3rd OLD MONK.
Now he stops preaching; it was like a spell.
4th OLD MONK.
OLD MONK.
CARLOMAN.
God’s servants must not listen but to Him.
You have grown comfortable as the years
Rolled on,—no matter. What the novice suffers,
What every novice suffers, speak of that.
OLD MONK.
CARLOMAN.
What you have suffered; then ’tis waste of time
To listen to you. What we suffer once
In youth—in childhood and our secret youth,
We suffer to our grave.
[turning to another monk] Have you forgotten?
Ist OLD MONK.
My parents spoilt my life to have their will;
I must endure the best they could conceive,
And save their souls.
CARLOMAN.
A curse on parents! The one truth that led me
To seek the cloister was my certitude
A man’s existence lodges in himself
And is not owned by kindred.
OLD MONK.
You had your way, and made yourself a monk;
Now you are all for change—so is the world
For bitter change.
Ist OLD MONK.
OLD MONK.
If we will give him time to work them in.
IST MONK.
CARLOMAN.
It never is too late for any seeing,
For any recognition we are wrong.
It is a man’s despair, not his confession
Proves him contemptible. Too late, you say,
Too late—but there are countries where ’tis spring
And harvest many times within the year.
Besides, we must not tarry in a place
The moments do not wash with dew; we wither,
Death has his secret will with us. Believe!
Act on the instant.
OLD MONK.
And yonder is the Prior.
[Damiani, with Rachis and a large troop of monks, is seen coming from the Chapel.]
CARLOMAN.
But you and I and all of us can pass
Through them in simple triumph if we will—
With one consent.
Why, they are opening now!
How gloriously! Armed riders!
[Enter Astolph with a band of Lombard soldiers.]
MONKS.
CARLOMAN.
What, flocking to my side because a door
Turns on its hinges—shame!
ASTOLPH.
DAMIANI.
ASTOLPH.
Give place!
CARLOMAN.
ASTOLPH.
I like you—yes, your face is eloquent.
You do not keep your eyes upon the ground,
Like this dear relative.
CARLOMAN.
You glitter like the golden Vines, your hair
Is gold, your armour full of spokes and rays.
ASTOLPH.
The contrast strikes you.
[to Damiani] Lunatic?
DAMIANI.
ASTOLPH.
An extra horse; for, lunatic or sane,
I must have speech with——
We who are kings and soldiers know it well,
And Christendom remembers. Ah, I see!
You are not happy, so they call you mad.
RACHIS.
A King discrowned—and more, you have my crown.
Are you grown sick of it?
ASTOLPH.
Do not look covetous! I am not come
To take you from your prayers.
RACHIS.
But when you roll your thirsty tongue in hell,
And see me in the peace of Abraham’s bosom,
Watching your pain—
ASTOLPH.
[with a shudder]
Ah, then—meanwhile there is a blowing wind,
And all the world to ravish ... Carloman,
We are the brothers now ... [to Damiani] Yes, I and this
[Rachis sneaks off, hissing curses.]
Fraternal soul, your madman.
DAMIANI.
ASTOLPH.
A moment at my soldiers—and retire.
And I can have a draught.
[He looses his helmet and dips it in the well. Carloman puts both hands round it as soon as it is full of water.]
CARLOMAN.
That prison-stuff was stagnant. Sunshine’s warmth,
The cool of water, how they both refresh!
[looking up with a smile]
Now, brilliant one, your business?
ASTOLPH.
The Monastery?
CARLOMAN.
ASTOLPH.
You will not creep back, conscience in your nerves?
CARLOMAN.
ASTOLPH.
I left it open.
CARLOMAN.
ASTOLPH.
CARLOMAN.
ASTOLPH.
And most sagacious, for he seeks your brother
To win him with the bribe of sacred oil
As vassal and ally against myself.
I started here from Rome the hour I heard
That Zacharias had crept out by night
To travel northward and defeat my hopes.
