Mrs. Del.

At last you are sensible.

Poe. Wine! wine!

Mrs. Del. (Holding gla.s.s) I mean to have my price for this.

Poe. Take my soul!

Mrs. Del.

Something better--a kiss!

Poe. 'Tis yours! (Kisses her) Why not? For but a kiss did Jove forsake the skies, and jeopard his high realm!

Mrs. Del.

For but a kiss did Dian leave her throne and waste her G.o.ddess dower on shepherd lips! (Sits by him) Now you are going to tell me something. Why did you fly from Normandy, and not a word, not a word to me? Come, my Calidore! Why did you fly from me?

Poe. (Momentarily sober) Because--a woman shall never become less holy than G.o.d made her through me. (Rises and walks away) Helen ... my amaranth, I may not pluck thee!...

(Staggers) One cup more ... one.... (Pours wine, and holds up gla.s.s apostrophizing as Roger and Helen enter unnoticed) O, little ruby ocean that can drown all mortal sighs! Call buried hope to put life's garland on, and limping woes to trip like Nereids on a moonlit sh.o.r.e! For thee, frail sickness casts her pallid chrysalis and blooms a rosy angel! For thee, Death breaks his scythe and owns Life conqueror! (Drinks) Were this Antonius' cup.... Ha! Are you there, my devil? Another kiss, sweetheart! (Throws his arm about Mrs. Delormis. Helen cries out. Poe turns and faces her)

Hel. (To Poe, speaking slowly and mechanically) I came, sir, to ask you to forgive me. (Turns to Roger) It is to you, Roger, that I make my plea.

(Poe looks at her helplessly, then understands, and with a terrible face, turns and leaps through the open window.

Helen, with a sob, droops, and Roger takes her in his arms)

(CURTAIN)

ACT II.

Scene: Lawn in front of Clemm cottage, near Richmond. Bony and Tat on a side porch sh.e.l.ling peas.

Tat. Sho' Mars Edgah come in good time! Pea-vines jes a hangin'

low, an' sweet as honey!

Bony. Mars Edgah hab peas ebry day wha' he came f'om! Big city hab ebryting!

Tat. Dey can't hab ebryting when it don' grow!

Bony. Sho', dey hab it when it don' grow same lak when he do grow!

Tat. You nebah did hab no sense!

Bony. I ain't got no sense? Take dat, Tatermally Clemm! (Strikes at her. They scuffle and bring Zurie to side door)

Zu. Dem chillun' jes kill me! Why de Lawd make ol' Zurie bring dem two twins to dis heah worl' she nebah could tell! Dey haint sh.e.l.l 'nuf fo' a hummin' bird's stomach, an' de pot bilin' mad fo' 'm dis minute! Wha' yo' do, yo' black n.i.g.g.ahs? Come in heah! I make yo' sit still an' do nuffin'

an' yo' ol' mammy wu'kin' hussef to def! (Picks up basket and drives children into the kitchen. Calls after them beamingly) Wha' yo' reckon yo' ol' mammy cookin' in dat ubbin fo' two little no 'count n.i.g.g.ahs?

Children. (Within, scampering with delight) Cherry cobblah!

Cherry cobblah!

Zu. (Shutting the door) Don' want dat wind blowin' on my poun'

cake! It'll fall sho'!

(Virginia comes out at the front door of cottage, and walks across the lawn to the shade of a bay tree where Poe lies in a hammock as if asleep. A book on the ground. She goes up softly and sits on a garden chair near him. He opens his eyes)

Vir. O, I have waked you!

Poe. No, little houri. I was not asleep. I would not give one breath of this sweet world to cold, unconscious sleep.

Vir. You are happy, cousin Edgar?

Poe. No, Virginia. This is all too delicious to be called happiness. Too calm, like the stilling of a condor's wings above sea-guarding peaks. He flies when he is happy. When more than happy, it is enough to pause in the blue and breathe wonders.

Vir. Is it wonderful here, Edgar? It has always seemed so to me, but I have been afraid to tell anyone. It seems like a great fairy house with G.o.d in it. Is it wonderful, cousin?

Poe. _You_ are wonderful.

Vir. O, no, no, no! I want to tell you too, Edgar, I have never felt that I quite belong here. It is all too good for me--so beautiful, and I am not beautiful.

Poe. (Rising) Why, my little aspiring Venus, let me tell you something. I have wandered somewhat in life--at home and over sea--and I have never looked upon a woman fairer than yourself.

Vir. (Springing up in delight) O, I am so happy! You would not flatter me! You are the soul of truth!

Poe. It is no flattery, little maid, as the world will soon teach you.

Vir. I have nothing to do with that world, Edgar. My world is the circuit of our mocking-bird's wing. O, where is he?

(Calls) Freddy! Freddy! He is not near or he would come.

But he never goes farther than the orchard. Freddy!... He has not sung to me this morning. You haven't heard his finest song yet. O, 'tis sweeter than--

Poe. (Picking up book) Than Spenser?

Vir. Yes--than Spenser. Though he makes music too, and we were just coming to the siren's song. Shall I read?

Poe. Do! I knew not how to love him till he warbled from your tongue.

Vir. 'Tis where the mermaid calls the knight.

(Reads)

O, thou fair son of gentle faery, That art in mighty arms most magnifyde Above all knights that ever battle tried, O, turn thy rudder hetherward awhile!

Here may the storm-bett vessel safely ride; This is the port of ease from troublous toil, The world's sweet inn from pain and wearisome turmoyle!

Poe. No more--no more!

Vir. Why, cousin?