THE CROSS OF SORROW 
 
 WILLIAM AKERMAN 
 
PR 
 
 Hoo4 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE 
 
 Joseph Whitmore Barry 
 dramatic library 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 TWO FRIENDS 
 
 OF Cornell University 
 1934 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR4004.A11C9 
 
 The cross of sorrow.A •rasej'y "[^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 3 1924 013 205 525 
 
The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013205525 
 
THE CROSS OF SORROW. 
 
Life is a song that hath its source in sorrow, 
 
 A ceaseless sob from those harp-strings whose harmonies 
 
 Tremble with tears. Nature so fashions us 
 
 That he who hath not suffered finds no purpose 
 
 In the vast sea of our humanity ; 
 
 Is like an empty hollow-sounding shell 
 
 Cast by the ocean on a desert strand, 
 
 And for all time abandoned. 
 
THE 
 
 CROSS OF SORROW. 
 
 A TRAGEDY 
 
 IN 
 
 FIVE ACTS. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM AKERMAN. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 GEORGE BELL & SONS, YORK ST., COVENT GARDEN, 
 
 AND NEW YORK. 
 
 1894. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 r- 
 
 /e 
 
Copyright, 1894/ 4y George Bell and Sons, London. 
 
TO 
 
 E. M. C. W. 
 
 AND 
 
 E. E. E. W., 
 
 THE MOST LOYAL AND UNSELFISH 
 
 AMONG WOMEN, 
 
 THIS POEM 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In presenting this my first work to the public 
 I recognize that in a preface, above all places, 
 brevity is the soul of wit. Although a brief 
 preface may not cover a multitude of sins, it is, 
 at all events, one sin the less. 
 
 My play is built upon the pathetic tale in 
 "Gil Bias" by Le Sage, entitled "The Fatal 
 Marriage," the beauties of which I trust I have 
 not altogether obscured. I have endeavoured 
 to write a blank verse play which shall preserve 
 an equal balance between poetry and dramatic 
 diction and situation, that shall have literary pre- 
 tensions, and be at the same time — ^pardon the 
 word — actable. If my story itself does not con- 
 vey to the reader my farther and wider purpose 
 it is useless for me to underline it here. I shall 
 not appeal to those students of the drama who 
 delight only in plays that are an echo from the 
 dissecting-room, nor to those modern readers 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 who look upon thought as a vehicle for words, 
 rather than words as a vehicle for thought. 
 
 I am advised also that there is little or no 
 taste to-day for Elizabethan or any form of 
 antique drama. That may be so, but the fashion 
 of to-day is not necessarily the fashion of to- 
 morrow ; I shall not apologize therefore for the 
 models upon which my work is based. 
 
 The Author. 
 
CHARACTERS. 
 
 Raymond, King of Sicily. 
 Diego, his twin brother. 
 SiFFREDi, Lord Chancellor of Sicily. 
 MONCADA, High Constable. 
 Garcia, a conspiring Noble. 
 
 PROSPERO, \ Nobles at Palermo. 
 Gratiano, J 
 Angelo, 1 
 Batiste, > Peasants. 
 
 MiGUELO, ' 
 A Messenger. 
 A Servant. 
 A Priest. 
 
 Irene, Daughter of Siffredi. 
 Nerissa, her maid. 
 
 Nobles and Ladies. Soldiers, Citizens, and Servants. 
 
 Period. — Between 1300 and 1400. 
 
 Place.— Acts L, IV., V., Belmonte near Palermo. 
 Acts II. and III. Palermo. 
 
 Between Acts I. and II. one day elapses. 
 Between Acts II. and III. twelve hours elapse. 
 Between Acts III. and IV. two days elapse. 
 Between Acts IV. and V. one day elapses. 
 
 N.B. — For purposes of stage representation it is in- 
 tended this drama should be played in four acts and five 
 tableaux, Acts II, and III. being condensed into one. 
 
THE CROSS OF SORROW. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene i. A vineyard in Belmonte. Angelo, 
 Batiste, and Miguelo discovered at work 
 in the vineyard. 
 
 Angelo. Plague take the work — mischief un- 
 make the work, 
 I'll work no more to-day ! ■ 
 Batiste. Nor I ! 
 
 Miguelo. Nor I ! 
 
 Why such another royal holiday 
 Sicily will not look upon again ! 
 Batiste. Nor such another king ! The streets 
 to-night 
 Will run with wine, my masters, in Palermo. 
 Miguelo. And six fat oxen will be roasted 
 whole 
 
 B 
 
 Copyright, 1894, by George Bell and Sons, London. 
 
2 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I. 
 
 Within the market-place. 
 
 Batiste. Preserve all kings 
 
 •That keep such birthdays ! 
 
 Angela. This kin^ is not fashioned 
 
 Of common clay ! 
 
 Batiste. Roger of Sicily ! 
 
 He hath not lain on roses. 
 
 Miguelo. Virgin Mother ! 
 
 One marvels thirty years are left behind 
 Since Manrico, that devil's waif, his brother, 
 Planted the bloody standard of revolt 
 Upon the breast of Sicily. 
 
 Angela. Dost mind you 
 
 How, month by month, the tide of battle 
 
 flowed 
 From sunrise to the crimson set thereof, 
 Till Siffredi, waiting his great occasion, 
 Fell like a whirlwind upon Manrico, 
 And, with one clean sweep of his battle-axe, 
 Smote his head from his shoulders ? 
 
 Miguelo. There was a stroke 
 
 He could not match to-day ! 
 
 Batiste. I'll swear to it ! 
 
 Angela. Times have changed more than he ! 
 How happens it 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 3 
 
 Manrico's sons have home and shelter here 
 'Neath Siffredi's own roof? 
 
 Miguelo. The old king willed it. 
 
 They say he hath laid charge on Siffredi 
 To educate the striplings royally. 
 
 Batiste, He never did have male chick of his 
 own, 
 King that he was, and there's the rub of it, 
 I'll wager now, he'll wed the elder of them 
 With his daughter Eleanor. 
 
 Angela. Ay! Rumour paints her 
 
 The fairest lady living. 
 
 Miguelo. She may not match 
 
 With our sweet mistress ! 
 
 Batiste. Mistress Irene? Nay, 
 
 And so thinks my lord Diego L 
 
 Miguelo. More's the pity. 
 
 Poor lamb ! 
 
 Batiste. He hath a tongue might saw a plank. 
 I tell you, masters 
 
 Enter DiEGO. 
 
 Diego. How now, ye saucy knaves, whose 
 poisonous tongues 
 
4 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I. 
 
 Beget a pestilence within the air ! 
 
 Who bid you mind the business of your betters? 
 
 Angela. Good, my lord 
 
 Diego. Good, my lord, wouldst answer me ? 
 Out of my presence, fellow ! else, by my honour, 
 I'll have you roundly whipped. \Exeunt Peasants. 
 
 Oh, mockery, 
 Mark this bedridden king, that lives on shadows, 
 Yet finds heart in him to keep holiday : 
 Men will go down to their graves making a feast 
 Upon imaginations ! Can imagining 
 Set back this universe and make of me 
 My brother's elder ? Moments misapplied 
 Do grow more precious than eternity ; 
 And tho' 'twas but an hour interposed 
 Betwixt his birth and mine, that hour misspent 
 No time may e'er retrieved Where wert thou. 
 
 Fortune, 
 That helped me not while I, the laggard, lay 
 Halfway 'twixt death and life .' 
 
 Enter IRENE. 
 
 Irene. Why, cousin, what doth so perplex your 
 mind 
 That you assume so poor a countenance } 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 5 
 
 Diego. Thoughts only, Mistress Irene. 
 
 Irene. Are they ill thoughts >. 
 
 Diego. Yea, they are ill thoughts, being of 
 myself, 
 That am all ill. 
 
 Irene. Therein your argument 
 
 Is strained too far, even as the bolt from a bow, 
 Which, being drawn with an excess of vigour, 
 Q'erflies the mark ! 
 
 Diego. And your moral } 
 
 Irene. Palpable. 
 
 That God hath fashioned nothing on this earth 
 Wherein is hidden not some germ of good. 
 
 Diego. Am I not past hope ? 
 
 Irene. Hope never killed yet, cousin : 
 
 May it find thee braver spirits 1 
 
 [Irene turns to go. 
 
 Diego. Whither art thou going ? 
 
 Irene. I have business with thy brother. 
 
 Diego. Business ! 
 
 Irene. Pleasure, 
 
 If I so please ! 
 
 Diego. Thou hast a nimble wit ! 
 
 Irene. Would that thy heels were only half so 
 nimble ! 
 
6 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I. 
 
 Diego. Thou hast never commanded them. 
 
 Irene. The pity of it. 
 
 Would they run for me .' 
 
 Diego. To the remotest end 
 
 Of the world's wilderness ! 
 
 Irene. Heaven forfend 
 
 Your brother is so far ! 
 
 Diego. Gentle Irene, 
 
 \He approaches her. 
 Sure Nature, that hath decked thee out so fair. 
 Hath never schooled thee to be so unkind ! 
 
 \He seises hold of her. 
 
 Irene. Unhand me, cousin ! 
 
 Diego. What, without a ransom } 
 
 That were unreasonable. How beautiful 
 Those lightnings in thine eyes ! 
 
 Irene. Unhand me, cousin ! \She strikes him. 
 
 Diego. Fie, vixen ! 
 
 Irene. I abhor you ! 
 
 Diego. A scorpion lies 
 
 Behind those rosy lips ; thus will I scotch him ! 
 \He attempts to kiss her. RAYMOND enters, 
 and flings DiEGO aside. 
 
 Raymond. Thou, Diego! — May not this, the 
 fairest flower 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. ^ 
 
 In all God's garden-walk of womanhood 
 Compel thy reverence ! 
 
 Diego. Why reverence ? 
 
 Is it your garden bed I trespass on ? 
 Raymond, Oh what unnatural tie of blood in 
 me 
 Hath stolen my natural part 1 
 
 \He advances threateningly to DiEGO. 
 Irene. Raymond ! 
 
 Raymond. My cheeks 
 
 Hang out shame's blood-red banners, yea, and 
 
 my tongue 
 Blisters to call him brother ! 
 
 Diego. Gently done, 
 
 To fling the miserable accident 
 In my teeth, brother ! 
 Irene. Come with me ! 
 
 [Raymond puts his arm round Irene. 
 Raymond, I follow thee. 
 
 Even as the tide the moon, so shalt thou draw 
 
 me 
 From this high flood of passion ! 
 
 \^As Raymond and Irene /a.rj up the vine- 
 yard, Diego draivs his dagger, follows 
 them, then pauses. 
 
8 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I. 
 
 Diego. Oh ripe revenge ! oh rare, presumptuous 
 folly ! 
 That would uproot the very base of reason : 
 These toys for children are, not for grown 
 
 men. 
 And for these deeds, I count them mid my 
 
 favours ! 
 Oh, superhuman wisdom that with this bodkin 
 Would prick his skin, and let his life-blood out. 
 That were a kindness many a poor wretch, 
 Whose world is bound round in perpetual night- 
 mares, 
 With his last dying breath would bless me for 
 Who did so charitably help him hence 
 Into a dreamless slumber. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Messenger. My lord Diego ? 
 
 Diego. My name, fellow ! Whence come you .' 
 
 Messenger. From Palermo. 
 
 Diego. Palermo! Well! 
 
 Messenger. I have letters for you, my lord. 
 Which I was bidden secretly deliver 
 To none but your own hands. 
 
i 
 
 SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 9 
 
 Diego. Give them to me. 
 
 [Messenger delivers the letters. 
 Are these all ? 
 Messenger. All, my lord. 
 Diego. Get you within doors ; 
 
 I'll find means later to confer with you. 
 Stay ! Breathe no word of whence you come, or 
 
 wherefore, 
 You follow me } — 
 
 Messenger. Excellent well, your Grace. 
 
 \Exit Messenger. 
 Diego. Garcia, beware ! These idle characters 
 Are blabbers every one ! knaves that will turn 
 Against the hand that hath begotten them, 
 And at the top of fortune him deliver 
 Unto his enemies. 
 
 [Diego breaks open and reads the letter. 
 
 "The end is rapidly approaching. The king 
 is sick unto death. He sees no soul but Siffredi, 
 with whom he makes his last will and testament. 
 'Tis an open secret he hath bequeathed Sicily 
 unto your brother, and his daughter Eleanor 
 into the bargain. They say he hath pledged 
 Siffredi deeply to compass this marriage! No 
 c 
 
10 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I, 
 
 marriage, no inheritance — so runs the rumour. 
 Look to see me immediately. Let his majesty 
 but be laid out, and I'll to thee post haste. 
 
 Adieu, Garcia." 
 
 Now doth my barque shake out her snowy 
 
 sails 
 Unto the winds of opportunity, 
 And this auspicious tide shall carry me 
 Into the furthest harbour of my wishes ! 
 
