JOHN _alone at first, afterwards_ LIONNETTE.
JOHN, _standing alone, lays his hand on the top of a chair; then he
pulls off his cravat and loosens the collar of his shirt, as if he were
suffocating and wished to breathe more freely. He goes at length to the
window, breathes the air strongly two or three times, and walks towards
the door by which_ LIONNETTE _went out_: LIONNETTE _enters by the same
door when he is half-way towards it_.
JOHN (_standing still_).
Where have you come from?
LIONNETTE.
I have just come from putting the child to bed, who was very disobedient
this evening, and I came back to find the gentlemen again.
JOHN.
They are all three gone.
LIONNETTE.
What is the matter with you? You are quite pale.... What has happened
again?
JOHN.
You want to know?
LIONNETTE.
Yes, certainly. I ask you to tell me.
JOHN (_walking up to her and putting his fist towards her face_).
When I think how I failed in respect for my mother, who died cursing me,
and all for this creature.
LIONNETTE (_coming up to him_).
I do not understand.
JOHN.
You do not understand!
LIONNETTE.
No; I believe, I hope, that you are still madder than usual. What is it?
JOHN (_drawing some papers from his pocket_).
What is all this? It is this, that Mr. Nourvady has had all your debts
paid. He had no wish to do me the honour of paying mine; but you, you
owe nothing any more. That is what it is. Now do you understand?
LIONNETTE (_stupified_).
Mr. Nourvady!
JOHN.
Yes, Mr. Nourvady, your lover!
LIONNETTE (_indignantly_).
My lover!
JOHN.
Yes, your lover, to whom you have sold yourself and my name, your honour
and mine, for some hundreds of thousands of francs. For your own honour
it is too much, but for mine it is too little.
LIONNETTE.
Perhaps you will tell me what all this means?
JOHN.
Mr. Richard has just sent some one for me; on his return home this
evening he found all the bills of your creditors sent back to him
receipted, at the same time writing that they were all fully paid. By
whom? You know well.
(_He throws the papers on the table._)
LIONNETTE.
I swear to you....
JOHN (_mad with rage_).
'Tis false? 'Tis false! There was a way, painful for you, to free
yourself; it was proposed to you at first; you obstinately rejected
it.... You had your own reasons, it was useless! The contract was
concluded and carried out. Since when, may I ask?
LIONNETTE.
Ah! when will you have finished insulting me! I tell you that of which
you accuse me is not true. At present, if you do not believe me, do
whatever you like.
JOHN (_exasperated_).
I turn you out of doors.
LIONNETTE.
Unfortunately, this house is mine, and I remain in it.
JOHN.
It is true; I beg your pardon! I forgot that your mother had foreseen
all. This house, paid for by me, is yours, but the debts incurred by you
are paid by some one else. It is a compensation. It is I who will leave
this house, you may rest contented. I am going at once.... I am going to
look for some money--at my sister's--it signifies not where. I must find
some, even if I have to steal in my turn. And after that we shall see.
Adieu!
(_He goes away with a menacing gesture._)
LIONNETTE (_alone_).
Adieu! (_Shrugging her shoulders, and going towards her apartment._)
The idiot! (_She goes into her room._)
ACT II.
_A small drawing-room, in great taste, combined with much luxury.
General arrangements of the room rather adapted for repose and
sleep--for tete-a-tete--than for general conversation and
reception. A closed iron coffer, containing the million which has
been spoken of in the First Act, placed on a table._
_At the rising of the curtain, the drawing-room is empty. The stage
remains thus unoccupied for about a moment. A curtain screen
lowered at the left of the spectator, also one equally lowered at
the right. A large screen lowered at the back, and concealing, like
the other two, a door that can be locked._
SCENE I.
LIONNETTE_, veiled, enters at the left; draws back the screen,
stops, looks around her; goes slowly to the door at the back, which
she opens and shuts again, after having looked in. Ten o'clock
strikes. She goes and looks through the door at the right, then
through the glass between the two rooms over the mantel-piece, and
presses the knob of the electric bell, which is by the side of the
chimney-piece. Silence reigns for a few seconds._ LIONNETTE,
_astonished, looks around her_. NOURVADY _appears at the back of
the room_.
SCENE II.
LIONNETTE, NOURVADY.
(NOURVADY _stops, after having let fall the screen, and salutes_
LIONNETTE _very respectfully. He is hat in hand._)
LIONNETTE (_troubled_).
Is it you?
NOURVADY.
You rang.
LIONNETTE.
I thought a footman would answer.
NOURVADY.
Your most grateful and humble slave has come.
LIONNETTE (_severely_).
You were waiting for me?
NOURVADY.
Yes.
LIONNETTE.
That is the reason you said yesterday that you would be in this house
to-day.
NOURVADY.
Yes.
LIONNETTE.
You were sure that I should come.
NOURVADY (_a little ironically_).
Sure. I only regret that you have had to take the trouble to go and look
in your garden for the key that you threw there.
LIONNETTE.
The fact is that you have discovered the only way to compel me,--an
infamous way, Sir. (_While speaking she has taken off the veils that
covered her face, and thrown them on the table._) You acknowledge, Sir,
do you not, the infamous means you have adopted. Answer me!
NOURVADY.
I have no answer. You are in your own house; I could if I wished
withdraw myself from your insult and anger: but, apart from the fact
that my courage to do so forsook me from the moment you came here, I am
sure you have something else to say to me, and I remain to hear it.
LIONNETTE.
Truly, Sir, an explanation between you and me is necessary; and, as you
did not wish to return to my house, I am come to seek it in yours.
Besides, I like plain and open situations; and I do not fear, especially
at this moment in my life, categorical explanations and undisguised
expressions,--blunt even, if we can understand each other better in that
way. I heard such things yesterday that my ears now can lend themselves
to anything. An act such as yours--a step such as I have taken--an
interview like this that we are having, and which may lead to results so
positive and so serious--are so exceptional that words of double meaning
could not explain them. (_Seating herself._) I have not long known you;
I have never attempted to attract you by the least coquetry; I have
never asked anything of you; and you have just dishonoured me morally
and socially without my being able to defend myself. It is remarkably
clever. Whatever I may say, no one will believe me. My husband, who
loves me, will not believe me; and he has treated me accordingly. What
have I done to you that you should think yourself authorized to inflict
such a public affront on me, for, if it isn't public yet, it will be
to-morrow.
NOURVADY.
I have already told you: I love you.
LIONNETTE.
And this, then, is your fashion of proving your love?
NOURVADY.
If I had had any other at my disposal, I should have employed it. I love
you (_changing his tone, and approaching her_). I have loved you madly
for years. (_She recoils involuntarily from the movement of_ NOURVADY.)
