Part 17

"Never! You must not ask it." He was frightened at the very thought. If men like the Duke, his master, should see such a beautiful girl as Gilda, they would surely rob him of her. At that moment the nurse, Giovanna, came from the house and Rigoletto asked her if the garden gate was ever left open while he was away. The woman told him falsely that the gate was always closed.

"Ah, Giovanna, I pray you watch over my daughter when I am away," he cried, and turned suddenly toward the gate upon hearing a noise. "Some one is without there, now!" he cried, running in the direction of the sound. He threw the gate wide, but saw no one, because the Duke--who it was--had stepped aside into the shadow, and then, while Rigoletto was without, looking up the road, he slipped within and hid behind a tree, throwing a purse to Giovanna to bribe her to silence. Giovanna snatched it and hid it in the folds of her gown, showing plainly that she was not to be trusted, as Rigoletto trusted her, with his precious daughter. There was the man whom Rigoletto had most cause to fear, who ran off with every pretty girl he saw, and he had now found the prettiest of them all in the dwarf's daughter.

"Have you noticed any one following Gilda?" the dwarf asked, returning to the garden and fastening the gate behind him. "If harm should come to my daughter it would surely kill me," he sobbed, taking Gilda in his arms. At that the Duke, listening behind the tree, was amazed. So! Gilda was no sweetheart of his jester; but was his daughter instead!

"Now," said Rigoletto, "I must be off, but I caution you once more; let no one in."

"What, not even the great Duke if he should come to inquire for you?"

"The Duke least of all," the dwarf answered in a new panic. And kissing Gilda he went out again.

No sooner had he gone than Gilda turned tearfully to her nurse.

"Giovanna, my heart feels guilty."

"What hast thou done?" the nurse asked, indifferently, remembering the purse of the Duke which she carried in her bosom.

"Ne'er told my father of the youth whom I have learned to love and who has followed me."

"Why should he know it? Would he not prevent it? If you wish that----"

"Nay, nay," Gilda replied, fearfully; and in her loneliness and distress she confided to Giovanna how much she loved the Duke. Mantua, behind the tree, heard all, and, motioning Giovanna to go away, he came toward Gilda. Giovanna went at once into the house, but Gilda cried to her to come back, as the sudden appearance of the Duke frightened her, after the scene she had just had with her father.

Then while the Duke was giving her a false name, and trying to reassure her, they heard voices outside the garden wall. The Duke recognized the voice of Borsa and Ceprano. They seemed to be searching for some house, and again, quite terror-stricken, Gilda started to rush within.

Giovanna met her. "I am afraid it is your father returned. The young gentleman must hasten away," she whispered under her breath, and immediately the Duke went out by another way, through the house. Then Gilda watched off, down the road, and while she was watching, Borsa, Ceprano, and other dare-devils of the Duke's court stole into the garden. Ceprano, who had heard that Gilda was some one beloved by Rigoletto, although it was not known that she was his daughter, meant to carry Gilda off, since he owed Rigoletto a grudge. Having seen the Duke disappear, Gilda had gone within again, and as the kidnappers were about to enter, they heard Rigoletto coming.

It was then their opportunity to plan a great and tragic joke upon the wretched dwarf.

"Listen to this!" Borsa whispered. "Let us tell him we are here to carry off the Countess Ceprano, who has fled here for safety from us. Then when we have blind-folded him, we will make him help to carry off his own sweetheart." Just as that infamous plan was formed, in came Rigoletto. He ran against one of the men in the dark.

"What's this?" he cried.

"H'st! Be silent!"

"Who spoke?" he unconsciously lowered his voice.

"Marullo, you idiot."

"The darkness blinds me, and I cannot see you."

"H'st, Rigoletto! We're for an adventure. We are going to carry off the Countess Ceprano: she has fled here from us. We had the Duke's key to get into her place." He holds out the key which the dwarf felt in the darkness and found the Duke's crest upon it.

"Her palace is on the other side----"

"She fled here, we tell thee. We are stealing her for the Duke. Put on this mask, hurry!" Marullo tied on a mask and put the jester at the foot of a ladder which they had run up against the terrace.

"Now hold the ladder till one of us gets over and unfastens the door." Rigoletto, somewhat dazed, did mechanically what he was told, and the men entered the house.

"Ah, I shall have a fine revenge on that scamp," Ceprano muttered, looking toward Rigoletto through the dark.

"Sh! Be silent," Borsa whispered. "They will bring the girl out muffled so he can't hear her scream. Rigoletto will never hear a sound. No joke of his ever matched the one we are preparing for him." At that moment, Gilda was brought out, her mouth tied with her scarf; but as they were bearing her away, she got the scarf loose and uttered a piercing shriek, and the scarf fell near Rigoletto.

"Father, help, help!" she cried, but the voice seemed to come from afar off. Rigoletto only just heard. He could not collect his senses.

