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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - The Bride Of The Nile - Act II
Work rating: Low

Garden House of the Makawkas at On.

Alexis and Belkís are found seated under a verandah, with a palm garden in the background.
Belkís.  Come, come, Alexis, come. Look up. Why should I take
 Such trouble to be gay and keep us both awake,
 If you are only dumb? You have sat the morning through
 And have hardly said a word. What would you have me do?
 My father has arranged it. I have given consent.
We are to marry soon.

Alexis. But when?

Belkís. Oh, after Lent,
 Perhaps at Whitsuntide. We will see when the time comes.

Alexis. Why not at Easter? Say.

Belkís. I cannot do these sums
 So long before the date. In the meanwhile talk to me.
 I want to be amused. Life will go drearily
 If we are to be like this. Let us play at something--chess,
 Or draughts, or dominoes. Ask me a thing to guess--
An intellectual game.

Alexis. Belkís! in mercy, no.
 I will not try again.
(Aside.) I cannot run that show,
 I played with her last night. She made a fool of me,
 In prose first, then in rhyme. Mere raving lunacy,
That will be the end of it.

(Aloud, with sentiment, offering to embrace her.) You know what I would have.

Belkís.  Nonsense, my noble Lord. I am not yet your slave.
Besides, my hand is brown.

Alexis.
(expostulating). Belkís!

Belkís. You know it is.

Alexis.  I swear by all the gods it is divine to kiss.

Belkís.  You are really too absurd. I am a native girl,
 With a natural fuzz--head I cannot keep from curl,
 And you a white sub--Prefect. Faugh! Ridiculous!
 Come, shall I sing to you? But do not make a fuss
 If it is not quite Greek music. Say, what shall it be?

Alexis.  A melancholy lilt without much melody.
 You know how I adore your Coptic monotones
 With their little quiver--quavers, and their little ups and downs.
See, here is your rebáb.

Belkís
(taking her rebáb and tuning it, fiercely). You will not like it much,
If you understand the words.

[She plays a prelude.
Alexis. You have a glorious touch.

Belkís
(aside).  How foolish the man is. Hush--hush.

[She sings.

Song --``If I Forget.``
 If I forget!
 Ah, no, not thee my love.
 There is no room for that while wounds are wet;
 And dead lips cry aloud to lips that live,
 Like birds despoiled still piping in the grove
 Against the cruel snarers of the net.
 When the sun faints in heaven and the earth tires:
 Then shall it be. But not to--day, not yet.
 I swear, by all the gods who were our sires,
 Not to forgive and never to forget.
 If I forget!
 Ah, no. It is not thee.
 What art thou to me but an idle debt,
 Paid by the dead past to the days that live,
 The past of kings whose slaves were like to thee,
 The past of glories and a sun long set?
 When the Earth wakes in thunder and mad fires,
 Then shall it be. But not to--day, not yet.
 I swear by all the Gods that were my sires,
Not to forgive and never to forget.

Alexis. Quite beautiful.

Belkís
(aside).  What does he know of it? These Romans are too dull,
 Too full of their own selves to know the worth of song.
 The sweetest songs are those where men have suffered wrong.
 And I am to marry him! For reasons of high state,
 My poor blind father says--one whom we Copts all hate,
 One of these Roman Lords with their high insolence,
 And love and honour him! The pitiful pretence!
 I have taken his pride down a little, though, already,
 And taught him what was due at least to one young lady.
 Yes, he is tame enough. I will give him one more chance.

(Aloud.)  You have heard me sing, Alexis. Now you must see me dance.

Alexis. Indeed, it will be a treat.

Belkís. You must stand up with me
 And take your part in it. And do it cheerfully,
 Not like a galley slave. There, stand in front and make
 Signs with your arms like this. Look pleased, for mercy`s sake,
 Whatever you may feel. And follow with your eyes
As I dance round you--thus.

Alexis. These are the mysteries
They used to call of Isis.

Belkís. Yes, a country dance.
 He is too plain a fool to know the difference.
There, that is pretty well.

[They dance.
Alexis. Stop, mercy--stop. I am dead.

Belkís. No, no, a little more.

[They stop. Alexis, when we are wed,
 You shall dance like this all night. There, kiss my hand, just once,
 To show you are in love. And do not be a dunce.
I will teach you more next time.

Alexis
(aside). If this is Coptic love
 I had rather be with Jael, who put me to less proof.
 Poor Jael! Poor, quiet Jael! Your love was a sweet dream,
Kinder than this.

(Enter the Makawkas--he is blind--with his suit.)
Belkís. My father.

Alexis. Now for our further scheme.

