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diff --git a/77765-0.txt b/77765-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0197096 --- /dev/null +++ b/77765-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4940 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77765 *** + + + + + MONSIEUR D’OR + + + + + BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + +=A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.= With portrait. Edition +limited to three hundred copies, printed from type, and a large paper +edition of thirty copies. + + Regular Edition $ 4.00 _net._ + Large Paper Edition 10.00 _net._ + + +=EARLY REVIEWS OF ENGLISH POETS.= With Introduction and Notes. + + Regular Edition $1.20 _net._ + Library Edition 2.00 _net._ + + +=THE NAME OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.= A Study in Orthography. + + Regular Edition $1.00 _net._ + + + + + MONSIEUR D’OR + A DRAMATIC FANTASY + + BY + + JOHN LOUIS HANEY + +[Illustration: A black laurel wreath encircling a central torch with a +flame, tied at the base with a ribbon bow.] + + PHILADELPHIA + THE EGERTON PRESS + 1910 + + + This edition is limited to two hundred and fifty copies printed from + type and numbered. + + No. —— + + + Copyright, 1910 + + By JOHN LOUIS HANEY + + All rights, including presentation and translation, are reserved. + Application concerning public performances should be made to + The Egerton Press, 934 North Eleventh Street, Philadelphia. + + + PRESS OF + THE NEW ERA PRINTING COMPANY + LANCASTER, PA. + + + TO + + =My Parents= + + + Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! + Bright and yellow, hard and cold, + Molten, graven, hammered, and rolled; + Heavy to get, and light to hold; + Hoarded, bartered, bought, and sold, + Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled; + Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old + To the very verge of the churchyard mould; + Price of many a crime untold; + Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! + Good or bad a thousand fold! + —Thomas Hood + + + + + THE CHARACTERS + + + The Prolog + ROBERT DORR + SIDNEY HASTINGS + JACK NORGATE + BILLY FANSHAWE + PERCY MIDDLETON + HAROLD WESTBROOK + Mrs. SARA KEENE + ELEANOR RICHMOND, her niece + MARIAN WINTHROP + MARGARET THURBER + ROSE LOWELL + GERTRUDE PASTON + + Scene I + MONSIEUR D’OR + RAOUL LEHMANN + FRÉDÉRIC LEHMANN, his brother + M. BERTINE, their secretary + M. ALBERT + M. LORRAINE + ADRIENNE COURTEAUX + CÉLESTE BERGÈRE + M. FRÉMIET + + Scene II + MONSIEUR D’OR + ADOLPHE LEMAIRE + JEAN MOREAU + HENRI VAUX + HÉLÈNE VAUX, his daughter + Mme. CYPRIENNE DACIER + Mme. LUCETTE CLARY + BAPTISTE, a servant + + Scene III + MONSIEUR D’OR + SIR MORTIMER MUIRHEAD + Mr. GILBERT, his secretary + BARON GRAEFFLINGEN + Herr LOBEN, his secretary + MARQUIS PALLOT + COUNT ANDRIEV + CLAIRE LASALLE, a stenographer + + Scene IV + MONSIEUR D’OR + Dr. MIRSKY + RAMANAND, an Oriental + CYRIL, a boy + EDITH PACKARD, a nurse + + Epilog + ROBERT DORR + Mr. MATHEWS + ELEANOR RICHMOND + Mr. HANSON, her secretary + +The forty characters may be distributed among thirteen players. See note +on page 10. + + THE PROLOG + A terrace adjoining the Dorr Villa at Lenox. + + SCENE I + The office of Lehmann Frères, St. Gallen. + + SCENE II + The music room of the Chateau D’Or, near Versailles. + + SCENE III + A private parlor in the Hotel Royal, Interlaken. + + SCENE IV + A chamber in a Balkan palace. + + THE EPILOG + A parlor in the Hotel Orient, Port Said. + +Fifteen years elapse between the Prolog and the Epilog. + +NOTE + +The forty characters may be distributed among thirteen players as +follows: + + Prol. Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III Sc. IV Epil. + DORR D’OR D’OR D’OR D’OR DORR + WESTBROOK R. LEHMANN LEMAIRE MUIRHEAD RAMANAND + HASTINGS F. LEHMANN MOREAU GILBERT MIRSKY HANSON + FANSHAWE BERTINE LOBEN MATHEWS + NORGATE ALBERT BAPTISTE PALLOT + MIDDLETON FRÉMIET ANDRIEV + LORRAINE VAUX GRAEFFLINGEN + MRS. KEENE + ELEANOR ADRIENNE HÉLÈNE CLAIRE EDITH ELEANOR + MARIAN CÉLESTE + MARGARET CYPRIENNE + GERTRUDE LUCETTE + ROSE CYRIL + + + + + MONSIEUR D’OR + + + + + THE PROLOG + + +[_A handsome terrace adjoining the ball room of the Dorr Villa. Wide +marble steps in the rear lead to a higher tesselated walk with marble +balustrades. As it is night there is only a dim vista of the beautiful +gardens beyond. On the right there is a similar approach by marble steps +to the higher level. The ball room is reached by steps on the left. Its +glass doors and deep windows are draped with exquisite lace curtains. +Palms and other exotic plants are placed appropriately about the +terrace; large, gaudy Japanese lanterns are strung overhead at various +points. At each side of the terrace there is, in front of a bank of +potted plants, a large marble bench provided with silk cushions. The +orchestra in the ball room is playing a delightful Viennese waltz as the +curtain rises. During the earlier part of the scene recurrent noise of +laughter and chatter is heard from the dancers and their shadows are +reflected on the curtains of the room. As the various couples emerge +from the ball room or enter from the rear they engage in mutual +conversation as they promenade without regard for the others. The +characters all suggest superabundant wealth and a marked air of +flippancy in the consciousness of their social preeminence. A few +moments after the rising of the curtain_ SIDNEY HASTINGS _and_ MARIAN +WINTHROP _enter from the ball room_.] + +MARIAN. So the court granted her the custody of the children? + +SIDNEY. And he is forbidden to marry again during her life time. + +MARIAN. She gets alimony, of course? + +SIDNEY. Fifty thousand a year. + +MARIAN. Poor Mabel! She’ll spend that in three months. I really believe +the dear girl will have to make up with him or find some one else who is +willing to take her with the youngsters. There’s three of them, you +know, Sid—and large families are not fashionable now. She’ll never +manage to scrape along on fifty thousand. Why, he used to give her that +in jewels every year! + +SIDNEY. I believe you’re right, Marian. It seems a bit hard, doesn’t it? + +MARIAN. Mabel would have done better if she had gone to Reno. They’re +specialists out there, you know—they would have given her a square deal. +[_They pass up the steps at the right and return slowly by the upper +walk to the ball room. Meanwhile_ BILLY FANSHAWE _and_ MARGARET THURBER +_enter direct from the ball room_.] + +BILLY. Yes, the whole story is in the New York papers this evening. Shot +himself through the mouth and didn’t live a minute. I felt sorry for the +poor devil! Did you know him? + +MARGARET. I knew his wife—she was Susie Caxton—one of the Amherst +Caxtons. Lucky there’s no children. Why did he do it, Billy? + +BILLY. I suppose he couldn’t stand the pace his particular Amherst +Caxton was setting for him. He was only a bank clerk, you know, and +trying to keep up with people who spent as much in a week as he earned +in a year. + +MARGARET. I thought he had an important position at the bank. + +BILLY. My dear Margaret, how innocent you are! His position was +important enough, but they didn’t pay him more than they had to. He +tried the stock-market to help him out and before he knew it he was +juggling the deposit slips like a professional crook. The warrant was +out for his arrest and he knew it. That’s why he turned the gun upon +himself. + +MARGARET. Poor little Susie! She gave up Charlie Decker, who is worth at +least ten millions, to marry that man. I suppose we’ve seen the last of +her. [_During the latter part of the conversation_ PERCY MIDDLETON _and_ +ROSE LOWELL _have entered from the ball room and have walked across the +back of the stage, so that they now pass_ BILLY _and_ MARGARET _at the +right and proceed along the front while the other two sit on the bench +at the right side and converse_.] + +ROSE. You shouldn’t associate with that woman, Percy—she’s a notorious +character. + +PERCY. She’s not so bad. You girls are simply jealous. Besides, there’s +always a lot of reporters and johnnies hanging around her dressing-room. +There’s no chance to get really intimate. She seems to think a lot of +me, though—you ought to hear her call me ‘mon cher Pairsee’—she’s not +strong on English, you know. + +ROSE. I don’t know. + +PERCY. Well, that’s why I’m telling you. The other night I said to her, +‘Natalie, your tongue can’t speak English, but your eyes can speak every +language there is in the world.’ [BILLY _and_ MARGARET _rise from the +bench and return to the ball room by the upper walk_.] + +ROSE. That was rather neatly put, Percy. + +PERCY. [_Flattered._] Wasn’t it? The reporters wanted to write it up for +the papers, but I called them off. Natalie doesn’t like notoriety. She’s +not such a bad one, Rose, when you get to know her. Of course, she likes +a bird and a bottle after the show and she gets a bit lively at times, +but she doesn’t lose her self-control. She’s a thoroughbred. She’s not +like that Margaret Thurber we passed just now. At the Decker dance last +week that girl just stowed away champagne till she fell off her chair. +Now Natalie would know better than that; she’s— + +ROSE. See here, I don’t want to hear any more about that vulgar chorus +girl— + +PERCY. Oh! you’re just jealous—like the rest of them. Maybe Natalie +wouldn’t get a fit if she saw me out here in the dark with you. I +believe she’d scratch your eyes out. She’s a spunky little filly—she’s a +real thoroughbred. You’ve got to treat her right. [_As they pass off +right to the garden_, JACK NORGATE _and_ GERTRUDE PASTON _stroll along +the rear terrace from the left and come down by the central steps_.] + +GERTRUDE. There’s Rose Lowell with that silly Percy Middleton. I don’t +see how she can tolerate the fellow. + +JACK. That’s no enigma. He’s worth three or four millions, whereas the +Lowells are not rich. + +GERTRUDE. It’s cruel of you, dear, to say that. Rose isn’t the sort of +girl to marry for money. + +JACK. Why, Gertie, she must marry for money, whether it’s cruel or not +to say so. I’m sorry there’s nothing more promising than Percy on her +matrimonial horizon. Shall we sit down a while? [_They take seats on the +bench at the right._] + +GERTRUDE. He’s a disgusting creature, Jack. I wish the Dorrs wouldn’t +invite him to their affairs. + +JACK. Have you heard of his escapade with Mrs. Vansant? + +GERTRUDE. Ah! that impudent Vansant woman! What has she been doing to +Percy? + +JACK. They gave her charge of a booth at the charity bazaar and when +trade grew slack she announced that she would auction off a dozen kisses +among the men. Just then Percy came along and bid fifty dollars for the +entire dozen. That silenced the rest and she had to accept Percy’s bid. +He promptly paid the money, took one kiss, and notified her that he +reserved the rest for future delivery. + +GERTRUDE. What did Mrs. Vansant say to that? + +JACK. Oh! she was game! She told Percy that she was ready whenever he +was. I presume he will collect those kisses one at a time whenever he +can make himself sufficiently conspicuous in doing it. + +GERTRUDE. How disgusting! Buying and selling kisses! + +JACK. You’re right, dearest! Kisses were not meant to be sold. [_He +looks around towards the ball room to make sure that they are alone, +then kisses her passionately. Meanwhile_ PERCY _and_ ROSE _have +re-entered from the right just in time for the tender scene. It is too +late to retreat, so they tiptoe awkwardly and hurriedly across the back +of the terrace to the ball room._] + +GERTRUDE. [_Freeing herself._] How imprudent, Jack. Somebody might have +seen us. + +JACK. Now don’t scold me, Gertie. I made sure that we were alone; +besides, I don’t often get a chance— + +GERTRUDE. [_Curtly._] Won’t you take me back to the ball room? [_They +rise and walk towards the left._] + +JACK. You’re not angry, I hope? We were talking of kisses, dear, and I +simply couldn’t help it. + +GERTRUDE. We were talking of Percy Middleton’s buying the kisses of that +odious grass-widow. + +JACK. I’ll admit that I did wrong, and I’m very, very sorry. Does that +satisfy you? [_After a pause._] Now let’s kiss and make up. + +GERTRUDE. [_Smiling._] Another kiss! Jack, you’re incorrigible. [_She +kisses him tenderly._] You dear boy! Will it always be like this? + +JACK. [_Taking her in his arms._] Always—forever—and so on for eternity. +We shall be all in all to each other and the rest of the world will be +as nothing to us. Just you and I—we two alone— + +GERTRUDE. Dear Jack! I am so happy! [_They enter the ball room. From the +rear_ HAROLD WESTBROOK _and_ ELEANOR RICHMOND _come slowly down the +central steps; her demeanor is serious, his is somewhat depressed. They +seat themselves on the bench at the left side._] + +ELEANOR. How soon do you leave? + +HAROLD. In a few days. The ranch is a large one and I’m needed out +there. I had no intention of asking you so soon, Eleanor—I’m afraid +fortune has been against me, but it was my last chance to see you +alone—I had to speak! + +ELEANOR. [_With sympathy._] I am heartily sorry it cannot be otherwise, +but our decisions in the real crises of life seem often not to rest with +ourselves. + +HAROLD. Have you no hope to offer me? No chance that some day you may be +willing to join me in the West, to work out our destinies together in +the great world beyond the plains? + +ELEANOR. No, I feel sure it can never be—but I hope we shall remain good +friends. I want to hear from you, Harold, and I shall pray for your +happiness in your new home. I shall always remember that you have paid +me the sincerest tribute that a true man can offer a woman. You have put +a consecrated seal upon our friendship. No matter what our lot may be in +the days to come, we must never forget this night. + +HAROLD. Heaven knows, I shall never forget it. There is consolation in +the thought that you are not going entirely out of my life. Your +kindness has brought a soothing calm over my great grief. I have no +right to ask if there is another to whom you have given your heart, but +Heaven has indeed blessed that man. + +ELEANOR. Heaven has blessed every man and every woman who has known true +love. If our human frailty is such that we can never comprehend the full +measure of that blessing, we should at least be thankful for whatever +glimpse of the divine vision is granted us. + +HAROLD. You know best, Eleanor—your soul speaks with a clearer insight +than mine. I shall abide by your decision—and I shall worship you till +the end. + +ELEANOR. Don’t say that, Harold—you will meet some one else— + +HAROLD. [_Softly, but with conviction._] No, there will never be any one +else. [_They sit in silence for a few moments. The music stops._ HAROLD +_takes her hand and kisses it reverently. They rise and walk silently +into the ball room._ BILLY FANSHAWE, JACK NORGATE _and_ SIDNEY HASTINGS +_stroll in leisurely at the centre from the terrace behind the ball +room_.] + +JACK. [_Looking after them._] Harold Westbrook has been very attentive +to Miss Richmond all evening. + +BILLY. He’s wasting his time in that campaign. I’ll back Bobbie Dorr for +any amount to win her against the field. [SIDNEY _looks after the +retreating figures and says nothing_.] What do you think of it, Sid? + +SIDNEY. Miss Richmond is altogether too fine a girl for Bobbie +Dorr—that’s my thought. [_He offers a cigarette to_ JACK, _who accepts, +then to_ BILLY.] Smoke, Billy? + +BILLY. No thanks! I came out for some fresh air. Besides, smoking spoils +my appetite. I’m going to make another raid on the collation pretty +soon. It’s excellent stuff. I’ve had