Scene VIII
The King, L’Angely
THE KING (sighing deeply).
Ah! L’Angely, my heart is sick.
’Tis full of bitterness. I cannot smile.
You, only, have the power to cheer me. Come!
You stand in no awe of my majesty.
Come, throw a glint of pleasure in my soul.
[A pause.
L’ANGELY.
Life is a bitter thing, your Majesty.
THE KING.
Alas!
L’ANGELY.
Man is a breath ephemeral!
THE KING.
A breath, and nothing more!
L’ANGELY.
Unfortunate
Is any one who is both man and king.
Is it not true?
THE KING.
A double burden—yes.
L’ANGELY.
And better far than life, sire, is the tomb,
If but its gloom is deep enough!
THE KING.
I’ve thought
That always!
L’ANGELY.
To be dead or unborn is
The only happiness. Yes, man’s condemned!
THE KING.
You give me pleasure when you talk like this!
[A silence.
L’ANGELY.
Once in the tomb, think you one e’er gets out?
THE KING (whose sadness has increased with the Fool’s words).
We’ll know that later. I wish I were there!
[Silence.
Fool, I’m unhappy! Do you comprehend?
L’ANGELY.
I see it in your face so thin and worn,
And in your mourning—
THE KING.
Ah, why should I laugh?
Your tricks are lost on me! What use is life
To you? The fine profession! Jester to the King!
Bell out of tune, a jumping-jack to play with,
Whose half-cracked laugh is but a poor grimace!
What is there in the world for you, poor toy?
Why do you live?
L’ANGELY.
For curiosity.
But you—why should you live? I pity you!
I’d sooner be a woman than a king
Like you. I’m but a jumping-jack whose string
You hold; but underneath your royal coat
There’s hid a tauter string, a strong arm holds.
Better a jumping-jack in a king’s hands
Than in a priest’s, my sire.
[Silence.
THE KING (thinking, growing more and more sad).
You speak the truth,
Although you laugh. He is a fearful man!
Has Satan made himself a cardinal?
What if ’twere Satan who possessed my soul!
What say you?
L’ANGELY.
I have often had that thought
Myself!
THE KING.
We must not speak thus. ’Tis a sin!
Behold, how dire misfortune follows me!
I had some Spanish cormorants. I come
To this place—not a drop of water here
For fishing! In the country! Not a pond
In this accursed Chambord large enough
To drown a flesh-worm! When I wish to hunt—
The sea! And when I wish to fish—the fields!
Am I unfortunate enough?
L’ANGELY.
Your life
Is full of woe.
THE KING.
How will you comfort me?
L’ANGELY.
Another grief! You hold in high esteem,
And justly too, the art of training hawks
For hunting partridges. A good huntsman—
You’re one—ought to respect the falconer.
THE KING.
The falconer! A god!
L’ANGELY.
Well! there are two
Who are at point of death!
THE KING.
Two falconers?
L’ANGELY.
Yes!
THE KING.
Who are they?
L’ANGELY.
Two famous ones!
THE KING.
But who?
L’ANGELY.
Those two young men whose lives were begged of you!
THE KING.
Gaspard and Didier?
L’ANGELY.
Yes; they are the last.
THE KING.
What a calamity! Two falconers!
Now that the art is very nearly lost.
Unhappy duel! When I’m dead, this art
Will go from earth, as all things go at last!
Why did they fight this duel?
L’ANGELY.
One declared
That hawks upon the wing were not as swift
As falcons.
THE KING.
He was wrong. But yet that seems
Scarcely a hanging matter— [Silence.
And my right
Of pardon is inviolable—though
I am too lenient, says the Cardinal! [Silence.
[To L’Angely.] The Cardinal desires their death?
L’ANGELY.
He does!
THE KING (after pausing and reflecting).
Then they shall die!
L’ANGELY.
They shall!
THE KING.
Poor falconry!
L’ANGELY (going to window).
Sire, look!
THE KING (turns around suddenly).
At what?
L’ANGELY.
Just look, I beg of you!
THE KING (rising and going to the window).
What is it?
L’ANGELY (indicating something outside).
They have changed the sentinel!
THE KING.
Well, is that all?
L’ANGELY.
Who is that fellow with
The yellow lace?
THE KING.
No one—the corporal!
L’ANGELY.
He puts a new man there. What says he, low?
THE KING.
The password! Fool! What are you driving at?
L’ANGELY.
At this: Kings act the part of sentinels.
Instead of pikes, a scepter they must bear.
When they have strutted ’round their little day,
Death comes—the corporal of kings—and puts
Another scepter-bearer in their place,
Speaking the password which God sends, and which
Is clemency.
THE KING.
No, it is justice. Ah,
Two falconers! It is a frightful loss!
Still, they must die.
L’ANGELY.
As you must die, and I.
Or big or little, death has appetite
For all. But though they’ve not much room,
The dead sleep well. The Cardinal annoys
And wearies you. Wait, sire! A day, a month,
A year; when we have played as long as needful—
I, my own part of fool; you, king; and he,
The master—we will go to sleep. No matter
How proud or great we are, no one shall have
More than six feet of territory there.
