Chapter III: Part 3

Back, back, I say! You’ll do no murder here! What! One man against a score!—All Bretons!

THE MOB

Death to the emigré!

DE VARDES

Not emigré! Good folk, I’ve been in prison in La Force. Released, I journeyed home to Brittany!

A MAN

Thou’lt journey farther yet, Aristocrat!

ANGÉLIQUE

Thy boat shall travel down the Loire!

YVETTE

Shall it? Shall it, indeed, thou gold-locked leprous woman! _Thy_ bark shall be sucked down by black Ahès! I see three Vannetois!—big Rubik, Yann, And Rivarol who won the singer’s prize! À moi, Vannetois!—Who is that standing there? Huon! Rememberest thou the fields at dawn? Rememberest thou the dim green hazel copse? Rememberest thou one Pardon of Sainte Anne?

A PEASANT

Yvette!

YVETTE

The sun went down, the stars shone out; We wandered round the wreckage of a ship; Beneath a shell we found a golden coin. Rememberest thou, Hervé the Cornouillaise?

A BRETON SAILOR

Yvette!

YVETTE

Baptiste! Michael! Monik! Ronan! How loudly rang the bells of Quiberon! To beat of drum we danced beside the sea!

YOUNG MEN

Ho, ho! That day!

YVETTE

Eh, who spoke to us there, Of glory, of France, and of Liberty? Citoyen Deputy Rémond Lalain! Red wine he gave to you, to me a flower! Mon Dieu! I was so proud—

LALAIN

Yvette!

YVETTE (_to an old woman_)

Margot! ‘Twas I who watched with thee one stormy night When all thy seven sons were out at sea!

THE OLD WOMAN

Ay, ay, and they came safely home to me!

YVETTE (_to a child_)

O little Jeanne, where is the doll I gave thee?

THE CHILD

Here!—‘tis named ‘Toinette!

A WOMAN (_with the child_)

She has another
Named Yvette!

YVETTE (_to a band of young women_)

Fifine, Laure, and Veronique! The moon shone bright, there was no wind at all, Below the heights the violet shadows slept, All sweetly smelled the gorse and white buckwheat, And dewy was the grass beneath our feet, And wet with dew the poppies in our hair! There came a sound of singing from the sea, Our hands we linked, we sped around Tantad, Fair shone the moon—

A YOUNG GIRL

Oh, Eves of Saint John!

A BRETON

_Iou! Iou! An Tan! An Tan! An Tan!_

SÉRAPHINE

Saint Ronan! Saint Primel!

THE CROWD

Yvette! Yvette!
Yvette Charruel!

YVETTE

O folk of Nantes! There is a thing I want so badly, I! Call it a fairing from the Fête of Reason, And give the trifle to the poor Yvette, The poor Yvette who’s done her best to please you! Oh, I’ve music made for you to dance by, And for you held on high the great tricolour; And in the night-time sung to you of dawn! And for you, too, I’ve plucked the lilies up, Fast locked a door and flung away the key, And left the ravished garden evermore!— A priest would say my soul I had imperilled.

THE CROWD

No, no! No priests! Reason! Reason! Yvette.

YVETTE

This mantle blue, these oak leaves in my hair, These sandals and this spear, this tunic white, The wreathèd car, the music and the song! All, all a mockery, unless, unless— There is a thing I want so badly, I!

A COMMISSIONER

It is thine!

THE CROWD

Thine! Thine! Yvette Charruel!

YVETTE

Ah, I would play the goddess, that I would! I’d have my pardon like a Breton saint, And what I bound, it should be bound indeed! And what I loosed, it should be loosed indeed!

A COMMISSIONER

Fast bind or freely loose, thy surety, I!

ANOTHER

Command me, and the silver moon I’ll bring thee!

YVETTE

With what a sudden glory shines the sun! It gilds the streets, it gilds the running Loire! And from them both the blood-stains fade away! Ah, let us rest from death in Nantes to-day, And think how falls the eve in Bethlehem!— There is a little village that I know, A hungry village by a hungry sea, As worn and grey as any calvary! The hungry shadows ate the sunshine up; The children cried, the women wailed at morn; The very Christ looked hungry on the Cross; When lo! a miracle! for suddenly The starving, haggard folk began to laugh, The tender green put forth, the flowers bloomed, Blue shone the sky, the lark sang overhead, And mild the face of Christ and heavenly kind! The little village had its fill of bread, Yea, wine it drank, and cheerful breath it drew, And, by the well, of this strange plenty talked, Of tolls withdrawn, of perfect friendliness!

[_She moves from before_ DE VARDES.

And then it blessed the man who gave it bread, Who had a heart to feel with wretchedness, And a strong arm to drive the hunger forth As Arthur drove the giants from the land! O men of Nantes! you’ll keep your oath to me! In Nantes to-day ‘tis mine to loose or bind!— I loose this man—

LALAIN

Out, witch! (_To_ DE VARDES.) Think not, think not, René de Vardes, that she shall save thee thus!— Mine, mine she is, she shall be, soul and all!

DE VARDES

Rémond Lalain—

LALAIN (_to the mob_)

It is an emigré! A traitor and a black Aristocrat, The ci-devant De Vardes!

THE CROWD

De Vardes! De Vardes!

YVETTE

Rémond Lalain, stand from my path, I say! (_To the crowd._) Not emigré, but prisoner in La Force! Not traitor! That’s a wretch who doth betray! Aristocrat?—Who chooseth his birth star? Crieth at Life’s gate, “Of such an house I’m heir!” But in we drift from the great sea without; A current takes us—“Of my house are ye!” So you, so I, so this citoyen here, Rémond Lalain, who is Lalain by chance, And might have been Capet or Mirabeau! And so this other, standing gravely there Alone, a man alone upon a rock, And the tide mounts!—The current swept him there! Another drift, and he had been Lalain, Orator and idol of the Jacobins!— Names! They are the mist through which the man Is scarce discerned, the sea-drift hides the pearl. Ghosts of the past the present spurns! Dead leaves! Masks for the pauper and the prince! Mere names! I would not have them rule my spirit thus!— Aristocrat! I know not, but I know The man’s been known to lift a peasant’s load And gather seaweed with a fisher’s child!

A BRETON SAILOR

‘Tis true! And in my boat he’s been with me, When Ahès and the storm made black the sea!

A PEASANT

He walked beside me in the field and told Name of the silver star above the fold!

A SOLDIER

I was a red Hussar! He fought like Mars. Eh, my Colonel—

A WOMAN

We know, we Morbec folk!
_Vive Baron René!_

SÉRAPHINE

Eh, eh, monseigneur!

YVETTE

Nantes! Nantes! you’ll keep the oath you’ve made to me! My fairing I shall have this holiday, And what I bind it shall be bound indeed, And what I loose is loosed to me for aye! I ask one gift—I shall not ask again! This is my hour, no other hour I want. I ask one life—is’t mine, is’t mine, Citoyens?

THE CROWD

Yes, yes! ‘Tis thine!

A COMMISSIONER

Thine, Goddess!
(_To_ DE VARDES.) Citoyen, thou art free!

LALAIN

Diable!

YVETTE

I’m faint.—

SÉRAPHINE

Saint Iguinou! What of the pillar there?

