Delphi Complete Works of George Eliot (Illustrated) (659 page)

That knows no future but its feeding time !

Mercy has eyes that pierce the ages, — sees

From heights divine of the eternal purpose

Far-scattered consequence in its vast sum ;

Chooses to save, but with illumined vision

Sees that to save is greatly to destroy.

‘T is so the Holy Inquisition sees : its wrath

Is fed from the strong heart of wisest love.

For love must needs make hatred. He who loves

God and his law must hate the foes of God.

And I have sinned in being merciful :

Being slack in hate, I have been slack in love.

(He takes the crucifix and holds it up before him.)

Thou shuddering, bleeding, thirsting, dying God,

Thou Man of Sorrows, scourged and bruised and torn,

Suffering to save, — wilt thou not judge the world ?

This arm which held the children, this pale hand

That gently touched the eyelids of the blind,

And opened passive to the cruel nail,

Shall one day stretch to leftward of thy throne,

Charged with the power that makes the lightning strong,

And hurl thy foes to everlasting hell.

And thou, Immaculate Mother, Virgin mild,

Thou sevenfold-pierced, thou pitying, pleading Queen,

Shalt see and smile, while the black filthy souls

Sink with foul weight to their eternal place,

Purging the Holy Light. Yea, I have sinned

And called it mercy. But I shrink no more.

To-morrow morn this temptress shall be safe

Under the Holy Inquisition’s key.

He thinks to wed her, and defy me then,

She being shielded by our house’s name.

But he shall never wed her. I have said.

The time is come. Exurge, Domine,

Judica causam tuam. Let thy foes

Be driven as the smoke before the wind,

And melt like wax upon the furnace lip !

A large chamber richly furnished opening on a terrace-garden, the trees

visible through the window in faint moonlight. Flowers hanging about the

window, lit up by the tapers. The casket of jewels open on a table. The gold

necklace lying near. FEDALMA, splendidly dressed and adorned with pearls

and rubies, is walking up and down.

So soft a night was never made for sleep,

But for the waking of the finer sense

To every murmuring and gentle sound,

To subtlest odors, pulses, visitings

That touch our frames with wings too delicate

To be discerned amid the blare of day.

(She pauses near the window to gather some jasmine : then walks again.)

Surely these flowers keep happy watch, — their breath

Is their fond memory of the loving light.

I often rue the hours I lose in sleep :

It is a bliss too brief, only to see

This glorious world, to hear the voice of love,

To feel the touch, the breath of tenderness,

And then to rest as from a spectacle.

I need the curtained stillness of the night

To live through all my happy hours again

With more selection,. — cull them quite away

From blemished moments. Then in loneliness

The face that bent before me in the day

Rises in its own light, more vivid seems

Painted upon the dark, and ceaseless glows

With sweet solemnity of gazing love,

Till like the heavenly blue it seems to grow

Nearer, more kindred, and more cherishing,

Mingling with all my being. Then the words,

The tender low-toned words come back again,

With repetition welcome as the chime

Of softly hurrying brooks, — “ My only love, —

My love while life shall last, — my own Fedalma ! “

O, it is mine, — Athe joy that once has been !

Poor eager hope is but a stammerer,

Must listen dumbly to great memory,

Who makes our bliss the sweeter by her telling.

(She pauses a moment musingly.)

But that dumb hope is still a sleeping guard

Whose quiet rhythmic breath saves me from dread

In this fair paradise. For if the earth

Broke off with flower-fringed edge, visibly sheer,

Leaving no footing for my forward step

But empty blackness....

Nay, there is no fear, —

They will renew themselves, day and my joy,

And all that past which is securely mine,

Will be the hidden root that nourishes

Our still unfolding, ever-ripening love !

(While she is uttering the last words, a little bird falls softly on the floor

behind her; she hears the light sound of its fall, and turns round.)

Did something enter ? ....

Yes, this little bird ....

(She lifts it.)

Dead and yet warm : ‘t was seeking sanctuary.

And died, perhaps of fright, at the altar foot.

Stay, there is something tied beneath the wing !

A strip of linen, streaked with blood, — what blood ?

The streaks are written words, — are sent to me, —

0
            
God, are sent to me ! Dear child, Fedalma,

Be brave, give no alarm, — your Father comes !

(She lets the bird fall again.)

My Father....comes....my Father
         

(She turns in quivering expectation toward the window. There is perfect

stillness a few moments until ZARCA appears at the window. He enters

quickly and noiselessly ; ‘ then stands still at his full height, and at a

distance from FEDALMA.)

FEDALMA (in a low distinct tone of terror).

It is he !

1
            
said his fate had laid its hold on mine.

ZARCA (advancing a step or two).

Yon know, then, who I am ?

FEDALMA.

The prisoner, —

He whom I saw in fetters, — and this necklace —

ZARCA.

Was played with by your fingers when it hung

About my neck, full fifteen years ago !

FEDALMA (starts, looks at the necklace and handles it, then speaks, as if

unconsciously).

Full fifteen years ago !

ZARCA.

The very day

I lost you, when you wore a tiny gown

Of scarlet cloth with golden broidery :

‘T was clasped in front by coins, — two golden coins.

The one towards the left was split in two

Across the King’s head, right from brow to nape,

A dent i’ the middle nicking in the cheek.

You see I know the little gown by heart.

FEDALMA (growingpaler and more tremulous).

Yes. It is true, — I have the gown, — the clasps, —

The braid, — sore tarnished : — it is long ago !

ZARCA.

But yesterday to me ; for till to-day

I saw you always as that little child.

And when they took my necklace from me, still

Your fingers played about it on my neck,

And still those buds of fingers on your feet

Caught in its meshes as you seemed to climb

Up to my shoulder. You were not stolen all.

You had a double life fed from my heart ....

(FEDALMA, letting fall the necklace, makes an impulsive movement

towards him, with outstretched hands.)

For the Zincalo loves his children well.

Fedalma (shrinking, trembling, and letting fall her hands).

How came it that you. sought me, — no, — I mean

How came it that you knew me, — that you lost me ?

ZARCA (standing perfectly still).

Poor child ! I see, I see, — your ragged father

Is welcome as the piercing wintry wind

Within this silken chamber. It is well.

I would not have a child who stooped to feign,

And aped a sudden love. True hate were better.

FEDALMA (raising her eyes towards him, with a flash of admiration, and

looking at him fixedly).

Father, how was it that we lost each other ?

ZARCA.

I lost you as a man may lose a diamond

Wherein he has compressed his total wealth,

Or the right hand whose cunning makes him great :

I lost you by a trivial accident.

Marauding Spaniards, sweeping like a storm