Daughter of Jorio, The - Act 2, Scene 4
Scene 4 Mila looks at the woman with quiet sadness, and her desperate resignation makes her voice dull and slow .
Mila:
Pardon me, wanderer of Christ.
Thy charity avails me not.
The oil is spilled, the flask is shattered.
An evil fate is fallen on me.
Tell me what thou wilt have. These things
The shepherd carved with his own hand.
Distaff and spindle, all are new.
Mortar and pestle would'st thou like?
Tell me, for nothing can I tell.
Now am I in the depths of hell.
The Veiled One, with trembling voice:
Daughter of Jorio, I came for thee,
It was for thee I brought these gifts,
That I might ask one grace of thee.
Mila:
Ah, voice of heaven, heard in my soul!
Heard always in my heart of hearts!
The Veiled One:
For thee I came from Acquanova.
Mila:
Ornella! Ornella, it is thou! Ornella uncovers her face .
Ornella:
I am the sister of Aligi,
I am the daughter of Lazaro.
Mila:
In humbleness I kiss the feet
That brought thee to me so I might
In this hour see thy face again,
The hour of mortal agony.
'T was thou who showed me pity, first,
Ornella, and now thou art the last.
Ornella:
If I was first to pity thee,
For that I have done great penance since,
Mila di Codra. I speak truth,
My penance is not ended yet.
Mila:
Thy sweet voice trembles while thou speak'st.
The knife that trembles in the wound
Makes far more pain, — so much more pain!
Ah, little girl, thou dost not know.
Ornella:
Oh, did'st thou know the grief I have!
Know all the ill thou hast returned
For the little good I did to thee!
The house I left is desolate,
There is only dying there and tears.
Mila:
Why art thou wearing only black?
Oh, who is dead? Thou dost not speak,
Perhaps, perhaps, — it is the bride?
Ornella:
Ah, thou would'st gladly have her dead!
Mila:
God sees my heart. No, I have feared,
I have had terrors here within.
But tell me, who then? Answer me,
For God's sake, and for sake of thine own soul!
Ornella:
No one of us has died as yet,
But all of us wear clothes of black
For that dear one who went away
And brought down ruin on his head.
But, ah! if thou could'st look on her,
If thou could'st see my mother now,
How would'st thou tremble! Upon us
Has come black summer, there has come
A bitter, poisoned autumn; sorrier
The saddest leap-year could not be.
Oh, when I shut the door, to save
Thy life, I brought black ruin down
On my own head. Thou did'st not seem
Unpitying then, thou who did'st pray
To us for pity!
And thou did'st ask of me my name,
That thou might'st speak of it in praise!
And on my name they call down shame,
Morning and evening in my house;
And I am cursed and driven out,
And stay apart, for every one
Shrieks: " Look at her! she is the one
Who slipped the bolt in the great door,
So that vile creature might remain
Huddled there in the chimney, safe. "
And I can bear no more, and say
" 'T were better to draw out your knives
And tear me into bits. " And this,
Mila di Codra, is thy gratitude.
Mila:
'T is right, oh, it is right that thou
Should'st strike me, it is right that thou
Should'st pour this bitterness on me,
Follow my sin with punishment
Like this into the world below.
Perhaps for me the stone and hedge,
The straw and the insensate wool
Will speak; and the mute Angel, living
To thy brother's hand there in the block,
And the Virgin, with her light gone out,
Will speak; and I, I will not speak.
Ornella:
O Mila, now it seems to me as if
Thy soul were but a garment thou dost wear,
And I could touch it, reaching out to thee
My hand of faith. How is it thou dost cast
Such evil on God's people?
Did'st thou see
Our poor Vienda thou would'st fall a-trembling.
Her parched skin scarcely covers her dry bones,
And her poor gums look whiter in her mouth
Than her white teeth. And when the first rain fell
On Saturday, our mother said to us,
Weeping: " See, daughters, see, now she will go;
When the cold comes she will droop down and die. "
Ah, but my father does not weep! His bitterness
He chews upon, and does not even move.
That dreadful wound of his is grown infected,
And erysipelas laid hold on him.
(May San Cesidio and San Rocco help us!)
And with the inflammation in his mouth,
He shrieks and cries aloud by day and night.
His head is as if burned by a black fire.
And all the time he speaks such blasphemies
Enough to set the house a-quivering.
And we are terrified. How thy teeth chatter!
Hast thou the fever? What has come upon thee?
