SCENE IV.--_The Senate-chamber._

ZETHO _and_ Senators; _afterwards_ GYCIA.

_Zetho._ What is the hour?

_Bardanes._ It wants five minutes only To midnight. Think you she will come?

_Zetho._ I know her.

She is the soul of honour, and would keep Her word if 'twere her death.

_Bard._ But would she keep it If 'twere her lover's?

_Zetho._ She thinks not that it is, Nor should it be, indeed, were we but true As I believe her.

_Bard._ True! There is no truth In keeping faith with murderers; they must perish In the same net which they laid privily Against a faithful city.

_Enter_ GYCIA, _tottering in, with the keys._

_Zetho._ Hail, n.o.ble daughter! Thou hast saved the State.

I knew thou wouldst not fail us.

_Gycia._ See, good Zetho, The proof that I have done my part to you.

There are the master keys of all the doors Within the palace. When I closed the last, A few brief minutes since, there was no sound Nor light in hall or chamber; every court Was silent as the grave.

_Bard._ Ay, as the grave It is, or will be soon.

_Gycia._ What mean you, sir, I pray you? I am but a timid woman, Full of foreboding fears and dread of ill, And such a doubt doth overspread my soul, Hearing thy words, I think I shall go mad.

Nay, Zetho, he is safe; I have your promise Thou wouldst not harm him. An o'erwhelming force, Thou saidst, should so surround them that resistance Were vain, and ere the dawn they should go hence Without one drop of bloodshed.

_Zetho._ Ay, my daughter, Such was the promise.

_Bard._ And it will be kept.

[_Bell strikes midnight._

Hark, 'tis the hour! An overwhelming force

[_A red glare rising higher and higher is seen through the windows of the Senate-chamber. Confused noises and shouts heard without._

Surrounds them, but no drop of blood is shed.

All will go hence ere dawn.

_Gycia._ Oh, cruel man, And most perfidious world! Oh, my Asander!

To die thus and through me!

[_A violent knocking is heard at the door._

_Enter_ THEODORUS _in great agitation, and_ IRENE, _who throws herself on her knees, weeping._ GYCIA _falls swooning in Zetho's arms._

_Zetho._ Whence cam'st thou, Theodorus?

_Theo._ Straight, my lord, From Gycia's palace.

_Zetho._ Say, what didst thou there?

And what of horror has befallen thee That makes thine eyes stare thus?

_Theo._ Most n.o.ble Zetho, When from the banquet scarce an hour ago I pa.s.sed, came one who offered me a letter And bade me read. 'Twas from this woman here, My sister, and it told of some great peril By fire, which she, within the prison locked, Expected with the night. Wherefore I sped With one I trusted, and did set a ladder Against her cas.e.m.e.nt, calling her by name, And bidding her descend. But no voice came, And all was dark and silent as the grave; And when I called again, the Prince Asander, From an adjacent cas.e.m.e.nt looking, cried, "I had forgot thy sister. Take her hence; She should go free!" And then, at her own cas.e.m.e.nt

[GYCIA _revives and listens._

Appearing, he came forth, and in his arms A woman's senseless form. As they descended And now were in mid-air, there came the sound Of the bell striking midnight, and forthwith In a moment, like a serpent winged with fire, There rose from wall to wall a sheet of flame, Which in one instant mounted to the roof With forked red tongues. Then every cas.e.m.e.nt teemed With strange armed men, who leapt into the flames And perished. Those who, maimed and burnt, escaped, Ere they could gain their feet, a little band Of citizens, who sprang from out the night, Slew as they lay. The Prince, who bore my sister Unhurt to ground, stood for a moment mute.

Then, seeing all was lost, he with a groan Stabbed himself where we stood. I fear his hurt Is mortal, since in vain I tried to staunch The rushing blood; then bade them on a litter Carry him hither gently. Here he comes.

_Enter_ Citizens, _bearing_ ASANDER _on a litter, wounded._

_Gycia._ Oh, my love, thou art hurt! Canst thou forgive me?

I thought to save thee and the rest. I knew not, I did not know! Oh, G.o.d!

_Asan._ I do believe thee.

The fates have led our feet by luckless ways Which only lead to death. I loved but thee.

I wished thy State no wrong, but I am dying.

Farewell! my love, farewell!

[_Dies._

_Gycia._ Oh, my lost love!

[_Throws herself on the body and kisses it pa.s.sionately._

_Zetho._ Poor souls! Mysterious are the ways of Heaven, And these have suffered deeply in the fortune That bound their lives together.

_Bard._ That dead man Would have betrayed our State, and thou dost pity!

So perish all the enemies of Cherson!

_Gycia_ (_rising_). Nay, sir, be silent. 'Tis a coward's part To vilify the dead. You, my Lord Zetho, I had your promise that you would hurt none Except the guilty only, and I thought That to your word I might entrust my life And one more dear than mine; but now it seems That in some coward and unreasoning panic This worthy Senator has moved his colleagues-- Since cruelty is close akin to fear-- To break your faith to me, and to confuse The innocent and guilty, those who led And those who followed, in one dreadful death!

I pray you pardon me if, being a woman, Too rashly taking part in things of State, I have known nought of State-craft or the wisdom Which breaks a plighted word.

_Zetho._ Daughter, I would Our promise had been kept, and I had kept it But that the safety of the State to some Seemed to demand its breach.

_Gycia._ Farewell, good Zetho, And all who were my friends. I am going hence; I can no longer stay. There lies my love.

There flames my father's house. I go far off, A long, long journey. If you see me not In life again, I humbly pray the State May, if it think me worthy--for indeed I have given it all--bury me, when I die, Within the city, in a fair white tomb, As did our Grecian forefathers of old For him who saved the State; and, if it may be, Lay my love by my side.

_Zetho and Sens._ Daughter, we swear That thou shalt have thy wish.

_Gycia._ I thank you, sirs.

Then, I may go. Kiss me, good Theodorus: I am no more a wife. I know thy love, And thank thee for it. For that wretch whose lie Has wrecked our life and love, I bless the G.o.ds That I am childless, lest my daughter grew As vile a thing as she; and yet I know not.

She loved him in some sort, poor wretch, poor wretch!