Part 6
[_Opening the skin, it flattens in her hands. She searches for the flask to draw off the oil, but is able to get but one or two drops._]
'T is empty! 'T is empty! But three drops, Virgin, For my unction extreme prithee be given me, But two for my hands, for my lips the other, And all for my soul, all the three! For how can I live when back he returns here, What can I say, Mother, what can I say? Surely then he will see, or ere he see me, How the lamp has gone out. If my loving Sufficed not to keep the flame burning, How pale unto him will this love of mine, Mother, appear!
[_Again she tries the skin, looking again for other receptacles, upsetting everything and still murmuring prayers._]
Cause it to burn, O Mother intrepid! But a little while longer, as much longer only As an Ave Maria, a Salve Regina, O Mother of Mercy, of Pity!
[_In the frenzy of her search she goes to the entrance and hears a step and catches sight of a shadow. She calls aloud._]
O woman, good woman, Christian sister, Come you hither! and may the Lord bless you! Come you hither! For mayhap the Lord sends you. What bear you in your basket? If a little Oil, oh, then of your charity, give me a little! Pray enter and take of all these your free choice, These ladles, spindles, mortars, distaffs, any! For need that there is here for Our Lady, To replenish the oil in her lamp there hanging And not to quench it; if through me it be quenched, I shall lose sight of the way to Heaven. Christian woman, grasp you my meaning? Will you to me do this loving kindness?
[_The woman appears at the entrance, her head and face covered with a black mantle. She takes down the basket from her head without a word and placing it on the ground removes the cloth, takes out the phial of oil and offers it to _MILA.]
MILA
Ah! be thou blessed, be thou blessed! Lord God Reward thee on earth, and in Heaven also! You have some! You have some! In mourning are you; But the Madonna will grant it to you To see again the face of your lost one,-- All for this deed of your charity done me.
[_She takes the phial and turns anxiously to go to the dying lamp._]
Ah! perdition upon me! 'T is quenched.
[_The phial falls from her hand and breaks. For a few seconds she remains motionless, stunned with the terrible omen. The woman leaning down to the spilled oil touches it with her fingers and crosses herself. _MILA_ regards the woman with utter sadness and the resignation of despair makes her voice hollow and slow._]
MILA
Pardon me, pardon, Christian pilgrim, This your charity turned to nothing. The oil wasted, broken in pieces the phial, Misfortune upon me befallen. Tell me what choose you? All these things here Were fashioned out thus by the shepherd. A new distaff and with it a spindle Wish you? Or wish you a mortar and pestle? Tell me, I pray. For nothing know I any more. I am one of the lost in the earth beneath.
THE CLOAKED ONE
Daughter of Jorio! I have come unto you, To you, bringing here, thus, this basket, So I a boon may beseech of you.
MILA
Ah! heavenly voice that I ever In the deeps of my soul have been hearing!
THE CLOAKED ONE
To you come I from Acquanova.
MILA
Ornella, Ornella art thou!
[ORNELLA _uncovers her face._]
ORNELLA
The sister am I of Aligi; The daughter am I of Lazaro.
MILA
I kiss your two feet with humility, That have carried you here to me So that again your dear face I behold This hour, this last hour of my mortal suffering. To give me pity you were the first one, You are now, too, the last one, Ornella!
ORNELLA
If I was the first, penitence Great I have suffered. I am telling The truth to you, Mila di Codra. And still is my suffering bitter.
MILA
Oh! your voice in its sweetness is quivering. In the wound doth the knife that hurts quiver. And much more, ah! more doth it quiver And you do not yet know that, Ornella!
ORNELLA
If only you knew this my sorrow! If only you knew how much sadness The small kindness I did for you caused me! From my home that is left desolated I come, where we weep and are perishing.
MILA
Why thus are you vested in mourning? Who is dead then? You do not answer. Mayhap--mayhap--the newly come sister?
ORNELLA
Ah! She is the one you wish perished!
MILA
No, no. God is my witness. I feared it, And the fear of it seized me within me. Tell me, tell me. Who is it? Answer, For God's sake and for your own soul's sake!
ORNELLA
Not one of us yet has been taken; But all of us there are still mourning The dear one who leaves us abandoned And gives himself up to his ruin. If you could behold the forsaken one, If our mother you could but behold, You would quiver indeed. Unto us Come is the Summer of blackness, come is The Autumn bitter, oppressive, And never a circling twelvemonth's season Could be unto us so saddening. Surely, When I shut to the door to help you and save you And gave myself up to my ruin, You did not then seem to me so unfeeling,-- You who implored for compassion's sake,-- You who sought my name of me That you might in your blessings whisper it! But since then my name is shadowed in shame. Every night, every day in our household, I am railed upon, shunned, cast away. They single me out. They, pointing, cry out: "Lo! that is the one, behold her, Who put up the bars of the entrance So that evil within might stay safely And hide at its ease by the hearthstone." I cannot stay longer. Thus say I: "Far rather Hew at me, all, with your knife-blades And carve me to shreds and cut me!" This now Is your blessing, Mila di Codra!
