GIUSEPPE (pleadingly). Let me go, excellency. It is my point of honor
as an innkeeper to come when I am called. I appeal to you as a soldier.
A MAN's VOICE (outside, at the inn door, shouting). Here, someone.
Hello! Landlord. Where are you? (Somebody raps vigorously with a whip
handle on a bench in the passage.)
NAPOLEON (suddenly becoming the commanding officer again and throwing
Giuseppe off). There he is at last. (Pointing to the inner door.) Go.
Attend to your business: the lady is calling you. (He goes to the
fireplace and stands with his back to it with a determined military
air.)
GIUSEPPE (with bated breath, snatching up his tray). Certainly,
excellency. (He hurries out by the inner door.)
THE MAN's VOICE (impatiently). Are you all asleep here? (The door
opposite the fireplace is kicked rudely open; and a dusty
sub-lieutenant bursts into the room. He is a chuckle-headed young man
of 24, with the fair, delicate, clear skin of a man of rank, and a
self-assurance on that ground which the French Revolution has failed to
shake in the smallest degree. He has a thick silly lip, an eager
credulous eye, an obstinate nose, and a loud confident voice. A young
man without fear, without reverence, without imagination, without
sense, hopelessly insusceptible to the Napoleonic or any other idea,
stupendously egotistical, eminently qualified to rush in where angels
fear to tread, yet of a vigorous babbling vitality which bustles him
into the thick of things. He is just now boiling with vexation,
attributable by a superficial observer to his impatience at not being
promptly attended to by the staff of the inn, but in which a more
discerning eye can perceive a certain moral depth, indicating a more
permanent and momentous grievance. On seeing Napoleon, he is
sufficiently taken aback to check himself and salute; but he does not
betray by his manner any of that prophetic consciousness of Marengo and
Austerlitz, Waterloo and St. Helena, or the Napoleonic pictures of
Delaroche and Meissonier, which modern culture will instinctively
expect from him.)
NAPOLEON (sharply). Well, sir, here you are at last. Your instructions
were that I should arrive here at six, and that I was to find you
waiting for me with my mail from Paris and with despatches. It is now
twenty minutes to eight. You were sent on this service as a hard rider
with the fastest horse in the camp. You arrive a hundred minutes late,
on foot. Where is your horse!
THE LIEUTENANT (moodily pulling off his gloves and dashing them with
his cap and whip on the table). Ah! where indeed? That's just what I
should like to know, General. (With emotion.) You don't know how fond I
was of that horse.
NAPOLEON (angrily sarcastic). Indeed! (With sudden misgiving.) Where
are the letters and despatches?
THE LIEUTENANT (importantly, rather pleased than otherwise at having
some remarkable news). I don't know.
NAPOLEON (unable to believe his ears). You don't know!
LIEUTENANT. No more than you do, General. Now I suppose I shall be
court-martialled. Well, I don't mind being court-martialled; but (with
solemn determination) I tell you, General, if ever I catch that
innocent looking youth, I'll spoil his beauty, the slimy little liar!
I'll make a picture of him. I'll--
NAPOLEON (advancing from the hearth to the table). What innocent
looking youth? Pull yourself together, sir, will you; and give an
account of yourself.
LIEUTENANT (facing him at the opposite side of the table, leaning on it
with his fists). Oh, I'm all right, General: I'm perfectly ready to
give an account of myself. I shall make the court-martial thoroughly
understand that the fault was not mine. Advantage has been taken of the
better side of my nature; and I'm not ashamed of it. But with all
respect to you as my commanding officer, General, I say again that if
ever I set eyes on that son of Satan, I'll--
NAPOLEON (angrily). So you said before.
LIEUTENANT (drawing himself upright). I say it again, just wait until I
catch him. Just wait: that's all. (He folds his arms resolutely, and
breathes hard, with compressed lips.)
NAPOLEON. I AM waiting, sir--for your explanation.
LIEUTENANT (confidently). You'll change your tone, General, when you
hear what has happened to me.
NAPOLEON. Nothing has happened to you, sir: you are alive and not
disabled. Where are the papers entrusted to you?
LIEUTENANT. Nothing! Nothing!! Oho! Well, we'll see. (Posing himself to
overwhelm Napoleon with his news.) He swore eternal brotherhood with
me. Was that nothing? He said my eyes reminded him of his sister's
eyes. Was that nothing? He cried--actually cried--over the story of my
separation from Angelica. Was that nothing? He paid for both bottles of
wine, though he only ate bread and grapes himself. Perhaps you call
that nothing! He gave me his pistols and his horse and his
despatches--most important despatches--and let me go away with them.
