ACT SECOND
Scene I: A Room in the Harem
On a low bench Zelima is sealed, sewing a gorgeously
embroidered garment. About her are other female slaves.
At the back stands Chang, the chief Eunuch.
[Stops sewing and listens]
There! Hark! I hear it again.
You’re growing deaf, Chang. Some one is knocking—softly.
[Opening the door, left]
Below—at the outer door.
See who it is.
[He goes out, closing the door. Zelima
sews for a moment; then rises, puts
away her needle and spreads out the
garment, surveying it.
From the right Turandot enters, splendidly
arrayed.
She runs impetuously to Zelima and
embraces her]
Zelima! Zelima!
Little Zelima!
[Affectionately]
I heard a knocking, my lady.
[Pressing her left side]
You heard it—here.
My lover is knocking, and I have let him in.
[Frightened]
You’ve let him in, my lady?
[Laughing]
Into my heart!
He came a-begging. Oh, does he love me, Zelima?
[Concernedly]
The rose I tossed from my garden
In Astrakhan, one year ago to-night—
Isn’t he handsome, Zelima?
[With conscientious pause]
Splendid and fair like a prince!
I spoke of his soul—his eyes. His eyes are sapphires;
All other men’s are clay.
[Dubiously]
[Slapping Zelima’s arm]
Stop it, you dunce! His face was nobly tanned
By sun and rugged wind.
His beard—God did his best: I want no better.
You—want a beard, my lady?
Stupid Zelima!
Where’s my new robe? I’ll wear it to-day—for him.
[Helping her on with the embroidered
garment]
Are not gold and gorgeousness
For joy? To-morrow ends my year and a day.
Then no more suitors—no more severed heads!
I shall be free then—free to search for him
Through all the city.
Search for a beggar! Why,
My lady?
Must I scratch your silly eyes out
To make them see?—Of all men that love women,
I will have none for husband—if he’ll have me—
But him, the man to whom I gave my ring.
Holy Confucius save you, lady! You,
Princess of Pekin, wed a beggar!
Hush!
Unless I dream so and rejoice to-day
Then I must wake and tear my flesh for grief
That I was born Princess of Pekin. Oh,
Little Zelima, let me dream I am
A beggar-maid, or he, my beggar—a prince!
I hope your royal father hears no word
Of this, my lady. He would kill your lover
Sooner than you should wed him.
I know it well.
So I have kept my secret this long year,
And let full many a brave prince lose his head
To hide my true love. Do not make me weep
Again for pity and despair. For now
Fresh hope has come. This Capocomico
Has changed my father’s heart to set me free
To-morrow. Only one more day is left;
You only know my secret; none can guess it;
And for this final day there is no suitor
To claim my hand.
[Chang enters, left, in perturbation. Turandot
looks up inquiringly]
Another suitor
Has come, my lady.
What,—here?
Is he at the door?
Not him,—the emperor
Is at the door. He comes to tell you, lady,
And asks admittance.
[Fidgetting]
Not
Your royal father: The new emperor
Is here.
[Appalled]
What should I do, your highness?
[Staring]
[Entering, left]
The new régime, fair ladies!
[To Zelima, who runs with the other slave
girls toward the door, right]
I beseech you,
Do not be timid: All true love romances
Are hatched in harems. ’Tis my specialty.
[Dressed in robes of royal splendor,
Capocomico stands smiling at them]
Sir, this intrusion breaks our ancient law.
To-day—O lovely daughter!—I am the law
And legalize intrusion.
[To Chang]
[Chang pauses, dubious, but at a gesture
from Capo, departs hastily. Zelima
goes timorously to Turandot, whose
eyes flash]
Will you make entrance here against our wills,
Or why, then, have you come?
[Smiling]
[With sudden start]
What I bring will fill four ears—
No more.
[Faintly]
Zelima, wait within—close by.
[Zelima goes out, right with the slave girls]
Well, Sire, what do you bring me?
Riches, child,
In a ragged wallet.
[He takes out Calafs wallet, and holds
it toward her.]
[Starting]
Hold it, and feel how heavy.
[Slowly takes it, peering in]
What is so heavy as an empty heart
Hollow with yearning! This has yearned for love
Until it cracked. Look there—those sorry gashes
What should I do with it?
Heal its wounds, and fill it
With royal favor.
[Reticent]
Sire, you talk in riddles.
Daughter, you kill in riddles.—Will you kill,
Or heal, this beggar’s heart I bring?
[No longer suppressing her feelings, she
kisses the wallet passionately.]
How have you guessed my soul? How have you guessed?
