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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Woman on Her Own, False Gods & The Red Robe, by 
+Eugène Brieux
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Woman on Her Own, False Gods & The Red Robe
+       Three Plays By Brieux
+
+Author: Eugène Brieux
+
+Translator: Mrs. Bernard Shaw
+            J. F. Fagan
+            A. Bernard Miall
+
+Release Date: November 8, 2008 [EBook #27201]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLAYS BY BRIEUX ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Josephine Paolucci and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+WOMAN ON HER OWN, FALSE
+GODS AND THE RED ROBE:
+
+THREE PLAYS BY BRIEUX.
+
+THE ENGLISH VERSIONS BY MRS.
+BERNARD SHAW, J. F. FAGAN,
+AND A. BERNARD MIALL. WITH
+AN INTRODUCTION BY BRIEUX
+
+BRENTANO'S NEW YORK
+MCMXVI
+
+_Copyright, 1916, by Brentano's_
+
+
+THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+Preface                                 vii
+
+Woman On Her Own                          1
+
+False Gods                              127
+
+The Red Robe                            219
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+We are confronted at the present time by the woman who is anxious to lay
+by means for her own support irrespective of the protection of her
+husband. In this play I have indicated the tendency of this difficulty
+and the consequent troubles which the older civilizations will bring
+upon themselves when the woman's standing as a worker is generally
+acknowledged. My conclusion, namely, that all these complications and
+troubles are, at present at any rate, owing to the education of the man,
+points to the remedy, as far as I can see it.
+
+I must inform my readers that the version of LA FEMME SEULE, a
+translation of which is now published in this volume, has, so far, not
+appeared in France and is unknown there; at least as regards the larger
+part of the third act. I might, did I think it advisable, reproduce in
+its entirety a text which certain timidities have led me to emasculate.
+
+As between the man and the woman the ideal situation would, no doubt, be
+a rehabilitation of the old custom--the man at the workshop and the
+woman in the home; thus reserving for her the holiest and most important
+of all missions--the one which insures the future of the race by her
+enlightened care of the moral and physical health of her children.
+
+Unfortunately it happens that the wages of the working-man are
+insufficient for the support of a family, and the poor woman is
+therefore compelled to go to the factory. The results are deplorable.
+The child is either entirely abandoned, or given to the State, and the
+solidarity of the family suffers in consequence.
+
+Then again a generation of women with new ideas has arisen, who think
+they should have, if they wish it, the right to live alone and by
+themselves, without a husband's protection. However much some of us may
+regret this attitude, it is one which must be accepted, since I cannot
+believe that the worst tyrants would dare to make marriage obligatory.
+These women have a right to live, and consequently a right to work. Also
+there are the widows and the abandoned women.
+
+Women first took places which seemed best fit for them, and which the
+men turned over to them because the work appeared to be of a character
+suitable to the feminine sex. But the modern woman has had enough of the
+meagre salary which is to be obtained by means of needle-work, and she
+has invaded the shop, the office, the desks of the banks and post
+office. In industry also she has taken her place by the side of the
+working-man, who has made room for her first with ironical grace, then
+with grumbling, and sometimes with anger. I believe that in Europe at
+least this kind of difficulty will have to be faced in the future.
+
+As to the rich woman (and in LA FEMME SEULE I have treated this subject
+only slightly because it is one to which I expect to come back), they
+have been driven from the home where the progress of domestic science
+has left them very little to do. We have reached a kind of hypocritical
+form of State Socialism, or perhaps it would be better to say
+Collectivism, and this will profoundly change the moral outlook. All, or
+nearly all, of the work of the home seems to be done by people from the
+outside--from the cleaning of the windows to the education of the
+children. The modern home is but a fireside around which one hardly sees
+the family gathered for intimate talk.
+
+It has thus happened that the woman who finds herself without work, and
+with several children, looks out of the windows of her home away from it
+for the employment of her activities. The future will tell us whether or
+no this is good. In my opinion I believe it will be good, and I believe
+that man will gain, through this new intelligence, in the direction of
+the larger life which has come to women from this necessity of theirs.
+Unquestionably there will have to be a new education, and this will
+certainly come.
+
+LA FOI.--This play is, without doubt, of all my plays the one which has
+cost me the most labor and the one upon which I have expended the most
+thought and time. The impulse to write it came to me at Lourdes in view
+of the excited, suffering, and praying crowds of people. When the
+thought of writing it came to me I hesitated, but during many years I
+added notes upon notes. And it was while on a trip to Egypt that I saw
+the possibility for discussing such questions in the theatre without
+giving offence to various consciences. My true and illustrious friend,
+Camille Saint-Saëns, has been kind enough to underline my prose with his
+admirable music. In this way LA FOI has been produced on the stage at
+Monte Carlo for the first time under the auspices of His Royal Highness
+the Prince of Monaco, whom I now beg to thank.
+
+English readers of LA ROBE ROUGE would, I think, be somewhat misled, if
+they did not understand the difference between the procedure in criminal
+cases in France and in Great Britain. My purpose in this preface is to
+attempt to show that difference in a few words.
+
+With you, a criminal trial is conducted publicly and before a jury; with
+us in France it is carried on in the Chambers of the Judge with only the
+lawyer present. There sometimes result from this latter method dramas of
+the kind of which my play LA ROBE ROUGE is one. The judge, too directly
+interested and free of the criticism which might fall on him from the
+general public, is liable to the danger of forming for himself an
+opinion as to the guilt of the accused. He may do this in perfect good
+faith, but sometimes runs the risk of falling into grave error. It thus
+occasionally happens that he is anxious not so much to know the truth as
+to prove that he was right in his own, often rash, opinion.
+
+LA ROBE ROUGE is a criticism of certain judicial proceedings which
+obtain in France; but it is also a study of an individual case of
+professional crookedness. We should be greatly mistaken were we to draw
+the dangerous conclusion that all French judges resemble Mouzon, and we
+should be equally wrong were we to condemn too hastily the French code
+relating to criminal trials.
+
+In the struggle of society with the criminal it is very difficult,
+perhaps impossible, for the legislator to hold in equal balance the
+rights of the individual as against the interests of society. The
+balance sometimes leans one way and sometimes the other; and had I been
+an English citizen, instead of writing a play against the abuse of
+justice by a judge, I might have had to illustrate the same abuse by the
+lawyer.
+
+I wish most sincerely that these three plays may interest the people of
+England and America. The problems which I have studied I am sure I have
+not brought to their final solutions. My ambition was to draw and keep
+the attention of honest people on them by means of the theatre.
+
+                  BRIEUX.
+
+
+
+
+WOMAN ON HER OWN
+
+[LA FEMME SEULE]
+
+TRANSLATED BY MRS. BERNARD SHAW
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    THÉRÈSE
+    MADAME NÉRISSE
+    MADAME GUÉRET
+    MOTHER BOUGNE
+    CAROLINE LEGRAND
+    MADAME CHANTEUIL
+    LUCIENNE
+    MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE
+    MADEMOISELLE BARON
+    MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT
+    ANTOINETTE
+    BERTHE
+    CONSTANCe
+    MAID
+    WORKWOMEN
+    NÉRISSE
+    FÉLIAT
+    RENÉ CHARTON
+    GUÉRET
+    MAFFLU
+    VINCENT
+    A DELEGATE
+    PAGE BOY
+    GIRARD
+    CHARPIN
+    DESCHAUME
+    WORKMEN
+
+
+
+
+WOMAN ON HER OWN
+
+
+
+
+ACT I
+
+
+    SCENE:--_A Louis XV sitting-room. To the right a large
+    recessed window with small panes of glass which forms a
+    partition dividing the sitting-room from an inner room. A
+    heavy curtain on the further side shuts out this other room.
+    There are a table and piano and doors to the right and at the
+    back. The place is in disorder. One of the panes in the large
+    window has been taken out and replaced by a movable panel. It
+    is October._
+
+    _Madame Guéret is sitting at a table. She is a woman of
+    forty-five, dressed for the afternoon, cold and distinguished
+    looking. Monsieur Guéret, who is with her, is about
+    fifty-five and is wearing a frock coat. He is standing beside
+    his wife._
+
+GUÉRET. Then you really don't want me to go and hear the third act?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_dryly_] I think as I've been let in for these
+theatricals solely to please your goddaughter you may very well keep me
+company. Besides, my brother is coming back and he has something to say
+to you.
+
+GUÉRET [_resignedly_] Very well, my dear.
+
+     _A pause._
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I can't get over it.
+
+GUÉRET. Over what?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. What we're doing. What _are_ we doing?
+
+GUÉRET. We're giving a performance of _Barberine_ for the amusement of
+our friends. There's nothing very extraordinary in that.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Don't make fun of me, please. What we are doing is simply
+madness. Madness, do you hear? And it was the day before yesterday--only
+the day before yesterday--we heard the news.
+
+GUÉRET. We--
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_Who has seen Lucienne come in_] Hush!
+
+_Lucienne comes in, a girl of twenty, dressed as Barberine from Musset's
+play; then Maud, Nadia, and Antoinette [eighteen to twenty-two], dressed
+as followers of the queen. Lucienne goes to the piano, takes a piece of
+music, and comes to Madame Guéret._
+
+LUCIENNE. You'll help me along, won't you, dear Madame Guéret? You'll
+give me my note when it comes to "Voyez vous pas que la nuit est
+profonde"?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Now don't be nervous.
+
+MAUD [_coming in_] We're ready.
+
+ANTOINETTE. If the third act only goes as well as the first two--
+
+MAUD. We'll listen until we have to go on.
+
+ANTOINETTE. Won't you come with us, Madame?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. No, I can't. I've had to undertake the noises behind the
+scenes. _That_ job might have been given to someone else, I think.
+
+LUCIENNE. Oh, Madame, please don't be angry with us. Madame Chain let us
+know too late. And you're helping us so much.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Well, I've invited the people, and I suppose I must
+entertain them. As I gave in to Thérèse about getting up this play, I
+don't want to do anything to spoil the evening.
+
+LUCIENNE. How pretty she is as Kalekairi.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. You don't think people are shocked by her frock?
+
+LUCIENNE. Oh, Madame!
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Well!
+
+LUCIENNE. I shall have to go in a moment. Thérèse has come out; I can
+hear her sequins rattling.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Yes; so can I. But René will let us know. Never mind.
+
+_She goes to the piano. René appears at the door at the back._
+
+RENÉ. Are you ready, Lucienne?
+
+LUCIENNE. Yes.
+
+RENÉ. You've only two lines to say.
+
+LUCIENNE. Only one. [_She speaks low to René_] No end of a success,
+wasn't it, for your Thérèse?
+
+RENÉ [_low_] Wasn't it? I _am_ so happy, Lucienne. I love her so.
+
+LUCIENNE. Listen. That's for me, I think.
+
+RENÉ. Yes, that's for you. Wait. [_He goes to the door at the back,
+listens, and returns_] Come. Turn this way so as to make it sound as if
+you were at a distance. Now then.
+
+_Madame Guéret accompanies Lucienne on the piano._
+
+LUCIENNE [_sings_]
+
+    Beau chevalier qui partez pour la guerre,
+          Qu'allez vous faire
+          Si loin d'ici?
+
+    Voyez-vous pas que la nuit est profonde
+          Et que le monde
+          N'est que souci.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_civilly_] You have a delightful voice, Mademoiselle
+Lucienne.
+
+_Lucienne places her music on the piano with a smile to Madame Guéret._
+
+RENÉ [_to Lucienne, drawing her to the partition window and showing her
+where a pane has been removed_] And your little window! Have you seen
+your little window? It was not there at the dress rehearsal. You lift
+it like this. It's supposed to be an opening in the wall. It ought to
+have been different; we were obliged to take out a pane. May I show her,
+Madame Guéret?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_resigned_] Yes, yes, of course.
+
+RENÉ. You lift it like this; and to speak you'll lean forward, won't
+you, so that they may see you?
+
+LUCIENNE. I will, yes.
+
+RENÉ. Don't touch it now. [_To Madame Guéret_] You won't forget the
+bell, will you, Madame? There's plenty of time--ten minutes at least.
+I'll let you know. Mademoiselle Lucienne, now, time to go on.
+
+LUCIENNE. Yes, yes. [_She goes out_]
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_with a sigh_] To have a play being acted in the
+circumstances we're in--it's beyond everything! I cannot think how I
+came to allow it.
+
+GUÉRET. You see they'd been rehearsing for a week. And Thérèse--
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. And I not only allowed it, but I'm almost taking part in
+it.
+
+GUÉRET. We couldn't put off all these people at twenty-four hours'
+notice. And it's our last party. It's really a farewell party. Besides,
+we should have had to tell Thérèse everything.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Well, you asked me to keep it all from her until
+to-morrow--though it concerns her as much as it does us. [_Monsieur
+Féliat comes in, a man of sixty, correct without being elegant_] Here's
+my brother.
+
+FÉLIAT. I've something to tell you. Shall we be interrupted?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Yes, constantly.
+
+FÉLIAT. Let's go into another room.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I can't. And all the rooms are full of people.
+
+GUÉRET. Marguerite has been good enough to help here by taking the place
+of Madame Chain, who's ill.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_angrily_] Yes, I've got to do the noises heard off! At
+my age! [_A sigh_] Tell us, Etienne, what is it?
+
+GUÉRET. We can wait until the play is over.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. So like you! You don't care a bit about what my brother
+has to tell us. Who'd ever believe this is all your fault! [_To her
+brother_] What is it?
+
+FÉLIAT. I have seen the lawyer. Your goddaughter will have to sign this
+power of attorney so that it may get to Lyons to-morrow morning.
+
+GUÉRET [_who has glanced at the paper_] But we can't get her to sign
+that without telling her all about it.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Well, goodness me, she'll have to know sometime! I must
+say I cannot understand the way you've kept this dreadful thing from
+her. It's pure sentimentality.
+
+GUÉRET. The poor child!
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. You really are ridiculous. One would think that it was
+only _her_ money the lawyer took. It's gone, of course; but so is ours.
+
+GUÉRET. We still have La Tremblaye.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Yes, thank goodness, because La Tremblaye belongs to me.
+
+     _René comes in in great excitement._
+
+RENÉ. Where is Mademoiselle Thérèse? She'll keep the stage waiting!
+[_Listening_] No, she's coming, I hear her. Nice fright she's given me!
+[_To Madame Guéret_] Above all, Madame, don't forget the bell, almost
+the moment that Mademoiselle Thérèse comes off the stage.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Yes, yes.
+
+RENÉ. And my properties! [_He runs out_]
+
+FÉLIAT. Now we can talk for a minute.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Yes.
+
+FÉLIAT. You've quite made up your minds to come to Evreux?
+
+GUÉRET. Quite.
+
+FÉLIAT. Are you sure you won't regret Paris?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Oh, no.
+
+GUÉRET. For the last two years I've hated Paris.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Since you began to play cards.
+
+GUÉRET. For the last two years we've had the greatest difficulty in
+keeping up appearances. This lawyer absconding is the last blow.
+
+FÉLIAT. Aren't you afraid you will be horribly bored at La Tremblaye?
+
+GUÉRET [_rising_] What are we to do?
+
+FÉLIAT. Well, now listen to me. I told you--
+
+_René comes in and takes something off a table. Féliat stops suddenly._
+
+RENÉ. Good-morning, uncle. [_He hurries out_]
+
+FÉLIAT. Good-morning, René.
+
+GUÉRET. He knows nothing about it yet?
+
+FÉLIAT. No; and my sister-in-law asked me to tell him.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Well, why shouldn't you? If they _are_ engaged, we know
+nothing about it.
+
+GUÉRET. Oh!
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. We know nothing officially, because in these days young
+people don't condescend to consult their parents.
+
+FÉLIAT. René told his people and they gave their consent.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Unwillingly.
+
+FÉLIAT. Oh certainly, unwillingly. Then I'm to tell him?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. The sooner the better.
+
+FÉLIAT. I'll tell him to-night.
+
+GUÉRET. I'm afraid it'll be an awful blow to the poor chap.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Oh, he's young. He'll get over it.
+
+FÉLIAT. What was I saying when he came in? Ah, yes; you know I've
+decided to add a bindery to my printing works at Evreux; you saw the
+building started when you were down there. If things go as I want them
+to, I shall try to do some cheap artistic binding. I want to get hold of
+a man who won't rob me to manage this new branch and look after it; a
+man who won't be too set in his ideas, because I want him to adopt mine;
+and, at the same time, I'd like him to be not altogether a stranger. I
+thought I'd found him; but I saw the man yesterday and I don't like him.
+Now will _you_ take on the job? Would it suit you?
+
+GUÉRET. Would it suit me! Oh, my dear Féliat, how can I possibly thank
+you? To tell you the truth, I've been wondering what in the world I
+should do with myself now; and I was dreading the future. What you offer
+me is better than anything I could have dreamt of. What do you say,
+Marguerite?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I am delighted.
+
+FÉLIAT. Then that's all right.
+
+GUÉRET [_to his brother-in-law_] I think you won't regret having
+confidence in me.
+
+FÉLIAT. And your goddaughter?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Thérèse?
+
+FÉLIAT. Yes; how is _she_ going to face this double news of her ruin and
+the breaking off of her engagement?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I think she ought to have sense enough to understand that
+one is the consequence of the other. She can hardly expect René's
+parents to give their son to a girl without money.
+
+FÉLIAT. I suppose not. But what's to become of her?
+
+GUÉRET. She will live with us, of course.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. "Of course"! I like that.
+
+GUÉRET. She has no other relations, and her father left her in my care.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. He left her in _your_ care, and it's _I_ who have been
+rushed into all the trouble of a child who is nothing to me.
+
+GUÉRET. Child! She was nineteen when her father died.
+
+FÉLIAT. To look after a young girl of nineteen is a very great
+responsibility.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_laughing bitterly_] Ho! Ho! Look after! Look after
+Mademoiselle Thérèse! You think she's a person who allows herself to be
+looked after! And yet you've seen her more or less every holidays.
+
+GUÉRET. You've not had to look after her; she has been at the Lycée.
+
+_Thérèse comes in dressed as Kalekairi from "Barberine." She is a pretty
+girl of twenty-three, healthy, and bright._
+
+THÉRÈSE. The bell, the bell, godmother! You're forgetting the bell!
+Good-evening, Monsieur Féliat.
+
+_Thérèse takes up the bell, which is on the table._
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I was going to forget it! Oh, what a nuisance! All this
+is so new to me.
+
+FÉLIAT. Excuse me! I really didn't recognize you for the moment.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_laughing_] Ah, my dress. Startling, isn't it?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_with meaning_] Startling is the right word.
+
+RENÉ [_appearing at the back, disappearing again immediately, and
+calling_] The bell! And you, on the stage, Mademoiselle Thérèse!
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'm coming. [_She rings_] Here I am!
+
+     _She goes out._
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_with a sigh_] And I had it let down!
+
+FÉLIAT. What?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Her dress. [_To her husband_] What I see most clearly in
+all this is that she must stay with us.
+
+     _René comes fussing in._
+
+RENÉ. Where's the queen? Where's Madame Nérisse?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I've not seen her.
+
+RENÉ. But goodness gracious--! [_He goes to the door on the left and
+calls_] Madame Nérisse!
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_from outside_] Yes, yes, I'm ready.
+
+_Madame Nérisse comes in. She is about forty, flighty, and a little
+affected._
+
+RENÉ. I wanted to warn you that Ulric will be on your right, and if he
+plays the fool--
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Very well. Is it time?
+
+RENÉ. Yes, come. [_To Madame Guéret_] You won't forget the trumpets?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. No, no. All the same, you'd better help me.
+
+RENÉ. I will, I will.
+
+     _He goes out with Madame Nérisse._
+
+FÉLIAT. You know, if she wants one, she'll find a husband at Evreux.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Without a penny!
+
+FÉLIAT. Without a penny! She made a sensation at the ball at the
+sous-préfecture. She's extremely pretty.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. She's young.
+
+FÉLIAT. Monsieur Gambard sounded me about her.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Monsieur Gambard! The Monsieur Gambard who has the house
+with the big garden?
+
+FÉLIAT. Yes.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. But he's very rich.
+
+FÉLIAT. He's forty-nine.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. She'll have to take what she can get now.
+
+FÉLIAT. And I think that Monsieur Beaudoin----
+
+GUÉRET. But he's almost a cripple!
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. She wouldn't do so well in Paris.
+
+GUÉRET. She wouldn't look at either of them.
+
+FÉLIAT. We must try and make her see reason.
+
+_René enters busily. Lucienne follows him. Féliat is standing across the
+guichet through which Barberine is to speak. René pulls him away without
+ceremony._
+
+RENÉ. Excuse me, Uncle; don't stand there before the little window.
+
+FÉLIAT. Beg pardon. I didn't know.
+
+RENÉ. I haven't a moment.
+
+FÉLIAT. I've never seen you so busy. At your office they say you're a
+lazy dog.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Probably René has more taste for the stage than for
+business.
+
+RENÉ [_laughing_] Rather! [_To Lucienne_] Now, it's time. Come. Lift it.
+Not yet! There! _Now!_
+
+LUCIENNE [_speaking through the guichet_] "If you want food and drink,
+you must do like those old women you despise--you must spin."
+
+RENÉ. Capital!
+
+LUCIENNE [_to Féliat_] Please forgive me, Monsieur, I've not had time to
+speak to you.
+
+FÉLIAT. Why, it's Mademoiselle Lucienne, Thérèse's friend, who came and
+stayed in the holidays! Fancy my not recognizing you!
+
+LUCIENNE. It's my dress. I _do_ like playing this part. I have to say
+that lovely bit--you know--the bit that describes the day of the ideal
+wife. [_She recites, sentimentally_] "I rise and go to prayers, to the
+farmyard, to the kitchen. I prepare your meal; I go with you to church;
+I read a page or two; I sew a while; and then I fall asleep happy upon
+your breast."
+
+FÉLIAT. That's good, oh, that's very good! _Barberine_--now, who wrote
+that?
+
+LUCIENNE. Alfred de Musset.
+
+FÉLIAT. Ah, yes; to be sure, Alfred de Musset. I read him when I was
+young. You often find his works lying about in pretty bindings.
+
+RENÉ. Uncle, Uncle; I beg your pardon, but don't speak so loud. We can
+hardly hear what they're saying on the stage.
+
+FÉLIAT [_very politely_] Sorry, I'm sure.
+
+RENÉ [_to Lucienne_] You. _Now._
+
+LUCIENNE [_speaking through the guichet_] "My lord, these cries are
+useless. It grows late. If you wish to sup--you must spin." [_turning to
+the others_] There! Now I must go over the rest with Ulric.
+
+_She runs out, with a little wave of adieu to Féliat._
+
+RENÉ [_to Madame Guéret_] The trumpets, Madame. Don't forget.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. No, no. Don't worry.
+
+     _René goes out._
+
+FÉLIAT. You blow trumpets?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Yes; on the piano.
+
+FÉLIAT. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't want to be in the
+way. I'm not accustomed to being behind the scenes.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Nor am I.
+
+_Thérèse comes in in the Kalekairi dress, followed by René._
+
+THÉRÈSE. It's time for me now.
+
+FÉLIAT [_to Madame Guéret_] She really looks like a professional
+actress.
+
+RENÉ [_to Thérèse_] Now!
+
+THÉRÈSE [_speaking through the little window_] "My lady says, as you
+will not spin, you cannot sup. She thinks you are not hungry, and I
+wish you good-night." [_She closes the little window and says gayly_]
+Good-evening, Monsieur Féliat.
+
+RENÉ. Now then, come along. You go on in one minute.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_to Féliat_] I'll come back soon.
+
+     _She goes out._
+
+RENÉ [_to Madame Guéret_] Now, Madame, _you_, Quick, Madame!
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Yes, yes. All right.
+
+     _She plays a flourish of trumpets on the piano._
+
+RENÉ. Splendid!
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Ouf! It's over. At last we can have peace! If she's such
+a fool as to refuse both these men--
+
+GUÉRET [_interrupting_] She won't refuse, you may be sure.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_continuing_]--we shall have to keep her with us. But I
+shall insist upon certain conditions.
+
+GUÉRET. What conditions?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I won't have any scandals at Evreux.
+
+GUÉRET. There won't be any scandals.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. No; because she'll have to behave very differently, I can
+tell you. She'll have to leave all these fine airs of independence
+behind her in Paris.
+
+GUÉRET. What airs?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Well, for instance, getting letters and answering them
+without any sort of supervision! [_To her brother_] She manages in such
+a way that I don't even see the envelopes! [_To her husband_] I object
+very much, too, to her student ways.
+
+GUÉRET. She goes to classes and lectures with her girl friends.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Well, she won't go to any more. And she will have to give
+up going out alone.
+
+GUÉRET. She's of age.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. A properly brought up young lady is never of age.
+
+FÉLIAT. Perfectly true.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. And there must be a change in her way of dressing.
+
+GUÉRET. There will. She'll have to dress simply, for she won't have a
+rap.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. That has nothing to do with it. I shall make her
+understand that she will have to behave like the other girls in good
+society.
+
+FÉLIAT. Of course.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I shall also put a veto on certain books she reads. [_To
+her brother_] It's really dreadful, Etienne. You've no idea! One day I
+found a shocking book upon her table--a horror! What do you suppose she
+said when I remonstrated? That that disgraceful book was necessary in
+preparing for her examination. And the worst of it is, it was true. She
+showed me the syllabus.
+
+FÉLIAT. I'm afraid they're bringing up our girls in a way that'll make
+unhappy women of them.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Don't let's talk about it; you'll start on politics, and
+then you and Henri will begin to argue. All the same I mean to be very
+good to her. As soon as she knows what's happened her poor little
+pretensions will come tumbling about her ears. I won't leave her in
+uncertainty, and even before she asks I'll tell her she may stay with
+us; but I shall tell her, too, what I expect from her in return.
+
+GUÉRET. Wouldn't it be better--
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. My dear, I shall go my own way. See what we're suffering
+now in consequence of going _yours_. Here's Madame Nérisse. Then the
+play is over. [_To her husband_] You must go and look after the people
+at the supper table. I'll join you in a minute.
+
+GUÉRET. All right.
+
+     _He goes out._
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I've hardly ever been at such a successful party. I
+wanted to congratulate dear Thérèse, but she's gone to change her dress.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_absently_] So glad. Were you speaking of having a notice
+of it in your paper?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Of your play! If I was going to notice it! I should
+think so! The photographs we had taken at the dress rehearsal are being
+developed. We shall have a wonderful description.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_imploring_] Could it be stopped?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. It's not possible! Just think how amazed the subscribers
+to _Feminine Art_ would be if they found nothing in their paper about
+your lovely performance of _Barberine_, even if the editress of the
+paper hadn't taken a part in the play. If it only depended on me,
+perhaps I could find some way out--explain it in some way, just to
+please you. But then there's your charming Thérèse--one of our
+contributors. I can't tell you what a wonderful success she's had with
+her two stories, illustrated by herself. People adore her.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Nobody would know anything about it--
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Nobody know! There are at least ten people among your
+guests who will send descriptions of this party to the biggest morning
+papers, simply for the sake of getting their own names into print. If
+_Feminine Art_ had nothing about it, it would be thought extremely odd,
+I assure you. [_She turns to Féliat_] Wouldn't it, Monsieur?
+
+FÉLIAT. Pardon me, Madame, I know nothing about these things.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Well, we'll say no more about it.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. But what's the matter? You must have some very good
+reason for not wanting me to put in anything about your delightful
+party.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. No----only----[_Hesitating_] Some of our family are
+country people, you know. It would take me too long to explain it all to
+you. It doesn't matter. [_With a change of tone_] Then honestly you
+think Thérèse has some little talent?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Little talent! No, but very great talent. Haven't you
+read her two articles?
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Oh, I? I belong to another century. In my days it would
+have been considered a very curious thing if a young girl wrote novels.
+My brother feels this too. By the way, I have not introduced my brother
+to you. Monsieur Féliat, of Evreux--Madame Nérisse, editress of
+_Feminine Art_. Madame Nérisse has been kind enough to help us with our
+little party. [_To Madame Nérisse_] Yes--you were speaking about--what
+was it--this story that Thérèse has written. No doubt your readers were
+indulgent to the work of a little amateur.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I wish I could find professionals who'd do half as well.
+I'm perfectly certain the number her photograph is going to be in will
+have a good sale.
+
+FÉLIAT. You'll publish her photograph?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. In her dress as Kalekairi.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. In her dress as Kalekairi!
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. On the front page. They tell me it's a first-rate
+likeness. I'll bring you one of them before long, and your country
+relations will be delighted. If you'll excuse me, I'll hurry away and
+change my dress.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Oh, please excuse me for keeping you.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Good-bye for the present. [_She goes to the door_] I was
+looking for Maud and Nadia to take them away with me. I see them over
+there having a little flirtation. [_She looks through the door and
+speaks pleasantly to Maud and Nadia, who are just outside_] All right,
+all right; I won't interrupt. [_To Madame Guéret_] They'd much rather
+come home alone. Good-bye. [_She bows to Féliat_] Good-bye, Monsieur.
+[_Turning again to Madame Guéret_] Don't look so upset because you have
+a goddaughter who can be a great writer or a great painter if she
+chooses; just as she would have been a great actress if she had taken a
+fancy for that. Good-bye again and many congratulations.
+
+     _She goes out._
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Well! Anyway, she's not _my_ daughter! I must go and say
+good-bye to everybody. When I've got rid of them, I'll come back and see
+Thérèse. Will you wait for me? You'll find some papers on that little
+table. Oh, goodness, what times we live in!
+
+     _Madame Guéret goes out. Féliat, left alone, strolls to the
+     door and looks in the direction in which Madame Nérisse had
+     seen Maud and Nadia. After a moment he shows signs of
+     indignation._
+
+FÉLIAT [_shocked_] Oh, I say, this is really--I must cough or something,
+and let them know I'm here. [_He coughs_] They've seen me. They're
+waving their hands--and--they 're going on just the same!
+
+     _Lucienne and Thérèse in ordinary dress come in and notice
+     what Féliat is doing._
+
+THÉRÈSE [_to Lucienne_] What is he doing?
+
+LUCIENNE. What's the matter?
+
+     _They advance to see what has caused his perturbation. He
+     hears them and turns._
+
+FÉLIAT. It is incredible!
+
+THÉRÈSE. You seem rather upset. What's the matter?
+
+FÉLIAT. What's the matter? Those girls are behaving in such a scandalous
+way with those young men.
+
+LUCIENNE. Let's see.
+
+FÉLIAT. Oh, don't look! [_Suddenly stopping, half to himself_] Though I
+must say--
+
+THÉRÈSE [_laughing_] What must you say?
+
+FÉLIAT. Nothing.
+
+LUCIENNE. I know. You mean that we're just as bad.
+
+FÉLIAT. No, no, not as bad.
+
+LUCIENNE. Yes, yes; well--almost. [_Féliat makes a sign of protest_] I
+saw you watching us yesterday after the rehearsal! You saw I was
+flirting, and I know you imagined all sorts of horrid things. Our little
+flirtations are not what you think. When we flirt we play at love-making
+with our best boys, just as once upon a time we played at mothering with
+our dolls.
+
+FÉLIAT. But that doesn't justify--
+
+THÉRÈSE. You don't understand. People spoil us while we're children, and
+then look after us so tremendously carefully when we grow up that we
+guess there must be delightful and dangerous possibilities about us.
+Flirting is our way of feeling for these possibilities.
+
+LUCIENNE. We're sharpening our weapons.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But the foils have buttons on them, and the pistols are only
+loaded with powder.
+
+LUCIENNE. And it's extremely amusing and does no harm to anybody.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Monsieur Féliat, you've read bad books. Nowadays girls like us
+are neither bread-and-butter misses nor demi-vierges. We're perfectly
+respectable young people. Quite capable and self-possessed and, at the
+same time, quite straight and very happy.
+
+FÉLIAT. I'm perfectly sure of it, my dear young ladies. But you know
+I've had a great deal of experience.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, _experience_! Well, you know--
+
+LUCIENNE. Oh, _experience_!
+
+THÉRÈSE. You say you have experience; that only means you know about the
+past better than we do. But we know much better than you do about the
+present.
+
+FÉLIAT. I think those girls there are playing a dangerous game.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You needn't have the smallest anxiety about them.
+
+FÉLIAT. That way of going on might get them into great trouble.
+
+THÉRÈSE. It won't, I assure you. Monsieur Féliat, believe me, you know
+nothing about it.
+
+LUCIENNE. We're clever enough to be able to take care of ourselves.
+
+FÉLIAT. But there are certain things that take you by storm.
+
+LUCIENNE. Not us. Flirting is an amusement, a distraction, a game.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Shall we say a safety valve?
+
+LUCIENNE. There's not a single one of us who doesn't understand the
+importance of running straight. And, to do them justice, these boys have
+no idea of tempting us to do anything else. What they want, what we all
+really want, is a quite conventional, satisfactory marriage.
+
+FÉLIAT. I most heartily approve; but in my days so much wisdom didn't
+usually come from such fascinating little mouths.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Now how can you blame us when you see that really we think
+exactly as you do yourself?
+
+FÉLIAT. In my days girls went neither to the Lycée nor to have
+gymnastic lessons, and they were none the less straight.
+
+LUCIENNE [_reflectively_] And yet they grew up into the women of to-day.
+I get educated and try to keep myself healthy, with exercises and
+things, because I want to develop morally and physically, and be fit to
+marry a man a little bit out of the ordinary either in fortune or
+brains.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You see our whole lives depend upon the man we marry.
+
+FÉLIAT. I seem to have heard that before.
+
+LUCIENNE. Yes; so've I. But it's none the less true for that.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Isn't it funny that we seem to be saying the most shocking
+things when we're only repeating what our grandfathers and grandmothers
+preached to their children?
+
+LUCIENNE. They were quite right. Love doesn't make happiness by itself.
+One has to consider the future. We do consider it; in fact we do nothing
+else but consider it. We want to get the best position for ourselves in
+the future that we possibly can. We're not giddy little fools, and we're
+not selfish egotists. We want our children to grow up happy and capable
+as we've done ourselves. We're really quite reasonable.
+
+FÉLIAT [_hardly able to contain himself_] You are; indeed you are. It
+makes one shudder. Excuse me, I'm going to supper.
+
+LUCIENNE. Let's all go together.
+
+FÉLIAT. Thanks, I can find my way.
+
+LUCIENNE. It's down that passage to the right.
+
+FÉLIAT. Yes, I shall find it, thank you.
+
+     _He goes out._
+
+THÉRÈSE. You shocked the poor old boy.
+
+LUCIENNE. I only flavored the truth just enough to make it tasty. But
+I've something frightfully important to tell you. It's settled.
+
+THÉRÈSE. What's settled?
+
+LUCIENNE. I'm engaged.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You don't say so.
+
+LUCIENNE. It's done. Armand has been to his people and they've come to
+see mine. So I needn't play any more piano, nor sing any more
+sentimental songs; I needn't be clever any more, nor flirt any more, nor
+languish at young men any more. And how do you suppose it was settled?
+Just what one wouldn't have ever expected. You know my people were doing
+all they could to dress me up, and show me off, and seem to be richer
+than they are, so as to attract the men. On my side I was giving myself
+the smartest of airs and pretending to despise money and to think of
+nothing but making a splash. Everything went quite differently from what
+I expected. I wanted to attract Armand, and I was only frightening him
+off. He thought such a woman as I was pretending to be too expensive. It
+was just through a chance conversation, some sudden confidence on my
+part, that he found out that I really like quite simple things. He was
+delighted, and he proposed at once.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Dear Lucienne, I'm so glad. I hope you'll be very, very happy.
+
+LUCIENNE. Ah, that's another story. Armand is not by any means perfect.
+But what can one do? The important thing is to marry, isn't it?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Of course. Well, if your engagement is on, mine's off.
+
+LUCIENNE. Thérèse! Why I've just been talking to René. I never saw him
+so happy, nor so much in love.
+
+THÉRÈSE. He doesn't know yet. Or perhaps they're telling him now.
+
+LUCIENNE. Telling him what?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I've lost all my money, my dear.
+
+LUCIENNE. Lost all your money!
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes. The lawyer who had my securities has gone off with them.
+
+LUCIENNE. When?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I heard about it the day before yesterday. Godpapa and godmamma
+were so awfully good they never said anything to me about it, though
+they're losing a lot of money too. They thought I hadn't heard, and I
+expect they wanted me to have this last evening's fun. I said nothing,
+and so nobody knows anything except you, now, and probably René.
+
+LUCIENNE. What will you do?
+
+THÉRÈSE. What can I do? It's impossible for him to marry me without a
+penny. Of course I shall release him from his promise.
+
+LUCIENNE. You think he'll give you up?
+
+THÉRÈSE. His people will make him. If they cut off his allowance, he'll
+be at their mercy. He earns about twenty dollars a month in that
+lawyer's office. So, you see--
+
+LUCIENNE. Oh! poor Thérèse! And you could play Barberine with a secret
+like that!
+
+THÉRÈSE [_sadly_] I've had a real bad time since I heard. It's awful at
+night!
+
+LUCIENNE. My dearest! And you love him so!
+
+THÉRÈSE [_much moved_] Yes--oh! don't make me cry.
+
+LUCIENNE. It might do you good!
+
+THÉRÈSE. You know--[_She breaks down a little_]
+
+LUCIENNE [_tenderly_] Yes--I know that you're good and brave.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I shall have to be.
+
+LUCIENNE. Then you'll break off the engagement?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes. I shall never see him again.
+
+LUCIENNE. Never see him again!
+
+THÉRÈSE. I shall write to him. If I saw him I should probably break
+down. If I write I shall be more likely to be able to make him feel that
+we must resign ourselves to the inevitable.
+
+LUCIENNE. He'll be horribly unhappy.
+
+THÉRÈSE. So shall I. [_Low and urgently_] Oh, if he only understood me!
+If he was able to believe that I can earn my own living and that he
+could earn his. If he would dare to do without his people's consent!
+
+LUCIENNE. Persuade him to!
+
+THÉRÈSE. It's quite impossible. His people are rich. Only just think
+what they'd suspect me of. No; I shall tell him all the things his
+father will tell him. But oh! Lucienne, if he had an answer for them! If
+he had an answer! [_She cries a little_] But, my poor René, he won't
+make any stand.
+
+LUCIENNE. How you love him!
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, yes; I love him. He's rather weak, but he's so loyal and
+good and [_in a very low voice_] loving.
+
+LUCIENNE. Oh, my dear, I do pity you so.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I am to be pitied, really. [_Pulling herself together_] There's
+one thing. I shall take advantage of this business to separate from
+godpapa and godmamma.
+
+LUCIENNE. But you have no money--
+
+THÉRÈSE. I've not been any too happy here. You know they're--[_She sees
+Madame Guéret and whispers to Lucienne_] Go now. I'll tell you all about
+it to-morrow. [_Louder and gayly_] Well, good-night, my dear. See you
+to-morrow at the Palais de Glace or at the Sorbonne! Good-night.
+
+LUCIENNE. Good-night, Thérèse.
+
+     _She goes out._
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_speaking through the door_] Yes, she's here. Come in.
+[_Guéret and Féliat come in_] Thérèse, we have something to say to you.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, godmamma.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. It's about something important; something very serious.
+Let us sit down.
+
+GUÉRET. You'll have to be brave, Thérèse.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. We are ruined, and you are ruined too.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Is that all you have to say?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I knew it already.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. You _knew_ it? Who told you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. The lawyer told me himself. I had a long letter from him
+yesterday. He begs me to forgive him.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Well, I declare!
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'll show it to you. He's been gambling. To get a bigger
+fortune for his girls, he says.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. You _knew_ it! And you've had the strength,
+the--duplicity?
+
+THÉRÈSE [_smiling_] Just as you had yourself, godmamma. And I'm so much
+obliged to both of you for saying nothing to me, because I'm sure you
+wanted me to have my play to-night and enjoy myself; and that was why
+you tried to keep the news from me.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. And you were able to laugh and to _act_!
+
+THÉRÈSE. I've always tried to keep myself in hand.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Oh, I know. All the same--And I was so careful about
+breaking this news to you, and you knew it all the time!
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'm very sorry. But you--
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. All right, all right. Well, then, we have nothing to
+tell. But do you understand that you've not a penny left?
+
+GUÉRET. You're to go on living with us, of course.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_to her husband_] You really might have given her time to
+ask us. [_To Thérèse_] We take it that you have asked us, and we answer
+that we will keep you with us.
+
+GUÉRET. We are going to Evreux. My brother-in-law is giving me work in
+his factory.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. We will keep you with us, but on certain conditions.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Thank you very much, godmamma, but I mean to stay in Paris.
+
+GUÉRET. You don't understand. We are going to live at Evreux.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But _I_ am going to live in Paris.
+
+GUÉRET. Then it is I who do not understand.
+
+THÉRÈSE. All the same--[_A silence_]
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I can hardly believe that you propose to live in Paris by
+yourself.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_simply_] I do, godmamma.
+
+FÉLIAT. Alone!
+
+GUÉRET. Alone! I repeat, I don't understand.
+
+FÉLIAT. Nor do I. But no doubt you have reasons to give to your
+godfather and godmother. [_He moves to go_]
+
+THÉRÈSE. There's no secret about my reasons. All the world may know
+them. When I've explained you'll see that it's all right.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I must confess to being extremely curious to hear these
+reasons.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I do hope my decision won't make you angry with me.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Angry! When have I ever been angry with you?
+
+THÉRÈSE [_protesting_] You've both been--you've all three been--_most_
+good and kind to me, and I shall always remember it and be grateful. You
+may be sure I shan't love you any the less because I shall live in
+Paris and you at Evreux. And I do beg of you to feel the same to me. I
+shall never forget what I owe to you. Father was only your friend; we're
+not related in any way: but you took me in, and for four years you've
+treated me as if I was your daughter. From my very heart I'm grateful to
+you.
+
+GUÉRET [_affectionately_] You don't owe us much, you know. For two years
+you were a boarder at the Lycée Maintenon, and we saw nothing of you but
+your letters. You've only actually lived with us for two years, and
+you've been like sunshine in the house.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Yes, indeed.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I've thought this carefully over. I'm twenty-three. I won't be
+a burden to you any longer.
+
+GUÉRET. Is that because you are too proud and independent?
+
+THÉRÈSE. If I thought I could really be of use to you, I would stay with
+you. If I could help you to face your troubles, I would stay with you.
+But I can't, and I mean to shift for myself.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. And you think you can "shift for yourself," as you call
+it, all alone?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, godmamma.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. A young girl, all alone, in Paris! The thing is
+inconceivable.
+
+GUÉRET. But, my poor child, how do you propose to live?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'll work.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. You don't mean that seriously?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, godmamma.
+
+GUÉRET. You think you have only to ask for work and it will fall from
+the skies!
+
+THÉRÈSE. I have a few dollars in my purse which will keep me until I
+have found something.
+
+FÉLIAT. Your purse will be empty before you've made a cent.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'm sure it won't.
+
+GUÉRET. Now, my dear, you're tired, and nervous, and upset. You can't
+look at things calmly. We can talk about this again to-morrow.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, godpapa. But I shan't have changed my mind.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. I know you have a strong will of your own.
+
+FÉLIAT. Let us talk sensibly and reasonably. You propose to live all
+alone in Paris. Good. Where will you live?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I shall hire a little flat--or a room somewhere.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Like a workgirl.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Like a workgirl. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that.
+
+FÉLIAT. And you are going to earn your own living. How?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I shall work. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that, either.
+
+GUÉRET. I see. But a properly brought up young lady doesn't work for her
+living if she can possibly avoid it.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. And above all, a properly brought up young lady doesn't
+live all alone.
+
+THÉRÈSE. All the same--
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. You are perfectly free. There's no doubt about that. We
+have no power to prevent you from doing exactly as you choose.
+
+GUÉRET. But your father left you in my care.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Please, godmamma, don't be hard upon me. I feel you think I'm
+ungrateful, though you don't say so. I know that often and often I shall
+long for your kindness and for the home where you've given me a place.
+I've shocked you. Do please forgive me. I'm made like that, and made
+differently from you. I don't say you're not right; I only say I'm
+different. Certain ideas have come to me from being educated at the
+Lycée and from all these books I've read. I think I'm able to earn my
+own living, and so I look upon it as my bounden duty not to trespass
+upon your charity. It's a question of personal dignity. Don't you think
+that I'm right, godfather? [_With a change of tone_] Besides, if I did
+go to Evreux with you, what should I do there?
+
+GUÉRET. It's pretty easy to guess.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Yes, indeed.
+
+GUÉRET. You would live with us.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET [_not very kindly_] You would have a home.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, yes, I know all that; and it would be a great happiness.
+But what should I _do_?
+
+GUÉRET. You would do what all well brought up young girls in your
+position do.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You mean I should do nothing.
+
+GUÉRET. Nothing! No, not nothing.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Pay visits, practise a bit; some crochet and a little
+photography? That's to say, nothing.
+
+GUÉRET. You were brought up to that.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I should never have dared to put it into words. But afterwards?
+
+GUÉRET. Afterwards?
+
+THÉRÈSE. How long would that last?
+
+GUÉRET. Until you marry.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I shall never marry.
+
+GUÉRET. Why not?
+
+THÉRÈSE [_very gently_] Oh, godfather, you know why not. I have no
+money. [_A silence_] So I'm going to try and get work.
+
+FÉLIAT. Work! Now, Thérèse, you know what women are like who try to earn
+their own living. You think you can support yourself. How?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Perhaps I'm mistaken, but I think I can support myself by my
+pen.
+
+FÉLIAT. Be a bluestocking?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. That means a Bohemian life, with everything upside down,
+and a cigarette always between your lips.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_laughing_] Neither Bohemia, nor the upside down, nor the
+cigarette are indispensable, godmother. Your information is neither
+firsthand nor up-to-date.
+
+FÉLIAT. In a month's time you'll want to give it up.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Under those circumstances there's no harm in letting me make
+the experiment.
+
+GUÉRET. Now, my dear child, don't you know that even with your
+cleverness you may have to wait years before you make a penny. I've been
+an editor. I know what I'm talking about.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. She's made up her mind, there's no use saying any more.
+
+FÉLIAT. But _I_ want to talk to her now. Will you be so good as to
+listen to me, Mademoiselle Thérèse? [_To Madame Guéret_] I wonder if I
+might be allowed to have a few minutes with her alone.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. Most willingly.
+
+GUÉRET [_to his wife_] Come, Marguerite.
+
+MADAME GUÉRET. It's no use making up your mind to the worst in these
+days; life always keeps a surprise for you. Let's go. [_She goes out
+with her husband_]
+
+FÉLIAT. My child, I have undertaken to say something to you that I fear
+will hurt you, and it's very difficult. You know that I'm only René's
+uncle by marriage. So it's not on my own account that I speak. I speak
+for his parents.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Don't say another word, Monsieur Féliat. I perfectly
+understand. I'm going to release him from his engagement. I shall write
+to him this very night.
+
+FÉLIAT. My sister-in-law and her husband are most unhappy about all
+this.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'm grateful to you all.
+
+FÉLIAT. Their affection for you is not in any way diminished.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I know.
+
+FÉLIAT. And--
+
+THÉRÈSE [_imploringly_] Please, _please_, Monsieur Féliat, don't say any
+more; what's the good of it?
+
+FÉLIAT. I beg your pardon, my dear. I am a little upset. I was
+expecting--er, er--
+
+THÉRÈSE. Expecting what?
+
+FÉLIAT. I expected some resistance on your part, perhaps indignation. It
+must be very hard for you; you were very fond of René.
+
+THÉRÈSE. What's the good of talking about that? Of course he can't marry
+me now that I've not got a penny.
+
+FÉLIAT. You know--as a matter of fact--I--my old-fashioned ideas--well,
+you go on surprising me. But this time my surprise is accompanied
+by--shall I say respect?--and by sympathy. I expected tears, which would
+have been very natural, because I know that your affection for René was
+very great.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I can keep my tears to myself.
+
+FÉLIAT. Yes----Oh, I----at least----
+
+THÉRÈSE. Let's consider it settled. Please don't talk to me about it any
+more.
+
+FÉLIAT. Very well. Now will you allow me to say one word to you about
+your future?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I shan't change my mind.
+
+FÉLIAT. Perhaps not; all the same I want to advise you like--well, like
+an old uncle. For several years you have been spending your holidays
+with me at La Tremblaye. And I have a real affection for you. So you'll
+listen to me?
+
+THÉRÈSE. With all my heart.
+
+FÉLIAT. You're making a mistake. Your ideas do you credit, but believe
+me, you're laying up trouble for yourself in the future. [_She makes a
+movement to interrupt him_] Wait. I don't want to argue. I want you to
+listen to me, and I want to persuade you to follow my advice. Come to
+Evreux and you may be perfectly certain that you won't be left an old
+maid all your life. Even without money you'll find a husband there.
+You're too pretty, too charming, too well educated not to turn the head
+of some worthy gentleman. You made a sensation at the reception at the
+Préfecture. If you don't know that already, I tell you so.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'm extremely flattered.
+
+FÉLIAT. Do you know that if--well, if you decide to marry--I might--
+
+THÉRÈSE. But I've _not_ decided to marry.
+
+FÉLIAT. All right, all right, I am speaking about later on. Well, you've
+seen Monsieur Baudoin and Monsieur Gambard--
+
+THÉRÈSE. I haven't the slightest intention of--
+
+FÉLIAT [_interrupting_] There's no question of anything immediate. But
+for a person as wise and sensible as you are, the position of both the
+one and the other deserves--
+
+THÉRÈSE. I know them both.
+
+FÉLIAT. Yes; but--
+
+THÉRÈSE. Now look here. If I had two hundred thousand francs, would you
+suggest that I should marry either of them?
+
+FÉLIAT. Certainly not.
+
+THÉRÈSE. There, you see.
+
+FÉLIAT. But you've _not_ got two hundred thousand francs.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_without showing any anger or annoyance_] The last thing I want
+is to be exacting. But really, Monsieur Féliat, think for a minute. If I
+were to marry a man I could not possibly love, I should marry him for
+his money. [_Looking straight at him_] And in that case the only
+difference between me and the women I am not supposed to know anything
+about would be that a little ceremony had been performed over me and not
+over them. Don't you agree with me?
+
+FÉLIAT. But, my dear, you say such extraordinary things.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Well, do you consider that less dishonoring than working?
+Honestly now, do you? I think that the best thing about women earning
+their living is that it'll save them from being put into exactly that
+position.
+
+FÉLIAT. The right thing for woman is marriage. That's her proper
+position.
+
+THÉRÈSE. It's sometimes an unhappy one. [_A maid comes in bringing a
+card to Thérèse, who says_] Ask the lady kindly to wait a moment.
+
+MAID. Yes, Mademoiselle. [_The maid goes out_]
+
+FÉLIAT. Well, I'm off. I shall go and see René. Then you'll write to
+him?
+
+THÉRÈSE. This very evening.
+
+FÉLIAT. He'll want to see you. My child, will you have the courage to
+resist him?
+
+THÉRÈSE. You needn't trouble about that.
+
+FÉLIAT. If he was mad enough to want to do without his parents' consent,
+they wish me to tell you that they would never speak to him again.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I see.
+
+FÉLIAT. That he would be a stranger to them. You understand all that
+that means?
+
+THÉRÈSE [_discouraged_] Yes, yes; oh yes.
+
+FÉLIAT. If you are not strong enough to stand out against his
+entreaties, you will be his ruin.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I quite understand.
+
+FÉLIAT. People would think very badly of you.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Please don't say any more, I quite understand.
+
+FÉLIAT. Then I may trust you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. You may trust me.
+
+FÉLIAT [_fatherly and approving_] Thank you. [_He holds out his hand_]
+Thérèse, you're--well--you're splendid. I like courage. I wish you
+success with all my heart. I really wish you success. But if, in the
+future, you should want a friend--the very strongest may find themselves
+in that position--let me be that friend.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_taking the hand which Féliat holds out to her_] I'm grateful,
+very grateful, Monsieur. Thank you. But I hope I shall be able to earn
+my own living. That is all I want.
+
+FÉLIAT. I wish you every success. Good-bye, Mademoiselle.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Good-bye, Monsieur. [_He goes out. She crosses to another door
+and brings in Madame Nérisse_] How good of you to come, dear Madame. Too
+bad you should have the trouble.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Nonsense, my dear. I wanted to come. I'm so anxious to
+show you these two photographs and consult you about which we're to
+publish. I expected to find you very tired.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I am not the least tired, and I'm delighted to see you.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_showing Thérèse the photographs_] This is more
+brilliant, that's more dreamy. I like this one. What do you think?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I like this one too.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Then that's settled. [_Putting down the photographs_]
+What a success you had this evening.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes; people are very kind. [_Seriously_] I'm so glad you've
+come just now, dear Madame, so that we can have a few minutes' quiet
+talk. I have something most important to say to you.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Anything I can do for you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Well, I'll explain. And please do talk to me quite openly and
+frankly.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I will indeed.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You told me that my article was very much liked. I can quite
+believe that you may have exaggerated a little out of kindness to me. I
+want to know really whether you think I write well.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Dear Thérèse, ask Madame Guéret to tell you what I said
+to her just now about that very thing.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Then you think my collaboration might be really useful to
+_Feminine Art_?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. There's nothing more useful to a paper like ours than
+the collaboration of girls in society.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Would you like me to send you some more stories like the first?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. As many as you can.
+
+THÉRÈSE. And--[_She hesitates a moment_] and would you pay me the same
+price for them as for the one you've just published?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Yes, exactly the same; and I shall be very glad to get
+them. I like your work; you have an exceptionally light touch; people
+won't get tired of reading your stuff.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, I hope that's true! I'm going to tell you some bad news.
+For family reasons my godfather and godmother are going to leave Paris.
+I shall stay here by myself, and I shall have to live by my pen.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. What an idea!
+
+THÉRÈSE. It's not an idea, it's a necessity.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. What do you mean? A necessity? Monsieur Guéret--. But I
+mustn't be inquisitive.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You're not inquisitive, and I'll tell you all about it very
+soon; we haven't got time now. Can you promise to take a weekly article
+from me?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_with less confidence_] Certainly.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_joyfully_] You can! Oh, thank you, thank you! I can't tell you
+how you've relieved my mind.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. My dear child. I am glad you've spoken to me plainly. I
+will do everything I possibly can. I'm extremely fond of you. I don't
+think the Directors will object.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Why should they have anything to do with it?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_doubtfully_] Perhaps not, but--the Directors like to
+give each number a character of its own. It's a thing they're very
+particular about.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I could write about very different subjects.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I know you could, but it would be always the same
+signature.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Well, every now and then I might sign a fancy name.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. That would be quite easy, and I don't think the
+Directors would mind. They might say it was a fresh name to make itself
+known and liked.
+
+THÉRÈSE. We'll try and manage it.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. We shall have to fight against some jealousy. The
+Directors have protégées. The wife of one of them has been waiting to
+get an innings for more than two months. There are so many girls and
+women who write nowadays.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes; but generally speaking their work is not worth much, I
+think.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Oh, I don't know that. There are a great many who have
+real talent. People don't realize what a lot of girls there are who have
+talent. But, still, if I'm not able to take an article every week, you
+may rely upon me to take one as often as I possibly can. Oh, I shall
+make myself some enemies for your sake.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_in consternation_] Enemies? How do you mean enemies?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. My dear, it alters everything if you become a
+professional. Let me see if I can explain. We have our regular
+contributors. The editor makes them understand that they must expect to
+run the gantlet of the occasional competition of society women; because,
+if these women are allowed to write, it interests them and their
+families in the paper, and it's an excellent advertisement for us.
+That'll explain to you, by the way, why we sometimes publish articles
+not quite up to our standard. But if it's a matter of regular,
+professional work, we have to be more careful. We have to respect
+established rights and consider people who've been with us a long time.
+There is only a limited space in each number, and a lot of people have
+to live out of that.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_who has gone quite white_] Yes, I see.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_who sees Thérèse's emotion_] How sorry I am for you! If
+you only knew how I feel for you! Don't look so unhappy. [_Thérèse makes
+a gesture of despair_] You're not an ordinary girl, Thérèse, and it
+shall never be said that I didn't do all I could for you. Listen. I told
+you just now that I had some big projects in my mind. You shall know
+what they are. My husband and I are going to start an important weekly
+feminist paper on absolutely new lines. It's going to leave everything
+that's been done up to now miles behind. My husband shall explain his
+ideas to you himself. It'll be advanced and superior and all that, and
+at the same time most practical. Even to think of it has been a touch of
+genius. When you meet my husband you'll find that he's altogether out of
+the common. He's so clever, and he'd be in the very first rank in
+journalism if it wasn't for the envy and jealousy of other men who've
+intrigued against him and kept him down. I don't believe he has his
+equal in Paris as a journalist, I'll read you some of his verses, and
+you'll see that he's a great poet too. But I shall run on forever. Only
+yesterday he got the last of the capital that's needed for founding the
+paper; it's been definitely promised. We're ready to set about
+collecting our staff. We shall have leading articles, of course, and
+literary articles. Do you want me to talk to him about you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Of course I do. But--
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. We want to start a really smart, respectable woman's
+paper; of course without sacrificing our principles. Our title by itself
+proves that. It's to be called _Woman Free_.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'll give you my answer to-morrow--or this evening, if you
+like.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_hesitatingly_] Before I go--as we're to be thrown a
+good deal together--I must tell you something about myself--a secret. I
+hope you won't care for me less when you know it. I call myself Madame
+Nérisse. But I have no legal right to the name. That's why I've always
+found some reason for not introducing Monsieur Nérisse to you and your
+people. He's married--married to a woman who's not worthy of him. She
+lives in an out-of-the-way place in the country and will not consent to
+a divorce. My dear Thérèse, it makes me very unhappy. I live only for
+him. I don't think a woman can be fonder of a man than I am of him. He's
+so superior to other men. But unfortunately I met him too late. I felt I
+ought to tell you this.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Your telling me has added to my friendship for you. I can guess
+how unhappy you are. Probably I'll go this very evening to your house
+and see your husband and hear from him if he thinks I can be of use.
+Anyway, thank you very much.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. And thank _you_ for the way you take this. Good-bye for
+the present.
+
+     _She goes out. Thérèse stands thinking for a moment, then
+     René comes in. He is very much upset._
+
+THÉRÈSE. René!
+
+RENÉ. Thérèse, it can't be true! It's not possible! It's not all
+over--our love?
+
+THÉRÈSE. We must be brave.
+
+RENÉ. But I can't give you up.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I've lost every penny, René dear.
+
+RENÉ. But I don't love you any the less for that. I can't give you up,
+Thérèse. I _can't_ give you up. I love you, I love you.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, René, don't! I need all my courage to face this. Help me.
+Don't you see, your people will never consent now.
+
+RENÉ. My uncle told me so. But I'll see them. I'll persuade them. I'll
+explain to them.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You know very well they never really liked me, and that they'll
+be glad of this opportunity of breaking it off.
+
+RENÉ. I don't know what to do. But I _cannot_ give you up. What would
+become of me without you? You're everything to me, everything. And
+suddenly--because of this dreadful thing--I must give up my whole life's
+happiness.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Your people are quite right, René.
+
+RENÉ. And you, _you_ say that!
