Scene III
Didier, Saverny. Saverny, dressed in the latest fashion, enters gayly and petulantly. Didier is in black, walks slowly, is very pale. A jailer accompanied by Halberdiers conducts them. The Jailer places the two Halberdiers as sentinels beside the black curtain. Didier sits, silently, on the stone bench
SAVERNY (to The Jailer, who opens the door for him).
Thank you.
The air is very good!
THE JAILER (low, and drawing him aside).
My lord, two words with you.
SAVERNY.
Four, if you like.
THE JAILER (lowering his voice still more).
Will you escape?
SAVERNY (eagerly).
Speak! How?
THE JAILER.
That’s my affair.
SAVERNY.
Truly? [The Jailer nods his head.
Lord Cardinal,
You meant to keep me from attending balls,
But it appears I am to dance again.
The pleasant thing that life is!
[To The Jailer.] When, my friend?
THE JAILER.
To-night, as soon as it is dark.
SAVERNY.
My faith!
I shall be charmed to leave these quarters. Whence
Comes this assistance?
THE JAILER.
Marquis de Nangis.
SAVERNY.
My good old uncle!
[To The Jailer.] ’Tis for both, I hope!
THE JAILER.
I can save only one!
SAVERNY.
For twice as much?
THE JAILER.
I can save only one!
SAVERNY (tossing his head).
Just one?
[Low to The Jailer.] Then listen;
Good jailer, that’s the one to save!
[Indicating Didier.
THE JAILER.
You jest!
SAVERNY.
I do not! He’s the one!
THE JAILER.
What an idea!
Your uncle wants to save you, not save him.
SAVERNY.
It’s settled? Then prepare two shrouds at once.
[Turns his back on The Jailer, who goes out, astonished. A Registrar enters.
We can’t be left alone an instant—strange!
REGISTRAR (saluting the prisoners).
The royal councilor of the Great Chamber
Is close at hand.
[Salutes them again and exits.
SAVERNY.
’Tis well! [Laughing.
Annoying luck!
Twenty years old—September—and to die
Before October!
DIDIER (motionless at front of stage, holding the portrait in his hand, and as if absorbed in a deep study of it).
Come, look at me well!
Eyes in my eyes: thus. You are beautiful!
What radiant grace! Hardly a woman, you!
No: much more like an angel. God Himself
When He formed that divinely honest look
Put much fire in it but more chastity.
That childish mouth, pushed open by sweet hopes,
Throbs with its innocence.
[Throwing the portrait violently to the ground.
Why did that peasant
Take me unto her breast? Why not have dashed
My head against the stones? What did I do
Unto my mother to be cursed with birth?
Why, in that misery, it may be crime,
Which forced her to abandon her own blood,
Had she not motherhood enough to choke
Me in her arms?
SAVERNY (returning from back of court).
The swallows fly quite low;
’Twill rain to-night.
DIDIER (without hearing him).
A faithless, a mad thing,
A woman is: inconstant, cruel, deep,
And turbulent as is the ocean. Ah,
Upon that sea I trusted all my fortune!
In all the vast horizon saw one star!
Well! I am shipwrecked! Nothing’s left but death.
Yet I was born good-hearted: might have found
The spark divine within me by-and-by.
Fair looked the future! Oh, remorseless woman,
Did you not shrink in face of such a lie,
Since to your mercy I trusted my soul?
SAVERNY.
Forever Marion! You’ve strange ideas
About her!
DIDIER (without heeding him, picks up the picture and fixes his eyes upon it).
Down ’mongst the degraded things
I must throw you, oh, woman who betrays!
A demon, with eyes touched by angels’ wings.
[Puts it back into his breast.
Come back; here is your place!
[Approaching Saverny.] A curious thing!
That portrait is alive; I do not jest.
While you were sleeping there so peacefully
It gnawed my heart all night.
SAVERNY.
Alas! poor friend.
We’ll talk of death.
[Aside.] It comforts him, although
I find it rather sad.
DIDIER.
What did you say?
I have not listened. Since I heard that name
I have been stupefied. I cannot think:
I can’t remember, cannot hear nor see!
SAVERNY (taking hold of his arm).
Death, friend!
DIDIER (joyfully).
Oh, yes!
SAVERNY.
Let’s talk about it.
DIDIER.
Yes!
SAVERNY.
What is it, after all?
DIDIER.
Did you sleep well
Last night?
SAVERNY.
No, badly, for my bed was hard.
DIDIER.
When you are dead, your bed will be much harder,
But you will sleep extremely well—that’s all.
They’ve made hell splendidly; but by the side
Of life, it’s nothing.
SAVERNY.
Good! My fears are gone!
But to be hanged! That certainly is bad.
DIDIER.
You’re getting death; don’t be an egotist.
SAVERNY.
You can be satisfied; but I am not.
I’m not afraid of death—that is no boast—
When death is death, but on the gallows!
DIDIER.
Well,
Death has a thousand forms—gallows are one.
That moment is not pleasant when the rope
Puts out your life as one puts out a flame,
Choking your throat to let your soul fly up;
But, after all, what matter? If all’s dark,
If only all this earth is hidden well,
What matter if a tomb lies on one’s breast?
What matter if the night-winds howl and blow
About the strings of flesh crows tore from you
When you were on the gibbet? What care you?
SAVERNY.
You’re a philosopher.
DIDIER.
Yes, let them rave.
Let vultures tear my flesh, let worms consume,
As they consume all, even kings; my body
Is what’s concerned, not I. What do I care?
When sepulchers shut down our mortal eye,
The soul lifts up the mighty mass of stone
And flies away—
[A Councilor enters, preceded and followed by Halberdiers in black.