Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

_Ph._ My passion hath aroused
Passion in her; and that must work for me.
Is it likely such a temper would sit down
And eat cold fare at Manuel’s feast of reason?
She will be mine. Ay, tho’ she said betrothed—
Once ’twas to me. So now to see her father;
He’s but a market where I rule with ease.
The papers! By heav’n, I had left them lying! [_Stoops._
Ha!
Blood! blood upon the floor! I have knelt in blood—
Here were an omen, were I superstitious.— 951
And scarcely dry. This city hath fallen accurst.
There is nothing spoke of ... Ah! but what if this
Should be the track they seek? Palicio
Took shelter here! Impossible. Even Blasco
Thought not so ill of Manuel. Yet the other
Under the wall, and this within the house ...
They tally. Peace! I will go search the garden.

[_Exit._

SCENE · 5

_Room in Manuel’s house. PALICIO as before (sitting)._

_PALICIO._

To stand true to a cause because ’tis noble,
Tho’ it be thankless; to command a people 960
Against a tyranny, and teach their arms
To enforce the reasonable rights of life,
Beneath the crushing bond of wealth and power;—
To be an outcast, but to leave a name
Untarnished and beloved, remembered long;—
That was my choice, my hope. Can I now waver?
Shall I—having so well begun—
Step up into a throne above the throng,
And smiling on them from the hated height,
Take life at ease? Nay, when ’tis reasoned so, 970
’Tis hideous.—But, oh! thou treacherous enemy,
Thou selfish and unanswerable passion,
That bluntest resolution, and criest down
The voice of virtue! Margaret, Margaret!
Would I had never seen thee, or believed
I could not win thee. If I now could fly,
I might go free.

_Squarcialupu, who has appeared at the window, gradually thrusting his head between the curtains, and peering round, enters._

_SQUARCIALUPU._

_Sq._ Captain!
_Pal._ Ha! Squarcialupu!
Why, what! how com’st thou here? what dost thou?

_Sq._ Hush!

_Pal._ Begone, I pray.

_Sq._ Nay, now I have found thee, captain.
Thine arm is it only?

_Pal._ A prick in the arm.

_Sq._ So, so! 980
Then thou canst come.

_Pal._ Tell me, how didst thou learn
That I was here?

_Sq._ We guessed it from thy track.

_Pal._ O, God! I’m tracked?

_Sq._ Thy blood is on the wall.
I undertook to tell thee. In the dusk
I scaled this window at the back of the house:
Had my old luck, captain. Make haste and fly.

_Pal._ Stay, stay! I cannot. Is it known to any
I am hiding here?

_Sq._ What use to stay for that?
Come ere they know it.

_Pal._ I cannot.

_Sq._ I can help thee. 990

_Pal._ Nay, ’tis not that, altho’ I am bled to death.
’Tis honour holds me.

_Sq._ Honour will not help
Manuel nor thee, if they should search his house.
But if thou fliest ...

_Pal._ I may not.

_Sq._ That’s no word
Where life’s at stake. What shall I tell thy men?

_Pal._ Where are they?

_Sq._ At the news of thy escape
They gathered on the hills, and wait thee there.
I met a man in the town an hour ago,
Who said he had seen thee riding on the road
To Monreale. All the folk’s astir. 1000

_Pal._ I cannot come.

_Sq._ Give me not such a word.
Who would believe I had seen thee, if I said
Palicio lieth safe in Manuel’s house,
And saith he cannot come?

_Pal._ Begone, I bid thee,
Lest thou be found here.

_Sq._ Nay, I’ll not be gone.
’Tis but some twenty feet: I’ll lift thee down.
The street is watched.

_Pal._ Hark, Squarcialupu, tell me;
Is’t true I’m tracked?

_Sq._ ’Tis certain.

_Pal._ Then I think
If Manuel knew of this ... Hark, I will come.
Go thou and tell my men that I will come. 1010
To-morrow morning let them look to find me
At Monreale. If I come not then
Let none look for me more. But if I come
All shall be well. Go thou and tell them this.

_Sq._ Come, captain, while thou mayst.

_Pal._ I bid thee go.
Obey me at once.

_Sq._ (_whistles at window and is answered_). I have thy promise.
To-morrow we shall see thee. [_Exit._

_Pal._ But for this cursed wound
I had fled. To cure it must I risk my soul?
Fool that I was, had I escaped with him 1019
I might have found a surgeon—now when she comes
I will say nothing. Nothing ... yet, that’s no hope;
For seeing her I must love her: and if I fail
To win her wholly, I must lose my soul
She is here. (_Aside._) Ah! what is this?

_Enter Margaret, with Rosso blindfold._

_MARGARET_ (_to Rosso_).

You now are in the room. Stand in your place.
While I make ready. (_To Pal._) Let me wrap this cloth
About thy face. Lie ever still, and speak not.
(_To Rosso._) Your eyes, sir, are at liberty.

_ROSSO_ (_unbandaging_).

Coming hither,
I thought ’twould make a pretty poem to tell
Of one, whose cruel mistress ne’er allowed 1030
The meanest favour, till he dreamed one night
That he was blind, and she, in pity of him,
Led him forth by the hand where he would go,
But left him suddenly; whereat he awoke,
And wished no more to see ...

_Mar._ Now, sir Apollo, come. Here lies your patient.
Give him your aid, and tell your poem after.

_Ros._ Well, let us see. Ay, here is all I need.
Set them thus on the table, and here the light,
So. (_arranging_). ’Tis the right arm. (_unbinding_.) Ah!
when was this done? 1040

_Mar._ Have you forgot, sir? questions are forbidden.

_Ros._ See, thou must hold his arm for me. Press here
Thy fingers; firmly,—so. Thou dost not faint
At sight of blood?

_Mar._ Nay, nay. And yet I know not.
If there be much, I faint.

_Ros._ (_operating_). I had forgotten
I might not question;—’tis a surgeon’s habit.—
First,—for where all are eager with their tale,—
’Tis only courteous to invite the telling:—
But chiefly—that it stablishes his judgment—
Built on appearances,—and banishes 1050
Conjecture from experience;—as ’twould now
For me,—should this man say,—’twas yesterday
The wound was made;—and he that dealt it me
Stood on my left,—and thro’ my arm outstretched,—
In attitude of striking at another,—
Thrust with—a sword.—Stir not, ’tis nearly done.—
But I withdrew my arm ere he his weapon.—
Loose not thy grasp: loose not!

_Mar._ Sir, my attention
Was taken by your story. Never speak:
’Twill mar your work. 1060

_Ros._ ’Tis a small thing. ’Tis done.
’Twas an unlucky lunge that lanced thee there.
(_To Mar._) What thinkest thou of my story?

