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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sorrows of Belgium, by Leonid Andreyev.
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 49596 ***</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" />
</div>
<h2>THE</h2>
<h1>SORROWS OF BELGIUM</h1>
<h4>A PLAY IN SIX SCENES</h4>
<h3>By</h3>
<h2>LEONID ANDREYEV</h2>
<h4>AUTHOR OF "ANATHEMA" "THE SEVEN WHO WERE HANGED," ETC.</h4>
<h4>AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION BY</h4>
<h4>HERMAN BERNSTEIN</h4>
<h5>NEW YORK</h5>
<h5>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h5>
<h5>1915</h5>
<hr class="chap" />
<h4>INTRODUCTION</h4>
<p>Leonid Andreyev, the great Russian writer, whose "Anathema,"
"The Seven Who Were Hanged," "The Life of Man" and "Red
Laughter" have attracted universal attention, has now written
the story of the sorrows of the Belgian people. He delineates
the tragedy of Belgium as reflected in the home of the foremost
Belgian poet and thinker—regarded as the conscience of the
Belgian nation.</p>
<p>Leonid Andreyev feels deeply and keenly for the oppressed and
weaker nationalities. He has depicted the victims of this war
with profound sympathy,—the Belgians, and in another literary
masterpiece he analyzed the sufferings of the Jews in Russia
as a result of this war. He described vividly the sense of
shame of the Russian people on account of the Russian official
anti-Jewish policies.</p>
<p>In both these works Leonid Andreyev holds German militarism and
German influences responsible for the wrongs committed against
smaller nationalities.</p>
<p>In his treatise on the tragedy of the Jews in Russia, he writes
of "Russian barbarians" and "German barbarians" as follows:</p>
<p>"If for the Jews themselves the Pale of Settlement, the per cent
norm and other restrictions were a fatal fact, which distorted
all their life, it has been for me, a Russian, something like a
hunch on my back, a monstrous growth, which I received I know
not when and under what conditions. But wherever I may go and
whatever I may do the hunch is always with me; it has disturbed
my sleep at night, and in my waking hours, in the presence of
people, it has filled me with a sensation of confusion and
shame....</p>
<p>"It is necessary for all to understand that the end of Jewish
sufferings is the beginning of our self-respect, without which
Russia cannot live. The dark days of the war will pass and the
German barbarians' of today will once more become cultured
Germans whose voice will again be heard throughout the world.
And it is essential that neither their voice nor any other voice
should call us loudly 'Russian barbarians.'"</p>
<p>Aside from its literary and dramatic value, if this volume
on the sorrows of Belgium will tend to arouse a little more
sympathy for the sufferings of the victims of the war, or if it
will help to call forth in the minds of the people a stronger
abhorrence of the horrors of war, it will have served an
important and worthy purpose.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-left: 70%;">HERMAN BERNSTEIN.</p>
<p><i>May 25, 1915.</i></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h3>THE SORROWS OF BELGIUM</h3>
<hr class="tb" />
<p>
<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHARACTERS</span><br />
<br />
<i>Count Clairmont.</i><br />
<i>Emil Grelieu</i>—A Famous Belgian Author.<br />
<i>Jeanne</i>—His Wife.<br />
<i>Pierre</i> } Their sons.<br />
<i>Maurice</i>}<br />
<i>Lagard</i>—Member of the Cabinet.<br />
<i>General</i>—Adjutant to Count Clairmont.<br />
<i>Insane Girl.</i><br />
<i>François</i>—Gardener.<br />
<i>Henrietta</i> } Grelieu's Servants.<br />
<i>Silvina</i> }<br />
<i>Commander of the German Armies in Belgium</i>.<br />
<i>Von Blumenfeld.</i><br />
<i>Von Ritzau</i> }<br />
<i>Von Stein</i> } Officers.<br />
<i>Von Schauss</i>}<br />
<i>Kloetz</i>—Military Engineer.<br />
<i>Zigler</i>—Telegraphist.<br />
<i>Greitzer.</i><br />
<i>German Officer.</i><br />
<i>Belgian Peasant</i>.<br />
<i>Doctor Langloi.</i><br />
<i>A Chauffeur</i>—A Belgian.<br />
</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<h4>SCENE I</h4>
<p><i>The action takes place in Belgium, at the beginning of the war
of 1914. The scene represents a garden near the villa of the
famous Belgian author, Emil Grelieu. Beyond the tops of low
trees, beyond the stone fence which divides Grelieu's estate
from the neighboring gardens, are seen the outlines of the red
roofs of the houses in the small town, of the Town Hall, and of
an ancient church. There the people already know about the war;
there the church bells are ringing uneasily, while in the garden
there is still peace. A small, splendidly kept flower garden;
beautiful and fragrant flowers; shrubbery in bloom; a nook of
a hothouse. The glass covers are half open. The sun is shining
softly; there is in the air the bluish mist of a warm and quiet
day, and all colors seem tenderly soft; only in the foreground
the colors of the flowers stand out in sharp relief.</i></p>
<p><i>François is sitting and clipping roses at one of the flower
beds. He is an old and deaf, stern Belgian, with long, gray
hair. He holds in his mouth an earthen pipe. François is
working. He does not hear the tolling of the bells. He is alone
in the garden, and it seems to him that all is calm and quiet.</i></p>
<p><i>But something fills him with faint alarm. He hears an
indistinct call. He looks around—but sees no one. He hums to
himself a song without words. Suddenly he stops, straightens
himself, holding the scissors in his hands, and looks around
again</i>.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Who has called me?</p>
<p><i>He sees no one. He looks at the hothouse—it seems to him that
some one is calling him from there.</i></p>
<p>I hear you, Monsieur Emil, I am here.</p>
<p><i>He sees no one. He frowns and cries angrily.</i></p>
<p>Who is calling me? No one here.</p>
<p><i>He looks at the sky, then at the flowers, and resumes his work
quietly.</i></p>
<p>They say I am deaf. But I heard some one calling
me twice: "François!" "François!" No, perhaps
it is my blood, making a noise in my ears.</p>
<p><i>Silence. But his uneasiness does not subside; he listens again.</i></p>
<p>I can still hear some one calling me: "François!"</p>
<p>Very well; here is François, and if anyone needs me he may
call me again. I shall not run. I can't hear the chirping of
the birds; the birds have long since become silent for me. What
nonsense—these birds! Very well, I am deaf—does anyone think I
am going to cry over it?</p>
<p><i>Twitches his mouth into a smile.</i></p>
<p>And my eyes? That is another matter. My eyes! Why are you
forever silent, François? Why should I speak if I do not hear
your foolish answer? It is all nonsense—to talk and to listen.
I can see more than you can hear.</p>
<p><i>Laughs.</i></p>
<p>Yes, I see this. This does not talk either, but bend down to it
and you will learn more than Solomon ever knew. That is what
the Bible says—Solomon. To you the earth is noise and prattle,
while to me it is like a Madonna in colors upon a picture. Like
a Madonna in colors.</p>
<p><i>The bell is ringing. In the distance a youthful voice calls
"Papa!" "Papa!" Then, "François!" Maurice, Emil Grelieu's
younger son, a youth of about 17, appears, coming quickly from
the house. He calls François once more, but François does not
hear. Finally he shouts right next to his ear.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>François, what is the matter with you? I am calling you. I am
calling you. Haven't you seen papa?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p><i>Calmly, without turning around.</i></p>
<p>Did you call me, Maurice? I heard your call long ago.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>You heard me, but did not respond. How obstinate you are!
Haven't you seen papa? I am looking for him everywhere. Quick!
Where is papa?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Papa?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Shouts.</i></p>
<p>Where is papa? Haven't you seen him? Silvina says he went to the
hothouse. Do you hear?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>He is not there. I spoke to Monsieur this morning, but since
then I have not seen him. No.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>What is to be done? How they are tolling! François, what is to
be done—do you hear them tolling?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Ah! I hear. Will you take some roses, my boy?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>You don't understand anything—you are beyond endurance! They
are running in the streets, they are all running there, and papa
is not here. I will run over there, too, at once. Perhaps he is
there. What a day!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Who is running?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>You don't understand anything!</p>
<p><i>Shouts.</i></p>
<p>They have entered Belgium!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Who has entered Belgium?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>They—the Prussians. Can't you understand? It's war! War!
Imagine what will happen. Pierre will have to go, and so will I
go. I will not stay here under any circumstances.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p><i>Straightening himself, dropping the scissors.</i></p>
<p>War? What nonsense, my boy! Who has entered Belgium?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>They—the Prussians. Pierre will go now, and I will go—I will
not stay away under any circumstances, understand? What will
become of Belgium now?—it is hard to conceive it. They entered
Belgium yesterday—do you understand—what scoundrels!</p>
<p><i>In the distance, along the narrow streets of the town, an
uneasy sound of footsteps and wheels is growing rapidly.
Distinct voices and outcries blend into a dull, suppressed,
ominous noise, full of alarm. The tolling, as though tired, now
subsides, now turns almost to a shriek. François tries vainly to
hear something. Then he takes up the scissors again angrily.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>François!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p><i>Sternly.</i></p>
<p>That's all nonsense! What are you prating, my boy? There is no
war—that is impossible.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>You are a foolish old man, yourself! They have entered
Belgium—do you understand—they are here already.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>That's not true.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Why isn't it true?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Because that is impossible. The newspapers print nonsense, and
they have all gone mad. Fools, and nothing more—madmen. What
Prussians? Young man, you have no right to make sport of me like
this.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>But listen—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Prussians! What Prussians? I don't know any Prussians, and I
don't want to know them.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>But understand, old man, they are already bombarding Liège!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>No!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>They have killed many people. What a strange man you are! Don't
you hear the tolling of the bells? The people are on the square.
They are all running. The women are crying. What is that?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p><i>Angrily.</i></p>
<p>You are stepping on the flower bed. Get off!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Don't bother me! Why are they shouting so loudly? Something has
happened there.</p>
<p><i>The sound of a trumpet is heard in the distance. The shouting
of the crowd is growing ever louder. Sounds of the Belgian hymn
are heard faintly. Suddenly an ominous silence follows the
noise, and then the lone sound of the tolling bells.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Now they are quiet.... What does it mean?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Nonsense, nonsense!</p>
<p><i>Infuriated.</i></p>
<p>You are stepping on the flower bed again. Get off! You have all
lost your reason! Go, go! The Prussians!...</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>You have lost your reason!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>I am seventy years old, and you tell me about the Prussians. Go!</p>
<p><i>Again the shouting of the crowd is heard. Silvina, the
chambermaid, runs out of the house and calls: "Monsieur
Maurice!"</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SILVINA</p>
<p>Please, come into the house. Madame Jeanne is calling you.
Madame is going away. Please, come.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>And papa?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SILVINA</p>
<p>He isn't here yet. Come!</p>
<p><i>Both move away. François sits down at the flower bed
impatiently.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>You don't understand, Silvina. He does not believe that there is
a war.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SILVINA</p>
<p>It is very dreadful, Monsieur Maurice. I am afraid—</p>
<p><i>They go out. François looks after them angrily, adjusts his
apron, and prepares to resume his work.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Madmen! I am seventy years old. I am seventy years old, and they
want me to believe a story about Prussians. Nonsense, they are
crazy! Prussians! But it is true that I don't hear anything.</p>
<p><i>Rising, he listens attentively.</i></p>
<p>No, not a sound. Or do I hear something? Oh, the devil take it!