+
+     _He hides his face in his hands. A silence._
+
+THÉRÈSE [_gently removing his hands_] Look at me, René. You're crying.
+Oh, my dear love!
+
+RENÉ [_taking her in his arms_] I love you, I love you!
+
+THÉRÈSE. And I love you. Oh, please don't cry any more! [_She kisses
+him_] René, dear, don't cry any more! You break my heart. I can't bear
+it, I'm forgetting all I ought to say to you. [_Breaking down_] Oh, how
+dreadful this is! [_They cry together. Then she draws herself away from
+him, saying_] This is madness.
+
+RENÉ. Ah, stay, Thérèse.
+
+THÉRÈSE. No. We mustn't do this; we must be brave. Oh, why did you come
+here? I was going to write to you. We're quite helpless against this
+dreadful misfortune.
+
+RENÉ. I don't know what to do! But I _can't_ give you up.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_to herself_] I must do the right thing. [_To him_] René, stop
+crying. Listen to me.
+
+RENÉ. I love you.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes; there's our love. But besides that there's life, and life
+is cruel and too strong for our love. There is your future, my dearest.
+
+RENÉ. My future is to love you. My future is nothing if I lose you. [_He
+buries his face in his hands_]
+
+THÉRÈSE. You can't marry a girl without any money. That's a dreadful
+fact, like a stone wall. We shall only break ourselves to pieces if we
+dash ourselves against it. Listen, oh, please listen to me. Don't you
+hear what I'm saying? René--dear.
+
+RENÉ. I'm listening.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I give you your freedom without any bitterness or hardness.
+
+RENÉ. I don't want it!
+
+THÉRÈSE. Now listen. You mustn't sacrifice your whole life for a love
+affair, no matter how great the love is.
+
+RENÉ. It's by losing you I shall sacrifice my life.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Try and be brave; control yourself. Let us face this quietly.
+Suppose we do without your people's consent. What will become of us? Try
+to look the thing in the face. How should we live? René, it's horrible
+to bring our love down to the level of these miserable realities, but
+facts are facts. You know very well that if you marry me without your
+father and mother's consent, they won't give you any money. Isn't that
+so?
+
+RENÉ. Oh! father is hard.
+
+THÉRÈSE. He's quite right, my dear, quite right. If I was your sister, I
+should advise you not to give up the position you have been brought up
+in and the profession you've been educated for.
+
+RENÉ. But I love you.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_moved_] And I love you. Well, we've got to forget one another.
+
+RENÉ. That's impossible.
+
+THÉRÈSE. We must be wise enough to--[_She stops, her voice breaks_]
+
+RENÉ. Oh! how unhappy I am.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_controlling herself_] Don't let yourself go. We're not in
+dreamland. If you keep on saying "I am unhappy," you'll be unhappy.
+
+RENÉ. I love you so. Oh, Thérèse, how I love you!
+
+THÉRÈSE [_softly_] You'll forget me.
+
+RENÉ. Never.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes. You'll remember me in a way, of course. But you're young.
+Very soon you'll be able to live, to laugh, to love, to work.
+
+RENÉ. My dearest! I don't know what to say. I can't talk of it. I only
+know one thing--I can't let you go.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But we should be miserable, René.
+
+RENÉ. Miserable _together_!
+
+THÉRÈSE. Think, dear, think. It will be years before you can earn your
+own living, won't it?
+
+RENÉ. But I--
+
+THÉRÈSE. Now you know you've tried already. Only last year you wanted to
+leave home and be independent, and you had to go back because you were
+starving. Isn't that true?
+
+RENÉ. It's dreadful, dreadful! [_He is overcome, terrified_]
+
+THÉRÈSE. So we must look at life as it is, practically, mustn't we? We
+have to have lodging and furniture and clothes. How are we to manage?
+
+RENÉ. It's dreadful!
+
+THÉRÈSE. How would you bear to see me going about in rags? [_He is
+silent. She waits, looking at him, hoping for a word of strength or
+courage. It does not come. She draws herself up slowly, her face
+hardening_] You can't face that, can you? Tell me. Can you face that?
+
+RENÉ. No.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_humiliated by his want of courage and infected by his
+weakness_] So you see, I'm right.
+
+RENÉ [_sobbing_] Oh! Oh!
+
+THÉRÈSE [_setting her teeth_] Oh, can you do nothing but cry?
+
+RENÉ. What a useless creature I am.
+
+THÉRÈSE. There, now, you see you're better!
+
+RENÉ. I'm ashamed of being so good-for-nothing.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_hopeless_] You're just like all the others. Now, don't be
+miserable. I'm not angry with you; you are doing what I told you we must
+do, and you agree. Go, René. Say good-bye. Good-bye, René.
+
+RENÉ. Thérèse!
+
+THÉRÈSE [_her nerves on edge_] Everything we can say is useless, and
+it'll only torture and humiliate us. We must end this--now--at once.
+
+RENÉ. I shall always love you, Thérèse.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes--exactly--now go.
+
+RENÉ. Oh, my God!
+
+THÉRÈSE. Go.
+
+RENÉ. I'll go and see my people. They'll never be so cruel--
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, yes, all right.
+
+RENÉ. I'll write you.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes--that's it--you'll write.
+
+RENÉ. I shall see you again, Thérèse? [_He goes slowly to the door_]
+
+THÉRÈSE [_ashamed for him, covers her face with her hands. Then, all of
+a sudden, she bursts out into passionate sobs, having lost all control
+of herself, and cries wildly_] René!
+
+RENÉ [_returning, shocked_] Thérèse! Oh, what is it?
+
+THÉRÈSE [_completely at the mercy of her feelings_] Suppose--suppose
+after all, we _did_ it? Listen. I love you far more than you know, more
+than I have ever let you know. A foolish feeling of self-respect made me
+hide a lot from you. Trust me. Trust your future to me. Marry me all the
+same. Believe in me. Marry me. You don't know how strong I am and all
+the things I can do. I will work, and you will work. You didn't get on
+when you were alone, but you will when you have me with you. I'll keep
+you brave when things go badly, and I'll be happy with you when they go
+right. René, I'll be content with so little! The simplest, humblest,
+hardest life, until we've made our way together--_together_, René, and
+conquered a place in the world for ourselves, that we'll owe to no one
+but ourselves. Let us have courage--[_At this point she looks at him,
+and having looked she ceases to speak_]
+
+RENÉ. Thérèse, I'm sure my people will give in.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_after a very long silence, inarticulately_] Go, go; poor René.
+Forget what I said. Good-bye.
+
+RENÉ. Oh, no! not good-bye. I'll make my father help us.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_sharply_] Too late, my friend, I don't want you now.
+
+     _She leaves the room. René sinks into a chair and covers his
+     face with his hands._
+
+
+
+
+ACT II
+
+     SCENE:--_A sitting-room at the offices of "Woman Free." The
+     door at the back opens into an entrance hall. The general
+     editorial office is to the right, Monsieur Nérisse's room to
+     the left. At the back, also to the left, is another door
+     opening into a smaller sitting-room. There are papers and
+     periodicals upon the tables._
+
+     _The curtain rises upon Monsieur Mafflu. He is a man of
+     about fifty, dressed for ease rather than elegance, and a
+     little vulgar. He turns over the papers on the tables,
+     studies himself in the mirror, and readjusts his tie. Madame
+     Nérisse then comes in. She has Monsieur Mafflu's visiting
+     card in her hand. They bow to each other._
+
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. My card will have informed you that I am Monsieur
+Mafflu.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Yes. Won't you sit down?
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. I am your new landlord, Madame. I have just bought this
+house. I've retired from business. I was afraid I shouldn't have enough
+to do, so I've bought some houses. I am my own agent. It gives me
+something to do. If a tenant wants repairs done, I go and see him. I
+love a bit of a gossip; it passes away an hour or so. In that way I make
+people's acquaintance--nice people. I didn't buy any of the houses where
+poor people live, though they're better business. I should never have
+had the heart to turn out the ones that didn't pay, and I should have
+been obliged to start an agent, and all my plan would have been upset.
+[_A pause_] Now, Madame, for what brought me here. I hope you'll forgive
+me for the trouble I'm giving you--and I'm sorry--but I've come to give
+you notice.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Indeed! May I ask what your reason is?
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. I am just on the point of letting the second floor. My
+future tenant has young daughters.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I'm afraid I don't see what that has got to do with it.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Well--he'll live only in a house in which all the
+tenants are private families.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. But we make no noise. We are not in any way
+objectionable.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Oh, no, no; not at all.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Well, then?
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. How shall I explain? I'm certain you're perfectly all
+right, and all the ladies who are with you here too, but I've had to
+give in that house property is depreciated by people that work; all the
+more if the people are ladies, and most of all if they're ladies who
+write books or bring out a newspaper with such a name as _Woman Free_.
+People who know nothing about it think from such a name--oh, bless you,
+I understand all that's rubbish, but--well--the letting value of the
+house, you see. [_He laughs_]
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. The sight of women who work for their living offends
+these people, does it?
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Yes, that's the idea. A woman who works is always a
+little--hum--well--you know what I mean. Of course I mean nothing to
+annoy you.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. You mean that your future tenants don't want their young
+ladies to have our example before them.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. No! That's just what they don't. Having independent
+sort of people like you about makes 'em uneasy. For me, you know, I
+wouldn't bother about it--only--of course you don't see it this way, but
+you're odd--off the common somehow. You make one feel queer.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. But there are plenty of women who work.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Oh, common women, yes; oh, that's all right.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. If you have children, they have nurses and governesses.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Oh, those. They work, of course. They work for me,
+that's quite different. But you--What bothers these ladies, Madame
+Mafflu and all the others, is that you're in our own class. As for me I
+stick to the old saying, "Woman's place is the home."
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. But there are women who have got no home.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. That's their own fault.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Very often it's not at all their own fault. Where are
+they to go? Into the streets?
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. I know, I know. There's all that. Still women can work
+without being feminists.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Have you any idea what you mean by "feminist"?
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Not very clear. I know the people I live among don't
+know everything. I grant you all that. But _Woman Free! Woman Free!_
+Madame Mafflu wants to know what liberty--or what liberties--singular or
+plural; do you take me?--ha! ha! There might be questions asked.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_laughing_] You must do me the honor of introducing me
+to Madame Mafflu. She must be an interesting woman. I'll go and see
+her.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Oh, do! But not on a Wednesday.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Why not?
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. 'Cos Wednesday's her day.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_gayly_] I must give it up, then, as I'm free only on
+Wednesdays.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. I should like her to see for herself how nice you are.
+Her friends have been talking to her. They thought that you--well--they
+say feminist women are like the women were in the time of the Commune.
+They said perhaps you'd even go on a deputation!
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. You wouldn't approve of that?
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Oh, talkin' of that, one of my friends has an argument
+nobody can answer. "Let these women," he says, "let 'em do their
+military service."
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Well, you tell him that if men make wars, women make
+soldiers; and get killed at that work too, sometimes.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU [_after reflecting for some moments_] I'll tell him, but
+he won't understand.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Well, no matter. I won't detain you any longer, Monsieur
+Mafflu.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Oh! Madame. I should like to stay and talk to you for
+hours.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_laughing_] You're too kind.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Then you forgive me?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_going to the door with him_] What would one not forgive
+you?
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU [_turning back_] I say--
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. No, no. Good-bye, Monsieur.
+
+MONSIEUR MAFFLU. Good-bye, Madame.
+
+     _He goes out._
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_to herself_] One really couldn't be angry!
+
+     _Thérèse comes in with a little moleskin bag on her arm. She
+     is in a light dress, is very gay, and looks younger._
+
+THÉRÈSE. Good-morning, Madame. I'm so sorry to be late. I met Monsieur
+Féliat, my godmother's brother.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. How is Madame Guéret?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Very well, he says.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. And does Monsieur Guéret like his new home?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, very much.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. And Madame Guéret?
+
+THÉRÈSE. She seems to be quite happy.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. What a good thing. Here's the letter Monsieur Nérisse
+has written for you to that editor. [_She hands her an unsealed letter_]
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, thank you!
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Did you find out when he could see you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. To-morrow at Two O'clock. Can you spare me then?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Yes, certainly.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Thank you.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Why don't you read your letter? You see it's open.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'll shut it up.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Read it.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Shall I?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Yes, do.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_reading_] Oh, it's too much. This is too kind. With a letter
+like this my article is certain to be read. Monsieur Nérisse _is_ kind!
+Will you tell him how very grateful I am?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_coldly_] Yes. [_She makes an effort to be kind_] I'll
+tell him, of course. But I dictated the letter myself. Monsieur Nérisse
+only signed it. [_She rings_]
+
+THÉRÈSE. Then I have one more kindness to thank you for.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_to the page boy_] I expect Monsieur Cazarès.
+
+BOY. Monsieur--?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Our old editor--Monsieur Cazarès. You know him very
+well.
+
+BOY. Oh, yes, Madame, yes!
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. He will have another gentleman with him. You must show
+them straight into Monsieur Nérisse's room and let me know.
+
+BOY. Yes, Madame.
+
+     _During this conversation Thérèse has taken off her hat and
+     put it into a cupboard. She has opened a green cardboard box
+     and put her gloves and veil into it--folding the latter
+     carefully--also Monsieur Nérisse's letter. She has taken out
+     a little mirror, given some touches to her hair, and has put
+     it back. Finally she closes the box._
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Monsieur Cazarès is bringing us a new backer. We're
+going to make changes in the paper. I'll tell you all about it
+presently. [_With a change of tone_] Tell me, what was there between you
+and Monsieur Cazarès?
+
+THÉRÈSE [_simply_] Nothing at all.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Isn't he just a wee bit in love with you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I haven't the least idea. He's said nothing to me about it, if
+he is.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. He's always behaved quite nicely to you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Always.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. And Monsieur Nérisse?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Monsieur Nérisse? I don't understand.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Oh, yes, you do. Has he ever made love to you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. [_hurt_] Oh, Madame!
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. [_looking closely at her and then taking both her hands
+affectionately_] Forgive me, dear child. I know how good and straight
+you are. You mustn't mind the things I say. Sometimes I'm horrid I know.
+I have an idea that Monsieur Nérisse is not as fond of me as he used to
+be.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, indeed that's only your fancy.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I hope so. I'm a bit nervous I think. I've such a lot of
+trouble with the paper just now. It's not going well. [_Gesture of
+Thérèse_] We're going to try something fresh. This time I think it'll be
+all right. You'll see it will. [_A pause_] What's that? Did he call? I'm
+sure that idiot of a boy hasn't made up his fire, and he'd never think
+of it. He's like a great baby. [_As she goes towards Monsieur Nérisse's
+door--the door on the left--the door on the right opens, and
+Mademoiselle Grégoire comes in. She has taken off her hat. Madame
+Nérisse turns to her_] Why, it's Mademoiselle Grégoire! You know, _Dr._
+Grégoire! [_To Mademoiselle Grégoire_] This is Mademoiselle Thérèse.
+[_They shake hands_] I spoke to you about her. She'll explain everything
+to you in no time. I'll come back very soon and introduce you to the
+others. Excuse me for a minute. [_She goes out to the left_]
+
+THÉRÈSE. [_pleasantly_] I really don't know what Madame Nérisse wants me
+to explain to you. You know our paper?
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. No, I've never seen it.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Never seen it! Never seen _Woman Free_?
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. Never. I only know it by name.
+
+THÉRÈSE. How odd! Well, here's a copy. It's in two parts, you see, and
+they're quite different from each other. Here the doctrine, there the
+attractions. Madame Nérisse thought of that.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE [_reading as she turns over the leaves_] "Votes
+for Women."
+
+THÉRÈSE [_reading with her_] "Votes for Women," "An End of Slavery." And
+then, on here, lighter things.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. Frivolities?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Frivolities. A story. "Beauty Notes."
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE [_reading and laughing a little_] "The Doctor's
+Page."
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, too bad! But it wasn't I who first said frivolities!
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE [_still laughing_] I shall bear up. And what comes
+after "The Doctor's Page"?
+
+THÉRÈSE. "Beauty Notes" and "Gleanings."
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. Gleanings?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes. It's a column where real and imaginary subscribers
+exchange notes about cookery receipts, and housekeeping tips, and hair
+lotions, and that sort of thing.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. Quite a good thing.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I most confess it's the best read part.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. I'm not at all surprised.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'm afraid we can't conceal from ourselves that Monsieur
+Nérisse has not altogether succeeded. Each of us is inclined to like
+only her own section. We've a girl here, Caroline Legrand, one of the
+staff, who's tremendously go-a-head. You should hear her on the subject
+of "Soap of the Sylphs" and "Oriental Balm."
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. It makes her furious?
+
+THÉRÈSE. She's a sort of rampageous saint; ferocious and affectionate by
+turns, a bit ridiculous perhaps, but delightful and generous. She's so
+simple nasty people could easily make a fool of her, but all nice people
+like her.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. Shall I have much to do with her?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Not much. You'll be under Mademoiselle de Meuriot, and you'll
+be lucky. She's a dear. She's been sacrificing herself all her life.
+She's my great friend--the only one I have.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE [_taking up the paper again_] But how's this? Your
+contributors are all men. Gabriel de--, Camille de--, Claud de--, René
+de--, Marcel de--.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Well! I never noticed that before. They're the pen-names of our
+writers.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. All men's names?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes. People still think more of men as writers. You see they
+are names that might be either a man's or a woman's. Camille, René,
+Gabriel.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. There's only one woman's name--Vicomtesse de
+Renneville.
+
+THÉRÈSE. That's snobbery! It's Madame Nérisse's pen-name.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. Well, I suppose it's good business.
+
+     _Mademoiselle de Meuriot comes in at the back, bringing a
+     packet of letters._
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. The post's come, Thérèse.
+
+THÉRÈSE. This is Mademoiselle de Meuriot. [_Introducing Mademoiselle
+Grégoire_] Our new contributor.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. You're welcome, Mademoiselle.
+
+     _The door on the left opens and Madame Nérisse appears
+     backwards, still talking to Monsieur Nérisse, who is
+     invisible in the inner room._
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Yes, dearest. Yes, dearest. Yes, dearest.
+
+     _Mademoiselle Grégoire looks up at Madame Nérisse._
+
+     _Mademoiselle de Meuriot and Thérèse turn away their heads
+     to hide their smiles; finally Madame Nérisse shuts the door,
+     not having noticed anything, and comes forward. She speaks
+     to Mademoiselle Grégoire._
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Come, my dear. I'll introduce you to the others. [_To
+Mademoiselle de Meuriot_] Ah! the post has come. Open the letters,
+Thérèse, will you?
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Yes, we will.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_at the door on the right, to Mademoiselle Grégoire_]
+You first. [_They go out_]
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_smiling_] I think our new friend was a bit
+amused. She's pretty.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, and she looks capable.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Let's get to work.
+
+     _She sits down, at a desk. Thérèse sits near her at the end
+     of the same desk. During all that follows Thérèse opens
+     envelopes with a letter opener and passes them to
+     Mademoiselle de Meuriot, who takes the letters out, glances
+     at them, and makes three or four little piles of them._
+
+THÉRÈSE. Here! [_Holding out the first letter_]
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_as she works_] And you? How are you this
+morning? [_Looking closely at her and shaking a finger_] You're tired,
+little girl. You sat up working last night.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I wanted to finish copying out my manuscript. It took me ages,
+because I wanted to make it as clear as print.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_gravely_] You know you mustn't be ill,
+Thérèse.
+
+THÉRÈSE. How good you are, Mademoiselle, and how lucky I am to have you
+for a friend. What should I do without you?
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. How about your godmother?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I didn't get on with her. She never could hide her dislike for
+me, and it burst out in the end. When she saw that in spite of
+everything she could say I was going to leave her, she let herself go
+and made a dreadful scene. And, what was worse, my good, kind godfather
+joined in! It seemed as if they thought my wanting to be independent was
+a direct insult to them. What a lot of letters there are to-day.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. It's the renewal of the subscriptions.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, is that it? So you see we parted, not exactly enemies--but,
+well--on our dignity. We write little letters to one another now, half
+cold and half affectionate. I tell you, without you I should be quite
+alone.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Not more alone than I am.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I have someone to talk to now and tell my little worries to.
+It's not that, even. One always finds people ready to listen to you and
+pity you, but what one doesn't find is people one can tell one's most
+impossible dreams to and feel sure one won't be laughed at. That's real
+friendship. [_She stops working as she continues_] To dare to think out
+loud before another person and let her see the gods of one's secret
+idolatry, and to be sure one's not exposing one's precious things to
+blasphemy. How I love you for being like you are and for caring for me a
+little. [_She resumes her work_]
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. I don't care for you a little, Thérèse! I care
+for you very much indeed. I like you because you're brave and hurl
+yourself against obstacles like a little battering ram, and because
+you're straight and honest and one can depend on you.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_who can't get open the letter she holds_] Please pass me the
+scissors. Thanks. [_She cuts open the envelope_] I might have been all
+those things, and it would have been no good at all, if you hadn't been
+able to see them.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Remember that in being friends with you I get
+as much as I give. My people were very religious and very proud of their
+title. I made up my mind to leave home, but since then I've been quite
+alone--alone for thirty years. I'm selfish in my love for you now. I've
+had so little of that sort of happiness.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You've done so much for women. You've helped so many.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_touching her piles of letters_] Here's another
+who won't renew.
+
+THÉRÈSE. What will Madame Nérisse say? [_Continuing_] You know,
+Mademoiselle, it's not only success that I want. I have a great
+ambition. I should like to think that because I've lived there might be
+a little less suffering in the world. That's the sort of thing that I
+can say to nobody but you.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_tenderly_] Thérèse has an ardent soul.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, Thérèse has an ardent soul. It was you who said that about
+me first, and I think I deserve it. [_Changing her tone_] Here's the
+subscriber's book. [_She hands the book and continues in her former
+voice_] Like Guyan, I have more tears than I need to spend on my own
+sufferings, so I can give the spare ones to other people. And not only
+tears, but courage and consolation that I have no opportunity of using
+up myself. Do you understand what I mean?
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Yes, I understand, my dear. I see my own youth
+over again. [_Sadly_] Oh, I hope that you--but I don't want to rouse up
+those old ghosts; I should only distress you. Perhaps lives like mine
+are necessary, if it's only to throw into relief lives that are more
+beautiful than mine. Keep your lovely dreams. [_A silence_] When I think
+that instead of being an old maid I might have been the mother of a girl
+like you!
+
+THÉRÈSE [_leaning towards her and kissing her hair_] Don't cry.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_tears in her eyes and a smile upon her lips_]
+No, no, I won't; and when I think that somewhere or other there's a man
+you love!
+
+THÉRÈSE [_smiling_] Some day or other I must tell you a whole lot of
+things about René.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Have you seen him again?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. But you were supposed not to meet any more.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_with a mutinous little smile_] Yes, we were supposed not to
+meet any more. One says those things and then one meets all the same. If
+René had gone on being the feeble and lamentable young man that I parted
+from the _Barberine_ evening, I should perhaps have never seen him
+again. You don't know what my René has done, do you now?
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. No.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I've been looking forward so to telling you. [_Eagerly_] Well,
+he's quite changed. He's become a different man. Oh, he's not a marvel
+of energy even yet, but he's not the helpless youth who was still
+feeding out of his father's hands at twenty-five.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. And how has this great improvement come about?
+
+THÉRÈSE [_looking at her knowingly_] You'll make me blush.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Was it for love of you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I think it _was_ for love of me. Let me tell you. He wanted to
+see me again, and he waited at the door when I was coming out from my
+work, just as if I was a little milliner's assistant. And then he came
+back another evening, and then another. While we were walking from here
+to my place we chattered, and chattered, and chattered. We had more to
+say to each other than we'd ever had before, and I began to realize that
+his want of will and energy was more the result of always hanging on to
+his people than anything else. Then there came a crash. [_She laughs_] A
+most fortunate crash. His father formally ordered him not to see me
+again; threatened, if he did, to stop his allowance. What do you think
+my René did? He sent back the cheque his people had just given him with
+quite a nice, civil, respectful letter. Then he left his office and got
+a place in a business house at an absurdly small salary, and he's been
+working there ever since. [_Laughing_] He shocked all the other young
+men in the office by the way he stuck to it. He got gradually interested
+in what he had to do. He read it all up; the heads of the firm noticed
+him and were civil to him, and now they've sent him on important
+business to Tunis. And that's what he's done all for love of me! Now,
+don't you think I ought to care for him a little? Don't you?
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Yes, my dear. But then if he's in Tunis?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, he'll come back.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. And when will the wedding be?
+
+THÉRÈSE. He's sure his people will give in in the end if he can make
+some money. We shall wait.
+
+     _The page boy comes in with seven or eight round parcels in
+     his arms._
+
+BOY. Here are this morning's manuscripts.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Put them with the others.
+
+BOY. There was one lady was quite determined to see you herself. She
+said her article was most particular. It's among that lot.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Very well.
+
+BOY. Mademoiselle Caroline Legrand is coming.
+
+     _He opens the door and stands back to allow Caroline Legrand
+     to come in. She is dressed in a long brown tailor-made
+     overcoat and a white waistcoat, with a yellow necktie._
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Good-morning, Meuriot.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Good-morning, Caroline Legrand. [_They shake
+hands_]
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. It seems there's something new going on here.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. I believe there is, but I know nothing about
+it.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. I expect the paper's not going well, the jam hasn't
+hidden the pill. Even Madame Nérisse's thirtieth article upon divorce at
+the desire of one party hasn't succeeded in stirring up enthusiasm this
+time. She's been preaching up free love, but she really started the
+paper only because she thought it would help her to get the law changed
+and allow her to marry her "dearest."
+
+THÉRÈSE. Mademoiselle Legrand, I have some news that will please you.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Are all the men dead?
+
+THÉRÈSE. No, not yet; but I've heard that in a small country town
+they're starting a Woman's Trade Union.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. It won't succeed. Women are too stupid.
+
+THÉRÈSE. They've opened a special workshop there, and they're going to
+have work that's always been done by men done by women.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. That's splendid! A woman worker the more is a slave
+the less.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_gravely_] Are you quite sure of that?
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Oh, don't you misunderstand me! [_Forcibly_] Listen to
+this. A time will come when people will be as ashamed of having made
+women work as they are ashamed now of having kept slaves. But, until
+then--
+
+THÉRÈSE. The employer is rather disturbed about it.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. He's quite right. Very soon there'll be a fierce
+reaction among the men about this cheap women's labor. There's going to
+be a new sex struggle--the struggle for bread. Man will use all his
+strength and all his cruelty to defend himself. There's a time coming
+when gallantry and chivalry will go by the board, _I_ can tell you.
+
+     _Madame Nérisse comes in._
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Oh, good-morning, Legrand. I'm glad you're here, I've
+been wanting to ask your advice about a new idea I want to start in
+_Woman Free_. A correspondence about getting up a league of society
+women--
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. What about the others?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_continuing, without attending to her_]--and smart
+people, who will undertake not to wear ornaments in their hats made of
+the wings or the plumage of birds.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. You're giving up _Woman Free_ for _Birds Free_, then?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. What do you mean?
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. You'd better make a league to do away with hats
+altogether as a protest against the sweating of the women who stitch the
+straw at famine prices and make the ribbon at next to nothing. I shall
+be more concerned for the fate of the sparrows when I haven't got to
+concern myself about the fate of sweated women.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Well, of course. That's the article we've got to write.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Of course.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. We'll write it in the form of a letter to a member of
+parliament--it had better be a man, because we're going to put him in
+the wrong--a member of parliament who wants to form the league I
+suggested. What you said about the sparrows will be a splendid tag at
+the end. Will you write it?
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Rather! It's lucky you don't stick to your ideas very
+obstinately, because they can sometimes be improved upon. I think I
+shall write your paper for you in future.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Go along and send me in Mademoiselle Grégoire and Madame
+Chanteuil. They'll bother you, and I want them here.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. To write about "Soap of the Sylphs." _I_ know.
+
+     _She goes out to the right._
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. She's a little mad, but she really has good ideas
+sometimes.
+
+     _The page boy comes in._
+
+BOY [_to Madame Nérisse_] The gentlemen are there, Monsieur Cazarès and
+another gentleman.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Are they with Monsieur Nérisse?
+
+BOY. Yes, Madame.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Very well, I'll go. [_The boy goes out. She speaks to
+the others_] Divide the work between you. [_To Madame Chanteuil and
+Mademoiselle Grégoire, who come in from the right_] There's lots of work
+to be done. [_She goes out to the left_]
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. We'd better sit down. [_She sits down and says
+what follows whilst they are taking their places round the table. She
+takes up the first letter_] This is for the advertising department. Is
+Mademoiselle Baron here?
+
+THÉRÈSE. No, poor little thing. She's trudging round Paris to try and
+get hold of a few advertisements.
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. It's a dreadful job, trying to get advertisements for
+a paper that three-quarters of the people she goes to have never heard
+of. It gives me the shivers to remember what I had to go through myself
+over that job.
+
+THÉRÈSE. And poor little Baron is so shy!
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. She earned only fifty francs all last month.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. I know her, I met her lately; she told me she was
+in luck, that she had an appointment with the manager of the Institut de
+Jouvence.
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. And she thinks she's in luck!
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. It appears that that's a place where you can do
+quite good business.
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL [_gravely_] Yes, young women can do business there if
+they're pretty; but have you any idea what price they pay? Nothing would
+induce me to put my foot inside the place again.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Oh, the poor little girl! Oh, dear! [_A pause.
+She begins to sort the letters_]
+
+THÉRÈSE [_half to herself_] It seems to me our name _Woman Free_ is
+horrible irony.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_holding a letter in her hand_] Oh, Chanteuil,
+what _have_ you done? Here's somebody perfectly furious. She says she
+asked you to give her some information in the beauty column. [_Reading_]
+It was something she was mistaken about. She wrote under the name of
+"Always Young," and apparently you've answered "Always Young is a
+mistake." She thinks you did it to insult her. You must write her a
+letter of apologies.
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. Yes, Mademoiselle.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_holding up another letter_] "Little Questions
+of Sentiment." This is for you, Thérèse. [_She reads_] "I feel so sad
+because I am getting old," etc. Answer, "Why this sadness--"
+
+THÉRÈSE. "White hairs are a crown of--" [_She writes a few words in
+pencil upon the letter which Mademoiselle de Meuriot has passed to her_]
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. "Astral Influences." [_Looking round_] Who is
+"Astral Influences"?
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. I am.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_passing her letters_] Here are two, three--one
+without a post office order. Put that one straight into the waste paper
+basket. Remember that you must always promise them luck, with little
+difficulties to give success more flavor. And be sure to tell them
+they're full of good qualities, with some little amiable weaknesses and
+the sort of defects one enjoys boasting about. [_Going on reading_]
+"About using whites of eggs to take the sharpness out of sorrel," "To
+take out ink-stains." These are for you, dear.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. Yes. [_She takes the letters_] I didn't think of
+that when I took my degree.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_continuing_] "Stoutness"; that's for you too.
+[_Glancing again at the letter_] What does this one want? [_Fluttering
+the leaves_] Four pages; ah, here we are--"A slender figure--smaller
+hips--am not too stout anywhere else." That's for the doctor. [_She
+gives the letter to Mademoiselle Grégoire with several others_]
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. Iodiform soap.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. My dear, not at all, "Soap of the Sylphs."
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. But that's exactly the same thing.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. I know that. But it sounds so different.
+[_Taking another letter_] "A red nose"--
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. Lemon juice.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_continuing_] "Superfluous hairs." Be sure to
+recommend the cream that gives us advertisements; don't make any mistake
+about that. "Black specks on the chin," "Wrinkles round the eyes."
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. There's no cure for that.
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. Tell her to go to bed early and alone.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. That's too easy, she wouldn't believe in it.
+Find something else. [_Continuing to read_] "To make them firm without
+enlarging them"; that's for you too. And all the rest I think. "To
+whiten the teeth," "To make the hair lighter," "To give firmness to the
+bust."
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. They're always asking that.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_reading_] "To enlarge the eyes," "get rid of
+wrinkles"--"and double chins"--"a clear complexion"--"to keep
+young"--ouf! That's all. No, here's one that wants white arms. They're
+all alike, poor women!
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. And all that to please men.
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. To please a man more than some other woman, and so to
+be fed, lodged, and kept by him.
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE [_between her teeth_] _Kept_ is the right word.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Ah, here's Mademoiselle Baron. [_To
+Mademoiselle Baron_] Well? What luck?
+
+MADEMOISELLE BARON [_miserably_] There's no one in the office. I've got
+the signed contract for the advertisements of the Institut de Jouvence.
+Now I must go on to the printers. Here it is. Good-bye. [_A silence_]
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_in a suffocated voice_] Good-bye, my dear.
+
+     _They watch her go sadly. A long silence._
+
+THÉRÈSE [_speaking with great emotion_] Poor, _poor_ little thing!
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_also quite overcome, slowly_] Perhaps she has
+someone at home who's hungry.
+
+     _They each respond by a sigh or an ouf! Mademoiselle
+     Grégoire, Madame Chanteuil, and Mademoiselle de Meuriot
+     rise, picking up their papers._
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE. I must go and see to the "Doctor's Page."
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. And I to the "Gleaner's Column."
+
+     _They go out to the right. Thérèse rests her chin on her two
+     hands and reflects profoundly. Monsieur Nérisse comes in at
+     the back._
+
+NÉRISSE [_speaking back to the people he has left in his office in an
+irritated voice_] Do as you like. I've told you my opinion. I wash my
+hands of it. When your draft is ready show it to me. [_He shuts the
+door. Thérèse, when she hears his voice, has gathered up her papers and
+is making for the door on the right. He calls her back_] Mademoiselle!
+
+THÉRÈSE. Monsieur!
+
+NÉRISSE. Listen. I have something to say to you. [_Thérèse returns_] Did
+Madame Nérisse give you the letter of introduction I wrote for you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, Monsieur. Please forgive me for not having thanked you
+before.
+
+NÉRISSE. It's nothing.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Indeed it's a great deal.
+
+NÉRISSE. Nothing.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, I'm sure to be received quite differently with that letter
+from what I should be without it.
+
+NÉRISSE. I can give you any number of letters like that. May I?
+
+THÉRÈSE [_coldly_] No, thank you.
+
+NÉRISSE. You won't let me?
+
+THÉRÈSE. No.
+
+NÉRISSE. Why?
+
+THÉRÈSE. You know very well why.
+
+NÉRISSE. You're still angry with me. You do yourself harm by the way you
+treat me, you do indeed. Listen, this is the sort of thing. Moranville,
+the editor of the review I was talking about, is going to meet me at my
+restaurant after dinner. I know he wants just such stories as you write.
+But Moranville reads only the manuscripts of people he knows--he has a
+craze about it. Well, I hardly dare propose to you a thing which
+nevertheless is perfectly natural among colleagues, to come and dine
+with me first and meet him after. I hardly like--[_Thérèse draws herself
+up_] You see, I'm right. You don't trust me.
+
+THÉRÈSE. On the contrary, I'll go gladly. Madame Nérisse will be with
+you of course?
+
+NÉRISSE [_annoyed_] Madame Nérisse! Nonsense! Do you suppose I drag her
+everywhere I go? Say no more about it. Whatever I say will only make you
+suspicious. [_With a sigh_] All this misunderstanding and suspicion is
+horrible to me. How stupid the world is! There are times when I feel
+disgusted with everything, myself included! I'm getting old. I'm a
+failure. I'm losing my time and wasting my life over this ridiculous
+paper, which will never be anything but an obscure rag. I shall have
+done for myself soon.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_awkwardly, for something to say_] Don't say that.
+
+NÉRISSE. Yes, I shall. I might have a chance of saving myself yet if I
+took things energetically and got free of the whole thing. But I should
+have to be quick about it. [_A silence. Thérèse does not know what to
+say and does not dare to leave the room_] I'm so low--so unhappy!
+
+THÉRÈSE. So unhappy?
+
+NÉRISSE. Yes. [_Another silence. Madame Nérisse comes in and looks at
+them pointedly_] Are they gone?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Yes, they're gone.
+
+NÉRISSE. Is it all settled?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Yes. I am to meet them at the bank at four. But they
+wouldn't give way on the question of reducing expenses as regards the
+contributors.
+
+NÉRISSE. And the dates of publication?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. We are to come out fortnightly instead of weekly.
+[_Indicating the door on the right_] You must go and speak to them.
+
+NÉRISSE. Is Thérèse's salary to be reduced too?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. It would be impossible to make distinctions.
+
+NÉRISSE. Difficult, yes. Still--I think one might have managed to do
+something for her.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I cannot see how she differs from the others. Can you?
+
+NÉRISSE. Oh, well--say no more about it.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. That will be best. [_He goes out to the right. To
+herself_] I should think so indeed! [_To Thérèse_] While Monsieur
+Nérisse was talking to the other man I had a chat with Monsieur Cazarès.
+He was talking about you. He's a nice fellow, and it's quite a good
+family you know. He's steady and fairly well off--very well off.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_laughing_] You talk as if you were offering me a husband!
+
+NÉRISSE. And what would you say supposing he had asked me to sound you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I should say that I was very much obliged, but that I decline
+the honor.
+
+NÉRISSE. What's wrong with him?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Nothing.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Well then?
+
+THÉRÈSE. You can't marry upon that.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Have you absolutely made up your mind?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Absolutely.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I think you're making a mistake. I think it all the more
+because this chance comes just at a time--well, you'll understand what I
+mean when I've told you something that I have to say to you as
+manageress of _Woman Free_. It's this. You know that in spite of all we
+could do we've had to hunt about for more capital. We've found some, but
+we've had to submit to very severe conditions. The most important is
+that they insist upon a stringent cutting down of expenses. Instead of
+coming out every week, _Woman Free_ will be a fortnightly in future, and
+we've been obliged to consent to reducing the salaries of the
+contributors in proportion.
+
+THÉRÈSE. How much will they be reduced?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. In proportion I tell you. They'll be cut down by one
+half.
+
+THÉRÈSE. And I shall not have enough to live upon even in the simplest
+way.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. That was exactly what I said to them. And the work will
+not be the same.
+
+THÉRÈSE. My work will not be the same?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. No; you will be obliged to work at night.
+
+THÉRÈSE. At night?
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Yes.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But then I shall be free all day.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. No, you won't. In the daytime you will have to take
+charge of the business part of the paper, and in the evening too your
+work will not be purely literary, but more of an administrative
+character.
+
+THÉRÈSE. It appears to me that I'm asked to accept a smaller salary and
+to do double work for it.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I am conveying to you the offers of the new Directors;
+if they don't suit you, you have only to refuse them.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Of course I refuse them, and you may say to the people who have
+made them that they must be shameful sweaters to dare to offer women
+salaries that leave them no choice between starvation and degradation.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Those are strong words, my dear, and you seem to forget
+very quickly--
+
+THÉRÈSE [_softening_] Yes. Oh, I beg your pardon. But think for a
+minute, Madame, and you'll forgive me for being angry. I hardly know
+what I'm saying. [_Madame Nérisse half turns away_] Listen, oh listen!
+Forget what I said just now; I'll explain to you. I accept the reduction
+of salary. I'll manage. I'll get my expenses down. Only I can't consent
+to give up all my time. You know I have some work in hand; you know I
+have a big undertaking to which I've given all my life. I've told you
+about it, you know about that. You know I can only stand my loneliness
+and everything because of the hope I have about this. If people take all
+my time, it's the same as if they killed me. I beg you, I implore you,
+get them to leave me my evenings free.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. It can't be done.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_pulling herself together_] Very well, that's settled. I will
+go at the end of the month; that's to say to-morrow.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Take a little time to consider it.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I have considered it. They propose that I should commit
+suicide. I say no!
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I'm sorry, truly sorry. [_She rings. While she waits for
+the bell to be answered, she looks searchingly at Thérèse, who does not
+notice it. To the page boy who comes in_] Go and call me a taxi, but
+first say to Monsieur Nérisse--
+
+BOY. Monsieur Nérisse has just gone out, Madame.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Are you quite sure?
+
+BOY. I called him a taxi.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Very well, you can go. [_To Thérèse_] I'll ask you for
+your final answer this evening. [_She hands her two large books_] If you
+make up your mind to stay, make me these two bibliographies.
+
+     _Thérèse does not answer. Madame Nérisse goes out to the
+     left. Left alone Thérèse begins to sort the papers on her
+     bureau rather violently. She seizes a paper knife, flings it
+     upon the couch, and afterwards walks up and down the room in
+     great agitation. The door on the right opens and there come
+     in such exclamations as No! Never! It's monstrous! I shall
+     leave! It's an insult!_
+
+     _Caroline Legrand, Mademoiselle Grégoire, Madame Chanteuil,
+     and Mademoiselle de Meuriot come in. Mademoiselle de Meuriot
+     is the only one who has kept her self-possession._
+
+MADEMOISELLE GRÉGOIRE [_speaking above the din_] Good-bye, all. [_She
+goes to the small salon from which she originally came in, and during
+the conversation that follows comes in putting on her hat, and goes out
+unnoticed at the back_]
+
+THÉRÈSE. Well, what do you think of this?
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL AND CAROLINE LEGRAND [_together_] It's an insult.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. You must try and keep quiet. [_To Thérèse_]
+What shall you do?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I shall leave.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. You ought to stay.
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. No, Thérèse is right. We must all leave.
+
+THÉRÈSE. We must leave to-morrow--no, this evening.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_quietly_] Do you think that you'll be able to
+make better terms anywhere else?
+
+THÉRÈSE. That won't be difficult.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. You think so?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Rather.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Where, for instance?
+
+THÉRÈSE. There are other papers in Paris besides this one.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Then you know a lot of others that pay better?
+
+THÉRÈSE. One will be enough for me.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. And you think you'll find a place straight off? You
+know there are other people--
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'll give lessons. I took my degree.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Much good may it do you.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. You think you'll be a governess? At one time a
+governess could get 1,200 francs, now it's 650 francs--less than the
+cook. And if you were to be a companion--
+
+THÉRÈSE. Why not a lady's maid at once?
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Yes; lady's maid. That's not a bad idea. It's the only
+occupation a girl brought up as rich people bring up their daughters can
+be certain to get and to keep, if she's only humble enough.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I shall manage to get along without taking to that.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. But, Thérèse, have you really been blind to all
+that's been going on here? Haven't you constantly seen unfortunate
+women, as well brought up and as well educated as yourself, coming
+hunting for work? Don't you remember that advertisement of the girl that
+Caroline Legrand was interested in? That advertisement has been
+appearing in the paper for the last three months. I'll read it to you.
+[_Caroline Legrand takes up a number of "Women Free" and passes it to
+Mademoiselle de Meuriot_] Here it is. [_Reading_] "A young lady of
+distinguished appearance, who has taken a high certificate for teaching.
+Good musician. Drawing, English, shorthand, etc." I know that girl. She
+told me all about her life. D'you know what she's offered? She asked two
+francs an hour for teaching the piano. They laughed in her face, because
+for that they could get a girl who'd taken first prize at the
+Conservatoire. They gave her seventy-five centimes. Deduct from that
+seventy-five centimes the price of the journey in that underground, the
+wear and tear of clothes, the time lost in going and coming, and then
+what do you think is left?
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Let's be just. She got answers from doubtful places
+abroad, letters from old satyrs, and invitations to pose for the
+"movies."
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. What's left then? The stage. It's quite natural
+you should think of the stage.
+
+THÉRÈSE. If one must.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. If one must! You'd condescend to it, wouldn't you? You
+poor child!
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. You can't get into the Conservatoire after
+twenty-one. Are you under that? No. Are you a genius? No. Well then?
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Have you a rich lover who will back you?
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. No. Then you'll get nothing at all in the
+theatres except by making friends with half a dozen men or selling
+yourself to one.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'll go into a shop. At any rate, when it shuts I shall be
+free.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. You think they're longing for you, don't you? You
+forget you'd have to know things for that one doesn't learn by taking a
+degree; things like shorthand and typewriting. Do you know there are
+twenty thousand women in Paris who want to get into shops and offices
+and can't find places?
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. I know exactly what's going to become of _me_.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Now you're going to say something silly.
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. You think so, you've guessed. Well, I tell you, middle
+class girls thrown on the world as we are can't get along without a
+man--a husband or a lover. We haven't got the key of the prison door.
+We've not learned a trade. We've learned to smile, and dance, and
+sing--parlor tricks. All that's only of use in a love affair or a
+marriage. Without a man we're stranded. Our parents have brought us all
+up for one career and one only--the man. I was a fool not to understand
+before. Now I see.
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. Look here, you're not going to take a lover?
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. Suppose I am?
+
+CAROLINE LEGRAND. My dear, you came here full of indignation, clamoring
+against the state of society. You called yourself a feminist, but you,
+and women like you, are feminists only when it's convenient. There are
+no real feminists except ugly women like me or old ones like Meuriot.
+You others come about us in a swarm and then drop away one after
+another to go off to some man. As soon as a lover condescends to throw
+the handkerchief you're up and off to him. You _want_ to be slaves. Go,
+my dear, and take your lover. That's your fate. Good-night. [_She goes
+out_]
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_to Madame Chanteuil_] Don't listen to her, you
+poor child. Don't ruin all your life in a fit of despair.
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. I can't stay here. I'm not a saint and I'm not a fool.
+How can I live on what they offer to pay me?
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Stay for a little, while you're looking for
+something else.
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. Look for something else! Never! That means all the
+horrors I went through, before I came here, over again! No! _no! no!_
+Never! Looking for work means trailing through the mud, toiling up
+stairs, ringing bells, being told to call again, calling again to get
+more snubs. And then when one thinks one's found something one comes up
+against a door guarded by a man who's watching you, and who's got to be
+satisfied before you can get into the workroom, or the office, or the
+shop, or whatever it may be. And then you've got to begin again with
+somebody else and be snubbed again. No. Since it's an accepted, settled,
+decided thing that the only career for a woman is to satisfy the
+passions of a man, I prefer the one I've chosen myself.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. And what if he goes off and leaves you with a
+baby?
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL. Well, I'll bring it up. I shan't be the first. Women
+do it. It happens to one in every five in Paris. Ask Mademoiselle de
+Meuriot, the old maid, if she wouldn't be glad to have one now? When one
+grows old it's better to have had a child in that way than not to have
+had one at all. Ask her if I'm not telling the truth. Ask her if she's
+happy in her loneliness.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT. Oh, it's true--it's true! Sometimes--
+
+     _She bursts into tears. Thérèse goes to her and takes her in
+     her arms._
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, Mademoiselle, dear Mademoiselle!
+
+MADAME CHANTEUIL [_between her teeth_] Good-bye, Mademoiselle. Good-bye,
+Thérèse.
+
+MADEMOISELLE DE MEURIOT [_to Madame Chanteuil_] Wait, wait. I'm going
+with you. I am not going to leave you just now.
+
+     _Mademoiselle de Meuriot goes out with Madame Chanteuil.
+     Thérèse, left alone, buries her head in her hands and
+     thinks. Then she takes the two books that Madame Nérisse has
+     handed her, and with a determined swing sits down and starts
+     working. After a moment Monsieur Nérisse comes in._
+
+NÉRISSE. My dear child, I have news for you. Pleasant news, I think.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_rather grimly_] Have you?
+
+NÉRISSE. One little smile, please, or I shall tell you nothing.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I assure you smiling is the last thing I feel like.
+
+NÉRISSE. If you only knew what I've been doing for you, you wouldn't
+receive me so unkindly.
+
+THÉRÈSE. _You_ can do nothing for me. Will you please leave me alone?
+
+NÉRISSE. I don't deserve to be spoken to like that, Thérèse. Listen; we
+must come to an understanding. I know you're angry with me still about
+what happened last month. I promised you then I would say no more. Have
+I kept my word?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, you have.
+
+NÉRISSE. Will you always be angry? Is it quite impossible for us to be
+friends? I am constantly giving you proofs of my friendship. I've done
+two things for you quite lately. The first was that letter to the editor
+you're going to see to-morrow, and the second is what I've done now with
+our new backer. It's this. They wanted to sack you or to offer you
+humiliating conditions. I said if you didn't stay I wouldn't stay
+either. I gave in on other points to get my way about this. I shall have
+their final answer to-morrow, and I know I shall succeed if I stick to
+my point.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But what right had you to do such a thing? We agreed to forget
+altogether that you had dared to make love to me. D'you really not
+understand how that makes it impossible I should ever accept either
+assistance or protection from you?
+
+NÉRISSE. I have still the right to love you in secret.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Indeed you have not, and you've kept your secret precious
+badly. Madame Nérisse suspects, and I can see quite well that she's
+jealous of me. I owe her a great deal; she gave me my first start and
+got me my place here. I wouldn't make her unhappy for anything in the
+world. As soon as she hears of what you've done what d'you suppose
+she'll think?
+
+NÉRISSE. I don't care a rap what she thinks.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But I care very much. You've compromised me seriously.
+
+NÉRISSE [_sincerely contemptuous_] Compromised you! Aha, yes, there's
+the word! Oh, you middle class girls! Always the same! What are you
+doing here then? What d'you know about life? Nothing. Compromised! Then
+all your dreams of elevating humanity, all your ambitions, your career,
+the realization of yourself--you'll give up all that before you'll be
+what you describe by that stupid, imbecile, middle class word,
+compromised. When you shook yourself free of your family you behaved
+like a capable woman. Now you're behaving and thinking like a
+fashionable doll. Isn't that true? I appeal to your intelligence, to
+your mind, to everything in you that lifts you out of the ordinary ruck.
+Your precious word compromised is only the twaddle of a countrified
+miss. Don't you see that yourself?
+
+THÉRÈSE [_very much out of countenance_] Ah, if I were only certain that
+you are hiding nothing behind your friendship and your sympathy!
+
+NÉRISSE [_with perfectly genuine indignation_] Hiding? You said hiding?
+Is that what you throw in my face? You insult me? What d'you take me
+for?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I beg your pardon.
+
+NÉRISSE. What kind of assurance do you want me to give you? Do you
+believe in nothing? Is it quite impossible for you to feel frankly and
+naturally, and to say "I have confidence in you, and I accept your
+friendship"--a friendship offered to you perfectly honestly and loyally?
+It really drives one to despair.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_without enthusiasm_] Well, yes. I say it.
+
+     _She puts her hands into the hands Monsieur Nérisse holds
+     out to her._
+
+NÉRISSE. Thank you. [_A silence. Then he says in a low voice_] Oh,
+Thérèse, I love you, how I love you!
+
+THÉRÈSE [_snatching her hands away_] Oh, this is abominable. You set a
+trap for me, and my vanity made me fall into it.
+
+NÉRISSE. I implore you to let me tell you about myself. I'm so miserable
+and lonely when you're away.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_trying to speak reasonably_] I know quite well what you want
+to say to me, and it all amounts to this: you love me. It's quite clear,
+and I answer you just as clearly: I do _not_ love you.
+
+NÉRISSE. I'm so unhappy!
+
+THÉRÈSE. If it's true that you're unhappy because I don't love you, that
+is a misfortune for you; a misfortune for which I am not in any way
+responsible, because you certainly cannot accuse me of having encouraged
+you.
+
+NÉRISSE. I don't ask you to love me--yet. I ask you to allow me to try
+and win your love.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_almost desperate_] Don't dare to say that again. If you were
+an honorable man, you couldn't possibly have said these things to me
+to-day when my living depends upon you. You know the position I'm in,
+and you know that if I don't stay here, there are only two courses open
+to me--to go and live at the expense of my godmother, which I will _not_
+do, or to take the chances of a woman alone looking for work in Paris.
+Don't you understand that speaking about your love for me to-day is the
+same as driving me into the street?
+
+NÉRISSE. If you go into the street, it is by your own choice.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Exactly. There's the old, everlasting, scandalous bargain. Sell
+yourself or you shall starve. If I give in, I can stay; if I don't--
+
+NÉRISSE. _I_ didn't say so. But clearly my efforts to help you will be
+greater if I know that I'm working for my friend.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You actually confess it! You think yourself an honorable man,
+and you don't see that what you're doing is the vilest of crimes.
+
+NÉRISSE. Now I ask you. Did I wait for your answer before I began to
+defend you and to help you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. No, but you believe I shall give in through gratitude or fear.
+Well, don't count upon it. Even if I have to kill myself in the end, I
+shall never sell myself, either to you or to anyone else. [_In despair_]
+Then that's what it comes to. Wherever we want to make our way, to have
+the right to work and to live, we find the door barred by a man who
+says, Give yourself or starve. Because one's on one's own, because they
+know that there's not another man to start up and defend his _property_!
+It's almost impossible to believe human beings can be so vile to one
+another. For food! Just for food! Because they know we shall starve if
+we don't give in. Because we have old people, or children at home who
+are waiting for us to bring them food, men put this vile condition to
+us, to do like the girls in the streets. It's shameful, shameful,
+shameful. It's enough to make one shriek out loud with rage and despair.
+
+NÉRISSE [_speaking sternly_] I've never asked you to sell yourself. I
+ask you to love me.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I shall never love you.
+
+NÉRISSE [_as before_] You'll never love. Neither me nor others. Listen--
+
+THÉRÈSE [_interrupting_] I--
+
+NÉRISSE [_preventing her from speaking_] Wait; I insist upon speaking.
+You will never love, you say. You will live alone all your life. You're
+foolish and self-confident enough to think that you can do without a
+man's affection.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But I--
+
+NÉRISSE [_continuing_] I must try to make you understand your folly.
+These efforts you're making to escape from the ordinary life of
+affection are useless, and it's lucky for you they are useless. You
+can't live without love.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Why?
+
+NÉRISSE. All lonely people are wretched. But the lonely woman is twice,
+a hundred times more wretched than the man. You've no idea what it is.
+It's to pass all your life under suspicion, yes, suspicion. The world
+never believes that people live differently from others unless they have
+secret reasons, and the world always says that secret reasons are
+shameful reasons. And that's not all. Think of the lonely room where you
+may cry without anyone to hear you. Think of illness where to your
+bodily pain is added the mental torture of the fear of dying all alone.
+Think of the empty heart, the empty arms always, always. And in old age,
+more wretchedness in the regret for a wasted life. And for what and for
+whom are you making this sacrifice? For a convention; for a morality
+that nobody really believes in. Who'll think the better of you for it?
+People won't even believe in your honesty. They will find explanations
+for it that would make you die of shame if you knew them. Is that what
+you want, Thérèse? I am unhappy. Love me. Oh, if you only--
+
+THÉRÈSE. Please spare me your confidences.
+
+NÉRISSE. You think this is only a caprice on my part. You are mistaken.
+I ask you to share my life.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I will never be your mistress.
+
+NÉRISSE. You're proud and you're strong. You insist upon marriage. Very
+well. I agree.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I will not have you! I will not have you!
+
+NÉRISSE. Why? Tell me why.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I _will_ tell you why; and then, I hope, I shall have done with
+you. You're right in one way. I believe I should not be able to live all
+alone. I should be too unhappy. But at least I'll keep my right of
+choice. If ever I give myself to anyone, it will be to someone I love.
+[_With vehemence_] And I love him, I love him!
+
+NÉRISSE [_violently_] You have a lover! If that's true--
+
+THÉRÈSE [_with a cry of triumph_] Oh, have I got to the bottom of your
+vulgar, hateful little soul? If there ever was any danger of my giving
+in, your expression then would have saved me. You never thought there
+could be anything better. A lover! No, I have no lover. I have a love.
+
+NÉRISSE. I don't see so very much difference.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_proudly_] I know you don't, and that shows what you are. This
+is the one love of my life, my love for my betrothed. I lost my money
+and that separated us, but we found each other again. It's unhappy to be
+separated, but we bear our unhappiness out of respect for what you call
+prejudices, because we know how our defying them would hurt those we
+love. You think me ridiculous, but you cannot imagine how utterly
+indifferent I am. I am waiting, we are waiting, with perfect trust and
+love. Now d'you understand that I'm perfectly safe from you? Go!
+
+NÉRISSE [_in a low voice which trembles with anger and jealousy_] How
+dare you say that to me, Thérèse? How dare you bring such a picture
+before me? I will not allow you to belong to another man. [_He advances
+towards her_]
+
+THÉRÈSE [_in violent excitement_] No, no, don't dare! Don't touch me!
+don't dare to touch me!
+
+     _She cries out those words with such violence and in a voice
+     of such authority that Nérisse stops and drops into a
+     chair._
+
+NÉRISSE. Forgive me. I'm out of my mind. I don't know what I'm doing.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_in a low, forced voice_] Will you go? I've work to do.
+
+NÉRISSE. Yes, I'll go. [_He rises and says humbly_] I want to ask
+you--you won't leave us?
+
+THÉRÈSE. You dare to say that? You think I'll expose myself a second
+time to a scene like this. Yes! I shall leave, and leave to-night!
+_Will_ you go?
+
+NÉRISSE. I implore you. [_Hearing a noise outside, suddenly alarmed_]
+Here she is! Control yourself, I beg of you. Don't tell her.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You needn't be afraid.
+
+     _Madame Nérisse comes in._
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_looking from one to the other_] What's going on here?
+
+NÉRISSE. Mademoiselle Thérèse says that she's going to leave us, and I
+tried to make her understand--perhaps you could do something--I must go
+out.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Yes. Go.
+
+     _He takes his hat and goes out at the back._
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. You wish to leave us?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, Madame.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Because Monsieur Nérisse--?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, Madame.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE [_troubled and sad_] What can I say to you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Nothing, Madame.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. My poor child.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I don't want pity. Don't be unhappy about me. I shall be able
+to manage for myself. I have plenty of courage.
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. I'm so ashamed to let you go like this. How honest and
+loyal you are! [_To herself_] I was honest too, once.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Good-bye, Madame. [_She begins to tidy her papers_]
+
+MADAME NÉRISSE. Good-bye, Thérèse.
+
+     _Madame Nérisse goes out._
+
+     _When Thérèse is left alone she breaks down and bursts out
+     crying like a little child. Then she wipes her eyes, puts
+     her hat on, goes to the cardboard box, and takes out her
+     veil, which she slips into her little bag. She takes out
+     Monsieur Nérisse's letter; still crying she puts the letter
+     into another envelope, which she closes and leaves well in
+     sight upon the table. Then she takes her little black
+     moleskin bag and her umbrella and goes out slowly. She is
+     worn out, almost stooping; and, as the curtain falls, one
+     sees the poor little figure departing, its shoulders shaken
+     by sobs._
+
+
+
+
+ACT III
+
+
+    SCENE:--_Thérèse's studio at the bookbinding workshops of
+    Messrs. Féliat and Guéret at Evreux. Strewn about are
+    materials for binding books: patterns, tools, and silks. A
+    glazed door on the right opens into the general women's
+    workshops, and there is a door leading into a small office on
+    the left. In the middle, towards the back, is a large drawing
+    table; several easels stand about. There are some chairs and
+    a small bureau. Cards hang upon the walls, on which are
+    printed the text of the Factory Laws. There is a door at the
+    back._
+
+    _It is October._
+
+    _Monsieur Guéret and Monsieur Féliat come in excitedly._
+
+GUÉRET. I tell you Duriot's men are coming out on strike.
+
+FÉLIAT. And I ask you, what's that to me?
+
+GUÉRET. Ours will do the same.
+
+FÉLIAT. Oh no, they won't.
+
+GUÉRET. You'll see.
