Chapter 8
THE DUKE.
Oh, that's the rule. What could these worms and insects talk about If they had not the eagle to abuse?
TIBURTIUS.
His name was not Napoleon at all.
FLAMBEAU.
What!
TIBURTIUS.
That was manufactured. It's so simple! You want to make a sounding name--
FLAMBEAU.
You idiot!
TIBURTIUS.
Which shall creep into history by and by: Take three bright, simple vowels: Na--po--le-- And add a nasal sound: On--
A MASK.
Wonderful!
TIBURTIUS.
Yes: Na--po--le, the lightning; On, the thunder.
FLAMBEAU.
That's all!
A MASK.
What was his name?
TIBURTIUS.
What? Don't you know?
A MASK.
Why, no.
TIBURTIUS.
His name was Nicholas.
FLAMBEAU.
[_Bursting out._]
Be damned!
SEVERAL MASKS.
[_Laughing._]
Bravo the Veteran!
GENTZ.
[_To_ FLAMBEAU.]
Nicholas!--Have a quail.
FLAMBEAU.
[_Taking the dish._]
But Nicholas was good at winning battles.
A MASK.
And what a funny court he scraped together!
SECOND MASK.
If you talked titles, pedigrees, precedence, There wasn't a soul who had a word to say.
FLAMBEAU.
Wasn't Cambronne at Court to say the word?
A MASK.
But--in war--
FLAMBEAU.
Oh--!
SECOND MASK.
What did he do?
ANOTHER MASK.
Why, wrote reports.
A MASK.
And always stood about on distant hills.
FLAMBEAU.
By God--!
THE DUKE.
Hush!
TIBURTIUS.
Once a ball was good enough To wound him in the foot at Ratisbon: Enough to make a subject for a picture.
FLAMBEAU.
[_To the_ DUKE.]
Be calm--!
THE DUKE.
Be calm--!
FLAMBEAU.
Just take away this knife.
TIBURTIUS.
In short--
THE DUKE.
He'd best be careful what he says.
FLAMBEAU.
You must put up with it!
THE DUKE.
Not for an Empire!
TIBURTIUS.
In short this hero was--
FLAMBEAU.
Take care! Take care!
TIBURTIUS.
He was a coward.
THE DUKE.
Oh!
THE FRENCH ATTACHÉ.
No! That's a lie!
ALL.
Eh? What?
TIBURTIUS.
What's that?
ALL.
Who spoke?
GENTZ.
I love a quarrel!
FLAMBEAU.
Aha! Thank God, there was a man among them!
TIBURTIUS.
Who dared--?
THE ATTACHÉ.
I dared, sir!
GENTZ.
He's the Attaché Of the French Embassy.
TIBURTIUS.
_You_ challenge _me!_ You represent the King, sir!
GENTZ.
Quite amusing!
THE ATTACHÉ.
The King is not in question, but my country. You are insulting France, when you insult The man she loved through many glorious years.
TIBURTIUS.
Buonaparte--
THE ATTACHÉ.
Please say Bonaparte.
TIBURTIUS.
Well, Bonaparte--
THE ATTACHÉ.
The Emperor!
TIBURTIUS.
Your card?
FLAMBEAU.
[_Who has disappeared for a moment, and has come back cloaked._]
Come! I've got Gentz's cloak. It's lined with fur.
[TIBURTIUS _and the_ ATTACHÉ _have exchanged cards_. TIBURTIUS _steps forward and nervously lights a cigar._]
TIBURTIUS.
[_To a_ LACKEY.]
A light.
THE LACKEY.
You hate the Corsican?
TIBURTIUS.
What's that?
THE LACKEY.
Your sister loves his son. Would you surprise them?
TIBURTIUS.
When?
THE LACKEY.
Now.
TIBURTIUS.
Where?
THE LACKEY.
Where I know--
TIBURTIUS.
Wait for me here. Austria shall be relieved.
THE DUKE.
[_Placing his hand on the_ ATTACHÉ'S _shoulder._]
I thank you, sir.
THE ATTACHÉ.
[_Turning._]
What for, sir?
THE DUKE.
Hush.
