Bart. I hear she has a Busné lover.
Cruz. That is nothing.
Bart. I do not like it. I hate him, — the son of a Busné harlot. He goes in and out, and speaks with her alone, and I must stand aside, and wait his pleasure.
Cruz. Be patient, I say. Thou shalt have thy revenge. When the time comes, thou shalt waylay him.
Bart. Meanwhile, show me her house. 1090
Cruz. Come this way. But thou wilt not find her. She dances at the play to-night.
Bart. No matter. Show me the house. [Exeunt.
SCENE VIII. — The Theatre. The orchestra plays the cachucha. Sound of castanets behind the scenes. The curtain rises, and discovers PRECIOSA in the attitude of commencing the dance. The cachucha. Tumult; hisses; cries of “Brava!” and “Afuera!” She falters and pauses. The music stops. General confusion. PRECIOSA faints.
SCENE IX. — The COUNT OF LARA’S chambers. LARA and his friends at supper.
Lara. So, Caballeros, once more many thanks!
You have stood by me bravely in this matter. 1095
Pray fill your glasses.
Don J. Did you mark, Don Luis,
How pale she looked, when first the noise began,
And then stood still, with her large eyes dilated!
Her nostrils spread! her lips apart! her bosom
Tumultuous as the sea!
Don L. I pitied her. 1100
Lara. Her pride is humbled; and this very night
I mean to visit her.
Don J. Will you serenade her?
Lara. No music! no more music!
Don L. Why not music?
It softens many hearts.
Lara. Not in the humor
She now is in. Music would madden her. 1105
Don J. Try golden cymbals.
Don L. Yes, try Don Dinero;
A mighty wooer is your Don Dinero.
Lara. To tell the truth, then, I have bribed her maid.
But, Caballeros, you dislike this wine.
A bumper and away; for the night wears. 1110
A health to Preciosa.
(They rise and drink.)
All. Preciosa.
Lara (holding up his glass). Thou bright and flaming minister of Love!
Thou wonderful magician! who hast stolen
My secret from me, and ‘mid sighs of passion
Caught from my lips, with red and fiery tongue, 1115
Her precious name! Oh nevermore hence-forth
Shall mortal lips press thine; and nevermore
A mortal name be whispered in thine ear.
Go! keep my secret!
(Drinks and dashes the goblet down.)
Don J. Ite! missa est!
(Scene closes.)
SCENE X. — Street and garden wall. Night. Enter CRUZADO and BARTOLOMÉ.
Cruz. This is the garden wall, and above it, yonder, is her house. The window in which thou seest the light is her window. But we will not go in now. 1120
Bart. Why not?
Cruz. Because she is not at home.
Bart. No matter; we can wait. But how is this? The gate is bolted. (Sound of guitars and voices in a neighboring street.) Hark! There comes her lover with his infernal serenade! Hark!
SONG
Good night! Good night, beloved!
I come to watch o’er thee! 1125
To be near thee, — to be near thee,
Alone is peace for me.
Thine eyes are stars of morning,
Thy lips are crimson flowers!
Good night! Good night, beloved, 1130
While I count the weary hours.
Cruz. They are not coming this way.
Bart. Wait, they begin again.
SONG (coming nearer)
Ah! thou moon that shinest
Argent-clear above! 1135
All night long enlighten
My sweet lady-love;
Moon that shinest,
All night long enlighten!
Bart. Woe be to him, if he comes this way! 1140
Cruz. Be quiet, they are passing down the street.
SONG (dying away)
The nuns in the cloister
Sang to each other;
For so many sisters
Is there not one brother! 1145
Ay, for the partridge, mother!
The cat has run away with the partridge!
Puss! puss! puss!
Bart. Follow that! follow that! Come with me. Puss! puss!
(Exeunt. On the opposite side enter the COUNT OF LARA and gentlemen with FRANCISCO.)
Lara. The gate is fast. Over the wall, Francisco, 1150
And draw the bolt. There, so, and so, and over.
Now, gentlemen, come in, and help me scale
Yon balcony. How now? Her light still burns.
Move warily. Make fast the gate, Francisco.
(Exeunt. Reënter CRUZADO and BARTOLOMÉ.)
Bart. They went in at the gate. Hark! I hear them in the garden. (Tries the gate.) Bolted again! Vive Cristo! Follow me over the wall.
(They climb the wall.) 1155
SCENE XI. — PRECIOSA’S bedchamber. Midnight. She is sleeping in an arm-chair, in an undress. DOLORES watching her.
Dol. She sleeps at last!
(Opens the window, and listens.)
All silent in the street,
And in the garden. Hark!
