_A mountain cavern is seen partially protected by rough boards,
straw, and twigs and opening wide upon a stony mountain path. From
the wide opening are seen green pastures, snow-clad peaks, and
passing clouds. In the cavern are pallets made of sheep-pelts,
small, rude wooden tables, pouches and skins, filled and empty, a
rude bench for wood turning and carving, with an axe upon it, a
draw-knife, plane, rasps, and other tools, and near them finished
pieces; distaffs, spoons and ladles, mortars and pestles, musical
instruments, and candlesticks. A large block of the trunk of a
walnut tree has at its base the bark, and above, in full relief, the
figure of an angel hewn into shape to the waist, with the two wings
almost finished. Before the image of the Virgin in a depression of
the cavern like a niche, a lamp is burning. A shepherd's bagpipe
hangs close by. The bells of the sheep wandering in the stillness of
the mountain may be heard. The day is closing and it is about the
time of the autumnal equinox._
_The treasure-seeker, _MALDE_, and _ANNA ONNA_, the old
herb-gatherer, are lying asleep on the pelts, in their rags.
_COSMA_, the saint, dressed in a long friar's frock, is also asleep,
but in a sitting posture with his arms clasped about his knees and
his chin bowed over on them. _ALIGI_ is seated on a little bench,
intent upon carving with his tools the walnut block. _MILA DI CODRA_
is seated opposite, gazing at him._
MILA
Bided mute the patron angel
From the walnut woodblock carven,
Deaf the wood stayed, secret, sacred,
Saint Onofrio vouchsafed nothing.
Till said one apart, a third one
(O have pity on us, Patron!)
Till said one apart, the fair one,
Lo! my heart all willing, waiting!
Would he quaff a draught of marvel?
Let him take my heart's blood, quaff it!
But of this make no avowal,
But of this make no revealing.
Suddenly the stump budded branches,
Out of the mouth a branch sprang budding,
Every finger budded branches,
Saint Onofrio all grew green again!
[_She bends over to gather the chips and shavings around the carved
block._]
ALIGI
O Mila, this too is hewn from the stump of a walnut,
Grow green will it, Mila?--Grow green again?
MILA [_still bent over_]
"Would he quaff a draught of marvel
Let him take my heart's blood."
ALIGI
Grow green will it, Mila?--Grow green again?
MILA
"But of this make no avowal,
But of this make no revealing."
ALIGI
Mila, Mila, let a miracle now absolve us!
And may the mute patron angel grant us protection.
'T is for him that I work, but not with my chisel,
Ah! for him do I work with my soul in my fingers!
But what are you seeking? What have you lost there?
MILA
I but gather the shavings, that in fire we burn them
With each a grain of pure incense being added.
Make haste, then, Aligi, for the time is nearing.
The moonlight of September fleeting, lessening;
All of the shepherds now are leaving, departing,
Some on to Puglia fare, some Romeward faring;--
And whither then will my love his footsteps be turning?
Wherever he journeys still may his pathway
Go facing fresh pastures and springs, not winds keen and chilling,
And of me may he think when the night overtakes him!
ALIGI
Romeward faring then shall go Aligi,
Onward to Rome whither all roads are leading,
His flock along with him to lofty Rome,
To beg an indulgence of the Vicar,
Of the Holy Vicar of Christ our Saviour,
For he of all shepherds is the Shepherd.
Not to Puglia land will go Aligi,
But to our blest Lady of Schiavonia,
Sending to her by Alai of Averna
These two candlesticks of cypress wood, only,
And with them merely two humble tapers,
So she forget not a lowly sinner
She, our Lady, who guardeth the sea-shore.
Then when this angel shall be all finished,
Aligi upon a mule's back will load it,
And step by step will he wend on with it.
MILA
O hasten, O hasten! for the time is ripening.
From the girdle downward very nearly
Sunk in the wood yet and lost is the angel;
The feet are held fast in the knots, the hands without fingers,
The eyes with the forehead still level.
You hastened indeed his wings to give him,
Feather by feather, yet forth he flies not!
ALIGI
Gostanzo will aid me in this, the painter,
Gostanzo di Bisegna; the painter is he
Who tells stories on wood in color.
Unto him I have spoken already,
And he will give unto me fine colors.
Perhaps, too, the good monks at the abbey,
For a yearling, a little fine gold leaf
For the wings and the bosom will give me.
MILA
O hasten! Hasten! The time is rip'ning,
Longer than day is the night already,
From the valley the shades rise more quickly,
And unawares they shut down around us.
Soon the eye will guide the hand no longer,
And unsuccored of art will grope the blind chisel!
[COSMA _stirs in his sleep and moans. From a distance the sacred
songs of pilgrims crossing the mountain are heard._]
Cosma is dreaming. Who knows what he's dreaming!
Listen, listen, the songs of the pilgrims
Who across the mountain go journeying,
May be to Santa Maria della Potenza,
Aligi,--toward your own country,--toward
Your own home, where your mother is sitting.
And may be they will pass by very near,
And your mother will hear, and Ornella,
Mayhap, and they'll say: "These must be pilgrims
Coming down from the place of the shepherds;
And yet no loving token is sent us!"
[ALIGi _is bending over his work carving the lower part of the block.
Giving a blow with the axe he leaves the iron in the wood and comes
forward anxiously._]
ALIGI
Ah! Why, why will you touch where the heart is hurting?
Oh! Mila, I will speed on, overtake their cross-bearer
And beg him bear onward my loving thoughts with them.
And yet, Mila, yet--Oh! how shall I say it, Mila?
MELA
You will say: "O good cross-bearer, I prithee,
If ye cross through the valley of San Biagio,
Through the countryside called Acquanova,
Ask ye there for the house of a woman
Who is known as Candia della Leonessa,
And stay ye your steps there, for there most surely
Drink shall ye have to restore you, and may be
Much beside given. Then stay there and say ye:
'Aligi, your son, sends unto you greeting,
And to his sisters, and also the bride, Vienda,
And he promises he will be coming
To receive from your hands soon your blessing
Ere in peace he depart on long travels.
And he says, too, that he is set free now,
From her--the evil one--during these late days;
And he will be cause of dissension no longer,
And he will be cause of lamenting no longer,
To the mother, the bride, and the sisters.'"
ALIGI
Mila, Mila, what ill wind strikes you
And stirs up your soul in you thus?--A wind sudden,
A wind full of fearing! And on your lips dying,
Your voice is; your blood your cheek is draining.
And wherefore, tell me, should I be sending
This message of falsehood to my mother?
MILA
It is the truth, it is the truth, I tell you,
O brother mine and dear to the sister,
It is true what I say; as true is it
That I have remained by you untainted,
Like a sacred lamp before your faith burning,
With immaculate love before you shining.