THE ATTACHÉ.
The Duke!
THE DUKE.
A plot.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Amazement!
THE DUKE.
I've nothing but my secret. Now it's yours. We meet to-night at Wagram. _Be_ there.
THE ATTACHÉ.
I!
THE DUKE.
Are you not one of us?
THE ATTACHÉ.
I am the King's.
THE DUKE.
But you're to fight a duel for my Father. And so we're somewhat brothers. Fare-you-well.
THE ATTACHÉ.
You hope to win me?
THE DUKE.
I am sure to win you. Did not my Sire win Philippe de Ségur?
THE ATTACHÉ.
To-morrow I return to France. I warn you--
THE DUKE.
You are a future Marshal of the Empire.
THE ATTACHÉ.
I warn you, if my regiment meets yours I shall not hesitate to fire.
THE DUKE.
Of course not. Shake hands before we cut each other's throats.
THE ATTACHÉ.
If you have any messages for Paris, I get there on the fourth; I should be happy--
THE DUKE.
I hope to be there, sir, ahead of you.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Yet, if I reach the--kingdom--ere you come?
THE DUKE.
Salute for me the Column of Vendôme!
CURTAIN.
THE FIFTH ACT
_The battle-field of Wagram. Night. A small hill running off toward the left. A sign-post stands on the hill._
_The_ DUKE _is standing on the summit of the hill gazing across the battle-field_. PROKESCH _and_ FLAMBEAU _are talking together in undertones near the front._
FLAMBEAU.
WAGRAM!
THE DUKE.
[_Dreaming._]
"My son shall reign--a mighty sovereign--"
FLAMBEAU.
Capital bit of country for the harvest.
THE DUKE.
"His task to foster whatsoe'er is good."
FLAMBEAU.
What solemn prayer is he reciting?
PROKESCH.
Hush!
THE DUKE.
"Complete my work, and not avenge my death-- All patriots--"
[_To_ PROKESCH.]
The horses?
PROKESCH.
No, not yet.
THE DUKE.
"He would but ape me, if he made great wars--"
PROKESCH.
He is rehearsing all his Father's counsels.
FLAMBEAU.
Hush!
THE DUKE.
"He shall scorn all parties--"
[_To_ PROKESCH.]
Well? The horses.
PROKESCH.
Too soon, my Lord.
THE DUKE.
Like an impatient lover I've come too early to my tryst with France.
[_He takes a few strides and finds himself in front of a sign-post._]
Their sign-post! Is it true that I shall move Unhindered by their hideous black and yellow? How good to read upon the gleaming white "Road to Saint Cloud" instead of "Grosshofen." Grosshofen? Now I think of it, I ordered My regiment to Grosshofen at dawn.
FLAMBEAU.
What!
THE DUKE.
Yes; I gave the order yesterday, Before I knew.
FLAMBEAU.
We shall be far away.
[_An old man comes out of the cottage._]
THE DUKE.
Who's that?
FLAMBEAU.
He's ours. His hut our meeting-place. Old soldier. Shows the battle-field to strangers.
THE OLD MAN.
There--on the left--
FLAMBEAU.
No, thanks. I know it.
THE DUKE.
Why Does he serve us?
THE OLD MAN.
I was dying yonder; The great Napoleon passed--
THE DUKE.
He always rode Over a battle-field.
THE OLD MAN.
The Emperor stopped And had me cared for by his leach--
THE DUKE.
Ivan.
THE OLD MAN.
So, if his son is weary of Vienna, I'll help him go.--My arm--before his eyes!
FLAMBEAU.
It isn't everybody has the honor Of having limbs off in Napoleon's presence.
THE OLD MAN.
'Twas war-time; so we fought.
FLAMBEAU.
We died.
THE OLD MAN.
_We_ died.
FLAMBEAU.
We marched.
THE OLD MAN.
_We_ marched.
FLAMBEAU.
We fired into the haze.
THE OLD MAN.
_We_ fired.
FLAMBEAU.
Some grimy officer rode up. And roared, "We've conquered!"
THE OLD MAN.
So he roared to us.
FLAMBEAU.
What?--So he did.