Fear nothing: I dishonour you, perhaps, in the eyes of others, but I
respect you; and you are sacred to me. If ever you are mine, it will
only be with your consent; that is, when you will have said, "I return
your love." I know well all the kinds of love one can buy! It is not for
a love such as that I ask: you would not give it to me, and I do not
wish for it from you. You are beautiful; I love you; and you have a
great grief, a trouble, a common-place preoccupation, beneath your
consideration, that one of your race and character ought never to know.
On account of what? On account of some bank notes; of a few hundred
pounds that you are in want of; and that I have in such profusion that I
know not what to do with them. This grief--this annoyance--may cause you
to lose your repose; may cost you your beauty--even your life; for you
are a woman who would die in the face of an obstacle that you could not
conquer. I have what is wanted to dispel this grief and care. I do it,
therefore. Was it necessary to ask your permission? If I had seen your
horse running away with you, should I have asked your permission to help
you? I should have rushed to your horse's head and saved you, or he
would have passed over my body. If I had saved your life, and survived,
you would, perhaps, have loved me for that heroic act: if I had been
killed, you would certainly have been sorry, and have wept for me. I
have not exposed my life in saving you as I have done: I have not
accomplished an act of heroism, I have only done a thing that was very
easy for me; but I could not control the circumstances.
LIONNETTE.
Ah! Well, your devotion led you astray, Sir; and if I am in your house,
it is to call upon you to repair--before it be irremediable--the harm
you have done.
NOURVADY.
It is out of my power to do anything myself. I have expressly employed
this method because I knew it to be the only one, and irremediable. It
would be now necessary that your creditors should consent to take back
their bills, and give back their money. Do you think they would consent
to that?
LIONNETTE.
This, then, is what you said to yourself: This woman that I respect,
esteem, and love, I am going first to compromise and dishonour her in
the eyes of everybody; I am going to make her despised, insulted, and
turned out of doors by her husband; and, the first emotion over, she
will have nothing left to choose; she will take up her part, and will
then be mine.
NOURVADY.
I did not reflect at all. It did not please me at all that the
tradespeople should have the power of hunting and humiliating you. I
paid them. I did not wish you to be sorrowful; I could not endure to see
you poor. It is a fancy, like any other, and I am willing to take the
consequences of my fancy. If you had been in my place you would have
done what I have done.
LIONNETTE.
No! If I were a man and pretended to love an honest woman, whatever
might come of it, I would respect her dignity and the proprieties of the
society in which she moves.
NOURVADY.
Is it really a woman of your superiority who speaks of the proprieties
of society? Are not women like you above all that? Was I to come
delicately and hypocritically to offer your husband the sum he stood in
need of? "Arrange your affairs, my dear friend; you can give me back
that trifle when you are able." I should certainly have acted like that
if I had not loved you; loving you, ought I to do it, that is to say, to
speculate upon your gratitude, upon the impossibility of your husband
discharging his debt, and upon fresh and unavoidable necessities? That
is a course that would have been unworthy of him, of me, and of you. No,
you know it well, the proprieties and dignity are nothing any longer,
when passion or necessity predominates. Did your grandmother respect the
dignity of her daughter when she gave her up to a prince?
LIONNETTE.
Sir!...
NOURVADY.
You do not fear words! There they are, those words, saying quite well
all they have to say. Why do you rebel against them? Did your husband
respect the dignity of his mother, the traditions of his family, the
proprieties of the society in which he moved, when he issued a public
summons to that irreproachable mother, to enable him to marry you? And
you, yourself, while following your mother's counsel, did you say to
that man: "My dignity is entirely opposed to marrying you under those
circumstances, disowned, repulsed, disgraced by your mother"? Ah! well,
I too, if I had met you when you were a young girl, I should have loved
you as I love you now; and if my father had wished to prevent my
marrying you, I should have acted like the Count. I envy him the
sacrifice he was able to make for you, and that I can never make now.
LIONNETTE (_half mockingly, half sincerely_).
It may be so, but now it is too late. I am no longer open to marriage,
and, unfortunately for you, I have no longer a mother.
NOURVADY.
But you may become a widow.
LIONNETTE.
Then, you really hate the Count?
NOURVADY.
Yes, almost as much as I love you.
LIONNETTE.
And you would like to prove it to him?
NOURVADY.
That is the second of my dreams. In the service that I rendered you, I
knew perfectly well the insult I should inflict upon him, and much as I
counted on your visit here, I was waiting in my house first for that of
Mr. Godler and Mr. Trevele, whom I had left expressly at your house
yesterday until the Count returned home.
LIONNETTE.
How agreeable and convenient it is to be open and sincere and to play
your cards so openly. Ah, well, sir, if my husband has not yet sent his
two friends, it is because he wishes first to send you your money. He is
gone in search of it.
NOURVADY.
He will not find it.
LIONNETTE.
I shall find it myself, without the ignominy which you anticipated. The
Count will make a public restitution of the sum that you advanced in
private, and will add to that restitution all that is required to make
you justify your hatred.
NOURVADY.
He will strike me?
LIONNETTE.
That is not at all doubtful.
NOURVADY.
And I will kill him.
LIONNETTE.
That is not quite certain; he is courageous. A man who has no fear of
death for himself, has a steadier hand to give it to another.
NOURVADY.
Pray for him; in the first place, it is your duty as a wife, and in the
next, my death will be a fortunate event for you, indeed--a very good
thing.
LIONNETTE.
In what way?
NOURVADY.
Because, having no relations, not a single true friend in this world, as
is only to be expected in a millionaire like me; because, loving you as
you deserve to be loved, in life and in death, I have made my will, in
which I have said that you are the loveliest and purest woman I have
ever met; that your husband, who will kill me, has unjustly suspected
you, and that I entreat you, in compensation for the suspicion of which,
my admiration and my esteem have involuntarily been the cause, to
graciously accept for your son all that I possess, notwithstanding that
I also detest that son.
LIONNETTE.
Why?
NOURVADY.
Because that child is the living proof of your love for your husband.
LIONNETTE (_aside_).
Alas! The child proves nothing. (_Aloud_) Never mind, all that is not
ordinary, and you would, perhaps, finish by convincing me--with your
death--provided that all this be true. If it be not true, it is well
concocted.
NOURVADY.
Why should I deceive you? And what would you like me to do with my
fortune if I die? What good would it be to me without my life, and in
life what should I do with it without you? Whereas, if I die, my will is
there by the side of the title deeds of proprietorship of this house,
which you would only have had to sign if you had consented to be its
owner during my life (_he points to a cabinet at the bottom of the
room_), and your pocket money is here (_he shows the coffer_).
LIONNETTE.