"Here, what does this mean? Aren't you nearly through?" he cried, angrily tearing off the mask and also the handkerchief that bound his ears. "What cry was that? I thought I heard a cry!" He was becoming mad with fear. All the conditions seemed so strange.

"Hello there!" But no one answered; all the men were gone. Then he snatched a lantern one of the men had left near, and suddenly he saw Gilda's scarf. He stared at it, rushed like a madman into the house and dragged out the nurse, tried to shriek "Gilda," but overcome with horror he fell senseless.

ACT II

Now if the Duke of Mantua was ever angry in his life, he was angry when the curtain rose on the second act. There he was, pacing about a sumptuous apartment, fuming with rage.

"If ever I loved any one in my life, it was that girl!" he cried. "And heaven knows what can have become of her." As a matter of fact, the Duke had some misgiving after he had left Gilda in the garden, and, later, he had returned. But he had found the place deserted and could get no news of her from that hour.

"Oh, but I would defend thee, if thou art in trouble," he cried; and in the midst of his excitement Marullo, Borsa, and Ceprano and other courtiers rushed into the room. All were fairly bursting with news of the escapade of the night before.

"Oh, Duke! Oh, Lord! What do you think? We have carried off the jester's sweetheart!"

"What?" The Duke stared and then gave a great cry. "Speak, speak. What have you done?"

"The jester's sweetheart."

"Where is she?" the Duke asked, hardly daring to trust his voice.

"Here, in this house."

"What do you say?"

"Yes, we brought her here."

"Oh, joy!" the Duke exclaimed; then aside: "She is near me," and forgetting all about his friends he went out excitedly.

"Why did he turn away from us?" the men asked each other. "He has enjoyed our adventures before now." They were a little uneasy and were conferring together when Rigoletto came in. He was a pitiful-looking fellow, worn with a night of horror and weeping, but he came singing:

"La, la, la, la, la,"--pretending not to be agitated. "Pray what is the news?" he asked off-hand, seeking not to betray his agony of mind, till he should have learned something about his daughter.

"Pleasant morning, Rigoletto!" the men answered, mockingly, and glancing with grins at each other. "Pray what _is_ the news?" Rigoletto, half dead with anxiety, moved about the room looking for some sign of Gilda.

"Lord! See him fishing about in every corner for her? He thinks to find her under the table," one of them whispered, and the men burst out laughing.

Then Rigoletto discovered a handkerchief on the floor and snatched it, hoping to find a clue, but it was not hers. Just then a page ran in to say that the Duchess was asking for the Duke.

"He is still in bed," one of the men answered, watching the effect of that upon Rigoletto, who was listening to every word.

"He cannot be," the page persisted. "Didn't he just pass me on the stairs?"

"All right, then! He has gone a-hunting," and they laughed.

"With no escort? Hardly. Come, don't think me a fool. Where's the Duke? The Duchess wishes to speak with him."

"It is you who are a dull fool," the men exclaimed, seeming to carry on the conversation aside, but taking good care that Rigoletto should hear. "The Duke cannot be disturbed--do you understand? He is with a lady."

"Ah! Villains!" Rigoletto shrieked, turning upon them like a tiger. "My daughter! You have my daughter--here in this palace. Give me my daughter!" The men all rushed after him as he made for the door.

"Your daughter? My God! Your daughter?" They were horrified at their own doings, hearing it was Rigoletto's daughter.

"Stand back! Don't think to keep me from my daughter." As they still held him tight, hardly knowing what then to do, he sank down in despair. He entreated help of the different courtiers whom he had so often and maliciously misused. Then he wept.

"Oh, have pity on me, my lords! Let me go to my daughter." While everybody was hesitating in consternation, Gilda, having got free, rushed from the next room, and into his arms. She screamed hysterically that she had been carried off by the Duke. Rigoletto nearly foamed at the mouth with rage, and at last the men became truly afraid of him.

"Go, all of you!" he stammered, no longer able to speak plainly. "And if the Duke comes into this room I will kill him." So the courtiers withdrew. The palace was in an uproar.

"It is a mistake to jest with a madman," Marullo whispered to Borsa as they went out. Father and daughter were left alone. After looking at Gilda a moment, trying to recover himself, Rigoletto whispered.

"Now, my child; they have gone. Speak!" Gilda throwing herself into her father's arms, told of her meetings with the Duke, and of how she had grown to love him, and finally of how in the night she had been carried away.

As they were in each other's arms the guard entered with old Count Monterone, who was being taken to his cell. As he was being led across the room, Rigoletto's wild eyes fixed themselves in horror upon the man whose curse had cursed him. The Count paused before the Duke's picture and cursed it.