A COMMISSIONER

Make way for the Citoyen Vardes!

THE CROWD

Make way!

SÉRAPHINE

Eh, eh, monseigneur; thou hadst best begone!

DE VARDES (_to the Commissioner_)

Citoyen, thanks! but here I’ll watch awhile These pleasing rites, this worship new of Reason!

THE COMMISSIONER

‘Twill do thee good, Aristocrat!

DE VARDES

No doubt,
Citoyen!

LALAIN

Oh, depth of hell!

NANON

Oh, patience!

LALAIN

Why takes he not his liberty? He stays! To feast his eyes upon her face he stays! Diable! He speaks to her—

NANON

Patience! Patience!—
What flutters there behind the pillar?

LALAIN

Where?

[_She points. They move together to the base of the
statue._

DE VARDES (_to_ YVETTE)

I owe my life to thee, thou hapless child! Ah, couldst thou make this throng depart the place!

YVETTE

Monseigneur—

THE CROWD

Goddess of Reason! light the torch!

YVETTE

I’m faint!—The houses all are dancing there!— Give me drink!

A MAN

Here’s wine!

[_He pours wine into a great gold cup._

YVETTE

‘Tis in a chalice!

THE CROWD

Drink!

[YVETTE _drinks_.

YVETTE

Nom de Dieu! ‘Tis right good wine, indeed!— Not now I’ll light the torch—‘Tis out for good! And while we linger here the sunlight goes! Let’s to the quai, let’s to the quai and dance— And dance the Carmagnole!

THE CROWD

The Carmagnole!

[_Men and women take hands and begin to dance._

YVETTE

Away! Down the long street, and to the quai! Take hands! Away! _Dansons la Carmagnole!_

[_She snatches from a boy a tambourine and strikes it._

_Vive le son, vive le son,
Vive le son du canon!_

[_The crowd disperses._ DE VARDES _remains standing
before the pillar behind which crouches_ THE MARQUISE.
SÉRAPHINE _watches from the church steps_;
LALAIN _and_ NANON _from the base of the Statue
of Liberty_.

Monseigneur!

DE VARDES

Ay.

YVETTE

Now, now while the lark sings, And while the fairy wood is green, begone! Oh, ‘tis not safe in Nantes! They gave thy life, But oh, they’re fierce and fickle! Back they’ll come! I’ve enemies in Nantes, and there’s Lalain, Rémond Lalain who’ll work me woe at last! Thou must begone, but list, ah, list to me! I know a secret place where thou mayst bide, So safe! so safe! and I will bring thee food, White bread and wine, and find for thee a way Forth from the town—

DE VARDES

Ah, I may trust thee, sure!

YVETTE

I never knew thou wast in prison there! So sad, so dark the prison life, they say! My cagèd bird I freed the other day. There are so many prisoners in Nantes, I would not have it one!—

DE VARDES

My life I owe—

YVETTE

The spring draws on; ‘twill soon be June again!

DE VARDES

Now for another life I make my suit—

YVETTE

In Paimpont Wood the trees are greening now, In sun and shade the purple violets blow!

DE VARDES

In those old convent days, ah, ages gone! Beneath the fruit trees, by the fountain there, I’ve seen thee nurse a little fluttering bird, Wounded and frightened, fallen from the blue, But yet God’s bird, and with a life to save! And thou didst stroke its plumage tenderly, And gently fostered it between thy hands Awhile, and up it soared into the blue; A moment since and thou didst save my life. Lo now, there is another thing to do! Before my own life, I’ve a life in charge, And to thee now I turn, and plead for help. In this wild town thou rulest o’er the hour; Be now the goddess and the woman too, Pitiful, tender, generous, and true!— Lo! here a wounded bird—

[_He moves aside._ THE MARQUISE _leaves the shadow
of the pillar_.

YVETTE

Death of my life!

THE MARQUISE

Oh, guard me, all ye saints!

DE VARDES

Yvette! Yvette!

[LALAIN _comes forward from the statue_.

LALAIN (_to_ YVETTE)

Right of the Seigneur!

YVETTE

So! Thou hast returned, Beneath the trees, along the moonlit road! And in thine arms the rose and eglantine, And on thy lips the song of all the birds! Back! There is a furze field bars thy way!

THE MARQUISE

Mon Dieu!

YVETTE

Hast thou another fan to break?
Ha! shrinkest thou?

THE MARQUISE

Sainte Geneviève!

YVETTE (_raising her voice_)

Nantes! Nantes!

DE VARDES

By all the gods!—

YVETTE

À moi! À moi! Nantes!

[_An answering cry from within._

DE VARDES

Herd girl of Morbec—

LALAIN

Right of the Seigneur!

YVETTE

À moi! Citoyens! Patriots!

_Reënter mob._

DE VARDES

Courage,
Clarice!

THE MARQUISE

O all ye saints!

YVETTE

Citoyens! This ci-devant, this black Aristocrat! Oh! all this while she was in hiding here! Beside the pillar there she kneeled and laughed. Do I not know her laughter, rippling sweet Or o’er a broken fan or broken heart, Or in green Morbec and a garden fair, Or on the moonlit road to ancient Vannes?— She, she the ci-devant, the emigrée! Who to false England with her jewels fled,— Rubies, emeralds, and long strings of pearls! The while in barren fields her peasants starved!— I denounce the Citoyenne Blanchefôret!

THE CROWD

Ah—h—h!

THE MARQUISE

O terror!

DE VARDES

Thy hand in mine, Clarice!

YVETTE

What of, what of the dark line of De Vardes? What tales are told of Morbec’s black château? More wicked and more lost than sunken Ys! Wolves were they all, the seigneurs of Morbec! Henri, Philippe, Gil, René, Amaury— All, all were wolves who lurked, who sprang, who tore, No heart of lamb, but just the heart of man! Heart of a man, heart of a woman too! Morbec! De Vardes! No direr names in France! Right hands of kings, priests, soldiers, cardinals, Courtiers and lovers of the fleur-de-lis! Passionate, proud, a whirlwind and a flame! Morbec! De Vardes! ‘Ware all who came between The whirlwind and its goal, the stubble and the flame!

DE VARDES

Thou lost soul!

LALAIN

Thou lovely fiend!

YVETTE

De Vardes! De Vardes! The name comes on the blast Up from the gulf where lie the thrones of kings. Battle, oppression, tyranny and wrong— Miramand, Blanchefôret! on sea winds in they float From that dim palace where that lost Ahès Down to her emerald windows beckons man And spreads the bridal bed in sunken Ys!

NANON

Mon Dieu! The bridal bed!

YVETTE

By all the wrongs That both their houses through the ages long Have wrought us! By the blood that they have shed, The tears, the groans, the sweat, the servile knees, The bitter bread they gave us, and the cry From lonely graves of anguish and of wrath! By all the hunger and the freezing cold! By all the toil and all the hopelessness, The smitten cheek, the taunt, the burning heart! By all the Rights of all the Lords of Wrong! By _Corvée_ and _Gabelle_ and _Gibier_, _Quintaines_, _Milods_, _Ban d’Août_ and _Bordelage_, _Fouage_, _Leide_, _Corvée à miséricorde_, _Banvin_, _Chansons_, _Baiser des Mariées_! I do denounce these two Aristocrats: La Force’s prisoner, and the emigrée, La belle Marquise, the Hussar of the King, Citoyen Vardes, Citoyenne Blanchefôret!