Prec. (in her sleep). I must go hence!
Give me my cloak!
Dol. He comes! I hear his footsteps.
Prec. Go tell them that I cannot dance to-night;
I am too ill! Look at me! See the fever 1160
That burns upon my cheek! I must go hence.
I am too weak to dance.
(Signal from the garden.)
Dol. (from the window). Who ‘s there?
Voice (from below). A friend.
Dol. I will undo the door. Wait till I come.
Prec. I must go hence. I pray you do not harm me!
Shame! shame! to treat a feeble woman thus! 1165
Be you but kind, I will do all things for you.
I ‘m ready now, — give me my castanets.
Where is Victorian? Oh, those hateful lamps!
They glare upon me like an evil eye.
I cannot stay. Hark! how they mock at me! 1170
They hiss at me like serpents! Save me! save me!
(She wakes.)
How late is it, Dolores?
Dol. It is midnight.
Prec. We must be patient. Smooth this pillow for me.
(She sleeps again. Noise from the garden, and voices.)
Voice. Muera!
Another voice. O villains! villains!
Lara. So! have at you!
Voice. Take that!
Lara. Oh, I am wounded!
Dol. (shutting the window). Jesu Maria!
ACT III
SCENE I. — A cross-road through a wood. In the background a distant village spire. VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO, as travelling students, with guitars, sitting under the trees. HYPOLITO plays and sings.
SONG
Ah, Love! 1175
Perjured, false, treacherous Love!
Enemy
Of all that mankind may not rue!
Most untrue
To him who keeps most faith with thee. 1180
Woe is me!
The falcon has the eyes of the dove.
Ah, Love!
Perjured, false, treacherous Love!
Vict. Yes, Love is ever busy with his shuttle, 1185
Is ever weaving into life’s dull warp
Bright, gorgeous flowers and scenes Arcadian;
Hanging our gloomy prison-house about
With tapestries, that make its walls dilate
In never-ending vistas of delight. 1190
Hyp. Thinking to walk in those Arcadian pastures,
Thou hast run thy noble head against the wall.
SONG (continued)
Thy deceits<
br />
Give us clearly to comprehend,
Whither tend 1195
All thy pleasures, all thy sweets!
They are cheats,
Thorns below and flowers above.
Ah, Love!
Perjured, false, treacherous Love! 1200
Vict. A very pretty song. I thank thee for it.
Hyp. It suits thy case.
Vict. Indeed, I think it does.
What wise man wrote it?
Hyp. Lopez Maldonado.
Vict. In truth, a pretty song.
Hyp. With much truth in it.
I hope thou wilt profit by it; and in earnest 1205
Try to forget this lady of thy love.
Vict. I will forget her! All dear recollections
Pressed in my heart, like flowers within a book,
Shall be torn out, and scattered to the winds!
I will forget her! But perhaps hereafter, 1210
When she shall learn how heartless is the world,
A voice within her will repeat my name,
And she will say, “He was indeed my friend!”
Oh, would I were a soldier, not a scholar,
That the loud march, the deafening beat of drums, 1215
The shattering blast of the brass-throated trumpet,
The din of arms, the onslaught and the storm,
And a swift death, might make me deaf forever
To the upbraidings of this foolish heart!
Hyp. Then let that foolish heart upbraid no more! 1220
To conquer love, one need but will to conquer.
Vict. Yet, good Hypolito, it is in vain
I throw into Oblivion’s sea the sword
That pierces me; for, like Excalibar,
With gemmed and flashing hilt, it will not sink. 1225
There rises from below a hand that grasps it,
And waves it in the air; and wailing voices
Are heard along the shore.
Hyp. And yet at last
Down sank Excalibar to rise no more.
This is not well. In truth, it vexes me. 1230
Instead of whistling to the steeds of Time,
To make them jog on merrily with life’s burden,
Like a dead weight thou hangest on the wheels.
Thou art too young, too full of lusty health
To talk of dying.
Vict. Yet I fain would die! 1235
To go through life, unloving and unloved;
To feel that thirst and hunger of the soul
We cannot still; that longing, that wild impulse,
And struggle after something we have not
And cannot have; the effort to be strong; 1240
And, like the Spartan boy, to smile, and smile,
While secret wounds do bleed beneath our cloaks;
All this the dead feel not, — the dead alone!
Would I were with them!
Hyp. We shall all be soon.
Vict. It cannot be too soon; for I am weary 1245
Of the bewildering masquerade of Life,
Where strangers walk as friends, and friends as strangers;
Where whispers overheard betray false hearts;
And through the mazes of the crowd we chase
Some form of loveliness, that smiles, and beckons, 1250
And cheats us with fair words, only to leave us
A mockery and a jest; maddened, — confused, —
Not knowing friend from foe.