MILA
It is just, it is just that you Strike me thus! Just is it that you Make my lips drink thus deep of this bitterness! With such sorrow be accompanied All these my sins to the world that's beyond! Mayhap, mayhap, then, the stones and the heather And the stubble, the woodblock dumb, unfeeling, Shall speak for me,--the angel here silent, That your brother is calling to life in the block there, And the Virgin bereft of her lamplight. These shall all speak for me: but I--I--shall speak not!
ORNELLA
Dear woman, indeed how around you Your soul is your body's vestment, And how I may touch it, outstretching Towards you thus my hand with all faith. How then did you do so much evil To harm us so much--us--God's people? If you could behold our Vienda, Quiver, indeed, would you. For shortly the skin will Over the bones part in twain for its dryness, And the lips of her mouth are grown whiter Than within her white mouth her white teeth are; So that when the first rain came falling, Saturday, Mamma, seeing her, said of her, Weeping: "Lo, now! Lo, now! she will be leaving, She will break with the moisture and vanish." Yet my father laments not; his bitterness He chews upon hard without weeping. Envenomed within him the iron, The wound in his flesh is like poison (San Cresidio and San Rocca guard us!) The swelling leaves only the mouth free To bark at us daily and nightly. In his frenzy his curses were fearful,-- The roof of the house with them shaking, And with them our hearts quaking. Dear woman, Your teeth are chattering. Have you the fever, That you shiver thus and you tremble?
MILA
Always at twilight and sunset, A tremor of cold overtakes me Not strong am I in the nights on the mountain, We light fires at this time in the valley, But speak on and heed not my suffering.
ORNELLA
Yesterday, by chance, I discovered He had it in mind to climb up here,-- This mountain to climb, to the sheepstead. I failed through the evening to see him, And my blood turned cold within me. So then I made ready this basket, And in this my sisters aided me,-- We are three who are born of one mother,-- All three of us born marked with sorrow; And this morning I left Acquanova, I crossed by the ferry the river, And the path to the mountain ascended. Ah! you dear, dear creature of Jesus! With what illness now are you taken? How can I bear all this sorrow? What can I be doing for you? You far more violently tremble Than when you sought our fireplace And the pack of the reapers were hunting you.
MILA
And since--Oh! since have you seen him? Know you If yet he has come to the sheepstead? Be certain, Ornella, be certain!
ORNELLA
Not again have I seen him. Nor yet Do I know if he came up the mountain,-- Since much did he have for the doing At Gionco. Perhaps he came not. So do not be frightened! But hear me, And heed me. For your soul's sake, To save it, now, Mila di Codra, Repent ye and take ye, I prithee, Away from us this evil doing! Restore us Aligi, and may God go with you, And may He have mercy upon you!
MILA
Dear sister of Aligi! Content am I,-- Yea, always to hear and to heed you. Just is it that you strike me,-- Me, the sinful woman, me, the sorcerer's Daughter, the witch who is shameless,-- Who for charity supplicated The journeying pilgrim of Jesus But a little oil to give her To feed her sacred lamp-flame! Perhaps behind me the Angel is weeping Again as before; and the stones perhaps Will speak for me, but I--shall speak not-- Shall speak not. But this say I only In the name of sister, and if I say not In truth, may my mother arise From her grave, my hair grasping, And cast me upon the black earth, bearing Witness against her own daughter. Only say I: I am sinless before your brother, Before the pallet of your brother clean am I!
ORNELLA
Omnipotent God! A miracle dost Thou!
MILA
But this is the loving of Mila. This is but my love, Ornella. And more than this I shall speak not. Contented am I to obey you. All paths knows the daughter of Jorio, Already her soul ere your coming Had started,--ere now, O Innocent One! Do not distrust me, O sister Of Aligi, for no cause is there.
ORNELLA
Firm as the rock my faith is in you. Brow unto brow have I seen in you Truth. And the rest lies in darkness, That I, poor one, may not fathom. But I kiss your feet here humbly, The feet that know well the pathways. And my silent love and pity Will companion you on your journey. I will pray that the steps of your pathway Be lessened, the pain of them softened. And the pain that I feel and I suffer On your head I shall lay it no longer. No more shall I judge your misfortunes, No more shall I judge of your loving, Since before my dear brother sinless Are you, in my heart I shall call you My sister, my sister in exile. At dawning My dreams shall meet you and often shall greet you.
