_The reception hall in Emil Grelieu's villa. Plenty of air,
light, and flowers. Large, windows overlooking the garden in
bloom. One small window is almost entirely covered with the
leaves of vines._
_In the room are Emil Grelieu and his elder son, Pierre, a
handsome, pale, and frail-looking young man. He is dressed in
military uniform. They pace up and down the room slowly. It
is evident that Pierre is anxious to walk faster, but out of
respect for his father he slackens his pace._
EMIL GRELIEU
How many kilometers?
PIERRE
Twenty-five or thirty kilometers to Tirlemont--and here--
EMIL GRELIEU
Seventy-four or five--
PIERRE
Seventy-five--yes, about a hundred kilometers. It's not far,
father.
EMIL GRELIEU
Not far. It seemed to me that I heard cannonading. I heard it
last night.
PIERRE
No, it's hardly possible.
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes, I was mistaken. But the rays of the searchlights could be
seen. They must be very powerful searchlights. Mamma saw them
too.
PIERRE
Really? You are suffering from insomnia again, father?
EMIL GRELIEU
I sleep well. A hundred kilometers--a hundred kilometers--
_Silence. Pierre looks at his father attentively._
PIERRE
Father!
EMIL GRELIEU
Well? It's too early for you, Pierre--you have three hours yet
before your train starts. I am watching the time.
PIERRE
I know, father. No, I am thinking of something else--. Father,
tell me, have you still any hopes?
_Silence._
I am hesitating, I feel somewhat embarrassed to speak to
you--you are so much wiser, so far above me, father.... Yes,
yes, it's nonsense, of course, but that which I have learned in
the army during these days gives me very little hope. They are
coming in such a compact mass of people, of iron, machines, arms
and horses, that there is no possibility of stopping them. It
seems to me that seismographs must indicate the place over which
they pass--they press the ground with such force. And we are so
few in number!
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes, we are very few in number.
PIERRE
Very, very few, father! Dreadfully few! Even if we were
invulnerable and deathless, even if we kept killing them off
day and night, day and night, we would drop from fatigue and
exhaustion before we stopped them. But we are mortal--and they
have terrible guns, father! You are silent? You are thinking of
our Maurice--I have caused you pain?
EMIL GRELIEU
There is little of the human in their movements. Do not think
of Maurice--he will live. A human being has a face, Pierre.
Every human being has his own face, but they have no faces.
When I try to picture them to myself, I see only the lights,
projectors, automobiles--those terrible guns--and something
walking, walking. And those vulgar mustaches of Wilhelm--but
that is a mask, an immobile mask, which has stood over Europe
for a quarter of a century--what is behind it? Those vulgar
mustaches--and suddenly so much misery, so much bloodshed and
destruction! It is a mask!
PIERRE
_Almost to himself._
If there were only not so many of them, not so many--. Father, I
believe that Maurice will live. He is a lucky boy. But what does
mamma think about it?
EMIL GRELIEU
What mamma thinks?
_Enter François. Sternly, without looking at anyone, he waters
the flowers._
And what does he think? Look at him.
PIERRE
He can hardly hear anything. François!
EMIL GRELIEU
I don't know whether he hears anything or not. But there was a
time when he did hear. He is silent, Pierre, and he furiously
denies war. He denies it by work--he works alone in the garden
as if nothing had happened. Our house is full of refugees.
Mamma and everyone else in the house are busy, feeding them,
washing the children--mamma is washing them--but he does not
seem to notice anything. He denies war! Now he is bursting from
anxiety to hear or guess what we are saying, but do you see the
expression of his face? If you start to talk to him he will go
away.
PIERRE
François!
EMIL GRELIEU
Don't bother him. He wants to be crafty. Perhaps he hears us.
You ask me what mother is thinking of. Do I know? Who can tell?
You see that she is not here, and yet these are your last hours
at home. Yes, in this house--I am speaking of the house. She
is young and resolute as ever, she walks just as lightly and is
just as clear-headed, but she is not here. She is simply not
here, Pierre.
PIERRE
Is she concealing something?
EMIL GRELIEU
No, she is not concealing anything, but she has gone into the
depths of her own self, where all is silence and mystery. She is
living through her motherhood again, from the very beginning--do
you understand? when you and Maurice were not yet born--but
in this she is crafty, like François. Sometimes I see clearly
that she is suffering unbearably, that she is terrified by the
war--. But she smiles in answer and then I see something else--I
see how there has suddenly awakened in her the prehistoric
woman--the woman who handed her husband the fighting club--.