I can't hear a sound. Impossible! No, no, impossible! But what
is that? How could I believe that in this calm sky—in this calm
sky—</p>
<p><i>The din of battle is growing. François listens again and hears
it. He grows thoughtful. His eyes express fright. He looks as
though he had suddenly solved a terrible problem. He moves
to and fro, his head bent down, as though trying to catch the
sounds. Suddenly he throws down the scissors. He is seized with
a feeling of terror. He raises his hands.</i></p>
<p>I hear it. No. No. Now I don't hear a sound. Oh, God, give me
the power to hear!</p>
<p><i>He tries again to catch the fleeting sounds, his head bent,
his neck outstretched. His hair is disheveled. His eyes stare.
Suddenly, by a great effort, he hears the tolling of the bells
and voices full of despair. He retreats and raises his hands
again.</i></p>
<p>My God! They are tolling! They are crying! War! What war? What
war? Eh, who is there—who is shouting "War!"?</p>
<p><i>The sound of the bells and the cries grows louder. Emil Grelieu
appears, walking quickly in the alley</i>.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>What are you shouting, François? Where is Maurice? No one is in
the house.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Is it war?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, yes, it is war. The Prussians have entered Belgium. But you
don't hear anything.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p><i>Painfully trying to catch the sounds.</i></p>
<p>I hear, I hear; are they killing?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, they are killing. The Prussians have entered Belgium. Where
is Maurice?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>But, Monsieur Emil—but, Monsieur, what Prussians? Pardon me; I
am seventy years old, and I lost my sense of hearing long ago.</p>
<p><i>Weeps.</i></p>
<p>Is it really a war?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, it is a real war. I can't understand it either. But the
fighting has already commenced. I can't realize it myself, but
it is war, old man.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p>Tell me, Monsieur. Tell me about it. I believe you as I believe
God. Tell me. I can hear you. Are they killing?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>It is war! What horror, François. It is very hard to understand
it—yes, very hard.</p>
<p><i>Frowns and rubs his high, pale forehead nervously</i>.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRANÇOIS</p>
<p><i>Bent, weeps, his head shaking.</i></p>
<p>And the flowers? Our flowers?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Absentmindedly.</i></p>
<p>Our flowers? Don't cry, François—ah, what is that?</p>
<p><i>The tolling of the bells subsides. The crying and the
shouting of the crowd changes, into a harmonious volume of
sound—somebody is hailed in the distance. An important
announcement seems to have been made there</i>.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Absentmindedly.</i></p>
<p>Our people are expecting the King there—he is on his way to
Liège! Yes, yes—</p>
<p><i>Silence. Suddenly there is a sound like the crash of thunder.
Then it changes into a song—the crowd is singing the Belgian
hymn.</i></p>
<p><i>Curtain</i></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h4>SCENE II</h4>
<p><i>The reception hall in Emil Grelieu's villa. Plenty of air,
light, and flowers. Large, windows overlooking the garden in
bloom. One small window is almost entirely covered with the
leaves of vines.</i></p>
<p><i>In the room are Emil Grelieu and his elder son, Pierre, a
handsome, pale, and frail-looking young man. He is dressed in
military uniform. They pace up and down the room slowly. It
is evident that Pierre is anxious to walk faster, but out of
respect for his father he slackens his pace.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>How many kilometers?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Twenty-five or thirty kilometers to Tirlemont—and here—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Seventy-four or five—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Seventy-five—yes, about a hundred kilometers. It's not far,
father.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Not far. It seemed to me that I heard cannonading. I heard it
last night.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>No, it's hardly possible.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, I was mistaken. But the rays of the searchlights could be
seen. They must be very powerful searchlights. Mamma saw them
too.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Really? You are suffering from insomnia again, father?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I sleep well. A hundred kilometers—a hundred kilometers—</p>
<p><i>Silence. Pierre looks at his father attentively.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Father!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Well? It's too early for you, Pierre—you have three hours yet
before your train starts. I am watching the time.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>I know, father. No, I am thinking of something else—. Father,
tell me, have you still any hopes?</p>
<p><i>Silence.</i></p>
<p>I am hesitating, I feel somewhat embarrassed to speak to
you—you are so much wiser, so far above me, father.... Yes,
yes, it's nonsense, of course, but that which I have learned in
the army during these days gives me very little hope. They are
coming in such a compact mass of people, of iron, machines, arms
and horses, that there is no possibility of stopping them. It
seems to me that seismographs must indicate the place over which
they pass—they press the ground with such force. And we are so
few in number!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, we are very few in number.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Very, very few, father! Dreadfully few! Even if we were
invulnerable and deathless, even if we kept killing them off
day and night, day and night, we would drop from fatigue and
exhaustion before we stopped them. But we are mortal—and they
have terrible guns, father! You are silent? You are thinking of
our Maurice—I have caused you pain?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>There is little of the human in their movements. Do not think
of Maurice—he will live. A human being has a face, Pierre.
Every human being has his own face, but they have no faces.
When I try to picture them to myself, I see only the lights,
projectors, automobiles—those terrible guns—and something
walking, walking. And those vulgar mustaches of Wilhelm—but
that is a mask, an immobile mask, which has stood over Europe
for a quarter of a century—what is behind it? Those vulgar
mustaches—and suddenly so much misery, so much bloodshed and
destruction! It is a mask!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p><i>Almost to himself.</i></p>
<p>If there were only not so many of them, not so many—. Father, I
believe that Maurice will live. He is a lucky boy. But what does
mamma think about it?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>What mamma thinks?</p>
<p><i>Enter François. Sternly, without looking at anyone, he waters
the flowers.</i></p>
<p>And what does he think? Look at him.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>He can hardly hear anything. François!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I don't know whether he hears anything or not. But there was a
time when he did hear. He is silent, Pierre, and he furiously
denies war. He denies it by work—he works alone in the garden
as if nothing had happened. Our house is full of refugees.
Mamma and everyone else in the house are busy, feeding them,
washing the children—mamma is washing them—but he does not
seem to notice anything. He denies war! Now he is bursting from
anxiety to hear or guess what we are saying, but do you see the
expression of his face? If you start to talk to him he will go
away.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>François!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Don't bother him. He wants to be crafty. Perhaps he hears us.
You ask me what mother is thinking of. Do I know? Who can tell?
You see that she is not here, and yet these are your last hours
at home. Yes, in this house—I am speaking of the house. She
is young and resolute as ever, she walks just as lightly and is
just as clear-headed, but she is not here. She is simply not
here, Pierre.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Is she concealing something?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>No, she is not concealing anything, but she has gone into the
depths of her own self, where all is silence and mystery. She is
living through her motherhood again, from the very beginning—do
you understand? when you and Maurice were not yet born—but
in this she is crafty, like François. Sometimes I see clearly
that she is suffering unbearably, that she is terrified by the
war—. But she smiles in answer and then I see something else—I
see how there has suddenly awakened in her the prehistoric
woman—the woman who handed her husband the fighting club—.
Wait, the soldiers are coming again!</p>
<p><i>Military music is heard in the distance, nearing.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Yes, according to the assignment, it is the Ninth Regiment.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Let us hear it, Pierre. I hear this music several times a day.
There it starts on the right, and there it dies down. Always
there.</p>
<p><i>They listen.</i></p>
<p>But they are brave fellows!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Yes.</p>
<p><i>Both listen attentively at the window. François looks at them
askance and tries in vain to hear. The music begins to die out.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Walking away from the window.</i></p>
<p>Yesterday they played the "Marseillaise." But they are brave
fellows!</p>
<p><i>Emil Grelieu's wife enters quickly.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Do you hear it? How beautiful! Even our refugees smiled when
they heard it. Emil, I have brought you some telegrams, here. I
have read them.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>What is it? Let me have them!</p>
<p><i>Reading the telegrams, he staggers to an armchair and sinks
into it. He turns pale.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>What is it, father?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Read!</p>
<p><i>Pierre reads it over the shoulder of his father. The woman
looks at them with an enigmatical expression upon her face.
She sits calmly, her beautiful head thrown back. Emil Grelieu
rises quickly, and both he and his son start to pace the room in
opposite directions.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Do you see?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Do you see?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes! Yes!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>As though indifferently.</i></p>
<p>Emil, was that an interesting library which they have destroyed?
I don't know.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, very. But what are you asking me, Jeanne? How can you speak?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Oh, I speak only of those books! Tell me, were there many books
there?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, many, many!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>And they've burned them?</p>
<p><i>She hums softly in afresh, strong voice.</i></p>
<p>"Only the halo of the arts crowns law, liberty, and the
King!—Law—"</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Books, books.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>And there was also a Cathedral there. Oh, I remember it! Isn't
it true, Emil, that it was a beautiful structure?</p>
<p><i>Hums.</i></p>
<p>"Law, liberty, and the King—"</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Father!</p>
<p>What?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>He walks up and down the room.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Pierre, it will soon be time for you to leave. I'll give you
something to eat at once. Pierre, do you think it is true that
they are killing women and children? I don't know.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>It is true, mother.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>How can you say it, Jeanne? You don't know?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>I say this on account of the children. Yes, there they write
that they are killing children, so they write there. And
all this was crowded upon that little slip of paper—and the
children, as well as the fire—</p>
<p><i>Rises quickly and walks away, humming.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Where are you going, Jeanne?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Nowhere in particular. François, do you hear? They are murdering
our women and children. François! François!</p>
<p><i>Without turning around, François walks out, his shoulders bent.
All look after him. Jeanne goes to the other door with a strange
half-smile.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Mamma!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>I will return directly.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>What shall I call them? What can I call them? My dear Pierre, my
boy, what shall I call them?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>You are greatly agitated, father.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I have always thought, I have always been convinced that words
were at my command, but here I stand before this monstrous,
inexplicable—I don't know, I don't know what to call them. My
heart is crying out, I hear its voice, but the word! Pierre,
you are a student, you are young, your words are direct and
pure—Pierre, find the word!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>You want me to find it, father? Yes, I was a student, and I knew
certain words: Peace, Right, Humanity. But now you see! My heart
is crying too, but I do not know what to call these scoundrels.
