TIME.
PROLOGUE, 1808.
PLAY, 1814-15.
PROLOGUE.
PROLOGUE.
_SCENE. A beautiful garden; rustic tables and chairs; to the right a
castle, massive, elegant, imposing. Don Manuel D’Acosta, standing on the
veranda, absorbed in thought. Enter Marquis D’Acosta._
MARQ. Manuel.—Manuel.
MAN. You called?
MARQ. Of what were you thinking so intently?
MAN. A little plan that I imagine will surprise Napoleon somewhat.
MARQ. He will at least reciprocate. He has prepared a surprise for us.
MAN. How so?
MARQ. I have just heard that we are to be sent to-morrow to the castle of
Valencay.
MAN. The devil!
MARQ. As “guests of France,” our host feels that he must provide better
lodgings for us.
MAN. Safer ones, you mean.
MARQ. I warned you that your zeal for Ferdinand would lead us to prison.
MAN. Long live his Majesty, Ferdinand the VII!
MARQ. And Mariana must share our prison.
MAN. Better that than freedom with others.
MARQ. You talk like a youth. Mariana has French blood in her veins.
MAN. She has Spanish blood in her veins too. She is your niece and my
cousin.
MARQ. She has no sympathy for Ferdinand.
MAN. Because she has been taught to distrust him. Will Captain Durand’s
company remain here or escort us to Valencay.
MARQ. I do not know.
MAN. It is incredible that you let her speak to that man.
MARQ. He is not a lunatic.
MAN. He is worse: he is a _poseur_. You know very well that a girl’s
admiration is always captured by such a tale of heroism as he has been at
pains to have circulated.
MARQ. What heroism?
MAN. An absurd story that Napoleon sent him with a message to the
Empress; that five or six rowdy Spaniards, thinking to make a grand
_coup_, and under the impression that they were military instructions,
waylaid him and demanded the papers upon him.
MARQ. And then?
MAN. Oh, then my gallant proved himself. He switched out his sword and
bade them advance. And the men, not recognizing him as a hero, advanced
and were slain.
MARQ. It was a brave act.
MAN. If one accredit it, as you so generously do.
MARQ. Manuel, I have used, and will use my influence in your favor.
Beyond that I can do nothing.
MAN. Say will do nothing. (_exit._)
MARQ. Poor boy! Poor hot-head! (_enter Mariana._)
MAR. What a beautiful day, uncle!
MARQ. Hedged in as we are, I cannot see it.
MAR. But overhead the way is all ours.
MARQ. You are very light-hearted these days.
MAR. There are so many beauties on beauties, and still out of sight and
hearing, an infinite comfort, as if God had centered the Universe into a
nesting hollow for us.
MARQ. You know, Mariana, that I wish you to marry Manuel.
MAR. Uncle—
MARQ. You know that your father wished it; left you his fortune only upon
that condition.
MAR. Yes, I know.
MARQ. Think of these things. Do not let the caprice of a moment weigh
against the wishes of your dead. (_exit; Mariana sits absorbed in
thought; enter Jean Durand; he has his left arm lightly bandaged; he
comes up behind her, puts his right arm around her._)
MAR. (_starting_) Oh! It is you.
JEAN. I am jealous of those long thoughts of yours.
MAR. Are you?
JEAN. Jealous of all things that claim you; the winds that whisper to you
all day long, the dreams that make you smile or sigh, the moon-beams that
enfold you at night, the thoughts that bid you pay attention.
MAR. I know a magician who converts all those things to his use.
JEAN. I know an enchantress who makes him believe he does.
MAR. He praises my eyes, my lips, my hair, and I lie awake at night
thinking about the happiness and the wonder of their being beautiful to
him.
JEAN. The wonder would be in their being anything else.
MAR. Even for my chance words, he creates meanings of wisdom and wit.
JEAN. Because, like the sun’s rays, they beautify even the smallest
things.
MAR. I am afraid he does not hear me; that he does not see me.
JEAN. He loves you, sweetheart. God has put no appraiser in the world
half so infallible as Love. Do you know why I was jealous of that long
thought of yours?
MAR. No. (_she bends her head and lightly touches with her lips his
wounded arm._)
JEAN. Because it seemed a sad thought.
MAR. It was. I was thinking of Pedro.
JEAN. Your brother?
MAR. Yes. Do you know, Jean, I am glad I cannot have the fortune my
father left.
JEAN. I am glad that I shall be forever in your debt for the privilege of
making you another.
MAR. Even if I had not met you, I could never have married Manuel, and,
in that case, the fortune would have reverted to the Church.
JEAN. In that case it would have been your brother’s happiness and
privilege to have shared his with you.
MAR. My brother was not even mentioned in the will. That is why I am glad
I cannot have the money.
JEAN. What was his offense?
MAR. Nothing, that we know of. He is not really my brother, you know;
only an adopted brother.
JEAN. French?
MAR. No, Spanish; adopted by my parents before my birth, when they had
despaired of having a child of their own.
JEAN. Then he is older than you?
MAR. Ten years.
JEAN. Where is he now?
MAR. We do not know. Five years ago, (when we left France to go to Spain,
after my father’s death) he ceased answering my letters. I begged him to
write to me—to love me, but—
JEAN. He is an ingrate.
MAR. Oh, he is not. He is hurt and humiliated by father’s will. He had
been treated as a son during his life-time; he must have supposed he
would still be treated as a son when father died. My heart aches for poor
Pedro.
JEAN. He ought to be a happy man.
MAR. Happy?
JEAN. You pray for him—long for him—love him.
MAR. I pray for others.
JEAN. For me?
MAR. My best prayers.
JEAN. And long for me sometimes?
MAR. Always—when you give me a chance.
JEAN. If I were forced to give you a long chance?
MAR. Jean—
JEAN. Let me speak to your uncle, sweetheart.
MAR. It would be useless.
JEAN. He is kind to you; he loves you.
MAR. He loves Manuel better. He is determined on the marriage.
JEAN. But if he saw your happiness is at stake?
MAR. He would call it caprice. You see my father’s will makes it easy for
him to think desire, duty.
JEAN. Then marry me, sweetheart. Give me the right to make your peace
secure. All that you have dreamed of me I will try to be; all that you
have hoped for me I will work to achieve; all that you believe of me I
will die to prove. Marry me, sweetheart. Say the yes that is in your eyes.
MAR. (_closing them_) My eyes are tell-tales which should be punished.
JEAN. (_kissing them_) Your eyes are altar lamps to Truth. Say the
yes that is in your heart. (_Mariana throws her arms around him_) My
sweetheart! To-night?
MAR. Oh, Jean—
JEAN. This is our last day here.
MAR. Last!
JEAN. To-morrow Ferdinand and his Court will be removed to the castle of
Valencay.
MAR. And you? Do you accompany us?
JEAN. I do not know. I have not yet received my orders.
MAR. You will not leave me, Jean?
JEAN. Does one leave the light, air, warmth, life? I shall come to you
this afternoon.
MAR. My uncle is calling—
JEAN. _Au revoir_, sweetheart. (_kisses her; exit Mariana; Beluche enters
R. U._)
BEL. (_to sentry at back_) Is Captain Durand here?
JEAN. (_overhearing him, and turning up stage from L. I. E._) Ah, Beluche!
BEL. You seem very happy. Are you not yet tired of your Spanish watch?
JEAN. Tired? I wish it might last forever.
BEL. We shall have you Spanishized next; praising the senors; adoring the
senoritas.
JEAN. The senoritas—
BEL. Thank heaven, I can hear your rhapsodies seldom.
JEAN. You’ll force me to think soon, Beluche, that some fair senorita has
jilted you heartlessly.
BEL. Would the thought suggest any caution?
JEAN. You admit?
BEL. I admit that to deserve is better than to possess.
JEAN. Well parried!
BEL. And, as against polite Spaniards, I admit to a preference for honest
cannibals.
JEAN. (_laughing_) And the New World?
BEL. And the New World. I have heard tales of it to make the heart beat
and the eye lighten.
JEAN. Fairy tales.
BEL. Matters of fact; of wonderful fortune-making, of breathless daring.
JEAN. Accomplished by whom?
BEL. The Carthagenians (_fiercely_) against the Spanish.