a couple of lobster cutlets, some +sweet breads and two of the nicest soft crabs I ever ate. The Dorrs +certainly know how to do things. + +SIDNEY. [_Bitterly._] Who wouldn’t know how to do things with the income +of forty-odd millions at one’s disposal? + +BILLY. Forty-odd millions! [_Whistles._] Forty-odd! Why, I’d be +satisfied with the odd! [_Explaining._] It might be seven or nine, you +know. [_In a lower voice._] I say, is that correct? Is it as much as +that? + +JACK. I don’t believe that old man Dorr gathered so much out of his +Nevada mines. Of course, he piled up a lot of money, but— + +SIDNEY. I grant you, there were no forty millions in his silver mines, +but you are evidently not aware of his other interests that paid him +enormously though his name was never associated with them. You may +remember that no inventory was filed by the executors—but Simpson, who +was chief counsel for the estate, told me a few things. + +BILLY. [_Curiously._] What did he say, Sid? + +SIDNEY. He mentioned substantial shareholdings in the Kimberley diamond +fields, in the Swiss lace and embroidery industries, in breakfast foods, +railroads, waterpower companies, automobile factories, tobacco, oil, +sugar. [_Savagely._] I declare that when Simpson got through with his +catalogue of Dorr’s interests I felt convinced that there was hardly a +human creature in civilization who didn’t pay tribute in some form to +that old octopus. + +JACK. [_Looking reflectively at his cigarette._] And even the tobacco we +are smoking! Rather lucky we know the Dorrs, eh? We can get back some of +our tribute when we gather here as their guests. + +BILLY. Bobbie Dorr and his aunt are certainly making the income on the +forty-odd millions circulate with startling vivacity. I’m willing to +help them. Won’t you boys come in and get another bite of something to +eat? + +JACK. No, thanks. + +SIDNEY. We’ll finish our cigarettes first. + +BILLY. Pity you fellows smoke so much—it spoils your appetite. Well, I’m +off for another lobster cutlet and a sweetbread or two—[_He goes toward +left._] and I shall certainly have another of those delicious soft +crabs. [_Exit left._] + +SIDNEY. I envy a man who can enjoy material existence as Billy does. +Why, he’s a personified stomach. I believe he’d sell his soul for a +salad! + +JACK. [_Laughing._] Not much! Billy would make a better deal than that. +He would demand at least a well-selected dinner with appropriate +wines—then he might feel satisfied that he had made a real bargain. + +SIDNEY. He’s a sterling good fellow just the same—I’m glad to number him +among my friends. I need a cheerful spirit like Billy about me +occasionally—I am apt to grow bitter when I let my thoughts dwell on +such men as Bobbie Dorr. + +JACK. I don’t see why you should feel that way about Bobbie. Of course, +he’s a child of fortune. With his good looks, his wealth, and his fair +allotment of brains he is bound to play a conspicuous part in our social +life. + +SIDNEY. You know, Jack, I’m fond of growling at times and just now I’m +not above criticizing a man who is virtually my host. There’s something +I don’t like about Bobbie Dorr. I don’t envy him his great wealth nor +his social triumphs, but that insufferable air of presumption I cannot +tolerate. What was his grandfather when he started for the West half a +century ago? + +JACK. Nobody in particular, I suppose. + +SIDNEY. Josiah Dorr was a strong, keen-witted Yankee with no capital +except his good health and his persistent optimism. He knocked about for +a good many years before he made that lucky strike in Nevada. + +JACK. And then he married and lived unhappily ever after. + +SIDNEY. Not at all! Dorr married while he was still poor and with his +usual luck chose a wife who was just the right sort for him—a woman of +no pretensions, but of sound common sense; and their married life was +happy enough until the children grew up. + +JACK. Bobbie’s father and his aunt Martha? + +SIDNEY. Exactly. The lamented Josiah, Jr., and [_Pointing toward the +ball room._] our charming hostess. Simpson told me that young Josiah was +for many years a thorn in the flesh of his parents. He seemed to +progress from one escapade to another till he crowned his list of +indiscretions by marrying a third-rate actress whose pretty face was her +only recommendation for public attention. + +JACK. I didn’t know that Bobbie’s mother was an actress. + +SIDNEY. Neither did the public, though she tried hard enough to make +them think so. Of course, she gave up the stage when she became Mrs. +Josiah, Jr. She probably expected to try her histrionic talent in +melting the heart of the stern parent—but old Dorr didn’t give her a +chance. He never laid eyes on her! + +JACK. Not even after Bobbie was born? That frequently makes a +difference! + +SIDNEY. Old Dorr saw nothing of Bobbie till both Josiah, Jr. and his +actress-wife were dead. Then Aunt Martha took charge of Bobbie and the +boy grew up under her care. After that nothing was too good for the hope +of the family. They took him to Lausanne for his education, gave him a +thoroughly cosmopolitan training, topped off with a few semesters at +Heidelberg. He speaks four languages—but I don’t believe he has been +accused of enriching the world’s store of thought in any of them. Behold +to-night the finished product, capering in yonder ball room! When he +reaches his twenty-fifth birthday a few weeks hence he will be the happy +possessor of some forty millions. + +JACK. A fellow has little excuse for being anything but the most decent +sort of chap under such conditions. Fate has been unusually kind to +Bobbie Dorr. + +SIDNEY. He’s no silly offspring of superabundant wealth—Bobbie’s a +capital fellow in many respects, but I can’t quite overlook his +patronizing air, his superb confidence in the power of his riches. That +sort of thing is pardonable in a man who has created the wealth, who has +wrested it from the unyielding earth by the sweat of his brow or has won +it by the exercise of his superior wit, but it takes little genius to +inherit another man’s money. + +JACK. Here he comes, Sid; we’re in for a quick change of subject. +[_Louder._] In my opinion, these gardens are among the most attractive +at Lenox. There’s that fine row of Lombardy poplars—[ROBERT DORR _enters +from the ball room. His evening attire is beyond criticism save for the +fact that he wears large gold studs in his shirt, a heavy gold fob and +several conspicuously large rings._] + +DORR. Would anybody believe it? A room full of charming girls, and you +two solemn philosophers out here in the dark discussing the Lombardy +poplars. Can you find nothing better to talk about? + +SIDNEY. I’m sure we’re both booked for every dance on the list. It’s a +breath of fresh air we’re after now. + +DORR. Meanwhile the ladies are commenting upon your ungallant +disappearance; but you cannot elude them long. Billy Fanshawe is +bringing out a small party to view the lower gardens. Perhaps such a +trip would appeal to you? + +JACK. It’s a lark! I wonder how they ever got Billy away from the +lobster cutlets and the soft crabs. [_Enter_ BILLY _left, followed by_ +MRS. KEENE, MARIAN, GERTRUDE, MARGARET _and_ ROSE.] + +BILLY. [_Officiously, from the top step._] All in line for a personally +conducted tour around the celebrated Dorr gardens. The small and select +party will be carefully chaperoned by Mrs. Keene and will be under the +immediate direction of Mr. William Fanshawe, the well-known cicerone, +who will explain all points of interest. + +JACK. Bully, old man! You’re as impressive as the prospectus of a Cook’s +tour. + +MRS. KEENE. Come on, girls. [_They descend to the terrace._] Why, Mr. +Norgate and Mr. Hastings! I have been wondering what had become of you. + +SIDNEY. We just stepped out to admire the garden and we now crave +permission to join your small and select party. + +MARIAN. I think they’re horrid in coming out here to smoke and then to +pretend they were admiring the garden. I move that we refuse them +permission to join our party. All in favor say ‘aye.’ + +THE GIRLS. [_In chorus._] Aye! + +MARIAN. It is carried. Mr. Hastings and Mr. Norgate are not permitted to +join us. + +SIDNEY. Pardon me, Miss Winthrop, you are not parliamentary. You put +your own motion—you even forgot to wait till some one seconded it. + +MARIAN. What was the use? I knew they were all in favor of it. + +SIDNEY. You ought to be in Congress—they need girls like you. But +seriously, do you mean to say we may not join you? + +GERTRUDE. Yes, and it serves you right, too! + +BILLY. Hold on! I want to amend that resolution. If you girls don’t +mind, I should like to have Jack Norgate along. He knows the names of +the trees and shrubs better than I do. + +MARGARET. What! better than the well-known cicerone? + +BILLY. I regret to say he does. In fact, I might make a mess of it +without him. + +MARIAN. Shall we relent, Mrs. Keene? + +MRS. KEENE. I suppose so, though you are adding to my responsibilities +as chaperone. [BILLY _mounts the marble railing and detaches one of the +Japanese lanterns_.] + +ROSE. But only Mr. Norgate—not Mr. Hastings. He has been too sarcastic. + +SIDNEY. Ladies, I am overwhelmed with the sense of my shortcomings. I +spare you the need of further deliberation by admitting that I am +unworthy of your company. + +GERTRUDE. How pathetic! I believe he’s glad we don’t want him! + +MARGARET. Mr. Dorr, won’t you join us? + +DORR. Thank you—I think I shall try to entertain Mr. Hastings during +your absence. + +MARIAN. He ought to be left by himself. + +DORR. I should hate to leave him in such bad company. I want to try +moral suasion on him. + +BILLY. I hope he survives. [_Holds up the lantern._] Ladies, are you +ready? + +MRS. KEENE. We shall surely need more light. It must be very dark at the +foot of the garden. + +BILLY. One’s enough. Besides, if we had more, you might get confused and +follow some other lantern instead of mine. + +DORR. Don’t forget to show the ladies the sun-dial. + +ROSE. Oh! a sun-dial! Isn’t that romantic! + +SIDNEY. Especially at this time of night. + +DORR. It’s a quaint old dial that was brought over from Italy many years +ago. + +BILLY. [_Whispers to_ DORR.] By the way, Bobbie, what does that Italian +motto on the sun-dial mean? I always forget it. + +DORR. ‘Time will reveal all things.’ + +BILLY. Thanks. That helps me over one difficulty at least. Come on, +ladies. We’re now under way! [_He heads the procession off right, +followed by_ MRS. KEENE _and the girls. The latter speak almost +simultaneously as they leave._] + +MARIAN. _Au revoir!_ I hope you’ll enjoy that moral suasion, Mr. +Hastings! + +ROSE. Don’t spare him, Mr. Dorr! + +GERTRUDE. I hope you will profit by it, Mr. Hastings! + +MARGARET. You are too self-sacrificing, Mr. Dorr! [_They go off._] + +SIDNEY. [_Laughing._] In such charming creatures as these rests most of +our happiness in life. I suppose I ought to be in a penitent mood—they +will all be ready to forgive me when I dance with them later on. [_He +offers_ DORR _a cigarette_.] Smoke, Dorr? + +DORR. [_Takes cigarette._] Thanks. [_After a pause._] Do you know, +Hastings, the women seem to be more or less afraid of you? I’ve noticed +it many times. + +SIDNEY. The sex has evidently little respect for my cynical philosophy. +It’s a pleasure to toss a choice morsel of flippancy at them and watch +them gasp. + +DORR. [_Reflectively._] They’re a life-long study for the keenest man. +How splendidly they play their parts! Every woman’s an actress at heart. +[_Pointing to the garden._] There is a group of apparently ingenuous, +simple-hearted young creatures alive to the pleasure of the moment and +intent upon enjoying existence—yet I’ll wager that in each feminine mind +there are deep-laid schemes beyond your detection or mine. + +SIDNEY. We men are at a disadvantage because we have no adequate weapon +to match theirs—and the laws of common courtesy render us helpless +before their cleverly concealed advances. To make matters worse, each +fair antagonist plans her campaign in her own individual manner—woe to +the presumptuous man who tries to generalize their methods. No two of +them will act precisely alike in effecting their ends. + +DORR. They’re all alike in one thing, Hastings. + +SIDNEY. What’s that? + +DORR. Their respect for wealth! They may be as individual as you please; +but exhibit your pile of gold—the talisman that puts the luxurious gowns +upon their backs and the gleaming jewels about their persons—and you’ll +find them all ready to purr like a lot of kittens over a bowl of warm +milk! + +SIDNEY. See here, Dorr, I thought I was a bit of a cynic myself, but I +never quite believed that. You don’t mean to say that a woman cannot +rise above a cringing regard for mere material wealth? + +DORR. I mean just that; no woman—and no man either, for that matter. It +was long before our time that a famous statesman declared that every man +had his price—and I don’t believe he had any intention of ignoring woman +when he said it. + +SIDNEY. [_Seriously._] Well, if you really feel that way about it, I +must insist that you are far more in need of moral suasion than I am. We +two are very different, Dorr, in one respect. + +DORR. Yes? + +SIDNEY. If you will pardon my saying so, I flash an occasional cynicism +upon the ladies that puts them on their guard and marks me as a person +to be treated with caution. You retain their good opinion by an outward +show of courtesy and deference, yet in your heart you entertain +sentiments that make it impossible for you to respect a single human +creature. + +DORR. We’re quite different in another respect, Hastings. You light upon +a thing of this sort and brood over it until it spoils your good nature. +I take it for granted that we are all corruptible and that none can +stand the absolute tests of integrity, but I don’t worry about it. This +is a good enough world if one has the power to command its good things. +When it comes to testing the power of its talisman [_He draws a few gold +coins from his pocket and jingles them._] I must affirm that those who +have tried its virtues are, after all, the best judges of its merits. +[SIDNEY _tosses away his cigarette with a gesture of disgust_.] What’s +the matter? + +SIDNEY. The tobacco was beginning to taste bad; I have smoked enough, +anyhow. [_He rises and gazes down into the garden._ DORR _hesitates for +a moment, then crosses to him._] + +DORR. Evidently you find my views very shocking. Somehow I expected you +to agree with me. + +SIDNEY. I presume I am like most of my kind—when I find a man more +cynical than myself I conclude that it is time to reform my philosophy +of life. [_After a pause._] Bobbie Dorr, when you say that you believe +all men and women bow to the power of wealth, do you make no +reservations—no exceptions? + +DORR. I make no exceptions—not even myself! If I were a poor man, I +should be as corruptible as the rest. There are no exceptions! + +SIDNEY. [_Slowly._] Not even such a girl as—Eleanor Richmond? + +DORR. [_Annoyed._] Why should you mention Miss Richmond in this +connection? + +SIDNEY. Pardon me—because I believe that you care more about her than +you do about most girls. I know you admire her; I don’t hesitate to say +that I regard her as the embodiment of all that is lovable in woman. I +wondered whether you were willing to class her with the rest of your +mercenary herd—that is all. + +DORR. [_With constraint._] Miss Richmond has always enjoyed all the +luxuries that wealth can supply. Where gold has nothing to offer it +cannot be expected to corrupt. I should prefer to discuss this question +in the abstract