SCENE: The scene is the same except that the wall is being
rebuilt. Bricks and sacks of plaster lie about.
As the curtain rises, the MASON is seen at work with his trowel.
His back is turned to the audience. BERGAMIN and PASQUINOT, each
on his own side of the wall, watch the progress of the work.
The MASON. [Singing at his work] Tra la la--
BERGAMIN. These masons are so slow!
PASQUINOT. Good!
BERGAMIN. How he slaps the mortar!
PASQUINOT. There goes another brick!
[The MASON sings a number of trills.]
PASQUINOT. Sings well, but works very slowly! By to-morrow the
wall will be at least two feet high!
BERGAMIN. I'm impatient to see it higher!
PASQUINOT. What is that you say, Monsieur?
BERGAMIN. I was not addressing you. [A pause.] What do you do
evenings after dinner?
PASQUINOT. Nothing--and you?
BERGAMIN. Nothing. [Another pause. They bow and walk about
again.]
PASQUINOT. [Stopping] Any news from your son?
BERGAMIN. No--he is still away.
PASQUINOT. He will return soon: his money will surely give out.
BERGAMIN. Thank you. [They bow again, and walk.]
PASQUINOT. Now that the wall is being built again, Monsieur, I
should be glad to see you from time to time.
BERGAMIN. Thank you. Perhaps I shall come. [They bow.]
PASQUINOT. Tell me, now, will you play _piquet_?
BERGAMIN. I beg your pardon--I don't know--
PASQUINOT. I invite you!
BERGAMIN. To tell the truth, I prefer _besigue_--
PASQUINOT. Then come at once.
BERGAMIN. [Following PASQUINOT, who goes out] You owe me ten
sous from the last time. [Turning round] Work hard, mason!
The MASON. Tra la la la la!
PASQUINOT. Beautiful voice! [They disappear.]
[When they are gone, the MASON turns round, and takes off his hat:
he is STRAFOREL.]
STRAFOREL. Now for the work of reconstruction! [He sits down on
the row or two of bricks.] The young man is still off on his quest
for adventure and romance. Life must be giving him a splendid bath
of disillusion. I can see him as he returns, his tail between his
legs. Now I am working on Sylvette--she, too, will soon be cured.
[He takes a letter from his pocket and puts it in the hollow of a
tree-trunk. SYLVETTE appears at the back.] It's she! Now to work!
SYLVETTE. [Looking anxiously about] Not a soul. [She lays her
muslin scarf on the bench to the left.] Will the letter be there
to-day as usual? [She goes toward the tree.] Every day some
gallant has left one for me. [She thrusts her hand into the
hollow.] Ah, here is my mail! [She takes the letter, opens it and
reads.] "Sylvette, heart of marble, this is the last letter you
will find in this tree. Why have you not answered me?" Ah, what
style! "The love that gnaws at my vitals!" Monsieur Percinet has
gone forth into the great world, and he is right. I shall do as
he has done. How can I possibly stay here and die of ennui? Now
let him come, I am ready to fly with him! I almost love him already!
STRAFOREL. [Rising from his work, and in a voice of thunder]
Here am I!
SYLVETTE. [Screaming] Help! Percinet! Man, not another step!
STRAFOREL. [Gallantly] Why this hostile attitude? I am the man
whose letter you love, I am he whose words have had the honor of
pleasing you, and upon whose love you just called. Come, fly with
me!
SYLVETTE. [Not knowing what to do] Man!
STRAFOREL. You think I am a mason? Charming! Know, then, that
I am the Marquis D'Astafiorquercita. My heart is languishing for
you, I seek to color my drab existence with a few pigments from
your own. I must travel--but with you. That is why I have
penetrated into your garden, disguised as a mason! [He throws off
his workman's clothes and hat, and appears in a dazzling costume.
His wig is powdered and his moustache bristles.]
SYLVETTE. Monsieur!
STRAFOREL. I learned your story from a man named Straforel. I
felt at once a mad, unreasoning love for the victim of that
unfortunate affair.
SYLVETTE. Marquis!
STRAFOREL. Don't be afraid of me. That fellow who played the
trick on you--I killed him!
SYLVETTE. Killed him!
STRAFOREL. With a single blow!
SYLVETTE. Monsieur!
STRAFOREL. I understand you, you who have never been understood.
You want romance, do you not? Romance at any price?
SYLVETTE. But, Marquis--
STRAFOREL. To-night we elope!
SYLVETTE. Monsieur!
STRAFOREL. We shall go away, never to return.