LALAIN

So!

THE MOB

Away! Away! Prison! Death! The Loire!
Down, down, Aristocrats.

[_They close around_ DE VARDES _and_ THE MARQUISE.

SÉRAPHINE

Saint Maturin!
Saint Corentin! Saint Jean!

THE MARQUISE

O bitter death!

DE VARDES

I am thy death, who thought to save thee so!

[_The soldiers lay hands upon_ DE VARDES _and_ THE
MARQUISE _and force them from the church steps
and across the square_.

THE MOB

Away!

A COMMISSIONER

The nearest prison!

A MAN

That’s the Church
Of Saint Eustache!

A COMMISSIONER

Away! They shall be judged
By Carrier!

THE MOB

Carrier!—The Loire!

YVETTE

Ah!

ANGÉLIQUE

Ha, ha! _Le Mariage Républicain!_

YVETTE

Quoi!

ANGÉLIQUE

Eh, they’re lovers, are they not?

CÉLESTE

The Loire shall marry them, the ci-devants!

ANGÉLIQUE

Yvette has made the wedding, eh, Yvette?

THE MOB

Ha, ha! _Le Mariage Républicain!_

[_Exeunt the mob, soldiers_, DE VARDES, _and_ THE
MARQUISE, _guarded, etc._

VOICES (_within_)

_Le Mariage Républicain!_ Ha, ha!

YVETTE

What have I done?—

VOICES (_dying away_)

Ha, ha! ha, ha! The Loire!

YVETTE

The Loire!—O God!

_CURTAIN_

_ACT IV_

_The interior of a church in Nantes used as a prison. Great broken
windows of stained glass, purple and crimson, through which
streams the sunlight. Prisoners of both sexes and all ages and
conditions of life move to and fro, or lean against the pillars
which support the vaulted roof. Some rest or kneel upon the steps
before the altar rail. Three children play beside a broken font.
Against a door at the left of the great altar lounge several
turnkeys dressed in blue woollen with red liberty caps._ THE
MARQUISE _sits beside a pillar. She talks with_ DE BUC _and_
ENGUERRAND LA FÔRET. _Near her are_ COUNT LOUIS _and_ MLLE. DE
CHÂTEAU-GUI. DE L’ORIENT _stands upon a bench beneath a shattered
window_. DE VARDES _sits at a rude table writing_.

_A butterfly enters at the broken window and flutters through the
church._

A CHILD

The butterfly! The butterfly!

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

Oh, see
Its painted wings!

A CHILD

There! There!

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

It comes my way!—I’ve caught it!—No!

AN ACTRESS (_dressed as a shepherdess_)

I!
I have it fast, the pretty prisoner!

DE L’ORIENT

It will not stay—

COUNT LOUIS

It soars into the roof! No! down again on yon long ray of light!— Give chase!

DE L’ORIENT

Here!

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

There!

THE ACTRESS

Oh, oh! It sails this way,
The fairy boat—

DE L’ORIENT

With freight of heart’s desire!

THE ACTRESS

I have it!

COUNT LOUIS

No, I!

[_The butterfly lights upon his hand._

‘Tis youth!

DE L’ORIENT

‘Tis gone!—

[_The butterfly brushes his shoulder._

‘Tis joy!

THE ACTRESS

Fled!—Ah, ah!—‘Tis hope!

[_The butterfly touches her outstretched arm, then
rises again._

No longer!

[_The butterfly rests upon the fair hair of_ THE MARQUISE.

THE MARQUISE

As I was saying, then I felt despair—

[_The butterfly rises, flutters in a shaft of sunshine,
then passes out of the window. The prisoners watch
its flight._

A CHILD

The butterfly has gone!

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

Whither!

DE L’ORIENT

‘Tis for
The blue skies and the sunny fields!

THE ACTRESS

The flowers
We shall not gather any more!

DE L’ORIENT

High hills,
The water running in the sun and shade!

MME. DE MALESTROIT

A garden old beside a winding stream— Oh, death in life!

A NUN

It was a soul set free.
By now a thousand shining leagues it’s mounted!

[_The door at the left of the altar opens._

_Enter_ GRÉGOIRE.

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

Here is Grégoire!

GRÉGOIRE

Good-morrow, Citoyens!

COUNT LOUIS

Good-morrow, Gaoler.

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

Ah, this place, Grégoire! It is so triste! Shall we forever stay Imprisoned in a church?

LA FÔRET

Oh, gayer far
The Bastille or Vincennes!

THE ACTRESS

These frowning saints!
The wind that whistles in!

MME. DE MALESTROIT

The stones so cold!

COUNT LOUIS

The Church will make us martyrs ere our time!

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

And did you buy, Grégoire, the cards for ombre?

THE ACTRESS

Masks for our play?

DE L’ORIENT

A violin?

THE ACTRESS

Wax-lights?

DE BUC

The foils?

A CHILD

My ball, Grégoire?

GRÉGOIRE

I’ve nothing bought— The judges sit to-day. Complain to them. The church is cold! ‘Tis not so cold as Loire! The prisons are too crowded! Well, to-day We’ll weed them out!

DE BUC

So!

GRÉGOIRE

You are warned! Prepare!
Make your farewells—the time is very short!

[_Exit_ GRÉGOIRE.

DE BUC

Strike camp!

DE L’ORIENT

The open road!

COUNT LOUIS

Who goes?

LA FÔRET

Who stays?

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

Our comedy!—we cannot have it now!

THE ACTRESS

Oh, we will rearrange the parts!

[DE VARDES _folds his letter and rises from the table_.

DE VARDES

We’ll play,
Though all the world is sliding ‘neath our feet!

DE BUC

The world’s a stage—

THE NUN

_De profundis clamavi
Ad te Domine!_

_Enter the_ ABBÉ JEAN DE BARBASAN, _pale, wounded, and with
disordered dress_.

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

Monsieur l’Abbé!

DE VARDES

Ah!
De Barbasan, we feared for you!

THE ABBÉ

Morbleu! I am reprieved! Lambertye proved my friend! It seems that once I saved the villain’s life!— Pure accident!—stumbled on him in a ditch, Played the Samaritan!—so now I’m spared, Come forth like Daniel from the lions’ den, That Judgment Hall of theirs across the way! Lions! They are not lions, they are wolves, Hyenas, tigers, and baboons. Faugh!

DE BUC

So!
They are hungry yet?

THE ABBÉ

Oh, they are portents! And portents are the folk that fill that hall! Not women they who sit aloft and knit; Not men, those scarecrow visages below; For robed judges, wolves at Lammas tide, And Nantes the winter forest for the pack!— But ah, the deer at bay, the little lambs!— The earth gives ‘neath their feet, they face the Loire!

[_A confused sound from the square without the window;
voices, menacing and execrating, a cry, then
silence._

DE VARDES

One has not gained the Loire!

THE ABBÉ

Ah, oftentimes, They fall before they reach the Judgment Hall! There in the street, before that fatal door— Both youth and age, fair women and brave men. Their blood cries to another judgment seat! From yonder window you may see it all!

