YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THE LIBRARY OF THE DIVINITY SCHOOL ABELARD AND HELOISE ABELARD AND HELOISE RIDGELY TORRENCE NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1907 All rights reserved Copyright, 1907, by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS Published, February, 1907 TROW DIRECTORY PRIKTlNO AND B00KBIND1NQ COMPANY MEW YORK TO MADAME ALLA NAZIMOVA SETTINGS ACT I. — Paris. The Old Isle de la Cite. A Garden Court Among the Houses Belong ing to the Cathedral of Notre Dame. (A fortnight passes.) ACT II. — Fulbert's Villa at Corbeil. (Three months pass.) ACT III. — The Garden of the Abbey of Argen- teuil. (Twenty years pass.) ACT IV. — A Road near Chalons. PERSONS OF THE PLAY Fulbert, Canon of Notre Dame. Pierre Abelard, Master of the School of Notre Dame. Arnulph Malart, a priest of Notre Dame. Gervase, Abelard's favorite student and friend. A Ballad Monger. Peter, Abbot of Cluny. Louis VII, Surnamed the Young, King of France. A Page. A Papal Nuncio. An Acolyte. Astrolobus.Heloise, niece of Fulbert. Luce, her friend and companion. Jehanne, a flower girl. Ysbeau, a fruit vender. Gabrtella, Abbess of Argenteuil. Monica -\ Cecile >• Young nuns in the Abbey of Argenteuil. Teresa J Students, Towns-People, Relatives of Fulbert,, Monks, Nuns, Soldiers, Courtiers, etc. Time: First part of twelfth century. ABELARD AND HELOISE ACT I A Court. Back is a high, massive stone wall in the centre of which is a gateway having a ponderous iron door which is now open disclosing a street. On the left of the court is the School of Paris into which leads a single doorway. On the right is the house of Fulbert, to which there is also a single door opening on the court, which is therefore completely surrounded by walls and has but the three exits. Leading to each of the doorways, both that of Fulbert 's house and that of the school, there is a flight of several steps. Ysbeau is seated upon the steps of the school, counting her fruits. Enter from Fulbert 's house Luce, bearing a jar from which she waters the flowers near the doorstep. Enter along the street the Ballad Monger, who halts in the gateway. YSBEAU, to the Ballad Monger, offering her basket of fruit Ho there, a quince! BALLAD MONGER A ballad for it. 2 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i YSBEAU Done. BALLAD MONGER, coming forward and holding out his wares Make choice. YSBEAU The newest. ballad monger, giving her a bright parchment Here then. He begins to select from her basket. Enter from the street Jehanne listlessly crying her wares. JEHANNE Marigolds — She sees Ysbeau, who is busy with the Ballad Monger and does not notice her. Ysbeau ! LUCE, rising from the flower bed and coming to her Jehanne! JEHANNE My Luce — They embrace and talk aside. ballad monger, bargaining with Ysbeau How many? YSBEAU One. acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 3 BALLAD monger, eagerly Add then your lips. YSBEAU, evading him and running to the two girls ' What news? The Ballad Monger goes to the school steps and lolls upon them, eating his fruit. LUCE The school yet holds; The Master speaks to-day. JEHANNE When it is over She clasps her hands in ecstasy. YSBEAU, looking up at the school To think that cold stone husk could hold a lover. JEHANNE They think too much in there. ysbeau, peering in at the door If I could see, My thoughts would bring my Etienne out to me, My boy, my rakehell blond A bell sounds. JEHANNE and YSBEAU together The hour! 4 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i LUCE, who has been standing apart from them At last! The Ballad Monger picks up his lute and ballads and rises briskly. Jehanne and Ysbeau join him at the school steps with great bustle of preparation. YSBEAU Get ready all! BALLAD MONGER, with great importance Form here the Une. JEHANNE Where's Luce? LUCE, apart from them I have no wares to sell. YSBEAU, to the Ballad Monger, who gets in front of her Ha, not so fast — Back, Ballads! BALLAD MONGER, with his attention eagerly upon the school doorway Here they come! YSBEAU, stamping on his toe Back Dreams. BALLAD MONGER, retreating with a start of pain The deuce! acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 5 A party of students begins to enter noisily from the school, and pass through the court into the street. JEHANNE, holding up her basket Blooms- —buds — BALLAD MONGER A rhyme — YSBEAU Apples — BALLAD MONGER And songs — YSBEAU A peach? Two students enter arm in arm and confront Ysbeau and Jehanne. FIRST STUDENT Ha! Lips and eyes! YSBEAU Fruits? JEHANNE Flowers? BOTH GIRLS, holding up their wares Which? 6 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i SECOND STUDENT Both, from each! The two students draw the two girls aside and talk. Luce still watches the school door. A scuffling is heard within and several students are bustled violently down the steps. THE STUDENTS Who pushes? Voices from another group who follow them. We! FIRST GROUP By what right? SECOND GROUP English brawn? FIRST GROUP We'll try it, Germans. Up, good fists. SECOND GROUP Come on. Exeunt both groups brawling through the street gate. Enter from the school Gervase gayly dressed. GERVASE Air, air to breathe, I choke with smoke of thinking. luce, going to meet him Ah, my Gervase. acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 7 GERVASE My Luce. LUCE What news? They talk aside. Enter another group of students. Jehanne and Ysbeau leave the two students to whom they were talk ing. JEHANNE Buds? YSBEAU Grapes? A student, to both girls Hey, sweetmeats! SECOND STUDENT By St. John here's hues! FIRST STUDENT And shapes! The two students come down the steps to the girls. first student, to Jehanne Do I not know you? The two talk aside to the girls. ballad MONGER, approaching Gervase, where he talks with Luce Music? 8 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i gervase, looking him over with sublime insolence By what means? ballad monger, tapping his lute proudly This lute. GERVASE, pretending to examine it critically and then turning away A pumpkin. BALLAD MONGER, enraged Dancer of Orleans. GERVASE, turning upon him fiercely Goose Face of Paris, dare you utter quack; I'll give you titles till your beak is black. I, Gervase of this University, Hold in zoology a high degree, He affects to peer at the minstrel scientifically. A head — claws — legs to hop with — ah, I see! Species verminibus — a kind of flea. The Ballad Monger retreats in confusion to the street and exit. Gervase turns again to Luce. A STUDENT, entering from the school Where is my tidbit made of red and white? acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 9 Jehanne greets him with a glad cry and embraces him. Enter another student. SECOND STUDENT, ecstatically Ysbeau ! YSBEAU, rushing forward to him Ah boy! STUDENT You waited? YSBEAU Kiss me. He kisses her. ANOTHER student, looking at them Jesu! ONE OF the STUDENTS, talking aside to Jehanne and Ysbeau To-night — at the mid-hour — you and Jehanne She bides to-night with Luce — there is her window. He points to Fulbert's house. 'Tis high, but I am Michael with the ladder. YSBEAU O craft! SECOND STUDENT But soft — or Luce will learn of it — Hist — close — then shall we melt into the night And dance till early gray. io ABELARD AND HELOISE [acti At night. JEHANNE But the gate's locked FIRST STUDENT, holding up a great key The key! JEHANNE O wonder. YSBEAU And be ready JEHANNE I must be mouse and never waken Luce, She'd never let me go. The four draw toward the gate, whispering beside it. Ger vase and Luce come down front talking earnestly. A great anxiety is upon Luce's face. GERVASE O smile sad Queen, it has not fallen yet. LUCE The buzzing grows, the town is held at bay, But for the proof's lack though they know the truth, And Fulbert cannot be forever deaf. GERVASE, losing his effrontery for an instant Poor Master — act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE n LUCE Ah, poor Mistress. GERVASE, recovering his assurance We shall save them, He speaks once more to-day. I go. A kiss. They kiss and he re-enters the school. JEHANNE, from the gateway Till the hour ends let's go outside and sell. To Luce. I'll not forget our night my Luce. Farewell. Exit Jehanne, Ysbeau, and the two students with them. As they go out the Ballad Monger re-enters from the street. BALLAD MONGER, to Luce, eyeing the departing girls Fine fruits, fine flowers. LUCE Then take a care. BALLAD MONGER And why? I have my arts, I too can sing and sigh As well as He leers at her meaningly. LUCE Who? 12 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i BALLAD MONGER, insolently The Master. LUCE, with assumed carelessness Piteous fool, Have you a meaning? BALLAD MONGER Yes, there is a school. Pointing to the school doorway. The school must have its master. He turns away sniggering and picking at his lute. LUCE Well? BALLAD MONGER, returning to her You follow? Singing. The highest tower will nest its homing swallow. Suddenly speaking again. You have a mistress. LUCE Ah! act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 13 BALLAD MONGER She has a heart. And you? O ho! the nut is cracked — you start! Now buy a song, in these the kernel is; Here — Selecting parchments from his pack and reading. A to H — or these! LUCE, staring at the parchments No more — BALLAD MONGER Or this! One thrush sang all of these, and to one rose; You know them both; here's one, mark how it flows; Reading. A Shadow to its Moon Putting it back in his package. In words that wing it, Shadow's a man, the moon's a maid — I'll sing it. Luce retreats, putting her fingers to her ears. No? Then I'll speak, now am I wise or dull? 'Tis your own moon whether at dark or full. Luce starts wildly toward the door of Fulbert's house, but he follows her to the steps and calls after her. 14 ABELARD AND HELOISE [acti 'Twas made by Master Abelard to your lady, I found them by the wall — the music's mine, But I have left their names, full credit's given. Shouting. The town's afire — it sells — folks have their proof. Exit Luce. While he has been speaking, Malart has ap peared in the street gateway and he has crept furtively and fiercely behind the singer, whom he now springs upon and throttles savagely. BALLAD MONGER What — God's my throat — whose hand — ah — you As the minstrel struggles in the monk's powerful grasp, Fulbert appears in the doorway of his house and speaks from the threshold. FULBERT Malart! The monk releases his hold on the man. BALLAD MONGER, reeling and foaming with rage Ah — and so you — white slippery — faugh — I faint — Drab sweat of the church — you've greased the walls too long. You'll be well dried for this if I can reach Dragging out a dagger. Here's iron shall drain you well if acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 15 FULBERT Out! The Ballad Monger totters out into the street, cursing be neath his breath, but stricken with fear of Fulbert. Zealot, You seem consumed with a fever of Paradise For other souls. MALART, desperately excited Fulbert, your niece FULBERT God's life! How dare you name her! malart, recovering some calmness and looking at him Blind — beyond reason — blind. FULBERT Can there be reason in a useless death Or meaning in such an eye all crimson fused? MALART Yes, I have meanings; O I burst with meanings. FULBERT What then — give hght or hve to know what dark is. Pour forth. MALART You heard no singing? 16 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i FULBERT Where? MALART Where? All, all about us, outside in the sun. FULBERT Speak out. MALART I cannot, for you have no ears. FULBERT Then shall you have no eyes, for in this hour Deep in the altar crypt beneath the pulpit MALART What! Do you dream that I, Malart, could fear? I, who have racked sides and bosom torn. From whose wide woe blood comes continually That God may take His ease and be at peace. I who would go down glad and glorying To whistling hell and make its hurricane One soul the hotter at Christ's most faint request, You threat me with a fear! FULBERT You rave. MALART No, no. But never by shudders or dread could I be moved. act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 17 fulbert, craftily Then by your duty. MALART By my duty, hear me: There was a singing here some moments past. 'Twas sung to no one, and the air dissolved it. Not so last night. FULBERT Talk not of air. malart Last night The same song grew, and maddened in the dark One sang it and another one embraced it — And him — O him! FULBERT Who? MALART Our poor Abelard. FULBERT Well, name the other. MALART Thy dead brother's daughter. 18 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i FULBERT Ha — Venom — hast spit? My Heloise! MALART I knew There would be to my words no wakening. FULBERT Can you so stand and breathe and breathe and speak this, And live? MALART Yea, and so speak through all my days And say no word but truth. FULBERT Who saw? Who heard? MALART I and all Paris save only you alone. FULBERT, clutching at him More — lest I tear your maddening tongue from you. malart, with malicious deliberation It happened thus and so FULBERT Pause once and I act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 19 MALART Was it not night, were not they two alone? FULBERT Where? MALART On the stones that bear us even now. Here FULBERT 1 MALART Even beneath this wall. FULBERT When? MALART Night by night, FULBERT And you? MALART — Watch from the grating of my cell Until each glides beside the scorned Church, And in the dark two mouths find one another. Then do they two pass outward to the town, To come no more till dawn. FULBERT Can so much fire Come from so cold a thing as you to gnaw me? 20 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i MALART Will you have proof? FULBERT, picking at his throat Breath! Breath! Let me awake! MALART To-night they come. FULBERT The hour?. MALART I cannot tell. Deep at my prayers I in the shadow will lurk Until their souls, like swift unhallowed wings, Shall bear them flaming to the garden here. Then I shall rouse you A bell sounds in the school. MALART Ah, the bell — keep silence. The murmur of the forthcoming students is heard inside the school and grows louder. He will come forth — silence and watchful eyes. Luce appears in doorway of Fulbert's house. acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 21 FULBERT, to Luce Bring here your mistress. Exit Luce into house. She — my hope most hidden To pour down richness on me from a throne — A penniless schoolman-— and in guilt besmudged — O she who was a white thing snowed upon — The Treasury of France was my one price! Now with a mouth fed scarlet-hot with guilt, Who'll pay a starveling red to buy her up? MALART, insidiously He— FULBERT He! and goes very white and smoothly — he! O Dreams, my Dreams that would have brought me crowns Come back and doom him. Whips of Fire, what griefs Will stab him dreadfuUest? What thing will tear him Slowest, and what will feed his agony? Him — and goes very softly — him — O God MALART Hold — he will now come forth, and she too comes. Observe them here together in the sun. Watch then the forced motion of their eyes That wiU beyond their wills unclasp their secret. 22 ' ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i He draws Fulbert up stage to a corner of the court. They talk apart. A murmur from the town outside as of many people approaching is heard faintly. Enter several students from the street. Enter to them two students from the school. A STUDENT You heard? SECOND STUDENT We read. third student, one of the party from the street The city is a bell Sounding the sorrow of it. FOURTH STUDENT, from the school O my master Must we be helpless while you suffer thus? SECOND STUDENT The thing has seethed too long without a proof; The city hastens here to look upon them. FIRST STUDENT What will the end be? THIRD STUDENT If the school goes down, The world will be extinguished in its fall. act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 23 While they have been talking the murmur from the town has increased and now a great number of towns-people, men and women enter from the street talking excitedly among themselves. They arrange themselves en masse in the gateway and against Fulbert 's house, looking ex pectantly at the school door. The students begin to enter from the school. Jehanne and Ysbeau enter from the street. VOICES AMONG THE TOWNS-PEOPLE He fears to come. Not he. Have patience. Back! A burgher, to one next him If you stand here, your eyes shall weU behold him. SECOND BURGHER How shall I know him? FIRST BURGHER Easily by his face, Resembling much St. Raphael, the angel, Save for the darker hair. A WOMAN May Mary shield her! THIRD BURGHER This is a sad thing that he leads the youth. And such a free life too. 24 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i FOURTH BURGHER I never knew. THIRD BURGHER Friend, are you deaf? It has been mouthed about These many months. FOURTH BURGHER I never heard before. THIRD BURGHER. Have you a wife? FOURTH BURGHER No. THIRD BURGHER Therein lies your deafness. There's not a dame in Paris but could tell you. fourth burgher, looking about They seem to be all here. SECOND BURGHER This is the first That they've had proof of it. The ballads tell. FIRST BURGHER They come to see now with more intimate eyes. acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 25 FOURTH BURGHER 'Tis a most trying hour for bachelors. The students have been entering from the school singly. Now a large group enter looking back deferentially. Last of all Abelard appears in doorway talking to Gervase. VOICES FROM STUDENTS Master! Hail Mighty Greek! O Herald of Reason! Plato of Paris! Socrates of Gaul! Abelard stands dreamily looking about him as though he has heard nothing. The cries cease. The crowd is tense with curiosity and the excitement of expectancy. They cast curious but fearful looks on Fulbert, who stands aside from them. ABELARD Late afternoon. A WOMAN He muses. ABELARD — Afternoon ! O here dwelt truth glowing while we within AU shivering piled up stony word on word, Prisoners of yesterday. He pauses. VOICES AMONG STUDENTS Discourse ! Discourse ! 