- ■ ' . . ■ THE TOCSIN A DRAMA OF THE RENAISSANCE BY ESTHER BROWN TIFFANY Book.. 13Jk GopyrightlS! COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/tocsindramaofrenOOtiff THE TOCSIN •'" ' ; - m THE TOCSIN A DRAMA OF THE RENAISSANCE By ESTHER BROWN TIFFANY Interpose at the difficult minute, snatch Saul the mistake, Saul the failure, the ruin he seems now, — and bid him awake From the dream, the probation, the prelude, to find himself set Clear and safe in new light and new LIFE, „ , „„ Browning s "Saul. PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS • SAN FRANCISCO Copyright, 1909 by Paul Elder and Company -TL ; 'D 177J5 TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER FRANCIS TIFFANY ARGUMENT Florence, under Francesco de' Medici and his Grand Duchess, the " infamous " Bianca Cappello, is smitten by- famine and plague. Among those who flee the death- stricken city is the Abbot of San RafTaello. The Abbot is a man of dual nature — brilliant, cynical, pleasure-loving, generous, impressionable ; dowered with wit, charm, genius, and, true child of the Renaissance, a passionate worshipper of the beautiful. Conscious though he is of the cowardice of deserting his post at such a time, he yet summons his cowering monks about him for flight to the pure air of the Apennines. They go to the seat of his cousin, Bianca delle Torre, the new favorite of Francesco de' Medici. In the Abbot's train is Marianna, a young peasant girl disguised, for her better protection, as a boy. She has but lately come to Florence, having left her mountain hamlet in the vain hope of tracing her absent lover, Lorenzo, who is a ward of the Abbot. To the desolate and deserted city comes an angel of mercy in the person of Sister Maddalena, a "Poor Claire," as the nuns of the third or uncloistered order of St. Francis were called. They were vowed to a life of poverty and charity. Herself a Florentine of noble birth, she has for years been a wanderer on the face of the earth, and only returns to her beloved city at its cry of need. Her devout life is the result of a deep religious experience of her youth. Years before, in the Duomo, she had been overwhelmed by V ARGUMENT the impassioned eloquence of a young priest. Fired by his burning words, she had renounced the world and its pleasures to lead so inspired a life of prayer and charity that she is now regarded throughout Tuscany as a saint. The young priest, at that time in deacon's orders, was no other than the Abbot of San Raffaello. Of his dual nature, and of his sinking deeper and deeper into the luxury and license of the time, she knows nothing. Shrining his image in her heart, she prays that the hour may come when she may meet him once more face to face and, falling at his knees, bathe his blessed feet with her tears of thanksgiving. In Pistoia, not far from Castle delle Torre, Pope Sixtus V., stern old Peretti, is holding counsel with Francesco de' Medici, and here the Abbot's ward, Lorenzo, asking audi- ence of His Holiness, has the misfortune to drop a loaded pistol at the pontiff's feet. A new edict has just been pro- mulgated against bearing arms in the papal presence, and Lorenzo thus falls under sentence of death. From this penalty Marianna, who has come to Castle delle Torre with the Abbot and his flock, saves her lover by a bold night ride for his pardon. In the meantime, however, Lorenzo has fallen into the toils of the beautiful Bianca delle Torre, and for a while Marianna is left desolate. To Pistoia, also, comes Sister Maddalena to interview the Pope concerning the pestilence. On her way she stops at Castle delle Torre. The iniquities of the two Biancas, Bianca Cappello, the Grand Duchess, and Bianca delle Torre, the new favorite, oppress her soul. She believes that Florence suffers for the sins of its rulers ; that the Almighty is moved to wipe the plague-spot from the earth. She comes to plead with Bianca, but here at length in Castle delle Torre are the prayers of a lifetime answered. In the moon- vi ARGUMENT lit courtyard, jesting over his wine, Sister Maddalena meets the Abbot and throws herself on her knees before the man whose image she has so long held sacred. Then, like a stroke of lightning, comes the revelation to each. Aghast, she learns what a mistaken ideal she has been cherishing of this man of sin whom she has felt to be the instrument of her salvation. Mystery of mysteries ! her sainthood the outcome of his wasted life ! He on his part, overcome with self-loathing and moved by the stirrings of his old faith, calls about him the trembling monks, exhorts and inspires them; then, holding aloft the cross, he places himself at their head, and leads them back to Florence, the city of the dying and the dead. Vll THE TOCSIN A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS CHARACTERS OF THE DRAMA ABBOT Of the Benedictine Monastery of San Raffaello at Florence LORENZO TORNABUONI The Abbot's Ward SIR WALTER HOWARD & COUNT SALVIATI Young Noblemen and Suitors to Bianca BROTHER SEBASTIANO & BROTHER FILIPO Of the Order of St. Benedict BARDI A Beggar, former Secretary to the Medici CAPTAIN Of the Papal Guard BIANCA DELLE TORRE A Young Widowed Countess, Cousin to the Abbot SISTER MADDALENA Of the Third or Uncloistered Order of St. Francis MARIANNA {alias GABRIELLO) A Peasant Girl NITA Waiting Woman to Bianca MONKS, SERVANTS, CHOIR BOYS, ETC. The scene is laid in Ij86, first in Florence, afterward in Castle delle Torre outside the City of Pistoia, at the foot of the Apennines. IX Act I A stately garden in Florence, belonging to Count Salviati. Marble fountains and statues of nymphs gleam from among the ilexes and oleanders. At one side is the brick wall, time- stained and mellow with age, of the abbey of San Raffaello. 'The wall is pierced with a rich doorway, crowned by a figure of the archangel Raphael. At the rear of the garden another gate and wall shut off the street. In the foreground is a table for three, sumptuously set. 'Two servants in livery are bringing in flagons of wine and dishes of fruit. First Servant. At six were they to come ? Second Servant. At six, by the Abbot's watch. First Servant. And at six tomorrow, by the Abbot's watch, we may all be dead of the plague. Second Servant. Drink, then, while we may. ( He drinks from one of the flagons.) First Servant {drinking and smacking his lips). Ah, that would put life into the dead. Second Servant. Yes, when his Reverence is bid to sup- per, my master brings out his best. First Servant. But where are the flowers? THE TOCSIN Second Servant. His Reverence's page was to bring them. First Servant. That close-mouthed Gabriello? I cannot squeeze a word out of him about his own affairs, or the Abbot's, either. Second Servant. No, he holds himself as much aloof as the Grand Duchess herself. First Servant. And was picked up in the gutter, was he not? Second Servant. Some such story. For all his round eyes, he knows on which side his bread is buttered. No won- der he fawns on his Reverence like a stray dog. First Servant. There's not a stray dog in Florence that does not fawn on his Reverence. ( The convent gate opens and discloses Marianna^ dressed as a page , her arms full of flowers.) Second Servant. Ah, there is Gabriello now. First Servant. Make haste. Must we wait all night? Marianna [hurrying forward). Am I late? Every rose I saw was so much more beautiful than the last, that I had to stop and pick it. These for the head, Luigi, and these to crown the fruit. (She decorates the table.) First Servant. There are no other such roses in Florence. Marianna. No, his Reverence has only to touch a plant and it bursts into flower. How I love to see him pacing up and down his rose-alleys, in the sun, his dog rubbing its nose against his white robe, and to hear him talk to his roses. Second Servant. Talk to his roses? Marianna (shrinking back at LuigVs laugh). Oh, in jest, as he does to dogs, or the boys of the Sanctuary, — or to me ! ( 'The servants move off, laughing. Marianna picks up a white rose and looks at it dreamily.) Why would he not pull it himself, the Reverend Father? I found him bend- THE TOCSIN ing over it, but his hands were behind his back. " Here, Gabriello," he said, " I have sworn to this white virgin, my hands should not touch her. You alone must break her from her stalk." First Servant [looking disapprovingly at the table). After all, you have brought too few. Ma ri anna. I will run back for more. Second Servant. Here come his Excellency the Count and Sir Walter Howard. (They stand back. Enter Count Salviati and Sir Walter Howard from the side opposite the convent?) Count Salviati (to Marianna). Where is the Reverend Father ? Marianna. His Reverence bade me give you a thousand pardons, but he must be late. Important letters. He begs you will not wait for him. ( She bows and goes out through the convent gate.) Count Salviati (to Sir Walter). Well, then, let us try these nectarines till he joins us. (They seat themselves at the table.) Sir Walter. Yes, we English are a soberer race than you Tuscans. Count Salviati. And