Book A?^ 
 
 CLASS 
 BOOK 
 
 XH 
 
 W25feA 
 
 VOL 
 
THE AZTECS 
 
 WALTER W A R R E N ps«-vA.c 
 
 AniKiK- 111- "coLuMiirs THK niSLOVEKHN," i-:tc, 
 
 VVcotg'e. LaY^S\Y\^ iHCyTnnQTNci — , 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 Q>pi,EY Square 
 1894 
 

 Copyrighted 1894 
 
 by 
 
 Akena Publishing Company 
 
 A// rights reser-.'i'd 
 
 
 A rena Press 
 
JUN 3 1919 
 
 PWBl/i C LTIV. ; ABT 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 MONASKA. 
 
 KOOTHA. 
 
 IIaijo. 
 Wapella. 
 
 Tfik King. 
 Waluon. 
 
 First J 
 Second - 
 Third S 
 
 A young Mexican or Acolhuan warrior of 
 noble blood, captured by the Aztecs from the 
 Teztucans, a people who, before succumbing 
 to the Aztec invasion, were distinguished by 
 their comparatively mild religion and man- 
 ners. 
 
 A crippled Teztiican of high rank and educa- 
 tion, captured l)y the Aztecs years before the 
 time when the drama is supposed to open, 
 and now a skive of the priest, IIaijo, and an 
 attendant at the temple. 
 
 A chief priest of the Aztecs. 
 
 A Teztucan warrior, captured by the Aztecs 
 at the same time as Monaska. 
 
 Sovereign of the Aztecs. 
 
 A Teztucan maiden of high rank, niece of 
 Kootha, captured, when very youiig, by the 
 Aztecs and adopted by IIaijo the priest. 
 
 Admirers of Monaska, and assiirned 
 
 Maidens. 
 
 \ 
 
 to him as wives, according to 
 the customs of the Aztecs. 
 
 Women, Maidens, Officers, Soldiers, Priests, Priest- 
 esses, Pages, Attendants, etc. 
 
PROPERTIES. 
 
 MoNASKA. In Act First, Bow, Arrows, and Club. In Act 
 Second, Club. In Acts Third and Fourth, 
 Flower-wreathed Head-dress and Lyre. 
 
 KooTHA. In Acts First and Fifth, a Spear. 
 
 Haijo. In Act First, a Spear. 
 
 Wapella. In Acts First and Fifth, Bow, Arrows, and 
 Club. In Act Second, a Club. 
 
 King. In all the Acts, Belt and Hand Weapons appro- 
 
 priate for a king. In Acts Second and 
 Fourth, some sort of a Crown. 
 
 Waloon. In Act First, a Spear. In Act Second, a 
 Wreath of Flowers. 
 
 Maidens. In Second Act, Wreaths of Flowers about 
 their heads, shoulders, etc., and also carried 
 in their hands. 
 Soldiers with Bows, Arrows, Spears, etc., and 
 all on the stage in the costumes of the place 
 and period. 
 
PLACE AND TIME. 
 
 The scene of this drama is laid in Mexico near the opening 
 of the Fifteenth Century, just when the Aztecs were begin- 
 ning to overrun the country, and when, therefore, the peculiar 
 forms of their religion may reasonably be supposed to have 
 l)een comparatively unknown to the Teztucans who, as will 
 be shown presently, adhered, in the main, to the more mild 
 religious observances of the ancient Toltecs. 
 
 The facts with reference to the Aztec human sacrifices, the 
 selection for these of a captive without blemish, the allot- 
 ment to him of certain maidens as wives, and the general 
 luxury and adoration with which he was surrounded up to 
 the time when, surrendering the flowers that crowned his 
 head and the lyre that he carried, he ascended the pyramid 
 to have his heart torn out of him while still alive, — all these 
 facts are well known, and will be recognized to justify the 
 delineations of the drama. 
 
 A few words, however, may be necessary to explain the 
 disposition which Haijo and the King are represented as pro- 
 posing to make of Waloon. In a note referring to the in- 
 mates of the Aztec religious houses, in Prescott's " Conquest 
 of Me.xico," vol. I., p. 69, we read that " Tales of scandal 
 
 . . have been told of the Aztec virgins,'' etc., and in 
 vol. I., pp. 110-112, of the same author's "Conquest of 
 Peru," a country in which there prevailed a worship of the 
 heavenly bodies very similar to that of the Aztecs, we are 
 informed, with reference to the " Virgins of the Sun," as 
 they were termed, that " they were young maidens, dedicated 
 to the service of the deity, who . . . were taken from 
 their homes and introduced into convents. . . . From the 
 
4 PLACE AND TIME. 
 
 moment they entered the establishment, they were cut off 
 from all connection with the world, even with their own 
 family and friends. Yet . . . though Virgins of the Sun, they, 
 were brides of the Inca (or king), and, at a marriageable age, 
 the most beautiful among them were selected for the honors 
 ... of the royal seraglio . . . The full complement of this 
 amounted in time not only to hundreds but to thousands, who 
 found accommodations in his different palaces." An estab- 
 lished custom like this among the Peruvians certainly seems 
 sufficient to justify an illustration of the spirit underlying it 
 among a people so much like them in other respects as were 
 the Aztecs. 
 
 A few words may be needed too with reference to the 
 range of thought and feeling attributed in the drama to 
 Monaska and Kootha. Some may suppose the healthfully 
 romantic chastity of the one and the philosophic cynicism of 
 the other to be idealizations beyond the possibilities of the 
 period. 
 
 With reference to the first of these suppositions it is only 
 necessary to say that a very slight investigation of facts 
 would enable the reader to recognize that Monaska repre- 
 sents a type of character by no means uncommon among the 
 Indians of our own country to-day, or among other semi- 
 civilized people. The elaborated systems of ethics, to which 
 the enlightened nations are apt to attribute their virtue, are 
 themselves merely developments of natural and normal in- 
 stincts of which men, especially young men, are everywhere 
 conscious, and by which they are often controlled. If this 
 were not so, the ethics of civilized life would be a result with- 
 out a cause. 
 
 With reference to the philosophic and religious attitudes of 
 mind of Kootha, and of Monaska, too, so far as he is represent- 
 ed as indulging in these, something more, perhaps, should be 
 said. And first of all, let the reader be reminded that, had this 
 drama been written by one who had lived among the Aztecs, 
 
PLACE AMD TIME. 5 
 
 it would have been impossible for him, however desirous of 
 being faithful to facts, looking backward, as he would be 
 obliged to do, through the vista of time, not to have his 
 whole representation tinged with the results of his experi- 
 ences in life, thought and expression through the four hundred 
 years intervening. But, besides this, were he a poet, it would 
 be impossible for him not to have them tinged specifically with 
 the results of his own imagination, inasmuch as the value of 
 the contribution of poetry, in all cases, is exactly proportioned 
 to the light with which it illumines facts in connection with the 
 process of transferring them to the region of fancy. It is 
 admitted, therefore, that the characters of this drama are 
 presented as they appear through an intervening space of 
 four hundred years ; and that, as a consequence, in all cases, 
 the e.xpressions used, and in some cases the substance of what 
 is expressed, are modern. But even where this is most 
 so, even where the former fact is manifested in the introduc- 
 tion of words like engine or electric, if it be asked how could 
 these be used, before the age of steam or electricity, the answer 
 is that, in reality, terms of this character were used before 
 this age — though, of course, without conveying the suggestions 
 that have accompanied them since then. If, because of these 
 suggestions, we exclude such words from a drama like this, or 
 other words of more recent date, the same principle, logically 
 carried out, would lead to our excluding the use of all except 
 very elementary and hence very unnatural, often unpoetic, 
 English. Indeed, why should it not lead to our excluding 
 any language whatever except the Aztec .■' 
 
 So, too, with reference to the modern phases of thought in 
 the drama, so far as these are not necessarily connected with 
 the use of modern phraseology. Just as a magnifying glass 
 discovers subtle points of interest in an object to which it is 
 applied, so is it permissible for imaginative art to discover 
 these — in case, like the glass, it does not change the relative 
 proportions of the parts to one another and the whole. A 
 
6 PLACE AXD TJME. 
 
 poet, like a painter, has a right to magnify the interest and 
 beauty of the life that furnishes his model by means of tlie 
 medium — the modern medium too — through which he is sup- 
 jjosed to contemplate it. Otherwise, the subject with which 
 he deals could not h^t treated from a present and poetic 
 view-point, and his works would not be \vorth the ink ex- 
 pended on them. All tlie consideration for truth which it 
 seems reasonalile to expect of the historic dramatist is 
 that, in a medium, the component parts of which are neces- 
 sarily made up of the language and methods of thought 
 natural to his own time, he should represent, in their relative 
 proportions, the particular motives and feelings as well as the 
 general atmosphere of thought natural to the conditions ex- 
 isting at the time of the events forming the basis of his plot. 
 
 There still remains another supposition to be met. It has 
 apparently been granted, thus far, that the range of thought 
 and feeling attributed to Monaska and Kootha may be beyond 
 the possibilities of the period. But barring the modern 
 phraseology and suggestions, to which reference has already 
 been made, it is by no means certain that this need be con- 
 ceded. The fathers of the Spanish church, at the time when 
 America was discovered, seeing in the distribution of bread 
 and wine, confession, penance, monasticism and sacrificial 
 ceremonies, as practiced by its aborigines, a resemblance to 
 their own religious observances, could attribute this to nothing 
 but contrivances of the devil to counterfeit the rites of Chris- 
 tianity. But we all know now, or ought to know, that the 
 real explanation for resemblances of this kind is to be found 
 in the fact that humanity, wherever it exists, is the same ; and 
 that a similar stage of its development always leads to forms 
 of life, religious as well as civil, of the same general nature. 
 This fact, indeed, is the chief warrant for supposing that this 
 drama of the Aztecs can have any present interest, or suggest, 
 by analogy, any present lesson. But this thought aside, the 
 fact being as stated, all that is needed to justify the character- 
 
PLACE AND TIME. 7 
 
 istics and sentiments of Monaska and Kootha is to show that 
 the civiHzation of the Teztucans at this period was sufficiently 
 highly developed to produce them. To do this is not diffi- 
 cult. Of one of the kings of Teztuco, Nezahualcoyotl, 
 who died about 1470 A. D., the same author already quoted 
 says in the " Conquest of Mexico," vol. I., pp. 192-196, that 
 "He built a temple in the usual pyramidal form, and on the 
 summit a tower nine stories high, to represent the nine 
 heavens ; a tenth was surmounted by a roof painted black 
 and profusely gilded with stars on the outside and incrusted 
 with metals and precious stones within. He dedicated this to 
 the unknown God, the Cause of causes. . . . No image was 
 allowed in the edifice, as imsuited to the invisible Cod ; and 
 the people were e.xpressly prohibited from profaning the altars 
 with l)lood, or any other sacrifices than that of the perfume of 
 flowers and sweet-scented gums."' He is also represented to 
 have said : " Idols of wood and gold can neither see, hear nor 
 feel ; much less could they make the heavens and the earth 
 and man the lord of it. These must be the work of the all- 
 powerful, unknown God, Creator of the universe, on whom 
 alone I must rely for consolation and support ; " and in one 
 of his poems — for many nobles and princes of this people 
 were poets — he says : " The great, the wise, the valiant, the 
 beautiful — alas! where are they now.' They are all mingled 
 with the clod : and that which has befallen them shall happen 
 to us, and to those that come after us. Yet let us take cour- 
 age, illustrious nobles and chieftains, true friends and loyal 
 subjects, — let us aspire to that heaven where all is eternal, and 
 corruption cannot come. The horrors of the tomb are but 
 the cradle of the sun, and the dark shadows of death are 
 brilliant lights for the stars." Men educated where opinions 
 like these prevailed and were expressed, could certainly be 
 capalsle of sentiments not different in essence from those 
 idealized in the expressions attributed in this drama to Mon- 
 aska and Kootha. 
 
THE AZTECS. 
 
 ACT FIRST. 
 
 Scene : — Ajorcst. Backing, a tree with a moss- 
 covered elevation or seat at the Right of it. Many 
 Entraiices at Right and Left through the trees. 
 The darkness of a storm by day, with occasional 
 thunder and lightning. Contending bands of war- 
 riors in fight and pursuit cross stage from Left to 
 Right. 
 
 Enter — Left Second — Kootha. 
 KooTHA {soliloquizing). 
 
 Oh, what a whirlwind's tidal-wave is war ! 
 Then hell breaks loose to over-flood the sky, 
 Hurling all heaven-built order upside down 
 Till right is drowned in darkness of the deep, 
 And wrong o'errides the crest. — They might have 
 
 known 
 They would be tricked. War's tactics all are 
 
 acts 
 Of treachery — the one sole sphere where he 
 Who does the worst thing does the best, all faith 
 
lO THE AZTECS. 
 
 Falls trampled down beneath the foot of force 
 And fair means trip trailed mireward after foul. 
 E71 ter — Right Sec on d — O f f i c e k . 
 Officer. What, Kootha, you here ? 
 
 KOOTHA. Av. 
 
 Officer. AMaat for ? 
 
 Kootha. 1 o see 
 
 The tragedy. 
 
 Officer. 'Tis over now. 
 
 Kootha. The fight ? — 
 
 I don't mean that. — You've prisoners ? 
 
 Officer. In crowds. 
 
 Kootha. 'Tis they I came to see. 
 
 Officer. Oh, yes ! — 'Tis you 
 
 Attends them till they're sacrificed. 
 
 Kootha. 'Tis I. 
 
 Officer, And you take pleasure in it ? 
 
 Kootha. So they say. — 
 
 Why ? — Would not }-ou ? 
 
 Officer. In part of it I niiglu. — 
 
 'Tis you that, like an angel, brings to each 
 The maiden he is free to love and wed. 
 
 Kootha. 'Tis I, too, ride the nightmare, sped him 
 when 
 His love o'erflows in dreams of Paradise. 
 I come to tell him just the way to reach it, 
 Describe the scene awaiting on the morrow — 
 His own stripped, cringing form — and, over there. 
 Each man, maid, child in town agog to see him. 
 
THE AZTECS. il 
 
 Then how the priests will throttle, throw him 
 
 down, 
 And, while yet living, writhing, yelling, sane. 
 Gouge their blunt nails between his reeking ribs, 
 And, by the roots, tear out his dripping heart. 
 
 Officer. Ugh !— I would rather be a soldier. 
 
 KooTHA. \Miat t — 
 
 And miss a spectacle so rare ? — that play 
 Of fright and agony, in white and shade 
 Breaking in contrast o'er your victim's brow ? 
 Why, man, what's life without variety ? 
 
 Officer. You see too much of it. 
 
 KooTHA. Oh no 1 — no more 
 
 Than all men do — perhaps concentered more 
 Than hell vouchsafes to others ! That is all. 
 
 Officer [pointing toward Left lliird Entrance). 
 See there — the maids are coming now. 
 
 KooTHA. Of course. 
 
 To snare the captive that your spears have 
 
 spared. 
 They know the first with whom they fall in love. 
 Will be the first one whom the priest will call 
 The chosen of the gods, and send to — heaven. 
 What cares a maid if he's her victim too ? 
 
 Officer. You mean her lover. 
 
 KooTHA. 'Tis the same. 
 
 Officer. To 3'ou,, 
 
 A soldier's life seems lovelier, then ? 
 
 KooTHA. \\"hv not .' — ■ 
 
12 THE AZTECS. 
 
 A man-foe's but a brute, a whale that whacks 
 
 The spirit's prow and whirls it from its course. 
 
 A woman-foe's a devil, seizing on 
 
 The spirit's helm to turn it where she will. 
 
 Her victim though — he thinks her will is his. 
 
 You never knew a man to dodge the touch 
 
 Of love-gloved fingers that first clutched his 
 
 heart. 
 That heart held once within the grip of love. 
 Takes every wrench that wrings its life-blood 
 
 out 
 To be its own pulsation. 
 
 Officer. I, at least, 
 
 Y\m not their victim yet, and so I'll leave. 
 Exit — Right Third Entrance — Officer. 
 
 KooTHA {looking at him as he leaves). 
 
 No, not their victim ; but your captives are ; 
 And they are my own kin, whom I, forsooth, 
 Must fool and lure to slaughter. How I longed 
 For their success! Yet why? — I'm well off 
 
 here ; 
 And they might not have deem'd me of their 
 
 race, — 
 So young I was when captured, now so like 
 A native. Yet could I but save Waloon ! 
 She spurns my aid ; but she's my brother's child ; 
 And Haijo, he who maimed me — made me slave, 
 Haijo, he trains her like a budding flower 
 To clip and fling up to the royal couch. 
 
THE AZTECS. 
 
 13 
 
 When comes the time her beauty blooms in full. 
 Poor duped Waloon ! — I've learned to bear my 
 
 fate. 
 But you — how like \Yhat Haijo wills you grow ! 
 Deem nothing true nor right in earth or air 
 Except as he enjoins ! — are so much his 
 That even I, who ought to, do not dare 
 To let you know the foe we just have fought 
 Are our own kinsmen. — What oppression's worse 
 Than force that jails expression, whether walled 
 In masonry or flesh ! — Though it may be 
 Fit training for a life whose brightest end 
 Is death. If all must die alone, may be 
 'Tis best, ere death, we learn to live alone. 
 Enter — Left Third Entrance — a crowd ^" Women. 
 First Woman. Aha, you think so, do you, Kootha ? 
 
 KOOTHA. You 
 
 Have come to prove you need to learn it, eh ? 
 But you've no business here. 
 
 ( Gesturing to make them retire?) 
 Second Woman (advajtcing in a siipplicating way). 
 
 We came to pray 
 
 Kootha. Oh, yes, I know, you always come to 
 prey. 
 So do the buzzards, but we drive them back. 
 
 Second Woman. We're seeking 
 
 Kootha. You'll not find them. Heads, not 
 
 hearts. 
 Are lost in this place. 
 
14 
 
 THE AZTECS. 
 
 First ^^'oMAN {sarcasticaUy). 
 
 Not in this place, Kootha. 
 It mast be further on. 
 
 {^She tries to pass /liiii.) 
 Kootha {^preventing /ler). 
 
 No, no, stay back. 
 First Woman. Stay back 1 — Stay back yourself. 
 You're not the one 
 Commanding here — a slave of priests like you ! 
 What good are priests upon a battle-field .? 
 Kootha. To save souls from perdition. I'm be- 
 tween 
 The men and you. 
 First Woman. The fight is over. 
 
 Kootha. Then 
 
 Do let the warriors have a little rest. 
 Don't break their peace, until you get them home. 
 First Woman. No fear for your peace ! \^'e'll let 
 you alone ! 
 There are those, though, who want us. 
 Kootha. There are men 
 
 Who've lost their senses. .Vy, I've heard of those 
 With ears too dull to hear a bat when squealing, 
 And flesh too tough to feel a flea when stinging. 
 Second Woman (to First Woman). 
 
 Don't stand and talk. We have a right to see 
 The captives. Kootha knows it too. 
 {To Kootha}, 
 
 Stand back ! 
 
THE AZTECS. 15 
 
 (ylo First Woman). 
 Go forward ! 
 KooTHA. Nay, leave forwardness to men. 
 
 'Tis backwardness that best becomes a woman. 
 
 {An arrow, coining from the right, falls upon the stage. 
 
