Scene VII
The same. Marion, Marquis de Nangis. Marquis de Nangis advances with his escort to within a few steps of The King; he kneels there. Marion falls on her knees at the door
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
Justice, my sire.
THE KING.
Against whom? Speak!
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
Against a cruel tyrant—against Armand,
Called here the cardinal-minister!
Marion.
Mercy,
My sire!
THE KING.
For whom?
Marion.
For Didier!
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
And for him,
Gaspard de Saverny!
THE KING.
I’ve heard those names.
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
Justice and mercy, sire!
THE KING.
What title?
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
Sire,
I am uncle of one.
THE KING.
And you?
Marion.
I’m sister
Unto the other!
THE KING.
Why do you come here,
Sister and uncle?
MARQUIS DE NANGIS (indicating first one of The King’s hands, then the other).
To entreat mercy
From this hand, and justice from that! My sire,
I, William, Marquis de Nangis, Captain
Of Hundred Lances, Baron of Mountain
And Field, do make appeal to my two lords—
The King of France and God, for justice ’gainst
Armand du Plessis, Cardinal Richelieu.
Gaspard de Saverny, for whom I make
This prayer, is my nephew—
MARION (low to Marquis de Nangis).
Oh, speak for both,
My lord!
MARQUIS DE NANGIS (continuing).
Last month he had a duel with
A captain, a young nobleman, Didier.
Of parentage uncertain. ’Twas a fault.
They were too rash and brave. The minister
Had stationed sergeants—
THE KING.
Yes, I know the story.
Well, what have you to say?
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
That ’tis high time
You thought about these things! The Cardinal-Duke
Has more than one disastrous scheme afoot.
He drinks the best blood of your subjects, sire!
Your father, Henry IV., of royal heart,
Would not have sacrificed his nobles thus!
He never struck them down without dire need!
Well served by them, he sought to guard them well.
He knew good soldiers had more use in them
Than trunkless heads. He knew their worth in war,
This soldier-king whose doublet smelled of battle!
Great days were those. I shared, I honor them!
A few of the old race are living yet.
Never could priest have touched one of those lords.
There was no selling of a great head cheap!
Sire, in these treacherous days to which we’ve come,
Trust an old man, keep a few nobles by.
Perhaps, in your turn, you will need their help.
The time may come when you will groan to think
Of all the honors lavished on La Grève!
Then, sadly, your regretful eyes will seek
Those lords indomitably brave and true,
Who, dead so long, had still been young to-day.
The country’s heart yet pants with civil war;
The tocsin of past years re-echoes yet,
Be saving of the executioner’s arm!
He is the one should sheathe his sword, not we!
Be miserly with scaffolds, O my sire!
’Twill be a woful thing some later day
To mourn this great man’s help, who hangs to-day
A whitening skeleton on gallows-tree!
For blood, my king, is no good, wholesome dew.
You’ll reap no crops from irrigated Grève!
The people will avoid the sight of kings.
That flattering voice which tells you all is well,
Tells you you’re son of Henry IV., and Bourbon—
That voice, my sire, however high it soars,
Can never drown the thud of falling heads!
Take my advice: play not this costly game.
You, King, are bound to look God in the face,
Hark to the words of fate, ere it rebels!
War is a nobler thing than massacre!
’Tis not a prosperous nor joyful State
When headsmen have more work than soldiers have!
He for our country is a pastor hard,
Who dares collect his tithes in slaughtered heads!
Look! this proud lord of inhumanity
Who holds your scepter has blood-covered hands!
THE KING.
The Cardinal’s my friend! Who loves me must
Love him!
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
Sire!
THE KING.
Silence! He’s my second self.
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
Sire!
THE KING.
Bring no more such griefs to trouble me!
[Showing his hair, which is beginning to turn gray.
Petitioners like you make these gray hairs!
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
An old man, sire; a woman, sire, who weeps!
A word from you is life or death for us!
THE KING.
What do you ask?
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
Pardon for my Gaspard!
MARION.
Pardon for Didier!
THE KING.
Pardons of a king
Are often thefts from justice!
MARION.
Oh, no, sire!
Since God himself is merciful, you need
Not fear! Have pity! Two young, thoughtless men,
Pushed by this duel o’er a precipice
To die! Good God! to die upon the gallows!