without considering its bearing upon Miss Richmond, or +upon any one else, for that matter. [_Shrieks are heard from the +garden._ SIDNEY _crosses to the right_.] + +SIDNEY. Something has happened to Mrs. Keene’s party! + +DORR. [_Peering off right._] They are coming up the path. Their lantern +is extinguished! Billy’s personally conducted tour seems to have ended +in a fizzle. + +SIDNEY. [_Looking towards the left._] Those shrieks were evidently heard +in the ball room. Miss Richmond is coming out. [ELEANOR _enters with an +alarmed look. Dorr crosses to her._] + +ELEANOR. What is it, Bobbie? I thought I heard some one crying from the +garden. + +DORR. You undoubtedly did. Billy Fanshawe has been trying to guide Mrs. +Keene and a party of the girls about the place and he has evidently come +to grief. We shall know in a moment. + +ELEANOR. You don’t suppose that anything serious has happened? + +SIDNEY. It’s hardly likely—Jack Norgate is with them. [_Confused voices +and exclamations off right, drawing nearer._] + +DORR. [_Looking off._] This way! Watch out for that step! [_Another +shriek and exclamations. The girls tumble in hastily in couples. +Finally_ BILLY _and_ JACK _supporting_ MRS. KEENE _between them_.] + +ELEANOR. Why, what has happened? [_The girls assist each other in +smoothing their ruffled hair and gowns. The men escort_ MRS. KEENE _to +the right bench, where she gasps for breath_.] + +MARIAN. Billy Fanshawe was showing us around the garden—and everything +was so beautiful! We had just reached the sun-dial and Billy raised his +lantern to read the curious Italian inscription when a sudden gust of +wind blew out the light— + +GERTRUDE. And we were left in the dark—it was pitch dark, and the boys +had no matches! + +MRS. KEENE. [_Dramatically._] There was no sudden gust of wind! Mr. +Norgate deliberately blew out the light. I never experienced anything so +outrageous! + +JACK. My dear Mrs. Keene—I must protest. I was simply leaning over +Billy’s shoulder to see the inscription. I was just about to read off +the Italian words when I suddenly found myself in total darkness. + +SIDNEY. Perhaps your Italian pronunciation put out the light. + +MRS. KEENE. [_Severely._] Sidney Hastings, this is no matter for +jesting. The worst is yet to come! [_The girls look at each other with +assumed surprise._] + +ROSE. What do you mean? + +MRS. KEENE. I mean that after that light went out the behavior of those +young men was disgraceful. There was hugging and kissing all about me! + +MARGARET. Oh! Mrs. Keene! How can you say such a thing? Of course, we +all uttered exclamations of surprise. + +MRS. KEENE. You certainly did—and several of you young ladies also said +‘stop’! [_The girls look at one another._] + +BILLY. [_Slowly._] I suppose Jack and I are disgraced forever, Mrs. +Keene, if you’re going to believe that about us. I say it’s unkind. + +MRS. KEENE. [_Witheringly._] There is just one thing I’d like to find +out. + +JACK. [_Innocently._] What is it? + +MRS. KEENE. Which of you two young men put his arm around _my_ waist—by +mistake, of course! [JACK _and_ BILLY _look foolishly at each other. The +rest chuckle wherever_ MRS. KEENE _cannot see them_.] + +MARIAN. [_To the rescue._] I believe I put my arm around your waist—I +was very much frightened. + +MRS. KEENE. [_With sarcasm._] I dare say you girls were so much +frightened that you all had your arms about each other’s waists; and our +two gallant escorts—I suppose they will also insist that they embraced +each other for mutual protection. + +DORR. I think you might make some allowance, Mrs. Keene. The boys were +probably doing their best to keep the party close together. + +MRS. KEENE. The party was close enough, I assure you. I’m glad it’s all +over. No more garden trips for me in the dark, especially when there are +irresponsible young men in the party. [_She rises and crosses to the +left._] You girls had better come inside—the dancing will go on in a few +moments. + +ROSE. I’m so sorry about the sun-dial. I scarcely had a look at it—I was +so anxious to see it. + +GERTRUDE. We couldn’t even read the Italian motto. What was it, Billy? + +BILLY. The exact Italian words have slipped my memory, but they +meant—let me see—they meant— + +ELEANOR. ‘Time will reveal all things.’ [_Soft waltz music begins in the +ball room._] + +MRS. KEENE. A very good motto, Mr. Fanshawe. Perhaps some day time will +reveal how that light went out! Come, girls, the music has begun. [_They +enter the ball room in groups_, DORR _and_ ELEANOR _in the rear. They +detach themselves from the rest._] + +DORR. [_Softly._] The next dance is mine, Eleanor. Shall we not stay out +here for a few moments? + +ELEANOR. Yes, if you wish. [_He leads her to the bench at the right._] + +DORR. I have been eager all evening to have a few words with you apart +from that restless whirl inside—just we two alone, with our little +secret! + +ELEANOR. You silly boy! Be careful you don’t betray us. [_Looks toward +the garden._] How delightful it is out here in the open! There _is_ a +slight breeze. Bobbie, do you believe Aunt Sara was right in declaring +that the boys put out that light? + +DORR. Certainly. You heard Gertrude Paston say the boys had no matches +to re-light the lantern. Well, Jack was out here smoking with Hastings +before he joined your aunt’s party. + +ELEANOR. Of course, Gertrude and Jack are rather fond of each other— + +DORR. I don’t blame him for not finding his matches. + +ELEANOR. You know I didn’t mean that—I don’t believe Jack would do such +a thing! You wouldn’t, Bobbie? + +DORR. Not in their bungling fashion, perhaps—but there’s no telling what +a fellow wouldn’t do for a few golden moments with a girl he cared for. +I grant that if there’s a bevy of girls about, he may possibly hug the +wrong one—he may even embrace the chaperone, eh? [_He laughs softly._] + +ELEANOR. Don’t say such things, Bobbie. You shouldn’t talk so +flippantly. + +DORR. It’s true, isn’t it? In spite of their apparent protests, there +wasn’t one in that party who regretted the little episode at the +sun-dial—except your aunt, of course, and she protested mainly on behalf +of outraged social decorum. One can hardly help being flippant about +such women! + +ELEANOR. Bobbie! + +DORR. I know—she’s your aunt—that’s the best I can say for her; she +doesn’t deserve the honor. But after all, why should we bother about +these people? We can be happy out here—with our secret. The time will be +short enough. Who has the next dance? + +ELEANOR. [_Looking at the card._] Harold Westbrook. + +DORR. He won’t be long in claiming you. I can’t help feeling decidedly +jealous when I see some one else swinging you about the floor. [_He +takes her hand._] But soon I shall make them all envious forever—soon +our little secret will no longer be our own. Within two months my +grandfather’s fortune passes into my hands, and then— + +ELEANOR. Then you will be a very wealthy man, Bobbie, but your fortune +will carry serious responsibilities with it. You can find better things +to do than trying to make the other boys envious of you. + +DORR. They must be envious when they learn that you are mine, when they +see you resplendent as a queen, dazzling from head to foot; they’ll no +longer sneer at my wealth—they will realize what it has achieved for me! + +ELEANOR. [_Withdrawing her hand._] What your wealth has achieved for +you! You believe that your grandfather’s money makes a difference? + +DORR. Why not? If I were a poor man, I wouldn’t ask a girl I loved to +share my poverty and thus spoil her own chance of happiness; but if I +can give my wife everything that heart can desire, why shouldn’t it make +a difference? + +ELEANOR. [_Reflectively._] There is one great happiness that is denied +to the rich girl—the happiness that comes to the self-sacrificing wife +who helps her husband in his struggle with the world, who stands at his +side offering aid and encouragement until together they forge their way +upward to the heights of success—a success that both can cherish as a +result of mutual effort. + +DORR. That’s all mere story-book sentimentality. Let a poor husband and +his self-sacrificing wife start out together in a life of poverty, and +ten to one he’s ashamed of her when he has made his fortune—if he ever +does. The newspapers are full of such instances. Don’t cast a romantic +glamor over a state of affairs that would be extremely unpleasant in +real life. You wouldn’t be the sort of girl for such a career! + +ELEANOR. [_With spirit._] A true woman finds her happiness with the man +she loves, whether rich or poor; she does not find it in a mere riot of +gold! + +DORR. But the gold helps! The gold makes life pleasant—it gives us what +we desire. [_She turns away._] Why, Eleanor, you’re not going to let +this spoil things? Remember our secret! + +ELEANOR. Bobbie—[_A pause._] We can no longer— + +DORR. You’re not going to throw me over for a mere difference of +opinion? We have our lives before us and everything to live for— + +ELEANOR. Yes, we have everything—except spiritual kinship. I’m sorry, +Bobbie—heartily sorry, but I’m also thankful I found that out in time. +[_The music ceases._] + +DORR. The dance is over! Westbrook will be here in a moment to claim +you. Will you let it end in this way? + +ELEANOR. [_Rising._] I cannot hope that you will understand how +distressed I am, but I want to say just one thing, Bobbie—to-night seems +to mark a turning point in our lives. I trust it is for the best. +Whatever happens hereafter, I want you to remember the motto on your old +Italian sun-dial— + +DORR. [_Mechanically._] ‘Time will reveal all things.’ + +ELEANOR. Yes. We shall both grow older and perhaps we shall see with a +clearer vision than now. I shall not forget—[HAROLD _enters hastily from +the ball room_.] + +HAROLD. Ah, Miss Richmond, you are here. The next dance is mine, I +believe? + +ELEANOR. [_Taking his arm._] Yes, Mr. Westbrook. Are you coming in, +Bobbie? + +DORR. Not now. [_As they pass up the steps left, he deliberately lights +a cigarette._] ‘Time will reveal all things.’—I hope it will; then we’ll +see if I’m not right. [_Taking a few gold coins from his pocket he +tosses them in his palm._] Now, my golden friends, you, at least, will +be true to me! I shall rely upon you to show her—her and all the rest of +them your wonderful power! [_He looks toward the ball room as the dance +music resumes and the curtain descends._] + + + + + SCENE I + + +[_The office of Lehmann Frères in their factory at St. Gallen. It is +furnished in a manner appropriate to a prosperous business concern. In +the centre is a large rectangular table with several chairs. At the left +is a low flat desk with papers, telephone and chair. Close to the wall +behind the desk is a telephone switchboard for communicating with +various parts of the works. At the right there is a modern office-desk, +richly furnished, with a hatrack nearby. In the centre back is a large +leather covered davenport above which hangs a portrait of the late M. +Lehmann senior, the father of Lehmann Frères and the honored founder of +the establishment. Elsewhere on the walls hang framed views of the plant +and other appropriate pictures. There are exits right and left to inner +offices, likewise two exits in the rear, the right exit leading to the +street and provided with a glass-door, the left exit leading to the +shops. Whenever the left exit is opened the heavy whirr of machinery is +heard within. As the curtain rises_, BERTINE _is seen at the flat desk, +left, signing papers. A few moments later the telephone bell rings._ +BERTINE _answers the telephone at his desk_.] + +BERTINE. Hello!... Yes... M. Raoul Lehmann is out at present.... This is +his secretary, M. Bertine.... Yes.... He should be here shortly.... +No.... M. Frédéric Lehmann has an important conference on hand in this +office at three o’clock.... No.... Impossible!... No!... No!!... Very +well.... Good-by. [_He hangs up the receiver and resumes work at his +papers._ RAOUL LEHMANN _enters at the rear right entrance with hat, cane +and gloves, which he places on the rack near his desk at the right_.] + +BERTINE. Good afternoon, M. Lehmann. I have just had a telephone call +from a reporter of _Le Journal_ asking for an interview with you or your +brother. + +RAOUL. Ah! So the newspapers have learned of our trouble with our +operatives. I presume they wish to send a representative to the +conference? + +BERTINE. Yes. I took the liberty of informing the reporter that it was +impossible. + +RAOUL. Very good! Has my brother returned from luncheon? + +BERTINE. Not yet, sir. [_He hands a telegram to_ RAOUL.] This telegram +arrived while you were out. + +RAOUL. [_Opens it and reads._] ‘If possible, kindly postpone conference +till five o’clock. I wish to be present at the meeting. Signed, D’Or.’ + +BERTINE. M. D’Or! + +RAOUL. As he chooses to call himself—the grandson of the late Josiah +Dorr, whose money coupled with the brains of my honored father +[_Pointing to the portrait._] made this great plant possible. Let me +see—the Dorr estate holds about one-third of the shares, does it not? + +BERTINE. Somewhat more. Within the last few months they have increased +their holdings to nearly forty per cent. + +RAOUL. In any event, it is enough to command respect for such a request +as this. [FRÉDÉRIC LEHMANN _enters at the rear right entrance with hat +and gloves_.] Ah! Frédéric. I have just received this communication from +M. D’Or. [_He hands the telegram to_ FRÉDÉRIC.] + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Reads._] So! The mysterious grandson and heir! + +RAOUL. We must accede to the request. He may make trouble otherwise—we +have enough to worry about without antagonizing our shareholders. + +FRÉDÉRIC. By all means! If he is anything like his grandfather, he will +strengthen our position very much. Old Josiah always took care that he +got his share of the spoils—and usually a little besides! + +RAOUL. [_To_ BERTINE.] Kindly have M. Albert sent here at once. He heads +the delegation, I believe? + +BERTINE. Yes. [_He goes to the house-telephone and adjusts the plug._] +Hello.... Yes.... Ask M. Albert to come to the office.... Yes.... That’s +all. + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Looking at the telegram._] So the grandson of old Mr. Dorr +blossoms into M. D’Or! + +RAOUL. Some rogue of a genealogist probably convinced him that the +change of name could be defended. The rich American has a weakness for +that sort of thing. The manufacture of genealogies is a more profitable +industry than that of laces, Frédéric! + +FRÉDÉRIC. Very likely; but it demands an imagination—an inventive +faculty that most of us do not possess. [ALBERT _enters at the rear, +left. He bows respectfully to the_ LEHMANNS.] + +RAOUL. M. Albert, our conference this afternoon will be postponed until +five o’clock. M. D’Or, who is one of our American shareholders, wishes +to attend the meeting, so we are making this change to accommodate him. + +ALBERT. Very well, M. Lehmann. Shall I inform my associates? + +RAOUL. Yes. I believe there are five of you? + +ALBERT. Two of the men besides myself and two of the women. + +RAOUL. You may return to your work, M. Albert. [ALBERT _bows himself out +at the left rear entrance_.] + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Who has been examining a paper at the table._] M. Bertine, +will you look over this schedule and compare it with the duplicate on +file in my office? + +BERTINE. [_Taking the paper._] Very well, M. Lehmann. [_He bows low and +goes out at the side door, left._] + +FRÉDÉRIC. Bah! What a life it must be to cringe