MILA
Ah, in my grave were I resting, With the black earth close to me nestling, And in my ears, in that grave lonely, These words were the last words sounding,-- Their promise of peace my life rounding!
ORNELIA
For your life I have spoken, I witness. And food and drink to restore you,-- That at least for the first of your journey, You may not lack something of comfort,-- For you I prepared in this basket; Bread placing in it and wine (the oil is now Gone!) but I did not place there a flower. Forgive me for that, since then I knew not--
MILA
A blue flower, a flower of the blue aconite-- You did not place that in your basket for me! And you did not place there the white sheet severed From the cloth in your loom at home woven That I saw 'twixt the doorway and fireplace!
ORNELLA
Mila! for that hour wait on the Saviour. But what still keeps my brother? Vainly I sought him at the sheepfold. Oh! where is he?
MILA
He will be back again ere nightfall surely. Needs be that I hasten! O, needs be!
ORNELLA
Do you mean not to see him--speak again to him? Where then will you go for this night? Remain here. I, too, will remain. Thus doing shall we Be together, and strong against sorrow, We three-- Till you go at daybreak On your path, and we go upon our path.
MILA
But already too long are the nights. Needs be That I hasten,--hasten! You know not. I will tell you. Also from him I received The parting that's not to be given A second time. Addio! Go, seek him, And meet him, now, in the sheepfold, surely. Detain him there longer, and tell him All the grief that they suffer down there, And let him not follow me! On my pathway Unknown, I shall soon be. Rest you blessed! Forever rest blessed! O, be you as sweet Unto his as you were to my sorrow! Addio! Ornella, Ornella, Ornella!
[_While speaking thus, she retires toward the darkness of the cavern and _ORNELLA_, softened to tears, passes out. The old herb-woman then appears at the opening of the cavern. The singing of the pilgrims may still be heard, but from a greater distance. _ANNA ONNA_ enters, leaning on her crutch with her bag hanging by her side._]
ANNA [_breathless_]
'Has freed him, freed him, woman of the valley, 'Has freed him! Ay! from inside him Chased away all the demons did he-- Cosma--that possessed him. A saint, surely. He gave out a great cry like a bull's roar,-- Did the youth, and at one blow fell down As if he had burst his chest open. You didn't--don't say you couldn't--hear him? And now on the grass he is sleeping. Deeply, deeply is he sleeping; and the shepherds Stand around and keep watch o'er him. But where are you? I do not see you.
MILA
Anna Onna, put me to sleep! O Granny dear, I'll give you this basket That is brimful of eating and drinking.
ANNA
Who was she that went away hurrying? Had she broken your heart that you cried so? --That after her, so, you were calling?
MILA
Granny, oh, listen! This basket I'll give you, That one on the ground, to take with you,-- If you'll put me to sleep,--make me go,-- To sleep, with the little black seeds--you know-- Of the hyoscyamus. Go off then! be eating and drinking!
ANNA
I have none. I have none left in my bag here!
MILA
The skin I will give you, too, the sheepskin You were sleeping on here to-day. If you give me some of those red seed-pods, The red pods you know--twigs of the nasso. Go off, then, go off, and fill up and guzzle!
ANNA
I have none, I have none in my bag here. Go slower a bit, woman of the valley, Take time, go slowly, go slowly, Think it over a day, or a month, or a year.
MILA
O Granny dear, more will I give you! A kerchief with pictures in color, And of woollen cloth, three arms' lengths, If you give me some of the herb-roots-- The same that you sell to the shepherds That kill off the wolves so swiftly-- The root of the wolf-grass, the wolf-bane-- Go off then. Go off and mend up your bones!
ANNA
I have none, I have none left in my bag here. Go slower a bit, woman of the valley, Take time, go slowly, go slowly, With time there always comes wisdom. Think it over a day, or a month, or a year, With the herbs of the good Mother Mountain We can heal all our ailments and sorrows.
MILA
You will not? Very well then, I snatch thus from you That black bag of yours. Therein I'll be finding What will serve for me well, well indeed!
[_She tries to tear the bag away from the tottering old woman._]
ANNA
No, no. You are robbing me, your poor old granny, You force me! The shepherd--he'd tear me-- Gouge out my eyes from their sockets.
[_A step is heard and a man's form appears in the shadows._]
MILA
Ah! it is you, it is you, Aligi! Behold what this woman is doing.
