The Wonder-Working Magician Part 4

SCENE VII.

A HALL IN THE HOUSE OF LYSANDER.

Enter JUSTINA and LYSANDER.

JUSTINA. Consolation, sir, is vain, After what I've seen to-day: The whole city, madly gay, Error-blinded and insane, Consecrating shrine and fane To an image, which I know, Cannot be a G.o.d, although Some demoniac power may pa.s.s, Making breathe the silent bra.s.s As a proof that it is so.

LYSANDER. Fair Justina, thou indeed, Wert not who thou art, if thou Didst not weep as thou dost now, Didst not in thy pure heart bleed For what Christ's divinest creed Suffers on this sinful day.

JUSTINA. Thus my lineage I display:-- For thy child I could not be, Could I without weeping see This idolatrous display.

LYSANDER. Ah, my good, my gentle maid!

Thou art not my daughter, no, 'Twere too happy, if 'twere so.

But, O G.o.d! what's this I've said?-- My life's secret is betrayed!

'Twas my soul that spoke aloud.

JUSTINA. What do you say, sir?

LYSANDER. Oh! a crowd Of old thoughts my heart hath stirred.

JUSTINA. Many times methought I heard What but now you have avowed, And yet never wished to hear, At the risk perchance of paining, A more accurate explaining Of your sorrow and my fear; But since now it doth appear Right that I should be possess'd Of the whole truth half confess'd, Let me say, though bold appearing,-- Trust your secret to my hearing, Since it hath escaped your breast.

LYSANDER. Ah! Justina, I have long Kept this secret from your ears, Fearing from your tender years That the telling might be wrong; But now seeing you are strong, Firm in thought, in action brave, Seeing too, that with this stave, I go creeping o'er the ground, Rapping with a hollow sound At the portals of the grave, Knowing that my time is brief, I would not here leave you, no, In your ignorance; I owe My own peace, too, this relief: Then attentive to my grief Let your pleasure list.

JUSTINA. A fear Struggles in my breast.

LYSANDER. Severe Is the test my duty pays.

JUSTINA. From this most perplexing maze Oh, sir, rescue me.

LYSANDER. Then hear.

I, most beautiful Justina, Am Lysander.... This commencement With my name need not surprise you; For though known to you already, It is right, for all that follows, That it should be well remembered, Since of me you know no more Than what this my name presenteth.

Yes, I am Lysander, son Of that city which on Seven Hills a hydra seems of stone, Since it seven proud heads erecteth; Of that city now the seat Of the mighty Roman empire, Cradle of Christ's wider realm,-- Boon that Rome alone could merit.

There of poor and humble parents I was born, if "poor" expresses Well their rank who left behind them Virtues, not vain earthly treasures.

Both of them by birth were Christians, Joyful both to be descended From brave sires who with their blood Happily life's page had reddened, Terminating the dull scroll With death's bright emblazoned letters.

In the Christian faith well grounded I grew up, and so well learnt it, That I would, in its defence, Even a thousand lives surrender.

I was young still, when to Rome, In disguise and ill attended, Came our good Pope Alexander, Who then prudently directed The high apostolic see, Though its place there was not settled; For, as the despotic power Of the stern and cruel gentiles Satisfies its thirst with blood From the martyrs' veins that shed it, So must still the primitive church Keep concealed its sons and servants; Not that they decline to die, Not that martyrdom is dreaded But that rebel rage should not, At one stroke, one hour of vengeance, Triumph o'er the ruined church, So that no one should be left it Who could preach and teach the word, Who could catechise the gentile.

Alexander being in Rome, I was secretly presented To him there, and from his hand Which was graciously extended, With his blessing I received Holy Orders, which the seraphs Well might envy me, since man Only such an honour merits.

Alexander, as my mission, Unto Antioch then sent me, Where the law of Christ in secret I should preach. With glad contentment I obeyed, and at their mercy, Through so many nations wending, Came at length to Antioch; And when I, these hills ascending, Saw beneath me in the valley All its golden towers and temples, The sun failed me, and down sinking Drew with him the day, presenting For my solace a companion, And a subst.i.tute for his presence In the light of stars, a pledge That he'd soon return to bless me.