It is the truth, it is the truth I tell you.
And I say: Go, go, speed ye on your pathway
And meet ye the cross-bearer so that he carry
Your greetings of peace on to Acquanova.
Now come is the hour of departure
For the daughter of Jorio. And let it be so.
ALIGI
Yea, verily, you have partaken of honey, wild honey
That your mind is thus troubled!
And you would go whither? Oh, whither, Mila?
MILA
Pass on thither where all roads are leading.
ALIGI
Ah! Will you come then with me? O, come with me!
Though full long the journey, you also, Mila,
Will I place on the mule's back and travel,
Cherishing hope, toward Rome the eternal!
MILA
Needs be that I go the opposite way,
With steps hurried, bereft of all hoping.
ALIGI [_turning impatiently to the sleeping old herb-woman_]
Anna Onna! Up, arouse you! Go and find me
Grains of black hellebore, hellebore ebon,
To give back to this woman her senses.
MILA
O be not angry, Aligi, for if you are angry--
For if you are also against me, how shall I live through
This day till the evening? For behold, if you trample
My heart beneath you, I shall gather it never again!
ALIGI
And I to my home shall be turning never again,
If not with you, O daughter of Jorio,
Mila di Codra, my own by the Sacrament!
MILA
Aligi, can I cross the very threshold
Whereon once the waxen cross was lying,
Where a man once appeared who was bloody?
And unto whom said the son of this man:
"If this blood be unjust blood you cannot pass through"?
High noonday 't was then, the eve of the day
Of Santo Giovanni, and harvest day.
Now in peace on that wall hangs the idle sickle;
Now at rest lies the grain in the granary;
But of that sorrow's sowing the seeds are still growing.
[COSMA _moves in his sleep and moans._]
ALIGI
Know you, then, one who shall lead you by the hand thither!
COSMA [_crying out in his sleep_]
O do not unbind him! No, no, do not unbind him!
[_The saint, stretching his arms, lifts up his face from his knees._]
MILA
Cosma, Cosma, what are you dreaming? Tell your dreaming!
[COSMA _wakens and rises._]
ALIGI
What have you been seeing? Tell your seeing!
COSMA
The face of Fear was turned full upon me.
I have beheld it. But I may not tell it.
Every dream that cometh of God must be chastened
From the fire of it first before giving.
I have beheld it. And I shall speak, surely.
Yet not now, lest I speak the name vainly
Of my Lord and my God, lest I judge now
While my darkness is still overpowering.
ALIGI
O Cosma, thou art holy. Many a year
Have you bathed in the melting snow water,
In the water o'erflowing the mountain,
Quenching your thirst in the clear sight of Heaven,
And this day you have slept in my cavern,
On the sheep-skin that's steamed well in sulphur
So the spirit of evil must shun it.
In your dreaming now you have seen visions,
And the eye of the Lord God is on you.
Help me then with your sure divination!
Now to you I shall speak. You will answer.
COSMA
All unready am I in wisdom,
Nor have I, O youth, understanding
Of so much as the stone in the path of the shepherd.
ALIGI
O Cosma, man of God, heed me and listen!
I implore by the angel in that block enfolded,
Who has no ears to hear and vet heareth!
COSMA
Simple words speak ye, O shepherd,
And repose not your trust in me,
But in the holy truth only.
[MALDE_ and _ANNA ONNA_ awaken and lean upon their elbows listening._]
ALIGI
Cosma, this, then, is the holy truth:
I turned from the mountain and Puglia valley
With my flock on the day Corpus Domini,
And after I found for my flock good shelter
I went to my home for my three days' resting.
And I find there in my house my mother
Who says unto me: "Son of mine, a companion
For you have I found." Then say I: "Mother,
I ever obey your commandments." She answered:
"'T is well. And lo! here is the woman."
We were espoused. And the kindred gathered,
Escorting the bride to our threshold.
Aloof I stood like a man on the other
Bank of a river, seeing all things as yonder,
Afar, past the water flowing between,
The water that flows everlastingly.
Cosma, this was on a Sunday. And mingled
With my wine was no seed of the poppy.
Why then, notwithstanding, did slumber profound
My heart all forgetting o'erpower?
I believe I slept years seven hundred.
We awoke on the Monday belated.
Then the loaf of the Bridal my mother
Broke over the head of a weeping virgin.
Untouched had she lain by me. The kindred
Came then with their wheat in their hampers.
But mute stayed I wrapped up in great sadness.
As one in the shadow of death I was dwelling.
Behold now! on a sudden, all trembling,
There appeared in our doorway this woman,
Hard pursuing and pressing her, reapers,--
Hounds! that wanted to seize her and have her.
Then implored she and pleaded for safety.
But not even one of us, Cosma,
Moved, except one, my sister, the littlest,
Who dared rush to the door and bar it.
And lo, now by those dogs was it shaken,
With uttering of curses and threat'ning.
And in hatred against this sad creature
Were their foul mouths unleashed and barking.
To the pack would the women have tossed her,
But she trembling still by the hearthstone,
Was pleading us not to make sacrifice of her.
I, too, myself, seized her with hatred and threat'ning,
Though it seemed to me, then, I was dragging
At my own very heart, the heart of my childhood.
She cried out, and above her head I lifted
My sheep-hook to strike her.
Then wept my sisters!
Then behind her beheld I the angel weeping!
With these eyes, O saint, the angel watching and weeping mutely.
Down on my knees fell I,
Imploring forgiveness. And then to punish
This, my hand, I took up from the fireplace
A burning ember.
"No, do not burn it,"
She cried aloud,--this woman cried to me.
--O Cosma! saint holy, with waters from snow-peaks
Purified are you, dawning by dawning;
You, too, woman, who know all herbs growing
For the healing of flesh that is mortal,
Yea, all virtue of roots that are secret;
--Malde, you, too, with that branch of yours forking
May fathom where treasure is hidden,
Entombed at the feet of the dead now dead
For a hundred years, or a thousand--true is it?--
In the depths of the depths of the heart of the mountain.
Of ye then, I ask, of ye who can hear
The deep things within that come from afar,
Whence came that voice,--O from what far distance
That came and that spake so Aligi should hear it?
(Oh, answer ye me!)--When she said unto me:
"And how then your flocks can you pasture
If your hand is infirm, O Aligi?"
Ah! with these her words did she gather
My soul from my body within me,
Even as you, O woman, gather your simples!
[MILA _weeps silently._]
ANNA ONNA
There's an herb that is red and called Glaspi,
And another is white called Egusa,
And the one and the other grow up far apart,
But their roots grope together and meet
Underneath the blind earth, and entwine
So closely that sever them never could ever
Santa Lucia. Their leaves are diverse,
But one and the same is their seven years' flower.
