fondly. The cares of a kingdom are too much for one so young; but he
would have happiness throughout his native land, and toiling for the
good of others he hath hidden his sorrow in his own heart, and pined for
tenderness and love. Thou hast asked if thou couldst save him. There is
one hope, if thou canst find a brave friend that fears no danger when a
good work leads him on. Listen, my daughter! In a deep and lonely glen,
far beyond the palace gates, there grows an herb whose magic power 'tis
said brings new life and strength to those who wreathe it round their
head in slumber. Yet none dare seek the spot, for spirits are said to
haunt the glen, and not a slave in all the palace but grows pale at
mention of the place. I am old and feeble, or I had been there long ere
this. And now, my child, who canst thou send?
Ione. I will send one who fears not spirit or demon; one who will gladly
risk e'en life itself for the brave young prince.
Helon. Blessed be the hand that gathers, thrice blessed be he who dares
the dangers of the way. Bring hither him thou speakest of. I would see
him.
Ione. She stands before thee. Nay, start not, Father. _I_ will seek the
dreaded glen and gather there the magic flowers that may bring health to
Constantine and happiness to me. I will away; bless, and let me go.
Helon. Thou, a woman delicate and fair! Nay, nay, it must not be, my
child! Better he should die than thou shouldst come to harm. I cannot
let thee go.
Ione. Thou canst not keep me now. Thou hast forgot I am a slave, and
none may guess beneath this veil a princess is concealed. I will take my
water-urn, and with the other slaves pass to the spring beyond the city
gates; then glide unseen into the haunted glen. Now, tell me how looks
the herb, that I may know it.
Helon. 'Tis a small, green plant that blossoms only by the broad, dark
stream, dashing among the rocks that fill the glen. But let me once
again implore thee not to go. Ah, fatal hour when first I told thee!
'Tis sending thee to thy death! Stay, stay, my child, or let me go with
thee.
Ione. It cannot be; do thou remain, and if I come not back ere set of
sun, do thou come forth to seek me. Tell Constantine I loved him, and so
farewell. I return successful, or I return no more.
[Ione _rushes out._
Helon. Thou brave and noble one to dare so much for one who loves thee
not! I'll go and pray the gods to watch above thee, and bring thee
safely back.
[_Exit_ Helon.
CURTAIN.
SCENE FIFTH.
[_A terrace beside the palace.
Enter_ Constantine.]
Con. Why comes she not? I watched her slender form when with the other
slaves she went forth to the fountain yonder. I knew her by the rosy
veil and snow-white arm that bore the water-urn. The morning sun shone
brightly on the golden hair, and seemed more beautiful for resting
there; and now 'tis nearly set, and yet she comes not. Why should I
grieve because my mother's slave forgets me? Shame on thee, Constantine!
How weak and childish have I grown! This fever gives no rest when Ione
is not here to sing sweet songs, and cheer the weary hours. Ah, she
comes! [_Enter_ Ione _with basket of flowers._] Where hast thou been,
Ione? The long day passed so slowly, and I missed thee sadly from my
side. But thou art pale; thy locks are damp! What has chanced to thee?
Speak, I beseech thee!
Ione. 'Tis nothing; calm thyself, my lord. I am well, and bring thee
from the haunted glen the magic flowers whose power I trust will win
thee health and happiness. May it please thee to accept them [_kneels,
and gives the flowers_].
Con. Thou, thou, Ione? Hast thou been to that fearful spot, where mortal
foot hath feared to tread? The gods be blessed, thou art safe again! How
can I thank thee? Ah, why didst thou risk so much for my poor life? It
were not worth the saving if thine were lost.
Ione. My lord, a loving nation looks to thee for safety and protection.
I am but a feeble woman, and none would grieve if I were gone; none weep
for the friendless slave, Ione.
Con. Oh, say not thus! Tears would be shed for thee, and one heart
would grieve for her who risked so much for him. Speak not of death or
separation, for I cannot let thee go.
Ione. I will not leave thee yet, till I have won thy lost health back.
