Gycia Part 5

Fool! purblind fool! there is no other like her; I glory being her slave.

_Irene._ I pray you, pardon me, my Lord Asander.

I seek the Lady Gycia; is she here?

_Asan._ No, madam; she has gone, and with her taken The glory of the night. But thou dost love her-- Is it not so, fair lady?

_Ire._ Ay, my lord, For we have lived together all our lives; I could not choose but love.

_Asan._ Well said indeed.

Tell me, and have I seen thy face before?

A something in it haunts me.

_Ire._ Ay, my lord.

Am I forgot so soon?

_Asan._ Indeed! Thy name?

Where have I seen thee?

_Ire._ Where? Dost thou, then, ask?

_Asan._ Ay; in good truth, my treacherous memory Betrays me here.

_Ire._ Thou mayest well forget My name, if thou hast quite forgot its owner.

[_Weeps._

I am called Irene.

_Asan._ Strange! the very name My lady did relate to me as hers Who bears a hopeless love. Weep not, good lady; Take comfort. Heaven is kind.

_Ire._ Nay, my good lord, What comfort? He I love loves not again, Or not me, but another.

_Asan._ Ah, poor lady!

I pity you indeed, now I have known True recompense of love.

_Ire._ Dost thou say pity?

And pity as they tell's akin to love.

What comfort is for me, my Lord Asander, Who love one so exalted in estate That all return of honourable love Were hopeless, as if I should dare to raise My eyes to Caesar's self? What comfort have I, If lately I have heard this man I love Communing with his soul, when none seemed near, Betray a heart flung prostrate at the feet Of another, not myself; and well I know Not Lethe's waters can wash out remembrance Of that o'ermastering pa.s.sion--naught but death Or hopeless depths of crime?

_Asan._ Lady, I pity Thy case, and pray thy love may meet return.

_Ire._ Then wilt thou be the suppliant to thyself, And willing love's requital, Oh, requite it!

Thou art my love, Asander--thou, none other, There is naught I would not face, if I might win thee.

That I a woman should lay bare my soul; Disclose the virgin secrets of my heart To one who loves me not, and doth despise The service I would tender!

_Asan._ Cease, I pray you; These are distempered words.

_Ire._ Nay, they are true.

And come from the inner heart. Leave these strange sh.o.r.es And her you love. I know her from a child.

She is too high and cold for mortal love; Too wrapt in duty, and high thoughts of State, Artemis and Athene fused in one, Ever to throw her life and maiden shame As I do at thy feet.

[_Kneels._

_Asan._ Rise, lady, rise; I am not worthy such devotion.

_Ire._ Take me Over seas; I care not where. I'll be thy slave, Thy sea-boy; follow thee, ill-housed, disguised, Through hardship and through peril, so I see Thy face sometimes, and hear sometimes thy voice, For I am sick with love.

_Asan._ Lady, I prithee Forget these wild words. I were less than man Should I remember them, or take the gift Which 'tis not reason offers. I knew not Thy pa.s.sion nor its object, nor am free To take it, for the vision of my soul Has looked upon its sun, and turns no more To any lower light.

_Ire._ My Lord Asander, She is not for thee; she cannot make thee happy, Nor thou her. Oh, believe me! I am full Of boding thoughts of the sure fatal day Which shall dissolve in blood the bonds which love To-day has plighted. If thou wilt not take me, Then get thee gone alone. I see a fire Which burns more fierce than love, and it consumes thee.

Fly with me, or alone, but fly.

_Asan._ Irene, Pa.s.sion distracts thy brain. I pray you, seek Some mutual love as I. My heart is fixed, And gone beyond recall.

[_Exit._

_Enter_ THEODORUS _unseen._

_Ire._ (_weeping pa.s.sionately_). Disgraced! betrayed!

Rejected! All the madness of my love Flung back upon me, as one spurns a gift Who scorns the giver. That I love him still, And cannot hate her who has robbed me of him!

I shall go mad with shame!

_Theo._ Great Heaven! sister, What words are these I hear? My father's daughter Confessing to her shame!

[IRENE _weeps._

Come, tell me, woman; I am thy brother and protector, tell me What mean these words?

_Ire._ Nay, nay, I cannot, brother.

They mean not what they seem, indeed they do not.

_Theo._ They mean not what they seem! Thou hast been long In Bosphorus, and ofttimes at the Court Hast seen the Prince. When he to-day comes. .h.i.ther, Thou swoonest at the sight. I, seeking thee, Find thee at night alone, he having left thee, Lamenting for thy shame. Wouldst have me credit Thy innocence? Speak, if thou hast a word To balance proofs like these, or let thy silence Condemn thee.

_Ire._ (_after a pause, and slowly, as if calculating consequences_).

Then do I keep silence, brother, And let thy vengeance fall.

_Theo._ Oh, long-dead mother, Who now art with the saints, shut fast thy ears Against thy daughter's shame! These are the things That make it pain to live: all precious gifts, Honour, observance, virtue, flung away For one o'ermastering pa.s.sion. Why are we Above the brute so far, if we keep still The weakness of the brute? Go from my sight, Thou vile, degraded wretch. For him whose craft And wickedness has wronged thee, this I swear-- I will kill him, if I can, or he shall me.

I will call on him to draw, and make my sword Red with a villain's blood.

_Ire._ (_eagerly_). Nay, nay, my brother, That would proclaim my shame; and shouldst thou slay him, Thou wouldst break thy lady's heart.

_Theo._ Doth she so love him?

_Ire._ Ay, pa.s.sionately, brother.

_Theo._ Oh, just Heaven!

And oh, confused world!

How are we fettered here! I may not kill A villain who has done my sister wrong, Since she I love has given her heart to him, And hangs upon his life. I would not pain My Gycia with the smallest, feeblest pang That wrings a childish heart, for all the world.

How, then, to kill her love, though killing him Would rid the world of a villain, and would leave My lady free to love? 'Twere not love's part To pain her thus, not for the wealth and power Of all the world heaped up. I tell thee, sister, Thy paramour is safe--I will not seek To do him hurt; but thou shalt go to-night To my Bithynian castle. Haply thence, After long penances and recluse days, Thou mayst return, and I may bear once more To see my sister's face.