Chapter IV: Part 4

ANNE [_cutting him off sharply_]. I do not know what you mean by all these names--and "formerlies"!

VALSIN. No? [_Persuasively._] Citizeness, pray assert that I did not encounter you last week on your journey from Paris--

ANNE [_hastily_]. It is true I have been to Paris on business; you may have seen me--I do not know. Is it a crime to return from Paris?

VALSIN [_in a tone of mock encouragement_]. It will amuse me to hear you declare that I did not see you traveling in company with Louis Valny-Cherault. Come! Say it.

ANNE [_stepping back defensively, closer to the inner door_]. I am alone, I tell you! I do not know what you mean. If you saw me speaking with people in the diligence, or at some posting-house, they were only traveling acquaintances. I did not know them. I am a widow--

VALSIN. My condolences. Poor, of course?

ANNE. Yes.

VALSIN. And lonely, of course? [_Apologetically._] Loneliness is in the formula: I suggest it for fear you might forget.

ANNE [_doggedly_]. I am alone.

VALSIN. Quite right.

ANNE [_confusedly_]. I am a widow, I tell you--a widow, living here quietly with--

VALSIN [_taking her up quickly_]. Ah--"with"! Living here alone, and also "with"--whom? Not your late husband?

ANNE [_desperately_]. With my niece.

VALSIN [_affecting great surprise_]. Ah! A niece! And the niece, I take it, is in your other room yonder?

ANNE [_huskily_]. Yes.

VALSIN [_taking a step forward_]. Is she pretty? [_ANNE places her back against the closed door, facing him grimly. He assumes a tone of indulgence._] Ah, one must not look: the niece, likewise, has not completed her toilet.

ANNE. She is--asleep.

VALSIN [_glancing toward the dismantled doorway_]. A sound napper! Why did you not say instead that she was--shaving? [_He advances, smiling._]

ANNE [_between her teeth_]. You shall not go in! You cannot see her! She is--

VALSIN [_laughing_]. Allow me to prompt you. She is not only asleep; she is ill. She is starving. Also, I cannot go in because she is an orphan. Surely, she is an orphan? A lonely widow and her lonely orphan niece. Ah, touching--and sweet!

ANNE [_hotly_]. What authority have you to force your way into my apartment and insult--

VALSIN [_touching his scarf_]. I had the honor to mention the French Republic.

ANNE. So! Does the French Republic persecute widows and orphans?

VALSIN [_gravely_]. No. It is the making of them!

ANNE [_crying out_]. Ah, horrible!

VALSIN. I regret that its just severity was the cause of your own bereavement, Citizeness. When your unfortunate husband, Andre, formerly known as the Prince de Laseyne--

ANNE [_defiantly, though tears have sprung to her eyes_]. I tell you I do not know what you mean by these titles. My name is Balsage.

VALSIN. Bravo! The Widow Balsage, living here in calm obscurity with her niece. Widow Balsage, answer quickly, without stopping to think. [_Sharply._] How long have you lived here?

ANNE. Two months. [_Faltering._]--A year!

VALSIN [_laughing_]. Good. Two months and a year! No visitors? No strangers?

ANNE. No.

VALSIN [_wheeling quickly and picking up LOUIS's cap from the dressing-table_]. This cap, then, belongs to your niece.

ANNE [_flustered, advancing toward him as if to take it_]. It was--it was left here this afternoon by our landlord.

VALSIN [_musingly_]. That is very, very puzzling. [_He leans against the dressing-table in a careless attitude, his back to her._]

ANNE [_cavalierly_]. Why "puzzling"?

VALSIN. Because I sent him on an errand to Paris this morning. [_She flinches, but he does not turn to look at her, continuing in a tone of idle curiosity._] I suppose your own excursion to Paris was quite an event for you, Widow Balsage. You do not take many journeys?

ANNE. I am too poor.

VALSIN. And you have not been contemplating another departure from Boulogne?

ANNE. No.

VALSIN [_still in the same careless attitude, his back toward her and the closed door_]. Good. It is as I thought: the portmanteau is for ornament.

ANNE [_choking_]. It belongs to my niece. She came only an hour ago. She has not unpacked.

VALSIN. Naturally. Too ill.

ANNE. She had traveled all night; she was exhausted. She went to sleep at once.

VALSIN. Is she a somnambulist?

ANNE [_taken aback_]. Why?

VALSIN [_indifferently_]. She has just opened the door of her room in order to overhear our conversation. [_Waving his hand to the dressing-table mirror, in which he had been gazing._] Observe it, Citizeness Laseyne.

ANNE [_demoralized_]. I do not--I--[_Stamping her foot._] How often shall I tell you my name is Balsage!

VALSIN [_turning to her apologetically_]. My wretched memory. Perhaps I might remember better if I saw it written: I beg a glance at your papers. Doubtless you have your certificate of citizenship--

ANNE [_trembling_]. I have papers, certainly.

VALSIN. The sight of them--

ANNE. I have my passport; you shall see. [_With wildly shaking hands she takes from her blouse the passport and the "permit," crumpled together._] It is in proper form--[_She is nervously replacing the two papers in her bosom when with a sudden movement he takes them from her. She cries out incoherently, and attempts to recapture them._]

VALSIN [_extending his left arm to fend her off_]. Yes, here you have your passport. And there you have others. [_He points to the littered floor under the desk._] Many of them!

ANNE. Old letters! [_She clutches at the papers in his grasp._]

VALSIN [_easily fending her off_]. Doubtless! [_He shakes the "permit" open._] Oho! A permission to embark--and signed by three names of the highest celebrity. Alas, these unfortunate statesmen, Billaud Varennes, Carnot, and Robespierre! Each has lately suffered an injury to his right hand. What a misfortune for France! And what a coincidence! One has not heard the like since we closed the theatres.

ANNE [_furiously struggling to reach his hand_]. Give me my papers! Give me--

VALSIN [_holding them away from her_]. You see, these unlucky great men had their names signed for them by somebody else. And I should judge that this somebody else must have been writing quite recently--less than half an hour ago, from the freshness of the ink--and in considerable haste; perhaps suffering considerable anguish of mind, Widow Balsage! [_MADAME DE LASEYNE, overwhelmed, sinks into a chair. He comes close to her, his manner changing startlingly._]

VALSIN [_bending over with sudden menace, his voice loud and harsh_]. Widow Balsage, if you intend no journey, why have you this forged permission to embark on the Jeune Pierrette? Widow Balsage, who is the Citizen Balsage?

