# Dramas (Baillie)/The Separation/Act 4

ACT IV.
SCENE I.—An Ante-room: Rovani discovered pacing to and fro.
ROVANI.
Their conference is long. The gentle Hermit
Has had, I fear, no easy task.—He comes!
Enter Hermit.
Save thee, good Father! hath thy shriving sped?
How is thy penitent?
HERMIT.
In the meek frame in which I left it. Never,
In all my intercourse with wretched sinners, Have I with a more keen ungovern'd spirit
Stronger contention held.
ROVANI.
For I have seen ere now his spirit strive
In all the restless energy of passion.
Thou hast at last subdued him?
HERMIT.
He now appears. But go to him, my son;
He needs thy presence much. Within an hour
He leaves the castle,—leaves his wife and child;
It is not fit that he should be alone.
Go, good Rovani, and with soothing words
Keep thou his resolution to the bent.
ROVANI.
To leave his wife and child?
HERMIT.
'T is meet that he should go.
ROVANI.
That solemn voice and sorrowing eye too well
Asserts there is a cause,—a fearful cause.
I will obey thee. (Going, but returns again.)
Is there aught further thou would'st have me do?
HERMIT.
But till he be prepared to leave the castle,
And take his last farewell, methinks 't were better
They should not meet.
ROVANI.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE II.
The Apartment of the Countess, who is discovered sitting on a low seat, her elbows resting on her lap, and her face covered with her clasped hands. She raises her head suddenly, listens for a moment, and then springs from her seat.
COUNTESS.
My mind and senses so confused are grown,
That all this wretchedness seems like a dream;
A dream, alas! from which there is no waking.
I hear him now: it is a distant step;
Enter Garcio, who approaches her, and then stopping short, gazes at her sadly, while she stands with her eyes fixed on the ground.
GARCIO.
The farewell yearnings of a broken heart
Would move thee to some pity of my state;
But that averted face, that downcast eye,—
There is abhorrence in it.
COUNTESS.
(Raises her eyes to him, and shrinks back.)
GARCIO.
COUNTESS.
So pale thy cheek, thine eyes so quench'd and sunk!
Hath one short night so changed thee?
GARCIO.
When the fierce turmoil of contending passions
To deepest self-abasement and contrition,
Subside;—a night in which I have consented
To tear my bosom up—to rend in twain
Its dearest, only ties; ay, such a night
Works on the mortal frame the scathe of years.
COUNTESS.
The scathe of years. Sorrow and sickness then
Will bow thee down, while cold unkindly strangers
Neglect thy couch, nor give thee needful succour.
GARCIO.
They least befriend the wretched who retard
The hour of his release.—Why should I live
If Heaven accept my penitence? Hath earth
Aught still to raise a wish, or gleam the path
Of one so darken'd round with misery?
COUNTESS.
In strength and stature grown,—would not this tempt thee
To wish some years of life?
GARCIO.
From the sweet cherub to the playful boy;
Shall, with such pity as an orphan claims,
Share in his harmless sports and catch his love;
Whilst I, if that I live and am by Heaven
Permitted, coming as a way-worn stranger,
At distant intervals, to gaze upon him,
And strain him to my heart, shall from his eye
The cold and cheerless stare of wonderment
Instead of love receive.
COUNTESS.
He shall be taught to lisp thy name, and raise
His little hands to Heaven for blessings on thee
As one most dear, though absent.
GARCIO.
I know that in my lonely state of penitence,
Sever'd from earthly bliss, I to thy mind
Shall be like one whom death hath purified.
O that, indeed, or death or any suff'rings, By earthly frame or frameless spirit endured, Could give me such a nature as again
Might be with thine united!
Could I but forward look and trust to this, Whatever suff'rings of a lengthen'd life
Before me lay would be to me as nothing;
As the rough billows of some stormy frith,
Upon whose further shore fair regions smile;
As the rent shroudings of a murky cloud,
Thro' which the mountain traveller, as he bends
His mantled shoulders to the pelting storm, Sees sunny brightness peer. Could I but think—
COUNTESS.
Trust to it surely. Deep as thy repentance,
Aspiring be thy faith!
GARCIO.
Strong as my penitence, 't were well indeed.
My scourge and bed of earth would then be temper'd
Almost to happiness.
COUNTESS.
And meanest thou then to wreak upon thyself
Such cruel punishment? O no, my Garcio!
God doth accept the sorrow of the heart
Before all studied penance. 'T is not well:
Where'er thou art, live thou with worthy men,
And as becomes thy state.
GARCIO.
I'll leave behind me all my crime did purchase.
Deprived of thee, its first and dearest meed,
Shall I retain its base and paltry earnings
To live with strangers more regarded? No;
Poor as I was when first my luckless steps
This fatal threshold pass'd,—I will depart.
COUNTESS.
Shall I, in warm robe wrapp'd, by winter fire
List to the pelting blast, and think the while
Of thy unshelter'd head?—
Or eat my bread in peace, and think that Garcio—
Reduce me not to such keen misery!
(Bursting into an agony of tears.)