 KooTHA//V>^j- it up and shows it.) 
 
 See there — an arrow ! They are fighting still. 
 
 /ou may get more of these througli your own 
 
 hearts 
 Than even you could dream to send through 
 others. 
 Women. Oh ! oh ! 
 
 Exeunt — at the Left Entrances — the Wo^een in fright. 
 KooTHA (h)oking after them, and toward the right). 
 The fight and Might not over ! Humph ! 
 Exit— /.eft — KooiHA. 
 (After a little, amid thunder and lightning), 
 Enter — Jiight Upper Entrance — Wapella. 
 Ejiter — Kight Second Entrance — AFonaska. 
 Wapella. That you, Monaska ? 
 Monaska. ^'es, and you ? 
 
 Wapella. \\'apella. 
 
 Monaska. What man can light both earth and 
 
 heax'cn ? 
 Wapella. Some fiend 
 
 Is raining down these fiery storm-l)olts. 
 Monaska. Ves, 
 
 We meet the foe, and in their track, as if 
 
1 6 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Out-cowarding the just-caught cuttle-fish. 
 This gloom exudes upon the flooding light. 
 Wapella. We might have scaled their hill, but not 
 
 these heavens. 
 MoNASKA. We just had drawn our bows, each arrow 
 
 aimed 
 To wedge eternal stillness in between 
 Unhinging joints of some affrighted heart, 
 When down upon us burst that thunder-flash. 
 The shock, so sudden, glanced the arrows up 
 As if to shoot them in the face of gods 
 Asail the clouds in yon black gulf. It gave 
 Their men their chance. With one wild yell and 
 
 bound 
 «'hey closed like smoke about the lightning's 
 
 fire ; 
 And, all with darts whirled on like sparks before 
 A flame that followed, they came roaring on 
 To fill the gaps their shots had made. Oh, 
 
 hell ! 
 Not one of us but saw, mount fiercely up — 
 The dying body of some fallen friend. 
 What seemed wild fiends. 
 W^APELLA. How know you but they were ? — 
 
 Grim phantom spirits of the earth and air — 
 The same that now pursue us ? — And from them 
 You fled ? 
 MoNASKA. Fled ? — Never ! No, with them I fought, 
 Till all I fought for but myself were not. 
 
THE AZTECS. 17 
 
 Wapella. Hush, hush ! They'll find us. 
 
 MoNASKA. Ay, they will — too soon ! 
 
 Each fearful time this lid of heaven lifts, 
 The rays pour in and focus here on us. 
 They axle here the foes' near wheeling lines, 
 Ay, draw them like a whirlpool to its vortex. 
 
 Wapella. This tree will be our shield. 
 
 {The two move toward a tree at Back Center with a 
 moss-covered bench at Right of it?) 
 
 Monaska. There's not a tree 
 
 Or leaf, or trunk, but what, to point us out. 
 These fiery fingers of the storm would dash 
 Aside to ashes — dust — thin air. 
 
 Wapella {leading Monaska toward the moss- 
 covered scat or elevation at the Right of the tree). 
 
 We're here 
 As hid as could be hoped for. 
 
 Monaska. I've no hope 
 
 For anything. Sweet hope's a bird of light, 
 The electric touch of whose aspiring wing 
 Thrills to new life the very air one breathes. 
 In gloom like ours the trembling heart but leaps 
 To dodge the whir of some blind bat of fear. 
 
 Wapella (looking toward the Left). 
 
 Hark ! hark ! There's human rhythm in this 
 
 hell. 
 What hot pursuit is it comes burning through 
 These crackling branches ? 
 
 ( Vivid lightning.) 
 2 
 
1 8 THE AZTECS. 
 
 MoNASKA {pointing toicard the Left). 
 
 Did you see it ? 
 Wapella. No. 
 
 But when I do 
 
 {Drawing his how. ) 
 Monaska {placing his hand on the Innci). 
 
 Hold ! — If one e'er could see 
 An angel, hers would be a form like that. 
 Wafella. An angel.' — fiend ! 
 Monaska. Right ! Only fools have faith 
 
 In forms they've not had wit to find unfrocked. 
 Not sages even see the spirit through them. 
 We'll fly. 
 Wapella {placing his hand on his hip, and sinhing 
 dow?i). 
 
 I cannot. 
 Monaska. What ? — You're wounded .-' 
 
 Wapella. Ves. 
 
 Monaska {sitting on the nioss-co7'ered seat beside hini). 
 
 Then I'll not leave you. 
 Wapella. Go. 
 
 Monaska {tying down on the moss-covered cki'atioii). 
 
 ril nol. — There's none 
 Can wish us mortals ill who mirror back 
 His wishes to him. Let us yield our wills 
 \A'here we would not our lives, and feign we're 
 dead. . 
 Enter — Left Third Entrance — Waloon. 
 Wapella. Sh — sh 
 
Tim AZTECS. 19 
 
 Waloon {soliloquizing). 
 
 The foe are fled. Our homes are safe ; 
 {Lightning. She sees Monaska and Wapella). 
 Why, who are they ? — How beautiful ! What 
 
 flowers 
 To bloom amid the desert of the storm ! 
 What glow of vigor in their fair, round limbs, 
 Ay, how their colors warm this cold-hued air ! — 
 Can they be wounded ? — dead ? — Oh, cruel man, 
 When spirits of the sunlight guise in flesh 
 And pour their prism-prisoned sunlight through 
 
 it, 
 Have we so much to cheer us on the earth, 
 We can afford destruction to the frames 
 That form fit settings of a light so dear ? — 
 I'll go to them. 
 
 {She approaches, bends and touches them^ 
 Thank heaven, they're warm ! — IJut what ? — 
 
 {Lightning?) 
 This garb .-' — They're foes ! — They'll kill me yet 
 
 unless 
 
 {Lifts a spear that she holds in her hand, then drops it.) 
 Who made me heaven's avenging messenger .'' 
 Or bade me cull for those high gardeners there 
 What grow in nights of earth to greet their dawn .'' 
 I should not know them foes but for their guise. 
 And if they're soon to drop their flesh, what's 
 
 that 
 But guise that's nearer to their souls ? It gone. 
 
20 THE AZTECS. 
 
 What would they be but spirits, freed from space, — 
 From all the need of trampling others down 
 To find a place to stand in for themselves ? — 
 I'll see if they be living. — Say, good friends — 
 [She shakes i hem. Ihcy start up. She draws hack, 
 lifting her spear ^ 
 Wait, wait ? — I'm but a maid. I'll do no harm. — 
 
 {As they sit still and look at her.) 
 You're wounded .'' 
 MoNASKA. One — but not to death. — And you ? — 
 Why do you stand there, and not hurl the dart. 
 It would be sweet, if when one came to die, 
 His last look could sigh forth toward one like you. 
 Waloon. I kill you ? — What ? 
 
 MoNASKA. And why, pray, should you not 1 
 
 Waloon. W^hy, I'm a woman ! 
 {The storm ceases ;'a7id from this time on the stage 
 
 grows gradually brighter^ 
 Monaska. And a woman's aim 
 
 Knows how to reach the heart. We should 
 
 escape 
 The bungling work of men. 
 
 {Opening his breast^ 
 
 Here's mine. Take aim. 
 'Tis open to you. 'Twill not twinge but thrill 
 To feel it takes what you would give. 
 WaloOxM. No, no ; 
 
 A'ou're far too strong and fair for earth to lose. 
 Some one, with you, would find it full of light. 
 
THE AZTECS. 21 
 
 MoNASKA. But we're your foes. 
 Waloon. To me you seem like friends. 
 
 MoNASKA. But to your brothers ? 
 Waloon. There are those they spare. 
 
 MoNASKA. You'll plead for us ? 
 Waloon. I will. 
 
 MoNASKA. Pleas from such lips, 
 
 Like fragrance from the flowers upon a shrine, 
 Might bring an answer. I will trust your pleas. 
 (MoNASKA and Wapella begin to rise.) 
 Enter — Left Second Ejitrance — HAijOrt-z/^/KooxHA. 
 Waloon. Nay, nay, lie still. Wait, till I speak to 
 
 them. 
 {Pointing to Haijo and Kootha, and moving to- 
 ward them and addressing them.) 
 I've found some wounded warriors. 
 Kootha. Foes ? 
 
 Waloon. They are. 
 
 Kootha. I hope then you have cured them of their 
 
 wounds ! 
 Waloon. How so ? 
 Kootha {lifting his spear). 
 
 How so ? — There's only one sure cure. — 
 Ope wide the casket that the world has bruised 
 And let the unbruised soul fly out of it. 
 {Makes as if he wo7ild move toward Monaska.) 
 Waloon {lifting her hatids, and moving forward as 
 if to shield Monaska). 
 No, no ; not that, not that ! They're beautiful. 
 
2 2 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Kooi'HA. Then send them upward while they are 
 so. ^^'hy 
 OutHve the happy moment for one's death ! 
 A body maimed may mold a spirit maimed. 
 Waloon. Their wounds are not so bad as that. 
 KooTHA. Or good. 
 
 (Waloon looks at him in a puzzled way ^ 
 I mean it — good. 1 mean it. Come, let's view 
 
 them. 
 (Waloon gestures toward tJicin and looks toward 
 Haijo.) 
 Ha I JO [to Waloon, as he hwks totuard the prisoners'). 
 You call them beautiful t Humph, when you've 
 
 seen 
 As much of men as I have, you'll think more 
 Of greater spirits with their lives enshrined 
 In mountain, valley, forest, shrub, and flower 
 Than of these little spirits framed in flesh. 
 Waloon. A great priest, you, and I'm a little 
 
 maid. 
 Haijo. Yes, yes, my child, and little men like 
 these 
 Are sent sometimes on little missions to us. 
 Kootha {waving his spear). 
 
 I'll pin them down whtre they shall kneel before 
 
 us 
 As long as any life remains in them. 
 Haijo. No, no ! — I'll wait here, Kootha. You go on, 
 And tell them at the temple I'm detained. 
 
THE A Z J 'ECS. 23 
 
 KooTHA (asiiL\ as lie niOTcs hmuin/ Ri^^ht First 
 Eiitraticc). 
 Oh, lieavens, I thought to help them ! 'Tis too 
 kite. 
 
 Exit — Right Front Entrance — Kootha. 
 Hat JO {to W'aloon). 
 
 You wish to save them, eh ? — There's one way. 
 Waloon {eagerly). \A'hat ? 
 
 Haijo. Why, make the king adopt them. 'Tis a 
 thing 
 That's often clone. Then they'll belong to us, 
 As much so as if born here. Do you think 
 There's anything that he'll not do for you 1 — 
 The trouble is, I hear, that there are things 
 That you'll not do for him, ha, ha, ha, ha ! — 
 Oh, no offense ! You know 3'ou are my ward. 
 For one, I ward you from his majesty. 
 Suppose you go, and tell your tale to him — 
 The beauty of the prisoners, and your wish. 
 I think he'll grant it. 
 Waloox. Ay, and free them wholly } 
 
 Haijo. Wh}', you can ask and learn. Should he 
 refuse. 
 They're no more sure to die than they are now. 
 
 (Haijo waves his hand.) 
 
 Enter— from both Right and Left — Warriors 
 7vith spears, and stand luatching Monaska 
 and \A'apella. 
 
24 Tim AZTECS. 
 
 Waloon. I'll go and tell them why I'm going to 
 leave them. — 
 You'll guard them while I'm gone ? 
 Haijo. As if the king 
 
 Himself had ordered it. 
 {Aside, as Waloon %t<alks toward Monaska and 
 Wapella who rise to receive /ler.) 
 
 The girl is right. 
 They're are beauties, no mistake, just what we 
 
 need ! 
 There's not another fair-formed captive left us. 
 The king will save them, there's no doubt of 
 
 that ; 
 This fellov/ '11 make a royal sacrifice. 
 Waloon {to Monaska). 
 
 I'm going to ask the king if he'll adopt you. 
 
 {Poi/iti/ig to Haijo.) 
 This guardian of all our sacred things 
 Will guard you sacredly till I return. 
 Haijo {to Monaska and Wapella). 
 
 Unless you mean to fly. Try that ; no more 
 Could you escape our warriors' darts, than dodge 
 The shadows of the trees through which you 
 flew. 
 
 Exit — at the Right — Waloon. 
 
 Monaska {to Haijo). 
 
 You seem a prophet, sire ? 
 Haijo. I'm held as such. 
 
THE AZTECS. 25 
 
 MoNASKA {Jwldlng out his hand). 
 And you could read my fate ? 
 Haijo. Not difficult. 
 
 (^Plucking a twig fro7n a tree.) 
 The tree's full growth is here, could one unfold 
 
 • it. 
 Your future is the fruit of present dreams, 
 The lure that leads the deepest wish within you ; 
 The goal that lights the furthest path of hope. 
 
 (Tahi/ig Moyi ASK A Ify the hand, then dropping it?) 
 
 A touch that feels the start can point the finish. 
 MoNASKA. You think so, sire ? 
 Haijo. There's nothing stops the flow 
 
 Of thought betwixt my fingers and my brain. 
 
 Betwixt your fingers and your brain not so ? — 
 {Taking him by the hand again.) 
 
 Now join these — what's betwixt your brain and 
 mine ? 
 MoNASKA. Our wills. 
 
 Haijo. Yet if I yield my will to yours 
 
 MoNASKA. But can you ? 
 
 Haijo. And if not, what boots the priest 
 
 His years of fasting and of discipline .-* — 
 
 Besides, all lives are much alike. 
 MoNASKA. They are .? — 
 
 How so ? 
 Haijo. All thorns or roses, if you please, 
 
 Grown on the self-same bush. 
 
26 THE AZTECS. 
 
 MoNASKA. Do all lives grow 
 
 Both thorns and roses ? 
 
 Haijo. Yes, we show the thorns 
 
 To those who try to pluck us for themselves ; 
 The roses to the ones that let us be. 
 
 MoNASKA. And so you think all lives alike ? 
 
 Haijo. Allied. 
 
 All lives are summers, veiled at either end 
 In shadows of the spring and autumn storms. 
 We pass from tears of birth to burial ; 
 And in the brief, bright interval between 
 There comes anon the fevered flush of life, 
 Then paleness, then the fevered flush of death. 
 Men leap and laugh, and then lie back and cough, 
 Both but hysterical, betwixt the two. 
 Warring for power that more of war must keep. 
 Pushing for place that prisons those who seize 
 
 it, 
 Kneeling for love to tramp on when they get it, 
 Their little rest is large-brought weariness. 
 And what they most desire is mainly death. 
 
 Monaska. a cheerful view ! 
 
 Haijo. It was not volunteered.. 
 
 Monaska, My fate's a sad one ? 
 
 Haijo. Brilliant. 
 
 Monaska. Brilliant ? 
 
 Haijo. Yes. 
 
 Monaska. A fire is brilliant, yet it burns us up. 
 
 Haijo. In time. 
 
THE AZTECS. 
 
 27 
 
 jNIonaska. And yet all life's a thing of time. 
 
 Haijo. You hunger for excitement, man. You 
 hail 
 The trump of war, the tramp of onset, all 
 That sweeps you on Avhere drafts of life and 
 
 love 
 Fan up the flames that flicker in the breast 
 And set the whole form's trembling veins aglow. 
 MoNASKA. You read me well. 
 Haijo. Suppose this heart a toy 
 
 Wound up to run through just so many ticks 
 
 MoNASKA. I see, you mean a fast life is a short 
 
 life. 
 Haijo. The fleetest foot is first to pass the 
 
 goal. 
 jNIonaska. But if the goal be high as well as 
 
 far 
 
 Haijo. "Tis not the bird of fleetest wing flies 
 
 highest. 
 MoxASKA. There are exceptions 1 could risk. Jf 
 not, 
 More blest the short-lived moths that fly to 
 
 flame 
 Straight through a pathway lit by coming light 
 Than long-lived worms that crawl through end- 
 less mire. 
 Haijo. Yours will be lit by coming light. 
 MoxASKA, And I'll 
 
 Not lose mv life ? 
 
28 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Haijo. Of course, in everj' life, 
 
 The first and final acts are tragedy. 
 
 MoNASKA. But ere the final act ? 
 
 Haijo. The whole you wish 
 
 You'll have. 
 MONASKA. Not all ? 
 Haijo. Yes, all. 
 
 MoNASKA. I'm not unselfish. 
 
 Haijo. You need not be — where all will rush to 
 
 serve you. 
 MoNASKA. I'm vain. 
 
 Haijo. There'll none be clothed in richer robes. 
 MoNASKA. I've appetites. 
 
 Haijo. Each meal will be a feast. 
 
 MoNASKA. I would not slave it to these lower 
 aims. 
 
 I have ambition. 
 Haijo. None will rank above you. 
 
 MoNASKA. None ? 
 Haijo. I've said it — none. 
 
 MoNASKA. That cannot be. 
 
 My birth 
 
 Haiso. Who knows the place for which he's born .'' 
 MoNASKA. I've higher aspirations in my soul. 
 Haijo. So ? — mount the highest. You'll be like a 
 god. 
 
 (Aside?) 
 
 Now will I see if he divine my meaning. 
 Monaska. It may be when I die. 
 
THE AZTECS. 29 
 
 Haijo {aside). 
 
 'Tis not divined ; or, if it be, 
 He does not dream that 'twill apply to him. 
 
 {To MONASKA.) 
 
 No ; you mistook my thought. I spoke of 
 earth. 
 MoNASKA. Of earth ?— You know, sire, I can tell it 
 you — 
 You're used to the confessions of a youth ? 
 
 Haijo. Yes, you can tell me all. 
 
 MoNASKA. I'm not a man 
 
 Has lived or worked with other men. My soul 
 Has dwelt alone, and sails the waves of life 
 Like some lost drop of olives on the sea, 
 Refusing still, however wildly tossed, 
 To lose or fuse itself in others. Oft 
 I've yearned to find a mate ; but, whoso came, 
 The spirit that is in me would deny 
 My clasping to a heart that might not beat 
 To time the pulses of another's purpose. 
 So what I would caress, I dared not touch, 
 For fear the rhythm throbbing in my veins 
 Should prove discordant and reveal us foes, 
 
 Haijo. It's love you wish ? 
 
 MoNASKA. Ay, sire, I would be loved. 
 
 Haijo. You think that strange at your age, 
 strange .'' 
 
 MoNASKA. Not strange the wish— but could it be 
 fulfilled 
 
30 rilE AZTECS. 
 
 Haijo. I've said it should be. You shall be so 
 loved 
 You'll yearn for rivals rather than behold them. 
 MoNASKA. rU yearn — but how can this be true .-* 
 
 You jest. 
 Haijo. Is it my face or robe you deem a jester's .'' 
 MoNASKA. "Pis really true ? 
 
 Haijo. "Tis in your hand, your face. 
 
 I told you I had had experience. 
 Why do you doubt t 
 Monaska. Jkcause there's naught I've known 
 
 That's like it. 
 Haijo. Life brings day as well as night, 
 
 When day, 'tis wise to use the sunshine. 
 Monaska (looking at Wapella, who Jias been 
 watcliing them eagerly, and lunu rises). 
 
 Come 
 And tell his fortune too. 
 Wapella. Yes, mine. 
 
 Enter— from the Right — Waloon and the King. 
 