Scoundrels? That is not sufficient.</p>
<p><i>In despair.</i></p>
<p>Not sufficient.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>That is not strong enough. Pierre, I have decided—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Decided?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, I am going.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>You, father?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I decided to do it several days ago—even then, at the very
beginning. And I really don't know why I—. Oh, yes, I had to
overcome within me—my love for flowers.</p>
<p><i>Ironically.</i></p>
<p>Yes, Pierre, my love for flowers. Oh, my boy, it is so hard to
change from flowers to iron and blood!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Father, I dare not contradict you.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>No, no, you dare not. It is not necessary. Listen, Pierre, you
must examine me as a physician.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>I am only a student, father.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, but you know enough to say—. You see, Pierre, I must
not burden our little army with a single superfluous sick or
weak man. Isn't that so? I must bring with me strength and
power, not shattered health. Isn't that so? And I am asking
you, Pierre, to examine me, simply as a physician, as a young
physician. But I feel somewhat embarrassed with you—. Must I
take this off, or can you do it without removing this?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>It can be done this way.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I think so, too. And—must I tell you everything, or—? At any
rate, I will tell you that I have not had any serious ailments,
and for my years I am a rather strong, healthy man. You know
what a life I am leading.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>That is unnecessary, father.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>It is necessary. You are a physician. I want to say that in my
life there were none of those unwholesome—and bad excesses. Oh,
the devil take it, how hard it is to speak of it.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Papa, I know all this.</p>
<p><i>Quickly kisses his father's hand. Silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>But it is necessary to take my pulse, Pierre, I beg of you.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p><i>Smiling faintly.</i></p>
<p>It isn't necessary to do even that. As a physician, I can tell
you that you are healthy, but—you are unfit for war, you are
unfit for war, father! I am listening to you and I feel like
crying, father.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Thoughtfully.</i></p>
<p>Yes, yes. But perhaps it is not necessary to cry. Do you think,
Pierre, that I should not kill? Pierre, you think, that I, Emil
Grelieu, must not kill under any circumstances and at any time?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p><i>Softly.</i></p>
<p>I dare not touch upon your conscience, father.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, that is a terrible question for a man. I must kill,
Pierre. Of course, I could take your gun, but not to fire—no,
that would have been disgusting, a sacrilegious deception! When
my humble people are condemned to kill, who am I that I should
keep my hands clean? That would be disgusting cleanliness,
obnoxious saintliness. My humble nation did not desire to kill,
but it was forced, and it has become a murderer. So I, too, must
become a murderer, together with my nation. Upon whose shoulders
will I place the sin—upon the shoulders of our youths and
children? No, Pierre. And if ever the Higher Conscience of the
world will call my dear people to the terrible accounting, if
it will call you and Maurice, my children, and will say to you:
"What have you done? You have murdered!" I will come forward and
will say: "First you must judge me; I have also murdered—and
you know that I am an honest man!"</p>
<p><i>Pierre sits motionless, his face covered with his hands. Enter
Jeanne, unnoticed.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p><i>Uncovering his face.</i></p>
<p>But you must not die! You have no right!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Loudly, and with contempt.</i></p>
<p>Oh, death!</p>
<p><i>They notice Jeanne, and grow silent. Jeanne sits down and
speaks in the same tone of strange, almost cheerful calm.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Emil, she is here again.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes? She is here again. Where has she been the last two nights?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>She does not know herself. Emil, her dress and her hands were in
blood.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>She is wounded?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>No, it is not her own blood, and by the color I could not tell
whose blood it is.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Who is that, mother?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>A girl. Just a girl. She's insane. I have combed her hair and
put a clean dress on her. She has beautiful hair. Emil, I have
heard something—I understand that you want to go—?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Together with your children, Emil?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes. Pierre has examined me and finds that I am fit to enter the
ranks.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>You intend to go tomorrow?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>You cannot manage it today. Pierre, you have only an hour and a
half left.</p>
<p><i>Silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Mamma! Tell him that he must not—Forgive me, father!—that he
should not go. Isn't that true, mother? Tell him! He has given
to the nation his two sons—what more should he give? He has no
right to give more.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>More, Pierre?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Yes,—his life. You love him; you, yourself, would die if he
were killed—tell him that, mother!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes, I love him. I love you, too.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Oh, what are we, Maurice and I? But he! Just as they have no
right to destroy temples in war or to bum libraries, just as
they have no right to touch the eternal, so he—he—has no right
to die. I am speaking not as your son, no; but to kill Emil
Grelieu—that would be worse than to bum books. Listen to me!
You have brought me into this world. Listen to me!—although I
am young and should be silent—Listen to me! They have already
robbed us. They have deprived us of our land and of the air;
they have destroyed our treasures which have been created
by the genius of our people, and now we would cast our best
men into their jaws! What does that mean? What will remain of
us? Let them kill us all, let our land be turned into a waste
desert, let all living creatures be burned to death, but as long
as he lives, Belgium is alive! What is Belgium without him? Oh,
do not be silent, mother! Tell him!</p>
<p><i>Silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Somewhat sternly.</i></p>
<p>Calm yourself, Pierre!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yesterday I—no, Pierre, that isn't what I was going to say—I
don't know anything about it. How could I know? But yesterday
I—it is hard to get vegetables, and even bread, here—so I went
to town, and for some reason we did not go in that direction,
but nearer the field of battle—. How strange it is that we
found ourselves there! And there I saw them coming—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Whom?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Our soldiers. They were coming from there—where the battle
raged for four days. There were not many of them—about a
hundred or two hundred. But we all—there were so many people in
the streets—we all stepped back to the wall in order to make
way for them. Emil, just think of it; how strange! They did not
see us, and we would have been in their way! They were black
from smoke, from mud, from dried blood, and they were swaying
from fatigue. They were all thin—as consumptives. But that is
nothing, that is all nothing. Their eyes—what was it, Emil?
They did not see their surroundings, they still reflected that
which they had seen there—fire and smoke and death—and what
else? Some one said: "Here are people returning from hell." We
all bowed to them, we bowed to them, but they did not see that
either. Is that possible, Emil?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, Jeanne, that is possible.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>And he will go to that inferno?</p>
<p><i>Silence. Emil Grelieu walks over to his wife and kisses her
hand. She looks at his head with a smile. Suddenly she rises.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Forgive me; there is something else I must say—</p>
<p><i>She moves quickly and lightly, but suddenly, as though
stumbling over an invisible obstacle, falls on one knee. Then
she tries to rise, kneels, pale and still smiling, bending to
one side. They rush over to her and lift her from the ground.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Mamma! Mamma!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>You have a headache? Jeanne, my dearest, what ails you?</p>
<p><i>She pushes them aside, stands up firmly, trying to conceal her
nervousness.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What is it? What? Don't trouble, Emil! My head? No, no! My foot
slipped—you know, the one that pained me. You see, I can walk
now.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>A glass of water, Pierre.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What for? How absurd!</p>
<p><i>But Pierre had already gone out. Jeanne sits down, hangs her
head, as one guilty, endeavoring not to look into his eyes.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What an excitable youth—your Pierre! Did you hear what he said?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Significantly.</i></p>
<p>Jeanne!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What? No, no—why do you look at me this way? No—I am telling
you.</p>
<p><i>Pierre brings her water, but Jeanne does not drink it.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Thank you, Pierre, but I don't want it.</p>
<p><i>Silence.</i></p>
<p>How fragrant the flowers are. Pierre, please give me that
rose—yes, that one. Thank you. How fresh it is, Emil, and what
a fine fragrance—come over here, Emil!</p>
<p><i>Emil Grelieu goes over to her and kisses the hand in which she
holds the rose. Looks at her.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Lowering her hand.</i></p>
<p>No; I have asked for this flower simply because its fragrance
seems to me immortal—it is always the same—as the sky. How
strange it is, always the same. And when you bring it close to
your face, and close to your eyes, it seems to you that there is
nothing except this red rose and the blue sky. Nothing but the
red rose and the distant, pale—very pale—blue sky....</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Pierre! Listen to me, my boy! People speak of this only at
night, when they are alone with their souls—and she knows it,
but you do not know it yet. Don't you know it, Jeanne?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Trembling, opening her eyes.</i></p>
<p>Yes, I know, Emil.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>The life of the poet does not belong to him. The roof over the
heads of people, which shelters them—all that is a phantom for
me, and my life does not belong to me. I am always far away, not
here—I am always where I am not. You think of finding me among
the living, while I am dead; you are afraid of finding me in
death, mute, cold, doomed to decay, while I live and sing aloud
from my grave. Death which makes people mute, which leaves the
imprint of silence upon the bravest lips, restores the voice
to the poet. Dead, I speak more loudly than alive. Dead, I am
alive! Am I—just think of it, Pierre, my boy,—am I to fear
death when in my most persistent searches I could not find the
boundary between life and death, when in my feelings I mix life
and death into one—as two strong, rare kinds of wine? Just
think of it, my boy!</p>
<p><i>Silence. Emil Grelieu looks at his son, smiling. Pierre has
covered his face with his hands. The woman is apparently calm.
She turns her eyes from her weeping son to her husband.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p><i>Uncovering his face.</i></p>
<p>Forgive me, father!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Take this rose, Pierre, and when it fades and falls apart tear
down another rose—it will have the same fragrance as this one.
You are a foolish little boy, Pierre, but I am also foolish,
although Emil is so kind that he thinks differently. Will you be
in the same regiment, Emil?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>No, hardly, Jeanne.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p>Father, it is better that we be in the same regiment. I will
arrange it, father—will you permit me? And I will teach you how
to march—. You know, I am going to be your superior officer.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Smiling.</i></p>
<p>Very well.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Goes out singing in a low voice.</i></p>
<p>"Only the halo of the arts is crowning—law, liberty, and the
King." Who is that? Ah, you! Look, Pierre, here is the girl you
wished to see. Come in, come in, my dear child! Don't be afraid,
come in! You know him. That's my husband. He is a very good man
and will do you no harm. And this is my son, Pierre. Give him
your hand.</p>
<p><i>A girl enters; she is frail, very pale, and beautiful. She
wears a black dress, her hair is combed neatly, and she is
modest in her demeanor. Her eyes reflect fright and sorrow. She
is followed by the chambermaid, Silvina, a kind, elderly woman
in a white cap; by Madame Henrietta, and another woman in the
service of the Grelieu household. They stop at the threshold
and watch the girl curiously. The elder woman is weeping as she
looks at her.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GIRL</p>
<p><i>Stretching forth her hand to Pierre.</i></p>
<p>Oh, that is a soldier! Be so kind, soldier, tell me how to go to
Lonua. I have lost my way.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p><i>Confused.</i></p>
<p>I do not know, Mademoiselle.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GIRL</p>
<p><i>Looking at everybody mournfully.</i></p>
<p>Who knows? It is time for me to go.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Cautiously and tenderly leading her to a seat.</i></p>
<p>Sit down, child, take a rest, my dear, give your poor feet a
rest. Pierre, her feet are wounded, yet she wants to walk all
the time.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">ELDERLY WOMAN</p>
<p>I wanted to stop her, Monsieur Pierre, but it is impossible to
stop her. If we close the door before her the poor girl beats
her head against the walls, like a bird in a cage. Poor girl!</p>
<p><i>Dries her tears. François enters from the garden and occupies
himself again with the flowers. He glances at the girl from time
to time. It is evident that he is making painful efforts to hear
and understand what is going on.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GIRL</p>
<p>It is time for me to go.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Rest yourself, here, my child! Why should you leave? At night it
is so terrible on the roads. There, in the dark air, bullets are
buzzing instead of our dear bees; there wicked people, vicious
beasts are roaming. And there is no one who can tell you, for
there is no one who knows how to go to Lonua.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GIRL</p>
<p>Don't you know how I could find my way to Lonua?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PIERRE</p>
<p><i>Softly.</i></p>
<p>What is she asking?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Oh, you may speak louder; she can hear as little as François.
