Charles: And will not judge?
But fear me – fear, and flee? – You shall not go!
Fulvia: Perhaps
Charles: Again "perhaps" – this calm "perhaps!" —
To Rome? – I say you shall not.
Fulvia: Yet should he,
Antonio, from those curtains come —
Charles: Should – should?
You speak not reasonably. Why do you say
"If he should come?"
Fulvia: Because —
Charles: You've touched
And led me trembling from reality!
Those curtains? – those? – just those? – You shall not go.
Fulvia: I will not then.
Charles: But something breaks from you,
And as an air of resurrection stirs.
Speak; on your words I wait unutterably.
Fulvia: Did not a soldier lately come, my lord,
Breathless with eager speech of mutiny – ?
Charles: Well – well – ?
Fulvia: Within your guard?
Charles: My guard? No – yes —
What do I see yet cannot in your words?
Fulvia: The mutiny was roused at my command.
Charles: Say it – say all!
Fulvia: To save you the mad blot
Of a son's blood.
Charles: Antonio – ?
Fulvia: Lives!
Charles: Low – low —
Joy come too furious has piercing peril.
He lives? – You have done this? With these soft hands,
These little hands, held off the shears of Fate?
Have dared? and have not feared?
Fulvia: Your danger was
My fear – that, and no more.
Charles: He lives? – I have
No worth, no gratitude, no gift that may
Answer this deed – no glow, no eloquence
But would ring poor in rarest words of earth.
He lives? – Years yet are mine. Too brief they'll be
To muse with love of this!
Fulvia: No, no, my lord.
Charles: But where is he? Belief, tho' risen, strains
In me as if 'twere fast in cerements
That seeing must unbind.
Fulvia: Turn then, and see.
(Antonio steps from the curtains.)
Charles: Antonio! – boy! boy!
Antonio: My father! (They embrace.)
Re-enter Cardinal
Cardinal: Princess,
If your decision and desire are still —
(Sees Antonio.)
Fulvia: Your eyes look upon flesh, lord Cardinal.
(A cry is heard, then weeping.)
Antonio (startled): Whose pain is this? – strangely it hurts me – strangely!
Enter Cecco hastily, bearing robe and coronet
Cecco: My lord, the lady Helen's little maid —
(Sees Antonio. Shrinks from him.)
Antonio: What of her? Are you horrified to stone!
Her maid? – There are than risen dead worse things
And worse to dread! – her maid?