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Lunes, Oktubre 21, 2013
Phlippine Contemporary Writers
May Day Eve : by Nick Joaquin
The old people had ordered that the dancing should stop at ten o’clock but it was almost midnight before the carriages came filing up the departing guests, while the girls who were staying were promptly herded upstairs to the bedrooms, the young men gathering around to wish them a good night and lamenting their ascent with mock signs and moaning, proclaiming themselves disconsolate but straightway going off to finish the punch and the brandy though they were quite drunk already and simply bursting with wild spirits, merriment, arrogance and audacity, for they were young bucks newly arrived from Europe; the ball had been in their honor; and they had waltzed and polka-ed and bragged and swaggered and flirted all night and where in no mood to sleep yet--no, caramba, not on this moist tropic eve! not on this mystic May eve! --with the night still young and so seductive that it was madness not to go out, not to go forth---and serenade the neighbors! cried one; and swim in the Pasid! cried another; and gather fireflies! cried a third—whereupon there arose a great clamor for coats and capes, for hats and canes, and they were a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last carriage rattled away upon the cobbles while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tile roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a wile sky murky with clouds, save where an evil young moon prowled about in a corner or where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer orchards and wafting unbearable childhood fragrances or ripe guavas to the young men trooping so uproariously down the street that the girls who were desiring upstairs in the bedrooms catered screaming to the windows, crowded giggling at the windows, but were soon sighing amorously over those young men bawling below; over those wicked young men and their handsome apparel, their proud flashing eyes, and their elegant mustaches so black and vivid in the moonlight that the girls were quite ravished with love, and began crying to one another how carefree were men but how awful to be a girl and what a horrid, horrid world it was, till old Anastasia plucked them off by the ear or the pigtail and chases them off to bed---while from up the street came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobble and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and the mighty roll of his great voice booming through the night, "Guardia serno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o-o.
And it was May again, said the old Anastasia. It was the first day of May and witches were abroad in the night, she said--for it was a night of divination, and night of lovers, and those who cared might peer into a mirror and would there behold the face of whoever it was they were fated to marry, said the old Anastasia as she hobble about picking up the piled crinolines and folding up shawls and raking slippers in corner while the girls climbing into four great poster-beds that overwhelmed the room began shrieking with terror, scrambling over each other and imploring the old woman not to frighten them.
"Enough, enough, Anastasia! We want to sleep!"
"Go scare the boys instead, you old witch!"
"She is not a witch, she is a maga. She is a maga. She was born of Christmas Eve!"
"St. Anastasia, virgin and martyr."
"Huh? Impossible! She has conquered seven husbands! Are you a virgin, Anastasia?"
"No, but I am seven times a martyr because of you girls!"
"Let her prophesy, let her prophesy! Whom will I marry, old gypsy? Come, tell me."
"You may learn in a mirror if you are not afraid."
"I am not afraid, I will go," cried the young cousin Agueda, jumping up in bed.
"Girls, girls---we are making too much noise! My mother will hear and will come and pinch us all. Agueda, lie down! And you Anastasia, I command you to shut your mouth and go away!""Your mother told me to stay here all night, my grand lady!"
"And I will not lie down!" cried the rebellious Agueda, leaping to the floor. "Stay, old woman. Tell me what I have to do."
"Tell her! Tell her!" chimed the other girls.
The old woman dropped the clothes she had gathered and approached and fixed her eyes on the girl. "You must take a candle," she instructed, "and go into a room that is dark and that has a mirror in it and you must be alone in the room. Go up to the mirror and close your eyes and shy:
Mirror, mirror, show to me him whose woman I will be. If all goes right, just above your left shoulder will appear the face of the man you will marry." A silence. Then: "And hat if all does not go right?" asked Agueda. "Ah, then the Lord have mercy on you!" "Why." "Because you may see--the Devil!"
