THE LOCUST FLOWER SEa- THE CELIBATE RIUILNE BROOKS QUINTON *p ^'^ -tuA Ci)PifRIGHT DEPOSIT. THE LOCUST FLOWER and THE CELIBATE TWO PLAYS BY PAULINE BROOKS QUINTON BOSTON SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 1916 This play in its printed form is designed for the reading public only. No performance, professional or otherwise, may be given without written perm^ission of the author. All public readings are also forbidden with- out written permission; application should be made to the author through the publishers. Copyright, 1916 Sherman, French &= Company OCT -2 1916 'CI,A-}38G73 TO THOSE WHO LOVED ME WHEN I WAS A CHILD FOREWORD Plays are written for the theatre, but the au- dience often leaves the best and stays for the worst. To make the play perfect the audience must see what the poet sees. The crowd tramples on the wildflowers in the forest to find a restful spot for feast and danc- ing. The poet kneels at the shrine of the same wild flowers, gently and reverently feasts the soul and not the senses, and departs with linger- ing and loving farewells. The most completely beautiful appreciation of a play has ever been by the poet, who was often greater than the play itself, as he sat by the fireside on a winter's evening, too poor to have the lights and color, throng, music and the players ; but who shut his eyes over the rhythmic lines and dreamed as the author had dreamed before him — the sleet on the roof for his orchestra, the crackling fire for the diction of his players, the mystery of candle-light for his color ! The '' first nighter " must envy such an au- ditor, for Imagination without a sou in pocket jForetootD can see what the brilliant horse shoe, thronged with fair ladies and gallant men, never — never sees. I commend these little plays to those who are slippered by the fireside on winter evenings, and whose fancy still sparkles with an ingenu- ous delight and whose hearts still beat with a human joy which the jewelled bosoms of society have lost or never knew. George C. Hazelton, Jr. New York, 1916. THE LOCUST FLOWER * A FANTASY IN ONE ACT Signifies "Love or Memory from beyond the grave." CHARACTERS The Lover The Living Love of a Boy Passion of Youth Flame of Desire Heart's Ease Love of a Man Lesser Loves The Dead Shades of Memory Scene: Unconventional garden. To right of center there is a fountain with a broad stone ledge encircling it. The fountain is playing. To left and up stage are many trees, and a few scattered ones to right of fountain. The for- est forms a background for the garden except where, through an opening in the woods up stage to right, is seen in the near but dim dis- tance the vague outlines of a beautifid mansion with terraces leading to the garden. Far be- yond is seen a vista, of hills bathed in moonlight which also encompasses the garden, making the trees look like phantom shapes. It reveals, seated on the stone ledge of the fountain, a man and a woman, — The Lover and The Living. Their costumes belong to no particular place or epoch. The man is about thirty-five. The woman is about thirty. Both are good-looking and attractive. The man is seated to the right of the woman. When the curtain rises he is bending towards her with tender solicitude as she sits staring at the playing foun- tain. She slowly turns her head and looks at him. 1 2 Cfte Locust Jflotoer The Lover [with eagerness^. The night is not more silent than your Hps, beloved ; the heavens not more full of mystery than your eyes. The Living [faintly smiling^. Mystery is woman's deepest lure, silence her safest weapon. The Lover [tenderly~\. With me you have no need of weapon, and your lure lies deeper than the mysteries of Earth or Heaven. The Living. How confident you are ! The Lover. Of myself, yes. The Living. But not of me? The Lover. I wait for proof. The Living. Proof that I love you beyond words to tell.? The Lover. Words may tell much, dear love, when spoken from the heart. The Living [imth a low laugli]. Poor over- valued heart ! It is from out the brain that all emotions spring. The Lover [with scorn^. Emotion is not love. The Living. Yet you would vesture Love in the poor raiment of which words are made. The Lover [fervently~\. I would vesture Love in every guise best suited to his infinite variety, — sighs, tears or kisses, as it chance to be, and whispered syllables for each caress. The Living. But when your eyes caress Cfte JLocu0t JFlotoer s me, or your lips touch mine, what need of speech ? The Lover. Caresses are but silent, cow- ard witnesses to honorable love. The Living \_'with a low laugh~\. Are not deeds better witnesses than words to what men feel? The Lover \_protestingly'\. Sweetheart, deeds are Love's symbols, but a cold and cheer- less thing it would become, bereft of tender blandishments and protests and avowals. The Living \_with slight irony^. To pro- test and to avow have made the sum of Love for countless ardent lovers since the world began. The Lover \laugliing and trying to embrace her while she gently resists']. Dear heart, your wisdom chides my ardor, but it cannot chill. [Passionately] I love you, love you, love you. [He takes her in his arms and kisses her, then murmurs] Tell me that you love me. You have said it only once and it will bear repeating o'er and o'er. The Living [with deep tenderness]. I love you, — dear. The Lover [again drawing her to him and speaking with passion^ . Again — say yet again you love me, and will love me to the end of time. The Living [gently withdrawing and speak- Cfte Hotmt Jflotoer ing with eyes gazing into space^. To the end of time ! That would indeed be love. I can- not say it, dear, — it seems to promise that of which no human heart can be assured. The Lover [in alarm~\ . What ! In the present fullness of our joy you are not borne above all doubt? Then truly, cold and grim the shadoAV that you cast upon our future bliss. The Living \_slozdy~\. Perhaps — it may be — women promise less and more fulfill than men. It is so easy to say, — " I will love for- ever and for aye." But are there many, think you, who are faithful — even unto death ? \_Faint ghostly sighing seems to come from the trees. The woman lifts her head in a listening attitude. The man gives a violent shudder^ The Lover. It is of Life we treat, — of Life and Love and Passion's ecstasy, and not — of Death. [He shudders again^ Speak not of Death ! The Living. If Love be Love, it can endure the thought of Death, because of that which lies beyond. The Lover [with gentle violence']. I can endure only the thought of Love and Life with you, beloved of my soul. [He kisses her] I will be tolerant of your woman's creed to prom- ise nothing for the unproved years to come, but Cfte JLocu0t Jflotoet this, at least, I may implore, — that of the years gone by, the arid, empty years, you give me that assurance which I crave. The Living [slowly repeating after hhn']. The arid, empty years. The Lover [eagerly^. Empty of Love, — such Love as you now give to me. The Living [looking intently at liim'\. Why should the years have empty been of Love for me? Is it because [with slow emphasis^ I am a woman? The Lover [moving uneasily']. Not that you are a woman, only that I cannot bear to fancy past experience of Love for you, in which / have no share. The Living [quietly]. Yet / must picture without dread a Love-past in which you found joy without me. The Lover [in tender protest]. The Past has been a school in which I learned the better how to love you. The Living [smiling]. One may have too much learning of a certain sort. The Lover [eagerly]. Tell me, my sweet, that never have you loved as you love me. The Living [looking earnestly at himi]. You would that I protest again and yet again how much I give to you of my heart's store. One may protest o'er much in Love. Cfte ILocu0t JFIotoer The Lover. Never o'er much to ease the aching longing of my breast. The Living [earnestli/^. It would but shadow, dear, my love for you, were I to cheapen by denial the love of other days. The Lover \_with 'warmt}i~\. You mean — that you have loved before? The Living [^drawing away from him and speaking with feeling^. I am no girl, untried, with blank and unmarred pages in my Book of Life. I tell you, I have lived and I have loved. The Lover [desperately'\. But never — say it — never as you now love me. The Living [quietly^. I shall not blind myself to truth even for what you are to me this hour. I have loved — in the past — as well, but in a different way. The Lover [staring at her and speaking with bitterness~\. O God! And I believed you mine, and mine alone ! The Living [with tender gravity^. And so I am, beloved, yours — now — beyond all ques- tion and all doubt. -The Lover [taking a few steps away from herJi, Today is but a monument of tarnished gilt for any man who sees upon its surface mir- rored images of Loves of Yesterdays. The Living [with gentle irony']. Doubt- less, if in the mirror man but finds reflections Cfte JLocu0t Jflotoer from his own dim amorous past, the point of view is changed. The Lover [^turning quickly towards her and speaking with warmth'\. What man, think you, who drinks deep from the Cup of Life as I have done, can fail of garnered memories and the toll they must exact of sorrow and of joy? The Living [eagerly, leaning towards him^. None, none — or woman either — that is what I claim. The Lover [approaching and bending over her]. But I, at least, will say, and glory in the saying, — I never loved before, in the same way or yet as well as I love you. [From the forest comes a low, ghostly y wailing sound of infinite sadness and re- proach. The man and woman start. She rises to her feet and they stare at each other] The Living [whispering]. What was that strange and ghostly sound? The Lover [reassuringly hut in rather un- certain tones and putting his arm around her]. 'Tis but the night wind in the trees. The Living [clasping her hands]. It sounded like the wail of heartbreak and of tears, — of countless voices on a sea of sadness and despair. [A slight pause and then she adds slowly] Voices of women who have loved. 8 Cl)e JLocu0t JFlotoet The Lover \_drawmg her to the stone ledge of the fountain, and sitting as before, to the right and she to the left~\. Dear love, you are as full of fancies as the night of sentient things that hide within the forest and stir with the stirring of the trees. The Living \_raising her face to /m]. And so my poor avowal of present love and faith contents you not, and you would shame me by avowing that for me you did reserve the one, the great, the only love of all your life. The Lover [passionatelyl. I love you as I never loved before ! [Again from the surrounding forest comes the ghostly wail. They start and shud- der and look fearfully into the dark re- cesses of the woods to the left~\ The Living. Surely the night is sighing for the countless lovers who have vowed their love as you vow yours, and vowed it oft in vain. The Lover [trying to he composedly. Dear heart, to simplest mysteries of the night you do impart a meaning full as quaint and strange as it is beautiful. The Living [turning hack towards him^. But, to return, tell me — for I am but a woman with all a woman's yearning to upraise the veil that lies between her soul and that of him she loves — tell me of those Loves of Long Ago, be- Cfte 3Locu0t Jflotoer 9 fore — / came. Tell me — for I wish to un- derstand just what has moulded you and given you at last to me. \_0n the trunk of a tree to left appears a phosphorescent spot of light, misty and dim. The man suddenly sees it and starts forward on the ledge, still holding the woman in his armsl^ The Lover [m awed whisper, pointing to the tree']. See, the light upon that tree! The Living \^turning her head, and gazing where he points]. I see naught but moonlight shining on the bark. The Lover [whispering]. Moonlight! It is not the moon. How strange a thing it is ! \_He passes his right hand over his eyes] The Living [softly laughing and looking at him]. Ah so, 'tis you who of strange phanta- sies are now possessed. [Suddenly from the shadow of the tree on which the spot of light has appeared, there comes gliding softly the misty fig- ure of a woman. It is Love of Boy. She is very young and lovely, with blue eyes and pale gold hair. Her draperies are of primrose color, and primroses crown her head. The spot of light con- tinues to shine upon the tree-trunk. Love of Boy approaches and stops near 10 C6e Hotmt JFIotoet the couple seated hy the fountain. The man starts and stares at the apparition in awed stupefaction. The woman sees nothing; she gazes straight ahead of her~\ The Living. Tell me of your first sweet- heart. A man's first love must surely be a sa- cred memory. Defile it not by foolish and by vain denial. Tell me, dear heart, just what it meant to you. Love of Boy [her voice soft and musical as the echo of a distant Uute^. I am the first, for I am she you cherished in your boyhood, inno- cent and pure, the while you stood abashed be- fore the miracle of Love. The Lover [staring at the apparition and speaking slowly as if in a trance^. Dear, ten- der little love of boyhood days ! You meant to me the scent of April flowers, the songs of birds, the dew upon the grass at dawn. You meant all sweet, untarnished things, all clean delights of Love when Spring is young! The Living [fervently^ looking at her lover^ . Dear God be praised that your novitiate to Love was served so worthily. I am not fearful of that faint, sweet memory of bygone days, and yet — I think — I envy her because she was the first. But I forgive her, for she held you only for a little space, then sped you on to me. Cfte JLotwt JFlotoet n Love of Boy. I held you only for a little space, because I knew not life or men, or how to keep what I had won. The Lover [gazing at the apparition and speaking softly'\. Dear, tender little love! The fragrance of that pure affection stayed with me through the years, and kept within my soul a vision, clean and true, of all that Woman and that Love were meant to be. The Living [speaking as the vision of Love or Boy fades slowly hack into the shadow of the tree from whence it came, and on which the light continues to shine^. Tell me, beloved, what was added then unto your store of gar- nered memories of Love? [As she is speaking, a misty spot of light has appeared upon the trunk of another tree to left. From its shadows has glided out a figure draped in deep rose tint, with ferns and roses wi her gold- brown hair. [It is Passion of Youth. She is beauti- ful and young, but of a more mature youth than Love of Boy. She stands near the fountain, and as the man be- comes conscious of her, he gazes at her in the same surprised absorption as be- fore. ] Passion of Youth [her voice deep and vi- 12 Cfte !Locu0t Jflotoet brant, but coming as from a distance^. It was from me you learned that Love in its comple- tion is the immortal essence of what men call Human Passion, and that true Passion's crown is Love. The Lover [bending eagerly forward and speaking as if in a trance^. Ah, second mis- tress of my heart! I gave to you the tender reverence that is born of man's diviner part, warmed by that flame of Passion which is but desire purged of all gross, debasing things by Love's pure breath. The Living [bending towards Mm, with a note of pain in her voice'\. Ah so, — from her, your second love, you learned the mystery that blends the forces of the body and the soul, — and thus to her you gave the best that man may know of Love. Why, then, did she not hold you to the end.