James Cabell - The Jewel Merchants. A Comedy in One Act

GUIDO( Drawing out a miniature on a chain. ) Here is the likeness.

GRACIOSABut how should you—?

GUIDO( Seeing her surprise. ) Oh, it was a gift to me from his highness for a special service I did him, and as such must be treasured.

GRACIOSAPerhaps, then, I shall see yon at court, Messer Guido, who are the friend of princes?

GUIDOIf you do, I ask only that in noisy Florence you remember this quiet garden.

GRACIOSA( Looks at him silently, then glances at the portrait. She speaks with evident disappointment. ) Is this the Duke?

GUIDOYou may see his arms on it, and on the back his inscription.

GRACIOSAYes, but—( looking at the portrait again )—but … he is … so …

GUIDOYou are astonished at his highness' coloring? That he inherits from his mother. She was, you know, a blackamoor.

GRACIOSAAnd my sisters wrote me he was like a god!

GUIDOSuch observations are court etiquette.

GRACIOSA( With an outburst of disgust. ) Take it back! Though how can you bear to look at it, far less to have it touching you! And only yesterday I was angry because I had not seen the Duke riding past!

GUIDOSeen him! here! riding past!

GRACIOSAOld Ursula told me that the Duke had gone by with twenty men, riding down toward the convent at the border. And I flung my sewing-bag straight at her head because she had not called me.

GUIDOThat was idle gossip, I fancy. The Duke rarely rides abroad without my—( he stops )—without my lavish patron Eglamore, the friend of all honest merchants.

GRACIOSABut that abominable Eglamore may have been with him. I heard nothing to the contrary.

GUIDOTrue, madonna, true. I had forgotten you did not see them.

GRACIOSANo. What is he like, this Eglamore? Is he as appalling to look at as the Duke?

GUIDOMadonna! but wise persons do not apply such adjectives to dukes. And wise persons do not criticize Count Eglamore's appearance, either, now that Eglamore is indispensable to the all-powerful Duke of Florence.

GRACIOSAIndispensable?

GUIDOIt is thanks to the Eglamore whom you hate that the Duke has ample leisure to indulge in recreations which are reputed to be—curious.

GRACIOSAI do not understand you, Guido.

GUIDOThat is perhaps quite as well. ( Attempting to explain as much as is decently expressible. ) To be brief, madonna, business annoys the Duke.

GRACIOSAWhy?

GUIDOIt interferes with the pursuit of all the beautiful things he asks for in that song.

GRACIOSABut how does that make Eglamore indispensable?

GUIDOEglamore is an industrious person who affixes seals, and signs treaties, and musters armies, and collects revenues, upon the whole, quite as efficiently as Alessandro would be capable of doing these things.

GRACIOSASo Duke Alessandro merely makes verses?

GUIDOAnd otherwise amuses himself as his inclinations prompt, while Eglamore rules Tuscany—and the Tuscans are none the worse off on account of it. ( He rises, and his hand goes to the dagger at his belt. ) But is not that a horseman?

GRACIOSA( She too has risen, and is now standing on the bench, looking over the wall. ) A solitary rider, far down by the convent, so far away that he seems hardly larger than a scarlet dragon-fly.

GUIDOI confess I wish to run no risk of being found here, by your respected father or by your ingenious cousins and uncles.

GRACIOSA( She turns, but remains standing upon the bench. ) I think your Duke is much more dangerous looking than any of them. Heigho! I can quite foresee that I shall never fall in love with this Duke.

GUIDOA prince has means to overcome all obstacles.

GRACIOSANo. It is unbefitting and a little cowardly for Duke Alessandro to shirk the duties of his station for verse-making and eternal pleasure-seeking. Now if I were Duke—

GUIDOWhat would you do?

GRACIOSA( Posturing a little as she stands upon the bench. ) If I were duke? Oh … I would grant my father a pension … and I would have Eglamore hanged … and I would purchase a new gown of silvery green—

GUIDOIn which you would be very ravishingly beautiful.

His tone has become rather ardent, and he is now standing nearer to her than the size of the garden necessitates. So GRACIOSA demurely steps down from the bench, and sits at the far end.

GRACIOSA And that is all I can think of. What would you do if you were duke,

Messer Guido?

GUIDO( Who is now sitting beside her at closer quarters than the length of the bench quite strictly demands. ) I? What would I do if I were a great lord instead of a tradesman! ( Softly. ) I think you know the answer, madonna.

GRACIOSAOh, you would make me your duchess, of course. That is quite understood. But I was speaking seriously, Guido.

GUIDOAnd is it not a serious matter that a pedler of crystals should have dared to love a nobleman's daughter?

GRACIOSA( Delighted. ) This is the first I have heard of it.

