YANETTA. Ah, you are angry, aren't you--furious--because you haven't got
your way! Although you've done everything, everything you possibly
could, short of killing us by inches! You pretend to be kind. You spoke
kindly to us. You wanted to make me send my husband to the scaffold!
[_Mouzon has taken up his brief and affects to be studying it with
indifference_] It's your trade to supply heads to the guillotine. You
must have criminals, guilty men, you must have them at any cost. When a
man falls into your clutches he's a dead man. They come in here innocent
and they've got to go out again guilty. It's your trade; it's a matter
of vanity with you to succeed! You ask questions which don't seem to
mean anything in particular, and yet they may send a man to the next
world; and when you've forced the poor wretch to condemn himself you're
delighted, like a savage would be!
MOUZON [_to the gendarmes_] Take her away--be quick!
YANETTA. Yes, a savage! You call that justice! [_To the gendarmes_] You
don't take me like that, I tell you! [_She clings to the furniture_]
You're a butcher! You are as cruel as the people in history who broke
one's bones to make one confess! [_The gendarmes have dragged her free;
she lets herself fall to the ground and shouts the rest of her speech
while the men drag her to the door at the back_] Brute! Savage brute!
No, you don't think so--you think yourself a fine fellow, I haven't a
doubt, and you're a butcher--
MOUZON. Take her away, I tell you! What, the two of you can't rid me of
that madwoman?
_The gendarmes make a renewed effort._
YANETTA. Butcher! Coward! Judas! Pitiless beast! Yes, pitiless, and you
are all the more dishonest and brutal when you've got poor folk like us
to do with. [_She is at the door, holding to the frame_] Ah, the brutes,
they are breaking my fingers! Yes, the poorer one is the wickeder you
are! [_They carry her away. Her cries are still heard as the curtain
falls_] The poorer one is the more wicked you are--the poorer one is the
more wicked you are--
CURTAIN.
ACT III
_The office of the District Attorney. A door to the left, set in a
diagonal wall, gives on to a corridor. It opens inwardly, so that the
lettering on the outside can be read: "Parquet de Monsieur le Procureur
de la Republique." A desk, chairs, and a chest of drawers._
SCENE I:--_Benoit, La Bouzole. As the curtain rises the recorder is
removing various papers from the desk and placing them in a cardboard
portfolio. Enter La Bouzole._
LA BOUZOLE. Good-day, Benoit.
RECORDER [_hesitating to take the hand which La Bouzole extends to him_]
Your worship. It's too great an honor--
LA BOUZOLE. Come, come, Monsieur Benoit, shake hands with me. From
to-day I'm no longer a magistrate; my dignity no longer demands that I
shall be impolite to my inferiors. How far have they got with the
Etchepare trial?
RECORDER. So far the hearing has been devoted entirely to the indictment
and the counsel's address.
LA BOUZOLE. They will finish to-day?
RECORDER. Oh, surely. Even if Monsieur Vagret were to reply, because his
Honor the President of Assizes goes hunting to-morrow morning.
LA BOUZOLE. You think it will be an acquittal, Monsieur Benoit?
RECORDER. I do, your worship. [_He is about to go out_]
LA BOUZOLE. Who is the old lady waiting in the corridor?
RECORDER. That is Etchepare's mother, your worship.
LA BOUZOLE. Poor woman! She must be terribly anxious.
RECORDER. No. She is certain of the verdict. She hasn't the slightest
anxiety. She was there all yesterday afternoon and she came back to-day,
just as calm. Only to-day she wanted at any price to see the District
Attorney or one of his assistants. Monsieur Ardeuil is away and Monsieur
Vagret--
LA BOUZOLE. Is in Court.
RECORDER. She seemed very much put out at finding no one.
LA BOUZOLE. Well, send her in here; perhaps I can give her a little
advice. Maitre Placat will be some time yet, won't he?
RECORDER. I believe so.
LA BOUZOLE. Well, tell her to come and speak to me, poor woman. That
won't upset anybody and it may save her some trouble.
RECORDER. Very well, your worship. [_He goes to the door on the right,
makes a sign to old Madame Etchepare, and goes out by the door at the
back_]
LA BOUZOLE [_alone_] It's astonishing how benevolent I feel this
morning!
_Old Madame Etchepare enters, clad in the costume peculiar
to old women of Basque race._
SCENE II:--_La Bouzole, Old Madame Etchepare._
LA BOUZOLE. They tell me, Madame, that you wished to see one of the
gentlemen of the Bar.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Yes, sir.
LA BOUZOLE. You wish to be present at the trial?
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. No, sir. I know so well that they cannot condemn
my son that what they say in there doesn't interest me in the least. I
am waiting for him. I have come because they have turned us out of our
house.
LA BOUZOLE. They have turned you out?
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. The bailiffs came.
LA BOUZOLE. Then your son owed money?
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Since they arrested him all our men have left us.
We couldn't get in the crops nor pay what was owing. But of course I
know they'll make all that good when my son is acquitted.
LA BOUZOLE [_aside_] Poor woman!
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. I'm so thankful to see the end of all our
troubles. He'll come back and get our house and field again for us.
He'll make them give up our cattle. That's why I wanted to see one of
these gentlemen.
LA BOUZOLE. Will you explain?
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. A fortnight after the gendarmes came to arrest my
boy, Monsieur Claudet turned the waste water from his factory into the
brook that passes our house where we water the beasts. That was one of
the things that ruined us too. If Etchepare finds things like that when
he gets back, God knows what he'll do! I want the law to stop them doing
us all this harm.
LA BOUZOLE. The law! Ah, my good woman, it would be far better for you
to have nothing to do with the law.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. But why? There is justice, and it's for everybody
alike.
LA BOUZOLE. Of course.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Has Monsieur Claudet the right--
LA BOUZOLE. Certainly not.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Then I want to ask the judge to stop him.
LA BOUZOLE. It is not so simple as you suppose, Madame. First of all you
must go to the bailiff.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Good.
LA BOUZOLE. He will make a declaration.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. What about?
LA BOUZOLE. He will declare that your water supply is contaminated.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. There is no need to trouble a bailiff, sir. A
child could see that.
LA BOUZOLE. It is the law.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Well, and then?
LA BOUZOLE. Then you must go to a lawyer and get a judgment.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Very well, if there 's no other way of doing it--
LA BOUZOLE. That is not all. If Monsieur Claudet contests the facts, the
President will appoint an expert who will visit the site and make a
report. You will have to put in a request that the President will grant
a speedy hearing on grounds of urgency. Your case being finally put on
the list of causes, it would be heard in its turn--after the vacations.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. After the vacations!
LA BOUZOLE. And that is not all. Monsieur Claudet's lawyer might
default, in which case judgment would be declared in your favor. But
Monsieur Claudet might defend the case, or enter some kind of plea and
obtain a judgment on that plea, or appeal against the judgment before
the matter would be finally settled. All this would cost a great deal of
money.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Who would pay it?
LA BOUZOLE. You, naturally, and Monsieur Claudet.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. It's all one to him; he's rich; but for us, who
haven't a penny left!
LA BOUZOLE. Then you would have to apply for judicial assistance.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. That would take still more time?
LA BOUZOLE. That would take much longer.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. But, sir, I've always been told that justice was
free in France.
LA BOUZOLE. Justice is gratuitous, but the means of obtaining access to
justice are not. That is all.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. And all that would take--how long?
LA BOUZOLE. If Monsieur Claudet were to appeal, it might last two years.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. It isn't possible! Isn't the right on my side?
LA BOUZOLE. My poor woman, it's not enough to have the right on your
side--you must have the law on your side too.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. I understand. Justice is a thing we poor people
can know only when it strikes us down. We can know it only by the harm
it does us. Well--we must go away--it doesn't matter where--and I shan't
regret it; people insult us; they call out to us as they pass. Etchepare
wouldn't put up with that.