The girls screamed and clutched one another, shivering. "But what nonsense!" cried Agueda. "This is the year 1847. There are no devil anymore!" Nevertheless she had turned pale. "But where could I go, hugh? Yes, I know! Down to the sala. It has that big mirror and no one is there now." "No, Agueda, no! It is a mortal sin! You will see the devil!" "I do not care! I am not afraid! I will go!" "Oh, you wicked girl! Oh, you mad girl!" "If you do not come to bed, Agueda, I will call my mother." "And if you do I will tell her who came to visit you at the convent last March. Come, old woman---give me that candle. I go." "Oh girls---give me that candle, I go."
But Agueda had already slipped outside; was already tiptoeing across the hall; her feet bare and her dark hair falling down her shoulders and streaming in the wind as she fled down the stairs, the lighted candle sputtering in one hand while with the other she pulled up her white gown from her ankles. She paused breathless in the doorway to the sala and her heart failed her. She tried to imagine the room filled again with lights, laughter, whirling couples, and the jolly jerky music of the fiddlers. But, oh, it was a dark den, a weird cavern for the windows had been closed and the furniture stacked up against the walls. She crossed herself and stepped inside.
The mirror hung on the wall before her; a big antique mirror with a gold frame carved into leaves and flowers and mysterious curlicues. She saw herself approaching fearfully in it: a small while ghost that the darkness bodied forth---but not willingly, not completely, for her eyes and hair were so dark that the face approaching in the mirror seemed only a mask that floated forward; a bright mask with two holes gaping in it, blown forward by the white cloud of her gown. But when she stood before the mirror she lifted the candle level with her chin and the dead mask bloomed into her living face.
She closed her eyes and whispered the incantation. When she had finished such a terror took hold of her that she felt unable to move, unable to open her eyes and thought she would stand there forever, enchanted. But she heard a step behind her, and a smothered giggle, and instantly opened her eyes.
"And what did you see, Mama? Oh, what was it?" But Dona Agueda had forgotten the little girl on her lap: she was staring pass the curly head nestling at her breast and seeing herself in the big mirror hanging in the room. It was the same room and the same mirror out the face she now saw in it was an old face---a hard, bitter, vengeful face, framed in graying hair, and so sadly altered, so sadly different from that other face like a white mask, that fresh young face like a pure mask than she had brought before this mirror one wild May Day midnight years and years ago.... "But what was it Mama? Oh please go on! What did you see?" Dona Agueda looked down at her daughter but her face did not soften though her eyes filled with tears. "I saw the devil." she said bitterly. The child blanched. "The devil, Mama? Oh... Oh..." "Yes, my love. I opened my eyes and there in the mirror, smiling at me over my left shoulder, was the face of the devil." "Oh, my poor little Mama! And were you very frightened?" "You can imagine. And that is why good little girls do not look into mirrors except when their mothers tell them. You must stop this naughty habit, darling, of admiring yourself in every mirror you pass- or you may see something frightful some day." "But the devil, Mama---what did he look like?" "Well, let me see... he has curly hair and a scar on his cheek---" "Like the scar of Papa?" "Well, yes. But this of the devil was a scar of sin, while that of your Papa is a scar of honor. Or so he says." "Go on about the devil." "Well, he had mustaches." "Like those of Papa?" "Oh, no. Those of your Papa are dirty and graying and smell horribly of tobacco, while these of the devil were very black and elegant--oh, how elegant!" "And did he speak to you, Mama?" "Yes… Yes, he spoke to me," said Dona Agueda. And bowing her graying head; she wept.
"Charms like yours have no need for a candle, fair one," he had said, smiling at her in the mirror and stepping back to give her a low mocking bow. She had whirled around and glared at him and he had burst into laughter. "But I remember you!" he cried. "You are Agueda, whom I left a mere infant and came home to find a tremendous beauty, and I danced a waltz with you but you would not give me the polka." "Let me pass," she muttered fiercely, for he was barring the way. "But I want to dance the polka with you, fair one," he said. So they stood before the mirror; their panting breath the only sound in the dark room; the candle shining between them and flinging their shadows to the wall. And young Badoy Montiya (who had crept home very drunk to pass out quietly in bed) suddenly found himself cold sober and very much awake and ready for anything. His eyes sparkled and the scar on his face gleamed scarlet. "Let me pass!" she cried again, in a voice of fury, but he grasped her by the wrist. "No," he smiled. "Not until we have danced." "Go to the devil!" "What a temper has my serrana!" "I am not your serrana!" "Whose, then? Someone I know? Someone I have offended grievously? Because you treat me, you treat all my friends like your mortal enemies." "And why not?" she demanded, jerking her wrist away and flashing her teeth in his face. "Oh, how I detest you, you pompous young men! You go to Europe and you come back elegant lords and we poor girls are too tame to please you. We have no grace like the Parisiennes, we have no fire like the Sevillians, and we have no salt, no salt, no salt! Aie, how you weary me, how you bore me, you fastidious men!" "Come, come---how do you know about us?"
