MAFFIO. Look, Gennaro; the lamps are going out here—a minute more, and we shall be in darkness. (The lamps get pale, as if for want of oil.) Voice without, still nearer. Manus habent et non palpabunt, pedes habent et non ambulabunt, non clamabunt in gutture suo. GENNARO. It seems to me as if the voices approached. JEPPO. It seems to me as if the procession were at this moment under our windows. Let's drink to the health of him they are going to bury. GUBETTA. How do you know whether there be not many? JEPPO. Well, then, let's drink to all their healths! APOSTOLO (to Gubetta). Bravo! and let's continue our invocation to St. Peter. GUBETTA. Speak, then, more politely; one says Mr. St. Peter, honourable holder of the patent place of jailer, and door-keeper of Paradise. (He sings.) St. Peter, St. Peter, ho! Thy gates open fling To the drinker, who'll bring A stout voice to sing Gloria Domino! GUBETTA. To the drunkard, who, stanch That by Jove you might ask Is't a man-or a cask? All (in clashing their glasses together, and laughing loudly.) Gloria Domino! (The great door at the farther end of the stage opens silently to its full width. You see within-an immense room hung with black-lit with torches-and with a large silver cross at the end of it. A long line of penitents in white and black, and whose eyes are visible through their hoods, cross on head, and torch in hand, enter by the great door, chanting in an ominous and loud voice De profundis ad te Domine! (Then they arrange themselves on the two sides of the room, and stand immoveable as statues, while the young gentlemen regard them stupified. What does this mean? MAFFIO. JEPPO (forcing a laugh). It's some joke.-I'll lay my charger against a pig, and my name of Liveretto against the name of Borgia, that it is our charming comtesses, who have disguised themselves in this fashion to try our courage, and that if we lift up one of those hoods, we shall find under it the fresh and wicked face of a pretty dame. Let's see! (He raises, laughingly, one of the capuchins, and stands petrified at seeing under it the livid face of a monk, who stands motionless; the torch in his hand, and his eyes bent to the ground. He lets the cowl fall, and totters back. This begins to be strange! MAFFIO. I don't know why my blood chills in my veins(The penitents sing with a loud voice.) Conquassabit capita in terrâ multorum! JEPPO. What a terrible snare! Our swords, our swords! Ah! gentlemen, we are with the devil here. ACT III. SCENE II. The same. DONNA LUCRECE (appearing of a sudden, robed in black, on the threshold of the door). You are my guests! All (except Gennaro, who observes every thing from the recess of a window, where he is not seen by Donna Lucrèce). Lucrèce Borgia! DONNA LUCRECE. It's some days ago since all of you whom I see here repeated that name in triumph. To-day you repeat it in dread. Yes, you may look at me with your eyes glassed by terror. It's I, gentlemen! I come to announce to you a piece of news-you are poisoned, all of you, my lords; here is not one of you who has an hour to live. Don't stir! The room adjoining is filled with pikes. It's my turn now to speak high, and to crush your heads beneath my heel. Jeppo Liveretto, go join thy uncle Vitelli whom I had poniarded in the caves of the Vatican! Ascanio Petrucci, go rejoin your cousin Pandolfo, whom I had assassinated in order to rob him of his town! Oloferno Vitellozzo, thy uncle expects thee-thou knowest that Jago d'Appiani whom I had poisoned at a fête. Maffio Orsini, go talk of me in another world to thy brother Gravina, whom I had strangled in his sleep. Apostolo Gazella, I had thy father Francisco Gazella beheaded. I had thy cousin Alphonso of Arragon slain, say'st thou :-go and join them! On my soul, I think the supper I gave you at Ferrara is worth the ball you gave me at Venice. Fête for fête, my lords! JEPPO. This is a rude waking, Maffio' MAFFIO. Let us think of God! DONNA LUCRECE. Ah! my young friends of last carnival, you did not quite expect this! Par Dieu-it seems to me that I can revenge myself. What think you, gentlemen? Who is the most skilled in the art of vengeance here? This is not bad, I think-hem! What say you? for a woman! —(To the monks.) My fathers, carry these gentlemen into the adjoining room, which is prepared for their reception. Confess them! and profit by the few instants which remain to them to save what can be saved of their souls. Gentlemen, I advise those among you who have souls, to look after them. Rest satisfied! they are in good hands. These worthy fathers are the regular monks of St. Sixtus, permitted by our holy father the pope to assist me on occasions such as this-and if I have been careful of your souls, I have not been careless of your bodies.-Judge!-(To the monks who are before the door at the end). Stand on one side a little, my fathers, so that these gentlemen may see. (The monks withdraw, and leave visible five coffins, covered each with a black cloth, and ranged before the door. The number is there-there are five !-Ah! young men! you tear out the bowels of a poor woman, and you think she'll not avenge herself. Here, Jeppo, is your coffinMaffio, here is yours. Oloferno, Apostolo, Ascanio, here are yours! GENNARO (whom she had not seen till then, steps forth). There must be a sixth, madam. DONNA LUCRECE. Heavens, Gennaro ! GENNARO. Himself! LUCRECE. Let everybody leave the room-let us be left alone. Gubetta, whatever happens, whatever you may hear without, let no one enter here. You shall be obeyed. GUBETTA. (The monks go out in procession, taking with them in their ranks the five seigneurs, tottering with wine. Lucrèce now presses Gennaro to save himself by taking what remains of the antidote she had formerly given him. He asks, Is there enough to save all? She answers, No; barely enough for one. Gennaro then, furious at the death of his friends, seizes a knife from a table, and prepares to inflict the death which Lucrèce had merited for her crimes. LUCRECE. Oh! Gennaro, if thou knewest-if thou knewest the relationship between us! Thou knowest not how near and dear thou art to me-thou knowest not how we are connected. The same blood runs in our veins.-Thy father was Jean Borgia, Duke of Gandia. GENNARO. Your brother;-then you are my aunt. "His aunt!" says Lucrèce, falteringly; and before her is death on one side, and an acknowledgment to her own son of incest with his father on the other..... She hesitates to say all, and Gennaro, who looks upon her as his aunt, and the persecutrix of his mother, is only more resolved in his plans of vengeance. "A crime," he says: "and supposing it be a crime, am I not a Borgia?" At this instant the dying voice of Maffio d'Orsini calling for vengeance comes to him from the adjoining chamber. He stabs Lucrèce-"Ah! tu m'as tuée, Gennaro ;-je suis ta mère." 16* |