The Goddess of Reason: A Drama in Five Acts
ACT V. _Scene I._ A Judgment Hall in Nantes.
_Scene II._ The Banks of the Loire.
THE
GODDESS OF REASON
_ACT I_
_The Château of Morbec in Brittany. A formal garden and a wide terrace with stone balustrade. In the background the château, white and peak-roofed, with great arched doors. Beyond it a distant prospect of a Breton village and of the sea beating against a dangerous coast. To the left a thick wood, to the right a perspective of garden alleys, fountains, and flowering trees. On the terrace a small table set with bread, fruit, and wine. In the angle formed by the level of the terrace and the wide stone steps leading into the garden the statue of a nymph, its high and broad pedestal draped with ivy. Scattered on the terrace and steps a litter of stones, broken cudgels, rusty and uncouth weapons. The sun shines, the trees wave in the wind, the birds sing, the flowers bloom. It is a summer morning in the year 1791._
_Enter from one of the garden paths a lackey and_ RÉMOND LALAIN. LALAIN _wears a riding dress with a tricolour cockade_.
LALAIN
Say to Monsieur the Baron of Morbec, Rémond Lalain, the Deputy from Vannes, In haste is riding north, but hath drawn rein— Hearing to-day of Baron Henri’s death— And audience craves that he may homage pay To Morbec’s latest lord!
THE LACKEY
I go, monsieur!
[_Exit the lackey._
LALAIN
These gloomy towers!
[_He muses as he paces the garden walk before the terrace._
Mirabeau is dead! Gabriel Riquetti, dead, I salute thee, Great gladiator! Who treads now the sand That yesterday was trod by Mirabeau? Barnave, Lameth, ye are too slight of frame! There’s Lafayette. No, no, _mon général_! Robespierre? Go to, thou little man! Jean Paul Marat, dog leech and People’s Friend? Wild beast to fight with beast! Faugh! Down, Marat! Who stands this course, why, that man’s emperor! Now how would purple look upon Marat? Jacques Danton?—Danton! Hot Cordelier! Dark Titan forging to a Titan’s end! Shake not thy black locks from the tribune there, Nor rend the heavens with thy mighty voice! ‘Tis not for thee, the victor’s golden crown, The voice of France—
[_The doors of the château open. Enter three lackeys bearing a great gilt chair, which they place with ceremony at the head of the steps which lead from the terrace into the garden._
FIRST LACKEY (_stamping with his foot upon the terrace_)
The gilded chair place here! We always judge our peasants from this chair, We lords of Morbec! North terrace, gilt chair!
SECOND LACKEY
Baron Henri sat here the day he died!
FIRST LACKEY
Now Baron René takes his turn!
[_They place the chair._
LALAIN (_as before_)
Danton! Why not Lalain? It is as good a name! Mirabeau’s dead! Out of my way, Danton!
THIRD LACKEY (_gathering up the stones which lie upon the terrace_)
I’ll throw these stones into the shrubbery!
SECOND LACKEY (_lifting a rusty scythe from the steps_)
This scythe I’ll fling into the fountain!
FIRST LACKEY (_his hands in his pockets_)
Hé! One sees quite well that we have stood a siege!
[_The lackeys gather up the stones, the sticks, the broken and rusty tools and weapons._
LALAIN
Where lives the man who doth not worship Might? O Goddess All-in-All! make me thine own, As the bright moon did make Endymion; And I will rim thy Phrygian cap with stars, And give thee for thy cestus the tricolour!
_Enter_ GRÉGOIRE.
GRÉGOIRE
Monsieur Lalain!
LALAIN (_waving his hand_)
My good Grégoire!
GRÉGOIRE (_to the lackeys_)
Despatch! Monseigneur will be here anon!
[_He glances at the stones, etc._
Rubbish! Away with’t!
[_Passing the statue of the nymph, he strikes it with his hand._
Will you forever smile? Stone lips that long have smiled at bitter wrong! You might, my dear, have lost that smile last night!
FIRST LACKEY
Last night was something like!
SECOND LACKEY (_throwing the stones one by one into the shrubbery_)
Sangdieu! last night My heart was water!
GRÉGOIRE
Ah, poltroon; your heart!
THIRD LACKEY (_making play with a broken stick_)
Our baron’s a swordsman! His rapier flashed!
FIRST LACKEY
_Keen as the blade of the Sieur de Morbec!_ —And that is a saying old as the sea!
SECOND LACKEY
_Hard as the heart of the Sieur de Morbec!_ —And that was said before the sea was made!
[_They laugh._
THIRD LACKEY (_pointing to_ LALAIN)
What’s he?
GRÉGOIRE
The advocate Rémond Lalain.
THIRD LACKEY
A patriot?
GRÉGOIRE
Hotter than Lanjuinais!
THIRD LACKEY
What does he at Morbec?
GRÉGOIRE
How should I know? His home was once within the village there, And now and then he visits the curé.
FIRST LACKEY
The curé! He visits Yvette Charruel!
LALAIN (_as before_)
Mirabeau and I were born in the south. Oh, the orange flower beside the wall! And the shaken olives when Mistral wakes!
GRÉGOIRE
Once they were friends, Baron René and he; The Revolution came between—
FIRST LACKEY (_He sends a pike whirling into the shrubbery_)
Long live The Revolution!
GRÉGOIRE
My friend, ‘twill live Without thy bawling!
THIRD LACKEY (_arranging the bottles upon the small table_)
So! The red wine here, The white wine there!
(_To a fallen bottle._) Stand up, Aristocrat!
LALAIN
The sun is high!
[_He approaches the terrace and addresses the nearest lackey._
How long must I await The pleasure of Monsieur the Baron here?
THE LACKEY
Monsieur?
LALAIN
Go, fellow, go! and to him say, Rémond Lalain—
THE LACKEY
I go, monsieur!
[_Exit the lackey._
LALAIN
‘Tis well, René de Vardes, to keep me waiting thus!
[GRÉGOIRE _pours wine into a glass and descending the steps offers it to_ LALAIN.
GRÉGOIRE
The old vintage, Monsieur Lalain!
LALAIN
Thanks, friend. The day is warm.
[_He raises the glass to his lips. Laughter and voices from the winding garden paths._
What’s that?
GRÉGOIRE (_shrugging_)
More guests, no doubt! The count, the vidame, and the young marquise! All Morbihan felicitates Morbec, And brings our baron bonbons and bouquets, As if there were no hunger and no frost!
[_A distant sound from the wood of harsh and complaining voices._
LALAIN
And that?
GRÉGOIRE
Soldiers and huntsmen beat the woods; For half the village is in hiding there, Having assayed last night to burn Morbec! As if ‘twould burn! This time the soldiers came! Mon Dieu! the times are bad.
LALAIN (_abruptly_)
All the village! Did Yvette Charruel—
GRÉGOIRE (_shrugging_)
Yvette!
FIRST LACKEY (_from the terrace_)
Yvette!
SECOND LACKEY
I warrant monseigneur will hang Yvette!
[LALAIN _pours the wine upon the ground and throws the glass from him. It shatters against the balustrade. Laughter and voices. Guests appear in the garden walks, the women in swelling skirts of silk or muslin, powdered hair and large hats; the men in brocade and silk with cane swords, or in hunting dress._
A LADY (_curtseying_)
Monsieur le Vicomte!
A GENTLEMAN (_bowing_)
Madame la Baronne!
MME. DE MALESTROIT
A heavenly day.
ENGUERRAND LA FÔRET
No cloud in the sky.
THE VIDAME (_saluting a gentleman_)
Count Louis de Château-Gui!
COUNT LOUIS
Ah, monsieur!
[_Presents his snuff-box._
MME. DE PONT À L’ARCHE
For laces I advise Louise. Fichus? The Bleeding Heart above the flower shop.
THE VIDAME
—A _lettre de cachet_. To Vincennes he went!
MME. DE MALESTROIT
But ah! what use of laces or fichus! We emigrate so fast there’s none to see!
THE ENGLISHMAN
I quote a great man—my Lord Chesterfield: “Exist in the unhappy land of France All signs that history hath ever shown”—
MME. DE PONT À L’ARCHE
The Queen wore carnation, Madame, pale rose, The Dauphin—
LALAIN
What do I in this galley? (_To_ GRÉGOIRE.) I’ll walk aside!
[_Exit_ LALAIN.
COUNT LOUIS (_to_ GRÉGOIRE)
Was that Rémond Lalain?
GRÉGOIRE
It was, Monsieur le Comte.
COUNT LOUIS
Ah, scélérat!
THE VIDAME
The talked-of Deputy for Vannes?
LA FÔRET
Tribune Eloquent as Antony!
COUNT LOUIS
Demagogue!
THE ENGLISHMAN
I heard him in the Jacobins. He spoke, And then they went and tore a palace down!
COUNT LOUIS
Stucco!
_Enter, laughing_, MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI, MELIPARS DE L’ORIENT, _and_ CAPTAIN FAUQUEMONT DE BUC. DE L’ORIENT _has in his hand a paper of verses_.
My daughter and De L’Orient, Captain Fauquemont de Buc!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Messieurs, mesdames! The poet and his verses!
THE COMPANY
Ah, verses!
COUNT LOUIS
Who is the fair, Monsieur de L’Orient? Lalage or Laïs or little Fleurette? Men sang of Célestine when I was young,— Ah, Célestine, behind thy white rose tree!
DE L’ORIENT
I do not sing of love, Monsieur le Comte!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
He sings of this day—
DE BUC
The Eve of Saint John.
DE L’ORIENT
It is a Song of Welcome to De Vardes!
DE BUC
But yesterday poor Colonel of Hussars!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
To-day Monsieur the Baron of Morbec!
DE L’ORIENT
_Mars to Bellona leaves the tented field._
DE BUC
That’s Bouillé at Metz! Kling! rang our spurs— De Vardes’ and mine—from Verdun to Morbec!
DE L’ORIENT
_The warrior hastens to his native weald._
COUNT LOUIS
Would I might see again Henri de Vardes!
DE BUC
It would affright you, sir! The man is dead.
COUNT LOUIS
Ah, while he lived it was as did become A nobleman of France and Brittany! He was my friend; together we were young! From dawn to dusk, from dusk to dawn again, We searched for pleasure as for buried gold, And found it, too, in days when we were young! From every flint we struck the golden sparks, We plucked the thistle as we plucked the rose, And battle gave for every star that shone! O nymphs that laughing fled while we pursued! O music that was made when we were young! O gold we won and duels that we fought! _On guard, monsieur, on guard! Sa! sa! A touch! What shall we drink? Where shall we dine? Ma foi! There’s a melting eye at the Golden Crown! The Angel pours a Burgundy divine! Come, come, the quarrel’s o’er! So, arm in arm!_ O worlds we lost and won when we were young! O lips we kissed within the jasmine bower! O sirens singing in the clear moonlight!— With Bacchus we drank, with Apollo loved, With Actæon hunted when we were young! The wax-lights burned with softer lustre then. The music was more rich when we were young. Violet was the perfume for hair powder, Ruffles were point and buckles were brilliant And lords were lords in the old land of France! We did what we would, and _lettres de cachet_, Like cooing doves they fluttered from our hands!
DE L’ORIENT
_Our tribute take, last of a noble line!_
COUNT LOUIS
Women! There will come no more such women!
DE L’ORIENT
_The laurel and the empress rose we twine._
COUNT LOUIS
And Henri’s gone! And now his cousin reigns,— René de Vardes that hath been years away! The King is dead. Well, well, long live the King! They say he’s brave as Crillon, handsome too, With that _bel air_ that no De Vardes’s without!
_Enter_ MME. DE VAUCOURT _followed by the_ ABBÉ JEAN DE BARBASAN.
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Monsieur l’Abbé!
DE BUC
Madame de Vaucourt!
MME. DE VAUCOURT (_with outspread hands_)
You’ve heard? Last night they strove to burn Morbec!
ALL
What?
MME. DE VAUCOURT
The peasants!
COUNT LOUIS
Again!
DE BUC
Ah, I am vexed. Messieurs, mesdames, the Baron of Morbec Silence enjoined, or the tale I’d have told! The abbé is so bold—
THE ABBÉ
De Buc’s so proud! And just because he brought us help from Vannes! The red Hussars to hive the bees again!
THE ENGLISHMAN
The seigneur and his peasants are at odds?
THE ABBÉ
Slightly!
COUNT LOUIS (_complacently_)
Henri was hated! Hate descends With the land.
DE L’ORIENT
There is a girl of these parts—
COUNT LOUIS
Eh?
DE L’ORIENT
She plays the firebrand.
COUNT LOUIS
Bah!
DE L’ORIENT
She hath The loveliest face!
COUNT LOUIS
Hm!
THE ABBÉ
I am unscathed. De Vardes is slightly wounded!
ALL
Oh!
COUNT LOUIS
Morbleu! And how did it happen, Monsieur l’Abbé?
THE ABBÉ
Behold us at our ease in the great hall, De Vardes and I, a-musing o’er piquet! Voltaire beside us, for we read “Alzire,” A wine as well, more suave than any verse; A still and starlit night, soft, fair, and warm; Wax-lights, and roses in a china bowl. He laid aside his sword and I my cap, All tranquilly at home, the Two Estates! He held carte blanche, I followed with quatorze. The roses sweetly smelled, the candles burned, At peace we were with nature and mankind.— A crash of painted glass! a whirling stone! A candle out! the roses all o’erturned! The thunder of a log against our doors! A clattering of sabots! a sudden shout! _Morbec, Morbec, it is thy Judgment Night! Admission, admission, Aristocrats!_ Red turns the night, the servants all rush in. _Sieur! Sieur!_ the lackeys moan and wring their hands. _Give, give!_ the terrace croaks. _Burn, Morbec, burn!_ The great bell swings in the windy tower Till the wolves in the forest pause to hear. _Fall, Morbec, fall! France has no need of thee!_ Upsprings a rosy light! a smell of smoke! Mischief’s afoot! The Baron of Morbec Lays down his cards and takes his rapier up, Hums _Le Sein de sa Famille_, shuts _Alzire_, Resignedly rises—
COUNT LOUIS (_rubbing his hands_)
Expresses regret That monsieur his guest—
THE ABBÉ
Should be incommoded And turns to the door. I levy the tongs. The seneschal Grégoire hauls from the wall An ancient arquebus! The lackeys wail, And nothing do, as is the lackey’s wont! Again the peasants thunder at the door! _Open, De Vardes! Oh, hated of all names! The new is as the old! Death to De Vardes!_ The log strikes full, and now a panel breaks; In comes a hand that brandishes a pike; A voice behind, _We’ve come to sup with thee! For thou hast bread and we have none, De Vardes!_
THE ENGLISHMAN
Ha, ha! ha, ha! ha, ha!
COUNT LOUIS
You laugh, monsieur?
THE ABBÉ
I like calmness myself. Calm of the sea, Calm skies, the calm spring, and calmness of mind! A tempest’s plebeian! So I admired René de Vardes when he walked to the door And opened it! Behold the whole wolf pack, As lean as ‘twere winter! canaille all! Sans-culottes and tatterdemalions, Mere dust of the field and sand of the shore; Humanity’s shreds would follow the mode, And burn the château of their rightful lord! De Vardes’ peasants in fine. _Mort aux tyrans! À bas Aristocrat! Vive la patrie! Vive la Révolution!_ In they pressed, Gaunt, haggard, and shrill, and full in the front— Young and fair, conceive! dark-eyed and red-lipped— A fury, a mænad, a girl called—
DE L’ORIENT
Yvette!
THE ABBÉ
So they named her, the peasants of Morbec, Named and applauded the dark-eyed besom! When, De Vardes’ drawn rapier just touching Her breast-knot of blue as she stood in his path, Up went her brown hand, armed with a sickle!— De Vardes is a known fencer,—‘tis lucky! His wound is not deep, and in the left arm!
THE VIDAME
She may hang for that! How high I forget The gallows should be—
COUNT LOUIS (_offering his snuff-box_)
Monsieur le Vidame, Thirty feet, I believe!
THE VIDAME
But not in chains—
COUNT LOUIS
No! It was the left arm.
DE L’ORIENT
What did De Vardes?
THE ABBÉ
De Vardes, with Liancourt and Rochefoucauld, Holds that the peasant doth possess a soul! I think it hurt him to the heart that he, New come to Morbec, and unknown to these, His vassals of the village, field, and shore, Should be esteemed by them an enemy, A Baron Henri come again, forsooth! But since ‘twas so, out rapier! parry! thrust! Diable! he’s a swordsman to my mind! The mænad with the sickle he puts by; Runs through the arm a clamourer of corvée, Brings howling to his knees a sans-culotte, And strikes a flail from out a claw-like hand! They falter, they give way, the craven throng! The women cry them on; they swarm again. His bright steel flashes, rise and fall my tongs! But the lackeys are naught, and Grégoire finds A flaw in his musket; he will not fire! Pardieu! the things this Revolution kills! There is no faithfulness in service now! Our peasants grow bold. Ma foi! we’re at bay! De Vardes and De Barbasan, rapier, tongs! Wild blows and wild cries, blown smoke and a glare, And the girl Yvette with her reaping hook Still pushed to the front by the women there! Upon De Vardes’ white sleeve the blood is dark, And his breath comes fast! I see the event As ‘twill look in print in Paris next week, In _L’Ami du Peuple or Journal du Roi_! “The Vain Defence of an Ancient Château! When we Burn so Much, why not Burn the Land?” And I break with my tongs a young death’s-head That’s bawling—What think you?—_Vive la République._
COUNT LOUIS
Death and damnation!
THE ABBÉ
So I said! And then, Quite, I assure you, in time’s very nick, The saint De Vardes prays to smiled on him! A thunder clap!—_Pas de charge! En avant!_ Captain Fauquemont de Buc and his Hussars!
DE BUC
Warned by the saint, we galloped from Auray!
THE ABBÉ
Like the dead leaves borne afar on the blast, Or like the sea mist when the sun rises, Or like the red deer when the horn’s sounded,— Like anything in short that’s light o’ heel,— Vanished our peasants! The women went last; And last of all the mænad with the eyes! Jesu! She might have been Jeanne d’Arc, that girl! The man who captures her has a hand full!— To the deep woods they fled, are hunted now.— De Vardes and I gave welcome to De Buc, Put out the fire, attended to our wounds, Resumed our cards, and finished our _Alzire_— The Château of Morbec stands, you observe!
[_The company applauds._
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
But who was the saint?—
DE BUC
Ah, here is De Vardes!
_Enter_ DE VARDES. _He is dressed in slight mourning and carries his arm in a sling._
THE GUESTS
Monsieur the Baron of Morbec!
DE VARDES
Welcome, The brave and the fair, my old friends and new! Welcome to Morbec!
COUNT LOUIS
Ah, your wounded arm!— Our regret is profound!
DE VARDES
It is nothing. The fraternal embrace of the people!
COUNT LOUIS
Oh, the people!
MME. DE VAUCOURT
The people!
DE L’ORIENT
The people!
COUNT LOUIS
My friend, permit us to hope you will make Of the people a signal example!
DE VARDES
They are misguided.
COUNT LOUIS
Misguided! Morbleu!
DE VARDES
I will talk to them.
COUNT LOUIS
Monsieur le Baron, Let your soldiers talk with a bayonet’s point, Your bailiffs with a rope—
MME. DE VAUCOURT
But what good saint Brought warning to Auray?
DE L’ORIENT
I guess that saint!
[_A lackey appears upon the terrace._
THE LACKEY
Madame la Marquise de Blanchefôret!
THE GUESTS
Ah! La belle marquise!
_Enter_ THE MARQUISE.
DE BUC
The saint!
DE VARDES
My neighbour fair, And to De Barbasan and me last night A guardian angel—
[_He greets_ THE MARQUISE.
Madame la Marquise!
THE MARQUISE
Monsieur le Baron! (_To the company._) Messieurs, mesdames!
DE VARDES
From Blanchefôret to Auray through the night This lady rode—
THE MARQUISE (_with gayety_)
Ah, how I rode last night, To Auray through the dark! This way it was: I overheard two peasants yestereve As in a lane I sought for eglantine. “How long hath Morbec stood?” said one. “Too long! But when to-morrow dawns ‘twill not be there! And we were born, I think, to burn châteaux!— Ten, by the village clock—forget it not!”
THE ABBÉ
Ah, ay, the while I dealt the clock struck ten.