She is asking about the village which the Prussians have set on
fire. Her home used to be there—now there are only ruins and
corpses there. There is no road that leads to Lonua!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GIRL</p>
<p>Don't you know it, either? No one knows. I have asked everybody,
and no one can tell me how to find my way to Lonua. I must
hurry. They are waiting for me there.</p>
<p><i>She rises quickly and walks over to François.</i></p>
<p>Tell me; you are kindhearted! Don't you know the way to Lonua?</p>
<p><i>François looks at her intently. Silently he turns away and
walks out, stooping.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Seating her again.</i></p>
<p>Sit down, little girl. He does not know.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GIRL</p>
<p><i>Sadly.</i></p>
<p>I am asking, and they are silent.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I suppose she is also asking the bodies of the dead that lie in
the fields and in the ditches how to go to Lonua.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Her hands and her dress were bloodstained. She was walking all
night. Take a rest, my little one! I will hold you in my arms,
and you will feel better and more comfortable, my little child.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GIRL</p>
<p><i>Softly.</i></p>
<p>Tell me, how can I find my way to Lonua?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes, yes, come! Emil, I will go with her to my room. There she
will feel more comfortable. Come along, my dear. I'll hold you.
Come!</p>
<p><i>They go out. The other women follow them. Emil Grelieu and
Pierre remain.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Lonua! A quiet little village which no one ever noticed
before—houses, trees, and flowers. Where is it now? Who knows
the way to that little village? Pierre, the soul of our people
is roaming about in the watches of the night, asking the dead
how to find the way to Lonua! Pierre, I cannot endure it any
longer! I am suffocating from hatred and anger! Oh, weep,
you German Nation—bitter will be the fate of your children,
terrible will be your disgrace before the judgment of the free
nations!</p>
<p><i>Curtain</i></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h4>SCENE III</h4>
<p><i>Night. The dark silhouette of Emil Grelieu's villa stands
out in the background. The gatekeeper's house is seen among
the trees, a dim light in the window. At the cast-iron fence
frightened women are huddled together, watching the fire in the
distance. An alarming redness has covered the sky; only in the
zenith is the sky dark. The reflection of the fire falls upon
objects and people, casting strange shadows against the mirrors
of the mute and dark villa. The voices sound muffled and timid;
there are frequent pauses and prolonged sighs. Three women</i>.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>My God, my God! How terrible it is! It is burning and burning,
and there is no end to the fire!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>Yesterday it was burning further away, and tonight the fire is
nearer. It is growing nearer. O Lord!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>It is burning and burning, there is no end to the fire! Today
the sun was covered in a mist.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>It is forever burning, and the sun is growing ever darker! Now
it is lighter at night than in the daytime!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SILVINA</p>
<p>I am afraid!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>Be silent, Silvina, be silent!</p>
<p><i>Silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>I can't hear a sound. What is binning there? If I close my eyes
it seems to me that nothing is going on there. It is so quiet!
Even the dogs are not barking!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>I can see all that is going on there even with my eyes closed.
Look; it seems the fire is spreading!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SILVINA</p>
<p>Oh, I am afraid!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN Where is it burning?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>I don't know. It is burning and burning, and there is no end to
the fire! It may be that they have all perished by this time.
It may be that something terrible is going on there, and we are
looking on and know nothing.</p>
<p><i>A fourth woman approaches them quietly.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>Good evening!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SILVINA</p>
<p><i>With restraint.</i></p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>Oh, you have frightened us! Good evening, neighbor!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>Good evening, Madame Henrietta! Never mind my coming here—it
is terrible to stay in the house! I guessed that you were not
sleeping, but here, watching. You can see well from this spot.
Don't you know where the fire is?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>No. And we can't hear a sound—how quiet!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>It is burning and burning. Haven't you heard anything about your
husband?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>No, nothing. I have already stopped weeping.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>And with whom are your children just now?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>Alone. They are asleep. Is it true that Monsieur Pierre was
killed? I've heard about it.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p><i>Agitated.</i></p>
<p>Just imagine! I don't know! I simply cannot understand what is
going on! You see, there is no one in the house now, and we are
afraid to sleep there—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>The three of us sleep here, in the gatekeeper's house.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>I am afraid to look into that house even in the daytime—the
house is so large and so empty! And there are no men there, not
a soul—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>Is it true that François has gone to shoot the Prussians? I have
heard about it.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>Maybe. Everybody is talking about it, but we don't know. He
disappeared quietly, like a mouse.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>He will be hanged—the Prussians hang such people!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>Wait, wait! Today, while I was in the garden, I heard the
telephone ringing in the house; it was ringing for a long time.
I was frightened, but I went in after all—and, just think of
it! Some one said: "Monsieur Pierre was killed!"</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>And nothing more?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>Nothing more; not a word! All grew quiet again. I felt so bad
and was so frightened that I could hardly run out. Now I will
not enter that house for anything!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>Whose voice was it?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>Madame Henrietta says it was an unfamiliar voice.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>Yes, an unfamiliar voice.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>Look! There seems to be a light in the windows of the
house—somebody is there!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SILVINA</p>
<p>Oh, I am afraid! I can't bear it!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>Oh, what are you saying; what are you saying? There is no one
there!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>That's from the redness of the sky!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>What if some one is ringing there again?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>How is that possible? At night?</p>
<p><i>All listen. Silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>What will become of us? They are coming this way, and there is
nothing that can stop them!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>I wish I might die now! When you are dead, you don't hear or see
anything.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>It keeps on all night like this—it is burning and burning! And
in the daytime it will again be hard to see things on account of
the smoke; and the bread will smell of burning! What is going on
there?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>They have killed Monsieur Pierre.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>They have killed him? Killed him?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SILVINA</p>
<p>You must not speak of it! My God, whither should I go! I cannot
bear this. I cannot understand it!</p>
<p><i>Weeps softly.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>They say there are twenty millions of them, and they have
already set Paris on fire. They say they have cannon which can
hit a hundred kilometers away.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>My God, my God! And all that is coming upon us!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>Merciful God, have pity on us!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>And they are flying and they are hurling bombs from
airships—terrible bombs, which destroy entire cities!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>My God! What have they done with the sky! Before this You were
alone in the sky, and now those base Prussians are there too!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>Before this, when my soul wanted rest and joy I looked at the
sky, but now there is no place where a poor soul can find rest
and joy!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>They have taken everything away from our Belgium—even the sky!
I wish I could die at once! There is no air to breathe now!</p>
<p><i>Suddenly frightened.</i></p>
<p>Listen! Don't you think that now my husband, my husband—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">HENRIETTA</p>
<p>No, no!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">FOURTH WOMAN</p>
<p>Why is the sky so red? What is it that is burning there?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SECOND WOMAN</p>
<p>Have mercy on us, O God! The fire seems to be moving toward us!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;"><i>Silence. The redness of the flames seems to be swaying over the
earth.</i></p>
<p><i>Curtain</i></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h4>SCENE IV</h4>
<p><i>Dawn. The sun has already risen, but it is hidden behind the
heavy mist and smoke.</i></p>
<p><i>A large room in Emil Grelieu's villa, which has been turned
into a sickroom. There are two wounded there, Grelieu himself,
with a serious wound in his shoulder, and his son Maurice, with
a light wound on his right arm. The large window, covered with
half transparent curtains, admits a faint bluish light. The
wounded appear to be asleep. In an armchair at the bedside of
Grelieu there is a motionless figure in white, Jeanne</i>.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Softly.</i></p>
<p>Jeanne!</p>
<p><i>She leans over the bed quickly</i>.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Shall I give you some water?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>No. You are tired.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Oh, no, not at all. I was dozing all night. Can't you fall
asleep, Emil?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>What time is it?</p>
<p><i>She goes over to the window quietly, and pushing the curtain
aside slightly, looks at her little watch. Then she returns just
as quietly.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>It is still early. Perhaps you will try to fall asleep, Emil? It
seems to me that you have been suffering great pain; you have
been groaning all night.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>No, I am feeling better. How is the weather this morning?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Nasty weather, Emil; you can't see the sun. Try to sleep.</p>
<p><i>Silence. Suddenly Maurice utters a cry in his sleep; the cry
turns into a groan and indistinct mumbling. Jeanne walks over to
him and listens, then returns to her seat.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Is the boy getting on well?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Don't worry, Emil. He only said a few words in his sleep.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>He has done it several times tonight.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>I am afraid that he is disturbing you. We can have him removed
to another room and Henrietta will stay with him. The boy's
blood is in good condition. In another week, I believe, we shall
be able to remove the bandage from his arm.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>No, let him stay here, Jeanne.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What is it, my dear?</p>
<p><i>She kneels at his bed and kisses his hand carefully.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Jeanne!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>I think your fever has gone down, my dear.</p>
<p><i>Impresses another kiss upon his hand and clings to it.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>You are my love, Jeanne.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Do not speak, do not speak. Don't agitate yourself.</p>
<p><i>A brief moment of silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Moving his head restlessly.</i></p>
<p>It is so hard to breathe here, the air——</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>The window has been open all night, my dear. There is not a
breeze outside.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>There is smoke.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Utters a cry once more, then mutters</i>—</p>
<p>Stop, stop, stop!</p>
<p><i>Again indistinctly.</i></p>
<p>It is burning, it is burning! Oh! Who is going to the battery,
who is going to the battery——</p>
<p><i>He mutters and then grows silent.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>What painful dreams!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>That's nothing; the boy always used to talk in his sleep.
Yesterday he looked so well.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Jeanne!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What is it, my dear?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Sit down.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Very well.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Jeanne.... Are you thinking about Pierre?</p>
<p><i>Silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Softly.</i></p>
<p>Don't speak of him.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>You are right. Death is not so terrible. Isn't that true, Jeanne?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>After a brief pause.</i></p>
<p>That's true.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>We shall follow him later. He will not come here, but we shall
go to him. I was thinking of it at night. It is so clear. Do you
remember the red rose which you gave him? I remember it.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>It is so clear. Jeanne, lean over me. You are the best woman in
the world.</p>
<p><i>Silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Tossing about in his bed.</i></p>
<p>It is so hard to breathe.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>My dear——</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>No, that's nothing. The night is tormenting me. Jeanne, was I
dreaming, or have I really heard cannonading?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>You really heard it, at about five o'clock. But very far away,
Emil—it was hardly audible. Close your eyes, my dear, rest
yourself.</p>
<p><i>Silence</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Faintly.</i></p>
<p>Mamma!</p>
<p><i>Jeanne walks over to him quietly.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Are you awake?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Yes. I have slept enough. How is father?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>He is awake.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Good morning, Maurice.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Good morning, papa. How do you feel? I am feeling well.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I, too, am feeling well. Jeanne, you may draw the curtain aside.
