Porzia Part 8

_Porzia._ Love ... whom?

_Bianca._ Osio!

Yet dare not so you draw him with denials, Knowing that to repel is to entrain him.

[_As Porzia stares, stupefied._

O mockery of it! fools my eyes were, fools, That stood within my head and did not see!

To me he spoke of love--yearning for you, And in me heard but echoes of you ... ever!

Yet, since you loved him, Why unto his brother, A heretic o'erturning G.o.d with stars, Did you--

_Porzia_ (_sinking to a divan_). I pray you speak things possible, Tho to your sight I seem and to my own Like one unnatural beyond belief!

A child I have whom fever now is burning, A husband all unhallowed in a prison ...

Tho to my dreams last night he seemed to come.

[_Bianca starts._

And so you must forgive me if blind shrinkings, That to your sight seem semblances of love, Unhelpably o'ertake me.

_Bianca._ Then--confess Why Osio seeks you and why so you shun him?

And with the child why are your ways so wild?

You fear sometimes to touch it, As if it were another's, or at your breast Could only drink of horror.

_Porzia_ (_rising_). Ah!... ah, ah!

_Bianca:_ Love is it, love, I say, of Osio, That motherhood itself cannot amend, And Rizzio shall hear of it--this day.

_Porzia._ He ... there in the darkness ... can hear naught!

Leave me, I pray, to wait Aloysius.

Why comes he not?... Ah, and why do you rend me?

For you would not indeed to Rizzio Add demon doubts ...

Of me who am to him there in the night Sun, moon and the white galaxy of stars Such as not even Messer Bruno dreams....

For, if you would, are you indeed Bianca Who, as a child, sang with me under the olives And cypresses; or watched with wonder eyes The fisherman draw marvels from the deep, Then homeward wing at eve to Ischia?

I cannot think it!... yet...!

[_Again distraught._

O what is it I dread! what thing has changed All natural thoughts within me to repugnance, All instincts and desires into terror?

I cannot touch my flesh, but I turn cold As if I had touched pollution, cannot press My child unto my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but ... true, Oh, true!...

A madness whispers in me, "Take it away!"

[_Staring, hauntedly._

And too, and too ... in solitude the want Of Rizzio imprisoned comes to me; Yet when I reach for him I seem enclasped By unknown arms ... in the sere dark, that ... Oh!

Now, now I feel them! off!

[_A knock at the gate._

(_Starting_) Ah, ah, Aloysius!...

With healing! he at last! (_moving toward door_) Uncle, the child--

[_Stops rooted to the floor for Osio has suddenly entered. He does not speak, nor she, but only Bianca, who looks at them, uttering his name then turning goes._

_Osio_ (_at length, tortured_). You shut me from your presence and your doors, My messages return to me unopened, My messengers unhonored--yet I've come, For speak to you I must, and utterly!

_Porzia_ (_gazing_). Lord Jesu!

_Osio._ Ai, Lord Jesu! let Him hear!

For if ever He huddled in a Manger, Or hung, a red atonement, on the Cross-- If you are not soul-bound to heresy, You must....

_Porzia._ Oh, oh! why are you here?

_Osio._ Why?... Peace!

Can you not listen to me without terror Not look upon me Without eyes where awe Sits like a murdered thing, or without hands That flutter at your heart unfalteringly?

I am your brother.

_Porzia._ I ... will hold you so.

_Osio._ But more than sister are you to my breast.

_Porzia._ Ah!

_Osio._ More, and I would save you from the flames That bind you to a heretic and h.e.l.l.

Nay, stay! do not start from me; stay, do not!

But hear me, for not that alone has led me, Not that alone, But love unbearable-- Such as not any lips in all the world Have sung, or any famed for it have breathed Upon the pagan pages of a book: For they were heathen all, in penance now Upon the sulphur winds that sweep Inferno, While I--

_Porzia_ (_whose look stops him_). While, you, you, inordinate, Speak baseness so unto your brother's wife?

_Osio._ His, no! no more! no more! for heresy Has rent from him all rights, therefore I dare To hunger for you, and to pledge the Pope Will grant us dispensation--

_Porzia._ Oh! Oh, oh!

[_Overwhelmed with loathing._

_Osio._ You will not heed it, will not come with me?

_Porzia._ Madonna, wash his words out of my brain,

[_Her hands lifted._

And from my memory purge their pollution!

(_To him_) Go, go!...

And may the poison of you never pa.s.s Across my sight again.

_Osio._ It will--to save you, For mine you are--G.o.d wills it!--and ... have been!

_Porzia._ Oh!

_Osio._ Have!--it was predestined--by His breath.