habitually invite the skeleton to the feast. Sir Walter. We find it less easy to turn our eyes from him, when he stands grinning in at our gates, as now. Count Salviati. Ah, the famine and the plague. You wonder how we who yet live can make merry. Sir Walter. Florence is dying for bread. Count Salviati (to one of the servants). Music, Luigi. (Luigi goes to summer-house, where the musicians are, and brings them forward.) THE TOCSIN Sir Walter {shuddering). Pisa is a charnal-house ; hun- dreds lie unburied in the streets. Husbands desert their wives, mothers their children. Count Salviati [shrugging his shoulders). And we feast. [He turns impatiently to the musicians.) Something gay. ( T'he players break into a wild dance-measure. Count Sal- viati waves his hand.) Softly. (I'hey move toward the rear y playing with fire but in low tones.) Sir Walter. A dirge were fitter. Count Salviati. When you marry the beautiful Bianca delle Torre and become one of us, you will understand us better. Sir Walter {gloomily). More chance there for you than for me. Count Salviati (gaily). Neck and neck at present. (A dancer appears from among the musicians and begins a wild, graceful dance. Count Salviati applauds a moment with a "brava!" then turns again to Sir Walter, who pays no heed to the dancer.) Would it check your pace, you with your strange island conventionalities, should I whisper that the Grand Duke himself is in the running? Sir Walter (starting to his feet). Francesco de' Medici? Count Salviati (luxuriously enjoying his fruit). Francesco de' Medici. Sir Walter. But his Duchess still lives. Count Salviati (shrugging his shoulders). Yes, she still lives, that other, that terrible Bianca Cappello. But you look pale. (He fills his glass.) To the ripe lips of your intended, Bianca delle Torre. (As they are drinking a knocking at the gate is heard above the dance music. One of the servants opens the gate and Sister Maddalena, a child in her arms, is seen at the THE TOCSIN entrance. She stands severe and solemn in her gray Fran- ciscan dress. About her clings a group of half-clad, famine- stricken women and children. An old man with traces of better days about him follows in their train. Count Salviati and Sir Walter turn and gaze amazed.) Sister Maddalena {to Luigi). Whose feast is this? Servant. The noble Count Salviati's. {He motions the group away, but Sister Maddalena, with a commanding gesture, stops him and enters, her people following timidly.) Sister Maddalena. Count Salviati, I bring your guests. {She holds up a silencing hand to the musicians and the dancing-girl, who pause confused and irresolute?) Count Salviati {turning angrily). What does this mean! Luigi ! Servant {deprecatingly). I could not help — pardon me, Sir Count! Sister Maddalena {in the same tone of calm command). Rise, Count Salviati, and you, sir {to Sir Walter), rise, and welcome your guests. {Count Salviati, half in anger, half as though constrained by some superior will, rises and with him Sir Walter?) Count Salviati {to Sister Maddalena). Who in the devil's name are you that dare Sister Maddalena {to the trembling women). Eat. Drink. ( She places the child in the arms of one of them and pours out wine. 'They cluster about the table eating ravenously. Count Salviati and Sir Walter stand confounded?) Sir Walter {to Count Salviati). What is she? Count Salviati. Some half-crazed fanatic, her head turned by the famine. Sister Maddalena {to servants). Serve your master's guests. ( The servants look toward the Count for orders.) THE TOCSIN Count Salviati {with an assumption of his former light manner). By all means, Luigi. Make haste. Serve the noble ladies. And if they are weary, lead them to the arbor yonder and bring silken coverlets and cushions for their delicate heads. For when ladies {he bows profoundly, his hand on his heart), so fair, so radiant, condescend to grace my humble board {Sister Maddalena turns with head eretl and looks silently full at Count Salviati. He stops in full breath and grasps Sir Walter's arm.) The fiend take the woman. She has the evil eye. Speak to her, Sir Walter ; send her packing. You English are not afraid of the evil eye. There are my servants waiting on her, like whipped hounds. Sir Walter. Let us call his Reverence. Count Salviati ( with an air of relief). Well said. ( They pass out through the abbey gate. Sister Maddalena ap- proaches the old man who sits in a brooding attitude, his cup untasted, his head in his hand. His air is haggard and wild.) Sister Maddalena. You eat nothing. Bardi {looking up dazed). Eh? Sister Maddalena. Eat. Drink. Bardi {feverishly). Yes, yes. To give me strength. To give me strength. {Sister Maddalena takes a silver salver from the table, Jills it with water from the fountain and places it at old Bardi* s feet. Then she brings one of the fine napkins, kneels down before him and begins to unfasten his sandals. He appears only half conscious of her aclion, forgetting his food and falling into his former brooding attitude. Sister Madda- lena bathes and wipes his feet.) Sister Maddalena. Poor wounded foot. THE TOCSIN Bardi. Wounded? Ah, that was but a sharp stone, but here, in my side, the stiletto thrust Sister Maddalena. Let me see the wound. Bardi (grasping his robe about him and speaking with a fierce intensity). No, no, let it rankle, let it fester, that not for one moment I forget. Sister Maddalena. Beware lest you forget to forgive. Bardi (his voice rising shrilly). Forgive? I forgive, who spent my life for the Grand Duchess — sold my honor? I was her scribe, and now that she sickens, the Grand Duke would turn for his pleasures to a fresher face. He hired me ; and I am trapped by the Duchess with a love- token to the new favorite, and thrust through with cold steel Sister Maddalena. O Lord, how long! Bardi (seizing her hand as his tone changes to one of exultant malice). Listen, Sister. The new favorite, her name too is Bianca — Bianca delle Torre. Near Pistoia she lives. Even my old eyes exulted at the whiteness of her throat. Sister Maddalena (pressing her hand to her heart). O new web of guilt ! O Florence ! Bardi (exultantly). Bianca delle Torre; remember, Sister, Bianca delle Torre. And when Bianca Cappello lies stark and cold and the other Bianca reigns in her stead, re- member it was old Bardi who carried the first love-token. Sister Maddalena (her face becoming as one who thinks out a problem). To plead with her. Near Pistoia. And I go there today to see His Holiness. Bardi (catching eagerly at the word). Pistoia. Yes, yes. She lives there in Castle delle Torre. Tell her of old Bardi. Tell her old Bardi is fallen on evil days — is ill — is dying — tell her THE TOCSIN Sister Maddalena. And you would take bread from such as she ? O unreverend white hairs ! O corrupted heart ! (Marianna, who has entered with more flowers and stolen nearer, utters an exclamation and drops her roses. Sister Maddalena hurries toward her.) Sister Maddalena. Marianna! Marianna (covering her face with her hands). O Sister Maddalena ! Sister Maddalena (to the poor women). Go, now, and the Holy Virgin keep you. ('They crowd about her, kissing her hands and the hem of her robe. She turns to Bardi.) Sister Maddalena. Your days are few. Even now the sword hangs over Florence. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay," saith the Lord. Go. Forget. Forgive. Repent. ( One of the servants opens the gate. The throng flocks out. Sister Maddalena turns to Marianna, with outstretched arms, the remoteness hovering about her all gone, and a thrilling tenderness in her voice?) Sister Maddalena (to Marianna). In the dress of a boy! O my lost lamb ! Marianna. No, Sister, not lost. O Sister, it was so long, so long since I had heard from him. Sister Maddalena. From Lorenzo? Marianna. Who else is there ! O Sister, my heart was breaking and I came to Florence to find him ! Sister Maddalena. Left your peaceful mountain hamlet for this great, evil place ! Yes, I traced you nearly to the city gates. Marianna. You came to find me ? Sister Maddalena. As the shepherd the strayed lamb. (She throws a fold of her mantle about Marianna and lifting her 8 THE TOCSIN face gazes searchingly into it. Her own clears as she does so.) Praise be to the Saints ! Marianna. For what, Sister? Why do you search my eyes? Sister Maddalena. Unspotted from the world ! (She kisses Marianna on the forehead.) And now you will come with me. Marianna. O Sister, not yet ! Sister Maddalena. Yes, now. I must make haste to Pis- toia this very night. His Holiness is there. I must see him and beg help for Florence. Marianna. For the famine ? Sister Maddalena. For the plague which will smite her before these flowers have withered on their stalks. Marianna (tearing herself away). Then I will stay, for if Lorenzo should come to Florence and no one to nurse him ! O Holy Virgin ! Sister Maddalena. This is no place for you. Marianna. O Sister, wait, wait ! Give me one little half- hour more. A reverend father I know has letters from Lorenzo. Let me hear first if he is alive or dead. Sister Maddalena. There is a dying woman in the next street, holding on to life till I come to her. I cannot wait. Marianna. Go, go and leave me here a little half-hour, and when you come back I will follow you. O Sister, if you knew what it was to love, you would have mercy on me! Sister Maddalena (half to herself). This little earthly love, this possession of a few moments ! Oh, if you could hear the voice I once heard, long years ago, at the blessed Eastertide, here in the cathedral ! THE TOCSIN Marianna. What voice, Sister? Sister Maddalena {her eyes growing rapt). Of an angel, not a man. One to whom I owe every hope of my sal- vation. Marianna. You loved him? Sister Maddalena. His soul spoke to mine and mine leapt to life. {She flings out her arms with sudden burning fervor.) Lord, if it be not a sinful desire of self, grant, grant that I may yet in the flesh once more behold him, fall at his holy feet, and bathe them with tears of thanks- giving ! {She stands rapt a moment ; then the fire dies from her eyes, and she turns with her former calm to Marianna.) 