"I shall be the instrument to fulfill thy curse, old man," Rigoletto whispered as the Count passed out, and he made a frightful oath of vengeance against the Duke of Mantua. His words frightened Gilda, because she dearly loved the Duke even though she believed he had caused her to be carried off. As the jester raised his hand to take the dreadful oath to kill, Gilda fell upon her knees beside him.

ACT III

Rigoletto and Gilda had fled from the palace, for the dwarf meant to hide his daughter away forever; and in the darkness they were hurrying on their way to an old inn, which could be seen near at hand. A swift, rushing river ran back of the inn, and the innkeeper could be seen inside his house sitting at a table polishing an old belt. It was the villainous old cut-throat, Sparafucile, who had stopped Rigoletto on his way home two nights before, offering to kill whomever Rigoletto would for a sum of money.

Gilda was very weary and she and her father were about to stop at the inn for the night. They were speaking in the road:

"Do you still love the Duke, my child?"

"Alas, father! I cannot help it. I think I shall always love him." At that moment Rigoletto espied a man, dressed as a cavalry officer, approaching the inn by another road. Instantly he recognized the Duke in disguise. He peeped through an opening in the wall which surrounded the house and could see the Duke greeting Sparafucile and ordering a bottle of wine, after which he gaily sang, while waiting:

[Music:

Plume in the summer wind, Waywardly playing, Ne'er one way swaying, Each whim obeying, etc.]

The song was gay and thoughtless, and when it should be last heard by Rigoletto it was to have a fearful meaning.

"Ah, ha?" Rigoletto murmured to himself. "This rat of a noble is seeking some new adventure! Let us see if Gilda will continue to love him when she knows the true wickedness of the wretch! when she knows that he is false to all that he has said to her: because there is of course another woman in the case!" While Rigoletto was observing him, the wine was brought to the Duke, who raised his sword and rapped upon the ceiling with its hilt. At that signal a pretty girl ran down the ladder and Mantua embraced her.

That freed Sparafucile and he ran out of the inn to look for Rigoletto, whose coming was expected. In fact, Rigoletto had at last made a bargain with the _coupe-jarret_ to kill the Duke.

"Your man's inside. Shall I do the job at once, or wait a bit?"

"Wait a bit," said Rigoletto, glancing at Gilda, who heard nothing, "I'll give the signal," whereupon Sparafucile went off, toward the river. Then while the father and daughter stood outside the inn they could see all that was taking place within it. The Duke began to make love to the gipsy girl, and she laughed at him.

"You have told fifty girls what you tell me," she declared.

"Well, I'll admit all that. I am an unfaithful fellow--but you don't mind that! Just at this moment I love no one in the world but you," he returned.

"Father, do you hear that traitor?" Gilda whispered, tearfully, and Rigoletto nodded. He was indeed glad; maybe it would cure her of her infatuation.

"I must laugh to think how many girls you have made believe you," the gipsy said again, mocking the Duke. But he only protested the more, and Gilda threw her arms about her father in despair.

"Now, my child, since this traitor is here, you cannot well go in; so return to Mantua, change thy dress for that of a youth; get a horse and fly to Verona. There I will meet thee and see thee safe. You can see that this man is no longer to be trusted."

"Alas, I know that is true;--yet, if I must go--come with me, father," she entreated, feeling very lonely and heartbroken, there in the dark night.

"Not at once. I cannot go at once; but I will soon join thee"; and in spite of her pleading he started her back to the city alone. Then he and Sparafucile stood together in the middle of the road while the dwarf counted out the half of the money to the cut-throat.

"Here is thy money, and I am going away. But at midnight I shall return and help thee throw him into the river. It will make a great noise,--this killing of a man of the Duke of Mantua's fame," he muttered.

"Never mind about coming back. I can dump him into the river, without help. It is going to be a bad night," the fellow said, uneasily looking up at the storm clouds that were gathering. As the lightning began to flash and the thunder to roll distantly, Rigoletto turned toward Mantua, while Sparafucile went into the inn.

"A fine night! Black as thunder and going to storm like Satan," he said as he entered.

"So much the better," the Duke answered, "I'll stay here all night, and you clear out," to Sparafucile;--"go to the devil, will you? I don't want you about."

"You're a nice, soft spoken gentlemen--if a man doesn't care what he says," Sparafucile returned.

"You mustn't stay here," Maddalena said hastily to the Duke. She well knew the tricks her brother was up to when a stranger with money stopped at the house; and after the Duke had made himself so agreeable she didn't care to see him killed under her nose.

"You mind your business," her brother said to her, shortly, seeing his plans interfered with. Then speaking to her aside: "It's worth a pot-full of gold to us. Mind your own business, I say." Then to the Duke: "Sir, I am delighted to have you sleep at my inn. Pray take shelter in my own chamber. Come, I will show you the way." Sparafucile took the candle and went toward the ladder that led to the rooms above.