The old priest, Helon, bid me seek the herbs, and bind them in a garland
for thy brow. If thou wilt place it there, and rest awhile, I am repaid.
Con. If thy hand gave it, were it deadly poison I would place it there.
Now sing, Ione; thy low sweet voice will bring me pleasant dreams, and
the healing sleep will be the deeper with thy music sounding in mine
ears.
[_The prince reclines upon the terrace._ Ione _weaves a garland
and sings._
Flowers, sweet flowers, I charge thee well,
O'er the brow where ye bloom cast a healing spell;
From the shadowy glen where spirits dwell,
I have borne thee here, thy power to tell.
Flowers, pale flowers, o'er the brow where ye lie,
Cast thy sweetest breath ere ye fade and die.
[Ione _places the garland on the head of the prince, who falls
asleep. She sits beside him softly singing._
CURTAIN.
SCENE SIXTH.
[The Queen's _apartment._
The Queen _alone._]
Queen. 'Tis strange what power this slave hath gained o'er Constantine.
She hath won him back to health again, and never have I seen so gay a
smile upon his lips as when she stood beside him in the moonlight
singing to her harp. And yet, tho' well and strong again, he takes no
interest in his native land. He comes no more to council hall or feast,
but wanders 'mong his flowers with Ione. How can I rouse him to the
danger that is near! The Turkish sultan and his troops are on their way
to conquer Greece, and he, my Constantine, who should be arming for the
fight, sits weaving garlands with the lovely slave girl! Ah, a thought
hath seized me! Why cannot she who hath such power o'er him rouse up
with noble words the brave heart slumbering in his breast? I hear her
light step in the hall. Ione, Ione,--come hither! I would speak with
thee.
[_Enter_ Ione.
Ione. Your pleasure, dearest lady.
Queen. Ione, thou knowest how I love thee for the brave deeds thou hast
done. Thou hast given health unto my son, hath won him back to
happiness. Thou hast conquered his aversion to the princess, and he will
gladly wed her when the hour shall come. Is it not so?
Ione. Dear lady, that I cannot tell thee. He never breathes her name,
and if I speak of her as thou hast bid me, he but sighs, and grows more
sad; and yet I trust, nay, I well know that when he sees her he will
gladly give his hand to one who loves him as the princess will. Then do
not grieve, but tell thy slave how she may serve thee.
Queen. Oh, Ione, if thou couldst wake him from the quiet dream that
seems to lie upon his heart. His country is in danger, and he should be
here to counsel and command. Go, tell him this in thine own gentle
words; rouse him to his duty, and thou shalt see how brave a heart is
there. Thou hast a wondrous power to sadden or to cheer. Oh, use it
well, and win me back my noble Constantine! Canst thou do this, Ione?
Ione. I will; and strive most earnestly to do thy bidding. But of what
danger didst thou speak? No harm to him, I trust?
Queen. The Turkish troops are now on their way to carry woe and
desolation into Greece, and he, the prince, hath taken no part in the
councils. His nobles mourn at his strange indifference, and yet he heeds
them not.
I know not why, but some new happiness hath come to him, and all else is
forgot. But time is passing. I will leave thee to thy work, and if thou
art successful, thou wilt have won a queen's most fervent gratitude.
Adieu, my child!
[_Exit_ The Queen.
Ione. Yes, Constantine, thy brave heart shall awake; and when thy
country is once safe again, I'll come to claim the love that now I feel
is mine.
[_Exit_ Ione.
CURTAIN.
SCENE SEVENTH.
[_Apartment in the palace.
Enter_ Ione _with sword and banner._]
Ione. Now may the gods bless and watch above thee, Constantine; give
strength to thine arm, courage to thy heart, and victory to the cause
for which thou wilt venture all. Ah, could I but go with thee, thy
shield would then be useless, for with mine own breast would I shelter
thee, and welcome there the arrows meant for thee.
He comes; now let me rouse him from this dream, and try my power o'er
his heart.
[_Enter_ Constantine.
