Tales of the Wonder Club Volume III Part 14

Thou knew'st me not for mother, nor would I Unveil the myst'ry of thy parentage, Nor bring disgrace on Lady Angela, Who had so kindly offered to adopt Thee, the poor outcast gipsy's mongrel son, And rear him like the proudest of the land.

Why should I, with my narrow, selfish love, Oppose a barrier to my son's advance, Refuse the lady's bounty, and drag down My son unto the level of myself.

A wand'ring gipsy! Yet I loved thee. Ay, I loved thee e'en with more than mother's love.

I would that all should love thee. As for those Who loved thee not, these I vowed should fear thee.

I'ld see thee feared and envied, proud and great High up above thy fellows; and for this I smothered in my heart all outward show Of my affection, and so hid myself.

Still, I was near and watched thee day by day Expand as the young plant before the sun.

And I was happy in my heart of hearts To know that thou wert happy, and to know I was thy mother, though thou knew'st it not.

And so for years I've watched thee, till thine own Wild wand'ring nature bid thee roam abroad.

'Twas then for years that I lost sight of thee; This also was predicted by the stars, And so I gave to thee this gipsy ring That I might know thee when we met again.

D. PAS. Ay, I do mind me well, when yet a child, How once a gipsy gave it me, and bid Me wear it ever, and 'twould bring me luck; And how I, childlike, straight returned home, Pleased with the gift, to show my mother, or The lady whom I thought my mother then.

But tell me, queen or mother, which thou wilt, Why, if as I think, all thy tale be true And thou wert really married to Don Diego, Knowing the law to be upon thy side, Why didst thou not at once set up thy claim Of lawful wife, instead of waiting now, A score of years and more! Thou could'st have claimed----

GIP. Q. Thou askest me why I did not avail Myself of that protection that the law In my case would enforce. I'll tell thee, then.

I was, indeed, then counselled so to do By Father Miguel and some other friends, Who knew that legal marriage was performed; But being mindful of the promise made Unto my father on his bed of death, And having strict confidence in his words, Those deep prophetic words which never erred, Then finding, too, when I did scan the stars Good reason his for bidding me postpone My vengeance for a season less ill-starred.

D. PAS. What saw'st thou, mother, in the stars to make Thee to abandon all thy rightful claims And crave the charity of an alien?

GIP. Q. I craved no charity. The lady who Did stand to thee in lieu of mother, came Herself and craved of me permission To take thee home and rear thee as her child; Which offer I, though with much reluctance, At length accepted, ever mindful of The brilliant future that the stars foretold.

D. PAS. What sign was that that caused thee then such fear?

GIP. Q. A star malefic in thy house of life; Threatening thee with speedy violent death From some traitor's hand. That hand, thy father's.

Had I ta'en counsel of well-meaning friends And urged my rights, ay, had I moved a step, Thy life and mine had dearly paid for it.

D. PAS. How this may be, I know not. If the stars Do really rule our destinies, or if Thy woman's fears but made thee dread contact With men in power. Have we not the law?

GIP. Q. Justice may be bought. The oppressor's star Was then in the ascendant. 'Tis no more.

Now mark, and I will show thee how the stars Have worked and ripened for my just revenge.

Thou knowest well, 'tis now full many years I have lost sight of thee, though I have learned From Father Miguel thou wast still alive; The stars foretold our meeting. Until now I've waited for thee, and the stars likewise Predicted that almost at the same time Another I should meet, whose destiny Did figure so in thy young house of life.

D. PAS. What! The Lady Inez?

GIP. Q. Ay, even she.

D. PAS. Then Heav'n be praised for happier destiny Ne'er fell to lot of man.

GIP. Q. Nay, not so fast; There're dangers still to pa.s.s, and thou must bear Thyself right bravely if thou would'st succeed.

D. PAS. Dost doubt my courage, mother? My good blade Shall carve me fortune wheresoe'er it turns.

GIP. Q. Hot headed youth! Guard well thy strength until 'Tis needed. Thou art weak from loss of blood, And need'st repose e'er thou set forth to work.

The sun is high in heaven. Ere nightfall Thou wilt have need of all thy youthful strength.

Ere midnight I will lead thee to a wood, Accompanied by all my followers, From thence we must ascend a rugged path That leads to the tyrant's stronghold.

D. PAS. What tyrant?

GIP. Q. The nameless. Thy rival and thy father.