You must arrive before him! I am come
Sure, from report, that you will help my cause,
You, who have been a ruler. I contend
No supernatural power should have control
Of lands and cities, troops and civil rights,
Matters distinct from God, as from the world
The service he requires. Life is so easy
If we will keep it human—quarrel, murder,
And then make friends: we have so short a time
To sin together ... but this hate deferred,
These pestilential menaces!—
CARLOMAN.
Shall never injure France!
ASTOLPH.
To break the threatened treaty. You have owned
Power over Pepin?
CARLOMAN.
He followed all my counsels.
ASTOLPH.
CARLOMAN.
And trees—the olives, cypresses and vines;
Then France with nuts and poplars! But you keep me
In one great palpitation.
ASTOLPH.
Besetting me from north and southward, crushes
My strongest forces. What a splendid thing
For the old man to travel in the heat
So far to work my ruin!
CARLOMAN.
Is for the young, my Astolph.
ASTOLPH.
I love you. Why, I feel a lad, eighteen,
When looking on you. Come, we two must kiss;
We may not burn together, flame in flame,
Again—so we must kiss.
CARLOMAN.
Would I could cleave to you! You give me freedom,
A gift so rarely thought of.
ASTOLPH.
The brethren, now—this instant. We must start.
CARLOMAN.
ASTOLPH.
Still half of you! Such trouble for men’s souls—
But have your wish. Once on the battlefield,
Men will become your prey. This solid jaw
Means grip you will not loose. O Carloman,
If I can circumvent the Pope, and then
Stretch him a bleeding quarry at my feet—
CARLOMAN.
But I plead for France;
Popes must not meddle with her.
ASTOLPH.
The services of Carloman: another
Whom he will choose attends him.
DAMIANI.
You steal from God His servants!
[Astolph laughs and moves up the courtyard to summon his men: Damiani and Rachis talk to each other; the monks listen in a scared group.]
CARLOMAN.
Come from this graveyard.
MARCOMIR.
I dare not; she is yours.
CARLOMAN.
MARCOMIR.
I look; I have a lust to gratify,
A lust for very shame I loathe to mix
With Geneviva’s image.
CARLOMAN.
You think that I possess her! Cursèd bonds,
Cursed law that makes this riot in the heart!
Come forth; all will be gentle out of doors.
Gird up your habit.
MARCOMIR.
CARLOMAN.
O Marcomir, we tarry—and the leaves
Are tossing through the air—
[Astolph throws his scarlet riding-cloak over Carloman, who seizes Marcomir with an impetuous movement and draws him toward the horses that champ at the gate.]
ACT IV
Scene: The Hall of the Frankish Palace. Early morning; the remains of a banquet on the table, drinking-cups, wine bottles, faded leaves.
[A Servant is wiping away the stains of wine from the floor.]
SERVANT.
When one is brisk and cool: this early air
Before the sun gets up is fit for men
To breathe when they are working.
Spot on spot!
A stranger to the revel of last night
Would take it there had been a massacre
To daub the floor so thickly.
[Enter another Servant.]
2ND SERVANT.
Of glass and muddy wine-drops! Come up close
And listen. There’s a curious monk outside
Who asks to see the King—almost a beggar,
And yet a red embroidered riding-cloak
Flaunts round his ragged sackcloth; while his voice
Has such a wanton ring we need not trouble
Lest he should take the scandal of this room
Too much to heart. The jolly soul can pipe!
[A voice is heard richly humming.]
1ST SERVANT.
A minstrel!
2ND SERVANT.
As he had been a squire.
1ST SERVANT.
I never heard another one like this.
2ND SERVANT.
As if he had just learnt that grapes have juice,
That makes it sound so well. You’re pouring wine?
1ST SERVANT.
Have you not caught the line?
[They join in as the voice sings]
Of the full cup;
Lift it up, lift it up!
And let us be gay and be friends without measure.
Ha, ha!
2ND SERVANT.
[Enter Carloman.]
For shame! A churchman! But ...
How thin!
1ST SERVANT.
CARLOMAN.
1ST SERVANT.
CARLOMAN.
