# Dramas (Baillie)/The Separation/Act 3

ACT III.
SCENE I.—An Apartment in the Castle.
Enter Garcio and Ludoviquo, speaking as they enter.
GARCIO.
Have they been long together?
LUDOVIQUO.
GARCIO.
Has she of late?
LUDOVIQUO.
GARCIO.
Stare not as if I meant to question thee:
I had no more to say. (Motioning him away.)
[Exit Ludoviquo.
(Alone.) At such a time retired with her confessor!
What! hath her lord's return caused in her mind
Such sudden need of ghostly counsel?—Strange!
Something hath been amiss; if not in act,
She is, I fear, in will and fancy tainted.
Rovani enters behind him unperceived.
ROVANI.
Of her concerns who may cognisance take?
Although cowl'd priests beneath their jurisdiction
Pretend to hold her, be not thou so strict.
GARCIO.
ROVANI.
She seems—she is a very pious dame.
GARCIO.
We have been fellow-soldiers nine long years:
Thou ne'er wert wont to weigh thy words with me.
What dost thou think? There is some cause for this.
ROVANI.
GARCIO.
Methinks her shame-flush'd face would turn aside,
Nor look on me so oft and earnestly
As I have seen her gaze.—It cannot be!
In act she is not false.—But if her heart,
Where every kind and dear affection dwelt,—
(Pacing to and fro in violent agitation.)
ROVANI.
Which, if it be at all——
GARCIO.
Oh, if my head but ached, or fev'rish sleep,
Or the more potent secret cause forced from me
One groan or sigh, what tones of kind alarm!
And the soft pressure of her gentle hand
In mute affliction, till I smiled again!
Here, on my bursting heart I feel it still,
Though cold and changed she be.
Love to aversion turn.
ROVANI.
And but ev'n now methought I heard thee name
A potent secret cause.—Thou hast been wont
Freely to make me sharer of thy thoughts—
Of all thy secret wishes.
GARCIO.
Nought for thy good to hear or mine to utter,
Have I conceal'd from thee.—I hear a noise.
ROVANI.
GARCIO.
Too quick, perhaps, in fancying sounds that are not.
ROVANI.
Enter Sophera.
GARCIO (to Sophera).
SOPHERA.
She is not well, and begs that for the night
She may in solitude recruit her spirits.
She wishes you good night and peaceful sleep.
She bade me say, my Lord, her malady
Is of no ardent kind that should alarm you;
But, as she hopes, will pass away ere morn.
ROVANI (aside to her).
To disappointment; knowing not at daybreak
Whether his next night's slumber shall be had
On silken couch, by some fair princess fann'd,
Or on the cold damp earth, with dead men's bones
His wounded head to pillow. No, sweet maid!
We bear such evils lightly.
SOPHERA.
[Exit.
GARCIO (returning to Rovani).
ROVANI.
GARCIO.
A shameful thought, that must remain unutter'd.
Ruin, and shame, and misery come upon me!
Heaven pours its vengeance on this cursed head!
ROVANI.
Ere thou give loose to passion.
GARCIO.
Become a calm inquisitor of shame?
ROVANI.
As if to pass the night. But, some hours later,
When all are gone to rest, steal softly forth
Into thy lady's chamber. There thou'lt see
If she indeed be sick, or if she hold
The vigil of a guilt-distracted mind.
GARCIO.
Good night, my friend.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE II.
The Bedchamber of the Countess, who is discovered sitting on a low seat by the side of the Bed, with her head and arms thrown upon the Bed. She raises her head, and, after a thoughtful pause, starts up eagerly.
COUNTESS.
Lashes its foaming billows o'er the bark
That bears th' accursed freight, till the scared crew
Into its yawning gulf casts forth the murderer.
On the embattled field, in armour cased,
His manly strength to blasted weakness turns.
Yea, in their peaceful homes, men, as by instinct,
From the dark rolling of his eye will turn
They know not why, so legibly has Nature
Set on his brow the mark of bloody Cain.
And shall I think the prosp'rous Garcio,—he
Whose countenance allured all eyes, whose smile,
Whose voice was love, whose frame with strong affection
I've seen so dearly moved; who in my arms,
Who in my heart hath lived—No! let dark priests,
From the wild fancies of a dying man,
Accuse him as they will, I'll not believe it.
I'll go to him myself and tell my wretchedness.
O! if his kindling eye with generous ire
Repel the charge;—if his blest voice deny it,
Though one raised from the dead swore to its truth,
I'll not believe it.
Enter Sophera.
To go to bed?
SOPHERA.
But in my chamber, half prepared for rest,
Op'ning the drawer of an ancient cabinet
To lay some baubles by, I found within———
COUNTESS.