LA BOUZOLE. In that respect the law protects you. Register a complaint
and those who insult you will be prosecuted.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. I don't think so. I have already registered a
complaint, as you say, but they've done nothing to the man who injured
us. So he goes on.
LA BOUZOLE. Is he an inhabitant of your commune?
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Yes. A neighbor, a friend of Monsieur Mondoubleau,
the deputy. Labastide.
LA BOUZOLE. Good. I will do what I can, I promise you.
OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Thank you, sir. [_A pause_] Then I will go and
wait till they give me back my boy.
LA BOUZOLE. That's right.
_She goes out slowly._
SCENE III:--_La Bouzole, recorder._
RECORDER [_entering by the door at the back_] The hearing is suspended,
your worship.
LA BOUZOLE. Has Maitre Placat concluded?
RECORDER. With great applause. Two of the jurymen were seen wiping their
eyes. No one doubts there will be an acquittal.
LA BOUZOLE. So much the better.
RECORDER. Your worship knows the great news?
LA BOUZOLE. Which?
RECORDER. That the Attorney-General has arrived.
LA BOUZOLE. No--I know nothing of it.
RECORDER. Yes, he has just arrived. It seems he brings the nomination of
one of these gentlemen to the post of Councillor in the Court of Appeal.
LA BOUZOLE. Ah, ah! And whose is the prize, in your opinion, Benoit?
Vagret's?
RECORDER. That was my opinion. I hesitated a long time between him and
his Honor the President, and I decided it would be Monsieur Vagret. But
now I think I am wrong.
LA BOUZOLE. Do you think Monsieur Bunerat is appointed?
RECORDER. No, your worship. I feel very proud--I believe it is my
employer who has the honor.
LA BOUZOLE. Monsieur Mouzon!
RECORDER. Yes, your worship.
LA BOUZOLE. What makes you think that?
RECORDER. His Honor the Attorney-General requested me to beg Monsieur
Mouzon to come and speak to him before the rising of the Court.
LA BOUZOLE. My congratulations, my dear Monsieur Benoit.
_Madame Bunerat enters._
SCENE IV:--_The same and later Madame Vagret, Bunerat, the President of
Assizes, and Mouzon, then the Attorney-General._
MADAME BUNERAT [_in tears_] Oh, my dear Monsieur La Bouzole!
LA BOUZOLE. What has happened, Madame Bunerat?
MADAME BUNERAT. It's that advocate! What talent! What a heart! What
feeling! What genius! I feel quite shaken--quite upset--
LA BOUZOLE. It's an acquittal?
MADAME BUNERAT. They hope so--
MADAME VAGRET [_entering_] Well, my dear Monsieur La Bouzole, you have
heard this famous advocate! What a ranter!
LA BOUZOLE. It seems he has touched the jury. That means an acquittal.
MADAME VAGRET. I'm very much afraid it does.
_Enter Bunerat in a black gown._
BUNERAT. Do you know what they tell me? The Attorney-General is here!
MADAME BUNERAT. Really!
MADAME VAGRET. Are you certain?
LA BOUZOLE. It is true enough. He brings Monsieur Mouzon his appointment
to the Court of Appeal at Pau.
BUNERAT. Mouzon!
MADAME VAGRET AND MADAME BUNERAT. And my husband! We had a definite
promise!
_The President of Assizes enters, wearing a red gown._
THE PRESIDENT. Good-day, gentlemen. You have not seen the
Attorney-General, have you?
LA BOUZOLE. No, your honor--but if you will wait--
THE PRESIDENT. No. Tell me, La Bouzole--you are an old stager--were you
in Court?
LA BOUZOLE. From the balloting for the jurymen to the plea for the
defence.
THE PRESIDENT. Did you notice if I let anything pass that would make an
appeal to the Court of Cassation possible?
LA BOUZOLE. I am sure you didn't.
THE PRESIDENT. It's my constant fear--I am thinking of nothing else all
the time counsel are speaking. I always have the Manual of the President
of Assizes wide open in front of me; I'm always afraid, nevertheless, of
forgetting some formality. You see the effect of being in the
Chancellery--I never have a quiet conscience until the time-limit has
expired. [_A pause_] They tell me there were journalists here from
Toulouse and Bordeaux.
LA BOUZOLE. And one from Paris.
THE PRESIDENT. One from Paris! Are you sure?
LA BOUZOLE. He was standing near the prisoner's bench.
THE PRESIDENT. He was left to stand! A journalist from Paris and he was
left to stand! [_Catching sight of the recorder_] You knew that,
Monsieur the recorder, and you didn't warn me? Is that how you perform
your duties? Go at once and express my regret and find him a good seat;
do you hear?
RECORDER. Yes, your honor. [_He turns to go_]
THE PRESIDENT [_running after him_] Here! [_Aside to the recorder_] Find
out if he's annoyed.
RECORDER. Yes, your honor.
THE PRESIDENT. And then--[_He encounters Madame Bunerat at the door.
Pardon, Madame. He goes out, running, lifting up his gown_]
LA BOUZOLE. When I was at Montpellier I knew an old tenor who was as
anxious as that at his third debut--
_Enter Mouzon. Frigid salutations._
MADAME BUNERAT [_after a pause_] Is it true, Monsieur Mouzon--
MADAME VAGRET. That the Attorney-General--
BUNERAT. Has arrived?
MOUZON [_haughtily_] Quite true.
BUNERAT. They say he brings a councillor's appointment.
MOUZON. They say so.
MADAME BUNERAT. And you don't know?
MADAME VAGRET. You don't know?
MOUZON. Nothing at all.
BUNERAT. Does nothing lead you to suppose--
MOUZON. Nothing.
RECORDER [_entering_] Here is his Honor the Attorney-General.
MADAME BUNERAT. Oh, Lord!
_She arranges her hair. Enter the Attorney-General, a man
with handsome, grave, austere features._
ALL [_bowing and cringing, in a murmur_] His Honor the
Attorney-General--
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I think you can resume the hearing, gentlemen--I am
only passing through Mauleon. I hope to return before long and make your
better acquaintance.
ALL. Your honor--[_They make ready to leave_]
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Monsieur Mouzon, will you remain?
_Mouzon bows._
MADAME VAGRET [_as she goes out_] My respects--the honor--Monsieur--
ATTORNEY-GENERAL [_bowing_] Mr. President--Madame--Madame--
BUNERAT [_to his wife_] You see, that's it!
_They go out._
MOUZON [_to the recorder, who is about to leave_] Well, my dear fellow,
I believe my appointment is settled.
RECORDER. I am delighted, Monsieur the Councillor! [_Exit_]
SCENE V:--_Mouzon, Attorney-General. Mouzon rubs his hands together,
bubbling with joy._
MOUZON [_obsequiously_] Your honor--
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Sit down. [_Mouzon does so_] A report has come to my
office from Bordeaux--which concerns you, Monsieur! [_Feeling in his
portfolio_] Here it is. [_Reading_] Mouzon and the woman Pecquet. You
know what it is?
MOUZON [_not taking the matter seriously, forces a smile. After a long
silence_] Yes, your honor--
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I am waiting for your explanation.
MOUZON [_as before_] You have been young, your honor--
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Not to that extent, Monsieur!
MOUZON. I admit I overstepped the mark a trifle.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL [_reading_] "Being in a state of intoxication, together
with the woman Pecquet and two other women of bad character who
accompanied him, the aforesaid Mouzon used insulting and outrageous
language to the police, whom he threatened with dismissal." Is that what
you call overstepping the mark a trifle?
MOUZON. Perhaps the expression is a little weak.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. And you allow the name of a magistrate to be coupled
in a police report with that of the woman Pecquet?
