First performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, On Tuesday, February 21st, 1832.
SCENE.—Palermo and its Environs.
Hark thee, Bruno; a word in thine ear.
What is't, Alberti?
What think'st thou of this foreign knight who has pitched his tent right close to ours? By my troth, his wealth must be enormous! Hast thou noticed his numerous train, his army of squires, pages, and attendants?
He has a noble presence, and his armour is magnificent.
But can'st tell who he be? and what brings him here to Sicily?
He comes, no doubt, like to ourselves, to break a lance at the tournament given by the king of Sicily; and the rich prize of which is to be the fair Isabel, his daughter. There be knights from all parts of Christendom.
True! but they are known, whilst this stranger— have you even heard his name?
No; he comes from Normandy—'tis all I've learnt.
And his black-looking companion, there?
Oh, he bears too ill a countenance for me to court his acquaintance.
How now, Bertram—thy wine languishes in the cup. What ho!
“To the conqueror in this day's tourney!”
A pledge! Hurrah!
Most gracious lord, I bring before you a joyous minstrel, whom we have just stopped, thinking he might contribute to your entertainment. He says he has just arrived from France.
Ay? From what part?
From Normandy.
From Normandy?
From your ungrateful country.
Come forward, varlet! Thou hast the skill of minstrelsy? Is it so?
Why, truly, mighty sir, I can't deny my skill; and what's more, I care not to keep it to myself.
Take this, and requite my largess with thy choicest legend.
Shall it be gay or pitiful? For I have many tales very gay, and many exceedingly pitiful. Or shall it be terrible? A tale likely to make everybody wretched that listens to me; or miraculous, or—
Pshaw! Any thou wilt, so thou'lt begin.
In truth, gentle knight, all my tales are so very good, that it be no easy matter to know
which of them to begin
A plague of thy cat, thou mewling idiot! No trifling, fool! know'st thou where thou art?
Hast thou no true story?
True? That's a slur upon my budget! Noble knight, all my stories are true stories, “Sir Palamede and the the Fiery Dragon,” “The bear and the Brazen Tower,” but stay! there is one tale more especially famous throughout all France, and of awful interest; nor more nor less than “The true History of our young Duke of Normandy, surnamed Robert the Devil.”
Robert the devil?
Ay! Robert the Devil—that profligate limb of Lucifer who, for his evil doings, has been chased away from his native land, no one caring what has become of him.
Be more prudent!
Let it be that; begin.
Ahem! be silent and pay attention; if ye be knights of taste, it be worth the hearing.
Well? as they tell—
Bless us! a fiend?
A fiend from hell.
He tells it well.
A fiend from hell!
Beware his spell!
I can control my rage no longer. Ho! men-at-arms. Seize this insolent vassal;
How!
Mercy! mercy! Sweet
I have power of thy life as my serf and vassal.
I don't dispute it.
I grant thee one short hour. Make thy speediest prayer, and then—
Oh la! oh la! Take pity on me, noble knight and infernal master! I'm come all the way from
Normandy with my bride that
Thy intended bride, say'st thou? Hold a while!
They call us in Normandy the beautiful couple. It would be a pity to spoil the pair.
Thy words soften me.
Bless your soft heart.
On account of thy sweetheart's charms, I grant thee thy life.
You grant me what I most value.
But—
Eh! wha—what means your terrible but?
I claim her as
My Alice to their hands! A lamb to the wolves! Oh, most gracious Duke Robert, Robert the Dev—
Be silent! Dar'st thou still to murmur when I have had the goodness to pardon thee?
Oh, confound your goodness! miserable devil that I am! I lose my wife before marriage! If it had been after, indeed—
Fill the cups again!
Ha! what do I see? Alice!
Ha! Duke Robert, protect me from their violence!
Stand back! I am her protector. The same breast hath
Follow
Mayn't I remain too, noble knight?
No—begone!