But all this is their record in records.
It is Cosma who knoweth the power of the Lord.
ALIGI
Heed me then, Cosma! The slumber of forgetfulness
Was by Commandment sent to my pillow.
By whom? Closed by the hand of Innocence
Was the door of Safety. Came to me the apparition--
The Angel of Counsel. And out of the word
Of her mouth was created the pledge eternal.
Who then was my wife, before ever
Good wheat, holy loaf, or fair flower?
COSMA
O shepherd Aligi! God's are the just steelyards of Justice.
God's only is the just balance of Justice.
Notwithstanding, O take ye counsel,
From the Angel of Counsel, who gave you your surety.
Yea, take pledge of him for this stranger.
But she left untouched, where is she?
ALIGI
For the sheepstead I left after vespers,
On the eve of Santo Giovanni.
At daybreak
I found myself wending above Capracinta.
On the crest I awaited the sunrise,
And I saw in the disc of its blazing
The bleeding head that was severed.
To my sheepfold
Then came I,--and again I began--guarding my sheep--to suffer
For me seemed that sleep still overwhelmed me,
And my flock on my life's force was browsing.
Oh! why still was my heart heavy laden?
O Cosma! first saw I the shadow,
Then the figure, there, there, at the entrance,
On the morning of San Teobaldo.
On the rock out there was sitting this woman,
And she did not arise for she could not,
So sore were her feet and bleeding.
Said she: "Aligi,
Do you know me?"
I answered: "Thou art Mila."
And no word more we spoke, for no more were we
Twain. Nor on that day were contaminated
Nor after, ever.
I speak but the truth.
COSMA
O shepherd Aligi! You have verily lighted
A holy lamp in your darkness.
Yet it is not enkindled in limits appointed,
Chosen out of old time by your fathers.
You have moved farther off the Term Sacred.
How then if the lamp were spent and were quenched?
For wisdom is in man's heart a well-spring
Profound; but only the pure man may draw of its waters.
ALIGI
Now pray I great God that He place upon us
The seal of the Sacrament eternal!
See ye this that I do? Not hand but soul
Is carving this wood in the similitude
Of the Angel apparition. I began
On the Day of Assumption. Rosary time
Shall it be finished. This my design is:
On to Rome with my flock I shall wander,
And along with me carry my Angel,
On mule-back laden. I will go to the Holy Father,
In the name of San Pietro Celestino,
Who upon Mount Morrone did penance.
I shall go to the Shepherd of shepherds,
With this votive offering, humbly imploring
Indulgence, that the bride, yet untouched, may return
To her mother, set free thus and blameless;
Then as mine I may cherish this stranger,
Who knows well how to weep all unheeded.
So now I ask this of your deep-reaching wisdom,
Cosma; will this grace unto me be conceded?
COSMA
All the ways of mankind appear the direct ways
To man: but the Lord God is weighing heart-secrets.
High the walls, high the walls of man's stronghold,
Huge are its portals of iron; and around and around it
Heavy the shade of tombs where grass grows pallid.
Let not your lamb browse upon that grass grown pallid,
O shepherd Aligi, best question the mother.
A VOICE [_calling outside_]
Cosma, Cosma! If you are within, come forth!
COSMA
Who is calling for me? Did you hear a voice calling?
THE VOICE
Come forth, Cosma, by the blood that is holy!
O Christian brothers, the sign of the cross make ye!
COSMA
Behold me. Who calls me? Who wants me?
[_At the mouth of the cavern two shepherds appear, wearing sheep-skin
coats, holding a gaunt and sickly youth whose arms are bound to his
body with several turns of a rope._]
FIRST SHEPHERD
O Christian brothers! The sign of the cross make ye!
May the Lord from the enemy keep you!
And to guard well the door say a prayer.
SECOND SHEPHERD
O Cosma, this youth is possessed of a demon.
Now for three days the devil has held him.
Behold, O behold how he tortures him now.
He froths at the mouth, turning livid and shrieking.
With strong ropes we needed to tie and bind him
To bring him to you. You who freed before now
Bartolomeo dei Cionco ala Petrara, do you,
O wise man of mercy, do you this one also
Liberate! Force now the demon to leave him!
O chase him away from him, cure him and heal him!
COSMA
What is his name and the name of his father?
FIRST SHEPHERD
Salvestro, di Mattia di Simeone.
COSMA
Salvestro, how then, you will to be healed?
Be of good heart, my son, O be trustful!
Lo! I say unto you, fear not!
And ye
Wherefore have ye bound him? Let him be free!
SECOND SHEPHERD
Come with us then to the chapel, Cosma.
There we can let him be free. He would flee away, here.
He is frantic always, for escape ever ready.
And sudden to take it. He's frothing. Come on then!
COSMA
That will I, God helping. Be of good heart, my son!
[_The two shepherds carry the youth off. _MALDE_ and _ANNA ONNA_
follow them for awhile, then halt, gazing after them, _MALDE_ with a
forked olive branch with a small ball of wax stuck on at the larger
end, the old woman leaning on her crutch and with her bag of simples
hanging in front. Finally they also disappear from sight. The saint
from the doorway turns back toward his host._]
COSMA
I go in God's peace, shepherd Aligi.
For the comfort I found in your cavern,
May you be blessed! Lo! now they called unto me
And therefore I answered. Before you may enter
Upon your new way, the old laws well consider.
Who will change the old ways shall be winnowed.
See ye guard well your father's commandment.
See ye heed well your mother's instruction.
Hold them ever steadfast in your bosom.
And God guide your feet, that you may not be taken
In lariats nor into live embers stumble!
ALIGI
Cosma, quite well have you heard me? That I remain sinless.
Never I tainted myself but kept good faith,
Quite well have you heard of the sign God Almighty
Has revealed me and sent here unto me?
I await what will come, my flesh mortifying.
COSMA
I say unto you: Best question your parents
Ere you lead to your roof-tree this stranger.
A VOICE [_calling from outside_]
Cosma, don't delay longer! Surely 't will kill him.
COSMA [_turning to_ MILA]
Peace unto you, woman! If good be within you
Let it pour forth from you like tears falling
Without being heard. I may soon return.
ALIGI
I come. I follow. Not all have I told you.
MILA
Aligi, 't is true: not all are you telling!
Go to the roadside. The cross-bearer watch for
And implore him to carry the message.
[_The saint goes off over the pasture land. The singing of the
pilgrims is heard from time to time._]
MILA
Aligi, Aligi: Not all did we tell!