I can't sleep any longer.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Very well. What a nasty day! Still it will be easier for you to
breathe when it is light.</p>
<p><i>She draws the curtain aside slowly, so as not to make it too
light at once. Beyond the large window vague silhouettes of the
trees are seen at the window frames and several withered, bent
flowers. Maurice is trying to adjust the screen.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What are you doing, Maurice?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>My coat—Never mind, I'll fix it myself.</p>
<p><i>Guiltily.</i></p>
<p>No, mamma, you had better help me.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Going behind the screen.</i></p>
<p>What a foolish boy you are, Maurice.</p>
<p><i>Behind the screen.</i></p>
<p>Be careful, be careful, that's the way. Don't hurry, be careful.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Behind the screen.</i></p>
<p>Pin this for me right here, as you did yesterday. That's very
good.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Behind the screen.</i></p>
<p>Of course. Wait, you'll kiss me later—. Well? That's the way.</p>
<p><i>Maurice comes out, his right arm dressed in a bandage. He goes
over to his father and first kisses his hand, then, upon a sign
from his eyes, he kisses him on the lips.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Good morning, good morning, my dear boy.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Looking around at the screen, where his mother is putting the
bed in order.</i></p>
<p>Papa, look!</p>
<p><i>He takes his hand out of the bandage and straightens it
quickly. Then he puts it back just as quickly. Emil Grelieu
threatens him with his finger. Jeanne puts the screen aside, and
the bed is already in order.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>I am through now. Maurice, come to the bathroom. I'll wash you.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Oh, no; under no circumstances. I'll wash myself today. Last
night I washed myself with my left hand and it was very fine.</p>
<p><i>Walking over to the open window.</i></p>
<p>How nasty it is. These scoundrels have spoiled the day. Still,
it is warm and there is the smell of flowers. It's good, papa;
it is very fine.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, it is pleasant.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Well, I am going.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Clean your teeth; you didn't do it yesterday, Maurice.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Grumbling. </i></p>
<p>What's the use of it now? Very well, I'll do it.</p>
<p><i>At the door. </i></p>
<p>Papa, do you know, well have good news today; I feel it.</p>
<p><i>He is heard calling in a ringing voice, "Silvina."</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I feel better.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>I'll let you have your coffee directly. You are looking much
better today, much better.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>What is this?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Perfume, with water. I'll bathe your face with it That's the
way. Now I again have little children to wash. You see how
pleasant it feels.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes. What did he say about good news?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>He didn't mean anything. He is very happy because he is a hero.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Do you know any news?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Irresolutely.</i></p>
<p>Nothing. What news could there be?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Tell me, Jeanne; you were firmer before. Tell me my dear.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Was I firmer? Perhaps.... I have grown accustomed to talk to
you softly at night. Well—how shall I tell it to you? They are
coming.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Coming?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes. You know their numbers and ours. Don't be excited, but I
think that it will be necessary for us to leave for Antwerp
today.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Are they near?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes, they are near. Very near.</p>
<p><i>Sings softly.</i></p>
<p>"Le Roi, la Loi, la Liberté." Very near. I have not told you
that the King inquired yesterday about your health. I answered
that you were feeling better and that you will be able to leave
today.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Of course I am able to leave today. And what did he say about
them?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What did the King say?</p>
<p><i>Singing the same tune.</i></p>
<p>He said that their numbers were too great.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>What else did he say? What else, Jeanne?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What else? He said that there was a God and there was
righteousness. That's what I believe I heard him say—that there
was still a God and that righteousness was still in existence.
How old these words are, Emil! But it is so good that they still
exist.</p>
<p><i>Silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, in the daytime you are so different. Where do you get so
much strength, Jeanne?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Where?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I am forever looking at your hair. I am wondering why it hasn't
turned gray.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>I dye it at night, Emil. I'll bring in some more flowers. Now
it is very cozy here. Oh, yes, I haven't told you yet—some one
will be here to see you today—Secretary Lagard and some one
else by the name of Count Clairmont.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Count Clairmont? I don't know him.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>It is not necessary that you should know him. He is simply known
as Count Clairmont, Count Clairmont—. That's a good name for a
very good man.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I know a very good man in Belgium—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Tsh! You must not know anything. You must only remember—Count
Clairmont. They have some important matters to discuss with you,
I believe. And they'll send you an automobile, to take you to
Antwerp.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Smiling.</i></p>
<p>Count Clairmont?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Also smiling.</i></p>
<p>Yes. You are loved by everybody, but if I were a King, I would
have sent you an aeroplane.</p>
<p><i>Throwing back her hands in sorrow which she is trying vainly to
suppress.</i></p>
<p>Ah, how good it would be now to rise from the ground and
fly—and fly for a long, long time.</p>
<p><i>Enter Maurice.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>I am ready now, I have cleaned my teeth. I've even taken a walk
in the garden. But I have never before noticed that we have such
a beautiful garden! Papa, our garden is wonderfully beautiful!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Coffee will be ready directly. If he disturbs you with his talk,
call me, Emil.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Oh, I did not mean to disturb you. Forgive me, papa. I'll not
disturb you any more.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>You may speak, speak. I am feeling quite well, quite well.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>But you must save your strength, don't forget that, Emil.</p>
<p><i>Exit.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Sitting down quietly at the window.</i></p>
<p>Perhaps I really ought not to speak, papa?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Smiling faintly.</i></p>
<p>Can you be silent?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Blushing.</i></p>
<p>No, father, I cannot just now. I suppose I seem to you very
young.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>And what do you think of it yourself?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Blushing again.</i></p>
<p>I am no longer as young as I was three weeks ago. Yes, only
three weeks ago—I remember the tolling of the bells in our
church, I remember how I teased François. How strange that
François has been lost and no one knows where he is. What does
it mean that a human being is lost and no one knows where he is?
Before, one could see everything on earth.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Papa! Why do they hang such people as François? That is cruel
and stupid. Forgive me for speaking so harshly. But need an old
man love his fatherland less than I love it, for instance? The
old people love it even more intensely. Let everyone fight as he
can. I am not tiring you, am I? An old man came to us, he was
very feeble, he asked for bullets—well, let them hang me too—I
gave him bullets. A few of our regiment made sport of him, but
he said: "If only one Prussian bullet will strike me, it means
that the Prussians will have one bullet less." That appealed to
me.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, that appeals to me, too. Have you heard the cannonading at
dawn?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>No. Why, was there any cannonading?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes. I heard cannonading. Did mamma tell you that they are
coming nearer and nearer? They are approaching.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Rising.</i></p>
<p>Really? Impossible!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>They are coming, and we must leave for Antwerp today.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Yes.</p>
<p><i>He rises and walks back and forth, forgetting his wounded arm.
He is greatly agitated. Clenches his fist.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Father, tell me: What do you think of the present state of
affairs?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Mamma says there is a God and there is righteousness.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Raising his hand.</i></p>
<p>Mamma says——Let God bless mamma! I don't know—I—. Very
well, very well. We shall see; we shall see!</p>
<p><i>His face twitches like a child's face. He is trying to repress
his tears.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>I still owe them something for Pierre. Forgive me, father; I
don't know whether I have a right to say this or not, but I am
altogether different from you. It is wicked but I can't help it.
I was looking this morning at your flowers in the garden and I
felt so sorry—sorry for you, because you had grown them. Those
rascals!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Maurice!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>The scoundrels! I don't want to consider them human beings, and
I shall not consider them human beings.</p>
<p><i>Enter Jeanne.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What is it, Maurice? That isn't right.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Very well.</p>
<p><i>As he passes he embraces his mother with his left hand and
kisses her.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>You had better sit down. It is dangerous for your health to walk
around this way.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Sit down, Maurice.</p>
<p><i>Maurice sits down at the window facing the garden. Emil Grelieu
smiles sadly and closes his eyes. Silvina, the maid, brings in
coffee and sets it on the table near Grelieu's bed.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SILVINA</p>
<p>Good morning, Monsieur Emil.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Opening his eyes.</i></p>
<p>Good morning, Silvina.</p>
<p><i>Exit Silvina.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Go and have your breakfast, Maurice.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Without turning around.</i></p>
<p>I don't want any breakfast. Mamma, I'll take off my bandage
tomorrow.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Laughing.</i></p>
<p>Soldier, is it possible that you are capricious?</p>
<p><i>Silence. Jeanne helps Emil Grelieu with his coffee.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>That's the way. Is it convenient for you this way, or do you
want to drink it with a spoon?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Oh, my poor head, it is so weak—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Going over to him.</i></p>
<p>Forgive me, father, I'll not do it any more. I was foolishly
excited, but do you know I could not endure it. May I have a
cup, mamma?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes, this is yours. You feel better now?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Yes, I do.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I am feeling perfectly well today, Jeanne. When is the bandage
to be changed?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Later. Count Clairmont will bring his surgeon along with him.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Who is that, mamma? Have I seen him?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>You'll see him. But, please, Maurice, when you see him, don't
open your mouth so wide. You have a habit—you open your mouth
and then you forget about it.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Blushing.</i></p>
<p>You are both looking at me and smiling. But I have time yet to
grow. I have time yet to grow.</p>
<p><i>The sound of automobiles is heard.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Rising quickly.</i></p>
<p>I think they are here. Maurice, this is only Count Clairmont,
don't forget. I'll be back directly. They will speak with you
about a very, very important matter, Emil, but you must not be
agitated.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes, I know.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Kissing him quickly.</i></p>
<p>I am going.</p>
<p><i>Exit, almost colliding with Silvina, who is excited.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Whispering.</i></p>
<p>Who is it, Silvina?</p>
<p><i>Silvina makes some answer in mingled delight and awe. Maurice's
face assumes the same expression as Silvina's. Silvina goes out.
Maurice walks quickly to the window and raises his left hand to
his forehead, straightening himself in military fashion. Thus he
stands until the others notice him.</i></p>
<p><i>Enter Jeanne, Count Clairmont, followed by Secretary Lagard and
the Count's adjudant, an elderly General of stem appearance,
with numerous decorations upon his chest. The Count himself
is tall, well built and young, in a modest officer's uniform,
without any medals to signify his high station. He carries
himself very modestly, almost bashfully, but overcoming his
first uneasiness, he speaks warmly and powerfully and freely.