JEAN. Oh—the Caribbean sea exploits? Pirates.
BEL. I beg your pardon. Privateers.
JEAN. I believe you _are_ in earnest.
BEL. I am going there.
JEAN. To the New World?
BEL. To the New World. Will you go with me?
JEAN. My dear Beluche, impossible.
BEL. Then good-by. I must hurry back. (_exit_)
JEAN. Wait a moment. Beluche—What an eccentric! (_looking towards
Mariana’s window_) But he does not know that I have found a new world
already. (_exit; enter Pedro R, U. E.; he sees Jean exiting; looks after
him gloomily_)
PED. Captain Durand! More officious than ever I presume, since the
Emperor has been pleased to praise him. Confound the luck! To have
to break off in the midst of my furlough for cursed gambling debts
and threatened disgrace. However, my young Captain, you’ve been a
sufficient thorn in my side; you won’t have a chance to step in my shoes
yet awhile.—I must see Manuel. Re-enforced as he will be by Mariana’s
fortune, his friendship appeals to me. (_enter Manuel_) How goes the
world with my brother-in-law elect?
MAN. Pedro! It is ages since we have heard from you. Mariana has been in
much sorrow about it.
PED. I hope then to give her added joy on her wedding day.
MAN. Her wedding day?
PED. The earliest time fixed by her father for her marriage is at hand. I
assume your eagerness to profit by it.
MAN. You assume hers too?
PED. Why not?
MAN. For the most potent of all reasons. She does not love me.
PED. She says so. Women are fond of entreaty.
MAN. I have entreated.
PED. They are fond of mastery. You are faint-hearted, despondent.
MAN. I am reasonable.
PED. You speak your defeat. There is no other man, is there?
MAN. Curse him!
PED. What sort of man?
MAN. Oh, a young swashbuckler, lately promoted to a Captaincy by
Napoleon,—Jean Durand, by name.
PED. That man!
MAN. What of him?
PED. She must not marry him. One thing more: do you love her?
MAN. Pedro d’Acosta!
PED. Your pardon. I had not thought of the fortune. Your own is
sufficient guarantee against financial motives.
MAN. I love her, certainly.
PED. Then—I shall be able to help you.
MAN. She will not listen to you.
PED. I shall not ask her to do so. Do not let her know that I am in
Bayonne.
MAN. You wear a French Colonel’s uniform. She will hear of you through
Captain Durand.
PED. She will hear only of his Colonel, whose name is Tolosa.
MAN. But you?
PED. I am Colonel Tolosa. Five years ago I dropped the name of my adopted
parents, and assumed that of the little Spanish town in which I was born.
MAN. You joined the French army!
PED. For which you shall be thankful. To return to Mariana: there is no
use arguing with a woman in love. We must pit our wits against Durand’s,
letting her know nothing of our interference. Go to her. Press your suit,
besiege her with entreaty. Determine to win and you shall.
MAN. If you speak truth—
PED. There is no if but in yourself. Sweep aside all denial, rush her
along the current of your will; make her breathless, powerless. When she
recovers, she will admire, love you.
MAN. Pedro—
PED. No thanks, I’ll help you, if you will help yourself.
MAN. When shall I see you again?
PED. Leave that to me. _Au revoir._ (_exit_)
MAN. (_enthusiastically_) If Pedro be right!—(_enter Mariana with a
basket for gathering flowers_)
MAR. Uncle has been seeking you, Manuel.
MAN. (_advancing towards her_) And you?
MAR. (_purposely misunderstanding_) He did not need me.
MAN. Have _you_ been seeking me?
MAR. Why should I?
MAN. Why, indeed! You know that my love needs no bidding; that it is—
MAR. That it is very unbidden.
MAN. That it is the sum of my existence; that it has ruined my life for
all things save worship of one idea—you; longing for one good—you; hatred
for one opposition—yours.
MAR. I must gather my flowers.
MAN. (_savagely_) You are in a cutting mood. Allow me to hold your basket
for you.
MAR. It will do as well on the ground, (_she lets it fall to the ground;
Manuel picks it up._) I prefer it on the ground.
MAN. I prefer to hold it.
MAR. But as the basket is mine—(_goes to take it._)
MAN. (_retaining it_) And you are mine—
MAR. You know my answer to that.
MAN. My dearest, in the days when our great, great uncle was a corsair—
MAR. Spare me the recital of his feats.
MAN. He would have made short shrift of your little sins of hesitancy and
doubt.
MAR. Hesitancy!
MAN. He would have seized you, body and soul. He would have understood no
denial. He would have seen no sense in it.
MAR. A corsair you called him. Another name for thief.
MAN. For poetry, freedom, reckless bravery!
MAR. For underhandedness and skulking cowardice. I abhor his very name.
MAN. That is impossible. It is also mine.
MAR. Your boast of it does you no credit.
MAN. Mariana, my best beloved, do not drive me to desperation. I am
patient.
MAR. I am not, especially when you seek to overawe me by telling me what
a notorious pirate would do in your place.
MAN. But I—
MAR. Please give me my basket.
MAN. You are not so severe on all adventurers; Captain Durand, for
instance.
MAR. Captain Durand!
MAN. Yes. Do you suppose I do not see how he has hoodwinked you into
admiration, love perhaps, by his tales of valor and gallantry.
MAR. Please give me my basket.
MAN. You shall not put me aside in this manner. You shall realize that I
love you and that you shall love me.
MAR. Why such vehemence since you are confident?
MAN. Because you are cruel; because day by day you torture me.
MAR. I have never given you any hope.
MAN. You give me none now?
MAR. I give you none now.
MAN. Ha! ha! “Sweep aside all denial; rush her along the current of your
will. When she recovers, she will admire, love you.”
MAR. What?
MAN. There is your basket. (_exit_)
MAR. What did he mean? I wonder—Oh, I wish Jean would come. (_enter
Jean_) Well?
JEAN. Bad news. Col. Tolosa has returned.
MAR. He orders you—?
JEAN. To remain here.
MAR. Oh!
JEAN. He must have divined, you see, that I wanted to go.
MAR. Despicable!
JEAN. But he cannot divine the glory and happiness that will be mine in
remaining, since you will remain with me.
MAR. You don’t think, Jean, that there would be any hope of gaining
uncle’s consent?
JEAN. There would be scant time in which to gain it. (_enter Pedro and
Manuel at back_)
MAN. Manuel, too—You have no idea how insistent Manuel has become, almost
to the point of threats.
JEAN. Ah, put an end to such unpleasant possibilities, sweetheart. Let us
be married to-night. Father Cuthbert is here—has just arrived.
MAR. Father John Cuthbert?
JEAN. The same. Do you know him?
MAR. He was our parish priest in the old days in France. Pedro and I used
to walk with him often.
JEAN. He is one of my best friends.
MAR. Will he be here long?
JEAN. Unfortunately, no. He is only going through—will be leaving in the
early morning for America. But are you not glad, sweetheart, that he is
here to marry us?
MAR. Yes.
JEAN. I had almost forgotten. I must get a ring.
MAR. (_touching the ring on his left hand_) This will do.
JEAN. (_taking it off_) What! This little silver thing? It is all
battered.
MAR. (_taking it from him_) But more precious so than if chased by the
finest workers of France; bent, and nearly broken, and stained with
blood, it is an earnest of my lover’s valor; of the fearless worth that
won him his Emperor’s commendation. (_she kisses the ring, and slips it
on her finger_)
JEAN. Did I not tell you, sweetheart, that your thoughts, like the sun’s
rays, beautify even the smallest things? Now listen. To-night, whenever
my best opportunity offers, I shall come to you. I shall make my presence
known by softly singing the refrain of “_Mon Coeur a Toi_.” If all be
well, come down to me in the garden.
MAR. Oh, Jean, there is a great white tempest in my soul! It awes me.
JEAN. There is a greater one it seems to me in mine, but it does not
awe me. It builds me—up to heaven. For the last time, my precious one,
good-by.
MAR. Good-by.
JEAN. To-night. (_he kisses her; exeunt Jean and Mariana_)
MAN. (_advancing_) You see the result of “sweeping aside all denial.” It
has hurried her into marriage.
PED. It has done nothing of the sort. They were bound to find some
excuses for marrying.
