Cale Rice - Yolanda of Cyprus

'Tis clear, my Berengere!

Berengere. Then, her design?

And, the requital that entices her?

[Rises.

Evil will come of it, to us some evil,

Or to Yolanda and Amaury's love. —

But, there; the women.

Camarin. And too brief their stay.

What signal for to-night?

Berengere. Be in the garden.

Over the threshold yonder I will wave

The candle-sign, when all are passed to sleep.

Camarin. And with the beam I shall mount up to you

Quicker than ecstasy.

Berengere. I am as a leaf

Before the wind and raging of your love.

Go – go.

Camarin. But to return unto your breast!

[ He leaves her by the divan.

[ The women re-enter with silver lighted lamps; behind them are Hassan and the slave Smarda. They wait for Berengere, who has stood silent, to speak.

Berengere ( looking up ). Ah, you are come; I had forgotten.

And it is time for sleep. – Hassan, the gates:

Close them.

Hassan. And chain them, lady?

Berengere. Wait no longer.

Lord Renier will not come.

Hassan. No word of him?

Berengere. None, though he yesterday left Nicosie

With the priest Moro.

Hassan. Lady —

Berengere. Wait no longer.

Come, women, with your lamps and light the way.

[ The women go by the steps. Berengere follows.

Hassan ( staring after her ). The reason of this mood in her? the reason?

Something is vile. Lady Yolanda weeps

In secret; all for what? By God! the Paphian?

Or she of Venice? ( sees Smarda). Now slave! Scythian!

Why do you linger?

Smarda. I am bidden – ( snarls ) by

My mistress.

Hassan. Spa! Thy mistress hath, I think,

Something of hell in her and has unpacked

A portion in this castle. Is it so?

Smarda. My lady is of Venice.

Hassan. Strike her, God.

Her smirk admits it.

Smarda. Touch me not!

Hassan. I'll wring

Your tongue out sudden, if it now has lies.

What of your lady and lord Renier?

Smarda. Off!

Renier enters behind, with Moro.

Hassan. Your lady and lord Renier, I say!

What do they purpose?

Smarda. Fool-born! look around.

Hassan. Not till —

Smarda. Lord Renier, help.

Hassan. What do you say?

[Turns, and stares amazed.

A fool I am …

Renier. Where is my wife?

Hassan. Why, she …

This slave stung me to pry.

Renier. Where is my wife?

Hassan. A moment since she left – the women with her.

She asked for your return.

Renier. And wherefore did?

Hassan. You jeer me.

Renier. Answer.

Hassan. Have you not been gone?

Renier. Not – overfar. Where is Yolanda? – Well?

No matter; find my chamber till I come.

Of my arrival, too, no word to any.

[Hassan goes, confused.

You, Moro, have deferred me; now, I move.

Whether it is suspicion eats in me,

Mistrust and fret and doubt – of whom I say not,

Or whether desire, and unsubduable,

To see Amaury sceptred – I care not.

[ To Smarda.

Slave, to your lady who awaits me, say

I'm here and now have chosen.

Moro. Do not!

Renier. Chosen.

[Smarda goes.

None can be great who will not hush his heart

To hold a sceptre, and Amaury must.

He is Lusignan and his lineage

Will drown in him Yolanda's loveliness.

Moro. It will not.

Renier. Then at least I shall uncover

What this Venetian hints.

Moro. Sir?

Renier. I must know.

Moro. 'Tis of your wife? – Yolanda?

Renier. Name them not.

They've shut me from their souls.

Moro. My lord, not so;

But you repulse them.

Renier. When they pity. No,

Something has gone from me or never was

Within my breast. I love not – am unlovable.

Amaury is not so.

And this Venetian Vittia Pisani —

Moro. Distrust her!

Renier. She has power.

Moro. But not truth.

And yesterday a holy relic scorned.

Renier. She loves Amaury. Wed to her he will

Be the elected Governor of Cyprus.

The throne, then, but a step.

Moro. But all too great.

And think; Yolanda is to him as heaven:

He will not yield her.

Renier. Then he must. And she,

The Venetian, has ways to it – a secret

To wrench her from his arms.

Moro. Sir, sir? – of what?

Renier. I know not, of some shame.

Moro. Shame!

Renier. Why do you clutch me?

Moro. I – am a priest – and shame —

Renier. You show suspicions.

[Vittia enters unnoted.

Of whom? – Of whom, and what?

Vittia ( lightly ). My lord, of women.

[Renier starts and turns.

So does the Holy Church instil him.

Renier. You

Come softly, lady of Venice.

Vittia. Streets of sea

In Venice teach us.

Renier. Of what women, then?

My wife? Yolanda?

Vittia. By the freedom due us,

What matters it? In Venice our lords know

That beauty has no master.

Renier. Has no… That,

That too has something hid.

Vittia. Suspicious lord!

Yet Berengere Lusignan is his wife!

And soon Yolanda – But for that I'm here.

You sent for me.

Renier ( sullen ). I sent.

Vittia. To say you've chosen?

And offer me irrevocable aid

To win Amaury?

Renier. All is vain in me

Before the fever for it.

Vittia. Then, I shall.

It must be done. My want is unafraid.

Hourly I am expecting out of Venice

Letters of power.

And what to you I pledge is he shall be

Ruler of Cyprus and these Mediterranean

Blue seas that rock ever against its coast.

That do I pledge … but more.

Renier. Of rule?.. Then what?

Vittia ( going up to him ). Of shame withheld – dishonor unrevealed.

[As he recoils.

Hush! there are steps.

[The slave re-enters.

Smarda?

Smarda ( quickly ). My lady!

Vittia. Speak.

Smarda. I've erred; she's not asleep.

Vittia. Who? – Ah! Yolanda?

Smarda. Yes; she is coming!

Renier. Ha!

Vittia. My lord – !

Renier. I'll stay,

Stay and confront her.

Vittia. Ignorantly? No.

Renier. I'll question her.

Vittia. Blindly, and peril all?

Renier. I will return. You put me off, and off.

[ By the loggia, with Moro, he goes; the slave slips out. Yolanda enters, sadly, her gaze on the floor. She walks slowly, but becoming conscious starts, sees Vittia, and turns to withdraw.

Vittia. Your pardon —

Yolanda. I can serve you?

Vittia. If you seek

The women, they are gone.

Yolanda. I do not seek them.

Vittia. Nor me?

Yolanda. Nor any. – Yet I would I might

With seeking penetrate the labyrinth