26 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i ABELARD Of what? GERVASE Of anything in earth or heaven, So your gemmed utterance will pour forth magic. FOURTH BURGHER Ha, Magic! THIRD BURGHER Yea. FOURTH BURGHER WiU he not burn for it? A WOMAN He burns already with a deeper flame. ABELARD Yield to this air, it is your necromancer. jehanne, approaching him timidly and offering him a lily from her basket. Master, this flower ABELARD Jehanne, How white a gift for me. A STUDENT Master, speak on. Yield us the wisdom of old days. act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 27 ABELARD Old days! Summer is here and the world is full of sun, And here's a flower. FOURTH BURGHER Strange words for schoolmen's ears! THIRD BURGHER 'Tis but of late that he has spoken so Since SECOND BURGHER Yes and wisely said that it was "since" — GERVASE, in a low voice to Abelard Have care, confuse them with a mist of words, Mask all your meanings in imaginings, And all this danger will be yawned away. ABELARD Sheathe for the day your tablets and your pens, Wisdom lies open here through other doors. A STUDENT, to him What doors are those? ABELARD Are you a lover? STUDENT, in some confusion Yes. 28 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i ABELARD Then look on learning with a lover's eyes, Then will gold Helen come down the wind to you And in the sanguine tumult of a rose Be throned forever. STUDENT Would it win my love To deeper loving? ABELARD It would light you both To wiser vision. Plato out of the air Will brighten. And royal doom-red Babylon Rise in the twilight out of a dove's throat. In a heaved sea-wave you shall see blue Tyre Built and destroyed again THE STUDENT I'll watch for it SECOND STUDENT Hush, for he speaks again! ABELARD — and in the night You shall look up with wonder on the sky Seeing it all alive, and upon the stars The sigh-warm kisses of lovers long asleep. act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 29 And you shall question the moon what secret thing Moves in the phantom marble of her smile, And she shall answer you. fourth burgher What words are these? Heloise appears in the doorway of her uncle's house and pauses behind the people, looking at them. THIRD BURGHER Say rather what thing pales his face. A STUDENT Ho, look! Our Lady of Wonder is come down to us ! Heloise comes quickly and impulsively toward her uncle, but as she nears him she is stopped by the suppressed jury of his countenance. Abelard does not look at her but sees all. GERVASE Master, we wait. A STUDENT Behold now how his eyes are wrapped away, And that tall spirit that so quickened us Is fallen on dream. A woman, to him The smouldering of his face — Watch that — look close — then turn and look at her! 30 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i HELOISE, to her uncle You sent for me? FULBERT To take the air, the wind Has changed. HELOISE Yes, so it has, and is more heavy. I interrupt a lecture. FULBERT No, we waited. HELOISE, looking about I see new faces at the school to-day; A full attendance. Let us make them gifts. I'll purchase fruits and flowers. Jehanne ! Ysbeau ! JEHANNE AND YSBEAU, approaching her Lady? HELOISE Bring your baskets, I take all. JEHANNE Ah, Lady HELOISE Colors and sweetness — all I take them. Bring all. YSBEAU 'Tis pity. acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 31 JEHANNE Vanished ! They hold up their baskets empty. HELOISE Empty! YSBEAU Mine Fed many mouths. JEHANNE Many hands needed mine. Heloise turns from them. All watch her and Abelard in silence. A STUDENT Is she not infinite? SECOND STUDENT Ay. FIRST STUDENT And fair? SECOND STUDENT Most sweetly. THIRD STUDENT The master's lips are mute, let her address us. SEVERAL STUDENTS Ay, ay, beseech her! 32 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i FIRST STUDENT Gervase, do you ask her; Plead for some words, you honey-tongue. gervase, bursting with anxiety With a will. He approaches Heloise and kneels before her with his gay est manner. Lady of Lore, Lady of Secret Light, Gallic Minerva, Pallas reborn of Love, Bright Oracle, discourse! HELOISE O boundless folly Even to ask it! I am one of you. GERVASE Not so, the moon's between and the blue vast. He contrives to whisper to her aside. They watch. Do not disclose yourself but blind them. Feed them with dreams, stay them with poetry, Grow thoughts and hide your heart beneath them. FULBERT Speak ! HELOISE, slowly turning Of what? act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 33 A VOICE Life! Life! A STUDENT Nay, of philosophy. GERVASE Nay, of that burning essence called the soul. HELOISE But in what way? GERVASE It is divisible; The parts thereof being the fixed emotions, We pray you speak of them. And how GERVASE They are Pity and Hate and Hope, Despair and Fear. HELOISE I might speak then of Pity. GERVASE By all means. HELOISE I would it were a flower that I might gather. Her voice breaks. She turns to her uncle. I pray you let me go. 34 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i FULBERT Remain, instruct us. HELOISE Pity's no thing to speak of, but to show. FULBERT To whom? HELOISE Sorrow should teach it. FULBERT So? What sorrow? HELOISE That which all mortal things have felt; I dream That even from the insensible things of the world Pity flows always, out of all the seas. And surely the moon is a good giver of it, And certain stars and winds. This will suffice. FULBERT We hope for more. GERVASE Pray speak of hope. She stands silent. FULBERT We wait. act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 35 HELOISE You ask me as a catechist or judge, Not as one seeking wisdom. FULBERT I so thirst After more knowledge that if you are dumb I'll find it elsewhere. HELOISE, desperately Let me speak instead. Then we shaU all disperse. The day is ended. Why should we wait? What would you have me say? GERVASE in a low voice to her More poetry, — give them no chance to grasp you. FULBERT Never leave now. Despair and Hate and Fear Have not been touched on. HELOISE Fear is but a wind. Blows out of nowhere. FULBERT Have you never felt it? HELOISE Do not a myriad ghosts within us dwell, Ancestral vapors unto whom the soul 36 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i Bows ever Uke a reed? What living thing That Ufts its head up in the white day air Shudders not at the dark that does upbear it And beckons it again? Not in our minds, But in our minds' foundations Fear must lurk. FULBERT Despair comes next. A STUDENT What, then, shall be its image? Heloise, turning slowly to her uncle I never knew its face, nor ever shall know FULBERT Still there is Hate heloise Where? FULBERT Yet to be sounded. heloise Ah, then I'll speak of it ; Hate is a pool AU of whose streams run backward. He who looks May, deep within, see mirrored from its banks A downward tower built to find a heaven ; And all. the stars in venom are made strange. This then completes the score. act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 37 A VOICE A cheer. HELOISE, attempting to go Farewell. The students applaud wildly, but as she turns to go Malart approaches and stands in her way. MALART Never end so until the end is reached. HELOISE But I have finished. MALART Still we listen and stay To know of the one faculty of the soul Exceeding all the rest, eclipsing, glowing, In which the whole is compassed and made warm. HELOISE You veil your words. MALART Yet speak of it. HELOISE And how? What is it? MALART Must I then declare it to you ? 38 ABELARD AND HELOISE [acti HELOISE I grope for meaning in you. malart Then I must. My meaning is an infinite faculty, A mystery, a cloud, a fire, a wound That I, walking among mankind, observe It has been named The voice of the Ballad Monger, singing outside in the street one of Abelard' s songs. MALART But hark, it names itself. BALLAD MONGER, appearing in the gateway Songs new and old by Master Abelard, The famous poet to his famous lady. Abelard and Heloise stand on opposite sides of the court, white and rigid. All are held spellbound till the song ends, then instantly all is confusion. The crowd begins to leave the court, talking among themselves. HELOISE, with great difficulty Mine is a woman's head and wiU not bear A too great subtlety. I weary. With a pretense of calmness she enters her uncle's house. As the towns-people depart, a bell sounds and the students acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 39 separate from them and enter the school, followed by Abelard. Finally all have departed save Fulbert, Malart, and a porter who closes and locks the great iron gate of the wall and then enters the school. Fulbert has had his eyes fixed upon his door since Heloise entered it. He now starts fiercely toward it. malart, stopping him Wait! Fulbert slowly turns and goes out with a gesture of despera tion. Malart is left alone. The stage is gradually darkened until all light is extinguished. It is kept dark for a minute to denote the passing of several hours. Then it is slowly suffused with moonlight. The watch is heard in the street intoning the hour; his lantern, hung at the top of a pike, is seen above the wall passing slowly. A pause. Voices singing to the lute are heard approach ing in the street. As they get nearer they are suddenly hushed. A muffled knocking is heard on the outside of the gate. Enter a student from the school and advancing toward the gate, waits a moment, upon which the knock ing is again sounded. The student thereupon produces the key, unlocks the gate and with a mighty pull and heave the ponderous door swings slowly inward, admitting, staggering and panting with suppressed laughter and their exertions, Ysbeau, and her student lover dragging a ladder after them. The first student whistles and Jehanne ap pears at an upper window in Fulbert's house. The student places the ladder, Jehanne climbs down and all run laughingly out into the street, taking the ladder and pulling the gate shut after them without locking it. A 40 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i pause. Enter Heloise from her uncle's house. She walks eagerly around the court but finds it empty. As she nears the doorway of the school Abelard appears within it. He comes swiftly toward her. ABELARD Sorceress, Priestess, Child HELOISE You, you- abelard O Fire! HELOISE O Wind that blows this Fire where he Usteth. abelard You are the sea from which that Wind arose. HELOISE If I the sea, then you the heavens that feed me; Your arms the shores of me, and in that home Lo, all my tides are folded to content. ABELARD By Fire, by Wind, by Sea I swear to hold you Safely within that margin while your deeps Have wildness to be lulled or peace to fathom. act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 41 HELOISE Beyond! Beyond! O keep me while we are A part of this dear world, and when you leave it, O be the sun and draw me after you. abelard I am impetuous to be that glory That I may blaze upon you, being cloud; And see those treasuries still unknown to me, Who am but coast and beaches to you now. HELOISE Ah, you have tamed the farthest wave of me, And what poor shells I nurtured you have burnished Till they are pearls that I may wear for you. abelard O jewel-guarding sea, your stillnesses Hold something more than I shall ever find. HELOISE If any richness in me still withholds I am not mindful of it, and it waits Until your need shaU summon it to Ufe. abelard Thus you surpass me in sweet images. 42 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i heloise I would not have you find my words so cold As any image is, but have you hold them My very self, to see and know me yours. ABELARD And are you? HELOISE, causing him lo look in her eyes See. ABELARD O find new words to tell me. HELOISE Teach me. ABELARD I cannot, I have learned from you. You whom I taught with Sibyls did consort, With witchery touched my eyes and with your mouth Fused with the glad world all my breathing clay. HELOISE I was the clay and you the quickening flame. ABELARD Out of that South which was your burning presence I was enkindled. HELOISE Have you not become The very South itself in tenderness? act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 43 ABELARD You wear within your eyes the fervid West; From dawn the East has clothed you on with white ness, The North with strength. HELOISE Ah no, I would not be Thus gloriously apparelled with the sky Lest I be held from walking on this world That you make heaven of, my Abelard. ABELARD I have cast off that world for great Love's sake And have reUnquished all my mighty dreams. HELOISE The dreams? ABELARD All thought, all hope of earthly prizes. The hollow, moonless, bleak frontier of reason Shall never know me more as habitant, Lifting cold disputations to my lips, Thirsting for unfound wine. O most high Love! Unconquerable Sweet! Imperial Wind! How you do blow the thistledown ambition Into the white, desire-receiving air! 44 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i HELOISE, after a pause in which she looks long at him as though to search his inmost heart You cannot put ambition by, O Love, Nor is there need of it, but it shall be A thing I'll share with you. She pauses again and then proceeds. And you I'll share With all the world. ABELARD I do not need that world. HELOISE You are the world's. ABELARD I sought a greater glory Than it can give, and I have found it here Low in your eyes, and now I long to see Only the vivid love upon your brow Poised there forever in soft flame to live. HELOISE Earth is your dwelUng and your meat and drink ; Let not your need but, the world's need of you, Be your one star. ABELARD That star is vanished now. The power, the applause, the papal sovereignty Have to dull embers fallen before your face. acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 45 HELOISE, slowly The papal sovereignty, my Abelard ! She looks fearfully at him. That is a prize for priests. ABELARD, moodily I had thought upon it. HELOISE But you are all a man and not a priest. ABELARD I had given it thought, and yet — I put it by. HELOISE, desperately O put it by until the end of time ; You are not made for cloisters, and within them How could I share with you? ABELARD I'll think no more Upon it. There are other roads to fame. HELOISE And you shaU take them; but on this dear night Let us lock out the world and its poor laurels, Being together with what is ours alone. 46 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i abelard, returning from his abstraction The world is dimmed before your dreaming face, Whereon a flame rests by whose radiance I see, I hear, I feel with wakened senses The voice under the voices of the wind, The whiteness and hush of wings within the dawn, The very sun at noon as a god imparadised, And the red West at the day's end — a rose. heloise All these Love brings indeed, but if he came A piteous beggar he would be as welcome Since you have brought him. ABELARD Would I might bring more. heloise What more than this? ABELARD An echoing, endless flame To spread as clouds beneath your going forth. HELOISE, after a pause You have laid upon me even now a thing Almost too heavy for my womanhood — If I be worthy — worthy in some measure — It is enough — within so small a space. She turns away. act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 47 ABELARD How can these walls contain so wild a thing? HELOISE, returning Oh, you have opened all the doors of air, And all the thousand paths the moon comes down Have wide-flung gates that lead unto the sky ABELARD As though to call us to some heaven there. HELOISE Ah no, our heaven is here; those tender fires Blaze with sweet envy on us, and are fed By what we show them more than what they are. ABELARD How the night hours and all the star-sweet heaven Pour down your infinite presence with a cry! How now my eyes do see ! How they were blinded ! The noon-Uke blaze of glories that allured me, Fade in the least wind from before those deeps. HELOISE See how the stars with myriad blossoms breathe Out of the wreathing arch that seems to bend More tenderly wherever you appear. 48 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i ABELARD Would I might gather those white blooms for you From out the fields and meadows of the night. HELOISE It seems as we had sown them long ago — ABELARD, dreamily And we shaU reap them in a time to come. HELOISE, starting with a shudder Let us not think of any hour but this. She turns anxiously toward her uncle's house, then toward the school, and returns to Abelard. Go now within and see if aU is weU. ABELARD I left all sleeping. HELOISE Yet I beg you go. I, too, will now patrol my uncle's haUs, Lest any eyes lurk there that so beset us; For I am weighted with an unnamed fear. All knew on yesterday save he alone, And he suspected. ABELARD My lost songs being found Was almost proof. acti] ABELARD AND HELOISE 49 HELOISE He may not wait for more. Go now She embraces him. ABELARD And come again? HELOISE Unfailingly. ABELARD Love me through that eternity that will be While we are separate. HELOISE You shall never leave me, For here I bear you though our ways be wide. She touches her breast. Abelard leaves her and goes into the school. Heloise goes toward the door of her uncle's house. She is about to enter when she is suddenly con fronted with Malart, who stands in the doorway. She stops. He comes slowly down to her. MALART You keep late hours. HELOISE I keep my own. So ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i MALART You dream. To prayers belong your hours, get you back to them, Lament, plead, agonize and beg for mercy. HELOISE Of whom? MALART Of all the pallid host of intercessors. HELOISE Among whom you are one? MALART I seek to save. HELOISE I have come out to be alone in the wind. MALART You have come out like Lilith for a lure. So at last you start ! So at last you are awakened ! Oh, rouse, return, repent in time for grace! HELOISE Is it for this that you have followed me? MALART I foUow God's voice only. act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 51 HELOISE If He called you His voice is a false thing. MALART O profanation! HELOISE Will you go back and leave me? MALART Not until I have my charge delivered and made plain, Thou scarlet thing. O ruthless Babylonian, Wilt thou with thy mad Ups and chaining arms Drag down to utter torment God's appointed? Wilt thou persist in being woman only And therefore be heU's minion? On thy knees, Oh, purge thee of thyself! Cry! Tear thy flesh! Creep to a desert and there abide alone While thy endooming beauty is upon thee! HELOISE Malart, I would that I might talk with you. MALART Then speak. HELOISE It is impossible. 52 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i MALART And why? HELOISE Speaker and auditor need a mutual tongue. MALART You deem me not book-learned? You deem me deaf? I understand enough to see most clearly The two diverse wide roads to heaven and hell And they that walk thereon. HELOISE I pray have done. MALART You wiU not go? HELOISE When I have breathed more freely. MALART Beware, beat no more words upon me. Go — I am the Church's wolf to guard her altar, And I may bare my teeth. HELOISE So! In what way? He does not answer. You are friend to Abelard? act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 53 MALART I am friend to God, And He shall have His own. HELOISE He shall indeed; But you, His self-appointed deputy, Are bhnd unto the way that He has chosen. MALART There is but one way and a narrow one. HELOISE It lies ? MALART Through quiet cells of full renouncement. HELOISE And leads? MALART To heaven. HELOISE Even you have shed One ray of truth. He will need all of heaven; But there your truth ends. First he needs this earth, And aU it holds will not suffice for him. MALART And you, the giver? 54 ABELARD AND HELOISE [acti HELOISE I am part of earth. MALART For once, recall your mind. Within the house Sleep Fulbert and Suspicion, bedfellows — If I now caU them HELOISE And what then? MALART Thou fool! Consider thy position under the stars. Soon will the clock beat one and you are here — Come hither upon a purpose bent, which Fulbert, To the sum of his suspicion adding it, Must know to be a tryst. HELOISE WiU he think harm That Night and I are alone here in the court? MALART The court upon which opens Abelard's door. HELOISE Doors have an exit where an entrance is! MALART, aside Ha! Is it so? act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 55 HELOISE This is enough. No more. Go back. Sleep. Pray. Do anything — but leave me. malart And I do what I do with your consent? HELOISE Only to have you leave me. MALART You have spoken. HELOISE, suddenly seized with a suspicion Ha! You would dare to whisper to my uncle? Then think on hell, for he would send you there. Remember but his face and when you threaten Choose first an arrow that will not rebound. malart, retreating Enough. Farewell. I look upon you once And see you thus. And then — no more again Shall such a face look on the world or me. Exit into Fulbert 's house. Heloise looks at his retreating figure until he lias gone. She then goes swiftly toward the school steps and stands upon them, looking in. After a moment Abelard appears and comes down to her. 56 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i ABELARD All's well. They are asleep. They both come down the steps to the middle of the court. HELOISE dreadful visitor, But I have had ABELARD Who? HELOISE Malart. ABELARD Ah, he'll guard us. HELOISE Not with clear eyes or untouched judgment ever. She pauses. I am too much disquieted to stay. We must return, that such eyes may no longer Seek to destroy us by such vigilance. ABELARD This very ground opposes coming day. The legions of the dew array their spears To fight until the upward -marching sun Dispels their watery camp — = — act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 57 HELOISE, starting wildly What's that ? A sound ! A slight noise is heard in Fulbert' s house. ABELARD, still dreamily AU earth and heaven should sound our gladness out. A louder noise is heard. HELOISE That is not heaven nor earth, but hell awakened Quick! To your door! Good-night! She runs to Abelard, they embrace hurriedly. ABELARD Ah, World! HELOISE Quick! Abelard runs to the school door, Heloise to her own. The doors, which they had left open upon entering are now shut. They try to enter but cannot. ABELARD Locked ! HELOISE, shaking frantically at her own door to no avail The doors are sealed! She leaves it and runs along the walls reaching blindly with her hands as though to tear an opening. 