MAN. They shall not marry. I’ll warn my father—lock her in—
PED. And ruin your chances forever.
MAN. I have no chances.
PED. If you will give me Mariana’s fortune for my good offices, I’ll
ensure you the defeat of your rival.
MAN. Mariana’s fortune!
PED. What I shall do requires care and planning, and is not unaccompanied
by risk. You have an ample fortune of your own. I have, thanks to my
father’s kindness, nothing—less than nothing, since I am deeply in debt
and in danger of disgrace, even dismissal from the army.
MAN. But Mariana’s fortune—
PED. Will be yours.
MAN. I cannot promise that.
PED. Then I cannot risk what I had thought of.
MAN. It would be useless. I have no chance.
PED. Certainly Durand seems to have left you none.
MAN. Damn him!
PED. He was not even ruffled by Mariana’s confession of your desperate
wooing.
MAN. I’ll kill him!
PED. (_amused_) As for your threats, he did not consider them.
MAN. (_turning fiercely upon him_) Stop that!
PED. (_coolly and indifferently_) Good-by. (_going_)
MAN. Pedro! Will you not see the folks and use your influence with
Mariana? She might listen to you.
PED. I think it very unlikely.
MAN. Wait a moment. What if your plan should fail?
PED. What plan?
MAN. About Durand.
PED. It would not fail.
MAN. Mariana, of course, would know nothing of our agreement?
PED. Certainly nothing.
MAN. Very well then. I do not believe it possible for me to win her, but
it will be a satisfaction to have outwitted Durand.
PED. (_handing him a pencil and paper upon which he has been writing._)
Will you sign this?
MAN. My word is sufficient.
PED. Certainly. Yet as a matter of business, I prefer to have your
signature.
MAN. I do not believe anything will come of it. (_signs_)
PED. Your marriage will come of it. But there is no time to lose. Come
with me. (_exeunt; night has come on, the moon is rising; enter Jean_)
JEAN. Dellonne is on watch. I’ll—Why, Beluche! (_enter Beluche_)
BEL. I could not leave without asking you once more to come with me.
JEAN. How leave? Have you resigned from the army?
BEL. I have. I am disgusted with Napoleon’s manner of treating the
Spaniards; sick of inaction. Come with me.
JEAN. (_laughs_) My dear Beluche, will the fair senorita allow your
departure?
BEL. What senorita?
JEAN. The creator of this restlessness, this love-hate.
BEL. Do I look like a fool?
JEAN. Heaven forbid!
BEL. Heaven has nothing to do with it. I am a fool.
JEAN. My dear Beluche—
BEL. I bear on my shoulders a convict’s brand—not a regular mark, but
the scars of lashings. I am a young man no longer because seven of my
years have been spent in prison—a prison to which my fair senorita and
her Spanish hypocrites sent me. And it is still a daily humiliation to me
that she has a miniature of me to show her friends; the fool whose face
she placed upon a serpent’s head—a fitting locket truly. Probably Antonio
Cardez dangles it at his watch chain now—the fat, insentient beast!—the
very kind of man sure to exhibit jewelry on his expansive front.
JEAN. My dear Beluche, I had no idea—
BEL. You have none now—about Spaniards. Are you not under command of a
Spanish colonel?
JEAN. He must be French at heart since he is a commanding officer in
Napoleon’s army. Do you know him?
BEL. No, I have never seen him.
JEAN. I will confess to you that without reason—simply on instinct—the
best support for your plea lies in my intuition about that one Spaniard.
BEL. Ah!
JEAN. But the fact remains. I have no cause to hate the Spanish. If I
should ever have, and if my chances of avenging myself should be forever
lost to me in the Old World, then I will go with you to the New.
BEL. Then! To-morrow and her dupes! Good by. Remember that I liked you.
(_exit_)
JEAN. Poor Beluche! (_sentry passes at back_). Dellonne—(_sentry
salutes_). I’ll relieve you of duty for awhile. Hold yourself in
readiness to return at a signal from me. (_Sentry salutes and exit; Jean
looks after him, turns to Mariana’s window and is advancing towards it,
when Manuel appears._)
MAN. Good evening, Captain.
JEAN. Good evening.
MAN. (_descending into the garden_) Do you go with us to-morrow?
JEAN. I do not.
MAN. Have a cigar? (_offering him a cigar_)
JEAN. Thanks. I have just had one.
MAN. Not with me. Try one. (_Jean takes a cigar_)
JEAN. Thanks. (_Manuel offers him a light, then lights his own cigar_)
MAN. I suppose there is no telling when we shall see you again?
JEAN. We may meet.
MAN. In case we don’t, will you remember that I am much indebted to you?
JEAN. For what?
MAN. Oh, a thousand things. You do not, I see, estimate rightly the
appreciation you provoke.
JEAN. I—
MAN. Shall we walk? (_Jean stands dazed_) Are you ill?
JEAN. Nothing.... A little dizziness.... (_staggers to bench near
table, sits and sinks face downward upon the table; Manuel watches him,
then beckons to a servant who enters, bearing a bottle of liquor; exit
servant; Manuel drinks from the bottle, then empties the remainder of
the contents upon the ground and places the bottle on the table by Jean.
He then exchanges his hat and cloak for those of Jean, goes to Mariana’s
window and softly sings Mon Coeur a Toi. After a moment, her door opens
and Mariana comes down to him with extended hands. Manuel hastily wraps
her cloak around her and leads her down the garden path. Exeunt Manuel
and Mariana. Then from the distance, comes a cry of fear and horror._)
MAR. (_without_) Jean! Jean! (_Jean starts up at the cry, but falls dazed
and helpless, back into a troubled sleep. A short silence; then a sudden
alarm sounds. Lights flash. A cry behind the scenes: “The prisoners have
escaped!” and a group of soldiers, led by Colonel Tolosa, rushes on the
scene._)
PED. Who is on watch?
DELL. Captain Durand. He relieved me half an hour ago. (_they see Jean
asleep; Pedro goes up to him; picks up the bottle at his side and lets it
fall to the ground. Jean raises his head; struggles to his feet._)
PED. Captain Durand, you are drunk. You were sleeping at your post; you
have allowed your prisoners to escape. What have you to say in your own
defense?
JEAN. (_staggering semi-conscious to centre._) Mariana.... (_falls._)
PED. (_looking him over coldly._) Remove his sword and order a summons
prepared for a court-martial.
CURTAIN.
ACT I.
ACT I.
_SCENE I. Six years later. L’Hotel des Exiles; New Orleans. A large,
dark-paneled, low-ceilinged room. Enter Leon Duval and Pedro._
DUV. You resided in Spain until within the last few years, did you not?
PED. Yes; our family belonged to Ferdinand’s Court, but when His Majesty
was overthrown, our fortunes all suffering in the downfall, my uncle
removed to New Orleans.
DUV. Where your own overthrow was completed by Cupid. To be frank with
you, you are perfectly eligible to my daughter’s hand;—I like you—but
owing to her youth and the great wealth that will be hers, (she is my
sole heir) I am constrained to caution. Personally, the weight of my
authority will be in your favor, but in the meantime we must wait until
you have money enough to raise you in worldly minds above the suspicion
of fortune hunting.
PED. For your frankness, even though it wound me, I thank you. My only
protest arises from suspense lest in the interim Bella should prefer
another; even that she may prefer another now.
DUV. I have never had any trouble with women, no matter who the woman.
All that is necessary is to coax them in the proper way, so as to make
them think they are yielding through grace and not necessity.
PED. A rare art.
DUV. An easy one. I pledge you my word that Bella will wed as I dictate.
(_enter several legislators and politicians._)
1st POL. It is plain to see that the British have designs on this city.
1st LEG. They won’t amount to anything. (_enter Beluche._)
DUV. They will amount to ruin, unless Lafitte be checked in time.
2nd POL. Confound it all, he must be.
DUV. He is not only a terror to the State, a growing paralysis upon its
commerce, but a menace to the entire country; uncatchable, unrestrainable.
PED. The country’s trade with Spain has been well nigh ruined.
1st LEG. Yes and her neutrality laws put at naught.
DUV. Worse still; the entire respectability of the State is being
debauched underhandedly into complicity with this Emperor of Barataria
under penalty of being ruined.