^ The Lover [rvith sadness, gazing at the vi- sion^. Dear Love of early Summer Days, who might perchance have held me to the end ! I cannot tell. You wearied of me, for with all my treasure trove of Love, I was too crudely young to satisfy your more mature and critical demands. Passion of Youth. I wearied of you, for you were my plaything, not my king. I passed to other joys and other loves of which I wearied Cfte Locu0t jFlotoet i3 too. With you I might have found all things I sought; with me you might have reached ful- fillment of all cravings of your soul. But cher- ish not regret, for it was but a chance at best. In place of Happiness we might have found, to- gether, on the Road of Life, Despair and bit- ter Hate. The Lover [with deep feeling^. Passion of Youth, — ah,, cruel ecstasy — that left me with a bitterness as poignant as my love had been sincere ! From that, the first illusion lost, came other things that poisoned for a time the wells of Youth. But later, as the years passed by, all bitterness was gone and in its stead there came a sure appraisal of my loss and of my gain. So, I forgive — dear spirit of a passion dead and gone — the misery that once was mine. The Living [speaking as the vision of Pas- sion OF Youth fades bach into the tree from whose shadow it had emerged^ . I think — I understand. I neither fear nor envy that lost Love of Long Ago. She helped to mould you in the crucible of pain. Had I been in her place, I should not have you now. Pass on, dear heart, pass on to that which followed in the wake of what you have described. [A light appears on a third tree to the left, and from its shadow emerges a fig- u Cfte ILocugt jFlotoer ure draped in deep red, with poppies in her hair. It is Flame of Desire. She is very pretty, with black hair and dark eyes. She approaches and pauses near the fountain. Her voice is low and se- ductive^ Flame of Desire. In my embrace you sought to gratify the hunger of Desire aroused by Passion unfulfilled. The Lover [^who has given a sudden start at the sight of the vision and recoiled swiftly as she began to speak^. In very tempest of de- spair, of Love denied, I sought oblivion in the arms of what men call Desire, Desire of the flesh. \^Speaks with increasing warmth^ It is as far removed from Love as Heaven from Hell. And when men name it Passion they unhallow Passion's mighty fire. The Living [eagerly^. And did you find oblivion in the thing you took, — the thing men call Desire? The Lover \bitterly~\. I found the dregs of all for which men live and die and love. I found disgust and shame and self-betrayal. Flame of Desire [softly^. Oh, be less harsh, for out of that besmirching there arose within you a new sense of beauty and of power. I harmed you not, and ah, to me you brought a vision of what Love might mean. For this I Cfte JLo(U0t Jflotoer is loved you, — so forgive, as you have long for- got. The Living \tenderly~\. Poor, tarnished creature whom you made your tool to stifle for a space a yearning and a hunger she could not appease. To her I give all pity, for of her I could not feel a jealous pang. Forgive her, dear — it was not her intent to harm. Per- haps she loved you too. [The vision of Flame of Desire has faded away, back into the tree, which, like the others, is still lit by the mystic spot of light. On a fourth tree to the left has appeared another light, and from the shadows comes a, figure draped in pur- ple. It is Heart's Ease. Her hair is pale brown and wreathed around her head are passion-flowers. She is very slender and her face is sweet and full of a fine spiritual quality. Her voice is soft and gentle and has a monotonous cadence. She stands, as did the others, near the fountain, and gazes at The Lover. As he perceives her, she ad- dresses him and he leans forward staring at her'\. Heart's Ease. To me you came for peace and solace in your swift recoil from Love's dis- honored shrine. 16 Cfte Hocmt jFlotoer The Living. And did not Love come soon again in sweeter guise? The Lover [speaking dreamily as he stares at Heart's Ease]. In shuddering revulsion from the flesh my spirit soared above its petty promptings and sought, eagerly, relief with one whose tender pity healed the wound of self- abasement and disgust. The Living [thoughtfully]. She pitied, so she loved. And did you love in turn? The Lover. Alas, I gave her but a love that was a fever of the soul ; a thirst she quenched from her pure fount of faith divine. Heart's Ease [slowly and sweetly], I loved you, for I brought you strength, and new re- freshment for your weary, doubting heart. But when I gave all that I had to give, it was not yet enough. The love of man for woman I was not destined to inspire. The cold white flame men call religious ardor burned within, consuming human passion. You loved me not. I could not hold what was not mine to win. The Lover [mth warmth]. With my di- viner self I loved you. Ease of Heart. Forgive, forgive — the rest. The Living [speaking as Heart's Ease fades away hack into the shadow of the tree]. I scarcely know whether most to envy or to pity her who brought to you a finer sense of Cfte Hotmt Jflotoer n spiritual things, but left your heart unmoved. Poor, tender soul, — it may be she found else- where all that you withheld. The Lover. It may be. The Living [zerith renewed animation]. Tell on, dear love. Did Time perchance in- trude between this episode and what Life held in store for you of bitter or of sweet.'' [As she is speaking a light has appeared on a fifth tree to the left, and the figure of Love of Man has glided forward. She is tall and very beautiful, with red- gold hair and brilliant eyes. Her dra- peries are rainbow-tinted and on her head she wears a wreath composed of pinks, pansies, marigolds, tulips, aza- lias, hyacinths and china asters] The Lover [starting and staring at her with dilating eyes]. Ah, truly so, — Time in- tervened before again Love visited my life. The years had moulded me and when a new ex- perience came it found me with an intellect ma- tured, demanding what before I had not sought, — food for my mind as well as for my heart. The Living [with jealous eagerness]. And did you find all that 3'^ou sought — all that you say you gain in me.f' The Lover [putting his arm around her but staring at the vision of Love of Man]. 18 Cfte Hocmt Jflotoer Within the shelter of my arm you ask for truth, and truth I now will give, whate'er the pain it cause to you or me. For memory is often bit- ter pain, and this one I put from me long ago. Love of Man [m a sweet, strong voice, se- ductive as it is impelling^. All things you found in me and gave to me. The pure and wistful joy of Springtime Love; the keen, de- vouring Passion of a heart matured ; the finer craving of the soul for that which lies beyond, and comradeship that seemed all else to comple- ment and bind. The Lover \^with fervor^. Ah, Love of Man! To you I gave, from you I took, much that man knows of Passion and of Love, and to my groping brain you brought impelling power that stirred me to undreamed-of heights of self- expression and accomplishment. The Living \_r es ties sly ~\. You gave and took all that, and yet you say she is a memory you long have sought to still ! What mystery is here? The Lover [slowly and sadly}. The mys- tery of Life, unsolved as yet by either you or me. This woman, whom I loved better than all of those who came before, was by some unac- counted law of man held mortally beyond my reach. The Living \_wonderingly~\. You mean — C|)e JLocmt JFIotoer i9 she was not free to love or give herself to you? The Lover [repeating dully']. She was not free, — or such was the decree of what we call Convention, and of Law, the human law of man. The Living [passionately]. But why, oh why — if so you loved — did you not take and hold her against every foolish, futile law of man? The Lover [with deep sadness]. Perhaps, because of some unmeasured lack of greatness in her soul or mine. Love of Man [in a deep, sad voice, that sounds like a sob]. The lack was mine. I failed in greatness, so I lost — in love. The Living [dropping her head on his shoul- der and looking up at him as the vision of Love OF Man fades back into the shadow of the tree]. The jealous pang I feel is tempered with the thought that Love is only Love when, in despite of every force and every obstacle that Life may bring — aye, even Death — it con- quers all and comes unto its own. The Lover [gives a deep shudder]. Speak not, I say, of Death. The Living. This woman whom you loved consumingly, — she did not die? The Lover. She did not die. 20 Cfte ILocu0t JFlotoer The Living. Nor yet the others whom you loved in varied and in lesser ways ? The Lover [slowli/]. I think they live. The Living \^with relief and eagerness, and raising her head from his shoulder^. Then why should I regret, or let my heart be weighted with the outlived Loves of Long Ago? Had they meant to you all that you now mean to me, you would have sought them in the narrow con- fines of this world, nor been content to lose. The Lover [embracing her^. Dear heart, how wisely and how truly do you speak ! There is no need for jealous doubts of those whom, had I loved — enough, — I would have held. The Living. Dear, had you then no Loves of lighter and more trivial mien than those whose portraits you have drawn for me? \_From the forest come gliding several fig- ures, some from the right and some from the left. They wear filmy draperies of pinkish grey, and are seen hut dimly. They are the Lesser Loves] Lesser Loves [chanting softly in chorus^. We are your Lesser Loves. We counted not within your scheme of life. We gave as little as we took and were as soon forgot. We counted not, — we counted not. The Lover [staring at the faint appari- Cfte Locu0t jFIotoet 21 tionsl. I had my Lesser Loves, — what man has not? They gave as little as they took, of good or ill, and swiftly were forgot. The Living [^staring into space and speak- ing mournfully as the figures of the Lesser Loves fade awa4/~\. Ah, Lesser Loves! Be- cause you were not big enough to give or take, for good or ill, more than a trifling pittance of Love's store, I pity you. [There is a slight pause, then she turns her gaze again to her lover and continues speaking^ And is that all — all that you have to toiX? Dear — tell me — was there no one else — no one at all — until I came.'' The Lover [trembles and holds her more tightly'\. There was — one other — ask me not of her. I cannot speak of that which lies beyond our ken. The Living [drawing away from him and speaking in a low, frightened voice']. Beyond our ken ! What mean you ? Are you speak- ing of the Dead? [As she speaks the phosphorescent lights on the trees fade away; in the fountain appears the figure of The Dead. She is beautiful, with a pale, ethereal beauty. Her hair is golden and her expression is sad beyond words. Her draperies are white and diaphanous. On her breast ^2 Cfte Hotmt jFIotoet are lilies of the valley and on her head a wreath of everlastings. Above and around her head glows a faint phos- phorescent light. In one hand she holds a locust flower. The man turns his head slowly and sees the apparition. He starts violently and rises shudder- ingly to his feet^ The Dead \^gazing at the man and speaking in a sweet, slow, sad voice, muffled, as if coming from fl/flr]. Of me you will not speak, or tell The Living who I am or what I was to you. The Lover \_in awe~\. The Dead! The Living \^rising slowly to her feet and staring at him in dazed astonishment^. Why stand you staring so? You seem so strange! It stabs me with a dread of unguessed ills. Have heedless words of mine invoked a vision from another world? [She takes a step towards him and lays her hand on his arm, watching his face with anxious scrutiny. But he pays no heed. After a few seconds and while The Dead is subsequently speaking. The Living slowly drops her hand from his arm, retreats a few steps and stares at him in silent awe^ The Dead. Dear, Mortal Love ! I grudge not earthly joy to you whose every heart-beat Cfte Locu0t jFlotoet ^s echoes in my soul. 'Tis not your new-found happiness I come, this night, in spirit to de- stroy. 'Tis that you did profane with foolish vows the high and sacred altar of Love's loyalty and truth. You did protest and yet protest again that never had you loved as you loved her. The Living, by your side. 