"I was not admiring myself, sir!" "You were admiring the moon perhaps?" "Oh!" she gasped, and burst into tears. The candle dropped from her hand and she covered her face and sobbed piteously. The candle had gone out and they stood in darkness, and young Badoy was conscience-stricken. "Oh, do not cry, little one!" Oh, please forgive me! Please do not cry! But what a brute I am! I was drunk, little one, I was drunk and knew not what I said." He groped and found her hand and touched it to his lips. She shuddered in her white gown. "Let me go," she moaned, and tugged feebly. "No. Say you forgive me first. Say you forgive me, Agueda." But instead she pulled his hand to her mouth and bit it - bit so sharply in the knuckles that he cried with pain and lashed cut with his other hand--lashed out and hit the air, for she was gone, she had fled, and he heard the rustling of her skirts up the stairs as he furiously sucked his bleeding fingers. Cruel thoughts raced through his head: he would go and tell his mother and make her turn the savage girl out of the house--or he would go himself to the girl’s room and drag her out of bed and slap, slap, slap her silly face! But at the same time he was thinking that they were all going to Antipolo in the morning and was already planning how he would maneuver himself into the same boat with her. Oh, he would have his revenge, he would make her pay, that little harlot! She should suffer for this, he thought greedily, licking his bleeding knuckles. But---Judas! He remembered her bare shoulders: gold in her candlelight and delicately furred. He saw the mobile insolence of her neck, and her taut breasts steady in the fluid gown. Son of a Turk, but she was quite enchanting! How could she think she had no fire or grace? And no salt? An arroba she had of it!
"... No lack of salt in the chrism At the moment of thy baptism!" He sang aloud in the dark room and suddenly realized that he had fallen madly in love with her. He ached intensely to see her again---at once! ---to touch her hands and her hair; to hear her harsh voice. He ran to the window and flung open the casements and the beauty of the night struck him back like a blow. It was May, it was summer, and he was young---young! ---and deliriously in love. Such a happiness welled up within him that the tears spurted from his eyes. But he did not forgive her--no! He would still make her pay, he would still have his revenge, he thought viciously, and kissed his wounded fingers. But what a night it had been! "I will never forge this night! he thought aloud in an awed voice, standing by the window in the dark room, the tears in his eyes and the wind in his hair and his bleeding knuckles pressed to his mouth.
But, alas, the heart forgets; the heart is distracted; and May time passes; summer lends; the storms break over the rot-tipe orchards and the heart grows old; while the hours, the days, the months, and the years pile up and pile up, till the mind becomes too crowded, too confused: dust gathers in it; cobwebs multiply; the walls darken and fall into ruin and decay; the memory perished...and there came a time when Don Badoy Montiya walked home through a May Day midnight without remembering, without even caring to remember; being merely concerned in feeling his way across the street with his cane; his eyes having grown quite dim and his legs uncertain--for he was old; he was over sixty; he was a very stopped and shivered old man with white hair and mustaches coming home from a secret meeting of conspirators; his mind still resounding with the speeches and his patriot heart still exultant as he picked his way up the steps to the front door and inside into the slumbering darkness of the house; wholly unconscious of the May night, till on his way down the hall, chancing to glance into the sala, he shuddered, he stopped, his blood ran cold-- for he had seen a face in the mirror there---a ghostly candlelight face with the eyes closed and the lips moving, a face that he suddenly felt he had been there before though it was a full minutes before the lost memory came flowing, came tiding back, so overflooding the actual moment and so swiftly washing away the piled hours and days and months and years that he was left suddenly young again; he was a gay young buck again, lately came from Europe; he had been dancing all night; he was very drunk; he s stepped in the doorway; he saw a face in the dark; he called out...and the lad standing before the mirror (for it was a lad in a night go jumped with fright and almost dropped his candle, but looking around and seeing the old man, laughed out with relief and came running.