 \_Reading, 
 " They say he hath pledged Siffredi deeply to 
 compass this marriage ! no marriage, no inheri- 
 tance — so runs the rumour." 
 
 If man may be inspired by devilry. 
 
 As by the highest good, inspired am I, 
 
 And do but want a diligent application 
 
 To rub my inspiration into flame ! 
 
 Ring up the curtain, let our wits devise 
 
 A tragedy of terror and surprise ; 
 
 Our plot is human, fashioned out with skill. 
 
 The puppets own a master mind and will. 
 
 And this the prologue, shadowed forth to-day. 
 
 Shall pale before the horrors of my play ! 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 1 1 
 
 Scene 2. A Room at Belmonte. Raymond 
 and Irene discovered at open windoiv at 
 back. A sunset. 
 
 Raymond. Now is the hour the twilight dips 
 her brushes 
 Into a deep carnation, painting the sky 
 With tenderest of blushes. 
 
 Irene. Now is the hour 
 
 The wraith of Death pursueth thee, sweet day, 
 And with the pall of night will cover thee. 
 Hence, hideous night, this day at least is mine, 
 Since from my lord 'twill not dissever me ! 
 
 Raymond. Thou shalt not chide the night ! 
 The silver moon 
 Is love's own light ; then do the nightingales 
 Make music to the leaves, and the pale stars 
 Look down with lovers' eyes upon the earth. 
 
 Irene. If thou command, the moon shall be the 
 sun. 
 The stars of heaven the woodland primroses, 
 The nightingale the lark, and even then 
 I'll not gainsay thee that nor anything ! 
 
12 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I. 
 
 Raymond. Fond lips, forbear ! 
 Irene. Forbear thou to commend theip, 
 
 That have not courage to confess to thee, 
 Raymond, my father is on his way home 
 hither. 
 Raymond. Siffredi ! 
 
 Irene. This letter proclaims his return to- 
 ■ night. 
 God grant it mean not ill ! 
 
 [Raymond takes and glances at the letter. 
 Raymond. Dwell not upon it. 
 
 If ill must come, twice shall we suffer it : 
 If ill come not, — why there's an end of it ; 
 Have done then with these terrors that shall 
 
 sleep 
 The sleep of happy children ! 
 
 Irene. Gossips whisper 
 
 My father and his majesty the king 
 Harbour thy future hourly in their minds, 
 And with a pin prick out upon a chart 
 The course your young life's barque shall sail 
 upon. 
 Raymond. They navigate by the book ! Hast 
 thou not read 
 How the poor sailor, lost upon the waters, 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. i 3 
 
 Looks up to heaven, that only is his guide, 
 And steers his vessel by the northern star ? 
 Oh ! then how much more blessed than he am I, 
 That these twin stars of thine eyes look out 
 
 upon 
 From the windows of my heaven ! 
 
 Irene. Stars are not seen 
 
 When clouds roll up, the heaven and earth 
 between ! 
 
 Raymond. Faith's eyes can pierce thro' clouds ! 
 — Have faith in me 1 — 
 What dost thou fear from Siffredi ? 
 
 Irene. O, Raymond, 
 
 I fear that first, that finer part in him 
 That he defineth honour ! 
 
 Raymond. Doth our marriage 
 Dispute with honour ? 
 
 Irene. He may not hold it honour 
 
 To so advance his house in Sicily. 
 
 Raymond. Imagination fosters these pale 
 fears ; 
 Siffredi, ere the fall of night, himself 
 Shall put thee to confusion. 
 
 Irene. Love, not to-night ! 
 
 Raymond. WHy not to-night ? 
 
14 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I. 
 
 Irene. The hour is chosen ill ! 
 
 At the first blush of morn, if so you will, 
 The whole wide sum of our poor sin confess. 
 Whose hope were higher were our duty less. 
 Tell him how innocent of wrong we be, 
 Unless these dear loves make our villainy. 
 
 Raymond. Oh, I will urge our cause so 
 tenderly 
 That were he hedged thrice round with adamant 
 I would prevail ! 
 
 Irene. Persuasion smile upon thee. 
 
 And all may yet go well ! 
 
 Raymond. All shall go well. 
 
 Life is a slave, the strong man's time-server. 
 Our lives we will command, shaping their for- 
 tunes 
 Fully unto our ends, nor aught but death 
 Shall overcome our purpose ! 
 
 \A horn is heard in the distance. 
 
 Irene. Hark to the answer 
 
 From yonder hill ! That horn is Siffredi ! 
 
 Raymond. Then we'll to meet him ! 
 
 Irene. Oh, come what come may. 
 
 We shall be made or marred within a day. 
 Let a prayer linger in your deepest heart, — 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. IS 
 
 Raymond. That Heaven will pity us, nor us 
 two part ! 
 [The sunset, which has been growing fainter 
 and fainter, dies away. Exeunt RAY- 
 MOND and Irene. 
 
 Enter GARCIA hurriedly, and a Servant. 
 Garcia. Have you informed Lord Diego my 
 business 
 Bides his immediate presence ? 
 
 Servant. I have, my lord. 
 
 \Exit Servant. Garcia approaches the 
 window. 
 Garcia. Why doth he tarry } yonder cloud of 
 dust 
 Heralds the near approach of Siffredi, 
 And these few moments are as grains of gold, 
 Begging our lives from the pursuers' hand ! 
 
 / 
 
 
 Enter DiEGO. 
 
 
 Diego. 
 
 Garcia 
 
 I 
 
 
 Garcia. 
 
 
 Death's messenger ! 
 
 
 Diego. 
 
 
 His 
 
 majesty 
 
 Is dead .? 
 
 
 
 
1 6 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I. 
 
 Garcia., ^s dead as herrings that have lain 
 A year in salt ! 
 
 Diego. Didst look on him ? 
 
 Garcia. Not I, 
 
 For twenty thousand ducats. There's an old story 
 Dead kings will start at treason even as a body 
 That has been done to death will bleed anew 
 In presence of the murderer. 
 
 Diego. Thy fears 
 
 Are womanish ! Where is Siffredi ? 
 
 Garcia. Behold ! 
 
 [Garcia leads Diego to the window. 
 Yon whirlwind on the road ! 
 
 Diego, He followed you ? 
 
 Garcia. From start to finish ! Such a despe- 
 rate race 
 •Was never run 'twixt Belmonte and Palermo ! 
 
 Diego. Get you to horse again, good Garcia, 
 Ply bloody spur, and post unto the rebels 
 Collected in our favour at Ajaccio ; 
 Bid them to loose no standard, raise no hand 
 In this our quarrel till we find occasion 
 To come to them in person. 
 
 Garcia. By St. Peter, 
 
 They will not take it well ! 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 17 
 
 Diego. Content you, Garcia, 
 
 I have excellent reason. 
 
 Garcia. Take counsel of me, Lord Diego ! 
 Diego. Counsel of you ! 
 
 [Knocking heard without. 
 Listen ! 
 Garcia. 'Tis Siffredi ! 
 
 Diego. Well ! 
 
 Garcia. He must never find me here ! My 
 presence 
 Were certain betrayal. 
 
 Diego. Get you upon your way, then, 
 
 My serving-man will see you are conducted 
 Secretly hence. For these full-blooded rebels 
 You know my mind, deliver it to-night. 
 And charge them fail me not, at your good peril. 
 Adieu ! 
 
 Garcia. When will you join us ? 
 Diego. Soon as I may. 
 
 The pack must shuffled be before I play ; 
 To-night the plumage of the dove I borrow, 
 The hawk perchance shall spread his wings to- 
 morrow. 
 
 [DiEGO conducts GARCIA to door, where 
 Serving-man meets him. 
 D 
 
1 8 T^E CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT. I. 
 
 I would have some study of this strange old man, 
 This marble-visaged riddle, Siffredi ! 
 That which he hath in hand he will intend 
 To push unto an issue ere men's minds. 
 Which must be much unhinged by the king's 
 
 death, 
 Regain their natural balance. 'Twere a bold bid 
 To wed his daughter to Sir Masterful, 
 And set his offspring on the throne of Sicily. 
 And yet his disposition is so biassed, 
 That did a thought but whisper unto him 
 His own preferment, putting it against 
 The general weal 
 
 Enter Siffredi. 
 
 Siffredi. Ah, Diego ! Is it thou .' 
 
 Diego, My lord ! Your return 
 
 Is sudden ! 
 
 Siffredi. None too sudden } 
 
 Diego. Nay, my lord ! 
 
 I trust no evil tidings from Palermo 
 Have pricked you to so unprepared a visit ? 
 
 Siffredi. What evil fear you } 
 
 Diego. It hath reached us, my lord, 
 
 His majesty was in a failing health, 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 19 
 
 And lay in mortal sickness at Palermo, — 
 Such was the rumour. 
 
 Siffredi, Rumour did not lie. 
 
 His majesty was ailing ! 
 
 Diego. Hence the fears 
 
 That were begot of my solicitude ; 
 Dismiss them, good my lord ! 
 
 Siffredi. Rest easy, Diego ; 
 
 My mind shall harbour your solicitude. 
 Where is your brother .' 
 
 Diego. Hast thou not seen him, sire ? 
 
 Perchance thou hast o'errun Irene also ? 
 
 Siffredi. Are they together 1 
 
 Diego. As much together, I warrant you. 
 
 As the hawk to the open sky, the heron to the 
 
 stream, 
 Honey to the bee, fruit blossom to the bough, 
 Frost to the ice, flame to the fire, young men 
 Dallying with maidens in the leafy lanes 
 When the cuckoo calls to the spring. Most dear, 
 
 my lord, 
 Since you were absent from us, between the 
 
 pair 
 An affection inexpressible hath grown j 
 But, I believe, no more than may rightly harbour 
 
20 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I, 
 
 In the mind of brother and sister ! 
 
 [SiFFREDl comes down stage. 
 
 Siffredi. What mischief is brewing? 
 
 You speak in riddles ; go seek your brother out, 
 
 Tell the rogue Siffredi is waiting him. 
 
 And bring Irene, too, along with you 
 
 Into my presence. [SiFFREDI /ajj^'j up stage. 
 
 Diego. Your wishes shall be my particular care, 
 
 In a big net I will secure the pair. \Exit Diego. 
 
 Siffredi. This day that was apparelled for a 
 
 wedding 
 Is left a widow weeping for her lord. 
 And all the shreds of earthly sovereignty 
 Are shook into a little heap of dust. 
 Death is among us, shrouded, invisible. 
 Save for the pallor of the upturned face 
 He hath laid his hand upon ! Into the chamber, 
 Thro' the closed door, with noiseless tread he 
 
 enters ; 
 The air grows suddenly chill, we shudder, we 
 
 shiver, 
 Peering each one at the other. Vanity of 
 
 vanities 1 
 Each in his turn is called ; 'tis but a moment 
 That we poor mortal atoms float along 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW, 21 
 
 The prisms of the sun ; yet do we cease not 
 To wear ourselves away, pursuing shadows, 
 Phantoms that only people dreams ! Oh, majesty, 
 While breath inhabits thee we hail thee king. 
 Breath being banished, thou art king no more. 
 Thus speaks the littleness of human things, 
 Death is a king that makes a sport of kings ; 
 Time that doth crumble crowns exalts his 
 
 sway, 
 His throne's foundations are the world's decay ! 
 
 Enter Raymond. 
 
 Raymond ! [Siffredi kneels. 
 
 Raymond. What mortal stroke is here ! 
 
 Siffredi. A stroke, 
 
 That lays my chastened spirit in the dust 
 With the body of my master. 
 
 Raymond. His majesty .' — 
 
 Siffredi. A nobler, braver nature did not live. 
 And Death hath made an end of him. 
 
 Raymond. No balm 
 
 Of words may heal these newly opened wounds. 
 Yet if it medicine unto your grief. 
 The monument unto his memory, 
 
22 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I. 
 
 Let it weigh with you that his life had topped 
 The natural limit. How did he die, my lord ? 
 
 Siffredi, As lightly as a child may fall asleep, 
 Whose fragile frame fatigue hath fastened dh ; 
 We bore him to the window, whence his eyes 
 Made a wide journey o'er the grey of heaven, 
 Seeking the hidden light. Silent he lay, 
 Carved all in stone, so passed an hour away. 
 Suddenly " Peace ! " he cried, a delicate breath 
 Hung on his quivering lips, and then the hush 
 That follows a departed spirit's flight 
 Fell on us all ; as if to answer him 
 A straggling sunbeam from the sullen sky 
 Glanced through the casement, and upon his 
 
 features 
 That grave and sweet serenity descended 
 Which man doth borrow in the little pause 
 When his body is with the world, yet no more 
 
 of it! 
 Raymond. Preserve his soul in peace, death has 
 
 destroyed 
 The very dearest pledge of gratitude. 
 For all our actions that were his true servants 
 Must seek a new employ. 
 
