Chapter II: Part 2

D’OR. [_Still glancing at the petition and not heeding their remarks._] ‘Respectfully submitted, Messrs. Albert, Lorraine, Frémiet; Mlles. Céleste Bergère, Adrienne Courteaux’—well, I declare, my charming friend of the lace-machine is to be one of your delegation! How soon do we meet them?

RAOUL. I think we had better agree upon some line of action before we invite the delegation to the office. We should at least present a united front.

D’OR. How do you usually act in such an industrial crisis as this?

RAOUL. Sometimes we find it necessary to make a partial concession—they are usually crafty enough to ask for twice what they expect to get. Occasionally we can win over a delegation by assuring them of an individual raise in wages and thus send them back to their associates with a discouraging report.

FRÉDÉRIC. We dare not tamper with the present delegation—they would be difficult to handle. Their leader, Albert, is a quiet fellow, but the soul of honor. [_Looks over the petition._] Lorraine is an old man, generally esteemed and beloved by his associates; Frémiet is a rascally socialist, a constant breeder of trouble. [_He drops the petition._]

D’OR. [_Picking up the petition._] And the girls, Mlles. Céleste and Adrienne—what lovely names they have!

FRÉDÉRIC. We never worry about the women in such delegations. They are easily managed. It is strange, Raoul, that just those two should have been chosen. You should know, M. D’Or, that Adrienne Courteaux is a good, highly respected girl, who is supporting her widowed mother. As for Mlle. Bergère—what shall I say, Raoul?

RAOUL. [_With sarcasm._] I hardly know how she will appeal to M. D’Or’s fancy. She lacks exactly those virtues and qualities that strike us so favorably in Mlle. Courteaux.

D’OR. Well, gentlemen, I see that you know something after all about the young women of your establishment, in spite of the fact that you are both married men—but, seriously, how do you propose to answer their request for an advance?

RAOUL. There is but one answer if we are not to reduce our dividends—the request must be refused.

D’OR. And the admirable Mlle. Courteaux, supporting a widowed mother, will continue to get only thirty-five francs a week?

FRÉDÉRIC. Her case seems to distress you most. Do you realize that even with the increase she would be earning less than forty francs?

D’OR. True—I hadn’t thought that it meant so little—so contemptibly little. Gentlemen, I propose that we grant the ten per cent. increase and that in such deserving cases as Mlle. Courteaux’s we give an additional increment.

RAOUL. [_Leaping to his feet._] M. D’Or, pardon me—but what you propose is impossible! Lehmann Frères are now paying the maximum wage-scale. We cannot increase wages further without defying an established economic law.

D’OR. M. Lehmann, the economic law has tyrannized over us long enough—it must be taught a wholesome respect for the power of gold. Of what value is wealth if it cannot crush so immaterial a thing as an economic law?

RAOUL. If you have no regard for your own interests, you should at least respect the investment of the other shareholders.

D’OR. Who are the other shareholders?

RAOUL. You hold some forty per cent. from your grandfather’s estate together with recent additions; my brother and I jointly own—[_A pause._] about half of the stock or a little over. That leaves about six or eight per cent. in small scattered holdings. [FRÉDÉRIC _looks anxiously at_ D’OR.]

D’OR. [_With a sinister expression, drawing a bundle of certificates from his pocket._] M. Lehmann, you and your brother own forty-five per cent. or less! The so-called scattered holdings are not six or eight per cent.—here are at least fifteen per cent.—you will observe that each certificate is endorsed in my favor.

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Leaping up._] Then you actually own a majority of the stock? [RAOUL _buries his face in his hands and groans_.]

D’OR. Yes. The Blausteins at Paris have been quietly obtaining this little block of Lehmann Frères for me. Gentlemen, I was surprised to learn that you had permitted the control to escape you.

RAOUL. [_Walking excitedly._] Why should the delegation consult with us, Frédéric? M. D’Or now dominates the situation—why prolong the agony?

D’OR. You should not be so bitter, M. Lehmann, because the sins of your own negligence have found you out. Your lie a moment ago is pardonable. I recognize your talents—you have maintained and advanced a great industry established by your father. I hope you will continue to direct the interests of Lehmann Frères. I simply wish to act as spokesman in the conference with your delegation—I may say _our_ delegation of workers.

RAOUL. Why ask of us a favor that we have no power to withhold? Complete your triumph! We are in your hands! [D’OR _glances for a moment at the angry_ RAOUL, _then turns to_ FRÉDÉRIC.]

D’OR. Kindly summon the committee!

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Rings._ BERTINE _enters, left_.] M. Bertine, please ask the delegation to come at once. [BERTINE _goes out, rear left. Frédéric crosses over to_ RAOUL, _who seems crushed and helpless. He tries to encourage_ RAOUL.]

D’OR. [_Looking at portrait, after a pause._] Your father’s portrait, I presume?

RAOUL. Thank Heaven, he did not live to see this day!

D’OR. [_Drily._] If he had lived there would have been no such day—at least, it would not have disturbed his equanimity.

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Comforting_ RAOUL.] Do not reply, Raoul. Let us at least preserve appearances before our employees. [_Enter, rear left_, BERTINE, _followed by_ ALBERT, _then_ CÉLESTE _and_ ADRIENNE, _finally_ LORRAINE _and_ FRÉMIET. _Throughout this scene_ RAOUL _labors under suppressed excitement_; FRÉDÉRIC _is more composed_.]

FRÉDÉRIC. M. D’Or, this is the delegation of our workpeople who have arranged for to-day’s conference. May I say to the committee that we are honored in having with us M. D’Or, who has a large interest in Lehmann Frères and wishes to participate in our deliberation.

D’OR. I should like to meet the delegates individually.

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Indicating._] M. Albert is their leader.

D’OR. [_Shaking hands._] M. Albert, I am glad to grasp the hand of a man who has the mark of leadership in his personality. [_Pointing to the petition._] Is this petition your work?

ALBERT. [_Modestly._] Only partly, monsieur. The committee worked on it as a body.

D’OR. It is a masterful summary. I congratulate you! [ALBERT _bows with a look of gratification and steps aside_.]

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Introducing_ LORRAINE.] Our oldest worker, M. Lorraine.

D’OR. The oldest worker! Most interesting! How long have you been associated with the company?