THE MARQUISE

We will not look!

COUNT LOUIS

Fie, fie, De Barbasan! There is a time for everything! Not now, Nor in this place is’t meet or debonair To speak of ravening wolves or stricken deer! To work, my friend! You find us much concerned About this play of Molière’s! We give _Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme_.

THE MARQUISE

You’ll play Jourdain? Béjart had promised us, but then he went. He’s not returned.

THE ABBÉ

Nor will, I think. But, yes, I’ll take the part; I’ll speak in prose to you To whom I else would speak in poetry!

THE MARQUISE (_with a curtesy_)

Monsieur Jourdain, your prose is ravishing!— I’m Dorimène.

DE BUC

And I Dorante!

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

Lucille.

MME. DE MALESTROIT

Nicole!

THE ACTRESS

I am, Monsieur Jourdain, your wife!

LA FÔRET

Your son-in-law the Turk!

DE VARDES

Behold, monsieur,
Your fencing master!

DE L’ORIENT

Your _maître de danse_. Imagine, pray, you hear my violin: La, la—The minuet!—La, la, la!

[_He plays an imaginary violin. The prisoners hesitate,
laugh, then begin to step a minuet. The children
and the gaolers watch them._ DE VARDES _does
not dance. He leans against a pillar to the left_.

_Enter a turnkey_, CÉLESTE, ANGÉLIQUE, NANON, _and_
SÉRAPHINE.

SÉRAPHINE (_crossing herself_)

Eh! Eh! They dance!—Well, what a thing it is To be a noble born!

CÉLESTE (_jealously_)

We dance as well!

SÉRAPHINE

Ay, the Carmagnole!

ANGÉLIQUE

‘Tis a swifter dance! Why came we here? I never liked this church, They are too gay of heart, these ci-devants! Let’s to the Judgment Hall, or to the Loire.

CÉLESTE

Séraphine would come—

SÉRAPHINE

Patience, Citoyennes, No haste! I’ve just a little word to speak Unto monseigneur there.

CÉLESTE

Monseigneur!

SÉRAPHINE

Oh,
The Citoyen Vardes! You know my tripping tongue.

NANON (_to the turnkey_)

Where is that ci-devant men once did call La belle Marquise?

THE TURNKEY

‘Tis she who dances there,
Fair-haired and dressed in violet.

NANON

Awhile
I’ll watch her dance.

CÉLESTE

Their cheeks are pale.

ANGÉLIQUE

They smile.
I would not smile if I were they.

[NANON, CÉLESTE, _and_ ANGÉLIQUE _watch the
dancers_. SÉRAPHINE _approaches_ DE VARDES.

SÉRAPHINE (_in a low voice_)

Monseigneur!

DE VARDES

Séraphine Robin, I believe?

SÉRAPHINE

Saint Yves! Now just to think! Monseigneur knows my name!— Eh! Morbec was my home for many a year. When all is said and done, Home is just Home, Hut or château—and always the De Vardes Were lords of Morbec did they good or ill! Most like ‘twas ill—but they were proper men! And when they smiled we always said ‘twas day; And old men say—but it was long ago— A baron lived was named René the Good! Saint Gil! Monseigneur gave us back Lisette. Saint Maudez! ‘Tis a dangerous thing, but see!

[_She takes from her bosom a silken purse._

Eh, monseigneur, ‘tis yours! Take it! Quick, quick, Before Céleste—the baggage!—turns her head!

[_She thrusts the purse into his hand._

DE VARDES

From whom?

SÉRAPHINE

Look in it! You will see. ‘Tis gold.

DE VARDES

Gold!

SÉRAPHINE

And something more.—Here is Angélique!

ANGÉLIQUE

Aristocrat—That ring upon thy finger—

SÉRAPHINE

Out!

DE VARDES

Not yet, Citoyenne!

ANGÉLIQUE

Then afterwards!
I’ll have it at the trenches or the Loire!

[_She rejoins_ CÉLESTE _and_ NANON. _They watch the
dancers._

DE L’ORIENT

Nicole—Lucille—Cléonte—

SÉRAPHINE

My errand’s done—
Look in the purse, monseigneur, look at once!

DE L’ORIENT

La, la, la, la!

DE VARDES

I have no need of gold.

SÉRAPHINE

Look, monseigneur!

DE VARDES

Again, from whom?

SÉRAPHINE

A friend.

DE VARDES

I have no friend in Nantes. Take back thy purse!

SÉRAPHINE

It is not mine, the pretty, silken thing! I swore that I would leave it, so I will! And I was told to tell you, “Look within.”

[NANON _approaches_.

NANON

In Nantes one is Suspect when one is seen Whispering in shadows with Aristocrats!

SÉRAPHINE

Nothing I said you might not hear, Nanon! Come, come away! (_To_ DE VARDES _as she turns from him_.) Monseigneur, have a care!

[SÉRAPHINE, NANON, CÉLESTE, _and_ ANGÉLIQUE
_watch the dancers. A grating sound is heard without
the door to the left of the altar. The turnkeys
move aside, the door opens and discloses a passage
lined with gaolers and soldiers._

_Enter_ GRÉGOIRE _with three or four Patriots. They wear
great boots, plumed hats, sashes of tricolour, sabres and
pistols._

DE L’ORIENT

La, la, la, la, la!

GRÉGOIRE

The list for the day.

[_The dance ceases._

CÉLESTE

Now, now we’ll see the birds drop one by one!

ANGÉLIQUE

It is what I love!

GRÉGOIRE (_He descends the step from the choir_)

The list, Citoyens! You whom I name pass out at yonder door. Across the square the judges sit—

DE BUC

Just so!
Who leads?

GRÉGOIRE

Citoyen, you!

DE BUC

Promotion, by God!— Messieurs, mesdames, I have marching orders! (_To the Actress and_ MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI.) I cannot play Dorante! Is’t not a shame? De L’Orient there must take my part—Adieu! (_To_ THE MARQUISE.) Ah, Dorimène, you’ll let me kiss your hand?

THE MARQUISE

Monsieur, monsieur—

DE BUC (_to_ DE VARDES)

I’m breaking camp.

DE VARDES

Ma foi! We’ll meet at the end of the march, my friend! Meantime I’ll tell thee that Bouillé once said, “Brave as a Gascon, or Fauquemont de Buc!”

DE BUC

Did he so? Old Bouillé!

[_He salutes._

My Colonel!

DE VARDES

Captain de Buc!

[DE BUC _mounts the step into the choir and passes
out of the door, between the lines of soldiers. There
is heard the voice of the mob in the square without._

DE L’ORIENT

Away with Melancholy! The curtain’s up, the play begins! Grégoire, My name is Thalia! Is’t on thy list?

GRÉGOIRE (_his eyes upon the paper in his hand_)

No, Citoyen.

DE L’ORIENT

Another lifetime here!

COUNT LOUIS

A golden louis to a paper franc, The next is Château-Gui!—

GRÉGOIRE

No, Château-Gui,
You are reserved.

COUNT LOUIS (_taking snuff_)

Why, that is welcome news!
Eh, my daughter, we will not miss the play!

GRÉGOIRE

The Citoyen Charles Le Blanc.