"Oh Grandpa, how you frightened me. Don Badoy had turned very pale. "So it was you, you young bandit! And what is all this, hey? What are you doing down here at this hour?" "Nothing, Grandpa. I was only... I am only ..." "Yes, you are the great SeƱor only and how delighted I am to make your acquaintance, SeƱor Only! But if I break this cane on your head you maga wish you were someone else, Sir!" "It was just foolishness, Grandpa. They told me I would see my wife."
"Wife? What wife?" "Mine. The boys at school said I would see her if I looked in a mirror tonight and said: Mirror, mirror show to me her whose lover I will be.
Don Badoy cackled ruefully. He took the boy by the hair, pulled him along into the room, sat down on a chair, and drew the boy between his knees. "Now, put your cane down the floor, son, and let us talk this over. So you want your wife already, hey? You want to see her in advance, hey? But so you know that these are wicked games and that wicked boys who play them are in danger of seeing horrors?"
"Well, the boys did warn me I might see a witch instead."
"Exactly! A witch so horrible you may die of fright. And she will be witch you, she will torture you, she will eat
your heart and drink your blood!"
"Oh, come now Grandpa. This is 1890. There are no witches anymore."
"Oh-ho, my young Voltaire! And what if I tell you that I myself have seen a witch.
"You? Where?
"Right in this room land right in that mirror," said the old man, and his playful voice had turned savage.
"When, Grandpa?"
"Not so long ago. When I was a bit older than you. Oh, I was a vain fellow and though I was feeling very sick that night and merely wanted to lie down somewhere and die I could not pass that doorway of course without stopping to see in the mirror what I looked like when dying. But when I poked my head in what should I see in the mirror but...but..."
"The witch?"
"Exactly!"
"And then she bewitch you, Grandpa!"
"She bewitched me and she tortured me. l She ate my heart and drank my blood." said the old man bitterly.
"Oh, my poor little Grandpa! Why have you never told me! And she very horrible?
"Horrible? God, no--- she was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen! Her eyes were somewhat like yours but her hair was like black waters and her golden shoulders were bare. My God, she was enchanting! But I should have known---I should have known even then---the dark and fatal creature she was!"
A silence. Then: "What a horrid mirror this is, Grandpa," whispered the boy.
"What makes you slay that, hey?"
"Well, you saw this witch in it. And Mama once told me that Grandma once told her that Grandma once saw the devil in this mirror. Was it of the scare that Grandma died?"
Don Badoy started. For a moment he had forgotten that she was dead, that she had perished---the poor Agueda; that they were at peace at last, the two of them, her tired body at rest; her broken body set free at last from the brutal pranks of the earth---from the trap of a May night; from the snare of summer; from the terrible silver nets of the moon. She had been a mere heap of white hair and bones in the end: a whimpering withered consumptive, lashing out with her cruel tongue; her eye like live coals; her face like ashes... Now, nothing--- nothing save a name on a stone; save a stone in a graveyard---nothing! was left of the young girl who had flamed so vividly in a mirror one wild May Day midnight, long, long ago.
And remembering how she had sobbed so piteously; remembering how she had bitten his hand and fled and how he had sung aloud in the dark room and surprised his heart in the instant of falling in love: such a grief tore up his throat and eyes that he felt ashamed before the boy; pushed the boy away; stood up and looked out----looked out upon the medieval shadows of the foul street where a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last carriage was rattling away upon the cobbles, while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tiled roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a wild sky murky with clouds, save where an evil old moon prowled about in a corner or where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer orchards and wafting unbearable the window; the bowed old man sobbing so bitterly at the window; the tears streaming down his cheeks and the wind in his hair and one hand pressed to his mouth---while from up the street came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobbles, and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and the mighty roll of his voice booming through the night:
"Guardia sereno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o-o!"