 Haijo. The King. 
 
 {All how. The King speaks aside to Haijo.) 
 
 The King desires that you retire, you three. 
 
 {Motioning to Monaska, Wapella r?//^ Waloon.) 
 
 Exennt — at the Left — Monaska, Wapella and 
 
 Waloon. 
 King {to Haijo). 
 
 What think you ? 
 Haijo. Just what she has told you, sire. 
 
TJIE AZY^ECS. 31 
 
 No doubt about the beauty of the men. 
 King. Nor of her love ? 
 
 Haijo. It seems to augur well. 
 
 King. I'm not so sure about your method. 
 Haijo. No ? — 
 
 In lands like ours, a land controlled by law, 
 
 Illegal force will rouse the people's wrath. 
 
 But let her love once one we've made a god, 
 
 She'll wed his ghost, dwell with it in the temple. 
 
 There he who is the head of our religion 
 
 Can rightly represent the god, — not so ? 
 King. I see — a portion of the heaven of which 
 
 The priesthood holds the ke}^, is on the earth. 
 Haijo (siiddai/y fnnii/ij:^ the subject^. 
 
 Sire, we must have some foe to sacrifice. 
 
 For this year— — 
 King. You will furnish us with one 
 
 Who'll break this maiden's heart. 
 Haijo. A mule once broke 
 
 Drives easily. 
 Kin(;. I'll never doubt again 
 
 What power incarnates Providence on earth. 
 
 Lead out this coming god. 
 Haijo \Iookiiii::; toward the Left). 
 
 Waloon, the King 
 
 Desires to see the prisoners. 
 
 Enter — -from the Left — Wai.oox, Mcjxaska and 
 Wai'ki.l A. 
 KiN(; (aside, as lie looks at Moxaska). 
 
32 
 
 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Yes, yes, 
 He is a fine one, no mistake ! Poor girl ! — 
 But wliat's life worth without its discipline ? 
 And what are kings and priests for but to give 
 
 it? 
 No fete's a feast with every course alike ; 
 And all fare better who begin with bitters. 
 
 {To MoNASKA and Wapella.) 
 Young men, your warriors came a long, hard way 
 To fight with us, — had better stayed at home. 
 Monaska. Our king, sire, sent them forth. 
 King. Good deed ! We'll keep 
 
 Their flesh to fertilize our fields, and see 
 That he has less to send the next time. Ha ! 
 
 (Warriors appear on every side, and, at a sign 
 from the King, drazu tJielr bows on Mo- 
 naska and Wapella). 
 Waloon, stand back, there, from the prisoners. 
 Waloon {to King). 
 
 Ah, but you will not kill them, will you, sire t 
 King. Why not ? — They came to kill us. We 
 kill them, — 
 That's their desert. 
 M0NASK.A {aiming his houi). 
 
 It may be when we're through, 
 Through you, and through these ranks too. 
 Waloon {Jiun-ying betweeji King ^-//^ Monaska, and 
 speaking to Monaska). 
 
 Wait. 
 
THE AZTECS. ^i^ 
 
 MoNASKA (bowing to Walocn). 
 
 For you. 
 
 Waloon {to King). 
 
 Ah, sire, was it for this I urged them not 
 To fly from here ? — You surely will adopt them ? 
 King. And you would save my life and save his 
 too? 
 
 {To MONASKA.) 
 
 We're both indebted to her love, you see. 
 MoNASKA {to King). 
 
 I read my pardon in your own face now. 
 King. Humph ! I've no pity, and no love for 
 you. 
 
 If 3'-ou are saved ; 'tis she alone has done it. 
 
 Thank her. 
 MoNASKA {kneeling to her). 
 
 I'll thank her as I would an angel. 
 King {to Haijo, aside). 
 
 Our honor's safe. We've made no promises. 
 
 Keep watch, and never leave the two alone. 
 
34 
 
 J HE AZTECS. 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 Scene : — A walled open space within an Aztec fort. 
 Backing at the Might, a closed gate guarded l>y 
 Soldiers, and at the Left a pyramid-shaped struct- 
 ure such as formed an Aztec temple. On the lozver 
 steps of this structure, forming a sort of throne for 
 the KiN'G, rugs, etc. On the Might Side of stage, trees. 
 On the Left Side of stage at the Third Left En- 
 trance, curtains befrre a building evidcfitly connected 
 with the temple. Entrances : seirral at the Right 
 through the trees ; at the Liight Center through the 
 Gateway ; at the Left Second to one side of the Tem- 
 ple ; at the Left Third, through cn?-tains into the 
 Temple; at the Upper Luft betzueen the Temple and 
 the Pyramid. Curtain rises on the gray light of 
 dawn. Guards arc at the gates, prisoners grouped 
 about the space. Monaska and\^ KVYAA^Knear Left 
 Eront. 
 
 Wapella. I do not understand this. 
 
 Monaska. No ; but half 
 
 The interest of life is in its puzzles. 
 
 Wapella. I thought they set us free. 
 
THE AZTECS. 
 
 35 
 
 MoNASKA. I've always thought 
 
 Some one was just about to set me free. 
 I've never found him. 
 Wapella. We're no better off 
 
 Than these, our fellow-prisoners. 
 MoNASKA. And that's 
 
 A lesson to our self-conceit. The wise 
 Are grateful to their teachers. 
 Wapella. You are sanguine. 
 
 MoNASKA. Some men are born with light, aspir- 
 ing blood 
 That, bounding brain ward, keeps the whole frame 
 glowing. 
 "Wapella {pointing to the other prisoners). 
 
 These men expect us to be put to deatJi. 
 MoNASKA. And some are born with heavy, slug- 
 gish blood. 
 That will not leave the heart but keeps it 
 weighted. 
 Wapella. They say they know the customs of the 
 
 place. 
 MoNASKA. We know its characters — the maid, 
 
 priest, king 
 
 Wapella. They say that captives here are sacri- 
 ficed. 
 MoNASKA. What's that to those the king himself's 
 
 adopted ? 
 Wapella. Then tell me why we're prisoned in a 
 temple. 
 
36 THE AZTECS. 
 
 MoNASKA. That's your conundrum. I've not 
 
 thought of it. 
 Wapella. No ; nor of anything outside the maid 
 
 You've shrined there in your memory. 
 Monaska. With reason ! 
 
 Wapella. Would reason drop the curtain of the 
 eye, 
 And dwell in darkness, and be proud of it .'' 
 Monaska, you've been dreaming. You must wake 
 And join us in our effort to escape. 
 Monaska. You make it for yourselves. Why wait 
 
 for me ? 
 Wapella. Why ? — You outrank us. 
 Monaska. There are no ranks here. 
 
 Wapella. A leader, if he lead not, shames his 
 birthright. 
 Besides, they've given us privileges here. 
 You keep your club ; I mine. The rest have 
 
 none. 
 Perhaps they've merely overlooked our arms. 
 And, when the morning comes, will take them 
 
 from us. 
 Before that, when the other guards withdraw. 
 As they do always, when the signal's given, 
 
 {Pointing toward the gate.') 
 Let's press between these two they leave behind, 
 Each kill his man, and, while the rest break down 
 The gate behind, we'll all of us rush out, 
 O'ertake our friends and fly with them for home. 
 
THE AZTECS. 37 
 
 MoNASKA. The home to which the spider traps the 
 
 %! 
 Wapella. No soldiers watch that side the gate. 
 MONASKA. And so 
 
 To show our gratitude for being saved 
 We'll leave two prostrate, murdered forms behind 
 To do obeisance for us ! 
 Wapella. Rather than 
 
 Harm them, you'll let us all be murdered, eh ? 
 MoNASKA. If there were fear of that, the maid 
 would never 
 Have pleaded for us. 
 Wapella. They are all our foes. 
 
 Can you a moment balance them against 
 Your time-tried friends } 
 
 Exeunt— at the Left Upper Entrance — all the 
 GvAV.T)'-, l>!/t t7C'o, 7uko Stand each side the 
 ■ gi^f(^- 
 
 Look ! Now the guards have left- 
 Monaska, come — I said you would. — They're 
 waiting. 
 
 {Pointing to other Prlsoners.) 
 Monaska. You're too suspicious. 
 Wapella {excitedly). 
 
 Dare you tackle them ? 
 Monaska {angrily). 
 
 Talk not of daring, or I'll tackle you. 
 Wapella {excited, hut trying to control himself). 
 Forgive me — Why, you know that I'm your friend. 
 
38 THE AZTECS 
 
 We're all your friends. Monaska, will you join 
 us? 
 MoNASKA. Turn traitor to the ones that saved us ? — 
 
 No. 
 AVapella. I)Ut to your own land and your lands- 
 men, yes. 
 MoNASKA {iirawiiig his cliih, aiul s/>ri/ij;i/it^ fimuinl 
 Wapella). 
 
 That you must prove, or 
 
 (W'apklla draios /lis dub and defends /limse/f.) 
 Soldier {at gate). Hold! 
 
 Enter — -from the Left — other Soldiers and 
 Off'ICER. They separate, icith spears, 
 MoNASKA and \\'apella. 
 Wapella {Jo Monaska). 
 
 Now you have proved it. 
 Officer {to Monaska c7;/c/ A\'apella ). 
 
 Your clubs. 
 Monaska. The king 's adopted us. We're free. 
 Officer {as he motions to Soldiers to take the 
 eluhs ). 
 You'll not need these, then, to defend yourselves. 
 (Soldiers take the eluhs.) 
 Enter — through the curtains at the Left — Haijo 
 Yjooi:\iK and other Priests. Haijo as- 
 cends the steps of pyramid near the rugs. 
 Ln his hand is a parchment J) 
 Officer {to Monaska, Wapella and other prisoners^. 
 Stand back, and hear the royal proclamation. 
 
TJJK AZTECS. 39 
 
 Haijo {reading). 
 
 Know, all ye caplives, who have proved your worth 
 \\\ warding off when in the brunt of war 
 The stroke well aimed to fell you, know to-day 
 This temple celebrates its yearly fete ; 
 And hither wend the maidens of the realm. 
 Commend yourselves to them, and woman's love 
 Like that which gave our land its natural sons, 
 Shall make you sons of its adoption, sons 
 And lovers, fit to claim their heart's devotion. 
 For why should brave blood flow to waste, and not 
 Augment the channels of the nation's life ? — ■ 
 Go seek your cells, make ready, and come forth, 
 And know the highest honors wait for him 
 Whose charms prove greatest to the greatest 
 number. 
 
 MONASRA [to WaPELI.a). 
 
 There, there. I told you so. 
 
 Wapella. Well, we shall see • 
 
 Monaska. That I shall wed the woman of my 
 
 choice. 
 Exeunt — Left Seeond Entrance — all the Prisoners 
 
 except Wapella. 
 Wapella {aside, as he looks in direction of Mo- 
 naska). 
 What fools we are wlien we would read ourselves. 
 He thinks he craves the honors promised him 
 \'\'hose charms prove greatest to the greatest 
 number. 
 
40 THE AZTECS. 
 
 The only number that his nature craves, 
 Is number one. 
 Exeunt — Left Second Entj-ance — Wapella, followed 
 
 by some of the Soldiers. 
 K(JOTHA {coming toward a Priest, to whom he 
 speaks). 
 
 Ww ! That proclamation 
 Was worthy of the priest that penned it. 
 Priest. ^^'hy ? 
 
 KooTHA. Must be received with faith to seem a 
 blessing ; 
 And holds a promise that, whatever come. 
 Will stand. 
 Priest. 'Twill be fulfilled. 
 
 KcooTHA. Oh, yes — in form ! 
 
 But nothing like a priest's grip on a form 
 To squeeze the spirit out of it. 
 
 Enter — Left Upper Entrance — Waloox. 
 Priest. In that 
 
 'Tis true to life. I've not found aught I hoped 
 Fulfill a promise just as 'twas received. 
 KooTHA. Ay, while the eyes of hope are looking up, 
 The devil trips the feet. But why should gods 
 Make priests play devil ? 
 Priest {noticing Haijo adiuvici/ig). 
 
 1 fold ; or you'll play die, 
 And go to him. 
 KoOTHA {aside, looking at Haij<;)). 
 
 Oh, no, no ! After death 
 
THE AZTECS. 4I 
 
 I think I'll be released from following him. 
 {The stage grows gradually brighter?) 
 {Exit— Left Front Entrance — Kootha and other 
 
 Priests.) 
 Waloon {to Haijo). 
 
 Can it be true ? 
 Haijo. What true ? 
 
 Waloon. \\'hy, that the king 
 
 Will put Monaska to the maiden's test ? 
 Haijo. Of course. 
 Waloon. Of course? 
 
 Haijo. Why not ? 
 
 Waloon. Because the king's 
 
 Adopted him. 
 Haijo. But you would not deprive 
 
 The captive of his rights ? 
 Waloon. His rights ? 
 
 Haijo. What right 
 
 Can any man have grander than to be 
 
 A god ? 
 Waloon. A few weeks' god ? 
 Haijo. Why, yes. You know 
 
 The joy of life is in its quality, 
 
 Not quantity. A heaven on earth — what's that 
 
 But having what one wishes ? 
 Waloon. This is cruel. 
 
 Haijo. There are a score or more of prisoners. 
 
 We need a man whose bearing can supply 
 
 Attractions that will draw the souls of all 
 
42 THK AZTECS. 
 
 Toward him and toward the god lie represents. 
 
 The surest way of choosing such a man 
 
 Is this one which the royal will decrees. 
 Waloon. You know his beaut)'. They would all 
 
 choose him. 
 Haijo. Oh, no, no ; none know that ; and if they 
 did, 
 
 'Twould not be just to him to fail for this 
 
 To let him be the chosen of the gods. 
 Waloon. No, — of the maidens. 
 Haijo. Of the maidens' love. 
 
 And what than woman's love is more like gods' 1 
 Waloon. Oh, this is fearful, father ! Think of me. 
 Haijo. Of you ? 
 Waloon. I love him. 
 
 Haijo. Then, if he should be 
 
 The chosen of the gods, this would conhrm 
 
 Your choice, and thus exalt both you and him. 
 Waloon. But then he would belong— oh, not to 
 me ! 
 
 But to the world, and to the world (;f women. 
 Haijo. The thought of that is not inspiring ? 
 Waloon. Xo. 
 
 And soon he would be gone 
 
 Haijo. Among the gods. 
 
 Waloon. I would not have him there. 1 wish him 
 
 here. 
 Haijo. If earth held all our souls could wish, no- 
 soul 
 
'J HE AZTECS. 
 
 4J 
 
 Could ever wisli for heaven. 
 U'aloon. My heaven holds love. 
 
 And what 's right there "s right here, and has a 
 
 right 
 To all things man can rightly let it have. 
 
 Haijo. Save when the gods 
 
 Waloon. The gods I cannot see — 
 
 In front of me I only see a man. 
 Haijo. Then pray the gods to give you light. 
 Waloon. How can 
 
 I pray the gods to give me light, when th<;se 
 That say they're sent to lead me where it shines 
 Forever stand betwixt my soul and it. 
 Enter — Left I'pper Entrance — the Kixc 7cith 
 Attendants. 
 Waloon {to Kin(;). 
 
 Great sire, they're planning here to do a wrong. 
 King. What's that ?— It shall be righted. 
 Haijo {to King). 
 
 She has heard 
 We'll put Monaska to the maiden's test. 
 KiNc;. Oh — but — he has a right to it. 
 Waloon. Yet. sire, 
 
 A right that wrongs your kindly pardoning him. 
 King. \\'hy, no, no ! all our captives have that right. 
 Waloon. But, sire, he's beautiful. They'll all 
 
 choose him. 
 KiN(;. So much more reason he should have his 
 chance. 
 
44 
 
 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Waloox. But I — I — love him. 
 
 Haiji). If you loved him truly, 
 
 You scarce would dare to stand between his soul 
 
 And that which lifts him to the gods. 
 Waloon. You know 
 
 I pleaded for his life. 
 
 {Turning tim<ard the King.) 
 You gave it him. 
 
 Now all of us seem plotting for his death. 
 Haijo. Monaska had his choice. 
 Waloon. His choice ? 
 
 Haijo. Why, yes. 
 
 Waloon. When was it ? 
 Haijo. In the woods. " More blest," he cried, 
 
 " More blest the short-lived moths that fly to 
 flame 
 
 Straight through a pathway lit by coming light 
 
 Than long-lived worms that crawl through end- 
 less mire." 
 
 {The King nods approvingly, and moves on with 
 Attendants toward the pyramid ^ 
 Waloon {to Haijo). 
 
 You told him all ? 
 Haijo. Oh, no, not all, of course. 
 
 Waloon. Then I will tell him. 
 Haijo. When the priests enjoin it. 
 
 Till then, the only lips that can reveal 
 
 One temple secret speak from realms of death. 
 
THE AZTECS. 45 
 
 And if they've not already passed to them, 
 'Twill be our duty to translate them thither. 
 
 Waloon {surprised and in solicitude). 
 I cannot speak to him ? 
 
 Haijo. Speak all you wish. 
 
 But if he learn too much, we'll know through 
 whom. 
 
 Waloon. Oh, cruel ! I may speak— show all I 
 wish — 
 Except what fills the fount from which it springs. 
 Can you not see what pain 'twill be to keep 
 The ever-swelling surging, flood within ? — ■ 
 Go bid the lake sleep on unheard, unseen, 
 Whose tribute-streams are dashed to cataracts, 
 Or waves are whirled by cyclones toward the 
 clouds 
 
 Haijo. Ah, has it gone so far } 
 
 Waloon. Oh, sire, too oft, 
 
 A mood but half expressed is all distressed. 
 Oh, what, what shall I do ? 
 
 Haijo. There's one course left. 
 
 The surest way to keep from feeling things 
 Is not to touch them. 
 
 Waloon. What were best for me, 
 
 Is not the question. I would ward from him 
 The fatal blight that follows woman's love, 
 Accursed love, that makes the brightest eye 
 A sunglass through which heaven would wilt the 
 soul 
 
46 THE AZTECS. 
 
 And by the very pleasure beauty gives 
 Mete out the measure of impending doom. 
 Haijo. \Miat will you do then ? 
 Waloox. Save him if I can. 
 
 {Blast of trumpets, followed by music. The 
 KiNCr oiiil ATTENDANrs arraii^::;e tliem- 
 seh'es on the rugs at the base of the pyra- 
 mid. The gates backing at the Right are 
 thrown open.) 
 
 ]7xit — Left Second Entrance, very hastily, W'aloon. 
 
 Haijo (aside). 
 
 Poor fool ! She does not know the surest way 
 
 To guard her lover from the love of all 
 
 Is letting him alone. About the lips 
 
 Found sweet by merely one, all swarm like bees. 
 
 But let that one forsake him all forsake him. 
 
 Enter — through the Gate baching at the Right 
 — Procession r/ Maidens and others, bear- 
 ing banners and wreaths and decorated 
 with flowers. All sing the following : 
 
 Where dwell the gods ? 
 Where dwell the gods ? 
 Oh, dwell they in the sky? 
 Or come they near in gloom or gleam 
 Of earth or air or wood or stream ? 
 Oh, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
 But, robed in all that teem or seem 
 Where eye can spy or fancy fly, 
 The gods are always nigh. 
 