ANNE [_faintly_]. My brother.

VALSIN [_straightening up_]. Your first truth. [_Resuming his gaiety._] Of course he is not in that room yonder with your niece.

ANNE [_brokenly_]. No, no, no; he is not! He is not here.

VALSIN [_commiseratingly_]. Poor woman! You have not even the pleasure to perceive how droll you are.

ANNE. I perceive that I am a fool! [_She dashes the tears from her eyes and springs to her feet._] I also perceive that you have denounced us before the authorities here--

VALSIN. Pardon. In Boulogne it happens that _I_ am the authority. I introduce myself for the third time: Valsin, Commissioner of the National Committee of Public Safety. Tallien was sent to Bordeaux; Collot to Lyons; I to Boulogne. Citizeness, were all of the august names on your permit genuine, you could no more leave this port without my counter-signature than you could take wing and fly over the Channel!

ANNE [_with a shrill laugh of triumph_]. You have overreached yourself! You're an ordinary spy: you followed us from Paris--

VALSIN [_gaily_]. Oh, I intended you to notice that!

ANNE [_unheeding_]. You have claimed to be Commissioner of the highest power in France. We can prove that you are a common spy. You may go to the guillotine for that. Take care, Citizen! So! You have denounced us; we denounce you. I'll have you arrested by your own soldiers. I'll call them--[_She makes a feint of running to the window. He watches her coolly, in silence; and she halts, chagrined._]

VALSIN [_pleasantly_]. I was sure you would not force me to be premature. Remark it, Citizeness Laseyne: I am enjoying all this. I have waited a long time for it.

ANNE [_becoming hysterical_]. I am the Widow Balsage, I tell you! You do not know us--you followed us from Paris. [_Half sobbing._] You're a spy--a hanger-on of the police. We will prove--

VALSIN [_stepping to the dismantled doorway_]. I left my assistant within hearing--a species of animal of mine. I may claim that he belongs to me. A worthy patriot, but skillful, who has had the honor of a slight acquaintance with you, I believe. [_Calling._] Dossonville! [_DOSSONVILLE, a large man, flabby of flesh, loose-mouthed, grizzled, carelessly dressed, makes his appearance in the doorway. He has a harsh and reckless eye; and, obviously a flamboyant bully by temperament, his abject, doggish deference to VALSIN is instantly impressive, more than confirming the latter's remark that DOSSONVILLE "belongs" to him. DOSSONVILLE, apparently, is a chattel indeed, body and soul. At sight of him MADAME DE LASEYNE catches at the desk for support and stands speechless._]

VALSIN [_easily_]. Dossonville, you may inform the Citizeness Laseyne what office I have the fortune to hold.

DOSSONVILLE [_coming in_]. Bright heaven! All the world knows that you are the representative of the Committee of Public Safety. Commissioner to Boulogne.

VALSIN. With what authority?

DOSSONVILLE. Absolute--unlimited! Naturally. What else would be useful?

VALSIN. You recall this woman, Dossonville?

DOSSONVILLE. She was present when I delivered the passport to the Emigrant Valny-Cherault, in Paris.

VALSIN. Did you forge that passport?

DOSSONVILLE. No. I told the Emigrant I had. Under orders. [_Grinning._] It was genuine.

VALSIN. Where did you get it?

DOSSONVILLE. From you.

VALSIN [_suavely_]. Sit down, Dossonville. [_The latter, who is standing by a chair, obeys with a promptness more than military. VALSIN turns smilingly to MADAME DE LASEYNE._] Dossonville's instructions, however, did not include a "permit" to sail on the _Jeune Pierrette_. All of which, I confess, Citizeness, has very much the appearance of a trap! [_He tosses the two papers upon the desk. Utterly dismayed, she makes no effort to secure them. He regards her with quizzical enjoyment._]

ANNE. Ah--you--[_She fails to speak coherently._]

VALSIN. Dossonville has done very well. He procured your passport, brought your "disguises," planned your journey, even gave you directions how to find these lodgings in Boulogne. Indeed, I instructed him to omit nothing for your comfort. [_He pauses for a moment._] If I am a spy, Citizeness Laseyne, at least I trust your gracious intelligence may not cling to the epithet "ordinary." My soul! but I appear to myself a most uncommon type of spy--a very intricate, complete, and unusual spy, in fact.

ANNE [_to herself, weeping_]. Ah, poor Louis!

VALSIN [_cheerfully_]. You are beginning to comprehend? That is well. Your niece's door is still ajar by the discreet width of a finger, so I assume that the Emigrant also begins to comprehend. Therefore I take my ease! [_He seats himself in the most comfortable chair in the room, crossing his legs in a leisurely attitude, and lightly drumming the tips of his fingers together, the while his peaceful gaze is fixed upon the ceiling. His tone, as he continues, is casual._] You understand, my Dossonville, having long ago occupied this very apartment myself, I am serenely aware that the Emigrant can leave the other room only by the window; and as this is the fourth floor, and a proper number of bayonets in the courtyard below are arranged to receive any person active enough to descend by a rope of bed-clothes, one is confident that the said Emigrant will remain where he is. Let us make ourselves comfortable, for it is a delightful hour--an hour I have long promised myself. I am in a good humor. Let us all be happy. Citizeness Laseyne, enjoy yourself. Call me some bad names!

ANNE [_between her teeth_]. If I could find one evil enough!

VALSIN [_slapping his knee delightedly_]. There it is: the complete incompetence of your class. You poor aristocrats, you do not even know how to swear. Your ancestors knew how! They were fighters; they knew how to swear because they knew how to attack; you poor moderns have no profanity left in you, because, poisoned by idleness, you have forgotten even how to resist. And yet you thought yourselves on top, and so you were--but as foam is on top of the wave. You forgot that power, like genius, always comes from underneath, because it is produced only by turmoil. We have had to wring the neck of your feather-head court, because while the court was the nation the nation had its pockets picked. You were at the mercy of anybody with a pinch of brains: adventurers like Mazarin, like Fouquet, like Law, or that little commoner, the woman Fish, who called herself Pompadour and took France--France, merely!--from your King, and used it to her own pleasure. Then, at last, after the swindlers had well plucked you--at last, unfortunate creatures, the People got you! Citizeness, the People had starved: be assured they will eat you to the bone--and then eat the bone! You are helpless because you have learned nothing and forgotten everything. You have forgotten everything in this world except how to be fat!

