Teresa Contarini/Act III

by Elizabeth F. Ellet

ACT III

SCENE I

Fiorilla's house.---Enter Fiorilla and Leonardo

Fiorilla

The letter was delivered?

Leonardo

'Twas entrusted

To one who never failed me, and the messenger

Is even now returned.

Fiorilla

Did he reveal

The whole to Foscarini?

Leonardo

No---we judged

The youth should know naught of his lady's falsehood.

'Twas vaguely urged, that matters of deep import

Required his presence here; that enemies

Were laboring 'gainst his peace. But, pardon me---

I know not how this artifice may prevent

The nuptials of proud Contarini!

Fiorilla

Know you

That Foscarini loves the maid, and she

Returns his passion, bitterly detesting

His haughty rival! Let the youthful lover

Come at the latest hour---his presence crosses

These ill starred nuptials.

Leonardo

And you, fairest lady---

Forgive me---is a false admirer worth

Such stratagem to regain?

Fiorilla

Hear me, Leonardo.

You see me but the gay and fickle dame

Whose smiles are showered on all; to whom the hours,

Brilliant alike, seem but to bring their tribute

Of emulous sweets, even as the gilded flowers

Yield up their honey to the fluttering insect.

How well for those who bask in Pleasure's smile,

She wears a mask!

Leonardo

But your smile is the sunlight

That banishes all gloom where'er it shines.

Fiorilla

Yet envious philosophers have said

The sun himself, that warms and gladdens all,

Is a cold, lifeless mass. No more of that.

His beams can scorch and wither---so can those

You've aptly likened to them, when condensed

In hatred's burning glass.

Leonardo

I cannot guess

Your meaning.

Fiorilla

Contarini---you may deem

'Twas vanity---'Twas pride---that bound me to him!

Folly! when all that Venice boasts of rank

And wealth were at my feet, why should I spurn

Such suppliance---turning to one who seemed

To mock my power?

Leonardo

He never offered, then,

His solemn vows?

Fiorilla

He did! by all that's sacred!

And I, who feigned his passionate words to hear

As the wind's idle breath, treasured them deep,

Deep in my soul, which they have filled with gall.

Aye! and its bitterness shall be distilled

In drops upon his heart! Stay, Leonardo,

You've not heard all. You shall not see me creep

Like a scorned slave, aside, while others fill

The place that should be mine. I'll hurl him thence

Or ere he gains that height!

Leonardo

Nay, lady---

Fiorilla

Yes!

'Tis you must aid me, while I bring to light

His plottings. It will peril many a head

In Venice---but I care not, so he finds

The hand he spurned is armed with deadly power!

Leonardo

If you have aught of import to disclose,

Madam, unto the council------

Fiorilla

Aye---the council!

And they shall hear! Yet, tell me, is not he

One of that fearful number who preside

In secret o'er the state?

Leonardo

'Tis rumored so---

But the inquisitors' persons are unknown.

Fiorilla

'Tis well. Forget my passion and my words.

Now to our business. Leonardo, seek

This youth, and speedily conduct him hither;

He cannot come too soon. I will await you.

[ Exeunt.

SCENE II

Teresa's chamber. Teresa, in bridal robes, sitting at a table, with writing materials

Teresa

I cannot write to him! If I would guide

The pen, my hand refuses to record

The tale it ought to tell. Oh, fatal hand!

Which soon must seal my shame, well dost thou shrink

To do the accusing office!---Foscarini!

Yet may I breathe that name! the walls about me

Will not yet hear it as a guilty sound,

But softly echo back the whispered word,

As if their stones could pity!---

To-night! to-night!

I'm strangely calm. So long I've pondered on it,

It seems that even despair has lost its keenness,

And only sits a thick and leaden weight

Upon my soul. I've wept, alas! so much,

The founts of grief are dry, and will not yield

A drop to soften me!

Enter Matilda.

Why have you come?

Matilda

Forgive me---'Tis not meet

You should be left alone with sombre thoughts

At such an hour.

