into melodious or tormenting noise. (The likeness of a
beautiful girl appears in the mirror, reclining musingly on
a couch. Meanwhile the two shadows move slowly away
from their stations by the raised seat, until they stand between
SYLVADOR and GLUKO. They look with malignant triumph all
the lime at KIOWANA, who quivers convulsively.}
GLUKO. I do not like this chilly company much. You
are a little warmer, are you not, my goblet? You would not
be so impolite, I know, as they who bar my curiosity just
when the play becomes most interesting. Ho, ho ! they do
still more than stand discourteously in front of me ; they
cast a sluggish spell upon my limbs ! I can not move my
31
K 1
a n a
legs, and, what is worse, I can not move my arm to take a
drink. A nightmare revelry, indeed ! I would not be a part
of it again for all the amorous priestesses of Hell. What,
not allowed to drink? Misfortune never spat on me till now !
SYLVADOR. Are you a dream, Norine? a madman s
fancy, dear? longing for my own better self deranged?
Whatever you may be, vision or witchery, something divine
sends you here to let me say ten thousand times and more,
I worship you, bright, only star of my life s dark way, that
leads me upward to a higher world of thought than this
earth gives to the wild chaos of my brain ! Even though
you be but a glorious delusion, sprung from the frenzy of
my tormented hope, or else the triumph of forbidden
wisdom I pray to you, likeness of her I love ; I pray to
you, Norine, as to a goddess who, frowning on her subject,
strikes him mad ; the air grows black around him and,
groping in the darkness, he stumbles upon folly and deep
sin. I pray to you, divested of my folly (casting off his
coronet and robe), I pray to you with curses on my sins.
I thank you for your well intended service (throwing a
purse into KIOWANA S lap) , here is your fee, priestess; I need
your help no more. My truth shall be my only charm,
Norine, to win at least a smile from your sweet lips ; my
breast s confession shall be my sole wand that forces you at
last to look upon me. You do not know that you alone are
my salvation; you do not know that you are my eternity;
for, if you knew, you could not help but love me. Norine,
you do not understand my words, so frail and quivering with
my anguish my acts so strange from feverish hunger ; for I
am starving, cold, blind, weak, and helpless from lack of
you, my food, warmth, sight, and rest ! I would not harm a
weed that cared for you, Norine ; for all things that exist
should kneel to you. But how can I refrain from hating
him that dares to steal my soul from me? Norine, I
ask for justice, nothing more ; and justice is that you belong
32
Ki
o w a n a
to me. He gained your love through trickery ; for how can
you be the soul of two men? Accept your own, O soul !
Return unto your Kingdom, which is in fierce disorder with
out your guiding hand. Its sovereign reigns absolutely; its
sovereign is its only creed ; its sovereign is its only light.
Bereft of its sovereign, tempestuous night holds ceaseless
sway. Is it not natural to war against another kingdom
that has lured this sovereign away? Is it not natural to use
the same means to win back, as were employed to dispos
sess? Sword to match sword; scheme to meet scheme; magic
against magic ; for an angel s heart. But see, I hurl aside
my sword and anger ! And see, I drop, with shame, cold
plots and devil s aid ! I stand with rny whole being uncon
cealed, without a plea or weapon. Look me through and
through ! Recognize your Kingdom, sovereign soul, shat
tered by loss of you !
( The figure in the glass smiles and stretches forth her arms.}
Norine, at last you recognize your own ! The dead
begins to live in the hope of that chaste smile. Norine, let
me but breathe to give you joy !
( The forms of men appear, one after the other, on the
mirror, and each is in turn embraced and caressed by the
image of the girl.} Norine, forgive! it is not I. Some
strange perversion captures me ! Insanity has usurped my
reason ! It is not I who thus offends ! O cursed brain I
will tear it out ! That it, though mad, should think of you
in an unholy manner ! you, the purest ray of heaven that
illumines the shadows below ! My death alone can atone
for this, Norine ! I will crush forever the momentary haunt
of a diseased spirit, that dares to wrong my soul ! (Draw
ing his dagger and pointing it against his breast. ) The
home of my true self that worships you, Norine, has been
invaded by unhealthy things that commit sacrilege upon its
sacred altar. See, I destroy that profaned temple with its
polluters, in horror that I once dwelt therein !
33
K
1 o w a n a
FIRST SHADOW {speaking with the voice of KIOWANA).
Ha, ha ! Death! death! the fate of woman s fool! Death,
death!
SYLVADOR. O no, this temple is not profaned, I am
guiltless entirely of this damnable crime ! Hear, hear ! it is
this reptile s bite she, slave to vileness, hates the pure !
Pardon, Norine, my wrong to you in giving this worm a
chance to crawl upon and slime your saintly name.
