_A portion of the grand upper hall in the Château de Beautemps.
Large antique fire-place at back, in which burns a sleepy wood
fire. Tapestried doors R. and L. Also R. and L., beyond either
door, entrances to corridors that communicate with main hall. Large
draped window R. of fire-place. Near R. door small cabinet, on
which is a silver candelabrum with lighted candle. Near door at L.
a similar candelabrum resting on heavy carved chair. As curtain
rises,_ Henri _and_ Lucienne _are discovered beside chimney-place
in act of hanging up stockings before it._ Lucienne _wears a
costume of brocaded silken stuff reaching to the ground, and a
small velvet hood, whence her hair flows in rich abundance._ Henri
_wears doublet with large collar, and knee-breeches._
_Lucienne_ (_going to window, drawing curtains, and looking out. She
then comes to front of stage_).
How cold and still! With what an icy glow
The stars are shining over the château!
And yonder, where the chapel roofs rise dark,
The crusted snow gives out a diamond spark.
Eleven strokes the great hall clock has rung.
Well, brother Henri, is your stocking hung?
_Henri_ (_joining_ Lucienne _at front of stage_).
All's ready, sister; see how slim and white
Both stockings glimmer in the doubtful light.
I can't help wondering, as I watch them thus,
What gifts the Christinas Saint will bring to us.
_Lucienne_.
Oh, everything we've wanted for a year!
To me a painted doll in bridal gear;
To you a sword, a cup and ball, a top;
To me, again--
_Henri_.
Lucienne, I pray you, stop.
Dear sister, I've a secret to confess.
_Lucienne_ (_eagerly_).
What is it, Henri? Anything I'll guess?
Ah, there! your face reveals it ere you speak:
You want a falcon, beautiful and sleek,
To hunt with in the spring, when field and glade
Hear the sweet bugles of the cavalcade.
Who knows?--Perchance good luck your bird may bring,
Tied to the chimney by a silken string.
_Henri_.
No, no, Lucienne; in vain your wits would tire
To guess just what it is that I desire.
I want--come closer; let me speak it low--
I want--
_Lucienne_ (_in alarm_).
Why, Henri, what disturbs you so?
_Henri_.
The wish to look on that famed Saint who brings
At twelve each Christmas-eve such pretty things;
To watch old Santa Claus, as plain as day,
Steal to this hall in some mysterious way;
To mark his long white beard, his elfish mien,
And see what others have so rarely seen.
_Lucienne_ (_agitated_).
Oh, Henri, brother, I am filled with dread!
How came so queer a fancy in your head?
_Henri_.
Call it a whim, freak, folly, if you choose;
Only keep watch with me. You'll not refuse?
_Lucienne_.