Yet better it were that my mouth were choked up,
Better that stones and that ashes
Held me speechless. Hear then this only
From me, Aligi. I have done you no evil;
And none shall I do you. Healed and restored now
Are my feet. And I know well the pathways.
Now arrived is the hour of departure
For the daughter of Jorio. Now then so be it!
ALIGI
I know not, you know not what hour may be coming.
Replenish the oil in our lamp of the Virgin,
Take the oil from the skin. Some yet is within
And wait for me here. I seek the cross-bearer,
Right well what to say unto him know I.
MILA
Aligi, brother of mine! Give me your hand, now!
ALIGI
Mila, the road is but there, not far away.
MILA
Give me that hand of yours, so I may kiss it.
'T is the drop that I yield to my thirst.
ALIGI [_coming closer_]
With the ember I wanted to burn it, Mila,
This sinful hand that sought to offend you.
MILA
All that I forget. I am only the woman
You found on the rock there seated,
By who knows what roads coming hither!
ALIGI [_coming again close_]
Upon your face your tears are not drying,
Dear woman. A tear is now staying
On the eyelashes, while you speak trembles, and falls not.
MILA
Over us hovers deep stillness. Aligi, just listen!
Hushed is the singing. With the grasses and snow-peaks
We are alone, brother mine, we are alone.
ALIGI
Mila, now you are unto me as you first were
Out there on the rock, when you were all smiling,
With your eyes all shining, your feet all bleeding.
MILA
And you,--you,--are you not now the one who was kneeling,--
Who the flowrets of Santo Giovanni
Put down on the ground? Ah! by one were they gathered
Who bears them yet, wears them yet--in her scapulary.
ALIGI
Mila, there is in your voice a vibration
That while it consoles me, it saddens.
As even October, when, all my flocks with me,
I border the bordering stretches of seashore.
MILA
To border them with you, the shore and the mountain
Ah! I would that that fate were my fate evermore.
ALIGI
O my love, be preparing for such wayfaring!
Though the road there be long, for that is Love strong.
MILA
Aligi, I'd pass there through fires ever flaming,
Onward still wending by roads never ending.
ALIGI
To cull on the hill-top the blue gentian lonely,
On the seashore only the star-fish flower.
MILA
There on my knees would I drag myself on,
Placing them down on the tracks you were marking.
ALIGI
Think, too, of the places to rest when the night should o'ertake us,
And the mint and the thyme that would be your pillows.
MILA
I cannot think. No. Yet give leave this one night more
That I live with you, here, where you are here breathing,
That I hear you asleep and be with you,
And over you keep, like your dogs, faithful vigil!
ALIGI
O, you know, O, you know what must await us.
How with you must I ever divide the bread, salt, and water.
And so shall I share with you also the pallet,
Unto death and eternity. Give me your hands!
[_They grasp each other's hands, gazing into each other's eyes._]
MILA
Ah! we tremble, we tremble. You are frigid,
Aligi. You are blanching. O whither
Is flowing the blood your face loses?
[_She frees herself and touches his face with both hands._]
[Illustration: MILA DI CODRA AND ALIGI. _Act II._]
ALIGI
O Mila, Mila, I hear a great thundering,
All the mountain is shaking and sinking,
Where are you? Where are you? All is veiled.
[_He stretches out his hand toward her as one tottering. They kiss
each other. They fall down upon their knees, facing each other._]
MILA
Have mercy upon us, blessed Virgin!
ALIGI
Have mercy upon us, O Christ Jesus!
[_A deep silence follows._]
A VOICE [_outside_]
Shepherd, ho! You are wanted, and in a hurry.
A black sheep has broken his shank.
[ALIGI _rises totteringly and goes toward the entrance._]
You are wanted at once and must hurry,
And there is a woman I know not.
On her head is a basket. For you she is asking.
[ALIGI _turns his head and looks toward _MILA_ with an all-embracing
glance. She is still on her knees._]
ALIGI [_in a whisper_]
Mila, replenish the oil in our lamp of the Virgin,
So it go not out. See, it barely is burning.
Take the oil from the skin. Some yet is within.
And await me. I only must go to the sheep-fold.
Fear nothing, for God is forgiving.
Because we trembled will Mary forgive us.
Replenish the oil and pray her for mercy.
[_He goes out into the fields._]
MILA
O Holy Virgin! Grant me this mercy:
That I may stay here with my face to earth bowed,
Cold here, that I may be found dead here,
That I may be removed hence for burial.
No trespass there was in thine eyesight.
No trespass there was. For Thou unto us wert indulgent.
The lips did no trespass. (To bear witness
There wert Thou!) The lips did no trespass.
So under Thine eyes I may die here, die here!
For strength have I none to leave here, O Mother!
Yet remain with him here Mila cannot!
Mother clement! I was never sinful,
But a well-spring tramped on and trodden.
Shamed have I been in the eyes of Heaven,
But who took away from my memory
This shame of mine if not Thou, Mary?
Born anew then was I when love was born in me.
Thou it was willed it, O faithful Virgin!
All the veins of this new blood spring from afar,
Spring from far off, from the far, far away,
From the depths of the earth where she rests,
She who nourished me once in days long ago, long ago.
Let it also be she who bears now for me witness
Of innocency! Madonna, Thou also bore witness!
The lips did no trespass here now (Thou wert witness),
No, there was none in the lips, no, in the lips there was none.
And if I trembled, O let me bear that trespass,
Bear ever that tremor with me beyond!
Here I close up within me my eyes with my fingers.
[_With the index and middle finger of each hand she presses her eyes,
bowing her head to the earth._]
Death do I feel. Now do I feel it draw closer.
The tremor increaseth. Yet not the heart ceaseth.
[_Rising impetuously._]
Ah, wretch that I am, that which was told me
To do, I did not, though thrice did he say it:
"Replenish the oil." And lo! now 't is dying!
[_She goes toward the oil-skin hanging from a beam, with her eye
still watching the dying flame, endeavoring to keep it alive with the
murmured prayer:_]
Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum.
(Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord be with thee.)
[_Opening the skin, it flattens in her hands. She searches for the
flask to draw off the oil, but is able to get but one or two drops._]
'T is empty! 'T is empty! But three drops, Virgin,
For my unction extreme prithee be given me,
But two for my hands, for my lips the other,
And all for my soul, all the three!
For how can I live when back he returns here,
What can I say, Mother, what can I say?
Surely then he will see, or ere he see me,
How the lamp has gone out. If my loving
Sufficed not to keep the flame burning,
How pale unto him will this love of mine, Mother, appear!
[_Again she tries the skin, looking again for other receptacles,
upsetting everything and still murmuring prayers._]
Cause it to burn, O Mother intrepid!
But a little while longer, as much longer only
As an Ave Maria, a Salve
Regina, O Mother of Mercy, of Pity!
