THE EMPRESS [_alone_]
The EMPRESS [_at the foot of the imperial stair, leaning on
the marble banisters._] The storm, said the old man----The
storm, it will come from the north as always!----Black
clouds on the horizon, the armies which are marching
against my phantom empire. Black clouds, the armies of
the Tartar Emperor----But this torch which shall illumine
the future, what it is? All! My son, it must be----Ah,
yes, that it is; my son!----To shelter him, he said, to
hide him, to send him far away, perhaps, from this palace
that is threatened on all sides; to separate myself from
him in this grave danger--that is what is now demanded of
me?----Still more agony and sacrifice! And it is I who am
expected to guide a whole people, when I lack the force
to guide myself----Oh you women who can lean on a strong
supporting arm, who can depend for help upon the advice
of a manly and farseeing mind! Oh you wives who find in
the heart of your husbands a refuge in your weakness!
But I am the Empress, and the widowed Empress, all alone
and so high that I have no equal to whom I may confide
my anxieties and my weaknesses----[_She advances to the
middle of the flower-plot_] Come, listen to the confession
which is overpowering me, oh you flowers of early morning,
moist with fresh dew! Oh airy spirits which hover over
flower-beds at the dawn of springtime, hear me, since I
must speak and someone must listen. That man you know, who
came yesterday, whose gaze tyrannical and yet caressing
is like none other's, he has troubled the sad Empress's
heart, and now in the hour of great peril she is no longer
mistress of herself----He is only one of her subjects, and
yet she would love to obey him----