Vittoria
499
Luigi.I have been happy.Of yourself
And all you did in the long summer days
Will you not tell me? Paint for me the place
That I may see it.
And all you did in the long summer days
Will you not tell me? Paint for me the place
That I may see it.
Vittoria.may see it. There are no steep rocks
As here, where the convent walls make one
With the great piles of stone that meet the sea;
Only a long green slope and a gray wall,
And, by the water, a small crescent beach,
Shaped like a waxing moon. Two poplar trees,
Close to it, cut the blue; and, higher up,
Ilex and cypresses, and yellow walls
Where the house stands. There are white marble busts
Of kings and poets in the ilex shade,
Green moss on chin and forehead. All day long
On the gray dial in the grass the sun
Counts off the hours.
As here, where the convent walls make one
With the great piles of stone that meet the sea;
Only a long green slope and a gray wall,
And, by the water, a small crescent beach,
Shaped like a waxing moon. Two poplar trees,
Close to it, cut the blue; and, higher up,
Ilex and cypresses, and yellow walls
Where the house stands. There are white marble busts
Of kings and poets in the ilex shade,
Green moss on chin and forehead. All day long
On the gray dial in the grass the sun
Counts off the hours.
Luigi.nts off the hours.Meanwhile—you?
Vittoria.nts off the hours.Meanwhile—you?I sit
Embroidering at the window, and I hear
The fountain trickling in the inner court.
When the brief shadow of the orange-tree
Is just beneath it, saying it is noon,
I go to sit, in the hall paved with stone,
At our great table. There I serve the bread,
The cheese, the salad, and the purple grapes,
And for my father pour red wine or white,
As he may choose. So all the days. No one
Goes ever from us, no one ever comes.
Embroidering at the window, and I hear
The fountain trickling in the inner court.
When the brief shadow of the orange-tree
Is just beneath it, saying it is noon,
I go to sit, in the hall paved with stone,
At our great table. There I serve the bread,
The cheese, the salad, and the purple grapes,
And for my father pour red wine or white,
As he may choose. So all the days. No one
Goes ever from us, no one ever comes.
Luigi. And are you happy?
Vittoria.And are you happy?I have been, and yet
Forever waiting, waiting with a sense
Of mystery, for it has always seemed
That some new footfall on the floor might bring
The tidings that would make me understand.
Life is so shut away!
Forever waiting, waiting with a sense
Of mystery, for it has always seemed
That some new footfall on the floor might bring
The tidings that would make me understand.
Life is so shut away!
Luigi.is so shut away! It is for all!
All share the shadow where we grope our way.
We study deeply and we think; we watch,
Wandering freely on the open ways,
But no one of us knows.
All share the shadow where we grope our way.
We study deeply and we think; we watch,
Wandering freely on the open ways,
But no one of us knows.
Vittoria (shaking her head). Nay, you are wise;
It is not hidden from you as from me.
Your eyes are those of one who understands.
It is not hidden from you as from me.
Your eyes are those of one who understands.
Luigi (looking always at her). I too have waited, but more easily
Than you can find shall I find what I seek.
For finer souls like yours the search is long.
Than you can find shall I find what I seek.
For finer souls like yours the search is long.
Vittoria But I forget my father! There he sits,
His eyes fixed on the distant city: so
He watches all the time, and counts the spires,
Almost invisible, then looks at me,
Saying, “Within an hour I must start.”
And yet he does not, neither will he tell
What is his message, nor the reason why
I may not go with him. I long to share
His glorious mission, and I fain would hear
The beat of footsteps in that narrow street.
Only a maiden am I, yet may serve!
And I am young and strong, while he is old;
Why must I linger here and let him go?
His eyes fixed on the distant city: so
He watches all the time, and counts the spires,
Almost invisible, then looks at me,
Saying, “Within an hour I must start.”
And yet he does not, neither will he tell
What is his message, nor the reason why
I may not go with him. I long to share
His glorious mission, and I fain would hear
The beat of footsteps in that narrow street.
Only a maiden am I, yet may serve!
And I am young and strong, while he is old;
Why must I linger here and let him go?
Luigi. Nay, I will go for him! Old and infirm
He must not travel all that way alone.
If he will trust his message, I with pride
Will carry it
He must not travel all that way alone.