[_Pointing to the_ DUKE.]
Suppose he heard!
THE DUKE.
I hear.
THE OLD MAN.
Bah! My geraniums flourish.
FLAMBEAU.
Shouldn't wonder. For on this spot eleven drummer-boys--
THE DUKE.
Eleven drummer-boys--?
FLAMBEAU.
I see them now! Eleven bullet-heads, as like as peas, Between the flapping of their foolish ears, Who marched, they knew not whence, nor why, nor whither, But gayly marched and rolled their rataplan! We used to chaff them, for their funny ways Made them the darlings of the sutler's wife. But when they beat the charge like little rabbits-- Eleven drums with two-and-twenty sticks-- They set our bayonets thrilling with their thunder; The quivering zigzags seemed to cry aloud, "Our lightning's not in vain!"--Well, on this spot, A brazen devil hiccoughed fire and steel And took them in the flank; yes! all the eleven! But, by the Lord! you should have seen the woman! She gathered up her apron like a gleaner, And madly gleaned the little ebony drumsticks.
[_He clears his throat._]
Only to speak of it gives me a cold--!
[_He picks a red geranium._]
Here's how to make a mere geranium A ribbon of the Legion: keep one petal. What? You look well upon my velvet lining?
[_To the_ DUKE.]
Is this what you bestowed upon me, Sire?
THE DUKE.
I gave a phantom--
FLAMBEAU.
And I wear a flower!
THE DUKE.
[_Seeing the conspirators enter._]
Those shadows--?
MARMONT.
Friends.
THE DUKE.
[_Turning._]
Marmont?
MARMONT.
Good luck, my Lord!
THE DUKE.
Why do the others stand so far away?
MARMONT.
Because they fear they may disturb your Highness, And, Sire, you are already Emperor!
THE DUKE.
The word strikes strangely on my wondering ear-- The Emperor! What Emperor is here? This youth of twenty on the throne? As through a casement now myself I see Pass down the shouting street; 'tis good to be Young, and the first Napoleon's son! All Notre Dame invades my dreaming soul, I see the incense, hear the organ roll, A nation offers up a prayer! God! what great causes may be served by kings! How they can love! Achieve what righteous things! Prokesch, the Future shows too fair! O France, who with thy blood didst write our name, With happy days I will repay the fame; I come, triumphant in my pride. Sun on my flags; the air with shouts is rent. The Champs Elysées, with their chestnut scent, Waft me fair welcome as I ride.
FLAMBEAU.
The women stand on chairs to see your face, Each the fair symbol of Parisian grace, The guns in wreaths of flowers are dressed; Fierce Paris madly hails your sovereignship.
THE DUKE.
It were like kissing France upon the lip If Paris took me to her breast.
FLAMBEAU.
And you will hear the sufferer's complaint; Do you not feel your hand already faint Signing so many an amnesty?
THE DUKE.
The lies they've told me make the truth more dear, Oh, Freedom, Freedom, thou hast nought to fear From one so late from bonds set free! What can I do to foster noble aims? Treviso, Montebello, these are names Their sons inherit without fear, But other names are glorious, and since My Father would have made Corneille a Prince I'll make our Victor Hugo Peer! I'll do--I'll do--I'll be the poor man's shield! The heroic savour, rising from this field, Gives me a foretaste of my home; Wagram! 'Twas well I hither came to drain The stirrup-cup upon thy glorious plain! Oh, my beloved France!--I come--! Ah--!
FLAMBEAU.
What is it?
THE DUKE.
Nothing.
PROKESCH.
You are suffering!
THE DUKE.
Yes, to the marrow, but a gallop cures me. Stars twinkle in the skies like golden rowels. Here are the steeds, and we're to ride to France! Embrace me, friend!
PROKESCH.
Emotion strangles me.
THE DUKE.
Brother!
PROKESCH.
My Lord!
THE DUKE.
Ah, hush!--The saddle-girth!-- Oh, it's delicious to escape on horseback Through such a night, in dancing-pumps!
PROKESCH.
[_To_ MARMONT, _pointing to the Conspirators._]
Those youths-- Why have they come?