LORRAINE. I was twenty when the honored father [_Points to the portrait._] of Messrs. Lehmann first engaged me—and I’ve been here ever since. I have two sons and five grandsons here now. I am seventy-three years old.

D’OR. [_Astonished._] Fifty-three years of faithful service—and you are still among the workers! How is it that you have not risen to prosperity in that time?

LORRAINE. [_Without bitterness._] We cannot all hope to reach the top. Some of us have not the brains—and others have not the chance. I have always been a sober and industrious man, but the pay is not large. I do not complain, however—I have always been treated well.

D’OR. It is unjust—rankly unjust! [_He turns to_ FRÉMIET.] And our third delegate?

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Curtly._] M. Frémiet.

D’OR. Ah! I recall—the anarchist!

FRÉMIET. Pardon me, I am a socialist.

D’OR. Is there any difference? [FRÉMIET’S _look is contemptuous_.] I am quite unfamiliar with your nice distinctions of political or economic creed. I dare say you regard yourself as a very badly used person?

FRÉMIET. Yes. Every worker is badly used. He does not get his share of the wealth that he creates by the sweat of his brow.

D’OR. I suppose you believe that all men are created equal?

FRÉMIET. They are not—they should be.

D’OR. Ah! So you actually have a grudge against Nature in the first instance. How unhappy you must be! At any rate you believe in social equality. Let me test your faith. You are a workman, laboring faithfully week after week at the plant of Lehmann Frères; I am a gentleman of leisure, living idly on an inherited income. Do you believe that any social upheaval can ever make me your equal?

FRÉMIET. [_Misunderstanding._] I regard myself as any man’s equal, poor and crushed as I am. It is a cruel social tyranny that keeps us down.

D’OR. Pardon me, my friend—you did not listen carefully. I asked whether you believed that any social upheaval could make me _your_ equal.

FRÉMIET. You are mocking me, M. D’Or. In your heart you know that you are my superior—my superior in everything that is most desirable in this world. You live your life according to the dictates of your own fancy, you call no man master, the pleasures of the world are at your beck. Why should you seek to torture me and these others on the rack?

D’OR. [_Turning to the_ LEHMANNS.] Really, I had no idea that my visit was to be so interesting! [_To_ FRÉMIET.] M. Frémiet, you are something better than a socialist—you are a poet. Instead of working at the lace-machines you should capitalize your thoughts. You would soon attract sufficient attention to make you rich and famous—and incidentally to drive every vestige of socialism out of your system. [FRÉMIET _bows with evident pleasure_.]

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Introducing_ CÉLESTE.] Mlle. Bergère.

CÉLESTE. [_With a curtsy, archly._] Céleste Bergère.

D’OR. [_Bowing._] Mademoiselle, I am particularly interested in the welfare of the young women in our workrooms. In which department are you?

CÉLESTE. I assist in sorting and packing embroideries.

D’OR. And what is your pay for this service?

CÉLESTE. Twenty francs a week.

D’OR. Twenty francs! How can one live on such wages?

CÉLESTE. [_With a deliberate look at the_ LEHMANNS.] One cannot—and very few make the effort. [_The_ LEHMANNS _are astounded and annoyed at her audacity; the men of the delegation seem uneasy_; ADRIENNE _draws away from_ CÉLESTE.]

D’OR. [_With sympathy._] Pardon me for asking that question. I might have anticipated the answer. Of course, a girl living at home with her family is under less expense—

FRÉMIET. [_Starting forward._] How about the rest? It means ruin for the rest!

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Waving_ FRÉMIET _back and introducing_ ADRIENNE.] I believe you have met Mlle. Courteaux.

D’OR. [_Graciously._] Yes, I met Mlle. Courteaux in the lace department. Your pay is thirty-five francs a week—it is inadequate, I know.

ADRIENNE. It would not be so bad if it were not for the doctor and for the medicines that my mother needs.

D’OR. You are your mother’s sole support?

ADRIENNE. Yes. [D’OR _looks at her in mingled admiration and pity_.]

FRÉDÉRIC. Mlle. Courteaux receives high pay as the schedule is arranged. There are hundreds who receive far less.

D’OR. Heaven help the hundreds—and the thousands of their kind elsewhere. [_To_ ADRIENNE.] Are you happy at your work?

ADRIENNE. Yes; it is not difficult—one soon acquires the necessary skill.

D’OR. But you are surely looking forward to something better—something less monotonous than a lace-machine!

ALBERT. I hope some day to make Mlle. Courteaux my wife.

D’OR. Some day?

ALBERT. Yes. As soon as my pay is sufficient to keep us both.

D’OR. [_Looks at_ ALBERT, _then_ ADRIENNE.] This, too! Another tyranny of our industrial system! [_Turns to_ FRÉDÉRIC.] Can Lehmann Frères afford to be accessories to such hardships?

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Coldly._] It is distressing, of course—but we surely cannot undertake to reform society and bring about universal happiness.

RAOUL. [_Stepping forward._] May I remind M. D’Or that we have summoned this delegation to discuss the wage-scale? We can hardly reach any conclusion by considering the individual cases before us.

D’OR. [_With suppressed anger._] Thank you for reminding me, M. Lehmann. I have made the mistake of regarding our delegation as a group of human beings. [_He seats himself between the_ LEHMANNS.] Let us settle down to business. I take it for granted we are all familiar with the contents of this petition—it sums up the situation aptly—unless our friend Frémiet wishes to make a speech?

FRÉMIET. I have no speech to make, M. D’Or. I have been listening attentively to you—you are a fair-minded man. I am perfectly willing to leave our grievances in your hands. [D’OR _is visibly flattered_.]

D’OR. Very well. [_To_ RAOUL.] Now, M. Lehmann, you are the head of this great establishment—for years you have directed it ably and profitably. What do you suggest?

RAOUL. [_Looking keenly at_ D’OR.] Are you asking for my opinion?

D’OR. Certainly. Can we do anything for our people?

RAOUL. [_Speaking cautiously._] Perhaps what I say may appear unsympathetic—but I have always proceeded on the assumption that the shareholders deserve first consideration in the distribution of earnings. Our relation with our workers is in the nature of a personal contract—we offer a certain wage and they are free to refuse it and stay out of our employ if they so desire.

