Turandot, Princess of China - LightNovelsOnl.com
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BARAK.
It is he!
CALAF.
None else!
BARAK.
My Prince!
CALAF.
My tutor, friend!
BARAK.
Prince Calaf!
CALAF.
Barak!
BARAK.
Yet alive!
CALAF.
You here?
BARAK.
And you, Prince?
CALAF.
Quiet. Betray me not. But whisper low, How comes it that in Pekin you are found?
BARAK.
When your ill-fated army fought and lost Before the gates of Astrakhan, and fled Close followed by the Sultan of Taschkent, Who, barbarous, o'er the battlefield careered, I in my helpless rage and wounded sore Sought refuge in the city. There I heard Timur, your n.o.ble father, like yourself, Had fallen in the battle. Weeping then, I hastened to the Palace, with intent To save Elmase, your mother, from the foe.
I could not find her. And already raged The Sultan o'er the unresisting town.
I turned my back on hope, and fled away.
And after months of wandering I came hither, And took a false name, calling myself Ha.s.san The Persian, and as such I came to know A widow in distress. By virtue of My few remaining jewels which I sold For her, and by the good advice I gave, I rescued her from utter penury.
She was not thankless, I disliked her not, And in the end I married her. And she Even to this very day thinks that I am A Persian, and she calls me Ha.s.san, not Barak. And so I live with her, and I Am poor indeed after my former state, But richer than a prince now that I find You who are dearer to me than a son, Now that I find my Prince Calaf alive.
(_Kneels._)
CALAF.
's.h.!.+ Speak no name! On that disastrous day I hied me with my father to the Palace.
We s.n.a.t.c.hed what precious things we could, and fled, We and my mother, out of Astrakhan, All three in beggars' garb.
BARAK (_weeps_).
Prince, say no more!
My heart is breaking. Timur, my n.o.ble King, The Queen herself in such sad lowliness.
But are they yet alive?
CALAF.
They are alive, Barak. They both are living. And after that, Wandering still farther, in the end we came Unto the city of the Carcasenes.
BARAK (_rises_).
O say no more! I have heard enough of grief...
And yet I see you as a knight attired.
Tell me how fortune favoured you at last.
CALAF.
Tell you how fortune--_favoured_ me? You jest!
But I will tell you how I fared. The Khan Of Berlas hath a favourite sparrow-hawk, That with his jesses to the forest flew.
By some good chance I caught this hawk, and brought him Home to the Khan, who questioned of my name.
I hid my birth, and painted myself poor, A porter of burdens, and my parents ill.
Straightway he sends them to the hospital... (_Weeps._) Barak, thy King, thy Queen, in a hospital!
BARAK.
Merciful G.o.d!