1 will return for you soon. Marianna. I will be at the gate, Sister. {Sister Maddalena goes out. Marianna closes the gate. T'he servants attempt to arrange the disordered table.) First Servant. But why were you fool enough to let her in? Second Servant. It was the Count's fault. He should have driven her out. First Servant. There they come now and his Reverence with them. {Enter from the convent Count Salviati, Sir Walter, and the Abbot in the white robe of his order.) Abbot {laughing). Devoured your feast before your very eyes, you say ? But where is the rabble ? Count Salviati. Gone! Abbot. And half the plate, too, I dare swear, hid in the chaste bosom of the holy sister of St. Francis. Sir Walter. But if you could have seen her ! Abbot. Pah ! I know the unwashed tribe. ( He takes a rose from the table and smells it, delicately.) IO THE TOCSIN Count Salviati. If you could have heard her ! Abbot. A mere trick of the trade. I held it myself once, for an hour, and preached an Easter sermon yonder in the cathedral, that brought all Florence to its knees. Count Salviati. Who has not heard of your Reverence's great sermon ? Abbot. And the women, — you should have heard the sobs of the women ! Count Salviati. I prefer their smiles. Abbot. And then the Archbishop clapt this fat abbey into my mouth and I am [shrugging his shoulders) — your very good companion. But, per B ace o ! our fair guests have left us but scant pickings. Count Salviati [hurling his flagons on the ground). Pestif- erous wretches ! Abbot. Here, boy, run to Brother Gregorius and bid him give you my gold cups, Cellini's work. He will know. Marianna. Yes, Reverend Father. [She goes out through the abbey gate. The Abbot looks after her. It is manifest that the evident simplicity and purity of the supposed boy are y though perhaps unconsciously to the Abbot , touching the best side of his nature. With her his worldliness, his cynicism half drop from him.) Abbot [looking after her). Country-bred, sirs, and smacking still of the fields. A pretty something in his eyes, we used to call innocence. Count Salviati. Still, I think I should keep an eye to the key of my strong-box. [To the servants.) Fresh wine and fruit. ( The servants go out. The others seat themselves.) Abbot ( to Sir Walter, handing him a paper). This came in Lorenzo's packet. I I THE TOCSIN Sir Walter. By your leave. ( He goes apart and reads the paper.) Abbot ( to Count Salviati ). That troublesome ward of mine, Lorenzo Tornabuoni, whom I sent to England to cure of a love folly Count Salviati. Yes, I have heard. Abbot. Well, cured or not cured, he is on his way home. Count Salviati. Have you tried the old cure, " Like cures like?" Abbot. Not in his case. (Enter Marianna with a salver, bearing three superb golden goblets.) Count Salviati. I know a lady who would cure your ward of his love-sickness. Abbot. Who is she? Count Salviati. You should know. Is she not near kin to you ? Bianca delle Torre. Abbot. My very own fair cousin. Count Salviati. Then Lorenzo knows her already ? Abbot. No, they have never met. Count Salviati. Let her physic his wound. Abbot. Poor boy. (His brow clouds.) Count Salviati. Has he had many such troublesome loves, this Lorenzo of yours? (Marianna makes a half-smothered exclamation, and drops one of the goblets.) Abbot ( turning suddenly ). Have a care, boy. ( He hands one of the cups to the Count.) But, indeed, this is cunning goldsmith's work. Cellini's. Were ever Cupid and Psyche modeled more graciously? Count Salviati. Admirable. (Sir Walter comes to the Count with a paper. The 12 THE TOCSIN Count exclaims and turns to the Abbot who is lazily play- ing with some strawberries.) By your leave. [Reads the paper.) Abbot {with a gracious motion of his hand). So that it does not spoil your palate for this fruit. Here, Gabriello, let me see which are ripest, these berries, or your lips. ( Gabriello kneels before the Abbot, who takes a berry and puts it between her lips.) The king of the dish. Am I not a generous master, Gabriello? When you go from me to another master, and they say evil things of me, tell them, "Ah, but he always gave me the largest ber- ries in the dish." Marianna. No one should ever say evil things of you in my hearing. Abbot {turning up her face, half curiously, half carelessly). Why, how the child flushes ! What a curious light you have in your eyes, Gabriello; for all the world like — where have I seen it before ? ( His gaze leaves her face. He draws a long breath.) On the morning hills, the light, the radiance Marianna. What light, Reverend Father? Abbot {musing). 'Tis years since I have thought myself back there. Marianna. Where, Reverend Father? Abbot. Have you ever been in the hills, Gabriello, the real mountains? Ah, yes, you came from there. Marianna. I have always lived there. Abbot. But I lived in Venice. To be content with this world, Gabriello, live on the plains. No mystifying hints of half-seen, cloud-capped phantasmagoria, that dazzle the eye from a mountain peak. There, never try to un- derstand. Taste this berry. 1 3 THE TOCSIN Marianna. Perhaps I do not understand, but oh, I love to hear you. Abbot {forgetting Gabriello). Ah, the wild life there in Venice! How the blood ran riot in our veins! Was I ever once alone in my life, till I left my father's palace ? What took me to the hills? Up, up I climbed, half the night, then turned and saw — my God, what did I not see! {He rises, oblivious of everything about him.). Early morning, the sun not yet risen, a hush, a purity — how the world seemed to fall away ! The light in the sky ! It seemed to stab me with ineffable joy and agony ! Prayers surged to my lips Count Salviati {looking upfront his papers). What are we losing ? A tale from the Decameron ? Abbot {with a sudden bitter laugh). A fairy tale to amuse Gabriello. {He throws himself down on his seat, his old careless manner upon him.) Marianna {with wide eyes). And then, and then? Abbot. Never go to the hills, boy; they turn the heads of honest folk. Or, yes, go to them, get mad, renounce the world, turn monk, take holy orders, preach a sermon of blood and tears, draw a rich abbey and — live happy ever after. Marianna {shaking her head sadly). You are telling it dif- ferently now. Abbot {cynically). Yes, now it is a tale from Boccaccio. {He pushes her lightly away. Sir Walter comes forward hastily?) Sir Walter. Pardon, I must leave at once for Pistoia. I am to meet Lorenzo tonight at Castle delle Torre. Abbot. What, is my pretty cousin Bianca dabbling in the English plot ? ( I'o Count Salviati.) Providence puts Lor- enzo in her hands. 14 THE TOCSIN Sir Walter {reading from his letter). "The Pope is in Pistoia. Lorenzo has audience of His Holiness." Count Salviati {tapping Sir Walter on the breast). Let me warn you, if you have audience of His Holiness, leave behind you the staunch little friend I see there. Sir Walter {drawing out a pistol). This? Count Salviati. Very pretty, but not to be carried in Papal presence. Abbot. Why not? Count Salviati. A new edict, and when Sixtus speaks Abbot. This comes of the two attempts on his life. Count Salviati. Yes, and now whoever approaches him armed, dies. Abbot {starting up with sudden emotion). Does Lorenzo know this ? {Marianna clasps her hands. Enter Brother Sebastiano from the convent, breathless and trembling?) Brother Sebastiano. Reverend Father! Abbot. Well. Brother Sebastiano. Reverend Father! Abbot. Out with it ! Brother Sebastiano. It has reached the next village. Abbot. What, your face ? It is long enough. Brother Sebastiano. The pestilence! {Count Salviati and Sir Walter start and rise. 