DOSSONVILLE [_applauding with unction_]. Beautiful! It is beautiful, all that! A beautiful speech!

VALSIN. Ass!

DOSSONVILLE [_meekly_]. Perfectly, perfectly.

VALSIN [_crossly_]. That wasn't a speech; it was the truth. Citizeness Laseyne, so far as you are concerned, I am the People. [_He extends his hand negligently, with open palm._] And I have got you. [_He clenches his fingers, like a cook's on the neck of a fowl._] Like that! And I'm going to take you back to Paris, you and the Emigrant. [_She stands in an attitude eloquent of despair. His glance roves from her to the door of the other room, which is still slightly ajar; and, smiling at some fugitive thought, he continues, deliberately._] I take you: you and your brother--and that rather pretty little person who traveled with you. [_There is a breathless exclamation from the other side of the door, which is flung open violently, as ELOISE--flushed, radiant with anger, and altogether magnificent--sweeps into the room to confront VALSIN._]

ELOISE [_slamming the door behind her_]. Leave this Jack-in-Office to me, Anne!

DOSSONVILLE [_dazed by the vision_]. Lord! What glory! [_He rises, bowing profoundly, muttering hoarsely._] Oh, eyes! Oh, hair! Look at her shape! Her chin! The divine--

VALSIN [_getting up and patting him reassuringly on the back_]. The lady perceives her effect, my Dossonville. It is no novelty. Sit down, my Dossonville. [_The still murmurous DOSSONVILLE obeys VALSIN turns to ELOISE, a brilliant light in his eyes._] Let me greet one of the nieces of Widow Balsage--evidently not the sleepy one, and certainly not ill. Health so transcendent--

ELOISE [_placing her hand upon MADAME DE LASEYNE's shoulder_]. This is a clown, Anne. You need have no fear of him whatever. His petty authority does not extend to us.

VALSIN [_deferentially_]. Will the niece of Widow Balsage explain why it does not?

ELOISE [_turning upon him fiercely_]. Because the patriot Citizeness Eloise d'Anville is here!

VALSIN [_assuming an air of thoughtfulness_]. Yes, she is here. That "permit" yonder even mentions her by name. It is curious. I shall have to go into that. Continue, niece.

ELOISE [_with supreme haughtiness_]. This lady is under her protection.

VALSIN [_growing red_]. Pardon. Under whose protection?

ELOISE [_sulphurously_]. Under the protection of Eloise d'Anville! [_This has a frightful effect upon VALSIN; his face becomes contorted; he clutches at his throat, apparently half strangled, staggers, and falls choking into the easy-chair he has formerly occupied._]

VALSIN [_gasping, coughing, incoherent_]. Under the pro--the protection--[_He explodes into peal after peal of uproarious laughter._] The protection of--Aha, ha, ha, ho, ho, ho! [_He rocks himself back and forth unappeasably._]

ELOISE [_with a slight lift of the eyebrows_]. This man is an idiot.

VALSIN [_during an abatement of his attack_]. Oh, pardon! It is--too--much--too much for me! You say--these people are--

ELOISE [_stamping her foot_]. Under the protection of Eloise d'Anville, imbecile! You cannot touch them. She wills it! [_At this, VALSIN shouts as if pleading for mercy, and beats the air with his hands. He struggles to his feet and, pounding himself upon the chest, walks to and fro in the effort to control his convulsion._]

ELOISE [_to ANNE, under cover of the noise he makes_]. I was wrong: he is not an idiot.

ANNE [_despairingly_]. He laughs at you.

ELOISE [_in a quick whisper_]. Out of bluster; because he is afraid. He is badly frightened. I know just what to do. Go into the other room with Louis.

ANNE [_protesting weakly_]. I can't hope--

ELOISE [_flashing from a cloud_]. You failed, didn't you? [_MADAME DE LASEYNE, after a tearful perusal of the stern resourcefulness now written in the younger woman's eyes, succumbs with a piteous gesture of assent and goes out forlornly. ELOISE closes the door and stands with her back to it._]

VALSIN [_paying no attention to them_]. Eloise d'Anville! [_Still pacing the room in the struggle to subdue his hilarity._] This young citizeness speaks of the protection of Eloise d'Anville! [_Leaning feebly upon DOSSONVILLE's shoulder._] Do you hear, my Dossonville? It is an ecstasy. Ecstasize, then. Scream, Dossonville!

DOSSONVILLE [_puzzled, but evidently accustomed to being so, cackles instantly_]. Perfectly. Ha, ha! The citizeness is not only stirringly beautiful, she is also--

VALSIN. She is also a wit. Susceptible henchman, concentrate your thoughts upon domesticity. In this presence remember your wife!

ELOISE [_peremptorily_]. Dismiss that person. I have something to say to you.

VALSIN [_wiping his eyes_]. Dossonville, you are not required. We are going to be sentimental, and heaven knows you are not the moon. In fact, you are a fat old man. Exit, obesity! Go somewhere and think about your children. Flit, whale!

DOSSONVILLE [_rising_]. Perfectly, my chieftain. [_He goes to the broken door._]

ELOISE [_tapping the floor with her shoe_]. Out of hearing!

VALSIN. The floor below.

DOSSONVILLE. Well understood. Perfectly, perfectly! [_He goes out through the hallway; disappears, chuckling grossly. There are some moments of silence within the room, while he is heard clumping down a flight of stairs; then VALSIN turns to ELOISE with burlesque ardor._]

VALSIN. "Alone at last!"

ELOISE [_maintaining her composure_]. Rabbit!

VALSIN [_dropping into the chair at the desk, with mock dejection_]. Repulsed at the outset! Ah, Citizeness, there were moments on the journey from Paris when I thought I detected a certain kindness in your glances at the lonely stranger.