 Siffredi. O son, my son ! 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 23 
 
 Doth not one faithful servant still remain, 
 Ere the begrudging earth close over him, 
 To place upon his bier a living wreath, 
 An immortal pledge of love and gratitude ? 
 Raymond, thy father was his mortal enemy. 
 Yet tho' the unholy fires of that hate 
 Death only did subdue, not once on you, 
 His children, hath reproach been visited ! 
 There's a humanity that kinship claims 
 With God's own attribute, divinity. 
 Such stirred within his majesty, beholding 
 Your unprotected state, and, placing you 
 Within my hands, he bade me look on you 
 As you had been his son. 
 
 Raymond. What hide you from me } 
 
 Siffredi. Tho' yet my lips are sealed, I hide 
 in me 
 The one last service he desires of thee. 
 
 Raymond. Firm hand, yet gentle, that hath led 
 me through 
 The nursery of life, my soul and honour 
 I swear to its fulfilment ! 
 
 Siffredi. Stay thine oath. 
 
 Whose future hidden lies from thee, such pledges 
 Must hourly be forsworn ! 
 
24 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I. 
 
 Raymond. Dost thou doubt me ? 
 
 Siffredi. Will is but mortal, what may will 
 avail thee 
 Against the coming storms of circumstance 
 Not yet foreshadowed ? 
 
 Raymond. We will provide against them 
 
 While yet we may. Take thou this parchment, 
 Siffredi, 
 
 [Raymond crosses to a table where a blank 
 parchment is spread open. 
 Whose virgin surface I do dedicate 
 Unto my benefactor ; choose thou the season 
 Here to inscribe my service, and that all men 
 May know, whatever be its consequence, 
 I shall abide by it ; here stand my witnesses. 
 My hand and seal upon it ! 
 
 [Raymond signs the parchment, leaving the 
 rest of the page blank, and hands it to 
 Siffredi wJio hesitates to take it. 
 Siffredi. Stay ! 
 
 Raymond. Nay, hear me ! 
 
 The terms of it are thine herein to fill. 
 The occasion governed only by thy will. 
 And Heaven itself abandon mine and me 
 Ere I forswear my oath, or fail to thee ! 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 2$ 
 
 Siffredi. More dear than any son, let my heart 
 speak 
 Here in the river of mine eyes. 
 
 Raymond, Weep not. 
 
 I am twice blessed my gratitude to prove 
 And with the same stroke recompense thy love ; 
 For what remains, the heavy task is thine, 
 My conscience is at rest. 
 
 Siffredi. Ah, would were mine ! 
 
 . Irene enters and embraces Siffredi, 
 Irene. Father! 
 
 Siffredi. My s bright ; star ! night forgets to 
 reign . ^ 
 
 Till you peep out upon the brow of Heaven. 
 Irene. Sire, your hand trembles. Nay, deny 
 me not, 
 Your eyes are big with tears. 
 
 Siffredi. : Hath not joy tears, 
 
 Even as sorrow hath .' 
 
 Irefie. ' If this be joy, 
 
 What holiday attire doth weeping wear, 
 And are the elements of earth and air 
 Become confounded that I know them not ? 
 You are not kind, my lord, nor honest ! 
 E 
 
26 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT I. 
 
 Siffredi. Raymond, 
 
 Speak thou for me. 
 
 Raymond. Irene, his majesty 
 
 Irene. His majesty — is dead ! 
 
 Raymond. 'Tis even so. 
 
 Irene. Now can I hear the solemn funeral bell 
 Tolling the death-knell of our hapless loves. 
 Raymond ! \She approaches RAYMOND. 
 
 Siffredi. Who calleth Raymond .* 
 
 Irene. I, my lord. 
 
 Siffredi. That shalt thou then no longer 
 From this night 
 To each and all of us, whate'er hath been, 
 Raymond is dead and buried. 
 
 Diego enters and comes down stage. 
 
 Gentlemen \ 
 Raymond to-night is King of Sicily, 
 And Sicily hath instant need of him ! 
 
 [Irene throws herself into Raymond's «;wj. 
 Siffredi stands aghast. 
 
SC. I.J THE CROSS OF SORROW. 37 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 The Palace at Palermo. 
 
 Scene i. A Room in the Palace, SlFFREBl 
 seated at a table covered with papers. A 
 light burning. 
 
 Siffredi. Sicily, I have loved thee as my son, 
 My breast is scarred with wounds for thee, my 
 
 blood 
 For thee hath flowed like water ! Wilt thou, 
 
 Sicily, 
 Require of me this mortal sacrifice. 
 This image, of my body and soul, my daughter ? 
 Inevitable sorrow is the legacy 
 Of all mankind, yet of all griefs that range 
 Within the little compass of our lives. 
 That crown of griefs must come when those dear 
 
 bodies. 
 Loved as our own, are snatched from our em- 
 brace 
 
28 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT II. 
 
 Into Death's desolation. Memory leads me 
 
 Along the silent gallery of time, 
 
 And pausing at the picture of her mother, 
 
 Who like some fragile flower opening 
 
 Too early in the spring, her head bowed down 
 
 Beneath a most untimely breath of winter, 
 
 Abandons me to weepfng ! In this my child 
 
 She lives again. I watch her sweetness grow 
 
 Like a young rose unfolding day by day , 
 
 Its petals to the sun ! O Sicily, 
 
 I have given thee my all, all that remains 
 
 Of dignity and honour take from me, 
 
 But spare me this one blossom ! 
 
 Enter Irene. 
 
 Irene. May I not enter in .' 
 Siffredi. Come hither, child. 
 
 Irene. This yielding door I find a world more 
 kind 
 Than that which shuts off access to your heart ! 
 
 [Irene sits at his feet. 
 Siffredi. Am I so hard ? 
 Irene. I have a doubt of thee, 
 
 For see — here on my hand a tear has fallen, 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 29 
 
 Oh, it doth glisten like the first pale star 
 
 That trembles through the sombre evening 
 
 :■ sky. 
 - Siffredi. Wilt not be merry ? 
 
 Irene. Rather will I be bold, 
 
 Like a great warrior, stern for a siege. 
 Battering the walls till the submissive foe 
 Entreat me through the breach to enter in. 
 May 1 speak with thee awhile ? 
 
 Siffredi. Of what ? 
 
 Irene. Of whom ! 
 
 Siffredi. Of Raymond, is it so ? 
 
 Irene. He and no other ; 
 
 Raymond is a theme no tongue may weary of. 
 
 Siffredi. I have forbidden thee that name ! 
 
 Irene. What reasons 
 
 Reasoning most preposterous forbid me, 
 While I may call this sweet green earth the 
 
 earth, 
 To not call Raymond Raymond .' 
 
 Siffredi. Reasons of state. — 
 
 I have answered thee 1 
 
 Irene. Alack, I know this state 
 
 That is of hearts the great iconoclast ; 
 This state that tramples with remorseless foot 
 
30 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT II. 
 
 Upon the very head of sweet compassion ! 
 
 Siffredi. You love him } 
 
 Irene. Pity of Heaven ! How I love him I 
 
 Siffredi. Mine was the fault, and doubly mine 
 the fault, 
 That did not this foresee. 
 
 Irene. Be merciful : 
 
 I cannot picture so most blank a world 
 As this world were had these things never been ! 
 
 Siffredi. I am most merciful ! the black here- 
 after 
 Against this present sky of dazzling light 
 More desolate shall seem. 
 
 Irene. How gross an error. 
 
 For love like ours there cometh no hereafter. 
 The present is eternal ! 
 
 Siffredi. So youth sings. 
 
 The hollow rings about the eyes of age 
 Are planted there by the ebb and flow of tears 
 Young love doth dream not of; come, little 
 
 one, 
 The hour is waxing late, and for these roses 
 The dew of sleep must bathe them o'er again 
 Before the morning break. 
 
 Irene. Give me thy blessing.! 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 3 1 
 
 Siffredi. May tenderest fortune fashion thee, 
 my child, 
 Into the image of a perfect woman. 
 Pure with the purity that suffering brings. 
 Peaceful with that peace born of sacrifice. 
 Irene. Wilt thou bless Raymond .' 
 Siffredi. Even as I bless^thee. 
 
 Go ; God be with thee ! 
 
 [Siffredi rises and leads Irene to the door. 
 Onward to the end, 
 Not daring to look back, I take my way 
 Toward the eternal star which Hope hath hung 
 Behind the black, impenetrable night. 
 
 \He picks up from the table the parchment 
 Raymond has given him. 
 Accursed paper, smiling up on me 
 Like some white soul, that hath not comprehen- 
 sion 
 What sin may mean. I read thy quest of 
 
 me 
 To trace above this kingly signature 
 My dear child's name — Irene \ Were he plighted 
 To her in holy wedlock ! — that were a treason 
 Lover and king in him would fly to pardon. 
 And she, with desperate arms about me bound, 
 
32 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT II. 
 
 Would bless me for her dear inheritance. 
 Hence, fleshly failing I 
 
 [He throws the parchment down\ 
 Shall I falter now. 
 When my steps almost top the mountain's 
 
 brow ? 
 I'll gather new strength from these sufferings. 
 And they shall school me, unto .higher things. 
 Thus shall my mind preserve her equal state 
 Till my life's purpose I may consummate. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Servant. His Excellency the Count 
 
 Ludovico Moncada, good my lord, 
 Desires an audience. , - 
 
 Siffredi. Bid the Count within. 
 
 Remember, I am always at his service. 
 
 \_Exit Servant: 
 Welcome, Moncada 1 
 ' Moncada. Welconxe! 
 
 Siff'redi. How fares our city ; 
 
 Was order uppermost within her wa,.lls 
 As you came hither .' 
 
 Moncada. The city was asleep. 
 
SC. I.J THE CROSS OF SORROW. 33 
 
 No soul was stirring. 
 
 Siffredi. I am glad at it. 
 
 This approaching coronation troubleth me : 
 And for the troops you handle on the morrow, 
 Make sure you set your forces thro' the streets 
 In such a manner we may be prepared 
 Should evil spirits meditate surprise. 
 
 Moncada. All is foreseen. 
 
 Siffredi. Foreseeing is preventing. 
 
 It is your men that stand and gape at corners 
 That prompt a crowd to mischief. Is there 
 
 aught 
 In which I may serve thee } 
 
 Moncada. I am come to you 
 
 On a suit that is personal. 
 
 Siffredi. It is recommended 
 
 Doubly thereby. 
 
 Moncada. No doubt of thy goodwill 
 
 Stealeth the courage in me to approach thee ! 
 And yet, — my matter is so foreign to me 
 I am poor in words. 
 
 Siffredi. The barest words are eloquent 
 
 'Twixt friend and friend. 
 
 Moncada. So be it ! Siffredi, 
 
 I have set my mind on marrying. 
 
 F 
 
34 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT II. 
 
 Siffredi. Marrying, Count ? 
 
 Moncada. Ay, marrying. 
 
 Siffredi. What pleasantry is this 
 
 That lures thy winter suddenly away 
 Into a lusty spring ? 
 
 Moncada. Nay, Heaven help me, 
 
 By every sign and token I declare 
 I am most deep in love, 
 
 Siffredi. Some old world goddess 
 
 Hath wrought on thee this miracle \ 
 
 Moncada. No goddess. 
 
 But something sweetly human ! Siffredi, 
 Thou that hast sunned thee hourly in her 
 
 presence. 
 Behold in me a thief come unto thee — 
 I love thy daughter ! 
 
 Siffredi. Irene ? 
 
 Moncada. So I noted 
 
 They named her that presented me to her 
 Last winter in Palermo. 
 
 Siffredi. Last winter, say you .' 
 
 She was but a child, some sixteen summers 
 only, 
 
 And now ! Thou hast seen her again. 
 
 Count, answer me .' 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 35 
 
 Moncada. Never again till this morning as she 
 rode, 
 Like an empress, thro' the city at your side ; 
 The flower of her exquisite young beauty. 
 Which the first moment my eyes fell on her 
 Took possession of my soul, time hath but 
 
 lent 
 A deeper lustre to. You know my service 
 How high it stands and in what wise the state 
 Hath recompensed it ; let it weigh with you. 
 And if you find me worthy so much honour 
 Give me her hand in marriage. 
 
 Siffredi. The honour, my lord. 
 
 Is mine, not thine ! But that the matter be deli- 
 cate 
 I pray you, ere I straightway answer you, 
 Deny me not an opportunity 
 To sound her disposition. 
 
 Moncada. Think you, Siffredi, 
 
 My suit shall displease her .' 
 
 Siffredi. Nay, be certain, Count, 
 
 She'll hold your offer in a high esteem. 
 For myself, I look upon it with every favour. 
 And tho' this near approaching coronation 
 Claimeth my constant and most searching care, 
 
36 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT II. 
 
 Let it be ended and I'll urge your cause 
 With all the voice I know. 
 
 Moncada. You will command of me 
 
 Unspeakable gratitude ! Upon the morrow 
 I'll beg your kindness to present me to her 
 Anew. 
 
 Siffredi. I will do it, my lord. 
 