'The Abbot alone keeps his coolness.) Count Salviati. Reached San Marino ! Sir Walter. Come with me to Pistoia. Brother Sebastiano. The Holy Virgin herself has been seen in the streets of Florence, clad all in gray, like a sister of St. Francis. Sir Walter. Our fanatic. J 5 THE TOCSIN Abbot. Bravo, Count, it was the Queen of Heaven you entertained unawares. Brother Sebastiano. And prophesies death and destruc- tion to Florence for her sins. Abbot. I pray you, gentlemen, repent and save the city. Brother Sebastiano {to the Abbot). O Reverend Father, if I thought my sins, my heinous sins Abbot. What! you have been tripping? Brother Sebastiano {wringing his hands). A thousand times have I sworn to abstain ! Abbot {gaily to Count Sahiati and Sir Walter). Listen, gentlemen, a confession! For this sinner is Florence smitten ! Count Salviati. Then we go free. Brother Sebastiano. But the saints having as it were thrust the key into my hands {he draws out a large key) — I found it on the chapel floor Abbot. Ah, whom the very saints tempt ! Brother Sebastiano. And my voice never sounds so clear — your Reverence himself praised it one day at matins — as when my stomach is warm. Abbot. I — at matins ? A miracle ! Brother Sebastiano. And so, year after year, O Rever- end Father Abbot. So you were the leak ! and it is my Burgundy that has been ripening your nose these ten years ? Brother Sebastiano. Saints forgive me ! But Brother Gregorius Abbot. Keep to your own sins. Brother Sebastiano. If the pestilence spare me to do penance ! Abbot. The Burgundy I forgive you, but not your solitary 16 THE TOCSIN guzzlings. What the devil do you think the blessed saints thrust this temptation under your nose for, but to see if you were good fellow enough to invite the whole convent into my cellar and warm their fasting hearts ? Brother Sebastiano [deeply perplexed). Your Reverence knows more of the ways of the blessed saints than I ! ( Enter Brother Filipo, wringing his hands.) Brother Filipo. Lost! All lost! The plague is on us! In San Marino every soul is stricken with death [telling his beads). O Holy Virgin, have mercy, have mercy! Remember not my sins, O Lord ! Abbot. Fool ! Coward ! [A confused murmur of voices is heard. The convent gate is burst open and a stream of brothers all in the white robes of the Order of St. BeneditJ pour into the garden.) Brothers [incoherently). The pestilence ! Death! Florence doomed ! The gray sister ! Abbot [lifting his arm with a strong, commanding gesture). Silence ! [He glances over the trembling throng and speaks half in scorn, as though answering his own bitter thoughts?) And yet you are what I have made you, and now it is too late ! [A mocking light comes into his face?) No, she is not a pleasant bed-fellow, my lady Pestilence, and why should I ask you to lie with her when I will not? Does not her mere breath on your cheek chill your heart's blood ! Those trembling hands to tend the dying ! Those pallid lips to whisper courage ! What have I ever given you that you could give again ! Come, then, we who are afraid to die, out of the pest-house, out of the death- trap ! Who goes ? Who stays ? Brothers [crowding about him). Take me — and me — I go — I go! 1 7 THE TOCSIN Abbot {recklessly and lifting a glass). To Castle delle Torre, then, to the pure breath of the Apennines and — a health to my lady Pestilence [the monks shudder and cross them- selves), and may she keep us long from our duties! 18 Act II A lofty hall in Castle delle 'Torre. At one side is a wide marble fireplace and before it a table set with glasses. Enter Nita, followed by a pouting page. He carries an elaborately wrought jewel-box and a wreath of roses. Page. To make a messenger of the Grand Duke, Francesco de' Medici, cool his heels all day in the ante-room ! Nita {glancing cautiously about and fingering the lid of the jewel-box). Just one little peep. Page {pushing her hand away). No. Nita. How does it open ? Ah, you do not know. I see your master does not trust you, and, indeed, why should he? Page. Not trust me ? See, you have only to press the cherub's head and {As he does so the lid flies open.) Nita {clasping her hands). Angeli santil A coronet of rubies, blood red ! Oh, to wear such a coronet ! Page ( disdainfully lifting the wreath and placing it on her head). These are for such as you. Nita {uttering a cry and putting up her hands). The thorns, the thorns! Blessed saints! it has made my forehead 1 9 THE TOCSIN bleed! {She snatches it off, the petals falling as she handles it.) One more little peep at the jewels, to pay me for those cruel thorns. ( Their heads are together over the box, when a curtain is pulled noiselessly back and Sister Maddalena, worn and ex- hausted, enters. She stands watching the pair silently and with drawn brows.) Page. Well, then, only you must not touch. Nita. The cherub head, the laughing one ! He may well laugh. Oh, let me press it ! {Sister Maddalena draws a long breath as the jewel-box flies open.) Who was it sighed ? {Turning and perceiving the Sister.) Angeli santil {She starts away from the page.) Sister Maddalena {to the page). You wear the livery of the Medici. Nita {falling on her knees). The Holy Sister Maddalena! On your knees, Sandro ! Page {standing erecl and looking arrogantly at the Sister). I have a message for the Countess from my master. Nita {pulling his cloak). Hst, the Holy Sister! Hst, — Ora pro nobis! Your blessing, Holy Sister! Sister Maddalena. I, too, have a message for the Count- ess from my Master. {She catches her breath and puts her hand to her throat.) The saints grant me strength to de- liver it! {She sways and supports herself against the table.) Nita. O Sister, your bleeding feet ! Sister Maddalena {indifferently). Do they bleed? I have come far. Nita. Let me bind them up for you. O Sister, you tremble ! ( She rises and supports Sister Maddalena?) Let me get you some wine. Sister Maddalena. A cup of water. My throat is 20 THE TOCSIN parched. The fountain I passed in the court; let me rest a moment. O Lord, thy vessels of clay Nita. Lean on me, Sister. {Sister Maddalena goes out, supported by Nita. The page shrugs his shoulders and busies himself with his wreath?) Page. Half fallen to pieces. Ah, some one is coming. The Countess. {He smoothes his ruffles. Enter a servant , throw- ing open the doors.) Servant. His Highness's messenger awaits the Contessas pleasure. {Enter Bianca delle Torre.) Bianca {waving her hand indifferently toward the casket). On the table, there ! You may go. Page {presenting a letter). His Highness hoped I might have the honor of a return message. Bianca. Come for it in three days. Page. At the Countess's service. ( He bows and goes out.) Bianca {going to the casket and opening it). Ah ! {She takes out a coronet.) This — and the title of Marchioness — if I choose {she takes out other jewels), and if the Grand Duchess — if Bianca Cappello should die — he raised her to a throne, why not me ? The "infamous Bianca," men called her. Now this strange wasting illness she has. Bianca — Bianca de' Medici. {She puts the jewels back and closes the casket, then touches a bell on the table. No one comes. She touches it again impatiently, then again angrily.) What does this mean! Where are my people! {She strikes the bell again more angrily. Enter Nita breathless.) Nita. Pardon, my lady! Bianca. How often am I to ring? Nita. A thousand pardons, gracious lady ! I heard and I could not stir — the Holy Sister! 21 THE TOCSIN Bianca. What holy sister ? Nita. In the courtyard, gracious lady, the Holy Sister Maddalena and the whole household on its knees and the blessed saint warning us of death and purgatory Bianca. What nonsense is this? Nita {crossing herself). The gracious lady has only to open the casement and look. ( Volubly.) Even old Josefe who buried his three sons dry-eyed is all tears. And when she speaks every one must listen whether one would or no. And see, Contessa, I myself tore off my bracelet, the one your Excellency gave me, and cast it at her feet (holding up her wrist remorsefully). Bare as my poor arm looks without it, may the saints reward me! Bianca. Foolish child! (Giving her a ring from her finger?) Here — lest the saints forget. Nita (kissing Bianca s hand). O Contessa, a thousand thanks ! Bianca. What is the Sister doing here? Nita. On her way to Pistoia, blessed saint, to see His Holiness; she stopped here for a cup of water and to bind up her feet — St. Agnes, how they bled! She will be gone now — and my bracelet with her. Bianca. I should like to see old Josefe in tears. Nita. And miracles she can work, my lady, and tell the future Bianca (suddenly). Tell the future! Nita. And has visions, holy saint that she is! Bianca. Call her up — run after her if she is gone. Quick! Nita. Yes, my lady. (Exit.) Bianca. See into the future! They say these strange creatures, with their mortifications of the flesh, can do that. If I knew! If the stake were worth the playing 22 THE TOCSIN (She stands musing, her hand on the casket; then goes to the casement and opens it.) Yes, there they all are still, but rising from their knees and already repenting their re- pentance. (Enter Nit a throwing open the door.) Nita. Sister Maddalena. (Exit.) ( The Sister comes forward with a calm dignity but with searching eyes on Bianco? s face.) Sister Maddalena. My time is short. Bianca. They say you have strange gifts. Sister Maddalena. That is as Heaven wills. Bianca. I would know — there is one* — a — a friend stricken with a wasting sickness Sister Maddalena. You speak of Bianca Cappello. Bianca (starting). I had not named her. Sister Maddalena. I will join my prayers with yours that she may recover. Bianca (hastily aside). Heaven forbid! (To the Sister.) I fear my prayers would avail little. Sister Maddalena. Nothing is denied the earnest and suppliant heart. Bianca. But Heaven may have a higher crown for her. ( Takes a jewel from her breast.) For your poor. ( The Sis- ter steps back, sternly waving off Bianca s hand.) And twice this in gold. Tell me, must Florence again mourn its Grand Duchess? Sister Maddalena (in a sudden fervor of passion). O Flor- ence! O my city! Not yet purged from the pollution of that adulterous marriage, and now again to be smitten for its ruler's shame! Strike, strike, O avenging pesti- lence! Stay not thy hand till the abomination be scourged from off the earth. 