ELOISE [_folding her arms_]. You are to withdraw your soldiers, countersign the "permit," and allow my friends to embark at once.

VALSIN [_with solemnity_]. Do you give it as an order, Citizeness?

ELOISE. I do. You will receive suitable political advancement.

VALSIN [_in a choked voice_]. You mean as a--a reward?

ELOISE [_haughtily_]. _I_ guarantee that you shall receive it! [_He looks at her strangely; then, with a low moan, presses his hand to his side, seeming upon the point of a dangerous seizure._]

VALSIN [_managing to speak_]. I can only beg you to spare me. You have me at your mercy.

ELOISE [_swelling_]. It is well for you that you understand that!

VALSIN [_shaking his hand ruefully_]. Yes; you see I have a bad liver: it may become permanently enlarged. Laughter is my great danger.

ELOISE [_crying out with rage_]. _Oh!_

VALSIN [_dolorously_]. I have continually to remind myself that I am no longer in the first flush of youth.

ELOISE. Idiot! Do you not know who I am!

VALSIN. You? Oh yes--[_He checks himself abruptly; looks at her with brief intensity; turns his eyes away, half closing them in quick meditation; smiles, as upon some secret pleasantry, and proceeds briskly._] Oh yes, yes, I know who you are.

ELOISE [_beginning haughtily_]. Then you--

VALSIN [_at once cutting her off_]. As to your name, I do not say. Names at best are details; and your own is a detail that could hardly be thought to matter. _What_ you are is obvious: you joined Louis and his sister in Paris at the barriers, and traveled with them as "Marie Balsage," a sister. You might save us a little trouble by giving us your real name; you will probably refuse, and the police will have to look it up when I take you back to Paris. Frankly, you are of no importance to us, though of course we'll send you to the Tribunal. No doubt you are a poor relative of the Valny-Cheraults, or, perhaps, you may have been a governess in the Laseyne family, or--

ELOISE [_under her breath_]. Idiot! Idiot!

VALSIN [_with subterranean enjoyment, watching her sidelong_]. Or the good-looking wife of some faithful retainer of the Emigrant's, perhaps.

ELOISE [_with a shrill laugh_]. Does the Committee of Public Safety betray the same intelligence in the appointment of all its agents? [_Violently._] Imbecile, I--

VALSIN [_quickly raising his voice to check her_]. You are of no importance, I tell you! [_Changing his tone._] Of course I mean politically. [_With broad gallantry._] Otherwise, I am the first to admit extreme susceptibility. I saw that you observed it on the way--at the taverns, in the diligence, at the posting-houses, at--

ELOISE [_with serenity_]. Yes. I am accustomed to oglers.

VALSIN. Alas, I believe you! My unfortunate sex is but too responsive.

ELOISE [_gasping_]. "Responsive"--Oh!

VALSIN [_indulgently_]. Let us return to the safer subject. Presently I shall arrest those people in the other room and, regretfully, you too. But first I pamper myself; I chat; I have an attractive woman to listen. In the matter of the arrest, I delay my fire; I do not flash in the pan, but I lengthen my fuse. Why? For the same reason that when I was a little boy and had something good to eat, I always first paid it the compliments of an epicure. I looked at it a long while. I played with it. Then--I devoured it! I am still like that. And Louis yonder is good to eat, because I happen not to love him. However, I should mention that I doubt if he could recall either myself or the circumstance which annoyed me; some episodes are sometimes so little to certain people and so significant to certain other people. [_He smiles, stretching himself luxuriously in his chair._] Behold me, Citizeness! I am explained. I am indulging my humor: I play with my cake. Let us see into what curious little figures I can twist it.

ELOISE. Idiot!

VALSIN [_pleasantly_]. I have lost count, but I think that is the sixth idiot you have called me. Aha, it is only history, which one admires for repeating itself. Good! Let us march. I shall play--[_He picks up the "permit" from the desk, studies it absently, and looks whimsically at her over his shoulder, continuing:_] I shall play with--with all four of you.

ELOISE [_impulsively_]. Four?

VALSIN. I am not easy to deceive; there are four of you here.

ELOISE [_staring_]. So?

VALSIN. Louis brought you and his sister from Paris: a party of three. This "permit" which he forged is for four; the original three and the woman you mentioned a while ago, Eloise d'Anville. Hence she must have joined you here. The deduction is plain: there are three people in that room: the Emigrant, his sister, and this Eloise d'Anville. To the trained mind such reasoning is simple.

ELOISE [_elated_]. Perfectly!

VALSIN [_with an air of cunning_]. Nothing escapes me. You see that.

ELOISE. At first glance! I make you my most profound compliments. Sir, you are an eagle!

VALSIN [_smugly_]. Thanks. Now, then, pretty governess, you thought this d'Anville might be able to help you. What put that in your head?

ELOISE [_with severity_]. Do you pretend not to know what she is?

VALSIN. A heroine I have had the misfortune never to encounter. But I am informed of her character and history.

ELOISE [_sternly_]. Then you understand that even the Agent of the National Committee risks his head if he dares touch people she chooses to protect.

VALSIN [_extending his hand in plaintive appeal_]. Be generous to my opacity. How could _she_ protect anybody?

ELOISE [_with condescension_]. She has earned the gratitude--

VALSIN. Of whom?

ELOISE [_superbly_]. Of the Nation!

VALSIN [_breaking out again_]. Ha, ha, ha! [_Clutching at his side._] Pardon, oh, pardon, liver of mine. I must not die; my life is still useful.

ELOISE [_persisting stormily_]. Of the People, stupidity! Of the whole People, dolt! Of France, blockhead!

VALSIN [_with a violent effort, conquering his hilarity_]. There! I am saved. Let us be solemn, my child; it is better for my malady. You are still so young that one can instruct you that individuals are rarely grateful; "the People," never. What you call "the People" means folk who are not always sure of their next meal; therefore their great political and patriotic question is the cost of food. Their heroes are the champions who are going to make it cheaper; and when these champions fail them or cease to be useful to them, then they either forget these poor champions--or eat them. Let us hear what your Eloise d'Anville has done to earn the reward of being forgotten instead of eaten.

ELOISE [_her lips quivering_]. She surrendered her property voluntarily. She gave up all she owned to the Nation.

