(_having finished a cadence, rudely_)
What is it, Madam?
PRINCESS
I know not. I have lost my place----I----I feel bewildered.
When your voice rose up against mine, Diego, I lost my head.
And--I do not know how to express it--when our voices met in that held dissonance, it seemed as if you hurt me----horribly.
DIEGO
(_smiling, with hypocritical apology_)
Forgive me, Madam. I sang too loud, perhaps. We theatre singers are apt to strain things. I trust some day to hear you sing alone. You have a lovely voice: more like a boy's than like a maiden's still.
PRINCESS
And yours----'tis strange that at your age we should reverse the parts,--yours, though deeper than mine, is like a woman's.
DIEGO (_laughing_)
I have grown a heart, Madam; 'tis an organ grows quicker where the breed is mixed and lowly, no nobler limbs retarding its development by theirs.
PRINCESS
Speak not thus, excellent Diego. Why cause me pain by disrespectful treatment of a person--your own admirable self--whom I respect? You have experience, Diego, and shall teach me many things, for I desire learning.
_The_ Princess _takes his hand in both hers, very kindly and simply_. Diego, _disengaging his, bows very ceremoniously_.
DIEGO
Shall I teach you to sing as I do, gracious Madam?
PRINCESS (_after a moment_)
I think not, Diego.
ACT V
_Two months later. The wedding day of the_ DUKE. _Another part of the Palace of Mantua. A long terrace still to be seen, with roof supported by columns. It looks on one side on to the jousting ground, a green meadow surrounded by clipped hedges and set all round with mulberry trees. On the other side it overlooks the lake, against which, as a fact, it acts as dyke.
The Court of Mantua and Envoys of foreign Princes, together with many Prelates, are assembled on the terrace, surrounding the seats of the_ DUKE, _the young_ DUCHESS HIPPOLYTA, _the_ DUCHESS DOWAGER _and the_ CARDINAL. _Facing this gallery, and separated from it by a line of sedge and willows, and a few yards of pure green water, starred with white lilies, is a stage in the shape of a Grecian temple, apparently rising out of the lake. Its pediment and columns are slung with garlands of bay and cypress. In the gable, the_ DUKE'S _device of a labyrinth in gold on a blue ground and the motto:_ "RECTAS PETO." _On the stage, but this side of the curtain, which is down, are a number of_ Musicians _with violins, viols, theorbs, a hautboy, a flute, a bassoon, viola d'amore and bass viols, grouped round two men with double basses and a man at a harpsichord, in dress like the musicians in Veronese's paintings. They are preluding gently, playing elaborately fugued variations on a dance tune in three-eighth time, rendered singularly plaintive by the absence of perfect closes_.
CARDINAL
(_to_ VENETIAN AMBASSADOR)
What say you to our Diego's masque, my Lord? Does not his skill as a composer vie almost with his sublety as a singer?
MARCHIONESS OF GUASTALLA
(_to the_ DUCHESS DOWAGER)
A most excellent masque, methinks, Madam. And of so new a kind. We have had masques in palaces and also in gardens, and some, I own it, beautiful; for our palace on the hill affords fine vistas of cypress avenues and the distant plain. But, until the Duke your son, no one has had a masque on the water, it would seem. 'Tis doubtless his invention?
DUCHESS
(_with evident preoccupation_)
I think not, Madam. 'Tis our foolish Diego's freak. And I confess I like it not. It makes me anxious for the players.
BISHOP OF CREMONA (_to the_ CARDINAL)
A wondrous singer, your Signor Diego. They say the Spaniards have subtle exercises for keeping the voice thus youthful. His Holiness has several such who sing divinely under Pierluigi's guidance. But your Diego seems really but a child, yet has a mode of singing like one who knows a world of joys and sorrows.
CARDINAL
He has. Indeed, I sometimes think he pushes the pathetic quality too far. I am all for the Olympic serenity of the wise Ancients.
YOUNG DUCHESS (_laughing_)
My uncle would, I almost think, exile our divine Diego, as Plato did the poets, for moving us too much.
PRINCE OF MASSA (_whispering_)
He has moved your noble husband strangely. Or is it, gracious bride, that too much happiness overwhelms our friend?
YOUNG DUCHESS
(_turning round and noticing the_ DUKE, _a few seats off_)
'Tis true. Ferdinand is very sensitive to music, and is greatly concerned for our Diego's play. Still----I wonder----.
MARCHIONESS (_to the_ DUKE OF FERRARA'S POET, _who is standing near her_)
I really never could have recognised Signor Diego in his disguise. He looks for all the world exactly like a woman.
POET
A woman! Say a goddess, Madam! Upon my soul (_whispering_), the bride is scarce as beautiful as he, although as fair as one of the noble swans who sail on those clear waters.
JESTER
After the play we shall see admiring dames trooping behind the scenes to learn the secret of the paints which can change a scrubby boy into a beauteous nymph; a metamorphosis worth twenty of Sir Ovid's.
DOGE'S WIFE (_to the_ DUKE)