and bow continually to +one’s superiors. Our M. Albert from the shops is scarcely more servile +than our M. Bertine in his attitude towards us. + +RAOUL. True enough; but let M. Albert show lack of respect to so +influential a man as M. Bertine and he would soon feel the consequences. +Even the secretary of Lehmann Frères is a great man in the eyes of his +inferiors. [_He goes to his desk._] It’s a queer world, Frédéric, but +there’s considerable satisfaction to be gained from being in the front +ranks. + +FRÉDÉRIC. Yes—to issue orders, not to take them; to command men, not to +obey them. [_Looks at the portrait._] What a debt we owe, Raoul, to the +genius of our dear father! + +RAOUL. [_Drily, at the desk, without looking around._] And to the money +of old Josiah Dorr! + +FRÉDÉRIC. Certainly—but tell me, could anything be more useless, in fact +more harmful than such money unless administered with discretion and +foresight? + +RAOUL. By the way, Frédéric, M. Bertine has just informed me that the +Dorr interest is now forty per cent. of our capital. Have you been +keeping track of the stock-transfers? + +FRÉDÉRIC. You signed the certificates as well as I. + +RAOUL. True; they were all for small amounts, but it now occurs to me +there were a great many of them. I often regret that we ever reduced our +holdings below an actual majority of the stock. Of course, you had to +furnish your villa on the Axenstrasse— + +FRÉDÉRIC. And you needed money to keep your racing-stables stocked with +thoroughbreds. You know very well, Raoul, that you disposed of more +shares than I did. + +RAOUL. We have both been careless in the matter. Our joint holdings are +about forty-five per cent., which is but a little more than the Dorr +estate now holds. I know, the rest is scattered in small lots, but I get +apprehensive at times. [_He goes over to_ FRÉDÉRIC.] Frédéric, we have a +serious duty before us—we must regain a majority interest of the stock. + +FRÉDÉRIC. You are right. We cannot afford to take chances on losing +control of the business. I shall increase the mortgage on my villa; you +can probably spare a few of your horses? + +RAOUL. Yes. We must also devise other means of raising money. One thing +is certain—we cannot grant the demand of our workpeople for higher +wages. [_He picks up the petition from_ BERTINE’S _desk and scans it_.] +I note that they ask for a uniform advance of ten per cent. in all +departments. + +FRÉDÉRIC. They might as well ask for one hundred and ten per cent. +[_Laughing._] You and I agree on that subject, at least—and M. D’Or is +not likely to intercede for them if he is as fond of fat dividends as +his respected grandfather used to be! + +RAOUL. We need not fear M. D’Or. It is probably idle curiosity that +brings him here. [_Voices are heard in the room, left._ BERTINE _enters +excitedly, followed by_ D’OR, _who is dressed in fine white flannels, +with gold-headed cane, gold band on straw hat, several conspicuous gold +rings and a heavy watch fob_.] + +BERTINE. [_Spluttering._] M. D’Or! M. Raoul Lehmann, M. Frédéric +Lehmann! [_He bows himself out._] + +D’OR. [_With familiarity._] Ah, gentlemen, so I stand in the presence of +Lehmann Frères. [_They shake hands._] You evidently expected me to enter +by your front door [_Points back, right._] but I stole a march on you. I +have been inspecting the factory for the past two hours. + +RAOUL. [_Surprised._] Inspecting the factory! + +D’OR. I have been all over the plant—it is truly a model establishment. +I am pleased to be associated in the control of such an admirable hive +of industry. You will pardon my unconventional way of learning these +things, but I did not wish to be bored by an official and perfunctory +inspection starting from the office. I therefore took matters into my +own hands—and starting at the bottom, I have worked my way to the +intellectual summit of the structure. [_He looks about him._] + +FRÉDÉRIC. It is a pleasure to know that we stood this unusual test so +well, M. D’Or—but, after all, the house of Lehmann Frères has nothing to +conceal— + +D’OR. Evidently not. Your product is of the highest grade and commands +the best markets; your people work under the most hygienic conditions. +They are a busy multitude—those hundreds of men and women in the shops. +By the way, gentlemen, I observed some very pretty girls among them—but +I suppose you are already familiar with that fact. + +RAOUL. [_Coldly._] Pardon me, M. D’Or—my brother and I are hardly in a +position to admire the personal charms of our employees. We are both +married men. + +D’OR. Ah! I see—you may not talk freely of such things. How promptly you +seem to suspect that I was about to intimate something quite shocking. +Charming girls, just the same, even if they do not bask in the sunshine +of your favor. I became interested in one of the young women in your +lace department and stopped for a few moments to question her about her +work—a Mlle. Adrienne—Adrienne—[_He pulls out a small memorandum book._] + +FRÉDÉRIC. Mlle. Courteaux. + +D’OR. Thank you—that was the name. I was amazed at her dexterity and the +rapidity with which she worked. It was fascinating; yet she told me that +she receives only thirty-five francs a week. + +RAOUL. Did she say _only_ thirty-five francs? She is one of our most +skilful and best-paid operatives. + +D’OR. No—I supplied the _only_! It is an outrage—that attractive young +figure bending over the machine, those well-shaped, nimble fingers +constantly at work—and a miserable five and thirty francs at the end of +the week! No wonder your workers are complaining. + +FRÉDÉRIC. But, M. D’Or, we pay the same wages as all the rest. There +must be a profit in the business—a fair return for the large capital +invested. + +D’OR. I wish above all things to act intelligently when we meet their +delegation this afternoon—that is why I chose my own way of becoming +acquainted with the establishment. Have your people formulated their +grievances? + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Taking the document from_ BERTINE’S _desk_.] Yes, here is +their petition addressed to us. We did not wish to be subjected to their +oratory at the conference, so we insisted upon a preliminary bill of +complaint. + +D’OR. [_Scanning the sheets._] H’m—in view of the prosperous times—plant +working to the limit of its capacity—unprecedented business—increased +rents—higher cost of living—we request a general increase of ten per +cent. Why, surely, it is very little that they ask? + +RAOUL. Do you realize what an effect it will have upon our dividends? + +FRÉDÉRIC. Are not our shareholders entitled to first consideration? + +D’OR. [_Still glancing at the petition and not heeding their remarks._] +‘Respectfully submitted, Messrs. Albert, Lorraine, Frémiet; Mlles. +Céleste Bergère, Adrienne Courteaux’—well, I declare, my charming friend +of the lace-machine is to be one of your delegation! How soon do we meet +them? + +RAOUL. I think we had better agree upon some line of action before we +invite the delegation to the office. We should at least present a united +front. + +D’OR. How do you usually act in such an industrial crisis as this? + +RAOUL. Sometimes we find it necessary to make a partial concession—they +are usually crafty enough to ask for twice what they expect to get. +Occasionally we can win over a delegation by assuring them of an +individual raise in wages and thus send them back to their associates +with a discouraging report. + +FRÉDÉRIC. We dare not tamper with the present delegation—they would be +difficult to handle. Their leader, Albert, is a quiet fellow, but the +soul of honor. [_Looks over the petition._] Lorraine is an old man, +generally esteemed and beloved by his associates; Frémiet is a rascally +socialist, a constant breeder of trouble. [_He drops the petition._] + +D’OR. [_Picking up the petition._] And the girls, Mlles. Céleste and +Adrienne—what lovely names they have! + +FRÉDÉRIC. We never worry about the women in such delegations. They are +easily managed. It is strange, Raoul, that just those two should have +been chosen. You should know, M. D’Or, that Adrienne Courteaux is a +good, highly respected girl, who is supporting her widowed mother. As +for Mlle. Bergère—what shall I say, Raoul? + +RAOUL. [_With sarcasm._] I hardly know how she will appeal to M. D’Or’s +fancy. She lacks exactly those virtues and qualities that strike us so +favorably in Mlle. Courteaux. + +D’OR. Well, gentlemen, I see that you know something after all about the +young women of your establishment, in spite of the fact that you are +both married men—but, seriously, how do you propose to answer their +request for an advance? + +RAOUL. There is but one answer if we are not to reduce our dividends—the +request must be refused. + +D’OR. And the admirable Mlle. Courteaux, supporting a widowed mother, +will continue to get only thirty-five francs a week? + +FRÉDÉRIC. Her case seems to distress you most. Do you realize that even +with the increase she would be earning less than forty francs? + +D’OR. True—I hadn’t thought that it meant so little—so contemptibly +little. Gentlemen, I propose that we grant the ten per cent. increase +and that in such deserving cases as Mlle. Courteaux’s we give an +additional increment. + +RAOUL. [_Leaping to his feet._] M. D’Or, pardon me—but what you propose +is impossible! Lehmann Frères are now paying the maximum wage-scale. We +cannot increase wages further without defying an established economic +law. + +D’OR. M. Lehmann, the economic law has tyrannized over us long enough—it +must be taught a wholesome respect for the power of gold. Of what value +is wealth if it cannot crush so immaterial a thing as an economic law? + +RAOUL. If you have no regard for your own interests, you should at least +respect the investment of the other shareholders. + +D’OR. Who are the other shareholders? + +RAOUL. You hold some forty per cent. from your grandfather’s estate +together with recent additions; my brother and I jointly own—[_A +pause._] about half of the stock or a little over. That leaves about six +or eight per cent. in small scattered holdings. [FRÉDÉRIC _looks +anxiously at_ D’OR.] + +D’OR. [_With a sinister expression, drawing a bundle of certificates +from his pocket._] M. Lehmann, you and your brother own forty-five per +cent. or less! The so-called scattered holdings are not six or eight per +cent.—here are at least fifteen per cent.—you will observe that each +certificate is endorsed in my favor. + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Leaping up._] Then you actually own a majority of the stock? +[RAOUL _buries his face in his hands and groans_.] + +D’OR. Yes. The Blausteins at Paris have been quietly obtaining this +little block of Lehmann Frères for me. Gentlemen, I was surprised to +learn that you had permitted the control to escape you. + +RAOUL. [_Walking excitedly._] Why should the delegation consult with us, +Frédéric? M. D’Or now dominates the situation—why prolong the agony? + +D’OR. You should not be so bitter, M. Lehmann, because the sins of your +own negligence have found you out. Your lie a moment ago is pardonable. +I recognize your talents—you have maintained and advanced a great +industry established by your father. I hope you will continue to direct +the interests of Lehmann Frères. I simply wish to act as spokesman in +the conference with your delegation—I may say _our_ delegation of +workers. + +RAOUL. Why ask of us a favor that we have no power to withhold? Complete +your triumph! We are in your hands! [D’OR _glances for a moment at the +angry_ RAOUL, _then turns to_ FRÉDÉRIC.] + +D’OR. Kindly summon the committee! + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Rings._ BERTINE _enters, left_.] M. Bertine, please ask the +delegation to come at once. [BERTINE _goes out, rear left. Frédéric +crosses over to_ RAOUL, _who seems crushed and helpless. He tries to +encourage_ RAOUL.] + +D’OR. [_Looking at portrait, after a pause._] Your father’s portrait, I +presume? + +RAOUL. Thank Heaven, he did not live to see this day! + +D’OR. [_Drily._] If he had lived there would have been no such day—at +least, it would not have disturbed his equanimity. + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Comforting_ RAOUL.] Do not reply, Raoul. Let us at least +preserve appearances before our employees. [_Enter, rear left_, BERTINE, +_followed by_ ALBERT, _then_ CÉLESTE _and_ ADRIENNE, _finally_ LORRAINE +_and_ FRÉMIET. _Throughout this scene_ RAOUL _labors under suppressed +excitement_; FRÉDÉRIC _is more composed_.] + +FRÉDÉRIC. M. D’Or, this is the delegation of our workpeople who have +arranged for to-day’s conference. May I say to the committee that we are +honored in having with us M. D’Or, who has a large interest in Lehmann +Frères and wishes to participate in our deliberation. + +D’OR. I should like to meet the delegates individually. + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Indicating._] M. Albert is their leader. + +D’OR. [_Shaking hands._] M. Albert, I am glad to grasp the hand of a man +who has the mark of leadership in his personality. [_Pointing to the +petition._] Is this petition your work? + +ALBERT. [_Modestly._] Only partly, monsieur. The committee worked on it +as a body. + +D’OR. It is a masterful summary. I congratulate you! [ALBERT _bows with +a look of gratification and steps aside_.] + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Introducing_ LORRAINE.] Our oldest worker, M. Lorraine. + +D’OR. The oldest worker! Most interesting! How long have you been +associated with the company? + +LORRAINE. I was twenty when the honored father [_Points to the +portrait._] of Messrs. Lehmann first engaged me—and I’ve been here ever +since. I have two sons and five grandsons here now. I am seventy-three +years old. + +D’OR. [_Astonished._] Fifty-three years of faithful service—and you are +still among the workers! How is it that you have not risen to prosperity +in that time? + +LORRAINE. [_Without bitterness._] We cannot all hope to reach the top. +Some of us have not the brains—and others have not the chance. I have +always been a sober and industrious man, but the pay is not large. I do +not complain, however—I have always been treated well. + +D’OR. It is unjust—rankly unjust! [_He turns to_ FRÉMIET.] And our third +delegate? + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Curtly._] M. Frémiet. + +D’OR. Ah! I recall—the anarchist! + +FRÉMIET. Pardon me, I am a socialist. + +D’OR. Is there any difference? [FRÉMIET’S _look is contemptuous_.] I am +quite unfamiliar with your nice distinctions of political or economic +creed. I dare say you regard yourself as a very badly used person? + +FRÉMIET. Yes. Every worker is badly used. He does not get his share of +the wealth that he creates by the sweat of his brow. + +D’OR. I suppose you believe that all men are created equal? + +FRÉMIET. They are not—they should be. + +D’OR. Ah! So you actually have a grudge against Nature in the first +instance. How unhappy you must be! At any rate you believe in social +equality. Let me test your faith. You are a workman, laboring faithfully +week after week at the plant of Lehmann Frères; I am a gentleman of +leisure, living idly on an inherited income. Do you believe that any +social upheaval can ever make me your equal? + +FRÉMIET. [_Misunderstanding._] I regard myself as any man’s equal, poor +and crushed as I am. It is a cruel social tyranny that keeps us down. + +D’OR. Pardon me, my friend—you did not listen carefully. I asked whether +you believed that any social upheaval could make me _your_ equal. + +FRÉMIET. You are mocking me, M. D’Or. In