_Mar._ ’Twas but guessing.

_Ros._ Nay, inference. ’Twere guess to say, the skill
Which staunched the running blood, but could no more,
Might be thy brother’s: that this sunburnt arm,
Fine skin, and youthful fibre, were the body
Of John Palicio.

_Pal._ (_discovering_). I am betrayed!

_Ros._ Not so:
Then had I held my tongue.

_Pal._ True.—What’s thy name?

_Ros._ My name is Rosso. Sling thine arm across:
There must it rest until the wound be healed. 1070

_Mar._ You have guessed the secret, sir, which we withheld
In your respect. This is my brother’s house;
This is Palicio. Guard now what you have learned
As closely, I pray, as if we had freely told it.

_Ros._ Not to thee, lady, though in this and all
I am thy servant; yet not now to thee
I speak, but to Giovànn Palicio;
To whom I say he need not ask of me
Promise or oath. The good I am proud to have done
I shall not spoil by blabbing.

_Pal._ Thank thee, Rosso. 1080

_Ros._ Noble and brave Palicio, mayst thou prosper.

[_Bandaging his own eyes._

_Pal._ Thank thee, I thank thee, Rosso. So now my arm
Is mended. By heaven! this surgery hath a trick
Worth knowing, could one learn it easily.

_Ros._ (_blindfold_). Come, lady, and lead me forth.

_Mar._ Why, what is this?
You know your way: there’s nothing now to hide.

_Ros._ Didst thou not bargain with me to lead me back?

_Mar._ But there’s no need.

_Ros._ Yet will I claim my fee.
Where is thy hand?

_Mar._ Sir, you but trifle.

_Ros._ And thou
Refusest me in a trifle? Then I will dare (_unbandaging_)
To raise my terms. If I may kiss thy hand 1091
I’ll be content.

_Mar._ ’Tis I, sir, should kiss yours.
’Tis that hath earned the homage: and I’ll be
kind.
That hath done well; and thus I kiss it. (_Kisses Rosso’s
hand._) Now,
Go, go in peace: thou’rt paid. [_Making him go out._

[_Exit Rosso._

_Pal._ (_sitting_). Why didst thou that?

_Mar._ He loves me.

_Pal._ Wouldst thou be as kind to me,
If I should love thee?

_Mar._ But he sends me sonnets.

_Pal._ I could write sonnets.

_Mar._ Ah, but his are writ
In pure Sicilian.

_Pal._ ’Tis my proper tongue.

_Mar._ I have kept my promise, sir, and now must leave. 1100
Your wound is healed.

_Pal._ I fear I scarce can thank thee,
If ’tis thy word to go. Or, if thou stayest
But to cure wounds,—I have another wound
I shewed thee not, which hath a deeper seat:
This hand may cure it.

_Mar._ Nay, what mean you, sir?

_Pal._ Margaret, I love thee. There, thou hast it all.
Thou hast stolen my soul. I thought—my pride, my hope—
O, I thought wrong—’tis nothing. All I have done,
Or would do, I cast aside: I love thee only.

_Mar._ Giovanni. 1010

_Pal._ O, ’tis true, there’s nothing noble,
Beautiful, sacred, dear, familiar to me,
I hold now at a straw’s worth: body and soul
I am thine, Margaret, I am thine. O, answer me!

_Mar._ Giovanni, ’tis so strange. ’Tis best I go.

_Pal._ Thou didst kiss Rosso’s hand.

_Mar._ For love of thee.
Didst thou not guess?

_Pal._ O, then, my dearest, kiss me
Now for myself. Can it be true thou lovest me?

_Mar._ Alas! ’tis learned too quickly.

_Pal._ Can I think it,
Spite of my savage life, my outlawry,
My poverty?

_Mar._ O, what are these?

_Pal._ Indeed, 1120
My blood is noble.

_Mar._ These are not the checks
Or lures of love. Nay, what is noble blood?
What were’t to be a lion, and to fly
The hunter like a hare? And if man shew
Less fearless fierce and hungry for the right
Than doth a beast for food, what is his title
To be God’s image worth? That best nobility
Hath no more claim.

_Pal._ But canst thou share my life?

_Mar._ I am restless for it.

_Pal._ Leave thy rank? thy wealth?

_Mar._ I have lived too long that counterfeit of life.
I’ll strive like thee: something I’ll do, like thee,
To lessen misery. Nay, if man’s curse 1132
Hang in necessity, I have the heart
To combat that, and find if in some part
Fate be not vulnerable.

_Pal._ O joy, my dearest:
I wronged thee ages by a moment’s thought
That thou wouldst shrink ... Then is our marriage fixed?

_Mar._ There’s none can hinder it.

_Pal._ O, blessed joy!
Yet how can I be sure, love, that thou knowest,
Finding the word so easy, what a mountain 1140
There lies to lift? Pledging to me and mine
Thy heart this hour, a hundred thousand stings
Will plague thee from this moment, to drive thee back.

_Mar._ Try me, Giovanni.

_Pal._ Wilt thou aid me, love,
To fly to-night? By morning I may meet
My men at San Martino: all my schemes
May yet be saved.

_Mar._ Ah! wilt thou go, Giovanni?
Thou’rt yet too weak.

_Pal._ My presence, not my strength,
Is needed.

_Mar._ Alas! I fear.

_Pal._ What, Margaret, dost thou fear?

_Mar._ Only for thee. Yet go; I can be with thee
By noon. My brother has a little house 1151
At Monreale, where I am used to stay
When the wish takes me. There I’ll go to-morrow,
And thence can visit thee. Thou didst not mean
I should not come? I shall not hinder thee.

_Pal._ Nay, nay.

_Mar._ I’ll let thee from the house to-night,
And give thee money which will aid thee well.
My brother need know nothing. I can make
The journey thither in an hour, and choose
My time to beg his grace.

_Pal._ What do I owe thee! 1160
Freedom, and life, and love,—thy love ... O, Margaret,
What I shall do will pay thee.

_Mar._ I must leave:
For Manuel else will question of my stay.

_Pal._ My treasure lost so soon!

_Mar._ I go to save
What we have won. Farewell.

_Pal._ Say at what hour
I may go hence; and how.

_Mar._ At dead of night:
’Tis safest then.

_Pal._ And wilt thou come thyself?

_Mar._ When the church bell with double stroke hath tolled
The death-knell of to-morrow’s second hour,
While its last jar yet shelters in the ear, 1170
Listen: and at thy door when thou shalt catch
A small and wakeful noise, such as is made
By the sharp teeth of an unventurous mouse,
Scraping his scanty feast when all is still,
Come forth. Thou’lt meet my hand, and at the gate
I’ll give thee what I have. Tied in thy bundle
Will be a letter shewing thee the place
Where thou must send me tidings. Now, farewell.