Wait, the soldiers are coming again!
_Military music is heard in the distance, nearing._
PIERRE
Yes, according to the assignment, it is the Ninth Regiment.
EMIL GRELIEU
Let us hear it, Pierre. I hear this music several times a day.
There it starts on the right, and there it dies down. Always
there.
_They listen._
But they are brave fellows!
PIERRE
Yes.
_Both listen attentively at the window. François looks at them
askance and tries in vain to hear. The music begins to die out._
EMIL GRELIEU
_Walking away from the window._
Yesterday they played the "Marseillaise." But they are brave
fellows!
_Emil Grelieu's wife enters quickly._
JEANNE
Do you hear it? How beautiful! Even our refugees smiled when
they heard it. Emil, I have brought you some telegrams, here. I
have read them.
EMIL GRELIEU
What is it? Let me have them!
_Reading the telegrams, he staggers to an armchair and sinks
into it. He turns pale._
PIERRE
What is it, father?
EMIL GRELIEU
Read!
_Pierre reads it over the shoulder of his father. The woman
looks at them with an enigmatical expression upon her face.
She sits calmly, her beautiful head thrown back. Emil Grelieu
rises quickly, and both he and his son start to pace the room in
opposite directions._
PIERRE
Do you see?
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes.
PIERRE
Do you see?
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes! Yes!
JEANNE
_As though indifferently._
Emil, was that an interesting library which they have destroyed?
I don't know.
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes, very. But what are you asking me, Jeanne? How can you speak?
JEANNE
Oh, I speak only of those books! Tell me, were there many books
there?
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes, many, many!
JEANNE
And they've burned them?
_She hums softly in afresh, strong voice._
"Only the halo of the arts crowns law, liberty, and the
King!--Law--"
EMIL GRELIEU
Books, books.
JEANNE
And there was also a Cathedral there. Oh, I remember it! Isn't
it true, Emil, that it was a beautiful structure?
_Hums._
"Law, liberty, and the King--"
PIERRE
Father!
What?
EMIL GRELIEU
_He walks up and down the room._
JEANNE
Pierre, it will soon be time for you to leave. I'll give you
something to eat at once. Pierre, do you think it is true that
they are killing women and children? I don't know.
PIERRE
It is true, mother.
EMIL GRELIEU
How can you say it, Jeanne? You don't know?
JEANNE
I say this on account of the children. Yes, there they write
that they are killing children, so they write there. And
all this was crowded upon that little slip of paper--and the
children, as well as the fire--
_Rises quickly and walks away, humming._
EMIL GRELIEU
Where are you going, Jeanne?
JEANNE
Nowhere in particular. François, do you hear? They are murdering
our women and children. François! François!
_Without turning around, François walks out, his shoulders bent.
All look after him. Jeanne goes to the other door with a strange
half-smile._
PIERRE
Mamma!
JEANNE
I will return directly.
EMIL GRELIEU
What shall I call them? What can I call them? My dear Pierre, my
boy, what shall I call them?
PIERRE
You are greatly agitated, father.
EMIL GRELIEU
I have always thought, I have always been convinced that words
were at my command, but here I stand before this monstrous,
inexplicable--I don't know, I don't know what to call them. My
heart is crying out, I hear its voice, but the word! Pierre,
you are a student, you are young, your words are direct and
pure--Pierre, find the word!
PIERRE
You want me to find it, father? Yes, I was a student, and I knew
certain words: Peace, Right, Humanity. But now you see! My heart
is crying too, but I do not know what to call these scoundrels.
Scoundrels? That is not sufficient.
_In despair._
Not sufficient.
EMIL GRELIEU
That is not strong enough. Pierre, I have decided--
PIERRE
Decided?
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes, I am going.
PIERRE
You, father?
EMIL GRELIEU
I decided to do it several days ago--even then, at the very
beginning. And I really don't know why I--. Oh, yes, I had to
overcome within me--my love for flowers.
_Ironically._
Yes, Pierre, my love for flowers. Oh, my boy, it is so hard to
change from flowers to iron and blood!
PIERRE
Father, I dare not contradict you.
EMIL GRELIEU
No, no, you dare not. It is not necessary. Listen, Pierre, you
must examine me as a physician.
PIERRE
I am only a student, father.