You will have pity, won’t you? I don’t know
How people talk to kings—I’m but a woman;
To weep so much perhaps is wrong. But oh,
A monster is that cardinal of yours.
Why does he hate them? They did naught to him.
He never saw my Didier. All who do
Must love him! They’re so young—these two! To die
For just a duel! Think about their mothers.
Oh, it is horrible! You will not do it, sire!
We women cannot talk as well as men.
We’ve only cries and tears and knees, which bend
And totter as kings turn their eyes on us.
They were in fault, of course! But if they broke
Your law, you can forgive it! What is youth?
Young people are so heedless! For a look,
A word, a trifle, anything or nothing,
They always lose their heads like that! Such things
Are happening every day. Each noble, here,
He knows it. Ask them, sire! Is it not true,
My lords? Oh, frightful hour of agony!
To know with one word you can save two lives!
I’d love you all my life, sire, if you would
Have mercy—mercy, God! If I knew how,
I’d talk so that you’d have to say that word.
You’d pardon them; you’d say, “I must console
That woman, for her Didier is her soul.”
I suffocate, sire. Pity, pity me!
THE KING.
Who is this woman?
MARION.
She’s a sister, sire,
Who trembles at your feet. You owe something
Unto your people!
THE KING.
Yes! I owe myself
To them, and dueling does grievous harm.
MARION.
You should have pity!
THE KING.
And obedience, too!
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
Two boys of twenty years! Think of it well!
Their years together are but half of mine!
MARION.
Your Majesty, you have a mother, wife,
A son—some one at least who’s dear to you!
A brother? Then have pity for a sister!
THE KING.
No, I have not a brother! [Reflects a moment.
Yes, Monsieur!
[Perceiving the escort of Marquis de Nangis.
Well, my lord marquis, what is this brigade?
Are we besieged, or off to the Crusades?
To bring your guards thus boldly in my sight,
Are you a duke and peer?
MARQUIS DE NANGIS.
I’m better, sire,
Than any duke and peer, created for mere show!
I’m Breton baron of four baronies.
DUKE DE BELLEGARDE (aside).
His pride is great, and here, unfortunate!
THE KING.
Good! To your manors carry back your rights,
And leave us ours within our own domain.
We are justiciary!
MARQUIS DE NANGIS (shuddering).
Sire, reflect!
Think of their age, their expiated fault!
[Falling on his knees.
The pride of an old man, who, prostrate, kneels!
Have mercy!
[The King makes an abrupt sign of anger and refusal.
I was comrade to Henry!
Your father and our father! I was there
When he—that monster—struck the fatal blow.
’Til night I watched beside my royal dead:
It was my duty. I have seen my father
And my six brothers fall ’neath rival factions;
I have lost the wife who loved me. Now
The old man standing here is like a victim
Whom a hard executioner, for sport,
Has bound unto the wheel the whole long day.
My master, God has broken every limb
With His great iron rod! ’Tis night-time now,
And I’ve received the final blow! Farewell,
My king! God keep you!
[He makes a profound obeisance, and exits. Marion lifts herself with difficulty, and, staggering, falls on the threshold of the gilt door of The King’s private room.
THE KING (to Duke de Bellegarde, wiping his eyes and watching the retreating figure of Marquis de Nangis).
A sad interview!
Ah, not to weaken, kings must watch themselves!
To do right is not easy. I was touched.
[Reflects for a moment, then interrupts himself suddenly.
No pardoning to-day, for yesterday
I sinned too much!
[Approaching Duke de Bellegarde.
Before he came, my lord,
You said bold things, which may be bad for you
When I report to my lord cardinal
The conversation we have had. I’m sorry
For you, Duke. In the future, have more care!
I slept so wretchedly, my poor Bellegarde.
[With a gesture dismissing Courtiers and Guards.
Pray leave us, gentlemen!
[To L’Angely.] Stay, you!
[All go out except Marion, whom The King does not see. Duke de Bellegarde sees her crouching on the threshold of the door and goes to her.
DUKE DE BELLEGARDE (low to Marion).
My child,
You can’t remain here, crouching by this door;
What are you doing like a statue there?
Get up and go away!
MARION.
I’m waiting here
For them to kill me!
L’ANGELY (low to Duke de Bellegarde).
Leave her there, my lord!
[Low to Marion.] Remain!
[He returns to The King, who is seated in the great armchair and is in a profound reverie.