'Tis false, — and for that falseness I am come to judge. The Lover [still staring at the apparition and making an eloquent gesture of remorse and appeal^. Sweet vision of another world, from your far realm of beauty and of peace, look down and pity and forgive. The Dead [slowly and gazing at him^. O Mortal Lover, I do pity and forgive. [Tlie figure of The Dead fades away and the fountain is seen once more playing. The man slowly turns and meets the gaze of The Living] The Living [with a gesture of passion^. Speak ! Speak ! I cannot bear the silence and suspense ! The Lover [standing rigid and speaking in a slow, dull voice^. I have profaned the altar of Love's truth. There was another whom I loved beyond compare. To her I brought the largess of my soul. Each phase of Love that I had known I lived again in her. On her be- gtowed a thousand million times as much of 24 cfte Hocmt jFIotoer Passion and of Love as I had given before, — and much besides, reserved alone for her. We gave each unto each completion, and a happi- ness too great for human speech. [A slight pause'] She was — my wife. The Living \_with a low shuddering cry and drawing farther hack]. His wife! Dear God, forgive ! The Lover. Why shrink and shudder thus at trivial word.^^ She was my wife because I willed it so, for in the eyes of mortals it appears to matter much. [His voice rises with feeling] But more than wife, she was my mate of mind and soul. [He pauses and then continues in a lower voice] And then Death took her, and upon her dying lips I pressed the seal of Love and Faith unquenchable, which reaches out be- yond the grave. The Living [with a sob in her voice and throwing her head up with a gesture of protest and grief] . Vows ! — oh, the Lover's vows — made to be broken as the hearts they crush ! The Lover [taking a step towards her]. Heaven denounce me if I break the vows I made this night to you. I keep faith with The Dead, for I have told the truth of what she was to me. But I am free to keep tryst with The Living — whom I love. [He goes nearer to her and holds out his arms beseechingly] Cfte JLocu0t Jflotoer S5 The Living ^drawing back and speaking with passion]. No! No! [He slowly drops his arms despairingly] I will not take what never was and never will be mine. The Lover [makes a yearning movement to- wards her~\. Can you not then forgive, and pity my infirmity of soul? The Living [gently and with tenderness, but making no movement towards him]. Ah, poor, distempered heart ! From deepest recess of my being I do pity and forgive. The Lover [with eager warmth of speech and action]. Bereft and desolate, 'twas not to fleeting pleasures that I turned for peace, but to the labor of my brain. It failed to solace and I wandered in far lands and o'er strange seas to find surcease of pain. For five long years I wandered and I sought in vain. My heart could not forget or even slumber through the waiting years. At last [his voice sinks lower and reverently he bends his head towards her] you came into my life, — I loved you. The Living [trembling violently and draw- ing farther away from him]. Speak not of Love ! The Lover [with increasing passion]. For you — The Living — I did light a torch that glowed more brightly than the tapers of my youth, which flickered and burned low. The 26 Cfte JLocu0t jFlotoet sacred flame I lighted at the shrine of her — The Dead — reached out from unguessed spaces to devour and sear my heart with Love's unbearable despair. In you — The Living — I sought peace. Ah, can you not forgive and understand? The Living l^more cjently and bending slightly towards Mm]. I understand. The Lover [with eager yearning^. You will not leave me to the desolation of the lonely years to come? The Living [in a sad^ low voice~\. As I pity, so I will endure to comfort where I once had hoped to love. [She holds out her hands to him and he clasps them and tries to draw her to him, but she swiftly pulls away from him^ The Living [with rising passion~\. I do not fear the living, nor could jealous doubts of other Loves torture m}'^ spirit or my faith de- stroy. The human fetters that men forge to shackle — each to each — those who, in spirit, are as far apart as pole from pole, I censure and despise. No human law can chain the soul. Life may grant freedom ; it is Death that binds two beings whose divine betrothal Heaven itself has sanctioned and decreed. Cfte iLocu0t jFIotoer ^7 The Lover [pleadingly^. But the living must live on, and love. The Living [with fervor of look and ges- ture^. Ah, truly is Love lowered to the dust when, after such a union, men can love and be possessed again. Death cannot palliate such gross offense, for to the Dead we owe allegiance which they cannot come to claim. [She slowly approaches the man and again holds out her hands, which he reverently clasps, bending his head over them. Her face has a transfigured expression^ Such comfort as I may have power to grant I promise to bestow, but [her voice rises~\, in the name of God, I do renounce and disavow all else. [He gazes at her in awe as she continues speaking with still deeper feeling^ To her whose yearning spirit is forever yours, I conjure you — be faithful to the end! [Her voice breaks and she draws away her hand and turns from him^ I cannot — rob — The Dead. [Slowly and with bent head she walks away from him towards the opening in the trees up stage at right. The man stands for a moment rigid, watchvng her departing figure; makes an impetuous movement as if to follow her, then sinks despairingly to the ledge of the foun- ^8 Cfte iLDCU0t jFlotoet tarn and buries his head in his arms. The Living turns once, takes a step to- wards him and throws out her arms in a gesture of yearning love, then her arms drop to her sides and with bowed head she turns and slowly disappears through the opening in the forest^ CURTAIN THE CELIBATE* A DEAMA IN THREE ACTS * Theme suggested by Das Hexenlied. CHARACTERS A BRIAN O SCARABON Bassano !-Noblemen RlNALDO Paolo Gabrioto, leader of mob GiRALOMo, a hunch- back Ernesto, peasant Jacko, peasant PiETRO, lame peasant boy Prior of Monastery Brother Ricardo DiANORA, peasant girl FiuppA, Dianora's grandmother Flametta ViOLANTE MoNNA y Ladies NiNETTA Salvestra Two old women Four children Monks, servants, mob of men and women, etc. ACT I Time, 1333 Place, Italy Scene: A clearing m the forest near a vil- lage outside of Nappies. Forest to left, right and in background. To right a hut. Outside hut and a little up stage is a large caldron swung on an iron tripod. Beneath it sticks are laid ready for a fire. It is late afternoon. Voices and laughter are heard approaching through the forest. [Enter from left a gay party: Violante, MONNA, NiNETTA, SaLVESTRA, ScARA" BON, Bassano, Rinaldo, and Paolo, fol- lowed by servants carrying hampers of food and wine, which they proceed to spread out on the grass. The lords and ladies wear Italian outdoor costumes of persons of rank of the lJf.th century. They are all riotous in manner, conduct and conversation. They come on in twos and threes, Violante and Scara- BON leading'] 31 S2 Cfte Celibate VioLANTE \_with a gay laugh as she and ScARABON approach the hut~\. See, Milord! A deserted hut. [^She turns to him flirta- tiously~\ It is better than a palace for love and solitude. ScARABON [^throwing his arm around her as the others scatter, chattering about stage'\. The palace walls have ears and every window is a prying eye. [^They open the cottage door and look m] Bassano [boisterously, pointing to Violante and ScARABON ]. They are weary of our com- pany already. [Calls out to them'\ Hi there, Scarabon ! Stay with us at least until we have eaten and drunk. You will be in a better mood afterwards for love. [Violante and Scarabon, after peering into the hut, turn and go toward the others. They leave the hut door open, which shows interior^ Violante. Why, some one lives here. There are two cots and I saw a crucifix. Ninetta [mochvngly~\. A crucifix ! Must we be shadowed by the church even on our pleas- ure excursions? Paolo. Perhaps it is an old monk who has left his monastery in disgrace. MoNNA [with a suggestive laugh']. An old monk ! Surely one cot would suffice him. Cfte Celibate ss \_Everyone laughs. The bottles of wine have been opened and the food and wine have been served. Evert/one is eating, drinking and maki/ng love. Salves- TRA walks over and peers inside the hut~\ Salvestra [^half turning towards the others^. This is no monk's abode. There's something strange and fearsome about it. Perhaps it is a witch's hut ! \^She shudders and crosses her- self as she returns to the others^ ViOLANTE. But the crucifix ! NiNETTA [lookvng about her^. Where are Flametta and Adriano.'^ MoNNA. Oh, they wandered from us in the forest. Perhaps they have lost their way. Bassano [laughing^. They had better find it again if they want food and wine. Salvestra [scornfully^. Bah! What do they care for food and wine? They are mad with love and they have each other. RiNALDo [holding his goblet up in, air^. Good wine is to love what the lash is to the back of a jaded laborer. ScARABON. Your senses may be jaded, my good friend, but some of us do not need strong wine to quicken love. [He lifts his hand and tosses the wine out of his goblet~\ ViOLANTE [laughi/ng~\. As you toss away 34 cfte Celibate your wine, Scarabon, you would toss away love, and some day you may have need of both. [Scarabon throws his arm around Vio- LANTE and makes love to her. One of the other men sings a gay song of the period. Enter from left, Flametta atnd Adriano, absorbed in one another. Their friends perceive them and shout greetings to theml^ Bassano. So you have come at last for the wine and the cheer. Your limbs grew weary and your love grew cold in the forest. Adriano [^smiling and approaching, his arm around Flametta]. A truce to your jests! We are neither cold of heart, nor weary of limb, but we did not want to longer deprive you of our company. [They are served with food and wine~\ Flametta [holding a goblet in one hand and a piece of bread in the other from which she nibbles as she approaches the hut~\. Adriano! [She beckons to him and he follows her^ See, a shelter in the very heart of the wild forest. [She sips her wine and offers her goblet to Adriano from which he also drinks~\ Scarabon [laughing and addressing Fla- metta]. A shelter with a witch who prays to a crucifix, or a monk who sleeps on two cots ! Flametta [peering inside, shuddering and Cfte Celibate 35 drawing back~\. I would not pass the night in there for any price. \^She again peers withim and sniffs as she withdraws^ It has a strange, uncanny smell. [^She looks within agahi\ Oh, see the herbs hung everywhere. [She seizes Ad- RiANo's ar/rt] It is a witch's hut. None but a witch has use for herbs. Adriano [peering inside^. But the crucifix! Flametta [shrugging as they both turn from the hut^. Witches and crucifixes! I am in doubt as to which is most of a kill-joy. [She takes a few dancing steps forward~\ Come, let us dance and sing and love ! [She drains the contents of her goblet, tosses it to one of the servants who catches it, then with a sudden movement bends towards Adriano, who catches her in his arms and kisses her. She quickly draws away and begins to dance. As she dances, the men sing and play on guitars. The sun is setting. As she finishes her dance, she wheels around to- wards Adriano, who has been hungrily watching her. He dashes forward and seizes her in his arms, bending over her and kissing her while the others clap their hands~\ [At this instant, enter slowly and silently from forest up stage, right, Filippa, a 36 Cfte Celibate bent, old woman, and Dianora, a beau^ tiful young girl of seventeen, both in Italian peasant garb of the Hth cen- tury. They stop and stare at the rois- terers. Adriano raises his head and his eyes meet those of Dianora. They stare at each other. On the girVs face there is an expression of surprise and shrinking disgust. On Adriano's face comes an expression of mixed awe and admiration. He slowly drops his arms from Flametta and takes a step or two away from her, still staring at the girl. The singing and playing have ceased~\ Flametta [^staring haughtily from one to the other, and smiling disagreeably^. Is it the wench's beauty that strikes you dumb, Milord, or do you cloak with silence a secret intrigue? [At these words, Dianora draws herself up haughtily and looks angrily at Fla- metta] NiNETTA [rising and approaching Adriano with a laugh'\ . Your eye is so keen for beauty, Adriano, that even rags and vagrancy prove no drawbacks to your inclinations. Adriano [haughtily~\. I never laid eyes be- fore upon this maid. [FiLippA shambles forward with Dianora Cf)e Celibate 37 beside her. The old woman sternly eyes the lords and ladies, hut the girl ap- proaches with eye-lids lowered^ Paolo. Old crone ! Is that your hut yon- der? FiLippA [in an expressionless tone~\. And if it is, what is that to you? Salvestra. And the crucifix, is that yours also ? [There is a general laugh of amusement and scorn. Dianora raises startled eyes and lifts one hand to her breast^ FiLiPPA [angrily to Salvestra]. Your pry- ing ej'Cs would find better occupation if they would raise themselves to Heaven and thank your God [she lifts one hand and gazes up- wards^ for youth and health and riches. RiNALDo [warmly^. Well answered, old woman. [He approaches her~\ Say — can you read our fortunes with cards or by the palm? We will pay you well. FiLippA. If I tell your fortunes by your palms you may leave this forest less light- hearted than when you came. Flametta [drawing hack~\. She shall not read my palm. She has the evil eye. She is a witch ! Dianora [with sudden vehemence~\. It is a lie ! She is not a witch ! She knows the secrets 38 Cfte Celibate of all things that grow and she can soothe and heal where others would fail, but she uses her powers in God's name, [she crosses herself^ and she is tender to all suffering creatures. \_She bends tenderly over Filippa and puts an arm around her protectingly'\ RiNALDo [^taking the old woman gently by the arm]. Come, come, it grows late. Tell us our fortunes and we will cross your palm with gold and give jou to eat and drink. [DiANORA withdraws her arm. Rinaldo leads Filippa to group which collects about her on the grass. Flametta sits a little apart ^ watching Adriano, who watches Dianora as she steps over to the hut. He follows her to the door of the hut where she stops ^ turns and look quietly at him. Flametta watches them with angry eyes. Filippa pro- ceeds to read palms amid remarks and laughter] Adriano [with a familiar manner, approach- ing close to the girl]. Your eyes have called to me, my beautiful one, and now your lips invite me to a feast of love. Dianora [drawing back from him and speak- ing with timid dignity]. I called you not. Milord, and my lips invite you to keep your distance from me. Cfte Celibate 39 Adriano. The lure of a woman's eyes, sweet maid, lies beyond her power to control, and if her lips tempt, shall a man be held accountable if he fail to resist them? \_He seizes her and tries to kiss her. Flametta has turned her back and is now listening to Filippa. Dianora springs hack and -flashes angrily at Adriano] Dianora. Have a care, Milord ; no man shall take what I do not wish to give. Adriano [again approaching her and speak- ing insinuatingly^. Why should you be so cruel .'