+
+FÉLIAT. Duriot's men are furious with the women because of what happened
+last year.
+
+GUÉRET. They say woman's the enemy in business.
+
+FÉLIAT. Let 'em talk.
+
+GUÉRET. They want Duriot to sack all his women.
+
+FÉLIAT. And I've told you why. There's no danger of anything like that
+happening here.
+
+GUÉRET. You think so, do you? Well, you'll see.
+
+FÉLIAT. We shall see.
+
+GUÉRET. You'll give in only after they've broken two or three of your
+machines as they did Duriot's, or done something worse, perhaps.
+
+FÉLIAT. My dear Guéret, I get out of the women for a cent what I have to
+pay the men three cents for. And as long as I can economize ten cents on
+the piece I shall go on.
+
+GUÉRET. You'll regret it. If I was in your place--[_He stops_]
+
+FÉLIAT. Well, what would you do if you were in my place?
+
+GUÉRET. What should I do?
+
+FÉLIAT. Yes, what?
+
+GUÉRET. I shouldn't take long to think. I'd cut off a finger to save my
+hand, I'd turn out every one of the women to-morrow.
+
+FÉLIAT. You're mad. You've always objected to my employing women, and I
+know very well why.
+
+GUÉRET. Well, let's hear why.
+
+FÉLIAT. You want to know. Well, because you've been jealous of Thérèse
+ever since she came here six months ago.
+
+GUÉRET. Oh, I say!
+
+FÉLIAT. That's it; my sister can't endure her.
+
+GUÉRET. Marguerite--
+
+FÉLIAT. You know she wouldn't even see her when she came down from
+Paris; and if Thérèse got work here, it was in spite of Marguerite. I
+was wiser than you about this. The girl's courage appealed to me. She's
+plucky and intelligent. Oh, I don't want to make myself out cleverer
+than I am. I took her a bit out of pity, and I thought she'd draw me a
+few designs; that was all I expected. But she has energy and initiative.
+She organized the two workrooms, and now she's got the whole thing into
+order by starting this Union.
+
+GUÉRET. The Hen's Union.
+
+FÉLIAT. What?
+
+GUÉRET. That's what the men call her Union. You should hear the things
+they say about it.
+
+FÉLIAT. Well, long live the Hen's Union! A hen's plucky when it has to
+be.
+
+GUÉRET. Seriously, it's just this Union which has annoyed the men. They
+feel it's dangerous.
+
+FÉLIAT. Very well. I'll be ready for them.
+
+     _Thérèse comes in._
+
+GUÉRET. I'll go and find out what's going on.
+
+FÉLIAT. Yes, do.
+
+     _Monsieur Guéret goes out._
+
+THÉRÈSE. I've just been seeing the man who makes our finishing tools. He
+says it's perfectly easy to make a tool from the drawing I did that
+won't be more expensive than the old one. [_Looking for a paper and
+finding it on the table_] Here's the drawing. You see I've thought of
+cheapness, but I've not sacrificed utility. After all, it's only a copy
+of a Grolier, just a little altered.
+
+FÉLIAT. Very good, but what will the price come out at?
+
+THÉRÈSE. How much do you think.
+
+FÉLIAT. I can easily do it. [_He calculates during what follows_]
+
+THÉRÈSE. The beating won't be done with a hammer, but in the rolling
+machine; the sawing-in and the covering will be done as usual.
+
+FÉLIAT [_having finished his sum_] Two francs forty.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_triumphantly_] One franc seventy. You've calculated on the
+basis of men's work. But, if you approve, I'll open a new workroom for
+women in the old shop. Lucienne can manage it. I could let Madame
+Princeteau take Lucienne's present place, and I'll turn out the stuff at
+the price I quoted.
+
+FÉLIAT. But that's first-rate. I give you an absolutely free hand.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Thank you, Monsieur Féliat.
+
+FÉLIAT. How do you think the men will take it? You know that last year,
+before you came here, a strike of the workmen was broken by the women
+taking the work the men were asking a rise for--taking it at lower
+wages, too. Since then the men feel very strongly against the women.
+Your godfather is anxious about it.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, leave it to me, I'm not afraid.
+
+FÉLIAT. Well done. I like pluck. Go ahead. How lucky I was to get you
+here.
+
+THÉRÈSE. How grateful I am to you for believing in me. [_Lucienne
+appears at the door on the right. She is speaking to a workwoman who is
+not visible, while the following conversation goes on_] And how good you
+are, too, to have given work to poor Lucienne. When I think what you
+saved her from! She really owes her life to you. At any rate she owes it
+to you that she's living respectably.
+
+FÉLIAT. Well, I owe _you_ ten per cent reduction on my general expenses.
+[_With a change of tone_] Then that's agreed? You're going ahead?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+FÉLIAT. I'll go and give the necessary orders. [_He goes out_]
+
+THÉRÈSE. It's all right. It's done. He's agreed! I'm to have my new
+workroom, and you're to be the head of it.
+
+LUCIENNE. Oh, splendid! Then I'm really of some importance here at last.
+[_A long happy sigh_] Oh dear, how happy I am. I'd never have believed I
+could have enjoyed the smell of a bindery so. [_Sniffing_] Glue, and
+white of egg, and old leather; it's lovely! Oh, Thérèse, what you did
+for me in bringing me here! What I owe you! That's what a woman's being
+free means; it means a woman who earns her own living.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, you're right! Isn't it splendid, Lucienne, ten wretched
+women saved, thanks to our new workshop. I've seen Duriot's forewoman.
+At any moment fifty women from there may be out of work. I can take on
+only ten at present, and I've had to choose. That was dreadful! Thirty
+of them are near starvation. I took the worst cases: the old maids, the
+girls with babies, the ones whose husbands have gone off and left them,
+the widows. Every one of those, but for me, would have been starved or
+gone on the streets. I used to want to write books and realize my dreams
+that way. Now I can realize them by work. I wish Caroline Legrand could
+know what I'm doing. It was she who helped me to get over my silly
+pride, and come and ask for work here.
+
+LUCIENNE. Dear Caroline Legrand! Without her! Without you! [_With a
+change of tone_] What d'you suppose happened to me this morning? I had a
+visit from Monsieur Gambard.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_laughing_] Another visit! I shall be jealous!
+
+LUCIENNE. You've reason. For the last week that excellent old man has
+come every single morning with a book for me to bind. I begged him not
+to take so much trouble, and I told him that if he had more work for us
+to do, we could send for the books to his house. What d'you think he did
+to-day?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I've no idea.
+
+LUCIENNE. He asked me to marry him.
+
+THÉRÈSE. My dear! What then?
+
+LUCIENNE. Why, then I told him that I was married and separated from my
+husband.
+
+THÉRÈSE. There's such a thing as divorce.
+
+LUCIENNE. Naughty girl! That's exactly what he said. I told him that my
+first experience of marriage was not calculated to make me run the
+chances of a second. And then he asked me to be his mistress.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Indignation of Lucienne!
+
+LUCIENNE. No! I really couldn't be angry. He offered so naïvely to
+settle part of his fortune upon me that I was disarmed. I simply told
+him I was able to earn my own living, so I was not obliged to sell
+myself.
+
+THÉRÈSE. And he went off?
+
+LUCIENNE. And he went off.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_starting suddenly_] Was that three o'clock that struck.
+
+LUCIENNE. Yes, but there's nothing very extraordinary in that.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Not for you, perhaps. But I made up my mind not to think about
+a certain thing until it was three o'clock. I stuck to it--almost--not
+very easily. Well, my dear, three o'clock to-day is a most solemn hour
+in my life.
+
+LUCIENNE. You don't say so!
+
+THÉRÈSE. _I do._ Lucienne, I am so happy. I don't know how I can have
+deserved to be as happy as I am.
+
+LUCIENNE. Good gracious, what's happened in the last five minutes?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'll tell you. One hour ago René arrived at Evreux. He's come
+back from Tunis. Come back a success and a somebody. And now--
+
+     _Vincent, a workman, comes in._
+
+VINCENT. Good-morning, Mademoiselle Thérèse. I want a word with you,
+because it's you who engages--
+
+THÉRÈSE. Not the workmen.
+
+VINCENT. I know. But it's about a woman, about my wife.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_sharply_] Your wife? But I don't want your wife.
+
+VINCENT. I heard as how you were taking on hands.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, but I choose them carefully. First of all I take the ones
+who need work or are not wanted at home.
+
+VINCENT. You're quite right--but I ain't asking you to pay my old woman
+very much--not as much as a man.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Why not, if she does the same work?
+
+VINCENT [_with male superiority_] Well, in the first place, she's only a
+woman; and, besides, if you didn't make a bit out of it, you wouldn't
+take her in the place of a man.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But you get excellent wages here yourself. You can live without
+forcing your wife to work.
+
+VINCENT. Well, anyhow, her few halfpence would be enough to pay for my
+tobacco.
+
+LUCIENNE [_laughing_] Come, you don't smoke as much as all that.
+
+VINCENT. Besides, it'll put a bit more butter on the bread.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But your wife will take the place of another woman who hasn't
+even dry bread perhaps.
+
+VINCENT. Oh, if one was bothering all the time about other people's
+troubles, you'd have enough to do!
+
+THÉRÈSE. Now will you forgive me if I meddle a little in what isn't
+exactly my business?
+
+VINCENT. Oh, go on, you won't upset me.
+
+THÉRÈSE. What d'you do when you leave the works? You go to the saloon?
+
+VINCENT [_losing control of himself and becoming violent and coarse_]
+That's yer game, is it! You take me for a regler soaker. That's a bit
+too thick, that is. You can go and ask for yourself in all the saloons
+round here. Blimey, sometimes I don't drink nothing but water for
+a week on end! Can you find anybody as has ever seen me
+blue-blind-paralytic--eh? I'm one of the steady ones, I am. I has a
+tiddley in the morning, like every man as is a man, to keep out the
+fog; then I has a Vermouth before lunch, and a drop of something short
+after, just to oil the works like--and that's the bloomin' lot. Of
+course you're bound to have a Pernod before dinner to get your appetite
+up; and if I go for a smoke and a wet after supper, well, it's for the
+sake of a bit of company.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_who has been jotting down figures with a pencil while he has
+been talking_] Well, that's a franc a day you might have saved.
+
+VINCENT. A franc.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_holding out the paper to him_] Add it up.
+
+VINCENT [_a little confused_] Oh, I'll take your word for it. I ain't
+much good at sums.
+
+THÉRÈSE. With that franc you might have put a fine lot of butter on
+every round of bread.
+
+VINCENT. Well, look here, I want a bicycle.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Why? You live five minutes' walk from here.
+
+VINCENT. Yes, but I want to get about a bit on Sundays.
+
+THÉRÈSE. There's one thing you haven't thought of. You have two little
+children. Who'll look after them if your wife comes to work here?
+
+VINCENT. Don't you worry about that. You takes 'em all dirty to the
+crèche every morning and gets 'em back in the evenin' all tidied up.
+
+THÉRÈSE. And who's going to get supper ready?
+
+VINCENT [_naïvely_] Why, the old woman when she comes back from work.
+
+THÉRÈSE. While you take your little drink?
+
+VINCENT [_the same tone_] Oh, yes; I shan't hurry her up too much.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Who'll mend your clothes?
+
+VINCENT. Why, the old woman of course.
+
+THÉRÈSE. When?
+
+VINCENT. On Sundays.
+
+THÉRÈSE. While you go off for a run on the bicycle?
+
+VINCENT. Yes; it'll be a change for her. And at night I'll take her to
+see me play billiards. [_With a change of tone_] That's all settled,
+ain't it?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Indeed, it's not.
+
+VINCENT. Why not? Aren't you going to open a new workroom?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Your wife has no need to work.
+
+VINCENT. What's that got to do with you? You're taking on the others.
+
+THÉRÈSE. The others are in want.
+
+VINCENT. That's nothing to me. You ought to take the wives of the chaps
+as works here first.
+
+THÉRÈSE. All I can do is to mention her name at the next meeting of our
+Union.
+
+VINCENT. Oh, damn your Union--it's a fair nuisance!
+
+THÉRÈSE. A Union is always a nuisance to somebody.
+
+VINCENT. And you'll ask your Union not to take my old woman?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I certainly shall.
+
+VINCENT [_rather threateningly_] Very well. Things was more comfortable
+here before you come from Paris, you know.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_quietly_] I'm sorry.
+
+VINCENT. And they'll be more comfortable when you take your hook back.
+
+THÉRÈSE. That won't be for a good while yet.
+
+VINCENT. I ain't so damned sure about that! Good-afternoon.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Good-afternoon.
+
+     _He goes out._
+
+LUCIENNE. You've made an enemy, my dear.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I don't care as long as I'm able to prevent women being driven
+to work to pay for their husbands' idleness and drunkenness.
+
+     _Féliat and Guéret come in. Lucienne goes out._
+
+FÉLIAT. Tell me, Mademoiselle, if there was a strike here, could you
+count upon your workwomen?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'm sure I could.
+
+FÉLIAT. Are you certain none of them would go back on you?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Two or three married women might if their husbands threatened
+them.
+
+FÉLIAT. Will you try, in a quiet way, to find out about that?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, certainly. [_She makes a movement to go out_]
+
+FÉLIAT. Look here, it seems that Duriot has just had a visit from two
+delegates from the Central Committee in Paris, who were sent down to
+protest against the engagement of women. I'm afraid we're going to have
+trouble here.
+
+THÉRÈSE. The conditions here are very different from those at Duriot's.
+
+FÉLIAT. All the same, find out what you can.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I will, at once. [_She goes towards the door_]
+
+FÉLIAT. Whatever happens we must send off that Brazilian order. How is
+it getting on?
+
+THÉRÈSE. We shall have everything ready in three days. I'll go and
+inquire about the other thing.
+
+     [_She goes out_]
+
+FÉLIAT. Good.
+
+GUÉRET. Three days isn't the end of the world. I think I can promise you
+to keep my men as long as that.
+
+FÉLIAT. If it's absolutely necessary, one might make them some little
+concessions.
+
+GUÉRET. I'll do all I can.
+
+FÉLIAT. Yes. And if they're too exacting, we'll let them go, and the
+women shall get the stuff finished up for us. [_There is a knock at the
+door_] Come in.
+
+     _René comes in._
+
+GUÉRET. Hullo!
+
+FÉLIAT. René!
+
+GUÉRET. You or your ghost?
+
+FÉLIAT. Where do you come from? Nobody's heard of you for a hundred
+years.
+
+RENÉ. Come now, only six months, and you've had some news.
+
+FÉLIAT. Where are you from last?
+
+RENÉ. From Tunis.
+
+GUÉRET. And what are you doing here?
+
+RENÉ. I'll tell you all about it. I want to have a bit of a talk with
+you.
+
+FÉLIAT. Well, we're listening.
+
+GUÉRET. You're mighty solemn about it.
+
+RENÉ. It's extremely serious business.
+
+FÉLIAT. Don't be tragic. You're here safe and sound; and you've not lost
+money, because you'd none to lose.
+
+RENÉ. I've come to marry Thérèse.
+
+GUÉRET. Well, I must say you don't beat about the bush.
+
+FÉLIAT. But it's to your own people you've got to say that. What the
+devil--! Thérèse has no more money than she had a year ago. So--
+
+RENÉ. I'll marry her in spite of them.
+
+GUÉRET. Well, we've nothing to do with it.
+
+RENÉ. Yes, but I don't want to marry her in spite of you.
+
+FÉLIAT. Nor in spite of herself.
+
+RENÉ. I'm certain she won't say no.
+
+FÉLIAT. But a year ago you solemnly separated; you both agreed
+everything was over.
+
+RENÉ. Nothing was over. A year ago I was a fool.
+
+GUÉRET. To the point again.
+
+FÉLIAT. And what are you now?
+
+RENÉ. At any rate I am not quite useless any longer. I'm not a boy now,
+obliged to do what he's told because he's perfectly incapable of doing
+for himself.
+
+FÉLIAT. Have you found something to do?
+
+RENÉ. I'm in phosphates.
+
+FÉLIAT. And what the devil are you in phosphates?
+
+RENÉ. Representative.
+
+FÉLIAT. How do you mean?
+
+RENÉ. A commercial traveller, as father said with great contempt.
+
+ GUÉRET. Well, it was not with a view to that sort of future that he had
+you called to the Bar.
+
+RENÉ. At the Bar I could have earned my own living in about ten
+years--possibly. When I had to give up marrying Thérèse I saw how
+useless I was. Thanks to her I found myself out. She gave me a bit of
+her own courage. She woke up my self-respect. Besides, after that I had
+something to work for, an aim, and I seemed to understand why I was
+alive. I worked and read a lot; my firm noticed me; they sent me to
+Tunis. I asked them to let me give up clerk work and have a try on my
+own. Over there I got into touch with three small firms. I placed their
+goods. I earn four hundred francs a month. Next year I mean to start a
+little branch in this district where we will manufacture
+superphosphates. From now until then I shall travel about the district
+and try and get customers; and my wife--and Thérèse--will go on with her
+work here, if you will be so good as to keep her.
+
+GUÉRET. Ouf! Think of a young man who can talk as long as that, without
+taking breath, giving up the Bar. What a pity!
+
+FÉLIAT [_to René_] Have you told all that to your people?
+
+RENÉ. Yes. They're not at all proud of my business. And after refusing
+to let me marry Thérèse because she had no money they won't let me marry
+her now because she works for her living. To be directress of a bindery,
+even of your bindery, uncle, is not distinguished enough for them.
+
+FÉLIAT. Well, my boy, you certainly couldn't have stood up to things
+like that a year ago. What d'you want us to do for you? Thérèse doesn't
+want our consent to marry; nor do you.
+
+     _While Monsieur Féliat has been speaking, old Mother Bougne
+     has come in from the right. She is a poor old workwoman who
+     walks with difficulty, leaning on a broom, from which one
+     feels that she never parts. She has a bunch of keys at her
+     waistbelt; her apron is turned up and makes a sort of pocket
+     into which she slips pieces of paper and scraps that she
+     picks up from the floor. René looks at her with surprise._
+
+FÉLIAT. You're looking at Mother Bougne. Good-morning, Mother Bougne.
+
+MOTHER BOUGNE. Good-morning, Monsieur Féliat.
+
+FÉLIAT. When does the Committee of your Union sit?
+
+MOTHER BOUGNE. On Wednesday, Monsieur Féliat.
+
+FÉLIAT. You won't miss it, will you?
+
+MOTHER BOUGNE. I haven't missed one up to now, Monsieur Féliat.
+
+FÉLIAT. That's right. [_She goes out at the back during what follows.
+Monsieur Féliat turns to René and says_] We call Mother Bougne our
+Minister of the Interior, because she tries to keep the place tidy.
+She's been a weaver near Rouen since she was eight years old; she's been
+stranded here.
+
+RENÉ. And she's a member of the Committee of the Union?
+
+GUÉRET. Yes, she's a member. Thérèse insisted on it. When Thérèse
+founded a Woman's Trade Union here she had the nice idea of including
+among them this poor old creature, wrecked by misery and hard work. Our
+Thérèse has ideas like that. [_With a change of tone_] But business,
+business. What do you want us to do for you?
+
+RENÉ. I've come to ask you two things. The first is to try to get round
+my people.
+
+FÉLIAT. Well, I'll try. But I know your father. He's even more obstinate
+than I am myself. I shan't make the smallest impression upon him. What
+else?
+
+RENÉ. I want to have a talk with Thérèse in your presence.
+
+FÉLIAT. In our presence! Now listen, my boy. Our presence will be much
+more useful in the work rooms. We have our hands full here. You've
+dropped in just at the point of a split between workmen and employers.
+Besides, to tell you the truth, I think I know pretty well what you have
+to say to Thérèse. I'll send her to you. And, look here, don't keep her
+too long, because she's got her hands full too. [_To Guéret_] Will you
+go and telephone to Duriot's?
+
+GUÉRET [_looking at his watch_] Yes, there might be some news. [_He goes
+out_]
+
+FÉLIAT [_to René_] And I'll send Thérèse here.
+
+     _He goes out and René is alone for a few moments. Then
+     Thérèse comes in. They advance towards each other quietly._
+
+THÉRÈSE. How do you do, René?
+
+RENÉ. How are you, Thérèse?
+
+     _They shake hands, then, giving way to their feelings, they
+     kiss each other tenderly and passionately._
+
+THÉRÈSE [_in a low voice_] That'll do; don't, René dear. [_She withdraws
+gently from his embrace_] Don't. Let's talk. Have you seen your people?
+
+RENÉ. Yes.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Well?
+
+RENÉ. Well, Thérèse, they won't come to our wedding.
+
+THÉRÈSE. They still refuse their consent?
+
+RENÉ. We can do without it.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But they refuse it?
+
+RENÉ. Yes. Forgive me, my dearest, for asking you to take just my own
+self. Do you love me enough to marry me quite simply, without any
+relations, since I leave my relations for your sake?
+
+THÉRÈSE. My dear, we mustn't do that; we must wait.
+
+RENÉ. No, I won't wait. I won't lose the best time of my life, and years
+of happiness, for the sake of prejudices I don't believe in. Do you
+remember what you said to me the night we played _Barberine_? You were
+splendid. You said: "Marry me all the same, in spite of my poverty."
+[_She makes a movement to stop him_] Oh, let me--please let me go on! I
+was only a miserable weakling then, I was frightened about the future.
+But you roused me and set me going. If I'm a man now, it's to you I owe
+it. Thanks to you I know how splendid it is to trust one's self and
+struggle, and hope, and succeed. Now I can come to you and say: "I am
+the man you wanted me to be, let us marry and live together." Oh,
+together, together! How splendid it sounds! Do you remember how you said
+that night long ago: "Let us conquer our place in the world together"?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, René! René! We must wait!
+
+RENÉ. Why? Why must we wait? What possible reason can you have for not
+doing now what you wanted me to do a year ago? Don't you believe in me?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh yes, yes. It's not that!
+
+RENÉ. What is it then? Thérèse, you frighten me. It seems as if you were
+hiding something from me.
+
+THÉRÈSE. No, no. What an idea!
+
+RENÉ. Is it--oh, can it be that you don't love me so much?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, René, no, no. Don't think that for a moment.
+
+RENÉ. But you're not being straight with me. You're hiding something.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Don't ask me.
+
+RENÉ. Thérèse!
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, please don't ask me!
+
+RENÉ. Now, you know very well that's impossible. How can there be
+secrets between us? You and I are the sort of people who are straight
+with one another. I must have my share in everything that makes you
+unhappy.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Well, then, I must tell you. It's about your father and mother.
+Oh, how I wish I needn't tell you. René, while you've been away your
+people have been dreadful to me. Your father came here to see me. He
+wanted me to swear never to see you again--never. Of course I wouldn't.
+When I refused to give in he said it was through worldly wisdom. He
+said: "If he wasn't going to inherit my money, you wouldn't hang on to
+him like this." He dared to say that to me, René--your father whom I
+have always wanted to respect and love. He thought that of me. And then
+I swore to him, and I've sworn to myself, that I'll never marry you,
+never, without his consent. I cannot be suspected of _that_. You
+understand, don't you? The poorer I am the prouder I ought to be. [_She
+bursts into tears_] My dear--my dear! How unhappy I am! How dreadfully
+unhappy I am!
+
+RENÉ. My darling! [_He kisses her_]
+
+THÉRÈSE. Don't, René! I couldn't help telling you. But you understand,
+my dearest, that we've got to wait until he knows me better.
+
+RENÉ [_forcibly_] No. We will _not_ wait.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'll never break my word.
+
+RENÉ. What d'you want us to wait for? A change of opinion that'll
+probably never come. And our youth will go, we shall have spoilt our
+lives. You want to send me back to Paris all alone and unhappy, to spend
+long silent evenings thinking about you and suffering from not being
+with you, while you, here, will be suffering in the same way, in the
+same loneliness. And we love each other, and it absolutely depends only
+on ourselves whether we shall change our double unhappiness for a double
+joy. [_Changing his tone_] I can't stand it, Thérèse. I've loved you for
+two years, and all this last year I've toiled and slaved to win you.
+[_Low and ardently_] I want you.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, hush, hush!
+
+RENÉ. I want you. You're the one woman I've loved in my life. My love
+for you _is_ my life. I can't give up my life. Listen: I have to be in
+Paris this evening; are you going to let me leave you broken-hearted?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Do you think that I'm not broken-hearted?
+
+RENÉ. I shan't suffer any the less because I know that you're suffering
+too.
+
+THÉRÈSE. It doesn't depend upon us.
+
+RENÉ. It depends entirely upon us. Look here, if people refuse to let us
+marry, our love for each other is strong enough to do without marriage.
+Thérèse, come with me!
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, René, René! What are you asking me to do?
+
+RENÉ. Have you faith in me? Look at me. Do you think I'm sincere? Do you
+think I'm an honest man? Do you think that, if people refuse to let us
+go through a ridiculous ceremony together, our union will be any the
+less durable? Is it the ceremony that makes it real? Thérèse, come with
+me. Come this evening; let's go together; let's love each other. Oh, if
+you loved me as much as I love you, you wouldn't hesitate for a second.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, don't say that, I implore you!
+
+RENÉ. Then you don't trust me?
+
+THÉRÈSE. I won't do it. I won't do it.
+
+RENÉ. What prevents you? You're absolutely alone, you have no relations.
+You owe nothing to anybody. No one will suffer for your action. You've
+already given a year of your life to the foolish prejudices of society.
+You've shown them respect enough. First they prevented our marriage
+because you were poor; now they want to prevent it because you work.
+Thanks to you I have been able to assert myself and get free. My father
+and mother can keep their money. I don't want it. Come.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_in tears_] You're torturing me. Oh, my dear, you're making me
+most unhappy. I could never do that, never. Don't be angry with me. I
+love you. I swear that I love you.
+
+RENÉ. I love you, Thérèse. I swear that I love you. All my life is
+yours. [_He breaks down_] Don't make me so unhappy. The more unhappy,
+the more I love you.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I couldn't do it.
+
+     _Monsieur Féliat comes in._
+
+FÉLIAT. Hullo! Was it to make her cry like that that you wanted to see
+her? Is that what you've learnt "in phosphates"? [_To Thérèse_] Don't,
+my dear. [_In a tone of kindly remonstrance_] You! Is it you I find
+crying like a little schoolgirl? [_Thérèse wipes her eyes_] Oh, I
+understand all about it. But his father will give in in the end. And
+you, René, be reasonable, don't hurry things.
+
+RENÉ. But I want--
+
+FÉLIAT [_interrupting him_] No, no, for goodness' sake, not just now.
+We'll talk about it later on. Just now we have other fish to fry. We're
+in a fix, my young lover. We've got to face some very serious
+difficulties. Go along with you.
+
+     _Monsieur Guéret comes in._
+
+GUÉRET [_to Monsieur Féliat_] One of the delegates of the Central
+Committee is outside.
+
+FÉLIAT. And what does the brute want?
+
+GUÉRET [_makes a gesture of caution and points to the door_] He wishes
+to speak to the Chairman of the Women's Union.
+
+FÉLIAT. Oh, ask the gentleman in. [_To René_] My boy, you must be off.
+I'll see you presently.
+
+RENÉ. Yes, presently.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_aside to René_] Be at the station half an hour before the
+train goes. I'll be there to say good-bye.
+
+     _René goes out. Monsieur Guéret brings in the delegate and
+     goes out again himself._
+
+FÉLIAT. Good-morning. What can I do for you?
+
+DELEGATE. I am a delegate from the Central Committee in Paris.
+
+FÉLIAT. I am Monsieur Féliat, the owner of these works. I'm at your
+service.
+
+DELEGATE. It's not to you I wish to speak. This is a question which
+doesn't concern you.
+
+FÉLIAT. Which doesn't concern _me_!
+
+DELEGATE. Not at present, at any rate. Will you kindly tell me where I
+can find the person I have come to see?
+
+FÉLIAT [_furious_] I--[_controlling himself_] She is here. [_He
+indicates Thérèse_]
+
+     _Monsieur Féliat goes out to the right._
+
+DELEGATE. Mademoiselle, I'm here as the representative of the Central
+Committee in Paris to request you to break up your Women's Union.
+
+THÉRÈSE. So that's it.
+
+DELEGATE. That's it.
+
+THÉRÈSE. What harm does it do you?
+
+DELEGATE. It strengthens you too much against us.
+
+THÉRÈSE. If I asked you to break up yours for the same reason, what
+would you say to me?
+
+DELEGATE. Our union is to fight the masters; yours is to fight us.
+
+THÉRÈSE. It does you no harm whatever.
+
+DELEGATE. Your union supports a movement we've decided to fight.
+
+THÉRÈSE. What movement?
+
+DELEGATE. The movement of the competition of women, the invasion of the
+labor market by female labor.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Not a very dangerous invasion.
+
+DELEGATE. You think not. Listen. I've just come down from Paris. Who
+gave me my railway ticket? A woman. Who did I find behind the counter at
+the Post Office? A woman. Who was at the end of the telephone wire? A
+woman. I had to get some money; it was a woman who gave it to me at the
+bank. I don't even speak of the women doctors and lawyers. And in
+industry, like everywhere else, women want to supplant us. There are
+women now even in the metal-working shops. Everyone has the right to
+defend himself against competition. The workmen are going to defend
+themselves.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Without troubling about the consequences. To take away a
+woman's right to work is to condemn her to starvation or prostitution.
+You're not competitors, you're enemies.
+
+DELEGATE. You're mistaken. We're so little the enemies of the women
+that in asking you to do away with your Union we're speaking in your own
+interest.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Bah!
+
+DELEGATE. We don't want women to take lower wages than ours.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I know the phrase. "Equal wages for equal work."
+
+DELEGATE. That's absolutely just.
+
+THÉRÈSE. The masters won't give those equal wages.
+
+DELEGATE. The women have a means of forcing them to; they can strike.
+
+THÉRÈSE. We don't wish to employ those means.
+
+DELEGATE. I beg your pardon, the women would consent at once. It's you
+that prevent them, through the Union that you've started. Isn't that so?
+
+THÉRÈSE. That is so. But you know why.
+
+DELEGATE. No, I do not know why.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Then I will tell you why. It is because the phrase only seems
+to be just and generous. You know very well that here, at any rate, the
+owner would not employ any more women if he had to pay them the same
+wages he pays the men. And if they struck, he'd replace them by men.
+Your apparent solicitude is only hypocrisy. In reality you want to get
+rid of the women.
+
+DELEGATE. Well, I admit that. The women are not competitors; they're
+enemies. In every dispute they'll take the side of the masters.
+
+THÉRÈSE. How d'you know that?
+
+DELEGATE. They've always done it, because women take orders by instinct.
+They're humble, and docile, and easily frightened.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Why don't you say inferiors, at once?
+
+DELEGATE. Well, yes; inferiors, the majority of them.
+
+THÉRÈSE. If they're inferiors, it's only right that they should take
+lower wages.
+
+DELEGATE. Oh, I didn't mean to say--
+
+THÉRÈSE [_interrupting him_] But it's not true--they are _not_ your
+inferiors. If they believe they are, it's because of the wrongs and
+humiliations you've imposed on them for centuries. You men stick
+together. Why are we not to do the same? If you start trade unions, why
+may not we? As a matter of fact, as regards work, we're your equals. We
+need our wages; and to get hold of the jobs that we're able to do we
+offer our work at a cheaper rate than you do. That is competition; you
+must protect yourselves from it. If you want no more competition, keep
+your women at home and support them.
+
+DELEGATE. But that's precisely what we want: "The man in the workshop,
+the woman in the home."
+
+THÉRÈSE. If the mother is not at home nowadays, it's because the man is
+in the saloon.
+
+DELEGATE. The men go to the saloons because they're tired of finding the
+place badly kept and the supper not ready when they go home, and instead
+of a wife a tired-out factory hand.
+
+THÉRÈSE. D'you think it's to amuse themselves the women go to work?
+Don't you suppose they prefer a quiet life in their own homes?
+
+DELEGATE. They've only got to stay there.
+
+THÉRÈSE. And who's to support them?
+
+DELEGATE. Their husbands!
+
+THÉRÈSE. First they've got to have husbands. What about the ones who
+have no husbands--the girls, the widows, the abandoned? Isn't it better
+to give them a trade than to force them to take a lover? Some of them
+want to leave off being obliged to beg for the help of a man. Can't you
+see that for a lot of women work means freedom? Can you blame them for
+demanding the right to work? That's the victory they're fighting for.
+
+DELEGATE. I'm not at all sure that that victory is a desirable one.
+Indeed, I'm sure it is not. When you've succeeded in giving the woman
+complete independence through hard work; when you have taken her
+children from her and handed them over to a crèche; when you've severed
+her from her domestic duties and also from all domestic happiness and
+joy, how d'you know she won't turn round and demand to have her old
+slavery back again? The quietness and peace of her own home? The right
+to care for her own husband and nurse her own child?
+
+THÉRÈSE. But can't you see that it's just that that the immense majority
+of women are demanding now? We want the women to stay at home just as
+much as you do. But how are you going to make that possible? At present
+the money spent on drink equals the total of the salaries paid to women.
+So the problem is to get rid of drunkenness. But the middle classes
+refuse to meet this evil straightforwardly because the votes which keep
+them in power are in the pockets of the publicans; and you socialist
+leaders refuse just as much as the middle classes really to tackle the
+drink question because you're as keen for votes as they are. You've got
+to look the situation in the face. We're on the threshold of a new era.
+In every civilized country, in the towns and in the rural districts,
+from the destitute and from the poor, from every home that a man has
+deserted for drink or left empty because men have no longer the courage
+to marry, a woman will appear, who comes out from that home and will sit
+down by your side in the workshop, in the factory, at the office, in the
+counting house. You don't want her as housewife; and as she refuses to
+be a prostitute, she will become a woman-worker, a competitor; and
+finally, because she has more energy than you have, and because _she_
+is not a drunkard, she will take your places.
+
+DELEGATE [_brutally_] Well, before another hour's gone over our heads
+you'll find that she won't start that game here.
+
+     _Monsieur Féliat comes in._
+
+FÉLIAT [_to the delegate_] My dear sir, a thousand pardons for
+interrupting you, but as I've just turned your friend out of my house
+because he took advantage of being in it to start a propaganda against
+me, what's the use of your going on talking to this lady about a course
+of action she will no more consent to than I shall?
+
+DELEGATE. Very well, Monsieur. I shall telephone to Paris for
+instructions. Probably you will refuse to let me use your instrument.
+
+FÉLIAT. I most certainly shall.
+
+DELEGATE. So I shall go to the Post Office, and in ten minutes--
+
+FÉLIAT. Go, my dear sir, go. But let me tell you in a friendly way that
+it'll take you more than ten minutes to get on to Paris.
+
+DELEGATE. It takes you more, perhaps, but not me. Good-morning. [_The
+delegate goes out_]
+
+FÉLIAT [_to Thérèse_] The low brute! Things are not going well. What
+happened at Duriot's has made a very unfortunate impression here. The
+news that you were going to open a new workshop for the women has been
+twisted and distorted by gossip and chatter, and my men have been worked
+up by the other brute to come and threaten me.
+
+THÉRÈSE. What d'you mean?
+
+FÉLIAT. They threaten me with a strike and with blacklisting me if I
+don't give up the idea.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You can't give up absolutely certain profits.
+
+FÉLIAT. If I am too obstinate, it may result in much larger losses which
+will be equally certain.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But what then?
+
+FÉLIAT. I've had to promise that for the present at any rate there's no
+question of taking on any more women.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh!
+
+FÉLIAT. What could I do?
+
+     _Monsieur Guéret comes in._
+
+FÉLIAT [_to Guéret_] Well?
+
+GUÉRET. They wouldn't listen.
+
+FÉLIAT. I was afraid they wouldn't. [_To Thérèse_] That's not all. Your
+godfather has been trying something else, and I understand he's not
+succeeded. I shall have to take the mending away from your workshop.
+
+THÉRÈSE. The women won't agree to that.
+
+GUÉRET. Perhaps that would be the best solution of the difficulty.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_startled_] Don't say that. You can't mean it. Think!
+
+GUÉRET. What's more, the men refuse to finish the work the women have
+begun.
+
+THÉRÈSE. We'll finish it.
+
+GUÉRET. Then they'll strike.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Let them strike. Monsieur Féliat, you can fight now and get
+terms for yourself. Just at this moment we have only one very urgent
+order. If the men strike, I can find you women to replace them. Every
+day I am refusing people who want to be taken on.
+
+GUÉRET [_suddenly_] I have an idea.
+
+THÉRÈSE. What's that?
+
+GUÉRET. I know my men; they're not bad fellows.
+
+THÉRÈSE. My workers are splendid women.
+
+GUÉRET. Of course they are. As a matter of fact we're face to face now,
+not with a fight between men and masters, but with a fight between
+men-workers and women-workers. The men have their trade union, and the
+women have theirs. Both unions have a President and two Vice-Presidents.
+Both have their office. We must have a meeting between the two here at
+once, in a friendly, sensible way, before they've all had time to excite
+themselves; and let them find some way out that'll please 'em all.
+
+FÉLIAT. But, my dear fellow, if you bring them together, they'll tear
+one another's eyes out.
+
+GUÉRET. Oh, we know you don't believe the working classes have any
+sense.
+
+FÉLIAT [_between his teeth_] I don't. I've been an employer too long.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_to Monsieur Féliat_] Why not try what my godfather suggests?
+What do you risk?
+
+FÉLIAT. I don't mind. But I will have nothing to do with it personally.
+
+GUÉRET. Neither will I.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I'll go and see if Berthe and Constance are here. [_To Guéret_]
+You go and fetch your men. [_She goes out to the left_]
+
+GUÉRET. I give you my word that, if there's any possible way out, this
+is the only chance of getting at it.
+
+FÉLIAT. Very well, go and fetch them.
+
+     _Guéret goes out. Thérèse comes in with Berthe and
+     Constance. They are wearing large aprons and have scissors
+     attached to their waistbelts. Berthe is a fat, ordinary
+     woman. Constance is tall, dry, and ugly._
+
+BERTHE [_respectfully_] Good-morning, Monsieur Féliat.
+
+CONSTANCE [_the same_] Good-morning, Monsieur Féliat.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I want Berthe and Constance to tell you themselves whether you
+can count upon them in case of the men striking.
+
+CONSTANCE. Oh yes, Monsieur Féliat. We'll do anything you want us to.
+
+BERTHE. Oh, Monsieur Féliat, don't send us away!
+
+CONSTANCE [_imploringly_] Oh, Monsieur Féliat, you won't send us away,
+will you?
+
+BERTHE. We do want the work so, Monsieur.
+
+CONSTANCE. It's God's truth we do.
+
+FÉLIAT. I'll do everything possible on my side, but it all depends on
+yourselves and the men. Try to come to some understanding.
+
+CONSTANCE. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+BERTHE [_lowering her voice_] If you can't pay us quite as much for the
+mending, we don't mind taking a little less. You'd keep it dark,
+wouldn't you?
+
+FÉLIAT. We'll see about it.
+
+     _Girard, Charpin, Deschaume, and Vincent come in._
+
+WORKMEN [_very civil and speaking together_] Good-morning, ladies and
+gents.
+
+FÉLIAT. Has my brother explained to you why he asked you to meet the
+representatives of the Women's Union and to try to come to an
+understanding with them?
+
+GIRARD. Yes, Monsieur Féliat.
+
+CHARPIN. That's all we want. All friends together, like.
+
+DESCHAUME. That's the hammer, mate!
+
+FÉLIAT. Then I'll go. Do try and keep your tempers.
+
+ALL [_speaking together_] Oh yes. To be sure, sir. You needn't trouble,
+sir.
+
+     _Féliat goes out. The workmen and workwomen left together
+     shake hands all round without any particular courtesy or
+     cordiality._
+
+CHARPIN. Well, what d'you say to a sit down?
+
+DESCHAUME [_speaking of Charpin_] That lazy swine's only comfortable
+when he's sittin' down.
+
+CHARPIN. I ain't agoing to tire meself for nix, not 'arf!
+
+     _Berthe and Constance have mechanically brought chairs for
+     the workmen, who take them without any thanks, accustomed as
+     they are to be waited upon. When all are seated they see
+     that Thérèse has been left standing._
+
+CONSTANCE [_rising_] Have my chair, Mademoiselle.
+
+THÉRÈSE. No, thank you, I prefer to stand.
+
+CHARPIN. I see that all our little lot's here. There's four on us, but
+only three 'er you.
+
+DESCHAUME [_meaningly_] One of the hens ain't turned up yet.
+
+CHARPIN [_sniggering_] Perhaps she's a bit shy, like.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You mean Mother Bougne. You, workmen yourselves, mock at an old
+woman wrecked by work. But you're right. She ought to be here. I'll go
+and fetch her. Only to look at her would be an argument on our side.
+[_She goes out to the right_]
+
+DESCHAUME. Mademoiselle Thérèse needn't kick up such a dust about a
+little thing like that. There's four on us; so there must be four on
+you, in case we have to take a vote.
+
+     _Thérèse comes back with Mother Bougne._
+
+THÉRÈSE [_to the workmen_] Give me a chair. [_They do so_] Sit down,
+Mother Bougne. [_Insisting_] Mother Bougne, sit down.
+
+MOTHER BOUGNE. Oh, don't trouble, miss, I'm not used to--
+
+THÉRÈSE [_sharply_] Sit down.
+
+     _Mother Bougne sits down._
+
+CHARPIN. Well, here's the bloomin' bunch of us.
+
+DESCHAUME. We'd best fix up a chairman.
+
+GIRARD. What's the good of that?
+
+DESCHAUME. We'd best have you, Girard. You've education, and you're up
+to all the dodges about public meetings.
+
+GIRARD. It's not worth while.
+
+DESCHAUME. Well, I only put it forrard because it's the usual. But have
+it your own way! [_A silence_] Only don't all jaw at once. You'll see
+you'll want a chairman, I tell you that, but I don't care. It ain't my
+show.
+
+CHARPIN. Get a move on you, Girard, and speak up.
+
+GIRARD. Well, ladies--
+
+VINCENT [_interrupting_] Now look here. I want to get at an
+understandin'.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Monsieur Girard, will you be kind enough to speak for your
+friends? We have nothing to say on our part. We're asking for nothing.
+
+GIRARD. Well, that's true. We want to have the mending back.
+
+THÉRÈSE. And we don't mean to give it up.
+
+GIRARD. Well, we expected that. Now, to show you that we're not such a
+bad lot as you think, we'll share it with you on two conditions. The
+first is that you're paid the same wages as we are.
+
+DESCHAUME. Look here, that won't suit me at all, that won't. If my old
+woman gets as much as me, how am I to keep her under? Blimey, she'll
+think she's my bloomin' equal!
+
+GIRARD [_impatiently_] Oh, bung her into some other berth. Let me go on.
+The second condition is that you aren't to have a separate workshop.
+We'll all work together as we used to.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Why?
+
+DESCHAUME. You women do a damned sight too much for your ha'pence.
+
+GIRARD. Yes, it's all in the interests of the masters. It's against
+solidarity.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Will you allow me to express my astonishment that you should
+make conditions with us when you wish to take something from us?
+
+CHARPIN. We're ony tellin' you our terms for sharing the work with you.
+
+THÉRÈSE. I quite understand; but we have no desire to share it with you.
+We mean to keep it. And I'm greatly surprised to hear you suggest that
+we should all work together.
+
+CONSTANCE. Indeed we won't.
+
+DESCHAUME. Why not, Mademoiselle? When we worked together--
+
+CONSTANCE [_interrupting_] When we worked with you before, you played
+all sorts of dirty tricks on us to make us leave.
+
+DESCHAUME. What tricks? Did you hear anything about that, Charpin?
+
+CHARPIN. I dunnow what she's talkin' about. D'you Vincent?
+
+VINCENT. Look here, I only want to get to an understandin'.
+
+CONSTANCE. You never stopped sayin' beastly things.
+
+DESCHAUME AND CHARPIN [_protesting together_] Oh! O-ho!
+
+DESCHAUME. Well, if we can't have a bit of chippin' in a friendly way
+like!
+
+BERTHE. Beastly things like that ain't jokes. I didn't know where to
+look meself; and I've sat for a sculptor, so I ain't too particular.
+
+CHARPIN. He! He! I thought she was talkin' about that old joke of the
+rats.
+
+     _The men laugh together._
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, you're laughing about it still! About shutting up live
+rats in our desks before we came to work.
+
+GIRARD. He! He! We didn't mean any harm.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You didn't mean any harm! The little apprentice was ill for a
+week, and Madame Dumont had a bad fall. You thought of dozens of things
+of that kind, like the typists who mixed up all the letters on the
+women's desks. When we went away to get our lunch, you came and spoilt
+our work and made the women lose a great part of their day's pay or work
+hours of overtime. We don't want any more of that. You agreed we should
+have a separate workshop. We'll keep it.
+
+GIRARD. If Monsieur Féliat sticks to you, we'll have to come out on
+strike.
+
+THÉRÈSE. We don't want Monsieur Féliat to get into trouble because of
+us.
+
+GIRARD. Well, what are you going to do about it?
+
+THÉRÈSE. We'll take your places.
+
+CHARPIN [_bringing his fist down with a bang upon the table_] Well, I'm
+damned!
+
+DESCHAUME [_threateningly_] If you do, we'll have to put you through it!
+
+CONSTANCE. We'll do it!
+
+GIRARD [_to Thérèse_] D'you understand now, Mademoiselle, why we
+socialists don't want women in the factory or in the workshop? The
+woman's the devil because of the low salary she has to take. She's a
+victim, and she likes to be a victim, and so she's the best card the
+employer has to play against a strike. The women are too weak, and if I
+might say so, too slavish--
+
+DESCHAUME. Yes, that's the word, mate, slavish.
+
+BERTHE [_very angry_] Look at that man there, my husband, and hear what
+he's saying before me, his wife, that he makes obey him like a dog. He
+beats me, he does. You don't trouble about my being what you call
+slavish when it's you that profits by it! I'd like to know who taught
+women to be slavish but husbands like you.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You've so impressed it upon women that they're inferior to men,
+that they've ended by believing it.
+
+GIRARD. Well, maybe there's exceptions, but it's true in the main.
+
+DESCHAUME. Let 'em stay at home, I says, and cook the bloomin' dinner.
+
+BERTHE. And what'll they cook the days when you spend all your wages in
+booze.
+
+GIRARD. It's the people that started you working that you ought to
+curse.
+
+BERTHE. I like that! It was my husband himself that brought me to the
+workshop.
+
+THÉRÈSE. She's not the only one, eh, Vincent?
+
+VINCENT. But I ain't sayin' nothin', I ain't. What are you turnin' on me
+for? I ain't sayin' nothin'.
+
+BERTHE. We'd like nothing better than to stay at home. Why don't you
+support us there?
+
+CONSTANCE. It's because you don't support us there that you've got to
+let us work.
+
+DESCHAUME. We ain't going to.
+
+BERTHE. We won't give in to you.
+
+GIRARD. If you don't, we'll turn the job in.
+
+THÉRÈSE. And I tell you that we shall take your places.
+
+DESCHAUME. Rats! You can't do it.
+
+THÉRÈSE. We couldn't at one time, that's true. But now we've got the
+machines. The machines drove the women from their homes. Up to lately
+one had to have a man's strength for the work; now, by just pulling a
+lever, a woman can do as much and more than the strongest man. The
+machines revenge us.
+
+DESCHAUME. We'll smash the things.
+
+GIRARD. She's right. By God, she's right! It's them machines has done
+it. If any one had told my grandfather a time would come when one chap
+could keep thousands of spindles running and make hundreds of pairs of
+stockings in a day, and yards and yards of woollen stuff, and socks and
+shirts and all, why grandfather'd've thought everybody'd have shirts and
+socks and comforters and shoes, and there'd be no more hard work and
+empty bellies. Curse the damned things! We works longer hours, and
+there's just as many bare feet and poor devils shivering for want of
+clothes. The machines were to give us everything, blast 'em! The workers
+are rotten fools! The damned machines have made nothing but hate between
+them that own them and them that work them. They've used up the women
+and even the children; and it's all to sell the things they make to
+niggers or Chinamen; and maybe we'll have war about it. They've made the
+middle classes rich, and they're the starvation of all of us; and after
+they've done all that, here are the women, our own women, want to help
+'em to best us!
+
+MOTHER BOUGNE. You're right, Girard. When I was a kid, and there was no
+machines--leastways, not to speak of--we was all better off. Women
+stayed at home, and they'd got enough to do. Why, my old grandmother
+used to fetch water from the well and be out pickin' up sticks before it
+was light of a mornin'! Yes, and women made their own bread, and did
+their washin', and made their bits of things themselves! Now it's
+machines for everythin', and they say to us: "Come into the factory and
+you'll earn big money." And we come, like silly kids! Why, fancy me,
+eight years old, taken out of the village and bunged into a spinnin'
+mill! Then, when I was married, there was me in a workman's dwellin'.
+You turn a tap for your water, don't fetch it; baker's bread, and your
+bit of dinner from the cookshop, or preserved meat out of a tin. You
+don't make a fire, you turn on the gas; your stockin's and togs all
+fetched out of a shop. There ain't no need for the women to stay at home
+no longer, so they cuts down the men's wages and puts us in the
+factories. We ain't got time to suckle our kids; and now they don't want
+young 'uns any more! But when you're in the factory, they make yer pay
+through the nose for yer gas and yer water, and baker's bread and
+ready-made togs; and you've got nothin' left out of yer bit of wages,
+and you're as poor as ever; and you're only a "hand" at machines in the
+damp and smoke, instead of bein' in your own house an' decent like. What
+are you fussin' about, Girard? Don't you see that we _can't_ go back to
+the old times now? A woman ain't got a house now, only a little room
+with nothin' but a dirty bed to sleep on! And I tell you, Girard, you've
+got to let us earn our livin' like that now, because it's you and the
+likes of you that's brought us to it.
+
+GIRARD. Well, after all, we've got to look after our living. The women
+want to take it from us.
+
+MOTHER BOUGNE. It's because they haven't got any themselves, my lad.
+They've got to live as well as you, you see.
+
+GIRARD. And supposing there isn't enough living for everybody?
+
+MOTHER BOUGNE. The strongest'll get it and the weak 'uns'll be done in.
+
+GIRARD. Well, we've not made the world, and we're not going to have our
+work taken away from us.
+
+CONSTANCE. And we're not, either.
+
+DESCHAUME. Damn it all, we've got to live.
+
+BERTHE. Well, we've got to live too. The kids has got to live and we've
+got to live. One would think we was brute beasts.
+
+CONSTANCE. We say just the same as you. We've not made the world, it
+ain't our fault.
+
+     _During the last few speeches women have appeared at the
+     door to the right and have remained on the threshold,
+     becoming excited by the conversation._
+
+A WOMAN [_at the door_] It ain't our fault.
+
+     _Some men show themselves at the door at the back._
+
+A MAN. So much the worse for you.
+
+ANOTHER WOMAN. We've got to live, we've got to live!
+
+ANOTHER MAN. Ain't we got to live too?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Well, don't drink so much.
+
+     _The women applaud this speech with enthusiasm._
+
+A WOMAN [_bursting out laughing_] Ha! Ha! Ha!
+
+WOMEN. Right, Mademoiselle! Well done! Good!
+
+     _They come further forward._
+
+BERTHE. You won't get our work away from us.
+
+DESCHAUME. It's _our_ work; you took it.
+
+BERTHE. You gave it up to us.
+
+A MAN. Well, we'll take it back from you.
+
+ANOTHER MAN. We were wrong.
+
+ANOTHER MAN. Drive out the Hens.
+
+ANOTHER MAN. The strike! Long live the strike! We'll come out!
+
+A WOMAN. We'll take your places; we've got to live.
+
+A MAN. There's no living for you here.
+
+A WOMAN. Yes there is; we'll take yours.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, we'll take yours. And your wife that you brought here
+yourself will take your place, Vincent. And you the same, Deschaume.
+She'll take your place, and it'll serve you right. You can stay at home
+and do the mending to amuse yourself.
+
+GIRARD [_to the women_] This woman from Paris is turning the heads of
+the lot of you.
+
+CHARPIN. Yes, that's about the size of it.
+
+VINCENT. She don't play the game. She does as she bloomin' well likes.
+She wouldn't engage my old woman. She took women from Duriot's.
+
+GIRARD [_to Thérèse_] That's it. It's you that's doing it. [_To the
+women_] You've got to ask the same wages as us.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You know very well--
+
+GIRARD [_interrupting_] It's all along of your damned Union.
+
+VINCENT. There wasn't any ructions till you come.
+
+CHARPIN. We'll smash the Hens' Union.
+
+     _A row begins and increases._
+
+A MAN. Put 'em through it! Down 'em! Smash the Hens! Smash 'em!
+
+A WOMAN. Turn out the lazy swines!
+
+A WOMAN [_half mad with excitement_] We're fightin' for our kids. [_She
+shrieks this phrase continuously during the noise which follows_]
+
+BERTHE. Turn out the lazy swines!
+
+DESCHAUME [_shaking his wife_] Shut up, blast you, shut up!
+
+ANOTHER MAN [_holding him back_] Don't strike her!
+
+DESCHAUME. It's my wife; can't I do as I like? [_To Berthe_] Get out,
+you!
+
+BERTHE. I won't!
+
+     _Deschaume tries to seize hold of his wife; this starts a
+     general fight between the men and women, during which one
+     distinguishes various cries, finally a man's voice._
+
+A MAN. Damn her, she's hurt me!
+
+ANOTHER MAN. It's her scissors! Get hold of her scissors.
+
+     _Berthe screams._
+
+THÉRÈSE. They'll kill one another! [_To the women_] Go home, go home;
+they'll kill you. Go home at once.
+
+     _The women are suddenly taken with a panic; they scream and
+     run away, followed by the men._
+
+A WOMAN. Oh, you brutes! Oh, you brutes!
+
+     _Thérèse goes out to the right with the women. The men go
+     off with Deschaume, whose hand is bleeding. Girard, who was
+     following them, meets Monsieur Féliat at the door._
+
+GIRARD [_to Féliat_] Deschaume's bin hurt, sir.
+
+FÉLIAT. He must be taken to the Infirmary.
+
+DESCHAUME [_excitedly_] With her scissors she did it, blast 'er!
+
+CHARPIN. The police, send for the police!
+
+GIRARD. Don't be a bally fool. We can take care of ourselves, can't we,
+without the bloomin' coppers.
+
+DESCHAUME [_shouting_] The police, send for the police! To protect the
+right to work. Send for 'em.
+
+GIRARD [_to Monsieur Féliat_] If 't was to bully us, you'd have sent for
+'em long ago. What are you waiting for?
+
+FÉLIAT. I'm waiting till you kindly allow me to speak. I can't believe
+my ears. Is it you, Girard, and you, Deschaume, who want to have the
+police sent for to save you from a pack of women? Ha! Ha!
+
+CHARPIN. Oh, it makes you laugh, does it?
+
+GIRARD. You defend the cats because they're against us. Well, we won't
+have it. Duriot's men came out--
+
+CHARPIN. Yes, and we'll do the same.
+
+DESCHAUME. We will. Look out for the strike!
+
+GIRARD. We're agreed; ain't we, mates?
+
+CHARPIN AND DESCHAUME [_together_] Yes, yes. We'll strike. Let's strike.
+
+FÉLIAT. You don't really mean that you're going on strike?
+
+GIRARD. Don't we, though!
+
+FÉLIAT. How can you? I've given everything you've asked for.
+
+CHARPIN [_growling_] That's just the reason.
+
+GIRARD. If you've given in, that shows we were right. You'll have to
+give in some more.
+
+FÉLIAT. Good God, what d'you want now?
+
+CHARPIN. We want you to sack all the women.
+
+DESCHAUME. No we don't. We want you to sack Mademoiselle Thérèse.
+
+FÉLIAT. You're mad! What harm has she done you?
+
+GIRARD. The harm she's done us? Well, she's on your side.
+
+DESCHAUME. She's turned the women's heads. They want to take our places.
+
+CHARPIN. And we won't have it.
+
+FÉLIAT. Come! Be reasonable. You can't ask me that.
+
+GIRARD. We _do_ ask you that.
+
+FÉLIAT. It will upset my whole business.
+
+CHARPIN. What's that to us?
+
+FÉLIAT. Well, I must have time to think about it.
+
+GIRARD. There's nothing to think about. Sack the Paris woman or we go on
+strike.
+
+FÉLIAT. You can't put a pistol to my head like this. I've got orders in
+hand.
+
+GIRARD. What's that to us?
+
+FÉLIAT. Well then, I won't give in this time. You demanded that I should
+not open a new workshop. I gave in. I won't go further than that.
+
+GIRARD. Then out we go.
+
+FÉLIAT. Well go, and be damned to you. [_Pause_] The women will take
+your places.
+
+GIRARD. You think so, do you? You think it's as easy as that. Well, try.
+Just you try to fill up our places. Have you forgot there's two
+delegates here from the Central Committee? A phone to Paris and your
+bally show is done for.
+
+FÉLIAT. It's damnable.
+
+GIRARD. And if that doesn't choke you off, there's other things.
+
+CHARPIN. We'll set the whole bloomin' place on fire.
+
+GIRARD. Don't you try to bully us.
+
+FÉLIAT. Well, look here. We won't quarrel. I'll send away Mademoiselle
+Thérèse. But give me a little time to settle things up.
+
+CHARPIN. No; out she goes.
+
+FÉLIAT. Give me a month. I ask only a month.
+
+GIRARD. An hour, that's all you'll get, an hour.
+
+CHARPIN. An hour, not more.
+
+GIRARD. We're going off to meet the delegates at the Hotel de la Poste;
+you can send your answer there. The Parisian goes out sharp now, or else
+look out for trouble. Come on, boys, let's go and tell the others.
+There's nothing more to do here.
+
+FÉLIAT. But stop, listen--
+
+CHARPIN [_to Féliat_] That's our last word. [_To the others_] Hurry on.
+
+     _The workmen go out. Thérèse has come in a moment before and
+     is standing on the threshold._
+
+FÉLIAT [_to Thérèse_] How much did you hear?
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, please, please, don't give in. Don't abandon these women.
+It's dreadful in the workroom. They're in despair. I've just been with
+them, talking to them. They get desperate when they think of their
+children.
+
+FÉLIAT. The men are not asking me now to get rid of them. What they're
+asking for is the break-up of your Union, and that you yourself should
+go.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, they say that now. But if you give in, they'll see that
+they can get anything they like from your weakness, and they'll make you
+turn out all these wretched women.
+
+FÉLIAT. But I can't help myself! You didn't hear the brutal threats of
+these men. If I don't give in, I shall be blacklisted, and they'll set
+the place on fire; they said so. Where will your women's work be then?
+And I shall be ruined.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Then you mean to give in without a struggle?
+
+FÉLIAT. Would _you_ like to take the responsibility for what will happen
+if I resist? There'll be violence. Just think what it'll mean. In the
+state the men are in anything may happen. There's a wounded man already.
+How many would there be to-morrow?
+
+THÉRÈSE. You think only of being beaten. But suppose you win? Suppose
+you act energetically and get the best of it.
+
+FÉLIAT. My energy would be my ruin.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_with a change of tone_] Then you wish me to go?