VALSIN [_genially_]. And immediately went to live with her relatives in great luxury.

ELOISE [_choking_]. The Republic will protect her. She gave her whole estate--

VALSIN. And the order for its confiscation was already written when she did it.

ELOISE [_passionately_]. Ah--_liar!_

VALSIN [_smiling_]. I have seen the order. [_She leans against the wall, breathing heavily. He goes on, smoothly._] Yes, this martyr "gave" us her property; but one hears that she went to the opera just the same and wore more jewels than ever, and lived richly upon the Laseynes and Valny-Cheraults, until _they_ were confiscated. Why, all the world knows about this woman; and let me tell you, to your credit, my governess, I think you have a charitable heart: you are the only person I ever heard speak kindly of her.

ELOISE [_setting her teeth_]. Venom!

VALSIN [_observing her slyly_]. It is with difficulty I am restraining my curiosity to see her--also to hear her!--when she learns of her proscription by a grateful Republic.

ELOISE [_with shrill mockery_]. Proscribed? Eloise d'Anville proscribed? Your inventions should be more plausible, Goodman Spy! I _knew_ you were lying--

VALSIN [_smiling_]. You do not believe--

ELOISE [_proudly_]. Eloise d'Anville is a known Girondist. The Gironde is the real power in France.

VALSIN [_mildly_]. That party has fallen.

ELOISE [_with fire_]. Not far! It will revive.

VALSIN. Pardon, Citizeness, but you are behind the times, and they are very fast nowadays--the times. The Gironde is dead.

ELOISE [_ominously_]. It may survive _you_, my friend. Take care!

VALSIN [_unimpressed_]. The Gironde had a grand facade, and that was all. It was a party composed of amateurs and orators; and of course there were some noisy camp-followers and a few comic-opera vivandieres, such as this d'Anville. In short, the Gironde looked enormous because it was hollow. It was like a pie that is all crust. We have tapped the crust--with a knife, Citizeness. There is nothing left.

ELOISE [_contemptuously_]. You say so. Nevertheless, the Rolands--

VALSIN [_gravely_]. Roland was found in a field yesterday; he had killed himself. His wife was guillotined the day after you left Paris. Every one of their political friends is proscribed.

ELOISE [_shaking as with bitter cold_]. It is a lie! Not Eloise d'Anville!

VALSIN [_rising_]. Would you like to see the warrant for her arrest? [_He takes a packet of documents from his breast pocket, selects one, and spreads it open before her._] Let me read you her description: "Eloise d'Anville, aristocrat. Figure, comely. Complexion, blond. Eyes, dark blue. Nose, straight. Mouth, wide--"

ELOISE [_in a burst of passion, striking the warrant a violent blow with her clenched fist_]. Let them dare! [_Beside herself, she strikes again, tearing the paper from his grasp. She stamps upon it._] Let them dare, I say!

VALSIN [_picking up the warrant_]. Dare to say her mouth is wide?

ELOISE [_cyclonic_]. Dare to arrest her!

VALSIN. It does seem a pity. [_He folds the warrant slowly and replaces it in his pocket._] Yes, a great pity. She was the one amusing thing in all this somberness. She will be missed. The Revolution will lack its joke.

ELOISE [_recoiling, her passion exhausted_]. Ah, infamy! [_She turns from him, covering her face with her hands._]

VALSIN [_with a soothing gesture_]. Being only her friend, you speak mildly. The d'Anville herself would call it blasphemy.

ELOISE [_with difficulty_]. She is--so vain--then?

VALSIN [_lightly_]. Oh, a type--an actress.

ELOISE [_her back to him_]. How do you know? You said--

VALSIN. That I had not encountered her. [_Glibly._] One knows best the people one has never seen. Intimacy confuses judgment. I confess to that amount of hatred for the former Marquis de Valny-Cherault that I take as great an interest in all that concerns him as if I loved him. And the little d'Anville concerns him--yes, almost one would say, consumes him. The unfortunate man is said to be so blindly faithful that he can speak her name without laughing.

ELOISE [_stunned_]. Oh!

VALSIN [_going on, cheerily_]. No one else can do that, Citizeness. Jacobins, Cordeliers, Hebertists, even the shattered relics of the Gironde itself, all alike join in the colossal laughter at this Tricoteuse in Sevres--this Jeanne d'Arc in rice-powder!

ELOISE [_tragically_]. They laugh--and proclaim her an outlaw!

VALSIN [_waving his hand carelessly_]. Oh, it is only that we are sweeping up the last remnants of aristocracy, and she goes with the rest--into the dust-heap. She should have remained a royalist; the final spectacle might have had dignity. As it is, she is not of her own class, not of ours: neither fish nor flesh nor--but yes, perhaps, after all, she is a fowl.

ELOISE [_brokenly_]. Alas! Homing--with wounded wing! [_She sinks into a chair with pathetic grace, her face in her hands._]

VALSIN [_surreptitiously grinning_]. Not at all what I meant. [_Brutally._] Peacocks don't fly.

ELOISE [_regaining her feet at a bound_]. You imitation dandy! You--

VALSIN [_with benevolence_]. My dear, your indignation for your friend is chivalrous. It is admirable; but she is not worth it. You do not understand her: you have probably seen her so much that you have never seen her as she is.

ELOISE [_witheringly_]. But you, august Zeus, having _never_ seen her, will reveal her to me!

VALSIN [_smoothly urbane_]. If you have ears. You see, she is not altogether unique, but of a variety known to men who are wise enough to make a study of women.

ELOISE [_snapping out a short, loud laugh in his face_]. Pouff!

VALSIN [_unruffled_]. I profess myself an apprentice. The science itself is but in its infancy. Women themselves understand very well that they are to be classified, and they fear that we shall perceive it: they do not really wish to be known. Yet it is coming; some day our cyclopedists will have you sorted, classed, and defined with precision; but the d'Alembert of the future will not be a woman, because no woman so disloyal will ever be found. Men have to acquire loyalty to their sex: yours is an instinct. Citizen governess, I will give you a reading of the little d'Anville from this unwritten work. To begin--

ELOISE [_feverishly interested, but affecting languor_]. _Must_ you?