MOUZON. She told me her name was Diane de Montmorency.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. [_continuing_] "Questioned by us, the commissary of
police, on the following morning, as to the rank of officer in the navy
which he had assumed"--[_The Attorney-General gazes at Mouzon. Another
pause_]
MOUZON [_still smiling_] Yes, it's on account of my whiskers, you know.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Really?
MOUZON. When I--oh, well--when I go to Bordeaux I always assume the rank
of naval officer, in order to safeguard the dignity of the law.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. You seem to have been a little tardy in considering
it.
MOUZON. I beg you to note, your honor, that I endeavored to safeguard it
from the very first, since I took care to go out of the arrondissement
and even the judicial division--in order to--
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I will continue. "Monsieur Mouzon then informed us of
his actual position as examining magistrate, and invoked that quality in
requesting that we would stop proceedings."
MOUZON. The ass. He has put that in his report? Oh, really--that's due
to his lack of education. No, it's a political affair--the commissary is
one of our opponents--I asked him--After all--I wanted to avoid scandal.
Anyone would have done the same in my place.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Is that the only explanation you have to give me?
MOUZON. Explanation? The truth is, Monsieur, that if you insist on
maintaining, in this conversation, the relations between a superior and
a subordinate, I can give you no further explanation. But if you would
be so good as to allow me for a moment to forget your position, if you
would agree to talk to me as man to man, I should tell you that this was
a fault of youth, regrettable, no doubt, but explained by the profound
boredom which exudes from the very paving-stones of Mauleon. Come, come!
I had dined too well. Every night of the year a host of decent fellows
find themselves in the same case. It's a pecadillo which doesn't affect
one's personal honor.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Monsieur, when one has the honor to be a
magistrate--when one has accepted the mission of judging one's fellows,
one is bound more than all others to observe temperance and to consider
one's dignity in all things. What may not affect the honor of the
private citizen does affect the honor of the judge. You may take that
for granted.
MOUZON. As you refuse to discuss the matter otherwise than in an
official manner, nothing remains for me but to beg you to inform me what
you have decided to do.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Cannot you guess?
MOUZON. I am an examining magistrate. You will make me an ordinary
magistrate. It means my income will be diminished by five hundred francs
a year. I accept.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. It is unfortunately impossible for me to content
myself with such a simple measure. To speak plainly, I must inform you
that Monsieur Coire, the director of the newspaper which attacks us so
persistently, is acquainted with the whole of the facts of the
accusation brought against you and will not give his word not to publish
them unless by the end of the month you have left the Mauleon Court. I
therefore find myself in the unhappy necessity of demanding your
resignation.
MOUZON. I shall not resign.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. You will not resign?
MOUZON. I am distressed to oppose any desire of yours, but I am quite
decided. I shall not resign.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. But really--you cannot know--
MOUZON. I know everything. ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Very well, sir, we shall
proceed against you.
MOUZON. Proceed. [_He rises_]
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Are you not alarmed at the scandal which would result
from your appearance in court and your probable conviction?
MOUZON. Conviction is less probable than you think. I shall be able to
defend myself and to select my advocate. As for the scandal, it wouldn't
fall on me. I am a bachelor, with no family; I know no one or next to no
one in Mauleon, where I am really in exile. My friends are all in
Bordeaux; they belong to the _monde ou l'on s'amuse_, and I should not
in the least lose caste in their eyes on account of such a prosecution.
You think I ought to leave the magistracy? Fortunately I have sufficient
to live on without the thirty-five hundred francs the Government of the
Republic allows me annually.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. That is enough, Monsieur. Good-day.
MOUZON. My respects. [_He goes out_]
DOORKEEPER. Monsieur the deputy is here, your honor. Monsieur the deputy
says that your honor is waiting for him.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. That is so. Ask him to come in.
_Enter Mondoubleau. The Attorney-General advances towards
him and shakes hands with him._
SCENE VI:--_Mondoubleau, Attorney-General._
MONDOUBLEAU. Good-day, my dear Attorney-General.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Good-day, my dear deputy.
MONDOUBLEAU. I'm delighted to see you. I've come from Paris. I had lunch
yesterday with my friend the Keeper of the Seals. The Government is
badly worried just at the moment.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. About what?
MONDOUBLEAU. They're afraid of an interpellation. Just a chance--I'll
tell you about it. Tell me--it seems you have a young assistant here who
has been playing pranks.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Monsieur Ardeuil?
MONDOUBLEAU. Ardeuil, yes, that's the man. Eugene follows matters very
closely.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Eugene?
MONDOUBLEAU. Eugene--my friend Eugene--the Keeper of the Seals. He said
to me, "I expect your Attorney-General to understand how to do his
duty."
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I ask nothing better, but let me know what my duty is.
MONDOUBLEAU. That's just what one wants to avoid. But look here, my
friend, you are a very mysterious person!
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I?
MONDOUBLEAU. You are asking for a change of appointment.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Who told you that?
MONDOUBLEAU. Who do you suppose? He is the only one who knows.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Eug--[_Quickly_] The Keeper of the Seals?
MONDOUBLEAU. You want to be appointed to Orleans? Am I correctly
informed?
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Quite true. We have relations there.
MONDOUBLEAU. I fancy you are concerned in the movement now in
preparation.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Is there a movement in preparation?
MONDOUBLEAU. There is. As for Monsieur Ardeuil, the Minister confined
himself to saying that he had confidence in your firmness and zeal.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. The Keeper of the Seals may rely on me. I shall have
to show considerable severity in several directions here, and I shall
lack neither determination nor zeal, I can assure you.
MONDOUBLEAU. Yes, but above all, tact! Eugene repeated a dozen times,
"Above all, no prosecutions, no scandals. At the present moment less
than ever. We are being watched. So everything must be done quietly."
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. You needn't be alarmed. There's the matter of Mouzon.
MONDOUBLEAU. Mouzon! Mouzon the examining magistrate!
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Yes.
MONDOUBLEAU. Of Mauleon?
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Precisely.
MONDOUBLEAU. You aren't thinking of--One of my best friends--very well
disposed--a capital fellow--an excellent magistrate, full of energy and
discernment. I mentioned his name to Eugene in connection with the
vacant post of Councillor.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. [_offering him the report_] You've picked the wrong
man. I am going to show you a document about him. Besides, the post is
promised to Monsieur Vagret.
MONDOUBLEAU. What is wrong?
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Here. I shall have to report him to the Superior
Council of the Magistracy or proceed against him in the Court of Appeal.
MONDOUBLEAU. What has he done?
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Read it.
MONDOUBLEAU [_after casting a glance over the document which the other
has handed to him_] Of course. But really--there's nothing in that. If
you keep quiet about it, no one will know anything. No scandal. The
magistracy is suffering from too many attacks already just now, without
our providing our enemies with weapons.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Unfortunately Coire knows of it, and he threatens to
tell the whole story in his paper unless Monsieur Mouzon is sent away
from Mauleon.
MONDOUBLEAU. The devil! [_He begins to laugh_]
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. What are you laughing at?
MONDOUBLEAU. Nothing--an extravagant idea, a jest. [_He laughs_] Tell
me--but you won't be annoyed?--it's only a joke--
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Well?
MONDOUBLEAU. I was thinking--I tell you, it's a grotesque idea. But
after all--after all, if you propose Mouzon for the Councillor's chair
at Pau, you will be pleasing everyone!
