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[_Again sitting._
And yet--perchance it is as well they come Now ... while there yet is time for more withdrawals.
_Osio_ (_starting_). More?
_Bianca._ For--I fear all trust in you is folly; And that the heresy of Rizzio Which I agreed with you to take unto Monsignor Querio--
_Osio_ (_clenching_). Shall not be taken?
[_She rises._
Not! but you leave the brunt to me alone?
_Bianca._ You purpose more, I think, than to restrain him.
_Osio._ And you more than abjuring! You would gaze Upon his G.o.dless schisms, ...
Upon the naked luring of his lies!
_Bianca._ No! Tho the beauty of them--
_Osio._ Beauty! beauty!
[_Striking the Pan near him._
That wind of infidelity from h.e.l.l He blows out of his lips do you call beauty!
No!--and he with his poets and philosophers, His Platos And star-mad Copernicas, And that Dominican, Giordano Bruno, For whom the stake to flames will yet be lit, Shall learn you are too late in your relenting!
_Bianca_ (_stricken_). Too ... late!
_Osio._ His heresies shall reap their due.
_Bianca_ (_death-pale_). Which means--that you already have revealed them!
Have sent unto Monsignor Querio To-day-- Rizzio's wedding-day!-- For that It was you sought out Matteo, who, pledged Unto Marina, As were you to me, Has broke his troth?...
And now, now you await him?--O was not Your promise to me that a week should pend Ere any step?
_Osio._ I will not lose my soul,
[_Turns away._
And dallying is the feebleness of fools.
_Bianca._ And will lies save it--tho they be for Heaven!-- To one who nigh has lost her soul for you?
[_When he does not answer, more penetratively._
We have been friends, Osio, long been friends, And, woman that I am, I would 'twere more, But in this I suspect--
_Osio._ Enough! we prate!
[_Rankling, uneasily._
I say enough.
_Bianca._ And I say all too little,
[_Bitterly._
Until I tell you now plain to your face, And to your heart Plunging toward this pa.s.sion, That not alone a hate of heresy Is haunting you to it, but that the lips And eyes and brows and soul of--
_Osio._ Will you cease!
_Bianca._ I tell you that you love her--Porzia!
And veer but to the vision of her face!
_Osio_ (_who after strangling silence finds words_).
If you say that, Bianca, ever again Or if, by all the demons that Avernus Pours out upon the black Phlegraean fields, You hint it or suggest it to her, till--
_Bianca._ Till you achieve her! and have wrapped the rites Of the Church round your achieving?
Till you have severed her from Rizzio-- Have swept her from perdition-- Into your swathing arms! I say you shall not!
Me you have set aside, but there an end!
[_Starts toward door._
_Osio._ Stop! whither do you go?
_Bianca._ To call them! call!
And to betray your treachery--and mine!
[_Calling._
Rizzio! Porzia! Rizzio!
_Osio._ Maledictions!
[_Seizing her wrists._
Will you become a dagger, and not know, Stiletto that you are, what thing you stab!
_Bianca._ The infatuation festering within you!
Till, deaf with the desire of it and dream, You cannot tell their voice from Deity's.
[_Calls again._
Rizzio! Porzia! Ta.s.so!
[_The music ceases._
_Rizzio_ (_within; startled_). It was Bianca!