+
+FÉLIAT. I have only made up my mind to it to prevent something worse.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_very much moved_] It's impossible you can sacrifice me in this
+way at the first threat. Look here, Monsieur Féliat; perhaps it doesn't
+come very well from me, but I can't help reminding you that you've said
+repeatedly yourself that I've been extremely useful to you. Don't throw
+me overboard without making one try to save me.
+
+FÉLIAT. It would be no use.
+
+THÉRÈSE. How can you tell? It's your own interest to keep me. The
+delegate said that if I go they'll break up the Women's Union and make
+the women take the same wages as the men.
+
+FÉLIAT. They won't do that because they know I wouldn't keep them.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You see! If you give in, it means the break-up of the whole
+thing and the loss to you of the saving I've made for you. And you have
+obligations to these women who have been working for you for years.
+
+FÉLIAT. If I have to part with them, I will see they are provided for.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, for a day--a week, perhaps. But afterwards? What then?
+Little children will be holding out their hands for food to mothers who
+have none to give them.
+
+FÉLIAT. But, good God, what have _I_ to do with that? Is it my fault?
+Don't you see that I'm quite powerless in the matter?
+
+THÉRÈSE. No, you're not quite powerless. You can choose which you will
+sacrifice, the women who have been perfectly loyal to you, or the men
+who want to wring from your weakness freedom from competition which
+frightens them.
+
+FÉLIAT. They're fighting for their daily bread.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, fighting the woman because she works for lower wages. She
+can do that because she is sober and self-controlled. Is it because of
+her virtues that you condemn her?
+
+FÉLIAT. I know all that as well as you do, and I tell you again the
+women can go on working just as they were working before you came.
+
+THÉRÈSE. You'll be made to part with them.
+
+FÉLIAT. We shall see. But at present that's not the question. The
+present thing is about you. One of us has to be sacrificed, you or me. I
+can see only one thing. If I stick to you, my machinery will be smashed
+and my works will be burned. I'm deeply sorry this has happened, and I
+don't deny for a moment the great value of your services; but, after
+all, I can't ruin myself for your sake.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_urgently_] But you _wouldn't_ be ruined. Defend yourself,
+take measures. Ask for assistance from the Government.
+
+FÉLIAT. The Government can't prevent the strike.
+
+THÉRÈSE. But the women will do the work.
+
+FÉLIAT. You think of nothing but your women. And the men? They'll be
+starving, won't they? And their women and their children will starve
+with them.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_almost in tears_] And me, you have no pity for me. What's to
+become of me? If you abandon me, I'm done for. I'd made a career for
+myself. I had realized my dreams. I was doing a little good. And I was
+so deeply grateful to you for giving me my chance. I'm all alone in the
+world, you know that very well. Before I came here I tried every
+possible way to earn my living. Oh, please don't send me away. Don't
+drive me back into that. Try once again, do something. Let me speak to
+the men. It's all my life that's at stake. If you drive me out, I don't
+know where to go to.
+
+     _Monsieur Guéret comes in._
+
+GUÉRET [_greatly excited_] Féliat, we mustn't wait a moment; we must
+give in at once. They're exciting themselves; they're mad; they're
+getting worse; they may do anything. They've gone to the women's
+workroom and they're driving them out.
+
+     _From the adjoining workshop there comes a crash of glass
+     and the sound of women screaming._
+
+THÉRÈSE [_desperately_] Go, Monsieur! Go quickly! Don't let anything
+dreadful happen. You're right. I'll leave at once. Go!
+
+     _Monsieur Guéret and Monsieur Féliat rush into the women's
+     workshop. The noise increases; there is a sound of furniture
+     overthrown and the loud screams of women._
+
+THÉRÈSE [_alone, clasping her hands_] Oh, God! Oh, God!
+
+     _Thérèse stands as if hypnotized by terror, her eyes wide
+     open and fixed upon the door of the workshop. The noise
+     still increases; there is a revolver shot, then a silence.
+     Finally the voice of Monsieur Féliat is heard speaking,
+     though the words are not intelligible, and a shout of men's
+     voices. Then Monsieur Guéret comes in very pale._
+
+GUÉRET. Don't be frightened, it's all over. The shot was fired in the
+air. The men have gone out; there are only the women now--crying in the
+workshop.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Are you sure nobody is killed? Is it true, oh, tell me, is it
+really true?
+
+     _Monsieur Féliat comes in._
+
+FÉLIAT. Poor Thérèse! Don't be frightened.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Oh, those screams! Those dreadful screams! Is it true, really,
+nobody was hurt?
+
+FÉLIAT. Nobody, I assure you.
+
+THÉRÈSE. The shot?
+
+FÉLIAT. Fired in the air, to frighten the women. The men broke in the
+door, and upset a bench, and made a great row. I got there just in time.
+As soon as they were promised what they want they were quiet.
+
+THÉRÈSE [_after a pause, slowly_] They were promised what they want. So
+it's done. [_A silence_] Then there's nothing left for me but to go.
+
+GUÉRET. Where are you going to?
+
+FÉLIAT. You needn't go at once.
+
+THÉRÈSE. Yes, I'm going at once. [_A silence_] I'm going where I'm
+forced to go.
+
+FÉLIAT. You can leave to-morrow or the day after.
+
+THÉRÈSE. No, I leave by train, this evening, for Paris.
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+FALSE GODS
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+
+    THE PHARAOH
+    THE HIGH PRIEST
+    RHEOU
+    SATNI
+    PAKH
+    SOKITI
+    BITIOU, the dwarf
+    NOURM
+    THE STEWARD
+    THE EXORCIST
+    A PRIEST
+    THE PARALYZED YOUTH
+    THE MAN WITH THE BANDAGED HEAD
+    THE TWO SONS OF THE MAD WOMAN
+    MIERIS
+    YAOUMA
+    KIRJIPA
+    ZAYA
+    DELETHI
+    NAGAOU
+    HANOU
+    NAHASI
+    SITSINIT
+    MOUENE
+    NAZIT
+    THE YOUNG WOMAN
+    THE MOTHER
+    THE BLIND GIRL
+    FIVE MOURNERS
+
+The Scene is laid in Upper Egypt during the Middle Empire.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I
+
+    SCENE:--_The first inner court of the house of Rheou. At the
+    back between two lofty pylons the entrance leading up from
+    below. Through the columns supporting the hanging garden
+    which stretches across the back can be seen the Nile. A high
+    terrace occupies the left of the scene. Steps lead up to it,
+    and from there to the hanging garden. Along the side of the
+    terrace a small delicately carved wooden statue of Isis
+    stands on a sacrificial table. On the right is the peristyle
+    leading to the inner dwelling of Akhounti. The bases of the
+    columns are in the form of lotus buds, the shafts like lotus
+    stems, the capitals full blown flowers. In the spaces between
+    the columns are wooden statues of the gods._
+
+    _Delethi is playing a harp. Nagaou dances before her. Nahasi
+    is juggling with oranges, while Mouene sits watching a little
+    bird in a cage. Yaouma reclines on the terrace supporting her
+    head on her elbows and gazing out at the Nile. Zaya is beside
+    her. On a carpet Sitsinit, lying flat upon her stomach with a
+    writing box by her side, is busy painting an ibis on the left
+    hand of Hanou, who lies in a similar attitude._
+
+
+SITSI. Did you not know? She, on whose left hand a black ibis has been
+painted, is certain of a happy day.
+
+HANOU. A happy day! Why then, 'tis I, perhaps, who will be chosen
+to-night!
+
+DELETHI [_playing the harp while Nagaou dances before her_] More
+slowly!--more slowly!... you must make them think of the swaying of a
+lotus flower, that the Nile's slow-moving current would bear away, and
+that raises itself to kiss again the waters of the stream.
+
+NAGAOU. Yes, yes.... Begin again!
+
+NAHASI [_juggling with oranges_] Nagaou would let herself be borne away
+without a struggle. [_She laughs_].
+
+MOUENE [_hopping on one foot_] We know that she goes to the bank of the
+Nile, at the hour when the palm-trees grow black against the evening
+sky, to listen to a basket maker's songs.
+
+HANOU [_to Sitsinit_] And this morning I anointed my whole body with
+Kyphli, mixed with cinnamon and terrabine and myrrh.
+
+DELETHI [_to Nagaou_] 'Tis well ... you may dance the great prayer to
+Isis with the rest.
+
+NAGAOU [_to Mouene_] Yes! I do go to listen to songs at dark. You are
+still too little for anyone, basket maker or any other, to take notice
+of you.
+
+MOUENE. You think so!... who gave me this little bird? [_She draws the
+bird from the cage by a string attached to its leg_] Who caught thee,
+flower-of-the-air, who gave thee to me? [_Holding up a finger_] Do not
+tell! Do not tell....
+
+HANOU [_looking at herself in a metal mirror_] Sitsinit ... the black
+line that lengthens this eye is too short ... make it longer with your
+reed. I think the more beautiful I am, the more chance I shall have to
+be chosen for the sacrifice.... Is it not so, Zaya?... What are you
+doing there without a word?
+
+ZAYA. I was watching the flight of a crane with hanging feet, that
+melted away in the distant blue of heaven.... Do not hope to be chosen
+by the gods, Hanou.
+
+HANOU. Wherefore should I not be chosen?
+
+ZAYA. Neither you nor any who are here. The gods never demand the
+sacrifice two years together from the same village.
+
+HANOU. Never?
+
+ZAYA. Rarely.
+
+HANOU. 'Tis a pity. Is it not, Nagaou?
+
+NAGAOU. I know not.
+
+SITSI. Would it not make you proud?
+
+NAGAOU. Yes. But it makes me proud, too, to lean on the breast of him
+whose words still the beating of my heart.
+
+DELETHI. To be taken by a god! By the Nile!
+
+HANOU. Preferred to all the others!
+
+MOUENE [_the youngest_] For my part I should prefer to live....
+
+SITSI. Still, if the God desired you....
+
+ZAYA. Oh! one can refuse....
+
+DELETHI. Yes, but one must leave the country, then.... None of the
+daughters of Haka-Phtah could bring themselves to that.
+
+     _A pause._
+
+YAOUMA [_to herself_] Perhaps!
+
+NAHASI. What do you say, Yaouma?
+
+YAOUMA. Nothing. I was speaking to my soul.
+
+MOUENE. Yaouma's eyes weep for weariness because they watch far off for
+him, who comes not.
+
+YAOUMA. Peace, child.
+
+ZAYA [_to Delethi_] One thing is certain, someone must go upon the
+sacred barge?
+
+DELETHI. Without the sacrifice the Nile would not overflow, and all the
+land would remain barren.
+
+HANOU. And the corn would not sprout, nor the beans, nor the maize, nor
+the lotus.
+
+DELETHI. And all the people would perish miserably.
+
+HANOU. So that she who dies, sacrificed to the Nile, saves the lives of
+a whole people. That is a better thing, Nagaou, than to make one man's
+happiness.
+
+     _A pause._
+
+YAOUMA [_to herself_] Perhaps.
+
+HANOU. And on the appointed day one is borne from the house of the god
+to the Nile, surrounded by all the dwellers in the town.... The
+Pharaoh--health and strength be unto him!...
+
+DELETHI. You do not know, Hanou, you tell us what you do not know.
+
+HANOU. But it is so, is it not, Zaya? Zaya knows about the ceremony,
+because last year it was her sister who was chosen.
+
+MOUENE. Tell us, Zaya.
+
+NAHASI. Yes, tell us the manner of it.
+
+ZAYA. On the fifth day of the month of Paophi....
+
+MOUENE. To-day--that is to-day?
+
+NAHASI. Yes. What will happen.... The prayer of Isis.... But afterwards?
+Before?
+
+     _They gather round Zaya._
+
+ZAYA. Before the sun has ended his day's journey, the people, summoned
+to the terraces by a call from the Temple, will intone the great hymn to
+Isis, which is sung but once a year. Within the house of the god the
+assembled priests will await the sign that shall reveal the virgin to be
+offered to the Nile to obtain its yearly flood. The name of the chosen
+will be cried from the doorway on high, caught up by those who hear it
+first, cried out to others, who in turn will cry it running towards the
+house that Ammon has favored with his choice. Then shall the happy
+victim of the year stand forth alone, amid her kinsfolk bowed before
+her, and to her ears shall rise the shoutings of the multitude.
+
+ALL. Oh!
+
+DELETHI. And after a month of purification she will be borne to the
+house of the god!
+
+ZAYA. And on the day of Prodigies....
+
+NAHASI. Oh, the day of Prodigies!
+
+ZAYA. She will be the foremost nearer to the Sanctuary than all the
+rest. She will pray with the praying crowd, she will behold the lowering
+of the stone that hides the face of Isis....
+
+DELETHI. She will behold Isis--face to face....
+
+ALL. Oh!
+
+ZAYA. She will beg the goddess graciously to incline her head, in sign
+that, yet another year, Egypt shall be protected. And when the fervor of
+the crowd's united prayer is great enough, the head of the Goddess of
+Stone will bow. That will be the first prodigy.
+
+DELETHI. The head of the Goddess of Stone will bow--that will be the
+first prodigy.
+
+ZAYA. And in the crowd there will be blind who shall see, and deaf who
+shall hear, and dumb who shall speak.
+
+DELETHI. Perhaps Mieris, our good mistress, will be cured of her
+blindness at last.
+
+HANOU. And when she who is chosen goes forth from the house of the
+God.... Tell us, Zaya, tell us the manner of her going forth.
+
+ZAYA. Three days before the appointed day, in the town and throughout
+the land, they will begin the preparations for the festival. When the
+moment comes, the crowd will surge before the temple, guarded by Lybian
+soldiers. And she, she, the elect, the saviour, will come forth, ringed
+by the high priests of Ammon in purple and in gold, and aloft on a
+chariot where perfumes burn, deafened by sound of trumpet and cries of
+joy, she will behold the people stretch unnumbered arms to her....
+
+ALL. Oh!
+
+DELETHI. And she will be borne to the Nile....
+
+ZAYA. And she will be borne to the Nile. She will board the barge of
+Ammon....
+
+DELETHI. And the barge will glide from the bank....
+
+ZAYA. And the barge will glide from the bank where all the crowd will
+bow their faces to the dust. [_She stops, greatly moved_] And when the
+barge returns she will be gone.
+
+ALL [_in low tones_] And when the barge returns she will be gone.
+
+ZAYA. And after two days the waters of the Nile will rise.
+
+ALL. The waters of the Nile will rise....
+
+DELETHI. And as far as the waters flow they will speak her name, who
+made the sacrifice, with blessings and with tears.
+
+HANOU. If it were I!...
+
+ALL [_save Yaouma_] If it were I!...
+
+     _Yaouma rises to a sitting posture._
+
+ZAYA. If it were you, Yaouma?
+
+YAOUMA. Perhaps I should refuse.
+
+ALL. Oh!
+
+MOUENE [_mischievously_] I know why! I know why!
+
+DELETHI. We know why.
+
+ZAYA. Tell us....
+
+YAOUMA. Tell them....
+
+DELETHI. 'Tis the same reason that has held you there this many a day.
+
+YAOUMA. Yes.
+
+MOUENE. She watches for the coming of the galley with twenty oars,
+bearing the travellers from the North. There is a young priest among
+them, the potter's son.
+
+DELETHI. A young priest, the potter's son, who went away two years ago.
+
+YAOUMA. He is my betrothed.
+
+NAHASI. But you know what they say?
+
+ZAYA. They say that on the same boat there comes a scribe who preaches
+of new gods....
+
+YAOUMA. I know.
+
+DELETHI. Of false gods.
+
+MOUENE. The priests will stop the boat, and eight days hence, perhaps,
+Yaouma will still be awaiting her betrothed.
+
+YAOUMA. I shall wait.
+
+     _The Steward enters and whispers to Delethi._
+
+DELETHI. The mistress sends word the hour is come to go indoors.
+
+     _They go out L, Sitsinit picking up the writing box, Nahasi
+     juggling with oranges, Mouene carrying her cage and dancing
+     about, Delethi plays her harp singing with Hanou and
+     Nagaou._
+
+        Black is the hair of my love,
+        More black than the brows of the night,
+        Than the fruit of the plum tree.
+
+     _The Steward, who had gone out, returns at once, whip in
+     hand, followed by a poor old man, half naked, and covered
+     with mud, who carries a hod._
+
+STEWARD [_stopping before the statue of Thoueris_] There. Draw near,
+potter, and look. By some mischance, the horn and the plume of Goddess
+Thoueris have been broken. The master must not see them when he comes
+back for the feast of the Nomination. There is the horn--there is the
+plume. Replace them.
+
+PAKH [_with terror_] I--must I ... to-day when my son is coming home?
+
+STEWARD. Are you not our servant?
+
+PAKH. I am.
+
+STEWARD. And a potter?
+
+PAKH. I am.
+
+STEWARD. Did you not say you knew how to do what I ask?
+
+PAKH. I did not know that I must lay hands on the Goddess Thoueris.
+
+STEWARD. Obey.
+
+PAKH [_throwing himself on his knees_] I pray you! I pray you ... I
+should never dare. And then ... my son ... my son who is coming back
+from a long, long journey....
+
+STEWARD. You shall have twenty blows of the stick for having tired my
+tongue. If you refuse to obey me you shall have two hundred.
+
+PAKH. I pray you.
+
+STEWARD. Bid Sokiti help you.
+
+     _He goes out at the back; as he passes he gives Sokiti a
+     blow with his whip, making a sign to him to go and join
+     Pakh._
+
+     _Sokiti obeys without manifesting sorrow or surprise._
+
+PAKH. He says we must lift down the Goddess.
+
+SOKITI. I?
+
+PAKH. You and I.
+
+SOKITI [_beginning to tremble. After a pause_] I am afraid.
+
+PAKH. I too--I am afraid.
+
+SOKITI. If you touch her you die.
+
+PAKH. You will die of the stick if you do not obey.
+
+SOKITI. Why cannot they leave me at my work. I was happy.
+
+PAKH. We must--we must tell her that it is in order to repair her crown.
+
+SOKITI. Yes. We must let her know.
+
+     _They prostrate themselves before the goddess._
+
+PAKH. Oh, Mighty One!--thou who hast given birth to the gods, pardon if
+our miserable hands dare to touch thee! Thy horn and thy right plume
+have fallen off. 'Tis to replace them.
+
+SOKITI. We are forced to obey--O breath divine--creator of the
+universe.... It is to mend thee.
+
+PAKH [_rising, to Sokiti_] Come!
+
+     _Bitiou, the dwarf, enters; he is a poor deformed creature.
+     When he sees Pakh and Sokiti touching the statue, he tries
+     to run away. He falls, picks himself up, and hides in a
+     corner. By degrees he watches and draws near during what
+     follows. Pakh and Sokiti take the statue from its pedestal
+     and set it upright on the ground._
+
+SOKITI. She has not said anything.
+
+PAKH. She must be laid on her belly.
+
+SOKITI. Gently....
+
+     _They lay her flat._
+
+PAKH [_giving him the horn_] Hold that. [_He goes to his hod, takes a
+handful of cement, and proceeds to mend the statue_] Here ... the plume
+... so ... there ... we must let her dry. In the meantime let us go look
+upon the Nile; we may see the boat that brings my son.
+
+SOKITI. You will not see him.
+
+PAKH. I shall not see him?
+
+SOKITI. He is a priest.
+
+PAKH. Not yet.
+
+SOKITI. But he was brought up in the temple ... 'tis to the temple he
+will go.
+
+PAKH. He will come here ... because he would see his father and mother
+once more.
+
+SOKITI. And Yaouma his betrothed.
+
+PAKH. And Yaouma his betrothed.
+
+     _He goes R. Bitiou approaches the statue timidly, and stops
+     some way off._
+
+SOKITI. There is nothing in sight.
+
+PAKH. No.... [_suddenly_] You saw the crocodile?
+
+SOKITI. Yes.... There is a woman going to the Nile with her pitcher on
+her head.
+
+PAKH. That is my wife, that is Kirjipa, that is mine. She seeks with her
+eyes the boat that bears her son--Satni.
+
+SOKITI. She is going into the stream.
+
+PAKH. How else can she draw clear water?
+
+SOKITI. But at the very spot where the crocodile plunged.
+
+PAKH. What matter? She wears the feather of an ibis ... and I know a
+magic spell. [_He begins to chant_] Back, son of Sitou! Dare not! Seize
+not! Open not thy jaws! Let the water become a sheet of flame before
+thee! The spell of thirty-seven gods is in thine eye. Thou art bound,
+thou art bound! Stay, son of Sitou! Ammon, spouse of thy mother, protect
+her!
+
+SOKITI [_without surprise_] It is gone.
+
+PAKH [_without surprise_] It could not do otherwise.
+
+     _Bitiou, now close to the statue, touches it furtively with
+     a finger tip, then runs, falls, and picks himself up. He
+     comes up to Pakh and Sokiti._
+
+SOKITI [_pointing to the statue_] She is dry now, perhaps?
+
+PAKH. Yes, come.
+
+SOKITI. I am afraid still.
+
+PAKH. So am I, but come and help me.
+
+     _They replace the statue on its pedestal, then step back to
+     look at it._
+
+SOKITI. She has done us no harm.
+
+PAKH. No.
+
+SOKITI. Ha! ha!
+
+PAKH. Ha! ha! ha! ha! [_Bitiou laughs with them. A distant sound of
+trumpets is heard. Sokiti and Pakh go to the terrace to look_] It is the
+chief of the Nome. They are bearing him to the city of the dead. At this
+moment his soul is before the tribunal, where Osiris sits with the two
+and forty judges.
+
+SOKITI. May they render unto him all the evil he has done!...
+
+PAKH. The evil he has done will be rendered unto him a thousand fold....
+He will pass first into the lake of fire.
+
+SOKITI [_laughing_] Pakh! Pakh! picture him in Amenti--in the hidden
+place--
+
+PAKH. I see him ... the pivot of the gate of Amenti set upon his eye,
+turns upon his right eye, and turns on that eye whether in opening or in
+shutting, and his mouth utters loud cries.
+
+SOKITI [_doubling up with delight_] And he who ate so much!... He who
+ate so much! He will have his food, bread and water, hung above his
+head, and he will leap to get it down, whilst others will dig holes
+beneath his feet to prevent his touching it.
+
+PAKH. Because his crimes are found to outnumber his merits....
+
+SOKITI. And we--we--say--what will happen to us?
+
+PAKH. We shall be found innocent by the two and forty judges.
+
+SOKITI. And after?--after?
+
+PAKH. We shall go to the island of the souls--in Amenti--
+
+SOKITI. Yes, where there will be.... Speak. What shall we have in the
+island of the souls?
+
+PAKH. Baths of clear water....
+
+SOKITI [_with loud laughter_] What else ... what else?
+
+PAKH. Ears of corn of two arms' length.... [_Laughing_].
+
+SOKITI [_laughing_] Yes, ears of corn, of two arms' length.
+
+PAKH. And bread of maize, and beans....
+
+SOKITI. And blows of the stick--say, will there be blows of the stick?
+
+PAKH. Never again.
+
+SOKITI. Never again....
+
+PAKH. I shall forget all I have endured.
+
+SOKITI. I shall be famished; and I shall be able to eat until my hunger
+is gone ... every day!
+
+BITIOU. And I--I shall be tall, with straight strong legs, like the rest
+of the world.
+
+PAKH. That will be better than having been prince on the earth.
+
+     _They laugh. The Steward appears._
+
+STEWARD. What are you doing there? [_Striking them with the whip_] Your
+mistress comes! Begone!
+
+     _They go out._
+
+     _The Steward bows low before Mieris who is blind, and who
+     enters with her arms full of flowers and led by Yaouma._
+
+     _The Steward retires._
+
+MIERIS [_gently_] Leave me, Yaouma--I shall be able to find my way to
+her, alone.
+
+YAOUMA. Yes mistress.... [_Nevertheless, she goes with her
+noiselessly_].
+
+MIERIS [_smiling_] I can feel you do not obey. Be not afraid. [_She has
+come as far as the little statue of Isis_] You see, I do not lose my
+way. I have come every day to bring her flowers, a long, long time....
+Leave me.
+
+YAOUMA. Yes, mistress.
+
+     _She withdraws._
+
+MIERIS [_touching the statue in the manner of the blind_] Yes, thou art
+Isis. I know thy face, and I can guess thy smile. [_She takes some of
+the flowers which she has laid beside her and lays them one by one on
+the pedestal of the statue_] Behold my daily offering! I know this for a
+white lotus flower. It is for thee. I am not wrong, this one, longer,
+and with the heavier scent, is the pink lotus. It is for thee. And here
+are yet two more of these sacred flowers. At dawn, they come from out
+the water, little by little. At midday they open wide. And when the sun
+sinks they, too, hide themselves, letting the waters of the Nile cover
+them like a veil. Men say they are fair to see. Alas, I know not the
+beauty of the gifts I bring! Here is a typha ... here an alisma; and by
+the overpowering perfume, this, I know, is the acacia flower. I have
+had them tell me how the light, playing through the filmy petals, tints
+them with color sweet unto the eyes. May the sight gladden thine! I know
+not the beauty of the gifts I bring! But all the days of my life, a
+suppliant I shall come, and weary not to ply thee with my prayers, until
+in the end thou absolve me, until thou grant me the boon that all save I
+enjoy, to behold the rays of the shining God, of Ammon-Ra, the Sun
+divine. O Isis, remember the cruel blow that did befall me! I had a
+little child. Unto him sight was given, and when he first could speak,
+it was life's sweetest joy, to hear him tell the color and the form of
+things. He is dead, Isis! And I have never seen him--Take thou my
+tears and my prayer, bid this perpetual night, wherein I scarce
+can breathe, to cease--And if thou wilt not, deliver me to
+death--She-who-loves-the-silence, and after the judgment I may go to
+Amenti, and find my well-beloved child--find him, and there at last
+behold his face. Isis, I give thee all these flowers. [_She rises_]
+Come, Yaouma. [_As she is about to go, she stops, suddenly radiant_]
+Stay--I hear--yes! Go, bring the ewer and the lustral water. It is the
+master--He is here.
+
+     _Yaouma goes out, but returns quickly. Enter Rheou._
+
+MIERIS. Be welcome unto your house, master!
+
+     _Yaouma pours water over the hands of Rheou and gives him a
+     towel._
+
+RHEOU. Gladly I greet you once more in your house, mistress! [_Pakh
+appears, returning to look for his hod_] [_To Pakh_] Well! potter, do
+you not go to meet your son?
+
+PAKH. I would fain go, master, but I looked upon the Nile a while ago;
+there is nothing in sight.
+
+RHEOU. The galley came last night at dusk, and, by order of the priests,
+was kept at the bend of the river till now. Go!
+
+PAKH. I thank you, master.
+
+     _He goes out._
+
+RHEOU. Is all made ready for the solemn prayer to Isis? The Sun is
+nearing the horizon.
+
+MIERIS. Yaouma, go and warn them all.
+
+YAOUMA [_kneeling in supplication_] Mistress--
+
+MIERIS [_laying her hand on Yaouma's head_] What is it?
+
+YAOUMA. The galley.
+
+MIERIS. Well?--Ah, yes! you were betrothed to the potter's son--But
+to-day you must not go forth. Who shall say you are not she whom the God
+Ammon will choose?
+
+YAOUMA. The God Ammon knows not me.
+
+MIERIS. Did he choose you, he must know you.
+
+YAOUMA. Me! Me! A poor handmaiden--Is it then possible--truly?
+
+MIERIS. Truly--Yaouma, go.
+
+YAOUMA [_to herself as she goes_] The God Ammon--the God of Gods--
+
+MIERIS. Rheou, what ails you?
+
+RHEOU [_angered_] It was a fresh insult that awaited me--
+
+MIERIS. Insult?
+
+RHEOU. When I came into the audience chamber I prostrated myself before
+the Pharaoh. "What would you?" he cried in that hard voice of his. You
+know 'tis the custom to make no reply, that one may seem half dead with
+fear before his majesty--
+
+MIERIS. Did you not so?
+
+RHEOU. I did, but he--
+
+MIERIS. Have a care! Is no one there who might overhear you?
+
+RHEOU. No one--but he, in place of ordering them to raise me up, in
+place of bidding me speak--Oh, the dog of an Ethiopian!--he feigned not
+to see me--for a long while, a long, long while--At length, when he
+remembered I was there, anger was choking me; he saw it; he declared an
+evil spirit was in me, and having ridiculed me with his pity, he bade me
+then withdraw. He forgets that if I wished--
+
+MIERIS. Be still! Be still! Know you not that there, beside you, are the
+Gods who hear you!
+
+RHEOU [_derisively_] Oh! the Gods!
+
+MIERIS. What mean you?
+
+RHEOU [_derisively_] I am the son of a high priest; I know the Gods--The
+Pharaoh forgets that were I to remind the people of my father's
+services, were I to arm all those who work for me, and let them loose
+against him--
+
+MIERIS. Rheou! Rheou!
+
+RHEOU. Think you they would not obey me? I am son of that high priest,
+the Pharaoh's friend who wished to replace the Gods of Egypt, by one
+only God. The court cannot forgive me for that. Little they dream, that
+were I to declare my father had appeared to me, all those who know me,
+all the poor folk whose backs are blistered by the tax-gatherer's whip,
+all who are terrorized by schemes of foreign war--all, all would take my
+orders as inspired, divine.
+
+MIERIS. The fear of the Gods would hold them back.
+
+RHEOU. How long--I wonder!
+
+MIERIS. I hear them coming for the prayer.
+
+RHEOU. Yes. Let us pray--that they may have nothing to reproach me with
+before I choose my hour.
+
+MIERIS. What hour?
+
+RHEOU. Could I but realize the work my father dreamed of--and at the
+same stroke be avenged--avenged for all the humiliations--
+
+MIERIS. Be silent--I hear--
+
+     _The singers and the dancers and all the women and servants
+     come on gradually._
+
+RHEOU [_going to the terrace_] The sun is not yet down upon the hill.
+But look--upon the Nile--see, Yaouma! 'tis the galley that bears your
+betrothed.
+
+YAOUMA. 'Tis there! 'Tis there!--See--it has stopped--they take the
+mallet, and drive in the stake. The boat's prow is aground. Now they
+have prayed--they disembark. Look, there is the strange scribe!
+
+RHEOU [_looking_] A stranger--he--I do not think it.
+
+YAOUMA. I thought, from his garments, perhaps--
+
+     _Pakh returns._
+
+RHEOU. Did you not wait for your son?
+
+PAKH [_terrified_] Master, on the road that leads to the Nile, I beheld
+two dead scarabs--
+
+RHEOU. None, then, save the High Priest, may pass till the road be
+purified.
+
+PAKH. I have warned the travellers they must go a long way round.
+
+RHEOU. Did you not recognize your son?
+
+PAKH. No, he will be among the last to land, perhaps.
+
+YAOUMA. But look--look! Behold that man--the stranger who comes this way
+alone--Pakh! where were they, Pakh--the scarabs?
+
+PAKH. Near to the fig tree.
+
+YAOUMA [_terrified_] He is about to pass them--Oh! He does not
+know--[_Relieved_] Ah! at last, they warn him.
+
+RHEOU. He stays.
+
+YAOUMA. Near to the fig tree, said you! But he is going on--He moves--he
+comes--He is past them--[_To Mieris_] Come, mistress, come! Oh Ammon!
+Ammon!
+
+     _Hiding her face she leads Mieris quickly away._
+
+RHEOU. 'Tis to our gates he comes--he is here.
+
+     _Satni enters._
+
+SATNI [_bowing before Rheou_] Rheou, I salute you!
+
+RHEOU. What do I behold! Satni--'tis you--
+
+PAKH. My son!
+
+SATNI [_kneeling_] Father!
+
+PAKH. 'Twas you!--you, who came that way, despite the scarabs?
+
+SATNI. It was I.
+
+PAKH. You know then some magic words, I do not doubt; but I--I who saw
+them--I must needs go purify myself before the prayer--to-day is the
+feast of the Nomination--did you know?
+
+SATNI. I knew--and Yaouma?
+
+PAKH. She is here--in a little you shall see her.
+
+RHEOU. Satni!
+
+SATNI. You called me?
+
+RHEOU. Yes. Did not you see the two scarabs that lay upon your path?
+
+SATNI. I saw them.
+
+RHEOU. And you did not stop?
+
+SATNI. No.
+
+RHEOU. Why?
+
+SATNI. I have learned many things in the countries whence I come.
+
+RHEOU. You are a priest. Was not your duty to go unto the temple, even
+before you knelt at your father's feet?
+
+SATNI. Never again shall I enter the temple.
+
+     _A long trumpet call is heard far off._
+
+RHEOU. It is the signal for the prayer.
+
+     _He mounts the terrace and stretches his arms to the setting
+     sun. Women play upon the harp and upon drums, and the double
+     flute. Others clash cymbals and shake the sistrum. Dancers
+     advance, slowly swaying their bodies. The rest mark the
+     rhythm by the beating of hands._
+
+     _Music._
+
+RHEOU. O Isis! Isis! Isis! Three times do I pronounce thy name.
+
+ALL [_murmuring_] O Isis! Isis! Isis! Three times do I pronounce thy
+name.
+
+RHEOU. O Isis! thou who preservest the grain from the destroying winds,
+and the bodies of our fathers from the ruinous work of time.
+
+ALL [_murmuring_] O Isis! thou who preservest the grain from the
+destroying winds, and the bodies of our fathers from the ruinous work of
+time.
+
+RHEOU. O Isis! preserve us.
+
+ALL [_murmuring_] O Isis! preserve us.
+
+RHEOU. By the three times thy name is spoken.
+
+ALL [_murmuring_] By the three times thy name is spoken.
+
+RHEOU. Both here, and there, and there.
+
+ALL [_murmuring_] Both here, and there, and there.
+
+RHEOU. And to-day, and all days, and throughout the ages, as long as our
+temples are mirrored in the waters of the Nile.
+
+ALL [_murmuring_] And to-day, and all days, and throughout the ages, as
+long as our temples are mirrored in the waters of the Nile.
+
+RHEOU. Isis!
+
+ALL [_murmuring_] Isis!
+
+RHEOU. Isis!
+
+ALL [_murmuring_] Isis!
+
+RHEOU. Isis!
+
+ALL [_murmuring_] Isis!
+
+     _All prostrate themselves save the singers and the dancers._
+
+RHEOU. We beseech thee, Ammon! Deign to make known the virgin who will
+be offered to the Nile. Ammon, deign to make her known!
+
+ALL [_murmuring_] Deign to make her known.
+
+     _The music stops. A long pause in silence. Then far off a
+     trumpet call._
+
+RHEOU. Rise! The God has made his choice.
+
+     _All rise, and begin chattering and laughing gaily._
+
+RHEOU [_to Satni_] You, alone, did not pray, and stood the while.
+Wherefore?
+
+SATNI. I have come from a land where I learned wisdom.
+
+RHEOU. You!--You who were to be priest of Ammon!
+
+SATNI. I shall never be priest of Ammon.
+
+VOICES. Listen! Listen!--The name! They begin to cry the name!
+
+     _The distant sound of voices is heard. Every one in the
+     scene save Satni is listening intently._
+
+RHEOU. The name! The name!
+
+     _He mounts the terrace. The setting sun reddens the
+     heavens._
+
+SATNI [_to Yaouma_] At last I find you again, Yaouma. And you wear still
+the chain of maidenhood. You have waited for me?
+
+YAOUMA. Yes, Satni, I have waited for you.
+
+SATNI. The memory of you went with me always.
+
+YAOUMA. Listen!--[_Distant sound of voices_].
+
+A WOMAN. Methinks 'tis Raouit of the next village.
+
+A MAN. No! No! 'Tis not that name.
+
+SATNI [_to Yaouma_] What matter their cries to you. Have you forgot our
+promises?
+
+YAOUMA. No--Listen!--[_Voices nearer_].
+
+A WOMAN. 'Tis Amterra! 'Tis Amterra!
+
+ANOTHER. No! 'Tis Hihourr!
+
+ANOTHER. No! Amterra lives the other way.
+
+ANOTHER. One can hear nothing clearly now.
+
+ANOTHER. They are passing behind the palm grove.
+
+SATNI [_to Yaouma_] Answer me--you have ears only for their clamor--I
+love you, Yaouma.
+
+A VOICE. They are coming! They are coming!
+
+ANOTHER. Then 'tis Karma, of the next house.
+
+ANOTHER. No! 'tis Hene. Ahou, I tell you--or Karma! Karma!
+
+SATNI [_to Yaouma_] Have you, then, ceased to love me?
+
+YAOUMA [_distracted_] No, no, I love you--Satni--but I seem to hear my
+name amid the cries--
+
+SATNI. Let them cry your name--I will watch over you.
+
+YAOUMA. Oh, Satni! If the God have chosen me?
+
+SATNI. What God? It is the priests who make him speak.
+
+     _The sounds come nearer._
+
+A VOICE. 'Tis Yaouma! they come here! Quick, quick, let us do them honor
+on their coming.
+
+ANOTHER. No!
+
+ANOTHER. Yes!
+
+ANOTHER. 'Tis she!
+
+ANOTHER. No!
+
+ANOTHER. Yes! yes! Yaouma!
+
+SATNI [_to Yaouma_] Do not be fooled. The God is but a stone.
+
+YAOUMA [_who no longer listens_] I have heard. It is my name--my name!
+
+A VOICE. They are coming!--
+
+ANOTHER. They are here!
+
+     _Every one begins to go out._
+
+ANOTHER [_going_] 'Tis Yaouma!
+
+     _Loud shouts without--"'Tis Yaouma--'Tis Yaouma--"_
+
+STEWARD [_to Rheou_] Master, it is Yaouma.
+
+RHEOU. Go, as 'tis custom, let all go forth to meet those who come.
+
+     _All go out save Yaouma and Satni._
+
+SATNI. 'Tis you--
+
+YAOUMA [_radiant_] 'Tis I!
+
+SATNI. You may refuse.
+
+YAOUMA. And leave Egypt--
+
+SATNI. We will leave it together.
+
+YAOUMA. 'Tis I! Think of it, Satni! The God, out of all my companions,
+the God has chosen me!
+
+SATNI. Do not stay here. Come with me.
+
+YAOUMA [_listening_] Yes--yes--You hear them? It is I!
+
+SATNI. You are going to refuse!
+
+YAOUMA [_with a radiant smile_] You would love me no longer, if I
+refused.
+
+SATNI. But know you not, it is death?
+
+YAOUMA [_in ecstasy_] Yes, Satni, it is death!
+
+SATNI. You are mine--You are plighted to me--Come--Come!
+
+YAOUMA. Satni--Satni--you would not have me refuse?
+
+SATNI. I would. I love you.
+
+YAOUMA. Refuse to answer the call of the Gods.
+
+SATNI. The call of the Gods is death.
+
+YAOUMA. The God has chosen me, before all he has preferred me. He has
+preferred me to those who are fairer, to those who are richer. And I
+should hide myself!
+
+SATNI. It is out of pride then that you would die?
+
+YAOUMA. I die to bring the flooding of the Nile--to make fertile all the
+Egyptian fields. If I answer not to the voices that call me, my name
+will be a byword wherever the rays of the sun-God fall. Another than I
+will go clothed in the dazzling robe. Another will hear the shouting of
+the multitude. Another will be given to the Nile.
+
+SATNI. Another will die, and you, you will live, for your own joy and
+for mine.
+
+YAOUMA. For my own shame and for yours.
+
+SATNI. Light the world with your beauty. Live, Yaouma, live with me!
+Bright shall your breast be with the flower of the persea, and your
+tresses anointed heavy with sweet odor.
+
+YAOUMA. The waves of the Nile will be my head-dress. Oh! fair green
+robe, with flowers yet more fair.
+
+SATNI. Yaouma, you loved me--[_She bends her head_] Remember, remember
+my going away, but two years since, how you did weep when I embarked.
+You ran by the bank, you followed the boat that bore me. I see you
+still, the slim form, the swift lank limbs; I can hear still the sound
+of your little naked feet upon the sand. And when the boat grounded--do
+you remember? For hours the oarsmen pushed with long poles, singing the
+while, and you clapping your hands and crying out my name. And when at
+length we floated, there was laughter and cries of joy--but you, you did
+stand all on a sudden still, and I knew then that you wept. You climbed
+to a hillock, and you waved your arms, you grew smaller, smaller,
+smaller, till we turned by a cluster of palms. Oh, how you promised to
+wait for me!
+
+YAOUMA. Have I not waited?
+
+SATNI. We had chosen the place to build our home. Do you remember?
+
+YAOUMA. Yes.
+
+SATNI. And dreamed of nights when you should sleep with your head upon
+my breast--[_Yaouma bends her head_] And now you seek a grave in the
+slime of the river.
+
+YAOUMA [_with fervor_] The slime of the river is holy, the river is
+holy. The Nile is nine times holy. It makes grow the pasture that feeds
+our flocks. It drinks the tears of all our eyes.
+
+SATNI. Listen, Yaouma, I will reveal the truth to you. The Gods who
+claim your sacrifice--the Gods are false.
+
+YAOUMA. The Gods are true--
+
+SATNI. They are powerless.
+
+YAOUMA. It is their power that subdues me--it is stronger than love.
+Until to-day I loved you more than all the living things upon the
+earth--the breath of your mouth alone gave life to my heart. Even this
+very day, I dreaded being chosen of the Gods. But now, who has so
+utterly transformed me if it be not the Gods? You are to me as nothing,
+now. And I who trembled at a scorpion, who wept at the pricking of a
+thorn, I am all joy at the thought of dying soon. How could this be if
+the Gods had not willed it?
+
+SATNI. Hear me a little--and I can prove to you--
+
+YAOUMA. No words can take away the glory of being chosen by the Gods.
+
+SATNI. By the priests.
+
+YAOUMA. 'Tis the same, the priests are the voice of the Gods.
+
+SATNI. 'Tis they who say so. The Gods of Egypt exist only because men
+have invented them.
+
+YAOUMA. The peoples from whose lands you come have made you lose your
+reason. [_With a smile of pity_] Say that our Gods exist not! Think,
+Satni!
+
+SATNI. Neither the Gods, nor the happy fields, nor the world to come,
+nor hell.
+
+YAOUMA. Ah! Ah! I will prove you mad--you say there is no hell--But we
+know, we know that it exists, look there! [_Pointing to the sunset_]
+When the sun grows red at evening, is it not because the glow of hell is
+thrown upon it from below? You have but to open your eyes. [_Laughing_]
+The Gods not exist!
+
+SATNI. They do not. In the sanctuaries of our temples is nothing save
+beasts, unclean, absurd, and lifeless images; believe me, Yaouma--I
+love you--I will not see you die. Your sacrifice is useless. Not because
+you are offered up will the waters of the Nile rise! Refuse, hide
+yourself, the waters will still rise. Ah, to lose you for a lie! To lose
+you--you! How can I convince you?--I know! Yaouma, you saw me cross the
+dead scarabs on my path. And yet I live! Oh! it angers me to see my
+words move you not. Your reason, your reason! Awaken your reason--
+
+YAOUMA. I am listening to my heart.
+
+SATNI. I will save you in spite of you--I will keep you by force--
+
+YAOUMA. If you do, I shall hate you--
+
+SATNI. What matter I shall have saved you.
+
+YAOUMA. And I shall kill myself.
+
+SATNI [_seizing her_] Will you not understand! The God-bull, the
+God-hippopotamus, the God-jackal--they are naught but idols!
+
+YAOUMA. My father worshipped them.
+
+     _Every one comes back. Rheou, who during all the preceding
+     scene was hidden behind a pillar, goes to meet them._
+
+SOME MEN. Yaouma! Yaouma!
+
+ANOTHER. Up to the terrace!
+
+OTHERS. Up to the terrace! Let her go up to the terrace!
+
+ANOTHER. And let her lift her arms to heaven!
+
+ANOTHER. Let her show that she will give herself to the Nile.
+
+SATNI [_to Yaouma_] Stay! Stay with me! Then together--
+
+YAOUMA [_in ecstasy_] He has chosen me from among all others!
+
+ALL. Yaouma!
+
+SATNI. She has refused! She has refused! And I will take her away.
+
+ALL. No! No! To the terrace! The prayer! The prayer!
+
+RHEOU. Yaouma, go and pray.
+
+SATNI. She has refused!
+
+MIERIS. Choose, Yaouma, between our Gods and a man.
+
+RHEOU. Between the glory of sacrifice--
+
+SATNI. Between falsehood and me, Yaouma--
+
+YAOUMA. The God has called me to save my brothers!
+
+SATNI. You are going to death!
+
+YAOUMA. To life--the real life--the life with the Gods. [_Going to the
+terrace_].
+
+SATNI. They lie!
+
+YAOUMA. Peace!
+
+SATNI. In spite of you, I will save you. [_Yaouma goes up the stairway
+leading to the terrace. Satni stands on a bench and shouts to the
+crowd_] Hear me, my brothers, I know of better Gods, of Gods who ask for
+no victims--
+
+THE PEOPLE. They are false Gods!
+
+SATNI. They are better Gods--
+
+STEWARD. Rheou! Rheou! bid him cease!
+
+RHEOU. No--let him speak.
+
+SATNI. I come to save you from error, to overthrow the idols, to teach
+you eternal truths--
+
+     _An immense shout of acclamation drowns the rest of Satni's
+     words, as Yaouma, who has appeared on the terrace above,
+     stands with her arms raised to the setting sun. Mieris
+     kneels and crosses her hands in prayer._
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+ACT II
+
+
+    SCENE: _Same as Act I._
+
+     _Rheou discovered alone. After a few moments the Steward
+     enters through the gates._
+
+RHEOU. What have you seen?
+
+STEWARD. The preparations for the festival continue.
+
+RHEOU. At the Temple?
+
+STEWARD. At the Temple.
+
+RHEOU. For the Feast of Prodigies?
+
+STEWARD. For the Feast of Prodigies.
+
+RHEOU. And the priests believe they can celebrate it to-morrow?
+
+STEWARD. I have seen no reason to doubt of it.
+
+RHEOU. Without Yaouma?
+
+STEWARD. I do not know.
+
+RHEOU. You are mistaken perhaps. Did you go down as far as the Nile?
+
+STEWARD. Yes, master.
+
+RHEOU. Well?
+
+STEWARD. They have finished the decoration of the sacred barge.
+
+RHEOU. I do not understand it.
+
+STEWARD. Nor I, for I know that a certain number of the soldiers have
+refused to renew the attempt of yesterday--
+
+RHEOU. They have refused?
+
+STEWARD. Yes.
+
+RHEOU. What did they say?
+
+STEWARD. That they were afraid.
+
+RHEOU. Of what--of whom?
+
+STEWARD. Of Satni.
+
+RHEOU. Of Satni?
+
+STEWARD. Yes. They say it was he who caused the miracle of yesterday.
+
+RHEOU. What--what do they say? Their words--tell me?
+
+STEWARD. That it was he--
+
+RHEOU. He, Satni?--
+
+STEWARD. Yes.
+
+RHEOU. Who caused the miracle of yesterday?
+
+STEWARD. Yes.
+
+RHEOU. The miracle that prevented them from carrying out the order of
+the High Priest?
+
+STEWARD. Yes.
+
+RHEOU. The order to come here and seize Yaouma?
+
+STEWARD. Yes.
+
+RHEOU. So that is what they say?
+
+STEWARD. Every one says it.
+
+RHEOU [_after some reflection_] Come, it is time you learned the truth,
+that you may repeat it all. In the countries whither he went Satni
+learned many things--great things. Come hither, lend your ear. He
+declares there be other gods than the gods of Egypt--and more powerful.
+If you remember, my father and the Pharaoh Amenotep likewise declared
+this, and would have made these gods known to us. How they were
+frustrated you know. It seems--for my own part I know not, 'tis Satni
+says so, ceaselessly, these two months since his return--it seems then,
+the time is come when these Gods would make them known to us. They have
+endowed Satni with superhuman power. That I _know_, and none may doubt
+it now. Satni is resolved to keep his betrothed, and the Lybian Guards
+were not deceived, it was he who yesterday called down the thunder and
+the floods from Heaven upon the soldiers sent here to seize Yaouma.
+
+STEWARD. The oldest remember but one such prodigy.
+
+RHEOU. What I have told you, tell to all; and this, besides, say to
+them: each time that any would cross the will of Satni--they who dare
+the attempt will be scattered, even as the guards were scattered
+yesterday. Add this, that Satni is guided by the spirit of the dead
+Pharaoh, that I last night beheld my father's spirit, and that great
+events will come to pass in Egypt.
+
+STEWARD. I shall tell them.
+
+RHEOU. Behold, the envoy of the new gods! Leave me to speak with him.
+Go, repeat my words.
+
+     _The Steward goes out._
+
+     _Satni enters from the back. Rheou prostrates himself before
+     Satni._
+
+SATNI [_looking behind him_] Before which God do you still bow down?
+
+RHEOU. Before you. If you be not a God, you are the spirit of a God.
+
+SATNI. I do not understand your words.
+
+RHEOU. Who can call down thunderbolts from heaven, unless he be an envoy
+of the Gods?
+
+SATNI. I am no--
+
+RHEOU. 'Tis well, 'tis well. You would have us blind to your power of
+working miracles. After yesterday you can hide it no more. Henceforth,
+Satni, you must no longer confine your teaching to Mieris, to me, to
+your parents, Yaouma, to a few--henceforth you may speak to all, all
+ears are opened by this miracle.
+
+SATNI. Let us leave that! I pray you rise and tell me rather what has
+befallen Yaouma.
+
+RHEOU. Yaouma!--Did she not at first interpret the thunderclap as sign
+of the wrath of Ammon against her?
+
+SATNI. She believes still in Ammon, then, despite all I have said to
+her.
+
+RHEOU. Happily I undeceived her. I made her understand that 'twas you
+the elements obeyed, that the thunder that frighted her, was but a sign
+of your power.
+
+SATNI. Why should you lie to her?
+
+RHEOU. It was not wholly lying. Besides, it was fortunate I could thus
+explain the event. Had you but seen her--
+
+SATNI. All my efforts of these two months past, in vain!
+
+RHEOU. You remember when you left us yesterday. You might have thought
+that all her superstitions were banished at last. She no longer answered
+you, she questioned you no more, and at your last words her silence
+confirmed the belief that at length you had won her away from Ammon. Yet
+after you were gone, at the moment of entering her hiding place, she was
+swept with sudden fury as though an evil spirit had entered her, wept,
+cried and tore her hair--
+
+SATNI. What said she?
+
+RHEOU. "To the temple! to the temple! I would go to the temple! The God
+has chosen me! The God awaits me! Egypt will perish!" In short, words of
+madness. She would have killed herself!
+
+SATNI. Killed herself!
+
+RHEOU. We had to put constraint on her. And 'twas only when I led her to
+this terrace, after the thunderbolt, and pointed out the scattered
+soldiery, that she came to herself, that at length she perceived that
+your God was the most powerful. "What," she cried, "'tis he, he, my
+Satni, who shakes the heavens and the earth for me! For me!" she
+murmured, "for me!" She would have kissed your sandals, offered you a
+sacrifice, worshipped, adored you. See where she comes, with Mieris!
+Stay.
+
+SATNI. No.
+
+     _He goes. Rheou accompanies him. Mieris enters, bearing
+     flowers and led by Yaouma._
+
+MIERIS [_listening_] Is he there?
+
+YAOUMA. No.
+
+MIERIS. Leave me.
+
+     _Yaouma goes out. Mieris left alone makes several hesitating
+     steps toward the statue of Isis, then goes up to it and
+     touches it. A pause._
+
+MIERIS. If it be only of wood!
+
+     _A gesture of disillusion. She draws slowly away from the
+     statue, letting her flowers fall, broken-hearted, and begins
+     to weep. Rheou returns._
+
+RHEOU. Why, Mieris--do you bring flowers to Isis still?
+
+MIERIS. It is the last time. Listen, Rheou--We mast ask Satni to heal
+me. Do not tell me it is not possible; he has healed Ahmarsti.
+
+RHEOU. Healed Ahmarsti?
+
+MIERIS, Yes. He made her drink a liquid wherein no doubt a good genius
+was hidden, and the evil spirit that tormented her was driven forth.
+
+RHEOU [_credulously_] Is't possible?
+
+MIERIS. Every one saw it. And Kitoui--
+
+RHEOU. Well?
+
+MIERIS. Kitoui, the cripple, went this morning to draw water from the
+Nile, before all her neighbors who marvelled and cried with joy. And she
+had merely touched the hem of his garment, even without his knowing it.
+He has healed the child of Riti, too, he knows gods more powerful than
+ours--younger gods, perhaps, our gods are so old--If it were not so, how
+could he have walked unscathed the road where the scarabs lay, that day
+when he came home? Since then, men have seen him do a thousand forbidden
+things, have seen him defy our gods by disrespect. Without the
+protection of a higher power, how could he escape the chastisement
+whereof another had died? Who are his gods? Rheou, he must make them
+known to you.
+
+RHEOU. He refuses.
+
+MIERIS. For what reason?
+
+RHEOU. The reason he gives is absurd--he says there are no gods--
+
+MIERIS. No gods! no gods!--he is mocking you.
+
+RHEOU. He is bound to secrecy, perhaps.
+
+MIERIS. Rheou, know you that this Ahmarsti--these two years now, on the
+day of Prodigies, have I heard her at my side howling prayers at the
+goddess that were never answered.
+
+RHEOU. I know. Satni declares he could have healed all whom the goddess
+has relieved.
+
+MIERIS [_to herself_] He relieves even those women whom she
+abandons--[_After a pause_] He must teach you the words that work these
+miracles.
+
+RHEOU. He refuses.
+
+MIERIS. Force him!
+
+RHEOU. He says there are none.
+
+MIERIS. Threaten him with death--he will speak.
+
+RHEOU. No.
+
+MIERIS [_with excitement_] But you do not understand me!--he has healed
+Ahmarsti, he has healed Kitoui, wherefore should he not heal me?
+
+RHEOU [_sadly_] Ah! Mieris, Mieris, think you I waited for your prayer,
+to ask him that?
+
+MIERIS. Well--Well--?
+
+RHEOU. I could gain nothing but these words from him: "Could I overcome
+the evil Mieris suffers from, even now should she rejoice in the
+splendor of day."
+
+MIERIS. Nothing is impossible to the gods, even to ours; how much more
+then to his!--He did not yield to your prayers!--Insist, order,
+threaten! Force him to speak. You have the right to command him. He is
+but the son of a potter after all. Let him be whipped till he yield. Do
+anything, have him whipped to the point of death--or better, offer him
+fields, the hill of date-trees that is ours; offer him our flocks, and
+my jewels and precious stones--tell him we know him for a living
+god--but I would be healed. I would be healed! I would see! See! [_With
+anger_] Ah! you know not the worth of the light, you whose eyes are
+filled with it! You cannot picture my misery, you who suffer it not! You
+grieve for me, I doubt not, but you think you have done enough, having
+given me pity!--No, no, I am wrong--I am unjust. But forgive me; this
+thought that I might be healed has made me mad. Rheou!--Think, Rheou,
+what it means to be blind, to have been so always, and to know that
+beside one are those who see--who see!--The humblest of our shepherds,
+the most wretched of the women at our looms, I envy them. And when, at
+times, I hear them complain, I curb myself lest I should strike them,
+wretches that know not their good fortune. I feel that all you, you who
+see, should never cease from songs of joy, and hymns of thanksgiving to
+the gods--[_With an outburst_] I speak of sight! Think, Rheou, I have
+not even a clear idea of what it means "to see." To recognize without
+touch, to know without need to listen. To perceive the sun another way
+than by the heat of its rays!--They say the flowers are so beautiful!--I
+would see _you_, my well-beloved. Oh! the day when I shall see your
+eyes!--I would see, that you may show me some likeness of the little
+child we lost. You shall point out, among the rest, those that are most
+like to him. This misery--O my beloved!--I do not often speak of it--but
+I suffer it! I suffer it! [_She is in his arms_] They have taken from me
+the hope that our gods will heal me, if they give me nothing in its
+place, know you what I shall do?--I shall go away, alone, one night,
+touching the walls, and the trees--and the trees, with my arms
+outstretched; I shall go down as far as the Nile and there, gently, I
+shall glide away to death.
+
+RHEOU. Peace, O my best beloved!
+
+MIERIS [_listening_] I hear him--he comes. I leave you with him! Lead
+him to my door--love me--save me!
+
+     _She attempts to go out, he leads her. Satni enters followed
+     by Nourm, Sokiti, and Bitiou._
+
+NOURM. Yes! Thou who art mighty!--Yes! Yes! Make me rich--I have had
+blows of the stick so long! I would be rich to be able to give them in
+my turn!--You have but to speak the magic words.
+
+SATNI [_somewhat brutally_] Leave me! I am no magician.
+
+SOKITI. I, I do not ask for money. Listen not to him; he is bad. I, I
+only ask that you make Khames die; he has taken from me the girl I would
+have wed. [_Satni pushes him away. Sokiti, weeping, clings to his
+garments_] Grant it, I implore you--I implore you!--My life is gone with
+her--make him die, I pray you.
+
+SATNI. Leave me!
+
+SOKITI. Hear me.
+
+BITIOU [_coming between them and striking Sokiti_] Begone! Begone! He
+would not hear you! [_Sokiti goes out_] Listen--listen--you see I made
+him go. All--all whom you will, I shall beat them for you. Listen--if
+you could make me tall like you, and steady on my legs--See--here--I
+have hidden away, safe, three gold rings, that I stole a while since; I
+will give them you.
+
+SATNI. Go, take them to the high priest--
+
+BITIOU [_pitiably_] I have given four to him already.
+
+     _Sokiti and Nourm are conferring together. Enter Rheou.
+     They run away, Bitiou follows, falling and picking himself
+     up._
+
+RHEOU. What do they want of you?
+
+SATNI. They came here, following me. They believe me gifted with
+supernatural power, and crave miracles of me, as though I were a God, or
+a juggler. I am neither, and I work no miracles.
+
+RHEOU. None the less you have worked two miracles.
+
+SATNI. Not one.
+
+RHEOU. And you will work yet one more.
+
+SATNI. Never. I came hither not to perform miracles, but to prevent
+them.
+
+RHEOU. You will heal Mieris.
+
+SATNI. No one can heal her, nor I, nor any other.
+
+RHEOU. Give her a little hope.
+
+SATNI. How can I?
+
+RHEOU. Tell her you will invoke your God, and that some day perhaps--
+
+SATNI. I have no God. If there be a god, he is so great, so far from as,
+so utterly beyond our comprehension, that for us it is as though he did
+not exist. To believe that one of our actions, to believe that a prayer
+could act upon the will of God, is to belittle him, to deny him. He is
+himself incapable of a miracle; it would be to belie himself. Could he
+improve his work, he would not then have created it perfect from the
+first. He could not do it.
+
+RHEOU. Our ancient gods at least permitted hope.
+
+SATNI. Keep them.
+
+RHEOU. In the heart of Mieris, you have destroyed them.
+
+SATNI. Do you regret it?
+
+RHEOU. Not yet.
+
+SATNI. What would you say?
+
+RHEOU. Even if it be true that sight will never be given her, do not
+tell her so. Far better promise that she will be healed.