THE MARQUISE
It was already dusk.—Like grey death moths They slipped away! I knew not whom to trust, For in these times there’s no fidelity, No faithful groom, no steadfast messenger! My little page brought me my Zuleika. I knew the red Hussars were at Auray, And that ‘twas said they loved their colonel well! So to Auray came Zuleika and I!
DE BUC
We thought it was Dian in huntress dress!
DE VARDES
How deeply am I, Goddess, in thy debt! No gold is coined wherewith I may repay!
[_Music within._
THE MARQUISE
Give me a rose from yonder tree!
[_Laughing voices within._
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
More guests, They’re on the south terrace!
DE L’ORIENT
Violins too! Ah, the old air—
[_He sings._
_There lived a king in Ys, In Ys the city old! Beside the sounding sea He counted o’er his gold._
DE VARDES
Let us meet them.
[_He gives his hand to_ THE MARQUISE. _Exeunt_ COUNT LOUIS, THE ABBÉ, DE BUC, DE L’ORIENT, _etc._ GRÉGOIRE _approaches_ DE VARDES.
GRÉGOIRE
Monseigneur—Monsieur the Deputy!
DE VARDES
Ah! Say to monsieur I’m not at leisure now.
[_Exeunt_ DE VARDES _and_ THE MARQUISE. _The terrace and garden are deserted save for_ GRÉGOIRE, _who seats himself in the shadow of the balustrade_.
GRÉGOIRE
Humph!—Monseigneur’s not at leisure.
[_He draws a Paris journal from his pocket and reads, following the letters with his forefinger._
What news? What says Jean Paul Marat, the People’s Friend?
[_A cry from the wood and the sound of breaking boughs._ YVETTE _and_ SÉRAPHINE _enter the garden_. RAÔUL THE HUNTSMAN’S _voice within_.
THE HUNTSMAN
Hilloa!—Hilloa!—Hilloa!
[YVETTE _and_ SÉRAPHINE _turn towards one of the garden alleys. Laughter and voices._
YVETTE
Go not that way!
SÉRAPHINE
There is no way!
THE HUNTSMAN (_within_)
Hilloa!—Hilloa!
SÉRAPHINE
We’re caught!
YVETTE
The terrace there! Behind the stone woman!
[_They cross the garden to the terrace._
SÉRAPHINE (_She stops abruptly and points to the table_)
Bread!
THE HUNTSMAN (_nearer_)
Hilloa!—Hilloa!
[YVETTE _and_ SÉRAPHINE _turn from the table and hide behind the tall, ivy-draped pedestal of the statue_. GRÉGOIRE _looks up from his paper and sees them_.
_Enter_ RAÔUL THE HUNTSMAN.
THE HUNTSMAN
This way they came!
GRÉGOIRE (_jerking his thumb over his shoulder_)
Down yonder path!—plump to the woods again!
THE HUNTSMAN
The Hussars from Auray have twenty rogues!
GRÉGOIRE
Indeed!
THE HUNTSMAN
These two and my bag’s full!
[_Exit_ THE HUNTSMAN.
GRÉGOIRE
Diable!
[_He reads aloud._
_Weary at last of intolerable wrong, The peasants of Goy in Normandy rose And burned the château. Who questions their right?_
[_He folds his paper._
Saint Yves! this stone is much harder than Goy!
[_He looks fixedly at the statue and raises his voice._
Ma’m’selle who would smile at the trump of doom, I think that all the village will be hanged! And at its head that brown young witch they call Yvette—
_Reënter_ DE VARDES _and_ THE MARQUISE.
DE VARDES (_to_ GRÉGOIRE)
Begone!
[_Exit_ GRÉGOIRE. DE VARDES _and_ THE MARQUISE _rest beside the statue_, YVETTE _listening_.
Why, what’s a soldier for? But pity me, pity me, belle Marquise! Since pity is so sweet!
THE MARQUISE
I’m sure it is A fearful wound!
DE VARDES
A fearful wound indeed! But ‘tis not in the arm!
THE MARQUISE
No, monsieur?
DE VARDES
No! The heart! I swear that it is bleeding fast! And I have naught wherewith to stanch the wound. Your kerchief—
THE MARQUISE
Just a piece of lace!
DE VARDES
‘Twill serve.
THE MARQUISE (_giving her handkerchief_)
Well, there!—Now tell me of last night.
DE VARDES
Last night! Why, all this tintamarre was but a dream, Fanfare of fairy trumpets while we slept. A night it was for love-in-idleness, And fragrant thoughts and airy phantasy! There was no moon, but Venus shone as bright; The honeysuckle blew its tiny horn To tell the rose a moth was coming by. _Clarice-Marie!_ sang all the nightingales, Or would have sung were nightingales abroad! _Hush, hush!_ the little waves kept whispering. The ivy at your window still was peeping; You lay in dreams, that gold curl on your breast!
THE MARQUISE
No, no! You cheat me not, monsieur! Last night I did not sleep!
DE VARDES
Nor I!
THE MARQUISE
Miserable brigands!
DE VARDES
No, not brigands! Just wretched flesh and blood.
THE MARQUISE
You pity them?
DE VARDES
Ay.
THE MARQUISE
Were I a seigneur, Lord of Morbec—
DE VARDES
Were I a poor fisher, Sailing at sunrise home from the islands, Over the sea, and all my heart singing! And you were a herd girl slender and sweet, With the gold of your hair beneath your cap, And you kept the cows and you were my _douce_, And you waved your hand from the green cliff head When the sun and I came up from the sea!— And there was a seigneur so great and grim Who walked in his garden and said aloud, “How many fish has he taken for me? Which of her cows shall I keep for myself? I leave him enough to pay for the Mass The day he is drowned, and the girl shall have The range of the hills for her one poor cow! Why should the fisher fret, the herd girl weep? There is no reason in a serf’s dull heart! I might have taken all. It is my right!” La belle Marquise, what would the herd girl do? And should the fisher suffer and say naught?
THE MARQUISE
There is no fisher nor no herd girl here. How fair the roses of Morbec, monsieur!
DE VARDES
Ay, they are lovely queens. They know it too! I better like the heartsease at your feet.
THE MARQUISE
It is a peasant flower!—Sieur de Morbec, Have you never loved?
DE VARDES
How fair is the day! For loving how fit! ‘Tis the Eve of Saint John.
THE MARQUISE
Yes.
DE VARDES
Last year I loved on this very day. Take the omen, madame!
THE MARQUISE
We had not met, You and I!
DE VARDES
Ah, ‘tis true! We had not met!— And so, fair as you are, you were not there, In Paimpont Wood, on the Eve of Saint John?
THE MARQUISE
No!
DE VARDES
I wonder who was!
THE MARQUISE
In Paimpont Wood! It is haunted!
DE VARDES
On the Eve of Saint John I rode from Morbec here to Chatillon, And through the wood of Paimpont fared alone. It is a forest where enchantments thrive, And a fair dream doth drop from every tree! The old, old world of bitterness and strife Is remote as winter, remote as death. It was high noon in the turbulent town; But clocks never strike in the elfin wood, And the sun’s ruddy gold is elsewhere spent. The light was dim in the depths of Paimpont, Green, reverend, and dim as the light may be In a sea king’s palace under the sea. The wind did not blow; the flowering bough Was still as the rose on a dead man’s breast. On velvet hoof the doe and fawn went by; In other woods the lark and linnet sang; A stealthy way was taken by the fox; The badger trod upon the softest moss; And like a shadow flitted past the hare. Without a sound the haunted fountain played. The oak boughs dreamed; the pine was motionless; Its silver arms the beech in silence spread; The poplar had forgot its lullaby. It was as still as cloudland in the wood, For in a hawthorn brake old Merlin sleeps, And every leaf is hushed for love of him. There through the years they sleep and listless dream, The wood of Paimpont and the wizard old. They dream of valleys where the lilies blow; They dream of woodland gods and castles high, Of faun and Pan and of the Table Round, Of dryad trees and of a maiden dark— That Vivien whom old Merlin once did love, Vivien le Gai whose love was poisonous!
THE MARQUISE
I’ve heard it said by women spinning flax, “Who wanders in Paimpont wanders in love; Let him who loves in Paimpont Wood beware!”
DE VARDES
Ah, idle word! Oh, many silver bells Since Vivien’s day have rung, Beware, beware! And rung in vain, for in every clime Lies Paimpont Wood, dawns the Eve of Saint John!
THE MARQUISE
And in the forest there whom did you love?
DE VARDES
I do not know. I have not seen her since, Unless—unless I saw her face last night!
YVETTE (_behind the base of the statue_)
Oh!—
DE VARDES
Did you not hear a voice?
THE MARQUISE
‘Tis the wind.— You’re riding through the wood to Chatillon.
DE VARDES
It was a lonely forest, deep and vast, A secret and a soundless trysting-place, Where one might meet, nor be surprised to meet, From out his past, or from his life to come, A veilèd shape, a presence bitter-sweet, A thing that was, a thing was yet to be! It seemed a fatal place, a destined day. Down a long aisle of beechen trees I rode, And came upon a small and sunny vale, And there I met a face from out a dream, An ancient dream, a dark and lovely face.— Give me your fan of pearl and ivory!
[_He takes the fan from_ THE MARQUISE.
I’ll turn enchanter, use it for my rod, And make you see, Marquise, the very place!
[_He points with the fan._
Here sprang the silver column of a beech; There, mossy knees of a most ancient oak; Yonder a wall of thickest foliage rose; And here a misty streamlet flowed With a voice more low than the dying fall Of a trouvère’s lute in Languedoc, And on its shore the slender flowers grew; Upon a foxglove bell hung _papillon_; And all around the grass was long and fine. Within this sylvan space, ah, ages since! The white-robed Druids in the cold moonlight Had reared an altar stone of wondrous height; The fane was there, the Druids were away. All fragrant was the air, and sunny still,— On the Eve of Saint John ‘tis ever so! Above, the sky was blue without a cloud; The sun stood sentinel o’er the haunted wood. And there she lay, the woman of a dream, Against the Druid Stone, amid the bloom; Her eyes were on the stream; she leaned her ear; From far away the trouvère played to her; In flakes of gold the sunlight blessed her hair; Her lips were red; she seemed a princess old; Mid purple bloom she lay and gazed afar, In the magic wood on a magic day, Listening to hear the mighty trouvère play. Was she a princess or a peasant maid? I do not know, pardie! She may have been That Vivien who wrought old Merlin wrong. I cannot tell if she were rich or poor; I only saw her face; I only know I loved the dream I met in Paimpont Wood As I did ride last year to Chatillon On Saint John’s Eve.—
[_He lays the fan upon the table._
So I have loved, Marquise!
THE MARQUISE
What did your pretty dream?
DE VARDES
As other dreams; She fled!
THE MARQUISE
And you pursued?
DE VARDES
Yes, but in vain! Trouble no dream that is dreamed in Paimpont! The wood closed around her; she vanished quite. It must have been that evil Vivien, Since you, Marquise, have never trod the wood!
THE MARQUISE
Would I have fled?
DE VARDES
Why, then, without doubt It was Vivien! But yet do you know ‘Tis the Eve of Saint John, and here, last night, I dreamed that I saw my dream again!
[_The hand and arm of the statue fall, broken, to the ground at the feet of_ THE MARQUISE.
THE MARQUISE
Ah!
DE VARDES (_pushes the marble aside with his foot_)
It is nothing! The stone was cracked last night. Some crack-brained peasant had no better mark!
THE MARQUISE
‘Tis a _présigne_!—I feel it.—
DE VARDES
You shudder!
THE MARQUISE
One trod near my grave! I’m suddenly cold!
DE VARDES
The sun never shines on this terrace!
THE MARQUISE
No! ‘Twas an air from the Forest of Paimpont Came over me!
[_Voices within._ DE L’ORIENT _sings_.
DE L’ORIENT
_In Ys they did rejoice, In Ys the wine was free; The Ocean lent its voice Unto that revelry!_
THE MARQUISE
Oh, come away! Let us find the violins and the sun! There are other woods than Paimpont. Come away!
[_Exeunt_ DE VARDES _and_ THE MARQUISE.
YVETTE (_leaves the shadow of the statue_)
‘Twas he! That horseman who did waken me That Saint John’s Eve I strayed in Paimpont Wood! O Our Lady—
SÉRAPHINE (_from the statue_)
Saint Yves! There is bread!
[YVETTE _takes from the table a loaf of bread and throws it to_ SÉRAPHINE, _who springs upon it like a famished wolf_.
Ah—h—h!
[_Setting her teeth in the loaf._
[YVETTE, _about to lay her hand upon another round of bread, sees the fan lying upon the cloth. She leaves the bread and takes up the fan. It opens in her hand._
YVETTE
Oh!—
[_She sits in the great chair and waves the fan slowly to and fro._
Were I a lady fair and free, I would powder my hair with dust of gold, I would clasp a necklace around my throat, Of jewels rare, and a gown I would wear, Blue silk like Our Lady of Toute Remède! My shoes should be made of golden stuff, And a broidered glove should dress my hand, My hand so white that a lord might kiss! I would spin fine flax from a silver wheel, I would weave a web for my bridal sheets, I would sing of King Gradlon under the sea, Were I a lady fair and free!
_Enter_ GRÉGOIRE.
SÉRAPHINE (_from the statue_)
Yvette! Yvette!
YVETTE
Peace, peace!
GRÉGOIRE
What have you there?
YVETTE
A fan. So long I’ve wanted one!
GRÉGOIRE
A fan, forsooth! You cannot eat a fan, drink it, wear it!
YVETTE
I would look on’t. One day at Vannes the deputy’s sister Showed me a fan, but it was not like this! Oh, not like this with these wreaths of roses, These painted clouds, this fairy ship!
GRÉGOIRE
The price Would keep a peasant from starvation! And belike it fell from the lifted hand Of Madame la Marquise de Blanchefôret!
[_The fan breaks in_ YVETTE’S _hand_.
SÉRAPHINE (_leaving the statue_)
Thou evil-starred!
YVETTE
What have I done?
GRÉGOIRE
Diantre! Now you will be beaten as well as hanged!
YVETTE
She called us miserable brigands!
_Enter_ DE VARDES.
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Yves! Saint Hervé! Saint Herbot!
DE VARDES (_to_ GRÉGOIRE)
Voices?
GRÉGOIRE
Monseigneur?
DE VARDES
The fan of Madame la Marquise.
GRÉGOIRE
Monseigneur?
DE VARDES (_perceiving_ YVETTE _and_ SÉRAPHINE)
What will you have, good people?
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Guenolé! Saint Thromeur! Saint Sulic!— He did not see us in the dark last night!
[DE VARDES _regards them more closely_.
GRÉGOIRE
Séraphine Robin—Yvette Charruel— They are not bad folk, monseigneur!
SÉRAPHINE
No, faith!
[DE VARDES _studies the name written upon a playing card which he holds in his hand_.
DE VARDES (_to_ GRÉGOIRE)
Say to Monsieur the Deputy from Vannes That I await him here.
[_Exit_ GRÉGOIRE. DE VARDES _looks intently at_ YVETTE.
YVETTE
It was so beautiful, The fan—I took it in my hand—it broke!
SÉRAPHINE
All that she touches breaks!
DE VARDES (_to_ YVETTE)
Wast ever thou In the Forest of Paimpont?
YVETTE
Oh, monseigneur! Last Eve of Saint John, by the Druid Stone!
DE VARDES
Ah!—
[_He takes the fan from_ YVETTE’S _hand and examines it_.
Beyond all remedy!—Well, ‘tis done. Do not tremble so!
YVETTE
I tremble not!
_Enter_ LALAIN.
SÉRAPHINE (_to_ YVETTE)
Here’s Monsieur Lalain!
YVETTE
I care not, I!
DE VARDES
Ah, Rémond Lalain!
LALAIN (_stiffly_)
Monsieur—
DE VARDES
A moment, pray, Until I’ve spoken with these worthy folk!
LALAIN (_coldly_)
Monsieur the Baron’s pleasure!
[_He moves aside, but in passing speaks to_ YVETTE.
Yvette! Yvette!
YVETTE
Monsieur the Deputy?
LALAIN
Too fair art thou! Beware! This is the Seigneur of Morbec!
YVETTE
I know.
LALAIN
He is the foe of France!
YVETTE
I know.
DE VARDES (_to_ SÉRAPHINE)
Your business, well?
SÉRAPHINE (_stammering_)
Our business, monseigneur?— Oh, give me help, Saint Yves le Véridique!— Our business?—Saint Michel!—Well, since we’re here!— Monseigneur, was the pullet plump and sweet?
DE VARDES
The pullet?
YVETTE
Our pullet, monseigneur.
LALAIN
Distrained for rent!
SÉRAPHINE
And Lisette, monseigneur? May we enquire for Lisette’s health?
DE VARDES
Lisette?
YVETTE
Our cow, monseigneur.
LALAIN
Taken for taxes!
SÉRAPHINE
It was the best Lisette!
YVETTE
She followed me Through the green lanes, and o’er the meadows salt. Her breath was sweet as May!
DE VARDES
It would please you To have your cow again?
YVETTE
Oh, monseigneur! Monseigneur, I’m the herd girl of Morbec!
LALAIN (_aside_)
They gaze into each other’s eyes!
DE VARDES
What is Thy name?
YVETTE
Yvette.
SÉRAPHINE
Ay, ay, ‘tis so!—Yvette. Called also The Right of the Seigneur!—
DE VARDES
The Right of the Seigneur!
SÉRAPHINE (_nodding_)
Just so.
LALAIN (_aside_)
Recall Just one of a great seigneur’s privileges! _Baiser des mariées_, in short, my friend!
SÉRAPHINE
O holy Saints! the night that she was born! The thunder pealed, the sea gave forth a cry, The forked lightnings played, the winds were out And in the hut her mother lay and wailed, And called on all the saints, the while Jehan (That was her mother’s husband, monseigneur), He stood and struck his heel against the logs. Up flew the sparks, for all the wood was drift, Salt with the sea, and every flame was blue. I held the babe—Yvette, show monseigneur The mark beneath the ear!
YVETTE
No!
SÉRAPHINE
Stubbornness! ‘Tis there!
LALAIN
A birthmark—a small blue flower!
DE VARDES
Ah!
SÉRAPHINE
Ay! a little mark.—Jehan Charruel! He was a violent man,—the sea breeds such! He cursed Yvonne upon her pallet there, So pale she was, and dying with the tide! He cursed the saints, the purple mark, the babe, And some one else I dare not name—
LALAIN
I dare! Henri-Etienne-Amaury de Vardes, Late Baron of Morbec!
SÉRAPHINE
Then out he goes, A-weeping hard—Jehan—into the night. Ouf! how it blew!— The sea ran high, he met it in the dark, Was drowned! Yvonne went with the ebb. Behold Yvette!
[SÉRAPHINE _retreats to the table, where she furtively drinks from a half-emptied wineglass_. LALAIN _follows her and the two talk together_.
DE VARDES
That purple flower, that violet By nature limned upon thy slender throat,— From north to south, from east to west ‘tis known! A De Vardes bore that mark at Poitiers. The marshal, Hugues the Fair, and black Arnaud, The late baron—Why, what hast thou to do With burning down châteaux to make a light To show the Morbihan that purple flower?
YVETTE
O Our Lady of Thorns!
DE VARDES
Herd girl too fair! And vision of Paimpont, fair as I dreamed! How fair was thy errand last night?
YVETTE
Monseigneur!
DE VARDES
In the ashes of Morbec what shouldst thou find?
YVETTE
We only wished to make a little light— A little light to let the neighbours know That we were hungry!
DE VARDES
What neighbours hast thou?
YVETTE
Normandy and Maine, Anjou and Poitou, The sea, the sky, and somewhat far away, The Club of the Jacobins at Paris.
DE VARDES
Thy father was a nobleman of France!
YVETTE
I never had a father, monseigneur! I had a mother, and she loved, they say, She dearly loved the fisherman Jehan! When for the dead I pray, I pray for them.
DE VARDES
How old art thou?
YVETTE
How old? Ah, let me see!
