A Night in Avignon - LightNovelsOnl.com
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_Orso._ Sir, you are desired.
_Petrarca._ By whom?
_Orso._ Her veil Was lifted and she told me: Therefore I say it out--Madonna Laura.
(_All stare, amazed. Silence._)
_Petrarca_ (_hoa.r.s.ely_). What lie is this!
_Orso._ I am too old to lie.
_Sancia_ (_laughing_). Who was the G.o.ddess that his books tell of, The cold one so long chaste, but who at last----
_Lello._ Be silent, Sancia! Francesco ... what?
_Petrarca_ (_to ORSO_). Lead Monna Laura here--
(_ORSO goes._)
If it is she!...
But you, my friends, must know how strange this is, And how--!... I have no words!...
Wait me, I pray you, yonder, in that chamber.
(_They go, left, SANCIA shrugging. Then ORSO brings LAURA, whom PETRARCA is helpless to greet, and who falters--yet n.o.bly determining, comes down._)
_Laura._ Messer Petrarca, ... I have been impelled To come ... and as the purest should, boldly, With lifted veil, to say ...
_Petrarca._ Lady!
_Laura._ To say-- (Of grat.i.tude I cannot give another ...
For life to a woman is but resignation, And that at last is shame) ...
_Petrarca._ At last ... shame----
_Laura._ To say--Love is to us as light to the lilies That lean by Mont Ventoux.
The love of one pure man for one pure woman.
_Petrarca_ (_dazed_). Lady!...
_Laura._ Yes, and--I've been unkind to you.
Ungentle ever.
(_Shakes her head._)
But there's no other way sometimes for those Who would be wholly true.
And yet ... do I owe _any_ truth to _him_?
_Petrarca._ To--Ugo di Sade?
_Laura_ (_bitterly_). Who is called my husband?
How I was bound to him, you know! and how I've dwelt and have endured more than his bursts Of burning cruelty. For still, I thought, He is my husband!
And still--He is my husband!...
But now no more I think it--oh! no more!
Too visible it is That he belongs to any--who sell love.
So I may innocently say to you Who for two years have sung my name Yet never once have turned unto another--
(_PETRARCA pales._)
I well may say ...
(_Stopped by his manner._)
There's something that you ... Ah!
(_Sees, stricken, his grief and shame. Then her glance goes round the room and falls on the wine-table ... Then SANCIA is heard within:_)
_Sancia._ Well, well, Messer Petrarca! How long will You shut us in this dark--that is as black As old Pope John the twenty-second's soul?
A pretty festa, this!
_Petrarca_ (_brokenly_). Merciless G.o.d!
(_Falls abased before LAURA'S look, tortured with remorse._)
O lady, what have I done beyond repair!...
(_She gathers her veil._)
What have I lost within this gulf of shame!
For a paltry pleasure have I sold my dream, Whose pinions would have lifted you at last?
_Laura_ (_very pale_). I did not know, Messer Petrarca, you Had friends awaiting.
(_Pauses numbly._)
I came to-night, as first I would have said, With holy grat.i.tude-- For a love I thought you gave.
With grat.i.tude that honor well could speak, I thought, and yet be honor; With grat.i.tude forgetful of all else ...
And trusting ... But no matter: All trust shall be embalmed and laid away.
I go with pity; seeing My husband--is even as other men.
(_She pa.s.ses to the door and out: PETRARCA moans. Then LELLO enters and comes to him anxiously._)
_Lello._ Francesco!
_Petrarca._ Lello!
(_Dazed._)
Lello! Have I dreamed?