^ What harm will it bring you to let me have your lips? It is all I ask. [Suddenly he seizes her and bending^ kisses her on the lips~\ Dianora [struggling and freeing herself, and speaking with appeal of voice and gesture^ Because I am only a peasant girl, you think to have your way with me. Milord. Have you in that heart that beats beneath your doublet, no sense of pity for one so young and helpless as I? Adriano [softening and speaking with tender eagerness^. I would do you no harm, sweet maid, though your lips have sent my blood flowing madly through my veins. Dianora. If you would do me no harm, Milord, respect my humbleness of station, and leave me in peace. You are a nobleman, and I 4^0 Cfte Celifiate am but a girl of the forest. Your kisses can only bring me ill. Leave me to the peace and joy of the trees, and the creatures of the woods, and the blue sky, and God in His heaven above. \_She looks reverentltf upward^ Adriano [with gentleness and more respect~\. You live here alone, with the old woman? DiANORA [simply^. I live with her. She is my grandmother and I love her. Adriano. And you have no companions of your own youth? Dianora [sadly']. No, we live apart. Adriano. But why? Why do you not dwell in the village, instead of this desolate spot? Dianora [looking at him]. Because they were not kind to granny. Some wicked boys stoned her on one occasion, and many called her a witch. [Her voice rises] But it is not so. She works onl}^ for good, and if she has knowl- edge concealed from fools, Avhy should they call her a witch and wish her harm ? Adriano. So you were driven out of the vil- lage ? Dianora [proudly]. No, we came where we could live undisturbed. Adriano. It is no life for a beautiful young girl. Come with me, and I will find you a home with some lady of quality. Dianora. I love my granny and I shall Cfte Celifiate 41 never desert her, Ithen she adds haiightilyl and ladies and gentlemen of quality are not to my liking, Milord. It is they who walk in wicked- ness and uncleanness of heart, and not my granny. [A shout of laughter comes from the group about FiLiPPA. Adriano and Dianora turn their heads and listen^ Bassano [fo ScARABON, whose palm Filippa is now reading^. When you are old and have lost the power to love, you will turn monk to save your soul, so says the old crone. [He slaps Scarabon on the hackl Courage, Scar- abon, you will have time for many amours be- fore that day arrives. FiLippA [ominously']. He will become a monk, in his old age, to save his soul, but it will avail him nothing. The devil will have had his soul long before the monastery his body. [Scarabon rises angrily, joins Violante and sits beside her, murmuring to her, while Paolo takes his place next to the old woman] Adriano. Your grandmother is not sparing with the truth, — if it be the truth. Dianora [with a far-away look in her eyes]. It is the truth, for she tells what she sees, and in the palm the secrets of the soul are revealed to her. 43 cfte Celifiate Adriano. And so jou think we are all wicked because we dance and sing and make love, and eat and drink and make merry, as we were doing when you came upon us ? DiANORA. Food and wine are no harm in themselves, Milord. It is when they are abused that they become evil. Dancing and singing are symbols of a light heart and a pure spirit, but there are those \_she glances towards Fla- metta] whose feet and lips are instruments of the Evil One. Adriano. And what of the love-making.'' Dianora \_looking down~\. Of love, I only know that it comes from God, and does not show itself in the guise of riotous living, and careless caresses between men and women. Adriano J[surpHsed^. You are young for such thoughts and words of wisdom, and your language belongs not to your class. Where did you learn this somber creed of love.? Dianora [eagerlTfJ^. It is not somber, it is beautiful and worthy. My father, before he died, taught me of love, and of many things besides. Adriano \_still more surprised]. Have you perhaps heard of Dante and his Beatrice.'' Dianora \_her face illumined]. Yes, oh yes, and of others whose loves were as immortal as theirs. Cfte Celffiate 43 [^Loud laughter is heard from the group around the old woman~\ Adriano l^after the laughter subsides^. And so you think / am given to riotous living and am unworthy to love or be loved? DiANORA \_looking away^. You live as your friends live, Milord, and it is no concern of mine. Adriano. The thing you do not say, my child, chides me more deeply than any words you could employ. DiANORA [half court esying'], I have no wish to chide. Milord, nor any right. Adriano. It is true, I live as my friends live. But must I therefore love as they love? DiANORA. That I cannot tell. Adriano [earnestly']. Look in my eyes and say if you think I have the heart to love as Dante loved Beatrice. DiANORA [^quietly]. Before you can love like that. Milord, you must live as such men live, and think their thoughts. Adriano. Could not love itself come sud- denly to me as a gift from God, to cleanse my mind and heart, and make me fit to call myself a man? DiANORA. It may be. Milord. Adriano. And when I am become such a man, could such a maiden as the one whose pure 44 C6e Celifiate eyes and clean heart have this day brought me to a sense of my unfitness love me in turn? \_She says nothing hut looks deep into his eyes. As they gaze silently at each other y the crowd grows more hilarious^ RiNALDo [shoutimg to Adriano]. Come, come, Adriano, it is now your turn. Come, let the old woman read your future in your hand. [Adriano holds hack, hut three or four men and women run toward him and drag him over to Filippa and make him sit down by her. Dianora, meanwhile, enters the hut and returns carrying a pitcher, the contents of which she pours into the caldron. Then she lights the fire under it and slowly stirs the con- tents of the caldron, glancing, now and then towards the group, listening to what her grandmother is saying~\ FiLippA \_raising her voice^. You have a strange destiny. Milord. VioLANTE. What of his amours, old crone? Will he ever love one woman and forget all others? [She laughs and glances at Fla- METTA, who frowns angrily^ FiLiPPA [staring into space~\. You are des- tined to love as few men love, [Dianora starts and stares fixedly at Adriano] and your love will wax strong until, when death comes to you, Cfee Celibate 45 it will o'ershadow and engulf all the sins and joys and sorrows of your life. NiNETTA [^fliZ?/]. Is she fair or dark, this woman he will love consumingly ? FiLippA [scornfully^~\. What matters the color of the pigment of hair and skin and eyes? It is the color of the soul that counts. And the casket of flesh that holds the soul may be ever so beautiful and yet conceal within a spirit black as Hell. MoNNA. Be she of high degree or low, this girl of his destiny ? FiuppA. High or low, what matter? Love levels rank and takes no count of class or pedi- gree. Adriano. This love you prophesy, will it be returned in full, or shall I eat my heart out in despair? FiLiPPA. It will be returned in full, but a despair more cruel than that of unrequited love will rend you soul and body. It will be the de- spair of self-reproach. Adriano. What mean you? If I love thus deeply, how could I harm the object of my love ? FiLiPPA. As other men have harmed the creatures that they loved — because suffering and remorse are needed before you can love any- one better than you love yourself. Now it is 46 Cfte Celifiate your body and all its creature comforts that you regard ; later it will be your soul. ScARABON [laughing'\. His soul! Good woman, let him first discover that he possesses such a thing. FiLiPPA [looking steadily at Adriano]. You are sick already of the vanities and shams of your class, and of your life. Your spirit seeks to be free, but beware how you exchange one form of fetters for another, less gross it may be, but no less deadening to the soul. Adriano. What mean you? FiLiPPA [gazing into space^. I see vast cor- ridors of stone and silent figures passing to and fro, and there are candles, candles all about. And I see you on your knees, and in your hands you hold a crucifix. [DiANORA starts and crosses herself^ Bassano [boisterously~\. Another sinner turned saint ! 'Tis well a few of us will be left to populate the world — or will this miracle take place only when he is old and feeble? FiLippA. Not when he is old and feeble. When he is young and strong. [She turns again towards Adriano.] Beware, I say, be- ware how you place, in future years, your soul's salvation above all human calls to kindness and compassion! He who thinks only of his own soul fulfills but ill the spirit's destiny. Cfie Celitiate 47 ViOLANTE. But if he is to become a monk, what of this great love you prophesy ? FiLiPPA [^scornfully']. Such love as I have prophesied enriches the soul of any of God's creatures, whatever his calling or his creed. [By vurious gestures and ejaculations, the men and women show that they are shocked] Adriano. And so, briefly, I am to turn from evil ways and become a monk. Why can I not reform my life outside the walls of a mon- astery .? Why cannot I live and love.^^ FiLippA. Because at first you will not be strong enough to forget your conventions of class and station. And in disgust with all things material, you will turn to the cloister. But later, your love will again be put to test, and this time it will be, not the pomps and vani- ties of the world, but the dogmas of creed that will blind you to truth, and make you seek your own soul's good at no matter what cost to others. Then when you are old and feeble. Love will descend on your spirit and carry you on its wings out of your flesh and away from all tormenting creeds. [The men and women, one by one, jump to their feet restlessly] NiNETTA. Enough of such gloomy proph- ecies ! 48 Cfae Celitiate Adriano [placing a gold piece in the old woman s palmi]. Good woman, I find it easy to believe your prophecy of love, but, for the rest, — well — Time will lift the veil. [He rises slowly and looks towards Dianora] [At this moment is heard a far-away sound that resembles thunder^ Bassano [looking upwards']. What is that noise? Is a storm descending on us? Salvestra [pointing to the glare of the set- ting sun~\. A storm! What sort of storm comes with such a sky as that yonder? [The rumble gradually grows louder and all listen^ until it becomes evident that human voices cause the noise] Adriano [quickly]. It sounds as if count- less voices of men and women were moving this way ! What can it be ? [Suddenly Dianora, with a spring, goes towards the old woman. Her face is convulsed with fear] Dianora. The mob ! It is the mob ! They are coming for my grandmother ! They call her a witch and at last they are coming to take her. O God! O God! [She flings her arms and face upwards, then throws both arms around the old woman and clings to her] [The people talk in groups, looking askance at the couple] Cfte Celitiate 49 Adriano [approaching them^. They can- not harm her! What can they do? DiANORA. They will take her by force — they will carry her off and burn her for a witch, and she is good — oh, so good, and works to do God's will. Adriano. If they take her, it will be only after they have killed me. \_He draws his sword. The noise grows louder and comes nearer^ DiANORA [giving Adriano a grateful look^. Thank you. Milord, but your sword will avail nothing but to bring harm to yourself. You may kill a few, but in the end they will disarm you and have their way. Adriano. I will call on my friends to aid me. [The mob approaches nearer and nearer^ Adriano [turning to the other nobles~\. Scarabon, Rinaldo, all of you, come, help me defend this poor woman whose only crime is that she holds knowledge in her head that others would gladly possess. [Scarabon and Rinaldo start to draw their swords and go forward, but Vio- LANTE and Ninetta cling to them and talk to them and finally thei/ desist. Just then the mob enters from opening in woods up stage at left. It is com- 50 Cfte Celibate posed of men and women, old and youngy roughly dressed. They carry sticks and stones and appear very violent^ Adriano [^angrily to his friends^. Cowards, cowards, to let an old woman suffer such in- human treatment ! Help me, I say, or by Heaven I swear that from this day I will leave your world and all its rottenness and filth. [The men make no movement to help him. The mob surges forward. Adriano strikes right and left with his sword^ standing between the mob and the old woman and the girl. He does not kill anyone, for they jump back from his blows. His friends call to him to desist but he goes on wielding his sword right and left, protecting the couple behind himi\ Gabriotto [leader of mob, angrily^. If you do not come forward, old witch, and give your- self up, I will let a couple of men be slashed by this noble's sword, and then we will disarm and kill him and we will take not only you, but the girl and burn her at the same stake. [Adriano fights more violently than before at these words. Filippa gives a cry, flings up her arms and tries to push for- ward but Adriano pushes her back of him. ScARABON whispers to two of the Cfte Celiftate si nobles and they stealthily come up be- hind Adriano, and while he is busy with the mob, Scarabon strikes a fierce blow from behind against Adriano's sword and half knocks it from his