Tales from the Operas. Various
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The monster hath gone! Which way?”
“Ah! marry, which way! though wherefore shouldst thou care; he is not worth the kindness of so considerable a lady.”
“Ah, he leaves me!”
“By your leave, lady, ’tis not the first lady he hath fled from. Have I not here a book, which hath weight in it, I warrant thee; and if it be not filled with the names of the ladies he hath fled from, with the particulars of their birth, parentage, and residences, the evil one hath played false with my handwriting, or some good angel hath, in pity to my master, wiped out the faithful record. See now, in Italy he flies me six hundred and forty; in Germany, he hath ruined two hundred and thirty-one; one hundred in France; thou shalt repeat me that number for Turkey; but here in Spain he hath destroyed the peace of one thousand and three.”
Here the serving man dutifully followed his master into shadow, and scudded away harder and harder when he heard the pattering of little feet behind him.
CHAPTER II.
Little Zerlina was a little country maiden, as happy as the sun was bright, and as fond of Masetto as the bee of sweet flowers.
As for Masetto, he loved Zerlina as honest natives do love, with his whole heart, and he thought nobody equal to Zerlina.
And that day was come when Zerlina and Masetto were to be nobody’s business, and more, and were to be all in all to each other for life; they were going to be married.
The country folk were blythe and happy, and full of the wedding, chatting, laughing, and wishing the bride and bridegroom happy, when a grand Don, accompanied by his servant, for he walked behind, caused the prattle to die away into silence.
“I’faith, pretty creatures! a marriage, good friends? Nay, go on with your sports—go on.”
“Yes, good my lord, and I am the bride.”
“A lovely bride! And who’s the bridegroom?”
“So please you, at your service, here, I call myself Masetto.”
“Spoken bravely!”
“O rare! he hath the build of a husband, hath he not?”
Here the little bride, who was a little vain, and who rather plumed herself upon talking to a grandee, said, “Masetto hath an excellent heart.”
“And also have I, so we should be friends; and, prythee, what do they call thee?”
“Zerlina, so please you.”
“And so please you, I call myself Masetto.”
For truth to tell, the little rustic was growing jealous.
“And you two are to be married. Well, well; I do offer you my protection, aye, and my house. Leporello, show these good people to my house, give them what they will; and for the bridegroom, he is the guest of honor, Leporello—pay, if thou valuest whole bones, excellent attention to the bridegroom.”
“I seize thee, master, I seize thee.” Thus the man, speaking softly to the master. Then the man said to the lucky bridegroom: “So please you, walk by me. And all you rustics, follow heartily.”
“But, good sir, Zerlina must come with me.”
“’Tis not etiquette that thou shouldst be bound to her side. Good friend, come walk by me. The Senor himself will care for her right heartily. So please thee, walk walk.”
“Oh! be not afraid, Masetto, the senor will guard me.”
“But!—but!—”
“Verily, friend Masetto, thou art little better than a curmudgeon. Walk, I say, walk.”
“Dost thou not breathe more lightly, Zerlina?”
“Wherefore, Senor?”
“That the clown hath gone.”
“Nay—he hath my love!”
“A king should have thy love; those pretty lips, those eyes, those little fingers, were not made for clowns.”
“Nay—but I love him!”
“And I love thee. A poor home, and a poor husband—is this thy lot? See away there, ’tis my house, ’tis my palace. I love thee, I love thee. Wilt thou be my wife, Zerlina?”
“Wife, Senor, thy wife?”
“Choose between us, Masetto or Don Juan.”
“I—I, then, a great lady. Yet, Masetto.”
“Come my love, come, my love.”
But the don started and turned pale, for as he made a step forward with the simple little Zerlina, there was standing Donna Elvira.
“Thou seest,” he said rapidly, before she could speak, “I am but toying with her simplicity, I mean no harm.”
“No harm, Don Juan, thou art destruction.”
“Nay, believe her not, charming Zerlina, ’tis a poor forlorn creature, who followeth me because I cannot love her. Well, if she will not quit me, I will her;” and lightly he ran away.
She pitied him, did the donna, nay she still loved him somewhat; but for all that, she warned Zerlina of him and went away with that simple little maiden, hand in hand.
Barely had they left the spot, than Don Juan was upon it again, for he had determined upon keeping the little village maiden in view. But barely had he returned to the spot than he was accosted by one whom he would fain have not seen, Don Ottavio, the cavalier of Donna Anna.
The don was not easily abashed, so he came lightly to Ottavio’s side, but he thought to himself that this was one of his unlucky days.
“This meeting is fortunate, Don Juan, if thou hast a generous heart.”
“I hope for thy sake and mine own, that I have.”
“For we have need of thy friendship.”
“I breathe again,” thought the don, who, brave as he was, had trembled in meeting the injured lady, Donna Anna. “Command me,” he said aloud, “my arms are thine, if ’tis a question of arms. But Donna Anna, why these tears?”
“Do not hear him,” said a voice; and the three turning, saw Donna Elvira, who had determined to keep Juan in view; “do not hear him, he hath destroyed me.”
“Pardon her Ottavio, and you, Donna Anna, she is a poor deranged lady; leave her to me.”
“Do not believe him!”
“Poor lady! You see!”
“Do not believe him!”
Donna Anna and Ottavio seemed puzzled by this meeting. The lady seemed sane, and yet Don Juan was a man of probity, said all the world.
He bade her be still; but she called out more loudly than before, that he was her destroyer; and as she changed color, and struck her foot upon the ground, Ottavio and Anna shook their heads as though deploring her.
Whereon, the poor lady seeing their error, turned from them, and walked away quickly.
The don took advantage of this incident to rid himself of the terrible company of Ottavio and Anna, and so saying that for her dear sake he would follow her, he fled away; not marking the terrified start that Donna Anna gave as he turned from her.
“Dear Anna, how pale thou art! What has happened?”
“I dare not say, and yet I dare not be silent.”
“Speak!