(Triumphantly, seeing that he has reduced Napoleon to blank
stupefaction.) Was THAT nothing?
NAPOLEON (enfeebled by astonishment). What did he do that for?
LIEUTENANT (as if the reason were obvious). To show his confidence in
me. (Napoleon's jaw does not exactly drop; but its hinges become
nerveless. The Lieutenant proceeds with honest indignation.) And I was
worthy of his confidence: I brought them all back honorably. But would
you believe it?--when I trusted him with MY pistols, and MY horse, and
MY despatches--
NAPOLEON (enraged). What the devil did you do that for?
LIEUTENANT. Why, to show my confidence in him, of course. And he
betrayed it--abused it--never came back. The thief! the swindler! the
heartless, treacherous little blackguard! You call that nothing, I
suppose. But look here, General: (again resorting to the table with his
fist for greater emphasis) YOU may put up with this outrage from the
Austrians if you like; but speaking for myself personally, I tell you
that if ever I catch--
NAPOLEON (turning on his heel in disgust and irritably resuming his
march to and fro). Yes: you have said that more than once already.
LIEUTENANT (excitedly). More than once! I'll say it fifty times; and
what's more, I'll do it. You'll see, General. I'll show my confidence
in him, so I will. I'll--
NAPOLEON. Yes, yes, sir: no doubt you will. What kind of man was he?
LIEUTENANT. Well, I should think you ought to be able to tell from his
conduct the sort of man he was.
NAPOLEON. Psh! What was he like?
LIEUTENANT. Like! He's like--well, you ought to have just seen the
fellow: that will give you a notion of what he was like. He won't be
like it five minutes after I catch him; for I tell you that if ever--
NAPOLEON (shouting furiously for the innkeeper). Giuseppe! (To the
Lieutenant, out of all patience.) Hold your tongue, sir, if you can.
LIEUTENANT. I warn you it's no use to try to put the blame on me.
(Plaintively.) How was I to know the sort of fellow he was? (He takes a
chair from between the sideboard and the outer door; places it near the
table; and sits down.) If you only knew how hungry and tired I am,
you'd have more consideration.
GIUSEPPE (returning). What is it, excellency?
NAPOLEON (struggling with his temper). Take this--this officer. Feed
him; and put him to bed, if necessary. When he is in his right mind
again, find out what has happened to him and bring me word. (To the
Lieutenant.) Consider yourself under arrest, sir.
LIEUTENANT (with sulky stiffness). I was prepared for that. It takes a
gentleman to understand a gentleman. (He throws his sword on the table.
Giuseppe takes it up and politely offers it to Napoleon, who throws it
violently on the couch.)
GIUSEPPE (with sympathetic concern). Have you been attacked by the
Austrians, lieutenant? Dear, dear, dear!
LIEUTENANT (contemptuously). Attacked! I could have broken his back
between my finger and thumb. I wish I had, now. No: it was by appealing
to the better side of my nature: that's what I can't get over. He said
he'd never met a man he liked so much as me. He put his handkerchief
round my neck because a gnat bit me, and my stock was chafing it. Look!
(He pulls a handkerchief from his stock. Giuseppe takes it and examines
it.)
GIUSEPPE (to Napoleon). A lady's handkerchief, excellency. (He smells
it.) Perfumed!
NAPOLEON. Eh? (He takes it and looks at it attentively.) Hm! (He smells
it.) Ha! (He walks thoughtfully across the room, looking at the
handkerchief, which he finally sticks in the breast of his coat.)
LIEUTENANT. Good enough for him, anyhow. I noticed that he had a
woman's hands when he touched my neck, with his coaxing, fawning ways,
the mean, effeminate little hound. (Lowering his voice with thrilling
intensity.) But mark my words, General. If ever--
THE LADY'S VOICE (outside, as before). Giuseppe!
LIEUTENANT (petrified). What was that?
GIUSEPPE. Only a lady upstairs, lieutenant, calling me.
LIEUTENANT. Lady!
VOICE. Giuseppe, Giuseppe: where ARE you?
LIEUTENANT (murderously). Give me that sword. (He strides to the couch;
snatches the sword; and draws it.)
GIUSEPPE (rushing forward and seizing his right arm.) What are you
thinking of, lieutenant? It's a lady: don't you hear that it's a
woman's voice?