58 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act i Through the stones — creep — creep. Flatten against them there in the deep shadow — They shall not find you — you will die — are dead — Whispers have reached him — murder was in his face While we stood yesterday before the world — O God, can you not leap? She runs toward the court gate, and in doing so she nears Abelard, who has stood still, silently watching her as though he dreamed. As she darts past him he catches her passionately in his arms. ABELARD Here will we bide, There is no other way. HELOISE, struggling to be released The gate! The gate! ABELARD Do we not know that ever at night 'tis locked ? HELOISE, freeing herself from his embrace and running lo the gate, she drags at it with all her strength. It moves! The gate seems to yield an inch. The sounds in Fulbert' s house increase. Fulbert's voice is heard shouting for lights. The key is heard jumbling in the door of his house. Bolts are withdrawn. Abelard stands watching Heloise, seemingly stupefied. Then he darts forward act i] ABELARD AND HELOISE 59 and they throw their united strength against the gate. It opens a little space and they hurry through into the street, just before Malart rushes in from Fulbert's house closely followed by Fulbert. MALART Behold! They both look about and find the court empty. FULBERT Lies! Lies! O damned He turns upon Malart and seizes him by the throat, dragging at his knife. In their struggle, however, they have neared the gate and suddenly the priest, with a triumphant, choking shout, draws Fulbert nearer and points to the gate, on the lock of which there hangs a fallen white drapery of Heloise. Malart plucks it off, points mean ingly to the open doorway and gives the drapery to Fulbert. FULBERT, staring at it Hers! Curtain. ACT II A fortnight later. A large and sombre room in Fulbert's villa at Corbeil. On either side of the room is a door, and at the back is a large double doorway hung with an arras of tapestry. Enter Luce from one side. She seats herself and begins reading a book which she has brought. Enter to her soon after from a door on the opposite side, Heloise. She pauses after taking a few steps and seems to listen nervously. HELOISE What sound was that? LUCE Where? HELOISE Here. LUCE Why, I heard nothing. HELOISE, as though to herself What can it be? She walks about the room, staring around her abstractedly, Luce follows her with her eyes. 60 act n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 61 LUCE The house is very still. HELOISE No, something has been clamorous all about, All these two weeks. LUCE It is the din of Paris Still beating in your ears. HELOISE Not that. LUCE What then? HELOISE Oh, I hear silence till the very air Shrieks out my sick anxiety. LUCE Then why Did you put leagues between him and your longing? HELOISE A longer staying was the very tune The tongues would play on. Time's in a swoon. LUCE, sighing It is weary waiting. 62 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii heloise, still moving restlessly about The rooms are feverous. She suddenly stops, still listening intently. What's that? LUCE, also listening A door. HELOISE, again beginning her restless walk about the room The very doors are restless, The ceiUngs all impend with dreadful fears. The floor's a sea. The walls alone are quiet. LUCE, rising and going to her lovingly This cUmbing, baffled longing leads to sickness. HELOISE, looking at her Are my eyes altered from my eyes that night? LUCE No. HELOISE Then I am not ill. Suddenly starting. There, some one's here. Ah. Her face lightens. LUCE, going to an open window at the back and leaning far out No, your uncle's guests from Paris come. actii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 63 HELOISE Who else? LUCE, half turning from where she still stands by the window None, now they enter there below. HELOISE, with a gesture of weariness So I must be reluctant hostess then And don my mask of eager welcoming. LUCE, running to her No, no. Stay; go within — I'll welcome them. She tries to lead Heloise from the room. HELOISE, putting her off It is the only fitness. I have been His household's mistress and they know no other. LUCE I beg of you. HELOISE, looking at her Why? LUCE, evading her gaze Oh, never ask. Sounds are heard as of people approaching the room. HELOISE They come! 64 ABELARD AND HELOISE [actii Enter guests. They are gorgeously apparelled, ladies and gentlemen with their servants. They enter slowly with great ceremony, and upon seeing Heloise they halt and stand silent, regarding her with haughty disdain. The foremost of them is an imposing-looking woman who car ries a long staff. Friends of this house, greeting most deep to all. Welcome to comfort and my uncle's bounty. The guests draw themselves slightly apart from her. THE FOREMOST WOMAN, looking sneeringly at Heloise Our host, your uncle, foUows in an hour. He bids us be apportioned to our chambers. On his arrival he will welcome us. HELOISE, stonily The steward will assign you to your halls. The guests slowly and insolently pass through and exeunt by the opposite doorway. LUCE, stamping with rage as they go Cats, and poor drooping hounds ! As they slowly go out the last guest turns and comes forward, showing himself to be Malart. MALART, raising his lean arms Peace to this house. act n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 65 HELOISE, rushing toward him Oh, he tamed these fingers from such usage Or you'd see something savager in me Than you've yet looked on, and 'twould be the last Sight in those rolling eyes! MALART, calmly What cause for anger? HELOISE Think what you've done to his most snowy fame That like a tower rose above the world, And never ask again. MALART, imperturbdbly Yet I do ask it. HELOISE You led the embattled filthy tongues of Paris To smear their sooty malice over it. MALART A tower never feU by such assault That was not opened to attack by one Within the waUs. HELOISE, madly Then Devil, name the traitor. MALART, with sudden fierceness You! 66 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii HELOISE, aghast I? MALART Who else? You two alone were tenants, And you had stolen in where he alone Climbed on a narrow stair to his own place. The tower that he raised will not contain Two; it is too slender. He builds it so; Builds for himself alone, the loneher tower WiU pierce the higher sky. HELOISE, musing sadly A narrow stair MALART, coming nearer to her I once conjured you by his soul's salvation, I now conjure you by his own desires; Take from between them and his eyes your shadow For these are his desires which he evades, Looks sidelong at, but never yet was bhnd to. Though in the devious net of your mad wishes You halt his feet. He stops. Heloise stands stricken with conviction. Ma lart then proceeds with a more careless manner. Yet I bring news for you. HELOISE Then 'tis new sorrow, let me hear its name. act ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 67 MALART He has left Paris. HELOISE Gone! Ah, where? MALART He vanished After one day had shone upon your absence. HELOISE Where? Where? MALART, Coldly I was not made his confidant. HELOISE But my departure made his path aU safe By famishing all tongues from further food. MALART Their former food will last, they've plenteous store. HELOISE How shall I starve them? MALART, turning upon her suddenly Starve them! Starve Desire! For that's assurance of their further food. HELOISE, grasping at a hope He needed rest. He's gone to follow it. And I'll be glad. 68 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act h MALART, returning to her The school is all seditious. heloise, starting The school! MALART It breaks. His name begins a riot. Student kills student for him and against. heloise, piteously What further news? MALART No more. heloise, turning away It is enough. A bell sounds in the house. MALART God's voice now calls me to my prayers. I go. LUCE, approaching him With Him upon your side, wearing your colors, Who shall prevail against you? MALART, solemnly accepting her mockery Not this world. ACT n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 69 LUCE I would my strength could make this world a better By sending you post-haste into a worse. Exit Malart, unheeding. HELOISE And this from me LUCE, coming to her What? HELOISE Oh, I am the cause, I'm the cursed reason of this dread result. The school — his very heart — the very ladder Of his ascent, is being overturned, And I, the shppery stone from which it falls. LUCE You! You are his safest battlement and strength. heloise, sadly Not in the world's eyes and by them he cUmbed. LUCE They're the uncertain ground he slips upon. Not you. HELOISE Yes I, the world is jealous of me. He is the world's. 70 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii LUCE You are his secret strength. HELOISE Secret! Yes that's the word. Only in shadow I must remain, for when I do emerge, The imperious world, his mistress, watching him Sees the division of his eyes and flaunts him. LUCE, sighing Time's the magician that will smooth it all. Half to herself. Though what a snail he is. HELOISE, staring at Luce's hand What's that you wear? Going closer to her. A ring ! O Luce ! And on a telltale finger ! LUCE, hiding her hand confusedly I could not keep it off. HELOISE Out with the secret. Who? LUCE, in a low voice Gervase. HELOISE Wedded? act n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 71 LUCE On the night we left. HELOISE, embracing her Luce, Luce, you left him, followed me, and I Fed with self pity, mourned, while you without Stood waiting — waiting him. She turns away. Oh, shall I never Pluck out this selfish root that winds about me? LUCE, going to her My Love and I are safe, our battle's won. No evil fortune ever envied us, So now our weapons are all bright for you. HELOISE What sacrifice you laid upon my altar! LUCE, soothingly Only a little waiting. HELOISE But your fears? LUCE For whom? HELOISE Gervase. 72 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii LUCE, smiling That boy is always safe. Trust him. If aU the rays of stars were spears He'd ghtter at them till their aim was bUnded. HELOISE How shaU we thank you both? LUCE By winning Uke us. She looks meaningly at Heloise, who first looks away sadly and then turns and impulsively kisses her. HELOISE A wife! O sweet, I love you doubly now. LUCE You'll find a double tenderness in me By the same means before this moon fades out, Touching her ring and taking Heloise' s hand. This girdle shall be mirrored on this hand. HELOISE The moon might bring it if the earth were gone, But while this world is real it denies me, For it holds other jewels up to him That far outshine this humble, quiet thing. Looking at the ring. act n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 73 LUCE But with the others, he may long to wear This also HELOISE He would never be the wearer; She looks at her hand. Only this selfish hand would be so crowned. She draws Luce to her. But ah this heart of his flows out to you ! • LUCE Love me and wait. Let's go now to our chamber. heloise, going Yes. LUCE And I'll follow soon. I'll bring the books. Exit 'Heloise. Luce goes to a table and begins gathering an armful of books. As she does so, Gervase stealthily and theatrically puts his head in at the doorway at the back of the room. GERVASE Hist! LUCE, turning, seeing him and throwing both arms wide for him Here! 74 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii Gervase is magnificently clothed in most glittering and fop pish garments. Luce holds him off and surveys him. You thing of pearl, what cloud rained you ? GERVASE, ecstatically Inimitable vision, look again. He struts about. I'm gold, not that sweet bauble oysters wear Unless Approaching her quizzically. You are that fish, for I'm your gem. Suddenly starting with mock horror. Are you an oyster? Why, now I look closely, I see the Ukeness. He examines her. And your lips are shut. Then I'm the heron that shaU woo you out. Here I come wading. He affects to wade slowly toward her till he is near, then suddenly he clasps her and takes a kiss. LUCE Madcap, where is he? GERVASE Ask of the sun. I cannot look upon him; He is too high. And yet I think he floats Somewhere about a mile above this place. act ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 75 luce, joyfully He comes? GERVASE He sinks to us. luce And to what end? GERVASE To take that sweet star that hes fallen here Back in the sky with him. LUCE, clasping her hands Oh, now aU's weU! GERVASE And greater things than these are yet to tell. First, look at me! He spins about. I cost a thousand francs! LUCE, smiling A sorry bargain She stops suddenly, listening. Hush, she comes — go back. He retreats. I'll tell her softly. GERVASE, running to her A kiss! 76 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii LUCE, kissing him hastily There — hide yourself. Exit Gervase by doorway at back. Enter Heloise by side door. HELOISE Sweet, I waited, but the room was lonely. luce Wait here. She goes to Heloise. A sudden question stirs within me; You said awhile ago that you must bide Deep in the shadow and be only near him In secrecy. She waits. HELOISE, slowly It grows more true each hour. LUCE Then let me ask, if he should come — this hour, Heloise moves. Denying need of secrecy or shadow, Would you not walk forth with him in the sun? HELOISE You dream my dreams for me. LUCE But would you go? act n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 77 HELOISE First I must know whether he wished the sun Merely to smile upon us and be glad, Or whether he aspired to possess The very sun itself. luce You do not mean That you have thoughts of now renouncing him! HELOISE, desperately Oh, never that; I will not — could not think it! What black necessity could bring such death? LUCE, wonderingly What then? HELOISE, slowly My fate may force me to deny My wifehood's crown and name before the world. Approaching Luce. Now hate me, scorn me as aU women would. LUCE Oh, marriages by priests are never made! But surely being woman, you prefer The quietude and bright security Within the confines of the Church's blessing. 78 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii HELOISE Oh, I am homesick for that tender land, For only in that chmate may there flourish Those rarer and more deUcate, finer flowers That Love is gardener of: for all outside Is but a wide, assaulted sea. And yet She broods. Even the sea has colors, and deep down Sea flowers are, and some seem even quiet. LUCE, looking at her sadly The quiet of the drowned. HELOISE, putting her hand on Luce's lips Please, please. LUCE But vows — the ring — would be the bonds to hold him. HELOISE Ah, for the moment of a Uttle year It would be Ught beyond the sky of stars; And then his path would lead his eyes again On to some higher sky, and I should be Only the fetter, weary with self-hate Because I held him. LUCE Love should have more trust. act H] ABELARD AND HELOISE 79 HELOISE I'll trust him to my love, and trust my love To him that neither may be dashed to ruin. LUCE I think he changes and grows less desirous Of that elusive candle of his fame. HELOISE Oh, it may be — oh, may it not be, Luce? May time not work some sorcery for me? May not the jealous world remould his vision; Turn his ambition's gaze to other heights — Not lower, but more tolerant of me? She turns away. I'll cUng to that. I'U watch his eyes for hope When next I see him. Oh, I'll always watch. She suddenly starts, listening, takes one eager step toward the door at back, then stops. LUCE Then begin now, for there's a step you know. Enter Abelard. HELOISE, wildly Abelard! Oh, your life is not safe here! Gervase appears in doorway at back. He beckons to Luce, who goes to him and they disappear. 80 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii ABELARD Where else can be my life save where you are? He withdraws from her embrace and stands before her. He wears the trappings of a nobleman. But I am safe and come to tell you why, To tell you and to claim you mine — mine only. My father's dead and I am peer of France. And before all men you shall soon be hailed Countess of Berenger. heloise She has been listening eagerly, but as he ends, her head sinks, a pause ensues, and then she speaks in a low voice. And then — what then? ABELARD, astounded Why, is it not enough? We two shall flee Far from this rotten and calumnious world And in long quiet rule my southern hills. HELOISE And then? ABELARD These are strange thens from a chosen bride! What else but find forgetting in each other? HELOISE, looking long at him Am I a cup of Lethe for your lips? actii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 81 ABELARD, loudly You shall be by the love that lifts it to me. HELOISE Ah, I am not that dark river itself With inexhaustible fountains welling always. ABELARD But you shall be to me. HELOISE I pray not so. Is there, dear love, no other happiness Than to forget? ABELARD What dear thing could be dearer Going to her more tenderly and looking closely into her eyes. Than in these purple deeps to sink and drown? HELOISE What of the school, my Abelard? ABELARD, starting The school! Moving away. That broken ladder that I climbed upon 82 ABELARD AND HELOISE [actii HELOISE To what? ABELARD To what? Musing. Who knows? It might have been With a sigh he returns to her. That sky is past now over the world's edge And you are my new morning. HELOISE But the school? abelard, gloomily I shaU no more return to that ascent. Our path's together HELOISE Even though it leads you Downwards? abelard, vigorously I care not, I have lost ambition. heloise, going to him Oh, look at me and let me hear you say it. ABELARD Once I have said it, once is all enough. act ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 83 HELOISE Would you in that far province be content And never wake, and turn and look at me, Remembering? abelard, avoiding her gaze I would steep me in your soul To deep, to poppied quiet. HELOISE, moving away Poppy flowers Never would lull you to forgetfulness Of those relinquished and those radiant blooms That once you might have gathered. ABELARD, following her impatiently These are words. Why do we use them? Here behold me flown Quickly to spread before you for your treading My new- won cloth of gold ; to share with you My latest dignity. HELOISE But if this latest Should, by my bhnd acceptance, be the last? ABELARD, astonished Would you have more than this? 84 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii HELOISE Ah, sweet, The world holds more than this bright prize for you That shines so large for being seen so near. She suddenly goes to him. Oh, does it not? Tell me how bright it seems. ABELARD I never wanted this false world's applause. HELOISE Never? ABELARD I dreamed of it, but now's the waking. HELOISE But other wakings upon other dawns — Must they not come? ABELARD, looking at her coldly Your ways grow strange to me. HELOISE O Tenderest, O Best, forgive these ways, For I do know this heaven you offer me, This deep bewildering path of asphodel She pauses. And yet all very clear and gently simple — All white — aU plain. Oh, does it not seem so? act n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 85 ABELARD No other path is plain; no other open. HELOISE Know first, whatever chances, that I thank you For this most mighty honor, this great crown That you would set upon this yearning brow. ABELARD Would set and shall set. HELOISE Is it not enough That you have offered it? I shall remember, And that white memory shall crown me always. ABELARD You shall not need your memories, we shall make Each hour more real. HELOISE Will any be more real Than the old hours within our shadefast quiet Before the world broke in? ABELARD Ah, now I see! You fear the world ! 