2nd LEG. The Governor must be urged to act.
1st POL. He cannot remain unheedful of the petition we will send him.
DUV. To business! (_exeunt_.)
BEL. Ha! ha! Petition away, my gallants! The man who from public
disgrace has been able to build himself into a power, a whole country
fears because it cannot subdue, need have no apprehension arising from
petitions. Jean Durand of the French army was a very different man from
Jean Lafitte, Emperor of Barataria. “If he should ever have cause to hate
the Spanish!” he promised me. The cause must have been grievous—a woman,
of course—the cause is always a woman, though Jean has said nothing
to me about it. However, she has made him a good hater. For that much
I am beholden to her.—But I must see Lafitte about the Creole. I have
suspicions about that ship. He has been away so many months, the men are
becoming unruly. I had thought to find him here looking up old Darblee
about his _protege_, Dominique. (_enter Baptiste._) Has Master Dominique
returned, Baptiste?
BAP. No sah, not jess ’zactly. I’ze lookin’ into dis week fo’ ’im.
BEL. Still got that little habit of looking into things?
BAP. Yes sah, an’ dat minds me. Does you know, marser, if dem bloodhounds
bite hard?
BEL. Pretty hard.
BAP. Is dey any chance fo’ a man to git ’way fum em?
BEL. They have been known to swim a stream and find the scent on the
other side. Don’t be foolhardy, Baptiste.
BAP. Who me? _I_ ain’t got no idee o’ runnin’ ’way. Naw, sah. I jess want
to fin’ out fo’ a fren o’ mine.
BEL. Isn’t Mr Darblee a kind master?
BAP. Dey ain no better. Ef dat daid man dint hanker roun’ ’ere so
continuous—
BEL. What man?
BAP. Yo see dat mask over de door? Dat man’s sperrit dogs me all de
time;—won’t even let anything stay whar I puts it. Dis very mornin’, I
had done put marser Darblee’s slippers in de sun to air an’ wen I went to
look fo’ ’em dey uz done gone. (_wipes his forehead._)
BEL. A thief, perhaps.
BAP. Naw sah. Dey ain no body kin git in de co’t widout me seein’ ’em.
BEL. Mr. Darblee may not ask for the slippers. (_exeunt; enter Darblee
and Dominique._)
DOM. And here is the old home again!
DAR. And the old uncle to give you welcome.
DOM. Spain is a pretty far way off, eh uncle?
DAR. But with Lafitte!—You know, Dominique, I have served Lafitte for
years and yet have never seen him.
DOM. You have no idea the wonderful man he is!
DAR. Yes?
DOM. Oh, a man to admire, copy, love; a man to spend your life with,
if it were not for Bella. How is Bella? Have you seen her? Is she
well?—(_notices a bulge in Darblee’s pockets._) What on earth have you
in your pockets?
DAR. (_pulling out a pair of slippers._) I bought them for you and wore
them once to see if they were comfortable. This morning I found them in
the broiling sun, put there to air by Baptiste. Fortunately I was in time
to save the coloring.
DOM. Baptiste would seem to have opinions of your feet. Thank you, uncle.
They are beautiful.
DAR. Have you had any _ecrevisse_ gumbo since you left home?
DOM. No indeed; nothing so good. (_he puts the slippers on a chair and
walks to the right of mask door to take a look at the old place._)
DAR. I wonder whether Baptiste has ordered those _ecrevisses_? (_exit L;
enter Baptiste dusting Darblee’s hat; he sees the slippers; puts the hat
down and takes the slippers up._) Baptiste.
BAP. Lordy! I done forgot ’bout dem _ecrevisses_!
DAR. (_without._) Baptiste!
BAP. Yes sah. (_Dominique re-enters just as Baptiste hides the slippers
in some out of the way place; Baptiste exits._)
DOM. It seems safest to follow uncle’s example if I would have my
slippers. (_puts them in his pockets; deep sailor pockets, that make no
bulges; enter Darblee._)
DAR. Tell me about that shipwreck.
DOM. It was purely imaginary.
DAR. What!
DOM. I dared not say I had not been shipwrecked when Lizbette said I had.
Bella would have had no further faith in me.
DAR. Nonsense.
DOM. Of course.
DAR. You don’t mean—
DOM. Yes I do—every time I think of the day I chanced to speak of that
old voo-doo to Bella.—How about Baptiste? Is he still as much troubled by
ghosts as ever?
DAR. I suppose so. He’s flightier than ever. (_enter Bella._)
DOM. (_catching both her hands._) At last!
BELLA. I received your note just in time. (_exit Darblee._) I told father
I wished to go to confession, so he accompanied me to the Church. I must
get back before he returns. And oh, what do you think?
DOM. I love you.
BELLA. A most delightful thing has happened.
DOM. You love me.
BELLA. Be serious. Our love seems more hopeless than ever.
DOM. What!
BELLA. I said seems. There is a suitor for my hand whom father insists
that I shall marry and father himself is more inveterate than ever
against the men he calls pirates.
DOM. But you?
BELLA. Oh, I am glad that the suitor has come because otherwise I would
never have been easy in my mind. I would always have been expecting
trouble.
DOM. Bella,—
BELLA. Lizbette _said_ there would be an obstacle more serious than all
the others—even than the shipwreck.
DOM. Lizbette be—
BELLA. Dominique!
DOM. But I protest—
BELLA. Now listen. Didn’t you yourself tell me about Lizbette’s wonderful
prediction long ago?
DOM. A coincidence.
BELLA. (_reprovingly._) Ah!
DOM. And I furthermore declare that I never was shipwrecked.
BELLA. (_claps her hands._) Ha, ha! Lizbette _said_ you would tell
stories and get others to tell stories in order to shake my faith in her!
DOM. What is this suitor’s name?
BELLA. I can’t tell you.
DOM. I shall see your father.
BELLA. I won’t have it. Why, father might kill you, he is so wrought up
over the doings of the pirates.
DOM. Bah!—That’s a singular locket you have on.
BELLA. Yes, isn’t it? A serpent’s head.
DOM. (_examining it._) Containing the miniature of a young man. This is
the reason of your quiescence. Will you let me have this locket?
BELLA. No, I will not.
DOM. And you will not tell me your suitor’s name. Very well. I swear to
you that I will find the man whose picture you wear.
BELLA. (_laughs._) You cannot. You can only trust me.
DOM. I never thought you cruel before. (_turns from her._)
BELLA. I am not. (_Dominique keeps away._) Dominique—Nick—
DOM. (_coming to her._) Bella—(_enter Darblee._)
DAR. I have just discovered that Mr. Duval is in the next room. (_exit._)
BELLA. I must go.
DOM. I will accompany you.
BELLA. No, you mustn’t.
DOM. I may at least follow you with my eyes till you enter the Church.
(_exeunt; enter Baptiste; he goes to the place in which he had stowed
his slippers; looks; finds them gone; exit quickly and apprehensively;
enter Dominique._) I have never seen my prospective father-in-law, so
I’ll try to get a glimpse of him. (_listens to some one approaching_)
Baptiste,—“hanted,” as usual, I’ll bet. (_he takes up Darblee’s hat, puts
it on the mask head and goes himself into the niche; Baptiste enters._)
BAP. I _mus’_ a made a mistake ’bout dem slippers, (_goes to places;
looks; falls more and more into bewilderment and consternation._)
DAR. (_calling without._) Baptiste.
BAP. Yes sah.
DAR. Bring me my hat.
BAP. Yes sah. (_turns to get the hat; gone! his hand goes to his
forehead._)
DAR. (_angrily._) Baptiste!
BAP. Yes sah. (_begins a nervous, fumbling search._)
DOM. (_behind the mask, in a hollow voice._) Baptiste—(_Baptiste looks up
and as he does so, the hat flies out to him; he yells and exits running;
enter Darblee, angry, just as Dominique comes forth laughing._)
DAR. Where is he?
DOM. Don’t be angry, uncle. It’s my fault that he didn’t obey you. You
haven’t any time for anger any way. Isn’t Bella pretty?
DAR. Very. Tell me about Lafitte.
DOM. Eyes like stormy skies. A word, a question, and all along the cloud
of eye-lashes, a lightning flash of challenge!