SYLVETTE. Monsieur!
STRAFOREL. My dream is realized. You consent! To-night! If your
father objects, so much the worse for him!
SYLVETTE. Monsieur!
STRAFOREL. Let them follow us--I know how to deal with pursuers.
In some far land, at last, we shall live happily in a little cottage!
SYLVETTE. But I--
STRAFOREL. For I am poor. I have nothing. We shall live on bread
soaked in sweet tears!
SYLVETTE. But, I tell you--
STRAFOREL. We shall thrive on misfortune--with you I shan't care
for anything else. A tent, perhaps--
SYLVETTE. A tent?
STRAFOREL. Of nothing at all--just the stars!
SYLVETTE. Oh, I--
STRAFOREL. Why, you're trembling--possibly you don't want to go
so far away? Then we shall hide somewhere--
SYLVETTE. But, Monsieur, you are mistaken!
STRAFOREL. Let people say what they will!
SYLVETTE. Good Heavens!
STRAFOREL. I shall spend every moment of my time telling you how
I love you!
SYLVETTE. Monsieur--
STRAFOREL. Ours shall be a long life of poetry. And I shall be
furiously jealous!
SYLVETTE. Monsieur--
STRAFOREL. Are you afraid now?
SYLVETTE. Heavens, what a lesson for me!
STRAFOREL. Ha, now you look like a little boarding-school miss.
Tell me, shall we fly together, or shall I go alone?
SYLVETTE. Monsieur--
STRAFOREL. I understand. I see you are strong: we shall go
together. I shall throw you across my saddle. No sedan-chair--
they are used only in make-believe abductions! I return soon!
[He goes up-stage.]
SYLVETTE. Monsieur, let me tell you--
STRAFOREL. I must get my horse and my mantle!
SYLVETTE. [Deeply distressed] Monsieur!!
STRAFOREL. [With a sweeping gesture] We shall travel from land
to land. My dream at last. I shall return and take you away,
never to return!
SYLVETTE. [Gasping] Never to return!
STRAFOREL. You shall live by the side of your adored one, by the
side of him who loved you before he set eyes on you. [As he is
about to leave, she falls onto the bench, and he says aside] It's
now time for you, Percinet! [He goes out.]
SYLVETTE. [Opening her eyes after a moment] Monsieur le marquis--
No, not across the saddle, please. I couldn't do that! Please,
please let me stay home. I _am_ a little boarding-school miss!
Why--he's gone! Marquis! Heavens, what an awful dream! [Another
pause, then she rises.] Romance? Was it not romance that you
craved not so long ago? It has come, and are you afraid? Love,
stars, a cottage. Yes, I did want it--but only a little--like
seasoning in a stew! This is too much--I couldn't stand it. [The
sun is setting. SYLVETTE takes up her scarf, which she had left
on the bench, and puts it over her head.] Who knows whether--?
[PERCINET appears. He is in rags, and his arm is in a sling. He
looks ill, and can scarcely walk.]
PERCINET. [Not seeing SYLVETTE] I have had nothing to eat since
yesterday--I can hardly walk. I'm not proud now! I want no more
adventures. [He sits down on the wall. His hat falls from his
eyes, and reveals his identity. SYLVETTE sees him.]
SYLVETTE. You?! [He rises, and stands looking at her.] What has
happened to you? Can it be--?
PERCINET. [Piteously] It can!
SYLVETTE. [Wringing her hands] Heavens!
PERCINET. I resemble somewhat the prodigal son, do I not? [He
totters.]
SYLVETTE. You can't stand up!
PERCINET. I am so tired.
SYLVETTE. [Looking at his arm, with a cry] Wounded!
PERCINET. Can you pity the ungrateful?
SYLVETTE. [Severely] Only fathers kill fatted calves. Still,
that wounded arm?
PERCINET. Oh, I assure you it's not serious.
SYLVETTE. But what have you been doing, Monsieur Vagabond, all
this while?
PERCINET. Nothing very creditable, Sylvette. [He coughs.]
SYLVETTE. You are coughing?
PERCINET. Walking the damp roads at night.
SYLVETTE. What strange clothes you have!
PERCINET. Mine were stolen, and the thieves left me these.
SYLVETTE. [Ironically] How many fortunes did you find?
PERCINET. Sylvette, please say nothing about that.
SYLVETTE. You must have scaled many a balcony?
PERCINET. [Aside] I nearly broke my neck once!
SYLVETTE. Guitar in hand! And what nocturnes and serenades you
must have sung!