86 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii HELOISE, sighing a negation Ah! ABELARD, following his clew Then some one He ponders, then brightens. Your uncle! This faintness, this indifference to me Are the sick maskings of a mind afraid. But now be soothed; I bring his purchase price; Calling attention to his dress. This pettiness of my new worldly station. HELOISE, gazing at him Does this new station seem already petty? abelard, morosely It grows more stagnant, small, monotonous Each hour He suddenly brightens as though casting off his mood. But happiness is just beyond! HELOISE Beyond? ABELARD You hold it for me, you shall give it When we are forged and welded into one. Heloise moves dumbly toward the door. Where now? actii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 87 HELOISE Dear Love, I go to be a while Alone. I'll send one with your chamber's key. abelard, following her toward the door What's this? I cannot fathom you; that now On my return, aU flame, into your arms, You damp my ardor, coldly turn away. HELOISE, suddenly turning and throwing her arms about him Oh, do you love me? abelard Yes. HELOISE, releasing herself after a pause It is enough. She goes to door at side. I shall return, perhaps with better fire. Exit Heloise. Abelard stands looking after her gloomily for a moment, a servant appears at doorway, back, bearing keys, to conduct Abelard to his rooms. Abelard sees him and finally with an impatient gesture turns to go with him. As he reaches the doorway, back, he is confronted by Malart returning. MALART, after a pause I find you in strange places, Master mine. 1 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii abelard, sternly And I suspect you of still stranger things. Why are you here? malart, imperturbably And you? ABELARD I'll not brook questions. MALART You wear a coronet now, I have heard. ABELARD An honorable one. MALART And it can aid you To greater place than ever could have crowned you From your old humbler station. ABELARD, avoiding his direct gaze It may be. MALART, coming closer And yet you bring it here. abelard, recovering his bearing Why not? act ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 89 MALART For what? ABELARD You asked the question; you can answer it. MALART, after a long look at him Brother, the holy synod has convened. ABELARD So it has done before. MALART Never so wisely, For they discuss and favor an alliance Between the University and Rome! abelard, starting At last ! So then I've won that next high step ! Now with the Church's treasury and power He muses. MALART Why, then, do you wait here? ABELARD, looking Up Ah, here's the place Better than any, when good news arise, Here I can share them! MALART Share them, in what way? 90 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act n ABELARD In every way that blessing makes secure. MALART, following him about Then rouse your sleeping memory. abelard, stopping Memory? MALART You know the Church's and all Europe's law; Masters and tutors of the fledghng youth ShaU be and must be ever celibate! abelard, with sudden desperation So this is what you do; you bring a cup Perfect to appease my thirsty longing, And then, when it brims, glowing against my lips, Shatter it! malart, quietly No, the cup is perfect yet. ABELARD, walking excitedly about Never, now, never shall it quench me. malart, going to him abelard You seek to hear what you already know. Why? act h] ABELARD AND HELOISE 91 MALART You stiU hold now your former mad intent? abelard, halting Though it should lead me to the tottering verge Of tideless death and past it, I will follow. For in her eyes there is a better thing; I've seen it — and upon an instant breathed Airs out of Paradise He pauses. though the place itself No longer is. MALART And you would lose the world For the poor sake of that one instant's breath? abelard, fixedly When on the altar our fierce double fires Are woven into one, I then shall hve Within that odorous and that golden air Always ! MALART, sneeringly You speak of altars easily. ABELARD There's not a church in France will not unite us. MALART, approaching him Against her wiU? 92 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii ABELARD What vacant words are these? MALART She'll never fold her wings to fit that nest ; She knows of wilder and more easy skies. ABELARD Then you know little of the love she holds. MALART I never doubted her desire of you. ABELARD, looking long at him Speak the lame thing that halts behind your eyes. MALART, with assumed carelessness No need. She has herself begun to speak. abelard, impatiently turning away Why do I Usten to this emptiness? MALART, stopping him One further word. ABELARD Of what? MALART I seek for knowledge. Be tribunal for me who am a priest: When woman shall deny her womanhood What shall be said of her? act ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 93 ABELARD wonderingly Deny? MALART When she, Offered a table spread with hallowedness, Declines, forsakes, rejects it and returns To honied husks and fleshpots she has known Outside the all too sternly bitter law, When being offered honorable veils She turns a wilful, bold, and naked face By wild refusal of the name of wife? ABELARD, seizing him Malart, you dog! What intimation's this? MALART, with affected simplicity None, I have none in mind, but only seek For a wise judgment upon such a woman. ABELARD Be carefuUer of your life, you gnaw upon me Like a bhnd querulous worm. Why do you ask this ? MALART Only to know of womankind from one Who knows them weU. ABELARD, flinging him off toward the door I would be rid of you. 94 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii MALART, standing by doorway First, judgment on the case of my supposing ABELARD A vain supposing MALART There are many women ABELARD None would be such a wanton and a fool. MALART, starting triumphantly So! I have found firm rock in you at last! Enter Heloise by door at side. She is paler and more listless than before. Now let this entering sea wear it away! Exit Malart. ABELARD The sea! He named you so — are you indeed That soft insistent deep that breaks upon me, Wearing my granite-like conviction down? HELOISE I would not be so. ABELARD Then forget those words That late you uttered. act ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 95 HELOISE What words do you mean? ABELARD Hesitant, weak, evasive — aU unfit To match that radiance that we two have known. heloise, painfully O Love, I would not seem to you so poor, So lacking. ABELARD Is it so? Then speak again. Efface those former words by better ones. HELOISE What shaU I speak of? ABELARD If you love me, show it. HELOISE, in a low voice By words? ABELARD There is a time when words are needed. HELOISE, listlessly What would you have me say? 96 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act u ABELARD What heavy strangeness Is this, that you, who were the very voice And instrument that made Love musical, Are dumb? HELOISE I'll speak then of whatever thing You wish of me. ABELARD Of! "Of" is not enough! What is the word and how the thing is said. HELOISE What shall it be? abelard, impatiently Do you no longer love me? HELOISE, in a monotone I love you. abelard, pondering a moment That seems now no longer To be enough. Give me your eager answer To bear that joy that I would share with you As I have sought. heloise, suddenly going to him and putting her hands on his shoulders Oh, ask me once again. act ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 97 abelard, not meeting her gaze What shall I ask? HELOISE What you desire of me. ABELARD How! Are you deaf? HELOISE, as to herself Oh, I am listening. ABELARD I only seek to have you follow me. HELOISE, still watching him And you? ABELARD Away with thoughts and cares of me ! For I have pulled the unselfish flower of love, And see how brighter than all laurels are The petals of it. HELOISE, steadily, after gazing long at him I'll follow you while I am Heloise And you the Abelard that desires it so. ABELARD Why, this is all I sought. He moves away and then turns back to her. We'U go at once To Paris. 98 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii HELOISE Oh, not there! ABELARD And why? HELOISE Not yet; Until that storm subsides. ABELARD We are the powers ShaU clear that sky. HELOISE How? ABELARD By our joined hands. There by the altar's potent sacrament This tempest of foul tongues wiU aU be stilled. HELOISE, with a mighty effort Not to that altar can I ever come. ABELARD, taking several steps backward and surveying her dumfounded Your soul veers ever like a windy flame; This moment fledged your glad consent to follow, And now you pierce it with this strange denial! act n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 99 heloise, looking away from him I did consent to go where you may lead While you may wish it. ABELARD What! He instinctively shrinks away from her. O hellish thought! You would put off that white and holy veil To cling to nakedness? HELOISE I'U still be clothed In secret robes and many hidden veils. She pauses and then speaks brokenly. I pray you wait and — you shall see me wear them. ABELARD, lifting his hands above his head This makes the sky itself a brazen thing. HELOISE I pray you, do not think of me, but turn Your eyes upon yourself in this wild hour. AU this large world is yours and you the world's Knitted and welded in joint ownership. I am but one of aU your wide possessions. ioo ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii abelard, staring at her By some damned echo his prophecy has brought This spell upon you. Waken! Shake it off! HELOISE This day for the first time I have awakened And shall not sleep again. abelard, after considering for a time Evil like this Also should waken me, and yet I find My dream-like flame leans to you still unquenched. HELOISE May we not strive now to forget this hour? abelard Only by changing can it be effaced. HELOISE I — cannot — change. But you — perchance — it may be- Afterwards — on a day — may we not see Even our way to that same altar at last? ABELARD But even now that way is easiest. HELOISE, quickly Yes. actii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 101 ABELARD Then recall that insane sudden urge To journey on the impassable thorny road, When this fair garden is accessible. HELOISE Are there no other gardens? ABELARD If there are, Only together can we win their fruits. HELOISE What is that fruitage? ABELARD All that this good world Can give! HELOISE Even now you did despise that world. ABELARD So to compare it with my need of you. HELOISE O Love, the way is easy only here. Pray let me be a roadside well for you That you shall find and find again wherever The path shall lead you and your thirst shall be. 102 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii Drink then of me and be refreshed and quickened. But never let me be the sleeping draught The altar would distil of me for you. ABELARD A deeper evil than these words you speak Could never come from woman. HELOISE Pray be kinder. abelard I would have been content in such a bondage. You could have made it sweet. HELOISE Is bondage ever? Cords of fine silk and fetters of soft gold In time will gall. ABELARD Why do I stand here so, And hear alluring vileness painted so, Who am already compassed in a net? He goes desperately about the room. But I will tear it— I'U be rid of it. And you, the wearer heloise, wildly Abelard ! acth] ABELARD AND HELOISE 103 ABELARD, more calmly No, not that. Musing half to himself. 'Tis not so easy even now. I'll not Give pain to you who pour so much upon me. But what's the way? Heloise suddenly starts toward the doorway at back, a noise is heard without and Fulbert appears at the door in trav eling costume with his men behind. FULBERT Ha! here's my rat at last! Trapped at the bait! He walks around Abelard with ferocious deliberation, then lialts and shouts to his men. Bring irons, ho! HELOISE Hold and Usten! He is not now the man you took him for. FULBERT Off, desperate fool, I know him but too well. HELOISE He has a place at the King's council — io4 ABELARD AND HELOISE [actii FULBERT What! HELOISE — being Lord of Berenger! FULBERT By what new coil? HELOISE No coil indeed, but death. His father's heir Wears his descended cloak. FULBERT, meaningly I thought his father Would have outlived him; but that makes no less His damned offence. ABELARD I have come here to whiten Those black offendings by my proffered hand HELOISE, starting between them No — no ABELARD in honorable marriage to her. HELOISE No act h] ABELARD AND HELOISE 105 FULBERT, turning upon her Peace. To Abelard. So! Is it so? Pondering deeply. de Berenger — Here is a way to paten up broken hopes. Again to Abelard. What can you offer? ABELARD I have said, my hand. Heloise dumbly tries to prevent his speaking. FULBERT, sneeringly What does the hand hold, that is now the mark? What lands? What coffers? Are you fat or lean? Marred though she is I hold her at great figures. ABELARD, haughtily My secretary in the servants' hall Is keeper of my books. He'U broke with brokers. FULBERT, wrapped in his new scheme So? I'll go see. The thing may be arranged. I'll price you. I will weigh you, and perchance This sorry barter can be well exchanged. Exit Fulbert, muttering to himself. io6 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii ABELARD Now it must be. He's set upon this track. There can be no retreating now for you. HELOISE, half to herself What path? Oh, I am dazed in a web. Danger was in my silence, danger in speech. ABELARD Do you remain in that most damned denial Of both our better selves? HELOISE I must not change. ABELARD, leaving her What can it mean? No other human woman Would hold unalterably to such foul madness. He suddenly slops. Ah, can it come from too great weight of learning? He goes to her. Books, books have woven all this wrong around you. Terrible crimes of old, dead evil tales, Wild bloody griefs and agonies unnamed Have crept into your blood, and there envenomed Your maiden judgment. act n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 107 HELOISE The thing I mean to do Was never on a written page set down. ABELARD Surely this cloud upon your brain will pass, But while it stays, some danger threatens us. He looks about him. Your uncle is jaundiced with the yellow of gold, And swollen monstrous to a thing of dread. HELOISE While you remain, I'll shield you from his hand. ABELARD, still looking about and shuddering Vague fear surrounds ine. We must leave this house. This air is rotten, dank, detestable. Its glooms have poisoned you from purity. Go to Argenteuil where your childhood was. Its flowers will woo you back to innocence. HELOISE Without you? No. I'll never follow. ABELARD Unless you go at once io8 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act n HELOISE But if I do go When will you come to me? ABELARD When I have gone First to Paris where great business calls me. We must not stay, but in an hour go. I will have horses hidden in the orchard And ride with you until our paths diverge. He turns from her suddenly, overtaken by his former mood. Oh, damnable hour that life should bring me this ! I seem to be attainted with your madness. I'll go and think. He moves toward the door and speaks half musingly as he goes. Think what? And how escape? Exit Abelard. Heloise stands white and tottering for a moment and then calls Luce. Enter Luce. HELOISE Now make me ready for a journey, Sweet, For I am going. luce, joyfully Ah, you've seen at last The better, easier way. act n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 109 HELOISE Better — perhaps LUCE, looking at her You chose the other! Why? HELOISE, turning away Do you remember Sad Lucan singing in his battle cry Of how on Lesbos once the white CorneUa, Receiving message of her husband's death, Whom she by marriage had brought evil on, Mourned to the phantom of her loved one's face, While his gray awful manes came aU about And watched her keep a dagger in her hand While she died on it? Oh, the dagger first, She should have used it first before she wedded. luce, clasping her Rest here a little. HELOISE, loosing herself I must haste. And now I'll say fareweU and send you to your love. LUCE I'U never leave you. no ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii heloise, putting her off sadly Take a double blessing; My portion that I put away from me Take for your own and have in double store. She kisses Luce's brow. The blessing of deep peace now take from me. Safety's a blessing, then receive that too. The joy of going forth into the day Untaunted by the world, that too I give you. luce The path you choose will cause you to deny Thousands of joys Uke these HELOISE, continuing as unhearing And you shall see Young faces round your hearth. Her head sinks. LUCE O Piteous Heart HELOISE This I, who shall not see them, give to you. LUCE But what shall you have left? act ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE in HELOISE Ah, him I have She pauses. Then kisses Luce. Go, then, and gather my few jewels up, For I must bring him all the dower I have. Luce moves sadly toward the door. HELOISE, calling Luce. Luce returns to her. Once more — the ring. LUCE, wonderingly What ring? Heloise looks at Luce's hand. You mean ? HELOISE This one; I'll only look at it once more. She examines it. It seems a little thing. Ah, never fear, I will not put it on. She gives it back. And now prepare me. Luce moves toward the door, Heloise follows her, but sounds are heard without and they stop, listening. The noise grows and resolves itself into the sound of Fulbert's voice 112 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii and of people approaching. Enter Fulbert by doorway at back. He is beckoning and calling to his guests and household who follow him, entering the room and arrang ing themselves en masse at one side. They stare at Heloise opposite them with sneers and insolent bearing. FULBERT Ho all! Heloise starts to go. Fidbert detains her. Stay here. To servants. Summon the rest to me. Exeunt servants, who, while he is speaking, enter with other guests. He mutters to himself while the guests are ar ranging themselves. 