GARCIO.
Retain I yet some portion of thy love?
O, if I do! I am not yet abandoned
MARGARET (disentangling herself from his hold, and removing to some distance).
GARCIO (following her, and bending one knee to the ground).
COUNTESS.
Fearful, and horrible, and dear thou art!
Both heaven and hell are in thee! Leave me then,—
Leave me to do that which is right and holy.
GARCIO.
Stain'd as I am with blood,—with kindred blood,
How could I live with thee? O do not think
I basely seek to move thee from thy purpose.
O, no! Farewell, most dear and honour'd Marg'ret!
Yet, ere I go, could'st thou without abhorrence—
(Pauses.)
COUNTESS.
GARCIO.
Once more in parting press'd, methinks I'd go
With lighten'd misery.—Alas! thou canst not!
Thou canst not to such guilt———
COUNTESS.
And Heaven in mercy pardon me this sin,
GARCIO.
Then wherefore wait I here?—
The world before me lies,—a desert world
In which a banish'd wand'rer I must be.
(A pause.)
Wander from hence, and leave her so defenceless
In these unruly times! I cannot do it!
I'll seem to go, yet hover near her still,
Like spell-bound spirit near th' embalmed dust
It can no more reanimate. Mine eyes
May see her distant form, mine ears may hear
Her sweet voice through the air, while she believes
Kingdoms or seas divide us.
The Hermit is my friend, and I to him—
Rest for the present, eager crowding thoughts!
I must not linger here. [Exit.
SCENE III.
An outer Court of the Castle; an arched Gateway in front with a stone Bench on one side of it.
Enter Ludoviquo, Gauvino, and Pietro, and seat themselves on the bench.
GAUVINO.
LUDOVIQUO.
PIETRO (to Gauvino).
I wonder that the Count should think of choosing
That noodle Gomez to attend upon him.
GAUVINO.
LUDOVIQUO.
GAUVINO.
Whom as his deputy he leaves behind,
Already takes upon him, by my faith!
As if his kingdom were to last for ever.
LUDOVIQUO.
GAUVINO.
He takes upon him; 't is his very graciousness,
His condescending vanity I hate.
A vain, assuming coxcomb! Ev'n when Garcio
Frown'd like a master o'er us, yet my heart
Acknowledged him as such, and loved him oft
The better for his sternness.
LUDOVIQUO.
Thou'st grumbled like a fiend, whene'er his orders,
Too roughly given, have cross'd thy wiser will.
GAUVINO.
Would he were with us still!
PIETRO.
LUDOVIQUO.
GAUVINO (significantly).
LUDOVIQUO.
GAUVINO.
PIETRO.
GAUVINO.
Will, when his term is up, dire reck'ning take.
PIETRO.
GAUVINO.
I will not utter more.
LUDOVIQUO.
PIETRO.
LUDOVIQUO.
Enter Gomez.
OMNES.
LUDOVIQUO.
GOMEZ.
By his command charged to return again,
And follow him no more. Long I entreated
To be permitted still to share his fate, But was at last constrain'd to leave him.
GAUVINO.
GOMEZ.
Dismounting, to my care he gave his steed,
And, as I said before, so strictly charged me,
I was constrain'd to leave him.
GAUVINO.
LUDOVIQUO.
GOMEZ.
GAUVINO (very eagerly).
To see what path he took?
GOMEZ.
But in a moment lost him from my sight.
GAUVINO (shaking his head).
Was there not pit, nor cave, nor flood at hand?
GOMEZ.
GAUVINO.
Whether or cave, or gulf, or flood receiv'd him,
He is, ere this, I fear, beneath the earth
Full deep enough, reck'ning with him who bought him.
PIETRO.
Such fearful compacts with the wicked power?
GAUVINO.
Who, starting at the sound of piping winds, That burst his chamber door, full sore aghast,
With trembling steps his gorgeous chamber left,
And, by himself in a small boat embark'd,
Wearing his way to the black wheeling eddy
In centre of the lake, which swallow'd him?
PIETRO.
GOMEZ.
GAUVINO.
Who, after years of such successful crimes, Took leave of all his friends, at warning given
By sound of midnight trumpet at his gate;
Round which, 't is said, a band of plumed spectres,
Whose whiten'd bony jaws and eyeless sockets
Did from their open'd beavers to the moon
Stare horribly, stood ready to receive him?
OMNES.
GAUVINO.
With mortal men he never more was seen.
(To Gomez.) But enter, man, and have a stoup of wine;
Thou seemest faint and spent.
OMNES.
PIETRO.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
The Garden.
Enter the Countess and Sophera.
SOPHERA (speaking as they enter).
The dewy morning is. There, o'er our heads
The birds conven'd like busy gossips sit, Trimming their speckled feathers. In the thick
And tufted herbage, with a humming noise
Stirs many a new-waked thing; amongst the grass
Beetles, and lady-birds, and lizards glide,
Showing their shining coats like tinted gold.
COUNTESS.
