Diminutive dramas

Scene.—A room in Rosamund’s house, “The Labyrinth,” Woodstock. Discovered: Rosamund (playing a harp) and Margery. It is night.

Margery. There’s a lady wishes to see you, milady.

Rosamund. A lady! How can she have found her way through the Labyrinth? You know that I’m not at home to any visitors. (She throws down her harp.)

Margery. She said she wished to see your ladyship very particular.

Rosamund. Who is she?

Margery. She didn’t give any name, but she said that it was something about fortune-telling.

Rosamund. Oh! she’s the fortune-teller I heard about—the gipsy.

Margery. She’s not that sort, milady.

Rosamund. Do you mean she’s a lady?

Margery. She’s dressed poor—but——

Rosamund. What?

Margery. Well, milady, I thought she had come to beg, what with her poor clothes; but when I said as you were not at home to visitors, she ordered me about like, so rough, that I saw at once she was a real lady; and then her shoes are beautiful, I’m sure, the best red velvet.

Rosamund (pensively). I promised Henry not to see any one—but then once can’t matter—and I do so want to have my fortune told. (Abruptly) Show her in. (Exit Margery.) After all, Henry never need know. And I don’t see why I should never see a soul. I am becoming quite rusty for want of human society. Besides, Henry promised to let me have my fortune told.

Enter Margery and Queen Eleanor. Queen Eleanor is a commanding-looking woman, shabbily dressed. Margery withdraws

Rosamund (rising shyly). How do you do?

Eleanor. Please sit down. I will sit down too. (They both sit down.) You have got a beautiful house.

Rosamund. Yes, isn’t it nice? Mavis built it.

Eleanor. Mavis! Really? I’ve always considered him too extravagant for me.

Rosamund. You ought to come in the daytime and see the garden. The roses are beautiful this year. I beg your pardon, but I didn’t quite catch your name.

Eleanor. Never mind about my name. I’ve come to talk business. How long have you been living here?

Rosamund. Let me see, we—I mean I—got in on Lady Day. But aren’t you going to tell my fortune?

Eleanor. So you do wish your fortune told?

Rosamund. Oh yes, please tell it me if you can.

Eleanor. All in good time.

Rosamund. But before you do, you won’t be offended, I’m sure, if I ask you how you found your way through the Labyrinth?

Eleanor. Fortune-tellers know that kind of thing by instinct.

Rosamund (greatly interested). Really? Then you must tell me who is going to be champion at the Winchester Tournament, and whether (she hesitates)——

Eleanor. What?

Rosamund—Oh! Nothing. How do you tell one’s fortune? By looking at the hand or in a crystal?

Eleanor. I will look in your hand first. Show it me. No; the left hand first, please. (Rosamund gives her her left hand.) Yours is a most interesting hand. The Mountain of the Moon is strongly developed.

Rosamund. Oh! How interesting! What does that mean?

Eleanor. It means that you have a warm, affectionate nature.

Rosamund. That’s true.

Eleanor. You had several illnesses when you were a child.

Rosamund. Yes; I had whooping-cough when I was four, measles when I was seven, and scarlatina when I was nine.

Eleanor. Exactly. You have more intuition than judgment; your first instincts are true, but you are inclined to let them be overruled by your second thoughts.

Rosamund. That’s perfectly true.

Eleanor. You are very generous, but inclined to be extravagant in dress. You are fond of luxury, devoted to flowers, and you like soft stuffs. You are fond of music, but you have more taste than actual skill. You are quick-tempered, but not resentful; you are gentle, modest, and unassuming, but inclined to be obstinate, if you are driven beyond a certain point.

Rosamund. It’s too wonderful!

Eleanor. The Mountain of Jupiter is highly developed; Saturn fair, and Mercury almost imperceptible. That means you are ambitious but easy-going, rather lazy, and most careless about money matters.

Rosamund. It’s like second sight.