23 THE TOCSIN Bianca. Woman! Sister Maddalena. Where is that voice long dumb — that clarion voice that called me from my sin ? O Lord, how long ! Bianca. Go ! Sister Maddalena {pointing to Bianca with a fierce fire in her eyes before which she sways back as if from a flame). You and such as you it is that call down God's wrath in the fiery darts of the pestilence ! You that walk in high places! You that wear purple and fine linen! {Bianca, her hand on her breast, and her eyes fixed on Sister Maddalena, flies to the doors and throws them back.) Bianca. Bernardo! Giorgio! Sister Maddalena. Too long has the Lord held His hand. {Enter servants.) Bianca {pointing to Sister Maddalena and with her proud manner again upon her). The woman! Drive her from the gates ! ( 'The servants recoil and look in perturbation at each other.) Sister Maddalena {to the servants). Have no fear. You obey a higher voice than hers. Bianca. Bernardo ! Sister Maddalena {to servants). Go. I shall follow. {They go out. She turns to Bianca with outstretched arms, the anger gone, and her voice tender and beseeching.) And yet I know how it is with you. Never dream I do not know. I too once slept soft and knew the life of courts and was beautiful. I too lived in the fleeting moment, and was blind and knew it not. Then a light smote me. Then a hand plucked me from the abyss as I would pluck you. It is not yet too late. Christ's bosom is so tender. 24 THE TOCSIN Though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be white as snow. Come ! (Bianca turns away. The Sister stands with outstretched arms.) You will not? You shut your ears to my voice? Oh, if I could but stay and plead with you! But my dying people call. {Sister Maddalena advances to the table, laying her hand on the casket, her voice thrilling with an almost unearthly solemnity.) Not chance it was brought me to you. Two messengers have come to you today, one from an earthly prince, one from the Lord High God of Hosts. To which word will you give ear? (She points to the wreath.) See, the chaplet of roses, twined by carnal love, already fades. (She lifts up the gar- land. The withered petals fall in a rosy shower, leaving a ring of leaves and thorns.) A chaplet of roses, did I call it? Behold, it is a crown of thorns! (Bianca shrinks back, clasping her hands on her breast. The two women stand gazing into each other s eyes, Bianca s spirit battling with the solemn inspiration of Sister Maddalena s. Suddenly a smile of ineffable sweetness and triumph flashes across the Sister s face.) O blessed crown of thorns ! Yet shall you wear it ! Yet shall you come ! My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Maker! (She turns silently and goes out.) Bianca (half starting after her). Sister — I (She checks herself and gazes about as if trying to shake off some power- ful impression.) What did she say ? Yet should I come ? I? I? — The crown of thorns! And scorned me in my own palace and I was dumb ! And knew of whom I questioned and of my sin ! Fool ! she had met de' Medici's messenger — or perhaps by this it is common talk. Fool that I am ! ( Enter servant.) 25 THE TOCSIN Servant. A messenger from Florence, from his Reverence the Abbot of San Raffaello. Bianca. Bring him in. ( Enter Marianna and Brother Sebastiano.) Bianca {to Marianna). Well, pretty boy! Marianna. The Reverend Father is at the gate. Bianca. Why at the gate? Run and fetch him in. Marianna. The Reverend Father bade me say the plague is not yet in Florence. We bring no contagion, but every hour it creeps nearer, and so Bianca. So he makes haste to our pure mountain air. A thousand welcomes to him ! Run child and tell him. Marianna. But his Reverence is not alone. Bianca. Whom has he with him? Marianna. Sir Walter Howard, Count Salviati and half the convent, gracious lady. Bianca. The more the merrier. {She turns up Marianna' 's face and strokes her cheek.) I prefer you to old shaven pate there. Now run. {Exeunt Marianna and Brother Sebastiano. Bianca turns to the servant.) Has the Grand Duke's messenger gone ? Servant. Yes, my lady. {She goes to the table and stands brooding, her hand on the casket. Enter a servant, throwing open the door.) Servant. His Reverence, the Abbot of San Raffaello ! {Enter the Abbot, followed by a train of monks.) Abbot {kissing Bianca s hand). My fair cousin. Bianca. Welcome. Abbot {laughing). And all my white lambs? Bianca. Every one. Abbot. Poor devils, they were no more eager than was their shepherd, to lie down with the lion. 26 THE TOCSIN Bianca. And the Count and Sir Walter? Abbot. Stopping to shake the dust from their fineries. Bianca. I warrant you made good time from Florence. Abbot. Yes, each for himself and the devil take the hind- most, though never dream his name was mentioned! Such a pattering of aves and paternosters you never heard. Bianca. I can fancy it! Abbot. By the mass, I had forgotten we could boast so much pious learning among us. Bianca. And you rode on Saladin? Abbot. Yes, I — or rather Brother Sebastiano there. Re- morse had made him faint. Bianca. And you rode Abbot. Shanks' mare. Not another to be had for love or money. Bianca. What! you all this way on foot? Abbot. Brother Sebastiano is but an indifferent horseman. I found it wise to have an occasional hand on the bridle. Bianca. All those miles! {She pours wine for him.) Abbot. And when the paternosters flagged, I kept up the brothers' hearts by tales from Boccaccio Bianca. Are those in your breviary ? Abbot. Which, to tell the truth, when Gabriello's eyes were on me I softened a bit. But such a searching of hearts as we had before leaving Florence ! Bianca. A conversion? Abbot. Hidden iniquities brought to light! Secret sins! The plague turned us inside out as a pickpocket a rifled purse. Bianca. Even you ? Abbot. On tiptoe for the confessional. But as a lover of 2 7 THE TOCSIN fair ladies, Bianca, let me warn you to avoid repentance. It spoils the complexion. Brother Sebastiano has not got his color yet. Bianca. I will take warning. Abbot {touching her cheek lightly). A suspicion of pallor? Bianca. It is nothing. Abbot. No teasing imp of remorse, I trust, concerning pil- fered Burgundy, or — a neighbor's husband? Bianca {turning hastily to a servant). I am forgetting these good brothers. Give them food and wine. {Exeunt the monks.) Abbot. Do you harbor a nunnery here? What was that gray shadow that flitted past us as we came in ? Bianca. A sister of St. Francis. Abbot. Ugh. The mere sweep of her robe chilled me to the bone. Her face was as white as her coif. Poor fool, I dare swear she has not tasted meat this twelvemonth. {Enter Marianna. She goes to the Abbot and hands him a large, gold watch?) Marianna. Your Reverence. Abbot. What ? I left the friend of my bosom behind me ? Marianna. Brother Angelo rode after us with it. Abbot. I would as lief lose my mitre. Bianca. And do these curious little toys really keep the time? Abbot. Why, Bianca, there is a saying in Florence, " True as the Abbot's watch." Gabriello, you shall hear some time how I came by it, and of my great sermon, and make round eyes as you do at my tales. Why, boy {A heavy bell from outside rings sharply.) Hark! Bianca. The courtyard bell ! ( The bell sounds again clam- orously.) What can that mean ? 28 THE TOCSIN Marianna. Brother Angelo said he saw a troop of armed men riding this way post-haste. Abbot. Bernardo must be calling your men-at-arms to- gether. (Going toward the door.) I will see what it means. Bianca. The country is thick with marauders. (As the Abbot reaches the door it is flung violently open and Lorenzo, escorted by two soldiers of the Papal Guard, rushes in. Marianna half starts toward him, then draws back.) Abbot. Lorenzo ! Lorenzo. You here, Reverend Father! Abbot. And you, under Papal guard ! Lorenzo. Where is Sir Walter Howard? I have papers for him. I am under sentence of death. ( The Abbot with an inarticulate cry of horror throws one arm about Lorenzo's shoulder.) Bianca. Death ! Lorenzo. I had audience with His Holiness, private letters to deliver. In reaching for them in my bosom a loaded pistol fell to the ground. Abbot (with a cry of anguish). My boy! Bianca. Ah, the new edict ! Lorenzo. Yes, death to carry loaded weapons in the pres- ence of His Holiness. Abbot. But this is not Papal territory. Surely the Grand Duke Lorenzo. The Grand Duke was there and confirmed the decree. Abbot. My God! Lorenzo. Where is Sir Walter? I am alive for an hour only. This packet I have sworn on the Holy Sacrament to deliver into his hands. 