_Pal._ Yet not farewell.

_Mar._ To-night I shall not see thee:
Nor must thou speak. So, till to-morrow’s sun 1180
Lasts our farewell.

_Pal._ Then with to-morrow, Margaret,
My life begins.

_Mar._ O, ’tis the greater joy
For me than thee.

_Pal._ Ay, for the giver ever
Hath the best share. And thus I kiss thee, love.
Farewell.

_Mar._ Be ready.

_Pal._ Trust me.

_Mar._ And take thy dagger.
Farewell. [_Going._

ACT · III

SCENE · 1

_Hall in Manuel’s house. MANUEL and MARGARET._

_MANUEL._

Nay, ’twas ill done. The open window shews
He made a breakneck leap into the street.
I searched the room, in case he might have left
Some explanation written: there was none. 1190
I am vexed. ’Tis a most graceless breach of trust.

_MARGARET._

What promise made he?

_Man._ None was asked. The knowledge
Of duty were enough to bind a man
Far less obliged. And then ’tis thankless, Margaret.
Twice have we saved his life: first I, then thou:
And while we sleep he flies. I blame myself,
I should have pledged his word.

_Mar._ Hadst thou so done,
He would have stayed.

_Man._ I know not. Now he is gone ...
Go set his room as if he had never been.
We must forget the matter. I have summons 1200
From Hugo, and must leave.

_Mar._ And when I have done
Thy bidding, may I go to Monreale?

_Man._ You wish it?

_Mar._ Yes.

_Man._ What calls you there?

_Mar._ A visit.
I’ll take Lucia, and can ride Rosamund.

_Man._ Nay, nay, I would not have it. Thou wilt meet
With Rosso’s people, maybe Rosso himself;
And he might misinterpret ... and I think
So soon after your game of blindman’s buff,
That since thou canst not love him ...

_Mar._ Manuel, I promise—

_Man._ I want no promises; but if thou goest 1210
Remember ...

_Mar._ Why, I’ll promise ...

_Man._ Nay, I bid.
Only be wise. Wilt thou be back to-night?

_Mar._ To-morrow, may I stay so long?

_Man._ Ay, stay.
Have good care of thyself. Farewell. [_Exit._

_Mar._ Farewell.
(_Calling._) Lucia, Lucia; come, Lucia, come!

_Enter Lucia._

_LUCIA._

My lady.

_Mar._ To horse, Lucia! we start at once.
Order the horses.

_Lu._ Holy Mary, defend us!
It cannot be thou meanest ...

_Mar._ What is this, now?
Last night didst thou not promise?

_Lu._ If I did,
’Twas madness: think of the risk.

_Mar._ I take the risk. 1220

_Lu._ Consider.

_Mar._ I have considered.

_Lu._ O, dear mistress,
I fear all will not end well; think again.
Think what thou leavest.

_Mar._ I think I shall leave thee.

_Lu._ But when shall we return?

_Mar._ Maybe to-morrow.
Order the horses. I shall go without thee.
Quick, quick, begone!

_Lu._ Well, well. Thou hast found a man:
I being a woman must help thee, tho’ ’tis madness.

_Mar._ Go, girl: I know it. Thou’lt be true, Lucia:
Only be quick.

_Lu._ Well, well: may heaven forgive us. [_Exit._

_Mar._ Forgive, she saith. Forgive me rather, oh heaven! 1230
The sourness of my spirit hitherto:
Yet now forgive me not if I dare tamper
With this intrinsic passion. O joy, my joy!
This beauteous world is mine:
All Sicily is mine:
This morning mine. I saw the sun, my slave,
Poising on high his shorn and naked orb
For my delight. He there had stayed for me,
Had he not read it in my heart’s delight
I bade him on. The birds at dawn sang to me, 1240
Crying ’Is life not sweet? O is’t not sweet?’
I looked upon the sea; there was not one,
Of all his multitudinous waves, not one,
That with its watery drift at raking speed
Told not my special joy. O happy lovers
In all the world, praise God with me: his angels
Envy us, seeing we are his favourites.
What else could grant such joy? Now on my journey
Must I set forth, to be a brigand’s wife ...
That’s but the outward of it, and looks strange:
For, oh, the heart of it is a fire of passion 1251
To lick up trifling life. Away, such dainty stuff:
Let me stand forth myself.—Yet ere I go
I must send Constance word. To whom to trust
My letter? Ah, Philip ...

_Enter Philip._

_PHILIP._

Good morning, Margaret.

_Mar._ Good morning, duke: thou goest to the palace?

_Ph._ Ay.

_Mar._ May I ask thee, then, to bear this letter
To Constance? I’d not trust it willingly
Where it might wander.

_Ph._ ’Twill pass from my hands
To hers.

_Mar._ Pray tell her, for my health I go 1260
To Monreale, or would have come myself.

_Ph._ I’ll tell her so. I pray the change restore thee,—
And soon. Indeed thou look’st not well. Farewell.

_Mar._ Farewell. (_Aside._) Look I then ill? I never felt
So light and keen in spirit. [_Exit._

_Ph._ (_solus_). This fits in, too. She is sent to Monreale,
Lest she should make discovery. ’Tis thus
I join the threads. Palicio climbed the wall,
Came hither thro’ the garden: here he stayed
And bound his wound. So far the track. There has been
At least no care to hide it; and now he lies 1271
In the room across the courtyard: wherefore else
Drawn curtains, and the lamp, which yesterday
Burnt, as I saw, in the afternoon? All credit
To the king’s commissioner. Yet must I dissemble,
And not appear in the matter. ’Tis incredible
Of Manuel. What will he allege? He is gone
To the palace now: thither must I, and face him.

[_Exit._

SCENE · 2

_On the hills above Monreale. Brigands fantastically dressed and
armed are seated about on the rocks, with drinking-cups and remains
of feast. PALICIO, in a black suit, his right arm in a sling. Much
talking and singing, or the scene may open with the following song_—

_SONG._

_I would not change the hills that I range
For a house in the city street:_ 1280
_Nor the price on my head for a tax on my bread.
Liberty, lads, is sweet._

(_Palicio getting up on a rock waves them to silence._)

_SQUARCIALUPU._

Long live Lord Palicio!

_All._ Huzzah! Huzzah!

_PALICIO._

Thank you, my men. Now silence; I must tell you
The feast is o’er, our meeting at an end.
We have laid our plans: but their success depends
On zealous preparation. Ye must to work.

_A brigand._ We have another song yet, captain.

_Pal._ See ye the sun is on this side of the city.