hand. Be- fore he can raise it again, his friends hwve pinioned his arms, torn away his sword and though he struggles fiercely a/nd almost escapes them, they overcome him and carry him to right front and tie him with a rope^ Adriano. Miserable cowards ! Devils ! You shall pay for this ! [/w the meantime the mob has seized FiLiPPA. DiANORA rushes to the hut, enters and comes out again with the crucifix pressed to her breasti DiANORA [fo mob'\ See, see, the symbol of Christ. It is hers, my grandmother's, whom you call a witch. Spare her, spare her, — in God's name I ask it ! [Mob growls angrily'] Gabriotto. Keep your crucifix, girl. It may save you, it cannot save the witch, your grandmother. DiANORA [screaming]. She is not a witch! O God — [She raises the crucifix] save her, save her, for she has always loved Thee and worked for good. 52 Cfte Celitiate [Adriano struggles violently for freedom, hut cannot get away. Dianora turns towards him and holds out her hands~\ Dianora. God keep you, Milord. You have a noble heart. Adriano [^eagerly, as she starts to turn away^. Your name — tell me your name be- fore you go ! Dianora. My name — it is Dianora. [The mob with oaths and loud talk, drag the old woman up stage. She does not resist, hut suddenly begins to sing, with wild sweetness, the witches^ song. The lords and ladies stand in awed silence, listening. Adriano listens with peculiar intentness. Dianora follows the mob, sobbing and clasping the crucifix to her breast. When the mob has disappeared, the nobles begin to talk to Adri- ano] ScARABON. What a fool you would be, Ad- riano. RiNALDO. If it had not been for us you would have had your brains spattered on the grass. Bassano. Show some gratitude, Adriano. Drop your surly looks. Adriano [struggling for freedom']. Now that you have accomplished your vile purpose Cfte Celiftate 53 and sent that poor creature to her death, will you unloose me? \_They free him. He stands staring an- grily at them] Flametta [approaching him]. Come, my lord, you are brave, and it is well, but you carry your courage farther than seems fit or neces- sary. Adriano \_angrilif~\. Have you no pity in that thing you call your heart? Flametta \_scornfullt/]. Pity for that old hag — a witch — who well deserves her fate? Adriano [looking at her steadily^. I am glad I know you at last, you and your kind. [The lords and ladies start to leave. Ad- riano holds hack apart. They call to him and ask him if he is not coming with them. He refuses. Flametta again goes up to him smiling^ and tries to put her arms around his neck. He roughly pushes her away from him~\ Flametta [angrily], I fancy it was not the old hag for whom you fought so valiantly, but the wench with the dark eyes. [Scornfully] Oh, well, her they will not harm, and she will be glad, no doubt, to seek shelter in your arms. [Adriano makes an angry gesture and they all leave stage. Adriano stands silent as they depart. A few seconds later 54 Cfte Celibate chanting is heard approaching and some monks appear. They walk very slowly across up stage from left to right and disappear. Adriano, who has removed his hat and howed his head, stares after them. Then he takes a few steps up stage, then stops, looking after them, his head howed, and as the curtain drops he leavies stage in the direction taken by them] CURTAIN ACT II Scene I Ten years later Scene: Ottt skirts of a village near Naples. Village is seen in the near distance. To left, a small rustic, tine-clad Italian cottage, with a fenced-in garden fall of flowers. Up stage, to left, are woods with a path leading into them. The sun shines brightly. \_Two old peasant women, bent and lean- ing on sticks, come on from right. Hobbling, they approach the garden gate^ First Old Woman [querulously]. Why must we be tormented in our old age with the quarrels of our children? We should be left in peace. Second Old Woman [shaking her head]. Peace, peace ! There is no peace until we die and the black dirt is shoveled on our graves. First Old Woman [crossly]. Hush your complaining. Dianora will calm our troubled minds. She has a remedy for every unhappy 55 56 Cfte Celibate heart. [^Raises her voice'] Dianora ! Dia- nora ! Where are you? [They enter the garden and approach the cottage. The cot- tage door opens and Dianora, more mature^ but fresh and beautiful, appears in the door- way] Dianora [smiling and descending the two or three shallow steps into the garden^. Here I am, good mothers. What can I do for you.'' [She stoops and kisses them, then stands look- ing at them] First Old Woman [excitedly]. We have come to tell you about Jacko and Babetta. Second Old Woman [breaking in]. They have quarrelled again, my daughter and her son. Today she left him and came to me. First Old Woman. And Jacko says that he will never take her back. And they will not see the priest. Ah me! Ah me! [She wails, throwing her apron over her head] Second Old Woman [impatiently]. Oh, hush your wailing, fool. He will take her back fast enough when she is ready to go. Dianora [gently]. But what is it all about .'^ First Old Woman [dropping her apron from her head] . It was nothing, to begin with. Ba- betta returned home yesterday with some pretty beads bought in the market place. When Jacko asked her where they came from, she Cfte Celi6ate 57 tossed her silly head and would not answer him, and hinted at a lover. Second Old Woman. And Jacko is a fool and jealous! Jealous always without reason. As if to have a fool for a husband were not mis- fortune enough for one woman. DiANORA [^smilingl. 'Tis said, a jealous man is thrice a fool. First Old Woman [angrilijl. Jacko is no fool! And a man without jealousy is like a fish without bones, all soft, white meat. Dianora [gently, and laying a hand on each of their shoulders^. Good mothers, if you quarrel so between yourselves, how can I help you? Second Old Woman [peevishly]. Babetta is a good girl, and a good daughter. What if she buys beads in the market place and then has her little jest with foolish Jacko? Dianora. Did she not explain, when she saw Jacko angry, the truth about the beads? First Old Woman [crosslyl. That she did not ! She tossed her head again and said that she would have as many lovers as she chose. Second Old Woman. She said that because he taunted her with being vain and faithless. Dianora [laughing]. It's all a foolish quar- rel of two children who have not learned to love each other better than they love themselves. 58 Cftc Celibate \_Turns to Second Old Woman] Send Ba- betta to me, mother, and I will talk to her. By sundown she will return to Jacko. First Old Woman [eagerly]. And I shall bid Jacko come to see you also. DiANORA [laughing]. No, no! Never bid a man go anywhere. Either he will not go at all, or he will go unwillingly, and what can that avail? Perhaps he will come of his own accord, as he has come once or twice before. Second Old Woman [kissing Dianora]. God bless you, daughter. You soothe with sympathy and wisdom our troubled spirits, and when we are ill, you heal with tenderness our frail or broken bodies. First Old Woman [also kissing her]. She says the truth. You are as good and pure as any nun who takes the veil. And you do God's work better than those who live behind the clois- ter walls. Second Old Woman [crossing herself]. You would not have the priest hear what you have just said. First Old Woman [shrugging^ her shoulders as she turns away]. If it was wrong to say it, I will confess it when I next go to confession and the good priest will pardon me, and it will be as if it had not been. Second Old Woman [looking hard at Dia- Cfte Celibate 59 nora]. I have heard it said that you, my daughter, set little store by creeds and priests and all their mumbling and their incense burn- ing, — and yet, you love and serve your God in saintly fashion. DiANORA. Perhaps I am to blame, but priests and all their rites and ceremonies have never helped my soul. I pray direct to God, and I strive to do His will. I have but one creed, and that is the creed of love. [The two old women call out good-hy and hobble off the stage. Dianora watches them, smiling thoughtfully. Then she bends and picks flowers in her garden, humming as she does so. Children s voices are heard approaching, and five children enter from path through woods at left] [One boy is on crutches, and one little girl is blind, and is led by the hand by one of the other children. The two remai/n- ing children dance along as they ap- proach Dianora. She hurries through the garden gate and goes to meet them. She smiles and greets them all, then ten- derly lifts the lame boy in her arms] Dianora. My little Pietro, what brings you all this way.? [She carries him to the cottage steps, where she sits down with him beside her. 60 cfte Celibate The other children group themselves about her. She lifts the little hl'md girl to her other side on the stepsi PiETRO. I had to bring them here because they would not believe what I told them about the good fairies God has put into the world to keep us from harm. First Child [^scornfullijl. He says that each of us has three fairies who love us and pro- tect us from evil. Why did not Pietro's fairies straighten his back and give him strong legs? Second Child. And why did not little Jeanette's good fairies open her eyes and make her see? DiANORA. Listen, children, and I will tell you all about the fairies Pietro loves. The Blind Child [feeli/ng Dianora's dress^. Have 1/ou good fairies too? DiANORA [putting an arm about the childll. They belong to us all, these good fairies, old or young or rich or poor, but sometimes we are harsh or cruel and will not let them come near to us. Pietro [eagerli/li. Tell them about the fair- ies called " Light o' Heart " who came from the " Kingdom Beautiful." DiANORA. The fairies " Light o' Heart " teach mortals how to love. To love the old and feeble, who need our affection because life is no Cfte Celibate 6i longer so sweet to them, for they cannot run and shout and sing. And to love the young, for youth is a gift from God and has great pow- ers for good with love to lighten the path, for the path of youth is dark and rough if it has not love to help and understand. And to love little children so that they will grow strong and beautiful. And most of all to love those who are afflicted in body and mind, and to be gentle to poor, dumb beasts, and every living creature. First Child. And will the fairies " Light o' Heart " teach us to love that way ? DiANORA. Yes, dear child. PiETRO. Tell them now of the fairies " Hope o' Heart " who dwell in the " Land of Things as They Will Be." DiANORA. These fairies teach us hope and courage and faith in God and in the human heart. If we call on the fairies " Hope o' Heart " we will not seek evil in what we see or hear, and out of evil will come good. PiETRO. And tell them of the fairies called " Fancy Free " who came from the " Land of Make Believe." They are the ones that / love best. DiANORA. Little children, when life grows hard or sad, and we suffer and are weary, if we go into the woods or fields, the fairies called " Fancy Free " will come and take us gaily by 62 Cfte Celifiate the hand, and out of our tired bodies our spirits will rise, glad and free, and we shall forget all the weariness and pain and live only in the beautiful land of Fancy. The old and the halt and the blind need these fairies even more than the young and the strong. First Child. They are good fairies. I will believe in all of them. Second Child. But when will they heal Pietro and Jeanette? DiANORA. The fairies " Fancy Free " have often played and jumped and run with Pietro, and to Jeanette they have whispered of the sky and the woods and fields and the blue wa- ters of the bay. And the fairies " Hope o' Heart " are with them always. And someday, when my purse is full of gold, I will take Pietro and Jeanette to the great city, and then they will be healed, and live henceforth in the " Land of Things as They Will Be." [^The sun is now high in the west. Dia- NORA rises with Pietro in her arms, and takes Jeanette by the hand^ DiANORA. Come, children. It will soon be supper time. You must hasten home. \^She walks with them to the wood path and speeds them on their way with kisses and farewells. She stands watching them as they disappear, then returns to Cfte Celibate 63 her garden. From right comes running Babetta. She is half crying^ and, go- ing up to DiANORA, flings herself into her armsl DiANORA \_kissing and leading her to the cot- tage steps'\. Why, Babetta, what is the mat- ter? Babetta. Jacko is the matter. He is wicked and cruel to me. He is a fool ! DiANORA l_concealing a smile~\. What has he done to you, this wicked Jacko? Babetta. He has accused me of dreadful things. He called me vain and faithless, and said I did not love him. He is right \^she sobsl^, for I do not love him — now — I hate him ! Hate him ! DiANORA [soothingly'\. Babetta, listen to me. You must not hate. You must love, and love, and love. Draw in great breaths, dear child, of love, from the flowers and the grass and the trees, and from the sky and the moon and stars, and the beautiful red sun. \^The sun is lower and redder in the west~\ None of these wonderful things hate each other, so why should we, God's children, higher than the things that grow, or the sun or stars, why should we fill our hearts with hate? Babetta [gazing at her wonderingly^. Do you love everyone? 