If he will trust his message, I with pride
Will carry it
Vittoria.carry itYou are most courteous
To aid an old man and a helpless girl.
How can we thank you?
To aid an old man and a helpless girl.
How can we thank you?
Luigi.can we thank you? For my great reward
I claim the service only.
I claim the service only.
[There is a sound of a bell. The monks go
shuffling two by two along the cloister, and enter
the chapel door. Then comes a sudden burst
of organ music, and many voices, chanting.
Vitoria listens, and her cheeks are wet with
tears.
shuffling two by two along the cloister, and enter
the chapel door. Then comes a sudden burst
of organ music, and many voices, chanting.
Vitoria listens, and her cheeks are wet with
tears.
Vittoria. Oh, tell me what it is! The sweetness hurts.
Who has the power to touch our ears like this?
Who has the power to touch our ears like this?
Luigi. It is the mid-day prayer. What troubles you?
Is it the music?
Is it the music?
Vittoria (reddening). I know not the word,
And never yet have heard this pleading sound,
Being most ignorant.
And never yet have heard this pleading sound,
Being most ignorant.
Luigi (looking at the father). I understand!
Listen! They pray.
Listen! They pray.
Vittoria.They pray. Of praying I know naught,
[The music begins again.
Oh, more than anything I ever heard
It seems that this might be the voice to speak
The words for which I waited, tell me all
The secret meaning I have missed before.
And yet it makes me sad, as in the spring
The new leaves sadden me.
[Luigi watches her as she listens, forgetting him.
[The music begins again.
Oh, more than anything I ever heard
It seems that this might be the voice to speak
The words for which I waited, tell me all
The secret meaning I have missed before.
And yet it makes me sad, as in the spring
The new leaves sadden me.
[Luigi watches her as she listens, forgetting him.
Luigi.new leaves sadden me. Men’s purposes
Are ever their defeat! He who would keep
Her childhood in her, has prevailed to make
Thinker and poet, with soft-shadowed eyes,
Wiser than other maidens’, yet with mouth
More smiling. Tall and very fair she moves
Among the garden lilies, with white brows
And fine-wrought cheek and nostril, her brown hair
Smooth in the noon-day sunshine. Would her face
Have been all gladness at my going hence
If she had understood?
Are ever their defeat! He who would keep
Her childhood in her, has prevailed to make
Thinker and poet, with soft-shadowed eyes,
Wiser than other maidens’, yet with mouth
More smiling. Tall and very fair she moves
Among the garden lilies, with white brows
And fine-wrought cheek and nostril, her brown hair
Smooth in the noon-day sunshine. Would her face
Have been all gladness at my going hence
If she had understood?
Scene II.—Several days later, Murmur of the
service, as always. The father watches his
daughter and the scholar who pace the garden
paths between red roses growing over graves.
service, as always. The father watches his
daughter and the scholar who pace the garden
paths between red roses growing over graves.
Father. How her eyes follow him! When he is near
She blossoms like a flower in the sun,
Wistful and tender all her face has grown,
As it has never been. She knows it not,
And yet she loves him.
[From the chapel comes the sound of the creed:
She blossoms like a flower in the sun,
Wistful and tender all her face has grown,
As it has never been. She knows it not,
And yet she loves him.
[From the chapel comes the sound of the creed:
Credo in spiritum sanctum, . . . sanctorum
communionem, carnis resurrectionem, vitam
aternam.
communionem, carnis resurrectionem, vitam
aternam.
Father.yet she loves him.It is very strange
That my last moments should be sweet like this.
Yonder the monks are praying, but their prayers
Mean naught to me. Here, in the sun, my child
Learns love for this young stranger. Prayer nor love
Is mine, yet I am glad for both, and warm
I go between them. Still I linger here
For joy to see, my great task unfulfilled.
They love as we loved in the garden there
Where fountains played, and where the roses stood,
That my last moments should be sweet like this.
Yonder the monks are praying, but their prayers
Mean naught to me. Here, in the sun, my child
Learns love for this young stranger. Prayer nor love
Is mine, yet I am glad for both, and warm
I go between them. Still I linger here
For joy to see, my great task unfulfilled.
They love as we loved in the garden there
Where fountains played, and where the roses stood,