Teresa

It is not late.

Matilda

Look out---

The sun has long since set.

Teresa

Some envious cloud

It is, that hides his beams.

Matilda

No! it is night---

The summit of yon gilded cupola,

Where last the hues of sunset ever linger,

Has long been wrapt in gloom!

. Teresa

Is it not strange

I should regret the daylight?

Matilda

Come---no more

Of these sad musings. You have cherished them

'Till your fair cheek is pale, and unbecoming

A youthful bride. Why look---these radiant pearls,

Whose pure transparence should have suited well

With your fresh brow, will find their whiteness shamed.

Teresa

Matilda!

Matilda

Here---these flowers are fresh; I'll wreathe them

In the full wavings of your hair. I'll braid it

In dark, rich folds upon your temples. Ah!

That form, so stately, yet so full of grace,

That high fair front---they will indeed proclaim you

The queen of loveliness, to every eye

That seeks you in its homage!

Teresa

Hush! Matilda---

Waste not your idle praises.

Matilda

I will keep them

For other ears. But should I not be proud

To deck you for your nuptials?

Teresa (shuddering)

No!

Matilda

Look not

So sadly. True---you love not Contarini;---

But who among us thinks to wed for love,

When wealth, and rank, and power, and all that's dear

To woman's heart, do beckon us to seize them!

Oh! trust me! love's a bauble, fit to toy with---

But like the shining plaything of the child,

To be thrown by, when riper years bestow

Far richer gifts, and teach him 'Twas a trifle

He prized before!

Teresa

Nay, nay---I need not this.

My heart is senseless. It is cold---cold---cold!

Steeled in an apathy more deep than wo,

Which even keen thought can never pierce again.

What nights of feverish unrest I've borne,

What days of weeping and of bitterness,

When I have schooled me to a mocking calmness,

While my heart ached within! But all is past!

My spirit is a waste o'er which hath raged

The desolating fire, to leave its trace

In blackened ruins!---I can feel no more!

Would that I could! I'd rather bear the gnawing

Of anguish, than this dull, dead, frozen void,

In which all sense is buried!

Matilda

Would the harp

Soothe you? or shall I sing those cheerful songs

That once you loved to hear?

Teresa

No---no---the sound

Would be a mockery.---Yet, if time urge not,

I'd have you read to me that mournful tale

We oft have read together---of a maid

Compelled like me to nuptials she abhorred,---

Who fled to death's arms to escape that bridal,

And sleeps within the grave of him she loved.

Matilda

Nay---nay---you shall not hear so sad a story!

Teresa

It cannot move me. Hers was a bold spirit,

That dared to spurn the chain, and purchase peace

Even at the price of life.---Would I could be

Like her!

Matilda

Teresa!

Teresa

Fear me not---my hands

Are cowards; 'and my veins were never meant

To flow with blood like that which nourishes

Heroic hearts.'---There's something in death's aspect,

Even when he smiles, that human spirits quail at!

'The foolish skin doth creep---and the frame shudder,

At thought of what awaits them---the dusk pall---

The narrow house---the clay cold living tenants---'

Matilda

Holy St. Mary! Are such thoughts as these

Meet for a festival?

Teresa

A festival!

True---there's a noble festival at hand!

Yes---yes---I will be passive.---Deck me out

A victim---oh, how truly!---At the altar,

Say---must I wear a smile!

Matilda

Oh! not like that!

No---do not smile---the veil will hide your face.---

Teresa

Will it? that's well.---I fear me it would shame

The gay surrounding group.---They are not wont

To see such revellers. My looks would wither

More roses than will deck the festal hall!

Matilda

Talk not so strangely!

Teresa

Strangely? am I changed?

Matilda

Oh, sadly!

Teresa

I rejoice---I would be changed!

Who comes?

[ Enter two female attendants.

Attendant

My lady, will you go?

Teresa

Whither?