Biyernes, Oktubre 18, 2013
“Florante at Laura”
The Florante at Laura is a shorter version of its original title, written in
ancient Tagalog:
Pinagdaanang Buhay ni Florante at ni Laura sa Cahariang Albania. Quinuha
sa madlang "cuadro histĆ³rico" o pinturang nag sasabi sa mga
nangyayari nang unang panahĆ³n sa Imperio nang Grecia, at tinula nang isang
matouain sa versong tagƔlog
. (The Life of Florante and Laura in the Kingdom of Albania: Culled from a publicly-displayed "cuadro histĆ³rico" or historical painting which describes the events which were occurring during ancient times in the empire of Greece, and penned by someone who enjoys Tagalog verse)
The story begins with a description of a dark, dangerous, deserted forest in the kingdom of Albania, that is inhabited by serpents, basilisks, hyenas, and tigers. Deep in the heart of the depressing jungle where the tangled growth of vines and thickets intertwined, and the great canopy of heavy foliaged trees formed a roof over the dismal jungle clearing, the moans and anguished cries of a forsaken man filled the savage stillness of the air. The man is tied to a tree and is barely alive. He is Florante, the son of Duke Briseo and Princess Floresca. He has blonde hair, fair smooth skin, and a face and body that is comparable to that of Narcissus and Adonis.
Florante,
while tied to a tree, questions the heavens for the suffering of the people of
Albania. Here he describes the treachery and suffering that are happening
inside and outside of the kingdom of Albania. Gone are the days of peace
and and justice. Innocent people have become victims of those who are
hungry for power and money. Those who fought to save the kingdom have suffered
grievously. He mentions that Count Adolfo was said to be behind the
treachery with his plot to steal the crown from King Linceo and the wealth of
Duke Briseo. Florante begs heaven to save the kingdom of Albania.
The
man tells the heavens that he can take whatever trial or challenge that may
come his way as long as Laura will always remember him. Aside from all
that is happening to Albania, he takes refuge in the memories of the times he
shared with Laura. He mentions that he would be pleased to see Laura
crying over his dead body if Laura would betray him. With this, he
imagines Laura in the arms of Count Adolfo. This thought brings him to tears
and devastation which made him tired and cause him to pass out.
The
man cries for Laura to save him, but she does not come. With this, the
man thinks that Count Adolfo has finally stolen Laura from him. He mentions
that he will thank Count Adolfo for all the hardship as long as he doesn't take
Laura from him. With too much to bear, the man cries in despair and
faintes.
In
another part of the forest comes Aladin, a Muslim soldier. He sits on a
stump and professes his love for a woman named Flerida. He talks about
his overwhelming love for Flerida and vows to kill for the sake of love.
He says that no one can stand in his way nor is there anyone who can take
his love from him, not even his father. He also says that love can make a
person blind to the truth and make him forget about reason and honor.
After professing his love for Flerida, the
Muslim soldier hears a voice in the forest. This voice talks about the
brutal death of his loving father. The man talks about how his father was
beheaded and had his body thrown somewhere else. No one attempted to bury
his father's remains for fear of Count Adolfo's wrath. Even without
seeing his father, the man knew that the old man was thinking of him until
the end of his life.
While
tied to a tree, Florante was approached by two lingering lions. But the
lions did not seem to attack, thinking that the man might already be dead.
Realizing the approach of death, the man says his farewell to Albania,
the land he wished to serve since he was a child, and to Laura, whom he will
forever love.
Upon
hearing the man's cries, Aladin set off to find the man. His timing was
impeccable because the lions were about to attack Florante. With a swift
motion of his weapon, the Muslim soldier killed the two lions. With his
courage and precision in combat, he was compared to Ares, the god of war.
After rescuing Florante, Aladin frees him and
lays him down. Florante wakes up delirious looking for Laura. The
Muslim soldier does not respond and Florante goes back to sleep. When he
finally wakes up, Florante is surprised to see an enemy taking care of him.