Makawkas.  Leave all the windows open. What a sweet scent comes in!
 Not one of them must be shut. I know what the fields mean
 When I smell the beans in flower. It is not all pure loss
 This blindness of my eyes when I am gladdened thus.
Is that you here, my child?

Belkís. Yes, father, at your side,
Ready to read to you, to talk.

Makawkas. What, you a bride?
 You are too busy now; too happy, is it not?
 How glorious it must be to love in such a spot.
 This once was Pharaoh`s garden. Potiphar lived here,
 The Captain of the Guard and Pharaoh`s officer,
 And Joseph in these walks, as you, my child, now do,
 Wandered the morning long and heard the wild doves coo.
 I like to live with them in thought and circumstance
 Near their own pyramids--one scene in the romance
 Of their six thousand years. And you? What else can you
 Find time, in spite of love, for your poor sire to do?

Belkís.  I will sing to you and dance. You know you love the beat
 My steps make, and the wind my skirts whirl and my feet.

Makawkas.  This is no time to dance. Our age is too sedate.
 Will you advise me, child, on high affairs of state?

Belkís.  Yes, father.
(Aside.) He is here, Alexis, listening.

Makawkas. Is he not one with us?

Belkís. The tamest asp may sting.

Makawkas. Alas! she loves him not.
(Aloud.) My Lord Alexis.

Alexis. Sir?

Makawkas.  How goes it in your world? The High Commissioner,
 Your father, is he well? How of the provinces?
 Is there good news from Homs? Are Caesar`s enemies
 Vanquished and pacified? Has the Nile risen not yet?
 We in this garden here, remote from the world, sit
 And hear the water--wheels turn round with their long drone,
 And half forget the rest, our lost dominion,
 Our day of glory gone. Some say there is distress.

Alexis.  Not yet, but grave concern. The long formalities
 Of the Dual Government, to sign and countersign
 Each order with two hands, your Highness` and mine--
 Mine in my father`s place--delay the public work,
 And aggravate the ill. But neither of us shirk
 A fraction of our duty, and we trust to bring
 All to a pleasant end. Your Highness is the spring
 Of the great State machine. We Romans are the wheels,
 And where there friction is we need to grease our heels
 And show ourselves alert. My duty, sir, these days
Has been a happy service.

Makawkas. She deserves your praise,
 Though I, her father, say it, being indeed a child
 Worthy a wise man`s love. I am half--reconciled
 To what you asked of me.
(Aside.) If I but knew his heart!

Alexis.  You mean the draft decree. It will relieve in part
 The burden on our backs of the Nile Government
 And be for all our goods. Your Highness` consent
 Will make the matter easy--a mere form, and yet
 I would not urge it now save for the overset
 Of things in Syria and the Nile`s wayward way,
 Which stands in front of us and will not brook delay.

Makawkas. Is it so urgent then?

Alexis. Quite urgent. The Nile Bride
 Is just a case in point--one we dare not decide
 Of our own competence, yet pregnant with more ill
 If left ungrappled with, while with a single will
 The whole knot were untied. Your Highness is aware
 How the case stands for us, how dangerous, how unfair.
 We held responsible, without authority,
 You legally the lord, yet neither hand set free
 To execute a judgment should it chance to clash
 With the mad popular voice, to oppose which were as rash
 Perhaps as to consent. The net result of all
 A scandalous abuse grown quite phenomenal--

(Aside.)  That`s a well--sounding phrase my father would approve.

(Aloud.)  Whereas, the decree signed, all fits like a new glove.
What say you to it, Princess?

Belkís. These are politics
 You must decide yourselves by privilege of sex.
 I offer no opinion. But this Nile Bride? Say,
 What is her history? Who is she? Yesterday
 I heard one had been named and was already here
 At On for our approval--gloriously fair
And full of high resolve.

(After a pause with a change of voice.) It must be a sweet thing
 To die thus for one`s country and escape life`s sting
 For ever by one act of perfect constancy.
I envy her her lot.

Alexis
(expostulating). Belkís!

Makawkas
(expostulating). My child!

Belkís
(with enthusiasm). Set free
 For ever from life`s load, the thought of age to come,
 The laughter one endures, the heart`s ache answering dumb
 In bitter self--reproof. If one, indeed, must die,
 A fair, a precious one, who stands in the world`s eye
 As its most worthy thing; whom no unhappiness
 Has yet touched--that men know; who is not loved the less,
 Perhaps, that she loves none; whose loss would threaten pain,
 More than the bodily pang, to some at least of men:
 If one, indeed, must die--how well to be that one,
 Chosen before the rest, all girlhood`s champion,
 With no sad marriage rite, save this with Father Nile,
 To mar the maiden joy of an unmastered smile!
 Oh, the divorce of death! And better now than after,
 While she can hide her tears, a girl, with a girl`s laughter

(Enter Servant.)
Servant.  A deputation, sir, from his most Holiness,
My Lord the Patriarch.

