Delphi Complete Works of George Eliot (Illustrated) (684 page)

Are but as Pilate and his soldiery ;

Thou, Judas, weighted with that heaviest crime

Which deepens hell ! I warned you of this end.

A traitorous leader, false to God and man,

A knight apostate, you shall soon behold

Above your people’s blood the light of flames

Kindled by you to burn me, — burn the flesh

Twin with your father’s. O most wretched man !

Whose memory shall be of broken oaths, —

Broken for lust, — I turn away mine eyes

Forever from you. See, the stake is ready :

And I am ready too.

DON SILVA.

It shall not be !

(Raising his sword, he rushes in front of the guards who are advancing, and

impedes them.)

If you are human, Chief, hear my demand !

Stretch not my soul upon the endless rack

Of this man’s torture !

ZARCA.

Stand aside, my lord !

Put up your sword. You vowed obedience

To me, your chief. It was your latest vow.

DON SILVA.

No ! hew me from the spot, or fasten me

Amid the fagots too, if he must burn.

ZARCA.

What should befall that persecuting monk

Was fixed before yon came : no cruelty,

No nicely measured torture, weight for weight

Of injury, no luscious-toothed revenge

That justifies the injurer by its joy :

I seek but rescue and security

For harmless men, and such security

Means death to vipers and inquisitors.

These fagots shall but innocently blaze

In sign of gladness, when this man is dead,

That one more torturer has left the earth.

‘T is not for infidels to burn live men

And ape the rules of Christian piety.

This hard oppressor shall not die by fire :

He mounts the gibbet, dies a speedy death,

That, like a transfixed dragon, he may cease

To vex mankind. Quick, guards, and clear the path !

[As well-trained hounds that hold their fleetness tense

In watchful, loving fixity of dark eyes,

And move with movement of their master’s will,

The Gypsies with a wavelike swiftness met

Around the Father, and in wheeling course

Passed beyond Silva to the gibbet’s foot,

Behind their chieftain. Sudden left alone

With weapon bare, the multitude aloof,

Silva was mazed in doubtful consciousness,

As one who slumbering on the day awakes

From striving into freedom, and yet feels

His sense half captive to intangible things ;

Then with a flush of new decision sheathed

His futile naked weapon, and strode quick

To Zarca, speaking with a voice new-toned,

The struggling soul’s hoarse, suffocated cry

Beneath the grappling anguish of despair.]

DON SILVA.

Zincalo, devil, the blackest infidel !

You cannot hate that man as you hate me !

Finish your torture, — take me, — lift me up

And let the crowd spit at me, — every Moor

Shoot reeds at me, and kill me with slow death

Beneath the midday fervor of the sun, —

Or crucify me with a thieving hound, —

Slake your hate so, and I will thank it : spare me

Only this man !

ZARCA.

Madman, I hate you not..

But if I did, my hate were poorly served

By my device, if I should strive to mix

A bitterer misery for you than to taste

With leisure of a soul in unharmed limbs

The flavor of your folly. For my course,

It has a goal, and takes no truant path

Because of you. I am your Chief : to me

You are but a Zincalo in revolt.

DON SILVA.

No, I am no Zincalo ! I disown

The name I took in madness. Here I tear

This badge away. I am a Catholic knight,

A Spaniard who will die a Spaniard’s death !

[Hark ! while he casts his badge upon the ground

And tramples on it, Silva hears a shout :

Was it shout that threatened him ? He looked

From out the dizzying flames of his own rage

In hope of adversaries, — arid he saw above

The form of Father Isidor upswung

Convulsed with martyr throes ; and knew the shout

For wonted exultation of the crowd

When malefactors die, — or saints, or heroes.

And now to him that white-frocked murdered form

Which hanging judged him as its murderer,

Turned to a symbol of his guilt, and stirred

Tremors till then unwaked. With sudden snatch

At something hidden in his breast, he strode

Right upon Zarca : at the instant, down

Fell the great Chief, and Silva, staggering back,

Heard not the shriek of the Zincali, felt

Not their fierce grasp, — heard, felt but Zarca’s words

Which seemed his soul outleaping in a cry

And urging men to run like rival waves

Whose rivalry is but obedience.

ZARCA (as he falls).

My daughter ! call her ! Call my daughter !

NADAR (supporting Zarca and crying to the Gypsies who have clutched

SILVA).

Stay !

Tear not the Spaniard, tie him to the stake :

Hear what the Chief shall bid us, — there is time !

[Swiftly they tied him, pleasing vengeance so

With promise that would leave them free to watch

Their stricken good, their Chief stretched helplessly

Pillowed upon the strength of loving limbs.

He heaved low groans, but would not spend his breath

In useless words : he waited till she came.

Keeping his life within the citadel

Of one great hope. And now around him closed

(But in wide circle, checked by loving fear)

His people all, holding their wails suppressed

Lest Death believed-in should be over-bold :

All life hung on their Chief, — he would, not die ;

His image gone there were no wholeness left

To make a world of for Zincala’s thought.

Eager they stood, but hushed ; the outer crowd

Spoke only in low murmurs, and some climbed

And clung with legs and arms on perilous coigns,

Striving to see where that colossal life

Lay panting, — a Titan; struggling still

To hold and give the precious hidden fire

Before the stronger grappled him. Above

The young bright morning cast athwart white walls

Her shadows blue, and with their clear-cut line,

Mildly inexorable as the dial-hand’s

Measured the shrinking future of an hour

Which held a. shrinking hope. And all the while

The silent beat of time in each man’s soul

Made aching pulses.

But the cry, “ She comes !”

Parted the crowd like waters : and she came.

Swiftly as once before, inspired with joy,

She flashed across the space and made new light,

Glowing upon the glow of evening,

So swiftly now she came, inspired with woe,

Strong with the strength of all her father’s pain,

Thrilling her as with fire of rage divine

And battling energy. She knew, — saw all :

The stake with Silva bound, — her father pierced, —

To this she had been born : the second time

Her father called her to the task of life.

She knelt beside him. Then he raised himself,

And on her face there flashed from his the light

As of a star that waned and flames anew

In mighty dissolution : ‘t was the flame

Of a surviving trust, in agony.

He spoke the parting prayer that was command,

Must sway her will, and reign invisibly.]

ZARCA.

My daughter, you have promised, — you will live

To save our people. In my garments here

I carry written pledges from the Moor :

He will keep faith in Spain and Africa.

Your weakness may be stronger than my strength,