VALSIN. To Eloise d'Anville the most interesting thing about a rose-bush has always been that Eloise d'Anville could smell it. Moonlight becomes important when it falls upon her face; sunset is worthy when she grows rosy in it. To her mind, the universe was set in motion to be the background for a decoration, and she is the decoration. She believes that the cathedral was built for the fresco. And when a dog interests her, it is because he would look well beside her in a painting. Such dogs have no minds. I refer you to all the dogs in the portraits of Beauties.

ELOISE [_not at all displeased; pretending carelessness_]. Ah, you have heard that she is beautiful?

VALSIN. Far worse: that she is a Beauty. Let nothing ever tempt _you_, my dear, into setting up in that line. For you are very well-appearing, I assure you; and if you had been surrounded with all the disadvantages of the d'Anville, who knows but that you might have become as famous a Beauty as she? What makes a Beauty is not the sumptuous sculpture alone, but a very peculiar arrogance--not in the least arrogance of mind, my little governess. In this, your d'Anville emerged from childhood full-panoplied indeed; and the feather-head court fell headlong at her feet. It was the fated creature's ruin.

ELOISE [_placidly_]. And it is because of her beauty that you drag her to the guillotine?

VALSIN. Bless you, I merely convey her!

ELOISE. Tell me, logician, was it not her beauty that inspired her to give her property to the Nation?

VALSIN. It was.

ELOISE. What perception! I am faint with admiration. And no doubt it was her beauty that made her a Republican?

VALSIN. What else?

ELOISE. Hail, oracle! [_She releases an arpeggio of satiric laughter._]

VALSIN. That laugh is diaphanous. I see you through it, already convinced. [_She stops laughing immediately._] Ha! we may proceed. Remark this, governess: a Beauty is the living evidence of man's immortality; the one plain proof that he has a soul.

ELOISE. It is not so bad then, after all?

VALSIN. It is utterly bad. But of all people a Beauty is most conscious of her duality. Her whole life is based upon her absolute knowledge that her Self and her body are two. She sacrifices all things to her beauty because her beauty feeds her Self with a dreadful food which it has made her unable to live without.

ELOISE. My little gentleman, you talk like a sentimental waiter. Your metaphors are all hot from the kitchen.

VALSIN [_nettled_]. It is natural; unlike your Eloise, I am _really_ of "the People"--and starved much in my youth.

ELOISE. But, like her, you are still hungry.

VALSIN. A Beauty is a species of cannibal priestess, my dear. She will make burnt-offerings of her father and her mother, her sisters--her lovers--to her beauty, that it may in turn bring her the food she must have or perish.

ELOISE. _Boum!_ [_She snaps her fingers._] And of course she bathes in the blood of little children?

VALSIN [_grimly_]. Often.

ELOISE [_averting her gaze from his_]. This mysterious food--

VALSIN. Not at all mysterious. Sensation. There you have it. And that is why Eloise d'Anville is a renegade. You understand perfectly.

ELOISE. You are too polite. No.

VALSIN [_gaily_]. Behold, then! Many women who are not Beauties are beautiful, but in such women you do not always discover beauty at your first glance: it is disclosed with a subtle tardiness. It does not dazzle; it is reluctant; but it grows as you look again and again. You get a little here, a little there, like glimpses of children hiding in a garden. It is shy, and sometimes closed in from you altogether, and then, unexpectedly, this belated loveliness springs into bloom before your very eyes. It retains the capacity of surprise, the vital element of charm. But the Beauty lays all waste before her at a stroke: it is soon over. Thus your Eloise, brought to court, startled Versailles; the sensation was overwhelming. Then Versailles got used to her, just as it had to its other prodigies: the fountains were there, the King was there, the d'Anville was there; and naturally, one had seen them; saw them every day--one talked of matters less accepted. That was horrible to Eloise. She had tasted; the appetite, once stirred, was insatiable. At any cost she must henceforth have always the sensation of being a sensation. She must be the pivot of a reeling world. So she went into politics. Ah, Citizeness, there was one man who understood Beauties--not Homer, who wrote of Helen! Romance is gallant by profession, and Homer lied like a poet. For the truth about the Trojan War is that the wise Ulysses made it, not because Paris stole Helen, but because the Trojans were threatening to bring her back.

ELOISE [_unwarily_]. Who was the man that understood Beauties?

VALSIN. Bluebeard. [_He crosses the room to the dressing-table, leans his back against it in an easy attitude, his elbows resting upon the top._]

ELOISE [_slowly, a little tremulously_]. And so Eloise d'Anville should have her head cut off?

VALSIN. Well, she thought she was in politics, didn't she? [_Suavely._] You may be sure she thoroughly enjoyed her hallucination that she was a great figure in the Revolution--which was cutting off the heads of so many of her relatives and old friends! Don't waste your pity, my dear.

ELOISE [_looking at him fixedly_]. Citizen, you must have thought a great deal about my unhappy friend. She might be flattered by so searching an interest.

VALSIN [_negligently_]. Not interest in her, governess, but in the Emigrant who cools his heels on the other side of that door, greatly to my enjoyment, waiting my pleasure to arrest him. The poor wretch is the one remaining lover of this girl; faithful because he let his passion for her become a habit; and he will never get over it until he has had possession. She has made him suffer frightfully, but I shall never forgive her for not having dealt him the final stroke. It would have saved me all the bother I have been put to in avenging the injury he did me.

ELOISE [_frowning_]. What "final stroke" could she have "dealt" him?

VALSIN [_with sudden vehement intensity_]. She could have loved him! [_He strikes the table with his fist._] I see it! I see it! Beauty's husband! [_Pounding the table with each exclamation, his voice rising in excitement._] What a vision! This damned, proud, loving Louis, a pomade bearer! A buttoner! An errand-boy to the perfumer's, to the chemist's, to the milliner's! A groom of the powder-closet--

ELOISE [_snatching at the opportunity_]. How noisy you are!

VALSIN [_discomfited, apologetically_]. You see, it is only so lately that we of "the People" have dared even to whisper. Of course, now that we are free to shout, we overdo it. We let our voices out, we let our joys out, we let our hates out. We let everything out--except our prisoners! [_He smiles winningly._]

ELOISE [_slowly_]. Do you guess what all this bluster--this tirade upon the wickedness of beauty--makes me think?