Ah! yes, it is true. The famous million! There lies the temptation of
the present hour. The tabernacle of the golden calf. Ah! well, let me
look at it.... After all you have told me, who knows? perhaps, your god
will convert me.
(_She walks towards the coffer, of which she opens the principal side.
The gold contained in it is scattered all over the open panel._)
LIONNETTE (_looking at the gold_).
It is certainly grand; like all which has power. There is contained
ambition, hope, dreams, honour, and dishonour; the perdition and the
salvation of hundreds--of thousands--of creatures, perhaps: it has no
power for me. If I had loved my husband, I should, probably, take this
million to save him: that would be one of the thousand base acts that
one is called upon to commit in the name of true love. But, decidedly, I
love no one and nothing. (_Shutting the coffer violently._) Fight each
other; kill each other; live or die, I am indifferent towards you both.
You have both insulted me--each in your own way, and, always, in the
name of love! Ah! if you only knew how what you call love becomes more
and more odious to me. But, to make me believe in love, show me the man
who respects that which he loves! I love you; that is to say, you are
beautiful, and your flesh tempts me. It is to that temptation that I
owed the husband who outrages me; it is to that temptation that I owe
the insult that you have inflicted on me. A prince was not able to
resist what he, too, called his love for a pretty girl; and I owe my
existence to that so-called love! I must suffer on account of that; and,
perhaps, in my turn, sell myself always on account of that! And that
father dared not love me openly; me, his daughter; himself, a king! But,
at least, he sometimes pressed me to his heart in secret: he wept; for
he, too, suffered! Holding my head between his hands, he said to me,--he
is the only one who ever said it to me,--"Be a virtuous woman always; it
is the foundation of all good. Do you understand me?" And I believed
him, and wished to be a virtuous woman, as he asked me to be; and it
leads me to what? To be treated like one of the worst of creatures by
him to whom I have remained faithful. And there is that man who insults
me by his offer! His father made many millions by his bank; and he, the
son, would like to buy me with them while I am yet young, be it
understood. Why not? But, dear Sir, I am born of desire and corruption:
they gave me no heart. With what, then, do you expect me to love you? I
had no esteem for my mother: you do not know what it is not to esteem
one's mother! My husband is an inexperienced, an idle, an
unsophisticated man, who ought to have guided me; who did not know how;
and whom I will never see any more. That is what I have come to. As to
my son, I needed help, I took him in my arms yesterday, and he said to
me, "I like better to go and play." Ah, well! let him get on without
maternal dishonour. It will be a novelty in the family, and that will be
my last luxury. It matters not. Amongst all this impurity and all these
errors, there came on the scene, all of a sudden, one of the first
gentlemen in the world; and his coming changed everything. I have royal
blood in my veins. I shall never belong to you. Adieu! (_She goes
towards the door at the back. Two violent and quick rings are heard at
the bell of the entrance._) What can that be?
NOURVADY.
A visitor who has made a mistake (_ringing_). Wait a moment! (_The
Footman appears._) Who is that?
THE FOOTMAN.
There are several men ringing at the door, but we have not opened it.
(_During this time_ LIONNETTE _has covered herself with her veils_.)
NOURVADY.
Very well! Do not open it.
(_Two blows of a hammer are given on the hall door; after a little
while, two more._)
A VOICE (_from outside_).
For the third time, open.
LIONNETTE (_who has gone to look through the curtains of the window_).
My husband! With these men. Ah! this is complete.
NOURVADY.
Conceal yourself here. (_He shoves the door at the right._)
LIONNETTE (_beyond herself with passion_).
I conceal myself! What do you mean? Who do you take me for? I have done
no harm. All those people there are mad, decidedly. I want to see them
quite close. (NOURVADY _goes to lock the door at the back_. LIONNETTE
_has pulled off her veils, torn the fichu that was on her shoulders, and
unrolled her hair by shaking her head_.) It was when I was like this
that my husband thought me most beautiful! It is well, at least, that he
should see me once more as he used to like to see me. Am I really
beautiful like this?
NOURVADY.
Ah! yes; beautiful indeed.
LIONNETTE.
And you love me?
NOURVADY.
Very deeply.
LIONNETTE.
And all your life will be devoted to me?
NOURVADY.
All my life.
LIONNETTE.
You swear it to me?
NOURVADY.
On my word of honour.
(_He approaches her quickly. At that moment she stretches out her
uncovered arms, and crosses them on her face; that she turns away._
NOURVADY _covers her arms with kisses_.)
A VOICE (_outside the door that_ NOURVADY _has shut_).
Open!
NOURVADY.
Who are you?
THE VOICE.
In the name of the law.
NOURVADY.
I am in my own house. I refuse.
JOHN (_from outside_).
Break open that door.
LIONNETTE.
The coward!
THE VOICE.
It is I who give orders here, and I only. For the last time, will you
open the door?
NOURVADY.
No!
THE VOICE.
Force that door.
NOURVADY (_to_ LIONNETTE).
Tell me that you love me.
LIONNETTE.
Ah! yes, I love you; as he has driven me to it.
(_During these words the door was violently shaken, and it opens with a
great noise._)
SCENE III.
THE SAME PERSONS, JOHN, THE COMMISSARY OF POLICE, his SECRETARY, TWO
AGENTS.
_By an involuntary movement_ LIONNETTE _places herself on the side
opposite to that on which she was with_ NOURVADY. _In this way they
become separated._ NOURVADY _walks in front of the_ COMMISSARY OF
POLICE. LIONNETTE _seats herself upon the couch, one arm half supported
on the back of the couch, the other upon the little table which is
there. Her three-quarters' profile is turned towards the audience in an
attitude of anger and defiance at what is going on._ JOHN _points her
out to the_ COMMISSARY, _and wants to run towards her. The_ COMMISSARY
_stops him_.
THE COMMISSARY.
By virtue of an official mandate, I am required to come at the request
of Count Victor Charles John de Hun, who is here, to prove the
clandestine presence of the Countess Lionnette de Hun, wife of the said
Count Victor Charles John de Hun, in the house of Mr. Nourvady, and to
establish according to law the offence of adultery.
NOURVADY.
Sir!
THE COMMISSARY.
You will please be silent, sir, and reply only to my questions, if I
have any to put to you. (_To_ JOHN.) This gentleman is, I believe, Mr.
Nourvady, whom you accuse of being an accomplice with your wife?
JOHN.
Yes.
THE COMMISSARY (_to_ LIONNETTE).
Do you deny that, madam?
LIONNETTE.
No. I am, indeed, the legitimate wife of that gentleman, and Countess de
Hun, alas!
THE COMMISSARY (_to an Agent_).
See that no one enters here! (_To the Secretary._) Sit down and write.