MARMONT.
Why, that the world may know They also were conspirators!
THE DUKE.
A whip!
A CONSPIRATOR.
[_Introducing himself to the_ DUKE.]
The Viscount of Otranto--
THE DUKE.
Fouché's son!
FLAMBEAU.
[_To the_ DUKE.]
No matter now.
[_Arranging the horse._]
The stirrup long?
THE DUKE.
No; short.
SECOND CONSPIRATOR.
[_Bending low to the_ DUKE.]
Goubeaux, the Countess Camerata's agent. Your humble servant Goubeaux--
THE DUKE.
Very well.
GOUBEAUX.
[_Bowing once more._]
The Countess's chief agent.
THIRD CONSPIRATOR.
[_Advancing eagerly._]
Pionnet-- I'm Pionnet. I represent King Joseph; On his behalf I brought the subsidies.
THE DUKE.
[_To_ FLAMBEAU, _busy with the horse._]
Only the snaffle--
FOURTH CONSPIRATOR.
I arranged the guides And relays, and at yonder village, Sire, Disguises--Morchain.
FLAMBEAU.
All right, Whatsyourname.
FOURTH CONSPIRATOR.
Morchain!
FIFTH CONSPIRATOR.
I got the passports. Thankless task! See how the seals are forged! Guibert.
ALL.
[_Each mentioning his name._]
Goubeaux-- Morchain--Otranto--Pionnet--
FLAMBEAU.
We know.
ONE OF THE CONSPIRATORS.
Your Father had a memory for names.
SIXTH CONSPIRATOR.
[_Hurrying up._]
Borowski, Sire! It was my glorious task To hire the uniform the Countess wears!
THE DUKE.
Enough! Enough! I shall remember all, And best of all the one who has not spoken! Your name?
[_The man spoken to turns, and the_ DUKE _recognises the_ ATTACHÉ.]
What! _You_ here!
THE ATTACHÉ.
Not as partisan. Only as friend. Indeed no slight occasion Was needed--
FLAMBEAU.
[_To the_ DUKE.]
Mount!
THE DUKE.
The dawn is in the east, I seize the reins, and--_Alea jacta est!_
THE ATTACHÉ.
My Lord, if I have sought this rendezvous, 'Twas to defend you--
THE DUKE.
To defend me, sir?
THE ATTACHÉ.
I feared you were in danger--
THE DUKE.
Danger?--What?
THE ATTACHÉ.
The rogue Tiburtius, whom I hope to pink, Sneaked from the ball and never sent his seconds, So I ran after him, and saw him meet Another rogue, and heard the two conspire To kill you at some rendezvous.
THE DUKE.
The Countess!
THE ATTACHÉ.
The rendezvous was here, as you had told me. I came. All's well. I go.
THE DUKE.
The rendezvous Was in the hunting-lodge. They'll kill the Countess! We must go back!
ALL.
No! No!
A CONSPIRATOR.
Oh, why?
MARMONT.
The Countess--?
PROKESCH.
She can unmask.
THE DUKE.
Alas, you little know her. She'd die ten times to let me win ten minutes. Come back!
VOICES.
No!
THE DUKE.
But I cannot--Ah, come back!-- I cannot let them kill her in my absence!
OTRANTO.
Our efforts wasted!
MARMONT.
If we re-conspire They will not let you fly.
ANOTHER CONSPIRATOR.
And France?
ANOTHER.
The Empire?
THE DUKE.
Back!
MARMONT.
Forward!
THE DUKE.
Back!
MARMONT.
You cast away the crown!
THE DUKE.
To leave her were to cast my soul away!
MARMONT.
One sometimes has to sacrifice--
THE DUKE.
A woman?
MARMONT.
Risk--for a woman--all the chance of triumph--!
FLAMBEAU.
He's a French Prince! That's certain, anyhow!
OTRANTO.
We must abduct him!
FLAMBEAU.
Back!
OTRANTO.
My coach is here.
FLAMBEAU.
I'll run you through the body if you touch him!
THE DUKE.
Back! or with whip uplifted I will charge After the fashion of Murat, my uncle!
PROKESCH.