SOPHERA.
Your marriage with the Count, from your apartment,
A picture of your brother, clad in mail,
A strong resemblance, over which your tears
Had oft been shed, was stol'n away?
COUNTESS.
How it was stol'n, for value it had none
For any but myself, I often wonder'd.
Thou hast not found it?
SOPHERA.
(Giving her a picture, which she seizes eagerly.)
COUNTESS.
(After gazing mournfully on it.)
Retire, I pray thee, nor, till morning break,
Return again, for I must be alone.
[Exit Sophera.
(After gazing again on the picture.)
Alas! that lip, that eye, that arching brow;
That thoughtful look which I have often mark'd, So like my noble father! (Kissing it.)
This for his dear, dear sake, and this for thine:
Ye sleep i' the dust together.—
Alas! how sweetly mantled thus thy cheek
At sight of those thou lovedst!—What things have been,
What hours, what years of trouble have gone by,
Since thus in happy careless youth thou wert
Dearest and nearest to my simple heart.
(Kisses it again, and presses it to her breast, while Garcio, who has entered behind by a concealed door at the bottom of the stage, comes silently upon her, and she utters a scream of surprise.)
GARCIO.
That should restore thy health: thou giv'st these hours
To the caressing of a minion's image
Which to a faithful husband are denied.
Oh, oh! they but on morning vapour tread,
Who ground their happiness on woman's faith.
COUNTESS.
If this be so, we shall be happy still.
The love I bear the dead, dear though it be, Surely does thee no wrong.
GARCIO.
(Snatching at the picture.)
That is the image of a living gallant.
COUNTESS.
Merciful God! he's guilty!—am I thus?
And curse me not that I have harbour'd it,
If that it be not so.—The wretched Baldwin,
Upon his deathbed, in his frenzied ravings,
Accused thee as the murderer of my brother:
O pardon me that such a monstrous tale
Had any power to move me!—Look upon me!
Say that thou didst it not, and I'll believe thee.
(A pause.)
Thou dost not speak. What fearful look is that?
I've shared thy love, been in thy bosom cherish'd,
But come not near me! touch me not! the earth
Yawning beneath my feet will shelter me
From thine accursed hand.
GARCIO.
Can gentlest love to such fierce detestation
Be in an instant changed, for one sad deed,
The hasty act of a most horrid moment,
When hell and strong temptation master'd me?
And yet why marvel? for thou canst not more
Detest that deed than I, the wretched doer.
COUNTESS.
GARCIO.
But, oh! the while, unfasten from my face
Those looks of horror, else I cannot tell it.
COUNTESS.
GARCIO.
Refused, on thy behalf, my suit of love;
Deeming a soldier, though of noble birth,
Ev'n his own blood, possessing but his arms
And some slight wreaths of fame, a match unmeet
For one whom lords of princely territory
Did strive to gain:—and here, indeed, I own
He rightly deem'd; my suit was most presumptuous.
COUNTESS.
He did oppose thy suit.
GARCIO.
When at the close of day, with faithful Baldwin,
I reach'd this castle with the vain intent
To make a last attempt to move his pity.
I made it, and I fail'd. With much contempt
And aggravating passion, he dismiss'd me
To the dark night.
COUNTESS.
GARCIO.
My proud blood boil'd. Through the wild wood I took
My darkling way. A violent storm arose;
The black dense clouds pour'd down their torrents on me;
The roaring winds aloft with the vex'd trees
Held strong contention, whilst my buffetted breast
The crushing tangled boughs and torn-up shrubs
Vainly opposed. Cross lay the wild'ring paths.
I miss'd the road; and after many turnings,
Seeing between the trees a steady light,
As from a window gleam, I hasten'd to it.
It was a lower window, and within, The lighted chamber show'd me but too well, We had unwittingly a circuit made
Back to the very walls from whence we came.
COUNTESS.
GARCIO.
When, on a nearer view, within the chamber,
Upon an open couch, alone and sleeping,
I saw Ulrico?
COUNTESS.
GARCIO.
Living, though most unworthy as I was,
Companion of thy virtues, one, whose heart
Has been to good affections form'd and bent;
But then it was not so.—My hapless youth
In bloody, savage, predatory war
Was rear'd. It was no shock to my rude childhood
To see whole bands of drunk or sleeping men
In cold blood butcher'd. Could I tell to thee
The things that I have seen: things, too, in which
My young hand took its part; thou would'st not wonder, That, seeing thus my enemy in my power, Love, fortune, honours, all within the purchase
Of one fell stroke, I raised my arm and gave it.
COUNTESS.
GARCIO.