29 THE TOCSIN Bianca. And then? Lorenzo. Shot. ( The deep emotion which appeared almost to overwhelm the Abbot gives place to a controlled composure. He speaks rapidly but as a man with all his senses quickened and calmed by the necessity for affion.) Abbot (to a servant). Call Sir Walter. (Exit the servant. 'The Abbot turns to Lorenzo.) How many men have you ? (Lorenzo goes to the door and opens it silently, disclosing a row of armed men.) And this castle musters — see, the window ledge and the ivy will take you down. We can master these two men silently — then Lorenzo. My word. Abbot. Child's play. Lorenzo. I swore it. Abbot. A curse on your woman's breeding! I am your father confessor ; I absolve you. I will swear to Sixtus I forced you. Lorenzo. And answer for it with your life! (Enter Sir Walter.) Ah, Sir Walter! (He draws him apart.) Bianca (opening a curtained recess). You can be private here. (Lorenzo, Sir Walter and the guards enter the recess. Bianca closes the curtain. Marianna remains in the back- ground.) Abbot (to Bianca). A forlorn hope, but I will post to Pis- toia, see His Holiness Bianca. Are you in such favor there? Abbot. Bad odor enough, with my lax rule. ( Hurries to the door.) Bianca (following and detaining him). I know a better way. The Grand Duke 3° THE TOCSIN Abbot ( turning eagerly ) . Ah ! Bianca. Sixtus sups tonight with the Grand Duke. He desires of all things to keep friendship with Florence. I will ask Lorenzo's life of the Grand Duke ! Abbot [seizing her hand with a burst of hope). And when Bianca sues ( Marianna, breathless, steals unobserved nearer.) Bianca. One of the brothers shall take my message. Marianna [starting forward and clutching the Abbot 1 s robe). No — I — I will take the message! Abbot {seizing Marianna roughly). Eavesdropping! Marianna {sinking her eyes). When it concerns the fate of one you love ! Bianca. Is the boy to be trusted? Marianna. Yes, yes! O gracious lady, they rescued me from death at the abbey. {'Turning to the Abbot again.) Trust me, trust me! O Reverend Father, let me go! Bianca. The boy's face will be a passport. {The Abbot rings a bell for a servant.) Here, child {to Marianna, drawing off a ring), post to the palace, demand entrance. Insist this ring shall reach the hands of the Grand Duke. He will see you. Say to him, " Bianca delle Torre asks her first favor of Francesco de' Medici — the life of her cousin's ward, Lorenzo Tornabuoni," and here {Bi- anca goes to the table and writes a few lines, Marianna standing by.) Abbot {to servant who enters). Bernardo and five of his men shall ride with this boy to Pistoia. A hundred gold pieces to each if they are back before the hour. Now Gabriello — laggard — off, off! {Exeunt Marianna and servant.) Bianca. Who is the boy ? 3 1 THE TOCSIN Abbot. Brother Sebastiano picked him up more dead than alive by the roadside. He is country bred, that is all I know. I have had him by me and he seems to cling to me in a dumb way. Bianca. He found speech tonight. Abbot (as the clock strikes). Ah! that must be mended. (He sets back the hands of the clock.) Too fast by a half- hour. Bianca. But there are other clocks on the castle. Abbot. Then make them tell the same tale. Bianca. That is soon done. (Exit Bianca.) Abbot (opening the window ', through which comes a rapid clatter of hoofs). There they go! There's Gabriello! Why, the boy is mad. The mare can never keep that pace. ( 'The clatter grows fainter.) Five minutes to the city gate, three to the palace, then delays, delays ! Out of sight now, behind the cypresses. (Enter Bianca.) Bianca (pointing to the recess). Still closeted with Sir Walter? Abbot. Those cursed plots! And it was I got the boy into this coil ! Bianca (seating herself). Surely you have no interest in Mary of Scotland? Abbot. I sent Lorenzo out of the country to keep him from an act of folly. What piece of womanhood do you think he was mad to marry? Bianca. His mistress — like the Grand Duke? Abbot. Why, the boy is an anchorite. No, a peasant girl, a contadina off his estates here in the Apennines. Marry, I say! Bianca. Is he simple? 32 THE TOCSIN Abbot. Was I not, to let him follow his bent and grow up in that mountain tower of his with peasants and holy sisters as his companions ? {He seats himself near Bianca.) Bianca {starting). What holy sisters? Abbot. You have heard of Sister Maddalena ? Bianca. She again! Abbot. Lorenzo first came under her spell and was all for the cloister, but now it is marriage and his contadina. In that Arcadia, you see, they still believe in God and love. Bianca. Perhaps at his age you too held love worthy of a shrine. Abbot. Of a shrine, yes; of worship, yes; of belief, hardly. Bianca. Subtle distinction for the brain of a woman. Abbot. Do I not worship your proud eyes, but, pardon me, do I believe in them ? Bianca. A little more belief and they might have proved worthier. Abbot. Is belief so potent a god? Come, let us believe in one another and be saints instead of sinners. {He rises and goes to the window ', then returns.) Countess ! Bianca. Cousin ! Abbot. What all England failed to do, you can. Bianca. What is that ? Abbot. Win me my boy away from this folly. Bianca. I ? Abbot. A glance, a smile, a what you will, and in the dip of a swallow's wing, he is yours. Bianca. And the little peasant maid ? Abbot. I will send her a pair of earrings. Bianca {with sudden passion). And why do you choose me for this? Do you think there are not enough of you 33 THE TOCSIN men about me fawning and flattering and lying, but I must stoop to your devil's work? Abbot. Well, let it lie. Let the boy marry his coarse- skinned beauty. What does it matter? Bianca [bitterly). Yes, what does it matter? He will forget her in time. As well now as then. Abbot. Then I can count on you? Bianca. I am weary of it all! Abbot. Still, if he lives, you will help me. {He goes to the window and opens it. A faint sound of distant bells is heard.) Hark ! the bells of Pistoia striking the hour. {Enter the Captain of the Papal Guard and his men. 'The Abbot hastily closes the window?) Captain. The prisoner. {Enter from the recess two guards ', Lorenzo and Sir Walter.) Abbot {pointing to the clock). Not yet — the clock is not yet on the hour. Captain. The cathedral chimes are striking. Your clock is slow. Bianca. Pardon me, sir, this clock is absolutely true. Captain. But the cathedral chimes Abbot. It was the quarter you heard. But there are other clocks in the castle. Send one of your men to verify this. Captain. I will go myself. Bianca. And I will show you the way. Captain. You honor me, gracious lady. {Exeunt Bianca, Sir Walter and Captain. The soldiers take their station by the door. The Abbot and Lorenzo come forward.) Lorenzo {giving him a packet). For Sister Maddalena. Abbot. Where is the sister? 34 THE TOCSIN Lorenzo. Wherever death is busiest ; and this (giving the Abbot another -packet ), you will send a trusty messenger with this to Marianna — O Father! ('Turns away.) Abbot. Why, courage, my boy. Lorenzo, And now to make my peace with Heaven ! Abbot. You are not going to Heaven yet. Lorenzo. To the chapel. The Holy Sacrament, Rever- end Father, before I die. Abbot. Die ? Why, faint heart, there is a friend even now pleading for you with His Holiness. Lorenzo. Sister Maddalena? Abbot. Francesco de' Medici. Lorenzo. He is no friend of mine. Abbot. No, but of our Countess. She has sent a messen- ger to beg your life. Lorenzo. Why should de' Medici do her that grace ? Is it true then that she Abbot. Hush ! Ask why of a woman ? Come, lift up your head and gloriously embrace your life when it comes back to you. Lorenzo. The gift of a wanton ! (Enter Bianca and Captain?) Bianca. The clocks all tell the same tale. Captain. With a singular uniformity. Abbot (to the Captain). Well, then, a little patience. Death will wait, and till we are ready for him, with the permis- sion of the Countess, a cup of wine together. (He goes with the Captain to the table by the fireplace.) Bianca. Be seated, gentlemen. (They seat themselves and talk. Lorenzo stands moodily in the foreground. Bianca goes to him. He pays no attention?) Bianca. Can I do anything for you ? 35 THE TOCSIN Lorenzo [roughly). You have done too much already, Countess. Bianca. I do not understand. Lorenzo. Can you shrive me? There is the Reverend Father at his cups, and in a half-hour I shall be dead in a ditch without bell or book. Bianca. Do you not see we must blind the Captain to our tampering with the clocks ? Keep up hope. The pardon must come. Lorenzo. Not at this price. No, I will not touch it. I have had clean hands till now. Bianca. I do not follow you. Why do you turn from me ? Clean hands ? What do you mean ? You will not speak ? Not look at me ? Holy saints ! I hope there is nothing on your conscience that your eyes cannot meet mine. Lorenzo. {Lifts his eyes slowly and fixes them on Bianca. She gazes back with a long direcJ look. 