Stand back!
THE DUKE.
Help, Prokesch!
VOICES.
We shall have to force him.
THE DUKE.
[_To the_ ATTACHÉ.]
And you, who say you came in my defence, It is by robbing me of faith and scruple, They would assassinate me truly! Now, defend me!
THE ATTACHÉ.
No, Sire! begone!
THE DUKE.
What, _you!_ this base advice?
THE ATTACHÉ.
Go, Sire, I will defend the woman.
THE DUKE.
You? You cannot.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Not as partisan; as friend.
THE DUKE.
It would ensure my flight.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Begone, my Lord. Whate'er I do is for the Countess.
THE DUKE.
Yes, But I--
PROKESCH.
I'll lead him.
THE ATTACHÉ.
Prokesch knows the way.
THE DUKE.
[_Still hesitating._]
I cannot--
VOICES.
Yes!
MARMONT.
The better way!
VOICES.
Begone.
THE COUNTESS CAMERATA.
[_Entering, still in her disguise._]
Unhappy boy! Not gone!
THE DUKE.
You!--but they told me-- How could I go?
THE COUNTESS.
On horseback.
THE DUKE.
But your life--!
THE COUNTESS.
A woman's life! What loss would that have been?
THE DUKE.
But--
THE COUNTESS.
You should have abandoned me.
THE DUKE.
But think!
THE COUNTESS.
Think of the time you've lost!
THE DUKE.
Your risks--?
THE COUNTESS.
What risks?
THE DUKE.
And all our fears on your behalf--
THE COUNTESS.
What fears? Was not your Flambeau, there, my fencing-master?
THE DUKE.
The man--?
THE COUNTESS.
Begone!
THE DUKE.
What did you do?
THE COUNTESS.
Oh, nothing. Of course he drew his sword, and I drew mine.
THE DUKE.
You fought for me!
THE COUNTESS.
"I did not know," he muttered, "The Corsican's son had so much skill, I think He knew it not himself"--But then my voice--
THE DUKE.
Oh! You are wounded!
THE COUNTESS.
Scratched across the fingers. My voice betrayed me. Back he sprang! "A woman!" "Defend yourself!" said I, "I should be laughed at, For you are not the Chevalier d'Eon!" "Defend yourself, I'm a Napoleon!" Feeling my blade slip snake-like over his, He lunges, and I make--
FLAMBEAU.
Our secret stroke!
THE COUNTESS.
One! Two!
FLAMBEAU.
That must have been a rough surprise!
THE COUNTESS.
'Twas a surprise from which he'll not recover.
THE DUKE.
Heavens! And the girl--!
THE COUNTESS.
What does she matter now?
THE DUKE.
But, did she come?
THE COUNTESS.
Well--No, then! When the door Was broken open by a furious fist, I was alone. She had not come.
THE DUKE.
That's well.
THE COUNTESS.
But servants came; and if I were arrested All would be known too soon. I lost my head. I stumbled out. I heard I know not whom Sending to fetch the Prefect of Police; And so I fled upon your saddle-horse. I've killed it--I'm exhausted--
THE DUKE.
Look! She swoons!
THE COUNTESS.
After what I had done I hoped at least To hear from witnesses that you were gone!
A CONSPIRATOR.
You were pursued--And in a moment--
THE DUKE.
Take care of her. Conceal her in the hut.
A CONSPIRATOR.
Yes.
THE COUNTESS.
Go!
THE DUKE.
But are you better?
THE COUNTESS.
Not yet gone? For God's sake, go! Ah! could your Father see you Waiting, enfeebled, tender, hesitating, With what contempt he'd shrug his epaulettes!
THE DUKE.
Good-bye!
FLAMBEAU.
We're caught! Too late!
SEDLINZKY.
[_Entering with police officers; he advances to the_ COUNTESS, _whom he mistakes for the_ DUKE.]
Too late, my Lord.
THE COUNTESS.
[_Furiously, to the_ DUKE.]
Ah, Temporizer! Dreamer! Cold Idealist!
SEDLINZKY.
