If truth I speak not, may the high Fo-hi Grind all my bones to make his next meat-pie!

KAL.

So far, so good; what hast thou more to say?

TRUF.

Be not impatient, Royal Highness, pray.

My mistress is a tiger-cat--(permit The term; tho' coa.r.s.e, 'tis graphically fit.) She gnashes her white teeth with frantic ire, And raves against you, "Robbers, murder, fire!"

If truth I speak not, may the high Fo-hi Make mince-meat of me for his sacred pie.

KAL.

No need of oaths. But hast thou not, good keeper, Some better news to tell a waken'd sleeper?

Truf.

Of course I have. Without circ.u.mlocution I now proceed to instant elocution: My charming mistress sent me here to beg You'll trust her with your secret. Her last leg She's standing on; and in sheer desperation She'll marry you; but must before the nation Appear to vanquish you--in mere appearance.

Be quick, and of your secret make a clearance.

Clear up the matter, and I'll then clear out; My time is precious. Finish off this bout.

KAL.

One thing thou hast forgotten.

TRUF.

What have I?

KAL.

To imprecate thy bones to Fo-bi's pie.

Return to Turandot. Tell her from me She'll glorious shine in high divan, if she Benignant prove herself; more true distinction She'll gain by this, than by my hope's extinction.

(_Signs to_ TRUF. _to withdraw._)

TRUF. (_aside_.)

I've only got my trouble for my pain; I'll never do a kindly act again. (_Exit_.)

KAL.

Come, gentle sleep. Refresh me, balm divine!

Take courage, weary soul, success may yet be mine.

(_Retires to the couch, and sinks; into slumber._ _Enter_ ADELMA, _veiled, bearing a lighted taper_.)

ADEL.

I shall not fail. In vain was their endeavour, But I will venture all, the knot to sever.

I may not learn his name,--but I'll implore His flight from Peking. Then my love, once more May hope to win his heart.

(_Unveils, and gazes upon him._)

He gently slumbers: Reluctantly I rouse him, but time numbers The hours yet left for action. Prince, arise!

KAL.

Who calls? Another spirit! Do my eyes Deceive me? Can it be? Adelma here?

Thy royal person in a slave's mean gear!

Such lowly garb is surely some disguise.

ADEL.

No, Prince; Adelma now in slav'ry sighs.

Beneath the galling yoke of her who martyred My wretched brother, and my father slaughtered.

Not you alone must suffer from the curse Of Turandot's fell ire; my fate's far worse.

KAL.

Princess, believe me; more your lot I mourn Than e'en my own. So fair, so n.o.bly born, So gracious to th' unhappy;--I can ne'er Forget your kindness to myself. If e'er In need of faithful service you may stand, Which I may render in return, command Me as your slave. My grat.i.tude's eternal.

ADEL.

From Turandot I'd save you. Her infernal Devices throw a glamour o'er your senses: But did you know her shallow, false pretences, Of her great excellence you'd scorn the notion, Nor waste on her your n.o.ble heart's devotion.

For all she sets up as a learned Sphinx, She's nothing but a sly, conceited minx.

KAL.

Nay, blame not her, but adverse destiny, Your brother willed his death; the choice was free.

Your father fell in battle--'twas ill-fate Awarded death, not she. Oh, do not hate Your mistress; surely she your worth esteems And treats you as your gentle birth beseems.

To-morrow, if I'm victor as before I'll freedom give you, and your throne restore.