Turandot, Princess of China Part 15

(_Music strikes up with a march._ ALTOUM _turns, followed by the guards, the doctors_, PANTALONE, _and_ TARTAGLIA, _to left exit_. _Exeunt_ TURANDOT, ZELIMA, TRUFFALDINO, _the eunuchs, and female slaves, with their tambourines, through the door to the right_.)

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

THE SECOND ACT

SCENE I

Chamber in the harem.

TURANDOT, ZELIMA. _Afterwards_ ADELMA.

TURANDOT.

I cannot bear to think of it, Zelima; I cannot bear the thought of my disgrace.

ZELIMA.

I cannot think you mean it, mistress mine.

A young prince, n.o.ble, handsome, so enamoured, And you so full of hatred and disgust?

TURANDOT.

Torture me not. That is the very reason...

I am ashamed to say that it is so....

But there are other feelings strange to me....

I seem to s.h.i.+ver both with heat and frost....

No, no, I hate him, I am sure, Zelima-- Hate him for making me a laughing-stock Before the whole Divan--nay, the whole world!

How they will laugh at me! Help me, Zelima!

Come to my help! How did his riddle run: "Who is that Prince and of what stock is he, Who was a beggar, porter, menial, Yet in good fortune more unfortunate?"

So much is clear that he himself is meant.

But how in all the world am I to guess His and his father's names? Here no one knows him.

The Emperor himself has granted him For the time being still to be unknown.

Only to save time did I take the odds.

What shall I do now? I am helpless, helpless!

ZELIMA.

How would it do to ask a fortune-teller?

TURANDOT.

A fortune-teller?

ZELIMA.

No, that would not do.

But think, how genuine his pain, his sighs!

And how he cast himself at your father's feet To plead for you!

TURANDOT.

Enough of this--enough!

I said, indeed... my heart... believe it not.

It is not true. I hate him. For I know They all are treacherous: pretending love Until they have the maiden in their toils; But when they have their will, they laugh at us, Dallying with now this woman and now that; Nor is there any slave too base for them, Nor any harlot at too low a price.

Zelima, speak no more of him. If he To-morrow is victorious again, Oh, I shall hate him worse than death.

ZELIMA.

Dear mistress, So long as you are young and beautiful, Rebellion beseems you. But when age Comes creeping on, and wooers stay away, What will be yours beside too late regret?...

What would you lose now save a little pride, The phantom of your fame?...

ADELMA.

(_Has slowly come nearer, and now interrupts her._)

They that are base In birth may, it is true, so basely think As thou, Zelima. How couldst thou conceive The feelings of our n.o.ble mistress, when After so many years with triumph crowned, A stranger roving here from who knows where Puts her to shame in public? How shouldst thou Know anything of pride and pain and shame?

Thou didst not see the looks of mockery, The slanted smile round every mouth. I saw it, Saw it and shook with rage and shame for her.

I love her. And shall I stand and see her now, Against the promptings of her heart and will, Delivered up into a stranger's hands?

TURANDOT (_vehemently_).

Stop! Do not make me mad beyond control!

ZELIMA.

Delivered up? Is it so bad as that?

ADELMA.

Be silent, thou! Thou pretty little slave, Thou hast no need to understand these things.

What matters it to thee if, heedlessly, She pledged her word? And what shall come to pa.s.s In the Divan to-morrow if in shame She hold her tongue? I can already see The mockery scarcely hid, the open scorn, And the base wit, such wit as is the meed Of a poor actress.