In A Balcony

First part     Constance and Norbert     Norbert     Now.     Constance     Not now.     Norbert     Give me them again, those hands     Put them upon my forehead, how it throbs!     Press them before my eyes, the fire comes through.     You cruellest, you dearest in the world,     Let me! the Queen must grant whateer I ask     How can I gain you and not ask the Queen?     There she stays waiting for me, here stand you.     Some time or other this was to be asked,     Now is the one time what I ask, I gain     Let me ask now, Love!     Constance     Do, and ruin us.     Norbert     Let it be now, Love! All my soul breaks forth.     How I do love you! give my love its way!     A man can have but one life and one death,     One heaven, one hell. Let me fulfil my fate     Grant me my heaven now. Let me know you mine,     Prove you mine, write my name upon your brow,     Hold you and have you, and then die away     If God please, with completion in my soul.     Constance     I am not yours then? how content this man?     I am not his, who change into himself,     Have passed into his heart and beat its beats,     Who give my hands to him, my eyes, my hair,     Give all that was of me away to him     So well, that now, my spirit turned his own,     Takes part with him against the woman here,     Bids him not stumble at so mere a straw     As caring that the world be cognisant     How he loves her and how she worships him .     You have this woman, not as yet that world.     Go on, I bid, nor stop to care for me     By saving what I cease to care about,     The courtly name and pride of circumstance     The name youll pick up and be cumbered with     Just for the poor parades sake, nothing more;     Just that the world may slip from under you     Just that the world may cry So much for him     The man predestined to the heap of crowns!     There goes his chance of winning one, at least.     Norbert     The world!     Constance     You love it. Love me quite as well,     And see if I shall pray for this in vain!     Why must you ponder what it knows or thinks?     Norbert     You pray for what, in vain?     Constance     Oh my hearts heart,     How I do love you, Norbert! that is right!     But listen, or I take my hands away.     You say, let it be now you would go now     And tell the Queen, perhaps six steps from us,     You love me so you do, thank God!     Norbert     Thank God!     Constance     Yes, Norbert, but you fain would tell your love,     And, what succeeds the telling, ask of her     My hand. Now take this rose and look at it,     Listening to me. You are the minister,     The Queens first favourite, nor without a cause.     To-night completes your wonderful years-work     (This palace-feast is held to celebrate)     Made memorable by her lifes success,     That junction of two crowns on her sole head     Her house had only dreamed of anciently.     That this mere dream is grown a stable truth     To-nights feast makes authentic. Whose the praise?     Whose genius, patience, energy, achieved     What turned the many heads and broke the hearts?     You are the fate your minutes in the heaven.     Next comes the Queens turn. Name your own reward!     With leave to clench the past, chain the to-come,     Put out an arm and touch and take the sun     And fix it ever full-faced on your earth,     Possess yourself supremely of her life,     You choose the single thing she will not grant     The very declaration of which choice     Will turn the scale and neutralise your work.     At best she will forgive you, if she can.     You think Ill let you choose her cousins hand?     Norbert     Wait. First, do you retain your old belief     The Queen is generous, nay, is just?     Constance     There, there!     So men make women love them, while they know     No more of womens hearts than . . . look you here,     You that are just and generous beside,     Make it your own case. For example now,     Ill say I let you kiss me and hold my hands     Why? do you know why? Ill instruct you, then     The kiss, because you have a name at court,     This hand and this, that you may shut in each     A jewel, if you please to pick up such.     Thats horrible! Apply it to the Queen     Suppose, I am the Queen to whom you speak.     I was a nameless man: you needed me:     Why did I proffer you my aid? there stood     A certain pretty Cousin by your side.     Why did I make such common cause with you?     Access to her had not been easy else.     You give my labours here abundant praise     Faith, labour, while she overlooked, grew play.     How shall your gratitude discharge itself?     Give me her hand!     Norbert     And still I urge the same.     Is the Queen just? just generous or no!     Constance     Yes, just. You love a rose no harm in that     But was it for the roses sake or mine     You put it in your bosom? mine, you said     Then mine you still must say or else be false.     You told the Queen you served her for herself     If so, to serve her was to serve yourself     She thinks, for all your unbelieving face!     I know her. In the hall, six steps from us,     One sees the twenty pictures theres a life     Better than life and yet no life at all;     Conceive her born in such a magic dome,     Pictures all round her! why, she sees the world     Can recognise its given things and facts,     The fight of giants or the feast of gods,     Sages in senate, beauties at the bath,     Chaces and battles, the whole earths display,     Landscape and sea-piece, down to flowers and fruit     And who shall question that she knows them all     In better semblance than the things outside?     