your heart you know that you +are my superior—my superior in everything that is most desirable in this +world. You live your life according to the dictates of your own fancy, +you call no man master, the pleasures of the world are at your beck. Why +should you seek to torture me and these others on the rack? + +D’OR. [_Turning to the_ LEHMANNS.] Really, I had no idea that my visit +was to be so interesting! [_To_ FRÉMIET.] M. Frémiet, you are something +better than a socialist—you are a poet. Instead of working at the +lace-machines you should capitalize your thoughts. You would soon +attract sufficient attention to make you rich and famous—and +incidentally to drive every vestige of socialism out of your system. +[FRÉMIET _bows with evident pleasure_.] + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Introducing_ CÉLESTE.] Mlle. Bergère. + +CÉLESTE. [_With a curtsy, archly._] Céleste Bergère. + +D’OR. [_Bowing._] Mademoiselle, I am particularly interested in the +welfare of the young women in our workrooms. In which department are +you? + +CÉLESTE. I assist in sorting and packing embroideries. + +D’OR. And what is your pay for this service? + +CÉLESTE. Twenty francs a week. + +D’OR. Twenty francs! How can one live on such wages? + +CÉLESTE. [_With a deliberate look at the_ LEHMANNS.] One cannot—and very +few make the effort. [_The_ LEHMANNS _are astounded and annoyed at her +audacity; the men of the delegation seem uneasy_; ADRIENNE _draws away +from_ CÉLESTE.] + +D’OR. [_With sympathy._] Pardon me for asking that question. I might +have anticipated the answer. Of course, a girl living at home with her +family is under less expense— + +FRÉMIET. [_Starting forward._] How about the rest? It means ruin for the +rest! + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Waving_ FRÉMIET _back and introducing_ ADRIENNE.] I believe +you have met Mlle. Courteaux. + +D’OR. [_Graciously._] Yes, I met Mlle. Courteaux in the lace department. +Your pay is thirty-five francs a week—it is inadequate, I know. + +ADRIENNE. It would not be so bad if it were not for the doctor and for +the medicines that my mother needs. + +D’OR. You are your mother’s sole support? + +ADRIENNE. Yes. [D’OR _looks at her in mingled admiration and pity_.] + +FRÉDÉRIC. Mlle. Courteaux receives high pay as the schedule is arranged. +There are hundreds who receive far less. + +D’OR. Heaven help the hundreds—and the thousands of their kind +elsewhere. [_To_ ADRIENNE.] Are you happy at your work? + +ADRIENNE. Yes; it is not difficult—one soon acquires the necessary +skill. + +D’OR. But you are surely looking forward to something better—something +less monotonous than a lace-machine! + +ALBERT. I hope some day to make Mlle. Courteaux my wife. + +D’OR. Some day? + +ALBERT. Yes. As soon as my pay is sufficient to keep us both. + +D’OR. [_Looks at_ ALBERT, _then_ ADRIENNE.] This, too! Another tyranny +of our industrial system! [_Turns to_ FRÉDÉRIC.] Can Lehmann Frères +afford to be accessories to such hardships? + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Coldly._] It is distressing, of course—but we surely cannot +undertake to reform society and bring about universal happiness. + +RAOUL. [_Stepping forward._] May I remind M. D’Or that we have summoned +this delegation to discuss the wage-scale? We can hardly reach any +conclusion by considering the individual cases before us. + +D’OR. [_With suppressed anger._] Thank you for reminding me, M. Lehmann. +I have made the mistake of regarding our delegation as a group of human +beings. [_He seats himself between the_ LEHMANNS.] Let us settle down to +business. I take it for granted we are all familiar with the contents of +this petition—it sums up the situation aptly—unless our friend Frémiet +wishes to make a speech? + +FRÉMIET. I have no speech to make, M. D’Or. I have been listening +attentively to you—you are a fair-minded man. I am perfectly willing to +leave our grievances in your hands. [D’OR _is visibly flattered_.] + +D’OR. Very well. [_To_ RAOUL.] Now, M. Lehmann, you are the head of this +great establishment—for years you have directed it ably and profitably. +What do you suggest? + +RAOUL. [_Looking keenly at_ D’OR.] Are you asking for my opinion? + +D’OR. Certainly. Can we do anything for our people? + +RAOUL. [_Speaking cautiously._] Perhaps what I say may appear +unsympathetic—but I have always proceeded on the assumption that the +shareholders deserve first consideration in the distribution of +earnings. Our relation with our workers is in the nature of a personal +contract—we offer a certain wage and they are free to refuse it and stay +out of our employ if they so desire. + +D’OR. That is sufficiently blunt to be understood by any one—and it’s +also quite orthodox, I believe; but let us drop abstractions. Can we +afford the requested increase in wages? + +RAOUL. [_Feeling his way._] I wish to do the fair thing—but before all +else I must advise the safe course. Our reports show clearly that a ten +per cent. increase in all departments would ruin the concern. Perhaps we +might compromise on a five per cent. advance and try it for—say six +months, without committing ourselves to continue it beyond that term +unless our earnings justify— + +D’OR. [_Impatiently._] Nonsense, M. Lehmann; you would offer Mlle. +Bergère an extra franc per week, the others perhaps two francs or +less—do you imagine that you have solved the problem? I propose that we +try the ten per cent. increase and give it a fair test. + +CÉLESTE. [_Eagerly._] Oh! M. D’Or, you are our good angel! + +D’OR. [_Flattered._] What is more, I propose to learn the circumstances +of every girl who works in this plant, and wherever conditions warrant +it, I shall recommend an increase of twenty per cent. or even more— + +FRÉDÉRIC. It is impossible! We shall face bankruptcy! + +D’OR. We might try it, at any rate. + +RAOUL. [_Fiercely._] Your plan cannot succeed. + +D’OR. [_Ominously._] None the less I ask you—shall we try it? + +RAOUL. [_After a struggle._] Yes, if you insist! [_The workers are +astounded._] + +D’OR. [_To_ FRÉDÉRIC, _blandly_.] Do you also agree? + +FRÉDÉRIC. Yes. Do whatever you think best! + +D’OR. [_To the delegation._] Your petition is favorably considered and +you may report to your associates that an increase of ten per cent. in +all wages goes into effect immediately. [_The delegates are delighted_; +D’OR _pays no attention to the rest, but gazes at_ ADRIENNE.] + +ALBERT. [_Kissing_ D’OR’S _hand_.] You are a friend of humanity, M. +D’Or! + +LORRAINE. [_With choking voice._] I speak for my sons and grandsons when +I say, ‘Heaven bless you!’ You have brought joy into our lives. + +FRÉMIET. If all employers were like you, monsieur, I would stay away +from our socialistic meetings. + +CÉLESTE. [_Boldly._] M. D’Or, Adrienne and I also wish to thank you, do +we not? [ADRIENNE _stands with bowed head beside her_.] You have made us +so happy! You will be a hero henceforth in the eyes of us all. [_She +turns to_ ADRIENNE, _expecting her to say something_.] + +D’OR. And what do you say, Mlle. Courteaux? [ADRIENNE _raises her head +and looks fixedly at_ D’OR _for several moments of tense silence; then +with a sob she bursts into tears_.] + +ALBERT. [_Hastening to her._] The truest tribute of all, M. D’Or! The +tribute of tears! + +RAOUL. [_Curtly._] The conference being over, you may return to your +work. [_The delegates pass out at the rear left._] M. Bertine, you will +at once post a notice in the shops announcing the increase in wages. +[BERTINE _goes off, left_. RAOUL’S _demeanor changes completely_.] M. +D’Or, in my whole life I have never experienced such a sense of +humiliation, of utter degradation as in the last half hour. What a +terrible man you are! How could you trample us so ruthlessly under +foot—and before our workpeople—treating us like a pair of impotent +puppets! + +D’OR. [_Coolly._] I like to feel the power of my wealth. You have had +the same experience in dealing with your workers. + +RAOUL. Why don’t you exercise your power over them? It is easier and +cheaper. + +D’OR. They know the power of wealth—they need no further demonstration. +The war of wealth against wealth is more to my taste at present. +Besides, gentlemen, it is cleaner sport. + +FRÉDÉRIC. Don’t you realize that as the majority stockholder you must +pay the lion’s share of the bill? + +D’OR. Yes, but it’s worth whatever it costs to see such a precious pair +as you brought to terms. I am satisfied with the reward that my +generosity will bring. By nightfall I shall be heralded through the town +as the kind friend of the downtrodden workers— + +RAOUL. [_Bitterly._] And Lehmann Frères will lose thirty to forty +thousand francs a year! + +D’OR. Of which nearly one half will fall upon you and your brother. + +RAOUL. You forget, M. D’Or—there is still one resource. It would not be +difficult to prove in any court of law that you are an irresponsible +person. When a man, in order to gratify a passing whim, seeks to disturb +the economic balance— + +D’OR. [_With a sneer._] Economic balance! I like that phrase! On the one +hand, our wealth, securely entrenched with all its vast unlimited +influence; on the other, the hands and brains of the numerous wretches +whom we call our employees. Economic balance, indeed! + +FRÉDÉRIC. M. D’Or, we shall not be ruined without a struggle. This +industry has been fostered through two generations of growth and +development. We take pride in it— + +D’OR. Let us stop quarreling, gentlemen—I have heard enough in this +strain. At what figure do you estimate your holdings in Lehmann Frères? + +RAOUL. [_Interrupting_ FRÉDÉRIC.] This morning our joint holdings were +worth six hundred thousand francs—Heaven knows what they are worth now, +with you in the saddle! + +D’OR. [_Deliberately._] Then I presume the easiest way for me to restore +peace and to avoid a commission in lunacy would be to pay you—let us say +eight hundred thousand francs? + +RAOUL. What do you mean? To buy us out? + +D’OR. [_Toying with the petition._] Yes—for eight hundred thousand +francs. + +FRÉDÉRIC. On what terms? + +D’OR. A sight draft on the Blausteins at Paris. [_A frantic discussion +between the brothers, which evokes a smile from_ D’OR.] + +RAOUL. [_Finally._] We accept your offer! + +D’OR. Are you no longer afraid that I am a desperate madman? Are you +sure that a man who disturbs the economic balance can legally transact +business? Would not the sale of your holdings at such an outrageous +overvaluation be liable to attack in your courts? + +RAOUL. [_Suavely._] Not unless you or your friends should proceed. You +made the offer yourself—we are not likely to test your sanity after the +draft is honored. + +D’OR. Gentlemen, I see you are not without a sense of humor. Kindly draw +up a formal agreement—the actual transfer of the property can be +effected to-morrow. [RAOUL _prepares an agreement_.] You can make +immediate delivery, I presume? + +FRÉDÉRIC. Yes. There is nothing to prevent you from taking absolute +possession of the entire establishment at once. You will henceforth be +able to follow the dictates of your own fancy in administering the +affairs of the company. Would it be an impertinence to wish you success +in your venture? + +D’OR. I fear it would be, in the face of your conviction that I am +doomed to inevitable failure. + +FRÉDÉRIC. You are trying to do the impossible! + +D’OR. The impossible is the only thing worth doing nowadays. [RAOUL +_shows the agreement to_ FRÉDÉRIC.] + +FRÉDÉRIC. [_Handing it to_ D’OR.] Very good! + +D’OR. [_Returning it to_ RAOUL.] Quite proper—and to the point. [RAOUL +_rings for_ BERTINE, _who enters, left_.] + +RAOUL. M. Bertine, kindly let us have three copies of this agreement at +once. [BERTINE _takes the paper, glances at its contents and utters an +involuntary cry_.] + +RAOUL. [_Severely._] Have you forgotten yourself? + +BERTINE. [_Confused._] I—I beg your pardon, gentlemen. [_He glances from +one to another, looks at_ D’OR _as at an apparition and goes out +awkwardly_.] + +D’OR. [_Sympathetically._] Poor fellow! How hard he takes it! Gentlemen, +I confess that I looked for a possible word of sentiment from you—a +desire to remain identified with the great business that your father had +established and had developed to its present importance. I was even +prepared to bid higher in case my first offer was not accepted—[_The +brothers look at him in mingled anger and covetousness._] but the sum +seems to have satisfied your cupidity. However, I have an appeal to +make. I do not wish to undertake the administration of this great +industry—I know nothing about it. Do you care to remain here in your +present executive capacity? I know we can agree upon terms. + +RAOUL. Events have crowded each other so quickly that neither of us has +any plans for the future. We shall be willing to stay—for a time at +least, eh, Frédéric? + +FRÉDÉRIC. Assuredly. I, for one, am interested to know how M. D’Or’s +experiment is going to work out. Such audacity affords an enlightening +spectacle to the business man of normal training. + +D’OR. Thank you, gentlemen, I shall appreciate your co-operation. Such a +business requires a certain amount of personal shrewdness and finesse +with which you are evidently well equipped. [BERTINE _enters with the +papers, hands them to_ RAOUL _and goes off, left_. RAOUL _signs each +copy, hands them to_ FRÉDÉRIC, _the latter signs and passes them to_ +D’OR.] + +D’OR. [_Signing the last copy._] There we are! [_Each takes a copy._] +That settles the formal transfer—the details can go over till to-morrow. +Is there anything further, gentlemen? + +RAOUL. [_Somewhat excited, puts his hand to his brow._] I—I do not feel +altogether well. The excitement of the past hour is playing havoc with +my brain! I had better go home— + +FRÉDÉRIC. My dear Raoul—you are not ill, I hope? + +RAOUL. You had better take me home. [_They get their hats and gloves._] +M. D’Or, I wonder whether you are not a demon—or an apparition of some +evil dream! + +D’OR. Have no fear, M. Lehmann. You will find my draft on the Blausteins +a very reliable piece of paper—in exchange for which I am to receive +[_Throwing out his arms._] all this! + +RAOUL. [_In agony._] Ah! this is terrible! [_He goes out, rear right, +followed by_ FRÉDÉRIC. D’OR _looks after them with a laugh, jingles the +gold in his pocket and rings for_ BERTINE _who enters, left. As it is +growing dark_, BERTINE _turns on the electric lamp on the table_.] + +D’OR. M. Bertine, at what time does work cease? + +BERTINE. [_Consults his watch._] In twenty minutes, monsieur. + +D’OR. Will you kindly ask Mlle. Courteaux to come to the office before +she leaves? You may tell her to come at once. + +BERTINE. Very well, monsieur. [_He goes off, rear left._ D’OR _takes the +agreement from his pocket and laughs over it. He looks over other papers +on the desk with deprecatory gestures. For a few moments he gazes at the +portrait of Lehmann senior._ ADRIENNE _enters, rear left, followed by_ +BERTINE.] + +BERTINE. Anything further, monsieur? + +D’OR. Not at present. [_Exit_ BERTINE, _left_. ADRIENNE _stands looking +steadily at_ D’OR.] Mlle. Courteaux, you doubtless wonder why I sent for +you? + +ADRIENNE. [_Simply._] No, I am not wondering. + +D’OR. But you surely cannot know? You see, I—that is, I was so much +distressed when I heard of your sick mother that I desire to learn if I +can do anything for her—perhaps a better doctor, or a trip to the +mountains. I am much interested in her welfare. + +ADRIENNE. [_Coolly._] M. D’Or, it is impossible for me to believe that +you are at all concerned about my mother. + +D’OR. You