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. My dear deputy--
MONDOUBLEAU. A joke--of course, merely a joke--but what's so amusing
about it is that if you did so it would please Coire, it would please
me, it would please Mouzon, and it would please Eugene, who doesn't want
any scandal.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. But it would be a--
MONDOUBLEAU. No, no. In politics there can be no scandal except where
there is publicity.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. But really--
MONDOUBLEAU. I agree with you--I know all that could be said--I repeat,
I am only chaffing. And do you realize--it's very curious--when one
reflects--this fantastic solution is the only one that does not offer
serious disadvantages--obvious disadvantages. That is so. If you leave
Mouzon here, Coire tells everything. If you proceed against him, you
give a certain section of the press an opportunity it won't lose--an
opportunity of sapping one of the pillars of society. Those gentry are
not particular as to the means they employ. They will confound the whole
magistracy with Mouzon. It won't be Mouzon who will be the rake, but the
Court, the Court of Appeal. There will be mud on all--on every robe.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. But you can't seriously ask me--
MONDOUBLEAU. Do you know what we ought to do? Let us go and talk it over
with Rollet the senator--he is only a step from here.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I assure you--
MONDOUBLEAU. Come--come. You will put in a word as to your going to
Orleans at the same time. What have you to risk? I tell you my solution
is the best. You will come to it, I assure you! I'll take you along.
[_He takes his arm_]
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Well, well, I had certainly something to say to
Rollet.
_The doorkeeper enters._
DOORKEEPER. Your honor--
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Where are they? The verdict--?
DOORKEEPER. Not yet. Monsieur Vagret has been making a reply.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Is the jury in the withdrawing room?
DOORKEEPER. No, your honor. They were going out when Monsieur Vagret
asked for an adjournment.
MONDOUBLEAU. What an idea! Really! Well, my friend, let us go. I tell
you, you'll come round!
ATTORNEY-GENERAL [_weakly_] Never! Never!
SCENE VII:--_Recorder, then the doorkeeper, then Madame Vagret, the
President of Assizes, Bunerat, Madame Bunerat, and Vagret._
RECORDER [_much moved_] Admirable!
DOORKEEPER [_half opening the door at the back_] Monsieur Benoit! What's
the news?
RECORDER. Splendid! Our Prosecutor was admirable--and that Etchepare is
the lowest swine.
_Enter Madame Vagret, greatly moved. The recorder goes up to
her. The doorkeeper disappears._
MADAME VAGRET. Ah! My God!
RECORDER. Madame Vagret, I am only a simple clerk, but allow me to say
it was admirable! Wonderful!
MADAME VAGRET. Wonderful!
RECORDER. As for the counsel from Bordeaux, Monsieur Vagret had him
absolutely at his mercy!
MADAME VAGRET. Hadn't he?
RECORDER. He's certain enough, now, to be condemned to death!
MADAME VAGRET. Certain!
RECORDER. Madame, the jurymen were looking at that fellow Etchepare,
that thug, in a way that made my blood run cold. As Monsieur Vagret went
on with his speech you felt they would have liked to settle his hash
themselves--the wretch!
MADAME VAGRET. I saw that--
RECORDER. I beg your pardon, Madame--I am forgetting myself--but there
are moments when one is thankful, yes, so gratified, that social
differences don't count.
MADAME VAGRET. You are right, my dear man.
_Enter the President of Assizes and Bunerat._
THE PRESIDENT. Madame, I congratulate you! We've got it, the capital
sentence!
MADAME VAGRET. We have it safely this time, haven't we, Monsieur?
THE PRESIDENT. That is certain. But where is our hero? Magnificent--he
was magnificent--wasn't he, Bunerat?
BUNERAT. Oh, sir, but the manner in which you presided prepared the way
so well--
THE PRESIDENT. Well, well, I don't say I count for nothing in the
result, but we must do justice to Vagret. [_To Madame Vagret_] You ought
to be greatly gratified--very proud and happy, my dear Madame--
MADAME VAGRET. Oh, I am, your honor--
THE PRESIDENT. But what a strange idea to demand an adjournment! Is he
unwell?
MADAME VAGRET. Oh, dear!
THE PRESIDENT. No. Here he is.
_Enter Vagret. He is anxious._
MADAME VAGRET. Ah, my dear! [_She takes his hand in hers. She can say no
more, being choked by tears of joy_]
THE PRESIDENT. It was wonderful!
BUNERAT. I can't restrain myself from congratulating you too.
VAGRET. Really, you confuse me. The whole merit is yours, Monsieur.
THE PRESIDENT. Not at all. Do you know what carried them all away? [_He
lights a cigarette_]
VAGRET. No!
THE PRESIDENT. It was when you exclaimed, "Gentlemen of the jury, you
own houses, farms, and property; you have beloved wives, and daughters
whom you tenderly cherish. Beware--" You were splendid there!
[_Resuming_] "Beware, if you leave such crimes unpunished; beware, if
you allow yourselves to be led astray by the eloquent sentimentality of
the defence; beware, I tell you, if you fail in your duty as the
instrument of justice; beware, lest those above you snatch up the sword
which has fallen from your feeble hands, when the blood that you have
not avenged will be spilt upon you and yours!" That was fine! Very fine!
And it produced a great effect.
BUNERAT. But you, my dear President, you moved them even more noticeably
when you recalled the fact, very appropriately, that the accused loved
the sight of blood.
THE PRESIDENT. Ah, yes, that told a little!
ALL. What? What was that?
BUNERAT. The President put this question: "On the morning of the crime
did you not slaughter two sheep?" "Yes," replied the accused. And then,
looking him straight in the eyes--
THE PRESIDENT. Yes, I asked him: "You were getting into practice,
weren't you?" [_To Vagret_] But after all, if I have to a certain extent
affected the result, the greater part of the honor of the day is yours.
VAGRET. You are too kind.
THE PRESIDENT. Not at all! And your peroration! [_With an artist's
curiosity_] You were really, were you not, under the stress of a great
emotion, a really great emotion?
VAGRET [_gravely_] Yes, I was under the stress of a great emotion, a
really great emotion.
THE PRESIDENT. You turned quite pale when you faced the jury--when you
added, in a clear voice, "Gentlemen, I demand the head of this man!"
VAGRET [_his eyes fixed_] Yes.
THE PRESIDENT. Then you made a sign to the advocate.
VAGRET. Yes. I thought he would have something else to say.
THE PRESIDENT. But why delay the verdict? You had won the victory.
VAGRET. Precisely.
THE PRESIDENT. What do you mean?
VAGRET. During my indictment a fact came to light that worried me.
THE PRESIDENT. A fact?
VAGRET. Not a fact--but--in short--[_A pause_] I beg your pardon--I am
very tired--
THE PRESIDENT. I can very well understand your emotion, my dear
Vagret. One always feels--on the occasion of one's first death
sentence--but--you will see one gets used to it. [_Going out, to
Bunerat_] Indeed, he does look very tired.
BUNERAT. I fancy he is feeling his position too keenly.
VAGRET. As I was leaving the Court I met the Attorney-General. I begged
him urgently to give me a moment's conversation. I wanted to speak with
him alone--and with you, Monsieur le President.
BUNERAT. As you wish.
MADAME VAGRET. I am afraid you are unwell, my dear. I shall wait there.
I will come back directly these gentlemen have gone.
VAGRET. Very well.
MADAME BUNERAT [_going out, to her husband_] There's a man ready to do
something stupid.
BUNERAT. That doesn't concern us.
_They go out._
SCENE VIII:--_Vagret, the President of Assizes, then the
Attorney-General._
THE PRESIDENT. Did you notice any mistake on my part in the direction of
the case?
VAGRET. No, if any mistake was made, it was I who made it.
_The Attorney-General enters._
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. What is this that is so serious, my dear sir?
VAGRET. It's this--I am more worried than I can say. I want to appeal to
the conscience of you two gentlemen--to reassure myself--
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Tell us.
VAGRET. A whole series of facts--the attitude of the accused--certain
details which had escaped me--have given rise, in my mind, to a doubt as
to the guilt of this man.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Was there any mention of these facts, these details,
in the brief?
VAGRET. Certainly.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Had the advocate studied this brief?
VAGRET. Naturally.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Well, then? What are you worrying yourself about?
VAGRET. But--suppose the man is not guilty?