GUIDOBut you are perfectly right. It is not a serious matter. That I worship you is an affair which does not seriously concern any person save me in any way whatsoever. Yet I think that knowledge of the fact would put your father to the trouble of sharpening his dagger.

GRACIOSAYe-es. But not even Father would deny that you were showing excellent taste.

GUIDOIndeed, I am not certain that I do worship you; for in order to adore whole-heartedly the idolater must believe his idol to be perfect. ( Taking her hand. ) Now your nails are of an ugly shape, like that of little fans. Your nose is nothing to boast of. And your mouth is too large. I do not admire these faults, for faults they are undoubtedly—

GRACIOSADo they make me very ugly? I know that I have not a really good mouth,

GUIDO, but do you think it is positively repulsive?

GUIDONo…. Then, too, I know that you are vain and self-seeking, and look forward contentedly to the time when your father will transfer his ownership of your physical attractions to that nobleman who offers the highest price for them.

GRACIOSABut we daughters of the poor Valori are compelled to marry—suitably. We have only the choice between that and the convent yonder.

GUIDOThat is true, and nobody disputes it. Still, you participate in a monstrous bargain, and I would prefer to have you exhibit distaste for it.

Bending forward, GUIDO draws from his jewel pack the string of pearls, and this he moodily contemplates, in order to evince his complete disinterestedness. The pose has its effect. GRACIOSA looks at him for a moment, rises, draws a deep breath, and speaks with a sort of humility.

GRACIOSAAnd to what end, Guido? What good would weeping do?

GUIDO( Smiling whimsically. ) I am afraid that men do not always love according to the strict laws of logic. ( He drops the pearls, and, rising, follows her. ) I desire your happiness above all things, yet to see you so abysmally untroubled by anything which troubles me is—another matter.

GRACIOSABut I am not untroubled, Guido.

GUIDONo?

GRACIOSANo. ( Rather tremulously. ) Sometimes I sit here dreading my life at court. I want never to leave my father's bleak house. I fear that I may not like the man who offers the highest price for me. And it seems as if the court were a horrible painted animal, dressed in bright silks, and shining with jewels, and waiting to devour me.

Beyond the wall appears a hat of scarlet satin with a divided brim, which, rising, is revealed to surmount the head of an extraordinarily swarthy person, to whose dark skin much powder has only loaned the hue of death: his cheeks, however, are vividly carmined. This is all that the audience can now see of the young DUKE of FLORENCE, whose proximity the two in the garden are just now too much engrossed to notice.

The DUKE looks from one to the other. His eyes narrow, his teeth are displayed in a wide grin; he now understands the situation. He lowers his head as GRACIOSA moves.

GRACIOSANo, I am not untroubled. For I cannot fathom you, and that troubles me. I am very fond of you—and yet I do not trust you.

GUIDOYou know that I love you.

GRACIOSAYou tell me so. It pleases me to have you say it—

GUIDOMadonna is candid this morning.

GRACIOSAYes, I am candid. It does please me. And I know that for the sake of seeing me you endanger your life, for if my father heard of our meetings here he would have you killed.

GUIDOWould I incur such risks without caring?

GRACIOSANo,—and yet, somehow, I do not believe it is altogether for me that you care.

The DUKE laughs. GUIDO starts, half drawing his dagger. GRACIOSA turns with an instinctive gesture of seeking protection. The DUKE'S head and shoulders appear above the wall.

THE DUKEAnd you will find, my friend, that the most charming women have just these awkward intuitions.

The DUKE ascends the wall, while the two stand motionless and silent. When he is on top of the wall, GUIDO, who now remembers that omnipotence perches there, makes haste to serve it, and obsequiously assists the DUKE to descend. The DUKE then comes well forward, in smiling meditation, and hands first his gloves, then his scarlet cloak (which you now perceive to be lined with ermine and sable in four stripes) to GUIDO, who takes them as a servant would attend his master.

The removal of this cloak reveals the DUKE to be clad in a scarlet satin doublet, which has a high military collar and sleeves puffed with black. His tights also are of scarlet, and he wears shining soft black riding-boots. Jewels glisten at his neck. About his middle, too, there is a metallic gleaming, for he is equipped with a noticeably long sword and a dagger. Such is the personage who now addresses himself more explicitly to GRACIOSA.

THE DUKE( Sitting upon the bench, very much at his ease while the others stand uncomfortably before him. ) Yes, madonna, I suspect that Eglamore here cares greatly for the fact that you are Balthazar Valori's daughter, and cousin to the late Marquis of Cibo.

GRACIOSA( Just in bewilderment. ) Eglamore!

THE DUKEFor Cibo left many kinsmen. These still resent the circumstance that the matching of his wits against Eglamore's wits earned for Cibo an unpleasantly public death-bed. So they pursue their feud against Eglamore with vexatious industry. And Eglamore goes about in hourly apprehension of another falling beam, another knife-thrust in the back, or another plate of poison.