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes, but you know enough to say--. You see, Pierre, I must
not burden our little army with a single superfluous sick or
weak man. Isn't that so? I must bring with me strength and
power, not shattered health. Isn't that so? And I am asking
you, Pierre, to examine me, simply as a physician, as a young
physician. But I feel somewhat embarrassed with you--. Must I
take this off, or can you do it without removing this?
PIERRE
It can be done this way.
EMIL GRELIEU
I think so, too. And--must I tell you everything, or--? At any
rate, I will tell you that I have not had any serious ailments,
and for my years I am a rather strong, healthy man. You know
what a life I am leading.
PIERRE
That is unnecessary, father.
EMIL GRELIEU
It is necessary. You are a physician. I want to say that in my
life there were none of those unwholesome--and bad excesses. Oh,
the devil take it, how hard it is to speak of it.
PIERRE
Papa, I know all this.
_Quickly kisses his father's hand. Silence._
EMIL GRELIEU
But it is necessary to take my pulse, Pierre, I beg of you.
PIERRE
_Smiling faintly._
It isn't necessary to do even that. As a physician, I can tell
you that you are healthy, but--you are unfit for war, you are
unfit for war, father! I am listening to you and I feel like
crying, father.
EMIL GRELIEU
_Thoughtfully._
Yes, yes. But perhaps it is not necessary to cry. Do you think,
Pierre, that I should not kill? Pierre, you think, that I, Emil
Grelieu, must not kill under any circumstances and at any time?
PIERRE
_Softly._
I dare not touch upon your conscience, father.
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes, that is a terrible question for a man. I must kill,
Pierre. Of course, I could take your gun, but not to fire--no,
that would have been disgusting, a sacrilegious deception! When
my humble people are condemned to kill, who am I that I should
keep my hands clean? That would be disgusting cleanliness,
obnoxious saintliness. My humble nation did not desire to kill,
but it was forced, and it has become a murderer. So I, too, must
become a murderer, together with my nation. Upon whose shoulders
will I place the sin--upon the shoulders of our youths and
children? No, Pierre. And if ever the Higher Conscience of the
world will call my dear people to the terrible accounting, if
it will call you and Maurice, my children, and will say to you:
"What have you done? You have murdered!" I will come forward and
will say: "First you must judge me; I have also murdered--and
you know that I am an honest man!"
_Pierre sits motionless, his face covered with his hands. Enter
Jeanne, unnoticed._
PIERRE
_Uncovering his face._
But you must not die! You have no right!
EMIL GRELIEU
_Loudly, and with contempt._
Oh, death!
_They notice Jeanne, and grow silent. Jeanne sits down and
speaks in the same tone of strange, almost cheerful calm._
JEANNE
Emil, she is here again.
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes? She is here again. Where has she been the last two nights?
JEANNE
She does not know herself. Emil, her dress and her hands were in
blood.
EMIL GRELIEU
She is wounded?
JEANNE
No, it is not her own blood, and by the color I could not tell
whose blood it is.
PIERRE
Who is that, mother?
JEANNE
A girl. Just a girl. She's insane. I have combed her hair and
put a clean dress on her. She has beautiful hair. Emil, I have
heard something--I understand that you want to go--?
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes.
JEANNE
Together with your children, Emil?
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes. Pierre has examined me and finds that I am fit to enter the
ranks.
JEANNE
You intend to go tomorrow?
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes.
JEANNE
You cannot manage it today. Pierre, you have only an hour and a
half left.
_Silence._
PIERRE
Mamma! Tell him that he must not--Forgive me, father!--that he
should not go. Isn't that true, mother? Tell him! He has given
to the nation his two sons--what more should he give? He has no
right to give more.
JEANNE
More, Pierre?
PIERRE
Yes,--his life. You love him; you, yourself, would die if he
were killed--tell him that, mother!
JEANNE
Yes, I love him. I love you, too.
PIERRE
Oh, what are we, Maurice and I? But he! Just as they have no
right to destroy temples in war or to bum libraries, just as
they have no right to touch the eternal, so he--he--has no right
to die. I am speaking not as your son, no; but to kill Emil
Grelieu--that would be worse than to bum books. Listen to me!
You have brought me into this world. Listen to me!--although I
am young and should be silent--Listen to me! They have already
robbed us. They have deprived us of our land and of the air;
they have destroyed our treasures which have been created
by the genius of our people, and now we would cast our best
men into their jaws! What does that mean? What will remain of
us? Let them kill us all, let our land be turned into a waste
desert, let all living creatures be burned to death, but as long
as he lives, Belgium is alive! What is Belgium without him? Oh,
do not be silent, mother! Tell him!