THE AZTECS. 47 
 
 How speak the gods ? 
 Mow speak the gods ? 
 In thunder from the sky ? 
 In storms that o'er the cloud-banks pour, 
 ( )r dash in waves along the shore ? 
 Oh, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
 ISut not alone in rush and roar, 
 
 Wherever breeze or breath can sigh 
 The gods are always nigh. 
 
 How touch the gods ? 
 Mow touch the gods ? 
 Oh, reach they from the sky 
 AVherever airy fingers brush 
 The leaves that throb, the cheeks that flush ? 
 
 Oh, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
 But in the thrills that fill the hush 
 When naught without is pas.sing by, 
 The gods are always nigh. 
 
 Where look the gods ? 
 ^\■here look the gods ? 
 In glances from the sky .'' 
 Down through the lightning's death-dealt blaze. 
 Or thrilling through the starry rays } 
 ( )h, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
 I'.ut in the looks that on us gaze 
 I-'rom out the love-lit liunian eye 
 The gods are always nigli. 
 
 {While singing, the Maidens arrange them' 
 selves in line front Front to Rear at the 
 Right of stage.) 
 King (looking toward Left Second Entrance). 
 And now bring forth the prisoners. 
 
48 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Officer (s funding near this entrance). 
 
 They come. 
 King [gesturing with his right hand'). 
 Arrange them here in line. 
 
 Enter — Left Second Entrance — Captives, 
 and are inarched and formed in a line at 
 the Left between the pyramid and the 
 Front of the stage. Monaska enters last, 
 and stands nearest the Left Front En- 
 trance. 
 Enter— at the Left Front Entrance— "<N Khoo^, and 
 
 stands at the Left of Monaska. 
 j;_ij,^,^;_ Now shall the eyes 
 
 Of gods above look through the brightest eyes 
 Whose glances light the earth, and whom those 
 
 eyes 
 Adore the most, him too shall all adore. 
 {The King, looking at the Cavt\V¥.?,, converses with 
 
 his Attendants.) 
 {Ihe Maidens look at Captives, especially at those 
 
 nearest the pyramid, and converse together.) 
 Waloon {to ISIoNASKA, /// a half whisper, and not 
 observed by others except him). 
 Monaska. 
 Monaska {turning to her). 
 
 What ? 
 Waloon. Look this way. 
 
 Monaska. <^'ould I else ?— 
 
 {Gesturing and looking toivard the Maidens.) 
 
THE AZTECS. 49 
 
 Yet must I seek the favor of these maids. 
 Waloon. Is not the favor of one maid enough ? 
 
 MoNASKA. Enough and more — yet liere 
 
 Waloon. Confide in me. 
 
 ^NIoNASKA. Yes, wholly. 
 
 Waloon. Then be wholly what I wish. 
 
 MoNASKA. What's that ? 
 
 W'ALOON. One who will not attract attention. 
 
 MoNASKA. Why, then 
 
 Waloon. Then you'll be wholly mine. 
 
 MoNASKA (aside, looking toward ot/icr Maidens). 
 
 I see — 
 
 brightest hour of all my life ! — I see 
 She loves — and love, if shorn of jealousy, 
 Drops half its charms, like maids that lose their 
 
 locks — 
 And better might be boys, or bald-head babes. 
 Waloon {taking liini by the sleeve). 
 
 Monaska. 
 MoNASKA {aside., ^oitJiout looking at her). 
 
 Yes, I'll look this way. At times, 
 Deceit that spices daintily with doubt 
 The plain-served truth more seasons it to taste. 
 Waloon {touching him again, and nun'ing toivard 
 Left — Front Entrance^. 
 There's something this way I would have you see. 
 Monaska {looking at Iter, then speaking aside). 
 
 1 must not lose my chances with the maids. 
 And yet will humor her, and then return. 
 
 4 
 
5° 
 
 THE AZTECS. 
 
 {Turns toward \\''aloon and l>ows.) 
 Exit — at tlic J. eft Fro/it — Waloon. 
 The highest honors wait for Iiim alone 
 Whose charms prove greatest to the greatest 
 number. 
 
 Exit — at the Left Front — Monaska. 
 KiNi; [to the Maidens). 
 Now to select your mates. 
 
 {To the Captives.) 
 
 Come forward, men. 
 {To Haijo, looking tozvard Left Front Entrajiee.) 
 Saw you those two depart ? — She'll tell him all. 
 (Maidens and Captives mingle and talk.) 
 Haijo {to King). 
 
 I've seen to that. She will not dare. 
 KiNC. What then ? 
 
 Haijo. Oh, they'll return. 
 King. But if they love ? 
 
 Haijo. Then she 
 
 Will play the woman, try to fascinate 
 His eye, spell-bound till blind to charms of 
 others. 
 King. And he ? 
 
 Haijo. Why, he's a man. What man will 
 
 barter 
 Self-love for woman's love ? 
 King. He may. 
 
 Haijo. If so, 
 
 We'll take some other victim. 
 
THE AZTECS. 51 
 
 King. He must be it. 
 
 Haijo. Safe statement, sire ! Small danger any 
 man 
 Will waive his chances for the highest honor 
 To please a heart whose love is won alreadv. 
 Kixc. You may be right. 
 Haijo. Yet, if you will, I'll send 
 
 A message to remind him of his chances. 
 {To a Messenger, and pointing toward Left Front 
 Entrance.) 
 Saw you those two retiring to the left. 
 Remind them of the royal proclamation. 
 Exit — Left Second Entrance — Messenger. 
 {Music and dance in 7tdiicJi Captives and Maidens 
 Join. As the dancing ends.) 
 Enter — Lift Front Entrance — Monaska and 
 Waloon. 
 Monaska. You will not dance with me. \\'aloon .? 
 Waloon. Xo, no ; 
 
 Not here. 
 Monaska. Then I shall have to dance alone. 
 Waloon. Why should you dance at all ^ 
 Monaska. U'hy ? — Ask the leaves 
 
 The reason why they vibrate in the breeze. 
 Or ask the trees when swaying in the storm ; 
 Ask of the spray-drop leaping from the rill, 
 Or up and down amid the waves at sea ; 
 Ask of the circling smoke, tornado's cloud, 
 The sun and moon revolving round the world, 
 
C2 THE AZTECS. 
 
 But when the throb of music beats the air 
 And sets the currents of the breast in motion, 
 Sweeping the bounding blood to rhythmic waves 
 That dash Uke breakers through the heart and 
 
 pulse, 
 Ask not why every vein begins to glow, 
 Each nerve to tremble, all the frame to heave, 
 And to and fro to march, to leap, to dance,— 
 Enough — 'tis natural ! — You check our nature, 
 You're laying human hands upon the work 
 Heaven meant for what it is • and that's profane. 
 {He makes motions of danei/ig.) 
 First Maiden {/>omf ing toioan/ Mo^naska and speak- 
 ing to Second Maiden). 
 See — there's another. 
 Second M. ■ Where? 
 
 First M. There with Waloon. 
 
 Third M. Oh, see ! 
 First M. Let's go to him. 
 
 Second M. No, no ; not yet. 
 
 Look there at that one. 
 (Pointing toward Wapella, icdio is near the J ef. 
 
 Upper Entranee.) 
 Third M. Which one ? 
 Second M. That one there. 
 {All three Maids move to%i<ard Left Upper Entranee?) 
 Waloon (trying to draw Monaska toward the Left 
 Front Entrance). 
 Monaska, come this way — do, do — I fear 
 
THE AZTECS. 53 
 
 MoNASKA. You mustn't fear for me. 
 
 \Val()(3N. A'ou do not know 
 
 MoNASKA (taki/ig her Jiaiid ). 
 
 You're trembling. 
 Waloon. Oh, love, do have faith in me ! 
 
 MoNASKA. Of course I will. You're frightened as 
 a bird 
 That once I caught. Poor thing, I would not 
 
 harm it. 
 So beautiful, so soft, with chirp so sweet ! 
 Waloon. But if you look that way, you do not love 
 
 me. 
 MoNASKA. And am I everything to you that you 
 
 Should fancy you are everything to me ? 
 Waloon. And am I not then ? 
 MoNASKA. What a tire divine 
 
 Must blaze within a woman's heart, who deems 
 That her one form enkindled by its liglit 
 Casts all things else in shade ! 
 Waloon. Do men love less ? 
 
 MoNASKA. They've eyes, at least, for things they 
 do not love. 
 Now I, 3'ou know, am young, have seen not much, 
 
 {Looking toioard Maidens again.) 
 
 And nothing of these scenes you know so well, 
 
 Waloon. That's why I fear. I know them all too 
 
 well. 
 ]\Ionaska. My nerves are sensitive to form and 
 hue. 
 
54 THE AZTECS. 
 
 A little Hitting of the two but serves 
 To irritate and make me itch for more. 
 But let me once be free to bound and whirl 
 And scratch my gaze upon them in the dance, 
 'Twill cure me and not scar below the surface. 
 I've other better avenues through which 
 These outer visions reach the heart. Besides, 
 That's wholly filled already. There's no room 
 For more than one. Believe me, I speak truth. 
 
 Waloox. I know — I do not doubt you. but 
 
 MoNASKA {laughing). 
 
 Vou do. 
 Come, come, confess now. You are jealous of me. 
 
 Waloon. Not so ! No, you mistake me. Would 
 the gods 
 Would tell you why, or let me tell you why ! 
 
 MoNASKA. 'Tis something else, then. 
 
 Waloon. Yes, 'tis something else, 
 
 jNIonaska. Then, let me know it. 
 
 Waloox. Come this way. 
 
 Monaska. I will. 
 
 {Aside, as Waloox merges toward Left Front En- 
 trance. ) 
 ]May be some untold penalty awaits 
 The one who fails to win the maidens' favor. 
 
 {Turns to folloTO ^^'ALOON, yV/j-/ as Haijo reaches 
 him^ coming from the rear.) 
 
 Haijo [to Monaska). 
 
 What, man, you fear not you are losing time .'' 
 
THE AZTECS. 55 
 
 MoXASKA {,tO HaIJO). 
 
 I'm making it. just now. 
 Haijo. Make more. You'll need it. 
 
 JNIoNASKA. The worth of time is measured like a 
 gem's 
 Not by its bulk but by its brilliancy. 
 Haijo. Just what I told Waloon you thought. 
 {To \\'al(.)ON who is listening.) 
 
 Not so ? 
 
 ( To MoNASKA. ) 
 
 But you — you heard the royal proclamation ? 
 MoxASKA. Of course. 
 
 Haijo. And you would waive the highest honor ? 
 MoXASKA. For something else, could 1 not have 
 
 them both. 
 Haijo. ^^■hy can't you have them both ? — 
 [To Waloon.) 
 
 You know. Waloon, 
 
 'Tis so. 
 INIoNASKA (,to Waloon). 
 
 "Tis so, Waloon ? 
 Waloon. i 'vt-^ l^ad my say.— 
 
 Will you believe ? 
 
 Haijo. '^"l^is maiden, or the king ? — 
 
 Monaska. This maiden. 
 
 Haijo. Traitor ! 
 
 Monaska. And the king. 
 
 Haijo. I'l'ove that 
 
 By joining in the dance. — Come,— both together. 
 
56 77 IF. AZTECS. 
 
 ^^'ALOON. Not I ! ' • 
 
 MoNASKA (aside to Waloon). 
 
 \\'aloon, you need not fear for me, 
 For if I venture in tlie dance at all, 
 I'll dance to ^vin. 
 Waloon ( anxiously). 
 
 No. no ; I meant 
 
 (Maidens gather around Monaska and ^VALooN.) 
 First Maiden. Come, come. 
 
 {To Waloon.) 
 He'll dance with us if not with you. 
 Second M. {taking Monaska by t/ic hand). 
 
 Come on. 
 Third M. Yes, come. 
 First M. You must. 
 
 Third M. . No backing out ! 
 
 Second M. (faking his hand). 
 
 With me. 
 {Th(y drag hi/n witJi them info the da/ux.) 
 \\'aloon {looking after him, as tlte musie begins). 
 Why did he hesitate so long ? He's lost ! 
 
 {All the ^^Iaidkxs r?'//^/ CaptivH'Is danee.) 
 -E.vit — Z(/t J'irst Entrance — ^^'ALOON. 
 Kino. Now. silence ! Let the maids declare their 
 choice, 
 Their first choice, gathering round liis figure 
 
 whom 
 The god of love that looks through love-lit eyes, 
 
THE AZTECS. 
 
 57 
 
 The spirit that inspires love-throbbing hearts, 
 Finds dowered with dignity and manly grace 
 And beauty, and all heart-inspiring charms 
 That fitly can incarnate love's ideal. 
 Music. 
 {The Captives stmid iu a line at the Left of 
 the stage ; Monaska not far from its 
 front. The Maidens, fnareh aloJig the 
 line of the Captives, and drop flozuers or 
 wreaths in front of Monaska. Some 
 drop them in front of others^ hut, seeing 
 that Monaska will surely he chosen, they 
 take the flowers from others and east them 
 before him, and gather round him. 
 King {descending from his scat on the pyramid and 
 taking Monaska hy the hand, pointing with his 
 free hand toward the seat he has just left, at the 
 same time hawing to Monaska). 
 Chosen of love, now bow we to your worth. 
 We yield to you, and lead you to your place. 
 {All except the KiissG prostrate themselrrs hefore Mo- 
 naska.) 
 Monaska. You do me too much honor. 
 
 {The Kino hozus, and shakes his head, while 
 he hegins to lead Monaska toward the 
 seat at the hase of the pyramid. Just as 
 they reach it. 
 Enter — at the Left Second Entrance — throwing up 
 her hands in grief Waloon.) 
 
58 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Waloon. Chosen ? Lost ! 
 
 The People cJuDit : 
 
 Where look the gods ? 
 Where look the gods ? 
 Tn glances from the sky ? 
 Down through the lightning's deatli-dealt l)laze, 
 Or thrilling through the starry rays ? 
 Oh, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
 But in the looks that on us gaze 
 From out the love-lit human eye, 
 The gods are always nigh. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
77//: AZTECS. 
 
 59 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 
 Scene : — Same as in Act Second. IJte Gateway at 
 the Rear open. Guards beside it. 
 
 Enter — Left Third Entrance — Koo iha. 
 KooTHA {soliloquizing). 
 
 If what the priesthood teach us be the truth. 
 Ay, if the gods do everything, themselves. 
 Why should they smut our mortal souls to stoke 
 The fuel of their earthly furnace-fires ? 
 If they see everything, what need that I 
 Play spy here to Monaska and \\'aloon ? — 
 Trail like a reptile's tail to prove them brutes. 
 Where'er the love goes, which but pro\es them 
 
 human ? 
 The power that makes a man who would stand 
 
 straight 
 Prostrate and prostitute his nobler nature. 
 Sneak, crawl, dodge, shadow spirits bright as 
 
 theirs 
 May come from gods, but, if so, they have mort- 
 gaged 
 This part of their dominion to a devil. 
 Perhaps they have — who knows ?— The priest- 
 hood claim 
 
(3o THE AZTECS. 
 
 That earth, made dark, makes heaven by contrast 
 
 bright — 
 How could a mortal ever guess the greed 
 Gods have for being glorified, unless 
 AVhat made mankind had damned the most of 
 
 them 
 To show how good it could be saving others ? — 
 How good ! — "Tis strange how much would not be 
 
 thought 
 Unless 'twere taught ! A plague on pedagogues 
 Who first began to teach, and teach religion ! 
 As if, forsooth, the heaven would be all dark 
 Without our great lights of the temple here 
 To thrust their smoking torches toward it ! — 
 
 bah !— 
 \\e!l, well, who knows ? — One thing, at least, I 
 
 know : 
 'Tis mean to shove a man and maid together; 
 And make it sin for them to touch each other. 
 Enter — through Gate — backing at the Right — 
 INIaidexs, talking loudly. 
 Hello : — these belles of ours proclaim their pres- 
 ence, 
 As ever by their tongues. Oh, for a key 
 To pitch them to my tune ; ay, ay, a key 
 To \\ind them up, and make them my machines 
 To whir for me, and stir the dust that I 
 Am doomed to cover life with ! Humph, I'll try it. 
 Waloon might dodge away from them alive ; 
 
THE A Z 'J ECS. 6 1 
 
 But from Monaska, if there's naught to check 
 
 The love she bears him, she will have no chance. 
 First Maiden. Oh, isn't he lovely ! 
 Second M. An ideal god ! 
 
 First M. His form so graceful ! 
 Second M. Yes, and so well built ! 
 
 Third M. His touch so gentle ! 
 First M. Such a godlike flush 
 
 On all his flesh ! 
 Third M. And flowering in his cheeks! 
 
 First M. He's like a spirit lured to gates of dawn 
 
 That, venturing near the clouds when all aflame, 
 
 Has been snatched up within their ardent arms 
 
 And borne to earth with all their glow about him. 
 Second M. And from his lips that have not lost 
 the tint 
 
 Of da3-break j-et, there breathe forth sweeter 
 sighs 
 
 Than morning air brings w-hen it drinks the dew. 
 First ]\I. Ay, ay, than morning air brings when it 
 rings 
 
 To trill the choruses of all the birds. 
 Third j\I. Such warmth of welcome in his eyes 
 
 too ! 
 First M. Yes, 
 
 There's fire behind them, fire that vvnen one 
 feels 
 
 The innermost recesses of the soul 
 
 Begin to — — 
 
62 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Ko(r r 1 1 A ( i/itcrnipt'mg her ). 
 
 Burn. — Confess they burn. 
 First M. [to Kootha). 
 
 \\'ho spoke 
 To you, uncouth one ? Off ! 
 
 {Contiiiu'nig to other Maiden's.) 
 
 They rout the gloom 
 Within the heart sure as the morning sun 
 That spreads new -glory o'er the darkened world, 
 The while its tire-sped lances tilt the shades 
 That fly afar, and leave our lives with heaven. 
 Kootha. Oh, my, how mighty fine your fancies 
 
 are ! 
 Second M. A woman's fancy 's very near the 
 
 truth. 
 KooriiA. As near as tire to water. Yonder pool 
 Is truth. 'I'he sunbeam it reflects is fancy. 
 One 's water, one is hre. ''I'is as you say 
 The flaming of his eye has turned the sap 
 
 Once oozing from your useless lips to 
 
 (Ili's/tati/ig. ) 
 Second M. What ? 
 
 Kootha. Why, flames turn sap to soft and sticky 
 sirup. 
 Let's hear which sweet lips were they that the 
 
 god's 
 Were stuck. to last ? 
 First M. \ ou horrid man ! You know 
 
 A\'e love the god. 
 
TIJF. AZTF.CS. 63 
 
 KooTHA. Oh, yes ! — the god in man. — 
 
 The god it takes a woman's eye to see. 
 Second M. And what, pray, is it that men wor- 
 ship ? 
 
 KoOTHA. Oil, 
 
 The thing that most men worship is themselves. 
 
 Or, if their fad's a dogma, 'tis a god 
 
 That's like themselves. You know religion's aim 
 
 Is bringing gods and men together ; so 
 
 That creed's most popular with most, which best 
 
 Divines how mean and small a god can be. 
 
 Second M. {saucily). 
 
 Does that mean anything ? 
 
 KooTHA. You think not ? 
 
 Second M. Xo. 
 