Matilda

Do you forget? but a few moments

Remain---

Attendant

My lord enquires for you. The guests

Are even now assembled.

Teresa

It is well.

I'll follow you.

[ Exeunt.

SCENE III

A street, faintly lighted. Enter Foscarini

Foscarini

Once more in Venice! How my native air

Takes from these limbs their weariness! What were

The breezes of the rugged Alps, to this,

So bland---so wooing? All, in loveliness

The same---the same! The Lagune, brightly clear,

Yet mirrors in its depths the marble domes

That rise above it---lordly towers---where shine

A thousand torches, like so many stars

Gleaming through clouds of silver. From afar,

The surge-like tone of multitudes, the hum

Of glad, familiar voices, and the wild

Faint music of the happy gondolier,

Float up in blended murmurs. Queen of cities!

Goddess of ocean! with the beauty crowned

Of Aphrodite from her parent deep!

If thine Ausonian heaven denies the strength

That nerves a mountain race of sterner mould,

It gives thee charms whose very softness wins

All hearts to worship!

Enter Vincentio

By this light---Vincentio?

Whence come you, signor?

Vincentio

Foscarini?

Foscarini

Aye!

What news are stirring?

Vincentio

None---of note.

Foscarini

You come

I augur by your garb---from some late festival?

Vincentio

A bridal. One of our first citizens

To-night doth wed his daughter---and assembles

The prime of Venice. Light, and flowers, and smiles,

Soon wearied me---who am not wont to toy

My hours away in mirth.

Foscarini

Then, splenetic,

You left the joyous scene?

Vincentio

'Twas not all joy.

If I mistake not, with the flowers that wrought

The bridal wreath, some leaves of bitterness

Were mingled.

Foscarini

Ha!

Vincentio

The bridegroom rich and noble---

The father proud and pleased---the guests all smiling---

But the mute bride!---I could not see her face,

But in her drooping form, like a bowed lily---

Her passive mien, and strange unconsciousness,

I read far more than bashfulness.

Foscarini

Indeed!

Vincentio

Before the altar she might have been deemed

A life like statue. From her veiled lips

Her words came slow and solemn, as the oracle

Speaks from its cloudy shrine.---Oh! much I fear

The fathers of our city are grown stern,

And sacrifice to gold and foul ambition

Treasures of youthful love.

Foscarini (aside)

I dare not utter

The doubt that's at my heart---(aloud)---The bridegroom, said you?

Vincentio

Is stern and haughty---though in courtesy

Well skilled---as noble senator should be. (ironically)

Foscarini

A senator? his name------

Vincentio

'Tis Contarini---

A synonyme for all that's merciful! (sneeringly)

Foscarini

The bride?

Vincentio

Teresa---daughter to------

Foscarini

No move!

Or I shall stop your breath! begone!

Vincentio

What's this?

Foscarini

Hence! you have basely slandered her---the fairest---

The truest.---No! 'Twas not Teresa! speak!

You have mistaken her name?

Vincentio

I spoke the truth---

Veniero's daughter.

Foscarini

Well---begone and leave me!

[Exit Vincentio. (Foscarini paces the scene a few moments in silence---then suddenly stops.)

If this be true, I'll seek her---I'll confront her---

I'll blast her sight---and drag her from his arms.

E'en at their bridal feast inflict the penalty

Of guile like hers. Away.

[ Exit.

SCENE IV

A spacious and magnificent apartment, brilliantly decorated and illuminated. Veniero discovered. Numerous guests, some in masks, seemingly in conversation.

Enter the Doge, Badoero, Contarini, Teresa, Matilda, and others.

Veniero

Once more we welcome all! Let mirth reign here,

Since ne'er a day hath dawned, of joy like this!

And Loredano too---I craved his presence;

Why comes he not? I harbor no resentments

In this glad hour. When happiness o'erflows

The heart, its tide doth sweep all evil thoughts

Like wrecks, away. He should be welcome here.

Say---will ye pledge me, friends?

Doge

Most willingly.