'They stand silent awhile.) And yet you look Bianca. Look ? Lorenzo. Why should de' Medici grant you this favor? Bianca. Why should he? Why? [Turns away.) Ah, that was why you could not look at me. By St. Agnes! I believe you were thinking evil of me. Lorenzo. Forgive me — but they say — they say Bianca [proudly). No more. My pity for you made me blind. I forgot here in my secluded widowhood how cruelly the world may misjudge a woman. Lorenzo. I was a brute. I had not looked in your face. But now Bianca. Let me tell you why the Grand Duke is kind to me. Lorenzo. No, no! Your eyes have explained all. 36 THE TOCSIN Bianca. But you shall hear me. When the Grand Duke married Bianca Cappello Lorenzo. Do not speak of Bianca Cappello ! Bianca. But I bear her name, Bianca — and I too am from Venice — and at the wedding pageants (I was a child then), they dressed me in white and I carried a golden casket holding a milk-white dove. And I knelt at their feet and presented the dove, but the bird flew back and nestled in my breast. And the Grand Duke was touched and asked my name, and when I said Bianca, told me for that name I should always be dear to his heart. Lorenzo. The white dove nestles still in your breast. Can you forgive me? (He takes her hand. They move back, talking?) Captain (laughing). Very good, Reverend Father, but the time ! (He rises and looks at the clock.) Abbot. But Monsignor's answer was still better. He said Captain. One moment, Reverend Father, that watch of your Reverence's — that famous watch they talk of in Florence, and which never lies, — has your Reverence that with you ? Bianca (aside to Lorenzo). Alas, we forgot to set it back! Abbot (rising and standing by chimney). Unfortunately I left it in the monastery. Captain. And yet as I sat by you just now I could have sworn I heard it ticking. Abbot (thrusting his hand in his robe). You are right. I forgot, Brother Angelo posted after me with it. Captain. I have a curiosity to see one of these little bosom consciences. (He approaches the Abbot and holds out his hand.) 37 THE TOCSIN Abbot. With all the pleasure in the world. {He draws the watch out and as he does so, drops it, as it were inadver- tently on the marble hearth, with a crash. All start for- ward.) Abbot. Per Bacco I Bianca. What a misfortune ! Lorenzo. Your famous watch ! Captain. Most singular calamity. Abbot {picking it up). I shall have to preach another sermon. Captain ( to Lorenzo ). Your time is short. {Abbot hastens to the window and opens it. Lorenzo joins him.) Abbot. The moon is out again. Bianca [to the Captain). Come and sit by the fire, Signor, the night is cold. Captain [pointing to the clock). Pardon me, lady. Abbot ( at the window ). A horse, a horse — riderless — no ! the boy bent low over the saddle bow! Captain. The prisoner will make his farewells. ( The Abbot leans breathless out of the window. The distant clatter of horses' hoofs is heard drawing nearer. Lorenzo falls at the Abbot's feet and takes his hand. Bianca joins them and looks over the Abbot's shoulder.) Lorenzo. Your blessing, Father. Abbot {paying no attention to Lorenzo ). Past the campanile, the cypresses, now the long loop in the road. What ! He leaps the wall and tears across the gorse! {The clatter ceases.) Brave boy ! Mad boy ! The mare can never take the next wall ! Bianca. Holy Virgin, he has leapt it! {The clatter of hoofs is heard again louder and louder. The clock begins to strike.) 38 THE TOCSIN Captain {to the guard). The prisoner! ( The guard approach Lorenzo, who rises. The hoof-beats cease?) Abbot. At the gate ! Lorenzo. Father, your blessing. {The guard form about Lorenzo.) Captain. March ! [As the clock is on the last stroke of twelve, the door is thrown open and Marianna rushes in waving a paper. Lorenzo's back is turned.) Marianna {breathlessly and faintly). The pardon, the pardon ! {The Abbot snatches the paper from her.) Abbot. The pardon ! {The soldiers draw away from Lorenzo who falls at Bianca's feet and kisses her hand.) Lorenzo. You have saved my life! Marianna ( at the door). No, I — I {No one observes her. She looks at Bianca and Lorenzo, throws up her arms with a gesture of despair and hurries from the room.) Abbot ( looking up from the pardon ). But the boy, Gabriello, where is he? 39 Act III A green meadow with Castle delle I'orre in the background. Behind its towers rise the peaks of the Apennines. In the center is a wayside shrine to the Virgin, approached by broad stone steps and a stone platform. Sister Maddalena is kneel- ing at the top of the steps before the shrine. A peasant and his wife enter, leading a child, its hands full of field flowers. Peasant Woman {to the child). Yes, Lillo shall be lifted up in my arms and shall lay the pretty flowers himself at the feet of Madonna. Peasant {pointing to Sister Maddalena). Ah, a sister of St. Francis. Peasant Woman. Blessed saints ! I know her by her worn hands! It is the Holy Sister Maddalena! {She sinks on her knees at the bottom of the steps and pulls the child down after her.) Look, little one ! It was she saved you from death when the fever was on you. Peasant {kneeling and taking off his hat). Quiet, little one ! Peasant Woman {to her husband). Run, Niccolo, and fetch old Bratti and the miller's daughter, that she may lay her blessed hands on them and cure them. 4° THE TOCSIN Peasant (rising). Well said. (He goes out softly. The woman tells her beads, while the child, weary with kneeling, sinks into a sitting posture and plays with his flowers. Three peasant girls enter with their hoes and baskets. The woman motions to them and whispers.) Peasant Woman. The Holy Sister Maddalena ! She who saved my Lillo. ( The girls look awestruck, and one whispers, " Ah, the holy saint ! " They cross themselves and kneel. One begins softly to sing an Ave Maria, the others take it up. Sister Maddalena stirs, but still prays, kneeling. As the hymn dies away the peasant returns leading a decrepit old man and followed by a pale young girl.) Peasant (to his charges). Here, close to the steps, so that her blessing may fall first on you. ( They kneel. Sister Maddalena stirs, raises her hands to Heaven and rising slowly turns and looks down on the kneel- ing group. They gaze at her in awe. She lets her eyes rest silently and solemnly on each, standing up tall and pale in her gray Franciscan robe. Her eyes fall full of pity on old Bratti and the miller s daughter.) Peasant Woman. Your blessing, Holy Sister. All. Bless us, bless us. Sister Maddalena. I can but pray for you. Heaven alone blesses. Peasant Woman (holding up Lillo). See, Holy Sister, the little one. He was sick to death when you passed here in the spring, and you laid your hands upon him and now he leaps like a young kid. ( Taking old Bratti' s hand.) Lay your blessed hands on this old man, Madonna. Sister Maddalena (descending the steps slowly and laying her hand on BrattVs head). You will not suffer long. 41 THE TOCSIN {She turns to the miller's daughter.) You should be in your bed. Where do you live ? Miller's Daughter. In the mill yonder, Sister. Sister Maddalena. Go home. I will come to you soon. Miller's Daughter. And stay with us, Sister? Sister Maddalena. No. They need me in Florence. All [clamoring). In Florence? O Holy Sister, the pestilence, the pestilence ! You will die ! Do not leave us ! Do not go to Florence ! ( 'They cluster about her, kissing her hands and the hem of her garments. She tries to prevent them.) Sister Maddalena. Not to me! Not to me! {Enter Marianna in peasant's dress. She falls on her knees before Sister Maddalena, who stoops and raises her tenderly!) Sister Maddalena. Marianna! Marianna. O Sister, Sister ! Sister Maddalena {with authority to the peasants). Go now. {To the miller's daughter!) I will come to you soon. {Exeunt all but Sister Maddalena and Marianna.) You promised to be at the gate. Marianna. Do not reproach me. O Sister, let me lay my head on your breast, for I am sick unto death. Sister Maddalena. Where is the pain, little one ? Marianna. Here in my heart. Sister Maddalena. The Holy Virgin will comfort you. Marianna {looking up and pointing off, with a shrinking fear). O angeli beatil they are here. Come away, Sister. Sister Maddalena {turning in the direction in which Mari- anna is pointing, and starting as with a great thrill). The Father in white ! Who is he ? Who is he ? Marianna. The Abbot of San Raffaello. O Sister, come away ! 