Yet bring into the silent gallery     Some live thing to contrast in breath and blood,     Some lion, with the painted lion there     You think shell understand composedly?      Say, thats his fellow in the hunting-piece     Yonder, Ive turned to praise a hundred times?     Not so. Her knowledge of our actual earth,     Its hopes and fears, concerns and sympathies,     Must be too far, too mediate, too unreal.     The real exists for us outside, not her     How should it, with that life in these four walls,     That father and that mother, first to last     No father and no mother friends, a heap,     Lovers, no lack a husband in due time,     And everyone of them alike a lie!     Things painted by a Rubens out of nought     Into what kindness, friendship, love should be;     All better, all more grandiose than life,     Only no life; mere cloth and surface-paint     You feel while you admire. How should she feel?     And now that she has stood thus fifty years     The sole spectator in that gallery,     You think to bring this warm real struggling love     In to her of a sudden, and suppose     Shell keep her state untroubled? Heres the truth     Shell apprehend its value at a glance,     Prefer it to the pictured loyalty!     You only have to say so men are made,     For this they act, the thing has many names     But this the right one and now, Queen, be just!     And life slips back you lose her at the word     You do not even for amends gain me.     He will not understand! oh, Norbert, Norbert,     Do you not understand?     Norbert     The Queens the Queen,     I am myself no picture, but alive     In every nerve and every muscle, here     At the palace-window or in the peoples street,     As she in the gallery where the pictures glow.     The good of life is precious to us both.     She cannot love what do I want with rule?     When first I saw your face a year ago     I knew my lifes good my soul heard one voice     The woman yonder, theres no use of life     But just to obtain her! heap earths woes in one     And bear them make a pile of all earths joys     And spurn them, as they help or help not here;     Only, obtain her! How was it to be?     I found she was the cousin of the Queen;     I must then serve the Queen to get to her     No other way. Suppose there had been one,     And I by saying prayers to some white star     With promise of my body and my soul     Might gain you, should I pray the star or no?     Instead, there was the Queen to serve! I served,     And did what other servants failed to do.     Neither she sought nor I declared my end.     Her good is hers, my recompense be mine,     And let me name you as that recompense.     She dreamed that such a thing could never be?     Let her wake now. She thinks there was some cause     The love of power, of fame, pure loyalty?      Perhaps she fancies men wear out their lives     Chasing such shades. Then Ive a fancy too.     I worked because I want you with my soul     I therefore ask your hand. Let it be now.     Constance     Had I not loved you from the very first,     Were I not yours, could we not steal out thus     So wickedly, so wildly, and so well,     You might be thus impatient. Whats conceived     Of us without here, by the folks within?     Where are you now? immersed in cares of state     Where am I now? intent on festal robes     We two, embracing under deaths spread hand!     What was this thought for, what this scruple of yours     Which broke the council up, to bring about     One minutes meeting in the corridor?     And then the sudden sleights, long secresies,     The plots inscrutable, deep telegraphs,     Long-planned chance-meetings, hazards of a look,     Does she know? does she not know? saved or lost?     A year of this compressions ecstasy     All goes for nothing? you would give this up     For the old way, the open way, the worlds,     His way who beats, and his who sells his wife?     What tempts you? their notorious happiness,     That youre ashamed of ours? The best youll get     Will be, the Queen grants all that you require,     Concedes the cousin, and gets rid of you     And her at once, and gives us ample leave     To live as our five hundred happy friends.     The world will show us with officious hand     Our chamber-entry and stand sentinel,     When we so oft have stolen across her traps!     Get the worlds warrant, ring the falcons foot,     And make it duty to be bold and swift,     When long ago twas nature. Have it so!     He never hawked by rights till flung from fist?     Oh, the mans thought! no womans such a fool.     Norbert     Yes, the mans thought and my thought, which is more     One made to love you, let the world take note.     Have I done worthy work? be loves the praise,     Though hampered by restrictions, barred against     By set forms, blinded by forced secresies.     Set free my love, and see what love will do     Shown in my life what work will spring from that!     The world is used to have its business done     On other grounds, find great effects produced     For powers sake, fames sake, motives you have named.     So good. But let my low ground shame their high.     Truth is the strong thing. Let mans life be true!     And loves the truth of mine. Time prove the rest     I choose to have you stamped all over me,     Your name upon my forehead and my breast,     You, from the swords blade to the ribbons edge,     That men may see, all over, you in me     That pale loves may die out of their pretence     In face of mine, shames thrown on love fall off     Permit this, Constance! Love has been so long     Subdued in me, eating me through and through,     That now its all of me and must have way.     