+
+SATNI. And to all the others, must I promise healing too? Because in a
+house I relieved a child, whose illness sprang from a cause I could
+remove; because a woman, ill in imagination, did cure herself by
+touching my garment's hem; must I then descend to play the part of
+sorcerer? I had behind me there, but now, a rabble of the wretched
+imploring me, believing me all powerful, begging for them and theirs
+unrealizable miracles. Should I then cheat them too, all those poor
+wretches, promising what I know I cannot give? I came hither to make an
+end of lies, not to replace them with others.
+
+RHEOU [_with passion_] Ah! You would not lie. You would not lie to the
+wretched. You would not lie to Mieris. You would lie to no one, is it
+so?
+
+SATNI. To no one.
+
+RHEOU. We shall see! [_Calling right_] Yaouma!--Let them send Yaouma!
+[_To Satni_] Not to her either, then? Good; if you speak the truth to
+her, if you deny that you have supernatural power, if you force her to
+believe you had no hand in the miracle that saved her yesterday, she
+will give herself to the priests, or she will kill herself! What will
+you do?
+
+     _Yaouma enters, she tries to prostrate herself before Satni,
+     who prevents her. In the meantime the Steward greatly moved
+     has come to whisper to Rheou._
+
+RHEOU [_deeply moved_] He is there!
+
+STEWARD. In person.
+
+RHEOU. 'Tis an order of the Pharaoh then?
+
+STEWARD. Yes.
+
+RHEOU. I am troubled.
+
+     _He goes out with the Steward._
+
+SATNI [_to Yaouma_] What is it ails you? Why are you so sad?
+
+YAOUMA. You will want nothing more of me, now that you are a god.
+
+SATNI. Be not afraid: I am not a god.
+
+YAOUMA. Almost. 'Tis a daughter of the Pharaoh you will marry now.
+
+SATNI. I will marry you.
+
+YAOUMA. You will swear to.
+
+SATNI. Yes.
+
+YAOUMA. By Ammon?--[_Recollecting_] By your god?
+
+SATNI. My god is not concerned with us.
+
+YAOUMA. Who then is concerned with us?
+
+SATNI. No one.
+
+YAOUMA. You do not want to tell me. You treat me as a child--mocking me.
+
+SATNI. Why do you need an oath? I love you, and you shall be my wife.
+
+YAOUMA [_radiant_] I shall be your wife!--I, little Yaouma, I shall be
+wife to a man whom the heavens obey!--[_A pause_] When I think that you
+loosed the thunder for my sake--
+
+SATNI. No, vain child, I did not loose the thunder.
+
+YAOUMA. Yes, yes, yes--I understand. You want no one to know that you
+have found the book of Thoth--fear not, I know how to hold my peace.
+[_Coaxingly she puts her arms round Satni's neck and rubs her cheek
+against his_] Tell me, how did you find it?
+
+SATNI. I have not found the book of magic spells; besides, it would have
+profited me nothing.
+
+YAOUMA. Sit--you would not sit? They say 'tis shut up in three caskets,
+hidden at the bottom of the sea.
+
+SATNI. I tell you again I neither sought, nor found it.
+
+YAOUMA. What do you do then, to strike fire from heaven?
+
+SATNI. I did not strike fire from heaven.
+
+YAOUMA [_crossly_] Oh! I do not love you now!--Yes, yes, yes, I love
+you! [_A pause_] So it pleased you then, when you were going away in the
+galley, to see me run barefoot on the bank--?
+
+SATNI. Yes.
+
+YAOUMA [_angry_] But speak! speak! [_Checking herself, then more coaxing
+still_] You wanted to weep? No? You said you did. For my part I know
+not, then, I could see nothing. But the day of your return, when you
+learned I was chosen for the sacrifice, then, then I saw your eyes--You
+love me--You said to me you would prevent me going to the Nile. I
+believed you not--you remember--Why! even yesterday, yes, yesterday
+again, in spite of all your words, I was resolved to escape and go to
+the temple. It needed this proof of your power!--tell me, it was you who
+shook the heavens and the earth for me.
+
+SATNI. No.
+
+YAOUMA. Again!--You must think but little of me, to believe I should
+reveal what you bade me keep secret. [_She lays her hands on Satni's
+cheeks_] It _was_ you, was it not?
+
+SATNI. No, no, no! a thousand times no!
+
+YAOUMA. It was your gods then, your gods whom I know not.
+
+SATNI. No.
+
+YAOUMA. Who was it then?
+
+SATNI. No one.
+
+YAOUMA [_out of countenance_] No one! [_A pause_] You possess no power
+that other men have not?
+
+SATNI. No.
+
+YAOUMA [_the same_] You seem as one speaking truth.
+
+SATNI. I speak the truth.
+
+YAOUMA. 'Tis a pity!
+
+SATNI. Why?
+
+YAOUMA. It would have been more beautiful. [_A long grave pause_] To go
+in the barge, on the Nile, that too had been more beautiful.
+
+     _Rheou and the Steward enter_
+
+RHEOU [_agitated_] Go in, Yaouma. [_To the Steward_] Conduct her to her
+mistress--and make known to her what has passed. [_Yaouma and the
+Steward go out_] Satni, terrible news has come to me: the Pharaoh,
+finding the people's enmity increase against him, has taken fright, and
+striking first, the blow has fallen on me. My goods are confiscated. I
+am sent to exile. The palace Chamberlain, but now, brought me the order
+to quit my house to-day, and deliver myself to the army leaving for
+Ethiopia.
+
+SATNI. Can you do nothing against this order?
+
+RHEOU. Yes. I can kill those who gave it.
+
+SATNI. Kill!
+
+RHEOU. Listen. I bring you the means to win the triumph of your ideas,
+and at the same time serve my cause. I can arm all the dwellers on my
+lands. We two must lead them. They will follow you, knowing you all
+powerful. Nay, hear me--wait. The soldiers, who fear you, will not dare
+resist us, we shall kill the high priest, the Pharaoh if need be--we
+shall be masters of Egypt.
+
+SATNI. I would not kill.
+
+RHEOU. So be it. Enough that you declare yourself ready to repeat the
+miracle of yesterday.
+
+SATNI. I would not lie.
+
+RHEOU. If you would neither kill nor lie, you will never succeed in
+governing men.
+
+SATNI. I would fight the priests of Ammon, not imitate them.
+
+RHEOU. You will never triumph without doing so. Profit by events. Do not
+deny the power they believe to be yours. Men will not follow you, if you
+speak only to their reason. You are above the crowd by your learning;
+that gives you rights. You would lead them to the summits; to get there,
+one must blindfold those who suffer from dizziness.
+
+SATNI. I refuse.
+
+RHEOU. One would think you were afraid of victory!
+
+SATNI. Rheou, 'tis not the victory of my ideas you seek, 'tis your own
+vengeance, your own ambition.
+
+RHEOU. They wish to rush the people of Egypt into an unjust and useless
+war. They hesitate; they feel the people lacking zest, that is why they
+have delayed the going of the army till the feast of Prodigies.
+To-morrow they will make the goddess speak, and all those poor creatures
+will be led away. You can save thousands of lives by sacrificing a few.
+
+SATNI. I refuse. The truth will prevail without help from cruelty or
+falsehood.
+
+RHEOU. Never. The crowd is not a woman to be won by loud wooing, but one
+who must be taken by force, whom you must dominate before you can
+persuade.
+
+SATNI. Say no more, Rheou, I refuse.
+
+RHEOU. Blind! Fool! Coward!
+
+     _Mieris enters, led by Yaouma. A moment later some
+     men--Bitiou, Sokiti, Nourm._
+
+MIERIS. Rheou!--where are you? where are you? [_Yaouma leads her toward
+him_] It is true, this that I hear?--Exile--Misery?
+
+RHEOU. It is true.
+
+MIERIS. Courage--As for me, a palace or a cottage--I know not the one
+from the other.
+
+RHEOU. [_to Satni_] Satni, can you still refuse?
+
+SATNI. You torture me! No, I will not be credited with power that is not
+mine; to stir men up against their fellows--I would not kill, I tell
+you.
+
+MIERIS. I understand you, Satni--it is wrong to kill!--But look once
+more upon me--I am poor now, I am going away, will you not consent to
+heal me?
+
+SATNI [_anguished_] Mieris--Could I have healed you, would it not be
+done already?
+
+MIERIS. You can do it! I know you can do it! Work a miracle.
+
+YAOUMA. A miracle! Show that your god is more powerful than our gods.
+
+A MAN [_who has just entered_] Heal us!
+
+SATNI. I am not able.
+
+ANOTHER. Work a miracle.
+
+SATNI. There are no miracles!
+
+A MAN. Then your gods are less mighty than ours.
+
+SATNI. Yours do not exist.
+
+THE PEOPLE [_terrified at the blasphemy_] Oh!
+
+A MAN. Why do you lead us away from our gods, if you have no others to
+give us?
+
+ANOTHER. You shall not insult our gods!
+
+ANOTHER. We will hand you over to the priests lest the gods smite us for
+hearing you!
+
+ANOTHER. Ammon will chastise us!
+
+SATNI. No.
+
+A MAN. Isis will abandon us!
+
+SATNI. It will not make you more wretched.
+
+ANOTHER. Then show us you are stronger than our gods.
+
+MIERIS. A miracle!
+
+RHEOU. He is stronger than our gods!  } [_Together_]
+YAOUMA. A miracle or I die!           }
+
+SATNI. You demand it! You demand a miracle. Well, then, you shall have
+one, I will do this, but in the presence of all! Go! go! go throughout
+the domains--bring hither those you find bowed on the earth, or hung to
+poles for drawing water. Go you others, summon the slaves, the piteous
+workers--call hither the drawers of stones, bid them drop the ropes
+that flay their shoulders, bid them come.
+
+MIERIS. What would you do?
+
+SATNI. Convince them.
+
+MIERIS. Now of a sudden, brutally?
+
+SATNI. Brutally.
+
+RHEOU. Do you believe them ready?
+
+SATNI. You are afraid.
+
+RHEOU. Day comes not suddenly on night, between them is the dawn.
+
+     _Delethi leads Mieris right under the peristyle._
+
+SATNI. I would have day, broad daylight--Now, at once, for all! 'Tis a
+crime to _promise_ them reward for their suffering. How do we know that
+they will ever be paid?
+
+RHEOU. They are so miserable--
+
+SATNI. The truth--is the truth good only for the rich? Will you add that
+injustice to all the others? Behold them! [_Gradually the slaves and
+workers of all kinds have entered till they fill the stage. Amongst them
+Pakh, Sokiti, Bitiou the Dwarf_] Yes, behold them, the victims, behold
+the wretched! I know you all. You, you are shepherd, you are worse
+nourished than your flocks, and your beasts, at least, are not given
+blows. They do not beat the cows nor the sheep. You, you sow and you
+reap; beneath the sun, tortured by flies, you gather abundant crops. You
+sleep in a hole. Others eat the corn you made grow, and sleep on
+precious stuffs. You, you are forever drawing water from the Nile;
+betwixt you and the ox they harness to another machine, there is no
+difference, and yet you are a man. You, you are one of those who drag
+great stones, to build the monuments of pride. You are a digger in the
+tombs, you live a month or more without sight of day. To glorify the
+death of others, you give your life. You are a trainer of lions for war;
+your father was eaten--they would have wept had the lion died--How can
+it be that you accept all this, when you see beside you happiness
+without work, and abundance without effort? I will tell you. 'Tis
+because, in the name of the god Ammon-Ra, they have said to you: "Have
+patience, this injustice will last but a life-time." Fools! nothing but
+that! All the time you are on earth, suffer, produce for others. Content
+ye with hunger, you who produce food. Content ye with worse usage than
+the swine, you who have guard of them. Content ye to sleep in the open,
+you who build palaces and temples. Content ye with all miseries, you
+carvers of gold, and setters of precious stones. Look without envy,
+without anger, on the welfare of those who do nothing, all this will
+last only the whole of your lives! After, in another world, you shall
+have the fulness of all the crops, and the joy of all the pleasures.
+Well, they lied to you: there is no island of souls, there are no happy
+fields, there is no life of atonement after this. [_Loud murmurs_] They
+have set up these gods for your servile adoration; they have counselled
+you: "Bow down, these gods will avenge you." They have said: "Prostrate
+yourselves, these gods are just." They have said: "Throw yourselves to
+earth, these gods are good." They have declared them all powerful; shut
+them in sanctuaries of awful gloom, whence you are shown them once a
+year, to keep alive your terror of the Gods; and last, they have made
+you believe no man may touch these images and live. I tell you they
+lied--I will show you they lied to you. Behold the most mighty
+Ammon--the father of the gods--I spit my hate at him! Thou art but an
+idol; I curse thee for evil men have done in thy name! I curse thee in
+the name of all the enslaved, in the name of all those they have cheated
+with hopes of an avenging life; in the name of all who for thousands of
+years have groaned and wept; suffered insult, outrage, blows, death,
+without thought of revolt, because promises made in thy name had
+soothed their rage to sleep! And I curse thee for the sorrow that now
+fills me, and for the ills that must come even of thy going! Die! [_He
+throws a stool in the face of the statue_] You others do as I. Go, climb
+their pedestals! Lay hold of their hands, they are lifeless! Strike,
+'tis but an image! Spit in their faces, they are senseless! Strike!
+Ruin! All this is nothing but hardened mud!
+
+     _The crowd which had punctuated the words of Satni with
+     cries and murmurs has approached the statues behind him and
+     followed his example, blaspheming, and howling with fury.
+     The more courageous begin, being hoisted to the pedestals,
+     the rest follow suit. The gods are overthrown._
+
+RHEOU. Now, let them open my granaries, that each may help himself; and
+take from my flocks to sate you all.
+
+     _Cries of joy, they go out slowly. Bitiou in the meantime
+     approaches an overthrown statue and still half-afraid, kicks
+     it. He tries to run, falls, picks himself up, then seeing
+     that decidedly there is no danger, seats himself on the
+     stomach of the goddess Thoueris and bursts into a peal of
+     triumphant bestial laughter._
+
+BITIOU. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
+
+     _Then he perceives the little statue of Isis which Mieris
+     shields with her arms, points it out to a couple of men who
+     advance to it._
+
+DELETHI. Mistress, they would take Isis!
+
+MIERIS [_in tears_] Let me keep her--
+
+RHEOU. No, Mieris.
+
+MIERIS [_letting go_] Take her--[_Then_] Stay!
+
+RHEOU. Wherefore?
+
+MIERIS. Can you part from her, and feel nothing? Even now, Satni, in
+denouncing the gods to the fury of the crowd, you did not say
+everything--You, who can see her, behold this little image, think how
+many tears were shed before her, in the years since she was made. She
+has been ours for generations. Call up the countless crowds of those who
+have fixed their anxious looks upon her eyes, dead even as mine are. It
+is for all the anguish she has looked upon, we must respect her. Tears
+make holy. I doubt not you are right: she must be broken too--but not
+without farewell. [_To Yaouma_] Where is she, Yaouma? I would say my
+last prayer to her. [_To the statue_] Oh, them who didst not heal, but
+didst console me; O thou who hast heard so many entreaties and
+thanksgivings, thou art but clay! Yet men have given thee life; thy life
+was not in thee, it was in them--and the proof is that thou diest, now
+they have taken their soul from thee. I give thee over to those who
+would break thee, but I revere thee, I salute thee, and I thank thee for
+all the hope thou hast given me; and I thank thee in the name of all the
+sorrows that thou hast sent to sleep. [To the men] Take her hence--let
+them destroy her with respect.
+
+     _They take Isis away._
+
+SATNI. There is nothing so sad or so great as the death of a god! [_A
+pause. To Yaouma, who comes through the crowd_] Behold, Yaouma! The gods
+are dead and I live--behold them! Do you believe me--do you believe me?
+
+     _Sadly Yaouma looks at the broken statues, then bursts into
+     tears before Satni, who stands amazed._
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+ACT III
+
+    SCENE:--_The yard in front of the potter's hut. On the right
+    from the middle of the back of the scene to the footlights,
+    the walls of the dwelling made of beaten clay. Two unequal
+    doors. The wall is slightly raised supporting a terrace where
+    pottery of all kinds is drying in the sun. Left, a wall of
+    loose stones high enough to lean on. Between the wall and the
+    house an opening leading to an invisible inclined plane that
+    descends to the Nile, the water and opposite bank of which
+    are visible. Behind the house and on the right groups of
+    lofty palms. The whole is abject misery beneath the splendor
+    of a heaven blazing with light._
+
+    _Kirjipa, crouching down, is grinding corn between a large
+    and a small stone. Satni is seated on the wall dreaming._
+
+
+KIRJIPA. Son.
+
+SATNI. Mother.
+
+KIRJIPA. And so you do not believe that when the moon grows little by
+little less, 'tis because it is eaten by a pig?
+
+SATNI. No, mother.
+
+KIRJIPA. Then what beast eats it?
+
+SATNI. None.
+
+KIRJIPA [_laughing_] You have ideas that are not reasonable. What makes
+me marvel, is that your father seems to understand them. I must haste to
+make the bread, that he find it when he returns.
+
+SATNI. Here comes the messenger from Rheou.
+
+KIRJIPA [_horrified_] The messenger of him who kills the gods.
+
+SATNI. We do not kill what has no life.
+
+KIRJIPA. I would not see him. [_She picks up her corn_].
+
+SATNI. Why?
+
+KIRJIPA. Brrr!--[_To herself_] To-morrow I shall burn some sacred herbs
+here. [_She goes out_].
+
+     _The Steward enters._
+
+STEWARD. Satni, I have been seeking you. Since this morning unhappy
+things have come to pass--
+
+SATNI. Yaouma is not in danger, or Mieris, of Rheou?
+
+STEWARD. No. All three are safe in the palace.
+
+SATNI. Well?
+
+STEWARD. You remember the order the master gave me this morning, after
+the death of the gods?
+
+SATNI. No.
+
+STEWARD. Yes, to open his granaries to all.
+
+SATNI. Yes, yes, well?
+
+STEWARD. When I went to obey, to my amazement I beheld the men stand by
+the door in earnest converse, then without entering they withdrew. This
+is what happened. They went to the house of the neighboring master,
+roused his servants and laborers, and strove to force them to overthrow
+the statues of his gods, and rob him of his corn. They killed his
+steward. Soldiers came--Nepk had been killed, others too. Then all were
+scattered. The master sent me to bid you reason with those whom you
+might find. Look! there are some who have taken refuge here! [_To some
+men who are outside_] Enter--come--Satni would speak with you!
+
+     _Bitiou, Sokiti, and Nourm appear behind the wall. Bitiou
+     comes in._
+
+SATNI [_To Bitiou_] Whither go you?
+
+STEWARD. Whither go you? Whence come you?
+
+BITIOU. I followed the others--
+
+STEWARD. Whence come you?
+
+BITIOU. I came back with the others, Sokiti and Nourm.
+
+SATNI. Where are they?
+
+BITIOU. There.
+
+STEWARD. Bid them enter.
+
+SATNI [_going to the door_] Sokiti, Nourm, come.
+
+     _Sokiti and Nourm enter awkwardly._
+
+STEWARD. Why do you hide yourselves?
+
+NOURM. We do not hide from you, but from the Lybian soldiers.
+
+SATNI. Why do you fear them?
+
+SOKITI. Because they are chasing us.
+
+STEWARD. And why are they chasing you?
+
+     _The three men look at each other._
+
+SATNI. Bitiou, answer.
+
+BITIOU. Bitiou knows not.
+
+STEWARD [_to the others_] You know it, you.
+
+NOURM. They took us for the others.
+
+SATNI. What others?
+
+NOURM. Perhaps they took us for the servants of the neighboring master.
+
+STEWARD. They have done mischief, then, the servants of the neighboring
+master? [_Pause_] Answer--you!
+
+NOURM [_to Satni_] They did that at his house, that you made us do at
+yours.
+
+STEWARD. The priests heard of it?
+
+NOURM. No, but the master sent for the soldiers.
+
+SATNI. Only for that!
+
+NOURM. I know not.
+
+SATNI. Had there been nothing else, he would not have sent for the
+Lybian soldiers. He knew our projects--he is with us. There is something
+else, eh!--
+
+     _Bitiou yawns loudly._
+
+SOKITI. Yes.
+
+SATNI. What?
+
+SOKITI [_to Nourm_] Tell.
+
+NOURM. They were angered with the master. He was bad, the master.
+
+STEWARD. He is hard, but he gives much to those who have nothing.
+
+SOKITI. He gave here, that he might receive hereafter.
+
+NOURM. After his death.
+
+SATNI. And now he gives no more?
+
+NOURM. Nothing.
+
+SATNI. Ah!
+
+BITIOU. Nothing--and so, all stomachs empty, very much. [_He laughs_].
+
+NOURM. He gives only blows of the stick now.
+
+SOKITI [_with conviction_] One cannot live on that alone.
+
+NOURM. And so his servants asked him for corn?
+
+BITIOU. No good--only blows of the stick.
+
+STEWARD. They _took_ the corn that was refused them?
+
+BITIOU [_laughing_] Hunger! [_A gesture_].
+
+SATNI. You knew they were going to do that?
+
+SOKITI. Yes.
+
+SATNI. It was for that you went to join them?
+
+NOURM. Yes.
+
+STEWARD. Why?
+
+NOURM. It came into our heads like this: better not take corn from the
+good master, but take it from the bad one.
+
+SOKITI. Justice!
+
+BITIOU [_to the Steward_] You content. You still got all your corn.
+
+     _He laughs, his comrades laugh with him._
+
+NOURM. You, we like you.
+
+BITIOU. You--good! We--good!
+
+SOKITI. See!
+
+BITIOU [_collecting two ideas_] Wait: neighboring master bad. They bad.
+[_To the others_] Heh?--Heh?--you see--Heh? Heh? [_All three draw
+themselves up proudly and laugh_] And the steward he bad, he dead--well
+done!
+
+SATNI. What would he say?
+
+SOKITI [_laughing_] They took the steward and then--[_Chokes with
+laughter_].
+
+NOURM. They gave him back all the blows of the stick they had had from
+him.
+
+SATNI. You saw that?
+
+NOURM. Yes.
+
+SOKITI [_proudly_] Me too, me too--
+
+BITIOU. I laugh very much--because--because--Steward, very big, strong,
+and then when very much beaten, fell down--fell on the ground--like me!
+like me! He, big, he fell down just the same--he like Bitiou--I very
+glad. [_During what follows he plays with his foot_].
+
+STEWARD. What they have done is bad.
+
+NOURM. No. The steward had been happy all his life. He was old.
+
+SOKITI. He was old. So 'tis not bad to have killed him--He had
+finished--He was fat--and he had lost his appetite--
+
+NOURM. Only just, he should leave his place to another.
+
+SATNI. We must not kill.
+
+SOKITI. What does that mean?
+
+NOURM. Yes, kill a good one, that is bad. But kill a bad one, that is
+good.
+
+SATNI. And if you are mistaken?
+
+SOKITI. No, he is bad, I kill him.
+
+SATNI. What if he be not bad, and you think him so?
+
+SOKITI. If he were not bad, I should not think it.
+
+STEWARD. You do not understand--Listen, I am not bad, am I?
+
+SOKITI. But we do not want to kill you.
+
+STEWARD. Let me speak. You remember Kob the black. He thought me bad.
+
+NOURM. Yes.
+
+STEWARD. And if he had killed me?
+
+SOKITI. We are not blacks--
+
+STEWARD. You do not understand me. Consider. He thought me bad. I am not
+bad. What you were saying, would justify him if he had killed me.
+
+     _They consider._
+
+SOKITI. I understand. You say: If the slave had killed me--no, it is not
+that.
+
+SATNI. Human life must be respected.
+
+     _Gravely they make sign of acquiescence, to escape further
+     torment. Nourm picks up a package he had brought and turns
+     to go out unobserved._
+
+STEWARD. What are you carrying there?
+
+NOURM. Nothing, 'tis mine--
+
+BITIOU. That is a necklace--show. [_Begins to open the package_].
+
+NOURM. Yes, a necklace.
+
+SATNI. From whom did you take it?
+
+NOURM. From the neighboring master.
+
+SATNI. Do you think you did well?
+
+NOURM [_hesitating_] Why--yes.
+
+SATNI. You are wrong.
+
+NOURM. Be not afraid, no one saw me.
+
+SATNI. It is wrong.
+
+NOURM. No. What can wrong me, is wrong. Since no one saw me, they will
+not punish me. So it is not wrong.
+
+SATNI. Wrong not to you, but to the neighboring master.
+
+NOURM. He has many others.
+
+SOKITI. Has had them for years, he has! Nourm never had one. Not just.
+I, I never had, this--[_He holds up a bracelet_].
+
+SATNI. You have taken this bracelet!
+
+SOKITI [_delighted_] It is mine.
+
+SATNI. We are content.
+
+     _They laugh._
+
+NOURM. And Bitiou--
+
+SATNI AND SOKITI. Yes, Bitiou--
+
+NOURM. He took the best thing.
+
+STEWARD. What?
+
+BITIOU. A woman.
+
+STEWARD. By force?
+
+BITIOU. No woman would come willingly with Bitiou.
+
+SOKITI. But she escaped from him.
+
+BITIOU. Yes. [_He weeps_].
+
+SATNI. You must give back the necklace and this bracelet to the
+neighboring master.
+
+NOURM. Give back, but he has others!
+
+SATNI. You cannot make yourself the judge of that. If you were selling
+perfumes, for instance, would you think it natural that a man should
+come and take them from you, because you had plenty and he had none?
+
+NOURM. You tell me hard things.
+
+SATNI. You must give back this bracelet, Sokiti.
+
+SOKITI. Yes, master.
+
+SATNI. And you the necklace.
+
+NOURM. Yes, master.
+
+     _A sorrowful pause._
+
+SATNI. See, you are sad. You perceive that you did wrong.
+
+SOKITI. Yes, we did wrong--
+
+SATNI. Ah!
+
+SOKITI. We did wrong to tell you what we did, because you are not
+pleased.
+
+SATNI. 'Tis for your sake I am grieved.
+
+NOURM. Then you have not told the truth; there is a hell, and there is
+an island of souls.
+
+SATNI. No.
+
+NOURM. If the gods do not punish, and men, not having seen, do not
+punish either--[_Pause_] Well--I shall give it back.
+
+SOKITI. I, I shall not give back. Not stolen. Another, a servant of the
+neighboring master stole the bracelet, not I!
+
+STEWARD. Yet 'tis you who have it.
+
+SOKITI. I took it from the other.
+
+STEWARD. He let you do it?
+
+SOKITI. Yes. Could not help it, he was wounded.
+
+SATNI. You should have succored him.
+
+SOKITI. I did not know him.
+
+SATNI. He was a man like you.
+
+SOKITI. There are plenty of them.
+
+SATNI. We must do good to others.
+
+SOKITI. What good will that do to me?
+
+SATNI. You will be content with yourself.
+
+SOKITI. I would rather have the bracelet--
+
+SATNI. It is only by refraining from doing one another harm that mankind
+may hope to gain happiness; nay more, only by lending one another aid.
+Do you understand?
+
+SOKITI [_gloomily_] Yes.
+
+SATNI. And you, and you--
+
+NOURM AND BITIOU [_in different tones_] Yes, yes.
+
+STEWARD [_to Sokiti_] Repeat it then.
+
+SOKITI. If men did not steal bracelets--
+
+STEWARD. Well?
+
+SOKITI. Bracelets--[_He laughs_].
+
+SATNI [_to Nourm_] And you?
+
+NOURM. He was wrong to take the bracelet.
+
+SATNI. Why?
+
+NOURM. Because you are not pleased.
+
+SATNI. No, no, 'tis not for that.
+
+SOKITI. I was not wrong--
+
+NOURM. Yes! wait! I understand--If you steal, another may steal from
+you. Likewise if you kill--
+
+SATNI. Right. And why is it necessary to be good?
+
+NOURM. Wait [_To Sokiti_] If you do good to one whom you know not,
+another who knows you not, may do good to you.
+
+STEWARD. Ah!--Do you understand, Sokiti?
+
+SOKITI. I think so.
+
+SATNI. Explain.
+
+SOKITI [_after a great effort_] You do not want us to steal bracelets
+from you--
+
+SATNI. I do not want you to steal from any one--Do you understand?
+
+SOKITI. No.
+
+STEWARD [_to Bitiou, who listens open-mouthed_] And you?
+
+BITIOU. I--I have a pain in my head--
+
+     _Satni comes to the Steward. Bitiou and Sokiti slip off._
+
+STEWARD. Look at them--
+
+SATNI. The tree that was bent from its birth, not in one day can you
+make it straight?
+
+STEWARD. We must leave it what it is, or tear it down?
+
+SATNI. No, we must seek patiently to straighten it. [_With feeling_] And
+above all we must keep straight those that are young.
+
+     _Cries are heard outside._
+
+STEWARD. What cries are those?
+
+SATNI. Women in distress.
+
+     _Yaouma enters, leading Mieris. Both are agitated._
+
+YAOUMA. Come, mistress--come--We are at the house of the potter, the
+father of Satni--Satni help--quick! quick! Run! your father, Satni!
+
+SATNI. Mieris, Yaouma, how come you here?
+
+YAOUMA. They will tell you--go!
+
+MIERIS. Fly to the rescue, he is wounded!--I have sent to the palace for
+those who drive out the evil spirits.
+
+YAOUMA. We were set upon by some men.
+
+MIERIS. He defended us--But they will kill him--go!
+
+     _Satni and the Steward seize some arms left by Nourm and run
+     out._
+
+MIERIS. Yaouma! He is wounded! Wounded in saving us--
+
+YAOUMA. Alas!
+
+MIERIS [_listening_] Who is there?
+
+NOURM. I, mistress.
+
+MIERIS. Nourm! Run to the palace, bid them send hither those who drive
+forth the evil spirits--
+
+YAOUMA. Alas! mistress, I do fear--already he has fallen--struck to
+earth.
+
+MIERIS. They will save him, they will bear him hither--
+
+YAOUMA. Will they bear him hither alive?
+
+MIERIS [_to Nourm_] Run!--You hear!--Run to the palace, bid those who
+assist at the last hour be ready to come. If he have died defending us,
+the same honors shall be paid him as though ourselves were dead! Go!
+[_Nourm goes out. A pause_] Now, Yaouma, lead me out upon the road to
+the Nile.
+
+YAOUMA. Mistress, you seek to die? Many then must be your sorrows!
+
+MIERIS. Alas! Alas! Why did you discover my flight? Why did you seek me,
+find me, and bring me back--
+
+YAOUMA. Had I not guessed your purpose?
+
+MIERIS. What have I left to live for?
+
+YAOUMA. You have lived all these years in spite of your affliction, what
+is there that is changed?
+
+MIERIS. What is there that is changed! You ask me what is changed! Until
+now I lived in the hope of a miracle.
+
+YAOUMA. Perhaps it would never have come.
+
+MIERIS. Even at my last hour I should have still looked for it.
+
+YAOUMA. Then you would have died believing in a lie--if what they say be
+true.
+
+MIERIS. What matter, I had smiled as I died, thinking death but the
+journey to a land where my lost child was waiting for me. The death of a
+child! No mother ever can believe, at heart, in that. It is too
+unjust--too cruel to be possible. One says to oneself: it is but a
+separation! Oh! Satni, thy doctrines may be the truth. But they declare
+this separation eternal; they make the death of our loved ones final,
+irreparable, horrible, therefore I foretell thee this: Women will never
+believe them! What is there that is changed?--Yesterday, children came
+playing close to us. You know how their cries and laughter made me
+glad--the voice of one of them was like the voice of mine. I made him
+come, I put out my hand, in the old way. I felt, at the old height,
+tossed hair, and the warmth of a living body. And I did not weep, but my
+voice spoke in my heart and said: "Little child, thy years are as many
+as his, whom she-who-loves-the-silence took from me. But in Amenti,
+where he is, in the island of souls, he is happier than thou, for he is
+safe from all the ills that threaten thee. He is happier than thou. He
+lives beneath a sun of gold, amid flowers of strange beauty, and
+perfumed baths refresh him. And when she-who-loves-the-silence takes me
+in my turn, _I shall see him, I shall see him_ for the first time--and
+I shall fondle him as I fondle thee, and none, then, may put us asunder.
+Go, little child, the happy ones are not on this side of the earth!" Now
+have I lost the hope of a better life before death, and the hope of a
+better life beyond as well. If you took both crutches from a cripple, he
+would fall. Only this twofold hope sustained me. They have taken it from
+me. And so, it is the end, it is the end--'tis as though I were fallen
+from a height, I am broken, I have no strength left to bear with life: I
+tell you, it is the end, it is the end!
+
+YAOUMA [_with intense fervor_] Mistress, they speak not the truth!
+
+MIERIS. Our gods, did they exist, would already have taken vengeance.
+
+YAOUMA. Before the outrage, already, they had taken vengeance on you.
+
+MIERIS. Good Yaouma, you would give me back my faith, you who could not
+keep your own.
+
+YAOUMA. Mistress, I lied to you; nothing is destroyed in me.
+
+MIERIS. You refuse to give yourself in sacrifice!--Oh, you are right....
+
+YAOUMA. I do not refuse.
+
+MIERIS. You do not?
+
+YAOUMA. No. Know you how I learned, a while ago, that you were gone?
+
+MIERIS. How?
+
+YAOUMA. I, too, was seeking to escape.
+
+MIERIS. You?
+
+YAOUMA. To go to the temple, to place myself in hands of the priests, to
+give to Ammon the victim he has chosen.
+
+MIERIS. Do you believe in all these fables still?
+
+YAOUMA [_in a low voice_] Mistress, I have _seen_ Isis.
+
+MIERIS. Has one of her images been spared then?
+
+YAOUMA. It was not an image that I saw. It was Isis herself, the
+goddess--I have _seen_ her.
+
+MIERIS. You--you have seen--what is it? I know not what you say--to
+see--that word has no clear sense for me.
+
+YAOUMA. She has spoken to me--
+
+MIERIS. You have heard her voice--
+
+YAOUMA. I have heard her voice.
+
+MIERIS. How! How!--You were sleeping--'twas in a dream--
+
+YAOUMA. I did not sleep. I did not dream. I saw her. I heard her. I was
+alone, and I wept. A great sound filled me with terror. A great light
+blinded me. Perfumes unknown ravished my senses. And I beheld the
+goddess, more beauteous than a queen. Then all was gone--
+
+MIERIS. But her voice--
+
+YAOUMA. The next day she came again, she spoke to me, she called me by
+name and said to me: "Egypt will be saved by thee."
+
+MIERIS. Why did you not speak of it?
+
+YAOUMA. I feared they would not believe me.
+
+MIERIS. Oh, Yaouma, how I envy you! If you but knew the ill they have
+done me. They have half killed me, killing all the legends and all the
+memories that were mine. They made me blush at my simplicity. I felt
+shamed to have been so easily fooled by such gross make-believes. And
+now, what have I gained by this revelation? My soul is a house after the
+burning, black, ruined, empty. Nothing is left but ruins, ruins one
+might laugh at. [_In tears_] I am parched with thirst, I hunger, I
+tremble with cold. They have made my soul blind, too. I cry out for
+help, for consolation. Oh! for a lie, some other lie, to replace the one
+they have taken away from me!
+
+YAOUMA. Why ask a lie? Why not forget what they have said. Why not
+recall what you learned at your mother's knee--Why not, yourself, set up
+in your heart again, those images which they threw down--
+
+MIERIS. Yes! Yes! I will do it. They have awakened my reason, and killed
+my faith. I shall kill my reason, to revive our gods. Though I no longer
+believe, I shall do the actions of believers--and, if my god be false, I
+shall believe so firmly in him that I shall make him true!--Yes, the
+lowest, the most senseless superstitions, I venerate them, I exalt--I
+glory in them! The ugliest, the most deformed, the most unreal of our
+gods, I adore them, and I bow down before their impossibility. [_She
+kneels_] Oh, I stifle in their petty narrow world, sad as a forest
+without birds! Air! Air! Singing! The sound of wings! Things that fly!
+
+YAOUMA [_kneeling_] Let me be sacrificed!
+
+MIERIS. Let me have a reason for living!
+
+YAOUMA. I would give my life to the gods who gave me birth!
+
+MIERIS. I would believe that there is some one above men!
+
+YAOUMA. Some one who watches over us!
+
+MIERIS. Who will console as with his justice!
+
+YAOUMA. Some one to cry our sorrows to!
+
+MIERIS. Yes, some one to pray to, and to thank!
+
+YAOUMA [_sobbing_] Oh! the pity of it, to feel we were abandoned!
+
+MIERIS [_throwing herself in Yaouma's arms_] I would not be abandoned!
+
+YAOUMA. We are not! Gods! Gods!
+
+MIERIS. Gods! We need gods! There are too many sorrows, it is not
+possible this earth should groan as it groans beneath a pitiless
+heaven--Ammon, reveal thyself.
+
+YAOUMA. Isis, show thyself! Have pity! [_A pause. Then in a
+hushed voice_] Mistress, I think she is going to appear to me
+again!--Isis!--mistress--do you hear--
+
+MIERIS [_listening_] I hear nothing.
+
+YAOUMA. Singing--the sound of harps--'tis she--
+
+MIERIS. I do not hear--
+
+YAOUMA. She speaks! Yes--goddess!
+
+MIERIS. Do you see her?
+
+YAOUMA [_in ecstasy_] I see her! She is bending down above us--
+
+MIERIS. O goddess!--
+
+YAOUMA. She is gone--Mistress, you could not see her, but did you hear
+the sound of her feet?
+
+MIERIS. Yes, I believe I heard it--I believe and I am comforted.
+
+YAOUMA. I am happy! To the temple! She beckoned me! To the temple! Come!
+
+     _They go up. Rheou meets them and leads them away. Satni
+     enters with some men bearing Pakh, who is wounded. Kirjipa
+     almost swooning follows, supported by some women who lead
+     her into the house. The Exorcist, who with his two
+     assistants follows Pakh, takes some clay from a coffer
+     carried by one of his men, shapes it into a ball, and
+     begins, then, the incantation._
+
+EXORCIST. Pakh! Son of Ritii! Through thy wound an evil spirit has
+entered thee. I am about to speak the words that shall drive him out:
+"The virtues of him who lies there, and who suffers, are the virtues of
+the father of the gods. The virtues of his brow are the virtues of the
+brow of Thoumen. The virtues of his eye are the virtues of the eye of
+Horus, who destroys all creatures."
+
+     _A pause._
+
+PAKH. Begone!
+
+EXORCIST. His upper lip is Isis. His lower lip is Neptes, his neck is
+the goddess, his teeth are swords, his flesh is Osiris, his hands are
+divine souls, his fingers are blue serpents, snakes, sons of the
+goddess Sekhet--
+
+PAKH. Begone! I no longer believe in your power!
+
+EXORCIST [_taking a doll from the coffer_] Horus is there! Ra is there!
+Let them cry to the chiefs of Heliopolis--
+
+PAKH. Have done!
+
+     _He knocks down the doll which the Exorcist holds over him.
+     The music stops suddenly._
+
+EXORCIST. The evil spirits are strongest in him. He will die. Only his
+son has the right to be with him at death.
+
+     _All go out save Pakh and Satni._
+
+SATNI. My father--
+
+PAKH. You are there, my son--'tis well--I am glad--that that maker of
+spells is gone. [_Simply_] Heal me.
+
+SATNI. Yes, father, you shall be healed. But you must have patience.
+
+PAKH [_simply_] Heal me, now, at once.
+
+SATNI. I cannot.
+
+PAKH. Why do you not want to heal me?--See you not that I am wounded--I
+suffer--come, give me ease--
+
+SATNI. I would give all, that it were in my power to do so.
+
+PAKH. You know prayers that our priests know not--
+
+SATNI. I know no prayers.
+
+PAKH [_in anguish_] You are not going to let me die?
+
+SATNI. You will not die--have confidence.
+
+PAKH. Confidence? In what? [_A pause_] You cannot heal me?
+
+SATNI. I cannot.
+
+PAKH. All your knowledge, then, is but knowledge of how to destroy--My
+son!--I pray you--my blood goes out with my life--I do not want to die!
+I pray you--give me your hand. I seem to be sinking into night--hold me
+back--you will not let me die--your father! I am your father. I gave you
+life--hold me back--all grows dim around me--But at least do
+something--speak--say the incantations--[_He raises himself_] No! No! I
+refuse to die! I am not old. [_Strongly_] I will not! I will not! Do not
+let go my hand! I would live, live--All my life, I have worked, I have
+sorrowed, I have suffered--Satni--will you let me go before I share the
+peace and happiness you promised--
+
+SATNI. Oh! My father!
+
+PAKH. You weep--I am lost, then--Yes--I have seen it in your eyes. And
+the silence deepens around me. To die--to die--[_A long pause_] And
+after? [_Pause_] And so this is a poor man's life! Work from childhood,
+blows. Then work, always, without profit. Only for bread. And still
+work. For others. Not one pleasure. We die. And 'tis finished! You came
+back to teach me that--Work--blows--misery--the end. [_A silence_] What
+did you come here to do? Is that your work? [_Strongly_] Satni, Satni!
+Give me back my faith! I want it! Ah! Why were you born a destroyer? Is
+that your truth? You are evil--you were able to prove that all was
+false. Prove to me now that you lied! I demand it! Give me back my
+faith, give me back the simple mind that will comfort me.
+
+SATNI. Do not despair--
+
+PAKH. I despair because the happy fields do not exist--
+
+SATNI. Yes, father, yes, they exist--
+
+PAKH. You lied, then!
+
+SATNI. I lied.
+
+PAKH. They exist--and if I die--
+
+SATNI. If you die, you will go to Osiris, you will become Osiris.
+
+PAKH. It is not true. 'Tis now you lie--There is no Osiris! There is no
+Osiris! Nothing! there is nothing--but life. I curse you, you who taught
+me that [_He almost falls from his litter, Satni reverently lifts him
+up_] Ah! accursed! Accursed! I die in hate, in rage, in fear. Bad son!
+Bad man! I curse you, come near. [_Seizing him by the throat_] Oh! If I
+were strong enough!--I would my nails might pierce your throat--Ah! Ah!
+accursed [_He lets him go_] All my life lost! All my suffering
+useless!--Forever--Never! Never! shall I know--Pity! [_He holds out his
+arms to Satni and falls dead_].
+
+SATNI [_horror-stricken_] He is dead!--[_He lifts him reverently and
+lays him on the litter_] Father! For me, too, at this moment there would
+have been comfort in a lie--
+
+     _He weeps, kneeling by the body with his arms stretched over
+     it. Kirjipa appears at the door of the house. She comes
+     near, then standing upright cries out to the four points of
+     the horizon, tearing her hair._
+
+KIRJIPA. The master is dead! The master is dead! The master is dead! The
+master is dead!
+
+     _The five mourners appear outside, Delethi, Nazit, Hanou,
+     Zaya, and Nagaou._
+
+KIRJIPA [_with cries that are calls_] The master is dead! The master is
+dead!
+
+MOURNERS [_entering_] The master is dead! The master is dead!
+
+     _Music till the end of the scene._
+
+KIRJIPA. O my father!
+
+MOURNERS [_louder and in a chant_] O my master! O my father!
+
+KIRJIPA. O my beloved!
+
+MOURNERS. The she-wolf, death; the she-wolf, death; the she-wolf, death,
+has taken him!
+
+     _They rush at the body, kissing it with piercing cries. They
+     beat their breasts, uttering long cries, after silent
+     pauses. Kirjipa and another woman dance a hieratic dance,
+     their feet gliding slowly over the ground. They bend to
+     gather handfuls of earth, which they scatter on their heads
+     as they dance. The cries are redoubled._
+
+KIRJIPA [_after bowing before the corpse_] Go in peace towards Abydos!
+Go in peace towards Osiris!
+
+ALL. Towards Abydos! Towards Osiris! To the West, thou who wast the best
+of men!
+
+KIRJIPA. If it please the gods, when the day of eternity comes, we shall
+see thee, for behold thou goest towards the earth that mixeth men.
+
+ALL. Towards Abydos! Towards Osiris!
+
+     _They make believe to bear away the corpse; ritual
+     movements._
+
+KIRJIPA. O my husband! O my brother! O my beloved! Stay, live in thy
+place. Pass not away from the earthly spot where thou art! Leave him!
+Leave him! Wherefore are ye come to take him who abandons me.
+
+MOURNERS [_in a fury of despair_] Groans! Groans! Tears! Sobs! Sobs!
+Make, make lamentation without end, with all the strength that is given
+you.
+
+     _The music stops._
+
+KIRJIPA [_to the corpse_] Despair not. Thy son is there!
+
+     _They point to Satni._
+
+ALL. Despair not. Thy son is there!
+
+DELETHI. When I have spoken, and after me Hanou, and after her Nazit,
+thy son will speak the magic words, whose power shall make thee go even
+unto Osiris, before the two and forty judges. They shall place thy heart
+in the balance, and thou shalt say: "I have done wrong to no man, I have
+done nothing that is abominable in the sight of the gods."
+
+SATNI [_to himself_] No, I will not speak the magic words.
+
+     _The music begins again._
+
+ALL. Despair not! Thy son is there!
+
+HANOU. Despair not, thy son is there. When I have spoken and after me
+Nazit, thy son will say the magic prayers whose power shall bring thee
+even unto Osiris, and thou shalt say: "I have starved none, I have made
+none weep, I have not killed, I have not robbed the goods of the
+temples."
+
+SATNI [_to himself_] No, I will say no useless words.
+
+ALL. Despair not! Thy son is there!
+
+NAZIT. Despair not! Thy son is there! When I have spoken he will say the
+sacred words whose power shall bring thee even unto Osiris and thou
+shalt say: "I did not filch the fillets from the mummies, I did not use
+false weights, I did not snare the sacred birds. I am pure--"
+
+ALL. I am pure! I am pure!--
+
+KIRJIPA [_continuing_] Give to me what is my due, to me who am pure.
+Give me all that heaven gives, all that the earth brings forth, all that
+the Nile bears down from its mysterious springs. Despair not! Thy son is
+there! Thy son will say the sacred words!
+
+     _A pause. All look at Satni._
+
+SATNI. No, I will not say words that are lies!
+
+     _General consternation. Kirjipa comes to him and lays her
+     hands on his shoulders._
+
+KIRJIPA. Speak the sacred words!
+
+SATNI. No!
+
+KIRJIPA. Accursed!
+
+     _She falls in a swoon. The women press round her. Satni
+     bursts into sobs._
+
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+    SCENE:--_The interior of a temple._
+
+    _Columns, huge as towers and covered with hieroglyphics. On
+    the left the Sanctuary; in the foreground in a little nook,
+    invisible to the faithful, but visible to the audience is
+    installed the machinery for the miracle, a lever, and ropes.
+    Against the central pillar two thrones, one magnificent, that
+    of the Pharaoh; the other simple, that of the High Priest._
+
+    _The Pharaoh, the High Priest, an officer, an old man, and
+    six priests discovered. When the curtain rises all are
+    seated, the priests on little chairs between the two
+    thrones._
+
+
+THE OFFICER [_prostrated before the Pharaoh_] Pharaoh! may Ammon-Ra
+preserve thy life in health and strength!
+
+THE PHARAOH. [_with fury_] My orders! My orders!
+
+THE OFFICER. Lord of the two Egypts, friend of Ra, favorite of Mentu,
+may Ammon--
+
+THE PHARAOH. Enough! my orders!
+
+THE OFFICER. I would have died--
+
+THE PHARAOH. The wish shall be granted, be assured, and soon! My orders!
+Dog, why did you not carry out my orders?
+
+THE OFFICER. Satni--
+
+THE PHARAOH. Satni! Yes, Satni, the impostor! Where is he?
+
+THE OFFICER. Pharaoh--may Ammon, Soukou Ra, Horus--
+
+THE PHARAOH. I will have you whipped till your blood run--Satni! Where
+is Satni! I sent you to seize him! Where is he?
+
+THE OFFICER. No one knows.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Scoundrel! You are his accomplice!
+
+THE OFFICER. O Ammon!
+
+THE PHARAOH. Did you go to the house of his father, to Rheou?
+
+THE OFFICER. We searched them in vain.
+
+THE PHARAOH. He has taken flight, then?
+
+THE OFFICER. I know not.
+
+THE PHARAOH. You are a traitor! You shall die! Take him out! And you
+others, hear the commands of the High Priest and begone.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Let each fulfil the mission he is charged with. Let the
+young priests mix with the crowd, the moment it enters the Temple. Let
+them excite the people's fervor, that as many prodigies as possible may
+be won from the goddess. Now when you are gone the stones that screen
+the sanctuary will roll away before the Pharaoh and the High Priest;
+and, first by right, they shall behold the goddess face to face. Humbly
+prostrated we shall speak to her the mysterious words that other men
+have never heard. Bow down before the Pharaoh, may he live in health and
+strength [_All kneel and remain with their faces on the ground during
+what follows, save an old man whom the High Priest calls to his side by
+a sign; and to whom he says in low tones_] Let the man Satni be taken
+from the crypt where he is imprisoned [_The old man bows_] When I give
+the signal let them bring him here. While the Pharaoh goes in procession
+through the town let them do what I have told you [_The old man bows_]
+[_To the others_] Rise! [_To the Pharaoh_] Son of Ammon-Ra, bow down
+before him who represents the god. [_The Pharaoh rises and after a
+slight hesitation bows down before the High Priest_] Withdraw, we would
+pray. [_Motionless the High Priest and the Pharaoh wait till the last of
+the assistants are gone_].
+
+THE PHARAOH [_giving up his hieratic pose, angrily_] I would all the
+flies of Egypt might eat thy tongue.
+
+HIGH PRIEST [_without feeling_] The flies of Egypt are too many and my
+tongue is too small, for your wish to be realized, Pharaoh.
+
+THE PHARAOH. This is the result of my weakness!
+
+HIGH PRIEST [_with flattering unction_] The Pharaoh, Son of
+Ammon-Ra--Lord of the two Egypts--Friend of Ra--
+
+THE PHARAOH. Enough! Enough! We are alone. There are none whom your
+words may deceive. And your mock-reverence fools not me. You would not
+let me put Satni to death, your subtleties confused my mind, I gave in
+to you, and now Satni escapes us.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. You should not let anger master you for that.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Satni has foretold to thousands of ears that there will be
+no miracle.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. The miracle will be.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Who knows that?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. I.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Satni has declared he will enter the temple--
+
+HIGH PRIEST. 'Tis possible.
+
+THE PHARAOH. He has declared he knows the secret recess, whence one of
+your priests makes the head of the image move.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Most like he speaks the truth.
+
+THE PHARAOH. He declares the miracle will not take place. If the people
+suffer this disappointment, tell me what chance can there be for the war
+of conquest I would wage in Ethiopia?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Why wage a war of conquest in Ethiopia?
+
+THE PHARAOH. I need gold. I need women. I need slaves. There will be a
+share of the spoil for your temple.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. I like not bloodshed.
+
+THE PHARAOH. The treasury is empty. Our whippings are useless now. Our
+blows no longer bring forth taxes. If the people lose confidence in the
+gods, what will happen to-morrow? Who will follow me, unless they
+believe the gods confirm my orders?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Satni will not prevent the miracle.
+
+THE PHARAOH. What do you know of it?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. I know.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Is Satni dead?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. He lives.
+
+THE PHARAOH [_suddenly guessing_] You are hiding him!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Yes.
+
+THE PHARAOH. You knew I was about to rid me of him, and you took him to
+prevent me?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Yes.
+
+THE PHARAOH. What do you intend?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. It shall be done with him as I wish, not as you wish.
+
+THE PHARAOH. His crime is a crime against Egypt.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. A crime against me. That is still more grave. Therefore be
+satisfied.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Why then all these ceremonies before you kill him?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. That all may know his faults.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Satni was one of yours, and you defend him.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. We must not make martyrs--if we can avoid it. In killing
+Satni you would have killed only a man. If what I dream succeed, I
+shall kill his work. That is a better thing.
+
+THE PHARAOH. What will you make of him?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. A priest.
+
+THE PHARAOH. A priest?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. He was initiated before he went away. He was then a young
+man, pious and wise. On his travels he lost some piety, and gained some
+wisdom.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Have I not always said: "it is not good to travel."
+
+HIGH PRIEST. I think like you. Travellers learn too much. Yet am I
+hopeful. I shall bring him back to our gods.
+
+THE PHARAOH. You will fail.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. He who for long has breathed the air of temples can never
+wholly clear his breast of it. If he give way, he shall never leave the
+house of the Gods again, if he be still rebellious, he shall leave to go
+to his death.
+
+THE PHARAOH. I order you to give Satni up to me.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. I would I might bow to your will. But he is a priest: his
+life is sacred. And I may not transgress the orders given me by the
+Gods.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Prate not of these follies to me--do you take me for one of
+your priests? Obey! I command you!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Do you take me for one of your soldiers?
+
+THE PHARAOH. I command it.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. The gods forbid.
+
+THE PHARAOH. I laugh at your gods.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Beware lest your people hear.
+
+THE PHARAOH. I would be master, in truth. And more, I refuse to submit
+to the humiliation that again you put on me a while ago.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. How should that humiliate you? Before you, the highest bow
+down.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Yes. And straightway, then, I must bow me down before you.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. You salute, not me, but the god whom I represent.
+
+THE PHARAOH. I pay homage to the god, it is the priest who receives it.
+
+HIGH PRIEST [_faintly smiling_] Rest assured! I pass it on to him.
+
+THE PHARAOH. And you mock me, besides! Oh! if I but dared to kill you,
+hypocrite!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Vain man!
+
+THE PHARAOH. You tremble at sight of a sword, coward!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Being a butcher, you know only how to kill.
+
+THE PHARAOH. Liar!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Who made you Pharaoh?
+
+THE PHARAOH. Beware lest one day I have you thrown to my lions!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Beware lest one day I strike the crown of the two Egypts
+from your head, telling the people the god has set his face against you!
+[_A pause_] Come, we must work together. We complete each other. To
+govern men, we have both the reality of the evils you inflict on them,
+and the hope of the good I promise them. Believe me, we must work
+together. The day that one of us disappears, the fate of the other will
+be in jeopardy--I perceive they make sign to me. They think our prayers
+are long and fervent. The hour is come for you to receive the
+acclamation of your people, and follow them to the shrine of Isis--when
+Satni will not prevent the miracle, I pledge my word to that.
+
+     _The cortége comes on and goes out with Pharaoh. Satni is
+     led before the High Priest._
+
+HIGH PRIEST. You know me again!
+
+SATNI [_troubled_] Yes, you are the High Priest.
+
+HIGH PRIEST [_with sweet gentleness_] I, too, I know you again. Your
+father is a potter. You were brought up and taught by us. In the crowd
+of neophytes I singled you out by your gentleness, your great
+intelligence; and I saw you destined for the highest dignities. I
+esteemed you, I was fond of you. We took you from wretchedness. What you
+know, for the most part, you owe to us. This thing that you have done
+should anger me--I am only sad, my son. [_A pause_] You are troubled.
+
+SATNI. Yes, I looked for threats, for torture. The kindness of your
+voice unmans me.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Be not distressed. Forget who I am. None hear us. Let us
+talk together as father and son. Or better, since your learning makes
+you worthy, as two men. You have proclaimed broadcast that the miracle
+will not come to pass.
+
+SATNI. The goddess is stone. Stone does not move itself. The image will
+not bow its head unless man intervene.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. That is evident.
+
+SATNI. You admit it?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. To you, yes. We give to each one the faith he deserves. Had
+you remained with us, at each step in the priesthood you would have
+beheld the gods rise with you, become more immaterial, more noble, as
+you became more learned. We give to the people the gods they can
+understand. Our god is different. He is the one who exists in essence.
+The one who lives in substance, the sole procreator who was not
+engendered, the father of the fathers, the mother of mothers. The one
+and only. And we crave his pardon for belittling him by miracles. But
+they are part of that faith which alone contents the simple-minded. You
+are above them--I admit freely that the miracle could be prevented. You
+declared it would not take place--you have found the means to make it
+impossible?
+
+SATNI [_suspecting the trap_] I said that, left to herself, the goddess
+would not move.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. To say only that, would not have served you. You intended
+to prevent the miracle. Come, admit it--it is so.
+
+SATNI. Perhaps.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. By seizing you, I prevent your committing the sacrilege.
+Your purpose will not be realized. In an hour the festival of the
+Prodigy will take place, and you are my prisoner. It follows then, the
+miracle will be performed--you believe that, do you not?
+
+SATNI [_after a pause_] Yes, I believe it.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. And so your cause is lost. [_A pause_] Listen to me; the
+priests who have taken their final vows are as wise and as little
+credulous as you. I offer you a place among them. Return to us. A little
+wisdom banishes the gods--great wisdom brings them back.
+
+SATNI. I refuse.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. My son, my son, you will not cause me this sorrow. Think
+what you will drive me to, if you refuse--Satni, do not force me to send
+you before the tribunal, whose sentence must be death. Death, for you,
+so young, whose future is so bright!
+
+SATNI. I do not fear death.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Besides--I mind me--you were betrothed to that little
+Yaouma whom the god has chosen as victim. You know she may be saved from
+the sacrifice, if she become the wife of a priest. They guarded her but
+ill at Rheou's house, she is here. I have seen her; she is kind and
+gentle, and you would lead a happy life with her.
+
+SATNI. Yaouma! Yaouma! [_He hides his face_]
+
+HIGH PRIEST [_laying a hand on his shoulder_] So that on one side is
+Yaouma's death and yours; on the other, happiness with her--and power.
+Say nothing. I speak as a father might, you can see. I say besides, that
+you will better serve the crowd in leaving them their gods. I wish to
+convince you of it, and you will stay with us--weep no more. You will
+stay, will you not? Wait! Hear me, before you answer. You seek happiness
+for the lower orders? There is no happiness for them without religion.
+Already you have seen what they become, when it is taken from them. The
+riots of yesterday cost your father his life. He suffered much, they
+tell me. Is it true? I do not know the details. You saw him die, did you
+not? Tell me how it happened.
+
+SATNI. Ah! I was right. It was in truth torture that awaited me here.
+You have guessed you would gain nothing racking my body--you keep your
+torments for my heart.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Have I said other than what is true? The conversions that
+your preaching made were followed by disorders--was it not then that
+your father was wounded? I knew him. He was a man, simple and good. You
+are the cause of his death, as you will be the cause of Yaouma's.
+
+SATNI. Peace! You would have my sorrows crush my will!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. I shall speak of them no more. But think of the people of
+Egypt, what evils you would bring on them! If you take away their
+religion, what will keep them virtuous?
+
+SATNI. What you call their virtue, is only their submission.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. You let loose their vilest instincts, if you remove the
+fear of the gods.
+
+SATNI. The fear of the gods has prevented fewer crimes than were needed
+to create it.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Be it so. But it exists.
+
+SATNI. It is your interest to spread the belief, that the fear of the
+gods is a restraint. And you know that it is not. You do not leave the
+punishment of crime to the gods. You have the lash, hard labor in the
+mines; you have scaffolds, you have executioners. No one believes
+sincerely in the happy life beyond the grave. If we believed, we should
+kill ourselves, the sooner to reach the Island of the Souls, the fields
+of Yalou.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. By what then are the appetites restrained?
+
+SATNI. By the laws, by the need of the esteem of others--
+
+HIGH PRIEST. We have just seen that, in sooth. So then it was virtue
+that the people showed yesterday, after you made them break their gods?