PERCINET. Which earned for me more than one bucket of water!
SYLVETTE. But I see you have been wounded in a real duel?
PERCINET. It came near being mortal.
SYLVETTE. And now you return to us--?
PERCINET. Thoroughly worn-out.
SYLVETTE. Yes, but you have at least found romance and poetry?
PERCINET. No--I was seeking afar what was here all the time.
Don't make fun of me: I adore you!
SYLVETTE. Even after our disillusion?
PERCINET. What difference does that make?
SYLVETTE. But our fathers played an abominable trick on us.
PERCINET. What of it? What I feel in my heart is real.
SYLVETTE. They pretended to hate each other.
PERCINET. Did we pretend that we loved?
SYLVETTE. The wall was a punch-and-judy theater--you said so
yourself.
PERCINET. I did, Sylvette, but it was blasphemy. Ah, wall, you
gave us a divine setting, with moonlight and stars, flowers and
vines, the four winds for music, and Shakespeare for prompter!
Yes, our fathers made us go through the motions, but it was Love
that made us speak: _it_ pulled the strings!
SYLVETTE. [Sighing] That's true, but we loved because we believed
it was wicked!
PERCINET. And it was! Only the intention counts, and thinking we
were guilty, we were!
SYLVETTE. Really?
PERCINET. Really, my dear, we were infamous. It was wrong of us
to love.
SYLVETTE. [Seating herself beside him] Very wrong? [She changes
her tone, as she rises and goes away.] Still, I wish the danger
had been a little more real.
PERCINET. It _was_ real, because we believed it so.
SYLVETTE. No: my abduction, like your duel, was false.
PERCINET. Was your fear false? If you were afraid then, it was
as if you were really being abducted.
SYLVETTE. No, the dear remembrance is gone. All those masks and
torches, the soft music, the duel; it is too cruel to think that
Straforel prepared it all.
PERCINET. But who prepared the spring night? Was that Straforel?
Did he also sprinkle the sky with stars? Did he plant roses, did
he create the gray of evening and the blue mists of night? Did he
have anything to do with the rising of that huge pink star?
SYLVETTE. No, of course--
PERCINET. Was it his doing that we were two children of twenty,
on a spring night, and that we loved each other? We loved, that
was the charm--all the charm!
SYLVETTE. All the--? That's true, yet--
PERCINET. A tear? Am I then--forgiven?
SYLVETTE. I have always loved you, my poor dear.
PERCINET. At last I have you again! [He takes SYLVETTE's scarf
and plays with it.] What beautiful shades and lights in this
gorgeous satin.
SYLVETTE. What satin?
PERCINET. Oh, nothing! Nothing!
SYLVETTE. But it's only muslin!
PERCINET. [Kneeling and kissing her hand] No, it is everything!
SYLVETTE. [Falling into his arms] See? I know now that poetry
and romance are in the hearts of lovers; they have nothing to do
with other things.
PERCINET. That is true, Sylvette. I have seen what ought to be
poetry and romance, but it wasn't--to me!
SYLVETTE. And what was prepared for and arranged beforehand was
real, though it was contrived for us by others.
PERCINET. We can weave realities on a false frame.
SYLVETTE. How foolish we were to seek elsewhere for romance, when
it was our own hearts!
[STRAFOREL appears, followed by the two fathers, and shows them
SYLVETTE and PERCINET in each other's arms.]
STRAFOREL. Ah!
BERGAMIN. My son! [He embraces PERCINET.]
STRAFOREL. Now do I get my money?
PASQUINOT. [To his daughter] Do you love him?
SYLVETTE. Yes.
STRAFOREL. [To BERGAMIN] Shall I have my money?
BERGAMIN. You shall.
SYLVETTE. [Trembling as she hears STRAFOREL's voice and recognizes
it] But--that--voice--the Marquis D'Asta--fior--
STRAFOREL. [Bowing] --quercita. Yes, my dear Mademoiselle. 'Tis
Straforel. Pardon my excessive zeal. I have at least taught you
how tiresome and hollow and useless real adventures are. You
might, like this young man, have had your share, but I allowed you
to see them in prospect through the magic-lantern of my imagination.
PERCINET. What is this?
SYLVETTE. [Quickly] Nothing, nothing. I love you!
BERGAMIN. [Pointing to the wall] And to-morrow we shall knock
down these few rows of bricks!
PASQUINOT. Yes, away with it!
STRAFOREL. No, let us finish it; it is indispensable.
SYLVETTE. [Gathering them all about her] Let us say no more
about it!
Curtain