DAR. So intolerant?
DOM. So right.
DAR. But still—
DOM. She has a right to resent suspicion.
DAR. She! I speak of Lafitte.
DOM. Your pardon. I spoke of Bella.
DAR. (_coaxingly._) Lafitte—
DOM. (_lapsing into seriousness._) I’ll tell you an impression I received
more clearly than ever during this last voyage. I think Lafitte is
looking for somebody—that he has some implacable purpose—and that when he
finds the person or persons he seeks, there will be a relentless day of
reckoning for all.
DAR. You think so?
DOM. (_nods his head._) All along the coasts of Spain and France he would
take his dog and be gone for days together.
DAR. But that—
DOM. May mean nothing. I think differently. (_looking at his watch._)
Heavens! I shall not be able to see my future father-in-law to-day. I
must rejoin my ship.
DAR. You will be back to dinner?
DOM. Yes. _Au revoir._ (_exeunt; Bella enters just as Duval, Pedro and
the others enter._)
DUV. (_in high feather._) Well, that’s done!
1st LEG. And well done. The petition cannot fail to carry weight.
DUV. Five hundred dollars reward for Lafitte’s head should bring about
results.
BELLA. (_advancing timidly._) It is blood money.
DUV. What of it?
BELLA. Pirates are men.
PED. (_smilingly and yet on the alert._) Does Miss Bella know any of them?
DUV. (_angrily, to Bella._) I will tell you this much: that if ever the
nosing Britishers get into New Orleans, it will be by the aid of the
pirates. This is no time to compromise with banditti.
PED. (_indulgently, protectingly and probingly._) Miss Bella spoke in
ignorance. She can have no sympathy for pirates. (_Duval and others
discuss in pantomime at back._)
BELLA. (_impulsively._) She can have—
PED. (_in Bella’s pause; watchfully._) A lover. (_bows._)
BELLA. (_recovering herself; trivially._) A lover! I promised myself many
before I left school. Have you ever been in love, Mr. d’Acosta?
PED. Cruel one!
BELLA. Have you any woman relative whom you remember and love?
PED. Yes. I have an only sister whom I love and who is very devoted to me.
BELLA. Here?
PED. Yes: but immediately upon the arrival of our family here, she
entered a convent and is now on the point of taking the veil.
BELLA. Oh, why?
PED. An obstacle in love.
BELLA. Did you try to help her?
PED. I did all I could towards forwarding her marriage.
BELLA. I’d like to know her.
PED. I fear you cannot. She will only see her uncle and myself.
BELLA. Poor girl!—Father is going. (_exeunt; enter Manuel._)
MAN. (_looking after Pedro angrily._) Confound it! Unconcerned about me
now altogether,—has richer prospects in view.—I knew she wouldn’t get
tired of it. Instead she’s going to take the veil. Curse me for a fool!
Fortune played in my hands directly six years ago and I was soft-hearted
and squeamish enough to be melted by a pair of pleading eyes and a half
promise of yes, if Ferdinand should succeed. (_rings bell._) I’ll have
the Marquis, at all events, safely out of the way. (_enter Darblee._)
DAR. Good morning, Don Manuel.
MAN. Good morning. I wish to engage a room for a business meeting between
Lafitte and the Spanish merchants.
DAR. (_eagerly; curiously._) You know?—
MAN. (_sternly._) To-day, at two o’clock.
DAR. (_relapsing into business._) The best?
MAN. Certainly.
DAR. It shall be ready. (_exit._)
MAN. The Spanish merchants lost no time in instructing me to engage a
room when they received word that Lafitte would see them at last, and
listen to their plea for compromise. It doesn’t matter that I sent the
message. And the Marquis, who isn’t a merchant, is as excited as any
of them, because of his friends. He’ll attend the meeting, no fear, and
I shall have put that much more time between him and any message from
the convent.—Confound it all, why doesn’t that fellow come? (_enter a
stranger._) Ah, I was just beginning to think you late.
STRAN. I could only get this. (_showing a rusty priest’s robe._)
MAN. So much the better. You’ll look more genuine in rusty clothes. A
priest should be economical. Now you understand that you are to ask for
Miss d’Acosta; that you are sent to bring her to the bed-side of her
dying uncle.
STRAN. I understand all.
MAN. Once out of the convent, you will drive to the little green cottage
immediately above the city, near the Jesuit plantation, where I will meet
you.
STRAN. Very well.
MAN. Be about _it_ now. (_exeunt severally; almost immediately, re-enter
Stranger._)
STRAN. It’s very well and good to say be about it, but I need a few
drinks to brace me up. (_rings bell; enter Darblee._)
DAR. Good-morning.
STRAN. Let me have a good drink of whiskey. (_Darblee pours out a drink;
Stranger drains it; experiments with his spine to see if he’s braced;
looks gloomy._) Let me have a good drink of whiskey.
DAR. You’ve just had one.
STRAN. Let me have a good drink of whiskey.
DAR. When you’ve paid for the first.
STRAN. Paid! Don Manuel d’Acosta authorizes my demand. (_Darblee shakes
his head._) What’s more, I’m a priest.—Don’t you believe me? (_enter
two roysterers._) Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Here’s a state of affairs.
I call upon you to compel this _bourgeois_ to respect the credit of
gentlemen,—to serve us drinks and as many as we want!
1st ROY. Drinks!
2nd ROY. Come, host. Drinks!
DAR. I do not dispense them for the pleasure of beholding inebriates.
1st ROY. What!
2nd ROY. Inebriates!
STRAN. Down with him! (_they set upon Darblee and throw him._)
1st ROY. We’ll show you who’s an inebriate. Hold him! (_1st Roysterer
seizes a bottle; Stranger and 2nd Roysterer fasten themselves on
Darblee’s arms; 1st Roysterer puts bottle to Darblee’s face._)
DAR. By heaven, he’ll punch my eye out!
1st ROY. (_wavering in drunkenness._) It’s what I think myself. I can’t
find his damned mouth!
STRAN. Unstop the bottle! (_1st Roysterer unstops the bottle; pours
contents into Darblee’s face, aiming all the time for his mouth. Darblee
kicks, sputters and squirms._)
DAR. Help! (_enter Lafitte; he knocks the Stranger aside, scatters the
Roysterers and laughingly picks up Darblee._)
LAF. (_laughing._) What is it? A secret society function?
DAR. High noon robbery and assault. That’s what it is;—a demand for
drinks without pay. (_wipes his face._)
2nd ROY. (_to Lafitte._) Who are you?
STRAN. You think because you take us unaware—
LAF. How about now? (_draws; exeunt Roysterers._)
DAR. (_pointing to Stranger and laying a cautious hand on Lafitte’s
arm._) He’s a priest.
LAF. Then he should be attending to his business rather than brawling
about drinks. (_Stranger turns off swaggeringly and exits, singing Mon
Coeur a Toi; Lafitte starts; turns to Darblee._) A priest, did you
say?—Then he’d some excuse for wanting drinks. He has no love to keep his
heart warm, no hate to make it hot. I’ll pay for the drinks. (_goes to
door; calls._) Friend! (_signs to Stranger to return; enter Stranger._)
It is a chilly day. Will you have a drink with us? (_Stranger bows
awkwardly._) Come host, your best. (_laying money on table._) Is it long
since you joined the priesthood? (_they drink._)
STRAN. (_nervously; gloomily._) Not very. (_holding out his glass._) Let
me have a good drink of whiskey. (_Lafitte lays money on table; Darblee
pours out a drink._)
LAF. Have you far to go to-day?
STRAN. (_tipsily_.) To the little green cottage immediately above the
city. Let me have a good drink of whiskey. (_Lafitte lays money on table;
Darblee pours out drink and exits._) I must be going.
LAF. Do you walk?
STRAN. No, sir! Drive. Come (_hic_) with me?
LAF. (_laughing._) To the little green cottage?
STRAN. Near the Jesuit plantation. I (_hic_) remember.
LAF. I congratulate you. Good luck.
STRAN. (_going._) To the little green Jesuit (_hic_) immediately above
the plantation city. (_exit; enter Darblee._)
DAR. (_bustling about._) Deplorable that I have such scant time in which
to prepare. (_confidentially and gleefully._) A great man is to be here
in a little while—Jean Lafitte!