What, and leave you all alone with—
Wait for me on yonder hill, and I will rejoin thee speedily.
The sooner the better, for I don't like your present company; he's as great a devil as ever he was.
Oh, my prince, my master!
Call me thy brother. Banished by my rebellious subjects, I wander an exile in a foreign land; but my heart is still the same. And now, Alice, wherefore is it that I see thee in Sicily? what comest thou to do at Palermo?
I have quitted my humble cottage in our own dear Normandy on a mission to seek
My mother! speak! whatever be her desire I will instantly obey it.
Alas, my lord, her sorrows have ceased; she is— dead!
Dead! adored parent! dead! oh, anguish!
Her last thoughts were for
And the son she so loved received not even her dying blessing!
Her last wishes she confided to me alone. “When I have ceased to live,” she said, “seek out my son. Tell him, for his soul's welfare, to beware! There is a dark and evil power hovers round him that would drag him to perdition! Be thou his good angel, Alice, and save him; and bid him, some day when he shall be worthy of it, to read this writing traced by an expiring mother's hand!”
No, no; I am
You love?
Without hope. Know all my misery; when I first beheld the Princess of Sicily, the beautiful and far-famed Isabel, her charms won my soul! she smiled with favour on my suit, and I fancied I had touched her heart, when, one day, maddened with love and jealousy, (for I had heard her hand was promised to the Prince of Grenada) I boldly endeavoured to bear her off. I withstood her father, and the united attack of all his cavaliers.
Rashness!
I was on the point of falling beneath their swords, when suddenly there stood at my side a powerful knight, in ebon armour, and mounted on a black steed. With lightning speed he felled my antagonists to the ground, and bore me off unhurt. To him, to Sir Bertram, my preserver, and ever since my friend, I owe the victory and my life; but, alas! I lost Isabel and happiness for ever.
And the princess?
From that day I have never beheld her. I am now returned hither only in the fond hope thst, contesting the prize of arms at the tournament, I may see her once more, and perhaps yet win her.
If her heart ever preferred you, she will still be faithful to you.
Yet how be sure of that?
It is a question easily asked. Write, my lord.
Thou counsel'st me to my liking.
What ho! my scribe. I will sue for pardon, and plead my passion's violence.
Yet, Alice, now I bethink me, the letter written—who may deliver it?
I, my lord; the wit is keen that serves whom it doth love.
'Tis well.
Be you not far from me, my lord; for I have hope of bringing a speedy and a welcome answer.
Thou art my guardian angel. Here! good speed attend thee!
Ha!
Thy new conquest, Robert, seems wholly devoted to thee.
Her gentle breast is moved by gratitude.
Gratitude! And thou believest in gratitude? It is ever the foremost word in the mouth of the ungrateful. Tell me, what was thy conference with Alice?
I'll tell thee all. She is my messenger to Isabel, to apprise her of my arrival, and to obtain my pardon.
Thou still wilt go, in this, 'gainst all my counselling.
I cannot, will not live without Isabel. In spite of every opposer, I will win her in the tournament.
Thou never shalt!
My coursers are strong, and my armour hath been tried against the bravest in the world.
I will strip thee of it this very hour!
My wealth, too, gives me level with the proudest suitor.
Thou shalt not long possess it.
I have forsworn play for ever.
More of thy folly! Fortune, in smiling mood, may add to thy riches, and make thee surer of thy Isabel. Come, we'll make them our bankers, and draw largely on their purses.
Well, with all my heart; I yield to thee in everything.
Bertram, 'tis thy evil counsel has led me to this.
Do I not share in thy ill fortune?
Oh, Isabel! thou art now lost to me, indeed. But ere I seek my death, I will once more, and for the last time, behold thee.
This eventful day will unite or part us for ever. Should he gain Isabel, he is torn from
me. The art of hell must be employed to thwart him. His despair will do much, and Isabel may
furnish him with arms. Their possession must be rendered useless. The renowned Prince of
Grenada, though certain to overcome all others, is no equal match against Robert's power and
skill; a more potent adversary must be found, and I will summon him straight. Ye Spirits of
the middle Air, that are linked with us in evil, darken around me the light of day that,
invisible to all, I may pursue my purpose.