Mila:
So, always, at the sinking of the sun
The chill takes hold upon me, because I
Have not been used to night among the mountains.
This is the hour when fires are lighted up.
But speak on, speak to me now without pity.
Ornella:
From some hint, yesterday, I knew
That he was brooding in his thought
To mount here to the fold. Last evening
I did not see that he came home,
And all my blood stopped in my veins.
And then I made this hamper ready,
And my three sisters aided me,
For we are three born of one mother,
And all the three are marked for grief.
To-night I came from Acquanova,
I passed the ford across the river
And to the mountain took my way
Oh, woman! Christian woman,
I cannot bear to see thy pain!
Tell me, what can I do for thee?
Now thou art trembling even more
Than when thou wert beside the hearth
And all the reapers clamored.
Mila:
And did'st thou meet him? Art thou sure
That he has come? and is he at the fold?
Art thou sure? art thou sure, Ornella?
Ornella:
I have not seen him since, nor know
Surely that he came up here to the mountain.
At Gionco he had business, as I know;
Perhaps he will not come. Don't be afraid,
But, oh, do listen to me. For the sake
Of thine own soul's salvation, Mila, Mila,
Be penitent and take away from us
This evil spell. O give us back Aligi,
And may God pity thee, and go with thee!
Mila:
I am content, Aligi's sister,
Always content to do thy bidding.
'T is just that thou should'st strike me down,
Me, woman of ill-life, magician's
Daughter, me, shameless sorceress!
Who but for charity did beg
The Christian traveller to give
A little oil, only a drop of oil
To keep the holy lamp alight.
Perhaps behind me yet again
The Angel weeps. Perhaps the stones
Will speak for me again. But I,
I will not speak. By the name only
Of sister I say this to thee:
(And if I do not speak the truth
May my dear mother from her tomb
Arise and seize me by the hair
And strike me down into black earth speaking out
Against her lying daughter.) Only this
I say to thee: No sin have I
Sinned ever with thy brother. Nay,
I swear to thee that I am innocent.
Ornella:
Almighty God! Thou hast wrought a miracle!
Mila:
This is the love of Mila. Child,
This is my love.
I say no more.
I am content to do thy will,
And Jorio's daughter knows her way;
Her spirit ere this was departing,
Ere thou did'st come to call it, innocent!
And do not fear more, sister of Aligi,
Thou hast no need to fear.
*****
Mila:
Pardon me, wanderer of Christ.
Thy charity avails me not.
The oil is spilled, the flask is shattered.
An evil fate is fallen on me.
Tell me what thou wilt have. These things
The shepherd carved with his own hand.
Distaff and spindle, all are new.
Mortar and pestle would'st thou like?
Tell me, for nothing can I tell.
Now am I in the depths of hell.
The Veiled One, with trembling voice:
Daughter of Jorio, I came for thee,
It was for thee I brought these gifts,
That I might ask one grace of thee.
Mila:
Ah, voice of heaven, heard in my soul!
Heard always in my heart of hearts!
The Veiled One:
For thee I came from Acquanova.
Mila:
Ornella! Ornella, it is thou! Ornella uncovers her face .
Ornella:
I am the sister of Aligi,
I am the daughter of Lazaro.
Mila:
In humbleness I kiss the feet
That brought thee to me so I might
In this hour see thy face again,
The hour of mortal agony.
'T was thou who showed me pity, first,
Ornella, and now thou art the last.
Ornella:
If I was first to pity thee,
For that I have done great penance since,
Mila di Codra. I speak truth,
My penance is not ended yet.
Mila:
Thy sweet voice trembles while thou speak'st.
The knife that trembles in the wound
Makes far more pain, — so much more pain!
Ah, little girl, thou dost not know.
Ornella:
Oh, did'st thou know the grief I have!
Know all the ill thou hast returned
For the little good I did to thee!
The house I left is desolate,
There is only dying there and tears.
Mila:
Why art thou wearing only black?
Oh, who is dead? Thou dost not speak,
Perhaps, perhaps, — it is the bride?
Ornella:
Ah, thou would'st gladly have her dead!
Mila:
God sees my heart. No, I have feared,
I have had terrors here within.
But tell me, who then? Answer me,
For God's sake, and for sake of thine own soul!
Ornella:
No one of us has died as yet,
But all of us wear clothes of black
For that dear one who went away
And brought down ruin on his head.
But, ah! if thou could'st look on her,
If thou could'st see my mother now,
How would'st thou tremble! Upon us
Has come black summer, there has come
A bitter, poisoned autumn; sorrier
The saddest leap-year could not be.