LAF. You don’t mean it!
DAR. I do and I can show you no greater appreciation of the service you
rendered me than to ask you to stay and catch a glimpse of him.
LAF. Thanks.
DAR. I’ll wager you any money that the attacks on American vessels will
cease now.
LAF. Why?
DAR. Because Lafitte has come home; because none of them is brave enough
to cope against him; no, nor all of them put together.
LAF. _You_ are a follower of Lafitte?
DAR. (_startled into consciousness._) I? You little know me. Powerful as
Lafitte is and great and flattering as have been the advances he has made
to me, I yet withstand him, humble though I seem.
LAF. Splendid!
DAR. And here are these royal Spanish merchants. For years they have
been striving to at least compromise with him, and now to-day, mad with
delight because they have at last received word from him that he will see
them!
LAF. (_starts._) Has he sent them that word?
DAR. Don Manuel d’Acosta has just a while ago engaged a room for the
meeting.
LAF. Don Manuel d’Acosta! (_aside_) And I looking for them in Spain!
DAR. (_anxiously._) You don’t think Lafitte will disappoint them?
LAF. (_grimly._) No. I don’t think Lafitte will disappoint them. When do
they expect him?
DAR. To-day at two o’clock. Don Manuel—
LAF. Do you know whether the Marquis d’Acosta live in New Orleans?
DAR. Yes, he does. A beautiful niece of his—
LAF. Ah!
DAR. Came here with him once long ago.
LAF. Here?
DAR. Right here, in this room.
LAF. Do you know where the Marquis lives?
DAR. (_reflectively._) No—I don’t know the number.
LAF. Do you know the street?
DAR. (_more reflectively._) No, I don’t, but I believe it must be
somewhere in the Latin quarter.
LAF. Thanks. Good-by. (_exit._)
DAR. A singular man, but not sharp enough to catch me napping. (_enter
several Spanish merchants._)
1st MER. It is long before the hour. (_looks at his watch._)
2nd MER. What of it? There are many things to discuss. (_enter Marquis
d’Acosta and several merchants._)
MARQ. What, here already!
3d MER. Your watch is slow.
MARQ. (_he and all look at their watches._) Half past one.
2nd MER. Twenty-five to two.
1st MER. We Spanish merchants have been so particularly warred upon that
I had despaired of our ever getting at this man.
3d MER. My dear fellow, never despair. Show us the way, Darblee.
(_exeunt; led by Darblee; enter Mariana and several nuns._)
MOTHER AUGUSTUS. Is this the place?
MAR. Yes. (_Mother Augustus motions to a man who rings the bell._)
M. AUG. (_to Mariana._) You should give up that silver ring, Mariana,
which seems to be so associated with worldly souvenirs.
MAR. This ring! Never. It is an amulet. At sight of it all faith is
imperative, all beauty understood, all despondency a sin. (_aside._) What
is death? He loves me still. (_enter Baptiste._)
M. AUG. Is the Marquis d’Acosta here?
BAP. Yes ma’am.
M. AUG. Say to him that Miss d’Acosta is here and wishes to see him.
BAP. Yes ma’am. (_bows and exit._)
MAR. (_to 1st Nun._) Will the preliminary of my taking the veil be at all
binding?
1st NUN. No.
MAR. (_earnestly and candidly._) I wish to remain with you, but my heart
is not and can never be indifferent to the joys and hopes that made life
dearest.
1st NUN. It need not be.
M. AUG. She should strive to make it so.
1st NUN. She is going to France, mother, where her young girlhood was
spent. (_Mother Augustus turns away._)
2d NUN. What a singular mask over that door!
MAR. I know all about that mask. I can’t explain the uncontrollable
impulse that made me beg to know all about it and its hiding-place. Mr.
Darblee finally, out of sheer courtesy, told me the secret, though up
to that time no one but he and a nephew of his knew that there was a
hiding-place connected with the mask at all.
1st NUN. How is it?
MAR. It seems very simple. The door beneath the mask is a sham one, the
floor in the passage-way is high enough to permit one to look through the
mask standing and a touch on a certain part of it opens a secret slide
in the wall; an otherwise undiscoverable, impregnable hiding-place. It’s
delightfully tricky! See. (_she goes laughingly by a side door to the
back of a door beneath the mask and looks through it._)
M. AUG. Mariana! Come down. (_enter Mariana._) You should be ashamed of
yourself to be such a child.
MAR. I can tell you the story of the mask. It is the mask of a dead
pirate’s head. He was killed long ago for some atrocity or other and
his mask placed in this room by the Governor’s order as a warning to
the pirates who were in the habit of congregating in this place. The
superstition obtained that when any of the pirates are in danger the
spirit of the murdered man sends some human ear into his mask to baffle
the plotters.
3d NUN. Is that believed now?
MAR. Yes, by many. A generation or two ago, however, the house passed
into the hands of Mr. Darblee’s father, who of course, made it orderly
and respectable. He had an addition built and being possessed by love of
the mysterious and unexpected, had the secret slide put in the wall.
2d NUN. It sounds like some of the stories about Lafitte?
MAR. (_shuddering._) Ah, not that name! I have a dread of that man.
1st NUN. They say that he is terrible, but that he has always the honor
of his word.
MAR. (_with sweeping contempt._) The honor of his word! A thief
honorable! A leader in lawlessness, cruelty, shamelessness!
3d NUN. I hope we may be spared.
2d NUN. Oh, the pirates! There are no safeguards against the dangers that
beset an ocean voyage.
M. AUG. There is one safeguard all sufficient,—the Almighty. (_enter
Marquis._)
MARQ. Mariana,—your pardon, ladies, for having kept you waiting, but the
occasion admitted of no neglect.
M. AUG. We have just come from your house where they told us you were
here. We have been notified that our ship sails almost immediately.
Mariana will barely have time to take the veil.
MARQ. As trustee of her fortune, I have decided to see it safely with her
in France,—the two chests; one of gold and one of jewels.
MAR. Oh, thank you, uncle for coming with us! Is Pedro here?
MARQ. No, he is not.
MAR. I so wished to tell him good-by. (_enter Manuel, baffled, enraged,
desperate._)
MAN. Mariana!
MAR. Mother Augustus, my cousin, Don d’Acosta. (_Manuel bows._)
MAN. How happens it that you are leaving so soon?
MAR. That the Captain knows better than I do.
MAN. There has been no sudden good wind that he should thus hasten the
time for sailing by twenty-four hours. (_breaking from his angry sense
of defeat into wild pleading._) And you?... Don’t go Mariana. Is there
nothing I can say?
MAR. Yes. Tell me about Pedro.
MAN. I have no time for Pedro,—for anyone but yourself and myself.
(_enter Pedro._)
MAR. There he is now! Pedro. (_goes to him._)
PED. (_suave; affectionate; regretful._) Well,—is it good-by?
MAR. You’ll come to see me sometime.
PED. When I acquire means enough to travel on.
MAR. Oh, I wish—
M. AUG. We must be leaving.
MAR. Come to the Church, Pedro,—just across the way—and see me take the
veil.
PED. I’ll be there. _Au revoir._ (_the Marquis, the nuns and Mariana
exeunt; Pedro looks at Manuel who has sunk desperately into a chair goes
up to him and slaps him on the back._) Brace up, old man!
MAN. (_intolerably; shaking Pedro’s hand off._) Ah!
PED. If you were not so huffy, I’d tell you a secret.
MAN. You are married, I suppose.
PED. Far from it,—and cannot be without your services.
MAN. Tell me the secret.
PED. I have a plan by which I can get command of a pirate ship at a
moment’s notice. There is one now, the Creole, lying at anchor, ready to
sail at a word of command. (_they look at each other, then Pedro offers
his hand; Manuel takes it._)
MAN. (_rings bell._) I’ll join you immediately. (_exit Pedro; enter
Darblee._) Has Lafitte come yet?
DAR. He has not.
MAN. I’ll be back in a moment.
DAR. Very well. (_exeunt severally; enter Lafitte._)
LAF. No trace of the house. (_re-enter Darblee._) Is Don Manuel d’Acosta
here?