 KooiHA. You do? Aha! come back then to 
 }our range — 
 \\'hich one of you was it, the god kissed last t 
 
 TiRSi' AI. It's not your business to know. 
 
 Third M. Just so. 
 
 KooTHA. IJut I'm a man — not woman. 
 
 First M. What of that t 
 
 KooTHA. And you don't know which maid it is that 
 proves 
 The most attractive to most men .'' 
 
 Second M. No. Which one ? 
 
 'J'hird AI. Yes, which ? 
 
 First AL A'es, tell us. 
 
 KooiHA. \^■hv, of course, the one 
 
64 THE AZTECS. 
 
 That's most attractive to the most of them. 
 Ha, ha ! 
 
 {Continuing, as they turn away in anger.) 
 
 You see that most men are such apes 
 They never know which girl to go for next, 
 Until they see where some one else has gone. 
 
 Second M. {sarcasticaUy). 
 
 Aha ! you think that we wish you, then ? 
 
 KooTHA. Yes, — 
 
 Away from here. But, frankly now, my mind 
 Had stumbled on th' impression that a maid 
 Looks on her lovers as an Indian brave 
 On scalps : she likes to see them hanging on 
 Her neck — at least in presence of her mates 
 Who've made no conquests. 
 
 Second M. {sarcastically'). 
 
 Ah ? and who are they ? 
 
 KooTHA. The town will find them out, some day, 
 I guess. 
 
 Third M. 'Tis our fault, then ? 
 
 KoOTHA. Humph, what's a woman for ? 
 
 And what are you about the temple for ? 
 
 Third M. Go ask Waloon. 
 
 Second M. Yes, yes, go ask Waloon. 
 
 KooTHA. Ah, then, there is a favored one I see 
 
 Second M. I didn't say that. 
 
 KooTHA. - Y'ou had no \\fi<:t(}.. You know 
 
 A friend can heed the meaning of our thought 
 Through our most soundless movement. 
 
THE AZTECS. 65 
 
 First M. You a friend ? — 
 
 Drive off Waloon then. 
 KoOTHA. I ? — 'Tis not my — circus. 
 
 But were slie more tlie dove that he esteems her, 
 
 And you still less old hens than you appear, 
 
 I think you might find bills to settle with her, 
 
 And raise a cackle that would make her fly. 
 {Aside:) 
 
 I ETuess I've rouirhed their feathers now enough. 
 
 Poor, poor \A'aloon !— But — it's her only safety. 
 Enter — at the Left Second— W .\\.oo^. 
 
 Ah, there she is herself. 
 First M. {noticingW KLOoyi). 
 
 Oh, here comes one 
 
 That loves the god. How nice to love a god ! 
 Second M. But it's not nice to pose as loving one, 
 
 And only love a man. 
 First M. You wait awhile 
 
 . When they uncork the spirit in that flask. — 
 
 Av, when the blood's drained out of it, "twill not 
 
 Appear to her so rare and rose-like. 
 Second M. (Jo Waloon, sarcasticallx). 
 
 ' Ah, 
 
 You seem surprised ] 
 Waloon. I am. 
 
 Third M. And grieved .' 
 
 Waloon. Fni more. 
 
 All the Maidens. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
 Waloon. Yes, I'm surprised and grieved, 
 
66 rilE AZTECS. 
 
 And more than this — to think that you are 
 women. 
 KooTHA (aside). 
 
 Aha ! Had not found out that fact before ? — ■ 
 She knows it now, though, well enough. They've 
 proved it. 
 
 {To the Maidens.) 
 Don't talk like this. "Tis cruel. Be more gentle. 
 First M. 'Tis cruel, is it ! If she likes it not, 
 She need not strike at our likes. Did she deem 
 It kind to push between us and the god 
 The wide-spread drapery of her greedy arms 
 As if, forsooth, our hope were killed, and she 
 A vulture feasting with foul wings aflap ? 
 Second M. Nay, more, too. make us laughed at, 
 
 slighted, scorned ? 
 \\'ALOOn. But I've not meant it so. 'I'his friend 
 of mine. 
 Was mine before you chose him for the god. 
 First M. Was yours ? — and now you mean to keep 
 him yours ? — 
 And so your eyes are always dodging his 
 To catch their glances .'' Did you turn your back, 
 You fear he might forget you .'' 
 All the Maidens. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Enter — Left Third Entrance — Haijo. 
 Exit — Right Second Entrance — Kootha, as soon as 
 
 he catches sight of Haijo. 
 Haijo (/^ ///f Maidens). 
 
THE AZTECS. 67 
 
 Why, why, now, what's the matter here ? 
 JlRST M. \\'aloon. 
 
 Second M. Waloon. 
 Third M. \\aluon. 
 
 First M. She says the god is hers. 
 
 Haijo. Of course, but not hers only. 
 First M. Yes, hers only. 
 
 Haijcj. Oh, you mistook her. 
 Third M. No. 
 
 Second M. 'Tis what she meant. 
 
 First M. She called him '• mine." 
 Haijo. Meant hers ? 
 
 First M. Yes, hers. 
 
 Second M. Hers. 
 
 Third M. Hers. 
 
 Haijo (to Waloon\ 
 
 Can this be true ? 
 Waloox. I said my friend was mine 
 
 Before they chose him. 
 Haijo. Ah, but they did choose him ; 
 
 And now, according to the temple's law 
 
 Waloox {half weeping). 
 
 You mean he is not mine, I know. 
 Haijo. j\Iy child, 
 
 I hoped your training 
 
 Waloox. ])o not think that men 
 
 Can ever change our nature by their training. 
 
 Nay, clip, abuse, deform it as you may, 
 
68 THE AZTECS. 
 
 The weakest bush wiU bear its own flower still, 
 And every heart the love that's rooted in it. 
 Haijo. Ah, so ! Vou think ! — Who taught you, 
 
 pray, to think ? 
 Waloon. My mind, sire, and the gods from whom 
 
 it came. 
 Haijo. Be careful, child ; nor force us to use force. 
 Waloon. Ah, sire, sire, when you come to deal 
 with thought. 
 The only influence force can have on it 
 Is to suppress, but leave it still possessed. 
 If error be in mind, 'tis better far 
 To let it out, and so be rid of it. 
 Haijo. False hope ! — \\'e'll not discuss it now. 
 You know' 
 The temple's law, that when one will would stand 
 Against the general good, that will must down. 
 Waloon. I was not speaking of my will, but heart. 
 Haijo. We'll call it heart then. You have thrust 
 your love 
 Between these maidens and the god. They claim 
 The joy and profit of his intercourse. 
 Waloon. They might have shared these with me. 
 Never yet. 
 Have I been left alone with liim. 
 Haijo. And who 
 
 Could hope to be alone when with the gods, 
 Whose eyes see all, whose arms embrace the 
 world. 
 
THE AZTECS. 69 
 
 And if incarnate for a time in man, 
 'Tis not for us to tempt their high, pure life 
 Toward our low, selfish, human love for one. 
 Waloon. Is that why we've been watched ? 
 Haijcj. \y\A you not need 
 
 A hint that others too had claims upon him ? 
 What profit is it though a god may dwell 
 In human form, if they, whom else the god 
 Would lure to love and draw to sympathy 
 With heavenly thought and deed and light and 
 
 life.. 
 Be kept away from him by one like you ? 
 First M. Just what we ask. 
 
 Haijo. What all the wise would ask. 
 
 Second yi. She keeps us from him. 
 Haijo. If she do this more 
 
 The law will interfere, and part them wholly. 
 
 Entei- — through the gate backing (tt the Right — 
 Attendants, Pages, Priests, Pries r- 
 ESSES, etc., singing before a chariot in 
 which Monaska is draivn upon the stage. 
 His head is crowned with flowers, and lie 
 thumbs a tyre-tike musical instrument. 
 All sing the following : 
 
 All hail the god ! All hail the god ! 
 
 The god enthroned in man, 
 ^Yhose realms extend unbound and broad 
 Beyond the seas and stars and aught 
 That sense has seen or thought has brought 
 J Or wing, however fleet. 
 
yo THE AZTECS. 
 
 All hail the god ! All hail the god ! 
 
 We bow before the man ; 
 But bright behind the gaze we greet, 
 There gleams the glory yet to meet 
 Our souls beholding past the gloom 
 Of toil and trouble, tear and toml\ 
 
 The life that his began. 
 
 All hail the god ! All hail the god ! 
 
 The god enshrined in man ! 
 Whose altar fires, while all are awed, 
 Are lit in souls that flash through eyes 
 
 That light for heaven itself supplies^ 
 
 Where love is light and heat. 
 All hail the god ! All hail the god ! 
 
 We bow before the man : 
 But bright behind the gaze we greet, 
 There gleams the glory yet to meet 
 Our souls beholding past the gloom 
 Of toil and trouble, tear and tomb, 
 
 The life that his began. 
 
 First INI. {to Mona.ska, as he descends from the 
 chariot., ivhile all Innv to him). 
 All hail the god ! 
 Second M. All hail ! 
 
 Third M. All hail ! 
 
 First M. {noticing that he pays no attention to the 
 • salutation of the Maidens, ^r////^^/^^// they arc 
 7naking every effort to attract his attention). 
 
 All hail ! 
 MoNASKA (aside, glancing around rather scornfully^. 
 I like not hail-storms but the gentler sunshine. 
 
TjiK Azrr.cs. 71 
 
 {Pushing through tJicni tinoard W'aloon.) 
 'Tis through the arch-bow reared beyond the 
 
 storm 
 Life enters on its lieritage of liope. 
 (Takes \\'al(jon by the ha /id, then, as she does not 
 s/eah. ) 
 Vou do not speak to me. — Why this ? — Why this ? 
 Waloon {gesturing to7aard the other Maidens). 
 Tiiey chose you. They liave cUiims upon you 
 too. 
 IMoxASKA. Claims to my gratitude — I yield them 
 these. 
 Claims to my love .' — ( )h, no. 
 Haijo. And you will not 
 
 Accede then to their claims? 
 Moxaska. Their sex's claims 
 
 Are well acknowledged, as I think, by him 
 Who plights his whole soul's faith to one of them. 
 Haijo (gesturing toivard the other Maidens). 
 
 But you've not plighted faith to them.'' 
 [Moxaska. To them ? — 
 
 Why, 1 would not insult all women so 
 As to suggest that love for one alone 
 Did not fill all my heart to overflowing. 
 You think there's room for more ? — Then you 
 mistake. 
 {Addressing the Maidens, 7C'ho seem offended at his 
 language.) 
 And can it be that I had not revealed 
 
f2 
 
 Tin-: AZTECS. 
 
 The trutli ? P^uvgive me. I had iiieant to do it, 
 'Tis time — is it ? — to end your doubts ? — I will. 
 Here stands the holy father. Here stand \vc. 
 {Looking toward Haijo and taking W'aloon's Jiand, 
 then leading her toward the Right.) 
 "Tis time, Waloon, our vows were made in public. 
 What? what? — you hesitate? — you do? — you 
 
 do? 
 
 Exeunt — Right Second Entrance — ^Ionaska a /id 
 
 Walijox. 
 First M. (to Haijo). 
 
 And had we better follow ? 
 Haijo. Ves, I think so. 
 
 The mood is on her now to thrust him off, 
 And if she do but push him far enough, 
 What should he do but tumble then toward you. 
 Enter — through gate at the Right Rear — King and 
 Attendants. 
 Exeunt — Right Second Entrance — ^^AIDENs. 
 King {to Haijo). 
 
 How fares it with the god ? 
 Haijo. His heavenly mood 
 
 Is still upon him. 
 King. He does not suspect ? 
 
 Haijo. Not he — why, he was just now ordering 
 me 
 To seal his vows, and wed him to Waloon. 
 King. He does not deem it strange we honor him ? 
 Haijo. Each to his own conception is a god. 
 
TIJE AZTECS. 
 
 73 
 
 Proclaim him this, you but concede a claim 
 
 Long felt within. He knew 'twas so before. 
 King. The egotist ! 
 Haijo. Yes, but we're all that, sire. 
 
 The spirit, we are told, is made of air. 
 
 'Tis like the air in this. 'Twill force its way 
 
 And feel full right to enter and j^ossess 
 
 Whatever space a crack or crevice opens. 
 King. How to himself, docs he explain the way 
 
 That all the maidens wait upon his wishes ? 
 Haijo. He thinks to them, he's lord of all creation. 
 
 And so he is, forsooth. Their bearing proves it. 
 
 King. He deems Waloon } 
 
 Haijo. His only, through and through. 
 
 King. She never can be more completely his .'' 
 Haijo. Impossible. 
 King. The time to pluck a flower 
 
 Is just when in its bloom. 
 Haijo. I think so, sire. 
 
 'Tis time to tell ^Nlonaska of his fate. 
 
 A member of our nearer tribes would know it. 
 
 He knows it not. Waloon now shuns him. 
 Look. 
 
 (^Pointing to -Right.) 
 
 And he must find excuse for this, or else 
 
 May turn away from her, and seek another. 
 
 If so, he may not always keep her love. 
 
 Besides, Monaska ought to know the truth. 
 
 He's wastin"" time with her. 
 
74 
 
 THE AZTKCS. 
 
 King. Has naught to do 
 
 With others ? 
 Haijo. No ; and therefore should be told 
 
 Our laws must part him from her. 
 King {looking a/u/ pointing to Right). 
 You are right. 
 
 But, see, he's coming this way now. 
 Haijo. ^^"ith some 
 
 Request, I'll warrant. 
 King. 'Tis not \Yise to greet 
 
 A supplicant with too open hand and heart. 
 
 Did gentleness not midwife his desires, 
 
 His cries would sooner die for lack of nursing. 
 
 And so I think they best refuse requests 
 
 Who best refuse to hear them. \\'e'll withdraw 
 Exeunt — Left Sceviid Entrance — King and Haijo. 
 
 Enter — Right Third Entrance — Monaska. 
 Monaska. a generous mind is never loath to face 
 
 The object of its benefaction. No ; 
 
 Had all they've done for me been kindly done. 
 
 They would not thus have turned their backs upon 
 me. 
 
 That Haijo is no man to harbor trust. 
 
 He never holds a steady eye to greet 
 
 The look that rests upon him. 'Tis as if. 
 
 He feared that one might spy within his brain 
 
 Some secret that a dodging glance could shield. 
 
 I fear the secret may concern Waloon. 
 
 For ever when I've led her where I hoped 
 
THE AZTECS. 75 
 
 No mortal would be present to profane 
 
 Vows fit for only gods to hear, some form, 
 
 With eyes omniscient as the very gods' 
 
 Incarnate in an earthly messenger. 
 
 Have always seemed to loom upon the light 
 
 Like night shades to the lost who pray for day. 
 
 Just now, when I came here, he too was here. 
 
 We left him, and Waloon seemed deaf to me. 
 
 What drowning opiate poured he in her ear 
 
 To deaden nerves hereto so sensitive 
 
 To slightest whispers of my thrilling love 
 
 That hands, voice, lips and eyelids, all her frame 
 
 Went trembling like a willow in a wind .' 
 
 It cannot be the cause is in herself. 
 
 Or is it ? — Does she merely pity me. 
 
 Whose life she saved, as thousands she might 
 
 save ; 
 And, moved by pity still to note my state. 
 Thus hinder me from fully asking what. 
 If rightly answered, would but seal my doom ? — 
 No, I have asked her fully — ay, and she — 
 Those eyes — ah, naught but light divine as 
 
 love's 
 Could so illumine, so transfigure her ! 
 
 Enter — Li-ft Second Entrance — Haijo, 
 
 Haijo. Alone, Monaska ? 
 
 jMonaska. Ves. 
 
 Haijo. Alone ? Alone ? — 
 
 With all those maidens praying for your presence? 
 
76 riJE AZTECS. 
 
 MoNASKA. I dodged behind a tree, then, when they 
 left, 
 
 Came here. 
 Haijo. a valiant warrior ! 
 
 MoNASKA. Yes — with men. 
 
 Haijo. With women t 
 MoNASKA. He's most valiant with a woman 
 
 Who waives what would be force. 
 Haijo. And runs away ? 
 
 MoNASKA. ^^'hy, yes, if elsewise he might be un- 
 gentle. 
 Haijo, Your waste of time does not yet weigh 
 
 upon you ? 
 MoNASKA. My what ? 
 
 Haijo. You chose a life not long, but 
 
 brilliant. . 
 
 MoNASKA. If so 
 
 Haijo. 'Tis brilliant now, but 'twill be brief. 
 
 MoNASKA. Be brief ? 
 
 Haijo. Enough, I trust, to make you ply 
 
 Your opportunities. 
 MoNASKA. And what are they.'' 
 
 Haijo. You craved for love. 
 
 MoNASKA. Ay, and you promised it. 
 
 Haijo. You have it. 
 
 MoNASKA. Have it ? — No, I have it not. 
 
 Haijo. Your heart must be a very glutton then. 
 
 With all these maids 
 
 Monaska. And what are the}- — to love .'' — 
 
THE AZTECS. 77 
 
 Haijo. They chose you, yet you turn your back upon 
 
 them. 
 MoNASKA. But you know why : I turn my back to 
 lust 
 That I may turn my face to love. 
 Haijo. Poor fool, 
 
 You've but one life to live, and yet you lose it ! 
 MoNASKA. I've but one love to keep, and I shall 
 
 keep it. 
 Haijo. Too bad you had not thought of that be- 
 fore. 
 MoNASKA. Before ? 
 
 Haijo. Ay, ay, before the maidens chose you. 
 
 MoNASKA. Chose me, and not I them. 
 Haijo. You courted them. 
 
 MONASKA. Oh, no. 
 
 Haijo. You sighed, you smiled, you sued, and 
 wooed. 
 
 Monaska. You overstate 
 
 Haijo. What made you leave Waloon } 
 
 Monaska. I leave her ? 
 
 Haijo. You. — \\'hen, just before the dance, 
 
 She talked with you aside, and begged you not. 
 Were you so wholly satisfied with her, 
 That was the time to show it. 
 Monaska. But — the king — 
 
 His proclamation, and the highest honor 
 
 Haijo. You have it now. You gained it leaving 
 her. 
 
yS TIJE AZTECS. 
 
 MoNASKA. I left her for a moment only. 
 Haijo. So ! 
 
 Great fires are kindled in a moment only. 
 Where hearts are tinder, and a glance a spark, 
 
 Why, there 
 
 MoNASKA. Aha, those dusky robes of priests 
 
 Astride the broken beam of every ray 
 That bridged my prison's gloom have not been 
 
 ghosts 
 To merely haunt my love ? They have been 
 
 fiends 
 To turn it to a curse. 
 Haijo. ISlame your own choice. 
 
 MoNASKA. But how could 1 have known the choice 
 
 meant tliis t 
 Haijo. \\"ho knows the fruitage of the seed he 
 plants ? — 
 Like seed, like fruit. 
 MoNASKA. The seed was very small. 
 
 Haijo. The fruitage large ? — Yet both were one in 
 
 kind. 
 MoNASKA. Nay, tho' my transient look went wrong, 
 my feet 
 Have followed righteousness. Ah. sire, you know 
 The onl}' harvests heaven ever finds 
 Unfold from germs dropped near enough to hell 
 To fear its heat and grow away from it. — 
 Why was it wrong to seek the highest honor ? 
 How could one know it could not come with her? 
 