Oh, when I shut the door, to save
Thy life, I brought black ruin down
On my own head. Thou did'st not seem
Unpitying then, thou who did'st pray
To us for pity!
And thou did'st ask of me my name,
That thou might'st speak of it in praise!
And on my name they call down shame,
Morning and evening in my house;
And I am cursed and driven out,
And stay apart, for every one
Shrieks: " Look at her! she is the one
Who slipped the bolt in the great door,
So that vile creature might remain
Huddled there in the chimney, safe. "
And I can bear no more, and say
" 'T were better to draw out your knives
And tear me into bits. " And this,
Mila di Codra, is thy gratitude.
Mila:
'T is right, oh, it is right that thou
Should'st strike me, it is right that thou
Should'st pour this bitterness on me,
Follow my sin with punishment
Like this into the world below.
Perhaps for me the stone and hedge,
The straw and the insensate wool
Will speak; and the mute Angel, living
To thy brother's hand there in the block,
And the Virgin, with her light gone out,
Will speak; and I, I will not speak.
Ornella:
O Mila, now it seems to me as if
Thy soul were but a garment thou dost wear,
And I could touch it, reaching out to thee
My hand of faith. How is it thou dost cast
Such evil on God's people?
Did'st thou see
Our poor Vienda thou would'st fall a-trembling.
Her parched skin scarcely covers her dry bones,
And her poor gums look whiter in her mouth
Than her white teeth. And when the first rain fell
On Saturday, our mother said to us,
Weeping: " See, daughters, see, now she will go;
When the cold comes she will droop down and die. "
Ah, but my father does not weep! His bitterness
He chews upon, and does not even move.
That dreadful wound of his is grown infected,
And erysipelas laid hold on him.
(May San Cesidio and San Rocco help us!)
And with the inflammation in his mouth,
He shrieks and cries aloud by day and night.
His head is as if burned by a black fire.
And all the time he speaks such blasphemies
Enough to set the house a-quivering.
And we are terrified. How thy teeth chatter!
Hast thou the fever? What has come upon thee?
Mila:
So, always, at the sinking of the sun
The chill takes hold upon me, because I
Have not been used to night among the mountains.
This is the hour when fires are lighted up.
But speak on, speak to me now without pity.
Ornella:
From some hint, yesterday, I knew
That he was brooding in his thought
To mount here to the fold. Last evening
I did not see that he came home,
And all my blood stopped in my veins.
And then I made this hamper ready,
And my three sisters aided me,
For we are three born of one mother,
And all the three are marked for grief.
To-night I came from Acquanova,
I passed the ford across the river
And to the mountain took my way
Oh, woman! Christian woman,
I cannot bear to see thy pain!
Tell me, what can I do for thee?
Now thou art trembling even more
Than when thou wert beside the hearth
And all the reapers clamored.
Mila:
And did'st thou meet him? Art thou sure
That he has come? and is he at the fold?
Art thou sure? art thou sure, Ornella?
Ornella:
I have not seen him since, nor know
Surely that he came up here to the mountain.
At Gionco he had business, as I know;
Perhaps he will not come. Don't be afraid,
But, oh, do listen to me. For the sake
Of thine own soul's salvation, Mila, Mila,
Be penitent and take away from us
This evil spell. O give us back Aligi,
And may God pity thee, and go with thee!
Mila:
I am content, Aligi's sister,
Always content to do thy bidding.
'T is just that thou should'st strike me down,
Me, woman of ill-life, magician's
Daughter, me, shameless sorceress!
Who but for charity did beg
The Christian traveller to give
A little oil, only a drop of oil
To keep the holy lamp alight.
Perhaps behind me yet again
The Angel weeps. Perhaps the stones
Will speak for me again. But I,
I will not speak. By the name only
Of sister I say this to thee:
(And if I do not speak the truth
May my dear mother from her tomb
Arise and seize me by the hair
And strike me down into black earth speaking out
Against her lying daughter.) Only this
I say to thee: No sin have I
Sinned ever with thy brother. Nay,
I swear to thee that I am innocent.
Ornella:
Almighty God! Thou hast wrought a miracle!
Mila:
This is the love of Mila. Child,
This is my love.
I say no more.
I am content to do thy will,
And Jorio's daughter knows her way;
Her spirit ere this was departing,
Ere thou did'st come to call it, innocent!
And do not fear more, sister of Aligi,
Thou hast no need to fear.
*****
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