Delphi Complete Works of George Eliot (Illustrated) (655 page)

Yet, Silva, still I see him. Who is he ?

Who are those prisoners with him ? Are they Moors ?

DON SILVA.

No, they are Gypsies, strong and cunning knaves,

A double gain to us by the Moors’ loss :

The man you mean — their chief — is an ally

The infidel will miss. His look might chase

A herd of monks, and make them fly more swift

Than from St. Jerome’s lion. Such vague fear,

Such bird-like tremors when that savage glance

Turned full upon you in your height of joy

Was natural, was not. worth emphasis.

Forget it, dear. This hour is worth whole days

When we are sundered. Danger urges us

To quick resolve.

FEDALMA.

What danger ? What resolve ?

I never felt chill shadow in my heart

Until this sunset. What is it that threatens us ?

DON SILVA.

A dark enmity

Plots how to sever us. And our defence

Is speedy marriage, secretly achieved,

Then publicly declared. Beseech you, dear,

Grant me this confidence ; do my will in this,

Trusting the reasons why I overset

All my own airy building raised so high

Of bridal honours, marking when you step

From off your maiden throne to come to me

And bear the yoke of love. There is great need.

I hastened home, carrying this prayer to you

Within my heart. The bishop is my friend,

Furthers our marriage, holds in enmity —

Some whom we love not and who love not us.

By this night’s moon our priest will be despatched

From Jaen. I shall march an escort strong

To meet him. Ere a second sun from this ‘

Has risen — you consenting — we may wed.

FEDALMA.

None knowing that we wed ?

DON SILVA.

Beforehand none

Save Inez and Don Alvar. But the vows

Once safely binding us, my household all

Shall know you as their Duchess. No man then

Can aim a blow at you but through my breast,

And what stains you must stain our ancient name ;

If any hate you I will take his hate,

And wear it as a glove upon my helm ;

Nay, God himself will never have the power

To strike you solely and leave me unhurt,

He having made us one. Now put the seal

Of your dear lips on that.

FEDALMA.

A solemn kiss ? —

Such as I gave you when you came that day

From Cordova, when first we said we loved ?

When you had left the ladies of the Court

For thirst to see me ; and you told me so ;

And then I seemed to know why I had lived.

I never knew before. A kiss like that ?

DON SILVA.

Yes, yes, you face divine ! When was our kiss

Like any other ?

FEDALMA.

Nay, I cannot tell

What other kisses are. But that one kiss

Remains upon my lips. The angels, spirits,

Creatures with finer sense, may see it there.

And now another kiss that will not die,

Saying, to-morrow I shall be —

Your wife !

(They kiss, and pause a moment, looking earnestly in each other’s eyes.

Then FEDALMA, breaking away from DON SILVA, stands at a little

distance from him with a look of roguish delight,)

Now I am glad I saw the town to-day

Before I am a Duchess, — glad I gave

This poor Fedalma all her wish. For once,

Long years ago, I cried when Inez said,

“You are no more a little girl” ; I grieved

To part for ever from that little girl

And all her happy world so near the ground.

It must be sad to outlive aught we love.

So I shall grieve a little for these days

Of poor unwed Fedalma. O, they are sweet,

And none will come just like them. Perhaps the wind

Wails so in winter for the summers dead,

And all sad sounds are nature’s funeral cries

For what has been and is not. Are they, Silva ?

(She comes nearer to him again, and lays her hand on his arm looking up at

him with melancholy.)

DON SILVA.

Why, dearest, you began in merriment,

And end as sadly as a widowed bird.

Some touch mysterious has new-tuned your soul

To melancholy sequence. You soared high

In that wild flight of rapture when you danced,

And now you droop. ‘T is arbitrary grief.

Surfeit of happiness, that mourns for loss

Of unwed love, which does but die like seed

For fuller harvest of our tenderness.

We in our wedded life shall know no loss.

We shall new-date our years. What went before

Will be the time of promise, shadows, dreams ;

But this, full revelation of great love.

For rivers blent take in a broader heaven,

And we shall blend our souls. Away, with grief !

When this dear head shall wear the double crown

Of wife and Duchess, — spiritually crowned

With sworn espousal before God and man, —

Visibly crowned with jewels that bespeak

The chosen sharer of my heritage, —

My love will gather perfectness, as thoughts

That nourish us to magnanimity

Grow perfect with more perfect utterance,

Gathering full-shapen strength. And then these gems,

(DON SILVA draws FEDALMA towards the jewel-casket on the table, and

opens it.)

Helping the. utterance of my soul’s full choice,

Will be the words made richer by just use,

And have new meaning in their lustrousness.

You know these jewels ; they are precious signs

Of long-transmitted honor, heightened still

By worthy wearing ; and I give them you, —

Ask you to take them, — place our house’s trust

In her sure keeping whom my heart has found

Worthiest, most beauteous. These rubies — see —

Were falsely placed if not upon your brow.

(FEDALMA, while DON SILVA holds open the casket, bends over it, looking

at the jewels with delight.)

FEDALMA.

Ah, I remember them. In childish days

I felt as if they were alive and breathed.

I used to sit with awe and look at them.

And now they will be mine ! I’ll put them on.

Help me, my lord, and yon shall see me now

Somewhat as I shall look at Court with you,

That we may know if I shall bear them well.

I have a fear sometimes : I think your love

Has never paused within your eyes to look,

And only passes through them into mine.

But when the Court is looking, and the queen.

Your eyes will follow theirs. O, if you saw

That I was other than you wished, — ‘t were death !

DON SILVA (taking up a jewel and placing it against her ear).

Nay, let us try. Take out your ear-ring, sweet.

This ruby glows with longing for your ear.

FEDALMA (taking out her ear-rings, and then lifting up the other jewels,

one by one).

Pray, fasten in the rubies.

(DON SILVA begins to put in the ear-ring.)

I was right !

These gems have life in them : their colors speak,

Say what words fail of. So do many things, —

The scent of jasmine, and the fountain’s plash,

The moving shadows on the far-off hills,

The slanting moonlight, and our clasping hands.

O Silva, there’s an ocean round our words

That overflows and drowns them. Do you know

Sometimes when we sit silent, and the air

Breathes gently on us from the orange-trees,

It seems that with the whisper of a word

Our souls must shrink, get poorer, more apart.

Is it not true?

DON SILVA.

Yes, dearest, it is true.

Speech is but broken light upon the depth

Of the unspoken : even your loved words