Con. What high thoughts stirring in thy heart hath brought the clear
light to thine eye, Ione, the bright glow to thy cheek? What mean these
arms? Wouldst thou go forth to meet the Turks? Thy beauty would subdue
them sooner than the sword thou art gazing on so earnestly.
Ione. Thou hast bade me speak, my lord, and I obey; but pardon thy slave
if in her wish to serve she seem too bold. Thy mother and thy subjects
wonder at thy seeming indifference when enemies are nigh. Thine army
waits for thee to lead them forth; thy councillors sit silent, for their
prince is gone. While grief and terror reign around, he is wandering
'mong his flowers, or listening to the music of his harp. Ah, why is
this? What hath befallen thee? Thou art no longer pale and feeble, yet
there seems a spell set on thee. Ah, cast it off, and show them that
thou hast no fear.
Con. I am no coward, Ione; but there is a spell upon me. 'Tis a holy
one, and the chain that holds me here I cannot break,--for it is _love_.
I have lost the joy I once took in my subjects and my native land, and
am content to sit beside thee, and listen to the music of thy voice.
Ione. Then let that voice arouse thee. Oh, fling away the chain that
keeps thee from thy duty, and be again the noble prince who thought but
of his people. Oh, let me plead for those who sorrow for thy care, and
here let me implore thee to awaken from thy dream and be thyself again
[_she kneels_].
Con. Oh, not to me! Rise, I beseech thee, rise! Thou hast led me to my
duty; I will obey thee.
Ione. I would have thee gird on thy sword, and with shield upon thine
arm, and banner in thy hand, go forth and conquer like a king. Show
those who doubt thee that their fears are false,--that thou art worthy
of their love. Lead forth thy troops, and save thy country from the woe
that now draws nigh. Victory surely will be theirs when thou shalt lead
them on.
Con. Give me my sword, unfurl my banner, and say farewell. I will return
victorious, or no more. Thy voice hath roused me from my idle but most
lovely dream, and thy brave words shall cheer me on till I have won the
honor of my people back. Pity and forgive my fault; and ah, remember in
thy prayers one who so passionately loves thee. Farewell! farewell!
[_Kisses her robe and rushes out._ Ione _sinks down._
CURTAIN.
SCENE EIGHTH.
[_On the battlements._
Ione, _watching the battle._]
Ione. The battle rages fiercely at the city gates, and the messengers
are fearful of defeat. I cannot rest while Constantine is in such peril.
Let me watch here and pray for him. Ah, I can see his white plume waving
in the thickest of the fight, where the blows fall heaviest and the
danger is most great. The gods guard him in this fearful hour! See how
small the brave band grows; they falter and retreat. One blow now
bravely struck may turn the tide of battle. It shall be done! I will arm
the slaves now in the palace, and lead them on to victory or death. We
may win--and if _not_, I shall die in saving thee, Constantine!
[Ione _rushes out._
CURTAIN.
SCENE NINTH.
[_The castle terrace.
Enter_ Constantine.]
Con. The victory is ours, and Greece again is free, thanks to the gods,
and to the brave unknown who led on my slaves, and saved us when all
hope seemed gone. Who could have been the fearless stranger? Like an
avenging spirit came the mysterious leader, carrying terror and
destruction to the Turkish ranks. My brave troops rallied and we won the
day. Yet when I sought him, he was gone, and none could tell me where.
He hath won my deepest gratitude, and the honor of all Greece for this
brave deed.
But where is Ione? Why comes she not to bid me welcome home? Ah, could
she know that thoughts of her gave courage to my heart, and strength to
my weak arm, and led me on that I might be more worthy her! Ah, yonder
comes the stranger; he may not think to see me here. I will step aside.
[Constantine _retires. Enter_ Ione _in armor, bearing sword._
Ione. The gods be thanked! the brave young prince hath conquered. From
the flying Turk I won his banner back, and now my task is done. I must
fling by this strange disguise and be myself again. I must bind up my
wound and seek to rest, for I am faint and weary. Ah, what means this
sudden dimness of mine eyes, this faintness--can it be death? 'T is
welcome,--Constantine, it is for thee!