(Enter Patriarch, Magicians, and Attendants; with them Jael veiled.)
Belkís. The Bride of the Nile--no less.

Alexis
(aside). Her face is veiled, and yet--

Makawkas. Let them approach me close.
 Welcome, your Reverences. I am as the world knows
 An old man and a blind. Whom have you with you here?
I seem to hear a step.

Patriarch. A lady`s, most dread Sir;
 She comes a suppliant, to join her prayers with ours
For the high right to die.

Belkís. She stands here crowned with flowers,
 Father, the Nile Bride`s self, a true bride, beautiful
As any in the world.

Makawkas. Walk, sirs, within.

[The Makawkas, the Patriarch, and their suites retire to the back of the stage and seat themselves for a formal audience and converse. Belkís takes Jael`s hand and leads her forward to the front of the stage, where they sit apart from the rest.)
Belkís. This stool
 Will do for you and me. Sit down. We will talk alone
 For a few minutes here and let the rest go on.
 I want to know it all, and from yourself. This dress

[She handles Jael`s robes.  Is a most lovely thing, and suits your loveliness
Exactly. Does it not?

Jael. It is the old costume
 Of the priestesses of Isis, with the lotus bloom
 Embroidered on the hem, symbol of Eternity.

Belkís.  And do you love to wear it, though in the thought to die?

Jael.  I am not afraid of death. Life is too sad a thing
 To make its loss a grief. Death is the ransoming
Of many captive tears.

Belkís. You are unhappy then?
 Perhaps you have learned the truth, the worthlessness of men.
Is it not so?

Jael. Perhaps.

Belkis. Your lover? What was he,
 Soldier or citizen, of low or high degree,
 Wise, foolish, froward, fond? I find them all alike
 Slaves of their own weak wills, too indolent to strike,
 Too insolent to spare. Or have you met with one,
 The man one dreams about, born for dominion
 Over his fellow men, yet to oneself a friend
 Tender and wise and true, who seeks no selfish end,
 And is content to serve, and in his service wait
 The moment of your love, not too importunate
Nor yet too proud to feel?

Jael. Ah, Princess, you are wise.
 I never dared to ask impossibilities.
 I think men do not love. At most in their high will
 They suffer we should love them and be constant still
 Even when they grow cold. And then, perhaps, one day
 When other pleasures fail and grief has come their way,
 And life of its delights begins to give them less,
 They think of us and grieve in a new tenderness.
 This was the way I saw it, all I hoped to see.
 A pebble, I thought, cast down, by law of gravity
 Makes the whole Earth leap up to it ne`er so little.
 And so, if I threw too my whole heart, some small tittle
Of love should answer me. I tried it.

Belkís. And what came?

Jael. A readiness to die. Alexis

(she stops).
Belkís. Was that name
Your lover`s?

Jael Did I tell it? Yes. Alexis knew
Only too well I loved him.

Belkís. Did he not love you?

Jael.  I said men do not love. Perhaps a little while
 It soothed his idleness to know there was a smile
 Always in wait for him, should his eyes turn my road.
 It gave him a light conscience and a sense of good,
 And never any pain--no, never any pain.

Belkís.  `Tis plain, my dear, you spoiled him! `Tis a bad way with men.
 But tell me all--the end. What happened? Did he go?
Was he untrue to you?

Jael. Alas! I hardly know,
 I think it was ambition and his father`s whim
 To push his fortunes higher. I always urged on him
 His duty as a son and to his own career.
 For men need upward flights. It makes them happier.
 Only, I never guessed. It was a cruel letter
 In which he told me all, the alliance which should better
 His fortunes in the world, if I but stood aside.

Belkís.  And she? Who was she then, this unauspicious bride?
Did he not tell her name?

Jael. I did not care to ask.
 And then kind Providence set me this other task,
 To die a worthy death--for others. It is well.

Belkís.  My dear, you shall not die. You shall yet wear the veil
 Of a real happy bride, or I am no Princess here.
 You shall wed the man you love, be he thrice officer,
 Thrice Roman, thrice sub--Prefect. Come to them with me
 And tell them all your tale in its simplicity.
 My father will be touched. And he, Alexis, look,
 He too is here with them. I was that bride he took
 For purposes of State and had proposed to wed.
 But not in love. Oh no. Of that be comforted.
 There was no love--making--on his side or on mine.
 Only a protocol, a treaty we must sign.
They are talking of it now.

[They rise. The Makawkas and the rest come forward.
Makawkas. You say then she consents.
 I would not grant it else--and that to all intents
 Her dying injures none? her father, the good Jew,
 Yields to necessity and takes a generous view
 Of his own personal loss? Of this you say you are sure.
 Nor has she special friend whose grief time would not cure,
Also that one must die?