[MILA _lets fall the bag which she had taken from the old woman and sees the man looming tall in the dim light of the mountain, but recognizing him she takes refuge in the depths of the cavern. _LAZARO DI ROIO_ then enters, silent, with a rope around his arm like an ox drover about to tie up his beast. The sound of _ANNA ONNA'S_ crutches striking against the stones is heard as she departs in safety._]
LAZARO
Woman, O, you need not be frightened. Lazaro di Roio has come here, But he does not carry his sickle: It is scarcely a case of an eye for an eye, And he does not wish to enforce it. There was more than an ounce of blood taken From him on the wheat-field of Mispa, And you know cause and end of that bloodshed. Ounce for ounce, then, he will not take from you, Nor wish it, for all the wound's smarting-- The cicatrice, here in the forehead. Raven feather, olive-twig crook, Rancid oil, soot from the chimney shook, Morn unto eve, eve unto morn, The cursed wound must healing scorn!
[_He gives a short, malignant laugh._]
And where I was lying, I heard ever The weeping and wailing, the women, Oh, not for me, but this shepherd, Spell-bound, bewitched by the witch shrew Way off in the far-away mountain. Surely, woman, poor was your picking. But my grit and my blood are back again, And many words I shall not be talking, My tongue is dry now for doing it, And all for this same sad occasion. Now then, say I, you shall come on with me, And no talk about it, daughter of Jorio! Waiting below is the donkey and saddle, And also here a good rope hempen, And others to spare, God be praised! if need be!
[MILA _remains motionless, backed up against the rock, without replying._]
Did you hear me, Mila di Codra? Or are you deaf and dumb now? This I am saying in quiet: I know all about how it happened, That time with the reapers of Norca. If you are thinking to thwart me With the same old tricks, undeceive you! There's no fireplace here, nor any Relations, nor San Giovanni Ringing the bells of salvation. I take three steps and I seize you, With two good stout fellows to help me. So now, then, and I say it in quiet, You'd better agree to what needs be. You may just as well do as I want you, For if you don't do so, you'll have to!
MILA
What do you want from me? Where already Death was, you came. Death is here, even now. He stepped one side to let you enter. Withdrawing awhile, still here he is waiting. Oh, pick up that bag there; inside it Are deadly roots enough to kill ten wolves. If you bind it on to my jaws here I would make of it all a good mouthful; I would eat therein, you would see me, As the good hungry mare that crunches Her oats. So then, when I should be Cold, you could take me up there and toss me And pack me upon your donkey, And tie with your rope like a bundle, And shout out: "Behold the witch, shameless, The sorceress!" Let them burn up my body, Let the women come round and behold me, And rejoice in deliverance. Mayhap One would thrust in her hand, in the fire, Without being burned in the flame, And draw from the core of the heat my heart.
[LAZARO_, at her first bidding, takes up the bag and examines the simples. He then throws it behind him, with suspicion and distrust._]
LAZARO
Ah, ah! You want to spread some snare. What crouch are you watching to spring on me! In your voice I can hear all your slyness, But I shall trap you in my lariat.
[_At this he makes his rope into a lariat._]
Not dead, neither cold do I want you. Lazaro di Roio,--by all the gods!-- Mila di Codra, will harvest you,-- Will go with you this very October, And for this all things are ready. He will press the grapes with your body, Lazaro will sink in the must with you.
[_With a sinister laugh he advances toward _MILA_, who is on the alert to elude him, the man following closely, she darting here and there, unable to escape him._]
MILA
Do not touch me! Be ashamed of yourself! For your own son is standing behind you.
[ALIGI _appears at the end of the cave. Seeing his father, he turns pale. _LAZARO_, halting in his chase, turns toward him. Father and son regard each other intently and ominously._]
LAZARO
Hola there, Aligi! What is it?
ALIGI
Father, how did you come hither?
LAZARO
Has your blood been all sucked up that it's made you So pale? As white you stand there in the light As the whey when they squeeze out the cheeses. Shepherd, say, why are you frightened?
ALIGI
Father, what is it you wish to do here?
LAZARO
What I wish to do here? You are asking A question of me, a right you have not. I will tell you, however. This will I: The yearling ewe catch in my lariat, And lead her wherever it please me. That done, I shall sentence the shepherd.
ALIGI
Father, this thing you shall surely not do.
LAZARO
How dare you then lift so boldly Your white face up into mine? Be careful Or I shall make it blush of a sudden. Go! turn back to your sheepfold and stay there, With your flock inside the enclosure, Until I come there to seek you. On your life, I say, obey me!
ALIGI
Father, I pray the Saviour to keep me From doing you aught but obedience. And you are able to judge and to sentence This son of your own; but this one-- This woman, see that you leave her alone! Leave her to weep here alone. Do no offence unto her. It is sinful.
LAZARO
Ah! The Lord has made you crazy! Of what saint were you just speaking? See you not (may your eyes be blind forever!) See you not how under her eyelashes,-- Around her neck lie hidden The seven sins, the mortal sins? Surely, if there should see her only Your buck now, 't would butt her, and you here Are frightened lest I should offend her! I tell you the stones of the highroad By man and by beast are less trodden Than she is by sin and shame trampled.
ALIGI