Think of my work, that chaos of intrigues,     Those hopes and fears, surprises and delays,     That long endeavour, earnest, patient, slow,     Trembling at last to its assured result     Then think of this revulsion. I resume     Life, after death, (it is no less than life     After such long unlovely labouring days)     And liberate to beauty lifes great need     Of the beautiful, which, while it prompted work,     Supprest itself erewhile. This eves the time     This eve intense with yon first trembling star     We seem to pant and reach; scarce ought between     The earth that rises and the heaven that bends     All nature self-abandoned every tree     Flung as it will, pursuing its own thoughts     And fixed so, every flower and every weed,     No pride, no shame, no victory, no defeat:     All under God, each measured by itself     These statues round us, each abrupt, distinct,     The strong in strength, the weak in weakness fixed,     The Muse for ever wedded to her lyre,     The Nymph to her fawn, the Silence to her rose,     And Gods approval on his universe!     Let us do so aspire to live as these     In harmony with truth, ourselves being true.     Take the first way, and let the second come,     My first is to possess myself of you;     The music sets the march-step forward then!     And theres the Queen, I go to claim you of,     The world to witness, wonder and applaud.     Our flower of life breaks open. No delay!     Constance     And so shall we be ruined, both of us.     Norbert, I know her to the skin and bone     You do not know her, were not born to it,     To feel what she can see or cannot see.     Love, she is generous, ay, despite your Smile,     Generous as you are. For, in that thin frame,     Pain-twisted, punctured through and through with cares,     There lived a lavish soul until it starved     Debarred all healthy food. Look to the soul     Pity that, stoop to that, ere you begin     (The true mans way) on justice and your rights,     Exactions and acquittance of the past.     Begin so see what justice she will deal!     We women hate a debt as men a gift.     Suppose her some poor keeper of a school     Whose business is to sit thro summer-months     And dole out childrens leave to go and play,     Herself superior to such lightness she     In the arm-chairs state and pdagogic pomp,     To the life, the laughter, sun and youth outside     We wonder such an one looks black on us?     I do not bid you wake her tenderness,     That were vain truly, none is left to wake,     But, let her think her justice is engaged     To take the shape of tenderness, and mark     If shell not coldly do its warmest deed!     Does she love me, I ask you? not a whit.     Yet, thinking that her justice was engaged     To help a kinswoman, she took me up,     Did more on that bare ground than other loves     Would do on greater argument. For me,     I have no equivalent of that cold kind     To pay her with; my love alone to give     If I give anything. I give her love.     I feel I ought to help her, and I will.     So for her sake, as yours, I tell you twice     That women hate a debt as men a gift.     If I were you, I could obtain this grace,     Would lay the whole I did to loves account,     Nor yet be very false as courtiers go,     Declare that my success was recompense;     It would be so, in fact: what were it else?     And then, once loosed her generosity     As you will mark it, then, were I but you     To turn it, let it seem to move itself,     And make it give the thing I really take,     Accepting so, in the poor cousins hand,     All value as the next thing to the queen,     Since none loves her directly, none dares that!     A shadow of a thing, a names mere echo     Suffices those who miss the name and thing;     You pick up just a ribbon she has worn     To keep in proof how near her breath you came.     Say Im so near I seem a piece of her,     Ask for me that way, (oh, you understand)     And find the same gift yielded with a grace,     Which if you make the least show to extort     Youll see! and when you have ruined both of us,     Dis[s]ertate on the Queens ingratitude!     Norbert     Then, if I turn it that way, you consent?     Tis not my way; I have more hope in truth.     Still if you wont have truth, why, this indeed,     Is scarcely false, Ill so express the sense.     Will you remain here?     Constance     O best heart of mine,     How I have loved you! then, you take my way?     Are mine as you have been her minister,     Work out my thought, give it effect for me,     Paint plain my poor conceit and make it serve?     I owe that withered woman everything,     Life, fortune, you, remember! Take my part,     Help me to pay her! Stand upon your rights?     You, with my rose, my hands, my heart on you?     Your rights are mine, you have no rights but mine.     Norbert     Remain here. How you know me!     Constance     Ah, but still--     [He breaks from her: she remains.     Dance music from within.     SECOND PART     Enter the Queen     Queen     Constance! She is here as he said. Speak! quick!     Is it so? is it true, or false? One word!     Constance     True.     Queen     Mercifullest Mother, thanks to thee!     Constance     Madam     Queen     I love you, Constance, from my soul.     Now say once more, with any words you will,     Tis true, all true, as true as that I speak,     Constance     Why should you doubt it?     Queen     Ah, why doubt? why doubt?     Dear, make me see it. Do you see it so?     