GRACIOSA But we daughters of the poor Valori are compelled to marry—suitably. We have only the choice between that and the convent yonder.
GUIDO That is true, and nobody disputes it. Still, you participate in a monstrous bargain, and I would prefer to have you exhibit distaste for it.
Bending forward, GUIDO draws from his jewel pack the string of pearls, and this he moodily contemplates, in order to evince his complete disinterestedness. The pose has its effect. GRACIOSA looks at him for a moment, rises, draws a deep breath, and speaks with a sort of humility.
GRACIOSA And to what end, Guido? What good would weeping do?
GUIDO (Smiling whimsically.) I am afraid that men do not always love according to the strict laws of logic. (He drops the pearls, and, rising, follows her.) I desire your happiness above all things, yet to see you so abysmally untroubled by anything which troubles me is—another matter.
GRACIOSA But I am not untroubled, Guido.
GUIDO No?
GRACIOSA No. (Rather tremulously.) Sometimes I sit here dreading my life at court. I want never to leave my father's bleak house. I fear that I may not like the man who offers the highest price for me. And it seems as if the court were a horrible painted animal, dressed in bright silks, and shining with jewels, and waiting to devour me.
Beyond the wall appears a hat of scarlet satin with a divided brim, which, rising, is revealed to surmount the head of an extraordinarily swarthy person, to whose dark skin much powder has only loaned the hue of death: his cheeks, however, are vividly carmined. This is all that the audience can now see of the young DUKE of FLORENCE, whose proximity the two in the garden are just now too much engrossed to notice.
The DUKE looks from one to the other. His eyes narrow, his teeth are displayed in a wide grin; he now understands the situation. He lowers his head as GRACIOSA moves.
GRACIOSA No, I am not untroubled. For I cannot fathom you, and that troubles me. I am very fond of you—and yet I do not trust you.
GUIDO You know that I love you.
GRACIOSA You tell me so. It pleases me to have you say it—
GUIDO Madonna is candid this morning.
GRACIOSA Yes, I am candid. It does please me. And I know that for the sake of seeing me you endanger your life, for if my father heard of our meetings here he would have you killed.
GUIDO Would I incur such risks without caring?
GRACIOSA No,—and yet, somehow, I do not believe it is altogether for me that you care.
The DUKE laughs. GUIDO starts, half drawing his dagger. GRACIOSA turns with an instinctive gesture of seeking protection. The DUKE'S head and shoulders appear above the wall.
THE DUKE And you will find, my friend, that the most charming women have just these awkward intuitions.
The DUKE ascends the wall, while the two stand motionless and silent. When he is on top of the wall, GUIDO, who now remembers that omnipotence perches there, makes haste to serve it, and obsequiously assists the DUKE to descend. The DUKE then comes well forward, in smiling meditation, and hands first his gloves, then his scarlet cloak (which you now perceive to be lined with ermine and sable in four stripes) to GUIDO, who takes them as a servant would attend his master.
The removal of this cloak reveals the DUKE to be clad in a scarlet satin doublet, which has a high military collar and sleeves puffed with black. His tights also are of scarlet, and he wears shining soft black riding-boots. Jewels glisten at his neck. About his middle, too, there is a metallic gleaming, for he is equipped with a noticeably long sword and a dagger. Such is the personage who now addresses himself more explicitly to GRACIOSA.
THE DUKE (Sitting upon the bench, very much at his ease while the others stand uncomfortably before him.) Yes, madonna, I suspect that Eglamore here cares greatly for the fact that you are Balthazar Valori's daughter, and cousin to the late Marquis of Cibo.
GRACIOSA (Just in bewilderment.) Eglamore!
THE DUKE For Cibo left many kinsmen. These still resent the circumstance that the matching of his wits against Eglamore's wits earned for Cibo an unpleasantly public death-bed. So they pursue their feud against Eglamore with vexatious industry. And Eglamore goes about in hourly apprehension of another falling beam, another knife-thrust in the back, or another plate of poison.
GRACIOSA (She comprehends now.) Eglamore!
THE DUKE (Who is pleased alike by Eglamore's neat plan and by his own cleverness in unriddling it.) But if rich Eglamore should make a stolen match with you, your father—good thrifty man!—could be appeased without much trouble. Your cousins, those very angry but penniless Valori, would not stay over-obdurate to a kinsman who had at his disposal so many pensions and public offices. Honor would permit a truce with their new cousin Eglamore, a truce very profitable to everybody.
GRACIOSA He said they must be bought somehow!
THE DUKE Yes, Eglamore could bind them all to his interest within ten days. All could be bought at a stroke by marrying you. And Eglamore would be rid of the necessity of sleeping in chain-armor. Have I not unraveled the scheme correctly, Eglamore?