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. The jury will decide. We can do no more, all of us,
than bow to its verdict.
VAGRET. Let me tell you, sir, how my convictions have been shaken.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I do not wish to know. All that is a matter between
yourself and your conscience. You have the right to explain your
scruples to the jury. You know the proverb: "The pen is a slave, but
speech is free."
VAGRET. I shall follow your advice.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I do not give you any advice.
VAGRET. I shall explain my doubts to the jury.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. It will mean acquittal.
VAGRET. What would you have?
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Do as you wish; but I should like to tell you one
thing. When a man plans a startling trick of this kind and has the
courage to accomplish it entirely of his own accord, he must have the
courage to accept the sole responsibility of the blunders he may commit.
You are too clever; you want to discover some means by which you need
not be the only one to suffer from the consequences of your
vacillations.
VAGRET. Clever? I? How?
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Come, come! We are not children, and I can perfectly
well see the trap into which you have lured me. You are sheltering
yourself behind me. If the Chancellery should complain of your attitude,
you will say that you consulted your superior, and I shall be the
victim. And then I shall have a quarrel with the Chancellery on my
hands. You don't care, you don't think of my position or my interests,
of which you know nothing. Some silly idea gets into your head, and
against my will you want to make me responsible for it. I say again, it
is extremely clever, and I congratulate you, but I don't thank you.
VAGRET. You have misunderstood me, sir. I have no wish to burden you
with the responsibilities I am about to assume. I should hardly choose
the moment when I am on the point of being appointed Councillor to
perpetrate such a blunder. I told you of my perplexity, and I asked your
advice. That was all.
THE PRESIDENT. Are you certain one way or the other?
VAGRET. If I were certain, should I ask advice? [_A pause_] If we only
had a cause for cassation, a good--
THE PRESIDENT [_enraged_] What's that you say? Cause for cassation?
Based on an error or on an oversight on my part, no doubt! Really, you
have plenty of imagination! You are attacked by certain doubts, certain
scruples--I don't know what--and in order to quiet your morbidly
distracted conscience you ask me kindly to make myself the culprit!
Convenient, in truth, to foist on others who have done their duty the
blunders one may have committed oneself!
ATTORNEY-GENERAL [_quietly_] It is indeed.
THE PRESIDENT. And at the Chancellery, when they mention me, they'll
say, "Whatever sort of a councillor is this, who hasn't even the
capacity to preside over an Assize Court at Mauleon!" A man whom we've
taken such trouble to get condemned! And to make me, me, the victim of
such trickery! No, no! Think of another way, my dear Monsieur; you won't
employ that, I can assure you.
VAGRET. Then I shall seek other means; but I shall not leave matters in
their present state.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Do what you like, but realize that I have given you no
advice in one direction or another.
VAGRET. I realize that.
THE PRESIDENT. When you have decided to resume the hearing you will
notify us.
VAGRET. I will notify you.
ATTORNEY-GENERAL [_to the President_] Let us go.
_They leave the office._
SCENE IX:--_Vagret, Madame Vagret._
MADAME VAGRET. What is it?
VAGRET. Nothing.
MADAME VAGRET. Nothing? You are so depressed--and yet you've just had
such a success as will tell on your career.
VAGRET. It is that success which alarms me.
MADAME VAGRET. Alarms you?
VAGRET. Yes, I'm afraid--
MADAME VAGRET. Afraid of what?
VAGRET. Of having gone too far.
MADAME VAGRET. Too far! Doesn't the murderer deserve death ten times
over?
VAGRET [_after a pause_] Are you quite certain, yourself, that he is a
murderer?
MADAME VAGRET. Yes.
VAGRET [_in a low voice_] Well--for myself--
MADAME VAGRET. You?
VAGRET. I--I don't know. I know nothing.
MADAME VAGRET. My God!
VAGRET. A dreadful thing happened to me in the course of my indictment.
While I, the State Attorney, the official prosecutor, was exercising my
function, another self was examining the case calmly, in cold blood; an
inner voice kept reproaching me for my violence and insinuating into my
mind a doubt, which has gone on increasing. A painful struggle has been
going on in my mind, a cruel struggle--and if, as I was finishing, I
labored under that emotion of which the President was speaking, if when
I demanded the death penalty my voice was scarcely audible, it was
because I was at the end of my struggle; because my conscience was on
the point of winning the battle, and I made haste to finish, because I
was afraid it would speak out against my will. When I saw the advocate
remain seated and that he was not going to resume his speech in order to
tell the jury the things I would have had him tell them--then I was
really afraid of myself, afraid of my actions, of my words, of their
terrible consequences, and I wanted to gain time.
MADAME VAGRET. But, my dear, you have done your duty; if the advocate
has not done his, that does not concern you.
VAGRET. Always the same reply. If I were an honest man I should tell the
jury, when the hearing is resumed, of the doubts that have seized me. I
should explain how those doubts arose in me; I should call their
attention to a point which I deliberately concealed from them, because I
believed the counsel for the defence would point it out to him.
MADAME VAGRET. You know, my dear, how thoroughly I respect your
scruples, but allow me to tell you all the same that it won't be you who
will declare Etchepare guilty or not guilty; it will be the jury. If
anyone ought to feel disturbed, it is Maitre Placat, not you--
VAGRET. But I ought to represent justice!
MADAME VAGRET. Here is a prisoner who comes before you with previous
convictions, with a whole crushing series of circumstances establishing
his guilt. He is defended by whom? By one of the ornaments of the Bar, a
man famed for his conscience as much as for his ability and his
oratorical skill. You expound the facts to the jury. If the jury agrees
with you, I cannot see that your responsibility as a magistrate is
involved.
VAGRET. I don't think about my responsibility as a magistrate--but my
responsibility as a man is certainly involved! No! No! I have not the
right. I tell you there is a series of circumstances in this case of
which no one has spoken and the nature of which makes me believe in the
innocence of the accused.
MADAME VAGRET. But--these circumstances--how was it you knew nothing of
them until now?
VAGRET [_his head drooping_] Do you think I did know nothing of them? My
God! Shall I have the courage to tell you everything? I am not a bad
man, am I? I wouldn't wish anyone to suffer for a fault of
mine--but--oh, I am ashamed to admit it, to say it aloud, even, when I
have admitted it to myself! Well, when I was studying the brief, I had
got it so firmly fixed in my mind, to begin with, that Etchepare was a
criminal, that when an argument in his favor presented itself to my
mind, I rejected it utterly, shrugging my shoulders. As for the facts of
which I am speaking, and which gave rise to my doubts--at first I simply
tried to prove that those facts were false, taking, from the depositions
of the witnesses, only that which would militate against their truth and
rejecting all the rest, with a terrible simplicity of bad faith. And in
the end, in order to dissipate my last scruples, I told myself, just as
you told me, "That is the business of the defence; it isn't mine!"
Listen, and you'll see to what point the exercise of the magistrate's
office distorts our natures, makes us unjust and cruel. At first I had a
feeling of delight when I saw that the President, in his
cross-examination, was throwing no light whatever on this series of
little facts. It was my profession speaking in me, my profession, do you
see? Oh, what poor creatures we are, what poor creatures!
MADAME VAGRET. Perhaps the jury won't find him guilty?
VAGRET. It will find him guilty.
MADAME VAGRET. Or it may find there are extenuating circumstances.
VAGRET. No. I adjured them too earnestly to refuse to do so. I was
zealous enough, wasn't I? Violent enough?
MADAME VAGRET. That's true. Why did you make your indictment so
passionately?