4 2 THE TOCSIN Sister Maddalena. Abbot? Simple priest, then. But he it is, none other. " O Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace ! " Marianna (plucking at Sister Maddalena s robe). Come, Sister. Sister Maddalena (unmindful of Marianna). To speak to him before I die ! Marianna. Not now ! O Sister, come ! Sister Maddalena. Wandering in green fields, and Flor- ence dying ? ( Checking herself.) Peace ! That I should dare question the ways of the Lord's anointed. Yet shall he bless me before I go ! ( She starts away, oblivious of Marianna, who clings to her robe.) Marianna (piteously). You too forsake me? Sister Maddalena. Let me go. (She tries to unclasp Marianna' s hands.) Marianna. O Sister, my heart is breaking ! Sister Maddalena (in violent agitation and almost harshly). Do not stop me. Unclasp your hands. Marianna. When were you ever deaf to me before ? Sister Maddalena (in increasing excitement, while her whole body seems to sway in the direction in which her eyes are straining). The Lord has promised me. I prayed but one thing of the Lord, that I might meet once more, face to face, mine angel of deliverance, fall at his feet Marianna (despairingly and letting go the sister's dress). He does not need you, but I, I (Sister Maddalena, freed, starts forward. Marianna, with a cry, buries her face in her hands and sinks to the ground. At the cry Sister Maddalena checks her flight, turns and looks back.) Sister Maddalena (panting with the violent conflicl of her 43 THE TOCSIN emotions). O Lord, not this sacrifice ! Show me not the Promised Land and bind my feet! The time is short! (She half starts away once more, then looks back and echoes Marianna's words.) Not need me! (She utters a bitter cry.) Alas, how should the cherished of the Most High need such as I ? (A deep quivering sigh bursts from her lips. The light fades from her face. Her arms fall to her sides. She turns slowly to Marianna, an expression of in- finite pity creeping into her eyes as she looks down on her. She opens her arms with a gesture of noble and tender pro- tetlion.) Come, little one. (Marianna leaps to her feet and throws herself on Sister Maddalena's breast; then lifting her head gazes off and points as in an agony.) Marianna. Lorenzo! Come, come away. (She draws the sister feverishly by the robe and they go out.) (Enter from grove Lorenzo and Bianca, Lorenzo carry- ing a spray of white hawthorn.) Bianca. We have outstripped the rest. Lorenzo (looking off in evident agitation). Sister Madda- lena ? No, it cannot be. Bianca (absorbed in trying to gain his attention and with an evident undercurrent of fear lest she may not). You do not thank me for having given them the slip ? And all for you. Lorenzo (coldly). For me today. For whom tomorrow? ( He turns away. Bianca watches him, her brow contratling. She fingers her dress nervously, then approaches him and holds out her hand with a gesture half beseeching^) Bianca. I wait. My hawthorn. Lorenzo (moodily). It was not of you I thought when I pulled it. Bianca. Of whom, then ? 44 THE TOCSIN {Lorenzo moves away with his eyes on the ground. Sud- denly he stands motionless, then kneels down beside a tuft of violets. Bianca follows unobserved.) Lorenzo. Blue violets ! ( He puts out his hand as if to touch them, then draws it away as if stung.) Marianna's eyes! Bianca {aside). Marianna's eyes! {Aloud.) Why did you start back ? Lorenzo. Something — stung me. Bianca. Still they are sweet. Pick them. Lorenzo {covering the violet tuft with a swift protecting gesture). No! Bianca. Why will you not gather them ? Lorenzo {passionately). Because I am not worthy, not worthy, O my God ! ( He rises and turns from her, and half kneels on the lowest step of the shrined) Bianca ( looking down at the violets). And yet I could crush them with my foot. {She stands musing, then goes slowly toward him. He does not turn. She stands beside him. He keeps his eyes turned from her. She lifts her hand and lightly touches his forehead and hair.) You look pale, Lorenzino. Pardon my touch, but those little damp curls on your forehead are so like my brother's, who died young. {He partly turns toward her, as though the spell of her beauty were more than he could resist. Bianca still plays with his hair.) Why, one has twined round my finger like a betrothal ring. I am weary, too, Lorenzo mio. Such weariness I never knew before. Lorenzo. I am sorry. Bianca. I was waking late last night over an old book of poems. One stuck in my memory. I hardly know what it means. Perhaps you can tell me. It runs thus : 45 THE TOCSIN " Oh, I've a Queen rose in my bower, (She lays one hand on her breast) But the white hawthorn is in flower ! {She takes the spray of hawthorn from his unresisting hand) Down in the sunny lane it blows, — Be thou patient, my royal rose. I have a mind for one white spray : (She sighs) See, I will wear it here today ; (She fastens it in his bosom, reading in his ardent eyes that she has conquered, and with a ring of triumph in her voice) Only today, sweet rustic flower, For I have a Queen rose in my bower." (She draws herself up with a superb gesture and flings back her head.) Lorenzo (tearing the hawthorn from his bosom and throwing it underfoot). What is the white hawthorn to me when I have my Queen rose ? ( He tries to seize her hands but she draws them away and glides off, smiling at him over her shoulder.) Bianca (tantalizingly). Have you your Queen rose? (She points back.) Here are others come to gather it. Lorenzo. Never. (He seizes her hand roughly.) Come, you shall listen to me. Bianca (waving her hand to Count Salviati and Sir Walter who enter from the grove). The dance is beginning. Make haste. (They start forward, but Lorenzo hurries Bianca off-) Sir Walter (pausing). Fairly outstripped in the race. Count Salviati (shrugging his shoulders). And by a mere boy. My scheme, too. She plays her part well, — if it is a part. 4 6 THE TOCSIN {Enter the Abbot, poring over an open scroll.) Sir Walter. What does his Reverence say to it ? Count Salviati {to the Abbot). Your pardon for hurry- ing ahead. Has your Reverence observed the dance our fair will-o'-the-wisp is leading your ward ? Abbot {with affetled solemnity). Varium et mutabile semper femina. Gentlemen, I will give her ghostly counsel. ( He seats himself on the stone step.) Count Salviati. And let the moral be the shortness of Lorenzo's rent roll and the length of mine. Sir Walter {pointing in the direction in which Bianca and Lorenzo have gone). See, the peasant girls are gathered on the green. Count Salviati. And there is the music. {The sound of distant rustic dance music is heard.) Surely your Rever- ence will go on to t\\&festa? Abbot {poring over his scroll). My new library pleases me better than your thick-ankled contadine. See, gentle- men, of Carrara marble and well set among the cypresses. {'They look over the Abbot's shoulder.) Sir Walter. Your Reverence's taste is known. {Enter Brother Sebastiano hastily. He gives a paper to the Abbot.) Brother Sebastiano. From Florence, Reverend Father. Abbot. And you have been near the messenger? Stand back. ( He opens the scroll and reads.) " The streets pop- ulated but by the unburied dead ; a noisome pall hanging over the city; groans, curses, purple corpses heaped in the charnel-houses " {As he reads an involuntary shudder passes over him. The repulsion felt by a beauty- loving nature for the foul and ugly fills him with a sickening disgust. He tears the paper vehemently into bits.) Pah ! 47 THE TOCSIN the Prior used not to have such bad taste. {Harshly to Brother Sebastiano.) We know all this. Why do you wait? Brother Sebastiano. The answer, Reverend Father. Abbot. What answer? Have I not thrown open my abbey to the miserable wretches? My refectories? My gar- dens ? Go. Brother Sebastiano. They starve, Reverend Father. Abbot. Who ? The dead ? There are none but the dead left in Florence. ( He turns away, then -perceiving Brother Sebastiano still timidly lingering, he fingers a ring he wears.) What, not yet gone ? Here, then. {He draws off the ring.) Take that. Sell it at Pistoia, and mind, at its worth. Prince Farnese gave it to me. {Brother Sebastiano turns to go.) And wait ! my service of wrought gold, Cellini's work ; the Cardinal will give you a lapful of broad pieces for it. He fancied it when he last supped with me. Sell it and feed and bury with it. Now go; and mind {with a sudden gust of passion), no more of your reeking tales! Do you think I do not know how they look, who die of the plague ? The swollen limbs, the starting eyes, the pestilent odor, the ( He stands for a moment with wide eyes j as though transfixed with unspeakable horror; then passing his hand over his forehead, turns to the others with an attempt to assume his former lightness of manner. 'The Brother goes out.) Pardon me, gentlemen. This un- couth simplicity, with his tales unfit for ears polite — from a child up, such sights and sounds have always unnerved me — but pardon me, as I was saying {he spreads out the plan of his library) — of Carrara marble, the frieze by Gian Bologna, a troop of drowsy leopards teased by dancing nymphs. {He shivers again slightly and draws a long breath.) + 8 THE TOCSIN Count Salviati. Your Reverence half persuades me to join your order. Abbot. You shall be cellarer in place of Brother Gregorius. I mistrust Brother Gregorius; his paunch is too round. (Z/