D’OR. That is sufficiently blunt to be understood by any one—and it’s also quite orthodox, I believe; but let us drop abstractions. Can we afford the requested increase in wages?

RAOUL. [_Feeling his way._] I wish to do the fair thing—but before all else I must advise the safe course. Our reports show clearly that a ten per cent. increase in all departments would ruin the concern. Perhaps we might compromise on a five per cent. advance and try it for—say six months, without committing ourselves to continue it beyond that term unless our earnings justify—

D’OR. [_Impatiently._] Nonsense, M. Lehmann; you would offer Mlle. Bergère an extra franc per week, the others perhaps two francs or less—do you imagine that you have solved the problem? I propose that we try the ten per cent. increase and give it a fair test.

CÉLESTE. [_Eagerly._] Oh! M. D’Or, you are our good angel!

D’OR. [_Flattered._] What is more, I propose to learn the circumstances of every girl who works in this plant, and wherever conditions warrant it, I shall recommend an increase of twenty per cent. or even more—

FRÉDÉRIC. It is impossible! We shall face bankruptcy!

D’OR. We might try it, at any rate.

RAOUL. [_Fiercely._] Your plan cannot succeed.

D’OR. [_Ominously._] None the less I ask you—shall we try it?

RAOUL. [_After a struggle._] Yes, if you insist! [_The workers are astounded._]

D’OR. [_To_ FRÉDÉRIC, _blandly_.] Do you also agree?

FRÉDÉRIC. Yes. Do whatever you think best!

D’OR. [_To the delegation._] Your petition is favorably considered and you may report to your associates that an increase of ten per cent. in all wages goes into effect immediately. [_The delegates are delighted_; D’OR _pays no attention to the rest, but gazes at_ ADRIENNE.]

ALBERT. [_Kissing_ D’OR’S _hand_.] You are a friend of humanity, M. D’Or!

LORRAINE. [_With choking voice._] I speak for my sons and grandsons when I say, ‘Heaven bless you!’ You have brought joy into our lives.

FRÉMIET. If all employers were like you, monsieur, I would stay away from our socialistic meetings.

CÉLESTE. [_Boldly._] M. D’Or, Adrienne and I also wish to thank you, do we not? [ADRIENNE _stands with bowed head beside her_.] You have made us so happy! You will be a hero henceforth in the eyes of us all. [_She turns to_ ADRIENNE, _expecting her to say something_.]

D’OR. And what do you say, Mlle. Courteaux? [ADRIENNE _raises her head and looks fixedly at_ D’OR _for several moments of tense silence; then with a sob she bursts into tears_.]

ALBERT. [_Hastening to her._] The truest tribute of all, M. D’Or! The tribute of tears!

RAOUL. [_Curtly._] The conference being over, you may return to your work. [_The delegates pass out at the rear left._] M. Bertine, you will at once post a notice in the shops announcing the increase in wages. [BERTINE _goes off, left_. RAOUL’S _demeanor changes completely_.] M. D’Or, in my whole life I have never experienced such a sense of humiliation, of utter degradation as in the last half hour. What a terrible man you are! How could you trample us so ruthlessly under foot—and before our workpeople—treating us like a pair of impotent puppets!

D’OR. [_Coolly._] I like to feel the power of my wealth. You have had the same experience in dealing with your workers.

RAOUL. Why don’t you exercise your power over them? It is easier and cheaper.

D’OR. They know the power of wealth—they need no further demonstration. The war of wealth against wealth is more to my taste at present. Besides, gentlemen, it is cleaner sport.

FRÉDÉRIC. Don’t you realize that as the majority stockholder you must pay the lion’s share of the bill?

D’OR. Yes, but it’s worth whatever it costs to see such a precious pair as you brought to terms. I am satisfied with the reward that my generosity will bring. By nightfall I shall be heralded through the town as the kind friend of the downtrodden workers—

RAOUL. [_Bitterly._] And Lehmann Frères will lose thirty to forty thousand francs a year!

D’OR. Of which nearly one half will fall upon you and your brother.

RAOUL. You forget, M. D’Or—there is still one resource. It would not be difficult to prove in any court of law that you are an irresponsible person. When a man, in order to gratify a passing whim, seeks to disturb the economic balance—

D’OR. [_With a sneer._] Economic balance! I like that phrase! On the one hand, our wealth, securely entrenched with all its vast unlimited influence; on the other, the hands and brains of the numerous wretches whom we call our employees. Economic balance, indeed!

FRÉDÉRIC. M. D’Or, we shall not be ruined without a struggle. This industry has been fostered through two generations of growth and development. We take pride in it—

D’OR. Let us stop quarreling, gentlemen—I have heard enough in this strain. At what figure do you estimate your holdings in Lehmann Frères?

RAOUL. [_Interrupting_ FRÉDÉRIC.] This morning our joint holdings were worth six hundred thousand francs—Heaven knows what they are worth now, with you in the saddle!

D’OR. [_Deliberately._] Then I presume the easiest way for me to restore peace and to avoid a commission in lunacy would be to pay you—let us say eight hundred thousand francs?

RAOUL. What do you mean? To buy us out?

D’OR. [_Toying with the petition._] Yes—for eight hundred thousand francs.

FRÉDÉRIC. On what terms?

D’OR. A sight draft on the Blausteins at Paris. [_A frantic discussion between the brothers, which evokes a smile from_ D’OR.]

RAOUL. [_Finally._] We accept your offer!

D’OR. Are you no longer afraid that I am a desperate madman? Are you sure that a man who disturbs the economic balance can legally transact business? Would not the sale of your holdings at such an outrageous overvaluation be liable to attack in your courts?

RAOUL. [_Suavely._] Not unless you or your friends should proceed. You made the offer yourself—we are not likely to test your sanity after the draft is honored.

D’OR. Gentlemen, I see you are not without a sense of humor. Kindly draw up a formal agreement—the actual transfer of the property can be effected to-morrow. [RAOUL _prepares an agreement_.] You can make immediate delivery, I presume?

FRÉDÉRIC. Yes. There is nothing to prevent you from taking absolute possession of the entire establishment at once. You will henceforth be able to follow the dictates of your own fancy in administering the affairs of the company. Would it be an impertinence to wish you success in your venture?

