(_In the distance a beating of m.u.f.fled drums._)
This m.u.f.fled rolling is the headsman"s sign.
It was to see it not I left the town.
CALAF.
These are strange things you tell me, Barak How Could Nature ever fashion such a thing, And call it woman, as this Turandot, So harnessed against love, so pitiless?
BARAK.
My own wife"s daughter serves her in the harem, And tells such things about her--things, my Prince!-- Worse than a tigress is this Turandot; And worst of all her vices is her pride.
CALAF.
To h.e.l.l with such a monster! If _I_ were Her father,, I would burn her at the stake....
BARAK (_looking towards the city gate._)
See, there comes Ishmael, the friend and guide Of the young Prince they slaughtered even now.
My poor friend!
SCENE IV
ISHMAEL. _The foregoing._
ISHMAEL (_Enters weeping from the city_).
Oh, my friend! Now he is dead.
My Prince is dead! Accursed headsman"s axe, Why hast thou severed not this neck of mine?
(_Breaks out into despairing weeping._)
BARAK.
But why didst thou not hinder him in time, My friend?
ISHMAEL.
Dost thou on all my misery Heap reprimands, Ha.s.san! I have done my duty To the uttermost. I might, indeed, have summoned His father hither, if there _had_ been time; But there was _not_.
BARAK.
Be calm, my friend, be calm.
ISHMAEL.
Calm? I be calm? Like arrows stinging sharp The last words that he spoke stick in my breast:
"Weep not," he said, "for I am glad to die, Since I may not possess her. Bear my greeting Unto my father. May he pardon me That when I fared I took no leave of him.
Tell him it was for fear lest his denial Should force my disobedience. And show him This picture.
(_Draws a picture from the folds of his robe._)
When he sees such loveliness, He will forgive, and weep my fate with thee."
Thus speaking, my dear Prince a hundred times Kissed the accursed picture, and then bowed His neck to the stroke. Blood spurts on high.
The trunk Quivers, and falls. High in the headsman"s hands The head I love. Blind, dazed with pain I flee....
(_Hurls the picture to the ground and tramples on it._)
Thou devilish, accursed witchery!
I tread thee in the dust, thou sp.a.w.n of h.e.l.l!
And O that I could trample with these feet The witch herself! Haha! I was to take thee Unto his father, unto Samarkand?
I fancy That Samarkand will never see me more.
(_Exit in desperation._)
SCENE V
BARAK, CALAF.
BARAK.
Well? Did you hear?
CALAF.
You see me all amazed.
One thing I understand not: how such power Should issue from a picture.
(_Bends down to lift up the picture._)