VAGRET. Ah, why, why? Long before the hearing of the case it was so
clearly understood by everybody that the prisoner was the criminal! And
then it all went to my head, it intoxicated me--the way they talked. I
was the spokesman of humanity, I was to reassure the countryside, I was
to restore tranquillity to the family, and I don't know what else! So
then--I felt I must show myself equal to the part intrusted to me. My
first indictment was relatively moderate--but when I saw the celebrated
counsel making the jurymen weep, I thought I was lost; I felt the
verdict would escape me. Contrary to my habit, I replied. When I rose to
my feet for the second time I was like a man fighting, who has just had
a vision of defeat, and who therefore fights with the strength of
despair. From that moment Etchepare, so to speak, no longer existed. I
was no longer concerned to defend society or sustain my accusation; I
was contending against the advocate; it was a trial of orators, a
competition of actors; I had to be the victor at all costs. I had to
convince the jury, resume my hold on it, wring from it the double "yes"
of the verdict. I tell you, Etchepare no longer counted; it was I who
counted, my vanity, my reputation, my honor, my future. It's shameful, I
tell you, shameful. At any cost I wanted to prevent the acquittal which
I felt was certain. And I was so afraid of not succeeding that I
employed every argument, good and bad, even that of representing to the
terrified jurymen their own houses in flames, their own flesh and blood
murdered. I spoke of the vengeance of God falling on judges without
severity. And all this in good faith--or rather unconsciously, in a
burst of passion, in an access of anger against the advocate, whom I
hated at that moment with all my might. My success was greater than I
hoped; the jury is ready to obey me; and I, my dear, I have allowed
myself to be congratulated, I have grasped the hands held out to me.
That is what it is to be a magistrate!
MADAME VAGRET. Never mind. Perhaps there aren't ten in all France who
would have acted otherwise.
VAGRET. You are right. Only--if one reflects--it's precisely that that's
so dreadful.
RECORDER [_entering_] Monsieur le Procureur, the President is asking
when the sitting can be resumed.
VAGRET. At once.
MADAME VAGRET. What are you going to do?
VAGRET. My duty as an honest man. [_He makes ready to go_]
CURTAIN.
ACT IV
SCENES--_Same as the Second Act._
SCENE I:-_Bunerat, the President of Assizes, and Vagret._
BUNERAT. Well, your honor, there's another session finished.
THE PRESIDENT [_in red robe_] I've been in a blue funk lest these brutes
would make me lose my train. I'm going shooting to-morrow on the Cambo
Ponds, you see, my dear fellow, and after to-night's train it's no go.
[_Looks at his watch_] Oh, I've an hour and a half yet.
BUNERAT. And what do you think of it, your honor?
THE PRESIDENT. Of what? Of the acquittal? What does it matter to me? I
don't care--on the contrary, I prefer it. I am certain the advocate
won't ferret out some unintentional defect--some formality gone wrong.
Where's my hat-box?
_He is about to stand on a chair to reach the hat-box, which
is on the top of a cupboard. Bunerat precedes him._
BUNERAT. Permit me, Monsieur. You are at home here. [_From the chair_] I
believe I shall have the pleasure of seeing you here again next session.
[_He sighs, holding out the hat-box_]
THE PRESIDENT. A pleasure I shall share, my dear fellow. [_He takes out
a small felt hat from the box_]
BUNERAT. Would you like a brush? There's Mouzon's brush. [_A sigh_] Ah,
good God, when shall I leave Mauleon? I should so like to live at Pau!
THE PRESIDENT. Pooh! A much overrated city! Come, come!
BUNERAT. I suppose my new duties won't take me there yet?
THE PRESIDENT. Don't you worry yourself. In the winter, yes, it's very
well--but the summer--ah, the summer.
BUNERAT. I am not the one appointed?
THE PRESIDENT. Ah! You know already?
BUNERAT. Yes--I--yes--that is to say, I didn't know it was official.
THE PRESIDENT [_brushing his hat and catching sight of a dent_] Dented
already. In these days the hats they sell you for felt, my dear chap,
they're paste-board, simply--
BUNERAT. True. Yes, I didn't know it was official. Monsieur Mouzon is
very lucky.
_Enter Vagret in mufti._
THE PRESIDENT. There, there is our dear Monsieur Vagret. Changed your
dress already. Yes, you're at home, you. For my part I must pack up all
this. Where the devil is the box I put my gown in? [_Bunerat makes a
step to fetch it and then remains motionless_] It's curious--that--what
have they done with it? In that cupboard--you haven't seen it, my dear
Monsieur Bunerat?
BUNERAT. No.
THE PRESIDENT. Ah, here it is--and my jacket in it. [_He opens the box
and takes out his jacket, which he lays aside on the table_] Well, well,
you've got them acquitted, my dear sir! Are you satisfied?
VAGRET. I am very glad.
THE PRESIDENT. And if they are the murderers?
VAGRET. I must console myself with Berryer's remark: "It is better to
leave ten guilty men at liberty than to punish one innocent man."
THE PRESIDENT. You have a sensitive nature.
VAGRET. Ought one to have a heart of stone, then, to be a magistrate?
THE PRESIDENT [_tying up the box in which he has put his judge's
bonnet_] One must keep oneself above the little miseries of humanity.
VAGRET. Above the miseries of others.
THE PRESIDENT. Hang it all--
VAGRET. That is what we call egoism.
THE PRESIDENT. Do you say that for my benefit?
VAGRET. For all three of us.
BUNERAT. Au revoir, gentlemen. Au revoir. [_He shakes hands with each
and goes out_]
THE PRESIDENT [_taking off his gown_] My dear Monsieur, I beg you to be
more moderate in your remarks.
VAGRET. Ah, I assure you that I am moderate! If I were to speak what is
in my mind, you would hear very unpleasant things.
THE PRESIDENT [_in shirt sleeves_] Are you forgetting to whom you are
speaking? I am a Councillor of the Court, Monsieur le Procureur.
VAGRET. Once again, I am not speaking to you merely; the disagreeable
things I might say would condemn me equally. I am thinking of those poor
people.
THE PRESIDENT [_brushing his gown_] What poor people? The late
prisoners? But after all, they are acquitted. What more do you want? To
provide them with an income?
VAGRET. They are acquitted, true; but they are condemned, all the same.
They are sentenced to misery for life.
THE PRESIDENT. What are you talking about?
VAGRET. And through your fault, Monsieur.
THE PRESIDENT [_stopping in his task of folding his gown_] My fault!
VAGRET. And what is so particularly serious is that you didn't know it,
you didn't see, you haven't seen the harm you did.
THE PRESIDENT. What harm? I have done no harm! I?
VAGRET. When you informed Etchepare that his wife had long ago been
condemned for receiving stolen goods, and that she had been seduced
before his marriage with her. When you did that you did a wicked thing.
THE PRESIDENT. You are a Don Quixote. Do you suppose Etchepare didn't
know all that?
VAGRET. If you had noticed his emotion when his wife, on your asking her
if the facts were correct, replied that they were, you would be certain,
as I am, that he knew nothing.
THE PRESIDENT [_packing his gown in its box_] Well, even so! You
attribute to people of that sort susceptibilities which they don't
possess.
VAGRET. Your honor, "people of that sort" have hearts, just as you and I
have.
THE PRESIDENT. Admitted. Didn't my duty force me to do as I did?
VAGRET. I know nothing about that.
THE PRESIDENT [_still in shirt sleeves_] It's the law that is guilty,
then, eh? Yes? Well, Monsieur, if I did my duty--and I did--you are
lacking in your duty in attacking the law, whose faithful servant you
should be, the law which I, for one, am proud to represent.
VAGRET. There's no reason for your pride.
THE PRESIDENT. Monsieur!
VAGRET. It's a monstrous thing, I tell you, that one can reproach an
accused person, whether innocent or guilty, with a fault committed ten
years ago, and which has been expiated. Yes, Monsieur, it is a horrible
thing that, after punishing, the law does not pardon.
THE PRESIDENT [_who has put on his jacket and hat_] If you think the law
is bad, get it altered. Enter Parliament.