D’OR. I fear it would be, in the face of your conviction that I am doomed to inevitable failure.

FRÉDÉRIC. You are trying to do the impossible!

D’OR. The impossible is the only thing worth doing nowadays. [RAOUL _shows the agreement to_ FRÉDÉRIC.]

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Handing it to_ D’OR.] Very good!

D’OR. [_Returning it to_ RAOUL.] Quite proper—and to the point. [RAOUL _rings for_ BERTINE, _who enters, left_.]

RAOUL. M. Bertine, kindly let us have three copies of this agreement at once. [BERTINE _takes the paper, glances at its contents and utters an involuntary cry_.]

RAOUL. [_Severely._] Have you forgotten yourself?

BERTINE. [_Confused._] I—I beg your pardon, gentlemen. [_He glances from one to another, looks at_ D’OR _as at an apparition and goes out awkwardly_.]

D’OR. [_Sympathetically._] Poor fellow! How hard he takes it! Gentlemen, I confess that I looked for a possible word of sentiment from you—a desire to remain identified with the great business that your father had established and had developed to its present importance. I was even prepared to bid higher in case my first offer was not accepted—[_The brothers look at him in mingled anger and covetousness._] but the sum seems to have satisfied your cupidity. However, I have an appeal to make. I do not wish to undertake the administration of this great industry—I know nothing about it. Do you care to remain here in your present executive capacity? I know we can agree upon terms.

RAOUL. Events have crowded each other so quickly that neither of us has any plans for the future. We shall be willing to stay—for a time at least, eh, Frédéric?

FRÉDÉRIC. Assuredly. I, for one, am interested to know how M. D’Or’s experiment is going to work out. Such audacity affords an enlightening spectacle to the business man of normal training.

D’OR. Thank you, gentlemen, I shall appreciate your co-operation. Such a business requires a certain amount of personal shrewdness and finesse with which you are evidently well equipped. [BERTINE _enters with the papers, hands them to_ RAOUL _and goes off, left_. RAOUL _signs each copy, hands them to_ FRÉDÉRIC, _the latter signs and passes them to_ D’OR.]

D’OR. [_Signing the last copy._] There we are! [_Each takes a copy._] That settles the formal transfer—the details can go over till to-morrow. Is there anything further, gentlemen?

RAOUL. [_Somewhat excited, puts his hand to his brow._] I—I do not feel altogether well. The excitement of the past hour is playing havoc with my brain! I had better go home—

FRÉDÉRIC. My dear Raoul—you are not ill, I hope?

RAOUL. You had better take me home. [_They get their hats and gloves._] M. D’Or, I wonder whether you are not a demon—or an apparition of some evil dream!

D’OR. Have no fear, M. Lehmann. You will find my draft on the Blausteins a very reliable piece of paper—in exchange for which I am to receive [_Throwing out his arms._] all this!

RAOUL. [_In agony._] Ah! this is terrible! [_He goes out, rear right, followed by_ FRÉDÉRIC. D’OR _looks after them with a laugh, jingles the gold in his pocket and rings for_ BERTINE _who enters, left. As it is growing dark_, BERTINE _turns on the electric lamp on the table_.]

D’OR. M. Bertine, at what time does work cease?

BERTINE. [_Consults his watch._] In twenty minutes, monsieur.

D’OR. Will you kindly ask Mlle. Courteaux to come to the office before she leaves? You may tell her to come at once.

BERTINE. Very well, monsieur. [_He goes off, rear left._ D’OR _takes the agreement from his pocket and laughs over it. He looks over other papers on the desk with deprecatory gestures. For a few moments he gazes at the portrait of Lehmann senior._ ADRIENNE _enters, rear left, followed by_ BERTINE.]

BERTINE. Anything further, monsieur?

D’OR. Not at present. [_Exit_ BERTINE, _left_. ADRIENNE _stands looking steadily at_ D’OR.] Mlle. Courteaux, you doubtless wonder why I sent for you?

ADRIENNE. [_Simply._] No, I am not wondering.

D’OR. But you surely cannot know? You see, I—that is, I was so much distressed when I heard of your sick mother that I desire to learn if I can do anything for her—perhaps a better doctor, or a trip to the mountains. I am much interested in her welfare.

ADRIENNE. [_Coolly._] M. D’Or, it is impossible for me to believe that you are at all concerned about my mother.

D’OR. You might at least credit me with good intentions towards her. There was another reason for my summoning you. When I announced the increase in wages to the delegation, the others were profuse in their thanks. You said nothing—you burst into tears.

ADRIENNE. The rest believed you meant well by them.

D’OR. And you?

ADRIENNE. [_After a pause._] I knew better.

D’OR. [_With a look of admiration._] You are entirely too bright a girl to pass your best years in a factory. This morning I recognized your beauty and your charm of manner—now I learn that you are clever as well.

ADRIENNE. What next, M. D’Or?

D’OR. How did the shops receive the news of the increase?

ADRIENNE. The workers went almost wild with joy.

D’OR. And you alone find a sinister motive in what I did?

ADRIENNE. Am I wrong?

D’OR. [_With apparent wounded dignity._] You are doing me a great injustice—I want you to regard me as a friend. I shall be perfectly frank with you. When I arrived here I had no intention of playing the philanthropist as I did a few moments ago. I would have supported the Lehmanns and there would have been no increase—not a franc for anyone—if I had not seen you at work.

ADRIENNE. All this would be very complimentary, monsieur, if I could ignore the rest of your frankness.

D’OR. When I urged the increase in wages it was to please you—you alone. I did not care a whit about the others—and the Lehmanns had to dance as I fiddled!

ADRIENNE. That was evident. I felt very sorry for them.

D’OR. Then you don’t think better of me for what I have done?

ADRIENNE. How can you expect any one who reads your motives to think well of you?

D’OR. Of course, the increase was only a trifle for you after all! But suppose you could get away from the lace-machine altogether, could live well, dress well and enjoy life in a way worthy of your beauty—would that make any difference?

ADRIENNE. M. D’Or, why do you find it necessary to insult me?

D’OR. Perhaps you care for that fellow Albert?

ADRIENNE. [_Quietly._] No.

D’OR. Is there any one else?

ADRIENNE. No.