Thy spell I obey, and thy commands will execute.
Fold thy wings, and come forth from thy circle of flame.
Thy bidding is done.
From this, till midnight strikes, I claim thy services.
Thou art my master.
Thou must assume the mortal shape and title of Granada's Prince; and forthwith, with full retinue, present thyself at the King of Sicily's court. Conquer in the tournament all opposers, and claim for thy prize the Princess Isabel.
The Prince of Grenada hath arrived within two leagues.
This shall prevent his further advance until tomorrow.
'Tis done; haste, and meet me at the palace.
Heartless grandeur, how I disdain thy mockery! Pageantry and feasts surround me, but happiness flies me. Wretched Isabel! thy ungrateful Robert slights and resigns thee without a sigh. Oh, that I but knew whither he has fled!
We may approach her without fear; the petitions of the wretched she has never yet slighted.
The opportunity seems favourable—why should I hesitate? Goodness speaks in her features.
Thou seemest a stranger?
I am but newly come to this land; but the person—
from whom I come, and who is waiting nigh, is no stranger to your highness.
Ha! may I believe the welcome tidings? Robert so near me! Fate, thou dost relent at last! Come hither, stranger; return, and lead hither the person who sent thee. Use thy best speed, and I will give thee cause to rejoice.
I knew my counsel was good.
Ah, Robert! thou hast nought to fear from me.
Take heart, my lord, and cast yourself at her feet. She has consented to hear you, which is very nearly a full pardon.
Fair Isabel, let my penitence disarm your anger! The love that caused my guilt should plead my pardon.
Arise, Sir Knight.
Do you, then, generously forgive my offence?
I ought to have fled your presence, or been deaf to your words; but my heart is too weak towards all it loves.
Words of rapture!
If
Alas, Isabel, I am robbed of hope!
How!
My folly maddens me. Oppressed by Fortune's spite, I have lost my armour and my trusty sword.
'Tis not yet too late; the loss shall be repaired.
Ha!
Pages—haste and bring hither to this knight the best and richest suit within the palace armoury.
Then I may defy the worst!
Thou knowest, perhaps, that my father has proclaimed my hand the prize of the tournay?
I know it, and am blest.
But he did so because he deems his choice, the Prince of Grenada, invincible.
Invincible! He hath borne that title for the last time.
He is looked for every moment, and, by my father's command, I must in this very place
receive and welcome him. Leave it not, I beseech you, that my eyes may dwell, with
anticipating joy, upon my deliverer.
Armed by
Astoroth hath placed thee under my orders, and I have fully instructed thee: Now, look thou do my bidding well, or tremble!
Dread master, I will.
Under thy guise of Herald, lead him hence, and lose his steps in the neighbouring forest.
He shall not fail to follow me.
Oh! would that instead of meeting my rival in harmless tilting, I had him before me in
single and deadly fight!
To thee, Robert of Normandy, the Prince of Greneda, my master, sends formal challenge; and by my voice defies thee, not to a pageant tournay, but to deadly combat.
Ha! my dearest wish is granted! Where is he? Guide me to him.
Follow me; he waits thee in the neighbouring forest.
One of us shall never quit it more.
Ha, ha, ha!—go, and seek an empty shadow. Thou can'st not escape me, Robert; thou must be mine alone. The King of Sicily and his daughter approach, and the Knights are preparing for the tournament. Haste thee, Astoroth, the hour is come.
Warriors, and honoured signiors, ye are welcome to our court. The appointed hour is nigh that will secure to the chosen of victory the sweetest prize that valour ever yet conquered or received; and we now but wait the appearance of one justly dear to us, and by renown known to ye all, even the Prince of Grenada, ere we bid the trumpet call ye to the lists.
