NAPOLEON. Quick, I tell you. (He passes swiftly up the middle of the
room and intercepts her as she makes for the vineyard.)
LADY (at bay, confronting him). You dare address me in that tone.
NAPOLEON. Dare!
LADY. Yes, dare. Who are you that you should presume to speak to me in
that coarse way? Oh, the vile, vulgar Corsican adventurer comes out in
you very easily.
NAPOLEON (beside himself). You she devil! (Savagely.) Once more, and
only once, will you give me those papers or shall I tear them from
you--by force?
LADY (letting her hands fall ). Tear them from me--by force! (As he
glares at her like a tiger about to spring, she crosses her arms on her
breast in the attitude of a martyr. The gesture and pose instantly
awaken his theatrical instinct: he forgets his rage in the desire to
show her that in acting, too, she has met her match. He keeps her a
moment in suspense; then suddenly clears up his countenance; puts his
hands behind him with provoking coolness; looks at her up and down a
couple of times; takes a pinch of snuff; wipes his fingers carefully
and puts up his handkerchief, her heroic pose becoming more and more
ridiculous all the time.)
NAPOLEON (at last). Well?
LADY (disconcerted, but with her arms still crossed devotedly). Well:
what are you going to do?
NAPOLEON. Spoil your attitude.
LADY. You brute! (abandoning the attitude, she comes to the end of the
couch, where she turns with her back to it, leaning against it and
facing him with her hands behind her.)
NAPOLEON. Ah, that's better. Now listen to me. I like you. What's
more, I value your respect.
LADY. You value what you have not got, then.
NAPOLEON. I shall have it presently. Now attend to me. Suppose I were
to allow myself to be abashed by the respect due to your sex, your
beauty, your heroism and all the rest of it? Suppose I, with nothing
but such sentimental stuff to stand between these muscles of mine and
those papers which you have about you, and which I want and mean to
have: suppose I, with the prize within my grasp, were to falter and
sneak away with my hands empty; or, what would be worse, cover up my
weakness by playing the magnanimous hero, and sparing you the violence
I dared not use, would you not despise me from the depths of your
woman's soul? Would any woman be such a fool? Well, Bonaparte can rise
to the situation and act like a woman when it is necessary. Do you
understand?
The lady, without speaking, stands upright, and takes a packet of
papers from her bosom. For a moment she has an intense impulse to dash
them in his face. But her good breeding cuts her off from any vulgar
method of relief. She hands them to him politely, only averting her
head. The moment he takes them, she hurries across to the other side of
the room; covers her face with her hands; and sits down, with her body
turned away to the back of the chair.
NAPOLEON (gloating over the papers). Aha! That's right. That's right.
(Before opening them he looks at her and says) Excuse me. (He sees that
she is hiding her face.) Very angry with me, eh? (He unties the packet,
the seal of which is already broken, and puts it on the table to
examine its contents.)
LADY (quietly, taking down her hands and showing that she is not
crying, but only thinking). No. You were right. But I am sorry for you.
NAPOLEON (pausing in the act of taking the uppermost paper from the
packet). Sorry for me! Why?
LADY. I am going to see you lose your honor.