D’OR. [_More eagerly._] I wouldn’t use that word ‘insult’ if I were you. I am offering to take you out of a life of drudgery into one of comfort and affluence, to put the luxuries of the world at your disposal, to give you the one talisman to the real joy of living.

ADRIENNE. And that is—

D’OR. [_Drawing out a handful of gold coin and talking hysterically._] Gold! Gold! Unlimited gold! The faithful slave that brings me whatever I desire. The power that sent the Lehmanns slinking out of this room a few minutes ago like a pair of whipped curs! The power that has placed the entire establishment of Lehmann Frères in my hands. I own it all—all, Adrienne!

ADRIENNE. And you are the man who is now being proclaimed throughout the town as the champion of the poor man, the friend of the oppressed woman—you, who seek to control only that you may corrupt!

D’OR. [_Nettled._] How dare you speak thus to me? You forget that I am your employer!

ADRIENNE. That you are not. You have made it impossible for me to earn my living here. [_She moves toward the door, rear left._] Even if you do own Lehmann Frères, you might at least spare to your workers their own souls. You call gold your faithful slave; be careful that your slave does not master you in the end! [_She passes out quickly._ D’OR _stares after her and throws the coins on the table. He laughs nervously as he looks about, especially at the portrait of Lehmann senior. He picks up the petition, pulls out the agreement, and after some moments of indecision goes to the telephone._]

D’OR. [_Looks up the number in the telephone book._] 7—1—4 please.... Hello.... Yes.... Is that the home of M. Raoul Lehmann?... M. Lehmann himself? This is M. D’Or, at the office.... Yes.... I have changed my mind about purchasing your interest and your brother’s.... Yes, I prefer to restore the plant into your hands.... Yes, a majority of the stock as well as a bonus for cancelling the deal.... I know you won’t lose control of it again.... Yes.... I’m sorry I treated you and your brother so roughly to-day.... Why am I giving it up? Well, I’ve already had enough of it. Besides, your father’s portrait makes me nervous. I wouldn’t care to take it down—and I don’t dare to look at it.... What’s that?... You accept? Good!... Will you inform your brother?... Very well, in the morning at ten! Are you feeling better?... I am glad to hear it.... Good-by. [_He goes over to the table and slowly picks up the coins._] To-day you played me a very shabby trick! [_He pockets the gold, puts on his hat, takes his cane and is about to leave when he again notices the portrait. He goes directly to it, takes off his hat with a bow and addresses the picture._] M. Lehmann, I have the honor to bid you farewell! [_With a laugh he goes out at the rear right entrance as the curtain falls._]

SCENE II

[_The music salon of the Chateau D’Or. A handsome room, most luxuriously furnished in white and gold. The grand piano at the left is also finished in white and gold. The central entrance leads to a wide corridor which runs parallel with the room. The furniture and hangings are over-ornate, showing plainly the triumph of wealth over good taste in their selection. The guests of_ M. D’OR _are seated about the room in fashionable morning toilettes. On a sofa right are seated_ MME. CYPRIENNE DACIER _and_ MME. LUCETTE CLARY. _Before the curtain rises, the Prelude in C sharp minor by Sergei Rachmaninoff is played at the piano. As it concludes, the curtain rises and_ HENRI VAUX _is seen standing at the piano, bowing to the applause of the assembled guests. (If practicable, the curtain might rise before_ VAUX _has completed his solo.) As the scene begins, the anonymous guests chat in groups._]

LUCETTE. Bravo, M. Vaux! You played that prelude beautifully.

VAUX. Thank you, Mme. Clary. It is a favorite of mine, but perhaps a bit too depressing for such a pleasant occasion as this.

LUCETTE. Not at all. We must remember that there is a serious side to life—don’t you think so, Cyprienne?

CYPRIENNE. Of course. We can’t have dance music all the time.

VAUX. But life—at least, life as the artist usually knows it—is apt to be sad enough; perhaps it is natural that he should prefer a melancholy theme for subjective interpretation.

CYPRIENNE. Speaking of melancholy themes reminds me that Adolphe Lemaire is to be here.

LUCETTE. Why do you call this M. Lemaire a melancholy theme?

CYPRIENNE. Don’t you know him? He exhibited that remarkable painting called ‘Death in Life’ in the recent _Salon_.

LUCETTE. I did not get to Paris this spring.

CYPRIENNE. You surely saw a reproduction of the picture—it was copied in all the illustrated papers—a young girl wandering through a sun-lit grove and intercepted by a shrouded figure of Death.

LUCETTE. Oh! I recall it! I shall be delighted to meet the artist.

VAUX. M. D’Or usually brings together the most interesting people at his musicales. I believe the poet Moreau is also expected. You know him, Mme. Clary? A brilliant but eccentric genius! [LUCETTE _shakes her head_.]

CYPRIENNE. You have surely heard of Jean Moreau. He writes those stinging verses against the government. M. Dacier says that the Opposition would be helpless without him. Of course, he pretends that his satires refer to the middle ages or to some other country, but every one knows what he means!

LUCETTE. Have you brought your daughter along, M. Vaux?

VAUX. Yes; she was in the corridor a few moments ago.

LUCETTE. She is a most charming girl—so modest, so refined, and so very reticent! She seems almost afraid to express an opinion of her own.

VAUX. Is there any wonder? The sort of opinions that society likes to hear are not the sort that a young girl can express with any self-respect.

CYPRIENNE. Oh! what a cynical remark! Could anything be more attractive than the sincere thoughts of a sweet girl who has not yet lost her illusions, who is still a stranger to the bitter realities of life? [_She sighs._]

LUCETTE. My dear Cyprienne! Do not seem so vividly reminiscent! It makes me feel like an old woman to hear you talk in that strain. It isn’t ages since we felt that way ourselves.

CYPRIENNE. It isn’t ages, Lucette, in the number of years, but I feel that I have lived ages since then.

VAUX. So you regret those days?

CYPRIENNE. They were sweet; but life has been so varied since—I have enjoyed so much—that I cannot say that I regret the passing of impossible ideals. We must all awaken from the vain dreams of youth!

VAUX. I would have Hélène dream while the mystic charm still pervades her soul; I would not have her crushed to earth by the revelation of the deep-seated miseries of existence. I would foster her love for art, her devotion to music—in short, her taste for such ideals as are cherished by our genial and accomplished host, M. D’Or. [_Enter_ D’OR, _at the centre, in a frock coat, gold waistcoat, wearing a conspicuous scarfpin and rings_.]