Haste thee, sluggish Astoroth!
Sire, the Prince of Grenada has entered the palace, and claims the honour of being armed for the combat by the hands of the Princess Isabel.
I triumph! The phantom duke is come, while Robert wanders in the mazes of the wood.
How now, daughter, hast thou no reply? Go, herald, tell the prince his boon is granted, and our daughter awaits his coming.
Alas! where is Duke Robert? Honour calls him, yet he appears not.
Remember, Astoroth, to claim the princess for thy bride.
I will not fail.
Prince, and valourous knights, to horse! The tournament ended, I claim ye for my guests at the royal banquet.
Alas, in vain I strain my eyes; I behold him not. Doth he mock my love? Cruel thought! My hand is the prize, and Robert's banner is absent!
Isabel, let thy voice proclaim the lists are open, and make the true hearts of chivalry beat high at thy accents.
Thus far, Ashtoroth, thou perfect semblance of Grenada's Prince, thou hast most well obeyed my behests. Thou hast conquered in the tournament.
All who opposed me.
Thou hast won the prize.
The Princess Isabel. She is to be my bride, and I receive her hand at midnight.
Another conquest for our gloomy realm!
When wilt thou disclose thyself to thy mortal son?
When I have bound his soul so fast in the meshes of crime that we can never be parted in the next world. His career has long been a promising one; but this very night I will allure him to a sacrilegious deed of fatal temptation.
And that is—
To pluck the Magic Branch from the holy tomb of St. Rosalie. That done, he is surely ours;
for, possession of unchecked power will lead his heart to sin, and sin—leads unto
I must now attend our sovereign within these ruin vaults. Thou knowest we are all summoned at this hour.
I fancy I'm the first at the appointment, for I don't see Al—Eh! company here? I'll ask them civilly if they've seen my Alice.
I'll shortly follow thee.
'Tis well.
Ah! Mercy upon me! I'm singed!
That fool here?
Fire! Murder! Oh!
What now, idiot minstrel?
Don't roast me alive! spare me for my wife's sake.
Has a passing lightning-flash scared away thy wits?
Lightning out of the earth?
So it seemed to thee. Chase away thy foolish terror. Thou art the Norman peasant I saw this morning?
Ay, when Duke Robert purposed to hang me on the nearest tree; but he didn't though.
Just like him; he never carries through his good intentions.
Good intentions!
What brings thee to this unfrequented spot?
My future wife, who appointed me to meet her here; we are to be married to-day. Sweet
Alice! To be sure, as far as
Is it so? Well then, there—take that dross.
Eh! dross?
And that's what creature man calls happiness! why then, I too, can make man happy at my will.
What a good soul! How wrong it is to take people by their outside.
Weak humanity! Easily won, and scarce worth the winning.
Yes, please your super-excellent excellence.
What folly!
What folly? Come, I don't think it's any folly at all. My Alice is a rare tit-bit for
anybody; and she's not only fair, but she's right sensible—witness her choosing
But it shews
You would choose?
I tell thee I would choose.
But
Well, I've done so exactly.
Tush! I would fly at higher game than thy buzzard-eye has fastened on. Thou art now
Now do you really think so?
I feel assured of it.
Well, now, to be sure—such a great man as you ought to know better than a little man like
me.
Take my word for it, happiness consists in variety.
And to be happy is just what I want.
Then be bold and ape thy betters. Be reckless, capricious, heartless, and fashionable!
Follow my advice, and—
I desire the honour with all my heart. Then it seems, according to your agreeable advice, I may just indulge myself as I please?
Surely thou may'st. What men foolishly call
I like your doctrine of all things! The devil fetch me if I don't! I'll go and preach it to
all my companions, and, as a first step,
To drink! capital! 'Tis the best first step I could counsel thee! it leads to all else. Ha, ha, ha! excellent.
