Gycia Part 10

_Lys._ Most n.o.ble lady, Forgive me if at an unfitting time, Amid the soft devoirs of gallantry, I thus intrude unwilling; but I seek The Prince Asander.

_Gycia._ I have nought to hide My husband might not know.

_Lys._ Then, thou art, doubtless, His wife, the Lady Gycia. Good my lady, With such a presence to become a crown, We would you were at Bosphorus.

_Gycia._ 'Tis clear Thou art a stranger here, or thou wouldst know That never would I leave my native city To win the crown of Rome.

_Lys._ Madam, 'tis pity.

_Gycia._ Sir, this is courtly talk. You came to see My husband; I will order that they send him At once to you.

[_Exit_ GYCIA.

_Lys._ That was indeed good fortune brought me hither When her lover knelt to her. I do not wonder That kneel he should, for she is beautiful As Helen's self. There comes some difference Between her and Asander, and 'twere strange If I might not so work on't as to widen The breach good fortune sends me, and to bind, Through that which I have seen, the boy her husband To execute my will.

_Enter_ ASANDER.

_Asan._ Lysimachus, I am rejoiced to see thee.

_Lys._ Good my lord, How goes the world with thee? Thou art in mien Graver than thou wast once.

_Asan._ I am ill at ease!

I am ill at ease! How does the King my father?

_Lys._ Alas! sir, he is ailing, and I fear Will never mend.

_Asan._ Is he in present danger?

_Lys._ Ay, that he is. A month or less from this May see the end.

_Asan._ Keeps he his bed as yet?

_Lys._ Nay, not yet, when I left him; but his mind Turns always to his absent son with longing, And sometimes, as it were 'twixt sleep and waking I hear him say, "Asander, oh, my son!

Shall I not see thee more?"

_Asan._ Oh, my dear father!

And dost thou love me thus, who have forgot thee These two long years? Beloved, lonely life!

Beloved failing eyes! Lysimachus, I must go hence, and yet my honour binds me.

O G.o.d, which shall I choose? They do forbid me-- The ruler of this place and that good woman Who is my wife, but holds their cursed State More than my love--to go.

_Lys._ My prince, I come To find a way by which thou mayst go free From that which binds thee fast. This festival To the dead Lamachus will give the occasion To set thee free. If thou dost doubt to break Thy word, yet doth a stronger, straiter chain Bind thee--thy oath. Thou hast not forgot thy oath To Bosphorus?

_Asan._ Nay, I forget it not.

But what is it thou wouldst of me?

_Lys._ Asander, The night which ends the festival shall see us Masters of Cherson.

_Asan._ Nay, but 'twere dishonour To set upon a friendly State from ambush-- 'Twere murder, and not battle.

_Lys._ Art thou false To thy own land and to thy dying father?

_Asan._ That I am not; but never could I bear To play the midnight thief, and ma.s.sacre Without announcement of legitimate war Whom daily I have known. My wife I love With all the love of my soul. If she seem cold When any word is spoken which may touch The safety of the State, think you she would love The husband who destroyed it? All my heart Is in her keeping.

_Lys._ It is well indeed To have such faith. Doubtless the Lady Gycia Returns this pure affection.

_Asan._ I would doubt The saints in heaven sooner than her truth, Which if I doubted, then the skies might fall, The bounds of right and wrong might be removed, The perjurer show truthful, and the wanton Chaste as the virgin, and the cold, pure saint More foolish than the prodigal who eats The husks of sense--it were all one to me; I could not trust in virtue.

_Lys._ Thou art changed Since when thy ship set sail from Bosphorus; Thou didst not always think with such fond thought As now thou dost. Say, didst thou find thy bride Heart-whole as thou didst wish? Had she no lover Ere yet thou camest?

_Asan._ Nay, nay; I found my wife Virgin in heart and soul.

_Lys._ My Lord Asander, Art thou too credulous here? What if I saw her On that same spot, not half an hour ago, In tears, and kneeling at her feet a gallant n.o.ble and comely as a morn in June, Who bade her break, with pa.s.sionate words of love, Her hateful marriage vows, and make him blest Who must for ever love?

_Asan._ Thou sawest my wife Gycia, my pearl of women, my life, my treasure?

Nay, nay, 'tis some sick dream! Thou art mistaken.

Who knelt to her?

_Lys._ She called him Theodorus.

_Asan._ Irene's brother! Who was it who said He loved her without hope? Lysimachus, What is it that thou sawest? Come, 'tis a jest!

Kneeling to Gycia, praying her to fly!

Nay, nay, what folly is this?

[_Laughs._

_Lys._ My lord, I swear It is no jest indeed, but solemn earnest.

I saw him kneel to her; I heard the pa.s.sion Burn through his voice.

_Asan._ And she? What did my lady?

She did repulse him sternly?

_Lys._ Nay, indeed, She wept; was greatly moved, and whispered to him, "I am a wife."

_Asan._ Peace, peace! I will not hear Another word. How little do they know thee, My white, pure dove! My Lord Lysimachus, Some glamour has misled thee.

_Lys._ Well, my lord, I should rejoice to think it, but I cannot Deny my eyes and ears. Is not this n.o.ble The brother of the lady who was once At Bosphorus at Court, and now attends The Lady Gycia?

_Asan._ Ay, indeed he is.

_Lys._ Well, she is near at hand; if thy belief Inclines not to my tale--which yet is true-- Couldst thou not ask of her if ere your marriage Her brother was enamoured of your wife, And she of him?

_Asan._ That might I do indeed.

But, sooth to say, I would not speak again With her you name; and it may be indeed, Since well I know her, that the Lady Gycia, Who is angered with her for what cause I know not, Might well resent the converse.

_Lys._ Prince Asander, There is no man so blind as he who closes His eyes to the light and will not have it shine, As thou dost now.

_Asan._ Then will I see this lady, Though knowing it is vain.