[_She counts upon her fingers._
The year the hailstones fell and killed the wheat; The year the flax failed and we made no songs; The year I begged for bread; the bitter year We buried Louison who died of cold, And Jacques was hanged who shot the seigneur’s deer; The Pardon of Sainte Anne I had a gown; Came Angélique from Paris, told us how The wicked Queen was smiling, smiling there; Justine pined away, they shot Michel If, Down fell the Bastille, I learned _Ça ira_; The deputy came to the curé’s house, Beside the deep blue sea I walked with him. A day there was at Vannes, a glorious day, When music played, and every banner waved, And all the folk went mad and rang the bells! _Vive la Révolution! Vive Mirabeau! Vive Rémond Lalain!_ I wept when ‘twas o’er, Last summer was so fair! I wandered far, One day I wandered through a darksome wood— ‘Twas on the Eve of good Saint John, I know!
DE VARDES
Ah—
YVETTE
The summer fled, the light, the warmth did go, The winter came that was so cruel cold, Cold as the dead! And hunger, monseigneur, With bread at the château!—Died Baron Henri.— The summer came again, the roses bloomed, The roses bloomed, but they were not for us! For us the dank seaweed, the thorny furze. The lark sang well, but ah, it sang too high! We could not lift our hearts to heaven’s gate; We only heard the wind moan at our door. We cried to the saints, but they took no heed! One told us what they did at Goy and Vannes, At Goy and Vannes, pardieu! they helped themselves! We heard there had come a new lord to Morbec, A soldier and a stranger to us all! Three days have gone since I did sit alone Upon the cliff edge in the waving grass; The mew and curlew cried, the night wind blew, And in the sunset glow red turned Morbec! I thought of my mother, I thought of France, I looked at the château cruel and high, And as I was hungry I ate my black bread!— I think, monseigneur, that I am nineteen.
DE VARDES
_Pauvre petite!_
YVETTE
Ah, poor indeed!
DE VARDES
How dark Thine eyes!
YVETTE
My mother’s were darker, they say!
DE VARDES
Thy face is the face of a picture there.
YVETTE
I know—the Duchess Jeanne, who died for love.
DE VARDES
Did Vivien teach thee magic in the wood?
YVETTE
Monseigneur?
DE VARDES
_Pauvre petite!_
YVETTE
O Our Lady! The roses smell so sweet—
[LALAIN _comes forward_.
LALAIN
I pardon crave, But I must sup to-night at Rennes. Please you, Release this peasant girl! Affairs there are Of which I’d speak—
DE VARDES
Ay, presently!
LALAIN
Now!
DE VARDES
Monsieur!
LALAIN
Citoyen René-Amaury Vardes—
DE VARDES
Is that, monsieur, the latest Paris mode? _Citoyen René-Amaury Vardes_, The _De_ left off, our hats (_Glances at_ LALAIN) left on!
LALAIN (_removing his hat_)
Monsieur The Baron of Morbec!
DE VARDES (_bowing_)
Monsieur The Deputy for Vannes!
[_Laughter and voices within._
_Enter from the château_ THE MARQUISE _and_ MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI _with_ DE L’ORIENT _and_ DE BUC.
DE L’ORIENT (_sings_)
_Then spake the king of Ys Above the song and shout, Bring here the golden key That keeps the ocean out!_
THE MARQUISE
Monsieur le Baron, My lost fan!
YVETTE (_aside_)
Oh me!
DE VARDES
Madame la Marquise, I will give you a fan that’s to my taste; By Watteau painted, mounted by Laudet, Fragile and fine, an Adonis of fans! This that I broke I will keep for myself.
[_Pockets the fan._
Forgive the mere accident!
YVETTE
Ah!
SÉRAPHINE (_from the table_)
Ah—h—h!
LALAIN (_aside_)
Gods! If _I_ forgive!
THE MARQUISE
At Blanchefôret, monsieur, The Watteau, Laudet, Adonis of fans, I’ll take from your hand—
DE VARDES
I ride there anon, (_Aside._) But not through the Forest of Paimpont And not on the Eve of Saint John.
THE MARQUISE
Come soon, My garden is sweetest in June.
DE L’ORIENT (_sings_)
_In Ys they sing no more, In Ys the city old! The waves are rolling o’er The king and all his gold._
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Look at _my_ fan, Monsieur le Baron!
[LALAIN _crosses to_ YVETTE.
LALAIN
Hast thou forgot, hast thou forgot, Yvette, Thy part, thy lot, the very name they give thee? This is Morbec, this is the brazen castle! There are no roses here.
YVETTE
So generous He was!
LALAIN
Generous! Oh, well are you called The Right of the Seigneur!
YVETTE (_passionately_)
Give me not that Detestable name!
LALAIN
So meek under wrongs—
YVETTE
Oh!
LALAIN
So quick to forget—
YVETTE
Oh!
LALAIN
_La patrie_— Sworn oaths—the tricolour—
YVETTE
Anger me not!
LALAIN
On your lips _Ça Ira_! but in your heart _O Richard, O mon Roi!_
YVETTE
‘Tis false!
LALAIN
And I—and I—Yvette!
YVETTE
Speak not to me!
LALAIN
You gaze at that man! I tell you he wooes Madame la Marquise de Blanchefôret!
[YVETTE _crosses to_ _The Marquise_, DE VARDES, _and the guests_.
YVETTE (_to_ THE MARQUISE)
Madame! I broke the fan! I would pay if I might. I would keep your cows, or spin your flax—
THE MARQUISE
The fan! You broke the fan—not monsieur there!
YVETTE
No, I!
THE MARQUISE
Sainte Geneviève!
_Enter_ COUNT LOUIS, THE VIDAME, MME. DE VAUCOURT, _etc._
SÉRAPHINE
Yvette!
COUNT LOUIS
La belle Marquise!
[SÉRAPHINE _draws_ YVETTE _back to the base of the statue_. COUNT LOUIS, THE MARQUISE, _and the guests talk together_. LALAIN _crosses to_ DE VARDES.
LALAIN
René de Vardes!
DE VARDES
Rémond Lalain!
LALAIN
This day I bury our friendship of old!
DE VARDES
So!
LALAIN
I owe to you a thousand louis Which I’ll repay, monsieur!
DE VARDES
I doubt it not.
LALAIN
Touch not the girl Yvette!
DE VARDES
At last the heart of the matter! I see You have been through the Forest of Paimpont.
LALAIN
Or touch at your peril!
DE VARDES
Monsieur!
LALAIN
Oh, if You lay your hand upon your sword, monsieur, I’m for you there!
DE VARDES
Art mad, or drunk with power, Monsieur the favourite of the Jacobins?
LALAIN
There’ll come a day when to be Jacobin Is something more, monsieur, than to be king!
DE VARDES
Indeed!
[_A Sergeant of Hussars appears on the terrace and salutes._
Sergeant!
THE SERGEANT
My Colonel!
DE VARDES
Well, your report.
THE SERGEANT
My Colonel, wood and shore we’ve searched since dawn, And twenty bitter rogues we’ve found, no less! They crouched behind the tall grey stones, or lay Prone in the furze, or knelt at Calvaries! Two women remain—
[_He stares at_ YVETTE _and_ SÉRAPHINE.
SÉRAPHINE
O Saint Thégonnec! Saint Guirec! Saint Servan!
YVETTE
O Our Lady!
_Enter_ THE ABBÉ.
THE ABBÉ
De Vardes, your precious peasants—
[_He sees_ YVETTE.
Who is here? The De Méricourt, the mænad, I swear! Who wounded De Vardes!
YVETTE
Oh!—
MME. DE VAUCOURT
The Egyptian!
SÉRAPHINE
Monseigneur, monseigneur, she’s none of mine!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
The poor girl!
SÉRAPHINE
Ah, mademoiselle, it is The innocentest creature!
THE ABBÉ (_touches_ YVETTE _upon the cheek_)
Good-morning, My dear!
COUNT LOUIS
Hm—m—m!—pretty!
THE VIDAME
Certainly the gallows Should be thirty feet high.
COUNT LOUIS
Hm—m—m! Something less, Monsieur le Vidame!
LALAIN
Diable!
DE VARDES (_to the sergeant_)
Where are your captives?
THE SERGEANT
My Colonel, I have them safely here! Ha! you within!
[_Enter from the hall of the château soldiers and huntsmen with peasants, men and women; some sullenly submissive, others struggling against their bonds. They crowd the terrace before the great doors. The guests of_ DE VARDES _to the right and left upon the terrace, the stairs, and in the garden_. YVETTE _and_ SÉRAPHINE _beside the statue_; LALAIN _near them_; DE VARDES _with his hand upon the great chair_.
MME. DE VAUCOURT
Oh, the brigands!
COUNT LOUIS (_rubbing his hands_)
Here, Sergeant, range them here, Upon the terrace! And take the great chair, De Vardes! Ma foi! We will teach them, the rogues! Monsieur l’Anglais, have you peasants at home Plague you at times?—Word of a gentleman! It seems like old days and Henri again!
[_The soldiers thrust their prisoners forward with the butts of their muskets._
A MAN
Monseigneur!
ANOTHER
Monseigneur!
A WOMAN
Madame la Marquise! My father was your father’s foster brother!
THE MARQUISE
Is that a reason you should burn châteaux?
A YOUNG WOMAN
Where’s Yvette Charruel?
YVETTE
Here, Angélique!
SÉRAPHINE (_aside to_ ANGÉLIQUE)
Of course! Betray the girl! I knew you would.
AN OLD WOMAN
Yvette said God would have mercy! I faint—
DE VARDES (_to_ GRÉGOIRE)
Give her wine!
A PEASANT
See! There is Rémond Lalain!
LALAIN
Patience, compatriot! Thursday I speak In the Jacobins!
ANGÉLIQUE
Ah, monseigneur! Ah, monseigneur, there’s she who led us here! There’s she who said the shadow of Morbec Blackened the land as sin blackens the soul!
THE GUESTS
Ah!—
ANGÉLIQUE
That same Yvette, who said, monseigneur, That delving the earth, the peasants of France In a long age had delved up a thought!
THE GUESTS
Ah!—
ANGÉLIQUE
She said that we were never born to starve! She said the seigneur’s dues were all _infâme_!
THE GUESTS
Ah!—
THE VIDAME
Burn the witch!
DE VARDES
Have you done?
ANGÉLIQUE
Monseigneur, She said the forest deer, the hare, the birds, Were just as much the peasant’s as the lord’s!
THE ENGLISHMAN
What? What?
ANGÉLIQUE
She said the saints they wished no tithes!
THE ABBÉ
I give her up!
ANGÉLIQUE
Monseigneur, monseigneur, She said that all our hope was the tricolour!
DE BUC
O lilies of Bourbon!
SÉRAPHINE (_to_ ANGÉLIQUE)
Thou little beast!
ANGÉLIQUE (_shrilly_)
Yvette said bitter hunger, cold, and want Came with _noblesse_ and with _noblesse_ would go! Yvette said the Queen was an Austrian! Yvette said the King was a fainéant! Yvette said the princes were traitors! Yvette said the armies would turn to us! Yvette heard the drums of the Republic!
THE GUESTS
Out!
COUNT LOUIS
Enough!
SÉRAPHINE
Thou hellicat!
A PEASANT
Monseigneur! Saint Yves le Véridique knows it is truth! She ever rings the tocsin in our hearts!
ANOTHER
Yvette Charruel!
A WOMAN
She led us here!
ANOTHER WOMAN
Yvette! Yvette Charruel!
ANGÉLIQUE
Yvette?—
[_Several of the women laugh._
DE VARDES
Why, you are all cowards!
SÉRAPHINE
So they are, monseigneur, so they are!
DE VARDES (_to the peasants_)
Who speaks for you?
[_A silence._
THE PEASANTS
Monseigneur—monseigneur—
[_They break off._ DE VARDES _stands waiting for them to speak, his hand upon the chair_.
AN OLD WOMAN
Yvette—
AN OLD MAN
Yvette—
THE PEASANTS
Monseigneur—
[_They break off. They make a sighing sound. The old woman begins to say her beads._
YVETTE
Monseigneur, They are so hungry! Monseigneur, ‘tis said You are a soldier and have been to war! Oh, to us all there comes one battle-field When we must look into a conqueror’s eyes! Think then upon that last dark plain and show Mercy to us who in the shadow stand! We are your enemies!
DE BUC
Faith of an officer! De Vardes—
YVETTE
The children are crying at home, Monseigneur!
A WOMAN
O Sainte Vierge, have pity!
YVETTE
With bowed heads the old men wait!
A WOMAN
Oh, my father!
YVETTE
The young men hear the ravens crying!
THE PEASANTS
Aie!—
YVETTE
The nets are dry, the red sails laid away, And all the boats lie idle by the shore.
A FISHERMAN
Star of the Sea! Pray for poor fisherfolk!
A PEASANT
I left my sickle in the standing corn.
YVETTE
The wheat must fall, the flax be gathered soon, Or else we’ll sing no songs in Morbihan!
THE PEASANTS
Aie! The songs of the _diskanerien_!
YVETTE
The hearths are cold and the wheels turn not, And Hunger sits on every doorstep!
THE PEASANTS
Aie!—
YVETTE
To-morrow is the Pardon of the Birds. The birds go free—the birds go free, monseigneur!
DE BUC
And so I swear should you!
THE PEASANTS
The birds go free!
A WOMAN
My little bird at home!
THE MARQUISE
Give her, monsieur, Another fan to break!
YVETTE
Not one of yours, Madame la Marquise!
DE VARDES (_to the sergeant_)
Give them liberty.
THE SERGEANT
My Colonel?
DE VARDES
Cut their bonds; set them free! Make way for them there! (_To the peasants._) Peasants of Morbec! Last night you rose against your lord and strove To burn his house, to slay his guest and him. How shall he speak to you to-day? Poor fools! Distraught and blind you struck ere that you looked, And struck at one who fain would be your friend, Who has his vision of a seigneur’s right! These are the towers of Morbec, but I Am not Baron Henri, blind that ye are! I am Baron René, remember my name. Bread you shall have, I will think of your wrongs. No foe am I! There are the open doors. Back to the village go! but look you well. Mistake no more, it will be dangerous! Creep not this way again in the dark night, Or you may meet an ancient Lord of Morbec! More loyal grow, cease all your traitorous talk, Raise not Rebellion’s head or it will find A soldier of the King with armèd heel! Mistake no more! This once I pardon you. Begone! The fields await you and the wind Sits fair for Quiberon! Begone. (_To_ YVETTE _and_ SÉRAPHINE.) Stay!
[_The peasants press in confusion toward the doors of the château._
THE PEASANTS
Live Baron René!
LALAIN
O Breton fools!—Yvette!
[YVETTE _does not answer. She looks at_ DE VARDES.
THE MARQUISE (_with strained laughter_)
High justice at Morbec!
THE VIDAME
Mille diables! The wretches all go free!
COUNT LOUIS
Is this Morbec? Mort de ma vie! What is it that you do, Monsieur le Baron de Morbec?
DE VARDES
My pleasure, Monsieur le Comte de Château-Gui, upon My peasants of Morbec!
_CURTAIN_
_ACT II_
_The garden of the Convent of the Visitation at Nantes. Long lines of fruit trees which appear to sleep in the sunshine. In the middle of the garden a stone fountain, where rises and falls a little jet of water. To the left the white buildings of the convent; in the background, between the convent and the street, a high garden wall, the tops of trees, and the roof and spire of a church. There is a barred door in the wall. The doors and windows of the convent parlour giving upon the garden are open. It is the summer of 1792._
_A nun appears for a moment at the door of the convent, then vanishes, and_ DE VARDES _and_ YVETTE _enter the garden_.
DE VARDES
What hast thou learned to-day?
YVETTE
In history: The battles of Rossbach and of Minden! The Peace of Paris—
DE VARDES
Indeed!
YVETTE
Philosophy: Man is born free—but who will break his chains?
DE VARDES
It is a question truly!
YVETTE
Theology: God is the father of us all—and yet I think I know how feels an orphan child!
DE VARDES
Defeat of France, Rousseau, and Modern Doubt! And hast thou learnt all this in convent walls?
YVETTE
No!
DE VARDES
They are good to thee, the Sisters all?
YVETTE
Monseigneur, yes!
DE VARDES
When I did place thee here After that day thou didst not burn Morbec! I gave the Reverend Mother straitest charge,— This convent oweth much to the De Vardes. They have enriched it oft, and it in turn Refuge hath given unto noble dames. Oft did she sit beside the fountain there, That Duchess Jeanne whose look thou wearest now!
YVETTE
Oh!—
DE VARDES
How mournfully thou sighest! Yet How glorious are thine eyes this lovely day! Thou’rt well, and thou art happy, art thou not?
YVETTE
There is no hunger here, no cold, no care! I ever wished to learn and here I learn, Here where the Duchess Jeanne did sit forlorn,— And then I pray within the chapel there, And then I count the stars as they are lit,— And then I think of all the lights of Nantes!
DE VARDES
It hath been many days I’ve been away, To Morbec and to Vannes and to Vitré.
YVETTE
I thought that thou wouldst never come again!
DE VARDES
Didst think the night had ceased to long for day? Didst think the tide no more obeyed the moon? The reed no longer bowed unto the wind?
YVETTE
Ah, do not jest!—There’s blood upon thy coat!
DE VARDES
‘Tis nothing!—We have had hard words to-day, My men and I!
[_He gazes around at the quiet garden._
O holy peace! O balm! O green and sunny quietude! Outside There’s tumult, heat, confusion, enmity! Here is a haven, here ‘tis blissful sweet!
[_They sit upon the marge of the fountain._
All is dismay and doubt in France to-day. With troubled eyes men question destiny! Outside I front the storm as best I may, But here is anchorage profound and fair— There fruit trees drifting bloom, this fountain marge!
YVETTE
I better love the wild and desolate shore!
DE VARDES
What is that ribbon closed within thy hand?
[_Yvette opens her hand and shows a ribbon cockade._
The tricolour!
YVETTE
Wilt thou not wear it?
DE VARDES
No!
YVETTE
It was my favour—Fare you well, monsieur!
DE VARDES
I might not wear that ribbon, no, not if It were thy favour truly, Vivien! Ah, when will cease this discord of our minds? Wilt thou forever be a Jacobin?
[_A distant bugle, followed by a roll of drums and martial music._
YVETTE
_Aux armes, Citoyens! Formez vos bataillons!_
DE VARDES
Where learned’st thou the Marseillaise?
YVETTE
‘Tis in the air! Oh, on these moonlight nights I dream of France and how he spoke to me Of all the wrongs of France we should redress!
DE VARDES
Who spoke to thee?
YVETTE
Rémond Lalain.
DE VARDES
Rémond Lalain was once my closest friend. He travels now a dark and winding way!
YVETTE
Where is she now, that lady bright and fair Who’s named La Belle Marquise in Morbihan?
DE VARDES
She is in Nantes.
YVETTE
Ah!—Is she not fair?
DE VARDES
Most fair.
YVETTE
And nobly born?
DE VARDES
And nobly born.
YVETTE
Alas!
_Enter_ SISTER BENEDICTA.
SISTER BENEDICTA
Monsieur le Baron de Morbec,— A courier, in haste, foam-flecked and spent, Demands to speak with you.
DE VARDES
What tidings now? Ill news like ravens to a cumbered field! I come, my Sister! (_To_ Yvette.) I’ll return.
[_Exeunt_ DE VARDES _and_ SISTER BENEDICTA.
YVETTE
Alas! She is in Nantes! He sees her every day. What is this pain that’s tearing at my heart?
[_Laughing voices of young girls. Enter from the convent_ SISTER FIDELIS _and_ SISTER SIMPLICIA _with a cluster of young girls, pupils of the nuns or refugees from Royalist families. They seat themselves upon the wide steps of the fountain._ YVETTE _leans against the basin and plays in the water with her hand_.
A YOUNG GIRL (_to_ YVETTE)
We’re telling stories!
ANOTHER
Finish thine, Louise!
LOUISE
‘Tis told. The beau prince wed the belle princesse, And they lived happily ever after!
A YOUNG GIRL
Whose turn now?
ANOTHER
Tell us a story, Yvette!