D’OR. My good friends! You have just enjoyed a treat! I heard the Rachmaninoff prelude from the corridor, M. Vaux. Your interpretation is masterful; it is the grip of despair itself tugging at the heartstrings of humanity. We are all indebted to you and pay homage to your art. I am having some light refreshment served in the corridor. Won’t you kindly step that way? M. Vaux, may I entrust Mme. Clary to you? [VAUX _leads with_ LUCETTE, _the rest follow_. CYPRIENNE _takes_ D’OR’S _arm. When the others are out, he stops short._]

D’OR. We need not hurry after the others, Mme. Dacier. I have not had a chance to chat with you this morning; you will not deny me the pleasure of a few words. I do not see your husband among the guests.

CYPRIENNE. He is very busy at the bank just now. He finds it impossible to get away—even for such a splendid affair as you are giving us to-day.

D’OR. It is right that M. Dacier should regard his business as his first consideration. He is becoming one of our best known bankers.

CYPRIENNE. Ah! you are trying to flatter me. My husband is like many others who are engaged in the money game—a good enough fellow in the ranks, but not likely to become a leader. He is somewhat envious of you!

D’OR. _He_ envious of me?

CYPRIENNE. Yes—your close association with the house of Blaustein. He has sought for years to acquire the good will of that firm, but evidently his talents and resources are not sufficient to command their attention. I also am envious, M. D’Or.

D’OR. Surely not.

CYPRIENNE. I am envious of your future wife. Think of the unlimited wealth you will place at her disposal—the unfailing resource of gold.

D’OR. [_Sentimentally._] I shall never marry.

CYPRIENNE. And why not?

D’OR. Because the one charming woman whom I know is already married. [CYPRIENNE _affects indifference_.] Her name is—Cyprienne! [_He takes her hand._]

CYPRIENNE. [_Starts, but does not withdraw her hand._] Hush, M. D’Or—you should not say such things! You should not call me Cyprienne. M. Dacier would not like it.

D’OR. Do you think there is the remotest possibility of my saying it in his hearing, Cyprienne?

CYPRIENNE. [_Archly._] You are an irresistible man. How many hearts have you broken?

D’OR. None, I assure you. My own heart is more likely to be broken, unless—

CYPRIENNE. [_Coming closer._] M. D’Or, you might say a favorable word or two about Dacier to the Blausteins—you have such great influence!

D’OR. [_Eagerly._] I shall be delighted to do so, Cyprienne. We must talk it over some time. When can I see you?

CYPRIENNE. You are always welcome at our chateau.

D’OR. But I would see you alone!

CYPRIENNE. [_With feigned surprise._] Alone?

D’OR. Surely, our plan is to arrange a surprise for M. Dacier. At what hour does he reach home?

CYPRIENNE. At four or later.

D’OR. Then I may call some afternoon—say at two? [CYPRIENNE _starts_.] We can talk things over quite by ourselves. And then—[_Enter_ BAPTISTE.]

BAPTISTE. [_Announcing._] M. Moreau! [BAPTISTE _retires_.]

D’OR. [_To_ CYPRIENNE.] Confound the poet! I’d rather chat with you. [_Enter_ MOREAU.] Welcome, my dear M. Moreau! I’m delighted to see you.

MOREAU. Pardon my lateness, M. D’Or. I have been attending a conclave of the Opposition.

D’OR. Still denouncing the government, eh? I hope you will find it more agreeable here. Mme. Dacier, may I present M. Moreau?

CYPRIENNE. [_Extending her hand._] M. Moreau is an old friends of ours. [_Enter_ BAPTISTE.]

BAPTISTE. [_Announcing._] M. Lemaire! [_He retires._]

MOREAU. Ah! so Lemaire is also late. Evidently we poets and artists are an unreliable class. [_Enter_ LEMAIRE.]

D’OR. My best greetings, my dear Lemaire. [LEMAIRE _greets_ CYPRIENNE _and_ MOREAU.] We feared you were going to disappoint us this time—and every one is anxious to learn what work you have undertaken since your successful painting ‘Death in Life.’

LEMAIRE. [_Staring vacantly and nervously._] I’ve done very little lately. Heaven knows, I should be working, but that picture seems to have exhausted every vestige of inspiration in my being. I find it impossible to pull myself together.

MOREAU. I know the sensation—a great vital utterance leaves the inventive power paralyzed and one gropes about in vain for support.

D’OR. Gentlemen, if you will pardon me, I shall escort Mme. Dacier to the corridor for some refreshment. Pray make yourselves at home; I shall rejoin you shortly. [_Exeunt_ D’OR _and_ CYPRIENNE.]

LEMAIRE. [_Looking about._] What a palace! What wonderful appointments! Is it conceivable that the pen or the brush could ever earn such luxury for either of us? D’Or’s supply of gold seems inexhaustible—and he spends with a knowing hand.

MOREAU. A pleasant fellow, our host! My only regret is that he sympathizes with the scoundrels who constitute the present ministry. If I could only get him to support the Opposition, we should have the Premier’s resignation within a week!

LEMAIRE. Try him, Moreau! It’s worth working for! I believe that the mere mention of D’Or’s name as an adherent of our party would overturn the authority of the Premier. Try to have a quiet talk with him before you go—and let me know how you succeed.

MOREAU. I shall do it; with D’Or on our side the cause is as good as won! And then, Lemaire, a brighter day shall dawn for our country. We shall once more lead the way to higher and nobler achievement. [_Enter_ D’OR.]

D’OR. You see, my friends, I have not kept you waiting long. Perhaps you would care to partake of some refreshment?

MOREAU. No, thank you. Like most poets, I think most clearly on an empty stomach.

D’OR. With many poets compulsion and not choice develops that opinion. And you, M. Lemaire?

LEMAIRE. [_With a significant look at_ MOREAU.] I think I shall cater a bit to the inner man. I shall rejoin you later. _Au revoir!_ [_Exit_ LEMAIRE.]

D’OR. Well, my dear Moreau, on what are you working now? I hope you are not as destitute of plans as our good friend Lemaire?

MOREAU. No; I am writing a new poem which I hope to finish shortly.