+They seemed to care little for the esteem of others, for they stole,
+they pillaged, they killed. Do you approve of that? Have they gained
+your esteem, those who have done what they have done?
+
+SATNI. Oh, I know! I know! That is your strongest argument. Creatures
+degraded by centuries of slavery, drunk with the first hours of freedom,
+commit crimes. You argue from this, that they were meant for slaves.
+Yes, it is true that if you take a child from the leading strings that
+upheld it, the child falls down. But you who watch over it, you rejoice
+at the fall, for then you can assert that the child must go back to its
+leading strings--and be kept in them till death.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Then you declare that all supports must be suppressed? [_A
+pause_] Religion is a prop. It soothes--consoles. He does evil who
+disturbs it.
+
+SATNI. Many religions died before ours. The passing of each caused the
+sorrows you foresee. Should we then have kept the first, to prevent some
+suffering?
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Ours is yet young, though so old; look in the halls of our
+temples, behold the countless thank-offerings brought there for prayers
+that were granted.
+
+SATNI. Your temples could not hold the offerings, unthinkable in number,
+that those whose prayers were not granted might have made, and who none
+the less prayed as well as the others.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Even unanswered their prayers were recompensed. They had
+hope, and it is likewise a boon to the poor to promise them welfare in
+the world to come.
+
+SATNI. You promise them welfare in the world to come, to make them
+forget that all the welfare in this world is yours.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Can you give happiness to all who are on earth? We are more
+generous than you; at least we give them consolation.
+
+SATNI. You make them pay dear for it.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. In truth the granaries of our temples are full to
+overflowing. Left to themselves, the people would not think of the lean
+years, in the years of abundance. We think for them, and they bring us,
+gladly, what they would refuse did they not believe they gave to the
+gods. We proclaim the Nile sacred; it is forbidden to sully its waters.
+Is that to honor it as a god? Not so, it is to avoid the plague. And all
+the animals we deified are those man has need of. You did not learn all
+things on your travels--
+
+SATNI. You would have the peasant remain a child, because you fear the
+reckoning he would demand of you, if you let him grow up. You know you
+could not stay him then by showing him the god-jackal, the god-ram, the
+god-bull, and the rest that do not exist.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Are you certain they do not exist?
+
+SATNI. Yes.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Know you where you are?
+
+SATNI. In the temple.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. In the temple; where you were brought up. There was a time
+when you dared not have crossed the first sacred enclosure. You are in
+the third. Look round! There is the holy of holies. At my will the
+stones that mask the entrance will roll back, and the goddess will be
+unveiled. Except the High Priest and the Pharaoh, no mortal, if he be
+not priest himself, may look on her and live--save at the hour of the
+annual Festival of Prodigies, which is upon us now. Do you believe that
+you can endure to be alone in her presence?
+
+SATNI. I do believe it.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. We shall see. If you be afraid, call and prostrate
+yourself. Afterwards you shall go and tell what you have seen, to those
+whom you deceived.
+
+     _The High Priest makes a sign. Total darkness. A peal of
+     thunder._
+
+SATNI. Ah! [_Terrified, he leaps forward. A faint light returns slowly,
+the temple is empty_] I am alone! [_He is terrified, standing erect
+against a pillar facing the audience_] Alone in the temple, within sight
+of the goddess almost. I know 'tis but an image--yet am I steeped in
+terror, even to the marrow of my bones. [_He utters an agonized cry_]
+Ah!--I thought I beheld in the darkness--No--I know that there is
+nothing--Oh! coward nature! Because I was cradled amid tales of
+religion, because I grew up in the fear of the gods, because my father
+and my father's father, and all those from whom I come, were crushed by
+this terror even from the blackest night of time, I tremble, and my
+reason totters. All this is false, I know--the god obeys the priest.
+Yet, from these towering columns, horror and mystery descend upon
+me--[_A thunder clap brings him to his knees. The stones that mask the
+entrance to the sanctuary roll slowly back. He tries to look_] The holy
+of holies opens--I am afraid--I am afraid--[_He mutters words, wipes the
+sweat from his brow with his hand. He trembles and falls sobbing to the
+ground. A long pause_] 'Tis the beast in me that is afraid--Ah! coward
+flesh! [_Biting his hands_] I shall conquer thee--I would chastise my
+weakness. I am shamed--I am shamed--In spite of all I will look her in
+the face. I have the will! but I must fight against so many memories,
+against all the dead whose spirits stir in mine. I shall conquer the
+dead. My life, and my will--courage!
+
+     _With great effort and after many struggles he gains the
+     mastery of himself, goes to the shrine and looks upon the
+     goddess. The High Priest reappears touching him on the
+     shoulder._
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Terror does not move you. Let us see if you be proof
+against pity. Come--[_He leads him to the side of the shrine, presses a
+spring and a door opens, revealing in the interior of the shrine the
+machinery of the miracle, a lever and cordage_] Look! 'Tis by pressing
+this lever that one of ours, in a little while, will bring about the
+miracle. I leave you in his place. At my signal the doors of the sacred
+enclosure will open, and the people draw near the sanctuary. Listen to
+them. And if you are moved to pity by their prayers, you--_you_ shall
+give them the consoling lie for which they pray.
+
+SATNI. There will be no miracle.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Watch and hear. [_He leaves Satni, who remains visible to
+the audience. The stones roll back over the shrine. The High Priest
+makes a sign, other priests appear_] All is ready?
+
+A PRIEST. All.
+
+HIGH PRIEST [_to another_] Listen.
+
+     _He whispers to him. The Priest bows and goes out. While
+     the crowd comes in later, this priest is seen to enter the
+     hiding-place right, where he stands watching Satni, dagger
+     in hand._
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Now, let them come in.
+
+     _He makes a gesture and all disappear. A pitiable crowd
+     bursts into the temple, bustling, running, filling all the
+     empty spaces. Four men carry a litter on which is a
+     beautiful young woman clothed in precious stuffs. Mieris,
+     Yaouma, and all the characters of the play come on._
+
+YOUNG WOMAN. Nearer, lay me nearer the goddess! She will drive forth the
+evil spirit that will not let me move my legs.
+
+     _Cripples, people on crutches, creatures with hands or feet
+     wrapped in bandages crowd past her._
+
+A BLIND GIRL [_to him who leads her_] When the stone rolls back and the
+goddess appears, watch well her face, to tell me if she will not give me
+back my sight.
+
+     _A paralytic drags himself in on his hands._
+
+THE PARALYTIC. I would be quite near, quite near! In a little while I
+shall walk.
+
+     _Two sons lead in their mother, who is mad, striving to calm
+     her. A mother, with her child in her arms, begs the crowd to
+     let her get near. A man, whose head is bandaged, and whose
+     eyes and mouth are mere holes, hustles his neighbors. Many
+     blind, and people borne on chairs._
+
+A WOMAN. She will speak, she will say "yes." She will reveal herself
+again as protectress of Egypt.
+
+ANOTHER. They say not. They say that great calamities are in store for
+us.
+
+ANOTHER. If she answer not?
+
+ANOTHER. Silence!
+
+     _Music. The Pharaoh's procession enters. He is conducted
+     down left where he remains invisible to the spectators. The
+     High Priest mounts his throne. The people prostrate
+     themselves._
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Ammon is great!
+
+     _A pause._
+
+THE PEOPLE. Ammon is great!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. The sanctuary is about to open.
+
+VOICES. The stones will roll back! I am afraid! The goddess will appear!
+We shall behold her! Hush! Hush!
+
+     _The High Priest lifts his hands to heaven._
+
+A PRIEST [_in the recess, to some men ready to work the ropes, in a low
+voice_] Now!
+
+     _The men pull the ropes, the stones roll back. The crowd bow
+     themselves flat on the ground. Those who cannot, hide their
+     faces on their arms._
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Rise! Behold and pray! [_A smothered cry of terror rises,
+women mad with terror are seized with nervous fits. They are carried
+out_] O goddess! Thy people adore thee, and humble themselves before
+thee!
+
+ALL. Isis, we adore thee!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. This year, once more, show to us by that miraculous sign of
+thy divine head, that still thou art our protectress. [_The people
+repeat the incantation in a murmur_] O goddess, if thou hast pity on
+those who suffer, thou wilt bend thy head. Pity! Pity! we suffer! The
+evil spirits torment us.
+
+THE PEOPLE. We suffer! Drive forth the evil spirits!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Neith! Mother of the Universe! The evil spirits torment us!
+Neith! Virgin genetrix! Isis, sacred earth of Egypt, bend thy head!
+Sati, queen of the heavens! Bend thy head!
+
+THE MOTHER. The soul of a dead man has entered the body of my child, O
+Isis! And he is dying. I hold him towards thee, Isis. Behold how he is
+fair, behold how he suffers. Look, he is so little. Let me keep him!
+Isis! Isis! Let me keep him!
+
+ALL. Pity! Pity!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Show us that thou dost consent to hear us! Isis, bend thy
+head!
+
+BLIND GIRL. Open my eyes! Ever since I was born a demon held them
+closed. Let me see the skies of whose splendor they tell me. I am
+unhappy, Isis! He whom I love, he who loves me, I have not looked upon
+his countenance! I am unhappy, Isis!
+
+ALL. Pity! Pity!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Anouke! Soul of the Universe! Pity! We are before thee like
+little children who are lost.
+
+THE PEOPLE. Yes! Yes! like little children who are lost!
+
+THE SON. For my father who is blind, Isis, I implore thee!
+
+ALL. Isis! Father! Pity!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Thmei, Queen of Justice! Mirror of truth! Bend thy head!
+
+THE YOUNG PARALYTIC. I have offered up ten lambs to thee. Let me get up
+and walk!
+
+THE MAN [_with the bandaged head_] An unseen monster devours my face
+making me howl with pain.
+
+PARALYZED MAN. I drag through the mire, like a beast unclean. Let me
+walk upright like a god.
+
+THE TWO SONS [_of the mad woman_] Behold our mother, Isis, behold our
+mother, who knows us no more, who knows not herself even, and who
+laughs!--
+
+THE MOTHER. Isis! Thou art a mother. Isis, in the name of thine own
+child, save mine. Let me not go with empty arms, bereft of my tender
+burden. Thou art a mother, Isis!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. All! All! Pray! Supplicate! Fling you with your faces to
+the ground--yes! yes! again! Silence! She is about to answer. [_A long
+pause_] Your prayers are lukewarm. Your supplications need fervor! Pray!
+Weep! Cry out! Cry out!
+
+ALL. Isis! Drive out the evil spirits! Answer us! Answer us!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Louder! Louder!
+
+THE PEOPLE. Sorrows! Tears! Sobs! Cries! Have pity!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Once more, though you die!
+
+THE PEOPLE. Thou dost abandon Egypt! What ills will overwhelm us! Help!
+Help us! Have pity!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Have pity! Have pity! [_bursting into sobs_] Oh! unhappy
+people, Isis, if thou dost abandon them.
+
+VOICES [_amid the sobs of the others_] She hears us not! She answers
+not. Evil is upon us! Evil overwhelms us!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Desperate! We are desperate!
+
+ALL. We are desperate!
+
+A CRY. Her head is bending! No! Yes!
+
+     _Silence. Then a great cry of distress and disappointment._
+
+HIGH PRIEST. O mother! O goddess!
+
+THE MOTHER. O Isis! mother of Horus! the child god! Wilt thou let die my
+child? Behold him! Behold him!
+
+YOUNG PARALYTIC. Thy heart is hard, O goddess!
+
+PARALYZED MAN. Thou hast but to will it, Isis, and I walk!
+
+THE MAN [_with the bandaged head_] Heal my sores! I sow horror around
+me! Heal my sores!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Answer us! Bend thy head!
+
+ALL. Pity!
+
+     _The crowd, delirious, cries and sobs in a paroxysm of
+     despair._
+
+SATNI. Oh! the poor wretched souls!
+
+     _He presses the lever. As the head of the statue bows, the
+     people respond with one wild roar of acclamation._
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+ACT V
+
+    SCENE:--_Same as Acts I and II._
+
+     _The statues of the gods are set up again, in their places,
+     facing them a throne has been erected on which the High
+     Priest is seated. Rheou, Satni, Mieris, Yaouma, Sokiti,
+     Nourm, Bitiou, the Steward and all the women and servants of
+     the household, and the laborers. When the curtain rises all
+     are prostrate with their faces to the ground._
+
+
+HIGH PRIEST [_after a pause_] Rise! [_All rise to their knees. A pause_]
+The divine images are again in their places. You have shown that you
+repent. You have begged for pardon. You have testified your horror of
+the terrible crime you were driven to commit. You await your
+chastisement. The gods now permit that we proceed to the sacrifice, that
+will bring about the overflowing of the Nile, and give for yet another
+year, life to the land of Egypt. She who has chosen, the elect, the
+savior, is she here?
+
+YAOUMA [_rising to her feet, radiant_] I am here!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Let her go to clothe her in the sacred robe. Form the
+procession to bear her to the threshold of the abode of the glorious and
+the immortal.
+
+YAOUMA. Come!
+
+     _A number of the women rise and go out right with Yaouma._
+
+HIGH PRIEST. To-day, at the hour when Ammon-Ra came forth from the
+underworld, I entered the sanctuary. Face to face with the god, I heard
+his words, which now you shall hear from me. These are the commands of
+the God. Rheou! [_Rheou stands up_] You have been to make submission to
+the Pharaoh--Light of Ra--you have implored his mercy. You have sworn on
+the body of your father, to serve him faithfully, and you have given
+that body to him in pledge of your obedience. You have denounced to his
+anger and justice those who conceived the impious plot to dethrone the
+Lord of Egypt. You have declared that if you did permit the images of
+the gods to be thrown down before you, it was because the spells of
+Satni had clouded your reason. Ammon has proclaimed to me that you are
+sincere! You are pardoned, on conditions which I shall presently impart.
+[_Rheou bows and kneels down_] Satni! [_Satni stands up. He casts down
+his eyes, he is steeped in sorrow and shame_] Satni, you have admitted
+and proclaimed the power of the gods, whom you dared to deny. You have
+bowed you down before them. Once, in the temple, you took the first
+priestly vows; your life is therefore sacred. But you stand now
+reproved. This very day you will quit Egypt. Withdraw from the Gods!
+[_Satni, with eyes on the ground, withdraws, the people shrink aside to
+let him pass, abusing him in whispers, shaking their fists, and some
+even striking him. He goes to the terrace down left where he stands,
+hiding his face on his arm_] Ammon has spoken other words. [_The people
+turn from Satni_] All you who are here, you are guilty of the most
+odious, the most monstrous of crimes. You are all deserving of death.
+Such is the decree of the God.
+
+ALL. O Ammon! Pity! Pity! Ammon!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Cease your sobs! Cease your cries! Cease your useless
+prayers! Hear the God who speaks through my mouth.
+
+ALL. Be kind! Thou! Thou! Have pity! Beseech the God for us, we implore
+thee! We would not die. Not death! not death! not death!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Yes--I--I have pity on you. But your crime is so great!
+Have you considered well the enormity of your sin? None can remember to
+have seen the like. The Gods! To overthrow the Gods! And such Gods!
+Ammon and Thoueris! I would I might disarm their wrath. But what shall I
+offer them in your name that may equal your offence?
+
+PEOPLE. All! Take all we possess, but spare our lives.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. All you possess! 'Tis little enough.
+
+PEOPLE. Take our crops.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. And who then will feed you? Already you pay tithes. I will
+offer a fourth of your harvests for ten years. But 'tis little. Even did
+I say you would give half of all that is in your homes, should I
+succeed? And would you give it me?
+
+PEOPLE. Yes! Yes!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Still it will not be enough. Hear what the God hath
+breathed to me. There must be prayers, ceaseless prayers in the temple.
+Every year ten of your daughters must enter the house of the God to be
+consecrated.
+
+PEOPLE. Our daughters! Ammon! Our daughters!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. The God is good! The God is good! Lo! I hear him pronounce
+the words of pardon. But further, you must needs assist the Pharaoh to
+carry out the divine commands. Ammon wills that the Ethiopian infidels
+be chastised. All who are of an age to fight will join the army, that is
+on the eve of departure.
+
+PEOPLE [_in consternation_] Oh! the war! the war!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. Proud Ethiopia threatens invasion to Egypt. You must defend
+your tombs, your homes, and your women. Would you become slaves of the
+blacks?
+
+PEOPLE. No, no, we would not!
+
+HIGH PRIEST. You will go to punish the foes of your kings?
+
+PEOPLE. We will go.
+
+HIGH PRIEST. And what will be your reward? Know you not that victory
+will be yours, because the god is with you. And if some fall in battle,
+should we not all envy their fate, since they leave this world to go
+towards Osiris. The arrows of your foes will fall harmless at your feet,
+like wounded birds. Their swords shall bend on your invulnerable bodies.
+The fire they light against you will become as perfumed water. All this
+you know to be true. You know that your gods protect you. You know they
+are all-powerful, because, yesterday, you all did see how the stone
+image of the goddess Isis did bow, to show you she protects you.
+
+PEOPLE. To the war! To the war! To Ethiopia!
+
+SATNI [_leaping up to the terrace_] I have been coward too long! [_To
+the crowd_] The miracle of yesterday--'twas I--'twas I who worked it.
+
+     _General uproar._
+
+HIGH PRIEST. I deliver this man to you, and I deliver you to him. You
+will not let him deceive you twice.
+
+     _Execrations of the people, Satni cannot speak. The High
+     Priest is borne out on his throne accompanied by Rheou._
+
+SATNI [_when the uproar subsides_] I was in the temple--
+
+PEOPLE. That is a lie!
+
+SATNI. It was I who made the head of the image bow.
+
+PEOPLE. He blasphemes. Have done! Have done! Let him not blaspheme!
+
+SATNI. It was I! And I ask your forgiveness.
+
+A MAN. Why should you do it, if you despise our gods?
+
+SATNI. I did it out of pity.
+
+PEOPLE. We have no need of your pity.
+
+SATNI. That is true. You have need only of my courage. And I failed you.
+I was touched by your tears. I was weak, thinking to be kind.
+
+A MAN. You are not kind. You would have handed us over to foreign gods.
+
+PEOPLE. Yes! yes! that is true!
+
+SATNI. I gave you the lie that you begged for. I wanted to lull your
+sorrows to sleep.
+
+A MAN. You have brought down on us the anger of the gods.
+
+ANOTHER. The evils that crush us, 'tis you have let them loose on us.
+
+ALL. Yes, yes! Liar! Curse you! Let him be accursed!
+
+SATNI. Curse me. You are right. I am guilty. I had not the strength to
+persevere; to lead you, in spite of your tears, to the summits I would
+lead you to. To still a few sobs, to give hope to some who were
+stricken, I worked the miracle; and, beholding that false miracle, you
+made submission. I have confirmed, I have strengthened the empire of the
+lie.
+
+A MAN. 'Twas you who lied.
+
+SATNI. I have given back your minds, for another age, to slavery and
+debasement. I have given back to the priests their power that was
+endangered. I have given them means to increase your burdens, to take
+your daughters, to send you to a war, covetous, murderous, and unjust.
+
+A MAN. You are a spy from Ethiopia!
+
+ANOTHER. You are a traitor to your country!
+
+ALL. Yes! a traitor! Death to the traitor!
+
+SATNI. And to defend your tyrants, you will kill men as wretched as
+yourselves, dupes like you, and like you enslaved.
+
+A MAN. We know you are paid to betray Egypt!
+
+ALL. Yes, we know it! We know the price of your treason!
+
+ANOTHER. You would sell Egypt, and 'tis to weaken us you would overthrow
+our gods.
+
+ALL. Traitor! Traitor!
+
+SATNI. If I am a traitor, 'tis to my own cause! But a while ago I was
+proud of my deed, thinking I had sacrificed myself to you. Alas! I only
+sacrificed your future to my pity. I wept for you; to weep for
+misfortune--what is that but an easy escape from the duty of fighting
+its cause? I pitied you. Pity is but a weakness, a submission--To
+perpetuate the falsehood of the miracle, and the life of atonement to
+come is to drug misery to sleep.
+
+A MAN. Misery!--can you give us anything to cure it?
+
+     _They laugh._
+
+SATNI. They have implanted in you, the belief that misery is immortal,
+invincible. By my falsehood, I too have seemed to admit this; and thus I
+have helped those, in whose interest it is that misery should last for
+ever.
+
+A MAN. He insults the Pharaoh!
+
+ANOTHER. Do not insult our priests!
+
+SATNI. Had there been no miracle, you would have despaired--you would
+have sorrowed. I ought to have faced that. I ought to have faced the
+death of a few, to save the future of all. We go forward only by
+destroying. What matter blood and pain! Pain and blood--never a child is
+born without them! I would--
+
+     _An angry outburst._
+
+A WOMAN. Kill him! Kill him! He says we must put our children to death!
+
+SATNI. All are glorious who preach new efforts--
+
+PEOPLE. Death! Death to the traitor!
+
+SATNI. All are infamous who preach resignation--
+
+PEOPLE. Enough! Kill him! Death!
+
+SATNI. It is in this world that the wretched must find their paradise,
+it is here that every one's good must be sought with a zeal that knows
+no limit, save respect for the good of others.
+
+     _A burst of laughter._
+
+PEOPLE. He is mad! He knows not what he says! He is mad!
+
+     _Yaouma is borne on right on a litter carried by young
+     girls. She is decked out like an idol; she stands erect,
+     half in ecstasy._
+
+PEOPLE. Yaouma! The chosen of Ammon-Ra! Glory to her who goes to save
+Egypt!
+
+     _With jubilant cries the procession goes slowly towards the
+     gates at the back, preceded and surrounded by musicians and
+     dancers._
+
+SATNI. Yaouma! Yaouma! One word! One look of farewell! Yaouma! 'Tis I,
+Satni! Look on me!
+
+     _The acclamations drown his voice. Yaouma is wrapped in her
+     soul's dream. She passes without hearing Satni's voice. The
+     crowd follows her._
+
+MIERIS [_to Delethi who supports her_] Lead me to Satni--go--[_To
+Satni_] Satni, your words have sunk deep in my heart--Yaouma, they tell
+me, did not hear your voice. She is lost in the joy of sacrifice. The
+need to make sacrifice is in us all. If the gods are not, to whom shall
+we sacrifice ourselves?
+
+SATNI. To those who suffer.
+
+MIERIS. To those who suffer.
+
+     _During this Bitiou has come slowly down behind Satni._
+
+BITIOU. Look! He too, he will fall down!
+
+     _He plunges a dagger in Satni's back. Delethi draws Mieris
+     away. Satni falls._
+
+SATNI [_raising himself slightly_] It was you who struck me,
+Bitiou--[_He looks long and sadly at him_] I pity you with all my
+heart--with all my heart. [_He dies_]
+
+     _Bitiou looks at the blood on the dagger, and flings it away
+     in horror. Then he crouches down by Satni and begins to cry
+     softly._
+
+DELETHI [_to Mieris_] Mistress, come and pray!
+
+MIERIS. No, I do not believe in gods in whose name men kill.
+
+     _Outside are heard the trumpets and acclamations that
+     accompany Yaouma to the Nile._
+
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+
+
+THE RED ROBE
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+    MOUZON
+    VAGRET
+    ETCHEPARE
+    MONDOUBLEAU
+    LA BOUZOLE
+    BUNERAT
+    ATTORNEY-GENERAL
+    PRESIDENT OF ASSIZES
+    DELORME
+    ARDEUIL
+    BRIDET
+    POLICE SERGEANT
+    RECORDER
+    PLAÇAT
+    DOORKEEPER
+    YANETTA
+    ETCHEPARE'S MOTHER
+    MADAME VAGRET
+    MADAME BUNERAT
+    BERTHA
+    CATIALÉNA
+
+     _Time--The present._
+
+
+
+
+ACT I
+
+
+    SCENE I:--_A small reception-room in an old house at
+    Mauleon._
+
+     _The curtain rises, revealing Madame Vagret in evening
+     dress; she is altering the position of the chairs to her own
+     satisfaction. Enter Bertha, also in evening dress, a
+     newspaper in her hand._
+
+BERTHA. Here's the local paper, the _Journal_. I sent the _Official
+Gazette_ to father; he has just come home from the Court. He's dressing.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Is the sitting over?
+
+BERTHA. No, not yet.
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_taking the newspaper_] Are they still discussing the
+case?
+
+BERTHA. As usual.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. One doesn't need to search long. There's a big head-line
+at the top of the page: "The Irissary Murder." They're attacking your
+father now! [_She reads_] "Monsieur Vagret, our District Attorney."
+[_She continues to read to herself_] And there are sub-headings too:
+"The murderer still at large." As if that was our fault! "Justice
+asleep!" Justice asleep indeed! How can they say such things when your
+father hasn't closed his eyes for a fortnight! Can they complain that he
+hasn't done his duty? Or that Monsieur Delorme, the examining
+magistrate, isn't doing his? He has made himself quite ill, poor man!
+Only the day before yesterday he had a tramp arrested because his
+movements were ever so little suspicious! So you see! No! I tell you
+these journalists are crazy!
+
+BERTHA. It seems they are going to have an article in the Basque paper
+too.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. The _Eskual Herria_!
+
+BERTHA. So the chemist told me.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. I don't care a sou for that. The Attorney-General doesn't
+read it.
+
+BERTHA. On the contrary, father was saying the other day that the
+Attorney-General has translations sent him of every article dealing with
+the magistracy.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. The Attorney-General has translations sent him! Oh well,
+never mind. Anyhow, let's change the subject! How many shall we be this
+evening? You've got the list?
+
+BERTHA [_She takes the list from the over-mantel_] The President of
+Assizes--the President of the Court--
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Yes. Yes, that's all right; nine in all, isn't it?
+
+BERTHA. Nine.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Nine! To have nine people coming to dinner, and not to
+know the exact hour at which they'll arrive! That's what's so trying
+about these dinners we have to give at the end of a session--in honor of
+the President of Assizes. One dines when the Court rises. When the Court
+rises! Well, we'll await the good pleasure of these gentlemen! [_She
+sighs_] Well, child!
+
+BERTHA. Mother?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Are you still anxious to marry a magistrate?
+
+BERTHA [_with conviction_] I am not!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. But you were two years ago!
+
+BERTHA. I am not now!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Look at us! There's your father. Procurator of the
+Republic--Public Prosecutor--State Attorney; in a court of the third
+class, it's true, because he's not a wire-puller, because he hasn't
+played the political game. And yet he's a valuable man--no one can deny
+that. Since he's been District Attorney he has secured three sentences
+of penal servitude for life! And in a country like this, where crimes
+are so frightfully rare! That's pretty good, don't you think? Of course,
+I know he'll have had three acquittals in the session that ends to-day.
+Granted. But that was mere bad luck. And for protecting society as he
+does--what do they pay him? Have you any idea?
+
+BERTHA. Yes, I know; you've often told me, mother.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. And I'll tell you again. Counting the stoppages for the
+pension, he gets altogether, and for everything, three hundred and
+ninety-five francs and eighty-three centimes a month. And then we are
+obliged to give a dinner for nine persons in honor of the President of
+Assizes, a Councillor! Well, at all events, I suppose everything is
+ready? Let's see. My _Revue des Deux Mondes_--is it there? Yes. And my
+armchair--is that in the right place? [_She sits in it_] Yes. [_As
+though receiving a guest_] Pray be seated, Monsieur le Président. I hope
+that's right. And Monsieur Dufour, who was an ordinary magistrate when
+your father was the same, when we were living at Castelnaudery, he's now
+President of the second class at Douai, and he was only at Brest before
+he was promoted!
+
+BERTHA. Really!
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_searching for a book on the over-mantel_] Look in the
+Year Book.
+
+BERTHA. I'll take your word for it.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. You may! The Judicial Year Book. I know it by heart!
+
+BERTHA. But then father may be appointed Councillor any day now.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. He's been waiting a long time for his appointment as
+Councillor.
+
+BERTHA. But it's as good as settled now. He was promised the first
+vacancy, and Monsieur Lefévre has just died.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. I hope to God you are right. If we fail this time, we're
+done for. We shall be left at Mauleon until he's pensioned off. What a
+misfortune it is that they can't put their hands on that wretched
+murderer! Such a beautiful crime too! We really had some reason for
+hoping for a death sentence this time! The first, remember!
+
+BERTHA. Don't worry, motherkins. There's still a chance.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. It's easy for you to talk. You see the newspapers are
+beginning to grumble. They reproach us, they say we are slack. My dear
+child, you don't realize--there 's a question of sending a detective
+down from Paris! It would be such a disgrace! And everything promised so
+well! You can't imagine how excited your father was when they waked him
+up to tell him that an old man of eighty-seven had been murdered in his
+district! He dressed himself in less than five minutes. He was very
+quiet about it. But he gripped my hands. "I think," he said, "I think we
+can count on my nomination this time!" [_She sighs_] And now everything
+is spoilt, and all through this ruffian who won't let them arrest him!
+[_Another sigh_] What's the time?
+
+BERTHA. It has just struck six.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Write out the _menus_. Don't forget. You must write only
+their titles--his Honor the President of Assizes, his Honor the
+President of the High Court of Mauleon, and so forth. It's the preamble
+to the _menu_. Don't forget. Here is your father. Go and take a look
+round the kitchen and appear as if you were busy. [_Bertha leaves the
+room. Vagret enters in evening dress_]
+
+
+SCENE II:--_Vagret, Madame Vagret._
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Hasn't the Court risen yet?
+
+VAGRET. When I left my substitute was just getting up to ask for the
+adjournment.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Nothing new?
+
+VAGRET. About the murder? Nothing.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. But your Monsieur Delorme--the examining magistrate--is
+he really looking for the murderer?
+
+VAGRET. He's doing what he can.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Well, if I were in his place, it seems to me--Oh, they
+ought to have women for examining magistrates! [_Distractedly_] Is there
+nothing in the _Official Gazette_?
+
+VAGRET [_dispirited and anxious_] Yes.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. And you never told me. Anything that affects us?
+
+VAGRET. No. Nanteuil has been appointed Advocate-General.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Nanteuil?
+
+VAGRET. Yes.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Oh, that's too bad! Why, he was only an assistant at
+Lunéville when you were substitute there!
+
+VAGRET. Yes. But he has a cousin who's a deputy. You can't compete with
+men like that. [_A pause. Madame Vagret sits down and begins to cry_]
+
+MADAME VAGRET. We haven't a chance.
+
+VAGRET. My dearest! Come, come, you are wrong there.
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_still tearful_] My poor darling! I know very well it
+isn't your fault; you do your best. Your only failing is that you are
+too scrupulous, and I am not the one to reproach you for that. But what
+can you expect? It's no use talking; everybody gets ahead of us. Soon
+you'll be the oldest District Attorney in France.
+
+VAGRET. Come, come! Where's the Year Book?
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_still in the same tone_] It's there--the dates, the
+length of service. See further on, dear.
+
+VAGRET [_throwing the Year Book aside_] Don't cry like that! Remember
+I'm chosen to succeed Lefévre.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. I know that.
+
+VAGRET. I'm on the list for promotion.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. So is everybody.
+
+VAGRET. And I have the Attorney-General's definite promise--and the
+presiding judge's too.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. It's the deputy's promise you ought to have.
+
+VAGRET. What?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Yes, the deputy's. Up to now you've waited for promotion
+to come to you. My dear, you've got to run after it! If you don't do as
+the others do, you'll simply get left behind.
+
+VAGRET. I am still an honest man.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. It is because you are an honest man that you ought to try
+to get a better appointment. If the able and independent magistrates
+allow the others to pass them by, what will become of the magistracy?
+
+VAGRET. There's some truth in what you say.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. If, while remaining scrupulously honest, you can better
+our position by getting a deputy to push you, you are to blame if you
+don't do so. After all, what do they ask you to do? Merely that you
+should support the Ministry.
+
+VAGRET. I can do that honestly. Its opinions are my own.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Then you'd better make haste--for a ministry doesn't
+last long! To support the Ministry is to support the Government--that
+is, the State--that is, Society. It's to do your duty.
+
+VAGRET. You are ambitious.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. No, my dear--but we must think of the future. If you knew
+the trouble I have to make both ends meet! We ought to get Bertha
+married. And the boys will cost us more and more as time goes on. And in
+our position we are bound to incur certain useless expenses which we
+could very well do without; but we have to keep up appearances; we have
+to "keep up our position." We want Georges to enter the Polytechnique,
+and that'll cost a lot of money. And Henri, if he's going to study
+law--you'd be able to help him on all the better if you held a better
+position.
+
+VAGRET [_after a brief silence_] I haven't told you everything.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. What is it?
+
+VAGRET [_timidly_] Cortan has been appointed Councillor at Amiens.
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_exasperated_] Cortan! That idiot of a Cortan?
+
+VAGRET. Yes.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. This is too much!
+
+VAGRET. What can you expect? The new Keeper of the Seals is in his
+department. You can't fight against that!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. There's always something--Cortan! Won't she be making a
+show of herself--Madame Cortan--who spells "indictment" i-n-d-i-t-e?
+She'll be showing off her yellow hat! Don't you remember her famous
+yellow hat?
+
+VAGRET. No.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. It's her husband who ought to wear that color!
+
+VAGRET. Rosa, that's unjust.
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_painfully excited_] I know it--but it does me good!
+
+     _Enter Catialéna._
+
+CATIALÉNA. Madame, where shall I put the parcel we took from the
+linen-closet this morning?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. What parcel?
+
+CATIALÉNA. The parcel--you know, Madame--when we were arranging the
+things in the linen-closet.
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_suddenly_] Oh--yes, yes. Take it to my room.
+
+CATIALÉNA. Where shall I put it there?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Oh well, put it down here. I will put it away myself.
+
+CATIALÉNA. Very good, Madame. [_She leaves the room_]
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_snipping at the parcel and speaking to herself_] It's no
+use stuffing it with moth-balls--it'll all be moth-eaten before ever you
+wear it.
+
+VAGRET. What is it?
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_placing the parcel on the table and opening the
+wrapper_] Look!
+
+VAGRET. Ah, yes--my red robe--the one you bought for me--in advance--two
+years ago.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Yes. That time it was Gamard who was appointed instead of
+you.
+
+VAGRET. What could you expect? Gamard had a deputy for his
+brother-in-law; there's no getting over that. The Ministry has to assure
+itself of a majority.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. And to think that in spite of all my searching I haven't
+been able to discover so much as a municipal councillor among our
+relations!
+
+VAGRET. Well--hide this thing. It torments me. [_He returns the gown,
+which he had unfolded, to his wife_] In any case I dare say it wouldn't
+fit me now.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Oh, they fit anybody, these things!
+
+VAGRET. Let's see--[_He takes off his coat_]
+
+MADAME VAGRET. And it means a thousand francs more a year!
+
+VAGRET. It isn't faded. [_At this moment Bertha enters. Vagret hides the
+red gown_] What is it?
+
+BERTHA. It's only me.
+
+VAGRET. You startled me.
+
+BERTHA [_catching sight of the gown_] You've been appointed! You've been
+appointed!
+
+VAGRET. Do be quiet! Turn the key in the door!
+
+BERTHA. Papa has been appointed!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Do as you're told! No, he hasn't been appointed.
+
+VAGRET. It's really as good as new. [_He slips it on_]
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Well, I should hope so! I took care to get the very best
+silk.
+
+VAGRET. Ah, if I could only wear this on my back when I'm demanding the
+conviction of the Irissary murderer! Say what you like, the man who
+devised this costume was no fool! It's this sort of thing that impresses
+the jury. And the prisoner too! I've seen him unable to tear his eyes
+from the gown of the State Attorney! And you feel a stronger man when
+you wear it. It gives one a better presence, and one's gestures are more
+dignified: "Gentlemen of the court, gentlemen of the jury!" Couldn't I
+make an impressive indictment? "Gentlemen of the court, gentlemen of the
+jury! In the name of society, of which I am the avenging voice--in the
+name of the sacred interests of humanity--in the name of the eternal
+principles of morality--fortified by the consciousness of my duty and my
+right--I rise--[_He repeats his gesture_] I rise to demand the head of
+the wretched man who stands before you!"
+
+MADAME VAGRET. How well you speak!
+
+     _Vagret, with a shrug of the shoulders and a sigh, slowly
+     and silently removes the gown and hands it to his wife._
+
+VAGRET. Here--put it away.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. There's the bell.
+
+BERTHA. Yes.
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_to her daughter_] Take it.
+
+BERTHA. Yes, mother. [_She makes a parcel of the gown and is about to
+leave the room_]
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Bertha!
+
+BERTHA. Yes, mother!
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_tearfully_] Put some more moth-balls in it--poor child!
+
+     _Bertha goes out. Catialéna enters._
+
+
+SCENE III:--_Vagret, Madame Vagret, Catialéna._
+
+CATIALÉNA [_holding out an envelope_] This has just come for you, sir.
+[_She goes out again_]
+
+VAGRET. What's this? The Basque paper--the _Eskual Herria_--an article
+marked with blue pencil. [_He reads_] "Eskual herri guzia hamabartz egun
+huntan--" How's one to make head or tail of such a barbarian language!
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_reading over his shoulder_] It's about you--
+
+VAGRET. No!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Yes. There! "Vagret procuradoreak galdegin--" Wait a
+minute. [_Calling through the further doorway_] Catialéna! Catialéna!
+
+VAGRET. What is it?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Catialéna will translate it for us. [_To Catialéna, who
+has entered_] Here, Catialéna, just read this bit for us, will you?
+
+CATIALÉNA. _Why, yes, Madame._ [_She reads_] "Eta gaitzegilia ozda
+oraino gakpoian Irrysaryko."
+
+VAGRET. And what does that mean?
+
+CATIALÉNA. That means--they haven't arrested the Irissary murderer yet.
+
+VAGRET. We know that. And then?
+
+CATIALÉNA. "Baginakien yadanik dona Mauleano tribunala yuye arin edo
+tzarrenda berechiazela." That means there are no magistrates at Mauleon
+except those they've got rid of from other places, and who don't know
+their business--empty heads they've got.
+
+VAGRET. Thanks--that's enough.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. No, no! Go on, Catialéna!
+
+CATIALÉNA. "Yaun hoyen Biribi--"
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Biribi?
+
+CATIALÉNA. Yes, Madame.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Well, what does Biribi mean in Basque?
+
+CATIALÉNA. I don't know.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. What? You don't know? You mean you don't want to say? Is
+it a bad word?
+
+CATIALÉNA. Oh no, Madame, I should know it then.
+
+VAGRET. Biribi--
+
+BERTHA. Perhaps it's a nickname they give you.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Perhaps that's it. [_A pause_] Well?
+
+CATIALÉNA. They're speaking of the master.
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_to her husband_] I told you so. [_To Catialéna_] Abusing
+him?
+
+VAGRET. I tell you that's enough! [_He snatches the paper from Catialéna
+and puts it in his pocket_] Go back to the kitchen. Hurry now--quicker
+than that!
+
+CATIALÉNA. Well, sir, I swear I won't tell you the rest of it.
+
+VAGRET. No one's asking you to. Be off.
+
+CATIALÉNA. I knew the master would be angry. [_She turns to go_]
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Catialéna!
+
+CATIALÉNA. Yes, Madame?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Really now, you don't know what Biribi means?
+
+CATIALÉNA. No, Madame, I swear I don't.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. That's all right. There's the bell--go and see who it is.
+[_Catialéna goes_] I shall give that woman a week's notice, and no later
+than to-morrow.
+
+VAGRET. But really--
+
+CATIALÉNA [_returning_] If you please, sir, it's Monsieur Delorme.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Your examining magistrate?
+
+VAGRET. Yes. He's come to give me his reply. [_To Catialéna_] Show him
+in.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. What reply?
+
+VAGRET. He has come to return me his brief.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. The brief?
+
+VAGRET. Yes. I asked him to think it over until this evening.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. He'll have to stay to dinner.
+
+VAGRET. No. You know perfectly well his health--Here he is. Run away.
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_amiably, as she goes out_] Good-evening, Monsieur
+Delorme.
+
+DELORME. Madame!
+
+
+SCENE IV:--_Vagret, Delorme._
+
+VAGRET. Well, my dear fellow, what is it?
+
+DELORME. Well, it's no--positively no.
+
+VAGRET. Why?
+
+DELORME. I've told you. [_A pause_]
+
+VAGRET. And the _alibi_ of your accused?
+
+DELORME. I've verified it.
+
+VAGRET. Does it hold water?
+
+DELORME. Incontestably.
+
+VAGRET [_dejectedly_] Then you've set your man at liberty?
+
+DELORME [_regretfully_] I simply had to.
+
+VAGRET [_the same_] Obviously. [_A pause_] There is not a chance?
+
+DELORME. No.
+
+VAGRET. Well, then?
+
+DELORME. Well, I beg you to give the brief to someone else.
+
+VAGRET. Is that final?
+
+DELORME. Yes. You see, my dear fellow, I'm too old to adapt myself to
+the customs of the day. I'm a magistrate of the old school, just as you
+are. I inherited from my father certain scruples which are no longer the
+fashion. These daily attacks in the press get on my nerves.
+
+VAGRET. They would cease at the news of an arrest.
+
+DELORME. Precisely. I should end by doing something foolish. Well, I
+have done something foolish already. I should not have arrested that man
+if I had not been badgered as I was.
+
+VAGRET. He was a tramp. You gave him shelter for a few days. There's no
+great harm done there.
+
+DELORME. All the same--
+
+VAGRET. You let yourself be too easily discouraged. To-night or
+to-morrow something may turn up to put you on a new scent.
+
+DELORME. Even then--Do you know what they are saying? They are saying
+that Maître Plaçat, the Bordeaux advocate, is coming to defend the
+prisoner.
+
+VAGRET. I don't see what he has to gain by that.
+
+DELORME. He wants to come forward at the next election in our
+arrondissement--and he counts on attacking certain persons in his plea,
+so as to gain a little popularity.
+
+VAGRET. How can that affect you?
+
+DELORME. Why, he can be present at all the interrogations of the
+accused. The law allows it--and as he is ravenous for publicity, he
+would tell the newspapers just what he pleased, and if my proceedings
+didn't suit him, I'd be vilified in the papers day after day.
+
+VAGRET. You are exaggerating.
+
+DELORME. I'm not. Nowadays an examination takes place in the
+market-place or the editorial offices of the newspapers rather than in
+the magistrate's office.
+
+VAGRET. That is true where notorious criminals are concerned. In reality
+the new law benefits them and them only--you know as well as I do that
+for the general run of accused persons--
+
+DELORME. Seriously, I beg you to take the brief back.
+
+VAGRET. Come! You can't imagine that Maître Plaçat, who has a hundred
+cases to plead, can be present at all your interrogations. You know what
+usually happens. He'll send some little secretary--if he sends anyone.
+
+DELORME. I beg you not to insist, my dear Vagret. My decision is
+irrevocable.
+
+VAGRET. Then--
+
+DELORME. Allow me to take my leave. I don't want to meet my colleagues
+who are dining with you.
+
+VAGRET. Then I'll see you to-morrow. I'm sorry--
+
+DELORME. Good-night.
+
+     _He goes out. Madame Vagret at once enters by another door._
+
+
+SCENE V:--_Vagret, Madame Vagret, then Bertha, Bunerat, La Bouzole,
+Mouzon._
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Well, I heard--he gave you back the brief.
+
+VAGRET. Yes--his health--the newspapers--
+
+MADAME VAGRET. And now?
+
+VAGRET. Be careful. No one suspects anything yet.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Make your mind easy. [_She listens_] This time it is our
+guests.
+
+BERTHA. [_entering_] Here they are.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. To your work, Bertha! And for me the _Revue des Deux
+Mondes_.
+
+     _They sit down. A pause._
+
+BERTHA. They are a long time.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. It's Madame Bunerat. Her manners always take time.
+
+THE MANSERVANT. His Honor the President of the Court and Madame Bunerat.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. How do you do, dear Madame Bunerat? [_They exchange
+greetings_]
+
+THE MANSERVANT. His Honor Judge La Bouzole. His worship Judge Mouzon.
+
+     _Salutations; the guests seat themselves._
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_to Madame Bunerat_] Well, Madame, so another session's
+finished!
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. Yes, at last!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Your husband, I imagine, is not sorry.
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. Nor yours, I'm sure.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. And the President of Assizes?
+
+BUNERAT. He will be a little late. He wants to get away early to-morrow
+morning, and he has a mass of documents to sign. You must remember the
+Court has barely risen. When we saw that we should be sitting so late we
+sent for our evening clothes, and we changed while the jury was
+deliberating; then we put our robes on over them to pronounce sentence.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. And the sentence was?
+
+BUNERAT. An acquittal.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Again! Oh, the juries are crazy!
+
+VAGRET. My dear, you express yourself just a little freely.
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. Now, my dear Madame Vagret, you mustn't worry yourself.
+
+     _She leads her up the stage._
+
+BUNERAT [_to Vagret_] Yes, my dear colleague, an acquittal. That makes
+three this session.
+
+MOUZON [_a man of forty, whiskered and foppish_] Three prisoners whom we
+have had to set at liberty because we couldn't hold them for other
+causes.
+
+BUNERAT. A regular run on the black!
+
+LA BOUZOLE [_a man of seventy_] My dear colleagues would prefer a run on
+the red.
+
+BUNERAT. La Bouzole, you are a cynic! I do not understand how you can
+have the courage to joke on such a subject.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. I shouldn't joke if your prisoners were condemned.
+
+MOUZON. I'm not thinking of our prisoners--I'm thinking of ourselves. If
+you imagine we shall receive the congratulations of the Chancellery, you
+are mistaken.
+
+BUNERAT. He doesn't care a straw if the Mauleon Court does earn a black
+mark in Paris.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. You have said it, Bunerat; I don't care a straw! I have
+nothing more to look for. I shall be seventy years old next week, and I
+retire automatically. Nothing more to hope for; I have a right to judge
+matters according to my own conscience. I'm out of school! [_He gives a
+little skip_] Don't get your backs up--I've done--I see the Year Book
+over there; I'm going to look out the dates of the coming vacation for
+you. [_He takes a seat to the left_]
+
+BUNERAT. Well, there it is. [_To Vagret_] The President of Assizes is
+furious.
+
+MOUZON. It won't do him any good either.
+
+VAGRET. And my substitute?
+
+BUNERAT. You may well say "your substitute"!
+
+MOUZON. It's all his fault. He pleaded extenuating circumstances. He!
+
+BUNERAT. Where does the idiot hail from?
+
+VAGRET. He's far from being an idiot, I assure you. He was secretary to
+the Conference in Paris; he is a doctor of laws and full of talent.
+
+BUNERAT. Talent!
+
+VAGRET. I assure you he has a real talent for speaking.
+
+BUNERAT. So we observed.
+
+VAGRET. He's a very distinguished young fellow.
+
+BUNERAT [_with emphasis_] Well! When a man has such talent as that he
+becomes an advocate; he doesn't enter the magistracy.
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_to La Bouzole, who approaches her_] So really, Monsieur
+La Bouzole, it seems it's the fault of the new substitute.
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. Tell us all about it.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. It was like this. [_He turns towards the ladies and
+continues in a low tone. Bertha, who has entered the room, joins the
+group, of which Vagret also forms one_]
+
+MOUZON [_to Bunerat_] All this won't hasten our poor Vagret's
+nomination.
+
+BUNERAT [_smiling_] The fact is he hasn't a chance at the present
+moment, poor chap!
+
+MOUZON. Is it true that they were really seriously thinking of him when
+there is a certain other magistrate in the same court?
+
+BUNERAT [_with false modesty_] I don't think I--Of whom are you
+speaking?
+
+MOUZON. Of yourself, my dear President.
+
+BUNERAT. They have indeed mentioned my name at the Ministry.
+
+MOUZON. When you preside at Assizes the proceedings will be far more
+interesting than they are at present.
+
+BUNERAT. Now how can you tell that, my dear Mouzon?
+
+MOUZON. Because I have seen you preside over the Correctional Court.
+[_He laughs_]
+
+BUNERAT. Why do you laugh?
+
+MOUZON. I just remembered that witty remark of yours the other day.
+
+BUNERAT [_delighted_] I don't recall it.
+
+MOUZON. It really was very witty! [_He laughs_]
+
+BUNERAT. What was it? Did I say anything witty? I don't remember.
+
+MOUZON. Anything? A dozen things--a score. You were in form that day!
+What a figure he cut--the prisoner. You know, the fellow who was so
+badly dressed. Cock his name was.
+
+BUNERAT. Ah, yes! When I said: "Cock, turn yourself on and let your
+confession trickle out!"
+
+MOUZON [_laughing_] That was it! That was it! And the witness for the
+defence--that idiot. Didn't you make him look a fool? He couldn't finish
+his evidence, they laughed so when you said: "If you wish to conduct the
+case, only say so. Perhaps you'd like to take my place?"
+
+BUNERAT. Ah, yes! Ladies, my good friend here reminds me of a rather
+amusing anecdote. The other day--it was in the Correctional Court--
+
+THE MANSERVANT [_announcing_] Monsieur Gabriel Ardeuil.
+
+
+SCENE VI:--_The same, with Ardeuil._
+
+ARDEUIL [_to Madame Vagret_] I hope you'll forgive me for coming so
+late. I was detained until now.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. I will forgive you all the more readily since I'm told
+you have had such a success to-day as will make all the advocates of the
+district jealous of you.
+
+     _Ardeuil is left to himself._
+
+LA BOUZOLE [_touching him on the shoulder_] Young man--come, sit down by
+me--as a favor. Do you realize that it won't take many trials like
+to-day's to get you struck off the rolls?
+
+ARDEUIL. I couldn't be struck off the rolls because--
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Hang it all--a man does himself no good by appearing
+singular.
+
+ARDEUIL. Singular! But you yourself--Well, the deliberations are secret,
+but for all that I know you stand for independence and goodness of heart
+in this Court.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Yes, I've permitted myself that luxury--lately.
+
+ARDEUIL. Lately?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Yes, yes, my young friend, for some little time. Because for
+some little time I've been cured of the disease which turns so many
+honest fellows into bad magistrates. That disease is the fever of
+promotion. Look at those men there. If they weren't infected by this
+microbe, they would be just, kindly gentlemen, instead of cruel and
+servile magistrates.
+
+ARDEUIL. You exaggerate, sir. The French magistracy is not--
+
+LA BOUZOLE. It is not venal--that's the truth. Among our four thousand
+magistrates you might perhaps not find one--you hear me, not one--even
+among the poorest and most obscure--who would accept a money bribe in
+order to modify his judgment. That is the glory of our country's
+magistracy and its special virtue. But a great number of our magistrates
+are ready to be complaisant--even to give way--when it is a question of
+making themselves agreeable to an influential elector, or to the deputy,
+or to the minister who distributes appointments and favors. Universal
+suffrage is the god and the tyrant of the magistrate. So you are
+right--and I am not wrong.
+
+ARDEUIL. Nothing can deprive us of our independence.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. That is so. But, as Monsieur de Tocqueville once remarked,
+we can offer it up as a sacrifice.
+
+ARDEUIL. You are a misanthrope. There are magistrates whom no promise of
+any kind--
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Yes, there are. Those who are not needy or who have no
+ambitions. Yes, there are obscure persons who devote their whole lives
+to their professions and who never ask for anything for themselves. But
+you can take my word for it that they are the exceptions, and that our
+Court of Mauleon, which you yourself have seen, represents about the
+average of our judicial morality. I exaggerate, you think? Well! Let us
+suppose that in all France there are only fifty Courts like this.
+Suppose there are only twenty--suppose there is only one. It is still
+one too many! Why, my young friend, what sort of an idea have you got of
+the magistracy?
+
+ARDEUIL. It frightens me.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. You are speaking seriously?
+
+ARDEUIL. Certainly.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Then why did you become a substitute?
+
+ARDEUIL. Through no choice of my own! My people pushed me into the
+profession.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Yes. People look on the magistracy as a career. That is to
+say, from the moment you enter it you have only one object--to get on.
+[_A pause_]
+
+ARDEUIL. Yet it would be a noble thing--to dispense justice tempered
+with mercy.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Yes--it should be. [_A pause_] Do you want the advice of a
+man who has for forty years been a judge of the third class?
+
+ARDEUIL. I should value it.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Send in your resignation. You have mistaken your vocation.
+You wear the wrong robe. The man who attempts to put into practice the
+ideas you have expressed must wear the priest's cassock.
+
+ARDEUIL [_as though to himself_] Yes--but for that one must have a
+simple heart--a heart open to faith.
+
+BUNERAT [_who is with the others_] If only we had the luck to have a
+deputy of the department for Keeper of the Seals! Just for a week!
+
+LA BOUZOLE [_to Ardeuil_] There, my boy, that's the sort of thing one
+has to think about.
+
+THE MANSERVANT [_entering_] From his Honor the President of Assizes.
+[_He gives Vagret a letter_]
+
+VAGRET. He isn't coming?
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_after reading the note_] He isn't coming.
+
+BUNERAT. I hardly expected him.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. A nervous headache he says. He left by the 6:49 train.
+
+MOUZON. That's significant!
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. It would be impossible to mark his disapproval more
+clearly.
+
+BUNERAT. Three acquittals too!
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. If it had been a question of celebrated pleaders! But
+newly fledged advocates!
+
+BUNERAT. Nobodies!
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_to her daughter_] My poor child! What will his report be
+like?
+
+BERTHA. What report?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Don't you know? At the close of each session the
+President submits a report to the Minister--Ah, my dear Madame Bunerat!
+[_The three women seat themselves at the back of the stage_]
+
+MOUZON. Three acquittals--and the Irissary murder. A deplorable record!
+A pretty pickle we're in.
+
+BUNERAT. You know, my dear Vagret, I'm a plain speaker. No
+shilly-shallying about me. When I hunt the boar I charge right down on
+him. I speak plainly--anyone can know what's in my mind. I'm the son of
+a peasant, I am, and I make no bones about it. Well, it seems to me that
+your Bar--I know, of course, that you lead it with distinguished
+integrity and honesty--but it seems to me--how shall I put it?--that
+it's getting weak. Mouzon, you will remember, said the same thing when
+he was consulting the statistics.
+
+MOUZON. It really is a very bad year.
+
+BUNERAT. You know it was a question of making ourselves an exception to
+the general rule--of getting our Court raised to a higher class. Well,
+Mauleon won't be raised from the third class to the second if the number
+of causes diminishes.
+
+MOUZON. We should have to prove that we had been extremely busy.
+
+BUNERAT. And many of the cases you settled by arrangement might well
+have been the subject of proceedings.
+
+MOUZON. Just reflect that this year we have awarded a hundred and
+eighteen years less imprisonment than we did last year!
+
+BUNERAT. And yet the Court has not been to blame. We safeguard the
+interests of society with the greatest vigilance.
+
+MOUZON. But before we can punish you must give us prisoners.
+
+VAGRET. I have recently issued the strictest orders respecting the
+repression of smuggling offences, which are so common in these parts.
+
+BUNERAT. Well, that's something. You understand the point of view we
+take. It's a question of the safety of the public, my dear fellow.
+
+MOUZON. We are falling behind other Courts of the same class. See, I've
+worked out the figures. [_He takes a paper from his pocket-book and
+accidentally drops other papers, which La Bouzole picks up_] I see--
+
+LA BOUZOLE. You are dropping your papers, Mouzon. Is this yours--this
+envelope? [_He reads_] "Monsieur Benoît, Officer of the Navy, Railway
+Hotel, Bordeaux." A nice scent--
+
+MOUZON [_flurried, taking the letter from La Bouzole_] Yes--a letter
+belonging to a friend of mine.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. And this? The Irissary murder?
+
+MOUZON. Ah, yes--it's--I was going to explain--it's--oh, the Irissary
+murder, yes--it's the translation Bunerat gave me of the article which
+appeared in the _Eskual Herria_ to-day. It is extremely unpleasant. They
+say Mauleon is a sort of penal Court--something like a Biribi of the
+magistracy.
+
+VAGRET. But, after all, I can't invent a murderer for you just because
+the fellow is so pig-headed that he won't allow himself to be taken!
+Delorme has sent the description they gave us to the offices of all the
+magistrates.
+
+MOUZON. Delorme! Shall I tell you what I think? Well, our colleague
+Delorme is making a mistake in sticking to the idea that the criminal is
+a tramp.
+
+VAGRET. But there is a witness.
+
+MOUZON. The witness is lying, or he's mistaken.
+
+BUNERAT. A witness who saw gipsies leaving the victim's house that
+morning.
+
+MOUZON. I repeat, the witness is lying, or he is mistaken.
+
+VAGRET. Why so?
+
+MOUZON. I'm certain of it.
+
+BUNERAT. Why?
+
+MOUZON. Because I'm certain the murderer wasn't a gipsy.
+
+VAGRET. But explain--
+
+MOUZON. It's of no use, my dear friend. I know my duty to my colleague
+Delorme too well to insist. I've said too much already.
+
+VAGRET. Not at all.
+
+BUNERAT. By no means.
+
+MOUZON. It was with the greatest delicacy that I warned our colleague
+Delorme--he was good enough to consult me and show me day by day the
+information which he had elicited--I warned him that he was on a false
+scent. He would listen to nothing; he persisted in searching for his
+tramp. Well, let him search! There are fifty thousand tramps in France.
+After all, I am probably wrong. Yet I should be surprised, for in the
+big towns in which I have served as magistrate, and in which I found
+myself confronted, not merely now and again, but every day, so to speak,
+with difficulties of this sort, I was able to acquire a certain practice
+in criminal cases and a certain degree of perspicacity.
+
+VAGRET. Obviously. As for Delorme, it is the first time he has had to
+deal with such a big crime.
+
+MOUZON. In the case of that pretty woman from Toulouse, at Bordeaux, a
+case which made a good deal of stir at the time, it was I who forced the
+accused to make the confession that led her to the guillotine.
+
+BUNERAT [_admiringly_] Was it really?
+
+VAGRET. My dear friend, I ask you most seriously--and if I am insistent,
+it is because I have reasons for being so--between ourselves, I beg you
+to tell us on what you base your opinion.
+
+MOUZON. Well, I don't want to hide my light under a bushel--I'll tell
+you.
+
+BUNERAT. We are listening.
+
+MOUZON. Recall the facts. In a house isolated as are most of our Basque
+houses they find, one morning, an old man of eighty-seven murdered in
+his bed. Servants who slept in the adjacent building had heard nothing.
+The dogs did not bark. There was robbery, it is true, but the criminal
+did not confine himself to stealing hard cash; he stole family papers as
+well. Remember that point. And I will call your attention to another
+detail. It had rained on the previous evening. In the garden footprints
+were discovered which were immediately attributed to the murderer, who
+was so badly shod that the big toe of his right foot protruded from his
+boot. Monsieur Delorme proceeds along the trail; he obtains a piece of
+evidence that encourages him, and he declares that the murderer is a
+vagrant. I say this is a mistake. The murderer is not a vagrant. Now the
+house in which the crime was committed is an isolated house, and we know
+that within a radius of six to ten miles there was no tramp begging
+before the crime. So this tramp, if there was one, would have eaten and
+drunk on the scene of the crime, either before or after striking the
+blow. Now no traces have been discovered which permit us to suppose that
+he did anything of the kind. So--here is a man who arrives in a state of
+exhaustion. He begs; he is refused. He then hides himself, and, when it
+is night, he robs and assassinates. There is wine and bread and other
+food at hand; but he goes his way without touching them. Is this
+probable? No. Don't tell me that he was disturbed and so ran off; it is
+not true; their own witness declares that he saw him in the morning, a
+few yards from the house, whereas the crime was committed before
+midnight. If Monsieur Delorme, in addition to his distinguished
+qualities, had a little experience of cases of this kind, he would
+realize that empty bottles, dirty glasses, and scraps of food left on
+the table constitute, so to speak, the sign manual which the criminal
+vagrant leaves behind him on the scene of his crime.