LE BLANC

What damned star
Flared and went out the night that I was born?

[_Exit_ LE BLANC.

GRÉGOIRE

Hervé Rauderendec, called the Breton!

THE BRETON

Good people all, it has been pleasant here, But now the tide draws to the full—Adieu! I must make sail!

[_Exit the Breton._

GRÉGOIRE

The Citoyenne Gérard.

THE ACTRESS

I?

GRÉGOIRE

Delphine Gérard.

THE ACTRESS

Oh, I knew, I knew The butterfly that touched me was ill luck! I named it Hope,—it fled, it fled away!

THE ABBÉ

We’re loth to let you go, Delphine Gérard.

THE ACTRESS

There is no choice—I have my cue, you see!— And after all the play’s a tragedy.

[_Exit the Actress._

CÉLESTE

‘Tis better worth our while across the square!

ANGÉLIQUE

‘Tis so! Let’s to the Judgment Hall.

NANON

Agreed.
Come, Séraphine!

SÉRAPHINE

I’ll follow presently.

ANGÉLIQUE

Do not delay. We’ll keep a place for you!

[_Exeunt_ NANON, CÉLESTE, _and_ ANGÉLIQUE.

GRÉGOIRE

The Citoyenne Vaucourt.

MME. DE VAUCOURT

Children, children! Your father’s calling me from Paradise!— Thérèse, Philippe, farewell, farewell, farewell! Oh, clasp me close and kiss!—Forget me not!— Yes, yes, I’ll buy the bonbons and the doll! I’ll not forget—

GRÉGOIRE

The boy goes with you.

MME. DE VAUCOURT (_wildly_)

With me! He’s but a babe! Not eight till June!

THE BOY (_clinging to her_)

To the toy-shop, mother!

MME. DE VAUCOURT

Oh, yes, child, yes!
To the toy-shop!

[_They go out together._

GRÉGOIRE

Maria Innocenta Sombreuil!

[_A young girl in the habit of a Carmelite novice
leaves the shadow of a pillar, with raised face and
hands crossed upon her breast mounts the step and
passes out between the soldiers._

Gaspard Le Borgne!

LE BORGNE

An angel leads me on.

[_He follows the novice._

GRÉGOIRE

Enguerrand La Fôret!

LA FÔRET

Ha, ha!—ha, ha!
Ha, ha!—

[_Hysterical and continued laughter._ GRÉGOIRE _and
the turnkeys look stolidly on, but the prisoners are
disturbed_.

COUNT LOUIS

For shame, Enguerrand La Fôret!
Before women!—Die like a gentleman!

LA FÔRET (_He leans against the balustrade of the choir_)

Ha, ha!

COUNT LOUIS

Fie, fie! You shame us all!

LA FÔRET

Ha, ha!
I laugh because—ha, ha!—‘tis such a joke!

[_He mounts the step still laughing, then suddenly
recovers himself and turns with fury._

Who calls me coward? I laughed because I laughed!

[_He wrests a musket from the nearest soldier and
stabs him with the bayonet._

Take that!—There’s one at least will laugh no more!

[_Oaths and confusion among the gaolers and soldiers.
A sigh of satisfaction from the prisoners._ LA FÔRET
_is dragged out_. GRÉGOIRE _looks at his list, then at_
DE VARDES. _The latter advances._

GRÉGOIRE (_hurriedly to himself_)

To-morrow—not to-day! I’ll risk that much,— Just for the way he fought that Morbec night! (_Aloud._) Stand back, Citoyen Vardes! Your time’s not yet.

[_A murmur of pleasure and congratulation from the
prisoners._

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

We are so pleased, Monsieur le Baron!

GRÉGOIRE

Citoyens Rochedagon and Pincornet!

[_The men named go out. There is heard from the
square without and from the passage a sound of
acclamation. The door is flung open and the Actress
enters._

THE ACTRESS

They harmed me not! “No, no!” they said. “No, no! Delphine Gérard must play for us in Nantes.” Oh, the people! Oh, the dear good people! Oh, blessed fortune!

DE VARDES

We are most happy!

THE ABBÉ

Delphine Gérard!

COUNT LOUIS

Welcome, mademoiselle!
You see the play is still a comedy!

GRÉGOIRE

Marneil, Delille!

[_Exeunt the men named._

DE L’ORIENT

The leaves fall fast,
The tree will soon be bare!

GRÉGOIRE

The Citoyenne
Clarice-Marie Miramand Blanchefôret.

DE VARDES

Oh, wretch!

THE PRISONERS

La belle Marquise!

THE MARQUISE

It is my name!— I had no thought I would be called to-day!— Unwarned! That’s horrible! Ah, good Grégoire! A little while—

GRÉGOIRE (_stolidly_)

Citoyenne Blanchefôret.

THE MARQUISE

Ah, villain!

DE VARDES (_to_ GRÉGOIRE)

Five minutes!

[_He slips into_ GRÉGOIRE’S _hand the purse of gold_.
GRÉGOIRE _hesitates a moment, then his hand closes
upon the purse. He thrusts it into his bosom._

SÉRAPHINE

Saint Michel!

[DE VARDES _comes to_ THE MARQUISE _and they speak
together_. GRÉGOIRE _turns to another group of prisoners_.

GRÉGOIRE

Montfauçon and Guistelles.

SÉRAPHINE

Saint Guenolé! He hath the purse! The paper in it too! He’s rock; he, black Grégoire! Alack the day! Saint Huon! What’s to do?—

GRÉGOIRE

Sorel and Mornay!

SÉRAPHINE

Saint Yves le Véridique! I will away!

[_Exit_ SÉRAPHINE.

DE VARDES (_to_ THE MARQUISE)

Would I might die for thee!

THE MARQUISE

‘Tis but a dream!

DE VARDES

Clarice! Clarice!

THE MARQUISE

A vision of the night!

DE VARDES

Clarice-Marie!

THE MARQUISE

I will awake!

DE VARDES

My friend!

THE MARQUISE

Ah, only that!

DE VARDES

La belle Marquise!

THE MARQUISE

No more!

DE VARDES

How long have we been friends! And now—

THE MARQUISE

And now!—

DE VARDES

My friend, my friend!

THE MARQUISE

Alas! Alas, ‘tis true We are good friends—in life and death good friends! ‘Tis much—though there are lovers too in Nantes, And when one loves ‘tis not so hard to die! Or so I’ve heard, monsieur.

DE VARDES

O destiny!

THE MARQUISE

The jasmine is my flower—a luckless bloom! Wear not the too-sweet jasmine flower, For then one loves, but is not loved again!

DE VARDES

No, no! the rose—

THE MARQUISE

The rose unloved! Ay, ay! Last night I dreamed of roses and of lights, Beside a water still they burned and bloomed— Lit candles and pale roses with gold hearts, Like those that bloomed within my garden once, When you rode by, when you rode by, my friend!

DE VARDES

Alas!

THE MARQUISE

They’re dead, my garden roses, dead! They’ll bloom no more, nor wilt thou ride that way; Nor, Sieur de Morbec, dost thou love the rose. For once thou said’st to me upon a day When I did find the Morbec roses fair, “I better love the heartsease at thy feet.” The peasant flower! Rememb’rest thou that day? ‘Twas Saint John’s Eve—

DE VARDES

Would I remembered not!