64 cfte Celibate DiANORA [^hesitatingl. Yes — I think — everi/one. Babetta [incredulously^^. Even Giralomo, the red-haired, hunch-backed dwarf, who has a wicked heart and evil tongue? He has spread wicked lies about you, Dianora, which no one be- lieves, for you are loved by all, and he is dis- trusted and despised. Dianora [sadly^. He hated my old granny for some strange reason ; and because / loved her, he hates me. But if he speaks ill of me, he cannot harm me, and I feel pity for Giralomo. Babetta. Yes, you tended him in fever, when no one else would touch his crooked body or hark to his evil tongue. Well, / cannot love everyone. It is impossible. And Jacko, I shall never, never love again. [She weeps'\ Dianora. Why did you try to rouse his jealousy? It is an ugly demon best left sleep- ing. Babetta [excitedly, and drying her eyes~\. He made me jealous first. Yesterday, at the fair, he danced and laughed with Isabella, whom all the men admire. I hid my jealousy, but when he asked me about the beads, the thought came that I would make him suspect I have a lover. Then he grew fierce and most unjust, and I ran home to my mother. Cfte Celitiate 65 DiANORA. Jacko meant no harm with Isa- bella, and it is foolish to rouse an ugly passion in a man which wars with love and gentle man- ners. Babetta. If / grow jealous, why should I not make him jealous in turn? DiANORA. Because you should love too well to harbor spite. Babetta [im'patiently^. Oh love, and love! I think we women love too well for our own hap- piness or peace of mind. DiANORA. It is not possible to love too well. Only a vain and selfish heart can weigh and bal- ance gifts of love. Babetta [^slowly^. I will go back to Jacko and tell him where I bought the beads, and that I have no lover. DiANORA [rising^. Come, you shall have supper with me first, and when your heart is lighter, you will go and seek your Jacko. [They enter the cottage. Jacko appears from right. He enters the garden and stops at the cottage steps~\ Jacko. Dianora ! Dianora ! DiANORA [running to the door^. Who calls? [Seeing Jacko] O Jacko, it is you! [She runs down the steps, takes his hands in greeting, and they sit down on the 66 CJ)e Celibate steps. Babetta peers at them from one side of the door, and seeing Jacko, she starts ba^k and disappears^ DiANORA \_half smiling^. Are you in trou- ble, Jacko? Jacko [frowning'l. Babetta, she is a fool! DiANORA [softly laughing^. That word sounds strangely familiar in my ears. Jacko \_angrily]. She had a good home, and [proudly] she had me. But that was not enough. She must needs have a lover too. DiANORA. Are you not her lover, Jacko? Or did you think that when the priest gave sanction to your union with Babetta, the title he bestowed of husband was more respectable and dignified than that of lover? Jacko [staring at her~\. Of course a woman gains respectability with a husband which she is likely to lose with a lover. DiANORA [sadly~\. What a pity man cannot invent a term that would combine the public honor and security a woman gains by that word husband with all the joy and tenderness she thrills to in that word, lover ! Jacko [puzzled]. Do you mean, Dianora, that when a man is a girl's lover, he thinks only of love, and when he becomes her husband, he thinks more of his dues and rights? DiANORA. Yes, that is what I mean. Cfte CelitJate 67 Jacko [earnestly]. And yet, I love Babetta with all my heart. [Babetta's face appears in the doorway with a radiant smiley then quickly disappears~\ But she defied me and said she would have as many lovers as she chose. DiANORA. She did not mean a word. She too was jealous, Jacko — of that girl Isabella [Jacko shrugs his shoulders with disgust~\, and with her foolish jest about the beads she tried to pique your interest, thinking it had waned. And then you angered her with your temper and unjust suspicions. What you must learn, the two of you, is to give and take trust and perfect freedom, and so much love that nothing else can count. Remember, Jacko, a woman's heart is fragile, and must be handled with a gen- tle touch. Jacko [rising~\. I will go to Babetta and tell her that I love her. DiANORA. Tell her so often, Jacko, and feel it always. \_She rises~\ Wait here a moment. [She enters cottage and returns, bringing Babetta by the hand. Jacko and Ba- betta go towards each other with out- stretched arms and embrace, Dianora smilingly watching them. Then they turn to Dianora] Babetta [hissing her]. You are so good and kind. My mother wanted me to see the 68 cfte Celibate priest, but you comfort better than any priest, Dianora. Jacko. The priests do not love as we love, or if they ever loved before they turned priest, they soon forget, so they cannot understand our needs or help us. They tell us to confess and pray, and then confess, but their advice is cold, and yours is warm with human sympathy. Babetta \_as they walk o^]. Good-by, Di- anora, good-by ! [They disappear, Jacko's arm around Ba- betta. Dianora watches them, then stands and watches the setting sun. Just then enters from wood path to left Ernesto. He approaches eagerly, with hat in hand. Dianora waits for him, smiling, and gives him both her hands^ Dianora. I am glad to see you, Ernesto. How goes the world with you? Ernesto [tenderly~\. The world goes ill when days pass and I do not see your face. Dianora [gently chiding and withdrawing her hands^. Nay, nay, Ernesto. Life should be full of work and happiness, for you are young and strong, and it is good to be alive. Ernesto. It is not good to be alive without you. And what do I care for my youth and strength if they cannot win your love. O Dia- nora, tell me you will some day be my wife. Cfte Celifiate 69 DiANORA [gently putting her hand on his shoulder]. Ernesto, I will tell you the secret of my heart that no one knows. [At this moment, Giralomo, the hunch- back, shambles on stage from right. Dianora and Ernesto call out to him pleasantly, but he does not answer or glance at them and disappears through woods at left] Ernesto [angrily]. The venomous toad! I hate his ugly face ! Dianora. Ernesto, do not hate a creature so forlorn and so deformed in mind and body. Pity him, for hate will harm you more than it harms him. Ernesto [sullenly]. He bodes you little good. He speaks ill of you every time he hears your name. No one pays heed, but pity is wasted on his withered soul. Dianora [softly]. I pity him. Ernesto. Well, never mind Giralomo. Tell me your secret. [With sudden suspicion] You love another man ! Dianora. Listen, Ernesto. Ten years ago, when I was but seventeen, and full of dreams of love and life, I met one day a man whose face is burned into my heart. I loved him when I looked into his eyes, and I think that he loved me. But he was of noble birth and I was a 70 cfte Celiftate peasant girl. It was the day they burned my granny for a witch. He fought for her with all his strength. He was as noble of heart as he was of birth. Ernesto. Well, did he pursue you and try to win you with dishonorable love? DiANORA \_sadlij'\. From that day to this I have never seen his face. I know not where he lives, or if he lives. To me he died on that ter- rible day — but my love has never died. Ernesto [/m head bowed^ And so that is your answer? DiANORA. Ernesto, dear, forgive me. You must find another whose heart has been reserved for you alone. Ernesto [^looking earnestly at her^. I shall love you to the end, and if you ever need a friend — and sometime you may, living alone as you choose to live, and with the venom of that ugly creature, Giralomo, trying to blacken the fairness of your name and fame — if you ever need me, send for me, Dianora, and I will come, and fight, and die, if need be, for your sake. DiANORA [half weeping^. As a friend, Er- nesto, I love you tenderly. [He seizes her hands and kisses them^ then with an effort^ turns from her and dis- appears by wood path. She watches Cfte Celibate 7i him, wipes her eyes, then stands watch- ing the sun which is now disappearing. Suddenly she raises her head and begins to sing the witches^ song. From left creeps Giralomo, who peers at her and listens, hut she does not see him and sings on with abandon of voice and gesture. His face grows black and angry and sud- denly he turns and disappears. Dia- NORA, still singing, enters the cottage. A moment later, a sound of angry voices and cries is heard in the distance. They come nearer and finally emerge from the forest path led by Giralomo. They are several men and a few women. They halt and listen. Dianora is heard plainly, singing the song within her cot- tage^ Giralomo [waving his arms]. You hear! I did not He ! You know that song — it is the song sung when the Devil has seized a woman's soul, and changed her to a witch ! Seize her, seize her, before she works evil spells amongst you! The Mob. Seize her ! Seize her ! The witch girl ! [They approach the cottage. Di- anora, hearing the noise, comes to the door of the cottage and sees the angry mob. Her face 7^ Cfte Celibate expresses astonishment at their obvious an- ger] GiRALOMO. There she is, the evil one. Take her ! Take her ! [Dianora's expression changes to slowly dawnmg fear^ The Mob. Take her ! Take her ! The evil, evil one ! DiANORA [^lifting one arm and raising her voice^. Friends! Villagers! Why do you call me evil? What have I done to harm you? I have loved you all. Why do you seek to injure me? One of the Men. You are a witch as your grandmother was a witch, and as she was burned, so will you be also. DiANORA [^clasping her cru€ifix~\. I am noU a witch. God is my witness, I have worked no evil to any living thing. I have given love for love and love for hate. Another Man. You never go to confession. We know it. You keep away from the churches and the priests. DiANORA [imploringly^. But have I ever spoken ill of them, or sought to keep you from them? I have lived my life as best I could, and I have loved you all. [The moh quiets down and they murmur amongst themselves~\ Cj)e Celibate 73 GiRALOMO [^shrilly^. She lies! She lies! She hates the priests. She has an evil heart. She is a witch! DiANORA \_holding out her arms implor- ingly]. I never cast a spell in all my life. I never healed with herbs, for all such secret knowledge as my granny had I never learned. What have I ever done to make you call me a witch ? GiRALOMO. You sang the witches' song! The Mob. You sang the witches' song. We heard you. The hunchback did not lie. He says he has heard you sing it before at this same hour. DiANORA. It is no witch song. It is a sweet, sad song of love from eastern lands. \_At this instant Babetta and Jacko come running from wood path. Back of them come the children^ followed more slowly hy PiETRO, the lame hoy] Jacko [to the moh, angrily, as he ap- proaches]. What are you all doing here? One of the Mob. We have come to take the witch girl, and burn her at the stake at dawn. Jacko [fiercely]. She is no witch, you lying cowards ! She is a saint, our Dianora who has loved and tended all of you in sickness and in health. [Babetta pushes through the mob, goes 74 Cfte Celifiate to DiANORA, and clings to her, weeping wildly. Jacko spies Giralomo, springs towards him, and shakes him roughly^ Jacko. Ah, this is your vile work, you toad of Hell ! You black and crooked soul ! [GiRALOMO struggles in Jacko's grasp, and 'finally Jacko gives him a violent push and he falls to the ground. Just then Ernesto runs on from the forest path carrying a heavy stick. He pushes his way through the mob till he reaches Dianora, and stands in front of her^ Ernesto. You shall not lay your wicked hands upon this girl. She is as pure and good as any of God's angels. The first man who tries to touch her I will kill. [For a moment the mob is cowed, and in the momentary lull, the children are heard crying and whimpering, and Pie- TRo tries to push through the mob'\ PiETRo \with a piercing cry^. Dianora! Dianora ! The fairies from the " Kingdom Beautiful " will come and carry you away to the " Land of Things as They Will Be," and save you from these wicked men. Children [in chorus^. The fairies will come and save you and carry you away ! GiRALOMO. You hear! You hear! She Cfte Celibate 75 tells the children lies about the spirits of the woods. PiETRo [screamingl. They are not lies, you wicked, evil one. They are not lies ! \_He struggles to get through the mob, which, growing violent again, pays no heed to the hoy, and almost knocks him under foot. Jacko, perceiving Pietro's danger, rushes to him and lifts him in his arms'\ jJacko. Babetta, Babetta, come here ! You are a woman, come do a woman's work. You cannot protect Dianora. That is for a man to do. Come, take Pietro and keep him safe. Dianora [fo Babetta]. Yes, yes, Babetta, go take Pietro. [Babetta runs down and takes Pietro from Jacko's arms. Jacko pushes through the mob and stands by Ern- esto] One of the Mob. Enough of this delay. We want the witch. Mob [echoing]. We want the witch. Dianora [imploringly]. I am no witch. Oh, have you no compassion in your hearts? GiRALOMo [screaming]. She lies! She lies! The Mob. She lies ! [They push nearer and a fight ensues. Jacko wrestles with one man and 76 Cfte Celifiate wrenches his club from him with which he overcomes two or three men^ hut is -finally overborne and dragged away, slightly injured. Babetta runs to him and she and Pietro kneel by him, weep- ing. Ernesto fights desperately and knocks down several men with his club. DiANORA keeps imploring him not to fight and to let the mob take her. Sud- denly a tall, rough fellow gets close to Ernesto and deals him a savage blow, which crumbles Mm down. They drag him off, dead. Dianora weeps and wrings her hands. The mob seizes her, and though she does not resist them, they handle her so roughly that her hair becomes loosened, and her dress torn. Shouting and yelling, they carry her off. She turns once towards Babetta and Jacko and Pietro and kisses her hand to them. Babetta and Pietro weep bitterly. Jacko raises himself on his el- bow and shakes his fist in impotent rage. The other children follow the mob, weep- ing] curtain Cfte Celibate _r7. Scene 2 Several hours later Scene: A prison cell of stone, showing a bed of rough straw, down stage to right. Up stage, center, is an iron door. Up stage, to left of door is a small, iron-barred xmndow. The cell is dark except for the light from a flickering candle in a tall, iron candlestick, up stage to right. On the stone floor, near wall up stage, right, crouches Dianora, her head buried in her arms. After a silent instant, she slowly rises, staggering a little, her face ex- pressionless, then recovering her balance, her expression suddenly changes and she looks wildly about the cell. On her breast hangs the crucifix. She walks about like a wild thing, then goes to the window and tears at the iron bars. Then she presses her face against them, moaning. Gradually her body straightens, her hands relax and fall at her sides, and