_Brigands._ The song, the song! 1290

_Pal._ What is this song ye call for?

_A brigand._ May’t please your honour,
If Squarcia sing we’ll be content.

_Sq._ I know
What they would have.

_Pal._ Sing then: and cut it short.

_Sq._ Nay, that lies with the chorus. Who hath the lute?

_SONG._

_If you’d hear me sing,
Why give me a skin of wine.
Creatures have their several ways,
Edod! and I have mine,_
CHOR. _And I have mine._ (_ad lib._)
_Edod! and I have mine._ 1300
_If you’d see me fight,
Why let me taste good cheer.
Was not I as good as my word?
Edod! am I not here?_

CHOR. _Am I not here?_ (_ad lib._)

(_Palicio gets up as before._)

_Sq._ Enough, enough! silence! Now were ye not
A set of loons ... make silence for the captain.

_Pal._ Hark, men: I bid you leave, each silently
And separately to his allotted task.
Gather your companies at tryst to-night; 1310
Acquaint them of our plans. Once, ere ye go,
Look on those tyrannous towers, and swear revenge.
Revenge on them that grind the people down!
That tax our bread and wine! To-morrow night
Hugo shall need no candles.

_Brigands._ Revenge, revenge. Huzzah! Death to Hugo!
Burn him!

_Pal._ Not him, the palace: ’tis to burn the palace.
Him we must take alive.

_Brigands._ Not kill him, no.
Treat him as he would us.

_Pal._ If ye love colour, 1320
His gold is ruddier than his coward blood.

_Brigands._ Ay, ay, his gold—a ransom. Bleed his bags.

_Pal._ Above all, none forget good Manuel’s kindness,
And what I have told you. If any meet with him
And hurt a hair of his head, ’tis ...

_Brigands._ Death.

_Pal._ ’Tis death.
Swear all, ’tis death.

_All._ We swear.

_Pal._ Now to your work.

_Brigands._ Huzzah!

_Pal._ Secretly, then. Farewell! To-morrow night
I’ll meet you all. God grant us a good meeting.
Farewell. [_Exit._

_Brigands._ Huzzah! 1330

_During following scene the brigands going, carrying off
things to cave._

_Sq._ Come, help clear off this gear to the cave.

_A brigand._ Any wine in yon skin, good Squarcia?

_Sq._ Ay, for the chewing.

_Brig._ Thank ye. I’m off. Good-day, lads. [_Exit._

_Sq._ Did I not well, I say?

_A brigand._ But how didst thou find him?—tell us.

_Sq._ Trust me. Not that ’twas a thing within the
bounds of mortal cleverness if a man should want
luck. But I’d buy the dog that would have run as
straight for him, as ’twere denoted by scent or instinct.
To climb the very wall, and in at the window,
and there to see him just face to face: on a fine
couch in a pleasant chamber enough, with his arm
bandaged ... 1344

_Brig._ Is his arm broke?

_Sq._ Ay, and where the nerve runs to the heart:
the lady told me a thousand times that ’twere mortal
to move it; and the surgeon who bound it said that
his balance hung by a thread.

_Brig._ The lady was with him, then. Didst thou
see her? 1351

_Sq._ It’s not all I see I’m bound to tell. But if she
was not there, how should she be here? And had
I not persuaded her, would she have let him come,
think you? And that a matter of disputation, an hour
and more.

_Brig._ How could she stay him?

_Sq._ Let alone wounds and surgeons, shall a lady
have nothing to say? And she’s hard hit, I take it.
A fine piece, and brings money with her. 1360

_Brig._ And what may spoil his fighting.

_Sq._ Wilt thou grudge the captain what he has fairly
won? Or must thou be served first?

_Brig._ Serve me soon, and serve me well. Yet I like
not the lady. [_Exit._

_Sq._ Nay, nor the coin neither, I’ll go bound. How
should he? Nay ... Wouldn’t old Beedo now have
liked to have been here?

_A brigand._ Well, he would.

_Another._ Why came he not? 1370

_Sq._ A bad reason, man, but a good excuse.

_Brig._ How mean you?

_Sq._ As if thou hadst never been on the wrong side
of four walls! tell not me. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Palicio and Margaret._

_Pal._ Now thou know’st all.

_MARGARET._

But is that all, Giovanni?

_Pal._ Saw’st thou them well from where thou wert?

_Mar._ Ay, tell me:
The man in the blue jacket, who is he?

_Pal._ That’s Squarcialupu: he’s my first lieutenant.
Did they not greet me?

_Mar._ I could count eighteen.
Are there no more?

_Pal._ The least of these can muster 1380
Twenty as brave.

_Mar._ That’s not six hundred men.

_Pal._ But with them I can raise the town.

_Mar._ ’Tis pity
The barons stand aloof.

_Pal._ They hold together
On certain claims that touch their own estate.
But in their hate of Hugo they will join us
At first report of our success; and that
I’ll make flame forth.

_Mar._ Alas! what canst thou do,
Having so little means?

_Pal._ To-morrow night
We shall surround the palace and capture Hugo. 1389

_Mar._ One regiment could drive all thy men away.

_Pal._ He dare not give the word.

_Mar._ How know’st thou that?

_Pal._ I have sprung a cranny in his council-board,
Thro’ which crumbs fall to me.

_Mar._ Nay, but you force him ...
The viceroy to yield up his power to a rebel!
Hugo, his person to your hated hands!

_Pal._ Well, he may fly; and then my word is, _Sack
And fire the palace_.

_Mar._ Giovanni, if he fight,
Thou wilt be killed or taken.

_Pal._ And what of that?

_Mar._ What, askest thou! ask what! Methinks the world
Holds but one treasure—thee: and thou dost wrong
Creation, staking all her store at once 1401
On such a sleight of fortune. It shall not be.
Nay, for my sake it shall not. Dost thou love me?

_Pal._ Love thee? O, Margaret, when I look on thee,
And see the dazzling wealth, with which I hardly
Shall scrape to heaven, may God forgive me, love,
But I would be for ever pinched in hell,
Rather than miss thee.

_Mar._ To me art thou as precious:
Therefore be wise. Where is the list of names?

_Pal._ ’Tis here.

_Mar._ What read I here? These are thy captains,
Palicio: these thy rivals, Margaret! 1411
Why, ’mongst these names—nay, tho’ I here see names
Renowned for outrage—there is not one name
Of such respect, that I can think it possible
Its leadership can bid thee cast away
Thy life, my life, our love.

_Pal._ They are all brave men.

_Mar._ They are ignorant, desperate, and reckless men.

_Pal._ ’Tis by such recklessness I come at right.

