Delphi Complete Works of George Eliot (Illustrated) (674 page)

Will fetch you tidings for an amulet.

But stretch not hope too strongly towards that mark

As issue of my wandering. Given, I cross

Safely the Moorish border, reach Bedmar :

Fresh counsels may prevail there, and the Duke

Being absent in the field, I may be trapped.

Men who are sour at missing larger game

May wing a chattering sparrow for revenge.

It is a chance no further worth the note

Than as a warning, lest you feared worse ill

If my return were stayed. I might be caged ;

They would not harm me else. Untimely death,

The red auxiliary of the skeleton,

Has too much work on hand to think of me ;

Or, if he cares to slay me, I shall fall

Choked with a grape-stone for economy.

The likelier chance is that I go and come,

Bringing you comfort back.

FEDALMA (starts from her seat and walks to a little distance, standing a

few moments with her back towards JUAN, then she turns round quickly,

and goes towards him).

No, Juan, no !

Those yearning words came from a soul infirm,

Crying and struggling at the pain of bonds

Which yet it would not loosen. He knows all, —

All that he needs to know : I said farewell :

I stepped across the cracking earth and knew

‘T would yawn behind me. I must walk right on.

No, Juan, I will win naught by risking you :

The possible loss would poison hope. Besides,

‘T were treachery in me : my father wills

That we — all here — should rest within this camp.

If I can never live, like him, on faith

In glorious morrows, I am resolute.

While he treads painfully with stillest step

And beady brow, pressed ‘neath the weight of arms.

Shall I, to ease my fevered restlessness,

Raise peevish moans, shattering that fragile silence ?

No ! On the close-thronged spaces of the earth

A battle rages : Fate has carried me

‘Mid the thick arrows : I will keep my stand, —

Not shrink and let the shaft pass by my breast

To pierce another. O, ‘t is written large

The thing I have to do. But you, dear Juan,

Renounce, endure, are brave, unurged by aught

Save the sweet overflow of your good will.

(She seats herself again.)

JUAN.

Nay, I endure naught worse than napping sheep,

When nimble birds uproot a fleecy lock

To line their nest with. See ! your bondsman, Queen,

The minstrel of your court, is featherless ;

Deforms your presence by a moulting garb ;

Shows like a roadside bush culled of its buds,

Yet, if your graciousness will not disdain

A poor plucked songster, — shall he sing to you ?

Some lay of afternoons, — some ballad strain

Of those who ached once but are sleeping now

Under the sun-warmed flowers ? ‘T will cheat the time.

FEDALMA.

Thanks, Juan, later, when this how is passed.

My soul is clogged with self; it could not float

On with the pleasing sadness of your song.

Leave me in this green spot, but come again, —

Come with the lengthening shadows.

JUAN.

Then your slave

Will go to chase the robbers. Queen, farewell !

FEDALMA.

Best friend, my well-spring in the wilderness !

[While Juan sped along the stream, there came

From the dark tents a ringing joyous shout

That thrilled Fedalma with a summons grave

Yet welcome ; made her rise and stand,

All languor banished, with a soul suspense,

Like one who waits high presence, listening.

Was it a message only, or her father’s self

That made the camp so glad ?

It was himself !

She saw him now advancing, girt with arms

That seemed like idle trophies hung for show

Beside the weight and fire of living strength

That made his frame. He glanced with absent triumph,

As one who conquers in some field afar

And bears off unseen spoil. But nearing her,

His terrible eyes intense sent forth new rays, —

A sudden sunshine where the lightning was

‘Twixt meeting dark. All tenderly he laid

His hand upon her shoulder ; tenderly,

His kiss upon her brow.]

ZARCA.

My royal daughter !

FEDALMA.

Father, I joy to see your safe return.

ZARCA.

Nay, I but stole the time, as hungry men

Steal from the morrow’s meal, made a forced march,

Left Hassan as my watch-dog, all to see

My daughter, and to feed her famished hope

With news of promise.

FEDALMA.

Is the task achieved

That was to be the herald of our flight?

ZARCA.

Not outwardly, but to my inward vision

Things are achieved when they are well begun.

The perfect archer calls the deer his own

While yet the shaft is whistling. His keen eye

Never sees failure, sees the mark alone.

You have heard naught, then, — had no messenger ?

FEDALMA.

I, father ? no : each quiet day has fled

Like the same moth, returning with slow wing,

And pausing in the sunshine.

ZARCA.

It is well.

You shall not long count days in weariness.

Ere the full moon has waned again to new,

We shall reach Almeria : Berber ships

Will take us for their freight, and we shall go

With plenteous spoil, not stolen, bravely won

By service done on Spaniards. Do you shrink ?

Are you aught less than a true Zincala ?

FEDALMA.

No ;

But I am more. The Spaniards fostered me.

ZARCA.

They stole you first, and reared you for the flames.

I found you, rescued you, that you might live

A Zincala’s life ; else you were doomed.

Your bridal bed had been the rack.

FEDALMA (in a low tone).

They meant —

To seize me ? — ere he came ?

ZARCA.

Yes, I know all.

They found your chamber empty.

FEDALMA (eagerly).

Then you know, —

(checking herself.)

Father, my soul would be less laggard, fed

With fuller trust.

ZARCA.

My daughter, I must keep

The Arab’s secret. Arabs are our friends,

Grappling for life with Christians who lay waste

Granada’s valleys, and with devilish hoofs

Trample the young green corn, with devilish play

Fell blossomed trees, and tear up well-pruned vines :

Cruel as tigers to the vanquished brave,

They wring out gold by oaths they mean to break ;

Take pay for pity and are pitiless ;

Then tinkle bells above the desolate earth,

And praise their monstrous gods, supposed to love

The flattery of liars. I will strike

The full-gorged dragon. You, my child, must watch

The battle with a heart, not fluttering

But duteous, firm-weighted by resolve,

Choosing between two lives, like her who holds

A dagger which must pierce one of two breasts,

And one of them her father’s. Nay, you divine, —

I speak not closely, but in parables ;

Put one for many.

FEDALMA (collecting herself and looking firmly at ZARCA).

Then it is your will

That I ask nothing ?

ZARCA.

You shall know enough

To trace the sequence of the seed and flower.

El Zagal trusts me, rates my counsel high :

He, knowing I have won a grant of lands

Within the Berber’s realm, wills me to be