead.
Hilarion. Man is as grass that withers!
Moro. Kindle all
Its tapers. The departed will be borne
Hither for holy care and sacred rest.
So do – then after
Look to that image of the Magdalen,
Once it has fallen.
Serlio. Domine, dirige!
[Moro goes. They put off cant and set to work.
Hilarion (insolently, lighting a taper).
We'll have good wine for this!
Serlio. The Chian! Hee!
None's like the Chian! and to-morrow, meat!
Last week old Ugo died and we had pheasant.
Hilarion. When we are priests we'll give no comforting
To wife or maid – till we have sipped!
Serlio. And supped!
Though 'tis a Friday and the Pope is dead!
[Silence. They work faster.
Hilarion. There, it is done. Now to the image.
[Mounts pillar.
Serlio. Well,
Olympio, the cock who fetched us, said
That image fell first on the day —
Hilarion. Tchuck! tchuck!
Better no breath about that lord of Paphos,
Or any here. For till the dead are three
Days gone, you know – ! But there's the woman. Feign.
[As Alessa re-enters; hypocritically.
The blessed dead! in Purgatory may
They briefly bide.
Serlio. Aye! aye!
Alessa (still troubled). What say you?
Hilarion. Ah!
I lay that it is wiser never to foul
The dead, even in thinking,
For they may hear us, none can say, and once
My mother saw a dead man who had gone
Unshriven start up white and cry out loud
When he was curst.
Serlio. O Lord!
Alessa (staring). No!.. Well, such things
There are perchance. And now they say that Venus,
The Anadyomene, who once ruled this isle,
Is come again… But you have finished? Soon
They bring her body here.
Hilarion. Now have I, now!
It will not totter again.
[Descends.
Alessa. Would that it might
Upon the head of – (catches herself; calmly) You are awaited
There in the sacristy… The chant begins!
[The acolytes go. She grows more disquieted.
Begins! and lady Yolanda still awaits
Heedless, though Lord Amaury's desperate,
As is the Paphian!.. They near!.. The curtains!
[Goes to door and draws them back. As she does so the chant swells louder. Then the cortège enters– Moro, the acolytes with tapers; Berengere on a litter, Amaury, Renier, Vittia, the women, Hassan, and last Yolanda. The litter, Amaury by it, comes to the altar; the chanting ceases.
Moro (as Amaury bows, shaken).
No moan or any toil of grief be here
Where we have brought her for sainted appeal.
But in this holy place until the tomb
Let her find rest.
Amaury. Set down the bier.
[It is placed.
Moro. Lone rest!
Then bliss Afar for ever!
Amaury (rises). Be it so!
[Turning; brokenly.
But unto any, mother, who have brought thee
Low to this couch, be never ease again.
To any who have put thy life out, never!
But in them be the burning that has seemed
To shrivel thee – whether with pain or fear!
And be appeaseless tears,
Salt tears that rust the fountain of the heart.
[Sinks to a seat. A pause.
Moro. My son, relentless words.
Amaury (up again). To the relentless!
Moro. God hear you not!
Amaury. Then is He not my God.
Moro. Enough, enough. (To the rest.) But go and for her soul
Freight all of you this tide of night with prayer.
Amaury. Never!
Moro. I bid.
Amaury. And I forbid those who
Have prized her not!
For though nought's in the world but prayer may move,
Still but the lips that loved her
Should for her any sin beseeching lift.
[Looking at Yolanda.
They and no other!
Yolanda. It is well.
Amaury. Not one.
Yolanda. Then, mother —
[Goes to bier.
Amaury. That name again?
Yolanda. While I have breath.
[Fixedly.
Yes, though you hold me purgeless of that sin
Only the pale archangels may endure
Trembling to muse on!
Or though yon image of the Magdalen.
Whose alabaster broke amid her tears
And her torn hair, forbade me with a voice.
And you, whose heart is shaken
As in a tomb a taper's flame, would know
I speak with love.
Camarin. Unswerving love.
Amaury. Then, by
Christ, and the world that craves His blood, I think
She, if she would, or you, could point to me,
Or you, Vittia Pisani,
The reason of this sudden piteous death
Hard on the haunted flight before my father,
Whose lips refuse.
Camarin. She knows no shred of it.
Amaury. You lie to say it.
Camarin. Then will, still – if there
Is need.
Amaury. Because you love her?
Yolanda. Peace, peace, peace.
Amaury. A hollow word for what had never being.
Yolanda. Look on her face and see.
Amaury (at bier). Upon her face!
Where not oblivion the void of death
Has hid away, or can, the agony
Of her last terror – but it trembles still.