The souls of lovers are my specialty.—
When princesses grow pale, and beggars swoon,
Then I bring forth my wallet—and prescribe.
Alas—he swooned? Where is he? Is he ill?
Unnecessary questions, child: Of course
He swooned. Where is he? He’s in love,
Of course, and so of course is deathly ill.
Oh, by the simple truth you’ve torn from me,
Do not, I beg, speak sideling, but straight out:
That beggar whom I love—how fares he now?
Where have you left him?
By the city gate.
There, when he saw your ring, he fell in swoon;
And so I left him.
[Passionately]
Find him! Find him for me,
And I will give you kingdoms!
Kingdoms, child,
Are shaky things. Give me your confidence:
Then I will find him for you.
All my faith,
My gratitude and wonder—they are yours!—
When will you fetch him?
Soft! To achieve for you
Joy in a perfect marriage of romance—
That is my vow. ’Tis yours, for a single day,
To swear me loyalty.
I swear it.—Ah,
But do not tell my father. He would kill
My hopes.
Your father—I will educate;
And for your low-born lover, I’ll despatch
The eight proud legs of my prime-minister
To stalk the city till they stumble on him.
By nightfall, I will give you news what luck
They meet. Meantime, you must prepare once more
Your riddles for your final suitor.
[Appalled]
Keedur, the young khan of Beloochistan,
Waits in the hall below, to try his fate
To-day.
Keedur? Another! Must another
Still die on this last day? Oh, misery!
And I to run the awful risk once more!—
When must this be?
This hour, in the great hall
Of the imperial Divan. Rest you merry,
My child, and whet your riddles sharp.—Good-bye!
[Detaining him by a swift gesture]
Not yet! Stay yet a little: Help me!
To shape my riddles so no man that lives
Can answer them.
[Bows, smiling]
Why, that’s my specialty.
[Slowly, with desperation.]
Capo, those riddles hold his life or mine:
If Keedur guesses them—I’ll kill myself.
Scene II: Great Hall of the Emperor’s Divan.
On either side is a high tower, with entrance.
Down scene on the left stands the Emperor’s throne,
opposite the throne of Turandot.
As the curtain rises, Scaramouche, Punchinello,
Pantaloon, and Harlequin enter, dragging in Barak
by four purple ropes attached to his neck.
Barak carries a ragged bundle.
At the centre he falls, prostrating himself before them.
The four Maskers are dressed sumptuously in Chinese
garments, worn over their own tattered garbs
of motley, which—at times, when they gesticulate or
move abruptly,—are fantastically visible.
Mercy and clemency, your highnesses!
Your highness, slave! Address thy vermin speech
To the Prime-Minister.
By the eye of Og and head of Hamongog,
To us, thou quaking mongrel! Howl thy prayers
Quadrately to thy quadrigeminal master!
[Revolving himself fearfully]
First confess thyself!
Where is he?
Where’s thy fellow beggar? Speak!
Tooth of the Turk!—Disgorge him!
[Harlequin thwacks Barak on the head
with his flat-stick]
Lord, I know not.
I am an old poor man. I have no fellow
To beg with me.
Thou lousy bag of lies!
He swooned beside thee at the city gate.
He took the Princess’ ring for alms. Where is he?
[Tightening his rope]
By Sardanapalus! Squeeze off his neck
And pick the secret from his gullet.
[As Harlequin bangs him again]
[Enter, left, Capocomico]
Hah! here’s our beggar’s crony.—Where’s thy mate,
Old gaffer?
Spare me, lord! I have no mate—
I beg alone.
Where was he found—this fellow?
Godbodikins! We caught him gutter-skulking
Behind the palace.
What’s here in this pack?
[Fearfully clutching his bundle]
Old rags, your mightiness: poor worthless pickings.
Conduct him to my quarters. Search him there
And look what this contains.
[The four begin to drag him out with
the ropes]
[Mocking him]
[Pulling]
Sacrasacristan!
Heave-ho, my hearts!
Hold him in custody
Till I can question further.
[Crying aloud]
We’ll save ’ee in salt, old calf!
[They drag him out, left]
[Stands meditating]
[Hardly have they disappeared, when
Calaf enters hastily, looking
about him with a startled expression.
He is dressed in princely regalia, and
his face is shaved. Seeing Capo., he
pauses abruptly, and makes obeisance]
Greetings, Sir Keedur!—You are searching here?
[Embarrassed]
Nothing, your majesty. It seemed I heard
A voice here cry in terror.
Nay, Sire, I do not know.
’Twas just a beggar
That cried at being expelled.
[With a flitting smile]
Nay, Sire, why should I care?
Nay, why indeed? You caught me querying.