Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays. Various
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Now, sweetest plaything, you may also come,
Finer than spider's web, stronger than steel.
[She fastens one end of the silk ladder to an iron hook on the floor in the balcony.]
Let me now play that it were highest time
And dip you deep down, down into my well,
To bring this parched one a sparkling draught.
[She pulls the ladder up again.]
Night, night has come! And yet how long might be,
Endlessly long, the time until he comes.
[She wrings her hands.]
Might be!
[With shining eyes.]
But must not—yet, it might—
[She puts up her hair. During this time the nurse has stepped to the front window and waters the red flowers there.]
Dianora [much frightened]. Who's there, who's there! Oh, nurse, nurse, is it you? I've ne'er before seen you in here so late. Has ought occurred?—
Nurse. Why nothing, gracious one. Do you not see, I quite forgot my flowers—they've not been watered. On my way from church I suddenly remembered, quickly came.
Dianora. Yes, give the flowers water. But how strange you look, your cheeks are feverish, your eyes are shining—
Nurse [does not answer].
Dianora. Who preached? Tell me, was it that monk, the one—
Nurse [curtly]. Yes, gracious one.
Dianora. The one from Spain, is it not?
Nurse [does not answer—pause].
Dianora [following her own train of thoughts]. Can you recall the kind of child I was?
Nurse. Proud, gracious one, a proud child, very proud.
Dianora [very softly]. How singular! Humanity's so sweet!—What?—
Nurse. I said no word, my gracious Lady, none—
Dianora. Yes, yes, whom does the Spanish monk resemble?
Nurse. He is different from the others.
Dianora. No—his appearance! Does he resemble my husband?
Nurse. No, gracious one.
Dianora. My brother-in-law?
Nurse. No.
Dianora. Ser Antonio Melzi?
Nurse. No.
Dianora. Messer Galeazza Swardi?
Nurse. No.
Dianora. Messer Palla degli Albizzi?
Nurse. His voice is a little like Messer Palla's—yes—I said to my son yesterday, that his voice reminded me a little of Messer Palla's voice.
Dianora. The voice—
Nurse. But his eyes are like Messer Guido Schio, the nephew of our gracious lord.
Dianora [is silent].
Nurse. I met him on the stairs yesterday—he stopped—
Dianora [suddenly flaring up]. Messer Palla?
Nurse. No! Our gracious lord. He ordered me to make some ointment. His wound is not yet entirely healed.
Dianora. Oh, yes! The horse's bite—did he show it to you?
Nurse. Yes—the back of the hand is quite healed, but on the palm there's a small dark spot, a curious spot, such as I've never seen in a wound—
Dianora. What horse did it, I wonder?
Nurse. The big roan, gracious Lady.
Dianora. Yes, yes, I remember. It was on the day of Francesco Chieregati's wedding. [She laughs loudly.]
Nurse [looks at her].
Dianora. I was thinking of something else. He told about it at table—he wore his arm in a sling. How was it, do you remember?
Nurse. What, gracious one?
Dianora. With the horse—
Nurse. Don't you remember, gracious one?
Dianora. He spoke about it at table. But I could not hear it. Messer Palla degli Albizzi sat next to me, and was so merry, and everybody laughed, so I could not hear just what my husband said.
Nurse. When our gracious lord came to the stall, the roan put back his ears, foamed with rage and suddenly snapped at the master's hand.
Dianora. And then?
Nurse. Then the master hit the roan behind the ears with his fist so that the big, strong horse staggered back as though it were a dog—
Dianora [is silent, looks dreamily down].
Nurse. Oh, our gracious lord is strong! He is the strongest gentleman of all the nobility the country 'round, and the cleverest.
Dianora. Yes, indeed. [Attentively now.] Who?
Nurse. Our master.
Dianora. Ah! our master. [Smiles.]—and his voice is so beautiful, and that is why everybody loves to listen to him in the large, dark church.
Nurse. Listen to whom, gracious one?
Dianora. To the Spanish monk, to whom else?
Nurse. No, my Lady, it isn't because of his voice that people listen to him.
Dianora [is again not listening].
Nurse. Gracious one—my Lady—is it true—what people say about the envoy?
Dianora. What envoy?
Nurse. The envoy whom the people of Como sent to our master.
Dianora. What are people saying?
Nurse. They say a shepherd saw it.
Dianora. What did he see?
Nurse. Our gracious lord was angry at the envoy—would not accept the letter that the people of Como had written him. Then he took it anyhow—the letter—read part of it, tore it into bits and held the pieces before the envoy's mouth and demanded that he swallow them. But the envoy went backwards, like a crab, and made stary eyes just like a crab, and everybody laughed, especially Signor Silvio, the master's brother. Then the master sent for the envoy's mule and had it brought to the gates. When the envoy was too slow in mounting, the master whistled for the dogs. The envoy left with his two yeomen. Our master went hunting with seven men and all the dogs. Towards evening, however, they say that our gracious lord, and the envoy met at the bridge over the Adda, there where Verese begins—our master and the envoy met. And the shepherd was passing and drove his sheep next to the bridge into a wheat-field—so that the horses would not kill them. And the shepherd heard our master cry, "There's the one who wouldn't eat, perhaps he'd like to drink." So four of our men seized the two yeomen, two others took the envoy, each one took hold of a leg, lifted him from the saddle—threw him screaming like a madman and struggling fiercely, over the parapet—he tore out a piece of the sleeve of one, together with the flesh. The Adda has very steep banks at that place—the river was dark and swollen from all the snow on the mountains. The envoy did not appear again, said the shepherd.
[Nurse stops, looks questioningly at Dianora.]
Dianora [anxiously]. I do not know.
[She shakes off the worried expression, her face assumes the dreamy, inwardly happy expression.]
Dianora. Tell me something about his preaching—the