None see themselves, another sees them best.     You say why doubt it? you see him and me.     It is because the Mother has such grace     That if we had but faith wherein we fail,     Whateer we yearn for would be granted us;     Howbeit we let our whims prescribe despair,     Our very fancies thwart and cramp our will,     And so accepting life, abjure ourselves!     Constance, I had abjured the hope of love     And of being loved, as truly as yon palm     The hope of seeing Egypt from that turf.     Constance     Heaven!     Queen     But it was so, Constance, it was so.     Men say, or do men say it? fancies say,     Stop here, your life is set, you are grown old;     Too late, no love for you, too late for love,     Leave love to girls. Be queen, let Constance love!     One takes the hint, half meets it like a child,     Ashamed at any feelings that oppose.     Oh, love, true, never think of love again     I am a queen, I rule, not love, indeed.     So it goes on; so a face grows like this,     Hair like this hair, poor arms as lean as these,     Till, nay, it does not end so, I thank God! 433     Constance     I cannot understand--     Queen     The happier you!     Constance, I know not how it is with men.     For women, (I am a woman now like you)     There is no good of life but love, but love!     What else looks good, is some shade flung from love,     Love gilds it, gives it worth. Be warned by me,     Never you cheat yourself one instant. Love,     Give love, ask only love, and leave the rest!     O Constance, how I love you!     Constance     I love you.     Queen     I do believe that all is come through you.     I took you to my heart to keep it warm     When the last chance of love seemed dead in me;     I thought your fresh youth warmed my withered heart.     Oh, I am very old now, am I not?     Not so! it is true and it shall be true!     Constance     Tell it me! let me judge if true or false.     Queen     Ah, but I fear you, you will look at me     And say shes old, shes grown unlovely quite     Who neer was beauteous! men want beauty still.     Well, so I feared, the curse! so I felt sure.     Constance     Be calm. And now you feel not sure, you say?     Queen     Constance, he came, the coming was not strange,     Do not I stand and see men come and go?     I turned a half look from my pedestal     Where I grow marble, one young man the more!     He will love some one, that is nought to me,     What would he with my marble stateliness?     Yet this seemed somewhat worse than heretofore;     The man more gracious, youthful, like a god,     And I still older, with less flesh to change,     We two those dear extremes that long to touch.     It seemed still harder when he first began     Absorbed to labour at the state-affairs     The old way for the old end, interest.     Oh, to live with a thousand beating hearts     Around you, swift eyes, serviceable hands,     Professing theyve no care but for your cause,     Thought but to help you, love but for yourself,     And you the marble statue all the time     They praise and point at as preferred to life,     Yet leave for the first breathing womans cheek,     First dancers, gypsys, or street baladines!     Why, how I have ground my teeth to hear mens speech     Stifled for fear it should alarm my ear,     Their gait subdued lest step should startle me,     Their eyes declined, such queendom to respect,     Their hands alert, such treasure to preserve,     While not a man of these broke rank and spoke,     Or wrote me a vulgar letter all of love,     Or caught my hand and pressed it like a hand.     There have been moments, if the sentinel     Lowering his halbert to salute the queen,     Had flung it brutally and clasped my knees,     I would have stooped and kissed him, with my soul.     Constance     Who could have comprehended!     Queen     Ay, who, who?     Why, no one, Constance, but this one who did.     Not they, not you, not I. Even now perhaps     it comes too late, would you but tell the truth.     Constance     I wait to tell it.     Queen     Well, you see, he came,     Outfaced the others, did a work this year     Exceeds in value all was ever done     You know, it is not I who say it, all     Say it, And so (a second pang and worse)     I grew aware not only of what he did,     But why so wondrously. Oh, never work     Like his was done for works ignoble sake,     It must have finer aims to spur it on!     I felt, I saw he loved, loved somebody.     And Constance, my dear Constance, do you know,     I did believe this while twas you he loved.     Constance     Me, madam?     Queen     It did seem to me your face     Met him, whereer he looked: and whom but you     Was such a man to love? it seemed to me     You saw he loved you, and approved the love,     And that you both were in intelligence.     You could not loiter in the garden, step     Into this balcony, but I straight was stung     And forced to understand. It seemed so true,     So right, so beautiful, so like you both     That all this work should have been done by him,     Not for the vulgar hope of recompense,     But that at last, suppose some night like this,     Borne on to claim his due reward of me     He might say, Give her hand and pay me so.     And I (O Constance, you shall love me now)     I thought, surmounting all the bitterness,     And he shall have it. I will make her blest,     My flower of youth, my womans self that was,     My happiest womans self that might have been!     These two shall have their joy and leave me here.     Yes, yes,     Constance     Thanks!     