Vittoria
By Margaret Sherwood
Dramatis Personæ
| Marco dei Pontarini, an old man. | ||
| Vittoria, his daughter. | ||
| Luigi Montara, a scholar. | ||
| Frate Giacomo, and other monks. | ||
| Teresa, | servants. | |
| Vanni, | ||
ACT I
Scene I.—A road, skirting a southern sea.
Father and daughter are walking along it
hand in hand.
Their servants are behind.
Father and daughter are walking along it
hand in hand.
Their servants are behind.
Vittoria. Let Vanni and Teresa stay awhileTo watch the horses eat, and you and I,Padre carissimo, will climb the hill,To find what lies beyond. I cannot seeA road that thus leads off into the blueWithout a quiver in my feet to goUnto its very end, where surely waitsAll that I wish to know.
Father (smiling sadly). Bambina mia,You know already that the springtime runsSwiftly along our path. Red tulips growClose to the beaten dust. AnemonesMake purple shadows in the living grass—That is enough to know!
Vittoria.That is enough to know! How the sun shines!And see, between the gray-green olive leaves,The sky is blue. Just as they did at homeThe birds sing here: nothing is different,And yet to me it all is strange and new.Adventure lurks for me behind each hillAnd all is mystery. Only the seaIs still the same. Father, you cannot knowMy joy in this! You cannot feel how sweetIs the first step upon the open road.[The father sighs.But you are weary? Father.But you are weary? Nay, yet I shall beWhen we have reached the top. Vittoria.have reached the toOh, what is that? [She points to a distant city visible from the top of the hill. Father. That, daughter, is the city of my birth.Watch her great river shining toward the sea!Its murmur was the first sound in my ears.And look! That golden cross against the blueMarks the cathedral into whose white stoneMy forebears, working, father and then son,Built their own lives. The slender tower thereGuards the grim fortress where my father satAnd helped to rule the city.
Vittoria.d to rule the city. Tell me more!
Father. I see, but you cannot—eyes will not serve—A narrow street that meets the river-bankAnd part way climbs the hill. There you may findIn tiny shops, and studios half hidClose to the eaves, pictures and carvings rare,Statues whose marble is immortal, allBy inspiration in long silence wrought,Sacred with patience of unnumbered years.That narrow street is held in reverenceThroughout the world. Thither throng human soulsAs to a tidal river come the waves.
Vittoria. And never have I seen it, street nor churchNor crowding people. Why, along the seaHave we stayed hidden? Will you tell me now?
Father. Dear, you have asked so often! not to-day.Some day you shall be told.
Vittoria.you shall be told. Oh, I shall beSo wise, my father, when you tell me allThat you have promised—some day!
Father.have promised—some day! Little one,Of all the wisdom of my sixty yearsThe best is shared with you. Be happy, dear,And let the silences be silence: better thusThan turn them into pain.
Vittoria.them into pain. I am contentWith speech or silence, padre mio. BothFrom you are as the voice of God to me.This warm sun makes me sleepy. Will you sitAnd let me find a pillow on your kneeUntil they come?
[They sit down on the rocks by the roadside. Vittoria
puts her head against her father’s knee,
and presently falls asleep. He sits, now looking
down at her, now off in the distance toward
the city of his birth.
puts her head against her father’s knee,
and presently falls asleep. He sits, now looking
down at her, now off in the distance toward
the city of his birth.
Father.they come? Strange that upon one roadSunshine should fall on her face, and from mineThe shadow not be lifted!
Scene II.—There is a footstep on the road.
Luigi Montara approaches, his head bent, a
book under his arm. He stops, then uncovers
his head and advances.
Luigi Montara approaches, his head bent, a
book under his arm. He stops, then uncovers
his head and advances.
Luigi. If some misfortune has befallen youPray let me be of service.
Father.e be of service. Nay, we rest;Our horses are behind. We journey onAfter an hour toward the city gates.
Luigi. Surely not now!
Father.Surely not now! And wherefore?
Luigi.Surely not now! AndKnow you notAll leave the city and none enter now?Within is horror, for the plague is there.Each day the river carries toward the seaScores of dead bodies.
Father.dead bodies. Father. Hush! Oh, hush!
Luigi.You cannot bear to hear it, yet would go?
Cease your vainGo on I must.
Luigi.Go on I muSome weighty matter thenOf life and death
Father (in sudden anger). Cease your vaintalk of death,
Vol. XXXVII.—55
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