THE MARQUISE

The heartsease—

DE VARDES

The heartsease withered.

[_A roar from the square._ DE L’ORIENT _turns from
the window_.

DE L’ORIENT

Ah!

COUNT LOUIS

What do you see?

DE L’ORIENT

Too much!

[_A turnkey laughs._

THE TURNKEY

Carrier! Lalain!
Oh, they judge quickly! _Vive la République!_

THE MARQUISE

It was a summer day when first we met, And now we part within a prison here, And never shall we see each other more!

DE VARDES

Oh, briefer than the fairest summer day The little hour before we meet again! Soon, soon I’ll follow thee, and all of these! The reaper hath his sickle in the corn. He is a madman, but the field is God’s, And God will garner up the fallen ears, And in another life we two shall meet!

THE MARQUISE

And wilt thou love me then? Ah, no! Ah, no!

DE VARDES

Thou art a lady brave and fair—

THE MARQUISE

Alas!

GRÉGOIRE

The Nun Benôite, an Ursuline!

[_A nun rises from her knees, makes the sign of the
cross, and passes out between the soldiers._

THE MARQUISE

Ah me! The unknown land, just guessed at and no more, To which this loud wind sends my cockle boat!— Where are my beads? Lost, lost with all things else! Jewels and gold and friends and lovers too!— Ah, short my shrift with Grégoire glowering there. My hatred of Madame la Maréchale, I’m sorry for’t. The Captal de Montgis Once did me wrong. Well, well, I can forgive!— Sieur de Morbec, where’s she that flung us down, Lifted her finger and behold us here! Her face is fair—ah, very fair her face. She was your mistress, yes?

DE VARDES

No!

THE MARQUISE

What then?

DE VARDES

Cold that I warmed, and hunger that I fed.

THE MARQUISE

O strike her, Frost! O Hunger, with her wed!

DE VARDES

Ah, curse her not! She knew not what she did!

THE MARQUISE

Alas! Alas!

GRÉGOIRE

The Citoyenne L’Esparre!

THE MARQUISE

The women go—He’ll call my name! Ah, look! The purple saints within the windows there, See how they wave their palms and smile at me! They wave their palms, they strike their golden harps, Their aureoles are brighter than the sun!

GRÉGOIRE

The Citoyenne Blanchefôret!

THE MARQUISE

The clock has struck!

DE VARDES

All angels guard thee!

THE MARQUISE

Fatal is my name And hated through long years in Brittany. Perhaps I shall not live to cross the square!

[_The noise of the mob without._

Oh, hear!

DE VARDES

Take courage!

THE MARQUISE

From the window there,
Wilt watch me on my way?

DE VARDES

Ay!

GRÉGOIRE

Citoyenne!

THE MARQUISE

Farewell! Ah, not my hand, my friend!

DE VARDES (_He kisses her upon the brow_)

Farewell!
Farewell—

[THE MARQUISE _turns to the remaining prisoners_.

THE MARQUISE

Messieurs, mesdames, ‘tis with regret I take my leave of this fair company! My part of Dorimène—it must be played By some more able, not more willing, one; For me—I’m bidden to a wider stage. Adieu! Adieu! Adieu!

THE PRISONERS

La belle Marquise!

[_Exit_ THE MARQUISE. DE VARDES _crosses to the
window_. DE L’ORIENT _gives him place, and he
stands upon the bench and watches the square without_.

COUNT LOUIS

There are three names that most of all they hate: De Vardes and Château-Gui and Blanchefôret!

GRÉGOIRE

Pasquier, Harlebeque, and Damazan.

[_There is heard from the street without a confused
sound of execration and triumph. The now small
company of prisoners exchange glances._

DE VARDES (_at the window_)

Grand Dieu!

DE L’ORIENT (_beside him_)

They dare not!—Ah!

[_The sound without grows to a roar._

COUNT LOUIS

What seest thou?

DE L’ORIENT

Malediction!

[_A cry without._ DE VARDES, _at the window, raises
his voice_.

DE VARDES

Clarice! Clarice!

[_There is a faint answering cry, followed by a roar
from the mob, then silence._

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

O Ciel!

THE ACTRESS

Miséricorde!

DE VARDES

‘Tis done—‘tis past—she’s dead.
O God who makest man, forbear, forbear!

[_He covers his face with his hands. There is a
silence._ GRÉGOIRE _folds his papers_.

COUNT LOUIS (_with a shaking voice_)

‘Tis well with her at last; we need not weep. We all must die, for so the play goes on! Her father was a lord of Gascony; A golden spur he wore, and loved the chase! Her mother was more fair than Montespan. A thousand times we’ve hunted with the King, De Miramand and I; a thousand times We’ve watched the moon, that first Clarice and I!

GRÉGOIRE

To-morrow, at this hour, another list! Meantime, Citoyens, you and you and you, And you, Citoyennes, who petitioned so, Your prayer is heard. Lalain is merciful! You shall not sleep on these cold stones to-night, Another gaol’s provided. Follow me!

MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI

O welcome change!

COUNT LOUIS

The stones were very cold!

THE ACTRESS

And can we have our play there just the same?

GRÉGOIRE

Just the same.

[_The prisoners move toward the door._ DE VARDES
_touches_ GRÉGOIRE _on the arm_.

DE VARDES

I find the stones no colder than their wont, Time moves no heavier here than everywhere, And here, Grégoire, I will remain. The Church Will give me up when Carrier calls my name!

DE L’ORIENT

I will keep you company—

GRÉGOIRE

As you will— To-morrow you’ll be called—you have one night. (_To the other prisoners._) Follow me.

[_Exeunt all but_ DE VARDES _and_ DE L’ORIENT.
_The latter flings himself upon the bench beneath the
window_; DE VARDES _paces to and fro. A silence,
then_ DE L’ORIENT _sings_.

DE L’ORIENT

_There is an herb, they say,
Gives light to all the blind.
’Twill be a gracious day
When I that herb shall find.
And lighten all the blind!_

_There is a leaf that springs.
Will heal the very sad.
Ah, would that I had wings
To find that leaf so glad,
And heal the very sad!_

_There is a bloom o’ grace
Will bring the dead again.
Ah, for the flowret’s face!
Ah, for an end to pain!
Ah, for the dead again!_

DE VARDES

Why, that’s a mournful thing!

DE L’ORIENT

It was so meant. Oh, happy days we sing the saddest things!— My heart is eased. I’ll sleep awhile and dream.

[_He pillows his head upon his arm and sleeps._ DE
VARDES _walks slowly to and fro_.