Aladin told him that he wishes the man no harm and that the command of
heaven to help is what's important. The man said that he did not want the
soldier's pity, what he needs is death. Aladin yelled at him for
speaking such nonsense.
Due to all that they have
been through recently, Aladin and Florante decide to become silent. When
nightfall comes, Aladin carried Florante and rests on a flat rock. The
Muslim soldier feeds Florante and has him sleep on his lap. He watches over
Florante because he is still delirious and he is devastated every time the
latter wakes up. In the morning, Florante thanks Aladin for what he has
done for him. The soldier asked Florante why he was so devastated, and
the latter willingly narrated his story.
The man tells the Muslim soldier that his
name is Florante. Florante tells him that he came from Albania and that
he is the son of Duke Briseus, second in command of the kingdom, and Princess
Floresca of Croton. He proudly talks about his father saying what a brave
and kind man he was. He also emphasizes that there is no one who can
outdo his father in loving a child and in teaching him good manners.
Florante also spoke of two accounts when he almost died as a child.
One was when he was almost caught by a vulture but was rescued by his
cousin Menalipo. The other was when someone attempted to take the diamond
that was on his chest.
Florante spoke about his happy childhood.
When he was a child, he loved playing outdoors and hunting. He realized
that a child must not be raised with too much freedom and security because life
is tougher when one grows older. He also says that a child will have
difficulty in facing challenges if he is too pampered and safe as a child.
Duke Briseus taught him how to stand alone by sending him to Athens to
study under Antenor.
Florante studies in Athens
under Antenor. He becomes homesick and longs to be with his parents
again but he is comforted by Antenor. Adolfo, a boy from Albania and the
son of Duke Sileno, becomes his classmate. Adolfo is two years older than
him and is admired by everyone in school for his wisdom and
kindness. Due to his intelligence, Florante was able to learn the lessons
about philosophy, astrology and mathematics in no time at all which astonished
his teachers. He even surpassed Adolfo in all aspect and became known all
across Athens. Everyone distrusted the kindness that Adolfo is showing.
In a sporting competition, Adolfo's true color began to show which
aroused the people's suspicions.
During a play performed by the students,
Adolfo attempted to kill Florante but did not succeed due to his classmate
Menandro's interference. After two months, Florante received a letter
from his father bringing bad news and summoning him to come home. It was
difficult for Florante to say his goodbyes to his classmates and his mentor,
Antenor. Before leaving, Antenor advised Florante not to be too trusting
because there are enemies all around us. Florante went home with his
friend, Menandro. Upon arriving at Albania, Florante cried when he saw his
father. After he calmed down, Duke Briseus told Florante about the death
of Princess Floresca.
The emissary of Croton came to Albania with a letter
asking for help in saving Croton from the Persian invaders headed byGeneral Osmalic.
Florante pauses to praise Aladin, saying that the general is
only second to Aladin in combat skill. With this, Aladin smiles and says
that rumors are not necessarily true. Returning to his story, Florante said
that he and his father went to King Linceus to discuss how they could help
Croton. King Linceus appointed Florante to lead the army that will help
save Croton.
During their visit to King Linceus, Florante
saw Laura, the daughter of the king. He was mermerized by Laura's beauty.
He became speechless and stuttered a lot in the presence of Laura.
After talking about Laura, Florante's mind drifts toward horrible thoughts
about Laura's unfaithfulness.
Before setting off to war,
King Linceus threw a feast for Florante. The celebration lasted for three
days and within this period, he did not get to see Laura. The day before
he set of to war, Florante saw Laura and he professed his love. Laura did
not give him a straight answer,
instead she cried and Florante took this as a sign of Laura's reciprocation of his feelings.
General Osmalic
and Florante finally meet and they battled for five hours until Florante was
able to defeat the general.
Florante was able to save Croton from the
hands of the enemy with the help of Menandro and his troupes. The people
rejoiced their victory especially when they learned that Florante is the king's
grandson. But Florante and the king did not rejoice with them for they
remembered Princess Floresca and mourned for her death. Five months had
passed when Florante decided to return to Albania to be with Laura again.