she leaves the window, walking slowly down stage. She stands still, raises her hands to the crucifix, then slowly drops on her knees. Still clasping the crucifix, she looks upward, praying Dianora [m a low, deep voice~\. O God, dear God ! Save me from their cruel hands ! Save 78 Cfte Celifiate me, for I am innocent, as my grandmother too was innocent. Thou didst not see fit to save her, but she was old and glad to die. But / \_her voice rises in anguish^ I am young, and I love life, and I do not want to die. Oh, spare me ! Spare me ! [She slowly rises, still with the rapt ex- pression. Then again the wild look comes into her face, and she zoalks to the window and again tears at the bars. Then with a bitter , sobbing cry, she walks to right, and flings herself on the flagging between door and right wall of the cell. She continues to sob bitterly. A sound of voices and of tramping is heard approaching the cell. Three men come to the door accompanied by a man in monk's garb — Adriano] One of the Men [opening the door^. This is the cell, good father. The witch girl is within. [DiANORA has stopped sobbing'\ Confess her, father. Here is the key. [He hands it to the monk^ When you have done, lock the cell door and give the key to the jailor, who was asleep as we passed him just now. But as for that, it matters not, for the witch girl could not escape. [Adriano enters the cell, the door is closed Cfie Celibate 79 and the men go off. He sees the crouch- ing girl and goes towards her^ Adriano [^compassionately^. Poor girl! Poor girl ! [DiANORA, at the first sound of his voice, has given a violent start. Now she slowly turns around, without rising, and their eyes meet. He starts back vio- lently, his face expressing astonishment and pam. Dianora's face works with emotion as she slowly rises to her feet'\ Adriano. You — Dianora ! DiANORA [her face brightening^. All these years you have remembered my name? Adriano [slowly, in a low voice~\. All these years I have remembered — your name. Dianora [wonderingly~\. You are a monk. My grandmother told you the truth that day. Adriano. Ten years ago, I entered a mon- astery and gave my life to God. [He ap- proaches nearer to her~\ But you ! Why have they put you here.'' What did you do that they should have laid rough hands upon you in vio- lence and disrespect .f' Dianora [sadly^. I did nothing, Milord. I have lived a life of love and service. I have tried to heal with kindness wounded hearts, and suffering bodies with ministering care, because 80 Cfte Celibate I had none of the mysterious wisdom for which my grandmother was condemned to death. AmiiANo [excitedly^. Then why, why do they plan to harm you, and call you a witch? DiANORA. Only because they heard me sing a song my granny taught me long ago. The song she sang that day in the forest when they dragged her off. They say that it is a song of Hell and can inspire to sin. But granny said it was a love song from far eastern lands, — a strange, sweet song. They heard me sing it yesterday and said the Devil had my soul and made of me a witch. They would not heed my entreaties, and so they brought me here. They say that they will burn me at the dawn. \_She trembles violently, and her face sJiows horror and pain^ Adriano [^with intense feeling^. It is a shame, a wicked shame ! Would that the church had power to punish all such cruel deeds. DiANORA \_sadly but firmly^. Milord, the priests give countenance to these foul deeds. I begged the priests to intercede to save my grandmother, and they held back and left her to her fate. And since that hour, I have not entered any church or spoken to a priest. Adriano \_shrinking'\. But the crucifix upon your breast ! DiANORA [claspi/ng it and looking upward^. Cbe Celibate si I love my God and pray to Him and do His will. Adriano [^working his hands in suffering of mind^. They cannot do this thing. I will not let them take you. DiANORA. They would pay no heed to you, Milord. The church gives countenance to the burning of all women accused of witchcraft, and the accusers and judges are the people themselves. You can do nothing with them. [Suddenly she drops to her knees in front of him, sobbing'\ They will burn me at the stake at dawn. Oh, save me from their cruel hands ! \^He bends and lifts her tenderly and his face shows deep feeling^ DiANORA [^looking up at him^. You, you at least feel sorrow and compassion. Your eyes are wet with tears. \^She seizes his arms with both her hands^ Oh, save me from that awful death. I am young, I cannot bear to die. Adriano [^looking into her face and speaking dreamily^. Yes, you are young and beautiful and innocent and pure as on that day ten years ago, when I met you in the forest. [She drops her head on his breast and clings to hini\ DiANORA [murmuring^. Save me, save me from them! 82 Cfte Celifiate [Adriano trembles violently and gently holds her away from him~\ DiANOBA [^pitifullyl. Is your pity turning cold? Adriano l^taJcing a few nervous steps up and down^. Child, child, I am a monk and you a beautiful woman. The touch of woman is de- nied me. DiANORA [^thoughtfully^. And once you sought my lips and looked into my eyes with love. And then I never saw you more. Oh, why, why did you become a monk? Adriano [standing and gazing at her^. That day, ten years ago, I looked into your eyes with love because your fresh, sweet spirit called to my world-weary soul, across the gulf that lay between us, — I a nobleman, and you a peasant girl. My heart beat wildly in response to your beauty and your charm. But for the first time, a woman's eyes had shamed the brute within me, and made me long for all that my philosophy had scoffed at and denied. DiANORA. If a poor peasant girl had such power to stir your soul, why did you not strive to live nobly and well outside the monastery walls? Must a man become a monk to save his soul ? Adriano [sadly^. In mad revolt at all the horror of that dreadful scene and the treachery Cfte Celiljate 83 of men who were mj friends, I turned from all my life had known. And curious destiny — accident perchance — overtook me in that same hour. Some monks passed by and chanted as they walked. My soul sought peace. I fol- lowed them, and shortly after joined their brotherhood. DiANORA. And of me you never thought, Milord.? Adriano \_eagerly~\. Many a thought I gave to you, my child. Thoughts that seared my heart with passion, a passion which sought only my own ends. And other thoughts I had that put you high above all base desire, and bade me let you be. [Slowly and sadly~\ This was before I took my final vows. Alas, I loved you not enough to put aside traditions as to caste and take you for my wife, and yet my love for- bade that I should take you otherwise. And then I turned unto the church and there sought peace. \_He bows his head~\ DiANORA. And have you found your peace. Milord.? Adriano. God help me, no! DiANORA [approaching himi\. I gave to you my heart. Milord, that day, and all the years have not sufficed to teach me to forget. [He trembles violently and gazes yearn- ingly at her. She again seizes his arms^ 84 Cfte €tUtatt DiANORA [^with rising passion^. You loved me once. You love me now. Oh, save me, save me ! Adriano \_desperately^. How can I save jou ? Tell me, tell me how ! DiANORA [clinging to Mm and gazing up into his face^. There is a way. The jailor sleeps. We can pass out softly, and yonder lies a field, and beyond there is the forest. It is dark in the forest, dark and dense, and I know a place where a treasure is hid, and long since forgot- ten. We will find it and fly to some far coun- try, safe from pursuit and harm. Adriano [trembling^. Child, child, what are you saying! I am a monk. My vows for- bid me the love of woman. I cannot go. [His voice sinks despairimgly^ DiANORA [eagerly^. It is the only way. I cannot go alone. They would pursue and cap- ture me. [She glances out of the window^. The stars are paling, let us haste, for soon the day will come. [Suddenly she flings her arms around his neck. Her hair falls about her face and brushes against his cheek^ I love you, love you, I have always loved you. And you love me. Oh, save me, save me. There is no life without love. We love each other and our love can injure no human being, and God — Cfte Celifiate 85 \_She throws back her head and looks upward^ ah, God will understand ! \_She clings to him and drops her face on his breast. He bends his head nearer to hers, then, abruptly, he tears himself away and stands staring at her, finger- ing his crucifix^ Adriano. O God ! My vow ! My vow ! T)iAis!onA [passionately^. Your vow ! What is your vow? You promised to renounce all evil things, but love like ours is not the Devil's work. It is of God. Adriano. My vow is the vow of celibacy, and for my soul's sake I dare not break that vow. DiANORA \_with a sudden cry of anguish~\. For your soul's sake ! Do you recall that when my granny read your palm, she warned you that to take selfish heed for one's own soul de- stroys the soul. My life, my innocent life given by God, is in your keeping. Would 3'^ou leave me to a dreadful death to save your soul? Adriano \_shuddering~\. My vow! I dare not break my vow. DiANORA [pleading passionately^. You fought with all your strength to save the life of an old woman, because the cruel injustice 86 Cfte Celibate of the mob incensed you. Then you were a man of lawless life, and yet your heart was ten- der and self-forgetting. And now, in this hour, you will not save my life, I who am young and innocent of wrong, because to save my life, you would have to break a vow which concerns only the safety of your own soul. What is it worth to you, your faith, if it does not teach you to make sacrifice for justice and for mercy .'^ Adriano. I risked only my life when I strove to save your grandmother. To save you I should risk my sovl. If I did not love you, if once your lips had not turned my blood to fire, I might save you without blackening my soul. But if I flee with you, it would be for myself as well as for you. Once your eyes shamed in me the lust of flesh, and now, in this hour, you whom I love have become the instrument of temptation where once you were the instrument of good. DiANORA [again flinging herself into his arms and clinging to /lim]. O God, teach him the truth! Adriano, do you recall the prophecy .^^ That perfect love would only come when re- morse had swept your heart clean of selfish thought for the safety of your own soul.^^ Oh, save yourself that remorse in years to come. Put mercy and justice and compassion above your soul's salvation. God will understand Cfte Celibate st and save jour soul. I love you, love you ! Oh, save me from my doom ! \^She clings desperately to him. He sud- denly bends over her and presses his lips to hers. Then his arms go around her and he holds her in a passionate em- brace. Then suddenly, with a violent shudder, he tears away her clinging arms, thrusts her from him, and stares at her with an expression of horror. She staggers back and gazes at him vn fear and agony^ Adriano. I cannot break my vow ! It means eternal punishment, and I must save my soul! [^He turns blindly to the door, tears it open, rushes out, slams the door shut, and disappears, running. Dianora sinks to the floor with a cry of despair and agony^ CURTAIN Scene 3 One hour later Scene: The dawn is breaking. To right is a wooded hill with winding path leading down- ward through the valley, which recedes into the 88 Cfte Celifiate distance. Peasants pass to and fro, carrying food, water, etc., and giving one another greet- ings as they pass. In the distance is heard shouting. Suddenly a youth comes running from woods at left. Youth [accosting peasants as he passes theiri\. They are coming with the witch. They are going to take her up there on the top of the hill and burn her at a stake. [He runs excitedly off stage to right, and later returns with other youths^ [In the meantime the moh approaches, and in their midst walks Dianora. Her head is raised and she fingers her cruci- fix. She waUcs firmly, without waver- ing. The crowd murmur and jostle one another. They pass slowly and start up the hill, youths and children and young girls following and standing on the outskirts, all looking after the little procession. From left walks swiftly Adriano. His face is wild and his hair disheveled. He sees the procession and gives a sudden cry. He darts forward as if to climh the hill, then drops hack, step by step, and stands, his hands clenched and his face uplifted, with an agonized expression. He stands rigid Ci)e Celibate 89 as the procession fles slowly to the top of the hill, becoming less and less visible through the trees that mark the path. Dimly, through the trees at the top, moving figures can he seen. Then the light of a torch is visible moving about. Adriano gives another cry and again starts forward. But again he stops, trembling violently and stares trans- fixed. Suddenly a blaze of fire is seen through the trees. A t the same moment DiANORA gives a wild cry, and breaks into the witches' song, with piercing sweetness. As the fire grows brighter, she continues to sing. With a loud cry of agony, Adriano falls on his face to the ground^ CURTAIN ACT III Forty years later Scene: High-vaulted^ austere and hare in- terior of a monastery. Walls and floorvng of stone. In a niche to left, down stage, is a fig- ure of the Virgin. Candles are lit at the feet of this figure. Up stage, directly center, a broad corridor receding into the distance. Above this is a huge, stained-glass window, through which the moonlight streams. To left, midway down stage, is a large arched opening, giving a vista of further interior distances. To right, midway down stage, is an arched doorway with heavy wooden door, which is closed. l^From the distance, chanting is heard ap- proaching. Afar off, in the corridor up stage, a procession of monks appears, preceded by the Prior of the Monastery. They carry cen- sers and tall candles lit. The smell of incense is in the air. They come forward and turn to- wards the corridor at left. At this instant, the door at right is suddenly opened, and Brother RicARDO, a young monk, enters walking 90 Cfte Celifiate 9i quickly. The monks observe Mm and come to a halt. He approaches the Prior and makes a genuflection^ RiCARDO. Father ! Our brother Adriano seems not so well. He sent me to you, Father. He wishes a confessor this very hour. Prior [surprised^. A confessor! Is Brother Adriano then so ill? [The other monks murmur expressions of surprise and consternation and group themselves up stage^ RiCARDO [m subdued excitejTient'\. Father, he says that the rising sun will bid his soul de- part for Purgatory. He talks in strange fash- ion, does Brother Adriano. Prior. What strange things does he say, Brother Ricardo? RiCARDO [in awed tofiesj^. He says that eternity is not long enough in which to purge his soul of sin. First Monk [exclaimingl^. Of sin! Second Monk. What sins can Brother Ad- riano have from which to purge his soul.