_Mar._ ’Tis recklessness throughout. See, thou art wounded
And weak; a price upon thy head: think of it,—
And trust the people’s rights to Manuel; 1421
Leave them to the barons: we’ve a better task:
Sail o’er to Rome, there reassume thy rank;
Let us be married, and await the day
That Manuel finds thy pardon.

_Pal._ Tempt me not, Margaret.

_Mar._ Else are we lost.

_Pal._ Nay, fear not: there’s a traitor
In the enemy’s camp; from whom I’ll have such tidings
As will ensure success.

_Mar._ Who is it?

_Pal._ Blasco.

_Mar._ Blasco!

_Pal._ He hath your money; and for that price
Will tell how Hugo may be best surprised. 1430
That is my venture, Margaret ... If it fail ...

_Mar._ Thou wilt be slain.

_Pal._ Nay, I may still escape.

_Mar._ And then thou’lt come?

_Pal._ I will.

_Mar._ Promise but that:
That if this venture fail, and thou escape,
Thou wilt not risk again.

_Pal._ Ay, if I fail.

_Mar._ Promise.

_Pal._ I promise.

_Mar._ Thou wilt lose nothing, for my brother alone
Can do much more than thou with these base men,
Who stain the cause. One favour more.

_Pal._ What is it?

_Mar._ ’Tis that this evening, love, be spent together.

_Pal._ I mean it should. To-night our fellows meet
In various rendezvous, as you may see 1442
Upon the paper. There are ten in all
They will not need my presence till to-morrow,
When the bands join at sundown. O, Margaret:
I knew that thou wouldst come.

_Mar._ I think, Giovanni,
Thou shouldst have met me first thyself: thy men
Are rough.

_Pal._ Was any rude?

_Mar._ Nay, ’twas well meant,
But sounded strangely.

_Pal._ Say but who it was.

_Mar._ No, ’tis forgiven. 1450

_Pal._ (_going_). Kiss me.

_Mar._ Ah, now, Giovanni,
Where wilt thou go?

_Pal._ But for one hour, my dearest,
I must be absent. Then shall I be yours
For all the day.

_Mar._ Farewell. And prithee send
Lucia. I will await thee.

_Pal._ Farewell. [_Exit._

_Mar._ I have his promise,
If this scheme fail. ’Tis mine to make it fail.
O, ’tis too dangerous: to trust so far
That dollar-ballasted Iscariot,
The weather-trimming Blasco.—The paper! the list!
I’ll have their names. Where can I write them? Ah!
My prayer-book. I will send them straight to Hugo.
Poor Constance! Burn the palace! Ay, and thee,
For aught they care. Now, who comes first? Bendettu
Jacupu ... and your place?—within the cloister 1463
Of Santo Spirito. Next, Squarcialupu ...
Why, that’s the ruffian who would like a dozen
Wives such as I. He’ll find one were too many.
Go you to prison, sir, and cool your thoughts.
You burn the palace!—Messer Vincentiu
Lazaru ... at his peltry shed at Baido.
Now there’s two pages of them: the little prayers
Will hardly shrive them ... here’s one I cannot read.
B-o-n-o-Bononio, now I have him. 1472
Why who could trust such men? Set them in power
But for a day ... say this next villain here,
Fardello ... he’s a murderer—ay, for him
I write his death, maybe: but for the rest
I’ll take such care that Manuel’s voice shall ease
Their accusation. Now I have them all.
Lucia! Ho, Lucia!

_Enter Lucia._

See, take this book:
Return straight to Palermo: find some friend, 1480
Whom thou canst trust: commit it to her hands;
Tell her to give it secretly to Livio,
Bidding him read what is writ down in the margins;
And say ’twas given to her by one she knew not,
And with that message. All our happiness
Is staked on this. Begone. Haste for thy life.

_LUCIA._

Alas! what’s this?

_Mar._ Why, have I frighted thee?
Be brave: I tell thee on this single thread
My life is hanging.

_Lu._ Trust me, lady, I’d risk
Ten lives for that.

_Mar._ Hide it. I trust thee. Go. 1490
I have played a bold stroke here: but if it prosper,
For Constance, and Giovanni, and myself,
’Tis not ill done. [_Exeunt._

SCENE · 3

_A room in the Palace. Enter HUGO and CONSTANCE._

_HUGO._

Thou hast a daughter’s duty, I a father’s:
’Tis mine to seek thy good, thine to obey.

_CONSTANCE._

I pray thee, father, hear me.

_Hu._ I have heard thee.
Thou tellest me nought but what I know. The duke
Hath been with me: his purpose to renew
His suit hath my support. ’Tis very honourable—
It shall be welcome. Though thy words to him 1500
Betrayed reluctance, that makes yet no reason
To shun him. He will presently be here:
Stay and receive him.

_Con._ O, if I do not dream,
Heaven help me now!

_Hu._ Constance, I pray, be sober.
I am sorry for thee: but what seems thy grief
Will be thy comfort, when thou learn’st the cause
Which presses me to urge it.

_Con._ What lies behind?
What misery? Say!

_Hu._ Manuel, whom late we trusted,
Hath turned against me. He hath joined the rebels.

_Con._ Who dares to slander him? 1510

_Hu._ Fact makes no room
For slander. The devil himself could not invent
A tale to blacken him. First to the court
He hath writ of me in secret, in the sense
That I have stirred the king’s men to rebellion
By my misrule; and all the while at home
He feeds the mischief, and most treacherously
Favours the rebels, so to magnify
The blame on me he charges.

_Con._ The crime’s too great.
If this be all I breathe again. The time 1519
When thou wilt prove this ’twill away like smoke.
Not till ’tis proved question our marriage, father.

_Hu._ The question now with him is not of marriage,
But of his head.

_Con._ Shame, shame! if these be words,
What is their sense?

_Hu._ To-morrow, or to-day,
I shall have proof.

_Con._ I knew ’twas all unproven.
Who brought this lie, and propped it with the promise
To make it true?

_Hu._ Go, girl, I hear the duke.
He must not see thee thus.

_Con._ So far is well.
I gladly go.—Dear father!

_Hu._ Go take thy grief
Where thou canst comfort it. This Manuel 1530
Hath not deceived thee more than me, and me
Would have more grossly wronged.

_Con._ Alas! alas! [_Exit._

_Hu._ The proof will be to search his house, and so
Both knaves are caught at once. Now to that end
Lest he get wind of it I have bid him hither,
And shall detain him till ’tis done.

_Enter Philip._

Your grace,
I have stayed for you.

_PHILIP._

’Tis well. I bring conviction.
Palicio lies in Manuel’s house. His room
Is locked and darkened: save for that, and orders
That none shall enter, there is no precaution. 1540

_Hu._ The abominable Pharisee!