YVETTE (_turning from the fountain_)
_Beneath the halfway tree, ‘Tween Josselin and Pontivy, Suddenly, out of the dark, I heard a grey wolf bark! Hoée! Hoée! Hoée!_
_The snow was on the ground, The shadows all around, Laid a finger on my lip, As I stood, hand on hip, Listening the grey wolf bark. Hoée! Hoée! Hoée! Beneath the halfway tree, ‘Tween Josselin and Pontivy!_
_A little child came by. “Yvette, the wolf is nigh! Yvette, take thou me up, I’ve neither bite nor sup!” Hoée! Hoée! Hoée!_
_The child came to my arm. He was so fair and warm! The child came to my arm, I kept him safe from harm! Hoée! Hoée! Hoée!_
_A light grew round his head, I felt all cheered and fed. “Yvette, have thou no fear! Who giveth aid, to me is dear!” Hoée! Hoée! Hoée! The child no longer pressed, White snow lay on my breast!_
_The grey wolf ran away, Hoée! Hoée! Hoée! There broke a splendid day, Beneath the halfway tree, ‘Tween Josselin and Pontivy!_
SISTER FIDELIS
A miracle?
YVETTE
I do not know.
A YOUNG GIRL
I liked best The beau prince and the belle princesse.
ANOTHER GIRL
Oh, Thou’rt an Aristocrat!
[_The young girls return to their embroidery._ YVETTE _plays in the water of the fountain with her hand_.
YVETTE
Gold fish, gold fish, How are the fish of Quiberon?
A YOUNG GIRL
Were I A fairy prince, then my princess should be Madame la Marquise de Blanchefôret!
ANOTHER
If I Were a princess, I would have for my prince Monsieur le Baron de Morbec.
[YVETTE _turns from the fountain_.
A THIRD GIRL
They say That in all France there’s none more brave than he! And far and near she’s called La Belle Marquise! A little while and there’ll a wedding be!
THE FIRST
But then, the poor Yvette! He is, you know, Her prince!
[_They laugh._
YVETTE
Oh, mockery!
SISTER FIDELIS
Hush, children, hush! Monsieur le Baron is her benefactor!
SISTER SIMPLICIA
He plucked her from the dreadful world outside!
SISTER FIDELIS
He placed her here beneath Our Lady’s care.
SISTER SIMPLICIA
In everything he is her truest friend!
SISTER FIDELIS
But for his condescension, ah, who knows What in these fearful days might be her lot! Here in this fold she’s safe.
YVETTE (_aside_)
Alas! alas!
A YOUNG GIRL
Oh, she is fairer than the fairy queen! Clarice de Miramand and Blanchefôret!
YVETTE (_aside_)
Is she so fair? Is she so fair indeed? I broke her fan—now she will break my heart!
A YOUNG GIRL
He is a knight like Lancelot!
YVETTE
Oh me! She is the Queen, she is that Guinevere!
[_Distant music. The noise of footsteps and voices in the street beyond the wall._
A YOUNG GIRL
Oh, outside the wall what is there passing?
SISTER FIDELIS (_severely_)
We have nothing to do with outside the wall.
A YOUNG GIRL (_indicating the door in the wall_)
Might we open the door a little way?
SISTER FIDELIS
The blessed saints forbid!
[_From the street are heard the drums and fifes of passing National troops. The bayonets of the soldiers are visible above the wall._
VOICES (_in the street_)
_Allons, enfants de la patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrivé!_
A YOUNG GIRL
Oh, soldiers!
ANOTHER
Were the wall only down!
[_The circle about the fountain breaks. The young girls walk up and down beneath the trees. The Sisters watch them from a garden bench. The music dies away._ YVETTE _sits upon the stone marge of the fountain_.
YVETTE
What is this pain that’s tearing at my heart? What matters it to me whom he doth love? And what concern of mine that she is fair? I would she were not so!—Oh, misery! She is in Nantes, she is La Belle Marquise! I would that she were dead!
[_The chapel bell rings._
O Seigneur Dieu! Her death! I do not wish her death! Not I! O Our Lady! let not ill thoughts possess me! I would I were at Morbec this still eve, Herding the cows amid the golden broom, Above a sea of glass without a wind, As stagnant calm as is this prisoned water! I would gather the musk rose in the lane, I would tread the wet sand and count the ships, My brow would not burn, my heart would not ache, No tears from my eyes would I wipe away! Why should they not fall like the winter rain? I am the herd girl here as at Morbec, And she’s a great lady, loved for herself! O love! is it love that stifles me so? O love! is it love that makes me weep? I thought that love was all splendour and light, The bow in the sky, the bird at its height, The glory and state of an angel bright! What is this pain that burdens all my heart?
[_She bows her head upon her knees. The hum of the street deepens to a continuous and sinister sound. In the distance a roll of drums._ YVETTE _raises her head_.
I sit by this fountain, he’ll not return! He cares not for me,—he’s the Sieur de Morbec, And I a herd girl wandering through his fields! Mother, my mother, did you sit and wait, By the wild sea rim on a glowing eve, Mid the brown seaweed on the shining sands? Your heart did it beat, and your senses swim?— But your lover, the fisher, he came, he came!
[_The voice of the street deepens._
I will not have this pain! I’ll tear it out!
[_Her hand touches the purple mark on her throat._
Ha! how burns this hateful mark to-day!
[_There comes from the church towers of Nantes a sudden and violent crash of bells._
SISTER FIDELIS (_rising_)
The tocsin!
THE YOUNG GIRLS (_They flutter forward to the fountain_)
The tocsin! Oh, the tocsin! Like a hive of bees hums the street without!
YVETTE
Oh, all ye iron bells! ring on! ring on!
_Enter_ MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI _and_ SISTER BENEDICTA.
THE YOUNG GIRLS
Here is Mademoiselle de Château-Gui! She’ll tell us why the bells are ringing!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
O Ciel! Would you believe it? O blessed saints above! The country is in danger!
A YOUNG GIRL
Oh! we thought You brought us news!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI (_joyously_)
Do you not hear the bells? Oh, such a day outside! It is proclaimed! _La patrie est en danger!_
[_Distant trumpets._
Well you may wail, You brazen trumpets of the Revolution! The Duke of Brunswick he is marching now, And with him all our nobles back from Coblentz! O bliss! _La patrie est en danger!_
SISTER FIDELIS
Oh, hush! The very walls have ears!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
My father says The King shall have his own again, and all Will go as merry as a wedding bell! _La patrie est en danger!_
_Enter_ COUNT LOUIS, MELIPARS DE L’ORIENT, _and the_ ABBÉ DE BARBASAN.
Oh, here are My father and Monsieur de L’Orient!
DE L’ORIENT
So sweet the flowers here—
COUNT LOUIS (_to the young girls_)
Mesdemoiselles, One garden of rosebuds time hath not touched! (_To the Sisters._) In your prayers, my Sisters, name Château-Gui!
[_The young girls curtesy, then exeunt between the trees._ YVETTE _remains beside the fountain_. COUNT LOUIS _looks at her through his glass_.
Ha!
DE L’ORIENT
The herd girl of Morbec!
COUNT LOUIS
I have eyes, De L’Orient!
THE ABBÉ
Hm!—Fair child!
YVETTE (_coldly_)
Citoyen!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Monsieur de L’Orient, you promised me My father should not walk abroad to-day!
DE L’ORIENT
What could I do? He is so young and rash!
COUNT LOUIS (_taking snuff_)
‘Tis true that Nantes is dangerous to-day To all save those wild beasts the sans-culottes! But that’s no reason I should stay at home. Where is De Vardes? His man said he was here. It is his wont, pardieu!
SISTER FIDELIS
Monsieur le Comte, Monsieur the Baron of Morbec did come To see that all was well with this our charge— A peasant girl, monsieur, whom he did save From cold and hunger and ill company. But now she prospers and we think that he Will come no more.
YVETTE
Jesu Maria!
COUNT LOUIS (_with satisfaction_)
Ma foi! He is a soldier is De Vardes! He camps One day beside the hedgerow in the field! The next he’s for some royal mount of love, High as the snow and splendid in the sun! Since he’s not here I know where else he is!
DE L’ORIENT (_sings_)
_Mignonne, Mignonne! Kiss me, rose of to-day!_
YVETTE
O heart! O world! O hedgerow in the field!
COUNT LOUIS
Well, well, her mother was as fair as she! Clarice de Miramand, long-dead Clarice! Her hair was golden too.—Old times, old times! And now it is De Vardes and the Marquise!
[COUNT LOUIS, MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI, _and_ DE L’ORIENT _walk up and down beneath the trees_. DE L’ORIENT _sings_.
DE L’ORIENT
_Mignonne, Mignonne! The red rose fades away! Mignonne, Mignonne! The white rose will not stay!_
THE ABBÉ
My dear, that is a pretty wrist of thine!
YVETTE
Citoyen!
THE ABBÉ
Hast said thy rosary to-day?
YVETTE
Citoyen!
THE ABBÉ
A melting eye!
YVETTE
Citoyen!
THE ABBÉ
Dame! She is only good to burn châteaux!
[_He joins_ COUNT LOUIS, _etc. They walk and talk beneath the trees._
YVETTE
The high of heart bide no man’s scorning! I Will break these bonds! I will be free! I will! O royal mount of love, snow-high, sun-kissed, Kissed by the sun which once did shine on me! If I am of the fields—
[_Her hand touches the mark upon her throat. She laughs._
O hated flower, Which grew beneath no hedgerow on this earth! Teach me, thou poison blossom, pride of heart! Where is that Duchess Jeanne whom I am like? They say for love her heart did rive in twain, But now she smiles beside a shadowy stream In some far land where none do die of love! And where is he, Jehan the fisherman, Who loved Yvonne, who met the sea and died? They died for love who should have lived for hate! I’ll live—
_Enter_ DE VARDES. COUNT LOUIS, _etc., come forward_.
Oh, here’s the soldier! Now we’ll know How blow the winds around the camp of love!
COUNT LOUIS
What is it, René de Vardes? What is it, man?
DE VARDES
The King hath left the Tuileries! The mob Forced the château and put his life in danger. The Swiss are murdered, cut down to a man! The Grenadiers joined with the Marseillaise! De Maillé writes—the courier’s just arrived— All is distraction, danger, and despair!
SISTER FIDELIS
Alas!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
O Ciel!
THE ABBÉ
The soldiers in revolt.
DE L’ORIENT
The Swiss all murdered—the stanch Swiss!
SISTER SIMPLICIA
Alas!
COUNT LOUIS
The King hath left the Tuileries!
DE VARDES
To-night I ride to Paris.
YVETTE
O God!
THE ABBÉ
To Paris! As well say that you ride to death, De Vardes!
COUNT LOUIS
Ah, were I young again, I’d ride with you!
SISTER FIDELIS
Alas, they say it is a fearful place!
SISTER SIMPLICIA
It is so safe in Nantes!
DE VARDES
Ah, my Sister, Because it is so safe in Nantes I go! Once I did love this people; once I thought Beyond this Revolution lay the morn, The dewy morn of a most noble day! It may be so; I know not; but I am A soldier of the King. Needs must I go, My bugles call; I’m breaking camp. Farewell!
SISTER FIDELIS
You will return.
DE VARDES
If I’m in life I will!
YVETTE
O Our Lady! O Our Lady!
[_The noise in the street increases. The tocsin rings. The sky begins to darken before an approaching storm._
COUNT LOUIS
Ring on! Ye bells! ring on to the deaf sky! O France, Of old thou wast a pleasant land and free, In palace and in field a courteous place! Now thou art desolate! Come, Austria, come! Come, D’Artois, come, Brunswick, and come, Provence! Rend the tricolour from the breast of France And plant the fleur-de-lis where stood the Jacobins!
VOICES (_from the street_)
_Quoi! ces cohortes étrangères Feraient la loi dans nos foyers!_
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Hast said farewell to the Marquise?
DE VARDES
Not yet, As far as Vannes I ride beside her coach.
YVETTE
Oh!—
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Soon or late, she’ll draw you back to Nantes! Now will she not?
DE VARDES (_smiling_)
Perhaps.
YVETTE
Jesu Maria!
SISTER FIDELIS
Monsieur, if you must go, oh, rest you sure Jealously will we guard and spotless keep The soul you stooped and drew from the foul mire!— Yvette, come make your reverence to your lord!
YVETTE
I kiss your hand, monseigneur!
THE ABBÉ
There will be A storm to-night!
COUNT LOUIS
Come, come, René de Vardes! I’d see the courier who brought this news!
DE VARDES
I’ll follow you, Monsieur le Comte!
[_Exeunt_ COUNT LOUIS, _his daughter_, DE L’ORIENT, THE ABBÉ, _and the Sisters_.
YVETTE
Wilt thou go?
DE VARDES
I must.
YVETTE
Why must thou go? To-day the kingdom fell! Oh, in the dust Of old things let it rest for evermore! Take up the Revolution!
[_Lightning._
Oh, see! The flaming sword before the gates of Eden! Thou’rt safe within the garden! Go not forth. Go not to Paris! Stay in Nantes, ah, stay! Wear the tricolour—
[_Thunder._
Hark! It is the voice, The menacing voice of the Republic! It threatens thee, it threatens all who pass That flaming sword, to lift the thing that was And is not any more! Oh, let it lie!— Thou’lt not to Paris?
DE VARDES
To-night, Citoyenne! Ah, thou art skilful at betraying!
YVETTE
Quoi!
_Enter_ SISTER BENEDICTA.
SISTER BENEDICTA
Monsieur le Baron de Morbec, the page Of Madame la Marquise de Blanchefôret Attends—
YVETTE
Name of a name!
THE ABBÉ (_appearing in the door behind_ _Sister Benedicta_)
De Vardes, De Vardes! You gather the furze while the red rose waits!
DE VARDES
At once, my Sister!
(_To_ YVETTE.) Ah, not in anger, Must thou and I part for this little while! If I’m in life I will return, be sure, To Nantes and all this garden loveliness, Those fruit trees and this fountain!—Fare thee well. The nuns will care for thee; I’ve ordered all. Too fierce of aspect is the world without! Here is fair peace, security, and calm; Here thou art fenced from storm and violence. Abide thou here until I come again!
[_Lightning._
YVETTE
The flaming sword!
DE VARDES
Hearest thou not, Yvette, How sings the lark in Paimpont Wood to-day?
YVETTE
I hear the dirge of the salt sea!
DE VARDES
And there, Seest thou not through yonder trees the stone, The Druid Stone where thou didst lie in sleep?
YVETTE
I see a broken fan!
DE VARDES
Abide thou here And dream of Paimpont Wood until I come. I too will dream, I too will dream, Yvette!
YVETTE
Is not Clarice a lovely name?
DE VARDES
Why, yes, A very lovely name.—Farewell, farewell! I’ll see thy face, be sure, this very night, Upon the road before me as I ride.
YVETTE
Oh, fare you well beneath the silver moon As slow you ride beside a lady’s coach, Discoursing of the dazzling, snowy heights! I kiss your hand, monseigneur! Fare you well!
[THE ABBÉ’S _voice is heard from the doorway_.
THE ABBÉ
De Vardes! De Vardes!
DE VARDES
I come!
THE ABBÉ
The rose awaits!—
YVETTE
It is too much!
DE VARDES
Farewell, thou spirit of Paimpont!
[_Distant music._
YVETTE
Ah, ah! ‘tis worth all else—the Marseillaise!
DE VARDES
My Duchess Jeanne—
YVETTE
She is dead: cold and dead!
_Aux armes, Citoyens! Formez vos bataillons!_
DE VARDES
Perverse and strange!
YVETTE
I’ll to my beads. Adieu!
_Over Ys, the sunken town, When thou sailest look not down, Mariner, mariner!_
DE VARDES
What wine hast thou drunken?
YVETTE
An old wine—
_For there dwells a fairy there Will drag thee down by the long hair, Mariner, mariner!_
DE VARDES
Oh, thou art too wilful!
THE ABBÉ
De Vardes! De Vardes!
YVETTE (_to the fish in the fountain_)
Gold fish, gold fish, how are the fish of Quiberon?
DE VARDES
Thou sullen witch, adieu!
[_Exit_ DE VARDES.
YVETTE
Monseigneur! ah! He’s gone! He’s gone to meet the fairy queen! He’s for the roses and the dazzling peaks! The seaweed and the furze he’s left behind! He’s left the storm, he’s left the storm and me!
[_The convent bell rings._
Toll, toll! as though thou’d toll my soul away! Thou canst not toll him back! Oh, woe is me!
[_The nuns sing in the chapel._
VOICES
_O salutaris Hostia! Quae coeli pandis ostium: Bella premunt hostilia, Da robur fer auxilium!_
[_Above the wall where it is shadowed by a fruit tree, appear the head and shoulders of_ LALAIN. _He draws himself up to the coping, watches_ YVETTE _for a moment, then swings himself down to the garden. He has a rose in his hand._
YVETTE
Where is the sunshine gone? Where is the gold? It was a lovely day! ‘Tis cold and dead; No light, no warmth, no cheer!—Oh, presently Those two will take the summer road to Vannes! Ha! does he think that I will meekly stay Within this convent close, will kneel and pray, Day in, day out, for all true lovers’ weal? What is there now to do?—O Jealousy! I dream of Paimpont Wood in June! I’ll dream Of sunlit peaks, of roses named Clarice; I’ll dream of furze that’s set about with thorns And clings unto the common earth which bore it!
[_A roll of thunder._
On, on! It suits my mood, the crashing sound!— Jehan the fisherman! rise from the sea, Lay thy cold hand upon the heart of her Who’s not thy child, and teach her how to hate! Yvonne who parted from the earth one night, Come through the storm that darkens overhead And teach thy daughter how to hate! Thou too, Thou other one, thou seigneur high and grand Whose signet burns upon my aching throat, Whose nature stirs within me suddenly, Arise from hell and teach me how to hate!
[_Thunder._
VOICES FROM THE CHAPEL
_Tantum ergo sacramentum Veneremur cernui_—
YVETTE
O Our Lady! O Our Lady! O Our Lady!
[LALAIN _throws the rose. It falls beside_ YVETTE.
Oh!—
[_She raises the flower to her lips._ LALAIN _comes forward_.
Thou! I thought it was—I thought it was. Go! No rose of thine would I have kissed, Rémond Lalain!
[_With a wild petulance she throws down the flower and treads upon it._
LALAIN
Now for that deed of thine I will not spare him when the day is mine!
YVETTE
Of whom speakest thou?
LALAIN
The Citoyen Vardes.
YVETTE
Let him be!
LALAIN
The Citoyenne Blanchefôret.
YVETTE
Again!
LALAIN
‘Tis said the two will shortly wed— A fitting match!—She’s fair and nobly born. Thou mightst have seen, thou mightst have seen last night, Walking by moonlight beside the Loire, A lady the fairest and a great lord!
YVETTE
Say’st thou?
LALAIN
Beneath the trees, beside the flood, Toying and whispering, the sword and fan!
YVETTE
Out and alas! Begone, thou torturer!
LALAIN
Oh, those old days when by the shore we walked While sank the sun beneath the emerald waves, And wild sea birds flashed all their silver wings, And long we talked of France and liberty! How thou art tamed, Yvette, Yvette Charruel! Thou carest not now for France and liberty!
YVETTE
It is not true! Thou knowest that I care!
LALAIN
This sultry night I speak to patriot hearts Of War, Dumouriez, Brunswick, Capet! All Nantes will throng to hear me where I stand, In the Church of Saint Jean, who’s now become, From crypt to spire, one mighty Jacobin! High in the gilt tribune beneath the roof, The starry roof where the archangels live! Faces me Michael with his flaming sword, And Raphael watches me with widened eyes, And Gabriel frowns between his splendid wings Because there’s no more incense! When I speak, The painted walls all vanish like a mist! On distant plains the drum begins to beat, The great dome lifts—above the angel heads I see the stars—
YVETTE
There are no stars to-night!
LALAIN
There are! There are! Eternally they shine Beyond this din, beyond these sulphurous clouds! And there’s a stairway, red and white and blue, By which to climb to some most famous star Of glory and of love! Yvette! Yvette! Climb thou with me unto that golden star!
YVETTE
Rémond Lalain—
LALAIN
Come thou with me, Yvette! Come thou with me from out this sluggish place! Come thou with me into the furious storm! What dost thou here, thou spirit of the wind, Restless, with deep eyes and with parted lips? Thou knowest thou hast naught to do with holy things. Tear off that white headdress! Red is thy colour!
YVETTE
Ay, red is my colour!
LALAIN
Last night, the while I spake of War and all the place was still, A sudden vision blazed above the lights— I saw thee dance the Carmagnole!
YVETTE
Now, now! What whispers he to her upon the road?