On his journey back, Florante became weary when he saw the Muslim flag
swaying in Albania.
Florante hid on the
outskirts at the foot of the mountain to observe what is happening. He
saw a woman tied and blindfolded who is about to be beheaded. He
remembered Laura and hastily went to rescue the woman. He fought the
Muslims and rescued the woman who happened to be Laura herself. Laura told
Florante about that Albania had been conquered. They went back and
redeemed the country from the invaders. Florante freed the captives
including King Linceus, Duke Briseus, and Count Adolfo. The king honored
Florante for his bravery and Florante won Laura's affection. With the
victory of Florante, Adolfo's hatred and envy deepened and he planned to take revenge against
Florante.
A few months have passed
since Albania was last invaded when the Persian army, headed by Miramolin
disturbed its peace. But the Turkish invaders did not succeed because
Florante had defeated him. After this, Florante successfully won many
battles which earned him the respect of thirteen kings. One day, while
Florante was in the middle of a war, he received a letter ordering him to
return immediately to Albania. He left the war under the command of
Menandro and set off to return to Albania. Upon arriving, he was
surprised to be welcomed by 30,000 soldiers who abducted him. Here he
learned that Adolfo had ordered for his father, Duke Briseus, and King Linceus
to be beheaded. He also learned that Laura was engaged to Count Adolfo.
Florante was imprisoned for 18 days then was transferred to the forest
where he was tied to an Acacia tree. He had been in the forest for
two days when the Muslim soldier found and rescued him.
After Florante narrated his story, the Muslim
soldier introduces himself as Aladdin, son of Sultan Ali-Adab of Persia.
Aladdin tells Florante that he will tell his own story in due time
because he needs some time to collect himself.
After wandering around the forest for five
months, Aladin begins to narrate his story. He says that his father is
the root of all his suffering. His father became his rival for his love,
Flerida. In order to succeed, Sultan Ali-Adab plotted a scheme to behead
Aladin by framing him as the cause of the downfall of the Persian invaders that
resulted to Florante's victory in Albania. On the night before Aladin's
execution, Sultan Ali-Adab forgave Aladin on the condition that he would flee
Persia and never return. Aladin agreed but could not accept the idea of
Flerida in the arms of another man. Since then, Aladin has been a
wanderer of the forest for six years. He suddenly stops his story when
they heard voices in the forest.
The two men heard voices. One of the
women narrated the story she heard about the danger that her lover was in.
She begged the Sultan not to push through with his beheading in exchange
for her agreement to marry him. The Sultan agreed and her lover was set
free, leaving without saying goodbye. One night, while everyone was busy
with the wedding preparations, the woman who happens to be Flerida, disguised
herself as a soldier and escaped. She wandered the forest hoping to find
her love. Here in the forest is where the two women met when Flerida saved
Laura who was about to be assaulted by a man. They stop talking when they
hear footsteps approaching and were surprised to see Florante and Aladdin.
Laura narrates her story. It began when
Florante left to battle the Persian invaders. Adolfo ordered that the
king and his loyal servants be beheaded. Adolfo took over the throne and
forced Laura to marry him. It took five months for him to court Laura but
she did not waver in her decision not to marry him. After Florante was sent to
die in the forest, Menandro and his men returned to Albania and overthrew
Adolfo from the throne. Adolfo would not accept defeat; instead he took
Laura and his men to the forest. Here Adolfo saw no escape and decided to
rape Laura right there. Upon hearing a woman's cry for help, Flerida came
to the rescue and killed Adolfo with an arrow.
Their conversation is interrupted by the
arrival of Menandro and his troupe. Upon seeing Florante, he rejoices to
see his friend. The two couples return to Albania where they
are warmly welcomed. Flerida and Aladdin agree to be baptized as
Christians. Both couples are wed and Florante and Laura rule over Albania
with justice, peace, and harmony. When Sultan Ali-Adab dies, Aladdin and
Flerida return to Persia and they rule over the people happily.
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