_Ph._ Now Margaret hath been hurried from the house
On plea of health: I bear a letter from her
To Constance.

_Hu._ Give’t me.

_Ph._ Pardon, your excellence;
I promised I would see it in Constance’s hands.

_Hu._ My hands are hers: a daughter cannot read
Letters her father may not. Nay, the more
Such right’s resented, more’s the need to use it.—
And from a traitor’s house!

_Ph._ (_giving_). Your privilege, sir,
Invades my honour. 1550

_Hu._ Tut, tut, tut, ’tis mine: [_Takes it._
Be not so squeamish. [_Reads._

_I can write all’s well.
Yet, as thou lovest Manuel, breathe no word
Of aught I saw. I go from home to-day;
Will see thee when returned._—Why, this is nothing.

_Ph._ Taken alone ’twere nothing; but there’s nothing
Could better fit our knowledge; nay it adds
To what we know. I see that Margaret flies
From the discovery that she hath made herself;
And fears for Manuel. I grieve but for her.
His enmity to you precludes all pity. 1560
I have come to see his papers, which contain
Charges against your excellence, prepared
With such unfriendly skill, that to discredit them,
Should ever they reach court, would cost far more
Than any price or pains you now might spend
In their suppression.

_Hu._ O, the double-faced
Pretentious Greek! But in this other matter
We have him. I’ll charge the deed to his face. He’ll not
Deny it. The embassy delayed last night
May sail this evening, and with them aboard 1570
Shall Manuel fare to the king with his accusers.
We shall at least be rid of him. I will call him.

[_Rings a bell._

Thou hast done me a good service.

_Ph._ Shall I remain?

_Hu._ I beg you. The cursed villain!

_Enter Servant._

I await
The chief justiciary. Shew him hither. [_Exit servt._

_Ph._ (_aside_). I shall not face him well. He must not guess
My part in this: say he be proved a traitor,
And I abhor all such as undermine
The fabric of the throne,—yet have I shared
His guilt at heart, both in my wish to find it 1580
And from my profit in it! ’Twould seem less foul
To steal a man’s fair earnings than to glean
The waste of his crime. I’ll stand and take what comes.

_Enter Manuel._

_MANUEL._

My service to your excellence.

_Hu._ Ay, well.
’Tis of thy service I would speak. Attend me.
Thou art an honest man; in all Palermo
No name so fair as thine. There’s none would dream
That thou at any press wouldst blink the right
In thine own interest: now for these three years
Thou hast done justice honour, holding up 1590
Her majesty for worship: we ourselves
Have strained or waived opinion oftentimes
In trust of thee. ’Twas not then at first hearing
We took the tale which strong concurrent proofs
Now make me charge thee with. Know that ’tis said
That thou hast given a refuge in thy house
To John Palicio. Deny’t, I pray thee.

_Man_. ’Tis true, your excellence.

_Hu._ Then first I bid thee
Return him into custody.

_Man._ Last night
He left me without warning. 1600

_Hu._ Gone! Then, by heaven!
Thou’rt doubly guilty.

_Man._ I admit my guilt
Upon the point of negligence: for the rest
I beg your excellence will hear my plea.
Palicio is my kinsman: he was driven
Without his purpose, nor with my connivance,
To shelter in my house. The claim of nature
Withstood the challenge of my royal duty
Suspended now in the interregnum ...

_Hu._ Enough!
Thou dost admit the act: ’tis downright treason.
I’ll hear no answer. Though thou wouldst deny
My authority, thou shalt not doubt my power. 1611
Thou art my prisoner. To-night the embassy
Will sail for Spain. Thou goest with them to plead
Thy cause before the king.

_Man._ I shall be ready, sire.

_Hu._ Thou wilt be here detained until thy house
Is searched: which done thou wilt go home, and there
Resign thy keys. Knowing thy doings, sir,
I treat thee as I find thee. We are enemies.

_Man._ I pray your excellence, for your daughter’s sake ... 1619

_Hu._ My daughter! could I wed her to a traitor,
Would she herself consent?

_Enter LIVIO with the book, and BLASCO._

_Man._ Call me not traitor,
Ere I be proved one.

_Hu._ (_to Bl._). Ho! call in the guard. [_Exit Blasco._
(_To Liv._) What bring you, son? [_Talks with him._

_Man._ (_to Ph._). Philip, before I go;—
Thou see’st my case. Fate would look black upon me,
Left I no friend to speak for me: but thee
I trust. Tell Constance what thou knowest; the rest
Margaret can tell you. Add thereto assurance
Both of my innocence and speedy acquittal.

_Re-enter Blasco with Guards._

One word and I am gone. Beware of Blasco.
He bears two faces. See he be not trusted 1630
With aught of moment.

_Hu._ (_to officer of guard_). The chief justiciary is your prisoner
On charge of treason. Guard him in the palace
Till you hear more.

_Man._ (_to Ph._). Stand my friend, and God aid thee.

[_Exit guarded._

_Ph._ (_aside_). And so I may. I am not yet stepped so far
That I must push my purpose, where it wounds
Such ample trust.

_Hu._ Philip, see here.

_Ph._ What, sire?

_Hu._ From some most friendly hand we have full tidings
Of all the rebels; where they may be seized
This very night.

_Ph._ (_to Liv._). You bring it?

_Liv._ They are betrayed 1640
By some one of themselves.

_Hu._ ’Twill end the matter.

_Ph._ How came you by it?

_Liv._ A woman brought it me,
Who said ’twas thrust into her hands by one
She knew not, who escaped. She hath since confessed
That ’twas a maid of Manuel’s.

_Bl._ Look you, tho’,
How close this follows the discovery
Of Manuel’s treason. It must be that some,
On whom he used constraint, smelling his fall
Return to loyalty.

_Hu._ Most like. Now, Livio,
Seize them to-night. See thou observe in all 1650
The dispositions which I have shewn thee. Stay,
There’s first a vacancy to fill: I make thee
Justiciary in Manuel’s place: in thine
I will take Blasco for my secretary.
Meanwhile I lend him thee: thou wilt have need
Of his experience.

_Liv._ I thank thee, father.

_Bl._ And I, your excellence.

_Hu._ Now to your work.
And then to Manuel’s house, and take possession
Of all thy office gives thee.

[_Exeunt Livio and Blasco._

_Hu._ (_to Ph._). Thy matter next:
I will fetch Constance.

_Ph._ Not now, I pray, not now! 1660

_Hu._ Nay, wherefore wait? This business shall be settled
In a few words. I’ll bring her to thee straight.