 Moncada. I am deeply beholden. 
 
 Adieu until to-morrow ! 
 
 Siffredi. Till to-morrow, adieu ! 
 
 [Exit Moncada. 
 What threads do hold the fortunes of our lives. 
 Poor waifs of ever shifting destiny ; 
 Is this rough soldier Heaven or Hell sent 
 To unravel the tangle that these skeins are in ? 
 His merit is surpassing, would that his tongue 
 Did justice to his merit ! 
 
 [Siffredi /««j^j/« deep thought, then picks 
 up the parchment. 
 
 Silent bond. 
 That did so near persuade my soul to treason, 
 Come hence with me, and lie beneath my pillow. 
 To-morrow I shall find a use for thee. 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 37 
 
 Scene 2. A Terrace on the Palace. Moon- 
 light. Raymond and Irene. 
 
 Raymond. Oh, for some searching and pro- 
 phetic eye 
 To look into our ill-starred horoscope ! 
 
 Irene. Unto what end, my lord ? 
 
 Raymond. That, all foreseeing, 
 
 We might build up sky high our battlements 
 Against advancing fate. 
 
 Irene. Fate fallj? from Heaven ! 
 
 Raymond. Then let us to the centre of the 
 earth, 
 That ere fate fall on us the earth itself 
 Be laid in ruins ! Is there never a tear 
 May trace upon thy father's heart of stone 
 One touch of pity .' 
 
 Irene. Sooner may the dewdrops 
 
 Flung from the eyelids of the mountain spring, 
 Mark on the rocky bed receiving them 
 Their weeping images. 
 
 Raymond. Then let us fly 
 
38 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT II. 
 
 This mad world's malice to dissever us ! 
 
 Iretie. Whither, my lord ? Where may we hide 
 
 away, 
 Whom Fate hath planted in the glare of day ? 
 No violet's bed is ours, the wild wood deep 
 Shields with a silence of unbroken sleep. 
 Where, happy flower, obscure it lives and dies. 
 Wept over by the dews from pitying skies ! 
 Raymond. Yet hapless youth hath only once 
 
 to sing, 
 For mortal loves there only blooms one spring. 
 The hum of the busy insect world, the breeze 
 Caressing the delicate green of the bursting trees. 
 The dip of the swallow to the meadow, the larks 
 
 that rise 
 From the grasses strewn with a million golden 
 
 eyes, 
 Blossom and bird and leaf of the greenwood tree 
 Wake with the new year we shall never see. 
 Irene. Knowest thou what a nameless fear may 
 
 be.? 
 Such is the fear that overmasters me. 
 And with the night come troops of hideous 
 
 dreams 
 Shaking my soul to its centre. 
 
SC. 2.J THE CROSS OF SORROW. 39 
 
 Raymond. Never was dream 
 
 Could shake my spirit yet ! 
 
 Irene. And yet, last night 
 
 I found myself within a sepulchre, 
 Living, and this the earth had closed on me ; 
 I heard your voice, afar in the outer world, 
 Calling to me, I sought to come to you, 
 I sought to make you hear me : with wild 
 
 hands 
 I beat upon the door ; I felt around 
 The clammy walls, hoping I might discover 
 One little chink, which letting daylight. in 
 Might let me out to day. Suddenly I stum- 
 bled— 
 Stumbled o'er something that stirred — oh, God ! 
 
 'twas a man ! 
 A dead man, huddled up in a corner there — 
 Foully done to death. Then I laughed — such a 
 
 laugh — 
 It tore the very soul out of the night. 
 I was mad — Raymond — mad ! The walls closed 
 
 in on me : 
 I found myself falling through a bottomless pit — 
 But faster than I fell a voice pursued me 
 Crying, " Avenged ! " 
 
40 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT II. 
 
 Raymond. For this ill dream of thine. 
 
 Take thus, pale lips, thy punishment from mine ! 
 
 [SiFFREDi's voice is heard calling without. 
 
 Siffredi. Irene! 
 
 Irene. Raymond ! 'Tis my father's voice, 
 
 Oh, leave me ! 
 
 Raymond. Leave thee .■' Nay ! I will not leave 
 thee ! 
 
 Irene. I have no fears for these poor parts 
 of me 
 But for thine own self, Raymond, take thee hence. 
 
 Raymond. Hence without thee .' ah, then that 
 hence must be 
 A never-ending waste, a wilderness 
 Where never flower may blossom ! 
 
 Irene. Prudent be, 
 
 Since all the world dissembles, may not we 
 That cast our lives down for as dear a stake 
 I As the walls of the world contain ? 
 
 Raymond. Thou art all wise, 
 
 And I a madman am ! 
 
 Irene. Thou art more wise 
 
 Than man may be, except in loving me. 
 In that thou art more dear, and still more dear. 
 Than man upon this earth. 
 
SC. ^.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 4r 
 
 SiffredL Irene ! 
 
 Irene. Go ! 
 
 Good-night, and gO ! 
 
 Raymond, Good-night as oftentimes 
 
 As there are stars upon the floor of Heaven ! 
 [SiFFREDl appears on the terrace and, draw- 
 ing Irene to him, shields her with one 
 arm, while with the other he silently 
 waves Raymond away. 
 
42 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT III. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene i. A vestibule in the Palace. Diego 
 and MONCADA. 
 
 Diego. You are preoccupied, my lord } 
 
 Moncada. Yea, somewhat, 
 
 Diego. If my poor company give you offence 
 Stand not on ceremony, bid me hence. 
 
 Moncada. Canst thou instruct me .' I have 
 heard men say 
 Thou art long-headed, 
 
 Diego. If the world so judge me 
 
 Withhold thy faith ! 
 
 Moncada. Why ? 
 
 Diego. Hath the world got wits 
 
 Within a moment ? 
 
 Moncada. Are there no wits in the world ? 
 
 Diego. There be saints are fools, and wise 
 men mostly knaves : 
 The devil will have it so. 
 
 Moncada. They are both to be pitied. 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 43 
 
 Diego. 1 have no sympathy with fools, my 
 lord. •■•' 
 
 I exult to see the wise men pull the strings 
 And make them dance. ■ '"•■-'■ 
 
 Moncada. You make an excellent sport 
 
 Of bitterness. , 
 
 Diego. I make the bitter sweet 
 
 By contemplatihg'it. : ' i •■ 
 
 Moncada. Hast never thought 
 
 To find thee a profession .' 
 
 Diego. What wouldst thou have me .'' 
 
 A soldier, a polluted human butcher, 
 That hacks and hews at man in such a fashion 
 The doctor's merest 'prentice would cry out on 
 
 him 
 For a most filthy bungler ! A sly statesman, 
 Who having not a martial heart to die 
 Upon his country's cause, must lie for her ! 
 A cardinal, cheating his earthy soul, 
 That suffocates With surfeit of good things. 
 Into a hope of Heaven ! A' dry lawyer 
 Who, being born a rogue, happily discovers 
 A profession proper to make of him a greater ! 
 The merchant, sweating the soul of his fellow- 
 man 
 
44 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT UI. 
 
 To make him ducats ; the miser, hoarding them 
 That some young thriftless fool when he is 
 
 buried 
 May fling them broadcast to the winds of 
 
 Heaven ! 
 The sleek, smug tradesman, with a little mind. 
 Aggressively Christian, ignorant of charity. 
 To top the basket ! Hence with thy professions : 
 I have pricked their bubbles, one by one, my lord, 
 I will none of them ! 
 
 Moncada. Thou art past hope of prayer. 
 Hast ever been in love ? 
 
 Diego. What call you love ? 
 
 Moncada. I seek to know. 
 
 Diego. How wilt thou, if thou'rt in it ? 
 
 It is the thief of reason, so men say ; 
 AndVyet, tho' thieves are sworn foes to society,. 
 No man is happy till he hath loosed the thief 
 Upon himself. Love hath been named a fruit, 
 An apple, with a very goodly cheek, 
 Within whose core the creeping maggot lies ; 
 A something very sweet before the tasting, 
 A something very rare before the having ; 
 Once tasted bitterness, once had despised, 
 A most foul poison, artfully disguised ! 
 
SC. 1.] THE CROSS OF SOKROW. ' 45 
 
 Moncada. Be there no women pure ? 
 Diego. There be some pure, 
 
 As by a charitable accident > 
 Yet be she tempted, and the hour fits in. 
 The woman does not live who will not sin ! 
 Moncada. If this be knowledge let me stay 
 
 unwise ! 
 Diego. Thus only, good my lord, is paradise. 
 Would you know more ? 
 
 Moncada. Methinks I know a maiden, 
 
 Who, if her looks give not her life the lie. 
 The lily flower may not match in purity. 
 
 Diego. She is not yet in the mould. Where 
 
 dwelleth she ? 
 Moncada. Come hence with me, thou prince 
 of misbelievers. 
 Unto the council chamber, there his majesty 
 Holdeth his new-made court j if fortune aid 
 
 thee 
 Thou'lt find her in his presence. 
 Diego. I follow thee. 
 
 [At the conclusion of this scene folding cur- 
 tains at tlie back of the set are drawn 
 apart, disclosing a coronation hall, with 
 doors at back, folding, and raised throne. 
 
46 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT. III. 
 
 with steps leading up to it. Courtiers 
 are passing to and fro, MONCADA and 
 Diego take their way through them. 
 GRATiAisfo and Prospero come down 
 stage. At intervals during all this scene 
 a storm is heard without. 
 Gratiano. Heaven hath unloosed its thunders ! 
 Heard you ever 
 So wild a storm .' 
 
 Prospero. 'Tis as some mighty ocean 
 
 Had overleapt its barriers ! ' These rains 
 Will wash our walls away. 
 
 Gratiano. There is no cloud 
 
 In all the firmament the crooked lightning 
 Hath not cracked right in twain. 
 
 Prospero. Saw you the moon 
 
 Last night ? Her face was smirched with 
 blood. 
 Gratiano. Doth that 
 
 Presage a storm .' 
 Prospero. Some dire calamity. 
 
 Gratiano. 'Tis not a happy omen ! Hold you, 
 Prospero, 
 With these forebodings ? 
 
 Prospero. In some part I do. 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. . 47 
 
 Yet have I seen ere now a day as dismal 
 Die on a bed of splendour. 
 
 [Gratiano and Prospero retire up stage. 
 SiFFREDl and Irene enter. A lane is 
 made for them through the courtiers, 
 and as they advance a whisper of voices 
 arises, each repeating " Siffredi" SiF- 
 FREDl and Irene pause at the base of 
 the throne, Siffredi resting his foot 
 upon it. 
 Siffredi. Welcome, my lords and ladies all, we 
 know 
 There be some hearts among you here to-day 
 That love us. All that love us well love Sicily ,■ 
 And Sicily we make our argument. 
 Unto our enemies, wheresoe'er they be, 
 We face them as a loyal, united people ; 
 And vengeance, swift and terrible, shall fall 
 On those foes that menace our monarchy. 
 Remember, O Sicilians, this young king 
 Doth, like a nestling that is barely fledged. 
 Spread out his wings, and for the first time 
 
 venture 
 Upon a flight jn the full sight of Heaven ! 
 You'll find him brave, you'll find him generous, 
 
48 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT III. 
 
 With spirit bold enough to fight just battles : 
 Aid him that he may wield these attributes 
 To do himself and you perpetual honour. 
 
 [SiFFREDi, with Irene, passes up the stage. 
 The silence following his address is sud- 
 denly broken by shouts of " Long live the 
 king!" Garcia passes through the 
 Courtiers, and confronts SiFFREDI. 
 Garcia. Sififredi ! 
 
 Siffredi. My lord ! You heap sur- 
 
 prises on us. 
 We had not hoped to see you, hearing tell 
 How much you are occupied of late collecting " 
 Levies at Ajaccio. 
 
 Garcia. Most good, my lord, 
 
 You would not have our blades rust, nor our people, 
 Playing upon these pipes of peace, unlearn 
 The craft of war .' 
 
 Siffredi. So far from it, my lord,^ 
 
 There's not a peasant breathes in Sicily, 
 Shall not upon a right and jproper quarrel,. 
 Draw sword upon her secret enemies. 
 
 [Garcia bows, and passes through Courtiers. 
 Siffredi and Irene come down stage. 
 Siffredi. Irene ! 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 49 
 
 Irene. My lord ! 
 
 Siffredi, The Lord High Constable 
 
 Holdeth my promise to present him to you. 
 Receive him, child, for me, as one who stands 
 High in your father's heart. 
 
 Irene. My lord, he stands 
 
 That high in mine already ! 
 
 Siffredi. So much duty 
 
 Commendeth you. 
 
 Irene. Is not the Lady Eleanor 
 
 Present to-day, my lord } 
 
 Siffredi. By my direction, 
 
 Being o'ercome with grief, who in his majesty 
 Hath lost a father loved most tenderly. 
 She stays awhile without our city walls 
 In the convent of Our Lady. 
 