This to the noble lady, in whose honor

We are to-night assembled. Ne'er till now

So fair a claim to loyalty hath met

Our willing homage.

Veniero

Cheer, my girl! wear not

That solemn aspect, which would better grace

The sanctuary! Our friends and your fond sire

Invoke your smiles to make them happy.

Teresa

Sir,

I thank both them and you.

Veniero (to Contarini)

I pray you, Signor,

Since to your keeping my authority

Over this wayward girl is now surrendered,

Command her to be merry.

Contarini

Pardon me.

You would not have me claim so speedily

A wife's obedience! Now, at least, her will

Shall rule herself and me!

Veniero

Oh! you will be

A proper husband! Who begins by bending

His neck to greet the yoke---henceforth must wear it!

(Foscarini enters, masked, and remains at the back of the scene, watching Teresa)

Contarini

And where could chains so golden and so soft,

Clasped by a hand so fair, enfold a captive

In sweeter bondage? Trust me---you know not

The worth of smiles like hers, to deem them fit

For every eye to share!

Say, gentle lady---would you join the dance?

Teresa

The dance? No---no!---My lord---I pray your pardon,

I meant not this abruptness.

Contarini

As you will!

You are a queen here, and in queenly right

You shall control us all; your regal pleasure

The law that we obey.

Foscarini (aside)

She does not smile!

Her falsehood bears with it the sting, remorse!

Contarini

Would music please my noble bride?

Teresa (aside)

These lights!

My brain grows sick beneath their weary glare!

Leave me, I pray you! Nay---nay---heed me not!

Let me not mar your mirth!

Contarini

I will not leave you:

I am too proud to stand beside you.

Foscarini (in a low tone)

Aye!

She may betray you too!

Teresa (aside)

That voice---that voice!

I cannot 'scape it! Strange---my haunting fancies

Should thus take form, to syllable reproaches

I ever hear within!

Doge

What ails the lady?'

Teresa (aside)

They must be silenced---for I may not hear

Their tauntings now!'

Matilda

Teresa! you are pale

And discomposed:---this night's fatigue had been

O'er harassing.

Teresa

Yes---yes---

Contarini

Wine will restore her---

Teresa

You are mistaken;

I am not ill!

Contarini

Take it---fair lady---

Foscarini (snatches another cup and advances)

Hold!

I claim a right to pledge your lovely bride!

I---humblest of her slaves! Lady! I drink

Long life to you---and happiness---such as

Your truth deserves! Could man e'er wish you more?

Teresa

'Tis he. Oh God! (faints)

[ Foscarini retires.

Contarini

Teresa!

Veniero

She has swooned! my daughter! Help!

(They raise her---she revives---but still appears unconscious)

Teresa (wildly)

Accuse me not! accuse me not! Oh no!

I did not wrong thee! I have borne the wrong!

Didst thou but know the misery that has dragged me,

Despite of all thy love to bear me up,

Down, down, to this! thou wouldst not, couldst not scorn me!

Judge me not here!

Contarini

Who was't disturbed you,---say?

Teresa (recovering)

Ha!

Contarini

Who was it dared intrude, to move you thus?

Reveal his name, and instant punishment

Shall overtake the wretch!

Teresa (eagerly detaining him)

Oh, no---no---no!

Contarini

Detain me not! let me but find him!

Teresa

Hold!

What would you do? what have I said? 'Twas nothing---

Indeed---'Twas nothing!

Contarini

Tell me---whose the voice

That frighted you?

Teresa

No voice! Move not---I pray you!

It was an idle fancy.---Did I say

Some one had spoken to me?---'Twas not so!

My brain hath coined strange tales! 'Tis cause for mirth

That I should think such things.

Contarini

Such eagerness

To screen the offender------

Teresa

My lord! I am ashamed

To have disturbed this noble company

With such absurd, strange weakness. I beseech you

Let me retire awhile!

Veniero

Go.

[ Exeunt Teresa, Matilda and attendants.