I tell you, no. Grief was enough, but now
Through it has risen mystery that chokes
As a miasma from Iscariot's tomb.
And till this pall of doubt be rent away
No earth shall fall and quicken with her dust!
But I will search her face … till it reveals.
Camarin. He raves.
Amaury. Iscariot! yes!
Yolanda. Again, peace, peace!
Amaury. That you may palter!
Yolanda (gently). That she may not grieve.
[Goes again to bier.
For – if her soul is near – it now is wrung.
Near! would it were to hear me and impart
Its yearning and regret to us who live,
Its dim unhappiness and hollow want.
Yes, mother, were you now about us, vain,
Invisible and without any voice
To tell us of you!
Were you and now could hear through what of cold
Or silence wrap you, oh, so humanly,
And seeming but a veil —
Then would you hear me say —
[Suddenly aghast.
Ah, God!
Amaury. Yolanda!
[She starts back from the bier.
Yolanda!
Renier. Girl, what rends you?
Yolanda. Saw you not?
[Rushes to bier and shakes it.
Mother! you hear me? mother!
Renier. Girl!
Yolanda. She breathes!
[Consternation. Some fall to their knees.
Vittia. What? what?
Yolanda. Mother! Her breast! Mother! She moves!
Amaury. God! God!
Yolanda. Stand off from her… Mother!
Camarin. Her eyes!..
They open! open!
Yolanda. Mother!..
Amaury. See; her lips!
They strive to speak! O faintly. O so faint!
Can you not hear?
Berengere. Yolanda!
Yolanda. Mother!
Berengere. Renier!
Renier. Yes, yes?
Berengere. Yolanda —
Renier. Speak!
Berengere. Christ, save me … Christ!
Yolanda's innocent, and I … 'twas I.
Amaury. What? what is it she says?
Berengere. Camarin! Ah!
[She shudders and dies, amid low uttered awe. Renier bends, lays his hand a moment on her breast, then, with a cry of rage, springs from her and draws, and rushes on Camarin, who awaits him, desperate.
Amaury (confused, as they engage).
Yolanda; what is this?
Yolanda. Amaury, in!
Compel lord Renier back! he cannot live,
You only could against Camarin now!
Wait not to question, but obey me! if —
You ever – ! (as he rushes in) Holy Magdalen, defend him!
[Renier falls back.
Now, now defend him, if to chastity
Thou'rt vowed in heaven.
Vittia. Fool!.. Camarin, strike!
Yolanda. He's wounded!
Camarin. Oh!.. Berengere! … treachery!
[He staggers and sinks back heavily toward the pillar. There is breathless, strained suspense. Then the image above, unsettled and shaken by his fall, sways, totters and crushes upon him. A cry, "The Magdalen!" goes up around.
Hassan (hurrying to him; after awe and silence).
He's dead.
Alessa. The Magdalen!
Hassan. No breath in him.
[A pause.
Renier (low, harshly).
Bear him without then ever from this place,
That never more shall know a holy rite —
And from these gates, I care not to what tomb.
[To Amaury.
Then shall you hear this mystery's content,
That still as a madness measures to your sight.
Bear him without.
[The limp body is borne away. All follow but Amaury, Yolanda, Renier.
Now you shall hear, with shame,
But with exalted pride and happy tears;
Then come obliteration!
Speak, girl … Nobility
Had never better title to its truth.
[Kisses her hand and goes.
Amaury. Yolanda!.. He?.. This reverence as to
An angel? Speak!
Yolanda. Amaury —
Amaury. O pause not!
Yolanda. Then – to save her who's dead – from death and shame,
I took her place within the Paphian's arms.
Amaury. O! … and by me, driven by me, bore this?
[Overcome.
Pure as the rills of Paradise, endured?
Yolanda. For you! – and her who sleeps forgiven there.
[Raptly.
Now while her spirit weightless overwingeth
Night, to that Throne whose seeing heals all shame!
For her I did! but oh, for you, whose least
Murmur to me is infinite with Spring,
Whose smile is light, filling the air with dawn,
Whose touch, wafture of immortality
Unto my weariness; and whose eyes, now,
Are as the beams God lifted first, they tell us,
Over the uncreated,
In the far singing mother-dawn of the world! —
Come with me then, but tearless, to her side.
[They go to the bier and stand as in a dream. A pause, then her lips move, last, as if inspired.
While there is sin to sway the soul and sink it,
Pity should be as strong as love or death!
[With a cry of joy he enfolds her, and they kneel, wrapped about with the clear moon.
THE END