 Irene. I am drawn to her. 
 
 They say she hath a most sweet disposition. 
 And a rare beauty, too. 
 
 Siffredi. She hardly yet 
 
 Touches on womanhood. For the rest, her 
 
 presence 
 Might much impede our business. 
 
 [Siffredi and Irene /<3;jj up stage. MoN- 
 CADA and Diego come down. 
 
 H 
 
so THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT III. 
 
 Diego. Hast found thy pariigon ? 
 
 Moncada, Be patient ! 
 
 Diego. Teach me ! 
 
 Already have I writ her down a myih. 
 Born of thy airy fancy ! 
 
 Moncada. Scoffer, be silent ! 
 
 Hither she comes. 
 
 [SiFFREDi and Irene approach. 
 
 Diego. Irene! 
 
 Moncada. Confess, and quickly shriven be. 
 That she the flower is of purity, 
 
 Diego. This blossom's but a bud ! 
 
 Moncada. Find me another 
 
 Gives such rare promise. 
 
 Diego. Stay thy tongue awhile. 
 
 \As Siffredi and Irene advance to Mon- 
 cada, Diego disappears. 
 
 Siffredi. Thrice welcome. Count, I owe a 
 promise to you ! 
 Permit me to present to you my daughter. 
 Irene, tho' fame heralds him, himself 
 Shall press his own advancement; this is my friend, 
 Ludovico Moncada, Lord High Constable 
 Of Sicily. 
 
 Moncada. We have met before, sweet lady. 
 
 Irene. Indeed, my lord 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. $1 
 
 Moncada. Last winter in Palermo. 
 
 Irene. I have a memory of it ; sir, believe me, 
 My mind was far set from discourtesy. 
 Moncada. The fault was mine, I'll make an 
 opportunity 
 That we shall grow to know each other better. 
 Irene. I am honoured, my lord. 
 
 [Gratiano and Prospkro bow to Irene 
 and pass up stage with her. 
 Siffredi. Is she not fair, Moncada ? 
 Moncada. She excels 
 
 The blossom of the may ! 
 
 Siffredi. When thou hast come 
 
 To further knowledge of her thou'lt discover 
 Her mind mates with her body. 
 
 Moncada. Siffredi, 
 
 Through fire and water will I pass to win her ! 
 Siffredi. I am thy friend, for certain proof 
 of it 
 The while I wait upon his majesty, 
 Into thy hands, as earnest of my love, 
 I entrust my treasure. 
 
 [Siffredi leads Moncada up to Irene, 
 and retires through folding-doors at 
 back. Diego and Garcia come down 
 stage. 
 
S2 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT III. 
 
 Diego. What, in the devil's name, hath brought 
 thee hither .' 
 
 Garcia. The devil's cause. I warn you, 
 Siflfredi 
 Harbours suspicion of us. 
 
 Diego. Thou art too bold ! 
 
 Garcia. How so ? Our levies, lying at 
 Ajaccio, 
 Grow perilously insubordinate, 
 And what their tempers will betray them to 
 Another day I will not answer for. 
 
 Diego. What chafeth them ? 
 
 Garcia. They openly make question 
 
 Of the honesty of your purpose. 
 
 Diego. Pooh ! 
 
 Garcia. By my honour ! 
 
 Diego. I could not quit before ! When the 
 night falleth 
 On this most solemn farce I'll ride with you 
 Into Ajaccio. 
 
 Garcia. Well, thrice well ! 
 
 Diego. Meanwhile, 
 
 Seem not to see me, keep yourself apart, 
 For this suspicion we would put to sleep 
 Will make night hideous with alarm if Siffredi 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. S3 
 
 Fall on us two together. 
 
 [Garcia /ajj^j up stage. 
 Tho' mortal eye the earth may not pierce 
 
 through 
 And trace the mine that Sififredi springs on us 
 My ear detecteth with unerring certainty 
 How nearly he doth draw unto his end. 
 This heritage of Sicily, that hangs 
 Upon a convent miss and whom she marry, 
 Hath no more price than at what man may 
 
 value 
 A rush-light ! Where then doth this bring 
 
 us to ? 
 That no abatement groweth in the loves 
 Of Raymond and Irene is most certain, 
 And yet this soldier, stuffed so full of questions 
 And quaint conundrums, somewhere is set 
 
 down 
 To play a leading part. 
 
 [Irene and Moncada come down stage. 
 I will observe them. 
 A careless word mayhap I shall discover 
 Showing me whence the wind blows. 
 
 [Diego retires up stage. 
 Moncada. Thou art my prisoner ! 
 
54 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT III. 
 
 Irene. I, my lord ! 
 
 Moncada. Thy father 
 
 Surrenders thee as hostage for his love 
 Into my hands. 
 
 Ire:ne. He giveth in some part 
 
 What is not his to give, 
 
 Moncada. Would I might make 
 
 Thy prison seem so sweet thou wouldst forget 
 To sigh for freedom ! 
 
 Irene. Walls of stone, my lord, 
 
 Ofttimes a kindlier prison make than bowers 
 Hung round with roses ! There two prisons be, 
 The one but holds the body prisoner, 
 The other shutteth in the human soul. 
 It is most natural the body of us 
 Be pent up in a little space, the soul 
 Is like the lark, may it not spread its wings 
 Thro' the pure air, even to the gates of Heaven, 
 It may not live ! Tell me, I pray, my lord, 
 Where doth my father tarry ? 
 
 Moncada. With his majesty ! 
 
 Irene. With Raymond ! 
 
 [Diego comes between MONCADA and 
 Irene. 
 
 Diego. Doth the Count bear hard on you .' 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. SS 
 
 Beware him, cousin, tho' he seem plausible, 
 I know the current of his thoughts to run 
 Dangerously deep. 
 
 Irene. Your censure of him, sir, 
 
 Makes him advance strides in my estimation. 
 
 Moncada. Ha, Diego ! 
 
 Diego. Count, beware ! I am watching you. 
 The sparrow-hawk may make a gallant flight, 
 Yet match not with the eagle. 
 
 Moncada. What fear I ! 
 
 Who may reach higher than may I ? 
 
 The folding-doors at back are thrown open and 
 an Usher enters. 
 Usher. The king ! 
 
 All. The king] 
 Moncada. The king ! 
 
 Raymond enters, attended by SiFFREDl and 
 Nobles. He pauses at the foot of the throne. 
 
 Siffredi. May it please your majesty 
 
 [Raymond turns round to look for Irene. 
 Siffredi intercepts him, 
 Raymond. Where is she, Siffredi .' 
 
5 6 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT III. 
 
 Siffredi. Be prudent, sire ! 
 
 See you not every eye is turned on you > 
 
 [Raymond ascends the throne, and to slow 
 music ttie Courtiers advance in turn and 
 kiss his hand. 
 Raymond. Be still, O heart, she comes, my lady 
 comes. [Irene advances. 
 
 Irene, beautiful as hues that glow 
 Within the rainbow when the sun and shower 
 Are met together, 
 
 \She kneels and kisses his hand. 
 Thy part is mine, sweet maid ! 
 
 \He bends over her. 
 Siffredi. Irene ! 
 
 Irene. My lord ! 
 
 [Irene rises and passes up the stage with 
 MoNCADA ; Siffredi comes to the steps 
 of the throne. 
 Raymond. My lords, whose loyal welcome 
 stirs in us 
 A swelling sea of words, we come among you 
 Green in our years, yet in our minds made strong 
 To deserve the utmost measure of your loves. 
 The gates that make a nation's glory open 
 About our city walls, whither they point us. 
 
SC. I.J THE CROSS OF SORROW. 57 
 
 Be it to peace or war, where you dare follow 
 We shall not fear to lead ! There comes a 
 
 time 
 To monarch as to man, when age usurps 
 This human sovereignty, and, like dead leaves 
 Flying along the pathway of the wind. 
 Before advancing winter, attributes 
 Proper to a king fall from him one by one, 
 Till withered branches, and a sapless trunk 
 Proclaim him desolate. Death hath no terrors 
 For those who know it worthier to command 
 A little life with honour ! [Raymond draws his 
 
 sword.] For us, my lords. 
 There is no death but dishonour ! Let the word 
 Be kindled to a flame our kingdom through, 
 And while he lives your king shall foremost 
 
 stand 
 And fan the sacred fire night and day. 
 
 Siffredi. Peace for my word ! People of Sicily, 
 Sheltering within the convent of Our Lady, 
 A maid, the tender fruit that was begotten 
 Of his late majesty, her dwelling hath : 
 That which a father, bountiful, designed 
 For her weal, and this country's happiness, 
 Groweth to be fulfilled ! I here proclaim 
 I 
 
58 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT III. 
 
 That Raymond, lawful liege of Sicily, 
 As hand and seal upon this covenant 
 
 [SiFFREDl unfolds and displays the signed 
 parchiftent given him by RAYMOND. 
 Unto the ey^ of all men testify, 
 For the half title of his heritance 
 Hath plighted her his troth ! 
 All. Long live the king ! 
 
 [Irene /«//j into Moncada's arms. 
 Raymond. Thou hast outraged the very name 
 of honour ; 
 Thou hast betrayed me, I have done with thee. 
 Let me pass hence ! 
 
 [Raymond attempts to descend tlie throne 
 and reach IRENE. SiFFREDI bars his 
 way. 
 Siffredi. Hast thou forgotten, sire, 
 
 The promise Heaven hath witnessed of thee ? 
 Raymond. Siffredi I 
 
 [Raymond falls back stupefied. The storm 
 which has been heard all through at 
 intervals suddenly ceases. 
 Siffredi. The storm is spent, the mists have 
 rolled away, 
 A new sun shines on Sicily to-day. 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 59 
 
 Merciful God, this kingdom keep from strife 
 And bless those thou hast joined as man and 
 wife ! 
 [A ray of sunshine struggles through the 
 window and falls on SiFFREDl. 
 
6o THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene i. A Garden at Belmonte. Irene's 
 window overlooking the Garden, MONCADA 
 is discovered beneath it. 
 
 Moncada. The king my rival is, it hath been 
 
 noted 
 Most cunningly by Diego, who upholdeth. 
 That turn which way I will therein doth lie 
 My great impediment ! I watched her nearly 
 When Siffredi his proclamation made 
 Touching the king's betrothal. Her cheek grew 
 
 pale 
 With the pallor of death, and had my arm not 
 
 held her 
 The storm had stricken her, as reeds are stricken. 
 Straight to the earth. Sweet icicle, fair frost, 
 The fires I kindled in me to undo thee 
 Turn on myself, compassing my destruction. 
 And but the dews of pity in thine eyes 
 May lay my burning fever ! 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 6 1 
 
 Diego enters silently, coming down the garden. 
 
 Is it thou, Diego ? — 
 Why hast thou followed me ? 
 
 Diego. Friend follows friend ! 
 
 In that my office I have observed, Moncada, 
 The temper of your mind disordered is. 
 And like a charitable physician come 
 To diagnose you. 
 
 Moncada. Leave me ! 
 
 Diego. Let me read you. 
 
 A most abstracted, melancholy air, 
 A sleeplessness o' nights, a tendency 
 To stand in the light o' the moon, and count the 
 
 stars, 
 Peopling each star with one divinity ; 
 An itching fever, a disordered appetite, 
 An instant sickening on the sight of man. 
 Even as a stomach that is overcharged 
 Rejecteth food. I warn you, Lord Moncada, 
 You have fed too copiously upon one dish. 
 And only by a steady abstinence. 
 An avoidance of this poison irritant, 
 Shall this your system shake these humours off. 
 And assume a healthy aspect. 
 
62 THE CROSS OF SORROW. t^CT IV. 
 
 Moncada. ■ Can you help me to it ? 
 
 Die^. Here is Irene's chamber ! 
 
 Moncada. I am desperate, Diego, 
 
 Day upon day doth drag itself along. 
 And yet I nothing can advance with her ; 
 And when I urge my suit with SifFredi 
 He swears she holds me in a high esteem, 
 But, maiden-like, hideth in her deep heart 
 The rose of her affection. 
 
 Diego. Much I marvel 
 
 That such a chit, a child of so few summers, 
 So slight a woman, hath o'ermastered thee. 
 That there be great ones bom amid her sex 
 Who, with a flash from their eyes, will strike 
 
 men dumb, 
 I have somewhere read of; but this garden 
 
 flower 
 Surely is none of them ! 
 
 Moncada. I am not schooled 
 
 In aught the gentle arts that make love born ; 
 If I press on her too much I weary her; 
 If I abstain she further grows from me. 
 
 Diego. I would thou wert the man that once I 
 knew thee. 
 No lightning flash more swift and terrible ! 
 
SC. I.J ' THE CROSS OF SORROW. 63 
 
 Moncada. Diego, this is no enterprise of war, 
 Where oft, disdaining wait a tedious siege, 
 I have carried the enemies' ramparts by assault. 
 And so possessed the heart of all the city. 
 