'Twill pass — far richer than I thought — safe profits Looking up. Here's news for you and I'll be Fortune's herald ; A fortunate marriage; a great marriage made! A stir among the guests. My niece! Ah — so you thought her virginal! The guests look meaningly at each other. We've kept it dark, great holdings were involved — Deeds must be signed, agreements ratified. But now all's fixed. Greet her and joy with her, The Lady Heloise de Berenger, act n] ABELARD AND HELOISE 113 By God's and Peter's Church's sanctioning The consort of Count Pierre called Abelard, Master of treasures in rich Bretagne. During this speech Heloise has first made a frantic gesture as though to prevent her uncle's words; but as he pro ceeds she seems to calm herself and stands looking straight before her. As her uncle ceases there is a pause, during which he looks triumphantly at his surprised and crest fallen guests. Heloise steps forward with deliberation and begins to speak. HELOISE Uncle, your rashness has discharged a bolt Straight up against the inexorable air, And such must fall upon the sender's head. I would have spared you this last pubUc wound Who have brought upon you so much private grief Unwillingly. Yet I must speak at last. If this announcement I have heard be truth, Then that bright truth whose face reflects my heart Has swum into a black eclipse from you. If this be truth and you are all awake, Then I am sleeping and speak this in sleep. If truth's alive and you have heard his voice, Then I am dead and you behold my phantom. Fulbert moves to prevent her, but she goes on. But truth's alive and I'm alive and waking, As to herself- n4 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii Though I may hear my voice as in a dream. The guests look at each other with malignant satisfaction. Listen and know I am awake. I hear Whispers about me, little buzzing stings, I see the skirt withdrawn, the eyes that pass me, And smiles that are too slant to make me glad. Then hear that what my uncle says is false. Hear how my voice cries false into your ears, Let them remember how it thundered "False!" And let them echo always "False, False!" fulbert, rushing wildly forward What! O fool unspeakable, delirious mumming fool! The guests, maliciously delighted, begin to move toward door at back. Fulbert stays them. Hold, wait! A lie — mistake — let me consider He muses frantically for a moment. What hope's left. He looks up illuminated. Ah! To Heloise. Now nail your insane tongue Fast to your mouth's roof and I'll save us yet. To guests. A smaU mistake — my niece would be precise — Those Uttle niceties of her sex's mind — Not yet — she says — she has not quite been wedded — act ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 115 The outward vows and mutterings at the altar — Not yet, only betrothed she'd have me say. Heloise moves. The guests appear again baffled. Fulbert again proceeds triumphantly. And so her rich betrothal I announce, And more; this night all here shall see the marriage! A word! HELOISE FULBERT Not one. Enter Abelard. He halts with amazement just within the doorway. HELOISE It will take more than one. She goes in front of her uncle. He tries to prevent her. He whose high name has here and otherwhere Been finked with mine has given me enough. I wear a purple that no flower can yield. He made the sun and moon my diadem. The hours I know of are about my soul, Like a high wall against assailing tongues. He has been free before and shall be ever. Free to pursue that upward path he walks Toward that high radiance that is his ambition. 116 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ii Free to be first himself, and afterwards To be the world's and glory's — being free. On the bright mountains of whatever star Looks down upon his any need of me My throne is fixed and there I'll reign for him The guests with malice triumphant move toward the door and exeunt with looks and sneers askance. Heloise slowly goes toward doorway followed by Luce. As they pass Abelard he speaks aside to her. ABELARD, in a hurried whisper, aside to Heloise Mad, mad — to Argenteuil — the horses wait. HELOISE, pleadingly You, with me. ABELARD To the crossing road to Paris. Exeunt Heloise and Luce. Abelard takes a step toward Fulbert, who is standing paralyzed by his monstrous and impotent fury, but as he sees Fulbert's face he turns slowly and goes out by the door opposite lo that through which Heloise passed. Fulbert is now left alone with three of his henchmen. FULBERT Lost! Sixty thousand guilders and the name! He suddenly beckons to his three henchmen. Approach! He points to Abelard' s retreating figure. act ii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 117 Mark that pale pestilence going there, For this disease is all of his infection! With frantic questioning. The cure? A HENCHMAN, insidiously When a man's life is tedious to you Then end it. FULBERT Faugh! That's Mercy's sedative. He muses, then with fiendish cunning suddenly looks up. I have it! Ah! The man — but not the life! He draws the men closer and they whisper together. Curtain. ACT III Three months later. The garden of the Abbey of Argen teuil. The garden is enclosed on the left by the Abbey buildings, into which there is a doorway. There is also a flight of stairs on the outside of the building leading up to a small balcony at an upper window. At the back and on the right the garden is enclosed by a stone-covered cloister, in the right corner of which is a gateway now closed. On the right is a fountain. In the foreground and surrounded by flowers is a large low sundial of white marble, about two feet high and six feet in diameter. Through the foliage of the gar den can be seen here and there stone benches and small oratories. It is about two hours before noon. In the garden are the three young nuns. Cecile is kneeling at an altar set against the wall at back. Teresa is reclining against the sundial asleep. Monica is stand ing tensely watching something above her in the air. MONICA There! cecile, turning What? MONICA, pointing Getting rainbows from the fountain For burnishing its wings. There! She points away. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 119 CECILE Monica, You are too old to chase a butterfly. MONICA This is more Uke a waterfall or voice Having wings. If we'd get near enough It might have word for Lady Heloise. CECILE, rising and coming forward quickly Oh, might it? Then we'll woo it closer. Look! MONICA There! CECILE It goes up! MONICA High! Higher! To the window! She points to a window on the side wall. I'll go. She goes up the outside stair. CECILE You'll meet there. It's on the siU. MONICA, reaching the top Where is it now, Cecile? CECILE It goes! Beyond the wall. 120 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii MONICA, sadly Out to the world. CECILE Oh, it will come again. Shaking Teresa, who sleepily looks up. We'll have Teresa sit up there and watch She likes to be so still. She points to the upper window. Teresa, please. TERESA Is the sun warmer? MONICA Yes. Teresa slowly rises, goes up the stair rubbing her eyes and sits at the window after Monica descends. MONICA, to Cecile How many beads Have you now still to tell? CECILE, counting Six — five. MONICA What color? CECLLE AU white. act hi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 121 MONICA When Mother Gabriella comes She'll bring you red ones. CECILE And for you — what gift? MONICA My flower seeds. CECLLE And something for Teresa? MONICA A comb so she will not forget her hair. CECILE If Mother knew that Lady Heloise Was here, she'd bring her MONICA That for which she waits. Slowly. I wonder what. CECILE She thinks the hours are long. MONICA Poor lady, since she came here I have counted And seen three separate moons come in the fountain. 122 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act in CECHE I love her dearly, and she's like the candle I put before St. Stephen — never goes out, But watches, watches, watches MONICA Hush, she's here. Enter Heloise slowly from the Abbey. She comes wearily to Monica and puts her arm about her. TERESA, peering languidly from her seat at the window above Sisters, a cloud is over the first wood. Heloise starts and looks at her intensely. MONICA Oh, some one comes! HELOISE Who, Sister, can you see? TERESA Not yet. MONICA Who will it be? CECILE The bishop, surely. TERESA How fast it comes. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 123 CECILE Oh, never a priest then! TERESA It is a little cloud. HELOISE, to herself Ah, sightless guessers. CECILE Tell Sister Monica how the cloud is shaped. Sometimes she teUs from that. She had the dream. TERESA, dully Why, just a cloud. CECLLE Wait, I'll go see and tell. She runs up the stairs and looks eagerly afar from the top. MONICA, looking at her What is the cloud like, Sister? CECHE Like a bee Questing along the tree-tops as for food, And being torn by every honied chaUce; What would that mean? MONICA, closing her eyes Something of sorrow's there, But only of the summer. 124 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi CECLLE Now it changes — Larger — and mates a dove — and dove-colored, But ah — poor dove Her face saddens. forget how high the sky Once was- heloise, staring before her Forget? CECLLE It has a broken wing. Tell, Sister, what is that? MONICA It means more woe And more lasts all the year — 'twill never heal. What is it now? CECLLE Oh, it grows giant now. The dove's an eagle! HELOISE Soaring? CECILE No, droops low. For — see — oh, it is limned with a chain, A chain of steel; the eagle is of air, act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 125 The sun's upon it, and it first will melt Before the chain will fade. Looking down to Monica. What would that be? MONICA, bewildered I never saw an eagle. TERESA, scornfully It was only A changing cloud of dust. HELOISE Now, now, what now? CECHE Now it has entered on the Abbey wood, And now emerges — now — I see HELOISE His face! CECILE, not hearing her, but joyfully 'Tis Mother Gabriella riding swiftly HELOISE, falteringly Alone? CECLLE Alone. HELOISE There is no word "alone!" 126 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi MONICA What do you say, Lady? heloise, turning away Nothing now. CECILE, joyfully running down the stairs and to the garden gate followed slowly by Teresa She's here! MONICA O Blessed! The gate is flung open and enter the Abbess, Gabriella, in travelling costume. HELOISE Mother! gabriella, embracing her Heloise ! HELOISE Mother, what news have you? gabriella, turning from her to a servant, from whom she takes several packages and begins distributing them to the three young nuns Monica, take these. MONICA My seeds! gabriella, giving package Teresa. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 127 TERESA The comb! GABRIELLA And here, Cecile, Your beads. CECILE Oh, thank you ! MONICA Thank you. They crowd about Gabriella, embracing her. HELOISE, gazing at Gabriella Mother, have you news? GABRLELLA, pretending to be wholly occupied by the nuns What worldly daughters these; now off with you. Go do some penance for these gauds. Cecile, Go use your beads, make them look worn and wor shipful. Monica, plant your seeds, the season's old. Soon will sad autumn coax the rose away. Then it's too late. Teresa, take your comb And comb your hair. Oh, what Medusa tendrils ! I cannot tell them from the vines behind you. Off, off, all of you! Exeunt nuns. 128 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii HELOISE, piteously All is well? GABRLELLA, pretending absent-mindedness Well ? She turns to Heloise briskly. Come, Heloise, and let me look at you. O weary face, Sleep's been a stranger here. Come, sleep. She pidls Heloise toward the Abbey. I, too, am tired — here's the old nest. She draws Heloise' s head upon her bosom. HELOISE, drawing away Mother, did any one send news to me? GABRIELLA By me? No one. HELOISE Did you hear any one Say anything that I might long to hear? GABRLELLA, sadly None. HELOISE, after a pause Did you see my uncle there in Paris? gabriella, shuddering Come and pour sleep upon those thirsty eyes. Your body's Uke a lamp, let the flame sleep, Or it wiU char you. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 129 HELOISE Oh, your words evade me. She searches Gabriella' s face, but the Abbess remains silent. Then let me speak to you. GABRIELLA, seating herself on the sundial and pulling He loise down beside her Speak all your heart. heloise, after a pause When you were three days gone from here I came — To wait. Since then three months of motionless hours Have hung here and died upward like a smoke. Where is your hand? I wait him whom the world Knows only night without. But first to tell you ; You know of whom I tell? GABRLELLA, looking away I know of him. HELOISE Where's the beginning? Oh, it had none first. He was made tutor to me, he, the Ufe And pillar of flame to lead the darkUng world, Came to sit by me in a Uttle chamber. And more than he came with him. It was soon. It came. I would have stayed it, bade it come At least more slowly, softer, but there was No gradual arising of the mind : 130 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act rn 'Twas instant storm, as if the once white sky Bloomed to a cloud that rained the flood of dreams, And unto him all flowed as to the sea. It was too much. I would not have it less But for his sake. We could not keep it back. All Paris rang. You heard? GABRLELLA, in a low voice Yes, I have heard. HELOISE Then you know later the windings of that path ; What I denied, what he desired of me. Never, never would it have been best For him. There was no other path for me, Else I'd have found it out. GABRLELLA The path's not ended — But here's the end. She points to the Abbey and clasps Heloise to her breast. HELOISE, moving away Mother! GABRIELLA These walls will stand Not always. And yet long enough to hold you Safely until the iron but tenderest key Turns softly in the locked wards of your life, To give the lovingest of all releases. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 131 HELOISE, rising Ah, stones to eat. GABRLELLA It is indeed a stone, But firm, unfailing and all mossy soft. Rest, rest upon it. Let the world be closed As a wild, dreadful book with tossing pages, Wherein the letters tremble as a flame About tempestuous pictures limned in tears, Not to be finished lest the story grow To be one's own. HELOISE He reads it. I will read. GABRIELLA The page is written and read, you cannot blot it. Ah, stay with me — we — have our memories. She rises and moves away. HELOISE, looking after her wonderingly You? GABRIELLA I — yes, I will share them with you. heloise, rising GABRLELLA, returning to Heloise God has not always had me for a bride. O Heloise, this is quite wrung from me, Mother! 132 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act in For it was buried deeper than it seemed As in a well from which your thirst has drawn All my cool covering and disclosed at last Deep on the bottom — me — remembering, Whom men once caUed Rohais de Mont- Quarrel. The name seems rusty now. HELOISE, wonderingly But she — ah, she — Yes, I have heard the story, loved GABRLELLA The King. HELOISE Oh, piteous! GABRIELLA Ah, no, gladness, for he loved me. But nations also have their marriages, And when they wed, some offering must be made. What are two lives? Yet two lives are enough. They took him from me, but they cannot take Something of majesty he left with me. HELOISE Now let me touch you and give back your pity Who have been but a mirror to your sorrow. She now holds Gabriella upon her own breast. And you have offered tender cups to me, Who should have strewn upon you buds of comfort. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 133 GABRIELLA The roots of comfort now no longer reach So deep as where I he; my blessedness Now is that I have lost the need of them. Only to keep the quiet that I have Is all my prayer. And still one cup I offer; Drink and descend with me and be at rest. HELOISE 'Tis only mine to take what he shaU give. GABRIELLA I would not urge, had I not to my lips Put the same bitterness. HELOISE Was it the same? GABRLELLA I left my Ufe. HELOISE Did they not take him from you? GABRLELLA, Sadly I cannot reason with you. HELOISE O my Sweet, Have I not known already the same grief? The heart of yours, for it was true already When I my beauteous marriage veil declined, That I, for my love's sake, denied my love. 134 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act in But his love I will not deny, his only I will keep safe and battle with the world To keep it. GABRLELLA Here is safety for that love. HELOISE It dwells where he is, and he is not here. Where I am will be only found — a flame. GABRLELLA Flames must leave ashes when they die away. HELOISE The flame I am will never be made cool. GABRLELLA, watching her pityingly But he ? HELOISE He could not. His exhaustless soul Burns with no earthy, perishable fire, But always — as a star. GABRLELLA Yet stars grow pale And hurl their cinders on the breast of earth, Dealing out death to that which welcomes them. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 135 HELOISE Then on that saddest and most pitiful night "When this should happen, if it could indeed, I would arise, having enough for both, And gather those charred pieces all to me, And from this bosom Ught them all anew, And send them flaming out against the sky. GABRLELLA Is there no doom seems even possible? Are you so blind with him, deafened with fife, That you can have no dream of shadow's wreck, Nor hear before the tempest falls the cry Of warning from the lurking, misty rocks? HELOISE My faith's the sky above me and 'tis day. When the night falls I'll have my star again. GABRIELLA But if the star vanished, pointing to this place? HELOISE It would not be where he should point that I Should note, but where he faded from my vision. Then I, too, would no more again be seen, Being gone to follow after and to find him. 136 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi GABRLELLA Yet the wise sailor in an ominous calm Furls his glad sails, remembers other storms And fortifies his ship with preparation. HELOISE And I, too, do remember other storms. They have aU faUen, the sky is rid of them. None can descend, for none remain above. GABRLELLA Oh, it is better to be warned before Than to be solaced after She looks long at Heloise, her eyes full of the message that she cannot speak. HELOISE Has this meaning? GABRLELLA Heloise, upon the road from Paris I met with Malart. HELOISE Alone? GABRLELLA Alone. HELOISE Oh, speak, You did not tell me. What have you kept back ? For he is doom's foreboder and tempest petrel, Shrieking forever on the front of storm act in] ABELARD AND HELOISE 137 GABRIELLA Come, come within this harbor here forever, Before another and more dreadful wind Lifts from the deep's grim face to drag you down. HELOISE Though danger thunder on danger from the abyss, I'll keep my eyes set seaward to my haven And that great anchorage which he holds for me. GABRLELLA Then make your eyes of stone, for you must face A dreadful sunset. I can plead no further. She rises and moves away. There are no words. HELOISE, following her Ah, mother, now forgive me, I have been selfish, careless, flinty, cruel. But oh, your sorrow is my sorrow also And in my heart my arms are close about you To fold you in a tenderer, nearer way. We must be tenderer to each other now. GABRLELLA Remember that whatever grief assails you, Here on this island of the terrible world I wait to welcome you to quietness. And now, at least, come in and sleep a while. 138 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act in HELOISE I could not sleep, my Sweet, I'll wander here, Maybe my sleep will overtake me here. GABRLELLA You must not be alone, even with Sleep; I'll send you sweet companions, I'U go summon Going. My happiest loves. Exit, calling. Teresa, Monica, Cecile HELOISE, alone Malart! Omen of what new sorrow? Portent most dreadful of what dreadful grief? And she — ah, her own sorrow buried deep — Oh, what's this world that holds me mirrors up In every face and aspect that I see, And my own face a mirror that reflects them Image within image; and within — within — In infinite vista, sorrow multiplied Each the deep semblance of my grief's own face. Enter from the Abbey and approaching Heloise from behind, the three young nuns. cecile, shyly to Heloise Please can we not put sadness off to-day? HELOISE, turning and seeing the nuns What shall we do to make us gay? act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 139 CECILE I know, TeU fortunes. HELOISE Good. Come, Monica, and join us. Monica has been standing back of the others, looking at Heloise. CECILE Sister Monica has a flower for you. Monica comes forward and gives Heloise a flower. HELOISE Ah, that's the thing, I'll tell your fortunes so Each is a flower. CECILE Then what is Monica? HELOISE Do we not know our shyest sister here Full of deep dreams and many hidden hours? CECILE I'll never guess her. TERESA Tell us. HELOISE She is gentian. i4o ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii ceche and teresa Yes, yes. HELOISE — And our best dreamer; see, those bluets That she is wearing in her fringed eyes, Are gathered from a sky that knows all secrets. She reads our hearts as in a brimming glass. Monica has been looking steadily into Heloise' s eyes. CECILE Read, Monica, oh, read Lady Heloise Monica turns suddenly away. CECILE Tell what you saw! TERESA, looking at Monica She has tears in her eyes. HELOISE, taking up another flower And here is Heal-AU that was once the nun Brunella, she who prayed to be a flower That she might with a wiser alchemy Take sweetness from the earth and dew and air To work her cures. Then come, Cecile, and wear it, For this is you. Giving the flower to Cecile. CECILE, looking at her Please take it back again And make it comfort you when you are sad. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 141 TERESA Tell me what I am. HELOISE Yes, let's tell Teresa. What flower grows wild, gives bread, gets dust upon it? What flower is softest and yet has no dreams? That has wide eyes, yet never a mood in them? What flower is most content of all? MONICA That's maUow. HELOISE Sister Teresa is the mallow flower, And she's the one of us who is most sure Of happiness. TERESA I never wanted it; I Uke to sit all quiet in the sun. CECILE Tell, what would Mother Gabriella be? HELOISE A russet seeming with a heart aU red, A scarlet beacon that makes autumn kinder, Summer's best promise to the winter gray That spring wiU come again — guess. 142 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act m MONICA Bitter sweet ! CECHE That's a good telUng. And now tell us yours. HELOISE My own? Now here comes blindness back again And all is hid CECILE Let Sister Monica, She peers within and sees, as you have said. HELOISE, to Monica If you see any portent in the world For me, sweet oracle, be kind, reveal it. MONICA, looking at her No, you have many thoughts; please tell us some. HELOISE, turning away and then coming to them again I've only flowers for you, they're happier. No visions, they're of air, take flowers instead. She plucks a handful of flowers and shows them. Here is Herb Robert, — Robin of the Wood That sheds a rosebeam from a tower of gray — He's the best comrade for a lonely heart. And yeUow star-grass that swims in a field When autumn steals the summer's gold away. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 143 And Cyclamen that tries to go from earth And wins its colored feathers from the sky To make new wings with; and here's Jewel Weed That keeps one morning's dew through all its life. And last of all here is Dream Jasmine for you. She gives it to Monica. MONICA Oh, thank you, does it make a dream come true? HELOISE No flower does that. This gives a better dream. CECILE You know the flowers' names, come tell them all. What's this? Holding up a flower. HELOISE, seating herself on the sundial with the nuns Ah, now, beware, that's St. John's Wort, The fairy doorway, on midsummer night After aU's done, the mighty labors ended ; Counting Cecilia's prayers for a whole year, Planting soft dreams for Monica to gather, And with the points of moonbeams making combs To lure this hair to be straight gold again. Touching Teresa's hair. Suddenly, swiftly, on the tick of dawn The sleeping bee booms his faint gobUn drum Once, and the fairies are upon their way. 144 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act m They do not go on some glad upward path But enter downward here. Showing flower. And as they go, With hair-fine swords and bee-sting javeUns drawn, They thrust and cut and hew toward this warm world, Striking the outward and sweet-seasoned air And so make sad retreat and disappear. See, the poor petals are aU hacked and stabbed, By accident the fairy weapons did it. CECILE What do they fear outside? HELOISE I cannot tell. The fairy's dead that knew. TERESA They must have aU Known once, and afterward forgotten it. MONICA And what is this upon the fountain's edge? Showing flower. HELOISE Sea Lavender! But we'U not have that tale. MONICA But why? act in] ABELARD AND HELOISE 145 HELOISE Too sad. CECILE Oh, tell it. Tell such tales. HELOISE, taking the flower This was the Lady Rosemarine that loved CECILE But that's not sad. HELOISE He whom she loved went out Upon a sad sea journey from her side. And if on any beach he ever landed, 'Twas not that weary margin where she stood Waiting. MONICA And did he never then return? HELOISE He has not yet. And there upon the rocks With all the weary hours about her head, The heavy tides asway about her feet, But with her eyes forever where the sky Locks fast upon the sea, she clung and held Until at last she still was there for him, But was a flower. You always find it low, Touching the wave at the most seaward places. Some one has gathered it and brought it here. 146 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi MONICA Ah, Rosemarine. And still there is the ghost Of red and white about her. Poor sad lady! CECILE Why did he not return? HELOISE Oh, he will come. He stays to bring more shining argosies Laden with glories for her to put on. Or else he seeks new jewels for her brow. CECILE But that would only make it heavier, And she's aweary in a tattered gown. TERESA You said awhile ago that we'd be gay, But now we are not. HELOISE, rising No, what shall we do? TERESA Did you play games here at the Abbey once? HELOISE Why, yes, and I remember all of them. Let's have one. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 147 TERESA AND CECILE Yes, yes. HELOISE And what shall it be? The Fountain Song, do you still have it here? CECILE Yes. HELOISE And The Dial Sister? TERESA Yes. HELOISE What others? MONICA Did you play Mary's Garden? HELOISE I remember. CECHE Then that's the one. Come, let us play it now. Get flowers. They all gather handfuls of flowers. HELOISE Now who'll begin? 148 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii MONICA Teresa, you. They join hands and dance in a circle, about the sundial. TERESA, singing Let us weave a garden for our Mother Mary CECILE Where no heart shaU harden and no wind shall vary. MONICA Then must every flower that ever grew be in it HELOISE Life's elusive hour, Love's immortal minute. They change and dance about the fountain. monica, singing Every tender daughter brings a gift to sow. HELOISE Love shall be the water that shall make it grow. She dances forward, takes water in her hand, throws it upward and the dance again changes to the dial. TERESA, singing Of aU the hues that grow in me I bring her of my best. Throwing daisies on the dial. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 149 CECILE These lilies from the snow in me and mosses from my rest. Throwing lilies and moss on the dial. They change again to the fountain. MONICA And cresses from the wave I am for fountains of her own. Throwing cresses in the fountain. HELOISE If roses she will crave I am the rose that would be sown. Throwing a rose in the fountain. A bell sounds from the Abbey; they pause. CECILE There is our lady calhng, we must go; So end it. HELOISE Let me see — what is the end? MONICA Not a sprig of rue HELOISE Ah yes, I know Singing. Not a sprig of rue, They dance again. ISO ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii MONICA But to make it true, fernseed from the fairies. ALL, with a wild whirl, throwing flowers everywhere And the Garden's Mary's! They stop, out of breath and radiant. TERESA, to Heloise, going That was the best of all we ever danced CECILE, to Heloise — And happiest. Let's dance it all again When we return. Farewell. MONICA, to Heloise Farewell. Exit. Exit. Exit. heloise, to them FareweU. She turns from the departing girls, her cheeks glowing and her whole body filled with the ecstasy of the dance. Oh, my girlhood, was I glad again? She takes a step, bringing her to the sundial. Suddenly her eyes light upon it, her face grows radiant, and with a superb gesture she rises to her utmost height and stretches both hands above her to the sky. Noon! And at last no shadow! Infinite noon! The over and under vault is all one flame To Ught him now and he shall find his way. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 151 Fire all above me and beneath me fire, Echoing that with which I burn forever. The three immensities are aU one path, He could not lose the way nor dark defeat him. Surely the torch I am would be a beacon Over the world to him if darkness feU. O sky, be tender to him, earth be safe. O visible nature and invisible, Be my two arms for him while these are empty! Earth be my breast; sky be my heart to him. And men and women, be — to — him Enter through the gate behind her Malart. She falters and looks down upon the dial. Malart' s shadow is upon it. Again? Here is the shadow back: She stares at the dial. A raven's wing What will the croaking bode this time? She slowly turns, sees him, and speaks in a dull voice. What's wrong? Then starting up wildly to him. Where is he? You have news of him? He's weU? Never breathe again till you have told me. MALART Yes. HELOISE Where? 152 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii MALART In Paris. HELOISE Safe? MALART Safe. HELOISE He sent you? MALART I come from him. HELOISE Then you bear news from him. Why does he stay? What held him? Sound your note. What's wrong? Have I displeased him? What's the matter? He stands silently looking at her. I find you here — always I seem to find you. There is something GodUke in such omnipresence. MALART Blasphemer. HELOISE Oh, the name answers me not! What does he wish of me? act in] ABELARD AND HELOISE 153 I bring his wishes. MALART There's the wise question; HELOISE Then you're welcomer Than you have ever been to me before. Tell me his wish. MALART You've granted half already In coming here, comphant to his wish. Only continue. HELOISE How much longer? malart, fixedly Always. HELOISE, starting and then looking at him with an effort to smile You'll never be a jester, so desist ; You toU a passing bell and they're not worn On motley. MALART No, I ring another bell To wed you now forever safe to heaven. HELOISE At last your threatening madness overtakes you; But why should all your ravings be of me? 154 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii MALART No madness but his will arisen at last Welded and knitted with the will of God. HELOISE There is a name that I have heard before, Ringing Uke lost hope from your iron lips And always clanged a doom; but now at last, In your mad aspiration toward Despair You swing too far — the sound grows meaningless. MALART If that's no warning then I'll take the trumpet And blare you up from the world's grave to life. Listen. He produces a letter and reads. Heloise — hoard up your remaining respite from pain. Rescue it from the horrible clutches of this festering world. Conceal it. Evil surrounds all. Fly from it. Enter the safe and hiding shadow of the Church. Take the veil. Farewell. Forget the past. HELOISE, in a monotone Who wrote it? MALART, meaningly Was it I? HELOISE Letters of fire Would not make me believe — act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 155 MALART, continuing to read Remember Abelard. HELOISE The signature! She dashes toward him and snatches the letter. Her gaze falls on the unmistakable signature. She mutters to her self, staring at the paper. Something's confused — only a little ink — I'll pray it clean again — weU, never mind She suddenly taps her forehead with her hand. What's this, what's this? Your madness seems contagious. She turns. O God, I'll go and think! I'll have to think. There's a way out. I'll think it clear for him. She totters through the doorway into the abbey. Malart looks after her with satisfaction and then begins strolling about the garden. As he nears the gate which he has left open, Abelard enters wildly. He is pale, haggard, and distraught almost to madness. He wears the gown of a monk. malart, staggering back with infinite amazement You ! — Followed ! ABELARD As the rain from hideous airs For rest in the wide sea, so I to her. 156 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii malart, slowly To her? ABELARD Is she not here? malart, wonderingly She? Now? ABELARD Now. MALART Thou madman! ABELARD Never thwart me. She shall soothe me. MALART Despair has made you drunken. ABELARD So? Bay on. Turning from him wildly. The whole world is a hound to harry me, The very air's a fang, and all men's eyes Tear at me as I hurry by their eyes. Gall is my food. Ashes are in my mouth. I drink the iron tears of all Despair And am all poisoned. He looks toward the abbey. But the antidote — Is cool within her hands. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 157 MALART, confronting him Priest, by thy vows Go back! ABELARD Never ! MALART Thou art ordained of God. Thou wearest God's cloak upon thee. Sin no fur ther. ABELARD I swore those salt and acid oaths in vain, No medicine they. MALART You have denied your God. Can your mad, selfish sin thus deny Nature? ABELARD Nature nor God has given my spirit balm. But with her fingers she shall twine me back He continues to look at the abbey. To Ufe, and with her voice she can recall me. MALART Fool, even now she broods upon the letter. ABELARD Her eyes wiU battle past those furious words And win to me and draw to me and save me. 158 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii MALART, after a pause When you were made a priest but three days gone I told you to forget — He looks meaningly at Abelard. but now — remember. Calling. abelard, desperately I'll bide no longer. Heloise ! MALART, trying to prevent Abelard God's wrath! ABELARD, throwing off his monk's gown Off heavy snare! I am no priest to her. He conceals the gown behind a bench. Enter Heloise. Abelard rushes to meet her and she to meet him, but before they can reach each other Malart passes inflexibly be tween with his face to Abelard and looking at him. Abelard hesitates, halts, and then almost imperceptibly shrinks back. Malart then stands rigidly at one side looking at him. Heloise impulsively takes another step toward Abelard, but seeing him shrink, she stands still. HELOISE All's well now, home is here — She stretches out her arms. in these poor arms, Aching for being too long tenantless. act hi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 159 Abelard continues to stand motionless and silent. She then looks from him to Malart. Ah, no — you cannot; we will wait. She gazes at Malart until he begins to retreat slowly and finally makes his exit through the gate, still looking steadily at Abelard. She then turns back to Abelard. And now — She starts again toward him but stops. He continues to gaze at her without moving. Nothing's between us. She again stretches out her arms. He does not move. She looks at him fearfully and then suddenly brightens. Oh, forgive — I see — Yes, it is best to let our eyes drink first Lest like parched travellers rushing to the well We drown. Oh, I'll be silent. ABELARD, still looking at her from his place Speak, speak! HELOISE Ah, thank you. Now I see — and it is better That one should hold the cup, the other sip And so each guard the other's too great joy. What shall I talk of? Will you let me choose? There's the low altar where my baby knees Grew wearier than they were worshipful. 160 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii A cherub and a seraph once lurked there. I do not see them now — they're shyer now. I used to tiptoe on the dial there; And watch the birds aU cUmbing the steep air; They seemed to struggle upward on a quest. Ah, wingless though I am, yet I have found More than they dared ; and of the dial itself I used to watch the others come and read it, And thought that to those happy souls it always Told the sky's meaning. Now I look at you She smiles at him. And aU's made plain. ABELARD Oh, poison, poison. heloise, wildly Abelard ! She starts to him. ABELARD No, no, speak on. Once more I'U try this phantom. heloise, retreating Yes, yes, I must not pause; I see, I know I must be patient — I'U speak on and on. Oh, let me batter at this wintry wall. I'll melt a way to you with my two Ups. Flame against snow shall be my hands for you. If snow should Ue between us act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 161 ABELARD HeU's broth! HELOISE, madly Abelard ! ABELARD All's lost! HELOISE Are you not here? Then all is saved. ABELARD Lost, lost, you cannot save myself from me. HELOISE Your face is glistening pale with some deep sickness, Something has happened terrible to your brow. The dying summer has turned and bitten you With fever. She takes a hesitating step toward him. He retreats. Ah, but let me cool your brow. ABELARD Do I still seem then only to be sick Who have been stung into no quiet death? Well, then I must be only sick, a sickness Born of no fever. To himself. Fever cannot hve In the December runnels of these veins. HELOISE Oh, I can give you balm. 16a ABELARD AND HELOISE [act ih ABELARD Then tell me quickly. Here stands my spirit, heal it back to life. HELOISE, throwing wide her arms Home to these arms, here is the life, the heaUng. She waits. He only looks at her. She looks wonderingly away and sees a figure at a shrine in the cloister. Ah, yes, you dread the staring image there. Sad witness, I will shut the canopy. She lowers a curtain before the shrine. ABELARD Oh, can you shut the leaves upon the trees, The lidless bubbles on the fountain there, The opposing stars that testify against me, The winds that yell upon me out of the north, Or the south winds that whisper and plot around me? That cold unwinking dial that portions off The hateful, snakehke periods of time In slow and venomous lengths, coil after coil Watches me — watches me. Heal my vision first; Give me to look again on the same world, Or make another. HELOISE, yearningly Do we need another? act hi] ABELARD AND HELOISE 163 ABELARD O pitiful physician, is this aU? Drug me at least with words and we wiU try How many deaths behind Ues my soul's health. HELOISE These are the dusty windows of the mind : Never look out of them, or else cleanse them. See The tide of tree-tops ebbs and flows above us ; Let it pour down its beauty, drink it aU. ABELARD Gray, twisted Umbs against the weary sky Fretted to shivering leaves on the cold sky. HELOISE Oh, but the fountain never will look strange. Take all its gladness, it will still have more. ABELARD What deadly symbols do you show me. Look, See how the tortured water in the air Tries for the sun, part to be blown away, Part to fall back benumbed, aU to be shattered. And all its aspiration come to naught. HELOISE O Love, bring back your eyes, think on us two. Think how the morning and the evening are, How they are lovely when we look together. Think how the dawn has found us glad of Love, Think how the noon has looked upon us glad, 164 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act hi How the night's pulse has grown to be one bird, Dripping its music on our double souls, Melting them to one song. Why the whole earth Is Uke a banquet spread before our love, And I shall wait upon you, you shall see. Your bread shall be my tender services ; I'll win the golden apples of the west Out of my mighty willingness for you, Each dawn shaU be a silver cup for you; Oh, let me hold it, I am strong enough. abelard So, there's no help. Empty and waste and void. You only offer me this piteous table. Do you not see what mocking feast is Life? Wherein one finds the goblets like as sieves, Bitter, black wine. And floating motes for food; How one sits with the sneering Ufe around him Only to pass unquenched with a groan? How he who deeply supped for living — dies? And he who hoped for death in his cup — Uves? He moves away. And all are troubled with the last year's flies? HELOISE These wild distortions are from too much waking, The eyes wiU often so revenge themselves. Come, sleep, and let deep peace flow over you. She stretches out her hand piteously. actih] ABELARD AND HELOISE 165 abelard, starting Peace! So you have named it! Peace! Peace! And silence. There's the cordial. Shelter, shelter. Fly from this hurtUng world, get behind walls! You cannot dodge Life's missiles. Turn away, Go from the field, I cannot see you crushed. HELOISE Your words are strange. I wiU not understand them. ABELARD Grief is not plainer than my meaning was, Penned in the letter. heloise, slowly The letter, Abelard? abelard, from this time on he grows gradually calmer and colder The letter. HELOISE, starting desperately No, I will not understand Yes, yes, I can — but oh, I have forgotten. And you — oh, I can teach you to forget. I know the impulse of its sudden writing; How it was false. Remember only truth. Truth is my love. abelard, unyieldingly Only to shield and save you I recommend this white and quiet path. 1 66 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii HELOISE You are distraught. The heated arch of noon Has bent its fiery fillet on your brow Searing your brain to utter these wild words. abelard Madness is what is past; this present light Is the clear face of reason reappearing. HELOISE Do not believe! It's reason's fearful mask. O Love, what shall I do to tear it off? abelard Do nothing for my sake but for your own. Refledge the innocent prayers you once sent up In this still place, and from Confession's censer The muttering incense will arise around you, And always in its mist you will be safe. HELOISE To you alone I'll pray, to you confess. ABELARD Hell would be fitter than I am to hear. HELOISE At least point out the barren, narrow paths That make the dreadful cell attainable; act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 167 If Safety is the thorn where I must hang, I'll name the things I must be coward to, And you shall charge and teach me to renounce. She goes nearer him. Shall I, remembering the face of Spring, Lash me with icy midnights to my prayers? What should I pray for then? Oh, teach me what? ShaU I, remembering that beyond the waU You dwell — beyond my sight, my touch, my help, Eat out the past with acid litanies, And purge me of the very thought of you? ABELARD Forget, forget. HELOISE How long? And afterward — Shall I who am with you in this garden here — She stretches out her arms to him. Afterward, seeing these flowers who have seen you, Say to this memory, Touching a flower. "I renounce you now, This rose, this poppy memory, I renounce you"? ABELARD You need not then renounce me in your thoughts. 