+
+BUNERAT. True; I was familiar with that detail.
+
+LA BOUZOLE [_under his breath to Ardeuil_] That fellow would send a man
+to the scaffold for the sake of seeming to know something.
+
+VAGRET. Go on--go on.
+
+MOUZON. Monsieur Delorme ought to have known this also: in the life of
+the vagrant there is one necessity which comes next to hunger and
+thirst--it is the need of footwear. This is so true that they have
+sometimes been known to make this need a pretext for demanding an
+appeal, because the journey to the Court of Appeal is generally made on
+foot, so that the administration is obliged to furnish shoes, and, as
+these are scarcely worn during the period of detention, they are in good
+condition when the man leaves prison. Now the supposed vagrant has a
+foot very nearly the same size as that of his victim. He has--you
+yourself have told us--boots which are in a very bad condition. Well,
+gentlemen, this badly shod vagrant does not take the good strong boots
+which are in the house! I will add but one word more. If the crime had
+been committed by a passing stranger--by a professional mendicant--will
+you tell me why this remarkable murderer follows the road which passes
+in front of the victim's house--a road on which he would find no
+resources--a road on which houses are met with only at intervals of two
+or three miles--when there is, close at hand, another road which runs
+through various villages and passes numbers of farmhouses, in which it
+is a tradition never to refuse hospitality to one of his kind? One word
+more. Why does this vagrant steal family papers which will betray him as
+the criminal the very first time he comes into contact with the police?
+No, gentlemen, the criminal is not a vagrant. If you want to find him,
+you must not look for a man wandering along the highway; you must look
+for him among those relatives or debtors or friends, who had an interest
+in his death.
+
+VAGRET. This is very true.
+
+BUNERAT. I call that admirably logical and extremely lucid.
+
+MOUZON. Believe me, the matter is quite simple. If I were intrusted with
+the examination, I guarantee that within three days the criminal would
+be under lock and key.
+
+VAGRET. Well, my dear colleague, I have a piece of news for you.
+Monsieur Delorme, who is very unwell, has returned me his brief this
+afternoon, and it will be intrusted to you. Henceforth the preliminary
+examination of the Irissary murder will be in your hands.
+
+MOUZON. I have only to say that I accept. My duty is to obey. I withdraw
+nothing of what I have said; within three days the murderer will be
+arrested.
+
+BUNERAT. Bravo!
+
+VAGRET. I thank you for that promise in the name of all concerned. I
+declare that you relieve us of a great anxiety. [_To his wife_] Listen,
+my dear. Monsieur Mouzon is undertaking the preliminary examination, and
+he promises us a result before three days are up.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. We shall be grateful, Monsieur Mouzon.
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. Oh, thank you!
+
+VAGRET. Bertha! Tell them to serve dinner--and to send up that old
+Irrouleguy wine! I will drink to your success, my dear fellow.
+
+THE MANSERVANT. Dinner is served.
+
+     _The gentlemen offer their arms to the ladies preparatory to
+     going in to dinner._
+
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II
+
+     _In the office of Mouzon, the examining magistrate. A door
+     at the back and in the wall to the right. On the left are
+     two desks. Portfolios, armchairs, and one ordinary chair._
+
+
+SCENE I:--_The recorder, then the doorkeeper, then Mouzon. When the
+curtain rises the recorder, seated in the magistrate's armchair, is
+drinking his coffee. The doorkeeper enters._
+
+RECORDER. Ah! Here's our friend the doorkeeper of the courthouse! Well,
+what's the news?
+
+DOORKEEPER. Here's your boss.
+
+RECORDER. Already!
+
+DOORKEEPER. He got back from Bordeaux last night. Fagged out he looked.
+
+RECORDER [_loftily_] A Mauleon magistrate is always fatigued when he
+returns from Bordeaux!
+
+DOORKEEPER. Why?
+
+RECORDER [_after a pause_] I do not know.
+
+DOORKEEPER. It's the Irissary murder that has brought him here so early.
+
+RECORDER. Probably. [_While speaking he arranges his cup, saucer, sugar
+basin, etc., in a drawer. He then goes to his own place, the desk at the
+back. Mouzon enters. The doorkeeper pretends to have completed some
+errand and leaves the room. The recorder rises, with a low bow_]
+Good-morning, your worship.
+
+MOUZON. Good-morning. You haven't made any engagements, have you, except
+in the case of the Irissary murder?
+
+RECORDER. I have cited the officer of the gendarmerie, the accused, and
+the wife of the accused.
+
+MOUZON. I am tired, my good fellow. I have a nervous headache! Any
+letters for me?
+
+RECORDER. No, your worship.
+
+MOUZON. His Honor the State Attorney hasn't asked for me?
+
+RECORDER. No, your worship. But all the same I have something for you.
+[_He hands him an envelope_]
+
+MOUZON [_opening the envelope_] Stamps for my collection! I say, Benoît,
+that's good! Now let's see. Let's see. [_He unlocks the drawer of his
+desk and takes out a stamp album_] Uruguay. I have it! Well, it will do
+to exchange. And this one too. Oh! Oh! I say, Benoît! A George Albert,
+first edition! But where did you get this, my dear fellow?
+
+RECORDER. A solicitor's clerk found it in a brief.
+
+MOUZON. Splendid! I must stick that in at once! Pass me the paste, will
+you? [_He delicately trims the edges of the stamp with a pair of
+scissors and pastes it in the album with the greatest care, while still
+talking_] It is rare, extremely rare! According to the _Philatelist_ it
+will exchange for three blue Amadei or a '67 Khedive, obliterated.
+There! [_Turning over the leaves of his album_] Really, you know, it
+begins to look something like. It's beginning to fill up, eh? You know I
+believe I shall soon be able to get that Hayti example. Look! See here!
+[_In great delight_] There's a whole page-full! And all splendid
+examples. [_He closes the album and sighs_] O Lord!
+
+RECORDER. You don't feel well?
+
+MOUZON. It's not that. I was rather worried at Bordeaux.
+
+RECORDER. About your stamps?
+
+MOUZON. No, no. [_A sigh to himself_] Damn the women! The very thing I
+didn't want. [_He takes his album again_] When I've got that Hayti
+specimen I shall need only three more to fill this page too. Yes. [_He
+closes the album_] Well, what's the post? Ah! Here is the information
+from Paris in respect of the woman Etchepare and her husband's judicial
+record. [_The doorkeeper enters with a visiting-card_] Who is coming to
+disturb me now? [_More agreeably, having read the name_] Ah! Ah! [_To
+the recorder_] I shall see him alone.
+
+RECORDER. Yes, your worship. [_He goes out_]
+
+MOUZON [_to the doorkeeper_] Show him in. [_He hides his album, picks up
+a brief, and affects to be reading it with the utmost attention_]
+
+
+SCENE II:--_Enter Mondoubleau._
+
+MONDOUBLEAU [_speaking with a strong provincial accent_] I was passing
+the Law Courts, and I thought I'd look in and say how do. I am not
+disturbing you, I hope?
+
+MOUZON [_smiling and closing his brief_] My dear deputy, an examining
+magistrate, as you know, is always busy. But it gives one a rest--it
+does one good--to see a welcome caller once in a while. Sit down, I beg
+you. Yes, please!
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. I can stop only a minute.
+
+MOUZON. But that's unkind of you!
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Well, what's the latest about the Irissary murder?
+
+MOUZON. So far there's nothing new. I've questioned the accused--an
+ugly-looking fellow and a poor defence. He simply denied everything and
+flew into a temper. I had to send him back to the cells without getting
+anything out of him.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Are you perfectly sure you've got the right man?
+
+MOUZON. Certain--no; but I should be greatly surprised if I were
+mistaken.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. I saw Monsieur Delorme yesterday. He's a little better.
+
+MOUZON. So I hear. He thinks the murderer was a tramp. Now there, my
+dear sir, is one of the peculiarities to which we examining magistrates
+are subject. We always find it the very devil to abandon the first idea
+that pops into our minds. Personally I do my best to avoid what is
+really a professional failing. I am just going to examine Etchepare, and
+I am waiting for the results of a police inquiry. If all this gives me
+no result, I shall set the man at liberty and look elsewhere for the
+culprit--but I repeat, I firmly believe I am on the right scent.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Monsieur Delorme is a magistrate of long experience and a
+very shrewd one, and I will not deny that the reasons he has given me
+are--
+
+MOUZON. I know my colleague is extremely intelligent. And, once more, I
+don't say that he's wrong. We shall see. At present I am only morally
+certain. I shall be materially certain when I know the antecedents of
+the accused and have established an obvious motive for his action. At
+the moment of your arrival I was about to open my mail. Here is a letter
+from the Court of Pau; it gives our man's judicial record. [_He takes a
+paper-knife in order to open the envelope_]
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. A curious paper-knife.
+
+MOUZON. That? It's the blade of the knife that brought the pretty
+Toulouse woman to the guillotine at Bordeaux. Pretty weapon, eh? I had
+it made into a paper-knife. [_He opens the envelope_] There--there you
+are! Four times sentenced for assaulting and wounding. You see--
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Really, really! Four times!
+
+MOUZON. This is getting interesting. Besides this--I have neglected
+nothing--I have learned that his wife, Yanetta Etchepare--
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Is that the young woman I saw in the corridor just now?
+
+MOUZON. I have called her as witness. I shall be hearing her directly.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. She looks a very respectable woman.
+
+MOUZON. Possibly. But, as I was about to tell you, I have learned that
+she used to live in Paris--before her marriage--I have written asking
+for information. Here we are. [_He opens the envelope and smiles_] Aha!
+Well, this young woman who looks so respectable was sentenced to one
+month's imprisonment for receiving stolen goods. Now we will hear the
+police lieutenant who is coming, very obligingly, to give me an account
+of the inquiry with which I intrusted him, and which he will put in
+writing this evening. I shall soon see--
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Do you suppose he will have anything new for you?
+
+MOUZON. Does this interest you? I will see him in your presence. [_He
+goes to the door and makes a sign. He returns to his chair_] Understand,
+I assert nothing. It is quite possible that my colleague's judgment has
+been more correct than mine. [_The officer enters_]
+
+
+SCENE III:--_The same and the officer._
+
+OFFICER. Good-morning, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. Good-morning, lieutenant. You can speak before this gentleman.
+
+OFFICER [_saluting_] Our deputy--
+
+MOUZON. Well?
+
+OFFICER. Yes! He's the man!
+
+MOUZON [_after a glance at Mondoubleau_] Don't let's go too fast. On
+what grounds do you make that assertion?
+
+OFFICER. You will see. In the first place there have been four
+convictions already.
+
+MOUZON. I know.
+
+OFFICER. Then fifteen years ago he bought, from Daddy Goyetche, the
+victim, a vineyard, the payment taking the form of a life annuity.
+
+MOUZON. Well!
+
+OFFICER. He professed to have made a very bad bargain, and he used to
+abuse old Goyetche as a swindler.
+
+MOUZON. Excellent!
+
+OFFICER. Five years ago he sold this vineyard.
+
+MOUZON. So that for five years he has been paying an annuity to the
+victim, although the vineyard was no longer his property.
+
+OFFICER. Yes, your worship.
+
+MOUZON. Go on.
+
+OFFICER. After his arrest people's tongues were loosened. His neighbors
+have been talking.
+
+MOUZON. That's always the way.
+
+OFFICER. I have heard a witness, the girl Gracieuse Mendione, to whom
+Etchepare used the words, "It is really too stupid to be forced to pay
+money to that old swine."
+
+MOUZON. Wait a moment. You say the girl Gracieuse?
+
+OFFICER. Mendione.
+
+MOUZON [_writing_] Mendione--"It is really too stupid to be forced to
+pay money to that old swine." Good! Good! Well?
+
+OFFICER. I have another witness, Piarrech Artola.
+
+MOUZON [_writing_] Piarrech Artola.
+
+OFFICER. Etchepare told him, about two months ago, in speaking of old
+Goyetche, "It's more than one can stand--the Almighty's forgotten him."
+
+MOUZON [_writing_] "The Almighty has forgotten him." Excellent. Is this
+all you can tell me?
+
+OFFICER. Almost all.
+
+MOUZON. At what date should Etchepare have made the next annual payment
+to old Goyetche?
+
+OFFICER. A week after Ascension Day.
+
+MOUZON. That is a week after the crime?
+
+OFFICER. Yes, your worship.
+
+MOUZON [_to Mondoubleau_] Singular coincidence! [_To the officer_] Was
+he comfortably off, this Etchepare?
+
+OFFICER. He was pressed for money. Three months ago he borrowed eight
+hundred francs from a Mauleon cattle-dealer.
+
+MOUZON. And what do the neighbors say?
+
+OFFICER. They say Etchepare was a sly grasping fellow, and they aren't
+surprised to hear that he's the murderer. All the same, they all speak
+very highly of the woman Yanetta Etchepare. They say she is a model
+mother and housekeeper.
+
+MOUZON. How many children?
+
+OFFICER. Two--Georges and--I can't remember the name of the other now.
+
+MOUZON. And the woman's moral character?
+
+OFFICER. Irreproachable.
+
+MOUZON. Good.
+
+OFFICER. I was forgetting. One of my men, one of those who effected the
+arrest, informs me that when Etchepare saw him coming he said to his
+wife, "They've got me."
+
+MOUZON. "They've got me." That is rather important.
+
+OFFICER. And then he told his wife, in Basque, "Don't for the world let
+out that I left the house last night!"
+
+MOUZON. He said this before the gendarme?
+
+OFFICER. No, your worship--the gendarme was outside--close to an open
+window. Etchepare didn't see him.
+
+MOUZON. You will have him cited as witness.
+
+OFFICER. Yes, your worship. Then there's that witness for the defence
+too--Bridet.
+
+MOUZON. Ah, yes--I have read the deposition he made in your presence.
+It's of no importance. Still, if he's there I'll hear him. Thank you.
+Well, draw up a report for me, in full detail, and make them give you
+the summonses for the witnesses.
+
+OFFICER. Yes, your worship. [_He salutes and goes out_]
+
+
+SCENE IV:--_Mouzon and Mondoubleau._
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Monsieur Delorme is a fool.
+
+MOUZON [_laughing_] Well, I don't say so, my dear deputy.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. It's wonderful, your faculty of divination.
+
+MOUZON. Wonderful--no, no. I assure you--
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Now how did you come to suspect this Etchepare?
+
+MOUZON. Well, you know, it is partly a matter of temperament. The
+searching for a criminal is an art. I may say that a good examining
+magistrate is guided less by the facts themselves than by a kind of
+inspiration.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Wonderful. I repeat it's wonderful. And this witness for
+the defence?
+
+MOUZON. He may be a false witness.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. What makes you think that?
+
+MOUZON. Because he accuses the gipsies! Moreover, he had business
+dealings with Etchepare. The Basque, you know, still look on us rather
+as enemies, as conquerors, and they think it no crime to deceive us by
+means of a false oath.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Then you were never inclined to accept the theory of your
+predecessor?
+
+MOUZON. Tramps--the poor wretches! I know what an affection you have for
+the poor, and I feel with you that one should not confine oneself to
+suspecting the unfortunate--people without shelter, without bread even.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Bravo! I am delighted to find that you are not only an able
+magistrate, but also that you think with me on political matters.
+
+MOUZON. You are very good.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. I hope that from now on the Basque newspapers will cease
+its attacks upon you.
+
+MOUZON. I am afraid not.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Come, come!
+
+MOUZON. What can you expect, my dear sir? The paper is hostile to you,
+and as I do not scruple openly to support your candidature they make the
+magistrate pay for the opinions of the citizen.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. I feel ashamed--and I thank you with all my heart, my dear
+fellow. Go on as you are doing--but be prudent--eh? The Keeper of the
+Seals was saying to me only a couple of days ago, "I look to you to see
+that there is no trouble in your constituency. No trouble--above all no
+scandal of any kind!" I ought to tell you that Eugène is the subject of
+many attacks at the present moment.
+
+MOUZON. You are on very intimate terms with his Honor the Keeper of the
+Seals.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU [_makes a gesture, then, simply_] We were in the Commune
+together.
+
+MOUZON. I see.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Tell me, by the way, what sort of a man is your State
+Attorney?
+
+MOUZON. Monsieur Vagret?
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Yes.
+
+MOUZON. Oh, well--he's a very painstaking magistrate, very exact--
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. No, I mean as to his political opinions.
+
+MOUZON. You mustn't blame him for being in the political camp of those
+who are diametrically opposed to us. At all events, don't run away with
+the idea that he is a mischievous person.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Narrow-minded. [_He has for some little time been gazing at
+Mouzon's desk_] I see you've got the Labastide brief on your table.
+There's nothing in it at all. I know Labastide well; he's one of my
+ablest electoral agents; and I assure you he's absolutely incapable of
+committing the actions of which he is accused. I told Monsieur Vagret as
+much, but I see he is prosecuting after all.
+
+MOUZON. I can only assure you, my dear deputy, that I will give the
+Labastide affair my most particular attention.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. I have too much respect for you, my dear fellow, to ask
+more of you. Well, well, I mustn't waste your time. So for the present--
+
+MOUZON. Au revoir. [_The deputy goes out. Mouzon is alone_] I don't
+think our deputy is getting such a bad idea of me. [_Smiling_] The fact
+is it was really clever of me to suspect Etchepare. Now the thing is to
+make him confess the whole business, and as quickly as possible--
+
+     _The doorkeeper enters, a telegram in his hand._
+
+MOUZON. A telegram for me?
+
+DOORKEEPER. Yes, your honor.
+
+MOUZON. Give it me. Right. [_The doorkeeper goes out. Mouzon reads_]
+"Diane is detained under arrest. The report of yesterday's affair sent
+to the Attorney-General.--Lucien." That's nice for me! [_He is silent,
+pacing to and fro_] Oh, the accursed women! [_Silence_] Come, I must
+get to work. [_He goes to the door at the back and calls his recorder_]
+Benoît!
+
+
+SCENE V:--_Mouzon, the recorder, and then Bridet._
+
+MOUZON [_seated, gives a brief to the recorder_] Make out an order of
+non-lieu in the Labastide case and the order for his immediate release.
+You can do that during the interrogatories. Now, let us begin! It is two
+o'clock already and we have done nothing. Make haste--Let's see--What
+are you waiting for? Give me the list of witnesses--the list of
+witnesses. Don't you understand? What's the matter with you to-day?
+That's right. Now bring in this famous witness for the defence and let
+us get rid of him. Is Etchepare there?
+
+RECORDER. Yes, your honor.
+
+MOUZON. His wife too?
+
+RECORDER. Yes, your honor.
+
+MOUZON. Well, then! What's the matter with you that you look at me like
+that? Bring him in.
+
+RECORDER. Which first? Etchepare?
+
+MOUZON. No!--the witness for the defence. The wit-ness for the
+de-fence--do you understand?
+
+RECORDER [_outside, angrily_] Bridet! Come, Bridet, are you deaf? Come
+in! [_Roughly_] Stir yourself!
+
+     _Bridet enters._
+
+BRIDET. Your worship, I am going to tell you--
+
+MOUZON. Hold your tongue. You will speak when you are questioned. Name,
+surname, age, profession, and place of domicile.
+
+BRIDET. Bridet, Jean-Pierre, thirty-eight, maker of _alpargates_ at
+Faigorry.
+
+MOUZON [_in a single breath_] You swear to speak the truth, the whole
+truth, and nothing but the truth. Say, "I swear." You are neither a
+blood relative nor a relation by marriage of the accused, you are not in
+his service and he is not in yours. [_To the recorder_] Has he said, "I
+swear"?
+
+RECORDER. Yes, your worship.
+
+MOUZON [_to Bridet_] Speak! [_Silence_] Go on--speak!
+
+BRIDET. I am waiting for you to ask me questions.
+
+MOUZON. Just now one couldn't keep you quiet; now when I ask you to
+speak you have nothing to say. What interest have you in defending
+Etchepare?
+
+BRIDET. What interest?
+
+MOUZON. Yes. Don't you understand your own language?
+
+BRIDET. Yes, Monsieur. Why, no interest.
+
+MOUZON. No interest? Is that the truth? Eh? None? Come, I want very much
+to believe you. [_Very sternly_] However, I remind you that Article 361
+of the Penal Code punishes false evidence with imprisonment. Now that
+you know the risk you run in not telling the truth I will listen to you.
+
+BRIDET [_confused_] I was going to say that old Goyetche was murdered by
+gipsies who came from over the frontier, down the mountain.
+
+MOUZON. You are sure of that?
+
+BRIDET. I believe it's so.
+
+MOUZON. You are not here to say what you believe. Tell me what you saw
+or heard. That is all that's asked of you.
+
+BRIDET. But one's always meeting them, these gipsies. The other day they
+robbed a tobacconist's shop. There were three of them. Two of them went
+inside. I must tell you they had looked the place over during the day--
+
+MOUZON. Did you come here to laugh at the law? Eh?
+
+BRIDET. I?--But, Monsieur--
+
+MOUZON. I ask if you came here to mock at the law?
+
+BRIDET. No, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. That's as well, for such a thing won't answer--you understand?
+Do you hear?
+
+BRIDET. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. Is that all you have to say?
+
+BRIDET. No, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. Well, then, go on! Confound it! Don't waste my time in this way!
+Do you think I've nothing to do but listen to your gossip? Come now,
+tell me.
+
+BRIDET. Well, the day after Ascension Day--that is, on the Monday--no,
+on the Friday--
+
+MOUZON. Was it Monday or Friday?
+
+BRIDET. Friday--it was like a Monday, you see, because it was the day
+after the holiday. Well, the day they found old Goyetche murdered I saw
+a troop of gipsies leaving his house.
+
+MOUZON. Then you were quite close to the house?
+
+BRIDET. No, I was passing on the road.
+
+MOUZON. Did they close the door behind them?
+
+BRIDET. I don't know, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. Then why do you say you saw them come out of the house?
+
+BRIDET. I saw them come out of the meadow in front of the house.
+
+MOUZON. And then?
+
+BRIDET. That's all.
+
+MOUZON [_throwing himself back in his chair_] And you've come here to
+bother me for this, eh? Answer. For this?
+
+BRIDET. But, your worship--I beg your pardon--I thought--I beg your
+pardon--
+
+MOUZON. Listen. How many gipsies were there? Think well. Don't make a
+mistake.
+
+BRIDET. Five.
+
+MOUZON. Are you certain of that?
+
+BRIDET. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. Yes. Well, in the presence of the gendarmes you said there were
+five or six. So you are more certain of a fact at the end of a month
+than you were on the day on which you observed it. On the other hand,
+you no longer know whether the fact occurred on a Monday or a Friday,
+nor whether the gipsies were leaving the house or merely crossing the
+fields. [_Sternly_] Tell me, are you acquainted with the accused?
+Etchepare--do you know him?
+
+BRIDET. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. You have business relations with him? You used to sell him
+sheep?
+
+BRIDET. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. That's enough for me. Get out!
+
+BRIDET. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. And think yourself lucky that I let you go like this.
+
+BRIDET. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. In future, before asking to be heard as a witness for the
+defence in a trial at law, I recommend you to think twice.
+
+BRIDET. Rest your mind easy, Monsieur. I swear they'll never get me
+again!
+
+MOUZON. Sign your interrogatory and be off. If there were not so many
+easy-going blunderers of your sort, there would be less occasion to
+complain of the law's delays and hesitations for which the law itself is
+not responsible.
+
+BRIDET. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON [_to the recorder_] Send for Etchepare.
+
+RECORDER [_returning immediately_] Your worship.
+
+MOUZON. Well?
+
+RECORDER. The advocate--Maître Plaçat.
+
+MOUZON. Is he there?
+
+RECORDER. Yes, your honor. He would like to see you before the
+interrogatory.
+
+MOUZON. Well, show him in, then! What are you waiting for? Be off--and
+come back when I send for the accused.
+
+     _The recorder goes out as Plaçat enters._
+
+
+SCENE VI:--_Mouzon, Maître Plaçat._
+
+MOUZON. Good-day, my dear fellow--how are you?
+
+PLAÇAT. Fine. And you? I caught sight of you last night at the Grand
+Theatre; you were with an extremely charming woman.
+
+MOUZON. Ah, yes--I--er--
+
+PLAÇAT. I beg your pardon. Tell me now--I wanted to have a word with you
+about the Etchepare case.
+
+MOUZON. If you are free at the present moment, we are going to hold the
+examination at once.
+
+PLAÇAT. That's the trouble--I haven't a minute.
+
+MOUZON. Would you like us to postpone it until to-morrow?
+
+PLAÇAT. No, no--I have just been speaking to the accused. An
+uninteresting story. He just keeps on denying--that's all. He agreed to
+be interrogated without me. [_Laughing_] I won't hide from you that I
+advised him to persist in his method. Well, then, au revoir. If he wants
+an advocate later on, let me know--I'll send you one of my secretaries.
+
+MOUZON. Right. Good-bye for the present, then.
+
+     _He returns to his desk. The recorder enters, then
+     Etchepare, between two gendarmes._
+
+
+SCENE VII:--_Mouzon, Etchepare, the recorder._
+
+RECORDER. Step forward.
+
+MOUZON [_to the recorder_] Recorder, write. [_Very quickly, stuttering_]
+In the year nineteen hundred and ninety-seven, etc. Before me, Mouzon,
+examining magistrate, in the presence of--and so on--the Sieur Etchepare
+Jean-Pierre was brought to our office, his first appearance being
+recorded in the report of--and so on. We may mention that the accused,
+having consented to interrogation in the absence of his advocate--[_To
+Etchepare_] You do consent, don't you?
+
+ETCHEPARE. I am innocent. I don't need any advocate.
+
+MOUZON [_resumes his stuttering_] We dispensed therewith. In consequence
+of which we have immediately proceeded as below to the interrogation of
+the said Sieur Etchepare Jean-Pierre. [_To Etchepare_] Etchepare, on the
+occasion of your first appearance you refused to reply, which wasn't
+perhaps very sensible of you, but you were within your rights. You lost
+your temper and I was even obliged to remind you of the respect due to
+the law. Are you going to speak to-day?
+
+ETCHEPARE [_disturbed_] Yes, your worship.
+
+MOUZON. Ah! Aha! my fine fellow, you are not so proud to-day!
+
+ETCHEPARE. No. I've been thinking. I want to get out of this as quickly
+as possible.
+
+MOUZON. Well, well, for my part, I ask nothing more than to be able to
+set you at liberty. So far we understand each other excellently. Let us
+hope it'll last. Sit down. And first of all I advise you to give up
+trying to father the crime onto a band of gipsies. The witness Bridet,
+who has business relations with you, has endeavored, no doubt at your
+instigation, to induce us to accept this fable. I warn you he has not
+succeeded.
+
+ETCHEPARE. I don't know what Bridet may have told you.
+
+MOUZON. Oh! You deny it? So much the better! Come, you are cleverer than
+I thought! Was it you who murdered Goyetche?
+
+ETCHEPARE. No, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. You had an interest in his death?
+
+ETCHEPARE. No, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. Oh, really! I thought you had to pay him a life annuity.
+
+ETCHEPARE [_after a moment's hesitation_] Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. Then you had an interest in his death? [_Silence_] Eh! You don't
+answer? Well, let us continue. You said to a witness, the young
+woman--the young woman Gracieuse Mendione--"It is really too stupid to
+be forced to pay money to that old swine."
+
+ETCHEPARE [_without conviction_] That's not true.
+
+MOUZON. It's not true! So the witness is a liar, eh?
+
+ETCHEPARE. I don't know.
+
+MOUZON. You don't know. [_A pause_] You thought that Goyetche had lived
+too long?
+
+ETCHEPARE. No, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. No, Monsieur. Then why did you say to another witness, Piarrech
+Artola, why did you say, in speaking of your creditor, "It's too much,
+the Almighty has forgotten him"?
+
+ETCHEPARE. I didn't say that.
+
+MOUZON. You didn't say that. So this witness is a liar too! Answer me.
+Is he a liar? [_Silence_] You don't answer. It's just as well. Come now,
+Etchepare, why do you persist in these denials--eh? Isn't it all plain
+enough? You are avaricious, interested, greedy for gain--
+
+ETCHEPARE. It's so hard to make a living.
+
+MOUZON. You are a man of violent temper--from time to time you get
+drunk, and then you become dangerous. You have been four times convicted
+for assault and wounding--you are over-ready with your knife. Is that
+the truth or isn't it? You were tired of paying--for nothing--a biggish
+annual sum to this old man. The time for payment was approaching; you
+were pressed for money; you felt that Goyetche had lived too long, and
+you killed him. It's so obvious--eh? Isn't it true?
+
+ETCHEPARE [_gradually recovering himself_] I did not murder him.
+
+MOUZON. We won't juggle with words. Did you pay anyone else to kill him?
+
+ETCHEPARE. I had nothing to do with his death. You yourself say I was
+pressed for money. So how could I have paid anyone to kill him?
+
+MOUZON. Then you did it yourself.
+
+ETCHEPARE. That's a lie.
+
+MOUZON. Listen, Etchepare--you will confess sooner or later. Already you
+are weakening in your defence.
+
+ETCHEPARE. If I was to shout, you'd say I was play-acting.
+
+MOUZON. I tell you sooner or later you will change your tune. Already
+you admit facts which constitute a serious charge against you.
+
+ETCHEPARE. That's true; I said it without thinking of the consequences.
+
+MOUZON. Ah, but you ought to think of the consequences; for they may be
+peculiarly serious for you.
+
+ETCHEPARE. I'm not afraid of death.
+
+MOUZON. The death of others--
+
+ETCHEPARE. Nor my own.
+
+MOUZON. So much the better. But you are a Basque; you are a Catholic.
+After death there is hell.
+
+ETCHEPARE. I'm not afraid of hell; I've done nothing wrong.
+
+MOUZON. There is the dishonor that will fall on your children. You love
+your children, do you not? Eh? They will ask after you--they love
+you--because they don't know--yet--
+
+ETCHEPARE [_suddenly weeping_] My poor little children! My poor little
+children!
+
+MOUZON. Come, then! All good feeling isn't extinct in you. Believe me,
+Etchepare, the jury will be touched by your confession, by your
+repentance--you will escape the supreme penalty. You are still
+young--you have long years before you in which to expiate your crime.
+You may earn your pardon and perhaps you may once again see those
+children, who will have forgiven you. Believe me--believe me--in your
+own interests even, confess! [_Mouzon has approached Etchepare during
+the foregoing; he places his hands on the latter's shoulders; he
+continues, with great gentleness_] Come, isn't it true? If you can't
+speak, you've only to nod your head. Eh? It's true? Come, since I know
+it's true. Eh? I can't hear what you say. It was you, wasn't it? It was
+you!
+
+ETCHEPARE [_still weeping_] It was not me, sir! I swear it was not me! I
+swear it!
+
+MOUZON [_in a hard voice, going back to his desk_] Oh, you needn't
+swear. You have only to tell me the truth.
+
+ETCHEPARE. I am telling the truth--I am--I can't say I did it when I
+didn't!
+
+MOUZON. Come, come! We shall get nothing out of you to-day. [_To the
+recorder_] Read him his interrogatory and let him be taken back to his
+cell. One minute--Etchepare!
+
+ETCHEPARE. Monsieur?
+
+MOUZON. There is one way to prove your innocence, since you profess to
+be innocent. Prove, in one way or another, that you were elsewhere than
+at Irissary on the night of the crime, and I will set you at liberty.
+Where were you?
+
+ETCHEPARE. Where was I?
+
+MOUZON. I ask you where you were on the night of Ascension Day. Were you
+at home?
+
+ETCHEPARE. Yes.
+
+MOUZON. Is that really the truth?
+
+ETCHEPARE. Yes.
+
+MOUZON [_rising, rather theatrically, pointing at Etchepare_] Now,
+Etchepare, that condemns you. I know that you went out that night. When
+you were arrested you said to your wife, "Don't for the world admit that
+I went out last night." Come, I must tell you everything. Someone saw
+you--a servant. She told the gendarmes that as she was saying good-night
+to a young man from Iholdy, with whom she had been dancing, at ten
+o'clock at night, she saw you a few hundred yards from your house. What
+have you to say to that?
+
+ETCHEPARE. It is true--I did go out.
+
+MOUZON [_triumphantly_] Ah! Now, my good man, we've had some trouble in
+getting you to say something. But I can read it in your face when you
+are lying--I can read it in your face in letters as big as that. The
+proof is that there was no witness who saw you go out--neither your
+servant nor anyone else; and yet I would have sworn to it with my head
+under the knife. Come, we have made a little progress now. [_To the
+recorder_] Have you put down carefully his first admission? Good. [_To
+Etchepare_] Now think for a moment. We will continue our little
+conversation. [_He goes towards the fireplace, rubbing his hands, pours
+himself a glass of spirits, swallows it, gives a sigh of gratification,
+and returns to his chair_]
+
+FIRST GENDARME [_to his comrade_] A cunning one, he is!
+
+SECOND GENDARME. You're right!
+
+MOUZON. Let us continue. Come, now that you've got so far, confess the
+whole thing! Here are these good gendarmes who want to go to their grub.
+[_The gendarmes, the recorder, and Mouzon laugh_] You confess? No? Then
+tell me, why did you insist on saying that you remained at home that
+night?
+
+ETCHEPARE. Because I'd told the gendarmes so and I didn't want to make
+myself out a liar.
+
+MOUZON. And why did you tell the gendarmes that?
+
+ETCHEPARE. Because I thought they'd arrest me on account of the
+smuggling.
+
+MOUZON. Good. Then you didn't go to Irissary that night?
+
+ETCHEPARE. No.
+
+MOUZON. Where did you go?
+
+ETCHEPARE. Up the mountain, to look for a horse that had got away the
+night before, one of a lot we were taking to Spain.
+
+MOUZON. Good. Excellent. That isn't badly thought out--that can be
+maintained. You went to look for a horse lost on the mountain, a horse
+which escaped from a lot you were smuggling over the frontier on the
+previous night. Excellent. If that is true, there is nothing for it but
+to set you at liberty before we are much older. Now to prove that you've
+simply to tell me to whom you sold the horse; we shall send for the
+purchaser, and if he confirms your statement, I will sign your
+discharge. To whom did you sell the horse?
+
+ETCHEPARE. I didn't sell it.
+
+MOUZON. You gave it away? You did something with it!
+
+ETCHEPARE. No--I didn't find it again.
+
+MOUZON. You didn't find it again! The devil! That's not so good. Come!
+Let's think of something else. You didn't go up the mountain all alone?
+
+ETCHEPARE. Yes, all alone.
+
+MOUZON. Bad luck! Another time, you see, you ought to take a companion.
+Were you out long?
+
+ETCHEPARE. All night. I got in at five in the morning.
+
+MOUZON. A long time.
+
+ETCHEPARE. We aren't well off, and a horse is worth a lot of money.
+
+MOUZON. Yes. But you didn't spend the whole night on the mountain
+without meeting someone--shepherds or customs officers?
+
+ETCHEPARE. It was raining in torrents.
+
+MOUZON. Then you met no one?
+
+ETCHEPARE. No one.
+
+MOUZON. I thought as much. [_In a tone of disappointed reproach, with
+apparent pity_] Tell me, Etchepare, do you take the jurymen for idiots?
+[_Silence_] So that's all you've been able to think of? I said you were
+intelligent just now. I take that back. But think what you've told me--a
+rigmarole like that. Why, a child of eight would have done better. It's
+ridiculous I tell you--ridiculous. The jurymen will simply shrug their
+shoulders when they hear it. A whole night out of doors, in the pouring
+rain, to look for a horse you don't find--and without meeting a living
+soul--no shepherds, no customs officers--and you go home at five in the
+morning--although at this time of the year it's daylight by then--yes,
+and before then--but no, no one saw you and you saw no one. So everybody
+was stricken with blindness, eh? A miracle happened, and everyone was
+blind that night. You don't ask me to believe that? No? Why not? It's
+quite as probable as what you do tell me. So everybody wasn't blind?
+[_The recorder bursts into a laugh; the gendarmes imitate him_] You see
+what it's worth, your scheme of defence! You make the gaolers and my
+recorder laugh. Don't you agree with me that your new method of defence
+is ridiculous?
+
+ETCHEPARE [_abashed, under his breath_] I don't know.
+
+MOUZON. Well, if you don't know, we do! Come now! I have no advice to
+give you. You repeat that at the trial and see what effect you produce.
+But why not confess? Why not confess? I really don't understand your
+obstinacy. I repeat, I really do not understand it.
+
+ETCHEPARE. Well, if I didn't do it, am I to say all the same that I did?
+
+MOUZON. So you persist in your story of the phantom horse? You persist
+in it, do you?
+
+ETCHEPARE. How do I know? How should I know what I ought to say? I
+should do better not to say anything at all--everything I say is turned
+against me!
+
+MOUZON. Because the stories you invent are altogether too
+improbable--because you think me more of a fool than I am in thinking
+that I am going to credit such absurd inventions. I preferred your first
+method; at least you had two witnesses to speak for you--two witnesses
+who were not worth very much, it's true, but witnesses all the same.
+You've made a change; well, you are within your rights. Let us stick to
+the lost horse.
+
+ETCHEPARE. Well, then? [_A long pause_]
+
+MOUZON. Come! Out with it!
+
+ETCHEPARE [_without emphasis, hesitation, gazing at the recorder as
+though to read in his eyes whether he was replying as he should_] Well,
+I'm going to tell you, Monsieur. You are right--it isn't true--I didn't
+go up into the mountain. What I said first of all was the truth--I
+didn't go out at all. Just now I was all muddled. At first I denied
+everything, even what was true--I was so afraid of you. Then, when you
+told me--I don't remember what it was--my head's all going like--I don't
+know--I don't remember--but all the same I know I am innocent. Well,
+just now, I almost wished I could admit I was guilty if only you'd leave
+me in peace. What was I saying? I don't remember. Ah, yes--when you told
+me--whatever it was, I've forgotten--it seemed to me I'd better say I'd
+gone out--and I told a lie. But [_sincerely_] what I swear to you is
+that I am not the guilty man. I swear it, I swear it!
+
+MOUZON. I repeat, I ask nothing better than to be able to believe it. So
+now it's understood, is it, that you were at home?
+
+ETCHEPARE. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. We shall hear your wife directly. You have no other witnesses to
+call?
+
+ETCHEPARE. No, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. Good. Take the accused away--but remain in the Court. I shall
+probably need him directly for a confrontation. His interrogatory isn't
+finished.
+
+     _The gendarmes lead Etchepare away._
+
+
+SCENE VIII:--_Mouzon and the recorder._
+
+MOUZON [_to the recorder_] What a rogue, eh? One might have taken him in
+the act, knife in hand, and he'd say it wasn't true! A crafty fellow
+too--he defends himself well.
+
+RECORDER. I really thought, at one time, that your worship had got him.
+
+MOUZON. When I was speaking of his children?
+
+RECORDER. Yes, that brought tears to one's eyes. It made one feel one
+wanted to confess even though one hadn't done anything!
+
+MOUZON. Didn't it? Ah, if I hadn't got this headache! [_A pause_] I did
+a stupid thing just now.
+
+RECORDER. Oh, your worship!
+
+MOUZON. I did. I was wrong to show him how improbable that new story of
+his was. It is so grotesque that it would have betrayed him--while, if
+he goes on asserting that he never left the house, if the servant
+insists he didn't, and if the wife says the same thing, that's something
+that may create a doubt in the mind of the jury. He saw that perfectly,
+the rascal! He felt that of the two methods the first was the better.
+That's one against me, my good Benoît. [_To himself_] That must be set
+right. Let me think. Etchepare is the murderer, there's no doubt about
+that. I am as certain of that as if I'd been present. So he wasn't at
+home on the night of the crime and his wife knows it. After the way he
+hesitated just now--if I can get the wife to confess that he was absent
+from home till the morning, we get back to the ridiculous story of the
+lost horse, and I catch him twice in a flagrant lie, and I've got him.
+Come, we must give the good woman a bit of a roasting and get the truth
+out of her. It'll be devilish queer if I don't succeed. [_To the
+recorder_] What did I do with the police record of the woman Etchepare
+that was sent from Paris?
+
+RECORDER. It's in the brief.
+
+MOUZON. Yes--here it is--the extract from her judicial record. Report
+number two, a month of imprisonment, for receiving--couldn't be better.
+Send her in.
+
+     _The recorder goes to the door and calls._
+
+RECORDER. Yanetta Etchepare!
+
+     _Enter Yanetta._
+
+
+SCENE IX:--_Mouzon, recorder, Yanetta._
+
+MOUZON. Step forward. Now, Madame, I shall not administer the oath to
+you, since you are the wife of the accused. But none the less I beg you
+most urgently to tell the truth. I warn you that an untruth on your part
+might compel me to accuse you of complicity with your husband in the
+crime of which he is accused and force me to have you arrested at once.
+
+YANETTA. I'm not afraid. I can't be my husband's accomplice because my
+husband isn't guilty.
+
+MOUZON. That is not my opinion. I will say further: you know a great
+deal more about this matter than you care to tell.
+
+YANETTA. I? That's infamous.
+
+MOUZON. Come, come, no shouting! I don't say you took a direct part in
+the murder, I say it is highly probable that you knew of the murder,
+perhaps advised it, and that you have profited by it. That would be
+enough to place you in the dock beside your husband at the assizes. My
+treatment of you will depend on the sincerity of your answers to my
+questions. As you do or do not tell me the truth I shall either set you
+at liberty or have you arrested. Now you can't say that I haven't warned
+you! And now, if you please, inform me whether you persist in your first
+statement, in which you affirm that Etchepare stopped at home on the
+night of Ascension Day.
+
+YANETTA. I do.
+
+MOUZON. Well, it is untrue.
+
+YANETTA [_excited_] The night on which Daddy Goyetche was murdered my
+husband never left the house.
+
+MOUZON. I tell you that is not the truth.
+
+YANETTA [_as before_] The night Daddy Goyetche was murdered my husband
+never left the house.
+
+MOUZON. You seem to have got stuck. You go on repeating the same thing.
+
+YANETTA. Yes, I go on repeating the same thing.
+
+MOUZON. Well, now let us examine into the value of your evidence. Since
+your marriage--for the last ten years--your conduct has left nothing to
+be desired. You are thrifty, faithful, industrious, honest--
+
+YANETTA. Well?
+
+MOUZON. Wait a moment. You have two children, whom you adore. You are an
+excellent mother. One hears of your almost heroic behavior at the time
+your eldest child was ill--Georges, I think.
+
+YANETTA. Yes, it was Georges. But what has that to do with the charge
+against my husband?
+
+MOUZON. Have patience. You will see presently.
+
+YANETTA. Very well.
+
+MOUZON. It is all the more to your credit that you are what you are, for
+your husband does not give us an example of the same virtues. He
+occasionally gets drunk.
+
+YANETTA. No, he doesn't.
+
+MOUZON. Come--everyone knows that. He is violent.
+
+YANETTA. He's not violent.
+
+MOUZON. So violent that he has been convicted four times for assault and
+battery.
+
+YANETTA. That's possible; at holiday times, in the evening, men get
+quarrelling. But that was a long time ago. Now he behaves better, and
+I'm very happy with him.
+
+MOUZON. That surprises me.
+
+YANETTA. Anyhow, does that prove he murdered old Goyetche?
+
+MOUZON. Your husband is very grasping.
+
+YANETTA. Poor people are forced to be very grasping or else to die of
+starvation.
+
+MOUZON. You defend him well.
+
+YANETTA. Did you suppose I was going to accuse him?
+
+MOUZON. Have you ever been convicted?
+
+YANETTA [_anxious_] Me?
+
+Mouzon. Yes, you.
+
+YANETTA [_weakly_] No, I've never been convicted.
+
+Mouzon. That is curious because there was a girl of your name in Paris
+who was sentenced to a month's imprisonment for receiving stolen
+property.
+
+YANETTA [_weakly_] For receiving stolen property--
+
+MOUZON. You are not quite so bold now--you are disturbed.
+
+YANETTA [_as before_] No--
+
+MOUZON. You are pale--you are trembling--you are feeling faint. Give her
+a chair, Benoît. [_The recorder obeys_] Pull yourself together!
+
+YANETTA. My God, you know that?
+
+MOUZON. Here is the report which has been sent me. "The woman Yanetta
+X--was brought to Paris at the age of sixteen as companion or lady's
+maid by Monsieur and Madame So-and-so, having been employed by them in
+that capacity at Saint-Jean-de-Luz." Is that correct?
+
+YANETTA. Yes.
+
+MOUZON. Here is some more. "Illicit relations were before long formed
+between the girl Yanetta and the son of the family, who was twenty-three
+years of age. Two years later the lovers fled, taking with them eight
+thousand francs which the young man had stolen from his father. On the
+information of the latter the girl Yanetta was arrested and condemned to
+one month's imprisonment for receiving stolen property. After serving
+her sentence she disappeared. It is believed that she returned to her
+own district." Are you the person mentioned here?
+
+YANETTA. Yes. My God, I thought that was all so long ago--so completely
+forgotten. It is all true, Monsieur, but for ten years now I've given
+every minute of my life to making up for it, trying to redeem myself.
+Just now I answered you insolently; I beg your pardon. You have not only
+my life in your hands now, but my husband's, and the honor of my
+children.
+
+MOUZON. Does your husband know of this?
+
+YANETTA. No, Monsieur. Oh, you aren't going to tell him! I beg you on my
+knees! It would be wicked, I tell you, wicked! Listen, Monsieur--listen.
+I came back to the country; I hid myself; I would rather have died; I
+didn't want to stay in Paris--you understand why--and then in a little
+while I lost mother. Etchepare was in love with me, and he bothered me
+to marry him. I refused--I had the courage to go on refusing for three
+years. Then--I was so lonely, so miserable, and he was so unhappy, that
+in the end I gave way. I ought to have told him everything. I wanted to,
+but I couldn't. It would have hurt him too much. For he's a good man,
+Monsieur, I swear he is. [_Mouzon makes a gesture_] Yes, I know,
+sometimes when he's been drinking, he's violent. I was going to tell you
+about that. I don't want to tell you any more untruths. But it's very
+seldom he's violent now. [_Weeping_] Oh, don't let him know, Monsieur,
+don't let him know. He'd go away--he'd leave me--he'd take my children
+from me. [_She gives a despairing cry_] Ah, he'd take my children from
+me! I don't know what to say to you--but it isn't possible--you can't
+tell him--now you know all the harm it would do. You won't? Of course I
+was guilty--but I didn't understand--I didn't know. I wasn't seventeen,
+sir, when I went to Paris. My master and mistress had a son; he forced
+me almost--and I loved him--and then he wanted to take me away because
+his parents wanted to send him away by himself. I did what he asked me.
+That money--I didn't know he had stolen it--I swear I didn't know--
+
+MOUZON. That's all right; control yourself.
+
+YANETTA. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. We'll put that on one side for the moment.
+
+YANETTA. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. Now your husband--
+
+YANETTA. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON [_with great sincerity_] You will have need of all your courage,
+my poor woman. Your husband is guilty.
+
+YANETTA. It's impossible! It's impossible!
+
+MOUZON [_with great sincerity_] He has not confessed it, but he is on
+the point of doing so. I myself know what happened that night after he
+left your house--witnesses have told me.
+
+YANETTA. No! No! My God, my God! Witnesses? What witnesses? It isn't
+true!
+
+MOUZON. Well, then, don't be so obstinate! In your own interest, don't
+be so stubborn! Shall I tell you what will be the end of it? You will
+ruin your husband! If you insist on contradicting the evidence, that he
+passed the night away from the house, you'll ruin him, I tell you. On
+the other hand, if you will only tell me the truth, then if he is not
+the murderer, he will tell us what he did do and who his companions
+were.
+
+YANETTA. He hadn't any.
+
+MOUZON. Then he went out alone?
+
+YANETTA. Yes.
+
+MOUZON. At ten o'clock?
+
+YANETTA. At ten.
+
+MOUZON. He returned alone at five in the morning?
+
+YANETTA. Yes, all alone.
+
+MOUZON. But perhaps you are thinking of some other night. It was really
+the night of Ascension Day when he went out alone?
+
+YANETTA. Yes.
+
+MOUZON. Benoît, have you got that written down?
+
+RECORDER. Yes, your worship.
+
+MOUZON. Madame, I know how painful this must be to you, but I beg you to
+listen to me with the greatest attention. Your husband was pressed for
+money, was he not?
+
+YANETTA. No.
+
+MOUZON. Yes.
+
+YANETTA. I tell you no.
+
+MOUZON. Here is the proof. Three months ago he borrowed eight hundred
+francs from a cattle-dealer of Mauleon.
+
+YANETTA. He never told me about it.
+
+MOUZON. Moreover, he owed a considerable sum to Goyetche.
+
+YANETTA. I've never heard of that either.
+
+MOUZON. Here is an acknowledgment written by your husband. It is in his
+handwriting?
+
+YANETTA. Yes, but I didn't know--
+
+MOUZON. You didn't know of the existence of this debt? That tends to
+confirm what I know already--your husband went to Irissary.
+
+YANETTA. No, sir; he tells me everything he does.
+
+MOUZON. But you see very well that he doesn't, since you didn't know of
+the existence of this debt. He went to Irissary. Don't you believe me?
+
+YANETTA. Yes, Monsieur, but he didn't kill a man for money; it's a lie,
+a lie, a lie!
+
+MOUZON. It's a lie! Now how am I to know that? Your husband begins by
+denying everything, blindly, and then he takes up two methods of defence
+in succession. You yourself begin by a piece of false evidence. All
+this, I tell you again, will do for the man.
+
+YANETTA. I don't know about that, but what I do tell you again is that
+he didn't kill a man for money.
+
+MOUZON. Then what did he kill him for? Perhaps after all he isn't as
+guilty as I supposed just now. Perhaps he acted without premeditation.
+This is what might have happened. Etchepare, a little the worse for
+drink, goes to Goyetche in order to ask him once more to wait for the
+payment of this debt. There is a dispute between the two men; old
+Goyetche was still a strong man; there may have been provocation on his
+part, and there may have been a struggle, with the tragic result you
+know of. In that case your husband's position is entirely different--he
+is no longer a criminal premeditating a crime; and the sentence
+pronounced against him may be quite a light one. So you see, my good
+woman, how greatly it is in your interest to obtain a complete
+confession from him. If he persists in his denials, I am afraid the jury
+will be extremely severe upon him. There is no doubt that he killed
+Goyetche; but under what conditions did he kill him? Everything depends
+on that. By persistently trying to pass for a totally innocent man he
+risks being thought more guilty than he is. Do you understand?
+
+YANETTA. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. Will you speak to him as I suggest? Shall I send for him?
+
+YANETTA. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+MOUZON. [_to the recorder_] Bring in the accused. Tell the gendarmes I
+shall not need them.
+
+     _Etchepare enters._
+
+
+SCENE X:--_The same, Etchepare._
+
+YANETTA. Pierre! To see you here--my Pierre--a prisoner--like a thief!
+My poor husband--my poor husband! Oh, prove you haven't done anything!
+Tell his worship--tell him the truth. It'll be best. I beg you tell him
+the truth.
+
+ETCHEPARE. It's all no good. I know, I can feel, I'm done for. All that
+I can do or say would be no use. Every word I do say turns against me.
+The gentleman wants me to be guilty. I must be guilty, according to him.
+So you see! What would you have me do, my poor darling? I've got no
+strength to go on struggling against him. Let them do what they like
+with me; I shan't say anything more.
+
+YANETTA. Yes, yes, you must speak. You must defend yourself. I beg of
+you, Pierre. I beg of you, defend yourself.
+
+ETCHEPARE. What's the use?
+
+YANETTA. I beg you to in the name of your children. They don't know
+anything yet--but they cry because they see me crying--because, you see,
+I can't hide it, I can't control myself always in front of them. I can't
+be cheerful, can I? And then they love me, so they notice it. And they
+ask me questions, questions. If you only knew! They ask me about you.
+André was asking me again this morning, "Where's father? Are you going
+to look for him? Tell me, are you going to fetch him?" I told him "yes"
+and I ran away. You see you must defend yourself so as to get back to
+them as soon as possible. If you've anything to reproach yourself with,
+even the least thing, tell it. You are rough sometimes--so--I don't
+know. But if you went to Irissary, you must say so. Perhaps you had a
+quarrel with the poor old man. If that was it, say so, say so. Perhaps
+you got fighting together and you--I'm saying perhaps you did--I don't
+know--you understand--but his worship promised me just now that if it
+was like that they wouldn't punish you--or not very much. My God, what
+am I to say to you? What's to be done?
+
+ETCHEPARE. So you believe I'm guilty--you too! Tell me now! Do you
+believe me guilty too?
+
+YANETTA. I don't know! I don't know!
+
+ETCHEPARE [_to Mouzon_] Ah, so you've managed that too; you've thought
+of that too, to torture me through my wife--and it was you put it into
+her head to speak to me about my children. I don't know what you can
+have told her, but you've almost convinced her that I'm a scoundrel, and
+you hoped she'd succeed in sending me to the guillotine in the name of
+my children, because you know I worship them and they are everything to
+me. You are right; I dare say there isn't another father living who
+loves his little ones more than I love mine. [_To Yanetta_] You know
+that, Yanetta! You know that! And you know too that with all my faults
+I'm a true Christian, that I believe in God, in an almighty God. Well,
+then, listen! My two boys--my little Georges, my little André--I pray
+God to kill them both if I'm a criminal!
+
+YANETTA [_with the greatest exultation_] He is innocent! I tell you he's
+innocent! I tell you he's innocent! [_A pause_] Ah, now you can bring
+your proofs, ten witnesses, a hundred if you like, and you might tell me
+you saw him do it--I should tell you: It's not true! It's not true! You
+might prove to me that he had confessed to it himself, and I would tell
+you it wasn't true! Oh, you must feel it, your worship. You have a
+heart--you know what it is when one loves one's children--so you must be
+certain, you too, that he's innocent. You are going to give him back to
+me, aren't you? It's settled now and you will give him back to me?
+
+MOUZON. If he is innocent, why did he lie just now?
+
+ETCHEPARE. It was you who lied--you! You told me you had witnesses who
+saw me leave my house that night--and you hadn't anyone!
+
+MOUZON. If I had no one at that moment, I have someone now. Yes, there
+is a witness who has declared that you were not at home on the night of
+the crime, and that witness is your wife!
+
+ETCHEPARE [_to Yanetta_] You!
+
+MOUZON [_to the recorder_] Give me her interrogatory.
+
+     _While Mouzon looks through his papers Yanetta gazes for
+     some time at her husband, then at Mouzon. She is reflecting
+     deeply. Finally she seems to have made up her mind._
+
+MOUZON. There. Your wife has just told us that you left the house at ten
+o'clock and did not return until five in the morning.
+
+YANETTA [_very plainly_] I did not say that. It is not true.
+
+MOUZON. You went on to say that he returned alone.
+
+YANETTA. I did not say that.
+
+MOUZON. I will read your declaration. [_He reads_] Question: Then he
+went out alone? Reply: Yes. Question: At ten o'clock? Reply: At ten
+o'clock.
+
+YANETTA. I did not say that.
+
+MOUZON. Come, come! And I was careful to be precise. I said to you, "But
+perhaps you are thinking of another night? It was really on the night of
+Ascension Day that he went out alone?" And you replied, "Yes."
+
+YANETTA. It's not so!
+
+MOUZON. But I have it written here!
+
+YANETTA. You can write whatever you like.
+
+MOUZON. Then I'm a liar. And the recorder too, he is a liar?
+
+YANETTA. The night old Goyetche was murdered my husband did not leave
+the house.
+
+MOUZON. You will sign this paper, and at once. It is your interrogatory.
+
+YANETTA. All that is untrue! I tell you it's untrue! [_Shouting_] The
+night old Goyetche was murdered my husband never left the house--he
+never left the house.
+
+MOUZON [_pale with anger_] You will pay for this! [_To the recorder_]
+Make out immediately an order for the detention of this woman and call
+the gendarmes. [_To Yanetta_] Woman Etchepare, I place you under arrest
+on a charge of being accessory to murder. [_To the gendarmes_] Take the
+man to the cells and return for the woman.
+
+     _The gendarmes remove Etchepare._
+
+
+SCENE XI:--_Mouzon, Yanetta, the recorder._
+
+YANETTA. Ah, you are angry, aren't you--furious--because you haven't got
+your way! Although you've done everything, everything you possibly
+could, short of killing us by inches! You pretend to be kind. You spoke
+kindly to us. You wanted to make me send my husband to the scaffold!
+[_Mouzon has taken up his brief and affects to be studying it with
+indifference_] It's your trade to supply heads to the guillotine. You
+must have criminals, guilty men, you must have them at any cost. When a
+man falls into your clutches he's a dead man. They come in here innocent
+and they've got to go out again guilty. It's your trade; it's a matter
+of vanity with you to succeed! You ask questions which don't seem to
+mean anything in particular, and yet they may send a man to the next
+world; and when you've forced the poor wretch to condemn himself you're
+delighted, like a savage would be!
+
+MOUZON [_to the gendarmes_] Take her away--be quick!
+
+YANETTA. Yes, a savage! You call that justice! [_To the gendarmes_] You
+don't take me like that, I tell you! [_She clings to the furniture_]
+You're a butcher! You are as cruel as the people in history who broke
+one's bones to make one confess! [_The gendarmes have dragged her free;
+she lets herself fall to the ground and shouts the rest of her speech
+while the men drag her to the door at the back_] Brute! Savage brute!
+No, you don't think so--you think yourself a fine fellow, I haven't a
+doubt, and you're a butcher--
+
+MOUZON. Take her away, I tell you! What, the two of you can't rid me of
+that madwoman?
+
+     _The gendarmes make a renewed effort._
+
+YANETTA. Butcher! Coward! Judas! Pitiless beast! Yes, pitiless, and you
+are all the more dishonest and brutal when you've got poor folk like us
+to do with. [_She is at the door, holding to the frame_] Ah, the brutes,
+they are breaking my fingers! Yes, the poorer one is the wickeder you
+are! [_They carry her away. Her cries are still heard as the curtain
+falls_] The poorer one is the more wicked you are--the poorer one is the
+more wicked you are--
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III
+
+_The office of the District Attorney. A door to the left, set in a
+diagonal wall, gives on to a corridor. It opens inwardly, so that the
+lettering on the outside can be read: "Parquet de Monsieur le Procureur
+de la République." A desk, chairs, and a chest of drawers._
+
+
+SCENE I:--_Benoît, La Bouzole. As the curtain rises the recorder is
+removing various papers from the desk and placing them in a cardboard
+portfolio. Enter La Bouzole._
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Good-day, Benoît.