 Diego. Thus were her heart won, — ^hadst thou 
 heart enough. 
 
 Moncada. Dost thou think so } 
 
 Diego. Is not Siffredi thy friend ? 
 
 Moncada. I hold him so. 
 
 Diego. Hie you to him forthwith, 
 
 Acquaint him with the obstacle that combats 
 This your endeavour ; roundly declare that the 
 
 king 
 Presseth so hotly his pursuit, your venture 
 Appears too hazardous. Go further, my lord, 
 Tell him be she not made your wife to-night 
 You will have none of her. 
 
 Moncada. To-night ! 
 
 Diego. I'll find you 
 
 A worthy priest, a very proper fellow, 
 Who hath, ere now, lor a consideration. 
 Lent himself and his office to a cause 
 Much similar to thine. 
 
 Moncada. Thou wouldst not wed her 
 
 In violence to her consent .' 
 
64 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 Diego. Why not ? 
 
 Marry her first, consent will follow after ; 
 Be she a dutiful wife she'll yield it thee, 
 Be she not, thou shalt put her in the wrong, 
 And get thyself much credit. 
 
 Moncada. Faith, I will not ! 
 
 This midnight march on so defenceless a foe 
 Cries out upon my manhood. 
 
 Diego. As you will. 
 
 [Raymond is seen advancing in the distance. 
 Hither, I wager, comes a gallant to her 
 You shall not find so squeamish. 
 
 Moncada. It is the king ! 
 
 Diego. He is fashioned in the likeness of a 
 god! 
 No wonder she hath eyes alone for him. 
 
 Moncada. Diego, I will unmake this god ! 
 
 \He draws his sword. 
 
 Diego. Art mad ? 
 
 Bethink thee this may be thy wedding night, 
 And what a figure shalt thou make before her. 
 Smirched, as thou wilt be, with her lover's blood. 
 
 Moncada. Ah, misery ! 
 
 Diego. Mark how yon cloud doth gallop o'er 
 the heavens, 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 65 
 
 And screens from us the image of the moon ! 
 Draw close with me in this abetting shadow 
 Whence we will look out on his purposes. 
 And here, beneath the cover of the darkness, 
 I'll give thee better counsel. < 
 
 [As MONCADA and DiEGO draw back into 
 the shadow, Raymond advances to 
 Irene's window. 
 Raymond. Heaven hath done well to hide this 
 
 moon away. 
 That is the emblem of inconstancy ; 
 But for these myriad sparks of fire, these stars 
 That are love's own particular ambassadors. 
 Into what region is their banishment, 
 That they, with all the world, abandon me .' 
 I had entreated them to stoop and peep 
 Behind yon casement, where, with weeping eyes, 
 Irene watches, and beseech of her 
 To look down on her lover! Eyes, that ache 
 
 for me, 
 Weep ye no more, and if your mistress chide 
 
 you, 
 Say that I come to plead my cause with her. 
 Tell her each throb of life that stirs within 
 
 her, 
 
 K 
 
66 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 Each pulse of love, beneath my soul's embrace 
 Shall find a thousand tongues to be my witness 
 My honour is unshaken. Come then, night. 
 Out with these lamps, and bury this the earth 
 In merest darkness, I am not dismayed. 
 For here within me burns so bright a flame 
 Heaven's matchless fires are cold and dim 
 
 beside it ; 
 Here is not darkness, but a flood of light, 
 Here is not night, but the full glare of day. 
 For in yon casement her pale taper shines. 
 And in yon shrine my saint her dwelling hath ! 
 [Irene appears at her window, and opens 
 the casement. 
 Irene. O God, thy hand hath blotted out the 
 
 sun. 
 And this earth's garden, whose exulting trees 
 Shook out their young green to the summer 
 
 heaven. 
 Is overhung with shadows ! Night, deep night. 
 My lover's absence muffles up thy moon, 
 My lover's treason tarnishes thy stars ; 
 Were he not forsworn thou wouldst smile out 
 
 on me 
 From twenty million stars, and there would be 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 6"] 
 
 A moon of joy, spread out from east to west, 
 Lighting the whole wide world ! 
 
 Raymond. Earth's roof hath opened. 
 
 And here upon the brow of night is hung 
 A glimpse of Paradise ! 
 
 [Raymond conceals himself in the shadow. 
 
 Irene. What whisper stirreth ? 
 
 Was it a nightingale that did beguile 
 The listening leaves ? 
 
 Raymond. Oh, mark the day draw near ! 
 
 Night shuddering flies when those fair eyes 
 ^ appear : 
 
 Ne'er on enraptured sight such vision rose. 
 Lest unsubstantial this my dreaming shows, 
 Here will I kneel, with hands outstretched to 
 
 thee. 
 Praying thee fade not from the world and me ! 
 
 [Raymond kneels. 
 
 Irene. Raymond ! 
 
 Raymond. If my name trembles on those lips 
 Speed it not forth into the midnight air. 
 It is content upon so warm a nest 
 To lie and dream the silent hours away ! 
 
 Irene. Hope hath no solace for unending pain. 
 Now cruel despair seize on your prey again ; 
 
68 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 Poor eyes that may not know the calm of sleep 
 Hence to your pillow, there to watch and wfeep ! 
 , [Irene closes k&r casement, Raymond 
 
 springs forward. 
 Raymond. Irene ! O God ! She is gone ! — 
 My pathway lies 
 Up to yon lattice hid beneath the skies, 
 To heaven I ascend, leaving dull earth behind, 
 These heights being won, my true love I shall 
 find. 
 [Raymond commences to scale the vine that 
 grows up to Irene's window. Mon- 
 CADA half advances out of the sJtadow. 
 SiFFREDl enters, and DiEGO draws 
 MONCADA back. SiFFREDl places his 
 hand on Raymond's shoulder. 
 Siffredi. What thief is here ? 
 Raymond. Siffredi ! 
 
 Siffredi. Your majesty 
 
 Doth me much honour. 
 
 Raymond. Hast thou not done with honour 
 That hast dishonoured both thyself and me ? 
 Had any other man misused me so, 
 I had nailed the very heart of him on high. 
 That this new king might strike an instant terror 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 69 
 
 Into the minds of traitors ! 
 
 Siffredi. I am no traitor. 
 
 This breast of mine has bared itself too oft 
 Against thine enemies to learn fear of thee ! 
 
 Raymond. Insolent trust, that fed my soul with 
 favours, 
 Corrupting, thro' my soul, the desperate arm 
 That cries out to avenge me ! 
 
 Siffredi. Thou art unjust ! 
 
 Raymond. Unjust ! Where then is justice ? 
 Would I were dead 
 Ere I had ever known a kindness from thee ! 
 
 Siffredi, I claim the king's voice, not the man's. 
 I claim 
 The impartial judgment of your holy office, 
 As man to man disdain my answer is. 
 Unto the king I deliver my defence ! 
 The welfare of this realm of Sicily 
 His majesty bequeathed as legacy 
 To my sole care. At that dark hour, when 
 
 feeling 
 Death's finger on his brow he summoned me 
 Into his presence, he foreshadowed to me 
 The hostile factions that would spring to life 
 O'er his dead body ; to prepare against 
 
^0 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 Those murderous ills he urged on me to 
 
 compass 
 The marriage he designed for Sicily. 
 And there, upon the threshold of eternity, 
 I swore to him my promise ! Thou knowest 
 
 well 
 What followed after. Homeward having sped. 
 High in my duty, from the untroubled blue 
 Of heaven a thunderbolt fell, demanding of me 
 Either my bond of honour to the dead 
 Or the dear sum of my child's happiness. 
 Then was it, being all dismayed, your promise 
 Unsought of me, your exhortation to me 
 Of my own will to make the noblest use of it. 
 Stirred in my mind. Surely was this the 
 
 light !— 
 The occasion most worthy, the sacrifice most 
 
 ample, 
 Not yours alone but mine ! A common glory 
 Enveloped us, even as I my last, 
 You your first offering to our country made ; 
 I took naught from you was not mi^e already, 
 For my advancement nothing, for you all ! — 
 Here is the offence that brands me as a traitor ; 
 Here is the weapon with which I struck at honour ; 
 
SCI.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. ^\ 
 
 Here is my plea, plain-stated, unanswerable. 
 I claim of the king my right: I claim his 
 judgment ! 
 
 Raymond. The man is master in me, not the 
 king! 
 The man in whom are hunger, thirst, love, hate. 
 Delight, despair, and all the elements 
 That make him human. 
 
 Siffredi. Be thou human still ! 
 
 Do these, thy human walls, shut in no soul ? 
 Art thou no more than man the animal ? 
 
 Raymond. Some men have never known they 
 had a soul 
 Until the moment that they faced with Death. 
 Rather with these will I cast in my lot 
 Than sell my body ! 
 
 Siffredi. Doth no obligation, 
 
 No duty dwell in thee "i 
 
 Raymond. Did I claim this duty } 
 
 Siffredi. Are there not duties made not of 
 ourselves ; 
 Are there not obligations others' hands 
 Have put upon us, whether we will or no, 
 To endure like men .' 
 
 Raymond. I'll not be bound by them ! 
 
72 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 Siffredi. So the world cries, so each ignoble 
 soul 
 Who is not monarch in his own domain, 
 And for the state within him hath not framed 
 Provident laws. 
 
 Raymond. The riot here within me 
 
 Defies all laws or human or divine ! 
 
 Siffredi. Thou dost well to confess it ; thou art 
 like 
 An ill-constructed instrument adversity 
 Hath put all out of tune. 
 
 Raymond. The fault is not mine : 
 
 Blame thou thy world that hath so played 
 
 upon me ! — 
 What wouldst thou make of me ! — 
 
 Siffredi. I'd have thee own 
 
 An equal mind for every turn of fortune, 
 A disposition proof against each ill 
 That mortal flesh inherits ! 
 
 Raymond. Where be ills 
 
 More masterful than mine ? 
 
 Siffredi. There be some ills 
 
 Thou hast not tasted of ! Such be Death's stings, 
 The foul breath of dishonour, fell disease. 
 The scorpion whips of poverty when friends, 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 73 
 
 Seeing you fallen, wipe you from their memories 
 Like characters that in an idle moment 
 They have traced upon a tablet. 
 
 Raymond. Is it for these 
 
 Despicable images of the thing called man 
 You demand of me my sacrifice } 
 
 Siffredi. Even so. 
 
 If man be small you smaller grow that build 
 
 on it 
 Your own disparagement ! 
 
 Raymond. Oh hideous world ! 
 
 There is no thing of beauty born in thee 
 Except it be my love ! 
 
 Siffredi. There is beauty in all 
 
 That stirs on the face of the earth ! The murky 
 
 river 
 That runs through the mud of a city turns to 
 
 silver 
 When the sun kisses it. 
 
 Raymond. Divine Irene, 
 
 If death prevail with thee the sun fails too, 
 And my life's lamp shall swift extinguished be 1 
 
 Siffredi. There are men still livq whose lives 
 are like the light 
 That flashes from the topmost lighthouse tower, 
 L 
 
74 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 And come the sea of sorrow up in arms 
 It cannot shake the rock, their soul's foundation ! 
 With calm eyes looking out into the night, 
 Watching the world's wild tempest whistling by, 
 They light the lamp that hails the mariner 
 Who, struggling on with his disabled barque 
 Through mist and tempest, findeth a new-born 
 
 hope, 
 And steers his fragile vessel home again 
 Into a place of safety. Lonely the heights 
 That make their dwelling, yet their solitude 
 Is mightier than the state that hems about 
 The palaces of kings and emperors ; 
 And when the crack of doom falls out of Heaven, 
 When the last tempest overtopples them. 
 The world weeps tears of immortal sorrow 
 For the light that shines no more ! 
 
 RUymond. Let others tempt 
 
 Those heights eternal, I have no wings to rise 
 Whom sorrow bears to earth ! 
 
 [Raymond turns to go. 
 
 Siffredi. Whither art thou going ? 
 
 Raymond. Back to Palermo. 
 
 Siffredi. Adieu ! 
 
 Raymond. Not yet adieti ; 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 75 
 
 Did I not think there yet is time to stay 
 This headstrong tide of fortune, never again 
 Would I set foot in Sicily ! 
 
 Siffredi. Farewell I 
 
 Deep in my heart I have only tears for thee. 
 Farewell ! 
 
 Raymond. Farewell ! \_Exit Raymond slowly. 
 
 Siffredi. Alas for thee, poor Raymond ! 
 Life is a song that hath its source in sorrow, 
 A ceaseless sob fi'om those harp-strings whose 
 
 harmonies 
 Tremble with tears. Nature so fashions us 
 That he who hath not suffered finds no pur- 
 pose 
 In the vast sea of our humanity ; 
 Is like an empty hollow-sounding shell 
 Cast by the ocean on a desert strand 
 And for all time abandoned. \Exit Siffredi. 
 
 Diego and Moncada come down stage. 
 
