The Lady of Lyons [13]
mean?--I half suspect--Who are you, madam!--who are you! can't you speak? are you struck dumb?
Widow. Claude, you have not deceived her?--Ah, shame upon you 1 I thought that, before you went to the altar, she was to have known all.
Pauline. All! what!--My blood freezes in my veins!
Widow. Poor lady!--dare I tell her, Claude? [MELNOTTE makes a sign of assent.] Know you not then, madam, that this young man is of poor though honest parents? Know you not that you are wedded to my son, Claude Melnotte?
Pauline. Your son! hold--hold! do not speak to me.--[Approaches MELNOTTE, and lays her hand on his arm.]--Is this a jest? is it? I know it is, only speak--one word--one look one smile. I cannot believe--I who loved thee so--I cannot believe that thou art such a--No, I will not wrong thee by a harsh word--Speak!
Mel. Leave us--have pity on her, on me: leave us.
Widow. Oh, Claude, that I should live to see thee bowed by shame! thee of whom I was so proud!(Exit by the staircase.
Pauline. Her son--her son!
Mel. Now, lady, hear me.
Pauline. Hear thee! Ay, speak--her son! have fiends a parent? speak, That thou mayst silence curses--speak!
Mel. No, curse me: Thy curse would blast me less than thy forgiveness.
Pauline [laughing wildly]. "This is thy palace, where the perfumed light Steals through the mist of alabaster lamps, And every air is heavy with the sighs Of orange-groves, and music from the sweet lutes, And murmurs of low fountains, that gush forth I' the midst of roses!" Dost thou like the picture? This is my bridal home, and thou my bridegroom. O fool--O dupe--O wretch!--I see it all Thy by-word and the jeer of every tongue In Lyons. Hast thou in thy heart one touch Of human kindness? if thou hast, why, kill me, And save thy wife from madness. No, it cannot It cannot be: this is some horrid dream: I shall wake soon.--[Touching him.] Art flesh art man? or but The shadows seen in sleep? It is too real. What have I done to thee? how sinn'd against thee, That thou shouldst crush me thus?
Mel. Pauline, by pride Angels have fallen ere thy time: by pride That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould The evil spirit of a bitter love, And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee. From my first years my soul was fill'd with thee: I saw thee midst the flow'rs the lowly boy Tended, unmark'd by thee--a spirit of bloom, And joy, and freshness, as if Spring itself Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape! I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man Enter'd the breast of the wild-dreaming boy. And from that hour I grew--what to the last I shall be--thine adorer! Well, this love Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became A fountain of ambition and bright hope; I thought of tales that by the winter hearth Old gossips tell--how maidens sprung from kings Have stoop'd from their high sphere; how love, like death Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook Beside the sceptre. Thus I made my home In the soft palace of a fairy Future! My father died; and I, the peasant-born, Was my own lord. Then did I seek to rise Out of the prison of my mean estate; And, with such jewels as the exploring mind Brings from the caves of knowledge, buy my ransom From those twin gaolers of the daring heart Low birth and iron fortune. Thy bright image Glass'd in my soul, took all the hues of glory, And lured me on to those inspiring toils By which man masters men! For thee I grew A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages. For thee I sought to borrow from each grace, And every muse, such attributes as lend Ideal charms to love. I thought of thee, And passion taught me poesy--of thee, And on the painter's canvas grew the life Of beauty! Art became the shadow Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes Men call'd me vain--some mad--I heeded not; But still toil'd on--hoped on--for it was sweet, If not to win, to feel more worthy thee?
Pauline. Has he a magic to exorcise hate!
Mel. At last, in one mad hour, I dared to pour The thoughts that burst their channels into song, And sent them to thee--such a tribute, lady, As
Widow. Claude, you have not deceived her?--Ah, shame upon you 1 I thought that, before you went to the altar, she was to have known all.
Pauline. All! what!--My blood freezes in my veins!
Widow. Poor lady!--dare I tell her, Claude? [MELNOTTE makes a sign of assent.] Know you not then, madam, that this young man is of poor though honest parents? Know you not that you are wedded to my son, Claude Melnotte?
Pauline. Your son! hold--hold! do not speak to me.--[Approaches MELNOTTE, and lays her hand on his arm.]--Is this a jest? is it? I know it is, only speak--one word--one look one smile. I cannot believe--I who loved thee so--I cannot believe that thou art such a--No, I will not wrong thee by a harsh word--Speak!
Mel. Leave us--have pity on her, on me: leave us.
Widow. Oh, Claude, that I should live to see thee bowed by shame! thee of whom I was so proud!(Exit by the staircase.
Pauline. Her son--her son!
Mel. Now, lady, hear me.
Pauline. Hear thee! Ay, speak--her son! have fiends a parent? speak, That thou mayst silence curses--speak!
Mel. No, curse me: Thy curse would blast me less than thy forgiveness.
Pauline [laughing wildly]. "This is thy palace, where the perfumed light Steals through the mist of alabaster lamps, And every air is heavy with the sighs Of orange-groves, and music from the sweet lutes, And murmurs of low fountains, that gush forth I' the midst of roses!" Dost thou like the picture? This is my bridal home, and thou my bridegroom. O fool--O dupe--O wretch!--I see it all Thy by-word and the jeer of every tongue In Lyons. Hast thou in thy heart one touch Of human kindness? if thou hast, why, kill me, And save thy wife from madness. No, it cannot It cannot be: this is some horrid dream: I shall wake soon.--[Touching him.] Art flesh art man? or but The shadows seen in sleep? It is too real. What have I done to thee? how sinn'd against thee, That thou shouldst crush me thus?
Mel. Pauline, by pride Angels have fallen ere thy time: by pride That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould The evil spirit of a bitter love, And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee. From my first years my soul was fill'd with thee: I saw thee midst the flow'rs the lowly boy Tended, unmark'd by thee--a spirit of bloom, And joy, and freshness, as if Spring itself Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape! I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man Enter'd the breast of the wild-dreaming boy. And from that hour I grew--what to the last I shall be--thine adorer! Well, this love Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became A fountain of ambition and bright hope; I thought of tales that by the winter hearth Old gossips tell--how maidens sprung from kings Have stoop'd from their high sphere; how love, like death Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook Beside the sceptre. Thus I made my home In the soft palace of a fairy Future! My father died; and I, the peasant-born, Was my own lord. Then did I seek to rise Out of the prison of my mean estate; And, with such jewels as the exploring mind Brings from the caves of knowledge, buy my ransom From those twin gaolers of the daring heart Low birth and iron fortune. Thy bright image Glass'd in my soul, took all the hues of glory, And lured me on to those inspiring toils By which man masters men! For thee I grew A midnight student o'er the dreams of sages. For thee I sought to borrow from each grace, And every muse, such attributes as lend Ideal charms to love. I thought of thee, And passion taught me poesy--of thee, And on the painter's canvas grew the life Of beauty! Art became the shadow Of the dear starlight of thy haunting eyes Men call'd me vain--some mad--I heeded not; But still toil'd on--hoped on--for it was sweet, If not to win, to feel more worthy thee?
Pauline. Has he a magic to exorcise hate!
Mel. At last, in one mad hour, I dared to pour The thoughts that burst their channels into song, And sent them to thee--such a tribute, lady, As