[_In the frenzy of her search she goes to the entrance and hears a
step and catches sight of a shadow. She calls aloud._]
O woman, good woman, Christian sister,
Come you hither! and may the Lord bless you!
Come you hither! For mayhap the Lord sends you.
What bear you in your basket? If a little
Oil, oh, then of your charity, give me a little!
Pray enter and take of all these your free choice,
These ladles, spindles, mortars, distaffs, any!
For need that there is here for Our Lady,
To replenish the oil in her lamp there hanging
And not to quench it; if through me it be quenched,
I shall lose sight of the way to Heaven.
Christian woman, grasp you my meaning?
Will you to me do this loving kindness?
[_The woman appears at the entrance, her head and face covered with a
black mantle. She takes down the basket from her head without a word
and placing it on the ground removes the cloth, takes out the phial
of oil and offers it to _MILA.]
MILA
Ah! be thou blessed, be thou blessed! Lord God
Reward thee on earth, and in Heaven also!
You have some! You have some! In mourning are you;
But the Madonna will grant it to you
To see again the face of your lost one,--
All for this deed of your charity done me.
[_She takes the phial and turns anxiously to go to the dying lamp._]
Ah! perdition upon me! 'T is quenched.
[_The phial falls from her hand and breaks. For a few seconds she
remains motionless, stunned with the terrible omen. The woman
leaning down to the spilled oil touches it with her fingers and
crosses herself. _MILA_ regards the woman with utter sadness and the
resignation of despair makes her voice hollow and slow._]
MILA
Pardon me, pardon, Christian pilgrim,
This your charity turned to nothing.
The oil wasted, broken in pieces the phial,
Misfortune upon me befallen.
Tell me what choose you? All these things here
Were fashioned out thus by the shepherd.
A new distaff and with it a spindle
Wish you? Or wish you a mortar and pestle?
Tell me, I pray. For nothing know I any more.
I am one of the lost in the earth beneath.
THE CLOAKED ONE
Daughter of Jorio! I have come unto you,
To you, bringing here, thus, this basket,
So I a boon may beseech of you.
MILA
Ah! heavenly voice that I ever
In the deeps of my soul have been hearing!
THE CLOAKED ONE
To you come I from Acquanova.
MILA
Ornella, Ornella art thou!
[ORNELLA _uncovers her face._]
ORNELLA
The sister am I of Aligi;
The daughter am I of Lazaro.
MILA
I kiss your two feet with humility,
That have carried you here to me
So that again your dear face I behold
This hour, this last hour of my mortal suffering.
To give me pity you were the first one,
You are now, too, the last one, Ornella!
ORNELLA
If I was the first, penitence
Great I have suffered. I am telling
The truth to you, Mila di Codra.
And still is my suffering bitter.
MILA
Oh! your voice in its sweetness is quivering.
In the wound doth the knife that hurts quiver.
And much more, ah! more doth it quiver
And you do not yet know that, Ornella!
ORNELLA
If only you knew this my sorrow!
If only you knew how much sadness
The small kindness I did for you caused me!
From my home that is left desolated
I come, where we weep and are perishing.
MILA
Why thus are you vested in mourning?
Who is dead then? You do not answer.
Mayhap--mayhap--the newly come sister?
ORNELLA
Ah! She is the one you wish perished!
MILA
No, no. God is my witness. I feared it,
And the fear of it seized me within me.
Tell me, tell me. Who is it? Answer,
For God's sake and for your own soul's sake!
ORNELLA
Not one of us yet has been taken;
But all of us there are still mourning
The dear one who leaves us abandoned
And gives himself up to his ruin.
If you could behold the forsaken one,
If our mother you could but behold,
You would quiver indeed. Unto us
Come is the Summer of blackness, come is
The Autumn bitter, oppressive,
And never a circling twelvemonth's season
Could be unto us so saddening. Surely,
When I shut to the door to help you and save you
And gave myself up to my ruin,
You did not then seem to me so unfeeling,--
You who implored for compassion's sake,--
You who sought my name of me
That you might in your blessings whisper it!
But since then my name is shadowed in shame.
Every night, every day in our household,
I am railed upon, shunned, cast away.
They single me out. They, pointing, cry out:
"Lo! that is the one, behold her,
Who put up the bars of the entrance
So that evil within might stay safely
And hide at its ease by the hearthstone."
I cannot stay longer. Thus say I: "Far rather
Hew at me, all, with your knife-blades
And carve me to shreds and cut me!" This now
Is your blessing, Mila di Codra!
MILA
It is just, it is just that you
Strike me thus! Just is it that you
Make my lips drink thus deep of this bitterness!
With such sorrow be accompanied
All these my sins to the world that's beyond!
Mayhap, mayhap, then, the stones and the heather
And the stubble, the woodblock dumb, unfeeling,
Shall speak for me,--the angel here silent,
That your brother is calling to life in the block there,
And the Virgin bereft of her lamplight.
These shall all speak for me: but I--I--shall speak not!
ORNELLA
Dear woman, indeed how around you
Your soul is your body's vestment,
And how I may touch it, outstretching
Towards you thus my hand with all faith.
How then did you do so much evil
To harm us so much--us--God's people?
If you could behold our Vienda,
Quiver, indeed, would you. For shortly the skin will
Over the bones part in twain for its dryness,
And the lips of her mouth are grown whiter
Than within her white mouth her white teeth are;
So that when the first rain came falling,
Saturday, Mamma, seeing her, said of her,
Weeping: "Lo, now! Lo, now! she will be leaving,
She will break with the moisture and vanish."
Yet my father laments not; his bitterness
He chews upon hard without weeping.
Envenomed within him the iron,
The wound in his flesh is like poison
(San Cresidio and San Rocca guard us!)
The swelling leaves only the mouth free
To bark at us daily and nightly.
In his frenzy his curses were fearful,--
The roof of the house with them shaking,
And with them our hearts quaking. Dear woman,
Your teeth are chattering. Have you the fever,
That you shiver thus and you tremble?
MILA
Always at twilight and sunset,
A tremor of cold overtakes me
Not strong am I in the nights on the mountain,
We light fires at this time in the valley,
But speak on and heed not my suffering.
ORNELLA
Yesterday, by chance, I discovered
He had it in mind to climb up here,--
This mountain to climb, to the sheepstead.
I failed through the evening to see him,
And my blood turned cold within me.
So then I made ready this basket,
And in this my sisters aided me,--
We are three who are born of one mother,--
All three of us born marked with sorrow;
And this morning I left Acquanova,
I crossed by the ferry the river,
And the path to the mountain ascended.
Ah! you dear, dear creature of Jesus!