[Ione _faints_; Constantine _rushes in._
Con. Ione, Ione, look up and listen to the blessings of my grateful
heart for all thou hast dared and done for me. So pale, so still! Ah,
must she die now I have learned to love so fervently and well? Ione,
awake!
[Ione _rouses._
Ione. Pardon this weakness; I will retire, my lord.
Con. Ah, do not leave me till I have poured out my gratitude. My country
owes its liberty to thee: then let me here before thee offer up my
country's thanks, and tell thee what my heart hath striven to hide. Dear
Ione, listen, I do beseech thee! [_Kneels._]
Ione. My lord, remember Lady Irene.
Con. [_starting up_]. Why comes she thus between my happiness and me?
Why did she send thee hither? Thou hast made the chain that binds her to
me heavier to be borne; the sorrow of my heart more bitter still. Nay,
do not weep. I will be calm. Thou art pale and faint, Ione,--lean thus
on me.
Ione. Nay, leave me; I cannot listen to thee. Go, I pray thee, go!
Con. Not till thou hast pardoned me. I have made thee weep, and every
tear that falls reproaches me for my rash words. Forget them, and
forgive me.
Ione. Ask not forgiveness of thy slave, my lord. 'Tis I who have
offended. And think not thus of Lady Irene, who in her distant home hath
cherished tender thoughts of one whom all so honored. Think of her grief
when she shall find thee cold and careless, and shall learn that he who
should most love and cherish, deems her but a burden, and hates the wife
whom he hath vowed to wed. Ah, think of this, and smile no more upon the
slave who may not listen to her lord.
Con. Thou art right, Ione. I will obey thee, and seek to hide my sorrow
within my lonely breast. Teach me to love thy mistress as I ought, and I
will sacrifice each selfish wish, and be more worthy thy forgiveness,
and a little place within thy heart. Trust me, I will speak no more of
my unhappy love, and will seek thee only when thine own voice bids me
come.
The sunlight of thy presence is my truest joy, and banishment from thee
the punishment my wilful heart deserves. Rest here, Ione, and weep for
me no more. I am happy if thou wilt but smile again. Farewell, and may
the gods forever bless thee! [_Kisses her robe, and rushes out._]
CURTAIN.
SCENE TENTH.
[_A gallery in the palace._
_Enter_ Ione _with flowers._]
Ione. How desolate and dreary all hath grown! The garden once so bright
hath lost its beauty now, for Constantine no longer walks beside me. The
palace rooms seem sad and lonely, for his voice no longer echoes there,
and the music of his harp is never heard. His pale face haunts me
through all my waking hours, and his mournful eyes look on me in my
dreams. But soon his sorrow all shall cease, for nearer draws the day
when Princess Irene comes to claim the heart so hardly won, and will by
constancy and love so faithfully reward. Hark! I hear a step. It is
Rienzi. How shall I escape,--my veil is in the garden! He knows me and
will discover all. Stay! this curtain shall conceal me [_hides within
the drapery_].
[_Enter_ Rienzi _stealthily._
Rienzi. How! not here? I told the messenger to meet me in the gallery
that leads from the garden. Curses on him! he hath delayed, and were I
discovered in this part of the palace, all might be betrayed. I'll wait,
and if he comes not, I'll bear the message to the friends myself, and
tell the bold conspirators we meet to-night near the haunted glen, to
lay yet farther plans. We must rid the kingdom of the prince, who will
be made ere long our king, for his bridal with the Princess Irene draws
more near. But ere the royal crown shall rest upon his brow, that head
shall be laid low. The queen will soon follow her young son, and then
we'll seize the kingdom and rule it as we will. Hark! methought I heard
a sound. I may be watched. I'll stay no longer, but seek the place
myself [_steals out and disappears in the garden_].