+
+RECORDER [_hesitating to take the hand which La Bouzole extends to him_]
+Your worship. It's too great an honor--
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Come, come, Monsieur Benoît, shake hands with me. From
+to-day I'm no longer a magistrate; my dignity no longer demands that I
+shall be impolite to my inferiors. How far have they got with the
+Etchepare trial?
+
+RECORDER. So far the hearing has been devoted entirely to the indictment
+and the counsel's address.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. They will finish to-day?
+
+RECORDER. Oh, surely. Even if Monsieur Vagret were to reply, because his
+Honor the President of Assizes goes hunting to-morrow morning.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. You think it will be an acquittal, Monsieur Benoît?
+
+RECORDER. I do, your worship. [_He is about to go out_]
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Who is the old lady waiting in the corridor?
+
+RECORDER. That is Etchepare's mother, your worship.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Poor woman! She must be terribly anxious.
+
+RECORDER. No. She is certain of the verdict. She hasn't the slightest
+anxiety. She was there all yesterday afternoon and she came back to-day,
+just as calm. Only to-day she wanted at any price to see the District
+Attorney or one of his assistants. Monsieur Ardeuil is away and Monsieur
+Vagret--
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Is in Court.
+
+RECORDER. She seemed very much put out at finding no one.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Well, send her in here; perhaps I can give her a little
+advice. Maître Plaçat will be some time yet, won't he?
+
+RECORDER. I believe so.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Well, tell her to come and speak to me, poor woman. That
+won't upset anybody and it may save her some trouble.
+
+RECORDER. Very well, your worship. [_He goes to the door on the right,
+makes a sign to old Madame Etchepare, and goes out by the door at the
+back_]
+
+LA BOUZOLE [_alone_] It's astonishing how benevolent I feel this
+morning!
+
+     _Old Madame Etchepare enters, clad in the costume peculiar
+     to old women of Basque race._
+
+
+SCENE II:--_La Bouzole, Old Madame Etchepare._
+
+LA BOUZOLE. They tell me, Madame, that you wished to see one of the
+gentlemen of the Bar.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Yes, sir.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. You wish to be present at the trial?
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. No, sir. I know so well that they cannot condemn
+my son that what they say in there doesn't interest me in the least. I
+am waiting for him. I have come because they have turned us out of our
+house.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. They have turned you out?
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. The bailiffs came.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Then your son owed money?
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Since they arrested him all our men have left us.
+We couldn't get in the crops nor pay what was owing. But of course I
+know they'll make all that good when my son is acquitted.
+
+LA BOUZOLE [_aside_] Poor woman!
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. I'm so thankful to see the end of all our
+troubles. He'll come back and get our house and field again for us.
+He'll make them give up our cattle. That's why I wanted to see one of
+these gentlemen.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Will you explain?
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. A fortnight after the gendarmes came to arrest my
+boy, Monsieur Claudet turned the waste water from his factory into the
+brook that passes our house where we water the beasts. That was one of
+the things that ruined us too. If Etchepare finds things like that when
+he gets back, God knows what he'll do! I want the law to stop them doing
+us all this harm.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. The law! Ah, my good woman, it would be far better for you
+to have nothing to do with the law.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. But why? There is justice, and it's for everybody
+alike.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Of course.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Has Monsieur Claudet the right--
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Certainly not.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Then I want to ask the judge to stop him.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. It is not so simple as you suppose, Madame. First of all you
+must go to the bailiff.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Good.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. He will make a declaration.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. What about?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. He will declare that your water supply is contaminated.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. There is no need to trouble a bailiff, sir. A
+child could see that.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. It is the law.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Well, and then?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Then you must go to a lawyer and get a judgment.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Very well, if there 's no other way of doing it--
+
+LA BOUZOLE. That is not all. If Monsieur Claudet contests the facts, the
+President will appoint an expert who will visit the site and make a
+report. You will have to put in a request that the President will grant
+a speedy hearing on grounds of urgency. Your case being finally put on
+the list of causes, it would be heard in its turn--after the vacations.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. After the vacations!
+
+LA BOUZOLE. And that is not all. Monsieur Claudet's lawyer might
+default, in which case judgment would be declared in your favor. But
+Monsieur Claudet might defend the case, or enter some kind of plea and
+obtain a judgment on that plea, or appeal against the judgment before
+the matter would be finally settled. All this would cost a great deal of
+money.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Who would pay it?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. You, naturally, and Monsieur Claudet.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. It's all one to him; he's rich; but for us, who
+haven't a penny left!
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Then you would have to apply for judicial assistance.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. That would take still more time?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. That would take much longer.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. But, sir, I've always been told that justice was
+free in France.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Justice is gratuitous, but the means of obtaining access to
+justice are not. That is all.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. And all that would take--how long?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. If Monsieur Claudet were to appeal, it might last two years.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. It isn't possible! Isn't the right on my side?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. My poor woman, it's not enough to have the right on your
+side--you must have the law on your side too.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. I understand. Justice is a thing we poor people
+can know only when it strikes us down. We can know it only by the harm
+it does us. Well--we must go away--it doesn't matter where--and I shan't
+regret it; people insult us; they call out to us as they pass. Etchepare
+wouldn't put up with that.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. In that respect the law protects you. Register a complaint
+and those who insult you will be prosecuted.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. I don't think so. I have already registered a
+complaint, as you say, but they've done nothing to the man who injured
+us. So he goes on.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Is he an inhabitant of your commune?
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Yes. A neighbor, a friend of Monsieur Mondoubleau,
+the deputy. Labastide.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Good. I will do what I can, I promise you.
+
+OLD MADAME ETCHEPARE. Thank you, sir. [_A pause_] Then I will go and
+wait till they give me back my boy.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. That's right.
+
+     _She goes out slowly._
+
+
+SCENE III:--_La Bouzole, recorder._
+
+RECORDER [_entering by the door at the back_] The hearing is suspended,
+your worship.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Has Maître Plaçat concluded?
+
+RECORDER. With great applause. Two of the jurymen were seen wiping their
+eyes. No one doubts there will be an acquittal.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. So much the better.
+
+RECORDER. Your worship knows the great news?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Which?
+
+RECORDER. That the Attorney-General has arrived.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. No--I know nothing of it.
+
+RECORDER. Yes, he has just arrived. It seems he brings the nomination of
+one of these gentlemen to the post of Councillor in the Court of Appeal.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Ah, ah! And whose is the prize, in your opinion, Benoît?
+Vagret's?
+
+RECORDER. That was my opinion. I hesitated a long time between him and
+his Honor the President, and I decided it would be Monsieur Vagret. But
+now I think I am wrong.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Do you think Monsieur Bunerat is appointed?
+
+RECORDER. No, your worship. I feel very proud--I believe it is my
+employer who has the honor.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. Monsieur Mouzon!
+
+RECORDER. Yes, your worship.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. What makes you think that?
+
+RECORDER. His Honor the Attorney-General requested me to beg Monsieur
+Mouzon to come and speak to him before the rising of the Court.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. My congratulations, my dear Monsieur Benoît.
+
+     _Madame Bunerat enters._
+
+
+SCENE IV:--_The same and later Madame Vagret, Bunerat, the President of
+Assizes, and Mouzon, then the Attorney-General._
+
+MADAME BUNERAT [_in tears_] Oh, my dear Monsieur La Bouzole!
+
+LA BOUZOLE. What has happened, Madame Bunerat?
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. It's that advocate! What talent! What a heart! What
+feeling! What genius! I feel quite shaken--quite upset--
+
+LA BOUZOLE. It's an acquittal?
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. They hope so--
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_entering_] Well, my dear Monsieur La Bouzole, you have
+heard this famous advocate! What a ranter!
+
+LA BOUZOLE. It seems he has touched the jury. That means an acquittal.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. I'm very much afraid it does.
+
+     _Enter Bunerat in a black gown._
+
+BUNERAT. Do you know what they tell me? The Attorney-General is here!
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. Really!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Are you certain?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. It is true enough. He brings Monsieur Mouzon his appointment
+to the Court of Appeal at Pau.
+
+BUNERAT. Mouzon!
+
+MADAME VAGRET AND MADAME BUNERAT. And my husband! We had a definite
+promise!
+
+     _The President of Assizes enters, wearing a red gown._
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Good-day, gentlemen. You have not seen the
+Attorney-General, have you?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. No, your honor--but if you will wait--
+
+THE PRESIDENT. No. Tell me, La Bouzole--you are an old stager--were you
+in Court?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. From the balloting for the jurymen to the plea for the
+defence.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Did you notice if I let anything pass that would make an
+appeal to the Court of Cassation possible?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. I am sure you didn't.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. It's my constant fear--I am thinking of nothing else all
+the time counsel are speaking. I always have the Manual of the President
+of Assizes wide open in front of me; I'm always afraid, nevertheless, of
+forgetting some formality. You see the effect of being in the
+Chancellery--I never have a quiet conscience until the time-limit has
+expired. [_A pause_] They tell me there were journalists here from
+Toulouse and Bordeaux.
+
+LA BOUZOLE. And one from Paris.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. One from Paris! Are you sure?
+
+LA BOUZOLE. He was standing near the prisoner's bench.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. He was left to stand! A journalist from Paris and he was
+left to stand! [_Catching sight of the recorder_] You knew that,
+Monsieur the recorder, and you didn't warn me? Is that how you perform
+your duties? Go at once and express my regret and find him a good seat;
+do you hear?
+
+RECORDER. Yes, your honor. [_He turns to go_]
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_running after him_] Here! [_Aside to the recorder_] Find
+out if he's annoyed.
+
+RECORDER. Yes, your honor.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. And then--[_He encounters Madame Bunerat at the door.
+Pardon, Madame. He goes out, running, lifting up his gown_]
+
+LA BOUZOLE. When I was at Montpellier I knew an old tenor who was as
+anxious as that at his third début--
+
+     _Enter Mouzon. Frigid salutations._
+
+MADAME BUNERAT [_after a pause_] Is it true, Monsieur Mouzon--
+
+MADAME VAGRET. That the Attorney-General--
+
+BUNERAT. Has arrived?
+
+MOUZON [_haughtily_] Quite true.
+
+BUNERAT. They say he brings a councillor's appointment.
+
+MOUZON. They say so.
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. And you don't know?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. You don't know?
+
+MOUZON. Nothing at all.
+
+BUNERAT. Does nothing lead you to suppose--
+
+MOUZON. Nothing.
+
+RECORDER [_entering_] Here is his Honor the Attorney-General.
+
+MADAME BUNERAT. Oh, Lord!
+
+     _She arranges her hair. Enter the Attorney-General, a man
+     with handsome, grave, austere features._
+
+ALL [_bowing and cringing, in a murmur_] His Honor the
+Attorney-General--
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I think you can resume the hearing, gentlemen--I am
+only passing through Mauleon. I hope to return before long and make your
+better acquaintance.
+
+ALL. Your honor--[_They make ready to leave_]
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Monsieur Mouzon, will you remain?
+
+     _Mouzon bows._
+
+MADAME VAGRET [_as she goes out_] My respects--the honor--Monsieur--
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL [_bowing_] Mr. President--Madame--Madame--
+
+BUNERAT [_to his wife_] You see, that's it!
+
+     _They go out._
+
+MOUZON [_to the recorder, who is about to leave_] Well, my dear fellow,
+I believe my appointment is settled.
+
+RECORDER. I am delighted, Monsieur the Councillor! [_Exit_]
+
+
+SCENE V:--_Mouzon, Attorney-General. Mouzon rubs his hands together,
+bubbling with joy._
+
+MOUZON [_obsequiously_] Your honor--
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Sit down. [_Mouzon does so_] A report has come to my
+office from Bordeaux--which concerns you, Monsieur! [_Feeling in his
+portfolio_] Here it is. [_Reading_] Mouzon and the woman Pecquet. You
+know what it is?
+
+MOUZON [_not taking the matter seriously, forces a smile. After a long
+silence_] Yes, your honor--
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I am waiting for your explanation.
+
+MOUZON [_as before_] You have been young, your honor--
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Not to that extent, Monsieur!
+
+MOUZON. I admit I overstepped the mark a trifle.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL [_reading_] "Being in a state of intoxication, together
+with the woman Pecquet and two other women of bad character who
+accompanied him, the aforesaid Mouzon used insulting and outrageous
+language to the police, whom he threatened with dismissal." Is that what
+you call overstepping the mark a trifle?
+
+MOUZON. Perhaps the expression is a little weak.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. And you allow the name of a magistrate to be coupled
+in a police report with that of the woman Pecquet?
+
+MOUZON. She told me her name was Diane de Montmorency.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. [_continuing_] "Questioned by us, the commissary of
+police, on the following morning, as to the rank of officer in the navy
+which he had assumed"--[_The Attorney-General gazes at Mouzon. Another
+pause_]
+
+MOUZON [_still smiling_] Yes, it's on account of my whiskers, you know.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Really?
+
+MOUZON. When I--oh, well--when I go to Bordeaux I always assume the rank
+of naval officer, in order to safeguard the dignity of the law.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. You seem to have been a little tardy in considering
+it.
+
+MOUZON. I beg you to note, your honor, that I endeavored to safeguard it
+from the very first, since I took care to go out of the arrondissement
+and even the judicial division--in order to--
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I will continue. "Monsieur Mouzon then informed us of
+his actual position as examining magistrate, and invoked that quality in
+requesting that we would stop proceedings."
+
+MOUZON. The ass. He has put that in his report? Oh, really--that's due
+to his lack of education. No, it's a political affair--the commissary is
+one of our opponents--I asked him--After all--I wanted to avoid scandal.
+Anyone would have done the same in my place.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Is that the only explanation you have to give me?
+
+MOUZON. Explanation? The truth is, Monsieur, that if you insist on
+maintaining, in this conversation, the relations between a superior and
+a subordinate, I can give you no further explanation. But if you would
+be so good as to allow me for a moment to forget your position, if you
+would agree to talk to me as man to man, I should tell you that this was
+a fault of youth, regrettable, no doubt, but explained by the profound
+boredom which exudes from the very paving-stones of Mauleon. Come, come!
+I had dined too well. Every night of the year a host of decent fellows
+find themselves in the same case. It's a pecadillo which doesn't affect
+one's personal honor.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Monsieur, when one has the honor to be a
+magistrate--when one has accepted the mission of judging one's fellows,
+one is bound more than all others to observe temperance and to consider
+one's dignity in all things. What may not affect the honor of the
+private citizen does affect the honor of the judge. You may take that
+for granted.
+
+MOUZON. As you refuse to discuss the matter otherwise than in an
+official manner, nothing remains for me but to beg you to inform me what
+you have decided to do.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Cannot you guess?
+
+MOUZON. I am an examining magistrate. You will make me an ordinary
+magistrate. It means my income will be diminished by five hundred francs
+a year. I accept.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. It is unfortunately impossible for me to content
+myself with such a simple measure. To speak plainly, I must inform you
+that Monsieur Coire, the director of the newspaper which attacks us so
+persistently, is acquainted with the whole of the facts of the
+accusation brought against you and will not give his word not to publish
+them unless by the end of the month you have left the Mauleon Court. I
+therefore find myself in the unhappy necessity of demanding your
+resignation.
+
+MOUZON. I shall not resign.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. You will not resign?
+
+MOUZON. I am distressed to oppose any desire of yours, but I am quite
+decided. I shall not resign.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. But really--you cannot know--
+
+MOUZON. I know everything.  ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Very well, sir, we shall
+proceed against you.
+
+MOUZON. Proceed. [_He rises_]
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Are you not alarmed at the scandal which would result
+from your appearance in court and your probable conviction?
+
+MOUZON. Conviction is less probable than you think. I shall be able to
+defend myself and to select my advocate. As for the scandal, it wouldn't
+fall on me. I am a bachelor, with no family; I know no one or next to no
+one in Mauleon, where I am really in exile. My friends are all in
+Bordeaux; they belong to the _monde ou l'on s'amuse_, and I should not
+in the least lose caste in their eyes on account of such a prosecution.
+You think I ought to leave the magistracy? Fortunately I have sufficient
+to live on without the thirty-five hundred francs the Government of the
+Republic allows me annually.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. That is enough, Monsieur. Good-day.
+
+MOUZON. My respects. [_He goes out_]
+
+DOORKEEPER. Monsieur the deputy is here, your honor. Monsieur the deputy
+says that your honor is waiting for him.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. That is so. Ask him to come in.
+
+     _Enter Mondoubleau. The Attorney-General advances towards
+     him and shakes hands with him._
+
+
+SCENE VI:--_Mondoubleau, Attorney-General._
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Good-day, my dear Attorney-General.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Good-day, my dear deputy.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. I'm delighted to see you. I've come from Paris. I had lunch
+yesterday with my friend the Keeper of the Seals. The Government is
+badly worried just at the moment.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. About what?
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. They're afraid of an interpellation. Just a chance--I'll
+tell you about it. Tell me--it seems you have a young assistant here who
+has been playing pranks.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Monsieur Ardeuil?
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Ardeuil, yes, that's the man. Eugène follows matters very
+closely.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Eugène?
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Eugène--my friend Eugène--the Keeper of the Seals. He said
+to me, "I expect your Attorney-General to understand how to do his
+duty."
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I ask nothing better, but let me know what my duty is.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. That's just what one wants to avoid. But look here, my
+friend, you are a very mysterious person!
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I?
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. You are asking for a change of appointment.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Who told you that?
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Who do you suppose? He is the only one who knows.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Eug--[_Quickly_] The Keeper of the Seals?
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. You want to be appointed to Orléans? Am I correctly
+informed?
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Quite true. We have relations there.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. I fancy you are concerned in the movement now in
+preparation.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Is there a movement in preparation?
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. There is. As for Monsieur Ardeuil, the Minister confined
+himself to saying that he had confidence in your firmness and zeal.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. The Keeper of the Seals may rely on me. I shall have
+to show considerable severity in several directions here, and I shall
+lack neither determination nor zeal, I can assure you.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Yes, but above all, tact! Eugène repeated a dozen times,
+"Above all, no prosecutions, no scandals. At the present moment less
+than ever. We are being watched. So everything must be done quietly."
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. You needn't be alarmed. There's the matter of Mouzon.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Mouzon! Mouzon the examining magistrate!
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Yes.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Of Mauleon?
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Precisely.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. You aren't thinking of--One of my best friends--very well
+disposed--a capital fellow--an excellent magistrate, full of energy and
+discernment. I mentioned his name to Eugène in connection with the
+vacant post of Councillor.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. [_offering him the report_] You've picked the wrong
+man. I am going to show you a document about him. Besides, the post is
+promised to Monsieur Vagret.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. What is wrong?
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Here. I shall have to report him to the Superior
+Council of the Magistracy or proceed against him in the Court of Appeal.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. What has he done?
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Read it.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU [_after casting a glance over the document which the other
+has handed to him_] Of course. But really--there's nothing in that. If
+you keep quiet about it, no one will know anything. No scandal. The
+magistracy is suffering from too many attacks already just now, without
+our providing our enemies with weapons.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Unfortunately Coire knows of it, and he threatens to
+tell the whole story in his paper unless Monsieur Mouzon is sent away
+from Mauleon.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. The devil! [_He begins to laugh_]
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. What are you laughing at?
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Nothing--an extravagant idea, a jest. [_He laughs_] Tell
+me--but you won't be annoyed?--it's only a joke--
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Well?
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. I was thinking--I tell you, it's a grotesque idea. But
+after all--after all, if you propose Mouzon for the Councillor's chair
+at Pau, you will be pleasing everyone!
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. My dear deputy--
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. A joke--of course, merely a joke--but what's so amusing
+about it is that if you did so it would please Coire, it would please
+me, it would please Mouzon, and it would please Eugène, who doesn't want
+any scandal.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. But it would be a--
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. No, no. In politics there can be no scandal except where
+there is publicity.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. But really--
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. I agree with you--I know all that could be said--I repeat,
+I am only chaffing. And do you realize--it's very curious--when one
+reflects--this fantastic solution is the only one that does not offer
+serious disadvantages--obvious disadvantages. That is so. If you leave
+Mouzon here, Coire tells everything. If you proceed against him, you
+give a certain section of the press an opportunity it won't lose--an
+opportunity of sapping one of the pillars of society. Those gentry are
+not particular as to the means they employ. They will confound the whole
+magistracy with Mouzon. It won't be Mouzon who will be the rake, but the
+Court, the Court of Appeal. There will be mud on all--on every robe.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. But you can't seriously ask me--
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Do you know what we ought to do? Let us go and talk it over
+with Rollet the senator--he is only a step from here.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I assure you--
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. Come--come. You will put in a word as to your going to
+Orléans at the same time. What have you to risk? I tell you my solution
+is the best. You will come to it, I assure you! I'll take you along.
+[_He takes his arm_]
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Well, well, I had certainly something to say to
+Rollet.
+
+     _The doorkeeper enters._
+
+DOORKEEPER. Your honor--
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Where are they? The verdict--?
+
+DOORKEEPER. Not yet. Monsieur Vagret has been making a reply.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Is the jury in the withdrawing room?
+
+DOORKEEPER. No, your honor. They were going out when Monsieur Vagret
+asked for an adjournment.
+
+MONDOUBLEAU. What an idea! Really! Well, my friend, let us go. I tell
+you, you'll come round!
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL [_weakly_] Never! Never!
+
+
+SCENE VII:--_Recorder, then the doorkeeper, then Madame Vagret, the
+President of Assizes, Bunerat, Madame Bunerat, and Vagret._
+
+RECORDER [_much moved_] Admirable!
+
+DOORKEEPER [_half opening the door at the back_] Monsieur Benoît! What's
+the news?
+
+RECORDER. Splendid! Our Prosecutor was admirable--and that Etchepare is
+the lowest swine.
+
+     _Enter Madame Vagret, greatly moved. The recorder goes up to
+     her. The doorkeeper disappears._
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Ah! My God!
+
+RECORDER. Madame Vagret, I am only a simple clerk, but allow me to say
+it was admirable! Wonderful!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Wonderful!
+
+RECORDER. As for the counsel from Bordeaux, Monsieur Vagret had him
+absolutely at his mercy!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Hadn't he?
+
+RECORDER. He's certain enough, now, to be condemned to death!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Certain!
+
+RECORDER. Madame, the jurymen were looking at that fellow Etchepare,
+that thug, in a way that made my blood run cold. As Monsieur Vagret went
+on with his speech you felt they would have liked to settle his hash
+themselves--the wretch!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. I saw that--
+
+RECORDER. I beg your pardon, Madame--I am forgetting myself--but there
+are moments when one is thankful, yes, so gratified, that social
+differences don't count.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. You are right, my dear man.
+
+     _Enter the President of Assizes and Bunerat._
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Madame, I congratulate you! We've got it, the capital
+sentence!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. We have it safely this time, haven't we, Monsieur?
+
+THE PRESIDENT. That is certain. But where is our hero? Magnificent--he
+was magnificent--wasn't he, Bunerat?
+
+BUNERAT. Oh, sir, but the manner in which you presided prepared the way
+so well--
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Well, well, I don't say I count for nothing in the
+result, but we must do justice to Vagret. [_To Madame Vagret_] You ought
+to be greatly gratified--very proud and happy, my dear Madame--
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Oh, I am, your honor--
+
+THE PRESIDENT. But what a strange idea to demand an adjournment! Is he
+unwell?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Oh, dear!
+
+THE PRESIDENT. No. Here he is.
+
+     _Enter Vagret. He is anxious._
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Ah, my dear! [_She takes his hand in hers. She can say no
+more, being choked by tears of joy_]
+
+THE PRESIDENT. It was wonderful!
+
+BUNERAT. I can't restrain myself from congratulating you too.
+
+VAGRET. Really, you confuse me. The whole merit is yours, Monsieur.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Not at all. Do you know what carried them all away? [_He
+lights a cigarette_]
+
+VAGRET. No!
+
+THE PRESIDENT. It was when you exclaimed, "Gentlemen of the jury, you
+own houses, farms, and property; you have beloved wives, and daughters
+whom you tenderly cherish. Beware--" You were splendid there!
+[_Resuming_] "Beware, if you leave such crimes unpunished; beware, if
+you allow yourselves to be led astray by the eloquent sentimentality of
+the defence; beware, I tell you, if you fail in your duty as the
+instrument of justice; beware, lest those above you snatch up the sword
+which has fallen from your feeble hands, when the blood that you have
+not avenged will be spilt upon you and yours!" That was fine! Very fine!
+And it produced a great effect.
+
+BUNERAT. But you, my dear President, you moved them even more noticeably
+when you recalled the fact, very appropriately, that the accused loved
+the sight of blood.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Ah, yes, that told a little!
+
+ALL. What? What was that?
+
+BUNERAT. The President put this question: "On the morning of the crime
+did you not slaughter two sheep?" "Yes," replied the accused. And then,
+looking him straight in the eyes--
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Yes, I asked him: "You were getting into practice,
+weren't you?" [_To Vagret_] But after all, if I have to a certain extent
+affected the result, the greater part of the honor of the day is yours.
+
+VAGRET. You are too kind.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Not at all! And your peroration! [_With an artist's
+curiosity_] You were really, were you not, under the stress of a great
+emotion, a really great emotion?
+
+VAGRET [_gravely_] Yes, I was under the stress of a great emotion, a
+really great emotion.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. You turned quite pale when you faced the jury--when you
+added, in a clear voice, "Gentlemen, I demand the head of this man!"
+
+VAGRET [_his eyes fixed_] Yes.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Then you made a sign to the advocate.
+
+VAGRET. Yes. I thought he would have something else to say.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. But why delay the verdict? You had won the victory.
+
+VAGRET. Precisely.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. What do you mean?
+
+VAGRET. During my indictment a fact came to light that worried me.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. A fact?
+
+VAGRET. Not a fact--but--in short--[_A pause_] I beg your pardon--I am
+very tired--
+
+THE PRESIDENT. I can very well understand your emotion, my dear
+Vagret. One always feels--on the occasion of one's first death
+sentence--but--you will see one gets used to it. [_Going out, to
+Bunerat_] Indeed, he does look very tired.
+
+BUNERAT. I fancy he is feeling his position too keenly.
+
+VAGRET. As I was leaving the Court I met the Attorney-General. I begged
+him urgently to give me a moment's conversation. I wanted to speak with
+him alone--and with you, Monsieur le Président.
+
+BUNERAT. As you wish.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. I am afraid you are unwell, my dear. I shall wait there.
+I will come back directly these gentlemen have gone.
+
+VAGRET. Very well.
+
+MADAME BUNERAT [_going out, to her husband_] There's a man ready to do
+something stupid.
+
+BUNERAT. That doesn't concern us.
+
+     _They go out._
+
+
+SCENE VIII:--_Vagret, the President of Assizes, then the
+Attorney-General._
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Did you notice any mistake on my part in the direction of
+the case?
+
+VAGRET. No, if any mistake was made, it was I who made it.
+
+     _The Attorney-General enters._
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. What is this that is so serious, my dear sir?
+
+VAGRET. It's this--I am more worried than I can say. I want to appeal to
+the conscience of you two gentlemen--to reassure myself--
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Tell us.
+
+VAGRET. A whole series of facts--the attitude of the accused--certain
+details which had escaped me--have given rise, in my mind, to a doubt as
+to the guilt of this man.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Was there any mention of these facts, these details,
+in the brief?
+
+VAGRET. Certainly.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Had the advocate studied this brief?
+
+VAGRET. Naturally.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Well, then? What are you worrying yourself about?
+
+VAGRET. But--suppose the man is not guilty?
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. The jury will decide. We can do no more, all of us,
+than bow to its verdict.
+
+VAGRET. Let me tell you, sir, how my convictions have been shaken.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I do not wish to know. All that is a matter between
+yourself and your conscience. You have the right to explain your
+scruples to the jury. You know the proverb: "The pen is a slave, but
+speech is free."
+
+VAGRET. I shall follow your advice.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I do not give you any advice.
+
+VAGRET. I shall explain my doubts to the jury.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. It will mean acquittal.
+
+VAGRET. What would you have?
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Do as you wish; but I should like to tell you one
+thing. When a man plans a startling trick of this kind and has the
+courage to accomplish it entirely of his own accord, he must have the
+courage to accept the sole responsibility of the blunders he may commit.
+You are too clever; you want to discover some means by which you need
+not be the only one to suffer from the consequences of your
+vacillations.
+
+VAGRET. Clever? I? How?
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Come, come! We are not children, and I can perfectly
+well see the trap into which you have lured me. You are sheltering
+yourself behind me. If the Chancellery should complain of your attitude,
+you will say that you consulted your superior, and I shall be the
+victim. And then I shall have a quarrel with the Chancellery on my
+hands. You don't care, you don't think of my position or my interests,
+of which you know nothing. Some silly idea gets into your head, and
+against my will you want to make me responsible for it. I say again, it
+is extremely clever, and I congratulate you, but I don't thank you.
+
+VAGRET. You have misunderstood me, sir. I have no wish to burden you
+with the responsibilities I am about to assume. I should hardly choose
+the moment when I am on the point of being appointed Councillor to
+perpetrate such a blunder. I told you of my perplexity, and I asked your
+advice. That was all.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Are you certain one way or the other?
+
+VAGRET. If I were certain, should I ask advice? [_A pause_] If we only
+had a cause for cassation, a good--
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_enraged_] What's that you say? Cause for cassation?
+Based on an error or on an oversight on my part, no doubt! Really, you
+have plenty of imagination! You are attacked by certain doubts, certain
+scruples--I don't know what--and in order to quiet your morbidly
+distracted conscience you ask me kindly to make myself the culprit!
+Convenient, in truth, to foist on others who have done their duty the
+blunders one may have committed oneself!
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL [_quietly_] It is indeed.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. And at the Chancellery, when they mention me, they'll
+say, "Whatever sort of a councillor is this, who hasn't even the
+capacity to preside over an Assize Court at Mauleon!" A man whom we've
+taken such trouble to get condemned! And to make me, me, the victim of
+such trickery! No, no! Think of another way, my dear Monsieur; you won't
+employ that, I can assure you.
+
+VAGRET. Then I shall seek other means; but I shall not leave matters in
+their present state.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL. Do what you like, but realize that I have given you no
+advice in one direction or another.
+
+VAGRET. I realize that.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. When you have decided to resume the hearing you will
+notify us.
+
+VAGRET. I will notify you.
+
+ATTORNEY-GENERAL [_to the President_] Let us go.
+
+     _They leave the office._
+
+
+SCENE IX:--_Vagret, Madame Vagret._
+
+MADAME VAGRET. What is it?
+
+VAGRET. Nothing.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Nothing? You are so depressed--and yet you've just had
+such a success as will tell on your career.
+
+VAGRET. It is that success which alarms me.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Alarms you?
+
+VAGRET. Yes, I'm afraid--
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Afraid of what?
+
+VAGRET. Of having gone too far.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Too far! Doesn't the murderer deserve death ten times
+over?
+
+VAGRET [_after a pause_] Are you quite certain, yourself, that he is a
+murderer?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Yes.
+
+VAGRET [_in a low voice_] Well--for myself--
+
+MADAME VAGRET. You?
+
+VAGRET. I--I don't know. I know nothing.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. My God!
+
+VAGRET. A dreadful thing happened to me in the course of my indictment.
+While I, the State Attorney, the official prosecutor, was exercising my
+function, another self was examining the case calmly, in cold blood; an
+inner voice kept reproaching me for my violence and insinuating into my
+mind a doubt, which has gone on increasing. A painful struggle has been
+going on in my mind, a cruel struggle--and if, as I was finishing, I
+labored under that emotion of which the President was speaking, if when
+I demanded the death penalty my voice was scarcely audible, it was
+because I was at the end of my struggle; because my conscience was on
+the point of winning the battle, and I made haste to finish, because I
+was afraid it would speak out against my will. When I saw the advocate
+remain seated and that he was not going to resume his speech in order to
+tell the jury the things I would have had him tell them--then I was
+really afraid of myself, afraid of my actions, of my words, of their
+terrible consequences, and I wanted to gain time.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. But, my dear, you have done your duty; if the advocate
+has not done his, that does not concern you.
+
+VAGRET. Always the same reply. If I were an honest man I should tell the
+jury, when the hearing is resumed, of the doubts that have seized me. I
+should explain how those doubts arose in me; I should call their
+attention to a point which I deliberately concealed from them, because I
+believed the counsel for the defence would point it out to him.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. You know, my dear, how thoroughly I respect your
+scruples, but allow me to tell you all the same that it won't be you who
+will declare Etchepare guilty or not guilty; it will be the jury. If
+anyone ought to feel disturbed, it is Maître Plaçat, not you--
+
+VAGRET. But I ought to represent justice!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Here is a prisoner who comes before you with previous
+convictions, with a whole crushing series of circumstances establishing
+his guilt. He is defended by whom? By one of the ornaments of the Bar, a
+man famed for his conscience as much as for his ability and his
+oratorical skill. You expound the facts to the jury. If the jury agrees
+with you, I cannot see that your responsibility as a magistrate is
+involved.
+
+VAGRET. I don't think about my responsibility as a magistrate--but my
+responsibility as a man is certainly involved! No! No! I have not the
+right. I tell you there is a series of circumstances in this case of
+which no one has spoken and the nature of which makes me believe in the
+innocence of the accused.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. But--these circumstances--how was it you knew nothing of
+them until now?
+
+VAGRET [_his head drooping_] Do you think I did know nothing of them? My
+God! Shall I have the courage to tell you everything? I am not a bad
+man, am I? I wouldn't wish anyone to suffer for a fault of
+mine--but--oh, I am ashamed to admit it, to say it aloud, even, when I
+have admitted it to myself! Well, when I was studying the brief, I had
+got it so firmly fixed in my mind, to begin with, that Etchepare was a
+criminal, that when an argument in his favor presented itself to my
+mind, I rejected it utterly, shrugging my shoulders. As for the facts of
+which I am speaking, and which gave rise to my doubts--at first I simply
+tried to prove that those facts were false, taking, from the depositions
+of the witnesses, only that which would militate against their truth and
+rejecting all the rest, with a terrible simplicity of bad faith. And in
+the end, in order to dissipate my last scruples, I told myself, just as
+you told me, "That is the business of the defence; it isn't mine!"
+Listen, and you'll see to what point the exercise of the magistrate's
+office distorts our natures, makes us unjust and cruel. At first I had a
+feeling of delight when I saw that the President, in his
+cross-examination, was throwing no light whatever on this series of
+little facts. It was my profession speaking in me, my profession, do you
+see? Oh, what poor creatures we are, what poor creatures!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Perhaps the jury won't find him guilty?
+
+VAGRET. It will find him guilty.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Or it may find there are extenuating circumstances.
+
+VAGRET. No. I adjured them too earnestly to refuse to do so. I was
+zealous enough, wasn't I? Violent enough?
+
+MADAME VAGRET. That's true. Why did you make your indictment so
+passionately?
+
+VAGRET. Ah, why, why? Long before the hearing of the case it was so
+clearly understood by everybody that the prisoner was the criminal! And
+then it all went to my head, it intoxicated me--the way they talked. I
+was the spokesman of humanity, I was to reassure the countryside, I was
+to restore tranquillity to the family, and I don't know what else! So
+then--I felt I must show myself equal to the part intrusted to me. My
+first indictment was relatively moderate--but when I saw the celebrated
+counsel making the jurymen weep, I thought I was lost; I felt the
+verdict would escape me. Contrary to my habit, I replied. When I rose to
+my feet for the second time I was like a man fighting, who has just had
+a vision of defeat, and who therefore fights with the strength of
+despair. From that moment Etchepare, so to speak, no longer existed. I
+was no longer concerned to defend society or sustain my accusation; I
+was contending against the advocate; it was a trial of orators, a
+competition of actors; I had to be the victor at all costs. I had to
+convince the jury, resume my hold on it, wring from it the double "yes"
+of the verdict. I tell you, Etchepare no longer counted; it was I who
+counted, my vanity, my reputation, my honor, my future. It's shameful, I
+tell you, shameful. At any cost I wanted to prevent the acquittal which
+I felt was certain. And I was so afraid of not succeeding that I
+employed every argument, good and bad, even that of representing to the
+terrified jurymen their own houses in flames, their own flesh and blood
+murdered. I spoke of the vengeance of God falling on judges without
+severity. And all this in good faith--or rather unconsciously, in a
+burst of passion, in an access of anger against the advocate, whom I
+hated at that moment with all my might. My success was greater than I
+hoped; the jury is ready to obey me; and I, my dear, I have allowed
+myself to be congratulated, I have grasped the hands held out to me.
+That is what it is to be a magistrate!
+
+MADAME VAGRET. Never mind. Perhaps there aren't ten in all France who
+would have acted otherwise.
+
+VAGRET. You are right. Only--if one reflects--it's precisely that that's
+so dreadful.
+
+RECORDER [_entering_] Monsieur le Procureur, the President is asking
+when the sitting can be resumed.
+
+VAGRET. At once.
+
+MADAME VAGRET. What are you going to do?
+
+VAGRET. My duty as an honest man. [_He makes ready to go_]
+
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV
+
+SCENES--_Same as the Second Act._
+
+
+SCENE I:-_Bunerat, the President of Assizes, and Vagret._
+
+BUNERAT. Well, your honor, there's another session finished.
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_in red robe_] I've been in a blue funk lest these brutes
+would make me lose my train. I'm going shooting to-morrow on the Cambo
+Ponds, you see, my dear fellow, and after to-night's train it's no go.
+[_Looks at his watch_] Oh, I've an hour and a half yet.
+
+BUNERAT. And what do you think of it, your honor?
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Of what? Of the acquittal? What does it matter to me? I
+don't care--on the contrary, I prefer it. I am certain the advocate
+won't ferret out some unintentional defect--some formality gone wrong.
+Where's my hat-box?
+
+     _He is about to stand on a chair to reach the hat-box, which
+     is on the top of a cupboard. Bunerat precedes him._
+
+BUNERAT. Permit me, Monsieur. You are at home here. [_From the chair_] I
+believe I shall have the pleasure of seeing you here again next session.
+[_He sighs, holding out the hat-box_]
+
+THE PRESIDENT. A pleasure I shall share, my dear fellow. [_He takes out
+a small felt hat from the box_]
+
+BUNERAT. Would you like a brush? There's Mouzon's brush. [_A sigh_] Ah,
+good God, when shall I leave Mauleon? I should so like to live at Pau!
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Pooh! A much overrated city! Come, come!
+
+BUNERAT. I suppose my new duties won't take me there yet?
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Don't you worry yourself. In the winter, yes, it's very
+well--but the summer--ah, the summer.
+
+BUNERAT. I am not the one appointed?
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Ah! You know already?
+
+BUNERAT. Yes--I--yes--that is to say, I didn't know it was official.
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_brushing his hat and catching sight of a dent_] Dented
+already. In these days the hats they sell you for felt, my dear chap,
+they're paste-board, simply--
+
+BUNERAT. True. Yes, I didn't know it was official. Monsieur Mouzon is
+very lucky.
+
+     _Enter Vagret in mufti._
+
+THE PRESIDENT. There, there is our dear Monsieur Vagret. Changed your
+dress already. Yes, you're at home, you. For my part I must pack up all
+this. Where the devil is the box I put my gown in? [_Bunerat makes a
+step to fetch it and then remains motionless_] It's curious--that--what
+have they done with it? In that cupboard--you haven't seen it, my dear
+Monsieur Bunerat?
+
+BUNERAT. No.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Ah, here it is--and my jacket in it. [_He opens the box
+and takes out his jacket, which he lays aside on the table_] Well, well,
+you've got them acquitted, my dear sir! Are you satisfied?
+
+VAGRET. I am very glad.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. And if they are the murderers?
+
+VAGRET. I must console myself with Berryer's remark: "It is better to
+leave ten guilty men at liberty than to punish one innocent man."
+
+THE PRESIDENT. You have a sensitive nature.
+
+VAGRET. Ought one to have a heart of stone, then, to be a magistrate?
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_tying up the box in which he has put his judge's
+bonnet_] One must keep oneself above the little miseries of humanity.
+
+VAGRET. Above the miseries of others.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Hang it all--
+
+VAGRET. That is what we call egoism.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Do you say that for my benefit?
+
+VAGRET. For all three of us.
+
+BUNERAT. Au revoir, gentlemen. Au revoir. [_He shakes hands with each
+and goes out_]
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_taking off his gown_] My dear Monsieur, I beg you to be
+more moderate in your remarks.
+
+VAGRET. Ah, I assure you that I am moderate! If I were to speak what is
+in my mind, you would hear very unpleasant things.
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_in shirt sleeves_] Are you forgetting to whom you are
+speaking? I am a Councillor of the Court, Monsieur le Procureur.
+
+VAGRET. Once again, I am not speaking to you merely; the disagreeable
+things I might say would condemn me equally. I am thinking of those poor
+people.
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_brushing his gown_] What poor people? The late
+prisoners? But after all, they are acquitted. What more do you want? To
+provide them with an income?
+
+VAGRET. They are acquitted, true; but they are condemned, all the same.
+They are sentenced to misery for life.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. What are you talking about?
+
+VAGRET. And through your fault, Monsieur.
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_stopping in his task of folding his gown_] My fault!
+
+VAGRET. And what is so particularly serious is that you didn't know it,
+you didn't see, you haven't seen the harm you did.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. What harm? I have done no harm! I?
+
+VAGRET. When you informed Etchepare that his wife had long ago been
+condemned for receiving stolen goods, and that she had been seduced
+before his marriage with her. When you did that you did a wicked thing.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. You are a Don Quixote. Do you suppose Etchepare didn't
+know all that?
+
+VAGRET. If you had noticed his emotion when his wife, on your asking her
+if the facts were correct, replied that they were, you would be certain,
+as I am, that he knew nothing.
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_packing his gown in its box_] Well, even so! You
+attribute to people of that sort susceptibilities which they don't
+possess.
+
+VAGRET. Your honor, "people of that sort" have hearts, just as you and I
+have.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Admitted. Didn't my duty force me to do as I did?
+
+VAGRET. I know nothing about that.
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_still in shirt sleeves_] It's the law that is guilty,
+then, eh? Yes? Well, Monsieur, if I did my duty--and I did--you are
+lacking in your duty in attacking the law, whose faithful servant you
+should be, the law which I, for one, am proud to represent.
+
+VAGRET. There's no reason for your pride.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Monsieur!
+
+VAGRET. It's a monstrous thing, I tell you, that one can reproach an
+accused person, whether innocent or guilty, with a fault committed ten
+years ago, and which has been expiated. Yes, Monsieur, it is a horrible
+thing that, after punishing, the law does not pardon.
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_who has put on his jacket and hat_] If you think the law
+is bad, get it altered. Enter Parliament.
+
+VAGRET. Alas, if I were a deputy, it is probable that I should be like
+the rest; instead of thinking of such matters I should think of nothing
+but calculating the probable duration of the Government.
+
+THE PRESIDENT [_his box under his arm_] In that case--is the
+doorkeeper--
+
+VAGRET [_touching a bell_] He will come. Then it's Monsieur Mouzon who
+is appointed in my place?
+
+THE PRESIDENT. It is Monsieur Mouzon.
+
+VAGRET. Because he's the creature of a deputy, a Mondoubleau--
+
+THE PRESIDENT. I cannot allow you to speak ill of Monsieur
+Mondoubleau--before my face.
+
+VAGRET. You think you may perhaps have need of him.
+
+THE PRESIDENT. Precisely. [_The doorkeeper appears_] Will you carry that
+to my hotel for me? The hotel by the station. You will easily recognize
+it; my sentry is at the door. [_He hands the doorkeeper his boxes_] Au
+revoir, my dear Vagret--no offence taken.
+
+     _He goes. Vagret puts on his hat and also makes ready to go.
+     Enter recorder and Etchepare._
+
+THE RECORDER. You are going, your honor?
+
+VAGRET. Yes.
+
+THE RECORDER. You won't have any objection, then, if I bring Etchepare
+in here? He's in the corridor, waiting for the formalities of his
+release--and he complains he's an object of curiosity to everyone.
+
+VAGRET. Of course!
+
+THE RECORDER. I'll tell them to bring his wife here too when she leaves
+the record office.
+
+VAGRET. Very well.
+
+THE RECORDER. I am just going to warn the warders--but the woman
+Etchepare can't be released immediately.
+
+VAGRET. Why?
+
+THE RECORDER. She's detained in connection with another case. She's
+charged with abusing a magistrate in the exercise of his duty.
+
+VAGRET. Is that magistrate Monsieur Mouzon?
+
+THE RECORDER. Yes, Monsieur.
+
+VAGRET. I will try to arrange that.
+
+THE RECORDER. Good-day, your honor.
+
+VAGRET. Good-day.
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+THE RECORDER [_at the door_] Etchepare--come in. You had better wait
+here for your final discharge. It won't take much longer.
+
+ETCHEPARE. Thank you, Monsieur.
+
+THE RECORDER. Well, there you are, then, acquitted, my poor fellow!
+There's one matter done with.
+
+ETCHEPARE. It's finished as far as justice is concerned, Monsieur; it
+isn't finished for me. I'm acquitted, it's true, but my life is made
+miserable.
+
+THE RECORDER. You didn't know--
+
+ETCHEPARE. That's it.
+
+THE RECORDER. It's a long time ago--you'll forgive her.
+
+ETCHEPARE. Things like that, Monsieur--a Basque never forgives them.
+It's as though a thunderbolt had struck me to the heart. And all the
+misfortune that's befallen us--it's she who is the cause--God has
+avenged himself. Everything's over.
+
+THE RECORDER [_after a pause_] I am sorry for you with all my heart.
+
+ETCHEPARE. Thank you, Monsieur. [_A pause_] Since you are so kind,
+Monsieur, will you allow my mother, who's there in the corridor, waiting
+for me, to come and speak to me?
+
+THE RECORDER. I'll send her in to you. Good-bye.
+
+ETCHEPARE. Good-bye.
+
+
+SCENE III:--_The recorder goes out. Enter Etchepare's mother._
+
+ETCHEPARE [_pressing his mother's head against his breast_] Poor old
+mother--how the misery of these three months has changed you!
+
+THE MOTHER. My poor boy, how you must have suffered!
+
+ETCHEPARE. That woman!
+
+THE MOTHER. Yes, they've just been telling me.
+
+ETCHEPARE. For ten years I've lived with that thief--that wretched
+woman! How she lied! Ah! When I heard that judge say to her, "You were
+convicted of theft and complicity with your lover," and when, before all
+those people, she owned to it--I tell you, mummy, I thought the skies
+were falling on my head--and when she admitted she'd been that man's
+mistress--I don't know just what happened--nor which I would have killed
+soonest--the judge who said such things so calmly or her who admitted
+them with her back turned to me. And then I was on the point of
+confessing myself guilty--I, an innocent man--in order not to learn any
+more--to get away--but I thought of you and the children! [_A long
+pause_] Come! We've got to make up our minds what we're going to do. You
+left them at home?
+
+THE MOTHER. No. I had to send them to our cousin at Bayonne. We've no
+longer got a home--we've nothing--we are ruined. Besides, I've got a
+horror of this place now. The women edge away and make signs to one
+another when I meet them, and in the church they leave me all alone in
+the middle of an empty space. Already--I had to take the children away
+from school.
+
+ETCHEPARE. My God!
+
+THE MOTHER. No one would speak to them. One day Georges picked a quarrel
+with the biggest, and they fought, and as Georges got the better of it,
+the other, to revenge himself, called him the son of a gallows-bird.
+
+ETCHEPARE. And Georges?
+
+THE MOTHER. He came home crying and wouldn't go out of doors. It was
+then that I sent them away to Bayonne.
+
+ETCHEPARE. That's what we'll do. Go away. We'll go and fetch them.
+To-morrow or to-night I shall be with you again. There are emigration
+companies there--boats to America--they'll send all four of us--they'll
+give us credit for the voyage on account of the children.
+
+THE MOTHER. And when they ask for their mother--
+
+ETCHEPARE [_after a pause_] You'll tell them she's dead.
+
+
+SCENE IV:--_Yanetta is shown in._
+
+YANETTA [_to someone outside_] Very good, Monsieur. [_The door is
+closed_]
+
+THE MOTHER [_without looking at Yanetta_] Then I'll go.
+
+ETCHEPARE [_the same_] Yes. I shall see you again to-night or down there
+to-morrow.
+
+THE MOTHER. Very well.
+
+ETCHEPARE. Directly you get there you'll go and find out about the day
+and hour.
+
+THE MOTHER. Very well.
+
+ETCHEPARE. Till to-morrow then.
+
+THE MOTHER. To-morrow. [_She goes out without glancing at Yanetta_]
+
+YANETTA [_takes a few steps towards her husband, falls on her knees, and
+clasps her hands. In a low voice_] Forgive me!
+
+ETCHEPARE. Never!
+
+YANETTA. Don't say never!
+
+ETCHEPARE. Was the judge lying?
+
+YANETTA. No--he wasn't lying.
+
+ETCHEPARE. You wretched thing!
+
+YANETTA. Yes, I am a wretched thing! Forgive me!
+
+ETCHEPARE. Kill you rather! I could kill you!
+
+YANETTA. Yes, yes! But forgive me!
+
+ETCHEPARE. You're just a loose woman--a loose woman from Paris, with no
+honor, no shame, no honesty even!
+
+YANETTA. Yes! Insult me--strike me!
+
+ETCHEPARE. For ten years you have been lying to me!
+
+YANETTA. Oh, how I wished I could have told you everything! Oh, how many
+times I began that dreadful confession! I never had courage enough. I
+was always afraid of your anger, Pierre, and of the pain I should cause
+you--I saw you were so happy!
+
+ETCHEPARE. You came from up there, fresh from your vice, fresh from
+prison, and you chose me to be your gull.
+
+YANETTA. My God, to think he believes that!
+
+ETCHEPARE. You brought me the leavings of a swindler--the leavings of a
+swindler--and you stole, in my house, the place of an honest woman!
+Your lies have brought the curse of God on my family and it's you who
+are the cause of everything. The misfortune that's just befallen us,
+it's you who are the cause of it, I tell you! You're a pest, accursed,
+damned! Don't say another word to me! Don't speak to me!
+
+YANETTA. Have you no pity, Pierre? Do you suppose I'm not suffering?
+
+ETCHEPARE. If you are suffering you've deserved it! You haven't suffered
+enough yet. But what had I ever done to you that you should choose me
+for your victim? What did I ever do that I should have to bear what I'm
+suffering? You've made me a coward--you've lowered me almost to your own
+level--I ought to have been able to put you out of my mind and my heart
+already! And I can't! And I'm suffering torture, terrible torture--for
+I'm suffering through the love I once had for you. You--you were
+everything to me for ten years--my whole life. You've been everything,
+everything! And now the one hope left me is that I may forget you!
+
+YANETTA. Oh, forgive me!
+
+ETCHEPARE. Never! Never!
+
+YANETTA. Don't say that word--only God has the right to say--never! I
+will come back to you. I'll be only like the head servant--no, the
+lowest if you like! I won't take my place in the home again until you
+tell me to.
+
+ETCHEPARE. We have no house; we have no home. Nothing is left now! And I
+tell you again it's your fault--and it's because you used to be there,
+in the mother's place, my mother's place, you, a lie and a
+sacrilege--it's because of that that misfortune has overtaken us!
+
+YANETTA. I swear to you I'd make you forget it all in time--I'd be so
+humble, so devoted, so repentant. And wherever you go I shall follow
+you. Pierre--think, your children still need me.
+
+ETCHEPARE. My children! You shall never see them again! You shall never
+speak to them. I won't have you kiss them. I won't have you even touch
+them!
+
+YANETTA [_changing her tone_] Ah, no, not that, not that! The children!
+No, you are wrong there! You can deprive me of everything--you can put
+every imaginable shame upon me--you can force me to beg my bread--I'll
+do it willingly. You needn't look at me--you needn't speak to me except
+to abuse me--you can do anything, anything you like. But my children, my
+children--they are mine, the fruit of my body--they are still part of
+me--they are blood of my blood and bone of my bone forever. You might
+cut off one of my arms, and my arm would be a dead thing, and no part of
+myself any more, but you can't stop my children being my children.
+
+ETCHEPARE. You have made yourself unworthy to keep them.
+
+YANETTA. Unworthy! What has unworthiness to do with it? Have I ever
+failed in my duty to them? Have I been a bad mother? Answer me! I
+haven't, have I? Well then, if I haven't been a bad mother, my rights
+over them are as great as ever they were! Unworthy! I might be a
+thousand times more guilty--more unworthy, as you call it--but neither
+you, nor the law, nor the priests, nor God himself would have the right
+to take them from me. I have been to blame as a wife, it's possible, but
+as a mother I've nothing to reproach myself with. Well then--well
+then--no one can steal them from me! And you, who could think of such a
+thing, you're a wretch! Yes, it's to avenge yourself that you want to
+part me from them! You're just a coward! Just a man! There's no
+fatherhood left in your heart--you don't think of them. Yes--you are
+lying--I tell you, you are lying! When you say I'm not worthy to bring
+them up you're lying! It's only a saying--only words. You know it isn't
+true--you know I've nourished them, cared for them, loved them, consoled
+them, and I have taught them to say their prayers every night, and I
+would go on doing so. You know that no other woman will ever fill my
+place--but that makes no difference to you. You forget them--you want to
+punish me, so you want to take them from me. I'm justified in saying to
+you that it's an act of cowardly wickedness and a vile piece of
+vengeance! Ah! The children! You want to gamble with them now. No--to
+take them away from me--think, Pierre, think; it isn't possible, what
+you are saying!
+
+ETCHEPARE. You are right; I am revenging myself! What you think an
+impossibility is done already. My mother has taken the children and gone
+away with them.
+
+YANETTA. I shall find them again.
+
+ETCHEPARE. America is a big country.
+
+YANETTA. I shall find them again!
+
+ETCHEPARE. Then I shall tell them why I have taken them away from you!
+
+YANETTA. Never! Never that! I'll obey you, but swear--
+
+     _The recorder enters._
+
+THE RECORDER. Etchepare, come and sign your discharge. You will be
+released at once.
+
+YANETTA. Wait a moment, Monsieur, wait a moment. [_To Etchepare_] I
+agree to separation if I must. I will disappear--you will never hear of
+me again. But in return for this wicked sacrifice swear solemnly that
+you will never tell them.
+
+ETCHEPARE. I swear.
+
+YANETTA. You swear never to tell them anything that may lessen their
+affection for me?
+
+ETCHEPARE. I swear.
+
+YANETTA. Promise me too--I beg you, Pierre--in the name of our happiness
+and my misery--promise to keep me fresh in their memory--let them pray
+for me, won't you?
+
+ETCHEPARE. I swear it.
+
+YANETTA. Then go--my life is done with.
+
+ETCHEPARE. Good-bye.
+
+     _He goes out with the recorder. At the door the latter meets
+     Mouzon._
+
+THE RECORDER [_to Etchepare_] They are coming to show you the way out.
+
+THE RECORDER [_to Mouzon_] The woman Etchepare is there.
+
+MOUZON. Ah, she's there. Monsieur Vagret has been speaking of her. Well,
+I withdraw my complaint; I ask nothing better than that she shall be set
+at liberty. Now that I am a Councillor I don't want to be coming back
+from Pau every week for the examination. Proceed with the necessary
+formalities.
+
+
+SCENE V:--_Mouzon, Yanetta, the recorder._
+
+MOUZON. Well--in consideration of the time you have been in custody, I
+am willing that you should be set at liberty--provisional liberty. I
+may, perhaps, even withdraw my complaint if you express regret for
+having insulted me.
+
+YANETTA [_calmly_] I do not regret having insulted you.
+
+MOUZON. Do you want to go back to prison?
+
+YANETTA. My poor man, if you only knew how little it matters to me
+whether I go to prison or not!
+
+MOUZON. Why?
+
+YANETTA. Because I have nothing left, neither house, nor home, nor
+husband, nor children. [_She looks at him_] And--I think--I think--
+
+MOUZON. You think?
+
+YANETTA. I think it is you who are the cause of all the trouble.
+
+MOUZON. You are both acquitted, aren't you? What more do you ask?
+
+YANETTA. We have been acquitted, it is true. But all the same, I am no
+longer an honest woman--neither to my husband, nor to my children, nor
+to the world.
+
+MOUZON. If anyone reproaches you with the penalty inflicted upon you
+formerly, if anyone makes any illusion to the time you have spent in
+custody under remand, you have the right to prosecute the offender in
+the courts. He will be punished.
+
+YANETTA. Well! It is because someone reproached me with that old
+conviction that my husband has taken my children from me. That someone
+is a magistrate. Can I have him punished?
+
+MOUZON. No.
+
+YANETTA. Why not? Because he is a magistrate?
+
+MOUZON. No. Because he is the law.
+
+YANETTA. The law! [_Violently_] Then the law is wicked, wicked!
+
+MOUZON. Come, no shouting, no insults, please. [_To the recorder_] Have
+you finished? Then go to the office and have an order made out for her
+discharge.
+
+YANETTA. I'm no scholar; I've not studied the law in books, like you,
+and perhaps for that very reason I know better than you what is just and
+what is not. And I want to ask you a plain question: How is the law
+going to give me back my children and make up to me for the harm it's
+done me?
+
+MOUZON. The law owes you nothing.
+
+YANETTA. The law owes me nothing! Then what are you going to do--you,
+the judge?
+
+MOUZON. A magistrate is not responsible.
+
+YANETTA. Ah, you are not responsible! So you can arrest people just as
+you like, just when you fancy, on a suspicion or even without a
+suspicion; you can bring shame and dishonor on their families; you can
+torture the unhappy, ferret into their past lives, expose their
+misfortunes, dig up forgotten offences, offences which have been atoned
+for and which go back to ten years ago; you can make use of your skill,
+your tricks and lies, and your cruelty to send a man to the foot of the
+scaffold, and worse still, you can drive people into taking a mother's
+children away from her--and after that you say, like Pontius Pilate,
+that you aren't responsible! Not responsible! Perhaps you aren't
+responsible in the eyes of this law of yours, since you tell me you
+aren't, but in the eyes of pure and simple justice, the justice of
+decent people, the justice of God, before that I swear you are
+responsible, and that is why I am going to call you to account!
+
+     _She sees on Mouzon's desk the dagger which he uses as a
+     paper-knife. He turns his back on her. She seizes the knife
+     and puts it down again._
+
+MOUZON. I order you to get out of here.
+
+YANETTA. Listen to me. For the last time I ask you--what do you think
+you can do to make up to me--to give me back all I've lost through your
+fault; what are you going to do to lessen my misery, and how do you
+propose to give me back my children?
+
+MOUZON. I have nothing to say to you. I owe you nothing.
+
+YANETTA. You owe me nothing! You owe me more than life--more than
+everything. My children I shall never see again. What you've taken from
+me is the happiness of every moment of the day--their kisses at
+night--the pride I felt in watching them grow up. Never, never again
+shall I hear them call me "mother." It's as though they were dead--it's
+as though you had killed them. [_She seizes the knife_] Yes! That's your
+work; it's you bad judges have done it; you have nearly made a criminal
+of an innocent man, and you force an honest woman, a mother--to become a
+criminal!
+
+     _She stabs him. He falls._
+
+
+CURTAIN.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Woman on Her Own, False Gods & The Red
+Robe, by Eugène Brieux
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