(_The Secretary sits down and prepares to write._)
NOURVADY (_to_ THE COMMISSARY).
But really, sir?
THE COMMISSARY.
I am Commissary of Police in your district; here are my insignia, sir.
(_He shows one end of his scarf; dictating to his Secretary_). Having
betaken ourselves to one of the residences of Mr. Nourvady....
LIONNETTE.
That is not correct, sir! Mr. Nourvady is not here in his own house, but
in mine; this house and all that is in it belongs to me. Be kind enough
to open this cabinet at your left and you will find there my title-deeds
of ownership, which prove what I am stating.
THE COMMISSARY (_to one of his Agents_).
Open it. (_The Agent gives him all the papers that he finds in the
cabinet._ THE COMMISSARY _reads them over_.) These papers are not quite
according to law; it is a purchase made in your name but you have not
ratified it, and your signature is wanting. (_While he is speaking he
carries the papers to_ LIONNETTE.)
LIONNETTE (_taking the papers and signing_).
There it is, and as the Count de Hun and I were married under the act of
separation of property, and, as he legally gave me the right of
acquiring and disposing of my property, I do not know what he wants
here, in my house.
JOHN (_menacing her_).
Madam!
THE COMMISSARY.
Silence, sir, I beg of you. (_Dictating._) We presented ourselves at the
house which was indicated to us as one of the residences of Mr.
Nourvady. Our visit was foreseen, and an order had been given to the
servants to open the door to no one. After three legal summonses on our
part, and three refusals on the part of the persons shut up in a room on
the first floor, we broke open the door, and found in this room a man
and woman, recognized to be Mr. Nourvady and the Countess Lionnette de
Hun. The said lady, when we attributed to Mr. Nourvady the ownership of
the house, formally declared to us that she was the owner of the house
in which we found her, and furnished proofs of the same; also, she
affirmed that Mr. Nourvady was paying her a visit there.
JOHN.
Add, if you please, sir, that I have disowned all participation in the
ownership of this house, acquired without my consent, and by
illegitimate means, which will be proofs of the charge of guilt.
THE COMMISSARY (_to the Secretary_).
Record the declaration of the Count de Hun. (_Dictating._) After the
refusal that was given to us, first by the servants of the house and
then by Mr. Nourvady.... You were the one, sir, were you not, who
refused to open this door? (_He turns towards_ NOURVADY.)
NOURVADY.
Yes, sir.
THE COMMISSARY.
After the refusal given and repeated three separate times by Mr.
Nourvady, to open the door of the room where he was shut up with the
Countess de Hun, although, according to the declaration of this lady, he
was not in his own house, but her's, and, therefore, under the
circumstances, she alone had a right to command there--after these
repeated refusals, we found nothing to furnish us with convincing proofs
of the charge that the complainant wished us to establish.
(_While speaking_, THE COMMISSARY _has run his eye over the stage,
looking at the furniture, and lifting up the screens that separated the
drawing room from other rooms_.)
JOHN.
The presence of my wife in this house is sufficient to prove the crime.
THE COMMISSARY.
No, sir.
JOHN.
In a case like this the intention is enough.
THE COMMISSARY.
We are not here to judge according to intentions, but to state according
to facts.
JOHN (_picking up_ LIONNETTE'S _veils_).
What more do you require than this triple veil, which proves that my
wife has come here concealing her face, as I saw, in short, for I
followed her? A strange manner to enter her own house, since she
maintains it to be her's. (_Pointing to_ LIONNETTE.) Look at this, sir;
what more do you require?
THE COMMISSARY.
Be as calm as possible, sir; the law will do its duty, however painful
it may be. (_He dictates._) Still, the attitude and bearing of the Lady
de Hun, at the moment of our entrance, was at least suspicious. Her hair
was half falling on her shoulders.
NOURVADY (_to_ THE COMMISSARY).
Be good enough to note, sir, that at this point of your accusation I
interrupted you, and that I affirmed most emphatically and on my word of
honour the complete and perfect innocence of the Countess Lionnette de
Hun, whose honour, whatever the appearances may be, should not be
doubted for a moment.
LIONNETTE (_very calm at first, but gradually exciting herself to
frenzy_).
And I, in the face of the scandal that my husband wished to create, and,
though appreciating the motive of Mr. Nourvady's affirmation, which it
is every honourable man's duty to make who wishes to save a woman's
honour, I declare it false; and the facts that the law cannot prove I
declare absolutely true. Mr. Nourvady was shut up here with me, by my
wish, because he was, because he is, my lover.
JOHN (_running towards her_. THE COMMISSARY _puts himself between
them_.)
Madam!
LIONNETTE.
Whatever may be the punishment of the adulteress, I merit it. (_To the
Secretary, who hesitates._) Write, sir, I have not finished. Write.
(_She rises, and walks to the table where the Secretary is writing._) So
that there may not, by any possibility, be any mistake in the scandalous
trials that will follow this scene, and in order that my husband may not
have to accuse himself of casting upon me an unjust and hasty suspicion,
I declare that not only have I given myself to Mr. Nourvady because I
loved him, but because he is rich and I am poor; that after having
ruined my husband I sold myself, so incapable was I of bearing poverty.
The price of my fall is there: a million in gold struck expressly for
me! My husband, there, was right yesterday, when he treated me like a
prostitute. I am one, and very happy to be so. And if what I have told
you does not convince you; if proofs are necessary, there they are!
(_She steeps her bare arms in the gold, and throws handfuls of it all
round her._ _To_ JOHN.) And you, sir, if you are in want of money, take
some; after the baseness that you commit at this moment, there remains
only this for you to do.
JOHN (_going towards her; she looks in his face_; JOHN _falls on a
chair_.)
Madam!... Ah!
LIONNETTE (_to_ NOURVADY.)
And now do you believe that I am entirely yours?
JOHN.
In the face of the insolence and audacity of the accused, I require her
immediate arrest.
THE COMMISSARY.
I know the rights that the law gives me, and the duties that I have to
fulfil. All that has been said has been recorded in the accusation; I
limit my office to that. (_To_ NOURVADY.) As you are not in your own
house, sir, you can retire; only as the avenue is full of people in
front of the principal entrance, leave the house by this exit: one of my
agents will join you, in order that the policeman may allow you to pass.
(_He points to the left._ NOURVADY _bows to_ LIONNETTE _and goes out by
the left, passing in front of_ JOHN, _who, standing with his arms
folded, pretends not to see the provoking salute_ NOURVADY _gives him_.)
THE COMMISSARY (_to_ LIONNETTE).
With regard to you, Madam, as you are in your own house, enter, I beg of
you, into your apartment, and if you wish to go out, do not go till some
time after our departure, when there will be no longer inquisitive
persons outside, and you will be sure not to be insulted.