With the sun I lost my way, And then wandering dejected Through the windings of the forest, Found me in the dim recesses Of a natural bower, wherein Even the numerous rays that trembled Downward from each living torch Could in noways find an entrance, For to black clouds turned the leaves That by day were green with freshness.

Here arranging to await The new sun's reviving presence, Giving fancy that full scope, That wide range which it possesses, I in solitude indulged Many and many a deep reflection.

Thus absorbed was I in thought When there came to me the echo Of a sigh half heard, for half To its owner retroverted.

Then collecting in mine ear All my senses joined together, I again heard more distinctly That weak cry, that faint expression, That mute idiom of the sad, Since by it they're comprehended.

From a woman came that groan To whose sigh so low and gentle Followed a man's deeper voice, Who thus speaking low addressed her: "Thou first stain of n.o.blest blood By my hands this moment perish, Ere thou meetest with thy death 'Neath the hands of infamous headsmen."-- Then the hapless woman said In a voice that sobbed and trembled, "Ah, lament for thine own blood, But for me do not lament thee!"-- I attempted then to reach them, That the stroke might be prevented, But I could not, since the voices At that moment ceased and ended, And a horseman rode away 'Mong the tree-trunks undetected.

Loadstone of my deep compa.s.sion Was that voice which still exerted All its failing powers to speak Amid groans and tears this sentence,-- "Dying innocent and a Christian I a martyr's death may merit."-- Following the polar-star Of the voice, I came directly Where the gloom revealed a woman, Though I could not well observe her, Who in life's despairing struggle, Hand to hand with death contended.

Scarcely was I heard, when she Summoning up her strength addressed me,-- "Blood-stained murderer mine, come back, Nor in this last hour desert me Of my life."--"I am," said I, "Only one whom chance hath sent here, Guided it may be by heaven, To a.s.sist you in this dreadful Hour of trial."--"Vain," she said, "Is the favour that your mercy Offers to my life, for see, Drop by drop the life-stream ebbeth, Let this hapless one enjoy it, Who it seems that heaven intendeth, Being born upon my grave, All my miseries should inherit."-- So she died, and then I...

SCENE VIII.

LIVIA, JUSTINA, and LYSANDER.

Enter LIVIA.

LIVIA. Sir, The same tradesman who so presses To be paid, comes here to seek you, By the magistrate attended.

That you were not in, I told him: By that door you have an exit.

JUSTINA. This untimely interruption By their coming, how it frets me!

For upon your tragic story Life, soul, reason, all depended!-- But retire, sir, lest the justice Should here meet you, if he enters.

LYSANDER. Ah! with what indignities Poverty must be contented!

[Exit.

JUSTINA. They are coming here, no doubt, Outside I can hear some persons.

LIVIA. No, they are not they. I see It is Cyprian.

JUSTINA. How? what sendeth Cyprian here?

SCENE IX.

Enter CYPRIAN, CLARIN, and MOSCON.

CYPRIAN. A wish to serve you Is the sole cause of my presence.

For on seeing the officials Issuing from your house, the friendship Which I owe unto Lysander Made me bold herein to enter; But to know ([Aside.] Disturbed, bewildered Am I.) if by chance ([Aside.] What gelid Frost is freezing up my veins!) I in any way could help you.

([Aside.] Ah, how badly have I spoken!-- Fire not frost my blood possesses!)

JUSTINA. May heaven guard you many years, Since in his more grave concernments, Thus you honour my dear father With your favours.

CYPRIAN. I shall ever Be most gratified to serve you.

([Aside.] What disturbs me, what unnerves me?)

JUSTINA. He is not just now at home.

CYPRIAN. Thus then, lady, I can better Tell you what is the true cause That doth bring me here at present; For the cause that you have heard Is not that which wholly led me Here to see you.

JUSTINA. Then, what is it?

CYPRIAN. This, which craves your brief attention.-- Fair Justina, beauty's shrine,*