THE AZTECS. 79 
 
 Haijo. You think that one small man's experience 
 Embraces in its clasp the whole broad earth ?— 
 Nay, it is finite. Every path has limits. 
 Seek mountain-tops, and you must turn away 
 From tiower and verdure, spring and warmth, 
 
 content 
 Wich rock and weariness and thirst and chill. 
 
 MoNASKA. Oh, tills is preaching! And you prom- 
 ised me 
 A brilliant life. 
 
 Haijo. 'Tis brilliant far beyond 
 
 Your highest hope. 
 
 Monaska. Nay, na\-, you promised love. 
 
 Haijo. 'i"he choicest maidens of the realm are 
 yours. 
 
 Monaska. Ikit not W'aloon ! 
 
 Haijo. Is his experience 
 
 So strangely brilliant who is loved, forsooth, 
 V>\ one maid onlv ? 
 
 Monaska. It may not l^e brilliant, 
 
 Ikit like a star in heaven it fills with light 
 One point — that where the gods have placed it. 
 
 Haijo. You — 
 
 Why, you're a sun round which such stars revolve 
 \^'ith dignity of larger, broader range 
 Than gains fit homage from the love of one : — 
 Which, if you have not learned, you should be 
 taught. 
 
 Monaska. And yield Waloon ? 
 
8o THE AZTECS. 
 
 Haijo. Till you have learned to yield 
 
 Your love to others too. 
 
 Exit — Left Third Entrance — Haijo. 
 MoNASKA. What.? When I've let 
 
 Their lustful kisses drain the dew of youth, 
 Give her the parched and lifeless remnant ? — No. 
 Go take that wolf-skin from the snarling hounds 
 When all the blood has been sucked out of it, 
 And flesh gnawed off, and fling it, cold and limp, 
 Out to the she-wolf panting for her mate ; 
 But ask me not to fling love's foul cold carcass 
 Out to her arms to whom I owe my life. — 
 Oh, cursed fate ! 
 Enter — Left Second Entrance — Wapella witJi a 
 - Woman. 
 
 \\'apella, you here } Oh 
 Wapella, you were right ! — And who is this t 
 {Gazing at the Woman at Wapella's sidc^ 
 Wapella. My wife. 
 MoNASKA. Your wife .-' — Beware — they'll keep her 
 
 from you. 
 Wapella. Oh, no one cares what I do here ! 
 Not I, 
 'Tis you, you know, have won the highest honor. 
 MoNASKA. You've not the highest honor. I, for- 
 sooth, 
 I have, Wapella. Ah, why are the scales 
 That measure what our world is worth so poised 
 Betwixt the outward and the inward life 
 
THE AZTECS. 8 1 
 
 That what lifts up the one must lower the other? 
 Why, when we reach the highest earthly place 
 Must this be balanced by the spirit's fall ? 
 Enter — Right Second Entrance — other Maidens and 
 Waloon, who is back of them. 
 (MoNASKA continues — -pointing to Waloon.) 
 Wapella, there's my heaven ; and all the world, 
 A world that will the more pollute my soul, 
 The more I try to cross it, lies between 
 Myself and it, and keeps me here in hell. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
32 THE AZTECS. 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 
 Scene First: — Interior of a room or hut hung with 
 curtains., evidently used as a prison for AIunaska. 
 Entrance at the Left Front. Curtain rising dis- 
 closes MoNASKA dressed in gorgeous apparel. He 
 has on. a garlanded head-dress and in his hand a 
 large lyre-like musical instruinent. Kootha. 7i'//^^ 
 apparently has just fnished robing him, stands 
 regarding him. 
 
 Kootha. You're like the rising sun. Eacli time 
 the crowd 
 Renew their gaze on you, your splendor grows. 
 
 Monaska. And when, at last, you've toned me to 
 a pitch 
 That no new height of splendor can transcend, 
 To get more halo, will they burn me up 1 
 
 Ivooi'HA. Oh, no, not that ! 
 
 Monaska. How long, think you, "twill be 
 
 Before this play will climax ? 
 
 Kootha {looking toward Left Entrance). 
 
 Some one's coming. 
 Enter— from the L.eft — Haijo. 
 
 Haijo {to Monaska). 
 Good-day. 
 
7I/E AZTECS. 83 
 
 (Haijo motio/is to Kootha to retire^ 
 Exit — Left — KooTHA. 
 MoNASKA. I have my doubts if it be good. 
 
 Each time you come to me and call it so, 
 Your coming makes me more your prisoner. 
 Haijo. Of course, if you'll not yield you to our 
 
 customs 
 
 MoNASKA. If I'll not gulp the feast you gorge me 
 on, 
 And prove my soul a glutton, then forsooth. 
 You'll starve me, thinking 'twill prove beggar, eh ? 
 Haijo. Oh, no, we hope you'll prove a god. 
 MoNASKA. And what's 
 
 The test of godhood ? 
 Haijo. What is it shall bring 
 
 The spirit of the fair-god back to earth. 
 When once again his white-winged vessels leave 
 Their land of ease and brave the sea for us ? 
 MoNASKA. I know not — What ? 
 Haijo. Self-sacritice. 
 
 MoNASKA. Yes, yes, 
 
 I see — perhaps I've wronged you. You may 
 
 light 
 These fires of fierce temptation round me but 
 To test my metal.— Have I triumphed them .' 
 Haijo. Triumphed.'' O'er what? — I spoke of sac- 
 rifice. 
 MoNASKA. I've sacrificed a lower love to higher. 
 Haijo. You call that sacrifice 1 
 
84 THE AZIECS. 
 
 MoNASKA. \\'hat ? Is it not ? — 
 
 To give up what is earthly for the heavenly ? — - 
 Turn from the serpent coiled within the loins 
 To follow in the flight of that fair dove 
 Whose wings are fluttering within the heart ? 
 
 Haijo. To turn from those you loathe to those you 
 like ?— 
 I did not speak of that. 
 
 Monaska. Ah, not of that ? 
 
 Of what ? 
 
 Haijo. Self-sacrifice. 
 
 Monaska. That's sacrifice 
 
 By self, not so ? 
 
 Haijo. And if it be ? 
 
 Monaska. ^Vhy, priest, 
 
 Vou think to force my fate ; and if you do, 
 There may be sacrifice, but not by self. 
 
 Haijo. That's immaterial. 
 
 Monaska. Is it ? — in a spirit — 
 
 You would make godlike ? 
 
 Haijo. \\'hy not, pray 1 
 
 Monaska. Because, 
 
 When you attempt to mold a spirit's life 
 With fmgers grappling from the fist of force, 
 You're clutching at the air, at what is far 
 Too fine for force to handle. 
 
 Haijo. May be, too. 
 
 That what you speak of, is too fine for some 
 To care to liandle. 
 
TJJE AZTECS. S5 
 
 MoNASKA. Care not for the spirit ? — 
 
 Wliat are your gods ? 
 Haijo. Tlie sovereigns of our temple. 
 
 MoNASKA. The outward temple only, not the in- 
 ward ? 
 Haijo. You deem the sovereigns of the two may 
 
 differ ? 
 MoNASKA. I do. I've heard of priests who judge 
 of gods 
 Like altars by their gilding, to whose greed 
 One god in hand is worth a score in heaven. 
 For every time they kneel to touch their puppet, 
 'Twill shake to sprinkle gold-dust on them. 
 Haijo. Hold! 
 
 Where were you reared to such impiety ? 
 Monaska. \A'here sun, moon, stars rained from the 
 blue above 
 And flowers were fountained through the green 
 
 below. 
 Where lights we knew not what, hut they were 
 
 heaven's. 
 Looked down on eyes that looked up from the 
 
 earth. 
 And men, whatever might impel their souls, 
 Were lighted onward by the brightness there. 
 Haijo. Ay, and by priests and prophets. — Tell the 
 
 truth. 
 Monaska. Yes, there were those who dreameU, and 
 those who deemed 
 
36 THE AZTECS. 
 
 In darkness they saw forms that had been earth's, 
 And lieard their words, and they beUeved it true 
 That there was Ufe behind the sights we see. 
 But those who stood the nearest to the throne 
 And knew our poet-king were taught to look 
 Upon a God beyond the reach of men. 
 Haijo. Beyond their reach, what were he worth ! 
 Young man. 
 You have your priests, your temples, ay, we 
 
 know it, 
 And have but one religion. 
 MoNASKA. And we speak 
 
 One language too, but differ in the accent. 
 The language gives the passwords of the race, 
 The accent keys the culture of the home, 
 And some were welcomed to the royal home. 
 Haijo. And there were taught religion ? 
 MoNASKA. There we heard 
 
 The poems of our prince ; and prized them not 
 Because his tongue controlled us, but his truth. 
 Haijo {contemptuoicsly). 
 
 Religion of a poet ! — upside down 
 And inside out, to fit each freak of fancy ! 
 MoNASKA. Religion of a man, sire. You would say 
 One cannot see the spirit save through forms. 
 Yet who can see through forms, except as these 
 Obscure the spirit t Be it so, why, then 
 Our king was right to bid us use our eyes, 
 Yet not believe that what we saw was all. 
 
THE AZTKCS. 87 
 
 And what we cannot see, yet feel, exists, 
 We cannot think of, save as we imagine. 
 And so tlie essence of religious thought 
 Is poetry, — at least so said our king. 
 
 Haijo {sarcastically). 
 
 His was a vague religion ! 
 
 MoNASKA. Not so vague 
 
 As that religion is whose forms befriend 
 A life to which all laws within the soul 
 Are foes. Our king w-ith his one queen would 
 
 never 
 Have sanctioned, much less have exampled, a life 
 Like that. Oh, something surely must be wrong 
 When that which rules without rules not within. 
 
 Haijo. You mean you'll not be ruled 
 
 MoNASKA. By what you've urged ? — 
 
 I cannot. 
 
 Haijo. Yet they chose you as their god. 
 
 MoNASKA. Then it befits me to live like a god. 
 I tell you they're the noblest on the earth 
 Whose eyes look up, and he who stands above 
 
 them. 
 Would he fulfill their soul's ideal, must show 
 A life 'tis worth while looking up to see. 
 
 Haijo. Well, then, prepare to die. 
 
 MoNASKA. To die ? 
 
 Haijo. To-day. 
 
 MoNASKA. Ye gods ! I had not thought of that — 
 so soon ? 
 
88 THE AZTECS. 
 
 So soon ? — why. you had promised I should liave 
 My fill of love ! 
 Exit — Left — Haijo, paying no heed to his words. 
 MoNASKA, noticing this, goes on. 
 
 What fool's a fool like me ! 
 What foe's as false as he that's false to self ! — 
 And false, forsooth, because of flattery — 
 Nor of the soul — but of this outward frame, 
 Frame doomed to be a shattered wreck to-day. 
 No, no ! — not that — it cannot be ! No, no ; 
 It is against all nature I should die. 
 What have I lived for, if I am to die ? 
 How sinks my heart within me ! Frail, faint 
 
 heart ! 
 And it had so much life ! I thought its thrills 
 The rilling of a fount whose force should flow 
 Out to a sea of life, as wide as earth. 
 And upward to a golden clouded heaven. 
 Why, all my moods — they banner spring-time yet, 
 The buds but just unfolding, scarce a flutter 
 To balm the breeze with their sweet promises ! 
 Must all be cut off now ? — uprooted } — what ? 
 The prickliest cactus clutches, at the last. 
 The flower toward which it grows ; and shall these 
 
 nerves. 
 So tender to the touch of life, so live 
 Themselves, so hungry to be fed, yet void 
 Of all with which hope pledged them to be filled — 
 Shall they be cheated out of this they craved ? 
 
THE AZTECS. 89 
 
 Are all the visions of the fancy frauds 
 That fool our faitli, anticipating what 
 Can nev^er come ? Is that mysterious power 
 That prompts our life to be, and pushes on 
 Toward what it promises, so vilely weak 
 That, like a knave who fears to be outwitted, 
 It needs must lash and lure us with a lie? — 
 Yet now — O heaven! it cannot be ! I'll not 
 Believe it ; no. — 
 
 Enter — Left — KooTHA. 
 Here's some one comes will tell me. 
 
 KoOTHA {to INIoNASKA, wlw looks at kiiH s/iarply). 
 
 Well, sire? 
 
 MoNASKA. That priest has left me. 
 
 KooTHA. Yes, I see. 
 
 MoNASKA. He says that I'm to die. 
 
 KooTHA. Most mortals do. 
 
 MoNASKA. He says to-day. 
 
 KooTHA. Bad jobs are at their best 
 
 When nearest to their end. 
 
 MoNASKA (/// surprise). Indifferent ? 
 
 KooTHA. Same thing — I'm old. 
 
 MoNASKA. And so are hard ? 
 
 KooTHA. No, soft. 
 
 I've learned to yield to that which can't be 
 
 blocked 
 By my opposing it. There's not a rose 
 That blooms but fades. 
 
 MoNASKA. Yet men 
 
9° 
 
 rilE AZTECS. 
 
 KooTHA. (Hi. yes, yes. men — 
 
 They're different, I know. I know, for men 
 Not only fade but rot. 
 MONASKA (disgusted). 
 
 Disgusting man ! 
 KooTHA [iiitciitioiially mistindersfaudiiig /li/ii). 
 
 You're right — if man with you mean flesh. — You 
 
 know 
 What human Hfe is ? — 'tis a iight of soul 
 To keep the body sweet, — a fight a bird 
 Or beast knows nothing of. \\'hen babes are 
 
 born 
 They're dipped in water. Every following day 
 They're dipped again. If not, ere long will come 
 Disease and death, and, when a mortal dies, 
 His fellows -all thank heaven that they have 
 
 hands 
 To keep the tight up for him ; for, if not. 
 If he's not burned or buried in a jiffy. 
 The air of heaven may find his spirit sweet. 
 But — humph 1 — the air of earth — 'tis well he's left 
 it. 
 MoNASKA. You judge of men by their outsides. 
 KooTHA. Oh, no ! 
 
 Some of our people here so love a foe 
 They feast upon him. Who, pray, could know 
 
 more 
 Of his insides ? They say — their sense is- 
 trained — 
 
77//-; AZTKCS. 
 
 91 
 
 That notliing tastes so like humanit}^ 
 As hog, save that its hoglier. 
 
 MoNASKA. Enough ! — 
 
 You deem foul drafts like these are bitters fit 
 To whet an appetite for death ? I'm young. 
 
 KooTHA. lie thankful, then, that you're not old, 
 Worn out, diseased and full of pain. 
 
 MoNASKA. 'I'o think 
 
 That all this glowing bUxxl within these veins 
 Should be spilled out, before my soul has drunk 
 The pleasure that is in them. 
 
 KooTHA. \\'hen "tis drunk. 
 
 The veins will be exhausted, have no stock 
 To treat the sense with longer ; and the soul, 
 Intoxicated with the joys of earth, 
 \\'i!l be too heavy weighed to rise above them. 
 
 jNIonaska. But I 
 
 KooTHA. The worst of prisoners is a st)ul 
 
 Severed from its own realm by appetite, — 
 Ay, by a stomach with the senses ducts 
 Ditched round it as a castle-mound by moats. 
 Peace cannot enter, and it cannot leave. 
 
 MoNASKA. 'Twas not of low desires I spoke. I 
 said 
 That I had never tasted love. 
 
 KooTHA. Then you 
 
 Have never found it bitter. 
 
 MoNASKA. You're a cynic, 
 
 KooTHA. I'm what the world has made me. 
 
92 
 
 THE AZTECH. 
 
 MoNASKA. Let me die 
 
 Before I learn a lesson such as that ! 
 KooTHA. Wise prayer ! 'Tis mercy that will let us 
 die 
 
 Before our souls decay — makes life more sweet 
 
 To those who have to live it with us here. 
 MoxASKA. No, no ! You do not understand — 
 
 Waloon 
 
 KooTHA. I understand the world. It frames her 
 soul, 
 
 And yours, and souls in this world fit their frames. 
 MoNASKA. You think I've disposition too despotic 
 
 To be appeased by service of her love .■' 
 
 'Tis not myself I think of, but of her. 
 KooTHA. Think of her as she is then. 
 MoNASKA. How is that ? 
 
 KooTHA. A woman. 
 
 MoNASKA. \\'hat''s a woman, pray ? 
 
 KooTHA. A what 
 
 That's made to woo a man. 
 MoNASKA. What man t 
 KooTHA. \\'hat man ? 
 
 Why, any man. 
 MoxASKA. You villain, to say that ! 
 
 KooTHA. Humph, humph ! I've seen the world, 
 and tell you truth. 
 
 You think the truth is villainy ? — it is — 
 
 The truth about this world. 
 MoNASKA. You think Waloon 
 
TIIJ: AZll'lCS. 93 
 
 KooTHA. Will mourn you ? — Yes, a while ; but woes 
 like hers 
 Are troubles which a kindly Providence 
 Will always raise up some man who can cure. 
 
 MoNASKA. Waloon — I must believe slie knows this 
 now — 
 Has made a solemn vow, if aught should come 
 To me, to serve as priestess in the temple. 
 
 KooTHA. Oh, yes, of course, and you're to be her 
 god .? 
 
 MoNASKA. Sad, lonely servitude ! 
 
 KooTHA. Oh, no. 
 
 MoNASKA. With none 
 
 To love ? 
 
 KooTHA. But there are others there. 
 
 MoNASKA. What for ? 
 
 KooTHA. To represent the god. 
 
 MoNASKA. You mean 
 
 KooTHA. Oh, no ! — • 
 No, not this week, nor month, not that, not that. 
 But when the time comes — when this lonely soul 
 Desires content, and cannot leave the place' 
 Without dishonoring herself and us 
 
 MoNASKA. Your evil mood is master of your 
 thought 
 
 KooTHA. Say, makes my conscience conscious that 
 no law 
 Can legislate the devil out of life. 
 You block a maiden of one lover 
 
94 
 
 THE AZTECS. 
 
 MoNASKA. Knave ! 
 
 KoocHA. Nay, some would call him both a knave 
 and brute — 
 Who failed to make her loss seem less. 
 
 MoNAskA {angrily). The king 
 
 Would not permit this. 
 
 KOOTHA. No ? 
 
 MoNASKA. He would ? 
 
 KooTHA. • \ ou see — 
 
 The king — he chiefly represents the god. 
 
 MoNASKA. What ? — I have heard he loves her. — 
 Can this be 
 A plot of his to get her, will or nill ? 
 You mean to say 
 
 KooTHA. No, I don't mean to say it ; 
 
 I think a man might, if he had some sense, 
 Put two and two together. — There'll come times 
 That they'll be two and two together. Humph ! 
 One ought to guess the rest. 
 
 MoNASKA. And ought \o swear 
 
 To level every wall that can shut out 
 The sun that brings to light man's every act — 
 The only weapon that can ward off ill 
 From souls allured to wrong through secrecy. — ■ 
 And you — what cause had 3'ou to hint this tcjme ? 
 
 KooTHA. You thought Waloon would suffer 
 
 MoNASKA. So she will. 
 
 A thousand deaths were better for her. 
 
 KooTHA. Whose t— 
 
THE AZTECS. 95 
 
 (lusinna/ing/y.) 
 
 You mean the king's ? 
 MoNASKA {suddenly changing /lis manner'). 
 