Queen     And the word was on my lips     When he burst in upon me. I looked to hear     A mere calm statement of his just desire     In payment of his labour. When, O Heaven,     How can I tell you? cloud was on my eyes     And thunder in my ears at that first word     Which told twas love of me, of me, did all,     He loved me, from the first step to the last,     Loved me!     Constance     You did not hear . . . you thought he spoke     Of love? what if you should mistake?     Queen     No, no,     No mistake! Ha, there shall be no mistake!     He had not dared to hint the love he felt,     You were my reflex, how I understood!     He said you were the ribbon I had worn,     He kissed my hand, he looked into my eyes,     And love, love was the end of every phrase.     Love is begun, this much is come to pass,     The rest is easy. Constance, I am yours,     I will learn, I will place my life on you,     But teach me how to keep what I have won.     Am I so old? this hair was early grey;     But joy ere now has brought hair brown again,     And joy will bring the cheeks red back, I feel.     I could sing once too; that was in my youth.     Still, when men paint me, they declare me . . . yes,     Beautiful,for the last French Painter did!     I know they flatter somewhat;, you are frank,     I trust you. How I loved you from the first!     Some queens would hardly seek a cousin out     And set her by their side to take the eye     I must have felt that good would come from you.     I am not generous, like him, like you!     But he is not your lover after all,     It was not you he looked at. Saw you him?     You have not been mistaking words or looks?     He said you were the reflex of myself,     And yet he is not such a paragon     To you, to younger women who may choose     Among a thousand Norberts. Speak the truth!     You know you never named his name to me,     You know, I cannot give him up,all God,     Not up now, even to you!     Constance     Then calm yourself.     Queen     See, I am old, look here, you happy girl,     I will not play the fool, deceive myself;     Tis all gone, put your cheek beside my cheek.     Ah, what a contrast does the moon behold!     But then I set my life upon one chance,     The last chance and the best, am I not left,     My soul, myself? All women love great men     If young or old, it is in all the tales,     Young beauties love old poets who can love,     Why thould not he the poems in my soul,     The love, the passionate faith, the sacrifice,     The constancy? I throw them at his feet.     Who cares to see the fountains very shape     And whether it be a Tritons or a Nymphs     That pours the foam, makes rainbows all around?     You could not praise indeed the empty conch;     But Ill pour floods of love and hide myself.     How I will love him! cannot men love love?     Who was a queen and loved a poet once     Humpbacked, a dwarf? all, women can do that     Well, but men too! at least, they tell you so.     They love so many women in their youth,     And even in age they all love whom they please;     And yet the best of them confide to friends     That tis not beauty makes the lasting love,     They spend a day with such and tire the next;     They like soul,well then, they like phantasy,     Novelty even. Let us confess the truth     Horrible though it be, that prejudice,     Prescription . . . Curses! they will love a queen.     They will, they do. And will not, does not he?     Constance     How can he? You are wedded tis a name     We know, but still a bond. Your rank remains,     His rank remains. How can he, nobly souled     As you believe and I incline to think,     Aspire to be your favourite, shame and all?     Queen     Hear her! there, there now could she love like me?     What did I say of smooth-cheeked youth and grace     See all it does or could do I so, youth loves!     Oh, tell him, Constance, you could never do     What I will you, it was not born in! I     Will drive these difficulties far and fast     As yonder mists curdling before the moon.     Ill use my light too, gloriously retrieve     My youth from its enforced calamity,     Dissolve that hateful marriage, and be his,     His own in the eyes alike of God and man.     Constance     You will do dare do Pause on what you say!     Queen     Hear her! I thank you, Sweet, for that surprise.     You have the fair face: for the soul, see mine!     I have the strong soul: let me teach you, here.     I think I have borne enough and long enough,     And patiently enough, the world remarks,     To have my own way now, unblamed by all.     It does so happen, I rejoice for it,     This most unhoped-for issue cuts the knot.     Theres not a better way of settling claims     Than this; God sends the accident express;     And were it for my subjects good, no more,     Twere best thus ordered. I am thankful now,     Mute, passive, acquiescent. I receive,     And bless God simply, or should almost fear     To walk so smoothly to my ends at last.     Why, how I baffle obstacles, spurn fate!     How strong I am! could Norbert see me now!     Constance     Let me consider. It is all too strange.     Queen     You, Constance, learn of me; do you, like me.     You are young, beautiful: my own, best girl,     You will have many lovers, and love one     Light hair, not hair like Norberts, to suit yours,     And taller than he is, for you are tall.     Love him like me! give all away to him;     Think never of yourself; throw by your pride,     Hope, fear, your own good as you saw it once,     And love him simply for his very self.     Remember, I (and what am I to you?)     