LALAIN
To-night—ah, should I raise my eyes to-night And see thee smiling there, Yvette, Yvette! Beside thy sisters in the galleries! Upon thy twilight hair the bonnet-rouge, At thy small waist a pistol and a dirk— Only the Revolution in thy soul And in thy heart my name, my name, Yvette!
[_Thunder._
It thunders now, but ‘twill be clear to-night. The moon will shine, the roads will all be white.
YVETTE
The roads will all be white, the moon will shine, The poplars quiver and the eglantine, The broom and honeysuckle will be sweet, Upon the road to Vannes—
[_Lightning and thunder._ LALAIN _walks to the door in the wall, tries it, then with a stone from the ground beats back the rusty bolt_.
LALAIN
An easy door!
YVETTE
The moon will shine—
LALAIN
I’ll go this way, ma foi! Not by the wall!
YVETTE
The silver poplars sway!
LALAIN
René de Vardes, once I did call thee friend And took a deal of pride in that possession! How runs the world away! ‘Twas long ago!
YVETTE
Ah, ah, that fearful dream I had last night! And while I dreamed they walked beside the Loire!
LALAIN
This night he rides away. Didst know?
YVETTE
I knew!
LALAIN
He’s said farewell to thee, but not to her!
YVETTE
Wilt thou begone!
LALAIN
Ay, through this door, Yvette! ‘Tis easy, as thou seest. And ah, to-night— The storm o’er past and shining bright the moon And the cold nuns all telling o’er their beads, How simple ‘twere—O priceless liberty! Thou wouldst not be the only one, I trow, Who may not walk beside the silver Loire!
YVETTE
Name of a name!
LALAIN
Adieu, adieu! To-night I’ll see thee sitting in the galleries—
[_Exit_ LALAIN.
YVETTE
Ah, how the thunder shakes the air!
[_She moves to the door in the wall and replaces the bolt, then returns to the fountain._
‘Tis so! He is her lover! Oh, he loves her true!— What will they say and whisper all the night Through light and shadow on the road to Vannes? Despair!—But I’ll not stay within these walls!
[_Knocking at the door in the wall._ YVETTE _crosses the stage to the door_.
Who is there?
SÉRAPHINE (_within_)
Yvette! Yvette!
YVETTE
Séraphine!
SÉRAPHINE (_within_)
And Nanon too!
YVETTE
The deputy’s sister!
NANON
Let us in!
YVETTE
I dare not.
SÉRAPHINE
What!
YVETTE
Wait: I dare!
[_She draws the bolts. The door opens. Enter_ SÉRAPHINE _and_ NANON. _The former is dressed in complete carmagnole: short skirt, rolled-up sleeves, sash of tricolour, and a bonnet-rouge. Pistols at her belt._ NANON _is more soberly attired but wears the bonnet-rouge. The door closes behind them._
Séraphine!
SÉRAPHINE
Chérie!
YVETTE
Nanon!
NANON
Dear Yvette!
YVETTE
How gay you are! What of the Revolution?
SÉRAPHINE
It goes.
NANON
It goes well.
SÉRAPHINE
We have a new song! Faith! ‘Tis a greater song than _Ça Ira_!
YVETTE (_sings_)
_Aux armes, Citoyens! Formez vos bataillons!_
SÉRAPHINE
That’s it!
NANON (_looking about her_)
So very triste it is in here!
SÉRAPHINE
So gay outside! All Nantes is dressed in red! There’s a procession, and then to-night We sit in the galleries to hear Lalain!
[_Distant music._
Hark to the fife! _Formez vos bataillons!_— And your feet keep not time to the music!
YVETTE
But my heart, Séraphine, my heart keeps time.
SÉRAPHINE
Ho! Your heart is in barracks, says Céleste.
YVETTE
Céleste!
NANON
And Angélique.
YVETTE
Angélique!
SÉRAPHINE
Faith!
Angélique is in feather now you’re gone! Cries _Vive la République!_ here in Nantes. Rides on the cannon and handles a pike; Thinks she’s in Paris and plays Théroigne, And high from the galleries applauds Lalain!
NANON
He thinks not of her; he thinks of Yvette!
YVETTE
I care not of whom he thinks!
SÉRAPHINE
On a fête day, In a car triumphal see her appear! Dressed like a goddess just down from the skies, All crowned with green oak leaves, borne shoulder high—
YVETTE
Angélique!
SÉRAPHINE (_nodding_)
Ah, you see you are not there! But between you and me, red does not become her!
YVETTE
I should think not!—little blonde!
SÉRAPHINE
Ah, but red Becomes you!
YVETTE
Yes!
SÉRAPHINE
Monseigneur’s gone from Nantes. Yes, faith! I saw him ride away—
YVETTE
He’s gone! Rememb’rest thou that lady fair and proud, Madame la Marquise de Blanchefôret?
SÉRAPHINE
Ho! (_To_ NANON.) Rememb’rest thou the Citoyenne Blanchefôret?
NANON
The proud piece! We are mire beneath her feet! Last eve her coach threw mud upon my gown! Let her beware! One day she’ll walk afoot. Let her beware! And let him too beware Who rode last eve beside her golden coach!
YVETTE
Ha, ha! ha, ha!
[_Music and voices in the street. Impatient knocking at the door in the wall._
VOICES
Holà, Aristocrats! Nanon! Séraphine!
NANON
Our friends await us.
SÉRAPHINE
We have business with the smith upon the quai, Where by the old dovecot he fashions pikes!
VOICES
_Allons, enfants de la patrie!_
NANON
Come, come away! We’ll leave the nun alone To say her beads for black Aristocrats! How triste to be for aye in prison here!
YVETTE (_angrily_)
Prison! I am no prisoner, I!
NANON
Then come with us into the merry streets!
SÉRAPHINE
‘Twill be a heavy storm—all are within. How easy ‘twere to slip away with us!
YVETTE
No, no!
VOICES
Citoyennes! Citoyennes!
NANON
Ma’m’selle!
YVETTE
Ma’m’selle!
NANON
Aristocrat!
YVETTE
Aristocrat!
SÉRAPHINE
Well—kept by an Aristocrat—
YVETTE
You lie.
SÉRAPHINE (_angrily_)
Saint Yves! I lie! Do I? O Seigneur Dieu! This is Yvette, the herd girl of Morbec! This is Yvette, the daughter of Yvonne! This is that same Yvette who swore one day That rather would she meet the blight of hell Than take one favour from a seigneur’s hand! Once you were hungry! Go you hungry now? You went in rags. Where is your ragged gown? Barefoot—what’s that about that throat of thine? I swear it is a jewel!—and we pine For bread, we women of the Revolution!
[YVETTE _unclasps the jewel from her neck and lets it fall_.
I lie, do I? Diable! Just prove I lie! This night we make a little noise in Nantes Shall show Aristocrats who is in danger! Lalain will speak and all the bells will ring, And Angélique will deck herself in red! Steal through yon door, be of us evermore! I lie, do I? Then show me that I lie!
YVETTE
In Nantes where do you lodge?
SÉRAPHINE
With Angélique Under the Lanterne, Sign of the Hour Glass.
VOICES
Nanon! Nanon! You are missing the sights!
[_Distant music._
OTHER VOICES
_Allons, enfants de la patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrivé!_
NANON
Come, come away!
[SÉRAPHINE _unbars the door in the wall. It swings open_.
SÉRAPHINE
Faith! One can see the Loire! ‘Tis fine to walk beside it ‘neath the moon!
YVETTE
Oh!—
VOICES
_Tremblez, tyrans! et vous perfides_,—
NANON
Away! Away!
YVETTE
I’ll go—I’ll go with you. Ye fruit trees and thou fountain, fare ye well!
[_Exeunt_ YVETTE, SÉRAPHINE, NANON. _The door swings to. Lightning and thunder._ SISTER FIDELIS _appears in the convent door_.
VOICES (_dying away_)
_Aux armes, Citoyens! Formez vos bataillons!_
_CURTAIN_
_ACT III_
_A square in Nantes. On the left the deep porch of a church with pillars. To the right and in the background, a perspective of streets with tall, many-windowed houses. Opposite the church a great plaster statue of Liberty. Over the church door is written in white lettering: “The Republic One and Indivisible. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity or Death. National Property.” A distant view of the Loire. Men and women in holiday garb, wearing liberty caps and great tricoloured cockades, cross and recross the square. Life, movement, colour. Red the dominant note. It is the year 1794._
_Hoarse voices within. Hawkers of Revolutionary journals cross the square._
A HAWKER
_Le Journal des Jacobins!_
ANOTHER
_Le Discours De la Lanterne!_
_Enter_ GRÉGOIRE.
A THIRD
_L’Orateur du Peuple!_
A FOURTH
_Le père Duchesne! Le Père Duchesne!_
GRÉGOIRE (_stopping him_)
Here!—
[_He buys a paper._
And what to-day says Père Duchesne?
THE HAWKER
He says That Paris envies Nantes her Carrier!
GRÉGOIRE
Humph!
A HAWKER
_La Bouche de Fer!_
ANOTHER
_Les Actes des Apôtres!_
A CITIZEN
I’ll buy the _Actes_.
ANOTHER
I’ll buy the _Bouche de Fer_.
[_Enter a man with a long brush and a pot of paste. He proceeds to cover the wooden base of the Statue of Liberty with placards._
THE CROWD
The placards! The placards!
A BRETON SAILOR
I cannot read!
[_He catches by the arm a man in a long cloak, with a broad hat pulled low over his face._
Prithee, Citizen, what says the placard?
THE MAN IN THE CLOAK
It says Duport is dead; Biron is dead; Barnave is dead.
THE CROWD
Ha, ha! Biron! Barnave!
A MAN
Through the little window they’ve looked at last! _À bas les Aristocrats! Vive la Guillotine!_
ANOTHER
Ah, here in Nantes we drown them in the Loire!
THE CROWD
_Vive Carrier! Vive Lambertye! Vive Lalain!_
[_The man with the brush affixes a second placard._
THE BRETON
And this, Citizen?
THE MAN IN THE CLOAK
D’Alleray is dead; Bailly is dead; Du Barry is dead.
THE CROWD
Ha!
A WOMAN
Ho! ho! The courtesan, she’ll kiss no more!
THE CROWD
She’ll kiss no more!
[_The man with the brush affixes the third placard._
THE BRETON
And this one, Citizen?
THE MAN IN THE CLOAK (_reads_)
_The Republic One and Indivisible. It is Decreed There is no God. To-day we worship Reason._
[_The crowd applauds._
A MAN
In a red mantle!
ANOTHER
That’s the Paris Reason! Our Reason wears blue.
A THIRD
And oak leaves in her hair.
THE BRETON
Is Reason truly a woman?
THE MAN IN THE CLOAK
God knows!
A MAN
Ha! he says God! God is a word forbid!
THE MAN IN THE CLOAK
Then Reason knows.
A MAN
That’s better.
[_Singing within. A band of dancers, men and women, whirl into the square._
THE CROWD
Carmagnole!
THE DANCERS
_Dansons la Carmagnole! Vive le son, vive le son! Dansons la Carmagnole! Vive le son du canon!_
[_The crowd breaks and joins the dancers. They take hands and with uncouth and extravagant gestures circle once or twice around the statue, then with a long cry exeunt._
A WOMAN
The great procession forms upon the quai!
ANOTHER
It winds and winds about and comes this way!
[_Exeunt men and women._ GRÉGOIRE _and the man in the cloak remain_.
GRÉGOIRE
The priests are gone. It is Reason’s fête day.
THE MAN IN THE CLOAK
Reason, being a woman, will have her way.
GRÉGOIRE
Still, Monsieur l’Abbé—
THE ABBÉ
I am known!
GRÉGOIRE
To serve Monsieur, I had the honour at Morbec.
THE ABBÉ
Monsieur le Baron’s seneschal, I think.
GRÉGOIRE
The same,—but I am gaoler now in Nantes.
THE ABBÉ
That night in June your musket would not fire! Diable! I’ve played and lost! Well, fellow?
GRÉGOIRE
Hein?
THE ABBÉ
The wind blows cold in Nantes, and so I wear This cloak! So long I’ve looked on fires of hell I needs must have a hat to shade my eyes!— But now I’ll cock it in the face of all— Cold, wind, darkness, devils, and Republic!
GRÉGOIRE
I think the citizen has lost his head.
THE ABBÉ
Ay, and my heart as well. Holà! what’s that?
[_A noise without. Clash of steel and excited voices._
_Enter_ DE VARDES _and_ FAUQUEMONT DE BUC _pursued by seven or eight red-capped men armed with pikes_. DE VARDES _and_ DE BUC _use their swords_.
THE RED CAPS
Aristocrats! Aristocrats!
DE VARDES (_thrusting_)
Take that, Republican!
DE BUC (_thrusting_)
Out, canaille!
THE ABBÉ
Here’s wine! Have at you, brow-bound galley slaves!
DE VARDES (_over his shoulder_)
Ha! De Barbasan!
[_Wounds his adversary._
We’re at our last château!
THE ABBÉ
I’ve shut Voltaire! Here goes the candle out!
[_He throws his long cloak over the head of one of the red caps and makes at another with his dagger._
DE VARDES
The window splinters!
[_He sends the pike flying from a red cap’s hand._
Take warning, sans-culottes!
THE ABBÉ
One, two, three!
DE BUC
My sword arm!
DE VARDES
Fight with your left. I saw you do it at Nanci!
VOICES (_within_)
_Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira! Les Aristocrats à la Lanterne!_
DE VARDES
_O Richard, O mon Roi, L’univers t’abandonne!_
[_A howl from the mob._
THE MOB
Aristocrats!
GRÉGOIRE (_from the statue_)
Desperate!
[_The red caps_, DE VARDES, THE ABBÉ, _and_ DE BUC _fight across the stage and exeunt_. GRÉGOIRE _follows them_.
VOICES (_within_)
_Ça ira!_
_Enter women and children of the Revolution._
A WOMAN
Upon the church steps I will take my stand!
ANOTHER
I have brought my knitting.
A THIRD
And I.
A FOURTH
And I.
ALL (_singing_)
_We are the tricoteuses! Dyed wool we knit while rumbles by the cart. Knit! knit! all knitting in the sun._
_We are the tricoteuses! Red wool we knit while soul and body part. Knit! knit! the knitting now is done!_
[_They seat themselves upon the church steps._
A CHILD
Maman! Maman! how many carts will pass?
A WOMAN
None, sweeting, none! It is a holiday.
_Enter_ CÉLESTE, ANGÉLIQUE, _and_ NANON.
NANON
It was the very night of the great storm From those dull convent walls she ran away!
CÉLESTE
Two years agone—
ANGÉLIQUE
Would she had stayed!
NANON
Ah, then, You had been Goddess, Angélique!
ANGÉLIQUE
The witch! With her dark skin and with her purple flower! Let her beware! I know a thing or two!
CÉLESTE
_I_ know who comes from Paris back to Nantes! This morning on the quai I saw him!
NANON (_eagerly_)
Is’t That ci-devant, that black Aristocrat, De Vardes?
CÉLESTE
The man your brother loves? The same.
NANON
I spit upon his name!
CÉLESTE
Denounced!
NANON
The set of sun Will see him so, or my name’s not Nanon!
CÉLESTE
The Loire—the Loire will close above his head!
_Enter_ SÉRAPHINE.
SÉRAPHINE
Whose head?
NANON
The Citizen Vardes.
SÉRAPHINE
Monseigneur! He’s in the prison of La Force at Paris!— One truly told me so—He’s not in Nantes.
NANON
And if he were—
SÉRAPHINE (_stammering_)
Why—why—
NANON
And if he were, You would not give him up! I know you well! I know you, Séraphine!
SÉRAPHINE
And if you do, You know no ill of me, Citoyenne!
CÉLESTE
Yvette Would not give him up either.
ANGÉLIQUE
No, i’ faith! I’ll take my oath on that!
SÉRAPHINE
Your oath, lint-locks! It’s worth a deal, your oath! _Your_ mind I know! You would be Goddess, you and not Yvette!
ANGÉLIQUE
Let her beware!
SÉRAPHINE
Yvette! She’s coming now! Bright as the star that’s highest in the night! And all the men have turned astronomers! Faith! ‘tis easy work to worship Reason, When Reason is a woman, and that fair!
ANGÉLIQUE
I’ve seen her gather seaweed on the shore!
SÉRAPHINE
And now she gathers hearts in her two hands.
ANGÉLIQUE
Oh! oh!
NANON
Would that my brother hated her! Disdainful prude!
CÉLESTE
Oh, love may turn to hate. She’s Goddess now, but wait, but wait, but wait!
NANON
I join my brother at the Olive Tree. Come, Angélique, Céleste!
[_Exeunt_ NANON, ANGÉLIQUE, CÉLESTE.
SÉRAPHINE
Were’t not too late, I’d warn monseigneur just for old time’s sake! When all is said and done, old times are best; He gave us back Lisette, he fed us all— Eh! ‘twere a pity. What now? Who’s this?
_Enter hurriedly_ THE MARQUISE. _She looks over her shoulder as if fearing pursuit, then, drawing her cloak and hood closely about her, attempts to cross the square unobserved. Enter a rabble of men and women._
THE MOB
_Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira! Les Aristocrats à la Lanterne. Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira! Les Aristocrats on les pendra!_
A TRICOTEUSE
She hides Her face.
ANOTHER
She draws her cloak about her!
THE FIRST
Ho! Her hand is white and there’s a jewel on’t!
A MAN (_accosting_ THE MARQUISE)
Citoyenne!
THE MARQUISE
Citoyen—
THE MAN
Citoyenne, come! Join our _ronde patriotique_, our _carillon_!
THE MARQUISE
Sainte Geneviève!
THE MAN
What?
A WOMAN (_her hand upon_ THE MARQUISE)
Where’s your cockade?
ANOTHER WOMAN
Show!
THE MARQUISE
_De grâce, Citoyennes!_
THIRD WOMAN
The cloak! The cloak!
[_They tear from_ THE MARQUISE _her hood and cloak_.
A CHILD
Oh, the pretty lady!
THE MARQUISE
I’ll give you gold! There, there!—My rings, my brooch—take all! Ah! let me peaceably depart—
THE MOB
Ha! ha! Aristocrat!
A WOMAN
It is the emigrée Clarice-Marie Miramand Blanchefôret! Are not her gold locks known in Brittany?
ANOTHER
She fled to England.
A THIRD
She returned.
THE MARQUISE
O death! (_To a woman._) Citoyenne, your cockade! I’ll wear it gladly, Ay, o’er my heart I’ll pin it—
[_She takes the cockade from the woman and with trembling fingers pins it to her gown._
THE WOMAN
Red cap as well—
THE MARQUISE
With pleasure, Citoyenne.
[_She places the bonnet-rouge upon her head._
THE MOB
Ha, ha!
A MAN
Now cry _Vive la République!_
THE MARQUISE
_Vive la République!_
THE MAN
_Mort aux tyrans!_
THE MARQUISE
_Mort aux tyrans!_
THE MAN
_À bas Les Aristocrats!_
[_Silence._
THE MOB
Ah—h—h!
THE MAN
_Vive la Guillotine!_
[_Silence._
A WOMAN
Take that!
[_She strikes at_ THE MARQUISE.
THE MOB
Down! Down!
[THE MARQUISE _breaks through the ring of men and women and runs to_ SÉRAPHINE.
THE MARQUISE
I know your face! You are a Morbec woman! Save me! Save!
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Servan! Saint Gildas! Saint Mériadek!— Ay, madame, you should have stayed in England!
_Enter_ DE VARDES, _torn and bleeding_.
DE VARDES
De Buc taken and De Barbasan! Dieu! The day’s not old. I’ll see them ere its close. We’ll meet, I think, at Carrier’s judgment bar, Then the dark river,—and then peace at last—
THE MARQUISE
_À moi, Monsieur le Baron de Morbec!_
DE VARDES
La belle Marquise!
[_He forces his way to the side of_ THE MARQUISE.
SÉRAPHINE (_from the church porch_)
Saint Yves le Véridique!
THE MOB
Both! Both!
A TRICOTEUSE
To prison with them!
ANOTHER
To the Loire! Ho! ho! _Les Noces Républicaines!_
[_The mob surges forward, but with his sword_ DE VARDES _keeps a clear space about him and_ THE MARQUISE. _They move slowly backward to the church steps, which they mount._
DE VARDES (_to_ THE MARQUISE)
We’ll smile and die!