[_Who has turned to the person addressed by the_ COUNTESS _and recognized the_ DUKE, _starts, and, addressing him._]
Your Highness--
[_He turns to the_ COUNTESS.]
Your High--
[_To the_ DUKE.]
Your High--
FLAMBEAU.
He's puzzled!
SEDLINZKY.
So that's it!
FLAMBEAU.
You've been drinking. You see double.
SEDLINZKY.
Count Prokesch, I must ask you to retire.
[PROKESCH _exit._]
FLAMBEAU.
We shan't be crowned just yet by Uncle Fesch!
SEDLINZKY.
[_Indicating the_ ATTACHÉ.]
Lead off this gentleman. You, sir, in this? Your Government shall hear of it.
THE DUKE.
I swear He was not of the plot!
THE ATTACHÉ.
Forgive me, Sire, Since they're arresting us I take my share.
THE DUKE.
[_To the_ ATTACHÉ, _as he is led off._]
Good-bye, then.
[_To_ SEDLINZKY.]
Now, policeman, show your zeal.
SEDLINZKY.
[_To his men, pointing to the_ COUNTESS.]
Take the false Prince wherever--she--belongs.
THE DUKE.
[_Haughtily._]
With all the honors due to me!
THE COUNTESS.
That voice! Ah, hapless child! You would have made a leader!
[_She is led off._]
SEDLINZKY.
As for the rest, we'll shut our eyes: _Verb. sap._
A CONSPIRATOR.
I think--
MARMONT.
To serve the cause--
ANOTHER CONSPIRATOR.
We'd better go.
ANOTHER.
Reserve our strength--
ANOTHER.
For later--
ANOTHER.
Bide our time.
[_All disappear._]
FLAMBEAU.
[_To_ SEDLINZKY.]
Open your eyes again. Here's one more left.
THE DUKE.
Oh, fly for my sake!
FLAMBEAU.
Yours?
SEDLINZKY.
[_To a policeman._]
'Tis he!
POLICEMAN.
Perhaps. Wanted in Paris.
SEDLINZKY.
How can we make sure!
[_The_ POLICEMAN _hands him a paper, which he reads._]
"Nose ordinary, eyes ordinary, Mouth ordinary--" Extraordinary!
[_Watching_ FLAMBEAU.]
Two bullets in his--back.
FLAMBEAU.
A lie!
SEDLINZKY.
Of course.
FLAMBEAU.
I'm lost. All right; I'll have my little joke, And deck myself in flowers ere dropping out.
SEDLINZKY.
You answer to the name of Seraph Flambeau.
FLAMBEAU.
No, sir! That name's not good enough to die with. I'll be drum-major in the Dance of Death; Not merely Seraph, nor Flambeau, the torch. I broaden! I'm Archangel Chandelier!
THE DUKE.
Will you deliver him to France?
SEDLINZKY.
Yes.
THE DUKE.
Like a thief? You have no right, sir--!
SEDLINZKY.
But we'll take it.
THE DUKE.
Heavens!
FLAMBEAU.
'Twas getting past a joke that I should never Be present when they wanted to behead me.
SEDLINZKY.
Also his decoration is illegal. Take off that ribbon!
FLAMBEAU.
Take it. But it grows As often as I choose on my old hide.
[_Unseen by the others he stabs himself._]
SEDLINZKY.
Take off his cloak!
[_When the cloak is removed, the spot of blood shows like the ribbon of the Legion of Honor on_ FLAMBEAU'S _shirt._]
What's that?
FLAMBEAU.
Looks rather well!
SEDLINZKY.
Come! Make an end!
FLAMBEAU.
[_To the_ DUKE.]
My Lord, this leaves me not Till death!
SEDLINZKY.
What! He has pinned another on!
FLAMBEAU.
You cannot make an end! I've pinned another; And when that's gone, another, and another!
THE DUKE.
What will they do?
FLAMBEAU.
What did they do to Ney?
THE DUKE.
Impossible--!
FLAMBEAU.
A little firing-party-- Rrrrrr!
THE DUKE.
Ah!
FLAMBEAU.
I always laughed at bullets; But French ones? Never! None of that, Lisette!
THE DUKE.