With what illness now are you taken?
How can I bear all this sorrow?
What can I be doing for you?
You far more violently tremble
Than when you sought our fireplace
And the pack of the reapers were hunting you.
MILA
And since--Oh! since have you seen him? Know you
If yet he has come to the sheepstead?
Be certain, Ornella, be certain!
ORNELLA
Not again have I seen him. Nor yet
Do I know if he came up the mountain,--
Since much did he have for the doing
At Gionco. Perhaps he came not.
So do not be frightened! But hear me,
And heed me. For your soul's sake,
To save it, now, Mila di Codra,
Repent ye and take ye, I prithee,
Away from us this evil doing!
Restore us Aligi, and may God go with you,
And may He have mercy upon you!
MILA
Dear sister of Aligi! Content am I,--
Yea, always to hear and to heed you.
Just is it that you strike me,--
Me, the sinful woman, me, the sorcerer's
Daughter, the witch who is shameless,--
Who for charity supplicated
The journeying pilgrim of Jesus
But a little oil to give her
To feed her sacred lamp-flame!
Perhaps behind me the Angel is weeping
Again as before; and the stones perhaps
Will speak for me, but I--shall speak not--
Shall speak not. But this say I only
In the name of sister, and if I say not
In truth, may my mother arise
From her grave, my hair grasping,
And cast me upon the black earth, bearing
Witness against her own daughter.
Only say I: I am sinless before your brother,
Before the pallet of your brother clean am I!
ORNELLA
Omnipotent God! A miracle dost Thou!
MILA
But this is the loving of Mila.
This is but my love, Ornella.
And more than this I shall speak not.
Contented am I to obey you.
All paths knows the daughter of Jorio,
Already her soul ere your coming
Had started,--ere now, O Innocent One!
Do not distrust me, O sister
Of Aligi, for no cause is there.
ORNELLA
Firm as the rock my faith is in you.
Brow unto brow have I seen in you
Truth. And the rest lies in darkness,
That I, poor one, may not fathom.
But I kiss your feet here humbly,
The feet that know well the pathways.
And my silent love and pity
Will companion you on your journey.
I will pray that the steps of your pathway
Be lessened, the pain of them softened.
And the pain that I feel and I suffer
On your head I shall lay it no longer.
No more shall I judge your misfortunes,
No more shall I judge of your loving,
Since before my dear brother sinless
Are you, in my heart I shall call you
My sister, my sister in exile. At dawning
My dreams shall meet you and often shall greet you.
MILA
Ah, in my grave were I resting,
With the black earth close to me nestling,
And in my ears, in that grave lonely,
These words were the last words sounding,--
Their promise of peace my life rounding!
ORNELIA
For your life I have spoken, I witness.
And food and drink to restore you,--
That at least for the first of your journey,
You may not lack something of comfort,--
For you I prepared in this basket;
Bread placing in it and wine (the oil is now
Gone!) but I did not place there a flower.
Forgive me for that, since then I knew not--
MILA
A blue flower, a flower of the blue aconite--
You did not place that in your basket for me!
And you did not place there the white sheet severed
From the cloth in your loom at home woven
That I saw 'twixt the doorway and fireplace!
ORNELLA
Mila! for that hour wait on the Saviour.
But what still keeps my brother? Vainly
I sought him at the sheepfold. Oh! where is he?
MILA
He will be back again ere nightfall surely.
Needs be that I hasten! O, needs be!
ORNELLA
Do you mean not to see him--speak again to him?
Where then will you go for this night? Remain here.
I, too, will remain. Thus doing shall we
Be together, and strong against sorrow,
We three-- Till you go at daybreak
On your path, and we go upon our path.
MILA
But already too long are the nights. Needs be
That I hasten,--hasten! You know not.
I will tell you. Also from him I received
The parting that's not to be given
A second time. Addio! Go, seek him,
And meet him, now, in the sheepfold, surely.
Detain him there longer, and tell him
All the grief that they suffer down there,
And let him not follow me! On my pathway
Unknown, I shall soon be. Rest you blessed!
Forever rest blessed! O, be you as sweet
Unto his as you were to my sorrow!
Addio! Ornella, Ornella, Ornella!
[_While speaking thus, she retires toward the darkness of the cavern
and _ORNELLA_, softened to tears, passes out. The old herb-woman
then appears at the opening of the cavern. The singing of the
pilgrims may still be heard, but from a greater distance. _ANNA
ONNA_ enters, leaning on her crutch with her bag hanging by her
side._]
ANNA [_breathless_]
'Has freed him, freed him, woman of the valley,
'Has freed him! Ay! from inside him
Chased away all the demons did he--
Cosma--that possessed him. A saint, surely.
He gave out a great cry like a bull's roar,--
Did the youth, and at one blow fell down
As if he had burst his chest open.
You didn't--don't say you couldn't--hear him?
And now on the grass he is sleeping.
Deeply, deeply is he sleeping; and the shepherds
Stand around and keep watch o'er him.
But where are you? I do not see you.
MILA
Anna Onna, put me to sleep!
O Granny dear, I'll give you this basket
That is brimful of eating and drinking.
ANNA
Who was she that went away hurrying?
Had she broken your heart that you cried so?
--That after her, so, you were calling?
MILA
Granny, oh, listen! This basket I'll give you,
That one on the ground, to take with you,--
If you'll put me to sleep,--make me go,--
To sleep, with the little black seeds--you know--
Of the hyoscyamus. Go off then! be eating and drinking!
ANNA
I have none. I have none left in my bag here!
MILA
The skin I will give you, too, the sheepskin
You were sleeping on here to-day.
If you give me some of those red seed-pods,
The red pods you know--twigs of the nasso.
Go off, then, go off, and fill up and guzzle!
ANNA
I have none, I have none in my bag here.
Go slower a bit, woman of the valley,
Take time, go slowly, go slowly,
Think it over a day, or a month, or a year.
MILA
O Granny dear, more will I give you!
A kerchief with pictures in color,
And of woollen cloth, three arms' lengths,
If you give me some of the herb-roots--
The same that you sell to the shepherds
That kill off the wolves so swiftly--
The root of the wolf-grass, the wolf-bane--
Go off then. Go off and mend up your bones!
ANNA
I have none, I have none left in my bag here.
Go slower a bit, woman of the valley,
Take time, go slowly, go slowly,
With time there always comes wisdom.
Think it over a day, or a month, or a year,
With the herbs of the good Mother Mountain
We can heal all our ailments and sorrows.
MILA
You will not? Very well then, I snatch thus from you
That black bag of yours. Therein I'll be finding
What will serve for me well, well indeed!