[Ione _comes from her hiding-place._
Ione. Surely the gods have sent me to watch above thee, Constantine, and
save thee from the danger that surrounds thee. I will haste to tell him
all I have discovered. Yet, no! Rienzi may escape, and I can charge none
other with the crime. They meet near the haunted glen, and not a slave
would follow even his brave prince to that dark spot. How can I aid him
to discover those who seek to do him harm? Stay! I will go alone. Once
have I dared the dangers of the way to save thy life, Constantine; again
I'll tread the fearful path, and watch the traitors at their evil work.
It shall be done! I will dare all, and fail not, falter not, till thou
who art dearer to me than life itself art safe again.
[_Exit._
CURTAIN.
SCENE ELEVENTH.
[_A wood near the haunted glen._ Ione _shrouded
in white glides in and conceals herself among
the trees. Enter_ Rienzi.]
Rienzi [_looking fearfully about_]. 'Tis a wild and lonely spot, and
'tis said strange spirits have been seen to wander here. Why come they
not? 'Tis past the hour, and I who stand undaunted when the fiercest
battle rages round me, now tremble with strange fear in this dim spot.
Shame on thee, Rienzi, there is nought to fear [_opens a scroll and
reads_]. Here are their names, all pledged to see the deed accomplished.
'Tis a goodly list and Constantine must fall when foes like these are
round him. [Ione _appears within the glen._
Ha! methought I heard a sound! Nay, 'twas my foolish fancy. Spirits, I
defy thee!
Ione. Beware! Beware!
Rienzi. Ye gods, what's that? It was a voice. [_Rushes wildly towards
the glen, sees_ Ione, _drops scroll and dagger._] 'Tis a spirit! The
gods preserve me, I will not stay! [_Exit in terror._]
[_Enter_ Ione.
Ione. Saved! saved! Here are the traitors' names, and here Rienzi's
dagger to prove my story true. Now hence with all my speed, no time is
to be lost! These to thee, Constantine, and joy unfailing to my own fond
heart.
[_Exit_ Ione.
CURTAIN.
SCENE TWELFTH.
[_Apartment in the palace.
Enter_ Constantine.]
Con. This little garland of pale, withered flowers is all now left me of
Ione, faded like my own bright hopes, broken like my own sad heart. Yet
still I cherish it, for her dear hand wove the wreath, and her soft eyes
smiled above the flowers as she twined them for my brow. Those happy
days are passed; she comes no more, but leaves me sorrowing and alone.
And yet 'tis better so. The princess comes to claim my hand, and then
'twill be a sin to watch Ione, to follow her unseen, and listen to her
voice when least she thinks me near. The gods give me strength to bear
my trial worthily, and suffer silently the greatest sorrow life can
give,--that of losing her [_leans sadly upon the harp_].
[_Enter_ Ione.
Ione. My lord--He does not hear me, how bitter and how deep must be his
grief, when the voice that most he loves falls thus unheeded on his ear.
My lord--
Con. [_starting_]. And thou art really here? Ah, Ione, I have longed for
thee most earnestly. Ah, forgive me! In my joy I have disobeyed, and
told the happiness thy presence brings. What wouldst thou with me?
Ione. My lord, I have strange tidings for thine ear.
Con. Oh, tell me not the Princess Irene hath arrived!
Ione. Nay, 'tis not that. I have learned the secret of a fearful plot
against thy life. Rienzi, and a band of other traitors, seek to win thy
throne and take the life of their kind prince.
Con. It cannot be, Ione! They could not raise their hands 'gainst one
who hath striven for their good. They cannot wish the life I would so
gladly have lain down to save them. Who told thee this, Ione? I
cannot--no, I will not think they could prove so ungrateful unto their
prince.
Ione. I cannot doubt the truth of this, my lord, for one whose word I
trust learned it, and followed to the haunted glen, there saw Rienzi,
whose guilty conscience drove him from the place, leaving behind this
scroll whereon are all the traitors' names. And this dagger,--'tis his
own, as thou mayst see [_shows dagger and scroll_].
Con. I can no longer doubt; but I had rather have felt the dagger in my
heart than such a wound as this. The names are few; I fear them not, and
will ere long show them a king may pardon all save treachery like this.
