King Lear's Wife; The Crier by Night; The Riding to Lithend; Midsummer-Eve - LightNovelsOnl.com
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_BARSINE and SOPHRON go out. LAODICE nods to herself._
I saw his ring: it was a new green scarab.
_DANAe ceases fanning without LAODICE heeding._
RHODOGUNE, _outside._ She-dog, come back and you shall have but whips.
_A dirty woman runs in, bearing a bundle within her ragged robe;_ RHODOGUNE _follows her._
LAODICE, _slowly._ I have not need of rinds and lees to-night; Come, take these out and burn them.
THE WOMAN. Ay, come.
LAODICE, _starting up._ Mysta, Mysta, my joy! What have you there?
The thing a mother called Antiochus?
_To RHODOGUNE._
Do you not know your fellow and my hand?
_RHODOGUNE retires._
MYSTA.
I was the handmaid of a displaced queen; I am dry nurse to the undoubted queen, Come back merely to boast and make display How l.u.s.ty a baby grows in careful hands, How n.o.ble I to carry a living king.
LAODICE, _leaping to her._ Unwind, dishevel, give it up to me.
_Clapping her hands._ Let there be lights above: I must see closely.
If I embrace you I shall touch it too.
_A woman hangs a lamp from long chains over the gallery on the left, then withdraws. After a moment she pa.s.ses along the colonnade from left to right and disappears. A moment later she leans from the latticed windows on the right to light two lamps suspended from the roof to a point immediately below her. The lights are such that, when the twilight has gone, the figures of the persons are more definite than their features, and the upper part of the chamber is almost unlit. In the meantime_ Mysta _has continued._
MYSTA.
Nay, we are but harbour-drift from Antioch: Come, take us out and burn us.
LAODICE. Aha, Mysta.
MYSTA.
Touch not my hair; 'tis foul from many s.h.i.+ps.
LAODICE.
I have ached by watching s.h.i.+ps that were not yours.
Were you in Sophron's vessel? Did he know?
MYSTA.
She did not trust me soon to tend her child, Returning oft like the uneasy cat: When I had slipt these rags on it and me I herded with night-women by the sh.o.r.e.
Ere there, I pa.s.sed a rift in palaces, Moment of empty street and Berenice Marching with hunger in her bright fixed eyes, Champing her golden chain--one hand on it Tugged her mouth downward--one hand smote a spear Upon the stones as she stepped on and on Toward the house of Caeneus your known friend.
They spied the harbour; I must leave by land; Then was some tale of fishers, trading sloops: Sophron knows not the thief like a fierce mother Whose hard feet last left s.h.i.+p at Ephesus-- Where Ptolemy is looked for eagerly.
_As she speaks LAODICE has drawn a scarf from her shoulders, twisted it and strained it in her hands; it tears and she throws it down._
_MYSTA holds out the child to her._
'Twas warm and quiet so long. Let it live.
LAODICE, _taking the child and scanning it._ Let me read here: This is the mould, wrongly retouched and spent-- It is his child and yet I have not known it....
_Clasping it closely to her._
I am the changeless mother of this race, And this a younger seed. By the opened womb I have decided being: and I decide.
Much Asia has been spanned to leave it here, More Asia will be narrowed by her searchers; Mysta might die next time. It must die.
I reached my hand and took it to make sure My order and number of children still were true.
I have looked on it--its purport is completed.
MYSTA.
It could be hid for ever: let it live.
LAODICE.
Mysta shall need my ritual bath and wardrobe; Serve me by delicate sleep. Mysta must go.
_She kisses_ MYSTA _and leads her to the portal._ MYSTA _goes out pa.s.sively._
LAODICE.
Danae, pile me cus.h.i.+ons and hollow them-- There in the shadowed seat beyond the breeze.
No; larger cus.h.i.+ons with no rough gold in st.i.tchings.
One softer for his head--now hold it there Till I can kneel and lay him in the dimmest, For he may sleep a little yet. Ay, so....
I had well-nigh forgotten to appoint Sophron a chamber.
DANAe. Madam, I will go.
LAODICE.
You speak too loudly. Madam, you will remain: I need you to cast gums upon the censer To make me drowsy--I must sleep some moments.
DANAe.
Storax alone, or juniper?
LAODICE. O, storax.
_DANAe goes to a recess in the wall near the portal, and takes out a painted bowl. She pours grains from it slowly upon the brazier; brief cloudy flames illumine her face._
Did the Silk-People shape that bowl?
DANAe. Maybe....
I could burn up the world like this to-night, To make an end of conflicts and of burdens.
_As_ LAODICE _claps her hands_ BARSINE _hurries in breathlessly._
BARSINE.
Queen, Queen....