[_She tries to tear the bag away from the tottering old woman._]
ANNA
No, no. You are robbing me, your poor old granny,
You force me! The shepherd--he'd tear me--
Gouge out my eyes from their sockets.
[_A step is heard and a man's form appears in the shadows._]
MILA
Ah! it is you, it is you, Aligi!
Behold what this woman is doing.
[MILA _lets fall the bag which she had taken from the old woman and
sees the man looming tall in the dim light of the mountain, but
recognizing him she takes refuge in the depths of the cavern.
_LAZARO DI ROIO_ then enters, silent, with a rope around his arm like
an ox drover about to tie up his beast. The sound of _ANNA ONNA'S_
crutches striking against the stones is heard as she departs in
safety._]
LAZARO
Woman, O, you need not be frightened.
Lazaro di Roio has come here,
But he does not carry his sickle:
It is scarcely a case of an eye for an eye,
And he does not wish to enforce it.
There was more than an ounce of blood taken
From him on the wheat-field of Mispa,
And you know cause and end of that bloodshed.
Ounce for ounce, then, he will not take from you,
Nor wish it, for all the wound's smarting--
The cicatrice, here in the forehead.
Raven feather, olive-twig crook,
Rancid oil, soot from the chimney shook,
Morn unto eve, eve unto morn,
The cursed wound must healing scorn!
[_He gives a short, malignant laugh._]
And where I was lying, I heard ever
The weeping and wailing, the women,
Oh, not for me, but this shepherd,
Spell-bound, bewitched by the witch shrew
Way off in the far-away mountain.
Surely, woman, poor was your picking.
But my grit and my blood are back again,
And many words I shall not be talking,
My tongue is dry now for doing it,
And all for this same sad occasion.
Now then, say I, you shall come on with me,
And no talk about it, daughter of Jorio!
Waiting below is the donkey and saddle,
And also here a good rope hempen,
And others to spare, God be praised! if need be!
[MILA _remains motionless, backed up against the rock, without
replying._]
Did you hear me, Mila di Codra?
Or are you deaf and dumb now?
This I am saying in quiet:
I know all about how it happened,
That time with the reapers of Norca.
If you are thinking to thwart me
With the same old tricks, undeceive you!
There's no fireplace here, nor any
Relations, nor San Giovanni
Ringing the bells of salvation.
I take three steps and I seize you,
With two good stout fellows to help me.
So now, then, and I say it in quiet,
You'd better agree to what needs be.
You may just as well do as I want you,
For if you don't do so, you'll have to!
MILA
What do you want from me? Where already
Death was, you came. Death is here, even now.
He stepped one side to let you enter.
Withdrawing awhile, still here he is waiting.
Oh, pick up that bag there; inside it
Are deadly roots enough to kill ten wolves.
If you bind it on to my jaws here
I would make of it all a good mouthful;
I would eat therein, you would see me,
As the good hungry mare that crunches
Her oats. So then, when I should be
Cold, you could take me up there and toss me
And pack me upon your donkey,
And tie with your rope like a bundle,
And shout out: "Behold the witch, shameless,
The sorceress!" Let them burn up my body,
Let the women come round and behold me,
And rejoice in deliverance. Mayhap
One would thrust in her hand, in the fire,
Without being burned in the flame,
And draw from the core of the heat my heart.
[LAZARO_, at her first bidding, takes up the bag and examines the
simples. He then throws it behind him, with suspicion and distrust._]
LAZARO
Ah, ah! You want to spread some snare.
What crouch are you watching to spring on me!
In your voice I can hear all your slyness,
But I shall trap you in my lariat.
[_At this he makes his rope into a lariat._]
Not dead, neither cold do I want you.
Lazaro di Roio,--by all the gods!--
Mila di Codra, will harvest you,--
Will go with you this very October,
And for this all things are ready.
He will press the grapes with your body,
Lazaro will sink in the must with you.
[_With a sinister laugh he advances toward _MILA_, who is on the
alert to elude him, the man following closely, she darting here and
there, unable to escape him._]
MILA
Do not touch me! Be ashamed of yourself!
For your own son is standing behind you.
[ALIGI _appears at the end of the cave. Seeing his father, he turns
pale. _LAZARO_, halting in his chase, turns toward him. Father and
son regard each other intently and ominously._]
LAZARO
Hola there, Aligi! What is it?
ALIGI
Father, how did you come hither?
LAZARO
Has your blood been all sucked up that it's made you
So pale? As white you stand there in the light
As the whey when they squeeze out the cheeses.
Shepherd, say, why are you frightened?
ALIGI
Father, what is it you wish to do here?
LAZARO
What I wish to do here? You are asking
A question of me, a right you have not.
I will tell you, however. This will I:
The yearling ewe catch in my lariat,
And lead her wherever it please me.
That done, I shall sentence the shepherd.
ALIGI
Father, this thing you shall surely not do.
LAZARO
How dare you then lift so boldly
Your white face up into mine? Be careful
Or I shall make it blush of a sudden.
Go! turn back to your sheepfold and stay there,
With your flock inside the enclosure,
Until I come there to seek you.
On your life, I say, obey me!
ALIGI
Father, I pray the Saviour to keep me
From doing you aught but obedience.
And you are able to judge and to sentence
This son of your own; but this one--
This woman, see that you leave her alone!
Leave her to weep here alone.
Do no offence unto her. It is sinful.
LAZARO
Ah! The Lord has made you crazy!
Of what saint were you just speaking?
See you not (may your eyes be blind forever!)
See you not how under her eyelashes,--
Around her neck lie hidden
The seven sins, the mortal sins?
Surely, if there should see her only
Your buck now, 't would butt her, and you here
Are frightened lest I should offend her!
I tell you the stones of the highroad
By man and by beast are less trodden
Than she is by sin and shame trampled.
ALIGI
If it were not a sin unto God in me,
If by all men it were not deemed evil,
Father, I should say unto you that in this thing,--
In this thing you lie in your gullet!
[_He takes a few steps and places himself between his father and the
woman, covering her with his body._]
LAZARO
What's that you say? Your tongue in you wither!
Down on your knees there, to beg me
Forgiveness, your face on the ground there!
And never dare you to lift up your body
Before me! Thus, on your marrow-bones,
Off with you! Herd with your dogs!
ALIGI
The Saviour will judge of me, father:
But this woman I shall not abandon,
Nor unto your wrath shall I leave her,
While living. The Saviour will judge me.
LAZARO
I am the judge of you. Who
Am I then to you, blood and body?
ALIGI
You are my own father, dear unto me.
LAZARO
I am unto you your own father, and to you
I may do as to me it seem pleasing
Because unto me you are but the ox
In my stable; you are but my shovel
And hoe. And if I should over you
Pass with my harrow and tear you
And break you in pieces, this is well done!