THE MARQUISE
Together, yes!
THE MOB
Down! Down! Aristocrats!
[DE VARDES _sends a knife whirling from the hand of a red cap_.
DE VARDES
Follow! Follow! (_To_ THE MARQUISE.) I have been long in prison.
THE MARQUISE
In England I!—And there I pined for France— This sunshine dazzles me—
DE VARDES
Clarice-Marie!
[_Trumpets within._
SÉRAPHINE
Hark! Hark, Citoyens, to the trumpets blowing!
THE MOB
She comes! Nantes’ goddess comes!
[_Faces appear at the windows of the tall houses._
A TRICOTEUSE
The windows fill!
[_The rolling of drums._
ANOTHER TRICOTEUSE
The drums begin to roll!
A MAN
Citoyens, all! We’ll see best by the statue there!
ANOTHER (_pointing to_ DE VARDES _and_ THE MARQUISE)
But these?—
THE FIRST
They’re safe! Let them await our pleasure! Peste! We waited once on theirs!
A THIRD
That’s true!
[_The mob divides. Men and women cluster about the base of the statue or upon the doorsteps of the surrounding houses. Enter men with banners._
THE MOB
Look! Look! The painted banners! _Vive la patrie!_
SÉRAPHINE (_to_ THE MARQUISE)
Hist! Hist, madame! behind the pillar there!
[_She points to the pillar of the church._
DE VARDES
Go!
[THE MARQUISE _conceals herself behind the pillar. A crash of music._
_Enter_ LALAIN _and_ NANON.
LALAIN
No blood to-day! I’d have clean sleep to-night, Pure sleep and sweet, in which to dream of love!— Hast seen her in her mantle blue?
NANON
Who stands So steadfast there with a drawn sword?
LALAIN
Diable!
[_He makes as if to cross to the church steps, where_ DE VARDES, _sword in hand, stands with his back against a pillar. The crowd comes between._
NANON
Patience, he’ll not escape!
LALAIN (_with affected indifference_)
It is as well,— To her he’s but a ci-devant, and he, O fool! shall see in her the Revolution! Then, then, when she has passed, I’ll deal with him!
[_Singing within._
A VOICE
_With sandals on her feet, The Phrygian cap so red Upon her sunny head, She comes, she’s coming sweet! Reason, to whom we pay All homage on this day!_
THE CROWD
The singers! The actors!
[_Enter actors and actresses of the Theatre of Nantes, dressed as for the stage, and carrying garlands of paper flowers._
AN ACTOR
Way for Tartufe! The Citizen Jourdain, Phèdre, Célimène, Acaste, Armide, Aucassin, Nicolette! Make way! Make way!
THE SINGER
_Upon her lofty car She sits in solemn state! Of day the lovely mate, Of night the shining star! Reason, to whom we pay All homage on this day!_
THE CROWD
Brava! What now?
THE ACTOR
Voltaire, Rousseau, Franklin, Robespierre!
[_Enter a band of students drawing a garlanded float. Upon the float the busts of Voltaire, Rousseau, Franklin, and Robespierre._
THE CROWD
_Vive Robespierre!_
[_The Marseillaise. Enter Republican soldiers._
DE VARDES
Oh, for the red Hussars!
[_Enter four men wearing tricolour scarfs and plumes, huge cockades, pistols and sabres._
THE CROWD
The Commissioners!
DE VARDES
Hooded crows!
[_There crosses the stage a float upon which is fixed a miniature guillotine._
THE CROWD
Ha! ha! _Vive la Guillotine!_
A MAN
_Vive les noyades!_
DE VARDES
Cold Are thy baths, O Apollo!
[_Enter red-bonneted men and women dragging a tumbril in which are heaped spoils of the church,—broken images, crucifixes, candelabra, chalices, patens, etc._
THE CROWD
Ha—h—h!
DE VARDES
Jesu!
[_He crosses himself._
[_Music. The great tricolour flag of the Republic is borne across the stage._
THE CROWD
_La patrie! Vive la patrie!_
DE VARDES
France! France!
[_Stately music. Enter young men in Greek dress, bearing a gilded framework upon which is fixed a tall flambeau, wreathed with flowers. They advance and place the structure before the church steps._
A PEASANT
Brave! But what is it?
ANOTHER
The torch of Reason! The Goddess lights it,—then we worship her!
A THIRD
No, we worship Reason!
THE SECOND
‘Tis the same thing!
[_Enter young girls clad in white, linked together with tricolour ribbons and carrying osier baskets from which they scatter flowers. They are followed by children swinging censers, then by a shouting throng drawing a triumphal car upon which sits the Goddess of Reason. She is clothed in a white tunic and a blue mantle; upon her loosened hair is a wreath of oak leaves and she has in her hand a light spear._
THE CROWD
Reason! Reason!—Yvette! Yvette!
DE VARDES
Mon Dieu!
[_The car stops._ YVETTE _rises_.
THE CROWD
_Vive la déesse! Vive Yvette!_ (LALAIN _comes forward_.) _Vive Lalain!_
LALAIN
People of Nantes! Citoyens! Patriots! Old things are past. To-day we welcome new. Gone are the priests, gone is the crucifix; Chalice and paten whelmed beneath the Loire! Kings, princes, nobles, priests, all crumbled down! Death on a pale horse hath ridden o’er them, The ravens and the sea mews pick their bones. Theirs are the yesterdays, the ci-devants! The red to-day is ours, the purple morrow!— Liberty, Equality, Fraternity! We worship Thee, Triune and Indivisible!— O Mother Nature, pure, beneficent, Redeemed from darkness of the centuries, Smile on thy children, come to worship thee! And thou, supernal Reason, Crown of Man, Eyes of the blind, divine, ascending flame, Pearl without price, rose, light, music, warmth!— O gushing spring where else were desert waste! O flooding light, celestial melody! O flower that blooms on either side the grave! O steadfast star that burns the night away! We worship thee!
[_He takes the censer from a boy and swings it to and fro before the standing goddess. Clouds of incense arise. The trumpets sound._
THE CROWD (_with ecstasy_)
We worship thee, Yvette! Yvette! Yvette! Reason! Yvette Charruel!
YVETTE
O God! I knew not ‘twas like this!
LALAIN
Reason, descend! Illume thy torch, among us mortals dwell. O sweetest Reason! ne’er regret the skies! Descend—
[_He gives his hand to_ YVETTE. _She descends from the car._
A MAN
She is the fairest Reason!
ANOTHER
Now She’ll light the torch!
[_A boy brings her lighted touchwood._ LALAIN _fastens it to the point of her spear, and kneeling presents it to her. She advances to the church steps and raises the flaming lance in order to light the torch. She sees_ DE VARDES. _The spear falls to the earth. The flame goes out._
YVETTE
O Our Lady!
THE CROWD
Light the torch! Light the torch!
LALAIN
What witchcraft’s this?
YVETTE
None, none!—Oh, see the heavens open!
[_Murmurs of the crowd._
ANGÉLIQUE
Goddess! Goddess!
CÉLESTE
She hears not!
THE CROWD
Light the torch!
LALAIN
I see Hell gaping! What’s that man to thee? Death and damnation! Dost still gaze at him? Then to the winds, Irresolution!
[_He turns to the crowd._
See, Patriots, see! The light of Reason dies! Out went the sacred flame beneath the eyes, The basilisk eyes of an Aristocrat!
THE CROWD
Away with him to prison! Death! The Loire! Death to the emigré!
[_A rush toward the church steps._ DE VARDES _throws himself on guard_. YVETTE _comes between him and the mob_.
YVETTE
Back!
THE MOB
Ah—h—h!
LALAIN
Art mad? Stand from between the lion and his prey!
DE VARDES (_to the mob_)
Men of Nantes! leave women to one side! (_To_ YVETTE _with a gesture toward the car_.) Goddess of Reason! Mount Olympus waits! (_To_ LALAIN.) At last, Rémond Lalain!
LALAIN
René de Vardes!
[_A man strikes at_ DE VARDES _with a long pike. His sword arm falls, and the sword rattles to the ground. A shout of triumph from the mob._ THE MARQUISE’S _cry from the pillar is not heard. The mob moves forward._
YVETTE
Back, back, I say! You’ll do no murder here! What! One man against a score!—All Bretons!
THE MOB
Death to the emigré!
DE VARDES
Not emigré! Good folk, I’ve been in prison in La Force. Released, I journeyed home to Brittany!
A MAN
Thou’lt journey farther yet, Aristocrat!
ANGÉLIQUE
Thy boat shall travel down the Loire!
YVETTE
Shall it? Shall it, indeed, thou gold-locked leprous woman! _Thy_ bark shall be sucked down by black Ahès! I see three Vannetois!—big Rubik, Yann, And Rivarol who won the singer’s prize! À moi, Vannetois!—Who is that standing there? Huon! Rememberest thou the fields at dawn? Rememberest thou the dim green hazel copse? Rememberest thou one Pardon of Sainte Anne?
A PEASANT
Yvette!
YVETTE
The sun went down, the stars shone out; We wandered round the wreckage of a ship; Beneath a shell we found a golden coin. Rememberest thou, Hervé the Cornouillaise?
A BRETON SAILOR
Yvette!
YVETTE
Baptiste! Michael! Monik! Ronan! How loudly rang the bells of Quiberon! To beat of drum we danced beside the sea!
YOUNG MEN
Ho, ho! That day!
YVETTE
Eh, who spoke to us there, Of glory, of France, and of Liberty? Citoyen Deputy Rémond Lalain! Red wine he gave to you, to me a flower! Mon Dieu! I was so proud—
LALAIN
Yvette!
YVETTE (_to an old woman_)
Margot! ‘Twas I who watched with thee one stormy night When all thy seven sons were out at sea!
THE OLD WOMAN
Ay, ay, and they came safely home to me!
YVETTE (_to a child_)
O little Jeanne, where is the doll I gave thee?
THE CHILD
Here!—‘tis named ‘Toinette!
A WOMAN (_with the child_)
She has another Named Yvette!
YVETTE (_to a band of young women_)
Fifine, Laure, and Veronique! The moon shone bright, there was no wind at all, Below the heights the violet shadows slept, All sweetly smelled the gorse and white buckwheat, And dewy was the grass beneath our feet, And wet with dew the poppies in our hair! There came a sound of singing from the sea, Our hands we linked, we sped around Tantad, Fair shone the moon—
A YOUNG GIRL
Oh, Eves of Saint John!
A BRETON
_Iou! Iou! An Tan! An Tan! An Tan!_
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Ronan! Saint Primel!
THE CROWD
Yvette! Yvette! Yvette Charruel!
YVETTE
O folk of Nantes! There is a thing I want so badly, I! Call it a fairing from the Fête of Reason, And give the trifle to the poor Yvette, The poor Yvette who’s done her best to please you! Oh, I’ve music made for you to dance by, And for you held on high the great tricolour; And in the night-time sung to you of dawn! And for you, too, I’ve plucked the lilies up, Fast locked a door and flung away the key, And left the ravished garden evermore!— A priest would say my soul I had imperilled.
THE CROWD
No, no! No priests! Reason! Reason! Yvette.
YVETTE
This mantle blue, these oak leaves in my hair, These sandals and this spear, this tunic white, The wreathèd car, the music and the song! All, all a mockery, unless, unless— There is a thing I want so badly, I!
A COMMISSIONER
It is thine!
THE CROWD
Thine! Thine! Yvette Charruel!
YVETTE
Ah, I would play the goddess, that I would! I’d have my pardon like a Breton saint, And what I bound, it should be bound indeed! And what I loosed, it should be loosed indeed!
A COMMISSIONER
Fast bind or freely loose, thy surety, I!
ANOTHER
Command me, and the silver moon I’ll bring thee!
YVETTE
With what a sudden glory shines the sun! It gilds the streets, it gilds the running Loire! And from them both the blood-stains fade away! Ah, let us rest from death in Nantes to-day, And think how falls the eve in Bethlehem!— There is a little village that I know, A hungry village by a hungry sea, As worn and grey as any calvary! The hungry shadows ate the sunshine up; The children cried, the women wailed at morn; The very Christ looked hungry on the Cross; When lo! a miracle! for suddenly The starving, haggard folk began to laugh, The tender green put forth, the flowers bloomed, Blue shone the sky, the lark sang overhead, And mild the face of Christ and heavenly kind! The little village had its fill of bread, Yea, wine it drank, and cheerful breath it drew, And, by the well, of this strange plenty talked, Of tolls withdrawn, of perfect friendliness!
[_She moves from before_ DE VARDES.
And then it blessed the man who gave it bread, Who had a heart to feel with wretchedness, And a strong arm to drive the hunger forth As Arthur drove the giants from the land! O men of Nantes! you’ll keep your oath to me! In Nantes to-day ‘tis mine to loose or bind!— I loose this man—
LALAIN
Out, witch! (_To_ DE VARDES.) Think not, think not, René de Vardes, that she shall save thee thus!— Mine, mine she is, she shall be, soul and all!
DE VARDES
Rémond Lalain—
LALAIN (_to the mob_)
It is an emigré! A traitor and a black Aristocrat, The ci-devant De Vardes!
THE CROWD
De Vardes! De Vardes!
YVETTE
Rémond Lalain, stand from my path, I say! (_To the crowd._) Not emigré, but prisoner in La Force! Not traitor! That’s a wretch who doth betray! Aristocrat?—Who chooseth his birth star? Crieth at Life’s gate, “Of such an house I’m heir!” But in we drift from the great sea without; A current takes us—“Of my house are ye!” So you, so I, so this citoyen here, Rémond Lalain, who is Lalain by chance, And might have been Capet or Mirabeau! And so this other, standing gravely there Alone, a man alone upon a rock, And the tide mounts!—The current swept him there! Another drift, and he had been Lalain, Orator and idol of the Jacobins!— Names! They are the mist through which the man Is scarce discerned, the sea-drift hides the pearl. Ghosts of the past the present spurns! Dead leaves! Masks for the pauper and the prince! Mere names! I would not have them rule my spirit thus!— Aristocrat! I know not, but I know The man’s been known to lift a peasant’s load And gather seaweed with a fisher’s child!
A BRETON SAILOR
‘Tis true! And in my boat he’s been with me, When Ahès and the storm made black the sea!
A PEASANT
He walked beside me in the field and told Name of the silver star above the fold!
A SOLDIER
I was a red Hussar! He fought like Mars. Eh, my Colonel—
A WOMAN
We know, we Morbec folk! _Vive Baron René!_
SÉRAPHINE
Eh, eh, monseigneur!
YVETTE
Nantes! Nantes! you’ll keep the oath you’ve made to me! My fairing I shall have this holiday, And what I bind it shall be bound indeed, And what I loose is loosed to me for aye! I ask one gift—I shall not ask again! This is my hour, no other hour I want. I ask one life—is’t mine, is’t mine, Citoyens?
THE CROWD
Yes, yes! ‘Tis thine!
A COMMISSIONER
Thine, Goddess! (_To_ DE VARDES.) Citoyen, thou art free!
LALAIN
Diable!
YVETTE
I’m faint.—
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Iguinou! What of the pillar there?
A COMMISSIONER
Make way for the Citoyen Vardes!
THE CROWD
Make way!
SÉRAPHINE
Eh, eh, monseigneur; thou hadst best begone!
DE VARDES (_to the Commissioner_)
Citoyen, thanks! but here I’ll watch awhile These pleasing rites, this worship new of Reason!
THE COMMISSIONER
‘Twill do thee good, Aristocrat!
DE VARDES
No doubt, Citoyen!
LALAIN
Oh, depth of hell!
NANON
Oh, patience!
LALAIN
Why takes he not his liberty? He stays! To feast his eyes upon her face he stays! Diable! He speaks to her—
NANON
Patience! Patience!— What flutters there behind the pillar?
LALAIN
Where?
[_She points. They move together to the base of the statue._
DE VARDES (_to_ YVETTE)
I owe my life to thee, thou hapless child! Ah, couldst thou make this throng depart the place!
YVETTE
Monseigneur—
THE CROWD
Goddess of Reason! light the torch!
YVETTE
I’m faint!—The houses all are dancing there!— Give me drink!
A MAN
Here’s wine!
[_He pours wine into a great gold cup._
YVETTE
‘Tis in a chalice!
THE CROWD
Drink!
[YVETTE _drinks_.
YVETTE
Nom de Dieu! ‘Tis right good wine, indeed!— Not now I’ll light the torch—‘Tis out for good! And while we linger here the sunlight goes! Let’s to the quai, let’s to the quai and dance— And dance the Carmagnole!
THE CROWD
The Carmagnole!
[_Men and women take hands and begin to dance._
YVETTE
Away! Down the long street, and to the quai! Take hands! Away! _Dansons la Carmagnole!_
[_She snatches from a boy a tambourine and strikes it._
_Vive le son, vive le son, Vive le son du canon!_
[_The crowd disperses._ DE VARDES _remains standing before the pillar behind which crouches_ THE MARQUISE. SÉRAPHINE _watches from the church steps_; LALAIN _and_ NANON _from the base of the Statue of Liberty_.
Monseigneur!
DE VARDES
Ay.
YVETTE
Now, now while the lark sings, And while the fairy wood is green, begone! Oh, ‘tis not safe in Nantes! They gave thy life, But oh, they’re fierce and fickle! Back they’ll come! I’ve enemies in Nantes, and there’s Lalain, Rémond Lalain who’ll work me woe at last! Thou must begone, but list, ah, list to me! I know a secret place where thou mayst bide, So safe! so safe! and I will bring thee food, White bread and wine, and find for thee a way Forth from the town—
DE VARDES
Ah, I may trust thee, sure!
YVETTE
I never knew thou wast in prison there! So sad, so dark the prison life, they say! My cagèd bird I freed the other day. There are so many prisoners in Nantes, I would not have it one!—
DE VARDES
My life I owe—
YVETTE
The spring draws on; ‘twill soon be June again!
DE VARDES
Now for another life I make my suit—
YVETTE
In Paimpont Wood the trees are greening now, In sun and shade the purple violets blow!
DE VARDES
In those old convent days, ah, ages gone! Beneath the fruit trees, by the fountain there, I’ve seen thee nurse a little fluttering bird, Wounded and frightened, fallen from the blue, But yet God’s bird, and with a life to save! And thou didst stroke its plumage tenderly, And gently fostered it between thy hands Awhile, and up it soared into the blue; A moment since and thou didst save my life. Lo now, there is another thing to do! Before my own life, I’ve a life in charge, And to thee now I turn, and plead for help. In this wild town thou rulest o’er the hour; Be now the goddess and the woman too, Pitiful, tender, generous, and true!— Lo! here a wounded bird—
[_He moves aside._ THE MARQUISE _leaves the shadow of the pillar_.
YVETTE
Death of my life!
THE MARQUISE
Oh, guard me, all ye saints!
DE VARDES
Yvette! Yvette!
[LALAIN _comes forward from the statue_.
LALAIN (_to_ YVETTE)
Right of the Seigneur!
YVETTE
So! Thou hast returned, Beneath the trees, along the moonlit road! And in thine arms the rose and eglantine, And on thy lips the song of all the birds! Back! There is a furze field bars thy way!
THE MARQUISE
Mon Dieu!
YVETTE
Hast thou another fan to break? Ha! shrinkest thou?
THE MARQUISE
Sainte Geneviève!
YVETTE (_raising her voice_)
Nantes! Nantes!
DE VARDES
By all the gods!—
YVETTE
À moi! À moi! Nantes!
[_An answering cry from within._
DE VARDES
Herd girl of Morbec—
LALAIN
Right of the Seigneur!
YVETTE
À moi! Citoyens! Patriots!
_Reënter mob._
DE VARDES
Courage, Clarice!
THE MARQUISE
O all ye saints!
YVETTE
Citoyens! This ci-devant, this black Aristocrat! Oh! all this while she was in hiding here! Beside the pillar there she kneeled and laughed. Do I not know her laughter, rippling sweet Or o’er a broken fan or broken heart, Or in green Morbec and a garden fair, Or on the moonlit road to ancient Vannes?— She, she the ci-devant, the emigrée! Who to false England with her jewels fled,— Rubies, emeralds, and long strings of pearls! The while in barren fields her peasants starved!— I denounce the Citoyenne Blanchefôret!