Look! how they bear his lordly litter now!
THE KING.
Yes, life is dark; the tomb alone is bright.
If you were not at hand to cheer me up—
L’ANGELY.
Alas! I came to-day to say farewell.
THE KING.
What’s that?
L’ANGELY.
I leave you!
THE KING.
You’re a crazy fool!
Death, only, frees from royal service.
L’ANGELY.
Well,
I am about to die!
THE KING.
Have you gone mad?
L’ANGELY.
You have condemned me—you, the King of France!
THE KING.
If you are joking, fool, explain yourself.
L’ANGELY.
I shared the duel of those two young men—
At least my sword did, sire, if I did not.
I here surrender it.
[Draws his sword and, kneeling, presents it to The King.
THE KING (takes it and examines it).
Indeed, a sword!
Where does it come from, friend?
L’ANGELY.
We’re noble, sire!
The guilty are not pardoned. I am one.
THE KING (somber and stern).
Good night, then! Let me kiss your neck, poor fool,
Before they cut it off. [Embraces L’Angely.
L’ANGELY (aside).
He’s in dead earnest!
THE KING (after a pause).
For never does a worthy king oppose
The course of justice. But you claim too much,
Lord Cardinal—two falconers and my fool!
All for one duel!
[Greatly agitated, he walks up and down with his hand on his forehead. Then he turns to L’Angely, who is most anxious.
Go! console yourself!
Life is but bitterness, the tomb means rest.
Man is a breath ephemeral.
L’ANGELY (aside).
The devil!
[The King continues to pace the floor and appears violently agitated.
THE KING.
And so, you think you’ll have to hang, poor fool!
L’ANGELY (aside).
He means it! God! I feel cold perspiration
Starting upon my brow.
[Aloud.] Unless a word
From you—
THE KING.
Whom shall I have to make me laugh?
If you should rise from out the tomb, come back
And tell me all about it. ’Tis a chance!
L’ANGELY.
The errand is a pleasant one!
[The King continues to walk rapidly, speaking to L’Angely now and then.
THE KING.
What triumph
For my lord cardinal—my fool!
[Folding his arms.
Think you
I could be master if I wished to be?
L’ANGELY.
Montaigne would say, “Who knows?” And Rabelais,
“Perhaps.”
THE KING (with gesture of determination).
Give me a parchment, fool.
[L’Angely eagerly hands a parchment which he finds on the table near the writing-desk. The King hastily writes a few words, then gives the parchment back to L’Angely.
Behold!
I pardon all.
L’ANGELY.
All three?
THE KING.
Yes.
L’ANGELY (running to Marion).
Come, madame,
Come, kneel, and thank the King.
MARION (falling on her knees).
We have the pardon?
L’ANGELY.
Yes! It was I—
MARION.
Whose knees must I embrace—
His Majesty’s or yours?
THE KING (astonished, examining Marion: aside).
What does this mean?
Is this a trap?
L’ANGELY (giving parchment to Marion).
Here is the pardon. Take it!
[Marion kisses it, and puts it in her bosom.
THE KING (aside).
Have I been duped?
[To Marion.] One instant! Give it back!
MARION.
Good God!
[To The King, with courage, touching her breast.
Come here and take it, and tear out
My heart as well!
[The King stops and steps backward, much embarrassed.
L’ANGELY (low to Marion).
Good! Keep it, and be firm!
His Majesty won’t take it, there!
THE KING (to Marion).
Give it
To me!
MARION.
Take it, my sire!
THE KING (casting down his eyes).
Who is this siren?
L’ANGELY (low to Marion).
He wouldn’t touch the corset of the Queen!
THE KING (after a moment’s hesitation, dismisses Marion with a gesture without looking at her).
Well, go!
MARION (bowing profoundly to The King).
I’ll fly to save the prisoners! [Exits.
L’ANGELY (to The King).
She’s sister to Didier, the falconer.
THE KING.
She can be what she will. It’s very strange,
The way she made me drop my eyes! Made me,
A man— [Silence.
Fool, you have played a trick on me!
I’ll have to pardon you a second time.
L’ANGELY.
Yes, do it! Every time they grant a pardon,
Kings lift a dreary weight from off their hearts.
THE KING.
You speak the truth. I always suffer when
La Grève holds court. Nangis was right: the dead
Serve nobody. To fill Montfaucon
I make a desert of the Louvre!
[Walking rapidly.
’Tis treason
To strike my right of pardon out, before
My face. What can I do? Disarmed, dethroned,
And fallen: in this man absorbed, as in
A sepulcher! His cloak becomes my shroud:
My people mourn for me as for the dead.
I am resolved: those two boys shall not die!
The joy of living is a heavenly gift.
[After reflection.
God, who knows where we go, can ope the tomb;
A king cannot. Back to their families
I give them; that old man, that fair young girl,
Will bless me. It is said: I’ve signed it—I,
The King. The Cardinal will be furious,
But it will please Bellegarde.
L’ANGELY.
One can, sometimes,
Be kingly by mistake.