DE VARDES

Sleep!—How long has it been since Sleep and I Met in the heavy road and laid us down, Took our dear ease, and let the world go by?— I well remember in the north one time,— Beside Moselle, where all the live-long day Upon a stairway old we stood on guard, De Buc and I, and looked on Mutiny, Brazen and bold, Death visible and dark!— And all the night before in council spent, After a day’s forced march from Lunéville, And a wild night of wine and rapiers drawn.— As the sun set we heard a bugle blown, Beat of the drums, and thunder of the guns, And Bouillé’s voice, assurance of relief!— Another night of council, then at dawn We slept. The moon was crescent and a star Shone on to guide the white, enchanted boat Through seas of ether coloured like a shell; The trees were dark beneath; there was no sound; The air was cold,—we laid us down and slept. Saint Gris! No dreams did trouble us that day!—

[_He rests upon the choir step._

To bring the dead again! No flowret blooms, No herb, no leaf, shall bring the dead again. No garden is there where for all one’s gold, The weightiest sceptre or the keenest sword, Might one obtain the happy gardener’s place, And find the bloom that brings the dead again. It grows not here, and there is naught will serve, No rain of tears, no delving earnestly, No lift of hope, no squandered treasury, Love nor remorse, nor longing nor great pain. The star has shot. The dead come not again.

[_He rises and again walks to and fro._

Happy the dead.—Ah, what of one who lives? What of that mask in this fantastic dance Who crowned herself with poison flowers and laughed To see the lilies fade before her breath?— O death! O love! O blasting treachery! O face that in the prison of La Force Visited my dreams—

[_The door opens._ YVETTE _leans against it, panting,
then comes forward_.

YVETTE

Where is the paper?

DE VARDES

The paper?

YVETTE

The letter to the judges!
Folded and hidden in the purse I sent—

DE VARDES

You sent?—

YVETTE

By Séraphine! You have it, sure?

[_She looks about her._

Where is she?—The Citoyenne Blanchefôret?

DE VARDES

She’s dead.

YVETTE

No.

DE VARDES

Yes.

YVETTE

All is black before me!

DE VARDES

They called her name—She said adieu and went. They slew her in the street.

YVETTE

Alas!

DE VARDES

She’s dead,
Who was so fair. Why do you say alas?

YVETTE

Too late!—O God, I thought that all was well!

DE VARDES

Why, so it is! With her ‘tis well. She’s dead. They say the dead are happy.

YVETTE

You loved her!

DE VARDES

Goddess of Reason, no! Mere friends were we. But I’ve a preference for my friends alive!

YVETTE

Oh, woe is me!

DE VARDES

Thou hast what thou didst seek. Return to Olympus and hear “All hail, Well done, and like a deity!”

YVETTE

The paper!

DE VARDES

Thou dream of Paimpont Wood!—

YVETTE

The purse of gold!

DE VARDES

Thou picture of the Duchess Jeanne!

YVETTE

The purse!
Give, give!

DE VARDES

The purse!—I gave it to Grégoire.

YVETTE

What!

DE VARDES

It bought five minutes—I did not know
‘Twas thine.

YVETTE

To Grégoire! You did not open it!

DE VARDES

No!

YVETTE

Oh, woe, woe is me!

DE VARDES

Thou standest there! Still, still the herd girl on the green cliff head Who waves her hand to a lost boat at sea! Still, still the vision of a haunted wood Soulless as is the stone thou leanest on,— Vivien musing on the thing she’s done!

YVETTE

A slip of paper in a silken purse—

DE VARDES

Wilt thou begone? The Mountain waits.

YVETTE

Too late!

Where is Grégoire?

DE VARDES

I know not. He’s away;
He has thy gold—I’m sorry for’t.

YVETTE

No hope?— I thought the bridge was built and both were o’er. Then as I passed I heard “To-morrow morn Carrier himself will judge that ci-devant”

DE VARDES

The Mountain waits—

YVETTE

I’ll to Lalain again.

DE VARDES

Ha!

YVETTE

She is dead; I’m lost. But thou—But thou—
Farewell! Farewell!

DE VARDES

Thou said’st, _I’ll to Lalain_.
I do forbid it utterly.

YVETTE

Oh!

DE VARDES

Obey!
It is thy seigneur’s last command.
(_To himself._) Thou fool!
Touch not her hand. ‘Tis red!

YVETTE

Monseigneur!

DE VARDES

Why art thou both so fair and foul a thing?

YVETTE

Ay, call me that—I care not!

DE VARDES

I’ll call thee “Death,
Sweet Death—fair Treachery!”

YVETTE

Forgive, forgive!

DE VARDES

There’s blood upon thy hand.

YVETTE

Forgive!

DE VARDES

Alas!
Thou didst betray!

YVETTE

I would that I were dead
In Paimpont Wood, beside the Druid Stone!

DE VARDES

I would that I had never strayed that way!

YVETTE

I won that paper in that purse of gold! And it was life, I tell thee, life for both! O God! how all things here miscarry!

DE VARDES

I would that I had never seen thy face!

YVETTE

Oh, much I hated her, la belle Marquise, And yester morn I did betray her there, Just in the moment God gave o’er my soul! And she is dead—I cannot bring her back. Oh, swift the madness passed and came remorse, And I did hate myself, and strove to save!— Oh, woe, and double woe! He promised me! Oh, I have striven with a fiend from hell And not prevailed, though sorely I did strive! O God! O God! I’m weary of the light! Now, now thou too wilt die unless—unless— Ah, let me go—Farewell, a little while!

DE VARDES

Not till I know where thou dost go, and why.

YVETTE

Rémond Lalain gave me that paper. It was an order, written by himself, Whom even Carrier would not offend— A secret paper not for every eye. Reward he asked for certain services,— Two lives, your life and hers—and hers, I swear! He does not leave his villa all this day, But at the judgment bar you were to show That paper to Lambertye or Sarlat, And both were saved—both, both, I swear it, both! And now she’s dead—‘Twas life you flung away Shut in that purse! You gave it to Grégoire! Grégoire! He serves the Revolution, Is flint to all beside! Oh me! Oh me! I could not come myself, I could but send. I won it not till cockcrow of this morn!

DE VARDES

Till cockcrow!

YVETTE

The dawn came slowly on. The cock crew and I drew the curtain by And saw the morning star above the Loire!

DE VARDES

The morning star!

YVETTE

‘Twas like the eye of God! I used to watch it from the fields at dawn; This morn ‘twas watching me!

DE VARDES

Rémond Lalain!

YVETTE

‘Twas all in vain. She’s dead—ah, ages since! You’ll not forgive—So fare you well again!

DE VARDES

Where goest thou, Yvette?

YVETTE

To Séraphine,
Beneath the Lanterne, Sign of the Hour Glass!

DE VARDES

Hear and obey! It is a dying man Speaks to thee now and with authority!— Thy seigneur too, and head of all thy house. When I am dead, the last of the De Vardes Will be thyself, my cousin!—All song doth say That Duchess Jeanne who lived so long ago, Whose pictured face and thine are counterparts, E’en to the shadowy hair, the cheek’s soft curve, The light of eye, the slow, enchanting smile,— All song doth say she had a bruisèd heart, But in God’s sight a height of soul! So thou. Go thou to Morbec. Leave this Babylon. Back! from the travelled road thy foot’s upon! List not unto the music that is played; Touch not the scarlet flowers, the honey-sweet, They’ll poison thee! Think not the light is fair, It is false dawn. Take thou the darkling way Shall lead thee to white light and lasting bloom! Go thou to Morbec. Take thy distaff up, Spin thou thy flax and listen to old tales, Peacefully, with that smile upon thy lip! Or in the dewy dawn lift up thy head From dreamless sleep and drive thy cows afield, Stand mid the golden broom and mark the mist Rise from the hidden sea, and hear the lark Singing afar his strain of heavenly hope,— So wear thy years away, ah, tranquilly!— Thou art so young—All this will come to seem A dream of yesternight—

YVETTE

Dost thou forgive?