168 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii HELOISE Must I, who in some things am like a child, Watching and being glad through all the year To see the rolfing seasons of defight, Creep to sad duties, as to move a bead, To fix a candle, or to mumble prayers Always, whose only duty is to you? ABELARD Let your first prayer be not to think again. HELOISE ShaU I deny our earth, our sky — and us? ABELARD Only retaliate for that earth and sky Have cast us off and left us without home. HELOISE Must earth be only treading for my feet While I go seek my ever-hiding soul, Only the sad, elusive and the far — And you, of all, unendingly away? Must I look upward to the sky and find Only the sky, and never know again If you are under it and what your need is ? ABELARD My deepest need is only deepest peace. act in] ABELARD AND HELOISE 169 HELOISE But oh, you cannot tell, you swiftly change. Oh, I could aid you best outside in the world; I could be serviceable in secret there, More than behind these dead, preventing walls. They'd be the very fort of our worst doom To hurl me back and back and back forever From my glad, secret battle at your side. ABELARD I shall no longer fight. The battle's lost. He moves coldly away. HELOISE, following him desperately I cannot and you wiU not make me go. I beg you as I love you never ask me. This hateful, dead renouncement I renounce. Life and our sky! Its glad cup is too full To bring to this dead pool. 'Twould overflow And drown the unaccustomed sippers of it. He still retreats. She follows him more wildly. And oh, the little things, my Abelard ! The httle things, think of them; how they were, How, when we found some wondrous thing together, Of earth or sky or in some moving book, Suddenly how our eyes were, yours in mine, And that quick marriage that there then was made. 170 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iii Those are the myriad filaments that bind us, Silken, but more than steel. We cannot break them. She touches his sleeve. And when sad April, freighted with the rain, Poured from her chill urn sickness over you, How you would have no other one to nurse you? Remember? Abelard. ABELARD I'll urge no further. For it was only that you might escape The whirling unavoidable disaster Spilled out upon the world by aU the stars That made me speak. But if it is your doom It is your doom. And stay then in the world. HELOISE, with joy dawning in her face Oh, then all's well and I am of your mind; Let us cast off the very universe, If this is what you will, but not each other. What is the world to us? But not each other. Only each other have and help and cling to. She runs blindly to Abelard and is about to embrace him when Malart enters through the gateway. malart Oh, damnable sight ! 'Twill sear these eyes forever ! Abelard avoids Heloise. I'll speak now, for I've waited aU too long. act m] ABELARD AND HELOISE 171 ABELARD, hurriedly to him I beg you let it faU more gently on her. Come, we will go. He draws Malart toward the gate, but Malart shakes off and starts toward Heloise. Oh, never teU her now. malart, looking at them both She has been charmed into these coils too long. HELOISE What sick, deUrious words are these he speaks? Come within, now, and rest. Fever's abroad. To-morrow, Love, we'll go together — home. She stretches out her hand appealingly. MALART Together ! Never while this life is abelard, with a wild, threatening gesture commanding silence Malart! HELOISE Ah, we are wedded. What's to hinder us? malart, lifting Abelard's monk's gown from behind the bench and casting it over Abelard from behind His priesthood. 172 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act m HELOISE, wildly Abelard! ABELARD, finally recovering his calmness and drawing the cloak about him Three days ago I entered on my rest. To Malart. Now we will go. HELOISE, staring desperately at him You have not taken all your final vows? ABELARD AU, and forever, never to abjure While this Ufe is the wheel it is to wrack me. HELOISE, in a steady, dull voice And this is why you suffered; that you passed Out of the world, and afterward remembered, Remembered and returned to me again. She pauses. I could take pleasure even from this thing But that you suffered. So there's nothing saved. ABELARD Silence is never lost, nor timeless peace. The courts of heaven are all white and still. act iii] ABELARD AND HELOISE 173 Peace is best, for that I'll set my sail. A Uttle longer your unquiet soul Will swim through its rough dreams, until at last It beaches on the dawn and finds its path; Meet me where peace is. MALART Come, the gate wiU close. Abelard and Malart go to the gateway and pass through it. The gate clangs shut after them. Heloise has been stand ing stonily looking after Abelard with staring, unseeing eyes, but as the gate shuts she rushes forward and beats frantically at it. HELOISE, crying out The gate is shut and I'll not have it so. Oh, I can open gates. Calling wildly. Remember once How in the garden there the gate was shut? I opened it! Remember! Abelard! The gale swings slowly open, showing no one. Heloise stands staring into the emptiness but making no effort to go through the gateway. There is a pause of absolute silence, then a burst of organ music is heard within the abbey. Gabriella appears standing in the abbey doorway watching Heloise. The music grows louder. Enter a procession of nuns singing. They cross the garden and 174 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act in exeunt. Heloise turns and watches them as they go. She then sees Gabriella and goes slowly to her. Mother, now put the veil upon my head. GABRLELLA Come, sleep is safe. I'U hold and lull you. Sleep. HELOISE Oh, put the veil upon me. Hide this world. He's gone from it, I'll follow him away. She looks desperately about. Yet I remember — oh, but never doubt — Yet there was once a world — there is a world, At least we'll be together in one world, A smaUer — we'll be nearer — cover me. Gabriella leads her pityingly toward the abbey door, em bracing her. Exeunt both. Curtain. ACT IV Twenty years later. A road near Chalons. The brow of a hill overlooking a valley. On the left the road enters a wood into which there are also several paths. Back, cen tre, and at the very edge of the hill is a wayside shrine of white, consisting of two pillars forming a pergola and between them is a figure of the Virgin. Into the base of the shrine a broad ledge is built for the wor shippers. Three low steps lead to it. The shrine commands a view of the west and the time is late after noon of a summer day. Enter the King, a lad of eight, on horseback. At his side walk a train of attendants, soldiers, and nobles. THE KING, halting Here is a place where one should pause and pray. A COURTLER A kingly thought. THE KING Where is my holy nurse? SECOND COURTLER Your majesty is much too gracious to her. THE KING Why not? She knows the stories. Where is she? 175 176 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv FIRST COURTIER She paused awhile. THE KING Go fetch her. SECOND COURTIER, looking off She comes now. Enter Heloise in the robe of an abbess. She goes lovingly to the King. THE KING Dearest, here's a pretty place to see. HELOISE Yes, my child. THE KLNG It's almost Uke the picture In our old fairy-book — except the fairies. HELOISE Yes, dear. THE KLNG, drawing himself up proudly on his horse I could be brave here. The courtiers have been regarding Heloise with envious and impatient looks, whispering among themselves. A COURTLER, stepping forward Royal sir, You do not need your bravery on this earth, For we, your courtiers, will be brave for you. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 177 THE KING No, I must have more courage than you all. She told me so. Dear, didn't you? Taking Heloise' 's hand. SECOND COURTIER, looking at Heloise That's false teaching. To the King. For it destroys your faith in loyalty. THE KING I'd trust her first. She's truer than the others. A SOLDIER, stepping forward Think not of women. Be a mighty king And lead God's army to His sepulchre. Burn, mangle, kill the fiendish infidel, Wrest the true cross from their unholy grip And bring it to bless France. THE KING Yes, that I'll do. HELOISE Stay, dear, at home; France is your cross to bear. Look on those fields — Pointing to the valley. Do they seem fair? the king, looking Yes, fair. 178 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv HELOISE Little children are unhappy there. the king, wonderingly What makes them so? HELOISE They starve. the KING, sternly I'U not have that. Let them be given sweets. A COURTLER Your majesty, They have enough ; the land groans with the harvest. Much food is in the tillage of the poor HELOISE But not for them. To the King. Remember those we passed, The waihng, clutching ones who cried upon you. THE KING I'll make them glad again. I'm a good king. Enter from the valley three monks. They approach the king, making obeisance. A MONK Hail, Anointed One of God. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 179 THE KING, to those about him Who's he? SECOND MONK Tidings ! A prophet has arisen in your realm, A glorious youth, a later John, a trumpet! Crying across the world, "Crusade, Crusade!" Come to the valley, hear him, and be moved To avenge the murdered Christ. THE KING, to Heloise What does he mean? HELOISE A preacher speaks below there. Pointing to the valley. THE KING, joyfully Will he shout? A COURTLER Yes, sire. THE KLNG I'll go and hear him then. I love To hear men shout. It's better than a drum. To Heloise. Dear nurse, your face is white and tired. Rest here, And wear my purple cloak, it is too heavy. 180 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv He casts his purple mantle about Heloise. The courtiers witness it enraged. Kiss me, and I'll come back to you. She kisses him. Lead on. Exeunt King and all save Heloise. Enter along the road to her, Luce dressed as a nun. LUCE How — where's the king? HELOISE In evil hands, my Luce. But he would go. Some voice there in the valley Will speak; and he would go. Poor baby heart. She looks lovingly toward the valley, then turns back to Luce. What of the famished woman? Did she eat? LUCE Yes, but her hunger's gnawed her mind, it's gone. She glowered only, and snapping, dropped her child. No woman, but a wolf. HELOISE She must be housed. LUCE They say a hermit's in that wood. Pointing to it. I sent To ask the shelter of his hut for her. acttv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 181 HELOISE How this fair land is blotted and stained black To whiten bloody things in Palestine. LUCE, sadly I must not call that thing or cause unholy In which my Gervase died. HELOISE No — there's one soul That smiled its way to God all unashamed. LUCE, covering her face with her hand He was a better man than I had hoped. Well there, Wiping her eyes. Perhaps God's brides must never think Of dead men. Enter a page from the wood. Here's the page I sent to seek The hermit. To page. Did you find him? PAGE Find him! Yes. Would I could lose again the sight of him. Shuddering. 18a ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv His lair's a secret bower in green leaves That tap his window with soft, summer touches. Its flowers blush for him. I knocked. He rushed Forth, beastUke, monstrous— crusted all with wounds. Shrieking "Repent! Repent!" before I'd sinned, He would not hear me, only howled, "Repent! " And foUowed me so bawUng. A harsh voice is heard in the wood approaching. Here he comes. Enter the hermit emaciated, bent, running with his hands raised above him. THE HERMIT Fly, fly from the wrath of righteous God! He faces Heloise. HELOISE Malart! MALART What! Scarlet Babylon has come back again. I thought I heaped the ashes over her. Looking at her intently. Woe, woe, these twenty years have not sufficed. HELOISE Yes, truly you were kindler of that fire That has consumed my Ufe. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 183 MALART Was it not well That such an evil as that Ufe should be Brought low to dust? heloise, turning from him Is he aU madman, Luce? Or would some words of mine eat through the shell And burn into the man? LUCE Spend a few on him. I'U pray that they may lash him to some hell. heloise, turning and going near him Malart, come forth from this bleak tomb of years. Know that the deadly curse you heaped upon us Availed not but to make me suffer. I Am his, and my thoughts never are of heaven, For earth is still his dwelling. MALART Hopeless Devil, Then is my weary labor all to do Over until the smoke of your red burning Goes up forever and forever? LUCE, taking Heloise' s hand Come, You cannot reach him; all the man is dead, Only the curse remains. 184 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv HELOISE, moving away The curse indeed. MALART, following her fiercely So I must set you now newly afire, And blow your embers to a new-made flame To scorch you deeper; know you where he is? HELOISE, turning desperately lo him Oh, if you know, be merciful now at last And give me news of him. MALART News I will give you, And without mercy; he is near you now! HELOISE Near? MALART And now falls my lash; he is in anguish. HELOISE Oh, where? MALART Even that I'll teU and add that fagot more. Beyond this wood in St. MarceUus Abbey! HELOISE, starting back on the road I'U go. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 185 MALART, going in front of her So now I have you at the stake. MarceUus gates are built— locked— barred against you, Being a woman. So be helpless here As he is helpless near you. HELOISE So you dreamed That stone or steel could hold me from him now. Then you have failed at last — this destined arrow Spreads to a blessing. She stands victoriously before him. And I thank you. To Luce. Come. To Malart as she goes. WiU you not watch us meet? MALART, shrieking Woe of the world, I'll find a way to bring you further bitter Till you are poisoned all. LUCE, drawing Heloise away as they depart Come, come away, I cannot hear him and be stiU a nun. Go find the abbey. I wiU seek the woman To give her further food, then follow you. 186 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act rv HELOISE, halting perplexedly at the wood into which two paths lead. Then she chooses one of them It must be by this path. It is the whiter. LUCE I'll go a Uttle with you and help find it. Exeunt Heloise and Luce. MALART, looking after Heloise as she goes Avaunt Sathanas! Retro! He turns with raised and clenched fists. Let me only Behold her at the last, and be avenged. Enter several people hastily along the road from the left and exeunt severally across and down the hill. Children of Wrath, why breathless to the tomb? He lays hold of one of them, a young monk, and detains him. THE YOUNG MONK Breathlessly, and eagerly looking toward the valley. The preacher! MALART Where? THE YOUNG monk, pointing Within the valley there, We run to hear him. Haste. I shall be late. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 187 malart, still detaining him All clamorers are not of God; he may be An evil prophet. THE YOUNG MONK, radiantly No, a glorious one. His words are burning doves that nest within, CalUng and drawing hope and giving wings To dare for all desire. He summons all To get Christ's cup and rood from infidels! MALART How know you? THE YOUNG MONK I have heard him yesterday. None preaches Uke the mighty Astrolobus MALART, starting violently Ha ! Astrolobus ! THE YOUNG MONK And withal, a youth No older than myself. MALART, clutching him Where rose this preacher? THE YOUNG MONK At Cluny he was nurtured by the monks. 188 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv MALART, releasing him and turning away 'Tis he! O thou avenging Host, I thank thee! Here is my scourge. THE YOUNG MONK, going Farewell now. MALART, going toward him Hold and hear: Shall one born out of wedlock be God's priest? THE YOUNG MONK It is forbidden. MALART Shall he take God's name On his unlawful lips? Shall he guide souls To heaven, who cannot enter in himself? THE YOUNG MONK Never! But why detain me with such sorrow? MALART He whom you rush to hear is such a one. THE YOUNG MONK Oh, dreadful and impossible! MALART, watching him You have heard The tale of that great leman, Heloise? act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 189 THE YOUNG MONK Yes, heard it, and on many a midnight wept. He pauses, thinking solemnly. And yet — she took God's veil. MALART, slowly Her shame came after. THE YOUNG MONK O sorrow. MALART In its earhest hour of Ufe The child was rescued from her and was given To learn sad penance in dark Cluny's cloisters, And there named — Astrolobus! THE YOUNG MONK, wonderingly It is he! MALART Woe, woe, blasphemous he, who should be plunged In endless silence, penitential tears — Walks barefaced on the world and prates of souls, Fills his unholy mouth with holy names — He suddenly turns upon the young monk, watching the effect of his words. Duty now calls us to stop up those Ups By wide reveahng of his shame. i go ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv THE YOUNG MONK, grave with conviction Oh, sad! MALART, still watching him Before the congregation utterly Abase him. THE YOUNG MONK, going If it must be, I will hasten And hear a httle first. Exit, running down the hill. MALART, going after him Now triumph come, Here is the net in which my world is caught. Exit. Enter from the woods a young acolyte hurriedly, fol lowed by Peter of Cluny. The abbot is aged and frail and goes with great difficulty by the aid of a staff. THE ACOLYTE Ah, Father Peter, we'U not be in time. PETER, hobbling painfully I come swiftly. THE ACOLYTE, returning to him Let me help you. PETER Off, Time wiU aid me. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 191 THE ACOLYTE But time is so slow. PETER It's fast enough for what it brings us to. VOICES OUTSIDE, on the road behind them Hail. peter, turning Who's there? Enter along the road two papal guards, followed by a Pope's messenger. acolyte, joyfully What, strangers? PETER Benedicite. A GUARD Way for the Nuncio of holy Rome. PETER What, the Pope's messenger at last! nuncio, halting Good brother Can you direct us to MarceUus Cloister? PETER I can, for there I once renounced the world At six months' age. Yet even then the world He mutters. Was old. But I shall not be young again. 192 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv NUNCIO And does one Abelard abide there stiU? PETER He seems to; mark I say, he only seems. He peers long at the Nuncio. Your face is sombre. Absit omen. NUNCIO Yes, I come upon a dreadful errand here. PETER, sadly Oh, never say the holy father judged Against him. NUNCIO I bear news to him of that. He has been excommunicated whoUy And dreadfully cast forth from out the Church. peter, turning toward the wood with an agonized face O my brother! thou art brother stiU. Would I might drink this one last cup for thee! Turning again to the Nuncio. Read me the excommunication now, That I may know what thin and watery reasons Temper the steel of it. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 193 NUNCIO Then listen. He takes from his bosom a great black parchment sealed with a red seal. He breaks the seal and unfolds it. Reading. For His treasonable designs against the Rood, By planting pagan thoughts among the youthful, For vile pollution of the eucharist, By eating — without faith — at high communion, For blasphemies against the word of God, By praising dead and damned philosophers — CalUng one Aristotle worthy of heaven peter, turning away Enough! I'll not hear more. The end is come. NUNCIO, going toward the wood, followed by the guards Is this the path? PETER, starting Hold! Stay the horrid blow A few poor breaths : he follows slowly here To hear one in the valley. He will come Presently to this place. Wait here for him. Run not to meet him freighted with this curse! 194 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv NUNCIO Why that is kindly, I bear him no maUce, But am here only God's poor sword-bearer. I'll wait his coming. He returns and seats himself. Will he die, think you? PETER Die? Death is not the thought — I cannot tell Whether it wiU revive him into death. He is a cloud that has forgot its rain, Dry, dry, such as in deserts in a drought Come in the air and are and are not seen ; Nor white nor dark, nor hot nor cold, but sick, Sick with a fever of a fever's end. And yet give forth no sickness, but are poisoned Within themselves, too piteous to be feared, Too Ustless to be hoped for, only pity Goes up to them. NUNCIO I think death would be welcome To such a man. PETER If he had but received it Long ago. But he has Ungered past it, And now it shuns him. For these twenty years act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 195 He has been fighting in a heavy fight, Without Life's armor on. Bernard has conquered- A sound without in the wood. He turns and points. Lo, he approaches even now his doom, His last, dread fate. See there, can you not stay The course? NUNCIO God's stony wiU be done as ever; I cannot change it, though I gladly would. Enter from the wood Abelard, weak and stricken as by illness. He walks with his head bowed and is supported by two monks. A MONK, to his fellow Rest here, he can no further go. The two monks support Abelard to the ledge of the shrine, where he sinks slowly down with his eyes closed. Peter goes to him and speaks aside to him. SECOND MONK, turning to Peter and the Nuncio Good brothers, You pause here? PETER We, Uke you, would rest, and here We met with strangers. 196 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv abelard Many strangers come, But none go strangers. FIRST MONK He speaks of this world. PETER Abelard, I pray you, fix your weary eyes Not upon this poor world but on the other. ABELARD Once I was cursed with blindness, now my woe Is too clear vision. PETER Surely both of these Cannot be sorrows, but if one must be, The other is a joy. ABELARD The world's still here, StiU to be seen — if seen, then shuddered at. If faUen upon in darkness, 'tis a marsh That overwhelms at last our glowworm fires. PETER AU is not treacherous lowland on this earth. The heights are still above. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 197 ABELARD And I have seen them A naked warning, never struggle up : They're made to fall from. PETER Is there then no hope That you may yet again mount up that path And win the sky at last? ABELARD I Ue here torn Low at the stony base upon the plain, Waiting one thing alone, a word from Rome For confirmation that I did not faU In vain. peter, after a pause pointing to the west See brother, even now the sun After its day-long cUmbing toward desire Sinks ruinous to its sombre, silent doom, And out of aU the void there is no voice To say "Well done," then how much less can you Hope to receive such blessed benison? ABELARD Yet it must come, there must be that one Ught, Else I'll not know how large the darkness is. 198 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv PETER There are abysses void of any star. ABELARD But there are stars beyond, useless, dry, cold. Yet they will Ught my grave and show to others Why it was dug, or show to me at least How deep it is. peter, looking apprehensively from time to time at the Nuncio, who, however, remains standing motionless gazing at Abelard and holding the excommunication be hind him We all must have our graves. ABELARD I needed none, for I am my own tomb, And every day digs uselessly for me. Already buried, none shall find me out Save at the end. Day after day tiU then Passes above me futile to assault As it is feeble to bring blessing on me. None can uncover me save that last hour Which Rome shall send me that I may have peace. NUNCIO, taking a few steps toward the hill and then turning back to Abelard Brother, the sun is down. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 199 ABELARD That's one day more. I'll look upon now where it was. There will a glory dwell about it now, Since it is useless to make warm the world. He moves as though to rise; the two monks lift him and support him to the brow of the hill where he stands gazing at the sky. peter, indicating the excommunication which hangs in the inert hand of the Nuncio who gazes after Abelard You did not give it. NUNCIO, starting No, nor ever shall. While this heart's human pity wields the act I could not; but Turning to Peter. A friend Uke you should do it. PETER Never. Destroy it. NUNCIO It is worth my life. Rome still must be obeyed. It must be given. PETER Who then shall do it? 2oo ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv NUNCIO One without a pulse. I have it i ACOLYTE Who? PETER ACOLYTE The hermit. PETER Who is he? ACOLYTE He dwells near by, a lean and pious man, So burning with his duty unto God That it has charred all nature's blood in him. NUNCIO He must be then the one we passed below Rushing with upraised hands. ACOLYTE Gray? NUNCIO Yes, and fierce. ACOLYTE 'Tis he. NUNCIO Let us go down and give it to him. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 201 PETER Abelard is too weak to journey farther. The hermit shall return and find him here And so deUver it. I'll follow him. ACOLYTE Hush now — he turns, they bring him back to us. The two monks support Abelard back to the ledge of the shrine, where he sinks in a reclining posture as though fainting. One of the monks puts the cowl over Abelard 's face. PETER, to the two monks We go upon an errand to the valley. Bide here with him — be tender — so farewell. Exeunt down the hill Peter, the Acolyte, the Nuncio and his guards. FIRST MONK Now we'll not hear the preacher. SECOND MONK And I've dreamed This fortnight that he was St. John, and I Should look upon him. FIRST MONK We are punished thus For being eager. 202 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv SECOND MONK I am punished always For any longing; it is God's good way. Enter slowly from the wood Heloise. FIRST MONK Who's this? A Sister! She's the one shall stay. SECOND MONK Oh, 'tis a blessing sent. FIRST MONK, pointing to the cowled figure of Abelard Good Sister, see An aiUng brother fallen on the way. Come, minister to him while we make haste Unto the congregation there below. SECOND MONK At last I'll hear. Going. FIRST MONK Hasten, he may be ended. Exeunt the two monks. Heloise goes to the reclining figure with impulsive pity. She lifts the cowl. His face is disclosed. She starts back and Abelard half rises. heloise, wildly Abelard! ABELARD, faintly Heloise ! act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 203 HELOISE O my immortal love! ABELARD, passing his hand before his eyes Have not the years prevailed against this, dream, That it must touch again the air about me? HELOISE No dream is here, but the awakening. ABELARD, weakly looking at her I see He pauses with sinking head. HELOISE, touching him pityingly You shudder as from blighting cold. ABELARD I am enshrouded in a frozen world That makes my marrow ice He pauses. And who shall melt it? HELOISE Touch but this hand. It seems as it could pour Even too much fire upon you. ABELARD But to warm me, Never. 204 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv HELOISE You pale — an iUness is upon you. ABELARD My illness is not ruled by mortal change ; I am Pain's self and hve beyond despair. HELOISE Can you take nothing of heaUng from my hands, My Source! from whom my springs of life arose Brimming their full banks with a mighty flood That has been lowered never since it rose Deep from your heart? ABELARD My Ufe these many years Has languished dry Uke sand and I have walked Within a world robbed of its rain and dew, Pent in myself as underneath a roof That kept off heaven and let in the world. HELOISE There is an ebb to sorrow oftentimes, When tears have drowned the topmost flower of grief. ABELARD If I had any longer any tears, You too would wash away. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 205 HELOISE Can you not weep? ABELARD I never wept except as poets do, Whose tears are only tears while they are heard. HELOISE You name the poet's mind without the heart; You never drew me by the mind alone. ABELARD, continuing as though unhearing That conscious face I wore before the world Has turned upon itself to rend and tear me, And is a Gorgon that has struck me dumb. Expression is a sweet I've lost the taste of, And it is flatter now than silence is. I am a harp unstrung — nothing is emptier. HELOISE Ah, you forget — you never were of old Moved to emotion by a conscious mood, But ever lived your hours too bhndly eager. ABELARD My soul was prism-hke and seized upon All hues of Ufe out of clear-seeming air, Only to pass them through me into color. None — none were held, and now the glass is duUed. Lo, there is no man there that seemed to hold it. 2o6 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv HELOISE I am one color that remains to you. ABELARD The world is parched and a desert thing When I, the fountain that would make it green, Cannot reflect its greenness in myself. HELOISE, looking at him long Now if you ever doubted, oh, beheve That in the end all will be well with us; That merciless lance of this, your new-found vision, ShaU be a light that shall illume the mists That damped and ailed this mortal life of yours, Making it fretful, sick, and feverous. ABELARD The years have put a candle in my hand Too late. Midnight has come. The void surrounds me. Black, Umitless; I cannot see the way. My Ught is guttering now. HELOISE BeUeve, beUeve! Cling to that glory that enfolded us Upon the instant of our earUest kiss, For it is symbol of a saving thing; act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 207 Though we groped upward from a blind abyss Into the world, did we not find each other? And at that meeting something was as flame That shall not fade or fail to tell our eyes The radiant promise of this world to us, Who burn across it to abide beyond. ABELARD I only lived by day, the night's uncharted. HELOISE, pointing to the west. It is now after sunset See how that sunken glory in the air, Filling the west with the old altar fire, Beacons its promise of dawn following. And how the twilight star's imperial tear Sheds its most white atonement on the world For what the day has lost and sinned against. ABELARD Lost, sinned against — the words are chosen well. He slowly looks up at her. What do you wish of me? HELOISE, moving as though she had been smitten; she hesitates and then speaks Oh, I am young She pauses an instant. I am not old. Can I not, with my strength Raise you from this affliction of blank pain? 2o8 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv ABELARD I have a strength too great. It lasts too long. He pauses. One thing I Unger for — to see the end. For all my once-wild faith, my dreams, my hopes Have shrunk and narrowed to this lean beUef, That in the end I shaU be justified. HELOISE Are you not justified that we shall conquer? abelard, looking at her Sister, I speak of Europe, not of us, The mind of the world, that I, having once died, Lived on to save. Oh, I have suffered earth That I might heal the sickness of itself. For Reason's sake I have been spurned and stoned From every cloister in this faith-bUnd land. I totter on the wall, but here I conquer. He looks up with rising energy and a show of the old fire. I have appealed to Rome HELOISE, starting To Rome, my Soul? abelard There my salvation and all Europe's is. The Pope shall save me and with me the world. Here I await his salvos for my Ufe. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 209 heloise, swiftly But if his mandate is against the stars? ABELARD It cannot be — my vindication's sure. HELOISE, imploringly O Love, keep back some faith from this adventure; Hazard not aU in the old bUnder way. No ship from Rome bears argosies of Reason , Keep back a Uttle faith to Uve upon If this frail vessel sink beneath the sea. ABELARD I am a fruit tree blasted, and I cling Even to autumn by a single leaf. I have long been kin to it, and with cold fingers It shall erase me from this troubled field. Only let not my agony be in vain; Only to see the heritage I die for Lives and is safe. His head sinks. HELOISE, piteously I pray you, Love, withhold Your bhnd reUance on so wraithlike hopes. She pauses, then leans toward him, speaking quickly. Fix all your gaze upon that other hope Born of our love and clothed oji with its fire Of prayer and tears. 210 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv ABELARD, looking at her wonderingly You speak some mystery. HELOISE Of whom I told in letters long ago. ABELARD Letters I had, but naught of hope in them. heloise, slowly You heard not of him from me ever? ABELARD, gazing at her Him? HELOISE, turning Not even to have shared this thing together. abelard, still following her with his eyes Together ? HELOISE, turning back to him Afterward — oh, afterward She pauses. Our love put on mortality — a son! She sinks down beside him, covering her face with her hands. abelard A son — to me? act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 211 HELOISE At veiled Argenteuil My joy and sorrow knew its height and depth. ABELARD, staggering to his feet He Uves? HELOISE They took him in his earUest hours, But I in secret watch him in the world. The Church possesses him — he grows in strength. He knows not of us nor suspects his birth. abelard, reeling and raising his hands triumphantly to the sky At last! O thou uneven thing in the air Made Uke a balance, Justice, I have conquered And all the leaden evil is outweighed. I'U go He totters and sinks down upon the ledge. Ha — weakness — on an hour like this? Raise me and lead me to him from this darkness. Into his hands the battle shaU be given: His heritage, the star that I have clutched at, Shall be laid on him as a white commission. And for his battle-cry and holy banner For shield, for fortress, he shall have the word Of commendation I await from Rome! For it is true he cannot fight without That sure defence. 212 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act rv HELOISE O my World, hold and stay From plunging on this unknown orbit now. ABELARD The fires he sheds shall warm my frozen way. HELOISE I know not where he is. We could not find him. His road is chosen. We must not fetter him. From the road that leads down into the valley a sound has been heard growing as of many people approaching. Wild cries are heard. Abelard and Heloise stand listening. The tumult increases. Enter a throng of people from the valley, yelling taunts and pointing derisively back along the road. Some of them throw sticks and stones in that direction. They cross the stage and exeunt noisily. En ter from the valley Astrolobus, the object of their insults. He staggers wildly along the road, covered with dust and bruises. Heloise has stood stricken with apprehension since the noise began. She now starts on beholding him. He sees her, stops and addresses her fiercely. Abelard is still seated on the ledge back of Heloise, his eyes fixed on Astrolobus. It is twilight. ASTROLOBUS Staring at Heloise. Ah, you — you — I have often seen your face, But now I know you, what you are to me. WeU shameless cause, look on your shamed effect, For I am outcast, bloody, spit upon. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 213 I know your story out of common baUads. Why? Why? Say in what way had I unborn Ever done injury to you or wronged you That you should body forth my soul in shame? Enter Malart also from the valley road. He goes with triumphant malice to Abelard and gives him the excom munication. Abelard stares at it, clutches at his breast and sinks prostrate on the ledge behind Heloise, who has not even noted the entrance of Malart, but stands with her eyes fixed on Astrolobus, who continues. Exit Malart. Unjust, unjust. My earthly life is gone, And holy writ has said that such as I Cannot inherit ever the kingdom of heaven. Oh, I have been ambitious, I loved life; I would have outshone morning. I breathed rain bows. I have exhorted men to win the cross, And now they will and I'll not be the reason. I must go scorned, gnashing to the dark. You planted foul seeds darkly long ago And I'm the fruitage. WeU, then, I'U taste bitter : May that same darkness be your dwelUng always. May unappeasable despair forever Gnaw you. Burn. Freeze. Never forget my words. May they make heU a respite from your torment. Starting to go. Lost, lost! Where's justice? Who will pity me? Exit along the road. 214 ABELARD AND HELOISE [act iv heloise, starting wildly after him Ah, no, no — Astrolobus! He does not return. She turns slowly and sees Abelard prone upon the ledge. Abelard ! She goes swiftly to him, bending over him. This is not all. There's no surrender now. We must not lose him. He at least shaU be Won from the field if we stiU fight for him. She pauses, staring at him, then sees the excommunication. She picks it up, opens it and reads. What's this? Your freedom — I will share it with you Look up! Only believe — here's hope — Look! Waken ! She bends over him, looks at his face, takes his hand and puts her head to his breast, listening. She rises, clutching her brows and looking upward. Can this be aU? She pauses, then looks again at Abelard. No, no. It is the doubt, The doubt that numbs us and makes aU defeat. But I — believe! She leans over Abelard' s body, embracing it. act iv] ABELARD AND HELOISE 215 This is not twilight now. You are about me brightly in the air. Shine, then, upon this altar while I lay New vows upon it of more service to you. She looks up. For I'll live on and seek him out and win him Before I follow you to other fields. So hear me where you now are and be strong. Keep up the battle till I come to you, And watch, protect, and shield him. She turns her gaze again upon Abelard' s rigid form. Abelard! Curtain. YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 9002 05160 9668