Would give up all for one, leave throne, lose life,     Do all but just unlove him! he loves me.     Constance     He shall.     Queen     You, step inside my inmost heart.     Give me your own heart let us have one heart     Ill come to you for counsel; This he says,     This he does, what should this amount to, pray?     Beseech you, change it into current coin.     Is that worth kisses? shall I please him there?     And then well speak in turn of you what else?     Your love (according to your beautys worth)     For you shall have some noble love, all gold     Whom choose you? we will get him at your choice.      Constance, I leave you. Just a minute since     I felt as I must die or be alone     Breathing my soul into an ear like yours.     Now, I would face the world with my new life,     With my new crown. Ill walk around the rooms,     And then come back and tell you how it feels.     How soon a smile of God can change the world!     How we are all made for happiness how work     Grows play, adversity a winning fight!     True, I have lost so many years. What then?     Many remain God has been very good.     You, stay here. Tis as different from dreams,     From the minds cold calm estimate of bliss,     As these stone statues from the flesh and blood.     The comfort thou hast caused mankind, Gods moon!     [She goes out. Dance-music from within.     PART THIRD     Norbert enters     Norbert     Well! we have but one minute and one word     Constance     I am yours, Norbert!     Norbert     Yes, mine.     Constance     Not till now!     You were mine. Now I give myself to you.     Norbert     Constance!     Constance     Your own! I know the thriftier way     Of giving haply, tis the wiser way.     Meaning to give a treasure, I might dole     Coin after coin out (each, as that were all,     With a new largess still at each despair)     And force you keep in sight the deed, reserve     Exhaustless till the end my part and yours,     My giving and your taking, both our joys     Dying together. Is it the wiser way?     I choose the simpler; I give all at once.     Know what you have to trust to, trade upon.     Use it, abuse it, anything but say     Hereafter, Had I known she loved me so,     And what my means, I might have thriven with it.     This is your means. I give you all myself.     Norbert     I take you and thank God.     Constance     Look on through years!     We cannot kiss a second day like this,     Else were this earth, no earth.     Norbert     With this days heat     We shall go on through years of cold.     Constance          So best.     I try to see those years I think I see.     You walk quick and new warmth comes; you look back     And lay all to the first glow not sit down     For ever brooding on a day like this     While seeing the embers whiten and love die.     Yes, love lives best in its effect; and mine,     Full in its own life, yearns to live in yours.     Norbert     Just so. I take and know you all at once.     Your soul is disengaged so easily,     Your face is there, I know you; give me time,     Let me be proud and think you shall know me.     My soul is slower: in a life I roll     The minute out in which you condense yours     The whole slow circle round you I must move,     To be just you. I look to a long life     To decompose this minute, prove its worth.     Tis the sparks long succession one by one     Shall show you in the end what fire was crammed     In that mere stone you struck: you could not know,     If it lay ever unproved in your sight,     As now my heart lies? your own warmth would hide     Its coldness, were it cold.     Constance     But how prove, how?     Norbert     Prove in my life, you ask?     Constance     Quick, Norbert how?     Norbert     Thats easy told. I count life just a stuff     To try the souls strength on, educe the man.     Who keeps one end in view makes all things serve.     As with the body he who hurls a lance     Or heaps up stone on stone, shows strength alike,     So I will seize and use all means to prove     And show this soul of mine you crown as yours,     And justify us both.     Constance     Could you write books,     Paint pictures! one sits down in poverty     And writes or paints, with pity for the rich.     Norbert     And loves ones painting and ones writing too,     And not ones mistress! All is best, believe,     And we best as no other than we are.     We live, and they experiment on life     Those poets, painters, all who stand aloof     To overlook the farther. Let us be     The thing they look at! I might take that face     And write of it and paint it to what end?     For whom? what pale dictatress in the air     Feeds, smiling sadly, her fine ghost-like form     With earths real blood and breath, the beauteous life     She makes despised for ever? You are mine,     Made for me, not for others in the world,     Nor yet for that which I should call my art,     That cold calm power to see how fair you look.     I come to you I leave you not, to write     Or paint. You are, I am. Let Rubens there     Paint us.     Constance     So best!     Norbert     I understand your soul.     You live, and rightly sympathise with life,     With action, power, success: this way is straight.     And days were short beside, to let me change     The craft my childhood learnt; my craft shall serve.     Men set me here to subjugate, enclose,     Manure their barren lives and force the fruit     First for themselves, and afterward for me     In the due tithe; the task of some one man,     By ways of work appointed by themselves.     I am not bid create, they see no star     Transfiguring my brow to warrant that     But bind in one and carry out their wills.     