[_Exit._

_Ph._ I pray you. Nay, he is gone. I must stand to it.
I play to win; and now the stakes are mine;
Unless against myself for friendship’s claim
I should uphold my rival. And he’s guilty.
The papers were his own: them he confessed,
And only deepened treason by the excuse
Of kinship with the rebel. And then his servants
Cognizant.—On the other hand his confidence 1670
Staggering the evidence: his trust in me
To comfort Constance. How should Margaret know
More than the facts, or I deny the facts,
Should I plead for him? And yet against the facts
The man himself: his soul revealed to me;
And my persuasion of him. O, he has fallen
To the popular side. Moreover, his acquittal
Were Hugo’s ruin. I cannot help him: nay,
Not though I would; and Fate, which thrusts him down,
Is kind to me.

_Re-enter Hugo with Constance._

_Hu._ Constance, see here the duke: 1680
He hath asked your hand of me: and I most happy
In such a match have granted it.

_Con._ I am here
Fooled by a promise of evil, but not this.
This is not Manuel’s treason. First of that:
Where’s the pretended proof?

_Hu._ He hath confessed it.

_Con._ This tale convicts itself. Treason is close,
And doth not bare the breast. Though here the man
Ye wrong were likelier to confess such crime
Than once be guilty of it.

_Hu._ He both is guilty
And hath confessed.

_Con._ To what hath he confessed? 1690
What deed that hatred thus can magnify?

_Hu._ ’Twas he contrived Palicio’s late escape;
And being detected and charged by me therewith,
He hath here this hour confessed it. Since which time
One of his household hath been traced in league
With the conspirators.

_Con._ I believe it not.
Would he speak for you, he were here to speak.

_Hu._ But if at least he hath gone out from the palace
Under strict guard, and sails to-night for Spain?

_Con._ He is gone? 1700

_Hu._ He is gone.

_Con._ Under constraint?

_Hu._ Most certain,
And charged with treason.

_Con._ (_turning to Ph._). Now, Philip, I bid thee speak.

_Ph._ Ay, Constance, it is true, but ...

_Con._ Ay? thou too.
Ay and but: falsest falsehood, seeking grace
In shame. I knew devilry lurked about
When I came hither. I’ll go. I’ll not believe.
I shall know truth at last. [_Going._

_Hu._ Nay, Constance, stay.
Philip will answer thee. Thou questionest him;
Hear him with patience. I shall leave thee with him.
Thou hast been a duteous daughter hitherto,
Recover my good grace ere I return. 1710
(_To Ph._) ’Twas an omission, duke, I gave no order
To seize the villain’s servants. I’ll go do it.
Use thy occasion. [_Exit._

_Ph._ Constance, I beg thy favour.

_Con._ I stay, your grace,—why should I go? My father
Hath bid me hear thee: and ’tis nought to me.
Say what thou wouldst: speak on, nor be officious
To suit thy meaning to me, for there’s nothing
I can believe or doubt.

_Ph._ O, Constance, think not
That could I end thy sorrow by denial
Of what thou hast heard, I would not. All is true.
My kindest office is to unmask the ill 1721
That this ill hath prevented, and to show thee
A balance of good. There lies ’gainst Manuel
Far more than we have charged and he confessed:
He loves thee, thinkest thou?—He hath used his place
To plot against thy father. I here have papers
In which thyself mayst see what accusation
He hath writ in secret. They are addressed to Spain,
And would have been presented ...

_Con._ ’Tis his writing.
Whence was this filched? 1730

_Ph._ He gave them me himself.

_Con._ O, a most open foe. Did he enjoin thee
To bear them to my father?

_Ph._ Nor have I done so.

_Con._ Then this, duke, yet remains for thee to do.
Take them at once. I know not what they mean:
But if ’tis secret it may be betrayed.
Do it, I pray thee, do it. [_Exit._

_Ph._ And I could wince
At such reproach, had I dissembled further
Than loyalty may deign, grappling with treason.
Her anger springs but of that nobleness 1739
Which makes her love worth winning; and in the end
It shall be mine again. [_Exit._

SCENE · 4

_On the hills above Monreale, as before. Enter PALICIO and MARGARET._

_MARGARET._

How fresh the morning air is. See how the mist
Melts in the sun, and while we look is gone,
Leisurely gathered on his sloping beams.
And guarded by her angel towers the city
Sleeps like an island in the solemn gray:
’Tis beauteous.—

_PALICIO._

I love the city: it holds the stir.
To-night I shall be there, and to do something
Worthy of thee.

_Mar._ Whate’er thou dost, Giovanni,
I could not love thee more.

_Pal._ Beneath yon roofs 1750
There’s many a heart that quicker beats and leaps
To hear my name.

_Mar._ Thinkest thou still of them?
They love thee not.

_Pal._ Not?

_Mar._ Nay; the thousandth part
Of my love dealt among them were enough
To make each man a hero. Now they are brave
Only to cheer thee on: and I that love thee,
And love but thee, shall lose thee.

_Pal._ Have better faith,
All will be well.

_Mar._ Pray heaven it be.

_Pal._ O, Margaret,
Speak not so sadly: I would have thee brave
To cheer me on as they. Last night I dreamed 1760
That thou hadst turned against me.

_Mar._ What, Giovanni?

_Pal._ Thou didst deride me.

_Mar._ I deride thy dream.

_Pal._ I thought I failed, and lost thy love.

_Mar._ O, faithless,
That could not lose my love. If thou succeed
Or fail, ’tis one. But tell me, giv’st thou heed
To visions? Are they not a fickle fabric,
Distorted fancies of the spirit, intruding
By night in memory’s darkened cell? Or holdst thou
They come from heaven?

_Pal._ Ay. Talk not of them now.
Let me not think of it.—

_Mar._ See here the flowers 1770
I have plucked. Know’st thou, Giovanni, why they grow?

_Pal._ How meanest thou?

_Mar._ Why in one place one flower
Will grow, and not another.

_Pal._ Canst thou tell?

_Mar._ The spirits of good men, allowed to wander
After their death about the mortal sites
Where once they dwelt, there where they love to rest
Shed virtue on the soil, as doth a ray
Of sunlight: but the immortal qualities
By which their races differ, as they once
Differed in blood alive, with various power 1780
Favour the various vegetable germs
With kindred specialty. This herb, I think,
Grows where the Greek hath been. Its beauty shows
A subtle and full knowledge, and betrays
A genius of contrivance. Seest thou how
The fading emerald and azure blent
On the white petals are immeshed about
With delicate sprigs of green? ’Tis therefore called
Love-in-a-mist.

_Pal._ Who is this thistle here?

_Mar._ O, he, with plumèd crest, springing all armed
In steely lustre, and erect as Mars, 1791
That is the Roman.

_Pal._ Find the Saracen.

_Mar._ This hot gladiolus, with waving swords
And crying colour.