THE CROWD
Ah—h—h!
THE MARQUISE
O terror!
DE VARDES
Thy hand in mine, Clarice!
YVETTE
What of, what of the dark line of De Vardes? What tales are told of Morbec’s black château? More wicked and more lost than sunken Ys! Wolves were they all, the seigneurs of Morbec! Henri, Philippe, Gil, René, Amaury— All, all were wolves who lurked, who sprang, who tore, No heart of lamb, but just the heart of man! Heart of a man, heart of a woman too! Morbec! De Vardes! No direr names in France! Right hands of kings, priests, soldiers, cardinals, Courtiers and lovers of the fleur-de-lis! Passionate, proud, a whirlwind and a flame! Morbec! De Vardes! ‘Ware all who came between The whirlwind and its goal, the stubble and the flame!
DE VARDES
Thou lost soul!
LALAIN
Thou lovely fiend!
YVETTE
De Vardes! De Vardes! The name comes on the blast Up from the gulf where lie the thrones of kings. Battle, oppression, tyranny and wrong— Miramand, Blanchefôret! on sea winds in they float From that dim palace where that lost Ahès Down to her emerald windows beckons man And spreads the bridal bed in sunken Ys!
NANON
Mon Dieu! The bridal bed!
YVETTE
By all the wrongs That both their houses through the ages long Have wrought us! By the blood that they have shed, The tears, the groans, the sweat, the servile knees, The bitter bread they gave us, and the cry From lonely graves of anguish and of wrath! By all the hunger and the freezing cold! By all the toil and all the hopelessness, The smitten cheek, the taunt, the burning heart! By all the Rights of all the Lords of Wrong! By _Corvée_ and _Gabelle_ and _Gibier_, _Quintaines_, _Milods_, _Ban d’Août_ and _Bordelage_, _Fouage_, _Leide_, _Corvée à miséricorde_, _Banvin_, _Chansons_, _Baiser des Mariées_! I do denounce these two Aristocrats: La Force’s prisoner, and the emigrée, La belle Marquise, the Hussar of the King, Citoyen Vardes, Citoyenne Blanchefôret!
LALAIN
So!
THE MOB
Away! Away! Prison! Death! The Loire! Down, down, Aristocrats.
[_They close around_ DE VARDES _and_ THE MARQUISE.
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Maturin! Saint Corentin! Saint Jean!
THE MARQUISE
O bitter death!
DE VARDES
I am thy death, who thought to save thee so!
[_The soldiers lay hands upon_ DE VARDES _and_ THE MARQUISE _and force them from the church steps and across the square_.
THE MOB
Away!
A COMMISSIONER
The nearest prison!
A MAN
That’s the Church Of Saint Eustache!
A COMMISSIONER
Away! They shall be judged By Carrier!
THE MOB
Carrier!—The Loire!
YVETTE
Ah!
ANGÉLIQUE
Ha, ha! _Le Mariage Républicain!_
YVETTE
Quoi!
ANGÉLIQUE
Eh, they’re lovers, are they not?
CÉLESTE
The Loire shall marry them, the ci-devants!
ANGÉLIQUE
Yvette has made the wedding, eh, Yvette?
THE MOB
Ha, ha! _Le Mariage Républicain!_
[_Exeunt the mob, soldiers_, DE VARDES, _and_ THE MARQUISE, _guarded, etc._
VOICES (_within_)
_Le Mariage Républicain!_ Ha, ha!
YVETTE
What have I done?—
VOICES (_dying away_)
Ha, ha! ha, ha! The Loire!
YVETTE
The Loire!—O God!
_CURTAIN_
_ACT IV_
_The interior of a church in Nantes used as a prison. Great broken windows of stained glass, purple and crimson, through which streams the sunlight. Prisoners of both sexes and all ages and conditions of life move to and fro, or lean against the pillars which support the vaulted roof. Some rest or kneel upon the steps before the altar rail. Three children play beside a broken font. Against a door at the left of the great altar lounge several turnkeys dressed in blue woollen with red liberty caps._ THE MARQUISE _sits beside a pillar. She talks with_ DE BUC _and_ ENGUERRAND LA FÔRET. _Near her are_ COUNT LOUIS _and_ MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI. DE L’ORIENT _stands upon a bench beneath a shattered window_. DE VARDES _sits at a rude table writing_.
_A butterfly enters at the broken window and flutters through the church._
A CHILD
The butterfly! The butterfly!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Oh, see Its painted wings!
A CHILD
There! There!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
It comes my way!—I’ve caught it!—No!
AN ACTRESS (_dressed as a shepherdess_)
I! I have it fast, the pretty prisoner!
DE L’ORIENT
It will not stay—
COUNT LOUIS
It soars into the roof! No! down again on yon long ray of light!— Give chase!
DE L’ORIENT
Here!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
There!
THE ACTRESS
Oh, oh! It sails this way, The fairy boat—
DE L’ORIENT
With freight of heart’s desire!
THE ACTRESS
I have it!
COUNT LOUIS
No, I!
[_The butterfly lights upon his hand._
‘Tis youth!
DE L’ORIENT
‘Tis gone!—
[_The butterfly brushes his shoulder._
‘Tis joy!
THE ACTRESS
Fled!—Ah, ah!—‘Tis hope!
[_The butterfly touches her outstretched arm, then rises again._
No longer!
[_The butterfly rests upon the fair hair of_ THE MARQUISE.
THE MARQUISE
As I was saying, then I felt despair—
[_The butterfly rises, flutters in a shaft of sunshine, then passes out of the window. The prisoners watch its flight._
A CHILD
The butterfly has gone!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Whither!
DE L’ORIENT
‘Tis for The blue skies and the sunny fields!
THE ACTRESS
The flowers We shall not gather any more!
DE L’ORIENT
High hills, The water running in the sun and shade!
MME. DE MALESTROIT
A garden old beside a winding stream— Oh, death in life!
A NUN
It was a soul set free. By now a thousand shining leagues it’s mounted!
[_The door at the left of the altar opens._
_Enter_ GRÉGOIRE.
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Here is Grégoire!
GRÉGOIRE
Good-morrow, Citoyens!
COUNT LOUIS
Good-morrow, Gaoler.
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Ah, this place, Grégoire! It is so triste! Shall we forever stay Imprisoned in a church?
LA FÔRET
Oh, gayer far The Bastille or Vincennes!
THE ACTRESS
These frowning saints! The wind that whistles in!
MME. DE MALESTROIT
The stones so cold!
COUNT LOUIS
The Church will make us martyrs ere our time!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
And did you buy, Grégoire, the cards for ombre?
THE ACTRESS
Masks for our play?
DE L’ORIENT
A violin?
THE ACTRESS
Wax-lights?
DE BUC
The foils?
A CHILD
My ball, Grégoire?
GRÉGOIRE
I’ve nothing bought— The judges sit to-day. Complain to them. The church is cold! ‘Tis not so cold as Loire! The prisons are too crowded! Well, to-day We’ll weed them out!
DE BUC
So!
GRÉGOIRE
You are warned! Prepare! Make your farewells—the time is very short!
[_Exit_ GRÉGOIRE.
DE BUC
Strike camp!
DE L’ORIENT
The open road!
COUNT LOUIS
Who goes?
LA FÔRET
Who stays?
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Our comedy!—we cannot have it now!
THE ACTRESS
Oh, we will rearrange the parts!
[DE VARDES _folds his letter and rises from the table_.
DE VARDES
We’ll play, Though all the world is sliding ‘neath our feet!
DE BUC
The world’s a stage—
THE NUN
_De profundis clamavi Ad te Domine!_
_Enter the_ ABBÉ JEAN DE BARBASAN, _pale, wounded, and with disordered dress_.
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Monsieur l’Abbé!
DE VARDES
Ah! De Barbasan, we feared for you!
THE ABBÉ
Morbleu! I am reprieved! Lambertye proved my friend! It seems that once I saved the villain’s life!— Pure accident!—stumbled on him in a ditch, Played the Samaritan!—so now I’m spared, Come forth like Daniel from the lions’ den, That Judgment Hall of theirs across the way! Lions! They are not lions, they are wolves, Hyenas, tigers, and baboons. Faugh!
DE BUC
So! They are hungry yet?
THE ABBÉ
Oh, they are portents! And portents are the folk that fill that hall! Not women they who sit aloft and knit; Not men, those scarecrow visages below; For robed judges, wolves at Lammas tide, And Nantes the winter forest for the pack!— But ah, the deer at bay, the little lambs!— The earth gives ‘neath their feet, they face the Loire!
[_A confused sound from the square without the window; voices, menacing and execrating, a cry, then silence._
DE VARDES
One has not gained the Loire!
THE ABBÉ
Ah, oftentimes, They fall before they reach the Judgment Hall! There in the street, before that fatal door— Both youth and age, fair women and brave men. Their blood cries to another judgment seat! From yonder window you may see it all!
THE MARQUISE
We will not look!
COUNT LOUIS
Fie, fie, De Barbasan! There is a time for everything! Not now, Nor in this place is’t meet or debonair To speak of ravening wolves or stricken deer! To work, my friend! You find us much concerned About this play of Molière’s! We give _Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme_.
THE MARQUISE
You’ll play Jourdain? Béjart had promised us, but then he went. He’s not returned.
THE ABBÉ
Nor will, I think. But, yes, I’ll take the part; I’ll speak in prose to you To whom I else would speak in poetry!
THE MARQUISE (_with a curtesy_)
Monsieur Jourdain, your prose is ravishing!— I’m Dorimène.
DE BUC
And I Dorante!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Lucille.
MME. DE MALESTROIT
Nicole!
THE ACTRESS
I am, Monsieur Jourdain, your wife!
LA FÔRET
Your son-in-law the Turk!
DE VARDES
Behold, monsieur, Your fencing master!
DE L’ORIENT
Your _maître de danse_. Imagine, pray, you hear my violin: La, la—The minuet!—La, la, la!
[_He plays an imaginary violin. The prisoners hesitate, laugh, then begin to step a minuet. The children and the gaolers watch them._ DE VARDES _does not dance. He leans against a pillar to the left_.
_Enter a turnkey_, CÉLESTE, ANGÉLIQUE, NANON, _and_ SÉRAPHINE.
SÉRAPHINE (_crossing herself_)
Eh! Eh! They dance!—Well, what a thing it is To be a noble born!
CÉLESTE (_jealously_)
We dance as well!
SÉRAPHINE
Ay, the Carmagnole!
ANGÉLIQUE
‘Tis a swifter dance! Why came we here? I never liked this church, They are too gay of heart, these ci-devants! Let’s to the Judgment Hall, or to the Loire.
CÉLESTE
Séraphine would come—
SÉRAPHINE
Patience, Citoyennes, No haste! I’ve just a little word to speak Unto monseigneur there.
CÉLESTE
Monseigneur!
SÉRAPHINE
Oh, The Citoyen Vardes! You know my tripping tongue.
NANON (_to the turnkey_)
Where is that ci-devant men once did call La belle Marquise?
THE TURNKEY
‘Tis she who dances there, Fair-haired and dressed in violet.
NANON
Awhile I’ll watch her dance.
CÉLESTE
Their cheeks are pale.
ANGÉLIQUE
They smile. I would not smile if I were they.
[NANON, CÉLESTE, _and_ ANGÉLIQUE _watch the dancers_. SÉRAPHINE _approaches_ DE VARDES.
SÉRAPHINE (_in a low voice_)
Monseigneur!
DE VARDES
Séraphine Robin, I believe?
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Yves! Now just to think! Monseigneur knows my name!— Eh! Morbec was my home for many a year. When all is said and done, Home is just Home, Hut or château—and always the De Vardes Were lords of Morbec did they good or ill! Most like ‘twas ill—but they were proper men! And when they smiled we always said ‘twas day; And old men say—but it was long ago— A baron lived was named René the Good! Saint Gil! Monseigneur gave us back Lisette. Saint Maudez! ‘Tis a dangerous thing, but see!
[_She takes from her bosom a silken purse._
Eh, monseigneur, ‘tis yours! Take it! Quick, quick, Before Céleste—the baggage!—turns her head!
[_She thrusts the purse into his hand._
DE VARDES
From whom?
SÉRAPHINE
Look in it! You will see. ‘Tis gold.
DE VARDES
Gold!
SÉRAPHINE
And something more.—Here is Angélique!
ANGÉLIQUE
Aristocrat—That ring upon thy finger—
SÉRAPHINE
Out!
DE VARDES
Not yet, Citoyenne!
ANGÉLIQUE
Then afterwards! I’ll have it at the trenches or the Loire!
[_She rejoins_ CÉLESTE _and_ NANON. _They watch the dancers._
DE L’ORIENT
Nicole—Lucille—Cléonte—
SÉRAPHINE
My errand’s done— Look in the purse, monseigneur, look at once!
DE L’ORIENT
La, la, la, la!
DE VARDES
I have no need of gold.
SÉRAPHINE
Look, monseigneur!
DE VARDES
Again, from whom?
SÉRAPHINE
A friend.
DE VARDES
I have no friend in Nantes. Take back thy purse!
SÉRAPHINE
It is not mine, the pretty, silken thing! I swore that I would leave it, so I will! And I was told to tell you, “Look within.”
[NANON _approaches_.
NANON
In Nantes one is Suspect when one is seen Whispering in shadows with Aristocrats!
SÉRAPHINE
Nothing I said you might not hear, Nanon! Come, come away! (_To_ DE VARDES _as she turns from him_.) Monseigneur, have a care!
[SÉRAPHINE, NANON, CÉLESTE, _and_ ANGÉLIQUE _watch the dancers. A grating sound is heard without the door to the left of the altar. The turnkeys move aside, the door opens and discloses a passage lined with gaolers and soldiers._
_Enter_ GRÉGOIRE _with three or four Patriots. They wear great boots, plumed hats, sashes of tricolour, sabres and pistols._
DE L’ORIENT
La, la, la, la, la!
GRÉGOIRE
The list for the day.
[_The dance ceases._
CÉLESTE
Now, now we’ll see the birds drop one by one!
ANGÉLIQUE
It is what I love!
GRÉGOIRE (_He descends the step from the choir_)
The list, Citoyens! You whom I name pass out at yonder door. Across the square the judges sit—
DE BUC
Just so! Who leads?
GRÉGOIRE
Citoyen, you!
DE BUC
Promotion, by God!— Messieurs, mesdames, I have marching orders! (_To the Actress and_ MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI.) I cannot play Dorante! Is’t not a shame? De L’Orient there must take my part—Adieu! (_To_ THE MARQUISE.) Ah, Dorimène, you’ll let me kiss your hand?
THE MARQUISE
Monsieur, monsieur—
DE BUC (_to_ DE VARDES)
I’m breaking camp.
DE VARDES
Ma foi! We’ll meet at the end of the march, my friend! Meantime I’ll tell thee that Bouillé once said, “Brave as a Gascon, or Fauquemont de Buc!”
DE BUC
Did he so? Old Bouillé!
[_He salutes._
My Colonel!
DE VARDES
Captain de Buc!
[DE BUC _mounts the step into the choir and passes out of the door, between the lines of soldiers. There is heard the voice of the mob in the square without._
DE L’ORIENT
Away with Melancholy! The curtain’s up, the play begins! Grégoire, My name is Thalia! Is’t on thy list?
GRÉGOIRE (_his eyes upon the paper in his hand_)
No, Citoyen.
DE L’ORIENT
Another lifetime here!
COUNT LOUIS
A golden louis to a paper franc, The next is Château-Gui!—
GRÉGOIRE
No, Château-Gui, You are reserved.
COUNT LOUIS (_taking snuff_)
Why, that is welcome news! Eh, my daughter, we will not miss the play!
GRÉGOIRE
The Citoyen Charles Le Blanc.
LE BLANC
What damned star Flared and went out the night that I was born?
[_Exit_ LE BLANC.
GRÉGOIRE
Hervé Rauderendec, called the Breton!
THE BRETON
Good people all, it has been pleasant here, But now the tide draws to the full—Adieu! I must make sail!
[_Exit the Breton._
GRÉGOIRE
The Citoyenne Gérard.
THE ACTRESS
I?
GRÉGOIRE
Delphine Gérard.
THE ACTRESS
Oh, I knew, I knew The butterfly that touched me was ill luck! I named it Hope,—it fled, it fled away!
THE ABBÉ
We’re loth to let you go, Delphine Gérard.
THE ACTRESS
There is no choice—I have my cue, you see!— And after all the play’s a tragedy.
[_Exit the Actress._
CÉLESTE
‘Tis better worth our while across the square!
ANGÉLIQUE
‘Tis so! Let’s to the Judgment Hall.
NANON
Agreed. Come, Séraphine!
SÉRAPHINE
I’ll follow presently.
ANGÉLIQUE
Do not delay. We’ll keep a place for you!
[_Exeunt_ NANON, CÉLESTE, _and_ ANGÉLIQUE.
GRÉGOIRE
The Citoyenne Vaucourt.
MME. DE VAUCOURT
Children, children! Your father’s calling me from Paradise!— Thérèse, Philippe, farewell, farewell, farewell! Oh, clasp me close and kiss!—Forget me not!— Yes, yes, I’ll buy the bonbons and the doll! I’ll not forget—
GRÉGOIRE
The boy goes with you.
MME. DE VAUCOURT (_wildly_)
With me! He’s but a babe! Not eight till June!
THE BOY (_clinging to her_)
To the toy-shop, mother!
MME. DE VAUCOURT
Oh, yes, child, yes! To the toy-shop!
[_They go out together._
GRÉGOIRE
Maria Innocenta Sombreuil!
[_A young girl in the habit of a Carmelite novice leaves the shadow of a pillar, with raised face and hands crossed upon her breast mounts the step and passes out between the soldiers._
Gaspard Le Borgne!
LE BORGNE
An angel leads me on.
[_He follows the novice._
GRÉGOIRE
Enguerrand La Fôret!
LA FÔRET
Ha, ha!—ha, ha! Ha, ha!—
[_Hysterical and continued laughter._ GRÉGOIRE _and the turnkeys look stolidly on, but the prisoners are disturbed_.
COUNT LOUIS
For shame, Enguerrand La Fôret! Before women!—Die like a gentleman!
LA FÔRET (_He leans against the balustrade of the choir_)
Ha, ha!
COUNT LOUIS
Fie, fie! You shame us all!
LA FÔRET
Ha, ha! I laugh because—ha, ha!—‘tis such a joke!
[_He mounts the step still laughing, then suddenly recovers himself and turns with fury._
Who calls me coward? I laughed because I laughed!
[_He wrests a musket from the nearest soldier and stabs him with the bayonet._
Take that!—There’s one at least will laugh no more!
[_Oaths and confusion among the gaolers and soldiers. A sigh of satisfaction from the prisoners._ LA FÔRET _is dragged out_. GRÉGOIRE _looks at his list, then at_ DE VARDES. _The latter advances._
GRÉGOIRE (_hurriedly to himself_)
To-morrow—not to-day! I’ll risk that much,— Just for the way he fought that Morbec night! (_Aloud._) Stand back, Citoyen Vardes! Your time’s not yet.
[_A murmur of pleasure and congratulation from the prisoners._
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
We are so pleased, Monsieur le Baron!
GRÉGOIRE
Citoyens Rochedagon and Pincornet!
[_The men named go out. There is heard from the square without and from the passage a sound of acclamation. The door is flung open and the Actress enters._
THE ACTRESS
They harmed me not! “No, no!” they said. “No, no! Delphine Gérard must play for us in Nantes.” Oh, the people! Oh, the dear good people! Oh, blessed fortune!
DE VARDES
We are most happy!
THE ABBÉ
Delphine Gérard!
COUNT LOUIS
Welcome, mademoiselle! You see the play is still a comedy!
GRÉGOIRE
Marneil, Delille!
[_Exeunt the men named._
DE L’ORIENT
The leaves fall fast, The tree will soon be bare!
GRÉGOIRE
The Citoyenne Clarice-Marie Miramand Blanchefôret.
DE VARDES
Oh, wretch!
THE PRISONERS
La belle Marquise!
THE MARQUISE
It is my name!— I had no thought I would be called to-day!— Unwarned! That’s horrible! Ah, good Grégoire! A little while—
GRÉGOIRE (_stolidly_)
Citoyenne Blanchefôret.
THE MARQUISE
Ah, villain!