That social being have and fellowship
With others of their kind, begin the day
Gladly and actively. Ah! how wakes he,
His day of lonesome silence to begin,
Who, of all social intercourse bereft,
On the cold earth hath pass'd the dismal night?
Cheerful domestic stir, nor crowing cock,
Nor greeting friend, nor fawning dog hath he
To give him his good-morrow.
SOPHERA.
Think not my Lord, tho' he with Gomez parted
In a lone wood, will wander o'er the earth
In dreary solitude. In every country
Kind hearts are found to cheer the stranger's way.
COUNTESS.
SOPHERA.
Was still and pleasant; sweetly thro' the trees,
Which moved not, look'd the stars and crescent moon;
The night-bird's lengthen'd call with fitful lapse,
And the soft ceaseless sound of distant rills
Upon the list'ning ear came soothingly;
While the cool freshness of the air was mix'd
With rising odours from the flowery earth.
In such sweet summer nights, be well assured
The unhoused head sleeps soundest.
COUNTESS.
I could not sleep; and, as I paced my chamber,
Alas! thought I, how long a term is night
To lonely watchers! ev'n a summer's night.
And in the lengthen'd gloom of chill December——
Why dost thou move?
SOPHERA.
COUNTESS.
SOPHERA.
COUNTESS.
Will he persist to press his presence on me?
Enter Tortona.
TORTONA.
But hov'ring round your walls, like the poor moth
Gilding the fatal flame, I needs must enter.
I was compell'd to do it. May I hope
I see you well as lovely, and inclined, From the angelic sweetness of your nature, To pardon me?
COUNTESS.
The bountiful profusion of a tongue
Well stored with courteous words.
TORTONA.
A tongue that is of all expression beggar'd,
That can the inward sentiments declare
Which your angelic presence still inspires.
She bore my secret message to your ear.
SOPHERA.
You had not else, I trow, found entrance here.
COUNTESS.
A secret message, saidst thou, for the ear
Of Garcio's wife!
TORTONA.
Like a dull dolt such heavenly beauty quits,—
Deserve the name of husband? No, sweet Marg'ret;
Gloze not to me thy secret wrongs; I know, Full well I know them; nor shall formal names
And senseless ties my ardent love repel.
(Catching hold of her hand.)
COUNTESS (shaking him off).
Almost excuse thy crime, thou shouldst most dearly
Repent this insult. Thinkest thou my lord
Has left me unprotected?—Ho! Rovani!
Move with a quicker step.
Enter Rovani, followed by Gonzalos.
To his fair courtesy, as it is meet,
I now consign you with all due respect;
And so farewell. [Exit, followed by Sophera.
TORTONA.
An absent husband's substitute can find
Right speedily.
ROVANI (aside to Gonzalos).
It makes my soldier's plume more proudly wave
To think such fancies twitch him.
(Aloud to Tortona, advancing to meet him.)
Noble Marquis!
Proud of the lady's honourable charge, Which to my care entrusts a guest so valued,
Let me entreat you to partake within
Some slight refreshment. After such fatigue,
So early and so gallantly encounter'd,
(Two leagues at least upon an ambling steed
Your morning's hardships fairly maybe reckon'd,)
You must require refreshment.
TORTONA.
ROVANI.
Compared to greater. Pardon a deficiency
Your presence has occasion'd, and permit
That I conduct you———
TORTONA.
Follow me not! My way from this curst place
I'll find without a guide.
ROVANI.
If it so please you: and, farewell, my Lord,
Until within these walls you shall again
Vouchsafe to honour us.
TORTONA.
Than thou dost reckon for.
ROVANI.
[Exit Tortona.
He calls me minion: seest thou not, Gonzalos,
Which way suspicion leans? The fool is jealous,—
Jealous of me! Hath any one besides
Harbour'd such foolish fancies?
GONZALOS.
Hath such a thought conceived, or ever will.
ROVANI.
GONZALOS.
Valiant Rovani; this I know right well:
But vain ones there a fatt'ning culture find,
And reach a marv'llous growth.
ROVANI.
Fulfil my trust; and do but wish my arms
The lady and this castle might defend
Against a worthier foe than that light braggart.
GONZALOS.
A braggart may be brave. Faith! were it not
For some small grains of wit and honest worth
Which poor Tortona lacks, thyself and he
In natural temper'ment and spirit are
So nearly match'd, you might twin nestlings be
From the same shell.—Be not so rash, I pray!
Tortona is no coward; and his forces
Greater than thou in ruin'd walls like these
Canst prudently oppose: therefore be wise,
And send for timely aid, lest he surprise thee.
ROVANI.
Shall be admitted here.
GONZALOS.
ROVANI.
[Exit Gonzalos.
ROVANI (alone).
That Marg'ret favours me. (Muttering, and smiling to himself, then speaking aloud.)
It touches not our honour.—Fair advice!
Call in some neighbouring leader of banditti
To share the honour of defending her!
I know his spite. Twin nestlings from the shell
With such a fool! I know his jealous spite,
I will be hang'd before another soldier
Shall cross the bridge or man our moated wall.
[Exit.