LIONNETTE.
Thank you, sir.
(_She goes out by the door at the right_).
THE COMMISSARY (_to_ JOHN).
I am going to deliver my report to the Judge. You have ten days to
withdraw your complaint, sir--a complaint that perhaps you were very
wrong to bring. That woman accuses herself too much. I believe her to be
innocent. Go out of this house before me, sir; the people saw us come in
together, and if we go out in the same way they will recognise you as
the husband, and they might say disagreeable things to you. The French
people do not approve of husbands who surprise their wives by the
appearance of a Commissary of Police. I have the honour to wish you good
morning.
(JOHN _bows to him and goes away_. THE COMMISSARY _comes back and sits
down near his Secretary, to complete the last formalities_.)
ACT III.
_The same decorations as in the first Act._
SCENE I.
JOHN, GODLER, TREVELE.
(GODLER _is sitting down_, TREVELE _standing_. JOHN _is walking about in
great agitation_.)
GODLER.
And then?
JOHN (_sitting down_).
Then, just as I was going to start for my sister's house, and everybody
thought me gone, for I had no wish to sleep in this house, suddenly I
was seized with the idea of concealing myself, and following my wife if
she went out, so as to convince myself, and if she deceived me to
disgrace her publicly. This morning I saw her go out veiled, take a cab,
and alight at that house in the Champs Elysees. It was very clear. I
went to fetch a Commissary of Police, who lives close by that house. He
hesitated at first, but the fear of a greater misfortune, of a crime
that I was resolved to commit, decided him to go; and on the refusal of
Mr. Nourvady to open the door, they forced it open.
TREVELE.
And the Countess was there?
JOHN.
Yes.
TREVELE.
With Nourvady?
JOHN.
Yes.
GODLER (_after a little while_).
And you are convinced?...
JOHN.
Her hair undone, her arms bare, her dress-body opened! And such
effrontery! such impudence! (_Rising, and putting his head in his
hands._) I witnessed it, I witnessed it. That man has done all in his
power to exonerate her, to save her. He has given his word of honour
that there has never been anything between them. It was not through any
gentlemanly feeling, for he who comes to your house, takes you warmly by
the hand, and appropriates, steals, and buys your wife, such a one has
nothing of the true gentleman in him. But I do not know why I mention
that man! After all, it is not he who is guilty; he has done his work as
a man, as we have all done, and as we all do. He has met a beautiful
creature, coquettish, fond of luxury, ruined, heartless, destitute of
womanly feeling; heedless of her good name, her husband, or her child;
without the least gratitude, or the least remembrance, even, of all I
have done for her. He has offered to buy her, and she has consented. He
has paid her a million; that is dear;--for what is a woman who sells
herself really worth? As to me, I paid her with my name, with my
mother's death and curse, that is still dearer. My mother saw clearly:
she is avenged. I have no right to complain.
(_He sits down weeping, his head in his hands._)
GODLER (_much moved_).
My poor old friend!
JOHN.
I beg your pardon. It is not to tell you all this that I have asked you
to come here; but, after all, I have no one else now. Here am I, alone
in the world. You are my friends--you have said so at least; and then
again you did not come to my house to take her away, did you? Never
mind, let us try to put my ideas a little in order. I do not know very
well what I am about, you can understand that. However, you are
convinced that I am an honest man? That is the reason I wanted to see
you. You must tell me that you esteem me still. I may have been easily
smitten, very stupid. I was so young then! Alas! I feel a hundred years
old to-day. I may have been foolish to marry a creature unworthy of me;
but you believe me, you know me incapable of all connivance with her;
you feel certain that I have no hand in all this disgusting money
affair? and when I have gone away, when I am dead, for it will certainly
kill me in one way or another, you will take care to say, to affirm
strongly, to swear to it even, that I was ignorant of the whole thing. I
shall have lost my mother, my faith, my fortune, my life, for that
woman; so be it, but at least I have preserved my honour!
GODLER.
Rely on us, my dear friend, and understand that we think you the most
upright man in the world; that we esteem you for your honourableness,
and sympathise with you in your great misfortune.
(TREVELE, _on his part, takes John warmly by the hand_.)
TREVELE (_aside_).
Poor fellow!
JOHN.
Then, you understand why I have raised this scandal instead of
provoking the man. If I had been killed, a suspicion would always have
rested on me. Mr. Nourvady paid the debts of my wife; they would have
said that I did not find this enough, that I had asked for more, that he
had refused me, that then I had quarrelled with him, that he had killed
me, and that he had done right. If, on the contrary, I had killed him,
they would have said worse things still; that I had waited until he had
paid all household debts and had given my wife a fortune (for she has a
splendid mansion), a million for her own use; and having arranged all
that, and after all these disgraceful artifices, I had killed this
generous lover; and that this was my way of settling with my creditors,
and setting up my establishment again. This is why I have acted in this
way. I wanted to raise an unmistakable scandal, well-spread abroad, from
which it would be reported that she is a wretch and I an honest man ...
and besides, before doing anything else, I must pay back his money.
GODLER.
According to the light in which you place the situation, I understand
now what, with the habits of our set, I did not take in directly; from
the point of view in which you place the thing, you have nothing else to
do,--whatever may happen.
JOHN.
What do you mean by whatever may happen?
GODLER.
We never know! The human heart....
JOHN.
You believe me so weak, so much in love, and so base as to pardon this
woman after what she has done! You know perfectly well that you despise
me. It is my fault. My past weakness gives you the right to believe
anything of me.
GODLER.
I believe nothing, I suppose nothing, but the whole thing appears to me
very obscure, and passion, perhaps, has made you see things that do not
exist. All I know is, that yesterday, in this house, Nourvady, before
leaving us, spoke a long while in a low tone to the Countess. I heard
nothing, but Trevele was relating all sorts of nonsense to me, and I was
supposed to be listening to it....
TREVELE.
Continue.
GODLER.
I looked unperceived at the Countess de Hun. Not only did she not listen
with interest to her interlocutor, but two or three times her attitude
and looks were indicative of anger. She threw something violently out of
this window. I do not know what--a note, a trinket, a ring perhaps; and
when Nourvady took leave of her, she said,--The insolent fellow! (_To_
TREVELE.) Is it true?
TREVELE.
It is quite true....
JOHN.
She changed her mind afterwards. Night brings counsel: and she is only
all the more guilty, as she knew very well what she was doing. Do not
speak of her any more, I shall have to think enough about it for the
rest of my life, which fortunately will not be long. At present I am
going away, as I have no money, and must go and look for some.
GODLER.
My dear fellow!...
JOHN.