 Are you a native here ? 
 KooTHA. I'm not. 
 
 MoNASKA. (-)f what tribe then ? 
 
 KooTHA. Sh— sh— of yours. 
 
 MoNASKA. Mine? mine? 
 
 KooTHA. I said it — captured years ago. 
 
 MoNASKA. And here ? 
 KooTHA. Dishonored. 
 
 MoNA.sKA. Wiy, you seem a priest? 
 
 Kooi'HA. I'm what all priests would be. did they 
 believe 
 
 In being what they seem. 
 AIoNASKA. \\'hat's that ? 
 
 KooTHA. A man 
 
 That's not a man. 
 MoNASKA. And you wish me ? — 
 
 KooiHA. To be one. 
 
 I'm sent here to prepare your soul to die — 
 
 Spectacularly. 
 AIoxASKA. You would save me ? 
 
 KoorHA. I ? 
 
 How could I ? — Do you think then that a man 
 
 Can save a god ? — It is the god saves men. 
 
 You see this point here ? 
 
 (^Pointing to a sharp protuberance on one end 
 of the musical instrument carried by 
 INIoNASKA. MoNASKA examines it.) 
 
96 THE AZTECS. 
 
 I have known a man 
 Who had no weapon 
 
 MoNASKA. Yes, I see the point ! 
 
 KooTHA. There'll come a time when you'll stand 
 neai' the king. 
 If then you choose to give a benediction. 
 The people's eyes will all be looking downward ; 
 And if there be confusion, and some gate 
 About the pyramid be open, then 
 Fleet feet might pass it, ere they could be tript. 
 
 MoNASKA. When is it I'll stand nearest to the king ? 
 
 KooTHA. Just when he bids you give this lyre to him. 
 
 MoNASKA. And I will give it ! — What comes just 
 before ? 
 
 KooTHA. Our adoration. 
 
 MoNASKA. . What just after ? 
 
 KooTHA. You 
 
 Begin to mount the pyramid. oNIeanwhile, 
 Keep dropping off you, one by one, your robes. 
 The king takes first this lyre, and Haijo next 
 Your head-dress ; then, the other priests the rest. 
 
 MoNASKA. Till everything be taken from me ? 
 
 KooTHA. Yes. 
 
 MoNASKA. Before the people ? — an indignity ! 
 
 KoOTHA {sarcastically). 
 
 They will have done your spirit so much honor, 
 It will be too much honored for this body. 
 
 MoNASKA. You mean the body '11 be too much dis- 
 honored 
 
THE AZTECS. 97 
 
 For any spirit to remain in it. 
 KooTHA. Oh, not dishonored till the godship 
 leaves. — 
 
 Then what does flesh devoid of god deserve ? . 
 MoNASKA. Damnation, if devoid of godship mean 
 
 Devoid of spirit to defend the flesh. — 
 
 And 30 they kill me ? 
 KooTHA. In the end they do. 
 
 MoNASKA. They mutilate me first ? 
 KooTHA. 'Twill not take long. — 
 
 You are to see Waloon now. 
 MoNASKA. See Waloon ? 
 
 'Tis cruel both to her and me ! 
 KoOTHA. Oh, then, 
 
 If you don't wish it 
 
 MoNASKA. But I do — and you — 
 
 You are to watch us, as has been your wont? 
 KooTHA. Why not .'' 
 MoNASKA. 'Twill be my final word with her. — 
 
 Were you to be a god, what would you give 
 
 To speak that word and not be overheard ? 
 KooTHA. Eternal benediction. 
 
 MONASKA. So will I. 
 
 Or god or spirit, here I pledge you them. 
 KooTHA. Then I'll not overhear you. 
 
 Exit — Left — KooTiiA. 
 MoNASKA {soliloquizing). One hope's left. 
 
 I have the lyre — 
 7 
 
gS THE AZTECS. 
 
 {^Making motion of using lyre as a weapon^ 
 Can give it to the king. 
 If I must die, I need not leave Waloun 
 To iier worst enemy, — that spider-soul 
 Bating his web of lust with my pure love. 
 And, for his foul embrace, entrapping thus 
 The vainly fluttering wings of her fair spirit. 
 
 {Looking toward the Left. ) 
 But ah, — she comes. I must not think of self, 
 But of this better self. If any soul 
 Had ever need yet to believe in God 
 Through a belief in man, that soul is hers. 
 Enter — Left — Waloon and Kootha, ivho Innvs to 
 
 MONASKA. 
 
 Exit — Left — Kootha. 
 Waloon.; Monaska. 
 MoNASKA. Here I am, Waloon. 
 
 Waloon. You know 
 
 The truth ? 
 Monaska. I do. Oh, love, but it is hard. 
 
 You've known it all these days ? 
 Waloon. I've feared it. 
 
 Monaska. "Fwas 
 
 For this I deemed you jealous of me ? 
 Waloon. Yes. 
 
 Monaska. A fool that I have been. But who 
 couid think 
 
 Humanity could be so base '. 
 Waloon. So what t 
 
THE AZTECS. 
 
 99 
 
 MoNASKA. So base, so devilish. 
 Waloon. Who has been this ? when ? 
 
 MoNASKA. \\'ho ? when ? — Why, everyboclv. — Don"t 
 you know ? — 
 
 The king? — this Haijo? 
 
 Waloon. I don't understand. 
 
 MoNASKA. Why, they're to kill me. Hadn't you 
 
 heard of that t 
 Waloon. But you're the god 1 
 MoNASKA. WJiat, what .' — you sa}- this ? you ? 
 
 And you believe it right that 1 should die ? 
 
 Waloon {in surprise and rcproacfi ). 
 
 Monaska ! 
 MoNASKA. Have I no friends left ? not one .' — 
 
 Not even you 1 — you wish to kill me too .' 
 
 Waloon. No, no, not that — but 
 
 MoNASKA. All my life. Waloon, 
 
 I've served a spirit larger than myself. 
 This frame but fits it on a single side 
 With every factor half of what 'twould have. 
 And now, athrill with vital force that leaps 
 Through nerves whose cnxuit is but just com- 
 plete. 
 My balanced being had embraced in you 
 That other side, ^^'e are not two, but one. 
 And — think — to part two factors of one life 
 Is murder — not of body but of spirit. 
 Waloon. Monaska — what t — Monaska, are you 
 mad ? 
 
lOO THE AZTECS. 
 
 MoNASKA. Not yet, not quite. 
 
 Waloon. But think — you are the god. 
 
 MoNASKA. Do you believe this ? 
 Waloon. I ? — why should I not ? 
 
 MoNASKA. You've always heard it, eh ? — and most 
 of us 
 Commune with reason through our memory ; 
 And not the work of our own minds we heed. 
 But phonographic phrases framed by others. — 
 Do you believe, Waloon, that I'm a god } 
 Waloon. You must be. 
 
 MoNASKA. Your god, yours, \\'aloon ? 
 
 Waloon. My god. 
 
 MoNASKA. To hear you say so, I could think it 
 too. 
 Thank heaven, thank heaven ! But if I leave you 
 
 here, - 
 
 Waloon. I'll always love you — serve you in the 
 
 temple. 
 Monaska. Nay — say not that ! 
 Waloon. I must though — if I love you. 
 
 Monaska. Must ? — Why ? 
 
 Waloon. They're cursed who love the god, and 
 
 do not. 
 Monaska. Is that what you've been taught ? 
 Waloon. Why, yes. 
 
 Monaska. A part 
 
 Of that instruction which they call divine ? 
 (Waloon nods, and Monaska talks aside.') 
 
THE AZTECS. loi 
 
 I thought SO !— and they say they make me god. 
 
 They'll make me devil yet. — I would they could ! 
 
 What happy hours in hell would heat the hate 
 
 My heart could hurl at what they call divine ! 
 Waloon. What's that t 
 
 MoNASKA. You ask me what I said ? — "Twas 
 naught 
 
 But practicing to be a god. You know 
 
 A coming glory casts a glow before it. 
 
 Those who 're to be the lords of dunghills hoop 
 
 A crow at times before their combs are grown. 
 Waloon. You seemed in anger. 
 MoNASKA. So are gods at times. — 
 
 They think of men. 
 Waloon. Of women too ? 
 
 MoNASKA {changing his tone). 
 
 Of women too ; they 're said to be in bliss. 
 
 Waloon, 3'Ou love me ? 
 Waloon. Yes. 
 
 MoNASKA. You'll always love me 1 
 
 Waloon. I will. 
 Monaska. Then if a devil comes to you, 
 
 In human shape, and says he represents me, 
 
 You'll not believe him — not though he's the 
 king ? 
 Waloon {startled). 
 
 What do you mean ? 
 Monaska. That if you do, I'll damn you — 
 
 Not only I — but all the gods there with me. 
 
I02 THE AZTECS. 
 
 (Waloon draius back in fear. Monaska's tone 
 changes.') 
 Waloon, you're not afraid of me, '\\'aloon ? 
 Waloon {hcsifatingly). 
 
 Why — no — no • 
 
 jMonaska. I've a last request to make. 
 
 I have to die in public,— is that so ? 
 
 (\\"aloon bozvs in affirmatiou'.) 
 They strip and mutilate me first ? 
 Waloon. Vou mean 
 
 When — when they tear your heart out ? 
 MoNASKA (/// horror). 
 
 Tear ?— what, what ? — 
 While I'm still living, feeling, tear my heart out ? 
 Waloon. Oh, do not speak of it; it makes me 
 faint. 
 
 (Almost swooning, and seating herself^ 
 Monaska. You faint ! — Oh, horror ! — and for me, 
 
 Waloon ? 
 {Bending 07\'r her, and tailing huskily and rapidly.) 
 We've but a moment more to live together. 
 
 {Trying to rouse her, and succeeding.) 
 Wake, wake ! — there's something you must prom- 
 ise me. 
 When I am gone — their ghastly deed been done — 
 I wish you to recall me as I am,^ — 
 One fit for all things almost, save to die, 
 Each factor, organ, limb of me complete, 
 And, at this moment, engined by the fire 
 
THE AZTECS. 103 
 
 Blazed through me by your love-enkinclled eyes, 
 No sinew but is trembling; with the draft 
 Of that delicious flame ; but yet no one 
 Not strengthened to a power divine like that 
 Propelling all creation, — I'm no man — 
 I'm god ! — you're right. Remember me as god. 
 You must not see that unveiled, writhing frame 
 Weak, colorless, save where the death blood dyes it. 
 Waloon, you must not be there. I shall writhe 
 More like a god to know you are not there.— 
 But go you where we met first — in the woods — 
 You know the place — to me the holiest place 
 My life has ever known ! Waloon, go there. 
 Oh, swear to me you will. — My soul will swear 
 To meet you. 
 Waloon. What ? 
 
 MoNASKA, By all that makes me god, 
 
 In form, perchance, in spirit certainly. — 
 Will you, Waloon ? 
 
 Waloon. I 
 
 MoNASKA. Swear it. So your soul, 
 
 As I depart this life, may draw mine own 
 Off in the current of that sympathy 
 Forever sweeping from my life to yours. 
 Away from ways where human wills outwit 
 The wisdom that has made earth what it is, 
 To where, in that true temple of the spirit. 
 The winds are whispering what men know not of. 
 And flower and leaf are trembling like the heart 
 
I04 THE. AZTF.CS. 
 
 That feels the presence of the power divine. — 
 
 I'll be there, darling — you .' 
 Waloox. 1 too. 
 
 MoNASKA. Thank heaven ! 
 
 Enter — Lfft — Kootha. 
 KooTHA. Your time is up. 
 MoxASKA. Farewell. Waloon. 
 
 Waloon. Farewell. 
 
 Oh, bitter, bitter, bitter word farewell. 
 
 So bitter when the lips belie the heart y 
 
 That knows so well that life w'ill not fare well. 
 Enter — Left — Haijo with two Attexpants. 
 MoxASKA (to Waloon). 
 
 Things may turn brighter than you fear. Waloon. 
 Waloon. They can't be darker. Oh. my god, my 
 god! 
 
 {She bo7L<s before Monaska. e/inging to his hand.) 
 Kootha {to Haijo as he points to Wah^ox). 
 
 Note how complete is her devotion, sire. 
 Haijo {to Kootha, but at the same time motioning to 
 Waloon). 
 
 Remove her. 
 {Fainting to Monaska and speaking to the A itexd- 
 
 ANTS.) 
 
 Lead him forth. 
 MoxASKA {to Waloon). 
 
 Farewell. 
 Waloon {to Monaska). 
 
 Farewell. 
 
THE AZTECS. 105 
 
 MoNASKA. Do not forget — we meet where only 
 
 God is. 
 Waloon. Yes — there. 
 
 MoNASKA. Have faith and hasten. 
 
 Waloon. Yes, farewell. 
 
 Exit — Left — Waloon. 
 Haijo {to Monaska). 
 
 Now comes the hour in which you triumph. 
 
 The people at the temple wait for you 
 
 To do you adoration. 
 Monaska {lifting up his hands). 
 
 With their hands .'' 
 Haijo {also lifting up his hands). 
 
 To lift your spirit to the skies. 
 Monaska. You think 
 
 I crave that "". 
 Haijo. Most men would. 
 
 Monaska, A wingless hand 
 
 Lifts only to a wingless height. A role 
 
 That's not beyond the reach of common men 
 
 Cannot incite uncommon aspiration. 
 
 Lead me on. 
 Exit — at the Left — Monaska, led by the two At- 
 tendants. 
 Haijo {to Kootha). 
 
 How does he seem to take it.' 
 Kootha. Just like a god that's made by man ; or, if 
 
 You like not that, a man that's made by God. — 
 
 There's not much difference between the two. 
 
io6 'J'HK AZJJiCS. 
 
 Haijo. What of Waloon ? 
 
 KooTHA, She thinks as all the world do ; 
 
 And so's enough in hell to please a priest. 
 Haijo. You villain ! 
 
 KooTHA. Yes, I always do your bidding. 
 
 Haijo. I'll strip you of your robes, and turn you 
 
 off. ' ' 
 
 Kootha. Oh, no, no ! I'm too useful to you here. 
 Haijo. Your usefulness is at an end. 
 Kootha. Oh, no. 
 
 I've learned too much of you. 
 Haijo (za/io /las moved foivard tJic Lrf/, as if to cxii. 
 turning about suddenly). 
 
 What's that you said ? 
 Kootha. That I could prove so useful here to 
 
 others. - 
 Haijo. Ungrateful cur ! 
 
 Kootha. Nay, do not say ungrateful. — 
 
 Nay. I'm so thankful for what you have taught. 
 me. 
 Haijo. My curses on you ! — To the sacriiice 1 
 
 (Haijo nurocs towards the Lft Entra/ur.) 
 Kootha (aside). 
 
 The two things go together. It's so kind, 
 When one has curses loaded on him so. 
 To let him load them on another. 
 Haijo {turning toiuard K.i-)OTVix suddfnl\\. 
 
 What ?— 
 Away. 
 
THE AZTECS. 107 
 
 Exit — at the Lft — Kocjtha. 
 
 His insolence must end, or else 
 I'll find a way to put an end to him. 
 Exit — at the Left — IIaijo. 
 
 Scene Second : — Same as Scene in Act Second. 
 Enter — through the gateway, — /// a proeessi^ni 
 marching to the music of the orchestra, .Vttend- 
 ANTS, Priests, Priestesses, Maidens, Pages, 
 Haijo, the King, Monaska sitting in his chariot, 
 and apparently phtying his lyre, and, near the 
 chariot, Kootha. \\'arrr)rs end the procession, 
 and station tliemseli'es near the gates to guard them. 
 They are not ch'sed. The Attendants and Pries rs 
 station themse/'c'cs at the Right of stage facing deft ; 
 the Priestesses and Maide\'s at luft of stage 
 facing liight. llie Pa(;es in Eront of pyramid. 
 Monaska descends from chariot and stands beside 
 W \\]o, facing the py ram i d . Kootha stands nearer 
 the gate. The KiN(i ascends the pyramid a few 
 steps, and, standing in front of the ritgs forming a 
 seat near the base of pyramid, faces the audience^ 
 The fdhnuing is then chanted : 
 
 (Jh, not what life ajipears tn l-ie, 
 
 I5ut what that hfe can do, 
 Withdraws the veil of mystery 
 
 Infolding forms we view. 
 What but the spirit workins;; through 
 The guise men wear to what they do 
 
io8 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Reveals the faith that, foul or fair, 
 Awakes and makes the nature there. 
 
 The sunshine shows the worth of suns, 
 
 ■ The moisture, of the shower ; 
 The stream, of rills from which it runs, 
 
 The fragrance, of the flower ; 
 And, oh, the spirit when it springs 
 Above the reach of earthly things, 
 As fall the limbs that feed the shrine, 
 Reveals the life to be divine. 
 
 (Haijo ascends the pyra^nid a few steps, and 
 stands beside the King facing IMonaska, 
 who mounts a Io7ver step and whom his 
 hands can touch.) 
 
 The King. Now once again, unveiled to mortal 
 gaze, ■ 
 Immortal mystery and man have met. 
 The heavens bend low to touch the earth, and 
 
 earth 
 Is lifting up its longing hands to heaven. 
 
 Haijo {lifting both hands). 
 
 Oh, ye that dwell less in the earth and sky 
 Than in the meditations of the mind, 
 We thank thee that the power of old imposed 
 On ministers of earth can downward call 
 
 (Haijo here places both palms o?t Monaska's head.) 
 Upon a form in fashion like their own 
 The presence of the gods' own power above. 
 Till in a human form it sits enthroned. 
 
THE AZTECS. 
 
 109 
 
 (As he utters the last ivords, the King takes 
 MoNASKA by the hand. M.o^K^YiK mounts 
 the pyramid between the King, who is at 
 his right as he turns to face the People, 
 and Haijo who is at his h'ft. The moment 
 MoNASKA stands on the step between the 
 King and Haijo, both the latter and all 
 the People kneel, while all chant the fol- 
 lo2i<ing :) 
 
 Haijo. All hail the heavenly sun, 
 
 People. The heavenly sun ! 
 
 Haijo. All hail the glory won. 
 
 People. The glory won ! 
 
 Haijo and People. 
 
 All hail the sun that brings the light, 
 
 All hail the rays that shower, 
 And wake the barren wastes of night 
 
 To germ and leaf and flower. 
 
 Haijo. All hail the heavenly sun, 
 
 People. The heavenly sun ! 
 
 Haijo. All hail the glory won. 
 
 People. I'he glory won ! 
 
 Haijo and People. 
 
 All hail the life behind the sun, 
 
 All hail the gods that dwell 
 Where men whose earthly race is run 
 
 Are borne, and all is well. 
 
 Haijo. All hail the heavenly sun, 
 
liO THE AZTECS. 
 
 People, Tlie heavenly sun ! 
 
 Haijo. All hail the glory won. 
 
 People. The glory won ! 
 
 Haijo and People. 
 
 All hail the form of him who dies, 
 
 All hail his soul that wends 
 Up through the skies, our sacrifice. 
 
 All hail the gods, our friends. 
 
 ( TJic stage gn>7Cis darker, indicating an approaching 
 
 storm. ) 
 KiNii {risings as do all the People). 
 