His gestures are swift. All treat him with profound respect.</i></p>
<p><i>Lagard is a strong old man with a leonine gray head. He speaks
simply, his gestures are calm and resolute. It is evident that
he is in the habit of speaking from a platform.</i></p>
<p><i>Jeanne holds a large bouquet of flowers in her hands. Count
Clairmont walks directly toward Grelieu's bedside.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p><i>Confused.</i></p>
<p>I have come to shake hands with you, my dear master. Oh, but
do not make a single unnecessary movement, not a single one,
otherwise I shall be very unhappy!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I am deeply moved, I am happy.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>No, no, don't speak that way. Here stands before you only a man
who has learned to think from your books. But see what they have
done to you—look, Lagard!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>How are you, Grelieu? I, too, want to shake your hand. Today I
am a Secretary by the will of Fate, but yesterday I was only a
physician, and I may congratulate you—you have a kind hand. Let
me feel your pulse.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GENERAL</p>
<p><i>Coming forward modestly.</i></p>
<p>Allow me, too, in the name of this entire army of ours to
express to you our admiration, Monsieur Grelieu!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I thank you. I am feeling perfectly well, Lagard.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>But perhaps it is necessary to have a surgeon?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>He can listen and talk, Count. He is smiling—he can listen.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p><i>Noticing Maurice, confused.</i></p>
<p>Oh! who is this? Please put down your hand—you are wounded.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>I am so happy, Count.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>This is our second son. Our first son, Pierre, was killed at
Liège—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>I dare not console you, Madame Grelieu. Give me your hand,
Maurice.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Oh, Count! I am only a soldier. I dare not—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>My dear young man, I, too, am nothing but a soldier now. Your
hand, comrade. That's the way. Master! My children and my wife
have sent you flowers—but where are they? Oh! how absentminded
I am.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Here they are, Count.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>Thank you. But I did not know that your flowers were better than
mine, for my flowers smell of smoke.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>Like all Belgium.</p>
<p><i>To Count Clairmont.</i></p>
<p>His pulse is good. Grelieu, we have come to you not only to
express our sympathy. Through me all the working people of
Belgium are shaking your hand.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I am proud of it, Lagard.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>But we are just as proud. Yes; there is something we must
discuss with you. Count Clairmont did not wish to disturb you,
but I said: "Let him die, but before that we must speak to him."
Isn't that so, comrade?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I am not dying. Maurice, I think you had better go out.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p><i>Quickly.</i></p>
<p>Oh, no, no. He is your son, Grelieu, and he should be present to
hear what his father will say. Oh, I should have been proud to
have such a father.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>Our Count is a very fine young man—Pardon me, Count, I have
again upset our—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>That's nothing, I have already grown accustomed to it. Master,
it is necessary for you and your family to leave for Antwerp
today.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Are our affairs in such a critical condition?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>What is there to tell? Things are in bad shape, very bad. That
horde of Huns is coming upon us like the tide of the sea. Today
they are still there, but tomorrow they will flood your house,
Grelieu. They are coming toward Antwerp. To what can we resort
in our defence? On this side are they, and there is the sea.
Only very little is left of Belgium, Grelieu. Very soon there
will be no room even for my beard here. Isn't that so, Count?</p>
<p><i>Silence. Dull sounds of cannonading are heard in the distance.
All turn their eyes to the window.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Is that a battle?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p><i>Listening, calmly.</i></p>
<p>No, that is only the beginning. But tomorrow they will carry
their devilish weapons past your house. Do you know they are
real iron monsters, under whose weight our earth is quaking
and groaning. They are moving slowly, like amphibia that have
crawled out at night from the abyss—but they are moving!
Another few days will pass, and they will crawl over to Antwerp,
they will turn their jaws to the city, to the churches—Woe to
Belgium, master! Woe to Belgium!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>Yes, it is very bad. We are an honest and peaceful people
despising bloodshed, for war is such a stupid affair! And we
should not have had a single soldier long ago were it not for
this accursed neighbor, this den of murderers.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GENERAL</p>
<p>And what would we have done without any soldiers, Monsieur
Lagard?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>And what can we do with soldiers, Monsieur General?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>You are wrong, Lagard. With our little army there is still one
possibility—to die as freemen die. But without an army we would
have been bootblacks, Lagard!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p><i>Grumbling.</i></p>
<p>Well, I would not clean anybody's boots. Things are in bad
shape, Grelieu, in very bad shape. And there is but one remedy
left for us—. True, it is a terrible remedy.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I know.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>Yes? What is it?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>The dam.</p>
<p><i>Jeanne and Emil shudder and look at each other with terror in
their eyes.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>You shuddered, you are shuddering, madame. But what am I to do,
what are we to do, we who dare not shudder?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Oh, I simply thought of a girl who was trying to find her way to
Lonua. She will never find her way to Lonua.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>But what is to be done? What is to be done?</p>
<p><i>All become thoughtful. The Count steps away to the window
and looks out, nervously twitching his mustaches. Maurice has
moved aside and, as before, stands at attention. Jeanne stands
a little distance away from him, with her shoulder leaning
against the wall, her beautiful pale head thrown back. Lagard is
sitting at the bedside as before, stroking his gray, disheveled
beard. The General is absorbed in gloomy thoughts.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p><i>Turning around resolutely.</i></p>
<p>I am a peaceful man, but I can understand why people take up
arms. Arms! That means a sword, a gun, explosive contrivances.
That is fire. Fire is killing people, but at the same time it
also gives light. Fire cleanses. There is something of the
ancient sacrifice in it. But water! cold, dark, silent, covering
with mire, causing bodies to swell—water, which was the
beginning of chaos; water, which is guarding the earth by day
and night in order to rush upon it. My friend, believe me, I am
quite a daring man, but I am afraid of water! Lagard, what would
you say to that?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>We Belgians have too long been struggling against the water not
to have learned to fear it. I am also afraid of water.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>But what is more terrible, the Prussians or water?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GENERAL</p>
<p><i>Bowing.</i></p>
<p>Madame is right. The Prussians are not more terrible, but they
are worse.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>Yes. We have no other choice. It is terrible to release water
from captivity, the beast from its den, nevertheless it is a
better friend to us than the Prussians. I would prefer to see
the whole of Belgium covered with water rather than extend a
hand of reconciliation to a scoundrel! Neither they nor we shall
live to see that, even if the entire Atlantic Ocean rush over
our heads.</p>
<p><i>Brief pause.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GENERAL</p>
<p>But I hope that we shall not come to that. Meanwhile it is
necessary for us to flood only part of our territory. That is
not so terrible.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Her eyes closed, her head hanging down.</i></p>
<p>And what is to be done with those who could not abandon their
homes, who are deaf, who are sick and alone? What will become of
our children?</p>
<p><i>Silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>There in the fields and in the ditches are the wounded. There
the shadows of people are wandering about, but in their veins
there is still warm blood. What will become of them? Oh, don't
look at me like that, Emil; you had better not listen to what I
am saying. I have spoken so only because my heart is wrung with
pain—it isn't necessary to listen to me at all, Count.</p>
<p><i>Count Clairmont walks over to Grelieu's bed quickly and firmly.
At first he speaks confusedly, seeking the right word; then he
speaks ever more boldly and firmly.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>My dear and honored master! We would not have dared to take
from you even a drop of your health, if—if it were not for the
assurance that serving your people may give new strength to your
heroic soul! Yesterday, it was resolved at our council to break
the dams and flood part of our kingdom, but I could not, I dared
not, give my full consent before I knew what you had to say to
this plan. I did not sleep all night long, thinking—oh, how
terrible, how inexpressibly sad my thoughts were! We are the
body, we are the hands, we are the head—while you, Grelieu, you
are the conscience of our people. Blinded by the war, we may
unwillingly, unwittingly, altogether against our will, violate
man-made laws. Let your noble heart tell us the truth. My
friend! We are driven to despair, we have no Belgium any longer,
it is trampled by our enemies, but in your breast, Emil Grelieu,
the heart of all Belgium is beating—and your answer will be the
answer of our tormented, blood-stained, unfortunate land!</p>
<p><i>He turns away to the window. Maurice is crying, looking at his
father.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p><i>Softly.</i></p>
<p>Bravo, Belgium!</p>
<p><i>Silence. The sound of cannonading is heard.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Softly, to Maurice.</i></p>
<p>Sit down, Maurice, it is hard for you to stand.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Oh, mamma! I am so happy to stand here now—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>Now I shall add a few words. As you know, Grelieu, I am a man of
the people. I know the price the people pay for their hard work.
I know the cost of all these gardens, orchards and factories
which we shall bury under the water. They have cost us sweat
and health and tears, Grelieu. These are our sufferings which
will be transformed into joy for our children. But as a nation
that loves and respects liberty above its sweat and blood and
tears—as a nation, I say, I would prefer that sea waves should
seethe here over our heads rather than that we should have to
black the boots of the Prussians. And if nothing but islands
remain of Belgium they will be known as "honest islands," and
the islanders will be Belgians as before.</p>
<p><i>All are agitated.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>And what do the engineers say?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GENERAL</p>
<p><i>Respectfully waiting for the Count's answer.</i></p>
<p>Monsieur Grelieu, they say this can be done in two hours.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p><i>Grumbles.</i></p>
<p>In two hours! In two hours! How many years have we been building
it!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GENERAL</p>
<p>The engineers were crying when they said it, Monsieur.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>The engineers were crying? But how could they help crying? Think
of it, Grelieu!</p>
<p><i>Suddenly he bursts into sobs, and slowly takes a handkerchief
from his pocket.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p>We are awaiting your answer impatiently, Grelieu. You are
charged with a grave responsibility to your fatherland—to lift
your hand against your own fatherland.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU Have we no other defence?</p>
<p><i>Silence. All stand in poses of painful anxiety. Lagard dries
his eyes and slowly answers with a sigh</i>.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">LAGARD</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GENERAL</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Shaking her head.</i></p>
<p>No.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COUNT CLAIRMONT</p>
<p><i>Rapidly.</i></p>
<p>We must gain time, Grelieu. By the power of all our lives,
thrown in the fields, we cannot stop them.</p>
<p><i>Stamping his foot.</i></p>
<p>Time, time! We must steal from fate a small part of eternity—a
few days, a week! They are hastening to us. The Russians are
coming to us from the East. The German steel has already
penetrated to the heart of the French land—and infuriated with
pain, the French eagle is rising over the Germans' bayonets
and is coming toward us! The noble knights of the sea—the
British—are already rushing toward us, and to Belgium are their
powerful arms stretched out over the abyss. But, time, time!
Give us time, Grelieu. Belgium is praying for a few days, for
a few hours! You have already given to Belgium your blood,
Grelieu, and you have the right to lift your hand against your
blood-stained fatherland!</p>
<p><i>Brief pause.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>We must break the dams.</p>
<p><i>Curtain</i></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h4>SCENE V</h4>
<p><i>Night. A small house occupied by the German staff. A sentinel
on guard at the door leading to the rooms occupied by the
Commander of the army. All the doors and windows are open. The
room is illuminated with candles. Two officers on duty are
talking lazily, suffering apparently from the heat. All is quiet
in the camp. Only from time to time the measured footsteps of
pickets are heard, and muffled voices and angry exclamations.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">VON RITZAU</p>
<p>Do you feel sleepy, von Stein?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">VON STEIN</p>
<p>I don't feel sleepy, but I feel like smoking.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>A bad habit! But you may smoke near the window.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>But what if <i>he</i> should come in? Thank you, von Ritzau. What
a stifling night! Not a breath of pure air enters the lungs.