You understand, without my telling you, that I ask you for none, and
that I should accept none. I confide in you because you are the only
persons that I can consider at all as friends in our station, where one
has so few; and what you do not give me out of friendship, you give me
in esteem and compassion.
(GODLER _and_ TREVELE _take him warmly by the hand_.)
TREVELE.
But the Countess, where is she?
JOHN.
She is, no doubt, in her house in the Champs Elysees.
TREVELE.
Then she will not come here?
JOHN.
Yes, she can come here. The house is hers; she can live here as much as
she likes. It is I who am not at home here, and who come only to make my
last preparations for departure.
TREVELE.
And Raoul? Your son?
JOHN (_with a bitter laugh_).
Are you quite sure that he is my son?
TREVELE.
Do not let your anger mislead you.
JOHN.
In any case he is the son of that woman; I do not wish to see him any
more. He can live with her, that she may bring him up in her new life.
He will avenge me one day. When he is twenty years old he will insult
her. Or something else may occur. The tribunal which will pronounce our
separation will order that the child shall be sent to college, or to
boarding school, from which his mother will have no power to take him.
TREVELE.
At his age! He will be very unhappy.
JOHN.
All the better for him. He will suffer at an earlier age--he will
understand more easily.
A SERVANT (_entering_).
Mr. Richard.
JOHN (_aside_).
It is not I who sent for him? Does he know anything?
GODLER.
Would you like us to leave you?
JOHN.
No. I have nothing to say that you may not hear.... unless you have
something else to do.
TREVELE.
No, nothing. (_To_ GODLER.) Nor you, have you?
GODLER.
I--no, nothing. (_To_ TREVELE, _combing his whiskers and pulling forward
his lock of hair_.) Florimonde is waiting for me.
TREVELE.
She is waiting for you with some one else. Be at ease, she will not be
weary waiting for you.
SCENE II.
THE SAME PERSONS, RICHARD.
RICHARD (_in a low voice to_ JOHN).
I know all, Count.
JOHN (_aloud_).
These gentlemen also....
RICHARD (_bowing_).
Your servant, gentlemen! (_To_ JOHN.) I have received a note from the
Countess, who begged me to go at once to the Commissary of Police and
take a copy of the accusation, as the lawyer watching her interest, in
the law proceedings which will take place. She has appointed an
interview.
JOHN.
In what place?
RICHARD.
Here. She knew very well that I would not go anywhere else.
JOHN.
Then she is here?
RICHARD.
Yes.
JOHN.
Have you seen her?
RICHARD.
No; but the footman told me, and he is gone to inform her. I wanted to
see you in the meantime.
JOHN.
And people already know it?
RICHARD.
Nothing; nothing at all. The Commissary has forbidden all communication
with the newspapers, and it is neither you, nor Mr. Nourvady, nor we--is
it not so, gentlemen? who would reveal the least circumstance in that
sad affair. The servants of the house in the Champs Elysees know what
took place, but they are ignorant of the name of the lady. The scandal
will be great enough at the time of the law proceedings. It is useless
to initiate the public beforehand.
JOHN.
Ah! Well, you can see the affair is very simple. The Countess and I were
separated, or had a separation of property; now we have a separation of
the body, and we shall see each other no more; that is the whole of it.
THE LADY'S MAID (_entering_).
The Countess de Hun sends me to say to Mr. Richard, that when he has
finished speaking to the Count she will be glad to see him....
JOHN (_to the Lady's Maid_).
Say to the Countess that Mr. Richard will be with her in a few minutes.
(_The Lady's Maid goes away._) Ah! she has audacity. When a woman has
once taken up the part of infamy and dishonour it is dreadful. (_To
Richard._) Tell her especially that she has nothing to fear, nothing to
hope from me, of whom she will hear nothing more till we meet before the
tribunal that will try our case. Good bye, my dear Mr. Richard; you are
her lawyer and her friend; you ought, naturally and legally, to act in
her cause. I shall think no less of you for all you will be called upon
to say against me. Gentlemen, we can retire; give me a few minutes more.
(_All three go away._)
SCENE III.
RICHARD, afterwards LIONNETTE.
RICHARD _is about to take up his hat. At the moment that he is thinking
of entering_ LIONNETTE'S _apartment, she appears_.
LIONNETTE.
I prefer to receive you here, my dear Mr. Richard, as we shall be left
alone and uninterrupted. My room, and my private reception-room, are in
disorder; they are packing my trunks--the servants are there, and we
could not talk privately. The reason I called you just now was, that the
Count might be aware that I was here, and that I was in a hurry to see
you. Have you been kind enough to do what I asked you?
RICHARD.
Yes.
LIONNETTE.
Then I have nothing more to tell you?
RICHARD.
No. All that is then quite true?
LIONNETTE.
Nothing on earth can be truer.
RICHARD.
Notwithstanding yesterday?
LIONNETTE.
Events have progressed, and I preferred to have done with it at once. I
was right. I am calmer now than I have ever been in my life. I know at
last what I want, and where I am going. It is a great deal, whatever one
may make of it. I have struggled hard against it, but it seems that I am
doomed to end in being a courtesan. Truly, I do not feel any inclination
that way. Frivolous, extravagant, but never depraved. However, they
willed it; it was inevitable; it was ordained; it was hereditary. My
dear Mr. Richard, I have to ask you for some information, because I am
still a little inexperienced in my new profession; but from the moment
one begins to do those things, they must be done openly, is it not so?
Ah! well, here are the title-deeds of some property I have acquired.
RICHARD.
Dearly?
LIONNETTE.
Yes, very dearly.
RICHARD.
And the price is paid?
LIONNETTE.
It is paid.
RICHARD.
Is it true?
LIONNETTE.
Paid or not paid, here are the title-deeds. (_Putting them on the table,
and beginning to totter._) Then I possess, too, over and above all my
paid debts--for they are paid--I am possessor, also, of a million in
gold, quite new: it is superb to look at.
RICHARD.
Sit down, you look as if you were going to fall. You are quite pale; the
blood has rushed to your heart.
LIONNETTE (_with a great effort_).
Do not be afraid, I am quite strong. I cannot eternally keep a million
in gold ... however beautiful it may be ... it is an incumbrance, and
then it might be stolen from me ... and money ... is everything in this
world! Without reckoning that in cash this million will yield nothing
... and I want it to produce something.... I should like, then, to place
it out in the best way possible. You must place it for me in safety,
where it cannot be touched, like the little income that remains to the
Count; so that I, too, may not want bread in my old age. I am such a
spendthrift. I count entirely on you for that.
RICHARD.
And where is this million?
LIONNETTE.