Why do you choke with laughter? I am ready
To laugh with you, to laugh to very tears
At what I am and have been. Do not hide
A thing so good and bright as laughter—Eh?
2ND SERVANT.
CARLOMAN.
Throw the door wide open. Here we need
Fresh air even more than water. How the wine
Cries from the ground—shut in with walls, and cast
Below men’s feet, a slough where animals
Might wallow, and so sour! Let in the breeze.
Let in the dawn outside there!
1ST SERVANT.
He is abstemious and sad at sin.
Look how profoundly sad!
2ND SERVANT.
Are frequent with the crazy. Now he drops
His mantle, have you ever seen such limbs—
A very scare-crow’s!
1ST SERVANT.
2ND SERVANT.
Just like an idiot. We must warn the King.
CARLOMAN.
Broken to shivers, the inspiring juice
Black on the boards—a feast! Can happiness
Leave refuse such as this? It visits slaves,
And then its track is loathsome. Ah, the air
Has entered like a wedge, keen, reaching me
Through all the mustiness ... and now I breathe!
The door is not enough, the windows too ...
[opening one]
There! How it enters!
[turning toward another window]
In this room I lived;
It is not altered? No, the fireplace, east;
My chair in front, and hers ... but they are crowned
At present; and my name upon that bench.
It is more terrible than nightmare—this
Besieging of one’s life by chairs and walls
And memories. Ah yes, the walls, the walls,
They do the mischief; and this reek of age
From every corner sickens worse than stale
Imprisoned fumes of wine. More air!
[He throws wide all the windows: then leans out of the last. While his back is turned, Geneviva staggers drowsily in, reels to the board, tries to drink, then flings herself against the throne sleeping.]
How beautiful to think I travelled on
And on, yet rode against no wall, so freely
The outworks of your sky gave up their space.
My brain is tired with interest: what men do
Or speak enthrals me, I who often paced
This room as blind to anything alive
As if a child unborn.
[Impulsively beginning to pace.]
[pausing at sight of Geneviva.]
Strange, beautiful, wild woman?
Oh, how delicious
Her arms, her bosom! Through the sodden hair,
Trailing the ground, what glitter, and how clean
This naked shoulder lies against the floor.
Why, this is Sleep itself!
[He comes close.]
So you too have learnt freedom, and are grown
How marvellous in beauty!—Marcomir!—
[Marcomir stands at the door.]
He shall not.
[moving quickly to the door.]
For Pepin; do not enter.
If she should open her gray eyes on me,
And find me frocked and tonsured ... for the sun
Strikes sheer across her face.
[He bends over her; she wakes, looks up, laughs in his face, and then speaks.]
GENEVIVA.
Most holy father, but I am not dead;
Do not bring rosemary, or sprinkle me
With holy drops.
[rubbing her eyes] They call this morning sleep
A beauty sleep. You must not stare so hard.
CARLOMAN.
GENEVIVA.
Shame-faced and awkward. [rising] Have you travelled far?
CARLOMAN.
GENEVIVA.
Young men must have their pleasure. You and I—
Shall we not drink together?
[She pours wine into a goblet—he drinks]
Now you must rest awhile.
CARLOMAN.
GENEVIVA.
CARLOMAN.
GENEVIVA.
CARLOMAN.
You bring a devil to the paradise
It is to gaze on you. I am escaped
From convent-walls, the wrong, the bitterness!
GENEVIVA.
CARLOMAN.
A novice, as you say. But who are you
So terrible in pity that you touch
My hand and draw me to you, though my habit
And shaven hair insult you worse, more grossly
Than the most wanton bearing you have met
In any other man? I am ashamed
That you should see me thus.
GENEVIVA.
Forsook me to be monks. You are as one
That comes to bring me tidings of the dead,
The holy dead who have no evil thoughts
Or trouble from temptation.
[She laughs bitterly] For their sakes
You are beloved.
CARLOMAN.
When love draws on me put it by as scholars
Their task when night falls thick upon the page.
Bend over me and kiss me. Do not laugh—
I love you.