Classic Poem

SCENE III.

Morning. The studio. Enter RIBERA.

RIBERA.
How laughingly the clear sun shines to-day
On storm-drenched green, and cool, far-glittering seas!
When she comes in to greet me, she will blush
For last night's terrors. How she crouched and shuddered
At the mere thought of the wild war without!
Poor, clinging women's souls, what need is theirs
Of our protecting love! Yet even on me
The shadow of the storm-cloud seemed to breed.
Through my vexed sleep I heard the thunder roll;
My dreams were ugly — Well, all that is past;
To-day my spirit is renewed. 'T is long
Since I have felt so fresh.
[He seats himself before his easel and takes up his brush and palette, but holds them idly in his hand.]
Strange, she still sleeps!
The hour is past when she is wont to come
To bless me with the kiss of virgin love.
Mayhap 't was fever in her eyes last night
Gave them so wild a glance, so bright a lustre.
God! if she should be ill!
[He rises and calls.]
Luca!

Enter LUCA.

LUCA.
My lord?

RIBERA.
Go ask Fiametta if the mistress sleeps —
If she be ailing — why she has not come
This morn to greet me.
[Exit LUCA.]

RIBERA (begins pacing the stage).
What fond fears are these
Mastering my spirit? Since her mother died
I tremble at the name of pain or ill.
How can my rude love tend, my hard hand soothe,
The dear child's fragile —
[A confused cry without.]
What is that? My God!
How hast thou stricken me!
[He staggers and falls into a chair. Enter hastily FIAMETTA, weeping, and LUCA with gestures of terror and distress.]

FIAMETTA.
Master!

LUCA.
Dear master!
[RIBERA rises with a great effort and confronts them.]

RIBERA.
What is it? Speak!

LUCA.
Dear master, she is gone.

RIBERA.
How? Murdered — dead? Oh, cruel God! Away!
Follow me not!
[Exit RIBERA.]

FIAMETTA.
Help, all ye saints of heaven.
Have pity on him! Oh, what a day is this!

LUCA.
Quiet, Fiametta. When the master finds
The empty, untouched bed, the silent room,
His wits will leave him. Hark! was that his cry?

Reenter RIBERA calling.

Maria! Daughter! Where have they taken thee,
My only one, my darling? Oh, the brigands!
Naples shall bleed for this. What do ye here,
Slaves, fools, who stare upon me? Know ye not
I have been robbed? Hence! Ransack every house
From cave to roof in Naples. Search all streets.
Arrest whomso ye meet. Let no sail stir
From out the harbor. Ring the alarum! Quick!
This is a general woe.
[Exeunt LUCA and FIAMETTA.]
The Duke's my friend;
He'll further me. The Prince — oh, hideous fear! —
No, no, I will not dream it. Mine enemies
Have done this thing; the avengers of that beggar —
Domenichino — they have struck home at last.
How was it that I heard no sound, no cry,
Throughout the night? The heavens themselves conspired
Against me — the hoarse thunder drowned her shrieks!
Oh, agony!
[He buries his face in his hands. Enter ANNICCA; she throws herself speechless and weeping upon his neck.]
Thou knowest it, Annicca!
The thief has entered in the night — she's gone.
I stand and weep; I stir not hand or foot.
Is not the household roused? Do they not seek her?
I am helpless, weak; an old man overnight.
The brigands' work was easy. I heard naught.
But surely, surely, had they murdered her,
I had heard that — that would have wakened me
From out my grave.

ANNICCA.
Father, she is not dead.

RIBERA (wildly).
Where have they found her? What dost thou know? Speak, speak,
Ere my heart break!

ANNICCA.
Alas! they have not found her;
But that were easy. Nerve thyself — remember
Thou art the Spagnoletto still. Last night
Don John fled secretly from Naples.

RIBERA.
Ah!
Give me a draft of water.
[He sinks down on his chair.]

ANNICCA (calling).
Help, Tommaso!
Luca! Fiametta! Father, lookup, look up!
Gaze not so hollowly.

Enter DON TOMMASO and SERVANTS.
Quick! water, water!
Do ye not see he swoons?
[She kneels before her father, chafing and kissing his hands. Exit LUCA, who returns immediately with a silver flagon of water. ANNICCA seizes it and raises it to RIVERA'S lips. He takes it from her hand and drinks.]

RIBERA.
How your hand trembles!
See, mine is firm. You had split it o'er my beard
Had I not saved it. Thanks. I am strong again.
I am very old for such a steady grasp.
Why, girl, most men as hoary as thy father
Are long since palsied. But my firm touch comes
From handling of the brush. I am a painter,
The Spagnoletto —
[As he speaks his name he suddenly throws off his apathy, rises to his full height, and casts the flagon to the ground.]
Ah, the Spagnoletto,
Disgraced, abandoned! My exalted name
The laughing-stock of churls; my hearthstone stamped
With everlasting shame; my pride, my fame,
Mine honor — where are they? With yon spilt water,
Fouled in the dust, sucked by the thirsty air.
Now, by Christ's blood, my vengeance shall be huge
As mine affront. I will demand full justice
From Philip. We will treat as King with King.
HE shall be stripped of rank and name and wealth,
Degraded, lopped from off the fellowship
Of Christians like a rotten limb, proclaimed
The bastard that he is. She shall go with him,
Linked in a common infamy, haled round,
A female Judas, who betrayed her father,
Her God, her conscience, with a kiss. Her shadow
Shall be my curse. Cursed be her sleep by night,
Accursed her light by day — her meat and drink!
Accursed the fruit of her own womb — the grave
Where she will lie! Cursed — Oh, my child, my child!
[He throws himself on the floor and buries his head among the cushions of the couch. DON TOMMASO advances and lays his hand on RIBERA'S shoulder.]

DON TOMMASO.
Mine honored sir —

RIBERA (looks up without rising).
Surely you mock me, signor.
Honored! Yes, honored with a rifled home,
A desecrated heart, a strumpet child.
For honors such as these, I have not stinted
Sweat, blood, or spirit through long years of toil.
I have passed through peril scathless; I was spared
When Naples was plague-stricken; I have 'scaped
Mine enemies' stiletto — fire and flood;
I have survived my love, my youth, my self,
My thrice-blest Leonora, whom I pitied,
Fool that I was! in her void, silent tomb.
The God of mercy hath reserved me truly
For a wise purpose.

ANNICCA.
Father, rise; take courage;
We know not yet the end.

RIBERA.
Why should I rise
To front the level eyes of men's contempt?
Oh, I am shamed! Cover my head, Annicca;
Darken mine eyes, and veil my face. Oh, God,
Would that I were a nameless, obscure man,
So could I bury with me my disgrace,
That now must be immortal. Where thou standest,
Annicca, there she stood last night. She kissed me;
Round mine old neck she wreathed her soft, young arms.
My wrinkled cheeks were wet with her warm tears.
She shuddered, and I thought it was the thunder
Struck terror through her soul. White-bearded fool!

FIAMETTA.
I found this scrip upon the chamber-floor,
Mayhap it brings some comfort.

RIBERA (starts up and snatches the paper she offers him, reads it rapidly, then to ANNICCA wildly).
Look, look there —
'T is writ in blood: " My duty to my lord
Forbids my telling you our present port. "
I would track her down with sleuth-hounds, did I not
Abhor to see her face. Ah, press thy hands
Against my head — my brain is like to burst —
My throat is choked. Help! help!
[He swoons.]