VAGRET. Alas, if I were a deputy, it is probable that I should be like
the rest; instead of thinking of such matters I should think of nothing
but calculating the probable duration of the Government.
THE PRESIDENT [_his box under his arm_] In that case--is the
doorkeeper--
VAGRET [_touching a bell_] He will come. Then it's Monsieur Mouzon who
is appointed in my place?
THE PRESIDENT. It is Monsieur Mouzon.
VAGRET. Because he's the creature of a deputy, a Mondoubleau--
THE PRESIDENT. I cannot allow you to speak ill of Monsieur
Mondoubleau--before my face.
VAGRET. You think you may perhaps have need of him.
THE PRESIDENT. Precisely. [_The doorkeeper appears_] Will you carry that
to my hotel for me? The hotel by the station. You will easily recognize
it; my sentry is at the door. [_He hands the doorkeeper his boxes_] Au
revoir, my dear Vagret--no offence taken.
_He goes. Vagret puts on his hat and also makes ready to go.
Enter recorder and Etchepare._
THE RECORDER. You are going, your honor?
VAGRET. Yes.
THE RECORDER. You won't have any objection, then, if I bring Etchepare
in here? He's in the corridor, waiting for the formalities of his
release--and he complains he's an object of curiosity to everyone.
VAGRET. Of course!
THE RECORDER. I'll tell them to bring his wife here too when she leaves
the record office.
VAGRET. Very well.
THE RECORDER. I am just going to warn the warders--but the woman
Etchepare can't be released immediately.
VAGRET. Why?
THE RECORDER. She's detained in connection with another case. She's
charged with abusing a magistrate in the exercise of his duty.
VAGRET. Is that magistrate Monsieur Mouzon?
THE RECORDER. Yes, Monsieur.
VAGRET. I will try to arrange that.
THE RECORDER. Good-day, your honor.
VAGRET. Good-day.
SCENE II.
THE RECORDER [_at the door_] Etchepare--come in. You had better wait
here for your final discharge. It won't take much longer.
ETCHEPARE. Thank you, Monsieur.
THE RECORDER. Well, there you are, then, acquitted, my poor fellow!
There's one matter done with.
ETCHEPARE. It's finished as far as justice is concerned, Monsieur; it
isn't finished for me. I'm acquitted, it's true, but my life is made
miserable.
THE RECORDER. You didn't know--
ETCHEPARE. That's it.
THE RECORDER. It's a long time ago--you'll forgive her.
ETCHEPARE. Things like that, Monsieur--a Basque never forgives them.
It's as though a thunderbolt had struck me to the heart. And all the
misfortune that's befallen us--it's she who is the cause--God has
avenged himself. Everything's over.
THE RECORDER [_after a pause_] I am sorry for you with all my heart.
ETCHEPARE. Thank you, Monsieur. [_A pause_] Since you are so kind,
Monsieur, will you allow my mother, who's there in the corridor, waiting
for me, to come and speak to me?
THE RECORDER. I'll send her in to you. Good-bye.
ETCHEPARE. Good-bye.
SCENE III:--_The recorder goes out. Enter Etchepare's mother._
ETCHEPARE [_pressing his mother's head against his breast_] Poor old
mother--how the misery of these three months has changed you!
THE MOTHER. My poor boy, how you must have suffered!
ETCHEPARE. That woman!
THE MOTHER. Yes, they've just been telling me.
ETCHEPARE. For ten years I've lived with that thief--that wretched
woman! How she lied! Ah! When I heard that judge say to her, "You were
convicted of theft and complicity with your lover," and when, before all
those people, she owned to it--I tell you, mummy, I thought the skies
were falling on my head--and when she admitted she'd been that man's
mistress--I don't know just what happened--nor which I would have killed
soonest--the judge who said such things so calmly or her who admitted
them with her back turned to me. And then I was on the point of
confessing myself guilty--I, an innocent man--in order not to learn any
more--to get away--but I thought of you and the children! [_A long
pause_] Come! We've got to make up our minds what we're going to do. You
left them at home?
THE MOTHER. No. I had to send them to our cousin at Bayonne. We've no
longer got a home--we've nothing--we are ruined. Besides, I've got a
horror of this place now. The women edge away and make signs to one
another when I meet them, and in the church they leave me all alone in
the middle of an empty space. Already--I had to take the children away
from school.
ETCHEPARE. My God!
THE MOTHER. No one would speak to them. One day Georges picked a quarrel
with the biggest, and they fought, and as Georges got the better of it,
the other, to revenge himself, called him the son of a gallows-bird.
ETCHEPARE. And Georges?
THE MOTHER. He came home crying and wouldn't go out of doors. It was
then that I sent them away to Bayonne.
ETCHEPARE. That's what we'll do. Go away. We'll go and fetch them.
To-morrow or to-night I shall be with you again. There are emigration
companies there--boats to America--they'll send all four of us--they'll
give us credit for the voyage on account of the children.
THE MOTHER. And when they ask for their mother--
ETCHEPARE [_after a pause_] You'll tell them she's dead.
SCENE IV:--_Yanetta is shown in._
YANETTA [_to someone outside_] Very good, Monsieur. [_The door is
closed_]
THE MOTHER [_without looking at Yanetta_] Then I'll go.
ETCHEPARE [_the same_] Yes. I shall see you again to-night or down there
to-morrow.
THE MOTHER. Very well.
ETCHEPARE. Directly you get there you'll go and find out about the day
and hour.
THE MOTHER. Very well.
ETCHEPARE. Till to-morrow then.
THE MOTHER. To-morrow. [_She goes out without glancing at Yanetta_]
YANETTA [_takes a few steps towards her husband, falls on her knees, and
clasps her hands. In a low voice_] Forgive me!
ETCHEPARE. Never!
YANETTA. Don't say never!
ETCHEPARE. Was the judge lying?
YANETTA. No--he wasn't lying.
ETCHEPARE. You wretched thing!
YANETTA. Yes, I am a wretched thing! Forgive me!
ETCHEPARE. Kill you rather! I could kill you!
YANETTA. Yes, yes! But forgive me!
ETCHEPARE. You're just a loose woman--a loose woman from Paris, with no
honor, no shame, no honesty even!
YANETTA. Yes! Insult me--strike me!
ETCHEPARE. For ten years you have been lying to me!
YANETTA. Oh, how I wished I could have told you everything! Oh, how many
times I began that dreadful confession! I never had courage enough. I
was always afraid of your anger, Pierre, and of the pain I should cause
you--I saw you were so happy!
ETCHEPARE. You came from up there, fresh from your vice, fresh from
prison, and you chose me to be your gull.
YANETTA. My God, to think he believes that!
ETCHEPARE. You brought me the leavings of a swindler--the leavings of a
swindler--and you stole, in my house, the place of an honest woman!
Your lies have brought the curse of God on my family and it's you who
are the cause of everything. The misfortune that's just befallen us,
it's you who are the cause of it, I tell you! You're a pest, accursed,
damned! Don't say another word to me! Don't speak to me!
YANETTA. Have you no pity, Pierre? Do you suppose I'm not suffering?
ETCHEPARE. If you are suffering you've deserved it! You haven't suffered
enough yet. But what had I ever done to you that you should choose me
for your victim? What did I ever do that I should have to bear what I'm
suffering? You've made me a coward--you've lowered me almost to your own
level--I ought to have been able to put you out of my mind and my heart
already! And I can't! And I'm suffering torture, terrible torture--for
I'm suffering through the love I once had for you. You--you were
everything to me for ten years--my whole life. You've been everything,
everything! And now the one hope left me is that I may forget you!
YANETTA. Oh, forgive me!
ETCHEPARE. Never! Never!
YANETTA. Don't say that word--only God has the right to say--never! I
will come back to you. I'll be only like the head servant--no, the
lowest if you like! I won't take my place in the home again until you
tell me to.