D’OR. May I enquire the nature of your subject?

MOREAU. Certainly. I am seeking to glorify the future of our country and to blaze the way toward the realization of its noblest ideals. [_Slowly._] Of course, such a dream is impossible under existing conditions.

D’OR. You mean the present ministry?

MOREAU. Yes. They are a group of detestable politicians who make all great questions of state subservient to their own schemes for personal power and profit.

D’OR. I think you are a little unfair to the Premier and his associates. You must not forget that every party when out of office rails against those in control.

MOREAU. But the Opposition stands upon a firm foundation of integrity and high moral purpose.

D’OR. Mere vaporing, my dear Moreau. The minority is always respectable. It’s their only chance to regain the ascendancy. If your Opposition should triumph they would soon be drunk with power and the present party could successfully parade its manifold virtues before the public.

MOREAU. So you really believe that in the long run there can be no improvement in government?

D’OR. Yes, if you choose to put it thus; and my advice to you is that you join the party in power. You have too much talent to squander your life in the service of a hopeless Opposition.

MOREAU. Hopeless? I thought that possibly you might be induced to join our cause—to become the patron of a new and better order of things.

D’OR. [_Apparently ignoring the remark._] Of course, the ministry has antagonized the visionaries—idealists like yourself, who dream of Utopian governments, but who have little or no experience in practical affairs.

MOREAU. An instinctive sense of right and wrong is the best equipment for a statesman.

D’OR. There speaks the poet! Now, may I tell you in confidence what really does constitute the best equipment for a statesman?

MOREAU. [_Curiously._] What is it?

D’OR. [_Deliberately._] Knowledge of the fact that his party has the approval of the Blausteins!

MOREAU. [_Astounded._] The approval of a banking-house!

D’OR. The approval of the greatest power in the world—unlimited gold.

MOREAU. It seems hardly credible! The utter corruption of the existing state of affairs is beyond my comprehension.

D’OR. M. Moreau, let us talk sensibly about these things. I like your poetry very much; I admire everything about you except your political sentiments. Why do you not put your fine talent to better use?

MOREAU. What better use is there than devotion to the popular welfare?

D’OR. Nonsense. The people for whom you write cannot appreciate the subtlety of your thought nor the nobility of your inspired poetic nights. They place a scant value upon your efforts. The present government honors its friends more highly. A poem in praise of the ministry would bring you greater material reward and more renown than ten years of labor for the ungrateful Opposition.

MOREAU. M. D’Or, I am devoted to our cause; I would not write a poem in commendation of the present ministry for fifty thousand francs.

D’OR. [_Alert._] You would not?

MOREAU. No. It would be treason to the people.

D’OR. How long would you labor for the popular cause before you earned fifty thousand francs with your pen?

MOREAU. Five years at least.

D’OR. And you are unwilling to purchase a release from five years of drudgery by a single effort because of a conscientious scruple? You are indeed a patriot.

MOREAU. I wish merely to be true to myself.

D’OR. [_Slowly._] M. Moreau, what would you do if some one were to offer you—say one hundred thousand francs for a poem over your signature addressed to the Premier and commending the present government?

MOREAU. [_Aghast._] One hundred thousand francs! The question is ridiculous. You are trying to entrap me.

D’OR. The question is not ridiculous. I offer you that sum!

MOREAU. Are you serious?

D’OR. I shall not mince words. The government seeks the support of its most intelligent and most gifted people. You are one of these. The government would not, however, pay you such an amount as I have mentioned; that sum represents my personal gratification at the prospect of numbering M. Moreau among the champions of the ministry.

MOREAU. You are bribing me!

D’OR. I am not. I am telling you that there is fame and substantial reward for the adherents of the government; there is futile effort and wasted opportunity for the Opposition. You are a sane man; which do you choose?

MOREAU. But to write such a poem is a manifest renunciation of my high principles of conduct.

D’OR. To write such a poem is a declaration to the world that you have become a conservative. Are you familiar with that word ‘conservative’? It is a word of excellent savor and of good repute. A man who betrays a cause is justly styled a renegade or a traitor; but a man who has held visionary views concerning government or society, and who as a result of maturer deliberation rejects such fallacies and becomes an adherent of the existing social order may properly be styled a conservative. That’s the worst they can say about you—and the reward is the price of ten years’ hard labor with the pen.

MOREAU. [_Bewildered._] One hundred thousand francs! I can see it in every journal in Paris! ‘M. Moreau joins the conservatives!’ One hundred thousand francs!

D’OR. [_Jestingly._] You will note that there is nothing conservative in the sum I am offering you. I should call it liberal—decidedly liberal!

MOREAU. [_Brokenly._] After all, perhaps you’re right. Lemaire will think I’m a cur—but I accept your offer. I may live to regret this step, but I cannot resist you. I shall write your poem and I shall mean every word that I say. Henceforth I am one of your party. There is no future for me elsewhere. I want you to understand that I am completely within your ranks. I will not be a hireling, to puff the Premier in a single insincere poem. You have not bought a poem, M. D’Or—you have bought me, body and soul. Do you understand?

D’OR. [_Quietly._] Yes. It was you I was bidding for.

MOREAU. [_More wildly._] It’s a serious matter, this tearing one’s self out by the roots. I must have time for reflection. Pardon me, M. D’Or, it is growing oppressive here—I must have fresh air. I cannot meet Lemaire just now. You shall have your poem—a poem from the depths of my heart. It’s fresh air I need—fresh air! [_He staggers out with a groan._ D’OR _looks after him and smiles strangely. He draws a handful of gold coins from his pocket and is about to jingle them when_ LEMAIRE _enters_. D’OR _replaces the coins quickly_.]

LEMAIRE. You are alone! I expected to find M. Moreau with you.

D’OR. [_Coolly._] He left me only a moment ago. Have you partaken of the luncheon?

LEMAIRE. Yes, and chatted with some of your delightful guests. I am grateful to find so many recognized Liberals among them. Are you being converted?

D’OR. By no means—but I like to know intimately all points of view. It’s part of one’s education, after all. I try to make these gatherings as varied as possible and to give free rein to the expression of opinion. Did you hear nothing that might arouse renewed inspiration for another great painting?

LEMAIRE. [_Gloomily._] I shall probably grope long in the dark before I find another subject as striking as ‘Death in Life’!