The deed was done; and, hastening from the chamber
With breathless speed back to the spot where Baldwin
Held my brave steed, I mounted, favour'd now
By a new-risen moon and waning storm;
And to the fleetness of that noble creature
I owe it, that though heir to him I slew, No whisper of suspicion upon me
E'er breath'd as perpetrator of the deed.
COUNTESS.
Pressing in plighted love the bloody hand
That slew my brother!
GARCIO.
An angel pure, link'd to a fiend. Yet, think not
I have enjoy'd what guilt so deep had earn'd.
Oh no! I've borne about, where'er I went,
A secret wretchedness within my breast
Turning delight to torment.—Now thou knowest
Why on my midnight couch thou'st heard me oft
Utter deep groans, when thou, waked from thy sleep,
Hast thought some nightmare press'd me.
Oh! were the deed undone, not all the diff'rence
Of sublunary bliss that lies between
A world's proud monarch and the lothliest wretch
That gleans subsistence from the fetid dunghill,
Would tempt me to embrue my hands in murder.
(Speaking these last words loud and vehemently.)
COUNTESS.
GARCIO.
Still some remains of love for one so guilty?
Thou wilt not then, in utter detestation,
Heap curses on my head.
COUNTESS.
O no! I'll nightly from my cloister'd cell
Send up to pitying Heaven my prayers for thee.
GARCIO.
COUNTESS.
GARCIO.
We shall not part.
COUNTESS.
Longer to live with thee.
GARCIO.
Submit to this, ev'n cursed as I am?
No; were I black as hell's black fiends, and thou
Pure as celestial spirits (and so thou art),
Still thou art mine; my sworn, my wedded love, And still as such I'll hold thee.
COUNTESS.
GARCIO.
To strike me from thy side. Let yawning earth,
Op'ning beneath my feet, divide us. Then,
And not till then, will I from thee be sever'd.
COUNTESS.
A dreaded tyrant rule? Beneath thy power
Thou may'st indeed retain me, crush'd, degraded,
Watching in secret horror every glance
Of thy perturbed eye, like a quell'd slave, If this suffice thee; but all ties of love—
All sympathy between us now is broken
And lost for ever.
GARCIO.
Let Heaven in its just vengeance deal with me!
Let pain, remorse, disease, and every ill
Here in this world of nature be my portion!
And in the world of spirits too well I know
The murd'rer's doom abides me.
Is this too little for thy cruelty?
No; by the living God! on my curst head
Light every ill but this! We shall not part.
COUNTESS.
Thou dost constrain me to an oath as dreadful;
And by that awful name——
GARCIO.
Then it must be; there is no mitigation.
(Throws himself on the ground, uttering a deep groan, when Rovani and Sophera burst in upon them from opposite sides.)
ROVANI (to the Countess).
Done some rash act? I heard him loud and stormy.
SOPHERA.
And I will place her gently on her couch;
For they are both most wretched.
(Sophera supports the Countess, while Rovani endeavours to raise Garcio from the ground, and the scene closes.)
SCENE III.
The Inside of a rustic Hermitage; the Hermit discovered marking a Figure on the Wall.
HERMIT.
Making a term of thirty years' repentance
For forty years of sin. Heaven of its mercy
Accept the sacrifice!—Who knocks without?
(Knocking at the door.)
'T is nothing but my fancy. Break of day
Yet scarcely peeps, nor hath a new-waked bird
Chirp'd on my branchy roof. (Knocking again.)
Nay, something does.
Lift up the latch, whoe'er thou art; nor lock
Nor bar, nor any hind'rance e'er prevents
Those who would enter here.
Enter Rovani.
ROVANI.
At such untimely hour; for misery
Makes free with times and seasons.
HERMIT.
Ev'n in a monarch's court.—Sit down, I pray:
I am myself a poor repentant sinner,
But, as I trust, a brand saved from the fire.
Then tell thy tale, and give thy sorrows vent:
What can I do for thee?
ROVANI.
But I am come from an unhappy man,
Who, inly torn with agony of mind,
Hath need of ghostly aid.
HERMIT.
ROVANI.
For that which I entreat thee.
For the cowl'd monk, in peaceful cloisters bred,
Who hath for half a cent'ry undisturb'd
Told o'er his beads;—what sympathy hath he
For perturb'd souls, storm-toss'd i' the wicked world?
Therefore Count Garcio most desires to see thee,
And will to thee alone unlock his breast.
HERMIT.
ROVANI.
HERMIT.
ROVANI.
Like one distraught, or cast him on the ground
In all the frantic violence of despair.
I have watch'd by him, but from thee alone
He will hear words of counsel or of peace.
Thy voice, perhaps, will calm a stormy spirit
That ne'er has known control.
HERMIT.
We'll lose no time, my son; I follow thee.
[Exeunt.