Blasphemous hag, die ! die ! {Stabbing KIOWANA.) At last
fate smiles on me, Norine, since it permits me to avenge an
insult to my soul.
KIOWANA {aside). Fiends, you have lost ! To die by
the hand of him I love is not a punishment but a joy !
SHADOWS {moving away from GLUKO to the mirror and
speaking with their own -voices ). Draw down the curtains,
Gluko; the Comedy of Justice is over, and ends in tragedy.
GLUKO. They call me sot, but I m not drunk; for if I
were I should understand the meaning of this mystery which
turns me into a puppet and a part of the show ! Well, I am
glad that you are gone ; you are not sociable at all. What
about drawing the curtains down? You can do it more quickly
yourselves. {The curtains again slowly cover the mirror.}
So, you let me use my limbs again? And here is still a
drop in the cup. I will swallow it and grow wiser, perhaps,
and learn what is going on. I fell into something of a doze,
but I heard the scuffle of quarreling words. It must have
been a true love s brawl since it ends, like such brawls, in
sleepy peace. Ho, ho! no wonder we are asleep! I d be
quiet too, with a hole in my breast unless I could mate it
with a similar hole and my own blood soaking the floor !
What, priestess, you did not do this yourself? You can not
speak, mistress? You are surely dead ! You were not
always polite to me, and I was not mild as a servant should
be, but you lent me the pleasure once of your charms, if but
for a passing hour or more, and even though Gluko be only
34
K i o w a n a
a sot, drink never suggested that he should forget that the
woman who gave him a moment s delight had a claim to
the protection of his sword. So I must have a word with
you, sir fool by the name of Sylvador. Are you to blame for
this red mess? If you are, I must make it a little redder still.
SYLVADOR. I have no blade to waste on you; you were
only this wanton s tool.
GLUKO. Wanton though she was, she loved you, fool,
and for that you owed her some consideration.
SYLVADOR. Do not call decayed feelings love. Hand
me the key to unlock this door. I am in no mood to trifle
with a wanton s cur !
GLUKO. But the cur means to trifle with the woman-
killer. Fastidious murderer, draw !
SYLVADOR. Must you have it then? I will soil your gay
coat with a mixture of swine s and ass s blood ! ( They
fight.}
GLUKO. Drink against sobriety let us see which wins !
(SYLVADOR falls.) Drink wins, as it always does if you only
take enough.
SYLVADOR. Norine, though I die in a haunt of shame,
my thoughts to the last were of pure love for you. (Dies.)
SHADOWS. Our work is done. Kiowana, farewell ! By
this time you know that the dead can avenge.
KIOWANA (aloud). I can speak when it is too late. I
thank you, Gluko. There is hope for me in dying with him
who loved so faithfully. I intended to kill you this very
night ; take all my wealth, Gluko, and flee far from here.
But do me one favor before you go assist me to his body.
(GLUKO carries her to SYLVADOR S corpse.*) Fiends, I defy
you ! (Falls upon the body.)
SHADOWS. We are not fiends ; but though you aban
doned your service to Hell you could not avoid its results.
Still, you had your opportunity to escape ; before the voice
of Music, Heaven s priest, even we, Revenge, departed.
35
K i o
w a n a
KIOWANA. I understand all now and can not hate you,
shadows of my wronged attendants Roderic, Eldero but
your revenge has failed! My love for him saves me from
being damned!
SHADOWS. We will see when we meet below. (All the
shadows in the room disappear.}
( The door swings open; shouts of" Down with the witch and
the witch s crew!" are heard in the building, together with the
crash of falling doors.)
(Enter YAJEHO, with the baboon in his arms, frantically
gesticulating and chattering.)
YAJEHO. They break down the house ! so many angry
people! They cry "Kill Kiowana! " O, where can we hide?
GLUKO (fastening the door with heavy chains hanging on
either side of the wall) . We will make them a little angrier
still before they get us, Yajeho !
KIOWANA. Listen to me, Yajeho : There is a trap-door
behind my chair it leads down to a passage to the sea
forget this place earn an honest living in another land
take the trumpet of Gluko you play well follow music
and you never can be lost ! (GLUKO opens the trap-door and
assists YAJEHO and the baboon to descend through the opening;
he then closes it again.) Has he gone, Gluko?
GLUKO. Gone, with the trumpet and baboon.
KIOWANA. Snatch the jewels off my fingers and fly, too!
( The same sweet strains of -music which floated through the
room before, hover again above and about.)
GLUKO. I want to listen to this music first.
KIOWANA. Saved ! Saved ! The voice of Music calls !
