ACT IV
Reading edition
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!
152An 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!
153The 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!
154A 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!
155Mlle. 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!
156De 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!
157The 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!
158There 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.
159Mme. 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!
160Why 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.
161Angélique
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?
162Séraphine
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.
163Séraphine
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!
164Grégoire
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.
165De 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.
166Count 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.
167The 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.
168Mme. 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!
169La 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.
170The 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!—
171Unwarned! 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.
172De 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!
173The 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
174When 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
175The 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!
176Her 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!
177De 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
178By 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.
179De 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!
180Mlle. 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.
181’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,
182De 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?—
183O 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!
184De 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!
185De 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
186Soulless 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!
187De 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!
188De 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.
189Yvette
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!
190De 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!
191Go 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,
192To 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!
193Reënter 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!
194Grégoire (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.
195De 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
197