 Diego. He is thine, Moncada! hasten thou 
 after him ; 
 This pathway here will intercept his passage 
 Ere he re-enter Belmonte ! 
 
J6 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 Moncada. Where is the king ? 
 
 Diego. Already on his road back to Palermo, 
 
 Like one possessed ! — Come, I will hence, and 
 
 fetch 
 Our holy baggage ! 
 
 Moncada. I would sell my soul 
 
 To have this night's work over ! 
 
 [Moncada turns to go. 
 Diego. This sovereign sea 
 
 Hath so impetuous a flood it threatens 
 To overwhelm us ! — Bear it in mind, my lord. 
 You let my name not show in aught of this ! 
 Moncada. I follow thee ! \Exit MONCADA. 
 Diego. Spirits of darkness attend thee ! 
 
 Thine is a deed to-night, didst thou but know it. 
 Whose ugliness the cloak of hell itself 
 Were not black enough to hide ! Swiftly and 
 
 surely 
 My pitiless purpose shapes unto its end, 
 And almost ere to-morrow's moon has risen 
 I will ring my curtain down ! 
 
 \A glimpse of the moonlight falls on DiEGO 
 looking up to Irene's window as the 
 scene closes. 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. ^^ 
 
 Scene 2. Irene's Chamber. Irene discovered 
 with Iter maid NerissA. A light burning. 
 
 Nerissa. Wilt not to bed, sweet lady ? 
 
 Irene. Nay, Nerissa, 
 
 Since sleep and I are strangers ! 
 
 Nerissa. Do not weep ; 
 
 Keep a brave heart, all will come well, dear 
 lady! 
 
 Irene. Alas, some hearts were never, never 
 fashioned 
 To hold a course over tempestuous seas ! 
 
 Nerissa. For those vi'ho keep a brave heart, 
 lady dear, 
 Hope will most surely not abandon them ! 
 
 Irene. Talk not of Hope ! Hope feeds upon 
 despair. 
 That is despair's -mere drug and antidote, 
 I have seen Hope born all m^ days, Nerissa, 
 And wept each nightfall at its burial ! 
 I have lived too long on Hope ! 
 
 Nerissa. Had I a lover 
 
 Had used me so unkindly, I would be wiser 
 
78 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 Than weep as thou dost ! 
 
 Iretie. How so ? 
 
 Nerissa. Get me another \ 
 
 Irene. That cannot I ! 
 
 Nerissa. Indeed, my lady dear, 
 
 Thou canst not find me a handsome man in the 
 
 world 
 I will match not with a better ! 
 
 Irene. How dost thou know, 
 
 That knowest not what love is ! 
 
 Nerissa. Good, my lady^ 
 
 I have loved scores and scores of gentlemen — 
 And seriously ! 
 
 Irene. * Happy child, whose scores 
 
 Have left no scars behind ! 
 
 Nerissa. The pity is 
 
 We women still must after handsome men. 
 That are so eaten up with vanities 
 And small conceits, born of our flatteries. 
 There is no enduring them ! The saucy fellows 
 Make of themselves a feast for our eyes, and 
 
 fancy 
 We shall be won outright ! Love is a race 
 Where many a tortoise hath outpaced these 
 hares, 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 79 
 
 Nor was there ever a man ill-favoured yet, 
 That need despair to win. 
 
 Irene. How you prattle, child ! 
 
 Bring me my scarf, the silken one he gave me. 
 
 [Nerissa brings her a scarf. 
 Nay, I'll not wear it! let it lie here, on my 
 
 knee ! — 
 I am cold, Nerissa ! 
 
 Nerissa. Thou hast a burning fever ; 
 
 Get thee to bed, sweet mistress ! 
 
 Irene. Not yet, Nerissa. 
 
 Loosen these tresses — here about my shoulders — 
 Even as he loved them. 
 
 Nerissa. Out upon the man ! 
 
 He is not worthy such a lamb. 
 
 Irene. What say you ? 
 
 If a wish could wither up that tongue of thine 
 It were withered now ! 
 
 Nerissa. I meant no harm, my lady, 
 
 Irene. I do believe thee, girl ! — Hast thou a 
 mother .' — 
 I dearly wish that I had ! — 
 
 Nerissa. Lady dear. 
 
 Dear mistress ! I would give the world of 
 me, 
 
So THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 To mend what here lies broken ! 
 
 [Nerissa kneels at Irene's^!?/, who throws 
 her anns around her. 
 Irene. Child,, some images, 
 
 Once broken, never may be niended more ! 
 
 SiFFREDI enters suddenly, and motions to Nerissa 
 to retire, 
 Siffredi. In tears, Irene .' 
 Irene. Yea, my lord, my solace. 
 
 These last few friends, not yet abandon me 
 Nor will not till I die ! 
 
 Siffredi. Come, dry thine eyes, 
 
 I bring thee news shall put roses in thy cheeks ! 
 Thou art to be married ! 
 Irene. Married ! Oh, my lord ! 
 
 \^She kisses Siffredi's hand. 
 Siffredi. Unto a noble gentleman, and a gene- 
 rous, 
 That same Moncada I commended to thee. 
 Late in Palermo. [Irene rises. 
 
 Irene. Sire, if I may claim 
 
 To be thy dutiful daughter, make not a 
 
 mockery 
 Of these my sufferings ! 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 8 1 
 
 Siffredi. Thou art to be married ! 
 
 Irene. What unkind proof is this you would 
 put on me, 
 That know full well am I denied to marry 
 Him whom my heart has chosen, all my days 
 Will I remain a maid ! 
 
 Siffredi. Thou art deceived. 
 
 Thou canst not ! 
 
 Irene. Wherefore, my lord ? 
 
 Siffredi. Insolent gossips 
 
 About the court at Palermo openly whisper 
 Thou art the acknowledged mistress of the 
 
 king. 
 Who, being about to marry with his cousin, 
 Tireth of thee and puts thee about thy business, 
 Wherefore thy lily cheeks ! 
 
 Irene. Hadst thou a sword, 
 
 And hacked not out their tongues ? 
 
 Siffredi. There be some poisons 
 
 Are best not meddled with ! 
 
 Irene. Father ! 
 
 Siffredi. Our house 
 
 Shall stand above the shadow of suspicion ! 
 Sooner may there be blots on the face of the 
 sun 
 
 M 
 
82 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV. 
 
 Than blemishes on the good name of our daugh- 
 ters ! 
 Irene. Here dwells a maiden in a deep dis- 
 tress, 
 Raymond, true knight, wilt thou abandon her ? 
 Come forth, and champion this most sacred 
 
 cause ! 
 Give back to the world this lie ! 
 
 Siffredi. Thou knowest, Irene, 
 
 He is dead to thee for ever ! 
 
 Irem. Ravisher 
 
 Of his good name, he is mine and mine and 
 
 mine 
 Until the same lips that proclaimed his faith 
 Consume it up again ! 
 
 Siffredi. Take thou this parchment 
 
 Into thine own hands, search it o'er with thine 
 
 eyes, 
 Testify, if thou canst, this hand, this seal, 
 Are other than thy lover's. 
 
 \He hands fier a parchment. 
 Irene. Would that these eyes 
 
 Were sealed with the everlasting seal of night 
 Ere they were tempted unto the betrayal 
 Of this poor heart of mine ! 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 83 
 
 Siffredi. Hast thou no pride ? 
 
 Irene. What's pride to me ! O pride, here will 
 I end 
 My miserable days, and satisfy 
 My outraged soul that it was given up 
 Unto so great a traitor ! 
 
 Siffredi. Wilt thou leave 
 
 Thy draggled name behind thee ? 'twill remain 
 Like to an autumn rose the rains have wept on 
 Till it falls bruised and broken from the spray 
 Into the mould below ! 
 
 Irene. Poor rose ! 
 
 Siffredi. This marriage. 
 
 Being most honourable, will give the lie, 
 In the throat of life, to rumour ! 
 
 Irene. What saith my lord 
 
 Unto the bargain ? 
 
 Siffredi. Being much in love 
 
 He hath spoke volumes. 
 
 Irene. Write them not down for me. — 
 
 When wouldst thou marry me, my lord ? 
 
 Siffredi. To-night ! 
 
 Irene. To-night ! Just Heaven ! Ravening 
 wolves have pity 
 Beside these human things ! 
 
84 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT IV, 
 
 Siffredi. Prepare, Irene, 
 
 Thou hast but a moment ! 
 
 Ireiie. So I have heard tell 
 
 The executioner to his hapless victim 
 Speaks ere he biddeth her her head lay 
 
 down 
 Upon the block ! — This is not welcome cheer 
 For a maid that is to be married ! 
 Siffredi. Art thou ready ? 
 
 Irene. Oh, never ! Never ! Never ! — 
 I think I must be dreaming ! Are you or I 
 Become suddenly mad ? Thou wilt not do this 
 
 thing ! — 
 Thou shalt not ! — Father ! — I have shed tears 
 enough \_She kneels to him. 
 
 To wash sin from the world, yet still I'll 
 
 weep 
 Until the very stones cry out to thee. 
 Imploring pity ! 
 Siffredi. I cannot hear thee ! 
 
 Irene. Thou shalt ! 
 
 [Irene rises. 
 I will have none of this marriage ! Neither now 
 
 nor never ! 
 1 will have none of this cursed thing ! 
 
SC.2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 85 
 
 Siffredi. Come, calm thee ! — 
 
 Behold, thy bridegroom waiteth for thee ! 
 
 [Siffredi draws aside a curtain in a door- 
 way. MONCADA and a Priest are dis- 
 covered standing motionless. iRENE/al/s 
 across the table burying her head in her 
 hands. 
 
.85 THE CROSS QF SORROW. [ACT V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene i. A Hall in Belmonte. Night. 
 Diego discovered alone. 
 
 Diego. There are some men hunt the wild 
 
 boar, some that track 
 The leopard to his lair, the sun-tanned lion. 
 King of all beasts, who, lashing with his tail 
 In a fine frenzy, turns on his pursuers 
 And rends them. I have marked down for my 
 
 prey 
 The most magnificent creature in the universe, 
 Man himself, he whose very blemishes 
 Have made of him a god ! When I behold 
 
 him 
 Erect, upright, in my mind I picture him 
 As Nature frame"d him first, upon all fours. 
 Till conscious of a rare superiority 
 O'er the brute world, he raised his arms to 
 
 Heaven 
 And grew to what he is ! How delicately 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 87 
 
 He is formed throughout ; and then what com- 
 plex parts, 
 Each delicate, he bears along with him 
 Through most unheard-of perils ! Nature hath 
 
 blessed him 
 Less than of all the animal world with weapons 
 Shaped to attack or to defend himself ; 
 He hath no claws, no teeth, his skin is soft. 
 He is not agile as the panther is. 
 He almost wanteth balance ! Yet his mind 
 Is such an infinite treasure of resource. 
 He hath a spirit so indomitable. 
 Each obstacle he greatly overstrides 
 And assumes to himself the sovereignty of the 
 earth ! 
 
 SiFFREDl enters behind DiEGO with papers in his 
 hand. 
 
 Siffredi. Diego ! 
 Diego. Who call^? 
 
 Siffredi. Thy master, Siffredi ! 
 
 Diego. Siffredi ! \^Aside, coining down stages. 
 Siffredi, I have papers here whose matter 
 Touches you nearly. 
 
88 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT V. 
 
 Diego. What may they deal of? 
 
 Siffredi. Treason ! 
 
 Diego. Treason ! — A subject most unpalatable, 
 An unmistakable, damnable offence. 
 Where doth this rank herb grow ? 
 
 Siffredi. Here in our midst. 
 
 It sitteth at our table, sleeps with us, 
 Makes its home on our hearth, and seemingly 
 I'hought itself not suspect. 
 
 Diego. Such confidence 
 
 May have been born of innocence ! 
 
 Siffredi. May have been. 
 
 Had I not proof it was not ! 
 
 Diego. Doth the offender 
 
 Stand high at court .' 
 
 Siffredi. As high as thou dost. — Traitor ! 
 
 Diego. Traitor! what tangible witness have 
 you, sir. 
 Of so insolent a calumny ? 
 
 Siffredi. The dying confessions 
 
 Of thy confederates Lorenzo and Castagno, 
 Who being fallen upon in Ajaccio, . 
 And put upon a sudden trial, have stated 
 Yourself to be prime mover and abettor 
 In their desperate attempt. 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 89 
 
 Diego. ' They lied ! 
 
 SiffredL They did not ! 
 
 Ask thy confederate, Garcia, who stricken 
 With guilty fear, hath straightway taken him 
 In flight from Sicily. 
 
 Diego. My confederate ! 
 
 Siffredi. Think you I have not witnessed the 
 daily service 
 Passing^ 'twixt you and him "i 
 
 Diego. What is my sentence } 
 
 To be strung up as a felon "i 
 
 [Diego draws his sword. 
 
 Siffredi. Put up thy sword. 
 
 Lest in just anger I should beat thy brains out. 
 With the hilt of mine. 
 