GUIDO (Smiling and deferential.) Your highness was never lacking in penetration.
GRACIOSA, at this, turns puzzled from one man to the other.
GRACIOSA Are you—?
THE DUKE I am Alessandro de Medici, madonna.
GRACIOSA THE DUKE!
THE DUKE A sadly neglected prince, who wondered over the frequent absences of his chief counselor, and secretly set spies upon him. Eglamore here will attest as much—(As GRACIOSA draws away from GUIDO)—or if you cannot believe Eglamore any longer in anything, I shall have other witnesses within the half-hour. Yes, my twenty cut-throats are fetching back for me a brace of nuns from the convent yonder. I can imagine that, just now, my cut-throats will be in your opinion more trustworthy witnesses than is poor Eglamore. And my stout knaves will presently assure you that I am the Duke.
GUIDO (Suavely.) It happens that not a moment ago we were admiring your highness' portrait.
GRACIOSA And so you are Count Eglamore. That is very strange. So it was the hand of Eglamore (rubbing her hands as if to clean them) that I touched just now. I thought it was the hand of my friend Guido. But I forget. There is no Guido. You are Eglamore. It is strange you should have been capable of so much wickedness, for to me you seem only a smirking and harmless lackey.
The DUKE is watching as if at a play. He is aesthetically pleased by the girl's anguish. GUIDO winces. As GRACIOSA begins again to speak, they turn facing her, so that to the audience the faces of both men are invisible.
GRACIOSA And it was you who detected—so you said—the Marquis of Cibo's conspiracy. Tebaldeo was my cousin, Count Eglamore. I loved him. We were reared together. We used to play here in this garden. I remember how Tebaldeo once fetched me a wren's nest from that maple yonder. I stood just here. I was weeping, because I was afraid he would fall. If he had fallen, if he had been killed then, it would have been the luckier for him. They say that he conspired. I do not know. I only know that by your orders, Count Eglamore, my playmate Tebaldeo was fastened to a cross, like that (pointing to the shrine). I know that his arms and legs were each broken in two places with an iron bar. I know that this cross was then set upon a pivot, so that it turned slowly. I know that my dear Tebaldeo died very slowly in the sunlit marketplace, while the cross turned, and turned, and turned. I know this was a public holiday; the shopkeepers took holiday to watch him die, the boy who fetched me a wren's nest from yonder maple. And I know that you are Eglamore, who ordered these things done.
GUIDO I gave orders for the Marquis of Cibo's execution, as was the duty of my office. I did not devise the manner of his punishment. The punishment for Cibo's crime was long ago fixed by our laws. All who attack the Duke's person must die thus.
GRACIOSA (Waves his excuses aside.) And then you plan this masquerade. You plan to make me care for you so greatly that even when I know you to be Count Eglamore I must still care for you. You plan to marry me, so as to placate Tebaldeo's kinsmen, so as to leave them—in your huckster's phrase—no longer unbought. It was a fine bold stroke of policy, I know, to use me as a stepping-stone to safety. But was it fair to me?
GUIDO GRACIOSA … you shame me—
GRACIOSA Look you, Count Eglamore, I was only a child, playing here, alone, and not unhappy. Oh, was it fair, was it worth while to match your skill against my ignorance?
THE DUKE Fie, Donna Graciosa, you must not be too harsh with Eglamore—
GRACIOSA Think how unhappy I would be if even now I loved you, and how I would loathe myself!
THE DUKE It is his nature to scheme, and he weaves his plots as inevitably as the spider does her web—
GRACIOSA But I am getting angry over nothing. Nothing has happened except that I have dreamed—of a Guido. And there is no Guido. There is only an Eglamore, a lackey in attendance upon his master.
THE DUKE Believe me, it is wiser to forget this clever lackey—as I do—except when there is need of his services. I think that you have no more need to consider him—
He takes the girl's hand. GRACIOSA now looks at him as though seeing him for the first time. She is vaguely frightened by this predatory beast, but in the main her emotion is as yet bewilderment.
THE DUKE For you are very beautiful, Graciosa. You are as slim as a lily, and more white. Your eyes are two purple mirrors in each of which I see a tiny image of Duke Alessandro. (GUIDO takes a step forward, and the DUKE now addresses him affably.) Those nuns they are fetching me are big high-colored wenches with cheeks like apples. It is not desirable that women should be so large. Such women do not inspire a poet. Women should be little creatures that fear you. They should have thin plaintive voices, and in shrinking from you should be as slight to the touch as a cobweb. It is not possible to draw inspiration from a woman's beauty unless you comprehend how easy it would be to murder her.