I never met with a more delightful gentleman in all my life. And what a musical laugh he
has! I sincerely hope we shall become better acquainted; for I like his
I
Another soul gained! Ha, ha, ha! a mighty conquest truly! But I laugh at his coming misery, forgetful of my own approaching trial. Hell's mighty conclave, presided by its sovereign, is within these caverns met, and I must haste to join it. This moment will determine all, and turn uncertainty to sureness. Yes!
Dear, dear! where can the man
The decree is pronounced! fatal and irrevocable! Fearful sentence! Robert must be lost to
me for ever, unless,
To-night! Before midnight! Horrible!
Ha! some one spoke. What daring mortal—
My strength fails me; I cannot fly.
What aileth thee, sweet Alice?
Horror! 'Tis the fiend!
Come hither, gentle maid! come nigh me.
I cannot.
Tell me—what hast thou heard?
Heard? nothing—nothing.
Nay, then, what hast thou seen, child?
Nothing.
Her excessive fear will engender lies, and make her my prey.
His voice thrills me with horror! I faint!
Approach, and let thy charms—
Avaunt! Begone, foul fiend!
Bertram, we are alone; give me counsel to quiet my despair! I am lost—dishonoured!—Baffled and overreached by a detested rival—my steps lured after a vain phantom—I have be wandering in a wilderness while the accursed Prince of Grenada, conqueror at the tournay, has won my Isabel, and this very midnight, in Palermo's Cathedral, receives her hand. My only hope is in thee! Thou has sworn never to forsake me.
And nought but hell's strongest power shall make me forsworn. Hark to me, Robert—thou hast fallen into a dark snare, and hast been the victim of foul magic arts.
Ha!
By unholy means hath thy rival detroyed thy projects. He thereunto employed the resistless charms and potent spells of infernal spirits.
What then, is to be done?
Foil him with his own evil weapons. Imitate, and crush him.
But the means? Be there secrets of power to conjure up invisible spirits?
Ay! from the viewless air—from the fathomless sea—from the bowels of the earth—and from the regions of everlasting fire.
Dost know those secrets? answer.
I
Ha! how comest thou by the unhallowed knowledge? Speak! who art thou, Bertram? Silent!
Thou shalt know me in good time. Till then, look on me as thy best friend, and trust me. These mysteries, all-terrible as they are, yet are nothing to the man who has a daring and determined heart. Hast thou such a one?
Bertram!
Frown not—I believe in thy valour. Now, answer me! What wouldst thou peril to possess a talisman of such miraculous power that it bestows on its owner—wealth and immortality, and the instant gratification of his every wish.
I would risk my life to obtain it.
Ay! a simple branch of cypress is the awful and all-powerful spell.
Where is it to be sought—and when?
The most propitious moment is close at hand; for the day is fading rapidly, and the full moon will soon gain mastery of light.
But where lies it?
On an ancient tomb.
But where? in what secret spot?
Mark me, and heed well my words!
I declare I feel—ha! ha! ha!—I feel, for all the world as if I was somebody else ever since
I met with that merry, agreeable, ill-looking, handsome gentleman, who gave me this handsome
purse. He was an excellent fellow; and my companions at the tavern—whom I've made very
completely drunk—are all excellent fellows; and I—who was almost in danger of getting pretty
completely drunk, too—I'm an excellent fellow myself. And then there's Alice, she's an
excellent fellow, too; and—and—Well, now, I never thought of that! I wonder what's
How can I save Duke Robert? There is but one hope; I must seek the princess, instantly.
“Thou art an exceeding proper, well-shaped, and attractive youth, and were I in thy place, I'd marry every one I liked.” That's the first thing he said that particularly struck me.
'Tis he, indeed.
“Thou art a fool—”
He is muttering to himself.
“To let thyself be chosen.” That, to be sure, wasn't very civil in a stranger, especially at a first introduction; but, however—
Arnaud!
Eh—what, Alice? Dear me, art thou there, Alice? Bless my heart, how d'ye do, Alice?