DE VARDES

And at the last when Death shall take thy hand, Smile at the due caress, and lightly come— If I am I, I’ll meet thee on the strand!

YVETTE

Dost thou forgive?

DE VARDES

I love!

YVETTE

_Me?_

DE VARDES

Thou sayest.

YVETTE

Where is the music playing?

DE VARDES

Long ago, To Paris and my King I rode away, Long ago, in the freshness of the world! I left thee there, all safe in convent fold— Fair were the fruit trees in that garden old, Warm shone the sun, the silver fountain played. I left thee there and thought to find again, When King and Crown were saved and devoir done, The battle o’er, the bugles sounding peace!— The King he is in heaven, the Crown is lost, The battle’s to the strong, the war drum rattles on. Long lay I in the prison of La Force; A dream I had that thou wouldst wait for me, Beside the fountain, by the bright fruit trees. Thou must have known that bars kept me from thee! Thou must have known that I did love thee true! Thou must have known that I did longing wait The rainbow after storm, the halcyon time When, stilled the jar and discord of the mind, The all unfettered heart might speak of love! But ah, the garden’s sealed. Thou art not there! Thou wouldst not wait the while—

YVETTE

Outside I kneel; Outside the garden, outside Paradise! Oh, woe! Oh, bliss!

DE VARDES

Weep not!

YVETTE

I love thee so!

DE VARDES

Paimpont! Paimpont! I feel thy magic wind!

_Reënter_ GRÉGOIRE.

GRÉGOIRE

Citoyen Vardes—

YVETTE

Grégoire, Grégoire! the purse—
The purse of gold!—

GRÉGOIRE

Hein?

DE VARDES

Let be! Let be! No purse was there! Dost hear, dost hear, Yvette? No purse, no gold, no paper, no Lalain! Thou dost not think that I would take my life?

YVETTE

No!

DE VARDES

Well said, and like the Duchess Jeanne!
Let not Grégoire mistake thee either!

YVETTE

I said I know not what, Grégoire, nor why! Sometimes a woman says she knows not what. Why should I talk of purses, faith, now why!

GRÉGOIRE

What do you here, Citoyenne?

YVETTE

I know not. I strayed this way, a gaoler let me in. ‘Tis of the sights of Nantes, this church, this gaol!

GRÉGOIRE (_to_ DE VARDES)

I have in charge to guard you through the street To the old Prison of the Séminaire. They who lodge there go onward to the Loire!

[_He turns to_ DE L’ORIENT.

DE VARDES (_to_ YVETTE)

Oh, sunken eyes! Oh, cheek so deadly pale! Oh, rest thee, rest thee, child, in still Morbec! Our Lady guard thee, guide thee with her hand. Farewell—

YVETTE

I’ll walk upon the banks of Loire.

DE VARDES

No; come not there!

YVETTE

I must. It is my road.

GRÉGOIRE (_He touches_ DE L’ORIENT _upon the shoulder_)

Awake, poet, and go along with us!

DE L’ORIENT

I am awake! ‘Tis trudge again, De Vardes!

_Come, Fanchon and Babette,
Olympe and Joséphine!
The dancers all are met
Within the forest green!
Cerise to me,
Denise to thee,
But none to Léontine!_

[_He turns with_ GRÉGOIRE _to the door at left of the
altar_.

DE VARDES

Farewell—my _douce_!

YVETTE

Farewell—my fisherman!
Oh—

GRÉGOIRE

Come!

DE L’ORIENT

_The dancers all are met
Within the forest green!_

[_Exeunt_ DE VARDES, DE L’ORIENT, _and_ GRÉGOIRE.
_The church darkens._ YVETTE _moves to the choir
step_.

YVETTE

Oh, love in my heart! Oh, splendour and light! The bow in the sky, the bird at its height! The glory and state of the angels bright!

[_She kneels and stretches out her arms to the altar._

Oh, mother of sorrows!

_CURTAIN_

_ACT V_

SCENE I

_A Judgment Hall in Nantes. A dais upon which at a heavy table sit
several members of the Revolutionary Committee. Behind them
soldiers and a great tricolour flag. To one side a tribune draped
with tricolour; opposite the tribune a gallery filled with women
of the Revolution. Upon the floor of the hall a throng of
red-capped men. To the right of the dais a number of the accused,
men and women. To the left a small group of the condemned._

_Uproar in the hall. An accused who has been standing before the
judges rejoins the right-hand group of prisoners. One of the
judges rings the bell on the table before him._

THE JUDGE

Silence, Citoyennes in the gallery! You disturb judgment!

CÉLESTE (_leaning from the gallery_)

We would know up here
Why you did free that man?

THE JUDGE (_soothingly_)

Ah, Citoyenne!
He’s not free—he’s but acquitted!

CÉLESTE

Ah, well! That’s different! (_To the women about her._) He’s but acquitted!

THE WOMEN (_They nod their heads_)

Ah!

_Enter_ LALAIN _with_ NANON _and_ ANGÉLIQUE.

CÉLESTE

Hé! Angélique! Nanon!

[NANON _and_ ANGÉLIQUE _make their way through
the press to the gallery stairs_.

THE CROWD

Rémond Lalain.

A JUDGE

Thy place is here, Lalain!

LALAIN

Make way, my friends.
The Levée’s thronged to-day.

THE CROWD

Ha, ha, ‘tis so! Levée of the Citoyen Carrier! _Vive la République! Vive Rémond Lalain!_

[LALAIN _sits beside the judges_.

A JUDGE (_to a gaoler_)

The next.

THE GAOLER

Dog of a priest!

[THE ABBÉ _approaches the bar_.

THE ABBÉ

On yesterday,
Messieurs the Judges, you acquitted me.

A JUDGE

It is to-day.

THE ABBÉ

Citoyen Lambertye—

LAMBERTYE (_hastily_)

I give thee o’er—I give thee o’er—

THE ABBÉ

Parbleu! Samaritan! Would I had played Levite! And left thee in the ditch with every wound Till Satan came to hale his minion forth!— Well, with this life I’ve done!

FIRST JUDGE

Thou art a priest

THE ABBÉ

Granted.

SECOND JUDGE

Death!

A TRICOTEUSE (_from the gallery_)

Hé! Citoyen, below there!
I’ve dropped my knitting. Throw it here to me!

THIRD JUDGE

Thou hast aided emigrés.

THE ABBÉ

Granted.

SECOND JUDGE

Death!

FIRST JUDGE

And written unto exiles.

THE ABBÉ

Granted.

SECOND JUDGE

Death!

THIRD JUDGE

Thou hast been heard to scorn and to lament That which the Revolution hath achieved!

THE ABBÉ

Scorn and lament! Why, no, I’ve wept with joy To see the things the Revolution hath achieved! As—

FIRST JUDGE

As what?

THE ABBÉ

Why, thou death’s-head, many things!
It did achieve, for one, my brother’s death!

THIRD JUDGE

Dost thou mourn for him?

THE ABBÉ

Ay!

SECOND JUDGE

Death!

THE ABBÉ