 Diego. Was it thus you slew my father .? 
 
 Siffredi. Thy father, tho' a traitor, was a 
 soldier, 
 And met a soldier's death ! No soul yet knows 
 Of this your infamy ! Within twelve hours 
 Betake thee from the coast of Sicily 
 Into perpetual banishment. Henceforth 
 If ever thou set foot within our realm 
 While breath inhabits thee, upon that instant. 
 By the unshakable honour of Siffredi, 
 
90 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT V. 
 
 Thy life is forfeit ! — 
 
 [SiFFREDl passes in front of DiEGO, 
 and exits. 
 Diego. Twelve hours 1 As many seconds have 
 
 sufficed 
 For many a tragedy. Already Raymond, 
 Urged by a note most cunningly contrived 
 As coming from his lady, storms the citadel 
 Possessed by that consenting foe, Irene : 
 And for Moncada who, I am informed, 
 Rode forth at daybreak, used, I doubt, by 
 
 Siffredi 
 For this rebellion, let him but return 
 To my hand in time, and these thumbed cards of 
 
 mine 
 Shall be flung down on the table. 
 
 MONCADA enters, his military attire in much 
 disorder. He flings himself on a couch. 
 
 Excellent fortune ! 
 Good morrow my gallant! Good morrow my 
 
 nimble bridegroom, 
 You were early astir this morning ! 
 
 [Diego crosses over to MoNCADA. 
 What garments are these } 
 
SC. 1.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 9 1 
 
 They savour more of the camp than the marriage 
 
 chamber ! 
 Whence have you ridden ? {Aside.) He hath 
 
 come from Ajaccio. 
 Whither come you, my lord ? 
 
 Moncada. Peace, I command thee, 
 
 I am out of humour for thee ! 
 
 Diego. Wherefore ? 
 
 Moncada. Thy marriage 
 
 Was damnably conceived. 
 
 Diego. Were your advances 
 
 Met slightingly ? 
 
 Moncada. They were not proffered, sir. 
 
 Soon as the abominable priest his work had done 
 I muffled up my face and fled from her chamber 
 Like one plague-stricken. 
 
 Diego. Therein you were wrong, 
 
 It was your duty lay immediate siege 
 To her affections. 
 
 Moncada. She abhorreth me. 
 
 And something of my manhood stirred in me 
 To pity her and leave her. 
 
 Diego. A gross error ! 
 
 She is your wife, her honour is your honour. 
 He who steals one steals the other ! 
 
92 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT V, 
 
 Moncada. Stealing, say you ? 
 
 Diego. You must be in ignorance the king 
 hath ridden 
 Secretly from Palermo, and was seen 
 Half-an-hour since — mine own eyes witnessed 
 
 it— 
 Beneath her window. 
 
 Moncada. Diego ! 
 
 Diego. Be not too confident ! 
 
 Walls have been scaled ere now, and willing 
 
 wives 
 From absent husbands spirited away. 
 
 Moncada. On thine eternal soul, come answer 
 me. 
 Is the king her lover .' 
 
 Diego. Would you have me swear to it ? 
 
 I have seen him hold so close to her, her bones 
 Have cracked in his embrace ! i 
 
 Moncada. Oh, devil ! Get hence ! 
 
 \He strikes DiEGO. 
 I would be alone ! — Nay, I'll unto her chamber 
 And put this doubt to sleep. \Exit MoNCADA. 
 
 Diego. Now, Siffredi, 
 
 We are advancing by great leaps and bounds 
 Into the heart of our story ! 
 
SC. I.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 93 
 
 Garcia enters in great haste and confronts 
 
 Diego. 
 Diego. Garcia ! 
 
 Garcia. 3etrayer ! 
 
 Diego. Wouldst put thy head in the lion's 
 mouth, man ? withdraw ! 
 Our party is scajfered, Sififredi pursues thee 
 To have thy life ! 
 
 Garcia. I know it, I have thee ! 
 
 I had a mortal terror thou wouldst escape me. , 
 Diego. Madman, hear reason ! 
 Garcia. I have no time for reason ! 
 
 Reason with this if thou wilt. 
 
 [He stabs DiEGO, who falls. 
 
 Diego. Oh, villain ! villain ! 
 
 Thou hast stolen the light from mine eyes while 
 
 this my vengeance 
 Was still unsatisfied ! — 
 
 Come, Death — quickly possess thy tenement! 
 These few bare inches of this senseless steel 
 Have triumphed o'er the finer part of me. 
 And with my body overcome my spirit. 
 
 \_He dies. Voices are heard without, crying in 
 pursuit of G\ViX:\k, "Traitor! Traitor!" 
 
94 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT V. 
 
 Garcia, Lie still, vile body, that art but the 
 shell, 
 The spirit I have loosened into hell ! 
 
 [Garcia draws a cloak over the body and 
 disappears as the stage darkens, and the 
 cries of " Traitor ! " approach nearer. 
 
 Scene 2. Irene's Chamber. Irene discovered 
 
 Irene. Is it here you would lay me down ? 
 Gently, good fellows ! This mystical old yew 
 Shelters me from the rainfall. Here are wild 
 
 flowers, 
 And grasses, and soft beds of mosses. Well, 
 
 well, well, well ! 
 Bury me not in the shadow ! hide me not from 
 
 the sun, 
 The peep o* the stars at night, the light o' the 
 
 moon, 
 Silvering the churchyard stones ! — 
 Haste thee, kind fellows ! Death is a dreamless 
 
 slumber 
 That no discordant echo from the world 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 95 
 
 Comes to unmake or mar. With each new 
 
 spring 
 Above my head the daisies will awake, 
 And storm or sun shall not disquiet me 
 That shall be deaf to all ! 
 
 [Raymond appears at the casement, throws 
 it open, and enters. 
 Raymond. Irene, Irene ! 
 
 Irene. Set me a cross at my head ! Mark 
 where I lie ! 
 Have done, have done ! 
 
 [Raymond approaches her, and almost shakes 
 her, thinking her asleep and dreaming. 
 Raymond. Irene ! 
 
 Irene. Was anything stirring ? 
 
 The wind is up to-night ! 
 
 Raymond. What lightning stroke 
 
 Hath laid this shrine in ruins ? Love, my 
 
 love. 
 We are the sport of fiends ! Irene ! 
 
 Irene. Listen ! 
 
 They are calling Irene. Once there was a 
 
 maiden 
 Went by such a name, years and years agone ! 
 So long, I can scarce remember. — Memory ! — 
 
96 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT V, 
 
 She was gentle they say, and she died ! — I weep 
 
 for her, 
 Tears such as madmen and madwomen weep : 
 That weep till they laugh, and laugh till they 
 
 weep again ! 
 Hast thou not heard them, on such a night as 
 
 this, 
 When the storm is rising ? Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah ! 
 [S/ie dutches hold of Raymond's arm. 
 Raymond. Oh, by this most majestic firmament, 
 By all the eternal laws that order it, 
 What things are these that play with human 
 
 hearts 
 As they were atoms signifying nothing ! 
 " I love, I am loved ! " Nature cries it aloud. 
 It is the universal mechanism 
 That drives the world round. Here is most gross 
 
 deceit. 
 Nature neglects her laws, eternity 
 Forsakes her office, and all things of substance 
 Are scattered into dreams ! 
 
 [Raymond sinks on his knees, and buries his 
 head in his hands. Irene approaches 
 him, and pulls him by the sleeve of his 
 doublet. 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. 97 
 
 Irene. If thou art kind, 
 
 And fall across her lover, take him by the hand 
 And lead him to the spot where she lies buried. — 
 
 When I am dead and sleeping, 
 
 In the churchyard, calm and still, 
 Come softly to me, creeping. 
 
 Beside the little hill ! 
 Whisper to me that you love me, 
 That a maid never breathed above me, 
 I shall wake and hear you weeping ! — 
 
 [Irene breaks off her singing. 
 
 Oh, the burden of this song goeth ill ! 
 Raymond. Oh, lay this weary head upon my 
 breast. 
 And close these tear-stained rose-leaves into 
 rest ! \He draws her to him. 
 
 Irene. A warm breath blows on my cheek ! 
 Oh, joy, the summer 
 Has come again ! — Carry me up to the window. 
 And let the sun shine in on me. — Alas, 
 I am cold ! I am cold ! — 
 
 [Raymond takes her in his arms. 
 Raymond. Here is warmth, here is shelter ; 
 Here is the summer of our love ! 
 O 
 
98 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT V. 
 
 Irene. Unhand me ! 
 
 [Irene breaks from him. 
 
 Who art thou ?— Thou art my husband ! I know 
 
 thee. Save me ! 
 An adder's touch is poison less than thine ! 
 Raymond. Peace, peace ! 
 Irene. Away ! Father, he follows me ! 
 
 Father ! Heaven ! Help ! Oh, where is 
 
 Raymond ! — 
 Raymond ! 
 Raymond. Dear eyes awake, awake and 
 know me : 
 I am indeed that Raymond ! I am thy lover ! 
 [He kneels at her feet, the door is thrown open, 
 andMONCADA enters with drawn sword. 
 Moncada. Oh, damnable confession ! 
 
 [RAYMOND starts up. 
 Raymond. Who art thou ? 
 
 Moncada. Her husband ! 
 Raymond. Liar ! 
 
 Moncada. Before Heaven she is my wife ! 
 
 Raymond, In the sight of Heaven she is mine ! 
 Moncada, Thy soul to hell ! 
 
 [Raymond and Moncada engage. Mon- 
 cada /«/& mortally wounded. 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. pg 
 
 Raymond. Oh, God ! what have I done. 
 
 [MONCADA draws near to Irene. 
 
 Moncada. Come hither to me ! 
 
 What life denies, death claims, sweet bride, of 
 
 thee ! \He stabs her. 
 
 Raymond. Oh, horrible, bloody night ! Oh, 
 
 martyred saint 1 
 
 Is there no pity ? — [Raymond stoops over her. 
 
 SiFFREDi enters in haste. 
 
 Siffredi. Was it here I heard the clatter 
 
 Of swords ? All is in darkness ! What ho ! 
 lights there ! 
 
 Servants and others enter bearing torches. 
 
 Your majesty ! — Moncada ! — Dead ! — Irene ! 
 
 Art thou hurt, child ? answer me ! 
 
 Raymond. She cannot, Sire ; — 
 
 She bleeds to death ! 
 
 Siffredi. Raymond, whose work is this .' 
 
 Raymond. Mine and your own, and this great 
 villain's here ! 
 
lOO THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT V. 
 
 Irene. Oh, who hath taught those holy lips to 
 lie, 
 That were my lover's! — ^Would you mock at 
 
 me? — 
 I pray more charity be found in Heaven 
 Than dwells upon this tear-stained earth 
 below ! 
 Siffredi. Her mind is wandering ! 
 Raymond. 'Tis but a star 
 
 Hath tumbled from the fiery firmament 
 Into eternal darkness ! 
 
 Irene. Where is Raymond ? 
 
 If it be wickedness to wish his kisses 
 Once more on these poor lips. Oh God most 
 
 merciful. 
 Give me back but one little glimpse of day 
 That e'er I die these eyes may look on him ! 
 Oh, feeble hands, — to feel for him, — to touch 
 
 him 
 Ere we be severed frOm him, you and I, 
 That silent, long forever ! 
 
 Raymond. Speak to me ! — 
 
 Speak to me ! — 
 Irene. Hark ! a voice ! — the faint, far voice, 
 
SC. 2.] THE CROSS OF SORROW. lOI 
 
 That troubled me when sleeping ! — Where am 
 
 IP- 
 All is so dark ! — and then — these strange, wild 
 
 thoughts • 
 
 That only come in dreams ! — Oh, pity me, 
 I am in the blindness of approaching night. 
 And the' it only be the shadow of thee, 
 Come to me, love ! — 
 
 \She feels with her hands for hint. 
 Raymond. Oh, love, my love, my love ! 
 
 [He folds her in his arms. 
 Irene. Raymond ! 
 
 [Irene suddenly recognizes her lover and 
 falls dead in his arms. 
 Raymond. Sleep on, Irene ; since from the 
 casket 
 My precious jewel is stolen, here I make 
 An end of all things ! — 
 
 \He raises his dagger to stab himself ; 
 SiFFREDl rapidly arrests him. 
 Siffredi. Hold thine impious hand ! — 
 
 Take up thy cross of sorrow, journey forth 
 Among thy people, there thy life-work lies ; 
 Even as work shall heal these piteous wounds. 
 
102 THE CROSS OF SORROW. [ACT V. 
 
 So shall these tears thy manhood purify ; 
 Thou that hast suffered, go thy way and live, 
 A new world waits thee, find thy peace in it ! ' 
 [SiFFREDl points through the open window 
 where the lights of a sleeping city are 
 seen in the distance. RAYMOND falls 
 weeping over Irene's body. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 CHISWICK PRESS :— C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COOKT, 
 CHANCERY LANE.