D. PAS. Don Diego! 'Twas he, then, that yester-eve Did s.n.a.t.c.h the Lady Inez from my breast As I lay faint and bleeding?

GIP. Q. Ay, e'en he; And now he fain would marry her perforce, With or without her answer; he has sworn To wed her straight, scarce struck the midnight hour, And hurries on with most indecent haste This mockery of a marriage 'gainst the will And inclinations of the girl herself, And also 'gainst the wishes of her sire, Whom, poor man, the tyrant holds in 's power, As hawk doth hold a dove, obliging him To give consent to this most monstrous match With his fair daughter, only late arrived Home from the convent of St. Ursula (Albeit he knows not, I've the proofs in hand Of our real marriage. Read them an you list) [_Handing papers to Don Pascual._ He needs must hasten on his base design, For fear of interruption. Be it ours To baulk this rabid eagle of his prey, s.n.a.t.c.h from his reeking claws the innocent lamb, And rescue chast.i.ty from guilt's device.

Let this be Pepa's mission upon earth, To succour virtue and avenge the wrong, And thou, Pascual, stand thou me true in this, Let no wrong pa.s.s, but quickly search it out, And boldly in the light of day proclaim The tyrant's wrong, in spite of odds or force.

D. PAS. Mother, I swear. Fear not thou'lt find me apt; My sword is at thy service, e'en had I No more incentive to avenge thee than The sense of wrong that ever stirs my blood.

But now I have my own more selfish ends To serve. The maid 'fore all most near my heart To rescue from the talons of a foe; The mother, too, who gave me birth to s.h.i.+eld From foul dishonour, and the tyrant who Begat me, yet fain would dub me b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Still to chastise. With these wrongs to redress, Or e'en the half, what coward would not turn brave?

What mouse would not turn lion? Rest in peace, This night thou art avenged. Pascual doth swear it.

GIP. Q. Spoke like my own true son. And now to rest; Thou needest sleep, to calm thy jaded nerves, And brace thee for the work thou hast to-night.

[_They embrace. Pascual throws himself upon his couch. Gipsy Queen sits watching him. Scene changes._

SCENE III.--_Inez' bedchamber in Don Silvio's castle; an old four posted bed, with faded hangings--old faded tapestry. A prie-dieu in front of a picture of our Lady of Pain. Crucifixes and pious relics adorn the chambers. Don Silvio is discovered pleading earnestly. Inez weeping._

INEZ. (_Tearing herself away._) Cease, father, cease; I cannot, dare not yield.

How can you ask me, after all you've said?

What! Wed a man I never saw before, A man whose age, too, full quadruples mine!

And at a moment's notice! Fie! for shame!

Was it for this then that you call'dst me home, To barter soul and body for mere gold?

Is it not thus the lowest of our s.e.x, Led on by glitter to fill Satan's ranks, Fall, ne'er to rise again? Ah! woe is me.

Think, father, think. What could such union be Before the eyes of Heaven? Would it not Be foul adultery, base, incestuous l.u.s.t?

And this you'ld have from me, your only child?

Oh, father! 'twas not thus that you once spake.

Where are your n.o.ble maxims, father, now?

Alas! alas! all scattered to the winds Before the first blast of the tempting fiend.

D. SIL. (_Aside._) Now this is most just, by Heav'n! that I be Thus by my own child humbled and reproved, For falling back from truth in hour of trial.

Dear inn'cent soul! How could she yield to terms Alike repugnant to her virgin heart As mine own conscience? But, then, what to do?

Ah! cursed be the hour I gave consent Unto that monstrous pact! What would I give Now to undo the same, were't in my power?

But my inexorable foe has sworn To have his bond, and Diego never jests.

Most dire necessity doth bid me save Myself and household from disgrace and death.

Ay, from starvation. Nothing short of that Should make me recreant to my conscience law.

She, young and hopeful, realises not The want and misery that must ensue To us on her refusal. Be it so.

Occasion presses. Time must not be lost.

I will try again, though conscience brand me.

(_Aloud._) Inez!

INEZ. Father!

D. SIL. Bethink thee, yet, my child.

INEZ. Parent, no more!

D. SIL. What am I, then, to do?

I, thy poor aged father, sent abroad To beg my bread. No shelter from the wind And rain. No food; no hospitable roof.

Our servants, too, must all our ills endure; And all through thee, through thine own obdurate heart.

But 'twill not serve thee. Not one whit, for though Thou still resist, Don Diego will use force; His myrmidons----

INEZ. I fear them not, when G.o.d is on our side.