And if I have need of a handle
For my knife, and one I shall make myself
Out of one of your bones, this is well done!
Because I am the father and you are the son!
Do you heed? And to me over you is given
All power, since time beyond time,
And a law that is over all laws.
And as even I was to my father,
So even are you unto me, under earth.
Do you heed? And if from your memory
This thing has fallen, then thus I recall
It unto your memory. Kneel down on your knees and kiss ye
The earth on your marrow-bones
And go off without looking behind you!
ALIGI
Pass over me then with the harrow;
But touch not the woman.
[LAZARO_ goes up to him, unable to restrain his rage, and lifting the
rope, strikes him on the shoulder._]
LAZARO
Down, down, you dog, down, to the ground with you!
ALIGI [_falling on his knees_]
So then, my father, I kneel down before you:
The ground in front of you do I kiss,
And in the name of the true God and living
By my first tear and my infant wailing
From the time when you took me unswaddled
And in your hand held me aloft
Before the sacred face of Lord Christ,--
By all this, I beseech you, I pray you, my father,
That you tread not thus and trample
On the heart of your son sorrow-laden.
Do not thus disgrace him! I pray you:
Do not make his senses forsake him,
Nor deliver him into the hands of the False One--
The Enemy who wheels now about us!
I pray you by the angel there silent,
Who sees and who hears in that wood block!
LAZARO
Begone! Off with you! Off with you!
I shall shortly now judge of you.
Off with you, I bid you. Be off with you!
[_He strikes him cruelly with the rope. _ALIGI_ rises all
quivering._]
ALIGI
Let the Saviour be judge. Let him judge then
Between you and me, and let him give unto me
Light; but yet I will against you
Not lift up this my hand.
LAZARO
Be you damned! With this rope I will hang you.
[_He throws the lariat to take him but _ALIGI_, seizing the rope with
a sudden jerk, takes it out of his father's hands._]
ALIGI
Christ my Saviour, help Thou me!
That I may not uplift my hand against him,
That I may not do this to my father!
LAZARO [_furious, goes to the door and calls_]
Ho, Jenne! and ho, Femo! Come here!
Come here, and see this fellow,
What he is doing (may a viper sting him!)
Fetch the ropes. Possessed is he
Most surely. His own father he threatens!
[_Running appear two men, big and muscular, bearing ropes._]
He is rebellious, this fellow!
From the womb is he damned,
And for all his days and beyond them.
The evil spirit has entered into him.
See! See! Behold how bloodless
The face is. O Jenne! You take him and hold him.
O Femo, you have the rope, take it and bind him,
For to stain myself I am not wishing.
Then go ye and seek out some one
To perform the exconjuration.
[_The two men throw themselves upon _ALIGI_ and overpower him._]
ALIGI
Brothers in God! O, do not do this to me!
Do not imperil your soul, Jenne.
I who know you so well, who remember,
Remember you well from a baby,
Since you came as a boy to pick up the olives
In your fields. O Jenne dell Eta!
I remember you. Do not thus debase me.
Do not thus disgrace me!
[_They hold him tightly, trying to bind him, and pushing him on
toward the entrance._]
Ah! dog!--The pest take you!--
No, no, no!--Mila, Mila! Hasten!--
Give me the iron there. Mila! Mila!
[_His voice, desperate and hoarse, is heard in the distance, while
_LAZARO_ bars _MILA'S_ egress._]
MILA
Aligi, Aligi! Heaven help you!
May God avenge you! Never despair!
No power have I, no power have you,
But while I have breath in my mouth,
I am all yours! I am all for you!
Have faith! Have faith! Help shall come!
Be of good heart, Aligi! May God help you!
[MILA_ gazes intently along the path where _ALIGI_ was borne and
listens intently for voices. In this brief interval _LAZARO_
scrutinizes the cavern insidiously. From the distance comes the
singing of another company of pilgrims crossing the valley._]
LAZARO
Woman, now then you have been seeing
How I am the man here. I give out the law.
You are left here alone with me.
Night is approaching, and inside here
It is now almost night. O don't
Be afraid of me, Mila di Codra,
Nor yet of this red scar of mine
If you see it light up, for now even
I feel in it the beat of the fever.
Come nearer me. Quite worn out you seem to be
For sure you've not met with fat living
On this hard shepherd's pallet.
While with me you shall have, if you want it,
All of that in the valley; for Lazaro
Di Roio is one of the thrifty.
But what do you spy at? Whom do you wait for?
MILA
No one I wait for. No one is coming!
[_She is still motionless, hoping to see _ORNELLA_ come and save her.
Dissimulating to gain time, she tries to defeat _LAZARO'S_
intentions._]
LAZARO
You are alone with me. You need not
Be frightened. Are you persuaded?
MILA [_hesitatingly_]
I'm thinking, Lazaro di Roio.
I'm thinking of what you have promised.
I'm thinking. But what's to secure me?
LAZARO
Do not draw back. My word I keep.
All that I promise, I tell you.
Be assured, God be witness. Come to me!
MILA
And Candia della Leonessa?
LAZARO
Let the bitterness of her mouth moisten
Her thread, and with that be her weaving!
MILA
--The three daughters you have in your household?
And now the new one!--I dare not trust to it.
LAZARO
Come here! Don't draw back! Here! Feel it!
Where I tucked it. Twenty ducats,
Sewed in this coat. Do you want them?
[_He feels for them through his goatskin coat, then takes it off and
throws it on the ground at her feet._]
Take them! Don't you hear them clinking?
There are twenty silver ducats.
MILA
But first I must see them and count them,--
First--before--Lazaro di Roio.
Now will I take these shears and rip it.
LAZARO
But why spy about so? You witch! surely
You're getting some little trick ready.
You're hoping yet you'll deceive me.
[_He makes a rush at her to seize her. She eludes him and seeks
refuge near the walnut block._]
MILA
No, no, no! Let me alone! Let me alone!
Don't you touch me! See! See! She comes! See! See! she comes
Your own daughter--Ornella is coming.
[_She grasps the angel to resist _LAZARO'S_ violence._]
No, no! Ornella, Ornella, O help me!
[Illustration: THE PARRICIDE. _Act II._]
[_Suddenly _ALIGI_ appears, free and unbound, at the mouth of the
cave. He sees in the dim light the two figures. He throws himself
upon his father. Catching sight of the axe driven into the wood, he
seizes it, blind with fury and horror._]
ALIGI
Let her go! For your life!
[_He strikes his father to death. _ORNELLA_, just appearing, bends
down and recognizes the dead body in the shadow of the angel. She
utters a great cry._]
ORNELLA
Ah! I untied him! I untied him!