_Silence._
EMIL GRELIEU
_Somewhat sternly._
Calm yourself, Pierre!
JEANNE
Yesterday I--no, Pierre, that isn't what I was going to say--I
don't know anything about it. How could I know? But yesterday
I--it is hard to get vegetables, and even bread, here--so I went
to town, and for some reason we did not go in that direction,
but nearer the field of battle--. How strange it is that we
found ourselves there! And there I saw them coming--
EMIL GRELIEU
Whom?
JEANNE
Our soldiers. They were coming from there--where the battle
raged for four days. There were not many of them--about a
hundred or two hundred. But we all--there were so many people in
the streets--we all stepped back to the wall in order to make
way for them. Emil, just think of it; how strange! They did not
see us, and we would have been in their way! They were black
from smoke, from mud, from dried blood, and they were swaying
from fatigue. They were all thin--as consumptives. But that is
nothing, that is all nothing. Their eyes--what was it, Emil?
They did not see their surroundings, they still reflected that
which they had seen there--fire and smoke and death--and what
else? Some one said: "Here are people returning from hell." We
all bowed to them, we bowed to them, but they did not see that
either. Is that possible, Emil?
EMIL GRELIEU
Yes, Jeanne, that is possible.
PIERRE
And he will go to that inferno?
_Silence. Emil Grelieu walks over to his wife and kisses her
hand. She looks at his head with a smile. Suddenly she rises._
JEANNE
Forgive me; there is something else I must say--
_She moves quickly and lightly, but suddenly, as though
stumbling over an invisible obstacle, falls on one knee. Then
she tries to rise, kneels, pale and still smiling, bending to
one side. They rush over to her and lift her from the ground._
PIERRE
Mamma! Mamma!
EMIL GRELIEU
You have a headache? Jeanne, my dearest, what ails you?
_She pushes them aside, stands up firmly, trying to conceal her
nervousness._
JEANNE
What is it? What? Don't trouble, Emil! My head? No, no! My foot
slipped--you know, the one that pained me. You see, I can walk
now.
EMIL GRELIEU
A glass of water, Pierre.
JEANNE
What for? How absurd!
_But Pierre had already gone out. Jeanne sits down, hangs her
head, as one guilty, endeavoring not to look into his eyes._
JEANNE
What an excitable youth--your Pierre! Did you hear what he said?
EMIL GRELIEU
_Significantly._
Jeanne!
JEANNE
What? No, no--why do you look at me this way? No--I am telling
you.
_Pierre brings her water, but Jeanne does not drink it._
JEANNE
Thank you, Pierre, but I don't want it.
_Silence._
How fragrant the flowers are. Pierre, please give me that
rose--yes, that one. Thank you. How fresh it is, Emil, and what
a fine fragrance--come over here, Emil!
_Emil Grelieu goes over to her and kisses the hand in which she
holds the rose. Looks at her._
JEANNE
_Lowering her hand._
No; I have asked for this flower simply because its fragrance
seems to me immortal--it is always the same--as the sky. How
strange it is, always the same. And when you bring it close to
your face, and close to your eyes, it seems to you that there is
nothing except this red rose and the blue sky. Nothing but the
red rose and the distant, pale--very pale--blue sky....
EMIL GRELIEU
Pierre! Listen to me, my boy! People speak of this only at
night, when they are alone with their souls--and she knows it,
but you do not know it yet. Don't you know it, Jeanne?
JEANNE
_Trembling, opening her eyes._
Yes, I know, Emil.
EMIL GRELIEU
The life of the poet does not belong to him. The roof over the
heads of people, which shelters them--all that is a phantom for
me, and my life does not belong to me. I am always far away, not
here--I am always where I am not. You think of finding me among
the living, while I am dead; you are afraid of finding me in
death, mute, cold, doomed to decay, while I live and sing aloud
from my grave. Death which makes people mute, which leaves the
imprint of silence upon the bravest lips, restores the voice
to the poet. Dead, I speak more loudly than alive. Dead, I am
alive! Am I--just think of it, Pierre, my boy,--am I to fear
death when in my most persistent searches I could not find the
boundary between life and death, when in my feelings I mix life
and death into one--as two strong, rare kinds of wine? Just
think of it, my boy!
_Silence. Emil Grelieu looks at his son, smiling. Pierre has
covered his face with his hands. The woman is apparently calm.
She turns her eyes from her weeping son to her husband._
PIERRE
_Uncovering his face._
Forgive me, father!