DE VARDES (_to_ GRÉGOIRE)
Five minutes!
[_He slips into_ GRÉGOIRE’S _hand the purse of gold_. GRÉGOIRE _hesitates a moment, then his hand closes upon the purse. He thrusts it into his bosom._
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Michel!
[DE VARDES _comes to_ THE MARQUISE _and they speak together_. GRÉGOIRE _turns to another group of prisoners_.
GRÉGOIRE
Montfauçon and Guistelles.
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Guenolé! He hath the purse! The paper in it too! He’s rock; he, black Grégoire! Alack the day! Saint Huon! What’s to do?—
GRÉGOIRE
Sorel and Mornay!
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Yves le Véridique! I will away!
[_Exit_ SÉRAPHINE.
DE VARDES (_to_ THE MARQUISE)
Would I might die for thee!
THE MARQUISE
‘Tis but a dream!
DE VARDES
Clarice! Clarice!
THE MARQUISE
A vision of the night!
DE VARDES
Clarice-Marie!
THE MARQUISE
I will awake!
DE VARDES
My friend!
THE MARQUISE
Ah, only that!
DE VARDES
La belle Marquise!
THE MARQUISE
No more!
DE VARDES
How long have we been friends! And now—
THE MARQUISE
And now!—
DE VARDES
My friend, my friend!
THE MARQUISE
Alas! Alas, ‘tis true We are good friends—in life and death good friends! ‘Tis much—though there are lovers too in Nantes, And when one loves ‘tis not so hard to die! Or so I’ve heard, monsieur.
DE VARDES
O destiny!
THE MARQUISE
The jasmine is my flower—a luckless bloom! Wear not the too-sweet jasmine flower, For then one loves, but is not loved again!
DE VARDES
No, no! the rose—
THE MARQUISE
The rose unloved! Ay, ay! Last night I dreamed of roses and of lights, Beside a water still they burned and bloomed— Lit candles and pale roses with gold hearts, Like those that bloomed within my garden once, When you rode by, when you rode by, my friend!
DE VARDES
Alas!
THE MARQUISE
They’re dead, my garden roses, dead! They’ll bloom no more, nor wilt thou ride that way; Nor, Sieur de Morbec, dost thou love the rose. For once thou said’st to me upon a day When I did find the Morbec roses fair, “I better love the heartsease at thy feet.” The peasant flower! Rememb’rest thou that day? ‘Twas Saint John’s Eve—
DE VARDES
Would I remembered not!
THE MARQUISE
The heartsease—
DE VARDES
The heartsease withered.
[_A roar from the square._ DE L’ORIENT _turns from the window_.
DE L’ORIENT
Ah!
COUNT LOUIS
What do you see?
DE L’ORIENT
Too much!
[_A turnkey laughs._
THE TURNKEY
Carrier! Lalain! Oh, they judge quickly! _Vive la République!_
THE MARQUISE
It was a summer day when first we met, And now we part within a prison here, And never shall we see each other more!
DE VARDES
Oh, briefer than the fairest summer day The little hour before we meet again! Soon, soon I’ll follow thee, and all of these! The reaper hath his sickle in the corn. He is a madman, but the field is God’s, And God will garner up the fallen ears, And in another life we two shall meet!
THE MARQUISE
And wilt thou love me then? Ah, no! Ah, no!
DE VARDES
Thou art a lady brave and fair—
THE MARQUISE
Alas!
GRÉGOIRE
The Nun Benôite, an Ursuline!
[_A nun rises from her knees, makes the sign of the cross, and passes out between the soldiers._
THE MARQUISE
Ah me! The unknown land, just guessed at and no more, To which this loud wind sends my cockle boat!— Where are my beads? Lost, lost with all things else! Jewels and gold and friends and lovers too!— Ah, short my shrift with Grégoire glowering there. My hatred of Madame la Maréchale, I’m sorry for’t. The Captal de Montgis Once did me wrong. Well, well, I can forgive!— Sieur de Morbec, where’s she that flung us down, Lifted her finger and behold us here! Her face is fair—ah, very fair her face. She was your mistress, yes?
DE VARDES
No!
THE MARQUISE
What then?
DE VARDES
Cold that I warmed, and hunger that I fed.
THE MARQUISE
O strike her, Frost! O Hunger, with her wed!
DE VARDES
Ah, curse her not! She knew not what she did!
THE MARQUISE
Alas! Alas!
GRÉGOIRE
The Citoyenne L’Esparre!
THE MARQUISE
The women go—He’ll call my name! Ah, look! The purple saints within the windows there, See how they wave their palms and smile at me! They wave their palms, they strike their golden harps, Their aureoles are brighter than the sun!
GRÉGOIRE
The Citoyenne Blanchefôret!
THE MARQUISE
The clock has struck!
DE VARDES
All angels guard thee!
THE MARQUISE
Fatal is my name And hated through long years in Brittany. Perhaps I shall not live to cross the square!
[_The noise of the mob without._
Oh, hear!
DE VARDES
Take courage!
THE MARQUISE
From the window there, Wilt watch me on my way?
DE VARDES
Ay!
GRÉGOIRE
Citoyenne!
THE MARQUISE
Farewell! Ah, not my hand, my friend!
DE VARDES (_He kisses her upon the brow_)
Farewell! Farewell—
[THE MARQUISE _turns to the remaining prisoners_.
THE MARQUISE
Messieurs, mesdames, ‘tis with regret I take my leave of this fair company! My part of Dorimène—it must be played By some more able, not more willing, one; For me—I’m bidden to a wider stage. Adieu! Adieu! Adieu!
THE PRISONERS
La belle Marquise!
[_Exit_ THE MARQUISE. DE VARDES _crosses to the window_. DE L’ORIENT _gives him place, and he stands upon the bench and watches the square without_.
COUNT LOUIS
There are three names that most of all they hate: De Vardes and Château-Gui and Blanchefôret!
GRÉGOIRE
Pasquier, Harlebeque, and Damazan.
[_There is heard from the street without a confused sound of execration and triumph. The now small company of prisoners exchange glances._
DE VARDES (_at the window_)
Grand Dieu!
DE L’ORIENT (_beside him_)
They dare not!—Ah!
[_The sound without grows to a roar._
COUNT LOUIS
What seest thou?
DE L’ORIENT
Malediction!
[_A cry without._ DE VARDES, _at the window, raises his voice_.
DE VARDES
Clarice! Clarice!
[_There is a faint answering cry, followed by a roar from the mob, then silence._
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
O Ciel!
THE ACTRESS
Miséricorde!
DE VARDES
‘Tis done—‘tis past—she’s dead. O God who makest man, forbear, forbear!
[_He covers his face with his hands. There is a silence._ GRÉGOIRE _folds his papers_.
COUNT LOUIS (_with a shaking voice_)
‘Tis well with her at last; we need not weep. We all must die, for so the play goes on! Her father was a lord of Gascony; A golden spur he wore, and loved the chase! Her mother was more fair than Montespan. A thousand times we’ve hunted with the King, De Miramand and I; a thousand times We’ve watched the moon, that first Clarice and I!
GRÉGOIRE
To-morrow, at this hour, another list! Meantime, Citoyens, you and you and you, And you, Citoyennes, who petitioned so, Your prayer is heard. Lalain is merciful! You shall not sleep on these cold stones to-night, Another gaol’s provided. Follow me!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
O welcome change!
COUNT LOUIS
The stones were very cold!
THE ACTRESS
And can we have our play there just the same?
GRÉGOIRE
Just the same.
[_The prisoners move toward the door._ DE VARDES _touches_ GRÉGOIRE _on the arm_.
DE VARDES
I find the stones no colder than their wont, Time moves no heavier here than everywhere, And here, Grégoire, I will remain. The Church Will give me up when Carrier calls my name!
DE L’ORIENT
I will keep you company—
GRÉGOIRE
As you will— To-morrow you’ll be called—you have one night. (_To the other prisoners._) Follow me.
[_Exeunt all but_ DE VARDES _and_ DE L’ORIENT. _The latter flings himself upon the bench beneath the window_; DE VARDES _paces to and fro. A silence, then_ DE L’ORIENT _sings_.
DE L’ORIENT
_There is an herb, they say, Gives light to all the blind. ’Twill be a gracious day When I that herb shall find. And lighten all the blind!_
_There is a leaf that springs. Will heal the very sad. Ah, would that I had wings To find that leaf so glad, And heal the very sad!_
_There is a bloom o’ grace Will bring the dead again. Ah, for the flowret’s face! Ah, for an end to pain! Ah, for the dead again!_
DE VARDES
Why, that’s a mournful thing!
DE L’ORIENT
It was so meant. Oh, happy days we sing the saddest things!— My heart is eased. I’ll sleep awhile and dream.
[_He pillows his head upon his arm and sleeps._ DE VARDES _walks slowly to and fro_.
DE VARDES
Sleep!—How long has it been since Sleep and I Met in the heavy road and laid us down, Took our dear ease, and let the world go by?— I well remember in the north one time,— Beside Moselle, where all the live-long day Upon a stairway old we stood on guard, De Buc and I, and looked on Mutiny, Brazen and bold, Death visible and dark!— And all the night before in council spent, After a day’s forced march from Lunéville, And a wild night of wine and rapiers drawn.— As the sun set we heard a bugle blown, Beat of the drums, and thunder of the guns, And Bouillé’s voice, assurance of relief!— Another night of council, then at dawn We slept. The moon was crescent and a star Shone on to guide the white, enchanted boat Through seas of ether coloured like a shell; The trees were dark beneath; there was no sound; The air was cold,—we laid us down and slept. Saint Gris! No dreams did trouble us that day!—
[_He rests upon the choir step._
To bring the dead again! No flowret blooms, No herb, no leaf, shall bring the dead again. No garden is there where for all one’s gold, The weightiest sceptre or the keenest sword, Might one obtain the happy gardener’s place, And find the bloom that brings the dead again. It grows not here, and there is naught will serve, No rain of tears, no delving earnestly, No lift of hope, no squandered treasury, Love nor remorse, nor longing nor great pain. The star has shot. The dead come not again.
[_He rises and again walks to and fro._
Happy the dead.—Ah, what of one who lives? What of that mask in this fantastic dance Who crowned herself with poison flowers and laughed To see the lilies fade before her breath?— O death! O love! O blasting treachery! O face that in the prison of La Force Visited my dreams—
[_The door opens._ YVETTE _leans against it, panting, then comes forward_.
YVETTE
Where is the paper?
DE VARDES
The paper?
YVETTE
The letter to the judges! Folded and hidden in the purse I sent—
DE VARDES
You sent?—
YVETTE
By Séraphine! You have it, sure?
[_She looks about her._
Where is she?—The Citoyenne Blanchefôret?
DE VARDES
She’s dead.
YVETTE
No.
DE VARDES
Yes.
YVETTE
All is black before me!
DE VARDES
They called her name—She said adieu and went. They slew her in the street.
YVETTE
Alas!
DE VARDES
She’s dead, Who was so fair. Why do you say alas?
YVETTE
Too late!—O God, I thought that all was well!
DE VARDES
Why, so it is! With her ‘tis well. She’s dead. They say the dead are happy.
YVETTE
You loved her!
DE VARDES
Goddess of Reason, no! Mere friends were we. But I’ve a preference for my friends alive!
YVETTE
Oh, woe is me!
DE VARDES
Thou hast what thou didst seek. Return to Olympus and hear “All hail, Well done, and like a deity!”
YVETTE
The paper!
DE VARDES
Thou dream of Paimpont Wood!—
YVETTE
The purse of gold!
DE VARDES
Thou picture of the Duchess Jeanne!
YVETTE
The purse! Give, give!
DE VARDES
The purse!—I gave it to Grégoire.
YVETTE
What!
DE VARDES
It bought five minutes—I did not know ‘Twas thine.
YVETTE
To Grégoire! You did not open it!
DE VARDES
No!
YVETTE
Oh, woe, woe is me!
DE VARDES
Thou standest there! Still, still the herd girl on the green cliff head Who waves her hand to a lost boat at sea! Still, still the vision of a haunted wood Soulless as is the stone thou leanest on,— Vivien musing on the thing she’s done!
YVETTE
A slip of paper in a silken purse—
DE VARDES
Wilt thou begone? The Mountain waits.
YVETTE
Too late!
Where is Grégoire?
DE VARDES
I know not. He’s away; He has thy gold—I’m sorry for’t.
YVETTE
No hope?— I thought the bridge was built and both were o’er. Then as I passed I heard “To-morrow morn Carrier himself will judge that ci-devant”
DE VARDES
The Mountain waits—
YVETTE
I’ll to Lalain again.
DE VARDES
Ha!
YVETTE
She is dead; I’m lost. But thou—But thou— Farewell! Farewell!
DE VARDES
Thou said’st, _I’ll to Lalain_. I do forbid it utterly.
YVETTE
Oh!
DE VARDES
Obey! It is thy seigneur’s last command. (_To himself._) Thou fool! Touch not her hand. ‘Tis red!
YVETTE
Monseigneur!
DE VARDES
Why art thou both so fair and foul a thing?
YVETTE
Ay, call me that—I care not!
DE VARDES
I’ll call thee “Death, Sweet Death—fair Treachery!”
YVETTE
Forgive, forgive!
DE VARDES
There’s blood upon thy hand.
YVETTE
Forgive!
DE VARDES
Alas! Thou didst betray!
YVETTE
I would that I were dead In Paimpont Wood, beside the Druid Stone!
DE VARDES
I would that I had never strayed that way!
YVETTE
I won that paper in that purse of gold! And it was life, I tell thee, life for both! O God! how all things here miscarry!
DE VARDES
I would that I had never seen thy face!
YVETTE
Oh, much I hated her, la belle Marquise, And yester morn I did betray her there, Just in the moment God gave o’er my soul! And she is dead—I cannot bring her back. Oh, swift the madness passed and came remorse, And I did hate myself, and strove to save!— Oh, woe, and double woe! He promised me! Oh, I have striven with a fiend from hell And not prevailed, though sorely I did strive! O God! O God! I’m weary of the light! Now, now thou too wilt die unless—unless— Ah, let me go—Farewell, a little while!
DE VARDES
Not till I know where thou dost go, and why.
YVETTE
Rémond Lalain gave me that paper. It was an order, written by himself, Whom even Carrier would not offend— A secret paper not for every eye. Reward he asked for certain services,— Two lives, your life and hers—and hers, I swear! He does not leave his villa all this day, But at the judgment bar you were to show That paper to Lambertye or Sarlat, And both were saved—both, both, I swear it, both! And now she’s dead—‘Twas life you flung away Shut in that purse! You gave it to Grégoire! Grégoire! He serves the Revolution, Is flint to all beside! Oh me! Oh me! I could not come myself, I could but send. I won it not till cockcrow of this morn!
DE VARDES
Till cockcrow!
YVETTE
The dawn came slowly on. The cock crew and I drew the curtain by And saw the morning star above the Loire!
DE VARDES
The morning star!
YVETTE
‘Twas like the eye of God! I used to watch it from the fields at dawn; This morn ‘twas watching me!
DE VARDES
Rémond Lalain!
YVETTE
‘Twas all in vain. She’s dead—ah, ages since! You’ll not forgive—So fare you well again!
DE VARDES
Where goest thou, Yvette?
YVETTE
To Séraphine, Beneath the Lanterne, Sign of the Hour Glass!
DE VARDES
Hear and obey! It is a dying man Speaks to thee now and with authority!— Thy seigneur too, and head of all thy house. When I am dead, the last of the De Vardes Will be thyself, my cousin!—All song doth say That Duchess Jeanne who lived so long ago, Whose pictured face and thine are counterparts, E’en to the shadowy hair, the cheek’s soft curve, The light of eye, the slow, enchanting smile,— All song doth say she had a bruisèd heart, But in God’s sight a height of soul! So thou. Go thou to Morbec. Leave this Babylon. Back! from the travelled road thy foot’s upon! List not unto the music that is played; Touch not the scarlet flowers, the honey-sweet, They’ll poison thee! Think not the light is fair, It is false dawn. Take thou the darkling way Shall lead thee to white light and lasting bloom! Go thou to Morbec. Take thy distaff up, Spin thou thy flax and listen to old tales, Peacefully, with that smile upon thy lip! Or in the dewy dawn lift up thy head From dreamless sleep and drive thy cows afield, Stand mid the golden broom and mark the mist Rise from the hidden sea, and hear the lark Singing afar his strain of heavenly hope,— So wear thy years away, ah, tranquilly!— Thou art so young—All this will come to seem A dream of yesternight—
YVETTE
Dost thou forgive?
DE VARDES
And at the last when Death shall take thy hand, Smile at the due caress, and lightly come— If I am I, I’ll meet thee on the strand!
YVETTE
Dost thou forgive?
DE VARDES
I love!
YVETTE
_Me?_
DE VARDES
Thou sayest.
YVETTE
Where is the music playing?
DE VARDES
Long ago, To Paris and my King I rode away, Long ago, in the freshness of the world! I left thee there, all safe in convent fold— Fair were the fruit trees in that garden old, Warm shone the sun, the silver fountain played. I left thee there and thought to find again, When King and Crown were saved and devoir done, The battle o’er, the bugles sounding peace!— The King he is in heaven, the Crown is lost, The battle’s to the strong, the war drum rattles on. Long lay I in the prison of La Force; A dream I had that thou wouldst wait for me, Beside the fountain, by the bright fruit trees. Thou must have known that bars kept me from thee! Thou must have known that I did love thee true! Thou must have known that I did longing wait The rainbow after storm, the halcyon time When, stilled the jar and discord of the mind, The all unfettered heart might speak of love! But ah, the garden’s sealed. Thou art not there! Thou wouldst not wait the while—
YVETTE
Outside I kneel; Outside the garden, outside Paradise! Oh, woe! Oh, bliss!
DE VARDES
Weep not!
YVETTE
I love thee so!
DE VARDES
Paimpont! Paimpont! I feel thy magic wind!
_Reënter_ GRÉGOIRE.
GRÉGOIRE
Citoyen Vardes—
YVETTE
Grégoire, Grégoire! the purse— The purse of gold!—
GRÉGOIRE
Hein?
DE VARDES
Let be! Let be! No purse was there! Dost hear, dost hear, Yvette? No purse, no gold, no paper, no Lalain! Thou dost not think that I would take my life?
YVETTE
No!
DE VARDES
Well said, and like the Duchess Jeanne! Let not Grégoire mistake thee either!
YVETTE
I said I know not what, Grégoire, nor why! Sometimes a woman says she knows not what. Why should I talk of purses, faith, now why!
GRÉGOIRE
What do you here, Citoyenne?
YVETTE
I know not. I strayed this way, a gaoler let me in. ‘Tis of the sights of Nantes, this church, this gaol!
GRÉGOIRE (_to_ DE VARDES)
I have in charge to guard you through the street To the old Prison of the Séminaire. They who lodge there go onward to the Loire!
[_He turns to_ DE L’ORIENT.
DE VARDES (_to_ YVETTE)
Oh, sunken eyes! Oh, cheek so deadly pale! Oh, rest thee, rest thee, child, in still Morbec! Our Lady guard thee, guide thee with her hand. Farewell—
YVETTE
I’ll walk upon the banks of Loire.
DE VARDES
No; come not there!
YVETTE
I must. It is my road.
GRÉGOIRE (_He touches_ DE L’ORIENT _upon the shoulder_)
Awake, poet, and go along with us!
DE L’ORIENT
I am awake! ‘Tis trudge again, De Vardes!
_Come, Fanchon and Babette, Olympe and Joséphine! The dancers all are met Within the forest green! Cerise to me, Denise to thee, But none to Léontine!_
[_He turns with_ GRÉGOIRE _to the door at left of the altar_.
DE VARDES
Farewell—my _douce_!
YVETTE
Farewell—my fisherman! Oh—
GRÉGOIRE
Come!
DE L’ORIENT
_The dancers all are met Within the forest green!_
[_Exeunt_ DE VARDES, DE L’ORIENT, _and_ GRÉGOIRE. _The church darkens._ YVETTE _moves to the choir step_.
YVETTE
Oh, love in my heart! Oh, splendour and light! The bow in the sky, the bird at its height! The glory and state of the angels bright!
[_She kneels and stretches out her arms to the altar._
Oh, mother of sorrows!
_CURTAIN_
_ACT V_