DAR. He has gone, but he will be back immediately. (_music heard; Lafitte
walks about._)
LAF. What is that music?
DAR. Some ceremony in the Church, I suppose. (_Lafitte walks to window as
a little band of black-robed nuns file out silently from the Church; they
disappear and music ceases._)
LAF. I am going into the smoking-room. Notify me so soon as Don Manuel
returns.
DAR. Very well. (_exeunt; enter Baptiste, followed by Lizbette._)
BAP. (_pointing to the mask._) Dar tis. Cyarnt yo conjure de sperrit o’
dat daid man ’let me ’lone? _I_ cyarn warn no pirates. I dunno wat t’warn
’em ’bout. En ef I did, who dat gwine b’lieve a old nigger like me anyway?
LIZ. (_contemptuously._) Yo skeert. Yo know sperrits need ’sistance
z’well ez people.
BAP. Lordy!
LIZ. Ee’s in de bricks dar, bodaciously confined, en das wy ee callin’.
Ee’s cole; likely got de ague.
BAP. Lordy!
LIZ. Might be a little hot red pepper tea ud ease ’im immejite.
BAP. But I cyarn get a cup o tea troo dat dar solid brick on iron. Dey
ain no place dar whar ee _could_ be.
LIZ. (_stolidly._) Dey’s a place. Gimme a long straw. (_Baptiste gets one
from a broom; Lizbette makes passes over the wall with her eyes shut and
her body swaying; finally in sliding her hand over the wall, stops with
her finger on a spot; opens her eyes and inserts the straw._) Yo see dat?
(_throwing the straw._) Am it broke? (_pulls out the straw unbroken._)
BAP. Lordy!
LIZ. Tell _me_ dey ain no place dar.
BAP. But cyarn get a cup o tea troo dat pin-point of a hole.
LIZ. Yo cyarn _inject_ it troo dar, cyarn yo?
BAP. Lordy!
LIZ. Ee kin catch it. (_she puts her eye to the hole; sways her arms._)
Yes sah.... I’ze gwine leave yo in good charge.... (_sways more and
more._) Yes sah.... Ee’s ’ere.... (_almost collapsing._) Comin’, sah!
(_straightens herself._) Git dar, Baptiste.
BAP. (_horror stricken._) Who me?
LIZ. Ee wants yo.
BAP. Lordy!
LIZ. (_contemptuously._) Ah! (_bolstering him up._) Put yo eye to dat
hole.
BAP. Stay by me.
LIZ. Go ’head. (_Baptiste puts his eye to the hole._)
BAP. I doan see nuttin.
LIZ. Yo better look out!
DAR. (_without._) Baptiste.
LIZ. What I tell yo! (_Baptiste struggles to get away; Lizbette holds him
tightly._) Keep firm, man! (_enter Darblee._)
DAR. Baptiste! (_Baptiste falls to the floor._) Lizbette! I won’t have
you turning that crazy man of mine crazier. Get out, both of you!
(_exeunt Lizbette and Baptiste; enter Lafitte._) I’m afraid you may be
disappointed in seeing Lafitte. (_looking at his watch._) He’s late.
LAF. And Don Manuel?
DAR. Has not yet returned.—I suppose Lafitte will be here though. I never
could understand that long absence of his. It must have due to a love
affair.
LAF. You’d better keep a quiet tongue. Lafitte is not a man to endure
prying into his private affairs.
DAR. (_laughs._) One would think I need instructions. (_enter Baptiste._)
LAF. Do you know Lafitte?
DAR. Intimately. Many a time he has begged me to go with him. “Darblee,”
he would, “I need you.”
LAF. You would make my dog blush.
DAR. Many a time, in this very room, with tears in his eyes, he has
upbraided me for my obduracy.
BAP. Dat ee have, sah!
DAR. _I_ am not afraid of Lafitte. I will tell him to his face that he
can’t overawe me.
BAP. ’Deed ee cyarnt. Pesky what trash! (_enter Beluche._)
BEL. Lafitte—
DAR. (_In consternation._) What!
BAP. (_staggered._) Lordy!
BEL. I have a suspicion that the Creole is going to attack the American
vessel which sailed a little while ago.
LAF. Where is the Creole?
BEL. She’s just cleared the wharf. (_Darblee ostentatiously brings a
chair up behind Lafitte._)
LAF. (_looking at his watch._) How much start have they on us?
BEL. Enough to count very seriously. There is a storm coming, too. The
wind will shift in less than three hours. (_Baptiste is bringing a chair
for Beluche when Darblee intercepts him, takes the chair from him, kicks
him._)
DAR. Get out! (_looking after him angrily._) Son of Satan! (_exit
Baptiste; Darblee ostentatiously brings chair up behind Beluche._)
LAF. There is no time to lose. Come.
BEL. It is a question whether the chances justify pursuit.
LAF. What!
BEL. The Pride is at Barataria.
LAF. What of it? Is not an American vessel in danger? Shall I not accept
a challenge from my own men? (_exit, followed by Beluche._)
DAR. (_center._) Whew! (_falls into chair; enter Baptiste._) Let me have
a good drink of whisky!
CURTAIN.
_SCENE II. Saloon of the American vessel. Laughter at rise of curtain.
Mariana, Mother Augustus, the nuns, Father Poularde, lady and gentlemen
passengers, discovered._
1st L. P. (_to a man passenger; laughing._) You said you never were
sea-sick.
FATH. P. (_a short, rubicund priest._) He is not now. Sea-sickness is all
imagination. I have never been sea-sick.
1st M. P. (_sea-sick._) You never sailed such a deadly level sea.
1st L. P. That’s the delightful part of it.
1st M. P. Ugh! (_enter Marquis._)
MARQ. They say there’s a storm coming.
FATH. P. (_laughing to sea-sick passenger._) Now you’ll be all right.
2d L. P. Oh, I _am_ afraid of storms!
FATH. P. You should have no patience with fear.
2d L. P. (_whimsically_) I haven’t.
FATH. P. God is all powerful, He will provide.
MAR. How dark it’s getting! (_faint thunder._)
M. AUG. (_to Mariana and nuns._) Will you come? (_exeunt Mariana, Mother
Augustus and nuns._)
3d L. P. Ugh! Feel those swells!
1st L. P. Don’t! (_lightning._)
FATH. P. What do you mean? _Feel_ those swells!
1st M. P. Ugh! (_exit; lightning and thunder._)
1st L. P. Oh,—(_starts toward door_.)
3d L. P. Where are you going, dear?
1st L. P. To—get my book.
3d L. P. I’ll go with you. (_exeunt 1st and 3d lady passengers; lightning
and thunder._)
2d M. P. (_to Father Poularde who is leaving._)
FATH. P. I’ll be back in a moment. (_exit._)
2d L. P. Oh, if I were only like Father Poularde!—fearless and never
sea-sick! I—
2nd M. P. Allow me to assist you. (_exeunt; terrible thunder and
lightning; enter Father Poularde; he peeps around to see if anybody is in
sight; has a good many qualms; enter the Captain._)
FATH. P. Captain, are we in any danger?
CAPT. Not in the least. It’s only a cross sea. (_thunder and lightning._)
FATH. P. But—
CAPT. (_Taking Father Poularde up to a hatchway leading below._) Put your
ear here. (_Father Poularde puts his ear to the hatchway._) What do you
hear?
FATH. P. Nothing—but swearing.
CAPT. Just so. Those men are old sailors. Would they be swearing if there
were any danger?
FATH. P. (_grasping Captain’s hand._) Thank you. (_exeunt; enter two
ship’s officers, meeting each other._)
1st OFF. Have you noticed that craft off to Westward?
2nd OFF. No. What of her?
1st OFF. Come and See. (_exeunt; thunder and lightning; enter Father
Poularde, very unsteady on his legs and very sick; he looks around
cautiously; creeps up to the hatchway and listens intently; then falls
back relieved._)
FATH. P. Thank God, they’re swearing yet. (_enter Captain and officers._)
1st OFF. She’s simply lying by.
2d OFF. Not in distress,—she doesn’t signal.
CAPT. A pirate, waiting till the blow is over. (_exit Father Poularde
expeditiously and horrifiedly._)
1st OFF. Shall the passengers be warned?
