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BERTRAND.
I ask'd of him no favour--where the crime?
'Twas unprovoked; he rush'd upon my friend,-- They fought,--he fell,--and I had hoped to avenge The sufferer's wrong. But whence?--'tis wondrous strange.
Hermione!--the Duke!--the proud Hermione A prince's paramour! It cannot be.
So fair, so n.o.ble, yet----There's mystery here; I must unravel this perplexed web, Or perish in its toils! [_Exeunt._
SCENE III.
_A Balcony, overlooking the Garden._
_HERMIONE and BLANCH._
HERMIONE.
I am sad, Blanch.
BLANCH.
I would, lady, you were in your little toilet-chamber at Venice. You were not sad there once. Why stay you in this unlucky house? I do conceive, that I shall have no more heart soon than hath your goose-quill, nor life within me than a dried puff-ball. When go you to Venice, lady?
HERMIONE.
Never!
BLANCH.
Oh, sweet mistress; and must we die in this dismal city? My very countenance hath changed its fashion, forsooth; being smoke-dried and tarnished, like your two years' hung stock-fish. I do fear me that I shall pine with home-longings; and the sight of yon garlick-faced knave, Stephano, for ever at my heels, turns me sick when he gets within stride of me. But you jest, lady.
HERMIONE.
Blanch, thou hast been kinder to me than my fate hath answered for; and I give thee good counsel when I tell thee to return to Venice. Stay not with me; for soon the high, the proud-spirited Hermione will----I shall soon lay me in the quiet grave--and thou wilt grieve to see me sink--so young--so _early_ to my doom. I look fresh, mayhap, and blooming, and they call me happy; but I am withered--here!
BLANCH.
Oh, lady, you will break my heart! (_Weeps._) I will not go! If they bear you to the grave, I will follow you there to weep, and to quiet myself beside you.
HERMIONE.
Thou art kind, Blanch. I would thou hadst a happier mistress, thou wouldest, peradventure, be happy too.
BLANCH.
What frets you so keenly? I would compa.s.s sea and land to fetch you a morsel of comfort. Do tell me, lady. They say sorrow hath companionship, and loves its like.
HERMIONE.
Ask it not, girl: I would not tell it to the winds, lest they should babble it again; I would not whisper it to mine own heart, lest each pulse should echo it back to mine ear; I dare not think on 't, lest my very thoughts should create a corporeal voice to utter it withal. Other sorrows have companionship, but mine hath none!
_Enter Servant._
SERVANT.
The strange gipsy woman your ladyship gave an alms to yesterday waits without, asking to see you. I would have put her away, but she looked on me, and I shuddered as I approached her.
HERMIONE.
Bid her come in.
BLANCH.
How it would delight me to have my fortune cast; but--my fate answers to your own!
_Enter ZORAYDA._
HERMIONE.
Why this silence?--Thy message.
ZORAYDA.
Askest thou?--Thanks!--What marvel? they speak not With unembodied tongue!
HERMIONE.
Thou comest, then, But on a thankless errand; I dispense With empty words.
ZORAYDA.
Why then I go unaudienced.
I would not vex thee, lady;--thou art strung By unseen anguish, e'en to the topmost pitch Thy nature bears. One other strain, it breaks!
HERMIONE.
What knowest thou?
ZORAYDA.
That other comes!
HERMIONE.
Too soon, I wot, these heart-strings break not. How, beldame?
Thy prying eyes gather some secret. Hence With the silly maids thou tamperest, and anon The mistress' ear greets her own confidence; But not on me impose thy mummeries: None other breast than mine yet holds its trust.
ZORAYDA.
What proof requirest thou, ere faith admit My proffer'd testimony?
HERMIONE.
Proof!
What thou, weak fool--the crazed and worn-out plaything Of thy too credulous fancies--cannot give.
Reveal my thoughts!
ZORAYDA.
But if disclosed, there now Be other ears to listen, lady.
HERMIONE.
Blanch, Awhile thou may'st withdraw.
BLANCH.
How fierce her eye scowls! I marvel that her brows should escape a singeing.--I would not leave you, gentle mistress, until----
ZORAYDA.
Begone!---- [_HERMIONE smiles, and motions BLANCH to depart. Exit BLANCH._
HERMIONE.
Now to thy task.
ZORAYDA.