Patriarch. My Lord, it is just so.
 The land needs its release from this impending woe.
 The Nile is a brave river, bountiful to all,
 Yet cruel in his wrath. His rage we must forestall
 By this one sacrifice of this one precious thing,
 And save thereby the rest, a world from suffering.

Makawkas.  `Tis an old prejudice. Who knows if it be true?

Patriarch.  There are strange rules with heaven, to do and not to do.

Alexis.  `Tis thus they argue it. We did well to stand by
And leave it to themselves.

Belkís
(appealing to Makawkas). This lady shall not die,
 Father, while I live here. She is my suppliant.
 I give her my asylum--`tis no idle vaunt.

[She throws her robe round Jael.  She lies beneath my robe. I take on me her doom,
 My Lord the Patriarch. And you, Alexis, come.
 Look on the face of her I leave here in my stead
 To be the wife to you I shall not be. You dread
 To find a stranger`s face. It is an idle fear.
 Hers is more fair than mine and more familiar.
 She stands before you. Look. I draw aside the veil,

(Aside). And clothe myself with death.

[She draws aside Jael`s veil and veils her own face with it.
Alexis. By all that is holy! Jael!

Jael. Alexis!

(A noise is heard without. Enter a Messenger.) 

Makawkas. What is this?

Messenger. My Lord, three Saracens
 Stand at the gate without, demanding audience.
 They are importunate. They come as nuncios,
 They say from their high Caliph--they, the Emperor`s foes,
 To Egypt their best friend. They stand armed to the teeth,
 And proud of countenance, as men who fear not death,
And will not be denied.

Alexis. This cannot be.

Messenger. My Lord,
 They are already here, having driven in the guard.

Belkís.  Bid them a welcome, father, as ambassadors,
 Who knows, perhaps from Heaven, at least no foes of ours.

Messenger. Foeman or friend, they come.

(Enter Hátib and other Arabs.)
Alexis By God! the savages!

Hátib. The peace of God be with you.

Makawkas. Strangers. With you be peace.

Belkís.  Father, these men are kings, lords born for the world`s rule,
Entreat them courteously.

Hátib
(aside). Her face is beautiful
As Eve`s in paradise.

Makawkas. Be seated, sirs.

Hátib. Our mission
 Admits no courtesies till it has found fruition.
We come in the name of God.

Makawkas. In God`s name, sirs, speak on.
 We listen in respect, returning benison.

Hátib.  Thus speaks my Lord the Caliph, servant of the Lord,
 ``To all and sundry princes, wielders of the sword,
 Set in authority, and first of all to him
 The Makawkas of the Copts, Lord of the later time,
 Peace be and salutation. Ay and to all men peace
 Who follow the right guidance. This. And after this,
 Accept ye Islam. God will give it you twofold,
 And save you from the fire. Be not like him of old,
 The Pharaoh whom God slew, lest turning He should smite
 Your kingdom down with you, in mercy infinite.
 O People of the Book, who worship the one God,
 Why will ye serve another? Do ye love the rod?
 We offer you your freedom, as ourselves are free,
 Save only from God`s service. In simplicity
 Pronounce the words of Islam. Testify aloud
`There is no God but God.```

Belkís. It is a message proud
 To all who bear Rome`s yoke, a message to the poor.

Alexis
(to the Makawkas).  My Lord! This is rank treason. Show these men the door.

Makawkas. Have patience, good Alexis.

(To the Arabs.) Sirs, we wish you well--
 Only for Caesar`s right and the imprescriptible
Allegiance that we owe.

Alexis. It must not, shall not be.

Belkís.  Alexis, you forget. Here the authority
 Lies only with my father. If he choose to give
 Good welcome to this Prince, `tis not for you to grieve.

Alexis. A Prince! A Mountebank!

Hátib. Be silent, infidel,
 Lest I should send thee straight by the red road to Hell.

(To Belkís.)  Lady, may God befriend thee on the day of wrath.

Alexis.  Princess, I take my leave. This champion of the faith
 Is better here than I. And you, my Lord, take note,
 I raise a formal bar and protest on the spot
 Against these men`s reception as most treasonous
 To Rome`s imperial name and personally to us.
 I hold you to your act in its full consequence--

(Aside.)  Whatever that may mean--and warn you and this Prince
That Rome will stand no trifling.

Belkís. Be it so.

Makawkas. My Lord!

Belkís.  No matter, father dear. We have this stranger`s word.
 And God shall be our shield though all Hell should assail.
Here stands our champion--here.

Hátib
(with tenderness). Lady.

Alexis
(turning to go). Come with me, Jael.

Curtain.
Source
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