CAPT. Not until our suspicions are confirmed. (_enter wildly and
excitedly the passengers._)
1st L. P. Is there a pirate ship coming?
2d L. P. Can it catch us?
3d L. P. (_hysterically_) Let’s get the life preservers!
CAPT. Be quiet, ladies. (_exeunt Captain and 2d Officer._)
MARQ. (_determinedly, to 1st Officer._) What can we do?
FATH. P. (_hysterically._) Put on more sail!
1st OFF. We are using all we dare now. (_exit._)
1st NUN. I knew we wouldn’t be spared.
MAR. (_in awe._) Oh hush, sister.
M. AUG. We are in God’s hands. (_noises and excited voices heard
without._)
FATH P. What’s that? (_enter 2d Officer._)
2d OFF. Prepare yourselves. They are here. (_Marquis goes to Mariana;
leads her away; exeunt nuns and lady passengers; the men draw their
swords and exeunt to the defense, except father Poularde, who follows the
ladies; fighting; the clash of swords heard without; enter Pedro, forcing
his way in in a hand fight; he has blood on his face, which has trickled
down from a cut on his head; he is followed by Manuel and the Creole’s
crew; exit Manuel in search of Mariana._)
PED. (_after felling the Captain._) Mate.
MATE. Ay, ay, sir.
PED. See that two chests, one of gold and one of jewels, marked
“d’Acosta” be placed on board the Creole.
MATE. Ay, ay, sir.
PED. They go to New Orleans. The balance of the booty will belong to the
crew of the Creole.
MATE. To the crew of the Creole.
PED. Who are to take her to Barataria immediately after the landing in
New Orleans.
MATE. Ay, ay, sir.
CAPT. (_rising._) Not while I have life left to defend the property
entrusted to my care! (_gives Pedro a sword thrust._)
PED. (_knocks the sword from the Captain’s hand and kills him._) I’ll
send you where you won’t need property, curse you! (_to the men._)
Scuttle this ship. (_he bandages his arm._) And put troublesome
passengers out of the way.—Now, I’ll look up those chests. (_exit; enter
Manuel pursuing a nun._)
MAN. Ah, lift your veil. (_tries to raise a corner of it._) I love you.
Do you not realize that your youth, your beauty—
M. AUG. (_suddenly tearing aside her vail._) Sir! (_Manuel reels;
recovers himself and rushes away; Mother Augustus veils herself and
exits; enter Mariana veiled leaning upon the Marquis._)
MARQ. Have courage, Mariana. (_enter pirates._)
1st PIR. (_perceiving Mariana._) Ah,—won’t you give me that little silver
ring, lady?—as a souvenir.
MAR. (_covering the ring with her other hand._) Not that.
1st PIR. (_laughs._) Even nuns, it seems, have their little bits of
sentiment.
MAR. I will give you this jeweled cross.
1st PIR. Will you put it on my neck? (_he bends his head and Mariana with
trembling hands is about to put the chain around his neck when a tipsy
fellow, with a glass in his hand, interferes._)
2d PIR. (_pushing first pirate aside._) Let’s have impartiality. If I
cannot have a jewel, I may have a look at her face. I’ll bet you it’s a
pretty face. If I win, I get a kiss; if you win, you get my share of the
booty.
PIRATES. Done.
MARQ. Gentlemen! I beseech you.
2d PIR. Oh, have done.
MARQ. You have heard of religion,—chivalry—
2d PIR. Throw the old clam overboard.
MARQ. You will find that he can still fight. (_drawing._)
1st PIR. What!
3d PIR. Give him a bath! (_they overpower the Marquis and take him up to
exit with him._)
MAR. Uncle!—Oh, sirs, be merciful!
2d PIR. Troublesome passengers must be put out of the way. (_exeunt with
Marquis; enter Manuel._)
MAR. (_distractedly._) Manuel! Uncle!—he has been thrown into sea!—save
him!
MAN. We will hope that he can swim to safety, dear.
MAR. (_stupified_). What!
MAN. I dare not interfere. I discovered that the pirates intended
attacking the vessel and in order to save you, took a false oath and
joined them. Any rebellion would cost me my life. But life or no life, I
will interfere in your behalf.
MAR. (_distractedly._) Uncle,—
MAN. Listen to me, Mariana. Your uncle must take his chances. But you—You
have no chance of death. You will be taken to Barataria, there to become
a drudge when your attractions as toy shall have palled. Let me try to
save you. Marry me, I beseech you.
MAR. Why can you not save me without marrying me?
MAN. (_doggedly._) Because I have not the incentive; because I will not
love you longer without reward.
MAR. I scorn your help. Any pirate would do as much.
MAN. Without marrying you.
MAR. I will appeal to them; they cannot be utterly heartless.
MAN. They seemed so about the Marquis. Ah, Mariana, listen to reason.
Just now when you taunted me, I was angry. But I will tell you now why
I cannot save you without marrying you. Because I have not the right to
protect you from them; because now you belong as much to them as to me.
(_enter several tipsy pirates._)
1st PIR. I tell you that part of the booty belongs to me.
2d PIR. I don’t care a straw about that. The booty I want is her money.
(_exeunt pirates._)
MAN. You hear? Mariana, my darling, you have always been too honorable
to choose dishonor now. I will wait for your love; have I not waited
all these years? (_several pirates pass through singing and laughing
boisterously._)
1st PIR. (_perceiving Mariana_,) There she is! (_Mariana goes to Manuel
as first pirate advances_,)
MAN. (_moving forward to meet him._) She went that way just a minute
ago. (_exeunt pirates_,) Quick! (_to Mariana_,) Decide. (_Mariana bows
her head in hopeless consent; Manuel seizes her hand; kisses it._) My
darling! (_turns to look for a priest just as Father Poularde appears
trembling and white in the doorway._) Father. (_Father Poularde enters._)
Marry us immediately.
FATH. P. (_looking fearfully around._) You are—
MAN. One of the pirates. Make haste.
FATH. P. (_drops his book which he has taken out of his pocket; picks it
up and opens it shakily; reads at random._) Be merciful, O Lord, and hear
our prayers. From the shades of death, where the light of Thy countenance
shineth not—
MAN. (_knocking the book up._) You must be excellent for funerals. The
marriage service, if you please.
FATH. P. (_picking up his book._) Yes, yes. (_enter several pirates._)
1st PIR. (_to a pirate coming from the opposite direction._) You’d better
hurry.
2d PIR. There aren’t many minutes in which to leave this ship. She’s
settling fast.
FATH. P. (_going._) There is no time to lose.
MAN. (_threateningly._) There will be less for you, if you do not perform
this marriage ceremony.
FATH. P. (_fumbling for the place._) Do you take this woman for better,
for worse, till death do you part?
MAN. I do.
FATH. P. Do you take this man for better, for worse, till death do you
part?
MAR. No.
MAN. What!
MAR. No. Come death, come dishonor, I will not be the first to dishonor
myself.
MAN. (_seizing her shoulders in frenzy_) You shall be my mistress
then!—do you hear?—my mistress! (_a great tumult without; enter an
excited crowd._)
CROWD. The Pride! Lafitte! (_Mariana puts out her hands to Father
Poularde and falls fainting in his arms, her veil as she does so,
drifting over her face._)
MAN. (_to Father Poularde._) Give her to me. (_Father Poularde too
terror-stricken to hear, puts Mariana hastily on the floor and exits;
Manuel is stooping to lift her when Lafitte enters._) Jean Durand! (_he
slinks away._)
LAF. Beluche.
BEL. Here.
LAF. See that the commander of the Creole be found, put in chains and
brought on the Creole to Barataria, you to command her.
BEL. Very well. (_exit._)
LAF. (_to his men._) Attend to the passengers. (_the men salute and
exeunt; Lafitte sees the unconscious nun, goes to her and stoops
to pick her up._) She must have air. (_he puts her veil aside._)
Mariana!—(_kissing her hands._) Not dead, thank God! Narbonne! (_to
one of his men._) Tell Doctor Borde to come here instantly. (_exit
Narbonne._) Sweetheart ... (_kissing her hands._) little sweetheart....
(_enter Dr. Borde; he comes to Mariana’s side; kneels; feels her pulse;
listens to her heart._)