But tell the name of thy brave friend who hath discovered this deep
treason, and let me offer some reward to one who hath watched above me
with such faithful care.
Ione. Nay, my lord, no gift, no thanks are needed. 'Tis a true and
loving subject, who is well rewarded if his king be safe.
Con. Thou canst not thus deceive me. It was thine own true heart that
dared so much to save my life. Oh, Ione, why wilt thou make me love thee
more by deeds like these,--why make the sorrow heavier to bear, the
parting sadder still?
Ione. Thou dost forget, my lord, I have but done my duty. May it please
thee, listen to a message I bear thee from the queen.
Con. Say on. I will gladly listen to thy voice while yet I may.
Ione. She bid me tell thee that to-morrow, ere the sun shall set, the
Princess Irene will be here. [Constantine _starts and turns aside._]
Forgive me that I pain thee, but I must obey. Yet, farther: thy bride
hath sent her statue as a gift to thee, and thou wilt find it in the
queen's pavilion. She bid me say she prayed thee to go look upon it, and
remember there thy solemn vow.
Con. Oh, Ione, could she send none but thee to tell me this? To hear it
from thy lips but makes the tidings heavier to bear. Canst thou bid me
go, and vow to love one whom I have learned to hate? Canst thou bid me
leave thee for a fate like this?
Ione. My lord, thou art soon to be a king; then for thy country's sake,
remember thy hand is plighted to the princess, and let no kindly
thoughts of a humble slave keep thy heart from its solemn duty.
Con. I am no king,--'tis I who am the slave, and thou, Ione, are more to
me than country, home, or friends. Nay, do not turn away,--think only of
the love I bear thee, and listen to my prayer.
Ione. I must not listen. Hast thou so soon forgot the vow thou made that
no word of love should pass thy lips? Remember, 'tis a slave who stands
before thee.
Con. Once more thou shalt listen to me, Ione, and then I will be still
forever. Thou shalt be my judge, thy lips _shall_ speak my fate. I
cannot love the princess. Wouldst thou bid me vow to cherish her while
my heart is wholly thine? Wouldst thou ask me to pass through life
beside her with a false vow on my lips, and, with words of love I do not
feel, conceal from her the grief of my divided heart? Must I give up all
the bright dreams of a happier lot, and feel that life is but a bitter
struggle, a ceaseless longing but for thee? Rather bid me to forget the
princess and bind with Love's sweet chains the slave unto my side,--my
bride forever.
Ione. The _slave_ Ione can never be thy bride, and thou art bound by
solemn vows to wed the Princess Irene. My duty and thine honor are more
precious than a poor slave's love. Banish all thoughts of her, and prove
thyself a faithful lord unto the wife who comes now trustingly to thee.
Ask thine own heart if life could be a bitter pilgrimage, when a
sacrifice like this had been so nobly made. A tender wife beside thee,
a mother's blessing on thy head,--oh, were not this a happier fate than
to enjoy a short, bright dream of love, but to awake and find thy
heart's peace gone, thy happiness forever fled; to see the eyes that
once looked reverently upon thee now turned aside, and lips that spoke
but tender words now whisper scornfully of broken vows thou wert not
brave enough to keep. Forgive me, but I cannot see the prince so false
to his own noble heart. Cast off this spell; forget me, and Irene shall
win thee back to happiness.
Con. Never! All her loveliness can never banish the pure, undying love I
bear to thee. Oh, Ione, canst thou doubt its truth, when I obey thee now
and prove how great thy power o'er my heart hath grown? Oh, let the
sacrifice win from _thee_ one gentle thought, one kind remembrance of
him whose life thou hast made so beautiful for a short hour. And in my
loneliness, sweet memories of thee shall cheer and gladden, and I will
bear all for thy dear sake. And now farewell. Forgive if I have grieved
thee, and at parting grant me one token to the silent love that
henceforth must lie unseen within my heart. Farewell, Ione! [_He kisses
her._]