LIEUTENANT. It's HIS voice, I tell you. Let me go. (He breaks away, and
rushes to the inner door. It opens in his face; and the Strange Lady
steps in. She is a very attractive lady, tall and extraordinarily
graceful, with a delicately intelligent, apprehensive, questioning
face--perception in the brow, sensitiveness in the nostrils, character
in the chin: all keen, refined, and original. She is very feminine, but
by no means weak: the lithe, tender figure is hung on a strong frame:
the hands and feet, neck and shoulders, are no fragile ornaments, but
of full size in proportion to her stature, which considerably exceeds
that of Napoleon and the innkeeper, and leaves her at no disadvantage
with the lieutenant. Only her elegance and radiant charm keep the
secret of her size and strength. She is not, judging by her dress, an
admirer of the latest fashions of the Directory; or perhaps she uses up
her old dresses for travelling. At all events she wears no jacket with
extravagant lappels, no Greco-Tallien sham chiton, nothing, indeed,
that the Princesse de Lamballe might not have worn. Her dress of
flowered silk is long waisted, with a Watteau pleat behind, but with
the paniers reduced to mere rudiments, as she is too tall for them. It
is cut low in the neck, where it is eked out by a creamy fichu. She is
fair, with golden brown hair and grey eyes.)
(She enters with the self-possession of a woman accustomed to the
privileges of rank and beauty. The innkeeper, who has excellent natural
manners, is highly appreciative of her. Napoleon, on whom her eyes
first fall, is instantly smitten self-conscious. His color deepens: he
becomes stiffer and less at ease than before. She perceives this
instantly, and, not to embarrass him, turns in an infinitely well bred
manner to pay the respect of a glance to the other gentleman, who is
staring at her dress, as at the earth's final masterpiece of
treacherous dissimulation, with feelings altogether inexpressible and
indescribable. As she looks at him, she becomes deadly pale. There is
no mistaking her expression: a revelation of some fatal error utterly
unexpected, has suddenly appalled her in the midst of tranquillity,
security and victory. The next moment a wave of color rushes up from
beneath the creamy fichu and drowns her whole face. One can see that
she is blushing all over her body. Even the lieutenant, ordinarily
incapable of observation, and just now lost in the tumult of his wrath,
can see a thing when it is painted red for him. Interpreting the blush
as the involuntary confession of black deceit confronted with its
victim, he points to it with a loud crow of retributive triumph, and
then, seizing her by the wrist, pulls her past him into the room as he
claps the door to, and plants himself with his back to it.)
LIEUTENANT. So I've got you, my lad. So you've disguised yourself, have
you? (In a voice of thunder.) Take off that skirt.
GIUSEPPE (remonstrating). Oh, lieutenant!
LADY (affrighted, but highly indignant at his having dared to touch
her). Gentlemen: I appeal to you. Giuseppe. (Making a movement as if to
run to Giuseppe.)
LIEUTENANT (interposing, sword in hand). No you don't.
LADY (taking refuge with Napoleon). Ah, sir, you are an officer--a
general. You will protect me, will you not?
LIEUTENANT. Never you mind him, General. Leave me to deal with him.
NAPOLEON. With him! With whom, sir? Why do you treat this lady in such
a fashion?
LIEUTENANT. Lady! He's a man! the man I showed my confidence in.
(Advancing threateningly.) Here you--
LADY (running behind Napoleon and in her agitation embracing the arm
which he instinctively extends before her as a fortification). Oh,
thank you, General. Keep him away.
NAPOLEON. Nonsense, sir. This is certainly a lady (she suddenly drops
his arm and blushes again); and you are under arrest. Put down your
sword, sir, instantly.
LIEUTENANT. General: I tell you he's an Austrian spy. He passed himself
off on me as one of General Massena's staff this afternoon; and now
he's passing himself off on you as a woman. Am I to believe my own eyes
or not?
LADY. General: it must be my brother. He is on General Massena's staff.
He is very like me.
LIEUTENANT (his mind giving way). Do you mean to say that you're not
your brother, but your sister?--the sister who was so like me?--who had
my beautiful blue eyes? It was a lie: your eyes are not like mine:
they're exactly like your own. What perfidy!
NAPOLEON. Lieutenant: will you obey my orders and leave the room, since
you are convinced at last that this is no gentleman?
LIEUTENANT. Gentleman! I should think not. No gentleman would have
abused my confi--
NAPOLEON (out of all patience). Enough, sir, enough. Will you leave the
room. I order you to leave the room.
LADY. Oh, pray let ME go instead.
NAPOLEON (drily). Excuse me, madame. With all respect to your brother,
I do not yet understand what an officer on General Massena's staff
wants with my letters. I have some questions to put to you.