 Now comes the deed that all the gods await, 
 The final act of solemn joy that gives 
 The life we prize to those that reign on high. 
 But ere his lyre be given to the king, 
 Let those appointed for the sacred task 
 Be led here to conduct their holy charge 
 On his most holy way. 
 
 (H.A.IJO moTcs, as if to descend tJie pyramid, but 
 stops, and turns l>ack upon hearing the 
 voice of MoxASK.4.) 
 
 MONASKA {to KlN(0. 
 
 sire, may I ask ? 
 
 King. \\'hat would you ? 
 
 MoNASKA. A request, 
 
 If I may speak. 
 Haijo {to Kino). 
 
 Sire, he needs nothins:. 
 
THE AZTECS. m 
 
 MoNASKA {to King). 
 
 'Tis 
 The last request of him who is your god. 
 King {to Monaska). 
 
 Say on. 
 Monaska. "Fis only this, then, that my spirit, 
 To be inspired the better toward the light, 
 Would gaze upon yon rising sun ; but here 
 It cannot, 
 
 {Pointing tojuanl the gateway at the Rear.) 
 King. Xo ? 
 
 Monaska {motioning toward the guards between the 
 pyramid and the gate^oay.) 
 
 Could these but step aside ! 
 
 King {to an Officer at his Left). 
 
 Yes, let the guards there stand aside, nor hide 
 The sunlight from the sacrifice. 
 Haijo {to King, making a gesture of dissent'). 
 
 But, sire 
 
 Monaska {to Uaijo). 
 
 I asked this of the king. 
 King {hesitating, and /ooki/ig from Monaska to 
 Haijo, then addressing the Officer again). 
 As Piaijo wishes. — 
 You need not give the order. 
 {To Haijo.) 
 
 We'll proceed. 
 Let those appointed for the sacred task 
 Be led here to conduct their holy charge 
 On his most holy way. 
 
THE AZlhCS. 
 
 (Haijo descends the steps of the py7-amid. 
 
 Those about separate to let him pass them. 
 
 Exeunt — Left Third Entrance — Haijo, 
 
 followed by procession of Priests. A 
 
 sudden peal of thunder with lightning.) 
 
 MoNASKA {to King, availing hi?nself of the general 
 alarm at the suddenness of the peal). 
 
 Dare you deny me ? 
 The gods have joined me in my last request. 
 Beware, lest by the charm yourselves invoke 
 These gods, that you but half believe in, check, 
 In ways that pride like yours deserves, the 
 
 course 
 And curse of most foul infidelity. 
 King. Well, well, it matters little. 
 {To Officer, and gesturi?ig toward the gateway.) 
 
 OfBcer, 
 Give orders that the guard there stand aside. 
 
 (Officer moTCs tozvard the gateway and ges- 
 tures. The Guard move towardthe Right 
 KooTHA takes a station between the pyramid 
 and the gateway. King continues to 
 
 MONASKA.) 
 
 Now are you ready ? 
 MoNASKA. If the man must die, 
 
 Let not the spirit that you deem divine 
 Depart, ere it invoke the powers above 
 To rest in endless benediction here. 
 
THE AZTECS. 113 
 
 King. This proves how wisely you were chosen 
 god.— 
 
 {To People.) 
 Prepare, ye people, for a benediction 
 Which he whom all men worship now vouchsafes. 
 (People kneel., ajidbend their heads. Monaska, 
 lifting one hand^ motions to the Guard near 
 the gate that they too kneel. Kooth a, by 
 motions, seco?ids his wish, bidding them all 
 kfieel down, which they do, bending their 
 heads forward, and easa/ig down their 
 eyes. They are in front of the gatetuay, 
 with their backs toward it.) 
 Monaska {noticing that the King is still standing). 
 
 I would include you too, sire. 
 King. Me ? 
 
 Monaska. You too — 
 
 {The King kneels. While he is doing so, Monaska 
 lifts both hands and says — aside.) 
 I'll keep my prayer up, till the heavens flash. 
 Then trust in them to end it, pealing down 
 Their own high benediction on myself. 
 
 {To the People in a slow, loud manner.) 
 This is — my — benediction — for the people. 
 
 {Bright fash of lightning, follozoed by a loud 
 peal of thunder. Monaska hwls the lyre 
 down upon the head of the King, then flies 
 past KooTHA behind the Soldiers, and 
 through the gateway backing at the Right ^ 
 8 
 
114 THE AZTECS. 
 
 King. Help, help ! 
 
 KooTHA if-iinning toward Kixc; and motioning 
 Guards to do the safuc). 
 What is it ? 
 King (to Officer, 70/10 is bending over hini). 
 
 He has murdered me, 
 KooTHA. Oh, murder, murder ! 
 
 {2^0 the Guards.) 
 
 Shut the gates. Let none 
 Escape. 
 (Guards hasten and close the gates backing at the 
 
 Right.) 
 Officer. Where is he ? — Stop him. 
 KoOTHA {standing on a step of the pyramid at the Back 
 Center and looking toward the Right). 
 
 'Tis too late. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
THE AZiEf^S. 115 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 
 Scene : — Seme as in Act First, llic darkness of an 
 
 approaching storm. 
 
 Enter— from the Left — \^'Ab(X)N. 
 
 Waloon {soliloquizing). 
 
 Yes, yes, it is the place. No doubt of that. 
 
 Yet, in the dark, 'tis all so different. 
 
 How the whole air is weighted with the gloom ! 
 
 Even to draw it in, my lungs, o'ertaxed. 
 
 Would rather chose not breathe than bear the 
 
 burden. 
 These clouds are curtained like a funeral pall, 
 Fit funeral pall, round my dear dying hope. — 
 My dying hope ? — Oh, selfish, cruel .soul, 
 To think of it when, even now, perchance. 
 That heart of his, so eager-sped by love. 
 Whose every pulse-beat was a piston's throb 
 To draw out from its reservoir of joy 
 What should o'errtow for my refreshment ; ay. 
 That heart of his so pliant to my wish 
 That, at my lightest breath, the brightening 
 
 smiles 
 Would open round his lips in hues as fair 
 As rosebuds parted by the breeze of May; 
 
Ii6 THE AZTECS. 
 
 That heart of his, the germ of all he was — 
 The sweetest outgrowth of the sweetest clay 
 This earth has ever molded into form ; — • 
 To think that even now a heart like that, 
 Its nerve-roots quivering in their agony, 
 Is being torn out from the bleeding breast 
 As if 'twere some foul weed that could pollute 
 A soil that, just to hold it — that alone — 
 Is more than sacred. Oh, how can the heavens 
 Be so unjust ? 'Twere better not to think 
 Than think but of that fearful, bleeding vision. 
 Ah would that I could veil it out — but no ! 
 
 {Thimdcr?) 
 The voice of thunder ? — Can it be that he 
 ^^'ould speak to me through that ? — No, not 
 
 through that. 
 Not he ! — He loves me. — Yet he may have 
 
 changed. 
 Some tell us that tlie fairest forms on earth. 
 Most full of mirth and softness and caress. 
 Whose mildness tames life's wild, coquettish blood, 
 Leave in the tomb their loveliness and charm, 
 And go thence, fiends. — And he ? — no, no, not 
 
 so!— 
 I almost had forgot he is a god. 
 Though what would gods be for, if man were 
 
 good .'' 
 And if he be not good, what are they for. 
 Except to punish him ? — and am i doom'd ? — 
 
THE AZTl:CS. 117 
 
 Why not ? — Is not my spirit in rebellion ? 
 Perchance, 'twas not the god in him but man, 
 The man they killed for sin, that tempted me 
 To leave the temple and to wander here. 
 And now the god, then prisoned in the man. 
 May wreck his vengeance on me. 
 (Thunder?) 
 
 Hark — again ! — • 
 And rain too ! I must find a shelter. What ? — 
 
 {Looking tozuard the Left?) 
 
 They're soldiers ? — Can it be that I'm pursued? 
 
 Exit— at the Right — VValoon. 
 
 Enter— from the Left — Two Soldiers. 
 
 {Thunder and lightning?) 
 
 First Soldier {looking toward the Right). 
 
 A woman, I am sure. 
 Second Soldier. Then 'twas not he. 
 
 No noise ! — Were he to think himself pursued 
 He might escape us. 
 First Soldier. That could never be. 
 
 The woods are wholly circled by us novv' ; 
 And him we know to be inside. 
 {Moving toward the Right Upper Entrance.) 
 {Thunder and lightning?) 
 Second Soldier {looking earnestly toward the Right 
 Upper Entrance, but moving tozvard the Left). 
 
 This way ! 
 I saw a form there coming; and the price 
 Of capturing by surprise is keeping silence. 
 
Il8 THE AZTECS. 
 
 First Soldier. You're right. Xo wise men ever 
 spring a trap 
 Till sure their prey is in it. We'll withdraw. 
 Exeunt — at the Left — Two Soldiers. 
 (T/iu/uier and lig/i/ni/ig.) 
 Enter — J^ig/it Upper Entranee — Moxaska. 
 ]M o X A s K A {Sflliloqu izing) . 
 
 At last, the place ' I feared I sbiOuld be lost, 
 
 So many in pursuit, and everywhere, 
 
 Before, behind, on every side of me, 
 
 \\'ho know the ground so well, and I so ill ! 
 
 Strength speeds the feet, but knowledge aims the 
 
 bow, 
 And where the one but just begins the race, 
 The arrows of the other cleave the goal. 
 Who could. have thought so many cross-road 
 
 here 
 And short-cuts to a pathway well-nigh straight ? 
 At last, I seem now to have dodged the foe ; 
 And if I find Waloon — what then ? — I fear 
 We might attempt escape in vain. — 'Tis best, 
 Perchance, that she should not be here — to die. 
 To die disgraced if found with me — no, no ; 
 Did she but dream the doom that's destined her— 
 Disgraced to others, honored to herself ! — 
 What sanguine brain is mine ! How know 1 
 
 this ? 
 To most men no disgrace can loom like theirs 
 \\'ho dare do aught save by the grace of custom. 
 
THE AZTECS. 
 
 ii() 
 
 Where earth's esteem is what all strive for first, 
 Her customs make them cowards to the call 
 Of conscience ; and the foulest crime 
 Seems not a curse, if it be only common. 
 Waloon too — could I ever dare reveal 
 To what departure from all common ways. 
 To all that she deems holy, I had led her ? 
 What right have I, more than these priests have 
 
 here 
 To slay me for the safety of their souls, — 
 What right have I to shade her future life, 
 Or slay her, as it may be, for my love ? 
 And were she now to come and find in me 
 A murderer, where she hoped to find a god, 
 A coward, driven in fright from ordeals 
 Which she had prayed would prove him fit for 
 
 heaven, — 
 Oh, how might she abhor these treacherous arms, 
 Thrown open to receive her! how detest 
 Lips that to keep her love must keep their lies ! 
 What has my rashness wrought ? Is it so well 
 For one man to resist what all men wish ? — 
 The customs that the centuries have crowned ? 
 How many have essayed to thwart the world 
 And only thwarted good the world could do 
 
 them ! 
 I might have passed from earth upon a throne. 
 Revered by all men. and beloved by her, — 
 Her god ! — and shall I now become her fiend ? — 
 
I20 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Live on condemned to this, because I dared 
 To tisht against a world that all should serve ? 
 Ah, if my dying could have given one heart 
 That comfort of the spirit which all crave. 
 How could my soul have wrought a godlier deed ? 
 We're in the world for use ; if earth misuse us, 
 'Tis better so than that we lose our use. 
 And yet, — what is our use ? — Oh, would some 
 
 power 
 Could tell us how to balance, in our lives. 
 The rule of others and the rule of self ! 
 How can one, when the two conflict, serve both 
 And which should he obey ? — which first ? — For 
 
 me, 
 Till spirit seem no more than matter is, 
 I'll swear 'tis that which rules me through the 
 
 spirit. 
 
 {lliitiidcr and lightning^ 
 (MoNASKA looks toward the Right.) 
 What's here ? — more warriors t'- — No, — my soul — 
 
 'tis — yes — • 
 Ye gods, if I have not deserved the doom 
 Of deepest hell, for her sake, god me now. 
 Enter— f}-ovi the Right — Waloon. 
 VValoon. Monaska ! — Oh, ye angels, can it be ? — 
 {Kneeling^ 
 Nay, blast me not that these unworthy eyes 
 Should have presumed to gaze where earth is 
 
 blessed 
 
THE AZTECS. 121 
 
 With this transcendent vision. 
 MoNASKA. Yes, Waloon, 
 
 I'm here. 
 Waloon. You here ? — Ye gods, chastise me not. 
 MoNASKA (aside). 
 
 Nay, nay, I'll not chastise her with the truth. 
 
 {To Wal(;on, taking her by tlic /la/id.) 
 Rise up, Waloon, rise up. I merely love you. 
 Waloon. You love me ? — what ? — this poor weak 
 fainting flesh ? 
 
 {She rises.) 
 Monaska. Yes, yes, 'tis this I love.-^I thank you, 
 friend, 
 You had such faith, and came here. 
 Waloon. Thank the gods 
 
 That I have lived to do what pleased a god. 
 Monaska. Waloon, do I fulfill your soul's ideal 
 Of what a god should be ? 
 
 (The stage begins to grozu brighter.) 
 Waloon. Ah, more, far more. 
 
 Monaska. If I came back to live on earth with 
 you ■ 
 
 Waloon. Nay, hint not that. Earth would be too 
 much heaven. 
 
 Monaska. And if I were to tell you this, Waloon, 
 That, far away from here, there lies a realm 
 Where gods like me can live with maids like you, 
 But that, to go there, you must tear yourself 
 Forever from the land that is your home, 
 
122 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Where dwell your friends and kindred, would you 
 go? 
 Waloon. Though you be god, you know not 
 woman's heart. 
 If you believe I would not. 
 MoNASKA. Swear it then. 
 
 Waloon. I swear 
 
 MoNASKA. To leave this land and all 
 
 you love here, 
 And fly to live alone with me forever ? 
 Waloon. And fly to live alone with you. 
 MoNASKA. Forever ? 
 
 Waloon. I do.— What's that ? 
 
 {She points toward the Left. Stage grows 
 da'-ker again., witli a sound of distant 
 thunder and slight flash of lightning.) 
 Monaska (looking toward the Left). 
 
 It seemed a flash from weapons. 
 Waloon. The woods are full of warriors, as I 
 
 think. 
 Monaska (aside, as he tno'-es from her anil looks 
 aronml him). 
 I see — they're all around, each side of us. 
 O heavens, our time has come ! — They're moving 
 
 off. 
 We'll have a moment yet. 
 {Pointing to the moss-eo"oered bench, apparently hidden 
 behind a tree near the Right Upper Entrance.) 
 Waloon, in here ! 
 
THE AZTECS. I ..3 
 
 Waloon {gazing around, and apparently seeing the 
 Soldiers, then seating herself on the bench^ 
 where Monaska sits beside her). 
 I know not what it means. 
 Monaska. You've never heard 
 
 Of hosts that come with gods to visit earth t 
 Waloon, were I to tell you that the realm 
 In which the gods dwell could be reached by you 
 In one way only, — in the self-same way 
 That in the temple severs soul from form 
 In him your priests and people choose as god ? — 
 Waloon. Then I would thank the force that severed 
 me 
 From all that could weigh down a soul so light 
 That but for it 'twould mount like mist to heaven. 
 Monaska. Swear you mean truly what you say, 
 
 Waloon. 
 Waloon. I swear it. 
 
 {Lifting her hand.) 
 Monaska {motioning her to drop her hand). 
 
 Wait — could you return again 
 And be a priestess in the temple there, 
 As you have told me that you would become. 
 With all the honor that a priestess has, 
 And all the consciousness of deeds divine, 
 And could you, as the years wore on, forget 
 
 The love you once had borne this god 
 
 Waloon. No, no,. 
 
 I never could forget that. 
 
124 THE AZTECS. 
 
 {Stage from here on keeps growing brighter^ 
 MoNASKA. Hear me through. 
 
 Your king is absolute. He could do all 
 Your heart desires. What say you, should there 
 
 come 
 A time when he — he loves you now, Waloon — 
 Should choose you for his queen. If this, Waloon, 
 This exaltation over all the earth, 
 Were your bright destiny, say, would you choose 
 To die, die here alone with faith in one 
 Whose only wecome for you is a blow ? — 
 
 (Doubling and lifting his fist?) 
 Would you choose this ? 
 Waloon. I would. 
 
 MoNASKA. In truth.' 
 
 \^'ALOON. 1 would. 
 
 {Half rising, and looking toward the L'ft.) 
 Who is that coming ? 
 MoNASKA {looking the same way, then at her). 
 Do not be afraid. 
 Why should a soul with faith sublime as yours 
 Fear aught ? — Your love alone, if nothing else, 
 Could here create of me the god you think me. 
 {Hurriedly and nervously, as he induces her to lie on 
 the moss-covered bench.) 
 These come to summon both of us to heaven. 
 Here darling, rest your head upon this mound. 
 Cast one look more at me, then let me veil 
 These loving, earthly eyes from all of earth. 
 
THE AZTECS. 125 
 
 A lojk like this must never see the stroke 
 
 That drives the soul-light out of them.— There, 
 
 there, 
 You are content, my darling, you are sure ? — 
 Content to live with me in spirit only ? 
 Waloon. I am. I am. 
 
 MoNASKA. Farewell. — I mean farewell 
 
 To earthly presence. 
 
 {r/ari/ig the veil over her face?) 
 
 Now to angel hands 
 I leave my angel— nor a whit too soon. 
 {Gazing anxiously toward the Left?) 
 Wapella {from behind the Left Second entrance). 
 
 Monaska. 
 Waloon (aside). 
 
 Who is that ? 
 Wapella. jNIonaska. 
 
 Monaska {rising). What? 
 
 I know that voice. 
 
 {To Waloon.) 
 
 Lie still, dear. I'll return. 
 _E;ifer — Left Second Lntrance — Wapella. 
 Wapella, Monaska. 
 Monaska {inoving to meet Wapella). 
 
 What ?— Wapella ? 
 Wapella. Yes,— with friends.— 
 
 To save you. 
 Monaska. How can this be ? How came you 
 To seek me here ? 
 
126 THE AZTECS. 
 
 Enter — Left Second Entrance — Kootha, 
 {2'he stage is brilliantly illumined^ and warriors enter 
 
 from every side.) 
 Wapella. We tracked you. Weeks ago, 
 
 When learning what would be )-our fate, I fled. 
 I found our comrades, many still not slain. 
 We all returned, and watched here in the woods. 
 Then Kootha met us — vowed to do his best 
 To save you, and this morning, when you fiew, 
 We watched, we dodged, we circled round your 
 
 path. 
 And now we've trapped you. Haste. We'll all 
 escape. 
 (/// surprise, as they approacJi Waloon.) 
 Waloon is with you ? 
 MoNASKA (taking Waloon l>y the hand). 
 
 Yes. — Rise up, Waloon. 
 Waloon (rising and gazing a/>oitt in a dazed way). 
 
 And who are these ? 
 MoNASKA. They're friends to welcome us, 
 
 And lead us to the realm of which I spoke. 
 Waloon, The realm ? — W^hat realm .' 
 MoNASK-A. WHiat realm, Waloon ? — My heaven. 
 
 Curtain. 
 End of the Drama. 
 
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