It is over there, in my house, the house that I ... bought--in a coffer
that I have even forgotten to shut; that is to say ... there are pieces
of gold lying in all directions ... on the table ... on the carpet. The
Commissary of Police opened his eyes!... If the footmen have taken some,
say nothing about it.... I am rich ... for there is also in a cabinet a
will of Mr. Nourvady, who, in the event of his death, leaves me all his
fortune: forty millions. That is worth something! But death is like
everything else in this world, it must not too surely be reckoned on.
RICHARD (_aside_.)
Poor creature!
LIONNETTE.
You already have my power of attorney, from the time that my affairs got
into confusion. It will enable you to take possession of my house and of
my capital during my absence. There ought also to be some jewels, a
great many jewels, in the drawers; I have not the least idea which,
however; I have never opened them--I have not even thought of them! You
will deposit them all in your house I do not want them in travelling ...
and then, I shall have plenty of others given to me--now; I shall have
all I can wish for given to me.
RICHARD.
And you are going away with Mr. Nourvady?
LIONNETTE.
We start this very day.
RICHARD.
It is positively arranged?
LIONNETTE.
I think so; I have not seen him again, but I want absolutely to start
to-day.
RICHARD.
And where will you meet?
LIONNETTE.
I suppose they will come for me here.
RICHARD.
Quite openly?
LIONNETTE.
Quite openly; at least, if they have not already had enough of me ...
that may happen ... anything may come to pass.... That would be strange.
RICHARD.
Do you love Mr. Nourvady, then?
LIONNETTE (_hoping to deceive_ RICHARD).
Madly, and for a long time past. I struggled against it. And then,
candidly, in the position in which I was, it was the only thing to do.
RICHARD.
And your husband?
LIONNETTE (_sincere_).
Oh! he! that is another thing; I hate him ... oh, yes! I hate him
_well_ ... without doubt....
RICHARD.
And your child?
LIONNETTE.
I see at what you are aiming, my dear Mr. Richard ... you want to touch
my tender feelings. Feel my hands, they are cold; listen to my voice, it
does not tremble; if you put your hand on my heart, you would feel that
I have not one pulsation more than ordinarily. You still hope there is
some remedy for what has happened ... there is none ... there can never
be any. If there were any I should reject it. Would you like me to open
my heart to you? I merit what has happened. I often condemned my mother,
because the guilty always accuse some one else of the faults that they
commit; but I am no better than she was. There is too great a mixture in
me, and I should be foolish to attempt to discover what I am. I am
simply and logically what I was destined to be. I shall not be the first
woman who was proud of her disgrace, especially in these times; and what
difference will that make to the world? I ought to have been economical
or ugly! These two men who hate each other, and are equally resolved to
be the ruin of me, are yet better than I, for they love, though one
suffers and the other desires; whereas I desire nothing more, I can
suffer no more, and this disclosure of affairs will appear quite natural
to those who knew me. It is horrible; it is monstrous ... it is all
that, and I tell it to you because I have no one now to deceive, thank
God! And, apart from that, I am going into vice that I like no better
than anything else, as I entered into marriage and motherhood, without
considering why. I have no heart! no heart! that is at the bottom of it
all. A creature of luxury and pleasure. You ask me, then, why I do not
kill myself--why I do not put an end to myself--that is the word? That
would be done more quickly, and would simplify everything. Yesterday I
was ready to die to avoid dishonour. To-day, what good would it do? I am
dishonoured. What do you want me to destroy in myself? Nothing has any
more life in me, and it seems that I can still bestow pleasure,
love--happiness may be. You say to yourself that all that is impossible,
because you call to mind your mother, your wife, your children. Yes,
there are, indeed, mothers, wives, children ... and, again, there are
some beings who have the same forms, and bear the same names, but who
are not in any degree the same thing. What do you want still to know?
RICHARD.
I do not dispute; only embrace your child for the last time.
LIONNETTE.
Why disturb him? he is playing no doubt.
RICHARD.
I am going to look for him.
LIONNETTE.
No, I beg of you. (RICHARD _walks towards the room_.) I do not wish it.
(THE FOOTMAN _appears_.)
THE FOOTMAN.
Mr. Nourvady would like to know if the Countess de Hun can receive him.
LIONNETTE (_in a natural tone._)
Certainly! (_To_ RICHARD.) Good bye, my dear Mr. Richard ... I will
write if I have any instructions to give you. My kind regards to your
wife ... if she knows nothing yet.
RICHARD.
Do not remain long here, that will be more prudent.
LIONNETTE.
I am going away directly.
(THE FOOTMAN _lets_ NOURVADY _pass, and goes away_.)
NOURVADY.
You excuse me, Madam?
LIONNETTE.
For what?
NOURVADY.
For coming here to look for you.
LIONNETTE.
Wherever I may be, have you not the right to come there; I was waiting
for you. I said so, a moment ago, to Mr. Richard, who knows all.
RICHARD.
Good-bye, Countess.
LIONNETTE (_giving him her hand with an involuntary and visible
emotion_).
Adieu, my dear Richard.
RICHARD (_bowing coldly to_ NOURVADY).
Sir.... (_He goes away._)
SCENE IV.
LIONNETTE, NOURVADY, afterwards RAOUL.
LIONNETTE.
You appear quite distressed.
NOURVADY.
It is on your account.
LIONNETTE.
I thought nothing ever troubled you! It is the scene of this morning
that has unnerved you.
NOURVADY.
In the first place....
LIONNETTE.
The fact is that you were hurt at the way in which the Commissary
entered; and your millions were powerless. As to me, I am quite myself
again. You love me still?
NOURVADY.
You ask me that?
LIONNETTE.
One never knows. The heart is so changeable. You see, this morning I did
not love you; it is not five o'clock, and I love you. (_She rings twice
violently._)
NOURVADY.
You are feverish; you, too....
LIONNETTE.
That will go off.... (_To the Lady's Maid, who has entered_) Bring me my
things to go out.
NOURVADY.
Is your husband in this house?
LIONNETTE.
Yes.
NOURVADY.
Have you seen him?
LIONNETTE.
No.
NOURVADY.
It is, nevertheless, to see you, that he has come back here.
LIONNETTE.
No more than that I came here to meet him. We were living here; we are
both going away, each his own way. We come to get what we want. It is
evident that he and I would very much prefer, at this moment, to be
somewhere else. It is you who ought not to be here; but, since this
morning, it is strange we are all in places where we ought not to be.
(_To the Lady's Maid, who comes back._) That will do; put them down
there.
(_The maid, puts down a hat, gloves, and a travelling cloak, and goes
away._)
NOURVADY.
I went back to your house, hoping to find you there. You had gone away.
I supposed you were here. The servant who announced me, and who,
evidently, knows nothing of all that has happened....
LIONNETTE.
No one knows anything about it except the parties interested.