The air is poisoned with the smell of smoke. We must invent
something against this obnoxious odor. Take it up, Ritzau.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>I am not an inventor. First of all it is necessary to wring out
the air as they wring the clothes they wash, and dry it in the
sun. It is so moist, I feel as though I were diving in it. Do
you know whether <i>he</i> is in a good mood today?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Why, is he subject to moods, good or bad?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>Great self-restraint!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Have you ever seen him undressed—or half-dressed? Or have you
ever seen his hair in disorder? He is a wonderful old man!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>He speaks so devilishly little, Stein.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>He prefers to have his cannon speak. It is quite a powerful
voice, isn't it, Ritzau?</p>
<p><i>They laugh softly. A tall, handsome officer enters quickly and
goes toward the door leading to the room of the Commander.</i></p>
<p>Blumenfeld! Any news?</p>
<p><i>The tall officer waves his hand and opens the door cautiously,
ready to make his bow.</i></p>
<p>He is malting his career!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>He is a good fellow. I can't bear it, Stein. I am suffocating
here.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Would you rather be in Paris?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>I would prefer any less unbearable country to this. How dull it
must be here in the winter time.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>But we have saved them from dullness for a long time to come.
Were you ever in the Montmartre cafés, Ritzau?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>Of course!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Doesn't one find there a wonderful refinement, culture and
innate elegance? Unfortunately, our Berlin people are far
different.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>Oh, of course. Great!</p>
<p><i>The tall officer comes out of the door, stepping backward. He
heaves a sigh of relief and sits down near the two officers.
Takes out a cigar.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">VON BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>How are things?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>Very well. We were talking of Paris.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Then I am going to smoke too.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>You may smoke. He is not coming out Do you want to hear
important news?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Well?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD He laughed just now I</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Really!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>Upon my word of honor! And he touched my shoulder with two
fingers—do you understand?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p><i>With envy.</i></p>
<p>Of course! I suppose you brought him good news, Blumenfeld?</p>
<p><i>The military telegraphist, standing at attention, hands
Blumenfeld a folded paper.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">TELEGRAPHIST A radiogram, Lieutenant!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>Let me have it.</p>
<p><i>Slowly he puts his cigar on the window sill and enters the
Commander's room cautiously.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>He's a lucky fellow. You may say what you please about luck,
but it exists. Who is this Blumenfeld? Von?—Did you know his
father? Or his grandfather?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>I have reason to believe that he had no grandfather at all. But
he is a good comrade.</p>
<p><i>Blumenfeld comes out and rejoins the two officers, taking up
his cigar.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Another military secret?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>Of course. Everything that is said and done here is a military
secret. But I may tell you about it. The information we have
received concerns our new siege guns—they are advancing
successfully.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Oho!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>Yes, successfully. They have just passed the most difficult part
of the road—you know where the swamps are—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Oh, yes.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>Great!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>The road could not support the heavy weight and caved in.
Our commander was very uneasy. He ordered a report about the
movement at each and every kilometer.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>Now he will sleep in peace.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>He never sleeps, von Stein.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>That's true.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>He never sleeps, von Stein! When he is not listening to
reports or issuing commands, he is thinking. As the personal
correspondent of his Highness I have the honor to know many
things which others are not allowed to know—Oh, gentlemen, he
has a wonderful mind!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>Great!</p>
<p><i>Another very young officer enters, stands at attention before
Blumenfeld.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>Sit down, von Schauss. I am talking about our Commander.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SCHAUSS</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>He has a German philosophical mind which manages guns as
Leibnitz managed ideas. Everything is preconceived, everything
is prearranged, the movement of our millions of people has been
elaborated into such a remarkable system that Kant himself
would have been proud of it. Gentlemen, we are led forward by
indomitable logic and by an iron will. We are inexorable as Fate.</p>
<p><i>The officers express their approval by subdued exclamations of
"bravo."</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>How can he sleep, if the movement of our armies is but the
movement of parts of his brains! And what is the use of sleep
in general? I sleep very little myself, and I advise you,
gentlemen, not to indulge in foolish sleep.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>But our human organism requires sleep.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>Nonsense! Organism—that is something invented by the doctors
who are looking for practice among the fools. I know of no
organism. I know only my desires and my will, which says:
"Gerhardt, do this! Gerhardt, go there! Gerhardt, take this!"
And I take it!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>Great!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">SCHAUSS</p>
<p>Will you permit me to take down your words in my notebook?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>Please, Schauss. What is it you want, Zigler?</p>
<p><i>The telegraphist has entered.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">ZIGLER</p>
<p>I really don't know, but something strange has happened. It
seems that we are being interfered with, I can't understand
anything.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>What is it? What is the matter?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">ZIGLER</p>
<p>We can make out one word, "Water"—but after that all is
incomprehensible. And then again, "Water"—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>What water? You are intoxicated, Zigler. That must be wine, not
water. Is the engineer there?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">ZIGLER</p>
<p>He is also surprised and cannot understand.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>You are a donkey, Zigler! We'll have to call out—</p>
<p><i>The Commander comes out. He is a tall, erect old man. His face
is pale. His voice is dry and unimpassioned.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p>Blumenfeld!</p>
<p><i>All jump up, straighten themselves, as if petrified.</i></p>
<p>What is this?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>I have not yet investigated it, your Highness. Zigler is
reporting—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p>What is it, Zigler?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">ZIGLER</p>
<p>Your Highness, we are being interfered with. I don't know what
it is, but I can't understand anything. We have been able to
make out only one word—"Water." Then again—"Water."</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p><i>Turning around.</i></p>
<p>See what it is, Blumenfeld, and report to me—</p>
<p><i>Engineer runs in.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">ENGINEER</p>
<p>Where is Blumenfeld? I beg your pardon, your Highness!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p><i>Pausing.</i></p>
<p>What has happened there, Kloetz?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">ENGINEER</p>
<p>They don't respond to our calls, your Highness. They are silent
like the dead. Something has happened there.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p>You think something serious has happened?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">ENGINEER</p>
<p>I dare not think so, your Highness, but I am alarmed. Silence is
the only answer to our most energetic calls. But Greitzer wishes
to say something. ... Well? What is it, Greitzer?</p>
<p><i>The second telegraphist has entered quietly.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GREITZER</p>
<p>They are silent, your Highness.</p>
<p><i>Brief pause.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p><i>Again turning to the door.</i></p>
<p>Please investigate this, Lieutenant.</p>
<p><i>He advances a step to the door, then stops. There is a
commotion behind the windows—a noise and the sound of voices.
The word "water" is repeated frequently. The noise keeps
growing, turning at times into a loud roar.</i></p>
<p>What is that?</p>
<p><i>All turn to the window. An officer, bareheaded, rushes in
excitedly, his hair disheveled, his face pale.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">OFFICER</p>
<p>I want to see his Highness. I want to see his Highness!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p><i>Hissing.</i></p>
<p>You are insane!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p>Calm yourself, officer.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">OFFICER</p>
<p>Your Highness! I have the honor to report to you that the
Belgians have burst the dams, and our armies are flooded. Water!</p>
<p><i>With horror.</i></p>
<p>We must hurry, your Highness!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p>Hurry! I ask you to calm yourself, officer. What about our guns?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">OFFICER</p>
<p>They are flooded, your Highness.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p>Compose yourself, you are not behaving properly! I am asking you
about our field guns—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">OFFICER</p>
<p>They are flooded, your Highness. The water is coming this
way. We must hurry, your Highness, we are in a valley. This
place is very low. They have broken the dams; and the water is
rushing this way violently. It is only five kilometers away from
here—and we can hardly—. I beg your pardon, your Highness!</p>
<p><i>Silence. The commotion without is growing louder. Glimmering
lights appear. The beginning of a terrible panic is felt,
embracing the entire camp. All watch impatiently the reddening
face of the Commander.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p>But this is—</p>
<p><i>He strikes the table with his fist forcibly.</i></p>
<p>Absurd!</p>
<p><i>He looks at them with cold fury, but all lower their eyes. The
frightened officer is trembling and gazing at the window. The
lights grow brighter outside—it is evident that a building has
been set on fire. The voices without have turned into a roar. A
dull noise, then the crash of shots is heard. The discipline is
disappearing gradually.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>They have gone mad!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">OFFICER</p>
<p>They are firing! It is an attack!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">STEIN</p>
<p>But that can't be the Belgians!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">RITZAU</p>
<p>They may have availed themselves—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>Aren't you ashamed, Stein? Aren't you ashamed, gentlemen?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER Silence! I beg of you—</p>
<p><i>Suddenly a piercing, wild sound of a horn is heard ordering to
retreat. The roaring sound is growing rapidly.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p><i>Shots.</i></p>
<p>Who has commanded to retreat? Who dares command when I am here?
What a disgrace, Blumenfeld! Order them to return!</p>
<p><i>Blumenfeld lowers his head.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p>This is not the German Army! You are unworthy of being called
soldiers! Shame! I am ashamed to call myself your general!
Cowards!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p><i>Stepping forward, with dignity.</i></p>
<p>Your Highness!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">OFFICER</p>
<p>Eh! We are not fishes to swim in the water!</p>
<p><i>Runs out, followed by two or three others. The panic is
growing.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>Your Highness! We ask you—. Your life is in danger—your
Highness.</p>
<p><i>Some one else runs out. The room is almost empty. Only the
sentinel remains in the position of one petrified.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">BLUMENFELD</p>
<p>Your Highness! I implore you. Your life—I am afraid that
another minute, and it will be too late! Oh, your Highness!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">COMMANDER</p>
<p>But this is—</p>
<p><i>Again strikes the table with his fist.</i></p>
<p>But this is absurd, Blumenfeld!</p>
<p><i>Curtain</i></p>
<hr class="chap" />
<h4>SCENE VI</h4>
<p><i>The same hour of night. In the darkness it is difficult to
discern the silhouettes of the ruined buildings and of the
trees. At the right, a half-destroyed bridge. In the distance a
fire is burning. From time to time the German flashlights are
seen across the dark sky. Near the bridge, an automobile in
which the wounded Emil Grelieu and his son are being carried to
Antwerp. Jeanne and a young physician are with them. Something
has broken down in the automobile and a soldier-chauffeur is
bustling about with a lantern trying to repair it. Dr. Langloi
stands near him.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p><i>Uneasily.</i></p>
<p>Well? How is it?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p><i>Examining.</i></p>
<p>I don't know yet.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p>Is it a serious break?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p>No—I don't know.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>From the automobile.</i></p>
<p>What is it, Doctor? Can't we start?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p><i>Angrily.</i></p>
<p>We'll start!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p>I don't know. Something is out of order. He says it isn't
serious.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Shall we stay here long?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p><i>To the chauffeur.</i></p>
<p>Shall we stay here long?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p><i>Angrily.</i></p>
<p>How do I know? About ten minutes I think. Please hold the light
for me.</p>
<p><i>Hands the lantern to the doctor.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Then I will come out.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>You had better stay here, Maurice. You may hurt your arm.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>No, mother, I am careful. Where is the step? How inconvenient.
Why don't they throw the flashlight here?</p>
<p><i>Jumps off and watches the chauffeur at work.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>How unfortunate that we are stuck here!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p><i>Grumbling.</i></p>
<p>A bridge! How can anybody drive across such a bridge?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p>Yes, it is unfortunate. We should have started out earlier.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Shrugging his shoulders.</i></p>
<p>Father did not want to leave. How could we start? Mamina, do
you think our people are already in Antwerp?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes, I think so. Emil, aren't you cold?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>No. It is very pleasant to breathe the fresh air. I feel
stronger.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p><i>To Maurice.</i></p>
<p>I think we are still in the region which—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Yes. What time is it, Doctor?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p><i>Looking at his watch.</i></p>
<p>Twenty—a quarter of ten.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Then it is a quarter of an hour since the bursting of the dams.