JEANNE
Take this rose, Pierre, and when it fades and falls apart tear
down another rose--it will have the same fragrance as this one.
You are a foolish little boy, Pierre, but I am also foolish,
although Emil is so kind that he thinks differently. Will you be
in the same regiment, Emil?
EMIL GRELIEU
No, hardly, Jeanne.
PIERRE
Father, it is better that we be in the same regiment. I will
arrange it, father--will you permit me? And I will teach you how
to march--. You know, I am going to be your superior officer.
EMIL GRELIEU
_Smiling._
Very well.
JEANNE
_Goes out singing in a low voice._
"Only the halo of the arts is crowning--law, liberty, and the
King." Who is that? Ah, you! Look, Pierre, here is the girl you
wished to see. Come in, come in, my dear child! Don't be afraid,
come in! You know him. That's my husband. He is a very good man
and will do you no harm. And this is my son, Pierre. Give him
your hand.
_A girl enters; she is frail, very pale, and beautiful. She
wears a black dress, her hair is combed neatly, and she is
modest in her demeanor. Her eyes reflect fright and sorrow. She
is followed by the chambermaid, Silvina, a kind, elderly woman
in a white cap; by Madame Henrietta, and another woman in the
service of the Grelieu household. They stop at the threshold
and watch the girl curiously. The elder woman is weeping as she
looks at her._
GIRL
_Stretching forth her hand to Pierre._
Oh, that is a soldier! Be so kind, soldier, tell me how to go to
Lonua. I have lost my way.
PIERRE
_Confused._
I do not know, Mademoiselle.
GIRL
_Looking at everybody mournfully._
Who knows? It is time for me to go.
JEANNE
_Cautiously and tenderly leading her to a seat._
Sit down, child, take a rest, my dear, give your poor feet a
rest. Pierre, her feet are wounded, yet she wants to walk all
the time.
ELDERLY WOMAN
I wanted to stop her, Monsieur Pierre, but it is impossible to
stop her. If we close the door before her the poor girl beats
her head against the walls, like a bird in a cage. Poor girl!
_Dries her tears. François enters from the garden and occupies
himself again with the flowers. He glances at the girl from time
to time. It is evident that he is making painful efforts to hear
and understand what is going on._
GIRL
It is time for me to go.
JEANNE
Rest yourself, here, my child! Why should you leave? At night it
is so terrible on the roads. There, in the dark air, bullets are
buzzing instead of our dear bees; there wicked people, vicious
beasts are roaming. And there is no one who can tell you, for
there is no one who knows how to go to Lonua.
GIRL
Don't you know how I could find my way to Lonua?
PIERRE
_Softly._
What is she asking?
Emil GRELIEU
Oh, you may speak louder; she can hear as little as François.
She is asking about the village which the Prussians have set on
fire. Her home used to be there--now there are only ruins and
corpses there. There is no road that leads to Lonua!
GIRL
Don't you know it, either? No one knows. I have asked everybody,
and no one can tell me how to find my way to Lonua. I must
hurry. They are waiting for me there.
_She rises quickly and walks over to François._
Tell me; you are kindhearted! Don't you know the way to Lonua?
_François looks at her intently. Silently he turns away and
walks out, stooping._
JEANNE
_Seating her again._
Sit down, little girl. He does not know.
GIRL
_Sadly._
I am asking, and they are silent.
EMIL GRELIEU
I suppose she is also asking the bodies of the dead that lie in
the fields and in the ditches how to go to Lonua.
JEANNE
Her hands and her dress were bloodstained. She was walking all
night. Take a rest, my little one! I will hold you in my arms,
and you will feel better and more comfortable, my little child.
GIRL
_Softly._
Tell me, how can I find my way to Lonua?
JEANNE
Yes, yes, come! Emil, I will go with her to my room. There she
will feel more comfortable. Come along, my dear. I'll hold you.
Come!
_They go out. The other women follow them. Emil Grelieu and
Pierre remain._
EMIL GRELIEU
Lonua! A quiet little village which no one ever noticed
before--houses, trees, and flowers. Where is it now? Who knows
the way to that little village? Pierre, the soul of our people
is roaming about in the watches of the night, asking the dead
how to find the way to Lonua! Pierre, I cannot endure it any
longer! I am suffocating from hatred and anger! Oh, weep,
you German Nation--bitter will be the fate of your children,
terrible will be your disgrace before the judgment of the free
nations!
_Curtain_