D’OR. Surely, there are many themes available?

LEMAIRE. Few that I should care to depict. I shall paint nothing ignoble, nothing degrading. If my brush is not destined to uplift and to glorify mankind, I shall cast it aside.

D’OR. A noble ideal, indeed; but ideals are evanescent in this corrupt old world of ours.

LEMAIRE. Are they not about all that is worth while?

D’OR. Rather too unsubstantial, I should say. After all, an artist must labor for his bread and butter. Of course, he may be so absorbed in his ideals that he ignores the gross commercial value of his inspiration and its product. I am told you sold your ‘Death in Life’ for a trifle—yet it is your finest picture.

LEMAIRE. I have no regrets. The ‘Death in Life’ was sold to a collector while it still hung in my studio. He offered two thousand francs—I needed the money and accepted. Had I anticipated the success of the picture in the _Salon_, I might have asked more.

D’OR. That picture would have been cheap at ten thousand francs. Perhaps you do not know that I offered your lucky purchaser twice that sum—and it was refused!

LEMAIRE. Twenty thousand francs for my painting!

D’OR. Yes, and it was refused. [_After a pause._] I have an idea, M. Lemaire—a good one. Will you paint me a companion piece to ‘Death in Life’?

LEMAIRE. A companion piece?

D’OR. Yes. You might call it ‘Life in Death’ by way of contrast. I will give you thirty thousand francs for such a painting, if you permit me to suggest the subject.

LEMAIRE. You are willing to pay that price for a painting of mine?

D’OR. I have an object in view. I wish to make the other painting ridiculous, so that the purchaser may be willing to part with it.

LEMAIRE. I do not quite understand—

D’OR. Why should you? It is but necessary that you accept my offer.

LEMAIRE. Of course I accept! It is many times more than I have ever received for a painting, but you are a rich man, a noble patron of the arts. Have you chosen your subject?

D’OR. You agree to be bound to it?

LEMAIRE. Yes. It is to be called ‘Life in Death,’ I understand, and is to represent—

D’OR. [_Slowly._] A dead rat lying in a foul gutter!

LEMAIRE. [_With a cry._] You are mad, M. D’Or!

D’OR. Not at all. I think it’s a rather good subject to accomplish my purpose. I would like you to represent the rat as putrescent—

LEMAIRE. [_Horrified._] Stop, monsieur! You are insulting me. I shall hear no more of that.

D’OR. You gave your promise.

LEMAIRE. Yes, to paint a picture—not to execute a mad vagary of yours.

D’OR. I don’t expect my realistic theme to conform with your airy ideals, but think of the money I intend to pay you for this painting.

LEMAIRE. It won’t do. I must refuse.

D’OR. [_Firmly._] I intend to have that dead rat, M. Lemaire!

LEMAIRE. Then you must get some one else to paint it.

D’OR. I intend that you shall paint it. Perhaps I estimate realism too cheaply. I offer you forty thousand francs for the rat!

LEMAIRE. [_Almost in a whisper._] Forty thousand francs! To drag my reputation as an artist through the slime?

D’OR. No. To initiate you into a new and profitable school of art. Do you not realize that mankind has a natural craving for the unclean and the depraved? Mine will not be your last commission in the realistic style. Remember that I am offering you twenty times as much as you received for your ‘Death in Life.’ If any one asks you why you painted ‘Life in Death,’ tell them it is a parody on the original, executed at my order.

LEMAIRE. [_Hesitating._] If I did not need the money so badly, I would—[_Suddenly._] I’ll do it—I’ll do it for you, M. D’Or. I cannot help myself. [_Beating his forehead._] A dead rat—Great Heavens!—a dead rat! [_He rushes out wildly._ D’OR _is about to jingle the gold as before, but feels that he cannot. He mops his brow with his handkerchief and seems somewhat distracted. Meanwhile_ HÉLÈNE VAUX, _a charming girl of eighteen, dressed simply in white, enters quietly and gazes strangely at_ D’OR _as if to fathom his thoughts_.]

D’OR. [_Observing her._] Mlle. Vaux! I did not hear you come in.

HÉLÈNE. [_Timidly._] Pardon me, M. D’Or. I am looking for my father.

D’OR. Surely you will not deny me the pleasure of a few words with you. I am always glad to see you here with your father, but you seem desirous of avoiding me.

HÉLÈNE. [_Nervously._] No!—I—

D’OR. My sole object on such occasions as this is to make my guests happy—to entertain them in a way that will ever be a pleasant memory in the days to come; yet you always seem apprehensive of harm—

HÉLÈNE. I cannot explain. It seems so strange that you—[_She stops helplessly. They gaze fixedly at each other._]

D’OR. [_After a pause._] Eleanor! [_He seems entranced._]

HÉLÈNE. Why do you call me Eleanor? My name is Hélène.

D’OR. [_Embarrassed._] Pardon me, Mlle. Vaux. I once knew some one of that name. You resemble her—you bring back fleeting memories of the past.

HÉLÈNE. [_Ill at ease._] I do not understand—I must find my father. [_She goes off hastily._ D’OR _sits down at the right and rests his head on his hand as if dazed. He does not notice_ BAPTISTE _who enters_.]

BAPTISTE. M. D’Or! [_Louder._] M. D’Or! [_A pause._]

D’OR. [_Recovering himself._] Baptiste!

BAPTISTE. Mme. Dacier asked me to give you this note.

D’OR. [_Takes it._] Very well. [BAPTISTE _bows himself out_. D’OR _opens the envelope and draws out a card which he reads_.] ‘To-morrow at two—Cyprienne.’ [_He quickly thrusts the card into his waistcoat pocket. His demeanor instantly changes. He is completely aroused from his trance._ VAUX _enters at the centre_.] Ah! M. Vaux, your daughter is looking for you!

VAUX. I have been neglecting her all morning. I thought she was talking to Mme. Clary a few moments ago.

D’OR. Your daughter is a most attractive girl—one in a thousand. I congratulate you, M. Vaux, on the possession of such a jewel.

VAUX. [_Pleased._] Yes, Hélène is a good girl—my chief consolation since her mother was taken away. It is my one regret that I cannot give her the musical training that her talents merit.

D’OR. Surely she has teachers?