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Vittoria
For she may wake. My daughter never yetHas heard the word “death” spoken. You stand dumb,Uncomprehending. Yet, for nineteen yearsShe has been happy, and she does not dreamThat death is lord of life. See, her cheeks glow,And her eyes, opened, shine. To womanhoodOne child has grown untouched by the great fear.
Luigi (slowly). She is most beautiful.
Father.(slowly). She is most Sir, sit you downAnd help me plan for this day and the next,For I am old, and helpless as a child,And great is my perplexity. Fear not!She will not waken if we whisper.
Luigi.not waken if we whisper. YouAre of the city?
Father.the city? Twenty years agoI was a ruler of my city there:My name is Pontarini.
Luigi.ame is Pontarini. A great name!Great and unstained.
Father.unstained. Father. Your eyes are kind and graveFor one so young. They question me, and I,Because I feel that you will understand,Will tell you what no living man has heard.Yonder in that white city, years ago,I lived with wife and child, absorbed, contentIn that great happiness that tempts the gods.For paradise I would not have exchangedThe room wherein my lady sat, the pathAlong the garden where she made the airHoly by her mere passing. When the child,A year old, could say “madre,” as she playedWith the bright tresses of her mother’s hair,One day my life was ended. By the pallOver my lady’s dust, I made a vowAnd I have kept it. There should be on earthOne life, I swore, all joy. One soul should goBy the great fear unshadowed. We have livedYonder in a walled villa by the sea.Beyond the falling of the leaves, my childKnows naught of the great change. Most carefullyHas she been shielded, and she has not seenThe death of any living thing. The birdsHave ever sung to her: they come and go,Leaving no trace of death. Search through the woodAnd you will never find a tiny boneThat crumbles, showing life for them as aughtBut an eternal song upon the air.She has been happy. Now, upon my heartThe hand of death has fallen. Few the daysAnd few the hours left, above the grassAnd in the sun, for me. I travel onTo bear one message I am bound to giveMy city ere I die.
Vittoria (half wakens, nestles her cheek against
her father’s hand, and murmurs:)
I am so happy here with you. [The two men breathe lightly until she sleeps again.
her father’s hand, and murmurs:)
I am so happy here with you. [The two men breathe lightly until she sleeps again.
Father (piteously).breathe lightly My son,I know not how to act. I have delayed,Have waited, knowing any day might bringThe awful knowledge to her, through the touchOf my dead hand. Often upon my lipsThe words have trembled, but I cannot speak.A coward am I, and I cannot shutThe sunshine from her, cannot take awayThe fragrance from the flowers. That the thoughtWhich blackens all the sky above our heads,And makes the green grass wither, must be hers,Is more than I can bear For all these yearsWhile I have walked with death, she has not seenThe shadow at my side.
Luigi.shadow at my side. Sir, just belowThe crest of yonder hill, a convent standsWhere I have taken refuge. Will you comeAnd bring your daughter to the safety there?In its great quiet you can form some plan.
Father. Monks always prattle of the grave and death—How could I shield my daughter?
Luigi.could I shield my daughter? These are theyVowed unto silence, and they may not speak,In fear of penance. Prithee, let me goTo tell them that you come. You trust me, sir?See, I walk lightly, lest the sleeper wake.
Father (watching him as he goes). The fate
was kind that sent him to our aid.
was kind that sent him to our aid.
Luigi(to himself). What will the eyes be
when the lashes lift,The eyes that know not death?
when the lashes lift,The eyes that know not death?
ACT II
Scene I.—The convent garden. Monks in
white Carmelite robes pace up and down the
cloister, praying.
The father sits at the
refectory door, reading. Vittoria stands
by the garden wall.
white Carmelite robes pace up and down the
cloister, praying.
The father sits at the
refectory door, reading. Vittoria stands
by the garden wall.
Luigi. You look away from all the flowers here,Roses and Easter lilies, daffodils,As if you did not even hear the beesHumming about them. Will you tell at whatYou gaze so steadfastly?
Vittoria..so steadfastly? That great white cliffYonder, with the blue water at its edge,And the sky’s blue above. It is too steepFor any orange-tree or cypressesTo grow along its side. Look, can you see?
Luigi (gazing only at her). I see!
Vittoria.It haunts me, and the long, white,even roadLies like an invitation to pursueAnd find what there is hidden, for it seemsThat something terrible or splendid waitsWithin its shadow. I am but a childLonging to see beyond the farthest hill.Never till yesterday did I set footUpon the highway, and I do not knowThis world that lies beyond our villa wall.Doubtless I seek for much that is not there.
Luigi. And you are sad?
Vittoria.you are sad? My father does not see:Pray, may I not be sad alone with you?
Luigi. You may be what you will. I only askThat I may understand: you puzzle me.
Vittoria.My father always longed to have me gay,For therein was his happiness. I smileEver for him, and I have laughed when sobs‘aught in my throat. Women must learn to beThat which men wish, Teresa says, and hideAll pain and hunger far down in their hearts.Making me happy was my father’s life:To him, I have been happy.