NOURVADY.
The servant asked me if he were to announce me to the Count or Countess
de Hun. It was in that way that I knew that your husband was here at the
same time as you. I had a strong inclination to say to the man: Announce
me to your master.
LIONNETTE.
What could you have to say to him now?
NOURVADY.
He came to look for you in my house: I come to look for you in his. You
are a woman; you do not understand certain insults.
LIONNETTE.
Do you think so?
NOURVADY.
That man forced my door; he even broke it. He insulted you before me,
who love you.
LIONNETTE.
You must remember he loves me too: that is his excuse.
NOURVADY.
You defend him.
LIONNETTE (_while putting on her hat, mantle, and gloves_).
Ah! heaven help me, no! Well, what would you have said to him if they
had announced you to him as you said, and he had received you? But I
doubt if he would have received you after what is passed.
NOURVADY.
If he had refused to receive me, I should have burst open his door in my
turn, and....
LIONNETTE.
Ah! I forbid you absolutely to provoke him at present.... If I were a
widow through you ... or if he killed you, you would not be able to
marry me ... and if, one day, we could legitimize the false position we
are going to hold, I should be very glad of it. Let us trust to
Providence, as my mother used to say. Apart from all that, I am
ready.... Let us start!...
(_At the moment that she turns round to go out_ RAOUL _enters, and
throws himself into her arms to kiss her_.)
RAOUL.
Mamma!
LIONNETTE (_surprised and agitated_).
Ah! it is you. You frightened me!
RAOUL.
Kiss me.
LIONNETTE (_kissing him coldly_).
You think then of embracing me to-day. (_With a sigh_) It is rather
late.
RAOUL.
Where are you going?
LIONNETTE.
I am going out.
RAOUL.
When are you coming back?
LIONNETTE.
I don't know.
RAOUL.
To-day?
LIONNETTE.
To-day.
RAOUL.
Take me with you.
LIONNETTE.
It is impossible.
RAOUL.
Why? It is such fine weather.
LIONNETTE.
I am going too far. I shall send you some toys, you may be sure.
RAOUL.
I like better going with you.
LIONNETTE.
Impossible, I tell you. Go now; let me pass.
RAOUL.
No!
LIONNETTE.
You must, my child.
NOURVADY (_very agitated and very impatient during this scene, walks
from right to left to see if any one is coming._)
Some one is coming.
LIONNETTE (_a little more harshly_).
Now, now, let me go.
RAOUL.
No. (_He puts himself in front of his mother._)
NOURVADY (_taking the child by the arm, and throwing him far from him_).
Leave us alone, then!
(_The child totters, falls, and remains motionless._ LIONNETTE _stops,
looks with stupor on what has passed, recoils, covers her face with her
hands, utters a piercing cry, and rushes at_ NOURVADY, _whom she seizes
by the throat as if to strangle him_.)
LIONNETTE.
Miserable wretch!
NOURVADY (_whom she has struck on the shoulder, who feels himself
getting exhausted, but who will not defend himself, with a feeble
voice_).
You are hurting me.
LIONNETTE (_releasing him_).
Go away; go away! I shall strangle you. I shall kill you. My child! My
child!
(_She utters several cries, and throws herself in despair upon the
child._)
RICHARD (_who has entered during this scene, to_ NOURVADY).
Go away, sir, go away, in the name of heaven! Enough of such
misfortunes, without that.
(_He makes_ NOURVADY _go away_.)
RAOUL (_half raising himself up_).
There is nothing the matter ... Mamma.... Nothing, I assure you.
(LIONNETTE _on her knees, with_ RAOUL'S _head on her breast, kissing him
with rapture, sobbing without power to stop herself_).
RICHARD (_near her_).
Saved! You are saved!
LIONNETTE (_with sobs, tremulously accentuating every word_).
Yes, yes, yes, saved! (_To_ RICHARD.) Ah! I was mad.... I was mad....
But when that man laid his hand on my child, it is awful what took
possession of me! I do not know how it was I did not kill him. What is
the use of a man struggling with a mother? For I am a mother. I am....
Oh! I felt it truly, from my heart, that that could never be. Richard,
you guessed rightly; yes. Right-minded people guess rightly!... They
want my father's letters; very well, they shall have them. You shall
sell everything; you shall pay--you must give that man back his
money;--there will be an end to it all. Go, and find my husband.
(RICHARD _goes away_.) I want to see him before I die, for I am going to
die, I feel it.
(_She lets her head fall upon the couch, and half loses consciousness._)
RAOUL (_jumping upon the couch, taking his mother's head in his arms,
and kissing it._)
Mamma, mamma, mamma ... do not die, I beseech you.
LIONNETTE (_recovering consciousness_).
No, no, I shall live, for I love you!...
(_She covers him with kisses, and does not see_ JOHN, _who enters with_
RICHARD, _who is showing him the scene_. JOHN _starts back,
comprehending nothing yet_. GODLER _and_ TREVELE _look on and rejoin_
JOHN, _who cannot take his eyes off the picture of the mother and her
child_. RICHARD _touches_ LIONNETTE'S _shoulder, who turns round and
sees_ JOHN.)
SCENE V.
LIONNETTE, JOHN, RAOUL, RICHARD, GODLER, TREVELE.
LIONNETTE _to_ JOHN (_running to him and falling on her knees_).
Do not leave me any more. I will explain all to you. I understand, I see
it all clearly now! I am innocent, I swear to you! I swear to you! I
swear to you! We will live modestly in some quiet place, wherever you
like. What difference does that make now that my child has awakened my
soul in me?
(_She throws herself again on her son's neck_).
JOHN (_in the hands of_ GODLER _and_ TREVELE).
My friends, my friends, I am losing my senses!
GODLER.
You can, indeed, boast of having a true woman as a wife!
TREVELE (_touching him_).
Go and kneel at her feet.
(LIONNETTE _is sitting on the couch, supporting her son's head on her
knees, and her head thrown back, in an attitude of weariness and
contentment_. JOHN _throws himself on his knees before her, and kisses
the hand she has free. She holds out the other to_ RICHARD.)
LIONNETTE (_to_ RICHARD).
It was just in time.
RICHARD.
Yes, the cry of a child! that is sufficient. When all is nearly lost,
God's way is all-powerful.
JOHN.
I believe in you, and I love you.
LIONNETTE (_with a long sigh of joy_).
Ah! how happy I am!
GODLER (_wiping his eyes_).
How foolish I am, at my age!
TREVELE (_to_ GODLER, _wiping his eyes, and trying to conceal his
emotion_).
Bring forward your lock of hair.
CHATEAU DE SALNEUVE, _September_, 1880.
FINIS.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Princess of Bagdad, by Alexandre Dumas