Yes! Mamma, do you hear, it is a quarter of ten now!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes, I hear.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>But it is strange that we haven't heard any explosions.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p>How can you say that, Monsieur Maurice? It is very far away.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>I thought that such explosions would be heard a hundred
kilometers away. My God, how strange it is! Our house and our
garden will soon be flooded! I wonder how high the water will
rise. Do you think it will reach up to the second story?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p>Possibly. Well, how are things moving?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p><i>Grumbling.</i></p>
<p>I am working.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Look, look! Mamma, see how the searchlights are working. They
seem to be frightened. Father, do you see them?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Jeanne, lift me a little.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>My dear, I don't know whether I am allowed to do it.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p>You may lift him a little, if it isn't very painful. The bandage
is tight.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Do you feel any pain?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>No. They are frightened.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Father, they are flashing the searchlights across the sky like
madmen. Look, look!</p>
<p><i>A bluish light is flashed over them, faintly illuminating the
whole group.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Right into my eyes! Does that come from an elevation, father?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>I suppose so. Either they have been warned, or the water is
reaching them by this time.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Do you think so, Emil?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Yes. It seems to me that I hear the sound of the water from that
side.</p>
<p><i>All listen and look in the direction from which the noise came.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p><i>Uneasily.</i></p>
<p>How unpleasant this is! We should have started out sooner. We
are too late.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Father, it seems to me I hear voices. Listen—it sounds as
though they are crying there. Many, many people. Father, the
Prussians are crying. It is they!</p>
<p><i>A distant, dull roaring of a crowd is heard. Then the crash of
shots resounds. Sobs of military horns. The searchlights are
swaying from side to side.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>It is they.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p>If we don't start in a quarter of an hour—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>In half an hour, Doctor.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Father, how beautiful and how terrible it is! Give me your hand,
mother.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What is it?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>I want to kiss it. Mother, you have no gloves on!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>What a foolish little boy you are, Maurice.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Monsieur Langloi said that in three days from now I may remove
my bandage. Just think of it, in three days I shall be able to
take up my gun again!... Oh, who is that? Look, who is that?</p>
<p><i>All near the automobile assume defensive positions. The
chauffeur and the doctor draw their revolvers. A figure appears
from the field, approaching from one of the ditches. A peasant,
wounded in the leg, comes up slowly, leaning upon a cane.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Who is there?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>Our own, our own. And who are you? Are you going to the city?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Yes, we're going to the city. Our car has broken down, we're
repairing it. What are you doing here?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>What am I doing here?</p>
<p><i>Examines the unfamiliar faces curiously. They also look at him
attentively, by the light of the lantern.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p>Give me the light!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>Are you carrying a wounded man? I am also wounded, in my leg. I
cannot walk, it is very hard. I must lean on my cane. Are you
going to the city? I lay there in the ditch and when I heard you
speak French I crawled out. My name is Jaqular.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p>How were you wounded?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>I was walking in the field and they shot me. They must have
thought I was a rabbit.</p>
<p><i>Laughs hoarsely.</i></p>
<p>They must have thought I was a rabbit. What is the news,
gentlemen? Is our Belgium lost?</p>
<p><i>Laughs.</i></p>
<p>Eh? Is our Belgium lost?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Don't you know?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>What can I know? I lay there and looked at the sky—that's all I
know. Did you see the sky? Just look at it, I have been watching
it all the time. What is that I see in the sky, eh? How would
you explain it?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Sit down near us.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Listen, sit down here. It seems you haven't heard anything. You
must get away from here. Do you know that the dams are broken?
Do you understand? The dams!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>The dams?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Yes. Don't you hear the cries over there? Listen! They are
crying there—the Prussians!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>Water?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Water. It must be reaching them now. They must have learned of
it by this time. Listen, it is so far, and yet we can hear!</p>
<p><i>The peasant laughs hoarsely.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Sit down, right here, the automobile is large. Doctor, help him.
I will hold the lantern.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p><i>Muttering.</i></p>
<p>Sit down, sit down! Eh!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p><i>Uneasily.</i></p>
<p>What is it? Bad? Chauffeur, be quick! We can't stay here! The
water is coming. We should have started out earlier.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>What an unfortunate mishap!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Agitated.</i></p>
<p>They shot you like a rabbit? Do you hear, Emil—they thought a
rabbit was running! Did you resemble a rabbit so closely?</p>
<p><i>She laughs loudly, the peasant also laughs.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>I look like a rabbit! Exactly like a rabbit.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Do you hear, Emil? He says he looks exactly like a rabbit!</p>
<p><i>Laughs.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Jeanne!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Mamma!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>It makes me laugh—it seems so comical to me that they mistake
us for rabbits. And now, what are we now—water rats? Emil, just
picture to yourself, water rats in an automobile!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Mamma!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>No, no, I am not laughing any more, Maurice!</p>
<p><i>Laughs.</i></p>
<p>And what else are we? Moles? Must we hide in the ground?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p><i>Laughs.</i></p>
<p>And now we must hide in the ground—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>In the same tone.</i></p>
<p>And they will remain on the ground? Emil, do you hear?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>My dear! My dear!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>To the doctor.</i></p>
<p>Listen, you must do something. Haven't you anything? Listen!
Mamma, we are starting directly, my dear!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>No, never mind, I am not laughing any more. How foolish you are.
Maurice, I simply felt like talking. I was silent too long. I
was forever silent, but just now I felt like chattering. Emil,
I am not disturbing you with my talk, am I? Why is the water so
quiet, Emil? It was the King who said, "The water is silent,"
was it not? But I should like to see it roar, crash like
thunder.... No, I cannot, I cannot bear this silence! Ah, why is
it so quiet—I cannot bear it!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>To the chauffeur.</i></p>
<p>My dear fellow, please hurry up!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p>Yes, yes! I'm working, I'm working. We'll start soon.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Suddenly cries, threatening.</i></p>
<p>But I cannot bear it! I cannot!</p>
<p><i>Covers her mouth with her hands; sobs.</i></p>
<p>I cannot!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Mamma!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>All will end well, Jeanne. All will end well. I know. I also
feel as you do. But all will end well, Jeanne!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Sobbing, but calming herself somewhat.</i></p>
<p>I cannot bear it!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>All will end well, Jeanne! Belgium will live! The sun will
shine! I am suffering, but I know this, Jeanne!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Quicker! Quicker!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p>In a moment, in a moment. Now it is fixed, in a moment.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Faintly.</i></p>
<p>Jeanne!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes, yes, I know.... Forgive me, forgive me, I will soon—</p>
<p><i>A loud, somewhat hoarse voice of a girl comes from the dark.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GIRL</p>
<p>Tell me how I can find my way to Lonua!</p>
<p><i>Exclamations of surprise.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Who is that?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Emil, it is that girl!</p>
<p><i>Laughs.</i></p>
<p>She is also like a rabbit!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p><i>Grumbles.</i></p>
<p>What is it, what is it—Who?</p>
<p><i>Throws the light on the girl. Her dress is torn, her eyes look
wild. The peasant is laughing.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>She is here again?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p>Let me have the light!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">DOCTOR</p>
<p>Very well!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GIRL</p>
<p><i>Loudly.</i></p>
<p>How can I find my way to Lonua?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Maurice, you must stop her! My child, my child! Doctor, you—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p>Put down the lantern! The devil take this!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">GIRL</p>
<p><i>Shouts.</i></p>
<p>Hands off! No, no, you will not dare—</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>You can't catch her—</p>
<p><i>The girl runs away.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>Doctor, you must catch her! She will perish here, quick—</p>
<p><i>She runs away. The doctor follows her in the dark.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>She asked me, too, how to go to Lonua. How am I to know? Lonua!</p>
<p><i>The girl's voice resounds in the dark and then there is
silence.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>You must catch her! What is it? You must!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>But how, father?</p>
<p><i>They listen. Silence. Dull cries of a mob resound. Jeanne
breaks into muffled laughter.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Mutters.</i></p>
<p>Now he is gone! Oh, my God!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p><i>Triumphantly.</i></p>
<p>Take your seats! Ready!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>But the doctor isn't here. Oh, my God! Father, what shall we do
now?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p>Let us call him. Eh!</p>
<p><i>Maurice and the chauffeur call: "Doctor! Eh! Langloi!"</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">CHAUFFEUR</p>
<p><i>Angrily.</i></p>
<p>I must deliver Monsieur Grelieu, and I will deliver him. Take
your seats!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p><i>Shouts.</i></p>
<p>Langloi!</p>
<p><i>A faint echo in the distance.</i></p>
<p>Come! Doctor!</p>
<p><i>The response is nearer.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">PEASANT</p>
<p>He did not catch her. You cannot catch her. She asked me, too,
about the road to Lonua. She is insane.</p>
<p><i>Laughs.</i></p>
<p>There are many like her now.</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p><i>Imploringly.</i></p>
<p>Jeanne!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>But I cannot, Emil. What is it? I cannot understand. What is
it? Where are we? My God, I don't understand anything. I used
to understand, I used to understand, but now—Where is Pierre?
<i>Firmly.</i></p>
<p>Where is Pierre?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Oh, will he be here soon? Mother dear, we'll start in a moment!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>Yes, yes, we'll start in a moment! But I don't understand
anything. Where are we? Why such a dream, why such a dream? I
can't understand! Who has come? My head is aching. Who has come?
Why has it happened?</p>
<p><i>A mice from the darkness, quite near.</i></p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p><i>Frightened.</i></p>
<p>Who is shouting? What a strange dream, what a terrible,
terrible, terrible dream. Where is Pierre?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">MAURICE</p>
<p>Mother!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>I cannot!</p>
<p><i>Lowering her voice.</i></p>
<p>I cannot—why are you torturing me? Where is Pierre?</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>He is dead, Jeanne!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">JEANNE</p>
<p>No!!!</p>
<p style="font-size: 0.8em;">EMIL GRELIEU</p>
<p>He is dead, Jeanne. But I swear to you by God, Jeanne!—Belgium
will live. Weep, sob, you are a mother. I too am crying with
you—But I swear by God: Belgium will live! God has given me the
light to see, and I can see. Songs will resound here. Jeanne!
A new Spring will come here, the trees will be covered with
blossoms—I swear to you, Jeanne, they will be covered with
blossoms! And mothers will caress their children, and the sun
will shine upon their heads, upon their golden-haired little
heads! Jeanne! There will be no more bloodshed. I see a new
world, Jeanne! I see my nation: Here it is advancing with palm
leaves to meet God who has come to earth again. Weep, Jeanne,
you are a mother! Weep, unfortunate mother—God weeps with you.
But there will be happy mothers here again—I see a new world,
Jeanne, I see a new life!</p>
<p><i>Curtain</i></p>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 49596 ***</div>
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