Art not ashamed of thy conduct? Didst not promise to meet me an hour ago? Thou art a scandal to the name of lover.
Hoity-toity! here's a loving beginning!
Dost thou not blush I, say?
Blush!—no one ever saw me blush yet. Blush, indeed!—why should I blush?
Goodness protect me! what nonsense is he uttering? Why, Arnaud, thou hast been drinking?
Drinking? To be sure I've been drinking. “It's the first step I counsel thee—it leads to all else—ha, ha, ha!”
Wilt thou deny thou art a vile wretch?
I'm to deny myself nothing I can obtain.
Thou art a false, ungrateful brute.
Just so; I'm to “ape my betters and be fashionable.”
'Tis well; but thou shalt yet pay for this.
“Care not to pay; and if money runs short, then —run away.”
Alas! every sorrow besets me at once.
Why, Alice!
Away from me!
A sin? Pooh!
What horrible words are those? Arnaud, where hast thou imbibed such fearful doctrine?
I've imbibed nothing but two bottles of wine; and, as to the rest, he said—“Thou art an
exceeding
Of whom dost thou speak?
Why, of myself, to be sure, those were his iden— titi—tickle words; “and then,” says he—
Who?—who said?
Who? A most fascinating, though rather strange kind of a personage whom I met at the Rocks of St Irene.
At the Rocks of St. Irene? Can it be? Speak!—what was his look?
His look? Nay his look was at first anything but charming; but he improved amazingly on acquaintance; and when he gave me this purse, I thought him a most fascinating gentleman.
That purse! Oh, my fears!
This full purse; that's to say, it
Describe him to me, if thou hop'st for happiness!
Bless me, Alice, what's the matter with you? You quite disturb my equanini—nimity.
Delay not, I charge thee, but tell me instantly what I dread to find true. Speak—was not his look hideous, and his voice unearthly?
Well, rather so, I confess; but he said—“Thou art an exceedingly attractive—”
He wore a scarlet mantle, and his matted locks uncovered?
The same; did you meet him, too?
'Tis he—'tis he! Terrible being!
Hey!—terrible! What's that you say?
Thou took'st that dreadful purse from his hands?
I did; why is it a dreadful purse?
Miserable Arnaud!—thou art lost!
Am I? Who has lost me?
Well may'st thou look alarmed; for, hear that he who sought to seduce thee to thy ruin—
My what!
That fearful being was—
Who?—what?
I fear to name him.
Oh, la!—what was he?
A fiend!—a demon!
Ah!
That purse holds the wages of hell.
Hah!
Pray to thy good angel, and repent!
I
I see thy fear is real, for it hath sobered thee.
The Devil has gone out of me, and taken his wine along with him.
His power, I trust, is over.
Oh! how much lighter I feel since I've thrown away my purse!—just as if I had got rid of something that didn't agree with me.
How fortunate this timely explanation!
I
Be grateful for thy escape; and now let us hence, for I must seek the Princess.
Ay, and I'll stick close to you. From this minute I'll speak to nobody else—I'll accept no
more purses—I'll— exorciso te” over it?
I charge thee, as thou dost care for me, Arnaud, possess not thyself again of that unhallowed purse!
I won't, I won't. Suppose I
Thou must not think of it. Take it up and throw it into the moat as we cross the draw-bridge.
So I will; and if the devil likes to jump after it, I hope he'll stick in the muddy bottom till I help him out. Come along, Alice.
Daughters once of heaven, now of hell—workers of evil, my voice hath for one hour recalled you to your former selves, to do my bidding. Listen to my command! The steps of a valiant knight, whom I protect and love, now approach these ruins; he comes to pluck yonder green branch; but, if his hand should falter, be it your task to win him to the deed! Tempt him, force him to accomplish his promised daring, nor let him suspect the fate that awaits his rashness. Ye have heard; tremble to disobey!
