The Mortal Gods and Other Plays Part 29

_Hud._ I am a fact,--not words.

_Cha._ You can believe it?

At last on dawn-browed heights, with victor foot On mysteries bound the genii of his wish, He'll trail his hopes to kennel? Let you pluck His universe unflowered, and shrink life To growling brevity 'tween lash and bone?

A slave to _you_? Obstructive clod, Who could not stir with one life-budding dream Though holy imagination tipped with fire Should score her script upon you!

[_A physical pain overcomes Hudibrand. Hernda runs to his side. He regains composure, his manner forbidding solicitude_]

_Hud._ I am patient.

One word of mine would send you manacled To prison. If you are here to lay down arms----

_Cha._ I'm not.

_Her._ O, father! The amnesty!

_Hud._ That shelter Is not for him!

_Cha._ Then speak your word, and learn You fight not men but man. Wide as the world His spirit blows against you, and little part You'll cage in this one shackled body.

_Hud._ One?

We'll drag the earth, or net the pack of you!

LeVal, marauding ghost, we'll p.r.i.c.k his blood Beneath his spectral mask. And that mad trull, Famette, your holy maid----

_Cha._ She's safe from you!

G.o.d is about her as she walks among Your hope-lorn slaves and touches their dead hearts To life.

_Hud._ To folly they are sick of! Ah, Once more I've news. Your swarthy Joan has fled, And all her magic warriors of a day Again are beggars.

_Cha._ Fled?

_Hud._ To her cactus lair.

But she'll trapse back between two bayonets, Stripped of her phantom wings.

_Cha._ She is not gone.

That heart of truth! When she deserts LeVal There'll be a breach in Heaven, and fiends may claim The day for h.e.l.l and you.

_Hud._ 'Tis mine without Such warm avouch. Your chaparral c.o.c.k and hen Have parted company. Her followers now, Cursing and naked, straggle to our camps----

_Her._ Your pardon, sir! You are deceived.

_Hud._ Ho, ho!

_Her._ They're with LeVal. Not one stout heart is lost.

Famette but lends her captaincy to his In needful absence----

_Hud._ You are much too wise.

_Her._ I know Famette.

_Hud._ You--what? Know _her_?

_Her._ I do.

_Hud._ This is the fruit of that mad jaunt, Through Goldusan! Where have you seen her?

_Her._ Here.

_Hud._ Not here? That woman? Are you mad, my girl?

_Her._ I love Famette. If we were one, I'd be But cinders in her saintly fire.

_Hud._ Here, miss?

You've had her with you? Sniffed and cheeped together, And drowned my kingdom in a gossip cup?

_Her._ If men, the bravest, are but flies upon Your monarch ermine, that with careless shake You scatter, can you fear a woman?

_Hud._ What?

Mocked by a chit? I fear? You mannerless filly, I've let you plunge and ramp o'er all my fields, But I'll not have you whinnying at the fence Till roadside jades break through! She has been _here_?

_Her._ She has. Dined at my board, slept in my bed, And so shall do again.

_Hud._ I'll welcome her!

And send you trucking home! You shall not wait For any whimsy this or that!

_Her._ But, sir,----

_Hud._ No trumpery packing,--no unready whine!

This hour! That you should moil your royalty Touching such sc.u.m!

_Her._ Nay, I was sc.u.m until she gave me substance.

I had no soul until she made hers mine, No cleanliness of heart till I knew hers, No knowledge till I looked through her clear eyes, No riches till I wrapped me in her rags----

_Hud._ You're raving!

_Her._ No. Ah, father, father, I'm Famette,--your daughter! I've not been in Cana, But in the pits your greed has dug,--down, down Where misery is so vile its own abyss Shudders to hold it. Chartrien, now you know My tale untold. I see your mind runs back To light a way it travelled in the dark.

O, you were blind! I'd know you near though masked In utter change.

_Cha._ I'm folded now in sun That makes me blind again. Are you Famette?

_Her._ [_Showing her bared arm_] See this brown circlet left that you might find A trace of her? I've crossed the universe---- Through h.e.l.l--and reached you, have I not?

_Cha._ [_Embracing her_] All sweet Forfending stars now heap their fortunes one And drop it on my heart that borrows heaven To hold the imponderable gift!

_Her._ Ah, poor Famette!

_Cha._'Twas you--in that foul hacienda pen?

And would not speak?

_Her._ I meant to save you, sir.

And had I told you then, would you have set So blithely off to Quito?