VALSIN. Certainly. Being a woman, you cannot imagine a bitterness which is not "personal."

ELOISE [_laughing_]. "Being a woman," I think that the person who has caused you the greatest suffering in your life must be very good-looking!

VALSIN [_calmly_]. Quite right. It was precisely this d'Anville. I will tell you. [_He sits on the arm of a chair near her, and continues briskly._] I was not always a politician. Six years ago I was a soldier in the Valny regiment of cavalry. That was the old army, that droll army, that royal army; so ridiculous that it was truly majestic. In the Valny regiment we had some rouge-pots for officers--and for a colonel, who but our Emigrant yonder! Aha! we suffered in the ranks, let me tell you, when Eloise had been coy; and one morning it was my turn. You may have heard that she was betrothed first to Louis and later to several others? My martyrdom occurred the day after she had announced to the court her betrothal to the young Duc de Creil, whose father afterward interfered. Louis put us on drill in a hard rain: he had the habit of relieving his chagrin like that. My horse fell, and happened to shower our commander with mud. Louis let out all his rage upon me: it was an excuse, and, naturally, he disliked mud. But I was rolling in it, with my horse: I also disliked it--and I was indiscreet enough to attempt some small reply. That finished my soldiering, Citizeness. He had me tied to a post before the barracks for the rest of the day. I remember with remarkable distinctness that the valets of heaven had neglected to warm the rain for that bath; that it was February; and that Louis's orders had left me nothing to wear upon my back except an unfulsome descriptive placard and my modesty. Altogether it was a disadvantageous position, particularly for the exchange of repartee with such of my comrades as my youthful amiability had not endeared; I have seldom seen more cheerful indifference to bad weather. Inclement skies failed to injure the spectacle: it was truly the great performance of my career; some people would not even go home to eat, and peddlers did a good trade in cakes and wine. In the evening they whipped me conscientiously--my tailor has never since made me an entirely comfortable coat. Then they gave me the place of honor at the head of a procession by torchlight and drummed me out of camp with my placard upon my back. So I adopted another profession: I had a friend who was a doctor in the stables of d'Artois; and I knew horses. He made me his assistant.

ELOISE [_shuddering_]. You are a veterinarian!

VALSIN [_smiling_]. No; a horse-doctor. It was thus I "retired" from the army and became a politician. My friend was only a horse-doctor himself, but his name happened to be Marat.

ELOISE. Ah, frightful! [_For the first time she begins to feel genuine alarm._]

VALSIN. The sequence is simple. If Eloise d'Anville hadn't coquetted with young Creil I shouldn't be Commissioner here to-day, settling my account with Louis. I am in his debt for more than the beating: I should tell you there was a woman in my case, a slender lace-maker with dark eyes--very pretty eyes. She had furnished me with a rival, a corporal; and he brought her for a stroll in the rain past our barracks that day when I was attracting so much unsought attention. They waited for the afterpiece, enjoyed a pasty and a bottle of Beaune, and went away laughing cozily together. I did not see my pretty lace-maker again, not for years--not until a month ago. Her corporal was still with her, and it was their turn to be undesirably conspicuous. They were part of a procession passing along the Rue St. Honore on its way to the Place of the Revolution. They were standing up in the cart; the lace-maker had grown fat, and she was scolding her poor corporal bitterly. What a habit that must have been!--they were not five minutes from the guillotine. I own that a thrill of gratitude to Louis temporarily softened me toward him, though at the very moment I was following him through the crowd. At least he saved me from the lace-maker!

ELOISE [_shrinking from him_]. You are horrible!

VALSIN. To my regret you must find me more and more so.

ELOISE [_panting_]. You _are_ going to take us back to Paris, then? To the Tribunal--and to the--[_She covers her eyes with her hands._]

VALSIN [_gravely_]. I can give you no comfort, governess. You are involved with the Emigrant, and, to be frank, I am going to do as horrible things to Louis as I can invent--and I am an ingenious man. [_His manner becomes sinister._] I am near the top. The cinders of Marat are in the Pantheon, but Robespierre still flames; and he claims me as his friend. I can do what I will. And I have much in store for Louis before he shall be so fortunate as to die!

ELOISE [_faintly_]. And--and Eloise--d'Anville? [_Her hands fall from her face: he sees large, beautiful tears upon her cheeks._]

VALSIN [_coldly_]. Yes. [_She is crushed for the moment; then, recovering herself with a violent effort, lifts her head defiantly and stands erect, facing him._]

ELOISE. You take her head because your officer punished you, six years ago, for a breach of military discipline!

VALSIN [_in a lighter tone_]. Oh no. I take it, just as she injured me--incidentally. In truth, Citizeness, it isn't I who take it: I only arrest her because the government has proscribed her.

ELOISE. And you've just finished telling me you were preparing tortures for her! I thought you an intelligent man. Pah! You're only a gymnast. [_She turns away from him haughtily and moves toward the door._]

VALSIN [_touching his scarf of office_]. True. I climb. [_She halts suddenly, as if startled by this; she stands as she is, her back to him, for several moments, and does not change her attitude when she speaks._]

ELOISE [_slowly_]. You climb alone.

VALSIN [_with a suspicious glance at her_]. Yes--alone.

ELOISE [_in a low voice_]. Why didn't you take the lace-maker with you? You might have been happier. [_Very slowly she turns and comes toward him, her eyes full upon his: she moves deliberately and with incomparable grace. He seems to be making an effort to look away, and failing: he cannot release his eyes from the glorious and starry glamour that holds them. She comes very close to him, so close that she almost touches him._]

ELOISE [_in a half-whisper_]. You might have been happier with--a friend--to climb with you.

VALSIN [_demoralized_]. Citizeness--I am--I--

ELOISE [_in a voice of velvet_]. Yes, Say it. You are--

VALSIN [_desperately_]. I have told you that I am the most susceptible of men.

ELOISE [_impulsively putting her hand on his shoulder_]. Is it a crime? Come, my friend, you are a man who _does_ climb: you will go over all. You believe in the Revolution because you have used it to lift you. But other things can help you, too. Don't you need them?

VALSIN [_understanding perfectly, gasping_]. Need what? [_She draws her hand from his shoulder, moves back from him slightly, and crosses her arms upon her bosom with a royal meekness._]

ELOISE [_grandly_]. Do I seem so useless?