Lords and noble dames, for your kind wishes, accept my feeble thanks.
Alas! how different were my hopes even this very day! But a few hours ago they sweetly
bloomed like summer flowers, nor looked for such early blighting! Alice, come hither. Thou
art an humble friend, but I do esteem thee for a true one; and all thou hast told me of
thyself has won me thy protectress for life.
Alas, no, noble lady; but I directed Arnaud, whom I mentioned to your highness, to obtain some intelligence.
Is he here?
He is yonder among your highness's attendants.
Call him to me.
Arnaud!
Eh?
Come hither.
Well now, who would have thought it!
The princess commands thy presence.
The princess? Dear me!
The princess, I tell thee, would have speech of thee.
She is—very welcome.
Tell me quickly, good friend, hast thou followed Alice's direction?
Please your ladyship—
Highness.
Please, your ladyship's highness, I've not been able to set eyes on him ever since he did me the high honour this morning of ordering me to be hanged; but I should prefer a more gradual rising under your royal protection.
Shame on thee—hast thou the meanness to beg?
Do you think I'm come to court for nothing? I'll do like the rest; get all I can, and ask for more.
Thou art at liberty to go.
Where am I to go?
Dolt! Thou art dismissed.
I'm dismissed! What for? What have I done to be dismissed?
Thou must retire when bidden.
Well, I suppose you understand the matter best, but it wasn't worth while to introduce the princess to me for such a little; but never mind—I think I've given her a favourable impression of me, and she may do something for us yet.
Alas, Robert! thou art lost to me for ever.
The king!
The king!
Now, daughter, how speed you? The night wears fast. Thy bridegroom here hath won thee bravely; and beyond the appointed hour of midnight, the union must not be delayed.
Happily my task will soon be over.
Prince of Grenada, one half hour before midnight, follow us to the cathedral. Seek
admittance with your train at the
I will prepare to execute your bidding.
Let those presents be borne to the inner chamber of the Princess.
What heavy langour weighs upon my eyelids!
Her touching accents melt and disarm me!
Fly, while yet 'tis time!
Not without thee! My heart is firm again. In vain dost thou shrink from me—mine thou shalt
be. Hopest thou for aid?—behold!
Come not near me!
Thou art my prey—and thus, thus I seize thee.
Approach not! stir not!
Bid hither the attendants of the princess, and inform the court of our setting forth.
Alice, here has been a pretty business! If this be court-living, I refuse to accept office. Our little cottage in dear Normandy, pretty Alice for my wife, with a score of children, will be much more agreeable.
What has happened, Arnaud?
What, don't you know?
All I know is, that in yonder room a sudden and mysterious lethargy fell upon me, and when I recovered, I found that my companions had been, like myself, deprived of all sense.
Well, and so was I. Left without any common sense at all—and all by some magical, mystical, diabolical operation; I can tell you all from the beginning. I was gaping about, when who should I see coming along the gallery yonder, but Duke Robert, carrying a little tree in his hand—which I supposed he might be bringing to the Princess as a wedding present—when all of a sudden “Seize him!” cries the King; “seize him!” cries I; and I had no sooner cried it than—slap! I was seized myself all of a heap!
Wonderful!
Wasn't it? Well, I felt, first particularly strange, then I felt—I felt that I hadn't a bit of feeling!—and when I woke, after a sort of a queer kind of a nap, I found I had been sleeping upon my legs, with my neighbour's fingers stuck in my mouth, and a large spur half-an-inch up my calf!
And what of Duke Robert?
Stop a bit. When the king, having ended his little nap, like myself, saw our devil of a duke—
Fie, Arnaud!
Well, our duke, Robert the Devil, he ordered him to be killed!
Oh, Heaven!
I got a little out of the way, behind a pillar, that I mightn't be killed by mistake, when, bounce! something flew by me, and in a moment, bounce! it flew back again with Duke Robert; and, oh, Alice, only guess who that something was.
Speak!