You will not give him up?
SEDLINZKY.
Without delay!
FLAMBEAU.
Seraph, your wings are clipped; good-night, my friend!
SEDLINZKY.
March!
THE DUKE.
Look! He staggers! Flambeau!--Look!
POLICEMAN.
He's falling!
FLAMBEAU.
[_On his knees; knocking off the policeman's hat_.]
The Duke is speaking! Take that stovepipe off!
THE DUKE.
Flambeau, you've killed yourself!
FLAMBEAU.
No! I've pinned on An everlasting ribbon of the Legion!
THE DUKE.
I'll not allow one of your men to touch him: What! the clean soldier touched by soiled policemen! Leave us alone together. Go!--Begone!
FLAMBEAU.
My Lord--!
SEDLINZKY.
[_To a policeman, pointing to the old man of the hut._]
Lead off that peasant.
[_The old man is led off._]
THE DUKE.
I'll await My regiment. 'Tis summoned here at dawn. The standards shall salute him, and the drums, And my own soldiers shall uplift his body.
SEDLINZKY.
[_To a policeman._]
Where are the horses?
THE POLICEMAN.
[_Aside to him._]
Gone.
SEDLINZKY.
Then let him be.
[_To the_ DUKE.]
Highness, we cede.
THE DUKE.
Begone!
SEDLINZKY.
I understand--
THE DUKE.
I turn you out.
SEDLINZKY.
My Lord!
THE DUKE.
I turn you out! For on the field of Wagram I'm at home!
[SEDLINZKY _and the policeman go._]
FLAMBEAU.
It's funny, all the same, that on this field Where I was wounded for the Father, now I perish for the son.
THE DUKE.
No! not for me! It is for him: I am not worth your death.
FLAMBEAU.
For him?
THE DUKE.
For him! This is the field of Wagram.
FLAMBEAU.
Ah, yes!--I die--
THE DUKE.
Do you not recognize Wagram, the field, the hill, the pointed steeple?
FLAMBEAU.
Yes!
THE DUKE.
Do you see the Austrian cannon yonder All painted yellow, belching fire and smoke?
FLAMBEAU.
The battle--!
THE DUKE.
Do you hear the noise of it?
FLAMBEAU.
I die at Wagram! Ah! I die at Wagram!
THE DUKE.
Do you not see the wounded horse rush by, Dragging his slaughtered rider by the stirrups? We are at Wagram! 'Tis a solemn moment. Davoust has come to turn Neusiedel's flank; The Emperor has raised his little spy-glass; You have been wounded by a bayonet, And I have brought you to this little hill.
FLAMBEAU.
But the light cavalry? Haven't they charged?
THE DUKE.
Yonder the blue, striped with white shoulder-belts: Those are the Infantry.
FLAMBEAU.
With General Reille!
THE DUKE.
The Emperor should send Oudinot to help! He lets his left be crushed!
FLAMBEAU.
Ah! that's his cunning!
THE DUKE.
They fight! They fight! Macdonald hastens up, And wounded Massena drives slowly by.
FLAMBEAU.
If the Archduke deploys his right he's lost.
THE DUKE.
All's well!
FLAMBEAU.
They fight?
THE DUKE.
The Prince of Auersburg Is taken by the Polish Lancers of the Guard.
FLAMBEAU.
The Emperor? What's the Emperor doing?
THE DUKE.
Watching.
FLAMBEAU.
Is the Archduke caught in the little 'un's trap?
THE DUKE.
The distant dust-cloud yonder is Nansouty.
FLAMBEAU.
Has the Archduke not yet deployed his right?
THE DUKE.
The smoke is Lauriston--
FLAMBEAU.
But the Archduke?
THE DUKE.
Now he deploys his right.
FLAMBEAU.
His goose is cooked.
THE DUKE.
Here come the guns!
FLAMBEAU.
I thirst!--I stifle--Drink! What--is--the--Emperor doing?
THE DUKE.
With a smile He shuts his little spy-glass.
FLAMBEAU.
[_Closing his eyes._]
Victory!
THE DUKE.
Flambeau!
[_He looks at him, and moves away a little._]