My last night’s sleep was very sorely hauntedBy what had passed between us in the morning.
O sleep of horrors! Now run down and stared at
By forms so hideous that they mock remembrance —
Now seeing nothing and imagining nothing, 70
But only being afraid — stifled with fear!
While every goodly or familiar form
Had a strange power of breathing terror round me!
I saw you in a thousand fearful shapes;
And, I entreat your lordship to believe me, 75
In my last dream ——
Ordonio. Well?
Isidore. I was in the act
Of falling down that chasm, when Alhadra
Wak’d me: she heard my heart beat.
Ordonio. Strange enough!
Had you been here before?
Isidore. Never, my lord!
But mine eyes do not see it now more clearly, 80
Than in my dream I saw — that very chasm.
Ordonio (after a pause). I know not why it should be! yet it is —
Isidore. What is, my lord?
Ordonio. Abhorrent from our nature
To kill a man. —
Isidore. Except in self-defence.
Ordonio. Why that’s my case; and yet the soul recoils from it — 85
‘Tis so with me at least. But you, perhaps,
Have sterner feelings?
Isidore. Something troubles you.
How shall I serve you? By the life you gave me,
By all that makes that life of value to me,
My wife, my babes, my honour, I swear to you, 90
Name it, and I will toil to do the thing,
If it be innocent! But this, my lord!
Is not a place where you could perpetrate,
No, nor propose a wicked thing. The darkness,
When ten strides off we know ‘tis cheerful moonlight, 95
Collects the guilt, and crowds it round the heart.
It must be innocent.
Ordonio. Thyself be judge.
One of our family knew this place well.
Isidore. Who? when? my lord?
Ordonio. What boots it, who or when?
Hang up thy torch — I’ll tell his tale to thee. 100
[They hang up their torches on some ridge in the cavern.
He was a man different from other men,
And he despised them, yet revered himself.
Isidore (aside). He? He despised? Thou’rt speaking of thyself!
I am on my guard, however: no surprise. [Then to ORDONIO.
What, he was mad?
Ordonio. All men seemed mad to him! 105
Nature had made him for some other planet,
And pressed his soul into a human shape
By accident or malice. In this world
He found no fit companion.
Isidore. Of himself he speaks. [Aside.
Alas! poor wretch! 110
Mad men are mostly proud.
Ordonio. He walked alone,
And phantom thoughts unsought-for troubled him.
Something within would still be shadowing out
All possibilities; and with these shadows
His mind held dalliance. Once, as so it happened, 115
A fancy crossed him wilder than the rest:
To this in moody murmur and low voice
He yielded utterance, as some talk in sleep:
The man who heard him. —
Why did’st thou look round?
Isidore. I have a prattler three years old, my lord! 120
In truth he is my darling. As I went
From forth my door, he made a moan in sleep —
But I am talking idly — pray proceed!
And what did this man?
Ordonio. With this human hand
He gave a substance and reality 125
To that wild fancy of a possible thing. —
Well it was done!
Why babblest thou of guilt?
The deed was done, and it passed fairly off.
And he whose tale I tell thee — dost thou listen?
Isidore. I would, my lord, you were by my fireside, 130
I’d listen to you with an eager eye,
Though you began this cloudy tale at midnight,
But I do listen — pray proceed, my lord.
Ordonio. Where was I?
Isidore. He of whom you tell the tale —
Ordonio. Surveying all things with a quiet scorn, 135
Tamed himself down to living purposes,
The occupations and the semblances
Of ordinary men — and such he seemed!
But that same over ready agent — he —
Isidore. Ah! what of him, my lord?
Ordonio.