That something that whisked away Duke Robert as if he had been a little spaniel dog, was no other than my infernal friend of the Rocks of St. Irene; and as he passed me, he smelt—augh! as if he had just come out of Etna!
Which way did they go?
I didn't exactly look. I thought it best to shut my eyes, for fear I should see something I shouldn't like—some horn or tail; but when I ventured to open them again, the first thing I saw was the tail of your gown. But I say, isn't the princess going to be married to-night?
Yes, at midnight.
And are you to follow her?
Certainly.
Well then, Alice, if you follow the princess, and I follow
How silly thou art, Arnaud.
What, to be married?
Not to know that humble folks like us must wait our time.
But I've waited a devilish long time already. Let the princess be served first with all my heart; but your turn, if I can manage it, shall be next; and though your dish may be the more homely of the two, I warrant me it shall be quite as substantial. So, come along, and take no more care about Duke Robert, for it's very plain he likes to go to the devil his own way. Come along.
We are alone and safe.
Confusion! what shall I do? within the boundaries of this sainted spot my evil power fails, and nought but wily art can obtain me my prize. Robert, wherefore hast thou forced me to enter here?
This spot is sacred; it is a place of refuge where none dare pursue. Yet, 'tis not safety that I care for. Alas! all I trusted in has this day betrayed me.
Except thy friend that loves thee, and wishes but thy happiness. Know'st thou not the reason of thy ill-success? the breaking of the magic branch has delivered Isabel to thy rival's power.
Can nothing snatch her from his arms? tell me!
There is still one way left to glut thy vengeance.
I'll have it; be it what it may, I'll have it.
Hear me. The spirits of darkness—with whom thou hast already somewhat dealt—will be at thy command if thou wilt sign a compact pledging thyself theirs.
Give me revenge at any price!
Wilt thou consent to sign?
I will.
Come, then, out of this sacred ground, and full power and revenge are thine. Thou shalt exult over thy baffled rival, and hold thine Isabel within thine arms. Haste! away, away!
I wonder not at thy soul's emotion. The sounds thou hearest now bless the union of thy rival with Isabel.
Ha! that single word tears my heart, and revives my fury.
Begone—leave me! thou art my bitterest foe.
I! I, Robert, thy foe? I—who, out of the whole human race, love but thee? I, who would wish for all the treasures of the earth but to bestow them on thee alone?
Mysterious being! Who, then, art thou?
Doth not the emotion that now shakes my heart and thine own, yet betray me to thee? Robert, rememberest thou not this morning? Didst thou not hear and mark the Norman minstrel's fearful recital—the fatal story of thy mother's woes? They were but too true.
Oh, my trembling soul!
Yes, a fallen Spirit was her lover and her husband. I—I was that lover, I was that husband.
Horror!
And now, Robert, my
Thou—thou my
I have deceived thee, but 'twas to gain thee ever mine. Now mark me well! If before the midnight hour thou dost not sign a bond which shall for evermore conjoin us, I must lose thee for ever; and the midnight hour is already nigh!
Midnight! midnight! Isabel!
Hark! there is but a quarter of an hour of hope left us.
It is decreed, and Hell bears the victory! Father, I'll not forsake thee; I am thine.
Oh joy!
'Tis he; fortunate meeting.
Thou art resolved?
Yes; be what thou wilt, I henceforth share thy fate.
Ha! what do I hear?
Save me, Heaven! it is the Fiend.
What brings thee here?
Oh, Duke Robert, I have blessed, joyful tidings, which you will gladly hear. The false Prince of Grenada and his phantom train, approaching the southern gate, in vain attempted to cross the holy threshold, and, howling fearfully, vanished from sight!
I tremble.
The horror-struck father, shuddering at his daughter's escape, consents to bless her, and messengers are seeking you to receive her hand. Follow me to the altar.
My son, go not; but follow
What do I hear? Horror!
Let us quickly away! Time flies, and midnight is about to strike.