So I began: to-night sees how I end.     What if it see, too, my first outbreak here     Amid the warmth, surprise and sympathy,     The instincts of the heart that teach the head?     What if the people have discerned in me     The dawn of the next nature, the new man     Whose will they venture in the place of theirs,     And whom they trust to find them out new ways     To the new heights which yet he only sees?     I felt it when you kissed me. See this Queen,     This people in our phrase, this mass of men     See how the mass lies passive to my hand     And how my hand is plastic, and you by     To make the muscles iron! Oh, an end     Shall crown this issue as this crowns the first.     My will be on this people! then, the strain,     The grappling of the potter with his clay,     The long uncertain struggle, the success     In that uprising of the spirit-work,     The vase shaped to the curl of the gods lip,     While rounded fair for lower men to see     The Graces in a dance they recognise     With turbulent applause and laughs of heart!     So triumph ever shall renew itself;     Ever to end in efforts higher yet,     Ever begun     Constance     I ever helping?     Norbert     Thus!     [As he embraces her, enter the Queen.     Constance     Hist, madam so I have performed my part.     You see your gratitudes true decency,     Norbert? a little slow in seeing it!     Begun to end the sooner. Whats a kiss?     Norbert     Constance!     Constance     Why, must I teach it you again?     You want a witness to your dullness, sir?     What was I saying these ten minutes long?     Then I repeat when some young handsome man     Like you has acted out a part like yours,     Is pleased to fall in love with one beyond,     So very far beyond him, as he says     So hopelessly in love, that but to speak     Would prove him mad, he thinks judiciously,     And makes some insignificant good soul     Like me, his friend, adviser, confidant     And very stalking-horse to cover him     In following after what he dares not face     When his ends gained (sir, do you understand?)     When she, he dares not face, has loved him first,      May I not say so, madam? tops his hope,     And overpasses so his wildest dream,     With glad consent of all, and most of her     The confidant who brought the same about     Why, in the moment when such joy explodes,     I do say that the merest gentleman     Will not start rudely from the stalking-horse,     Dismiss it with a There, enough of you!     Forget it, show his back unmannerly;     But like a liberal heart will rather turn     And say, A tingling time of hope was ours     Betwixt the fears and falterings we two lived     A chanceful time in waiting for the prize.     The confidant, the Constance, served not ill;     And though I shall forget her in due time,     Her use being answered now, as reason bids,     Nay as herself bids from her heart of hearts,     Still, she has rights, the first thanks go to her,     The first good praise goes to the prosperous tool,     And the first which is the last thankful kiss.     Norbert     Constance? it is a dream ah see you smile!     Constance     So, now his part being properly performed,     Madam, I turn to you and finish mine     As duly I do justice in my turn.     Yes, madam, he has loved you long and well     He could not hope to tell you so twas I     Who served to prove your soul accessible.     I led his thoughts on, drew them to their place,     When oft they had wandered out into despair,     And kept love constant toward its natural aim.     Enough my part is played; you stoop half-way     And meet us royally and spare our fears     Tis like yourself he thanks you, so do I.     Take him with my full heart! my work is praised     By what comes of it. Be you happy, both!     Yourself the only one on earth who can     Do all for him, much more than a mere heart     Which though warm is not useful in its warmth     As the silk vesture of a queen! fold that     Around him gently, tenderly. For him     For him, he knows his own part.     Norbert     Have you done?     I take the jest at last. Should I speak now?     Was yours the wager, Constance, foolish child,     Or did you but accept it? Well at least,     You lose by it.     Constance     Now madam, tis your turn.     Restrain him still from speech a little more     And make him happier and more confident     Pity him, madam, he is timid yet.     Mark, Norbert! do not shrink now! Here I yield     My whole right in you to the Queen, observe!     With her go put in practice the great schemes     You teem with, follow the career else closed     Be all you cannot be except by her!     Behold her. Madam, say for pitys sake     Anything frankly say you love him. Else     Hell not believe it: theres more earnest in     His fear than you conceive I know the man.     Norbert     I know the woman somewhat, and confess     I thought she had jested better she begins     To overcharge her part. I gravely wait     Your pleasure, madam: where is my reward?     Queen     Norbert, this wild girl (whom I recognise     Scarce more than you do, in her fancy-fit,     Eccentric speech and variable mirth,     Not very wise perhaps and somewhat bold     Yet suitable, the whole nights work being strange)      May still be right: I may do well to speak     And make authentic what appears a dream     To even myself. For, what she says, is true     Yes, Norbert what you spoke but now of love,     Devotion, stirred no novel sense in me,     But justified a warmth felt long before.     