_Pal._ And this marigold?

_Mar._ That is the Norman: nay, his furious blood
Blazes the secret. ’Tis said where’er he roamed
This flower is common; but ’tis in those climes
Where he wrought best it wears the strongest hue,
And so with us ’tis bravest.

_Pal._ And that’s thy countryman!
Dost thou know Greek?

_Mar._ My father ever spoke it; 1800
And Manuel made me study in it, because
Their learning was the best.

_Pal._ And yet their books
Were little thought of till great Frederick’s time,—
The infidel.

_Mar._ Was he an infidel?

_Pal._ He loved their heathen books and mocked the Pope:
And brought into his court a Scottish wizard,
Who trafficked with the devil.—See, Margaret;
Their courts are all alike. Here is the letter
Fat Blasco writes me. He betrays his master
For those few coins thou gav’st me in thy bag. 1810

[_Mar. takes letter._

Gold goeth in at any gate but heaven’s.
Ay, ’tis his writing, tho’ it be not signed.
It tells how Hugo would escape by ship,
And how to intercept him.

_Enter hastily a Brigand._

_BRIGAND._

Captain, a word.

_Pal._ Speak, Roger.

_Brig._ ’Tis for thee, captain, alone.

_Pal._ I am alone, this lady is as I.
What is’t?

_Brig._ Thou biddest?

_Pal._ Speak, man, by heav’n!

_Brig._ Our men
Are all betrayed. They were in dark of night
Closely surrounded at their several trysts 1819
By Hugo’s soldiers; bound, and taken to prison.

_Pal._ O, Christ! my dream.

_Mar._ (_aside_). Now, well done, Livio!
Done like a man.

_Pal._ Thou say’st all taken?

_Brig._ All.

_Mar._ (_aside_). I fear joy will betray me.

_Pal._ It cannot be
They are all betrayed.

_Brig._ As many as had assembled
At the ten trysts were taken.

_Pal._ Who hath done it?
(_To Mar._) Take courage, dearest.

_Mar._ Ay, ay.

_Pal._ Nay, thou’rt pale.

_Mar._ I thought that I should faint. (_To Pal. aside._)
O, fly, Giovanni!
Fly now with me! thou see’st this game is lost.

_Pal._ Be still awhile. (_To Brigand._) And where wert thou?

_Brig._ In the city,
From house to house.

_Pal._ What say they there?

_Brig._ This tale 1830
I heard. ’Tis told that ’mongst our men was one
Of Benedettu’s band, who, being engirt,
Stabbed himself to the heart. Some cried thereon
That he was the betrayer. There are others
Who dare the thought I would not breathe if thou
Couldst think I thought it.

_Pal._ Hold! I know, I see.
All hath been like to build it. Who is with thee?

_Brig._ Three, and the boy Federigo.

_Pal._ Go to the hut:
There I will join you. [_Exit Brigand._
Margaret, fare thee well
Now for some time. This most untoward treason
Demands my care. Lucia is not far. 1841

_Mar._ What wilt thou do?

_Pal._ Whatever may be done:
Trust me.

_Mar._ O, while thou’rt safe, Giovanni, fly.
I claim thy promise. Remember it: thou wilt see
If I deride thee. We will make this ill
Our perfect good.

_Pal._ It cannot be. It cannot.

_Mar._ What wilt thou do?

_Pal._ I know not. Thou remain.
I will go see these men, and send thee word.
Farewell. [_Exit._

_Mar._ O, I had betrayed myself but that my fear
Took other pretext. Ah! well done, well done! 1851
The ruffians caught—Giovanni safe, and mine;
Giovanni mine. Ah, Messer Squarcialupu,
And all your gang. Lucia, ho, Lucia! [_Calling._
Yet will I have them treated well. Ay, now,
Manuel must know. No drop of their base blood
Shall stain my hand. Lucia!

_Enter Lucia._

_LUCIA._

Here I am.

_Mar._ The men are caught, Lucia; all goes well.
There’s none to steal Giovanni from me now.
We go to Rome. But first I must see Manuel. 1860

_Lu._ I pray he take all kindly.

_Mar._ I fear him not.
Giovanni promised, should this venture fail,
To sail to Rome.

_Lu._ And I? shall I to Rome?

_Mar._ See, see! who is it, that gallops down the hill?
Why, ’tis Giovanni!

_Lu._ Where, my lady, where?

_Mar._ See’st thou not by the firs?

_Lu._ I hear the hoofs,
But cannot see the rider.

_Mar._ There he goes:
Now on the road.

_Lu._ I see him.

_Mar._ Look, Lucia;
That is his horse.

_Lu._ Maybe a messenger
He mounts for speed. He rides to Monreale. 1870

_Mar._ Now we shall see. Nay, nay: he turns to the left.
He’s for Palermo: and ’tis he, ’tis he,
Giovanni.

_Enter the Brigand with a letter._

_Brig._ A letter for the lady, from the captain.

[_Gives and stands aside._

_Mar._ Give’t me. I faint. Lucia, take it, read it.
Look! Read it me. I cannot see. The letters dance.

_Lu._ (_reading_).

_Margaret, there’s but one course. My men suspect me.
Of those who held this secret, I alone
Was absent. Manuel’s shelter, my escape,
Thy presence here, all point alike at me._ 1880
_I could not say farewell! When thou hast this
I am gone. I ride to join my men in prison._

_Mar._ Ah! ah! I knew it, I knew it! what have [_Sinks down._
I done?
_Lu._ Mistress, my dearest mistress!

ACT · IV

SCENE · 1

_The hall in Manuel’s house: it is hung with black. PHILIP and LIVIO;
the latter dressed in black, at a desk._

_PHILIP._

Argue not with me, Livio: Manuel’s death
Lies at my door. This last catastrophe
Followed on his disgrace, which I was main
To bring about.

_LIVIO._

But since his guilt was clear,
Your deed was honourable.

_Ph._ I am not sure.
I was too hasty. How can I quit myself 1890
In the ill I have done thy sister?

_Liv._ Her fever, duke,
Cannot be laid to you.

_Ph._ ’Twas the three shocks
Following so fast. Manuel’s disgrace, and then
My suit urged out of time, and last his death:
’Twill be no wonder if her mind give way.

_Liv._ Please heaven it pass. I never thought she loved him
So well.

_Ph._ Nor I, be sure. Where is that Blasco?

_Liv._ He went to gather what the sailors know
Of Manuel’s end.

_Ph._ No hope but that he’s drowned.
I go now to the palace. Should I meet 1900
With Blasco, it may be I shall detain him. [_Going._

_Liv._ Ah!

_Ph._ He has lied to me.

_Liv._ If there be better tidings
Of Constance, send them hither.