might at least credit me with good intentions towards her. +There was another reason for my summoning you. When I announced the +increase in wages to the delegation, the others were profuse in their +thanks. You said nothing—you burst into tears. + +ADRIENNE. The rest believed you meant well by them. + +D’OR. And you? + +ADRIENNE. [_After a pause._] I knew better. + +D’OR. [_With a look of admiration._] You are entirely too bright a girl +to pass your best years in a factory. This morning I recognized your +beauty and your charm of manner—now I learn that you are clever as well. + +ADRIENNE. What next, M. D’Or? + +D’OR. How did the shops receive the news of the increase? + +ADRIENNE. The workers went almost wild with joy. + +D’OR. And you alone find a sinister motive in what I did? + +ADRIENNE. Am I wrong? + +D’OR. [_With apparent wounded dignity._] You are doing me a great +injustice—I want you to regard me as a friend. I shall be perfectly +frank with you. When I arrived here I had no intention of playing the +philanthropist as I did a few moments ago. I would have supported the +Lehmanns and there would have been no increase—not a franc for anyone—if +I had not seen you at work. + +ADRIENNE. All this would be very complimentary, monsieur, if I could +ignore the rest of your frankness. + +D’OR. When I urged the increase in wages it was to please you—you alone. +I did not care a whit about the others—and the Lehmanns had to dance as +I fiddled! + +ADRIENNE. That was evident. I felt very sorry for them. + +D’OR. Then you don’t think better of me for what I have done? + +ADRIENNE. How can you expect any one who reads your motives to think +well of you? + +D’OR. Of course, the increase was only a trifle for you after all! But +suppose you could get away from the lace-machine altogether, could live +well, dress well and enjoy life in a way worthy of your beauty—would +that make any difference? + +ADRIENNE. M. D’Or, why do you find it necessary to insult me? + +D’OR. Perhaps you care for that fellow Albert? + +ADRIENNE. [_Quietly._] No. + +D’OR. Is there any one else? + +ADRIENNE. No. + +D’OR. [_More eagerly._] I wouldn’t use that word ‘insult’ if I were you. +I am offering to take you out of a life of drudgery into one of comfort +and affluence, to put the luxuries of the world at your disposal, to +give you the one talisman to the real joy of living. + +ADRIENNE. And that is— + +D’OR. [_Drawing out a handful of gold coin and talking hysterically._] +Gold! Gold! Unlimited gold! The faithful slave that brings me whatever I +desire. The power that sent the Lehmanns slinking out of this room a few +minutes ago like a pair of whipped curs! The power that has placed the +entire establishment of Lehmann Frères in my hands. I own it all—all, +Adrienne! + +ADRIENNE. And you are the man who is now being proclaimed throughout the +town as the champion of the poor man, the friend of the oppressed +woman—you, who seek to control only that you may corrupt! + +D’OR. [_Nettled._] How dare you speak thus to me? You forget that I am +your employer! + +ADRIENNE. That you are not. You have made it impossible for me to earn +my living here. [_She moves toward the door, rear left._] Even if you do +own Lehmann Frères, you might at least spare to your workers their own +souls. You call gold your faithful slave; be careful that your slave +does not master you in the end! [_She passes out quickly._ D’OR _stares +after her and throws the coins on the table. He laughs nervously as he +looks about, especially at the portrait of Lehmann senior. He picks up +the petition, pulls out the agreement, and after some moments of +indecision goes to the telephone._] + +D’OR. [_Looks up the number in the telephone book._] 7—1—4 please.... +Hello.... Yes.... Is that the home of M. Raoul Lehmann?... M. Lehmann +himself? This is M. D’Or, at the office.... Yes.... I have changed my +mind about purchasing your interest and your brother’s.... Yes, I prefer +to restore the plant into your hands.... Yes, a majority of the stock as +well as a bonus for cancelling the deal.... I know you won’t lose +control of it again.... Yes.... I’m sorry I treated you and your brother +so roughly to-day.... Why am I giving it up? Well, I’ve already had +enough of it. Besides, your father’s portrait makes me nervous. I +wouldn’t care to take it down—and I don’t dare to look at it.... What’s +that?... You accept? Good!... Will you inform your brother?... Very +well, in the morning at ten! Are you feeling better?... I am glad to +hear it.... Good-by. [_He goes over to the table and slowly picks up the +coins._] To-day you played me a very shabby trick! [_He pockets the +gold, puts on his hat, takes his cane and is about to leave when he +again notices the portrait. He goes directly to it, takes off his hat +with a bow and addresses the picture._] M. Lehmann, I have the honor to +bid you farewell! [_With a laugh he goes out at the rear right entrance +as the curtain falls._] + + + + + SCENE II + + +[_The music salon of the Chateau D’Or. A handsome room, most luxuriously +furnished in white and gold. The grand piano at the left is also +finished in white and gold. The central entrance leads to a wide +corridor which runs parallel with the room. The furniture and hangings +are over-ornate, showing plainly the triumph of wealth over good taste +in their selection. The guests of_ M. D’OR _are seated about the room in +fashionable morning toilettes. On a sofa right are seated_ MME. +CYPRIENNE DACIER _and_ MME. LUCETTE CLARY. _Before the curtain rises, +the Prelude in C sharp minor by Sergei Rachmaninoff is played at the +piano. As it concludes, the curtain rises and_ HENRI VAUX _is seen +standing at the piano, bowing to the applause of the assembled guests. +(If practicable, the curtain might rise before_ VAUX _has completed his +solo.) As the scene begins, the anonymous guests chat in groups._] + +LUCETTE. Bravo, M. Vaux! You played that prelude beautifully. + +VAUX. Thank you, Mme. Clary. It is a favorite of mine, but perhaps a bit +too depressing for such a pleasant occasion as this. + +LUCETTE. Not at all. We must remember that there is a serious side to +life—don’t you think so, Cyprienne? + +CYPRIENNE. Of course. We can’t have dance music all the time. + +VAUX. But life—at least, life as the artist usually knows it—is apt to +be sad enough; perhaps it is natural that he should prefer a melancholy +theme for subjective interpretation. + +CYPRIENNE. Speaking of melancholy themes reminds me that Adolphe Lemaire +is to be here. + +LUCETTE. Why do you call this M. Lemaire a melancholy theme? + +CYPRIENNE. Don’t you know him? He exhibited that remarkable painting +called ‘Death in Life’ in the recent _Salon_. + +LUCETTE. I did not get to Paris this spring. + +CYPRIENNE. You surely saw a reproduction of the picture—it was copied in +all the illustrated papers—a young girl wandering through a sun-lit +grove and intercepted by a shrouded figure of Death. + +LUCETTE. Oh! I recall it! I shall be delighted to meet the artist. + +VAUX. M. D’Or usually brings together the most interesting people at his +musicales. I believe the poet Moreau is also expected. You know him, +Mme. Clary? A brilliant but eccentric genius! [LUCETTE _shakes her +head_.] + +CYPRIENNE. You have surely heard of Jean Moreau. He writes those +stinging verses against the government. M. Dacier says that the +Opposition would be helpless without him. Of course, he pretends that +his satires refer to the middle ages or to some other country, but every +one knows what he means! + +LUCETTE. Have you brought your daughter along, M. Vaux? + +VAUX. Yes; she was in the corridor a few moments ago. + +LUCETTE. She is a most charming girl—so modest, so refined, and so very +reticent! She seems almost afraid to express an opinion of her own. + +VAUX. Is there any wonder? The sort of opinions that society likes to +hear are not the sort that a young girl can express with any +self-respect. + +CYPRIENNE. Oh! what a cynical remark! Could anything be more attractive +than the sincere thoughts of a sweet girl who has not yet lost her +illusions, who is still a stranger to the bitter realities of life? +[_She sighs._] + +LUCETTE. My dear Cyprienne! Do not seem so vividly reminiscent! It makes +me feel like an old woman to hear you talk in that strain. It isn’t ages +since we felt that way ourselves. + +CYPRIENNE. It isn’t ages, Lucette, in the number of years, but I feel +that I have lived ages since then. + +VAUX. So you regret those days? + +CYPRIENNE. They were sweet; but life has been so varied since—I have +enjoyed so much—that I cannot say that I regret the passing of +impossible ideals. We must all awaken from the vain dreams of youth! + +VAUX. I would have Hélène dream while the mystic charm still pervades +her soul; I would not have her crushed to earth by the revelation of the +deep-seated miseries of existence. I would foster her love for art, her +devotion to music—in short, her taste for such ideals as are cherished +by our genial and accomplished host, M. D’Or. [_Enter_ D’OR, _at the +centre, in a frock coat, gold waistcoat, wearing a conspicuous scarfpin +and rings_.] + +D’OR. My good friends! You have just enjoyed a treat! I heard the +Rachmaninoff prelude from the corridor, M. Vaux. Your interpretation is +masterful; it is the grip of despair itself tugging at the heartstrings +of humanity. We are all indebted to you and pay homage to your art. I am +having some light refreshment served in the corridor. Won’t you kindly +step that way? M. Vaux, may I entrust Mme. Clary to you? [VAUX _leads +with_ LUCETTE, _the rest follow_. CYPRIENNE _takes_ D’OR’S _arm. When +the others are out, he stops short._] + +D’OR. We need not hurry after the others, Mme. Dacier. I have not had a +chance to chat with you this morning; you will not deny me the pleasure +of a few words. I do not see your husband among the guests. + +CYPRIENNE. He is very busy at the bank just now. He finds it impossible +to get away—even for such a splendid affair as you are giving us to-day. + +D’OR. It is right that M. Dacier should regard his business as his first +consideration. He is becoming one of our best known bankers. + +CYPRIENNE. Ah! you are trying to flatter me. My husband is like many +others who are engaged in the money game—a good enough fellow in the +ranks, but not likely to become a leader. He is somewhat envious of you! + +D’OR. _He_ envious of me? + +CYPRIENNE. Yes—your close association with the house of Blaustein. He +has sought for years to acquire the good will of that firm, but +evidently his talents and resources are not sufficient to command their +attention. I also am envious, M. D’Or. + +D’OR. Surely not. + +CYPRIENNE. I am envious of your future wife. Think of the unlimited +wealth you will place at her disposal—the unfailing resource of gold. + +D’OR. [_Sentimentally._] I shall never marry. + +CYPRIENNE. And why not? + +D’OR. Because the one charming woman whom I know is already married. +[CYPRIENNE _affects indifference_.] Her name is—Cyprienne! [_He takes +her hand._] + +CYPRIENNE. [_Starts, but does not withdraw her hand._] Hush, M. D’Or—you +should not say such things! You should not call me Cyprienne. M. Dacier +would not like it. + +D’OR. Do you think there is the remotest possibility of my saying it in +his hearing, Cyprienne? + +CYPRIENNE. [_Archly._] You are an irresistible man. How many hearts have +you broken? + +D’OR. None, I assure you. My own heart is more likely to be broken, +unless— + +CYPRIENNE. [_Coming closer._] M. D’Or, you might say a favorable word or +two about Dacier to the Blausteins—you have such great influence! + +D’OR. [_Eagerly._] I shall be delighted to do so, Cyprienne. We must +talk it over some time. When can I see you? + +CYPRIENNE. You are always welcome at our chateau. + +D’OR. But I would see you alone! + +CYPRIENNE. [_With feigned surprise._] Alone? + +D’OR. Surely, our plan is to arrange a surprise for M. Dacier. At what +hour does he reach home? + +CYPRIENNE. At four or later. + +D’OR. Then I may call some afternoon—say at two? [CYPRIENNE _starts_.] +We can talk things over quite by ourselves. And then—[_Enter_ BAPTISTE.] + +BAPTISTE. [_Announcing._] M. Moreau! [BAPTISTE _retires_.] + +D’OR. [_To_ CYPRIENNE.] Confound the poet! I’d rather chat with you. +[_Enter_ MOREAU.] Welcome, my dear M. Moreau! I’m delighted to see you. + +MOREAU. Pardon my lateness, M. D’Or. I have been attending a conclave of +the Opposition. + +D’OR. Still denouncing the government, eh? I hope you will find it more +agreeable here. Mme. Dacier, may I present M. Moreau? + +CYPRIENNE. [_Extending her hand._] M. Moreau is an old friends of ours. +[_Enter_ BAPTISTE.] + +BAPTISTE. [_Announcing._] M. Lemaire! [_He retires._] + +MOREAU. Ah! so Lemaire is also late. Evidently we poets and artists are +an unreliable class. [_Enter_ LEMAIRE.] + +D’OR. My best greetings, my dear Lemaire. [LEMAIRE _greets_ CYPRIENNE +_and_ MOREAU.] We feared you were going to disappoint us this time—and +every one is anxious to learn what work you have undertaken since your +successful painting ‘Death in Life.’ + +LEMAIRE. [_Staring vacantly and nervously._] I’ve done very little +lately. Heaven knows, I should be working, but that picture seems to +have exhausted every vestige of inspiration in my being. I find it +impossible to pull myself together. + +MOREAU. I know the sensation—a great vital utterance leaves the +inventive power paralyzed and one gropes about in vain for support. + +D’OR. Gentlemen, if you will pardon me, I shall escort Mme. Dacier to +the corridor for some refreshment. Pray make yourselves at home; I shall +rejoin you shortly. [_Exeunt_ D’OR _and_ CYPRIENNE.] + +LEMAIRE. [_Looking about._] What a palace! What wonderful appointments! +Is it conceivable that the pen or the brush could ever earn such luxury +for either of us? D’Or’s supply of gold seems inexhaustible—and he +spends with a knowing hand. + +MOREAU. A pleasant fellow, our host! My only regret is that he +sympathizes with the scoundrels who constitute the present ministry. If +I could only get him to support the Opposition, we should have the +Premier’s resignation within a week! + +LEMAIRE. Try him, Moreau! It’s worth working for! I believe that the +mere mention of D’Or’s name as an adherent of our party would overturn +the authority of the Premier. Try to have a quiet talk with him before +you go—and let me know how you succeed. + +MOREAU. I shall do it; with D’Or on our side the cause is as good as +won! And then, Lemaire, a brighter day shall dawn for our country. We +shall once more lead the way to higher and nobler achievement. [_Enter_ +D’OR.] + +D’OR. You see, my friends, I have not kept you waiting long. Perhaps you +would care to partake of some refreshment? + +MOREAU. No, thank you. Like most poets, I think most clearly on an empty +stomach. + +D’OR. With many poets compulsion and not choice develops that opinion. +And you, M. Lemaire? + +LEMAIRE. [_With a significant look at_ MOREAU.] I think I shall cater a +bit to the inner man. I shall rejoin you later. _Au revoir!