The Duke then whispered to the gipsy girl, and went laughing up the ladder. Maddalena looked thoughtfully after him. She liked money as well as her brother did. Should she let her brother kill him or not?

"Heavens! That thunder is loud," she exclaimed, as the storm struck the dreadful house. Up in the loft, the Duke was laughing with Sparafucile about the airiness of the chamber.

"Well, well, I'm tired," he said, after the cut-throat had gone down the ladder. "I'll take off my sword and have an hour's sleep, anyway." He removed his protecting sword, and began to hum to himself while he was waiting for more wine. The storm, the gay song, the murder which was about to be committed!--it was a fearful hour.

Down below Sparafucile was saying to his sister: "Go and get my dagger. This affair will give us a tidy sum of money." Maddalena listened to the Duke singing above and hesitated.

"He--he is young and--no--we shall not do this thing, Sparafucile," she declared.

"Come! No foolishness, now," he growled. "Get my dagger and be quick." She reluctantly ascended the staircase again to where the Duke was sleeping. It was not very light. The flickering candle made but a wavering shadow over all, and as Maddalena went up the ladder, Gilda, who had returned, softly stole up to the inn door and began to listen to what went on within, but not daring to enter. She had returned because for some reason unknown to herself she was oppressed with a sense of danger to the Duke who had so ill-treated her. Through the chink of the door she could see the innkeeper at the table drinking. Gilda had already changed her girl's clothing for that of a youth with spurs and boots.

Now she saw Maddalena come back down the stairs with the Duke's sword which she had stolen from his side.

"Oh, it is a horrible night," Gilda whispered to herself, shuddering and cold and frightened there in the dark, with only Sparafucile's wicked face before her.

"Brother," Maddalena began, "I am not going to let you kill that young man up there. I have taken a fancy to him and I won't let you do it."

"You mind your own affairs and get away from here. I'll attend to my business," he snarled. Upon hearing there was a plan to kill the Duke whom after all she truly loved, unworthy as he was, Gilda nearly fainted.

"You just take this sack and mend it," Sparafucile said, throwing an old sack toward his sister.

"What for?" she asked suspiciously.

"It is to hold your fine young man, up there--when I shall throw him in the river." Upon hearing that, Gilda sank down upon the stone step.

"See here! If it were not for the money you are to get, you would let him go, I know," Maddalena urged.

"Well, no--because you see already I have received half my pay, and the fellow I am doing the job for is a nasty customer, and, to tell the truth, I shouldn't dare let the Duke go.

"Then listen to my plan: The hunchback will presently return with the rest of the money." Gilda learned then to her horror that it was her father who had bargained for the Duke's assassination. "When the jester comes, kill him instead and take his money--all of it--and throw him into the river, and let this young man above go." At that Gilda could not longer support herself and she fell down upon the ground.

"No, I won't do it," the fellow said doggedly. "I agreed to kill the man upstairs--and there must be honour among rogues. It wouldn't be right to kill the one I hadn't bargained for. I make it a rule never to kill my employer," the rascal returned piously.

"I'll call him, then, and tell him to defend himself," the girl cried, running toward the stairs.

"Hold on there," Sparafucile cried; "I'll tell you--I agree to kill the first man who enters this house between now and midnight, in the Duke's stead, if that will suit you. Then we shall put him in the sack, and the hunchback will not know the difference. Will that suit you?" he repeated.

"That will do, and see that you keep your word or I will arouse the young man, I promise you."

At that moment the clock struck half past eleven, and Gilda was frantic with fear. Maddalena was in tears, fearing that no one would come along, in that storm, so late at night.

"If no one comes!" Gilda thinks shudderingly. "Oh, how shall I save him?" But no sooner had she that thought than a desperate plan entered her mind. She would go into the inn! She was dressed like a young man and no one would ever know the difference in the darkness and the storm. She would go in and the Duke would be spared. Then she waited a moment, overcome with the fear of death; finally, summoning all her courage, she knocked against the door.

"Who's there?" Both Maddalena and Sparafucile exclaimed, looking in terror at each other. The knock was sudden and ominous. Then another knock.

"Who's there?" again he called.

"A stranger, caught in the storm. Will you give me shelter?" Gilda could hardly speak, with terror. Maddalena and the murderer looked at each other significantly. They knew well what they would do the moment the door was opened. The lightning flashed, the thunder rolled and broke above them, and the scene became terrifying. Sparafucile placed himself behind the door and motioned to Maddalena to open it.

"Thou art welcome," she said, throwing the door back suddenly; and as Gilda stumbled in, Maddalena ran out and closed the gateway. The candle went out in the gust of wind, and all was dark. Gilda stood an instant in the blackness of the room. With one blow of the knife, which could not be seen for the darkness, Sparafucile killed her, and then all was silent. After a moment the storm broke away, the moon came forth, and Rigoletto could be seen coming up the river bank.