VALSIN [_in a distracted voice_]. Heaven help me! What do you want?

ELOISE. Let these people go. [_Hurriedly, leaning near him._] I have promised to save them: give them their permit to embark, and I--[_She pauses, flushing beautifully, but does not take her eyes from him._] I--I do not wish to leave France. My place is in Paris. You will go into the National Committee. You can be its ruler. You _will_ rule it! I believe in you! [_Glowing like a rose of fire._] I will go with you. I will help you! I will marry you!

VALSIN [_in a fascinated whisper_]. Good Lord! [_He stumbles back from her, a strange light in his eyes._]

ELOISE. You are afraid--

VALSIN [_with sudden loudness_]. I am! Upon my soul, I am afraid!

ELOISE [_smiling gloriously upon him_]. Of what, my friend? Tell me of what?

VALSIN [_explosively_]. Of myself! I am afraid of myself because I am a prophet. This is precisely what I foretold to myself you would do! I knew it, yet I am aghast when it happens--aghast at my own cleverness!

ELOISE [_bewildered to blankness_]. What?

VALSIN [_half hysterical with outrageous vanity_]. I swear I knew it, and it fits so exactly that I am afraid of myself! _Aha_, Valsin, you rogue! I should hate to have you on _my_ track! Citizen governess, you are a wonderful person, but not so wonderful as this devil of a Valsin!

ELOISE [_vaguely, in a dead voice_]. I cannot understand what you are talking about. Do you mean--

VALSIN. And what a spell was upon me! I was near calling Dossonville to preserve me.

ELOISE [_speaking with a strange naturalness, like a child's_]. You mean--you don't want me?

VALSIN. Ah, Heaven help me, I am going to laugh again! Oh, ho, ho! I am spent! [_He drops into a chair and gives way to another attack of uproarious hilarity._] Ah, ha, ha, ha! Oh, my liver, ha, ha! No, Citizeness, I do not want you! Oh, ha, ha, ha!

ELOISE. _Oh!_ [_She utters a choked scream and rushes at him._] Swine!

VALSIN [_warding her off with outstretched hands_]. Spare me! Ha, ha, ha! I am helpless! Ho, ho, ho! Citizeness, it would not be worth your while to strangle a man who is already dying!

ELOISE [_beside herself_]. Do you dream that I _meant_ it?

VALSIN [_feebly_]. Meant to strangle me?

ELOISE [_frantic_]. To give myself to you!

VALSIN. In short, to--to marry me! [_He splutters._]

ELOISE [_furiously_]. It was a ruse--

VALSIN [_soothingly_]. Yes, yes, a trick. I saw that all along.

ELOISE [_even more infuriated_]. For their sake, beast! [_She points to the other room._] To save _them_!

VALSIN [_wiping his eyes_]. Of course, of course. [_He rises, stepping quickly to the side of the chair away from her and watching her warily._] _I_ knew it was to save them. We'll put it like that.

ELOISE [_in an anger of exasperation_]. It _was_ that!

VALSIN. Yes, yes. [_Keeping his distance._] I saw it from the first. [_Suppressing symptoms of returning mirth._] It was perfectly plain. You mustn't excite yourself--nothing could have been clearer! [_A giggle escapes him, and he steps hastily backward as she advances upon him._]

ELOISE. Poodle! Valet! Scum of the alleys! Sheep of the prisons! Jailer! Hangman! Assassin! Brigand! _Horse-doctor!_ [_She hurls the final epithet at him in a climax of ferocity which wholly exhausts her; and she sinks into the chair by the desk, with her arms upon the desk and her burning face hidden in her arms. VALSIN, morbidly chuckling, in spite of himself, at each of her insults, has retreated farther and farther, until he stands with his back against the door of the inner room, his right hand behind him, resting on the latch. As her furious eyes leave him he silently opens the door, letting it remain a few inches ajar and keeping his back to it. Then, satisfied that what he intends to say will be overheard by those within, he erases all expression from his face, and strides to the dismantled doorway in the passage._]

VALSIN [_calling loudly_]. Dossonville! [_He returns, coming down briskly to ELOISE. His tone is crisp and soldier-like._] Citizeness, I have had my great hour. I proceed with the arrests. I have given you four plenty of time to prepare yourselves. Time? Why, the Emigrant could have changed clothes with one of the women in there a dozen times if he had hoped to escape in that fashion--as historical prisoners _have_ won clear, it is related. Fortunately, that is impossible just now; and he will not dare to attempt it.

DOSSONVILLE [_appearing in the hallway_]. Present, my chieftain!

VALSIN [_sharply_]. Attend, Dossonville. The returned Emigrant, Valny-Cherault, is forfeited; but because I cherish a special grievance against him, I have decided upon a special punishment for him. It does not please me that he should have the comfort and ministrations of loving women on his journey to the Tribunal. No, no; the presence of his old sweetheart would make even the scaffold sweet to him. Therefore I shall take him alone. I shall let these women go.

DOSSONVILLE. What refinement! Admirable! [_ELOISE slowly rises, staring incredulously at VALSIN._]

VALSIN [_picking up the "permit" from the desk_]. "Permit the Citizen Balsage and his sister, the Citizeness Virginie Balsage, and his second sister, Marie Balsage, and Eloise d'Anville--" Ha! You see, Dossonville, since one of these three women is here, there are two in the other room with the Emigrant. They are to come out, leaving him there. First, however, we shall disarm him. You and I have had sufficient experience in arresting aristocrats to know that they are not always so sensible as to give themselves up peaceably, and I happened to see the outline of a pistol under the Emigrant's frock the other day in the diligence. We may as well save one of us from a detestable hole through the body. [_He steps toward the door, speaking sharply._] Emigrant, you have heard. For your greater chagrin, these three devoted women are to desert you. Being an aristocrat, you will pretend to prefer this arrangement. They are to leave at once. Throw your pistol into this room, and I will agree not to make the arrest until they are in safety. They can reach your vessel in five minutes. When they have gone, I give you my word not to open this door for ten. [_A pistol is immediately thrown out of the door, and falls at VALSIN's feet. He picks it up, his eyes alight with increasing excitement._]