Hyp. Why seek to know?
Enjoy the merry shrove-tide of thy youth!
Take each fair mask for what it gives itself, 1255
Nor strive to look beneath it.
Vict. I confess,
That were the wiser part. But Hope no longer
Comforts my soul. I am a wretched man,
Much like a poor and shipwrecked mariner,
Who, struggling to climb up into the boat, 1260
Has both his bruised and bleeding hands cut off,
And sinks again into the weltering sea,
Helpless and hopeless!
Hyp. Yet thou shalt not perish.
The strength of thine own arm is thy salvation.
Above thy head, through rifted clouds, there shines 1265
A glorious star. Be patient. Trust thy star!
(Sound of a village bell in the distance.)
Vict. Ave Maria! I hear the sacristan
Ringing the chimes from yonder village belfry!
A solemn sound, that echoes far and wide
Over the red roofs of the cottages, 1270
And bids the laboring hind afield, the shepherd,
Guarding his flock, the lonely muleteer,
And all the crowd in village streets, stand still,
And breathe a prayer unto the blessed Virgin!
Hyp. Amen! amen! Not half a league from hence 1275
The village lies.
Vict. This path will lead us to it,
Over the wheat-fields, where the shadows sail
Across the running sea, now green, now blue,
And, like an idle mariner on the main, 1280
Whistles the quail. Come, let us hasten on. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — Public square in the village of Guadarrama. The Ave Maria still tolling. A crowd of villagers, with their hats in their hands, as if in prayer. In front, a group of Gypsies. The bell rings a merrier peal. A Gypsy dance. Enter PANCHO, followed by PEDRO CRESPO.
Pancho. Make room, ye vagabonds and Gypsy thieves!
Make room for the Alcalde and for me!
Pedro C. Keep silence all! I have an edict here
From our most gracious lord, the King of Spain, 1285
Jerusalem, and the Canary Islands,
Which I shall publish in the market-place.
Open your ears and listen!
(Enter the PADRE CURA at the door of his cottage.)
Padre Cura,
Good day! and, pray you, hear this edict read.
Padre C. Good day, and God be with you! 1290
Pray, what is it?
Pedro C. An act of banishment against the Gypsies!
(Agitation and murmurs in the crowd.)
Pancho. Silence!
Pedro C. (reads). “I hereby order and command,
That the Egyptian and Chaldean strangers,
Known by the name of Gypsies, shall henceforth 1295
Be banished from the realm, as vagabonds
And beggars; and if, after seventy days,
Any be found within our kingdom’s bounds,
They shall receive a hundred lashes each;
The second time, shall have their ears cut off; 1300
The third, be slaves for life to him who takes them,
Or burnt as heretics. Signed, I, the King.”
Vile miscreants and creatures unbaptized!
You hear the law! Obey and disappear!
Pancho. And if in seventy days you are not gone, 1305
Dead or alive I make you all my slaves.
(The Gypsies go out in confusion, showing signs of fear and discontent. PANCHO follows.)
Padre C. A righteous law! A very righteous law!
Pray you, sit down.
Pedro C. I thank you heartily.
(They seat themselves on a bench at the PADRE CURA’S door. Sound of guitars heard at a distance, approaching during the dialogue which follows.)
A very righteous judgment, as you say.
Now tell me, Padre Cura, — you know all things, — 1310
How came these Gypsies into Spain?
Padre C. Why, look you;
They came with Hercules from Palestine,
And hence are thieves and vagrants, Sir Alcalde,
As the Simoniacs from Simon Magus.
And, look you, as Fray Jayme Bleda says, 1315
There are a hundred marks to prove a Moor
Is not a Christian, so ‘t is with the Gypsies.
They never marry, never go to mass,
<
br /> Never baptize their children, nor keep Lent,
Nor see the inside of a church, — nor — nor — 1320
Pedro C. Good reasons, good, substantial reasons all!
No matter for the other ninety-five.
They should be burnt, I see it plain enough,
They should be burnt.
(Enter VICTORIAN and HYPOLITO playing.)
Padre C. And pray, whom have we here? 1325
Pedro C. More vagrants! By Saint Lazarus, more vagrants!
Hyp. Good evening, gentlemen! Is this Guadarrama?
Padre C. Yes, Guadarrama, and good evening to you.
Hyp. We seek the Padre Cura of the village;
And, judging from your dress and reverend mien, 1330
You must be he.
Padre C. I am. Pray, what ‘s your pleasure?
Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13) Page 21
