The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vi Part 61 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
GARCERAN (_to himself_).
Dizzy are you? Humph!
KING (_who has conducted her to the sh.o.r.e_).
It is accomplished now--this mighty task!
RACHEL. No, never will I enter more a s.h.i.+p.
(_Taking the_ KING's _arm._)
Permit me, n.o.ble Sire, I am so weak!
Pray feel my heart, how fev'rishly it beats!
KING. To fear, is woman's right; but you abuse it.
RACHEL. You now, hard-hearted, take away your aid!
And, oh, these garden walks, how hard they are!
With stones, and not with sand, they're roughly strewn For men to walk on, not for women's feet.
KING. Put down a carpet, ye, that we have peace.
RACHEL. I feel it well--I merely burden you!
Oh, were my sister only here with me, For I am sick and tired unto death!
Naught but these pillows here?
(_Throwing the pillows in the arbor violently about._)
No, no, no, no!
KING (_laughing_).
I see your weakness happily abates.
(_Catching sight of _GARCERAN.)
Ah, Garceran! Behold, she's but a child!
GARCERAN. A spoiled child, surely!
KING. Yes, they all are that.
It suits her well!
GARCERAN. According to one's tastes!
KING. See, Garceran! I feel how wrong I am; And yet I know there needeth but a nod, A simple word, to make it all dissolve--This dream--into the nothing that it is.
And so I suffer it because I've need, In this confusion which myself have caused.
How is the army?
GARCERAN. As you long have known, The enemy is arming.
KING. So shall we.
A few days more, and I shall put away This toying from me, and forevermore; Then time and counsel shall be found again.
GARCERAN. Mayhap the counsel, but the time slips by!
KING. With deeds we shall regain the ground that's lost.
RACHEL. I hear them speaking; and I know of what--Of And not be lonesome in this concourse loud.
I see you come not. No, they hold you back.
[_Weeping._]
Not any comfort give they me, nor joy.
They hold me here, apart, in slavery.
Would I were home again in father's house, Where every one is at my beck and call, Instead of here,--the outcast of contempt.
KING. Go thou to her!
GARCERAN. What? Shall I?
KING. Go, I say!
RACHEL. Sit down by me, but nearer, nearer--so!
Once more I say, I love you, Garceran.
You are, indeed, a knight without a flaw, Not merely knight in name, as they it learn-- Those iron, proud Castilians--from their foes, The Moors.--But these Castilians imitate In manner borrowed, therefore rough and crude, What those, with delicate and clever art, Are wont to practise as a native gift.
Give me your hand. Just see, how soft it is!
And yet you wield a sword as well as they.
But you're at home in boudoirs, too, and know The pleasing manners of a gentler life.
From Dona Clara cometh not this ring?
She's far too pale for rosy-cheeked love, Were not the color which her face doth lack Replaced by e'er renewing blush of shame.
But many other rings I see you have-- How many sweethearts have you? Come, confess!
GARCERAN. Suppose I ask the question now of you?
RACHEL. I've never loved. But I could love, if e'er In any breast _that_ madness I should find Which could enthrall me, were my own heart touched.
Till then I follow custom's empty show, Traditional in love's idolatry, As in the fanes of stranger-creeds one kneels.
KING (_who meanwhile has been pacing up and down, now stands in the foreground at the left and speaks in an aside to a servant_).
Bring me my arms, and full accoutrements, And wait for me beside the garden-house.
I will to camp where they have need of me.
[_Exit servant._]
RACHEL. I beg you, see your King! He thinks he loves; Yet when I speak to you and press your hand, He worries not. With good economy, He fills his garish day with business, And posts his ledger, satisfied, at ev'n.
Out on you! You are all alike--you, too.
O were my sister here! She's wise--than I Far cleverer! Yet, too, when in her breast The spark of will and resolution falls, She flashes out in flames, like unto mine.
Were she a man, she'd be a hero. Ye Before her courage and her gaze should flinch.