Yes, from the first I loved you, I shall say,     Strange! but I do grow stronger, now tis said,     Your courage helps mine: you did well to speak     To-night, the night that crowns your twelvemonths toil     But still I had not waited to discern     Your heart so long, believe me! From the first     The source of so much zeal was almost plain,     In absence even of your own words just now     Which opened out the truth. Tis very strange,     But takes a happy ending in your love     Which mine meets: be it so as you choose me,     So I choose you.     Norbert     And worthily you choose!     I will not be unworthy your esteem,     No, madam. I do love you; I will meet     Your nature, now I know it; this was well,     I see, you dare and you are justified:     But none had ventured such experiment,     Less versed than you in nobleness of heart,     Less confident of finding it in me.     I like that thus you test me ere you grant     The dearest, richest, beauteousest and best     Of women to my arms! Tis like yourself!     So back again into my parts set words     Devotion to the uttermost is yours,     But no, you cannot, madam, even you,     Create in me the love our Constance does.     Or something truer to the tragic phrase     Not yon magnolia-bell superb with scent     Invites a certain insect thats myself     But the small eye-flower nearer to the ground     I take this lady!     Constance     Stay not hers, the trap     Stay, Norbert that mistake were worst of all.     (He is too cunning, madam!) it was I,     I, Norbert, who . . .     Norbert     You, was it, Constance? Then,     But for the grace of this divinest hour     Which gives me you, I should not pardon here.     I am the Queens: she only knows my brain     She may experiment therefore on my heart     And I instruct her too by the result;     But you, sweet, you who know me, who so long     Have told my heart-beats over, held my life     In those white hands of yours, it is not well!     Constance     Tush! I have said it, did I not say it all?     The life, for her the heart-beats, for her sake!     Norbert     Enough! my cheek grows red, I think. Your test     Theres not the meanest woman in the world,     Not she I least could love in all the world,     Whom, did she love me, did love prove itself,     I dared insult as you insult me now.     Constance, I could say, if it must be said,     Take back the soul you offer I keep mine     But Take the soul still quivering on your hand,     The soul so offered, which I cannot use,     And, please you, give it to some friend of mine,     For whats the trifle he requites me with?     I, tempt a woman, to amuse a man,     That two may mock her heart if it succumb?     No! fearing God and standing neath his heaven,     I would not dare insult a woman so,     Were she the meanest woman in the world,     And he, I cared to please, ten emperors!     Constance     Norbert!     Norbert     I love once as I live but once.     What case is this to think or talk about?     I love you. Would it mend the case at all     Should such a step as this kill love in me?     Your part were done: account to God for it.     But mine could murdered love get up again,     And kneel to whom you pleased to designate     And make you mirth? It is too horrible.     You did not know this, Constance? now you know     That body and soul have each one life, but one     And heres my love, here, living, at your feet.     Constance     See the Queen! Norbert this one more last word     If thus you have taken jest for earnest thus     Loved me in earnest . . .     Norbert     Ah, no jest holds here!     Where is the laughter in which jests break up?     And what this horror that grows palpable?     Madam why grasp you thus the balcony?     Have I done ill? Have I not spoken the truth?     How could I other? Was it not your test,     To try me, and what my love for Constance meant?     Madam, your royal soul itself approves,     The first, that I should choose thus! so one takes     A beggar asks him what would buy his child,     And then approves the expected laugh of scorn     Returned as something noble from the rags.     Speak, Constance, Im the beggar! Ha, whats this?     You two glare each at each like panthers now.     Constance the world fades; only you stand there!     You did not in to-nights wild whirl of things     Sell me your soul of souls for any price?     No no tis easy to believe in you.     Was it your loves mad trial to oertop     Mine by this vain self-sacrifice? well, still     Though I should curse, I love you. I am love     And cannot change! loves self is at your feet.     [Queen goes out.     Constance     Feel my heart; let it die against your own.     Norbert     Against my own! explain not; let this be.     This is lifes height.     Constance     Yours! Yours! Yours!     Norbert     You and I     Why care by what meanders we are here     In the centre of the labyrinth? men have died     Trying to find this place out, which we have found.     Constance     Found, found!     Norbert     Sweet, never fear what she can do     We are past harm now.     Constance     On the breast of God.     I thought of men as if you were a man.     Tempting him with a crown! 452     Norbert     This must end here     It is too perfect!     Constance     Theres the music stopped.     What measured heavy tread? it is one blaze     About me and within me.     Norbert     Oh, some death     Will run its sudden finger round this spark,     And sever us from the rest     Constance     And so do well.     Now the doors open     Norbert     Tis the guard comes.     Constance     Kiss!