ETCHEPARE. We have no house; we have no home. Nothing is left now! And I
tell you again it's your fault--and it's because you used to be there,
in the mother's place, my mother's place, you, a lie and a
sacrilege--it's because of that that misfortune has overtaken us!
YANETTA. I swear to you I'd make you forget it all in time--I'd be so
humble, so devoted, so repentant. And wherever you go I shall follow
you. Pierre--think, your children still need me.
ETCHEPARE. My children! You shall never see them again! You shall never
speak to them. I won't have you kiss them. I won't have you even touch
them!
YANETTA [_changing her tone_] Ah, no, not that, not that! The children!
No, you are wrong there! You can deprive me of everything--you can put
every imaginable shame upon me--you can force me to beg my bread--I'll
do it willingly. You needn't look at me--you needn't speak to me except
to abuse me--you can do anything, anything you like. But my children, my
children--they are mine, the fruit of my body--they are still part of
me--they are blood of my blood and bone of my bone forever. You might
cut off one of my arms, and my arm would be a dead thing, and no part of
myself any more, but you can't stop my children being my children.
ETCHEPARE. You have made yourself unworthy to keep them.
YANETTA. Unworthy! What has unworthiness to do with it? Have I ever
failed in my duty to them? Have I been a bad mother? Answer me! I
haven't, have I? Well then, if I haven't been a bad mother, my rights
over them are as great as ever they were! Unworthy! I might be a
thousand times more guilty--more unworthy, as you call it--but neither
you, nor the law, nor the priests, nor God himself would have the right
to take them from me. I have been to blame as a wife, it's possible, but
as a mother I've nothing to reproach myself with. Well then--well
then--no one can steal them from me! And you, who could think of such a
thing, you're a wretch! Yes, it's to avenge yourself that you want to
part me from them! You're just a coward! Just a man! There's no
fatherhood left in your heart--you don't think of them. Yes--you are
lying--I tell you, you are lying! When you say I'm not worthy to bring
them up you're lying! It's only a saying--only words. You know it isn't
true--you know I've nourished them, cared for them, loved them, consoled
them, and I have taught them to say their prayers every night, and I
would go on doing so. You know that no other woman will ever fill my
place--but that makes no difference to you. You forget them--you want to
punish me, so you want to take them from me. I'm justified in saying to
you that it's an act of cowardly wickedness and a vile piece of
vengeance! Ah! The children! You want to gamble with them now. No--to
take them away from me--think, Pierre, think; it isn't possible, what
you are saying!
ETCHEPARE. You are right; I am revenging myself! What you think an
impossibility is done already. My mother has taken the children and gone
away with them.
YANETTA. I shall find them again.
ETCHEPARE. America is a big country.
YANETTA. I shall find them again!
ETCHEPARE. Then I shall tell them why I have taken them away from you!
YANETTA. Never! Never that! I'll obey you, but swear--
_The recorder enters._
THE RECORDER. Etchepare, come and sign your discharge. You will be
released at once.
YANETTA. Wait a moment, Monsieur, wait a moment. [_To Etchepare_] I
agree to separation if I must. I will disappear--you will never hear of
me again. But in return for this wicked sacrifice swear solemnly that
you will never tell them.
ETCHEPARE. I swear.
YANETTA. You swear never to tell them anything that may lessen their
affection for me?
ETCHEPARE. I swear.
YANETTA. Promise me too--I beg you, Pierre--in the name of our happiness
and my misery--promise to keep me fresh in their memory--let them pray
for me, won't you?
ETCHEPARE. I swear it.
YANETTA. Then go--my life is done with.
ETCHEPARE. Good-bye.
_He goes out with the recorder. At the door the latter meets
Mouzon._
THE RECORDER [_to Etchepare_] They are coming to show you the way out.
THE RECORDER [_to Mouzon_] The woman Etchepare is there.
MOUZON. Ah, she's there. Monsieur Vagret has been speaking of her. Well,
I withdraw my complaint; I ask nothing better than that she shall be set
at liberty. Now that I am a Councillor I don't want to be coming back
from Pau every week for the examination. Proceed with the necessary
formalities.
SCENE V:--_Mouzon, Yanetta, the recorder._
MOUZON. Well--in consideration of the time you have been in custody, I
am willing that you should be set at liberty--provisional liberty. I
may, perhaps, even withdraw my complaint if you express regret for
having insulted me.
YANETTA [_calmly_] I do not regret having insulted you.
MOUZON. Do you want to go back to prison?
YANETTA. My poor man, if you only knew how little it matters to me
whether I go to prison or not!
MOUZON. Why?
YANETTA. Because I have nothing left, neither house, nor home, nor
husband, nor children. [_She looks at him_] And--I think--I think--
MOUZON. You think?
YANETTA. I think it is you who are the cause of all the trouble.
MOUZON. You are both acquitted, aren't you? What more do you ask?
YANETTA. We have been acquitted, it is true. But all the same, I am no
longer an honest woman--neither to my husband, nor to my children, nor
to the world.
MOUZON. If anyone reproaches you with the penalty inflicted upon you
formerly, if anyone makes any illusion to the time you have spent in
custody under remand, you have the right to prosecute the offender in
the courts. He will be punished.
YANETTA. Well! It is because someone reproached me with that old
conviction that my husband has taken my children from me. That someone
is a magistrate. Can I have him punished?
MOUZON. No.
YANETTA. Why not? Because he is a magistrate?
MOUZON. No. Because he is the law.
YANETTA. The law! [_Violently_] Then the law is wicked, wicked!
MOUZON. Come, no shouting, no insults, please. [_To the recorder_] Have
you finished? Then go to the office and have an order made out for her
discharge.
YANETTA. I'm no scholar; I've not studied the law in books, like you,
and perhaps for that very reason I know better than you what is just and
what is not. And I want to ask you a plain question: How is the law
going to give me back my children and make up to me for the harm it's
done me?
MOUZON. The law owes you nothing.
YANETTA. The law owes me nothing! Then what are you going to do--you,
the judge?
MOUZON. A magistrate is not responsible.
YANETTA. Ah, you are not responsible! So you can arrest people just as
you like, just when you fancy, on a suspicion or even without a
suspicion; you can bring shame and dishonor on their families; you can
torture the unhappy, ferret into their past lives, expose their
misfortunes, dig up forgotten offences, offences which have been atoned
for and which go back to ten years ago; you can make use of your skill,
your tricks and lies, and your cruelty to send a man to the foot of the
scaffold, and worse still, you can drive people into taking a mother's
children away from her--and after that you say, like Pontius Pilate,
that you aren't responsible! Not responsible! Perhaps you aren't
responsible in the eyes of this law of yours, since you tell me you
aren't, but in the eyes of pure and simple justice, the justice of
decent people, the justice of God, before that I swear you are
responsible, and that is why I am going to call you to account!
_She sees on Mouzon's desk the dagger which he uses as a
paper-knife. He turns his back on her. She seizes the knife
and puts it down again._
MOUZON. I order you to get out of here.
YANETTA. Listen to me. For the last time I ask you--what do you think
you can do to make up to me--to give me back all I've lost through your
fault; what are you going to do to lessen my misery, and how do you
propose to give me back my children?
MOUZON. I have nothing to say to you. I owe you nothing.
YANETTA. You owe me nothing! You owe me more than life--more than
everything. My children I shall never see again. What you've taken from
me is the happiness of every moment of the day--their kisses at
night--the pride I felt in watching them grow up. Never, never again
shall I hear them call me "mother." It's as though they were dead--it's
as though you had killed them. [_She seizes the knife_] Yes! That's your
work; it's you bad judges have done it; you have nearly made a criminal
of an innocent man, and you force an honest woman, a mother--to become a
criminal!
_She stabs him. He falls._
CURTAIN.