Turandot, Princess of China Part 27

What the devil _is_ the fellow raving about?

Women, those d.a.m.ned women! They've been at him the whole night, not half, and his brain's collapsed! h.e.l.lo, you! Present arms! Dress your ranks! March!

(_Exeunt._ _Music of drums and other instruments of war._)

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

THE THIRD ACT

SCENE I

_The great hall of the imperial Divan. In the "background, covered by a curtain, an altar with a Chinese idol; two priests standing beside it._ ALTOUM _on his throne, the doctors on their cus.h.i.+ons_, PANTALONE _and_ TARTAGLIA _on each side of the_ EMPEROR.

ALTOUM, PANTALONE, TARTAGLIA, _the_ DOCTORS, _the_ GUARDS. _Later_ CALAF.

(_Enter_ CALAF _excitedly from right_. _He looks round uneasily and suspiciously._ _When he arrives at the middle of the room he bows to_ ALTOUM.)

CALAF (_aside_).

How's this? No trace of ambushed murderers?

Did the slave lie? Can Turandot have found The names out, and rescinded her commands?

Then I lose all. Death had been better far.

ALTOUM.

My son, you seem excited and in fear, And I were fain had you a merry face.

Now all is well. Your sorrows are at end.

Glad tidings that concern you I will save A little while. As for my daughter, she Is yours. She sent to me thrice in the night Pet.i.tioning release from this encounter.

Therefore I charge you, son, be of good cheer!

PANTALONE.

Heaven knows, my dearest Royal Highness, I myself had to trot off in the night to pay a call on her Royal Highness in the Seraglio and receive her most ill.u.s.trious commands. I didn't even have the time to tumble into my slippers and get dressed properly. And it was so cold, Heaven knows (_coughs_), I'm s.h.i.+vering yet. Never mind! Never mind!

TARTAGLIA.

They fetched me out of bed at 5 a.m. It was just beginning to get light a bit. She made me stand in front of her half an hour while she went on whining something or other. For sheer cold and vexation I talked the most clotted nonsense to her. (_Aside._) It would have suited my humour better if I could have given her a downright good spanking.

ALTOUM.

You see yourself: she is so slow in coming.

I have already sent explicit orders In case of need to bring her here by force.

Here she shall stand and learn to blush, a pain She would not let me spare her. Therefore, son, Take good heart at the prospect of near joy.

CALAF.

I crave your pardon, sire, and give you thanks!

I am tormented by most fearful doubts, And by the thought that for my sake she now Is suffering shame and force. Much rather... No Not that. If I _do_ lose her, what remains To me of life? With time and tenderness I will compel her to forget this rage.

My will shall be her wish, my heart her heart.

For her sake I will grant what either asks, And my love's banner be: Fidelity!

ALTOUM.

Let there be no more dallying! This Divan Be changed into a temple, so that she, Soon as she enters here, may recognize That I too have a will. Prepare the marriage.

Unveil the altar.

(_The curtain in the background opens, and the altar with the priests is seen._)

PANTALONE.

She's coming, my dear Lord Chancellor, she's coming. I believe I can already hear her whining.

TARTAGLIA.

The accompaniment does at all events sound decidedly dismal. That's what I call a genuine wedding march, just the same as for a funeral.

SCENE II

TURANDOT, ADELMA, ZELIMA, TRUFFALDINO, EUNUCHS, SLAVES. _The foregoing._ (_To the strains of a gloomy march_ TURANDOT _appears_. _Before her proceed eunuchs._ _Her whole escort wear signs of mourning._ _With the same ceremonial as in First Act_, TURANDOT _ascends the throne, and at sight of the altar and the priests starts with surprise_. _The position of the actors is exactly the same as in the First Act._ CALAF _stands erect in the centre_.)

TURANDOT.

This mourning of my escort, _Prince unknown_, These gloomy faces and these necks bowed down, Are (well I know it) sweet to your hard heart; And, mourning, I behold the altar ready.

For all my efforts to avenge the shame Put on me yesterday, I still am helpless.

I have fought my fight. I bow my neck to fate.

CALAF.

Would you could read the heart you say is hard, Princess, to see what wormwood your hate blends With all its rapture. Let not your heart rue Crowning the man with happiness who loves you And wors.h.i.+ps you, and if it is a crime To wors.h.i.+p you, I beg you here: forgive!