All the shadows flee away from you, Music ! This time you
will not have to weep for me ! I follow you to the soul of
Sylvador ! (Dies.)
( The music changes into a rhapsody and ends in a glorious
crash of triumph.)
36
K
i o w a n a
GLUKO (picking up his goblet). My cup is empty the
music has stopped. Old Death might as well have me now.
(Stabs himself.) Come in! Come in ! You ll get nothing but
bones ! (The -mob beats and howls at the door " Kill KIOWANA I
Kill all the witch s crew!") I d like to be able to see your
surprise. My last sight of life is its folly \ (Dies.)
37
ISA.
A Village Church-yard. The moonlight shows I SA standing
by a tomb along the burial-way.
ISA. This is the night they say the dead arise and march
along the burial-way, in memory of the moments when their
bodies last saw life. Would he but come but come!
THE WINDS. You are with us, mournful mortal, finding
rest in restlessness.
ISA. Rest? Rest in hope of death s forgiveness! Rest
in the dream that he will pardon me! Who are you, voices
of deep sympathy, that know my heart yet do not hate me?
THE WINDS. The winds float through the worlds of
Life and Death; they thus can pity but never hate.
ISA. But ah, those voices in the distance! are they still
yours? Winds, tell me, are they yours? Warm, trembling
hope glides through my breast, so long cold with despair;
for these are surely human voices, raised in martial ecstasy!
But they do not reply. The winds have fled from me.
THE WINDS. Unrest must flee from Certainty; we will
return, but never more to you.
ISA. Are shadows Certainty? I know the dead are
coming, yet have no fear at all; they bring a hope the living
could not bring.
VOICES OF APPROACHING SPIRITS, SINGING. Life, thoU
precious play of error! wildest dream of all eternity! Thee we
worship, once so real! In death s light we still love life s
night!
( Two by two, in slow procession figures pass the lonely woman.
But she looks at none of them , till two aged forms approach , zvho
stretch forth their pale arms toward her.)
THE AGED FORMS (standing still}. Isa, our daughter,
do not so distress yourself! Claude has forgiven you
Claude understands.
38
s a
ISA. Father! mother! does he come, too? Father
mother! where is he?
FIRST FORM. See! your husband walks behind us, he,
alone solitary of all this procession, waiting for the
empty space at his side to be filled with his companion shade.
SECOND FORM. Can you not forgive yourself, Isa, for
being a victim to the frenzy of dogma? The dead know all,
and do not censure; the dead are troubled only by the grief
of the living.
( Without replying, ISA casts herself before a tall spirit
advancing alone.)
ISA. Claude, forgive your wife her folly in casting off
Love, the perfect truth, for the sake of Creed, the artificial.
SPIRIT OF CLAUDE. As you never have been faithless
to your love and wifely duties, cease lamenting over an error
sprung from the shadows of a mistaken world. As soon as
I was freed from the flesh, sanity s prison, I understood and
pitied the delusion of mortals, the maddest revel of which
is religious bigotry. How death laughs at creeds, whose
insane power ends with one short earthly life! Isa, dear,
the only pain you can give me is your self-reproach for
moments that were not guilty, but sick. Think of the
coming hour that unites us forever, when we shall look
on our separation as a strange scene of a fantastic play.
(Moving on.)
ISA. And do you think that I can leave you, after your
forgiveness, Claude? The day of hope has fallen on me;
shall I turn from it to the night of despair? That hour is
here that hour, my husband, which awakens us forever
from ill-dreams of divided love!
(Springing into the space at CLAUDE S side. The procession
moves on, singing, until it is lost to sight.)
39
s a
SONG OF THE SPIRITS. Death, we worship thee! Death,
we return to thee, pitying friend of troubled hearts! O thou
who unitest divided love, take us back from the sorrows of
Life!
( The light of dawn slowly appears.}
THE WINDS. Death has gone, and Life is here, so now
the winds can moan again. Enter, blindness and mistake,
ministers to flesh and breath.
{Enter SEXTON.)
SEXTON. I wonder if they marched last night, as people
say they do? I kept my shutters tightly closed; I d much
rather bury than be buried myself, and who sees the dead
walk must soon die. What s this? I wish I had not come!
There may be ghosts straggling about here still a woman!
dead, on the burial-way ! By the tongue of my wife, it is
Isa! Poor wench ! she surely was out of her head, or she
would not have dared to meet the dead ! I buried her
husband a year ago she grieved herself sick and mad, they
say; and simply because they quarreled about church she
imagined she had broken his heart. So young and so pretty !
She must have been mad ! for even had she broken his heart,
as she raved, remorse could not patch it together again.
Better had she comforted herself with another heart.
Remorse brings but work for my spade.
4 o
APR 3 1985
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