^^ Prior [turning to one of the older monks^. Brother Confessor, go to Brother Adriano at once and let him confess. [He glances from one to the other of the monks^ Confession is alike for all of us, whether we be holy monks 92 Cfte Celibate or men of worldly ways and evil. [^Looks again at the confessor^ We shall here await your return. [^The confessor walks to door at right, opens it and disappears^ closing door. Slowly the monks come forward and group themselves down stage'\ Third Monk. It is twenty years since I came into this brotherhood, and in all that time I have looked upon Brother Adriano as one of the saintliest of men. First Monk. I have been here thirty years, and no holier man ever lived in my memory than Brother Adriano. Prior [slowly^. And / — I have been here more j^ears than any of you, and Brother Ad- riano I have looked upon as one of the un- crowned saints of Heaven. Second Monk. No one ever heard him speak a harsh word in all the years. Third Monk. He has been gentle with suf- fering of body or mind, and patient with all waywardness or doubts, or storm-tossed hearts that came across his path. First Monk. And he has ever been so de- vout, so pious in his thoughts and in his daily acts. Fourth Monk. And he loved all dumb crea- tures and they loved him. Cfte Celfftate 93 RicARDO l^eagerly^. And when Brother An- selmo died, confessing that all his life here in our midst he had cherished the love of a woman, do you recall, brothers, how Brother Adriano wept with him, and held his hands in that last hour of agony? Third Monk. There was never a weakness or error of the human heart that Brother Ad- riano did not understand. To all, he has given of his strength and tenderness of soul to com- fort and uplift. RiCARDO. Has it not been said that Brother Adriano came into the brotherhood from a life of gay abandon, — a 3'oung noble from the court at Naples? Prior \_severelij~\. Hush, Brother Ricardo ! That is long past and gone. Adriano joined the brotherhood when he was still very young — but twenty-five — and such sins as he had then to his account, he made full confession of before he took his final vows. Those sins have long since been washed clean from his soul. His death confession would be only of sins com- mitted and as yet unconfessed, and these can- not be the sins of the flesh as are those of youth. First Monk. Brother Confessor is a long time absent. Why should it take so long? Adriano can have so very little to confess. 94 Cfte Celibate Second Monk. Surely he can have left nothing unconfessed by now ! \_At this instant the tolling of a hell is heard. The monks drop to their knees and pray for Adriano. Suddenly is heard a cry of anguish in a man's voice. The monks stop praying and lift their heads in astonishment. The Prior rises to his feet and the others do likewise. The hells continue to ring, hut faintly, as if dying away. Then out of the silence comes a man^s voice singing the witches^ song. It sounds distinct and clear, and full of passionate feeling^ Prior \_crossing himself^. What may that be? First Monk \_crossing himself^. It is no hymn or litany. It sounds like music from the world of wickedness and sin. [The door at right is Hung open, and the Brother Confessor rushes out and ap- proaches the Prior] Confessor [crossing himself^. The devil himself is amongst us ! God has forsaken Ad- riano ! Satan has his soul ! [For a few seconds there is absolute silence, the monks shrinking hack in fear and horror^ Prior [horrified^. What mean you.^ Cfte Celibate 95 Confessor. Hear you not that song of woman and of love? It is Adriano ! I tell you, Satan has his soul ! Prior [^solemnly^. Brothers, let us sing a hymn for our brother's soul. [They sing words to the effect that they pray to he defended against evil spirits and preserved from sinful lust, and from the power of the Devil. Through the music of the hymn, and gradually rising above it, is heard the singing of the witches* song. Then the door at right is slowly opened, and in the doorway ap- pears Adriano, old and thin and white, but with his head thrown hack, and an exalted expression on his face. The monks sway their censers violently and chcmt in chorus the words: *' Satan depart from the soul of this dying man!'' Adriano stands still watching the monks. They finally cease singing and stare in silent awe at Adriano] Adriano [raising his hand^. Brothers, — it is well that you should pray to Satan to leave my soul in peace. I need your prayers, for peace I have not known these forty years. [The monks express fear and consterna- tion in gesture and expression'\ Prior [slowly approaching Adriano]. 96 Cbe Celibate Brother Adriano, your words are strange. What powers of evil control your tongue this hour? You say that peace you have not known these forty years. What mean you? Adriano [^sadli^^ I mean that forty years ago I committed a crime, and my spirit has been in torment ever since. Prior. A crime! [He crosses himself. Three of the monks repeat after him^ one after the other: _ ^* A crime! " and all cross them- selv^s'\ You have been with us fifty years. What crime could you commit within these mon- astery walls, or without on your errands of mercy ? Adriano [hitterlyl^. It was on one of my errands of mercy that I committed a crime. Prior [sternlyj. What was the nature of this crime? Adriano \_in colorless tone~\. Men call it murder ! [The Prior draws quickly away from Ad- rian©. The monks shrink hack in fear and horror^ Adriano [with feelingly. I murdered a wom- an's body to save my soul. [His voice rises in a cry of woe^ O God ! To save my soul! Prior [turning to the Confessor]. His mind is unhinged. How could a man dream to save his soul by committing murder? Cfte Celibate 97 Adeiano [^more quietly, and leaning against the wall near the door of his celV\. My mind is clearer in this hour than in all my life be- fore. [He looks fixedly at the Prior] Brother, — I can see deep into the mysteries of truth, of life and death, of Heaven and Hell, and hearken unto me. The murder of the thing we call the body is only one of countless crimes — crimes of omission — the coward crimes of all — committed for the sake of our own pitiable souls ! Prior. / have committed no crime of any sort in all my life. Adriano \_in louder tones~\. There are crimes not listed in our vain decrees as to what is evil, or yet more evil. Prior \_impatiently'\. What murder were you guilty of? Speak out — confess before your strength begins to fail. Adriano [mldly~\. I tell you, I murdered a woman's body to save my soul ! Monks \^in chorus of two or three at a time^. Who was she? Who was this woman? Adriano [^throwing back his head, his ex- pression growing exalted^. She was the woman I loved above all earthly things. Prior [horrified^. You say this happened forty years ago? You were then a monk. You say that you loved a woman then? 98 Cbe Celibate Ai>RiANO. I loved her and she loved me. We had met ten years before and I loved her at first sight, but she was a peasant girl, and I a nobleman, and my wicked pride forbade a mar- riage beneath my station. Then for peace I turned to God. I joined this brotherhood. But peace I did not find. The human cravings of the heart were stifled and suppressed. Ten years later, I was called one night to confess a girl condemned to be burned as a witch. [^The vioTiks cross themselves and Adriano observes them^ Ah, cross yourselves, good Brothers ! The very name of witch may poison your pious souls ! I went to the prison cell and found there the girl I had met and loved ten years be- fore. In a mad rush came love again, but it was a love that put my soul's salvation above her human welfare. She was young and beau- tiful and pure and good. She implored me to save her, — to escape with her into the night and off to some far country. I could have done it. My heart, in wild bounds, besought me to save her. I kissed her on the lips, and held her in my arms for one brief space, then swift recoiled as from some evil thing. I thought the Devil gripped my soul because a w^oman's lips had touched mine own in ecstasy. But it was love, not lust, and it was the Devil's prompting that made me shrink from anything Cfte Celibate 99 so pure and sweet. And it was my small and stifled soul that bade me keep my vow — the vow — of Celibaey! Prior [^quietly J. Go on, Brother Adriano. You say you murdered her? Adriano. Yes, I murdered her because I did not save her. I ran from her and left her to her doom, because I wished to save my soul. O God in Heaven ! — to save my soul ! \^He sinks to his knees and raises his arms upwards^ Prior \_astonished^. What mean you by as- serting that you killed this girl? You left her to her doom — innocent or guilty, it matters not — because to save her you must have broken your sacred vow. That was no crime ! Rather was it a crime to love this woman. Pray now, my brother, that 3^our God forgive this sin before you die. Adriano \_with exalted lookl. I pray to God to forgive me that I did not love her well enough to forget m}^ own poor, selfish soul. [^The monks look frightened and shocked and cross themselves^ Prior [sternly^. The love of woman was forbidden you. Adriano [^slowly rising to his feet and speak- ing passionately^. Let lust be forbidden, not only to monks and priests, but to all men. But love ! Let all men love with all their hearts 100 Cfte Celibate and all their spirits' fire, for only through great love can come redemption from selfish aims and ends. My crime was that I did not love enough — not that I loved a woman ! Prior. You speak not sanely. You know not what you say. Adriano [with intense feeling']. Each mor- tal is his own Heaven or Hell according as he loves — and love of man for woman was decreed by God, and if it be pure and deep, is God's own sj^mbol of eternal life. In all these years while I have seemed so perfect in your eyes, in my own, I have lived a defiled, unhappy wretch, forsaken by my God because in her hour of need I forsook the woman whom I loved. [He holds out his hands pleadingly] O brothers, heed my words ! Love is immortal ! And to seek one's soul's salvation at the cost of any crea- ture's anguish is to lose one's soul. RiCARDO [impulsively approaching Adriano, and kneeling on one knee before himl^. O Brother Adriano ! If love be immortal, surely it will lift you above all earthly misery and sin. [The other monks give groans of shocked disapproval and cross themselves] Adriano [gently putting his hand on Ri- CARDo's head]. My son, life lies before you to make or mar. Fail not as / have failed. For Cbe Celibate loi I am old and my life is spent, and I am un- worthy, for I outraged love, and must suffer to the end. \_TJie rosy light of dawn conies through the window. Adriano gazes at it with a far-away expression^ Adriano [^very low^. It was at the hour of dawn she perished. [Ricardo gazes at Ad- riano. Adriano's voice rises in excitemenf] They set the torch to the wood piled at her feet, and as the smoke grew thick and the flames darted heavenward, she sang that song of love — the song that men of wicked hearts have called the witches' song. I fled from the spot, — but her voice fled with me. And whether I have slumbered or fasted or knelt in prayer, I have been haunted always by that song. For forty years, asleep or waking, it has echoed in my ears. [Still gazing at the window he shows hy expression of face and attitude of body that he is intently listening. The monks make no sound, but stare at him as if spellbound^ Adriano [m hushed tones^. I hear — afar off — that song of love. [He continues to gaze and listen with rapt expression^ [The monks turn their heads a7id look up- ward, Ricardo, still on one knee, turns 102 Cfte Celibate his head and stares at the window, then rises slowly to his feetl^ Adriano. I hear her singing — her spirit is calling mine ! [Suddenly he takes a step or two towards the window, and cries in tones of agony'\ Dianora ! Dianora ! I am not worthy to meet you in Paradise. My soul is defiled. I am not worthy. [Again he listens and then speaks excitedly^ The song grows louder in my ears ! She is coming nearer — nearer — [He raises his arms in a passionate gesture^ O God of mercy! It must be that the long years of penance and suffering are over. Her spirit comes to seek my own. [His voice rises m ecstasy, and he takes a step forward^ Be- loved — I am coming — coming — [He falls suddenly forward on his face^ RiCARDO [going quickly to him, dropping on his knees, and bending over him^. He is dead! Adriano is dead ! Prior [lifting his hands and speaking in hushed and awed tones~\. What our eyes can- not see, — what our ears cannot hear, — or our lips explain, God understands. Judge not, brothers ! Judgment is God's ! [The monks all kneel i/n prayer'\ CURTAIN THE WITCH SONG " FAR FROM THEE"* Scale c, d, eb, frt, g, a?, b, c Andante soUenuto Pf> mf fa te±I^_E^JEta^ -■^ I I ! . O how long was the night . which I passed in weeping and long-ingfor thee; # m-br-l- ^ — N— 1 — I H* » — J^iH^- ^ — 1/ ^ •-jt ^ — Al - ways of thee, of thee,dear, did I pp piu vivo e leggiero -1-7— J — d- §•- — ^^ ■ -I H — P- -3: dream at the sing-ing ofbirds,at the m sound of the fountain. The night, ^^ |g^^g^^35fe^ | $p|g!|^ . O how t-^ m L Ki^l^E^ift:^^^ f? long was the night. O be-lov - ed, the night. * From Capellen : Exotic Songs