The Daughter of Heaven

Faithful Prince. _The_ TARTAR GENERAL

_The_ TARTAR GENERAL [_coming out of his tent and saluting_ FAITHFUL PRINCE, _who brings up the rear of the last group of condemned men._]

Enter here, noble captive. Look not over yonder. Each man should die but once, and you would die each time you saw a head fall. Is it not punishment enough for you to be the last of all the victims?

Faithful Prince. Perhaps my presence may strengthen my poor soldiers, so simple in their heroism.

Tartar General. No, no, your suffering only adds to their pain-----Grant a loyal enemy the great honour of passing the last minutes of your glorious life in his tent. You are now above worldly trivialities and implacable hates.

Faithful Prince. The sword is not responsible, not even the executioner.

Tartar General. Nor yet even the General!

[_The new prisoners are tied to the stake._]

Faithful Prince. I bear no malice.

[_He enters the tent with the Tartar General._]

Tartar General. And I make no boast. I know that the sages disapprove of war and hold that the work of the conqueror amounts to no more than the dust of ten thousand skeletons----

Faithful Prince. And that those who triumph deserve no more than the honour of a funeral.

Tartar General. Yes, the glory of arms is indeed but the smoke of a fire! [_They seat themselves on camp-stools, and rice wine is served to them. Throughout the following dialogue executions are in progress in the foreground, amid the shouts of the crowd. Every minute the sword of an executioner describes a circle in the air, and as each head falls, it is hung up on the great wall of Peking. Deafening shrieks and cries accompany the conversation of the two men in the tent.]_

Tartar General. Before passing from this world, have you not some mission for your dear ones which you might desire carried out? I would undertake it respectfully.

Faithful Prince. Beyond a doubt all who were dear to me have perished. I thank you for your considerate offer.

Tartar General. Have you no last desire?

Faithful Prince. One only. To know the fate of our Empress. She was fighting too in that dreadful battle where I was taken prisoner. Is she alive or dead, free or captive?

Tartar General. She is living, a captive only a fortnight since, and yesterday was brought to Peking, not far from here in the Forbidden City.

Faithful Prince. She is not far from here, my Sovereign! Ah, if only the gods, wearied with afflicting us, would permit----To know that she is so near!----

Tartar General. At the end of that battle which was so great an honour to the defeated, she succeeded in escaping with a thousand soldiers. But her retreat was cut off, and the Warrior Empress would have been captured long before had not contradictory orders hindering our movements, enabled her to delay her capture from day to day. You would have thought someone in great authority was watching over her with wonderful solicitude, warning her of dangers or endeavouring to turn them aside from her.

Faithful Prince. May he live long happy days, and may his fame be imperishable!

Tartar General. Oh, when will this dreadful war cease, which is renewed and has already soaked the soil of our country in the blood of her sons?

Faithful Prince. I fear it will never end until one of the two races has been exterminated----Yet perhaps the hatred would be less intense if the conquerors after their victory would treat the defeated with more clemency. Let there not be so many executions, so much bloodshed. Each soldier who can no longer defend his life should be sacred.

Tartar General. Pardon was offered to your soldiers if they would yield. All refused.

Faithful Prince. Their heroism should be only an additional reason for sparing them.

Tartar General. What can be done? Our duty is to obey.

Faithful Prince. Not to the extent of a crime. A little stone can ofttimes retard the course of a heavy chariot. We, the chieftains, by sacrificing only our own lives could thereby save the crowds.

Tartar General. How could that be?

Faithful Prince. By opposing unrighteousness. Do you remember? There was once another war similar in every way to this. The city was sacked, the command was given to the executioners to cut off all heads as now. But a young officer, maddened by grief at the thought of such carnage, found words wherewith to beseech the general to be merciful, or at least to restrict the number of executions, with the result that he consented to limit the massacre to the length of time which is required to burn a stick of incense. The incense was lighted and the first head was about to fall, when the young officer trembling with horror seized the stick, reduced it to powder and ran to the executioner, crying aloud "It is finished, it is finished. Pardon has been declared." Then, since he had disobeyed, he immediately dashed his head against a rock. The people erected a temple in memory of this hero, which is still to be seen on a high hill and whose steps have for many centuries been constantly covered with fresh flowers.

TARTAR GENERAL [_Pensively_]

In memory of this hero the people erected a temple!----