Eleanor. You have had one great love affair in your life. (She pauses.)

Rosamund. Do go on.

Eleanor. The man you love is tall; he has red hair, almost the colour of a ruby, and a violent temper. He is impulsive, and often does things on the spur of the moment which he regrets bitterly afterwards.

Rosamund. Yes, yes.

Eleanor. He is a powerful man. He holds a position of great importance in the State.

Rosamund. And will he love me for ever and ever?

Eleanor. You have a double line of life, and it is marked with a star.

Rosamund. What does that mean?

Eleanor. It means that the man you love is threatened with a great disaster.

Rosamund. Oh! How dreadful! Is there no means by which it can be averted?

Eleanor. There is one way.

Rosamund. What is it? Tell me quickly.

Eleanor (solemnly). By an act of willing self-sacrifice on your part. That is to say, by your death—self-inflicted, of course. If you give up your life you will save your lover’s.

Rosamund. Oh!

Eleanor. And you will go down to posterity as a devoted woman—a heroine.

Rosamund. Oh!

Eleanor. But unless you perform this act of self-sacrifice at once, it will be too late. The danger is imminent.

Rosamund. What kind of danger is it?

Eleanor. On that point the stars are reticent.

Rosamund. But tell me more about the—about him.

Eleanor. About whom?

Rosamund. The man with ruby hair. Is he married?

Eleanor. Yes, and hence the trouble. He is married to a high-born, noble, unselfish, generous, gifted, and beautiful woman—a paragon. But I am sorry to say, he has for a brief moment proved faithless to her in thought—it is only a temporary whim, of course; but even a passing infidelity—even though it be only an infidelity in thought—is at once visited by a just retribution. It is because of the infidelity that he is now meditating, that the vengeance of the stars pursues him, and that danger threatens.

Rosamund. It’s not true! His wife is horrible. She has driven him away by her cold, callous conduct. She’s a scold. She bullies him. She nags at him from morning till night. Besides which she’s very, very ugly, and dresses like a scarecrow.

Eleanor. How dare you talk like that to me! On your knees, wretched minx!

Rosamund. I don’t believe you’re a fortune-teller at all. I don’t believe you know anything about it.

Eleanor. You are right. I am no fortune-teller. I am the Queen. My name is Eleanor.

Rosamund. Oh dear! You’ve no business to come here. This is my house.

Eleanor. Your house, indeed! However, I have not come here to waste my time. I have come, as I said before, on business. Here is a dagger, and here in this vial is an effective but entirely painless poison. I give you two minutes to choose which way you will take.

[She places the vial and the dagger on a small table.

Rosamund (crying). Oh! Go! You frighten me.

Eleanor. Now, do you hear what I say? Two minutes.

Rosamund (kneeling and sobbing). I can’t. Oh, please spare me! I will do anything; I will go away—anywhere—to a nunnery; but please spare me.

Eleanor (with tragic grimness). One minute and a half.

Rosamund. Oh, I’m so young! I’m sure I never meant any harm. Spare my life. Have mercy!

Eleanor. One minute.

Rosamund. Oh, you are cruel! I’m so young. Think what it is to be young.

Eleanor. The time has elapsed. Now, which is it to be?

Rosamund (rising and drying her eyes). After all, why should I? (She takes the dagger and the vial and throws them on to the floor.) I won’t take either. So there! You can do your worst. (She calls) Here, Margery! Rosalie! Topaz! Anselm! Richard! Thomas! Quick! Help! Murder! (Margery and a bevy of servants rush into the room with torches and staves.) This fortune-teller has insulted me! Turn her out of the house at once!

Eleanor. How dare you! I’m the——

Rosamund. Quick! Quick! Turn her out. She’s tried to poison me! If you don’t turn her out at once I’ll tell the King——

[The servants turn out Queen Eleanor, who struggles violently.

Rosamund. Mind, Margery, if there should be any other visitors, I’m not at home.

Curtain.