_ [_Exit_ +LEMAIRE.] + +D’OR. Well, my dear Moreau, on what are you working now? I hope you are +not as destitute of plans as our good friend Lemaire? + +MOREAU. No; I am writing a new poem which I hope to finish shortly. + +D’OR. May I enquire the nature of your subject? + +MOREAU. Certainly. I am seeking to glorify the future of our country and +to blaze the way toward the realization of its noblest ideals. +[_Slowly._] Of course, such a dream is impossible under existing +conditions. + +D’OR. You mean the present ministry? + +MOREAU. Yes. They are a group of detestable politicians who make all +great questions of state subservient to their own schemes for personal +power and profit. + +D’OR. I think you are a little unfair to the Premier and his associates. +You must not forget that every party when out of office rails against +those in control. + +MOREAU. But the Opposition stands upon a firm foundation of integrity +and high moral purpose. + +D’OR. Mere vaporing, my dear Moreau. The minority is always respectable. +It’s their only chance to regain the ascendancy. If your Opposition +should triumph they would soon be drunk with power and the present party +could successfully parade its manifold virtues before the public. + +MOREAU. So you really believe that in the long run there can be no +improvement in government? + +D’OR. Yes, if you choose to put it thus; and my advice to you is that +you join the party in power. You have too much talent to squander your +life in the service of a hopeless Opposition. + +MOREAU. Hopeless? I thought that possibly you might be induced to join +our cause—to become the patron of a new and better order of things. + +D’OR. [_Apparently ignoring the remark._] Of course, the ministry has +antagonized the visionaries—idealists like yourself, who dream of +Utopian governments, but who have little or no experience in practical +affairs. + +MOREAU. An instinctive sense of right and wrong is the best equipment +for a statesman. + +D’OR. There speaks the poet! Now, may I tell you in confidence what +really does constitute the best equipment for a statesman? + +MOREAU. [_Curiously._] What is it? + +D’OR. [_Deliberately._] Knowledge of the fact that his party has the +approval of the Blausteins! + +MOREAU. [_Astounded._] The approval of a banking-house! + +D’OR. The approval of the greatest power in the world—unlimited gold. + +MOREAU. It seems hardly credible! The utter corruption of the existing +state of affairs is beyond my comprehension. + +D’OR. M. Moreau, let us talk sensibly about these things. I like your +poetry very much; I admire everything about you except your political +sentiments. Why do you not put your fine talent to better use? + +MOREAU. What better use is there than devotion to the popular welfare? + +D’OR. Nonsense. The people for whom you write cannot appreciate the +subtlety of your thought nor the nobility of your inspired poetic +nights. They place a scant value upon your efforts. The present +government honors its friends more highly. A poem in praise of the +ministry would bring you greater material reward and more renown than +ten years of labor for the ungrateful Opposition. + +MOREAU. M. D’Or, I am devoted to our cause; I would not write a poem in +commendation of the present ministry for fifty thousand francs. + +D’OR. [_Alert._] You would not? + +MOREAU. No. It would be treason to the people. + +D’OR. How long would you labor for the popular cause before you earned +fifty thousand francs with your pen? + +MOREAU. Five years at least. + +D’OR. And you are unwilling to purchase a release from five years of +drudgery by a single effort because of a conscientious scruple? You are +indeed a patriot. + +MOREAU. I wish merely to be true to myself. + +D’OR. [_Slowly._] M. Moreau, what would you do if some one were to offer +you—say one hundred thousand francs for a poem over your signature +addressed to the Premier and commending the present government? + +MOREAU. [_Aghast._] One hundred thousand francs! The question is +ridiculous. You are trying to entrap me. + +D’OR. The question is not ridiculous. I offer you that sum! + +MOREAU. Are you serious? + +D’OR. I shall not mince words. The government seeks the support of its +most intelligent and most gifted people. You are one of these. The +government would not, however, pay you such an amount as I have +mentioned; that sum represents my personal gratification at the prospect +of numbering M. Moreau among the champions of the ministry. + +MOREAU. You are bribing me! + +D’OR. I am not. I am telling you that there is fame and substantial +reward for the adherents of the government; there is futile effort and +wasted opportunity for the Opposition. You are a sane man; which do you +choose? + +MOREAU. But to write such a poem is a manifest renunciation of my high +principles of conduct. + +D’OR. To write such a poem is a declaration to the world that you have +become a conservative. Are you familiar with that word ‘conservative’? +It is a word of excellent savor and of good repute. A man who betrays a +cause is justly styled a renegade or a traitor; but a man who has held +visionary views concerning government or society, and who as a result of +maturer deliberation rejects such fallacies and becomes an adherent of +the existing social order may properly be styled a conservative. That’s +the worst they can say about you—and the reward is the price of ten +years’ hard labor with the pen. + +MOREAU. [_Bewildered._] One hundred thousand francs! I can see it in +every journal in Paris! ‘M. Moreau joins the conservatives!’ One hundred +thousand francs! + +D’OR. [_Jestingly._] You will note that there is nothing conservative in +the sum I am offering you. I should call it liberal—decidedly liberal! + +MOREAU. [_Brokenly._] After all, perhaps you’re right. Lemaire will +think I’m a cur—but I accept your offer. I may live to regret this step, +but I cannot resist you. I shall write your poem and I shall mean every +word that I say. Henceforth I am one of your party. There is no future +for me elsewhere. I want you to understand that I am completely within +your ranks. I will not be a hireling, to puff the Premier in a single +insincere poem. You have not bought a poem, M. D’Or—you have bought me, +body and soul. Do you understand? + +D’OR. [_Quietly._] Yes. It was you I was bidding for. + +MOREAU. [_More wildly._] It’s a serious matter, this tearing one’s self +out by the roots. I must have time for reflection. Pardon me, M. D’Or, +it is growing oppressive here—I must have fresh air. I cannot meet +Lemaire just now. You shall have your poem—a poem from the depths of my +heart. It’s fresh air I need—fresh air! [_He staggers out with a groan._ +D’OR _looks after him and smiles strangely. He draws a handful of gold +coins from his pocket and is about to jingle them when_ LEMAIRE +_enters_. D’OR _replaces the coins quickly_.] + +LEMAIRE. You are alone! I expected to find M. Moreau with you. + +D’OR. [_Coolly._] He left me only a moment ago. Have you partaken of the +luncheon? + +LEMAIRE. Yes, and chatted with some of your delightful guests. I am +grateful to find so many recognized Liberals among them. Are you being +converted? + +D’OR. By no means—but I like to know intimately all points of view. It’s +part of one’s education, after all. I try to make these gatherings as +varied as possible and to give free rein to the expression of opinion. +Did you hear nothing that might arouse renewed inspiration for another +great painting? + +LEMAIRE. [_Gloomily._] I shall probably grope long in the dark before I +find another subject as striking as ‘Death in Life’! + +D’OR. Surely, there are many themes available? + +LEMAIRE. Few that I should care to depict. I shall paint nothing +ignoble, nothing degrading. If my brush is not destined to uplift and to +glorify mankind, I shall cast it aside. + +D’OR. A noble ideal, indeed; but ideals are evanescent in this corrupt +old world of ours. + +LEMAIRE. Are they not about all that is worth while? + +D’OR. Rather too unsubstantial, I should say. After all, an artist must +labor for his bread and butter. Of course, he may be so absorbed in his +ideals that he ignores the gross commercial value of his inspiration and +its product. I am told you sold your ‘Death in Life’ for a trifle—yet it +is your finest picture. + +LEMAIRE. I have no regrets. The ‘Death in Life’ was sold to a collector +while it still hung in my studio. He offered two thousand francs—I +needed the money and accepted. Had I anticipated the success of the +picture in the _Salon_, I might have asked more. + +D’OR. That picture would have been cheap at ten thousand francs. Perhaps +you do not know that I offered your lucky purchaser twice that sum—and +it was refused! + +LEMAIRE. Twenty thousand francs for my painting! + +D’OR. Yes, and it was refused. [_After a pause._] I have an idea, M. +Lemaire—a good one. Will you paint me a companion piece to ‘Death in +Life’? + +LEMAIRE. A companion piece? + +D’OR. Yes. You might call it ‘Life in Death’ by way of contrast. I will +give you thirty thousand francs for such a painting, if you permit me to +suggest the subject. + +LEMAIRE. You are willing to pay that price for a painting of mine? + +D’OR. I have an object in view. I wish to make the other painting +ridiculous, so that the purchaser may be willing to part with it. + +LEMAIRE. I do not quite understand— + +D’OR. Why should you? It is but necessary that you accept my offer. + +LEMAIRE. Of course I accept! It is many times more than I have ever +received for a painting, but you are a rich man, a noble patron of the +arts. Have you chosen your subject? + +D’OR. You agree to be bound to it? + +LEMAIRE. Yes. It is to be called ‘Life in Death,’ I understand, and is +to represent— + +D’OR. [_Slowly._] A dead rat lying in a foul gutter! + +LEMAIRE. [_With a cry._] You are mad, M. D’Or! + +D’OR. Not at all. I think it’s a rather good subject to accomplish my +purpose. I would like you to represent the rat as putrescent— + +LEMAIRE. [_Horrified._] Stop, monsieur! You are insulting me. I shall +hear no more of that. + +D’OR. You gave your promise. + +LEMAIRE. Yes, to paint a picture—not to execute a mad vagary of yours. + +D’OR. I don’t expect my realistic theme to conform with your airy +ideals, but think of the money I intend to pay you for this painting. + +LEMAIRE. It won’t do. I must refuse. + +D’OR. [_Firmly._] I intend to have that dead rat, M. Lemaire! + +LEMAIRE. Then you must get some one else to paint it. + +D’OR. I intend that you shall paint it. Perhaps I estimate realism too +cheaply. I offer you forty thousand francs for the rat! + +LEMAIRE. [_Almost in a whisper._] Forty thousand francs! To drag my +reputation as an artist through the slime? + +D’OR. No. To initiate you into a new and profitable school of art. Do +you not realize that mankind has a natural craving for the unclean and +the depraved? Mine will not be your last commission in the realistic +style. Remember that I am offering you twenty times as much as you +received for your ‘Death in Life.’ If any one asks you why you painted +‘Life in Death,’ tell them it is a parody on the original, executed at +my order. + +LEMAIRE. [_Hesitating._] If I did not need the money so badly, I +would—[_Suddenly._] I’ll do it—I’ll do it for you, M. D’Or. I cannot +help myself. [_Beating his forehead._] A dead rat—Great Heavens!—a dead +rat! [_He rushes out wildly._ D’OR _is about to jingle the gold as +before, but feels that he cannot. He mops his brow with his handkerchief +and seems somewhat distracted. Meanwhile_ HÉLÈNE VAUX, _a charming girl +of eighteen, dressed simply in white, enters quietly and gazes strangely +at_ D’OR _as if to fathom his thoughts_.] + +D’OR. [_Observing her._] Mlle. Vaux! I did not hear you come in. + +HÉLÈNE. [_Timidly._] Pardon me, M. D’Or. I am looking for my father. + +D’OR. Surely you will not deny me the pleasure of a few words with you. +I am always glad to see you here with your father, but you seem desirous +of avoiding me. + +HÉLÈNE. [_Nervously._] No!—I— + +D’OR. My sole object on such occasions as this is to make my guests +happy—to entertain them in a way that will ever be a pleasant memory in +the days to come; yet you always seem apprehensive of harm— + +HÉLÈNE. I cannot explain. It seems so strange that you—[_She stops +helplessly. They gaze fixedly at each other._] + +D’OR. [_After a pause._] Eleanor! [_He seems entranced._] + +HÉLÈNE. Why do you call me Eleanor? My name is Hélène. + +D’OR. [_Embarrassed._] Pardon me, Mlle. Vaux. I once knew some one of +that name. You resemble her—you bring back fleeting memories of the +past. + +HÉLÈNE. [_Ill at ease._] I do not understand—I must find my father. +[_She goes off hastily._ D’OR _sits down at the right and rests his head +on his hand as if dazed. He does not notice_ BAPTISTE _who enters_.] + +BAPTISTE. M. D’Or! [_Louder._] M. D’Or! [_A pause._] + +D’OR. [_Recovering himself._] Baptiste! + +BAPTISTE. Mme. Dacier asked me to give you this note. + +D’OR. [_Takes it._] Very well. [BAPTISTE _bows himself out_. D’OR _opens +the envelope and draws out a card which he reads_.] ‘To-morrow at +two—Cyprienne.’ [_He quickly thrusts the card into his waistcoat pocket. +His demeanor instantly changes. He is completely aroused from his +trance._ VAUX _enters at the centre_.] Ah! M. Vaux, your daughter is +looking for you! + +VAUX. I have been neglecting her all morning. I thought she was talking +to Mme. Clary a few moments ago. + +D’OR. Your daughter is a most attractive girl—one in a thousand. I +congratulate you, M. Vaux, on the possession of such a jewel. + +VAUX. [_Pleased._] Yes, Hélène is a good girl—my chief consolation since +her mother was taken away. It is my one regret that I cannot give her +the musical training that her talents merit. + +D’OR. Surely she has teachers? + +VAUX. The best that my purse allows, but not the best to be had. We +musicians cannot hope to win great wealth, yet I still have hopes that +when my new symphonic poem is brought out— + +D’OR. A new composition! I am glad to hear of it. + +VAUX. It is almost completed. I have been laboring on it for many years. +It was begun in the first hours of grief after the loss of Hélène’s +mother. I have put my very soul into that score! + +D’OR. Have you a program in mind? + +VAUX. I shall call it ‘The Conqueror’—the record of a storm-tossed soul +that works its way through peril and temptation to the triumphant +heights of its ideal. You see how much of a dreamer I am, but I love the +idea of the conquering soul—the personality that dominates and directs. + +D’OR. [_Much interested._] That is a very fascinating idea—the +personality that dominates! I am sure you will win fame with ‘The +Conqueror.’ Have you sought to glorify a particular hero in your +composition? + +VAUX. No. It would be difficult to find a man who represents my ideal +conqueror—who reaches the heights unspotted with the stains of the +battle. + +D’OR. The more I think of your idea, the more it pleases me. I always +have sought to be such a conqueror as you have in mind—a man of +commanding position and so equipped as to become a directing +intelligence in the affairs of the world. This may sound boastful, M. +Vaux, but I have a reason for speaking thus. + +VAUX. [_Bewildered._] I do not understand— + +D’OR. You say that you have no particular hero in mind to whom you are +addressing your symphonic poem. Would it be presumptuous on my part to +say that I should feel honored to have such a composition dedicated to +me? Let me explain more fully, M. Vaux—there need be no reserve. I have +abundance of the wealth that you in common with others find so useful; +you have a talent that can immortalize the man to whom your compositions +are addressed. If you were to honor me with the dedication of ‘The +Conqueror’ I should see that every resource were at the disposal of +Mlle. Vaux for her thorough musical training. + +VAUX. For Hélène’s education? + +D’OR. It would be a trifle for me, M. Vaux; to you it would represent +long hours of arduous toil. Thus each of us can serve the other. + +VAUX. [_Anxious not to offend._] I must confess that I had a very +different ideal of ‘The Conqueror’—pardon my bluntness, but my hero +typified spiritual achievement, not the conquests of material wealth. + +D’OR. Of course—I understand. Spiritual achievement has a pleasant sound +and at one time in the world’s history it probably meant something; but +we are living in a very different age. The real conquerors of to-day are +the men who act as stewards of the world’s great wealth. I can buy you +any man you may name, heart and soul. It is merely a question of price— + +VAUX. [_Horrified._] M. D’Or! + +D’OR. I know it sounds scandalous, but it is true—I have demonstrated my +power. There are no conquests in this world like the conquests of +material wealth. + +VAUX. [_Sadly._] I have lived in this world many more years than you, M. +D’Or—I know the weakness of humanity. There is much truth in what you +say; but we artists have not done our duty if we are content to depict +the world as we find it—if we do not point the way to higher ideals— + +D’OR. [_Impatiently._] A truce to your ideals! I have heard more than +enough this morning about ideals! I have just made you a substantial and +flattering offer; you seem inclined to treat me in turn to a +conventional discussion on the nature of the artistic impulse. You are a +poor man, M. Vaux, though a talented one. You have a daughter whose +future welfare is largely concerned in your answer to my offer. Are you +foolish enough to hesitate? + +VAUX. I appreciate fully what your offer means, but people will +understand by my dedication that I desire to uphold you as the type of +‘The Conqueror’— + +D’OR. And why not? + +VAUX. Because I had a very different conqueror in mind—one whose career +typified a conquest by spiritual resource, by unfailing courage— + +D’OR. [_Suddenly but with deliberation._] M. Vaux, do you love your +daughter Hélène? Are you mindful of her future—of the years when you +will no longer be here to protect her? + +VAUX. [_Completely broken._] I can struggle against you no longer. You +have triumphed! ‘The Conqueror’ shall be dedicated to you! + +D’OR. [_Smoothly._] I appreciate the honor, especially since there was +no haggling over terms. Rest assured, M. Vaux, you will have no occasion +to regret your trust in my generosity. + +VAUX. [_Subdued._] I have done it for my Hélène. [_He sits on the sofa, +right, and seems overcome with emotion._ HÉLÈNE _enters and takes a half +kneeling position on the mat at his feet. She places a small autograph +album on his lap._] + +HÉLÈNE. Father, I have been searching for you. Mme. Clary wishes your +autograph. Isn’t it an honor! Just look at the famous names—artists, +poets, musicians— + +VAUX. [_Takes a fountain pen from his pocket and writes._] Mme. Clary is +very kind to ask your father to enroll himself in this record of genius. +[_Turning the pages._] What is this? M. D’Or, I find your name here! + +D’OR. [_With a smile._] Indeed! Does it appear out of place among your +brilliant assemblage of earth’s talented sons? + +VAUX. No, no! Do not misunderstand me! I thought it was merely a +collection of artists’ autographs. I am pleased to see it includes at +least one generous patron of the arts. [_To_ HÉLÈNE.] Hélène, we are +much indebted to M. D’Or. He will make it possible for me to give you +the best masters for your musical training. + +HÉLÈNE. [_Rising._] You could not accept such an offer? + +VAUX. [_Embarrassed._] I am dedicating ‘The Conqueror’ to M. D’Or. It +has pleased him to express his generous intentions in return. + +HÉLÈNE. [_Turning on_ D’OR _with unexpected energy_.] ‘The Conqueror’! +[_Reproachfully._] M. D’Or, you have taken advantage of an old man. + +D’OR. Taken advantage! Those are hard words for one who has your welfare +at heart. I am enabling your father to provide amply for you; indirectly +I am helping you to make the most of life, to win fame and position if +the talent abides within you. This you call taking advantage of your +father! + +HÉLÈNE. M. D’Or, we are here as your guests. I cannot speak frankly. + +D’OR. If I have offended you, my roof shall not save me from your +reproaches. Speak as freely as you will and tell me honestly why you +despise my offer. + +VAUX. Hélène, I beseech you, be careful how you answer. + +HÉLÈNE. [_To_ D’OR.] You see how thoroughly you have subdued my poor +father! He fears that my frankness will forfeit the bounty you are +disposed to heap upon us. You wish me to speak freely? + +D’OR. By all means. + +HÉLÈNE. Very well. M. D’Or, I fear the intention of your apparent +kindness. + +D’OR. Why do you say that? + +HÉLÈNE. A few moments ago I passed M. Moreau in the corridor—Moreau, the +brave champion of the people—and I heard him say that he had changed his +political views, and now felt morally obliged to support the ministry! + +VAUX. [_Astonished._] Moreau a conservative! Impossible! + +D’OR. What have I to do with Moreau’s politics? + +HÉLÈNE. [_Watching him closely._] I cannot help thinking that you had a +hand in his sudden change of faith. + +D’OR. [_Carelessly._] Why should I deny it? You would not believe me. + +HÉLÈNE. [_Coming closer._] M. D’Or, I would believe you, if I heard you +deny it! Do you deny it? + +D’OR. [_Without flinching, looking steadily at her._] Mlle. Vaux, I +admire your courage; I marvel at your penetration. I shall tell you the +truth. I bought that fellow Moreau for so much gold. He’s my man now and +he’ll take my orders when I give them. [VAUX _groans_.] + +HÉLÈNE. Father, do you hear what M. D’Or says? [_To_ D’OR.] Is there +nothing else on your conscience? Are you aware that M. Lemaire is +astonishing your guests by incoherent ravings about dead rats and +foul-smelling gutters? + +D’OR. [_Steadily._] It’s the subject for his next painting. The fellow +is executing it at my commission. I chose the subject, and I pay him his +price. [VAUX _groans again_.] + +HÉLÈNE. [_To_ VAUX.] Are you still inclined to dedicate ‘The Conqueror’ +to M. D’Or? + +VAUX. I have given my promise. + +D’OR. I shall release you from that promise if Mlle. Vaux requests it. + +HÉLÈNE. I do not request it. After all, you are a conqueror—you have +triumphed over my unhappy father just as you overcame those other frail +souls and dragged them to the earth. + +D’OR. I release your father from his promise. His conqueror is a vain +seeker after empty ideals. M. Vaux, you may dedicate your symphonic +flight to whom you will, but I beg you to let me carry out at least my +part of our compact. [VAUX _looks eagerly at_ HÉLÈNE _to reply_.] + +HÉLÈNE. You have made that impossible for us, M. D’Or. We cannot accept +your generosity. [_To_ VAUX.] We must not stay here any longer. Let us +go home. + +D’OR. Can we not remain friends? Will you not permit the resources of my +wealth to prove my friendship? + +HÉLÈNE. [_More softly._] The best way to befriend you, M. D’Or, is to +prove to you the futility of your wealth. Come, father. + +VAUX. Good-bye, M. D’Or. [_He offers his hand._] + +D’OR. Good-bye. [_He looks at_ HÉLÈNE.] + +HÉLÈNE. [_After a pause extends her hand._] Good-bye. Are you not +convinced? + +D’OR. Not yet—but you are very kind to me. [_He kisses her hand._] + +VAUX. [_Near the entrance, as if inspired._] M. D’Or, at last I know to +whom I shall dedicate ‘The Conqueror.’ + +D’OR. To whom? + +VAUX. [_Taking_ HÉLÈNE’S _hand_.] To my daughter Hélène! [_They go out +quickly._] + +D’OR. [_Somewhat seriously, after a pause._] Perhaps the old man is +right—and perhaps he is not! [_Laughs cynically and puts his hand as if +by instinct to his waistcoat pocket. He draws out_ CYPRIENNE’S _card and +reads it again_.] ‘To-morrow at two—Cyprienne.’ [_He kisses the card as +the curtain falls._] + + + + + SCENE III + + +[_A private parlor in the Hotel Royal, Interlaken. The room is +handsomely furnished in dark red. There are wide double doors in the +centre with elaborate panels on either side. On the left side there is +an exit and a fireplace in which a fire is burning. On the right there +is a window overlooking the street below. There is also an exit further +front. The furniture is appropriate for a business meeting. A large +central table is flanked by five armchairs. There is a large armchair, +left; also a small table with an adjacent chair, right. As the curtain +rises one central door opens slowly and_ CLAIRE LASALLE _peers in +nervously. Seeing no one, she enters and closes the door softly behind +her. She is dressed in black, with a white collar, and carries a small +leather writing pad. Her demeanor is that of a person undertaking a +delicate and difficult mission. She goes to the door, right, and knocks +cautiously. Receiving no answer, she stands for a moment, centre, in +evident indecision, then advances to the door, left, and knocks. The +door is opened and_ M. D’OR _steps in. He wears black satin +knee-breeches and a fancy house-jacket, heavily trimmed with gold +braid._ CLAIRE _hurriedly draws a card from her pad and hands it to_ +D’OR.] + +CLAIRE. M. D’Or? + +D’OR. Yes. [_Reads the card._] ‘Mlle. Claire Lasalle, stenographer.’ +[_He looks at her curiously, then at the card._] Ah! the Blausteins! I +must confess I hardly expected them to send a lady! [_He bows._] + +CLAIRE. The Blausteins desire a verbatim report of the meeting. + +D’OR. Are you familiar with such commissions as this? + +CLAIRE. [_Smiling._] Yes. [_She looks about._] You must place me where I +can write unmolested. It is not necessary that I should see them. My +hearing is acute. [_She indicates the door, right._] Is that room +available? + +D’OR. Yes. + +CLAIRE. They are likely to insist on locked doors. You might let me lock +myself in. I can open the door slightly after the conference has begun. + +D’OR. Very well. I shall turn the knob as a signal to you that we are +about to begin. Be very careful, mademoiselle! + +CLAIRE. Have no fear. Such experience is not new to me. + +D’OR. Do you know them—Muirhead, Graefflingen, and the rest? + +CLAIRE. All but Andriev. He is a stranger to me. You expect them at +three? We have little time to spare. + +D’OR. You’re right. I shall make you comfortable before they arrive. +[_He crosses to the right._] You will pardon my appearance, Mlle. +Lasalle—I was dressing for this conference when you knocked. + +CLAIRE. Certainly. Do not let me detain you. [_He goes off, right, +meanwhile she opens her leather pad and gets her pencils ready. In a +moment_ D’OR _returns_.] + +D’OR. I have placed a chair for you just beside the door. [_After a +pause._] Really, I cannot quite grasp the idea that a woman should be +entrusted with diplomatic work of this character. + +CLAIRE. [_Facetiously._] There are women and women. + +D’OR. And, moreover, a few rarely endowed young ladies who can keep +secrets—important secrets of state. Mademoiselle, I congratulate you! I +hope the Blausteins pay you adequately for such unusual services. + +CLAIRE. [_Simply._] A thousand francs a session. + +D’OR. Will you permit me to double it this time? + +CLAIRE. [_Surprised, but on her guard._] Why should you? + +D’OR. [_Ingenuously._] Why shouldn’t I? + +CLAIRE. [_Sharply._] M. D’Or, the thousand francs that the Blausteins +pay me are sufficiently tainted. I’ve sunk about as low as I care to. +Does that answer your question? + +D’OR. Your cleverness assures me that the Blausteins do not appreciate +you at your real worth. + +CLAIRE. Perhaps you’re right—but I had the privilege of naming the +degree and the price of my corruption, so I have no cause for complaint. +May I take my place in the next room? + +D’OR. Certainly. [_He throws open the door, right, for her._] Make +yourself comfortable, while I hurry into the rest of my official dress. +[_She passes out._] But let me first test our arrangement. [_He adjusts +the door to a very slight aperture._] There! How is that? [_He crosses +to the left side and faces the door, right._] Now, mademoiselle, can you +hear me distinctly at this distance? + +CLAIRE. [_Within._] Yes, quite plainly. + +D’OR. Can you hear me when I say that my offer of that extra thousand +francs will hold good after the conference if you should see fit to take +it? [_No answer. He draws a little nearer._] Perhaps you would hear +better if I said two thousand francs! + +CLAIRE. [_Throwing the door wide open and stepping into the room._] M. +D’Or, we two—you and I—are about to engage in a very contemptible +business here. I am being paid my price; I trust you are getting yours. +There should be some show of mutual respect even among the corrupt. If +you annoy me further, I may be tempted to step out during your little +conference to expose you for the despicable creature that you are! + +D’OR. [_With a deprecatory gesture._] Pray retire, mademoiselle, to your +post of vantage. I shall risk no further verbal fusillade from that +accomplished tongue of yours. + +CLAIRE. [_With a sneer._] Where did the Blausteins find you? They have +the reputation of employing agents who attend strictly to the business +at hand. Let us see if you can live up to that standard! [_She goes off, +right, and closes the door with a bang. The lock clicks audibly._ D’OR +_shrugs his shoulders and goes off, left, shaking his head. For a few +moments the stage is empty. A knock is heard at the centre door. It is +repeated, then the door opens and_ HERR LOBEN _steps in. He draws out +his watch._] + +LOBEN. None here yet! I have the honor to be the first. [_He crosses to +the table, right, and puts down a red portfolio. A moment later_ MR. +GILBERT _enters, carrying a similar black portfolio_. LOBEN’S _back is +turned_.] + +GILBERT. Herr Loben, I believe? + +LOBEN. [_Turning._] Ah—you are the secretary of Sir Mortimer +Muirhead—let me see—Mr.— + +GILBERT. Mr. Gilbert. + +LOBEN. Yes! Good afternoon, Mr. Gilbert. I infer that Sir Mortimer is to +be at this mysterious conference? + +GILBERT. [_He places his portfolio on the centre table and examines his +papers._] Yes. Is Baron Graefflingen also to be here? + +LOBEN. I expect him every moment. [_He goes to the window and looks out. +Comes back and watches_ GILBERT _with his papers, then, after a pause, +speaks as if in confidence_.] I say, Mr. Gilbert, do you know what it’s +all about? + +GILBERT. [_Carelessly._] What? This meeting with M. D’Or? + +LOBEN. Yes. Do you know him? + +GILBERT. I have seen him once or twice at the consulate. He is +enormously rich—one of the Blaustein coterie. + +LOBEN. Ah! so this is a Blaustein affair! I thought as much. Marquis +Pallot and Count Andriev are also to be here. Quite an international +gathering, eh? + +GILBERT. [_Absently, busy with his papers._] Yes, quite so. +[_Suddenly._] What’s that you’re saying? Pallot and Andriev? + +LOBEN. I thought you took it rather mildly. Yes, both of them. [_A +pause._] Do you suspect anything? + +GILBERT. What do you mean? + +LOBEN. Don’t you imagine that something is on foot when such a +distinguished array of diplomatic talent gathers to receive orders from +the Blausteins— + +GILBERT. [_Springing up._] To receive orders—from the Blausteins? Herr +Loben, that is too absurd— + +LOBEN. [_With a shrug._] How long have you been Sir Mortimer’s +secretary? + +GILBERT. Six months. + +LOBEN. Still a youngster in diplomacy, eh? I have been with Baron +Graefflingen for—let me see—seven years this winter. + +GILBERT. Well? + +LOBEN. Only this, Mr. Gilbert. To-day is not the first time that I hear +the name of the Blausteins. + +GILBERT. Possibly not! But you spoke of their giving orders— + +LOBEN. I hate to disillusion you—there was a time when I felt about +things as you do now—those were the days of my diplomatic innocence. +[_Motor-horn is heard outside._ LOBEN _goes to the window_.] It’s your +principal, Sir Mortimer. + +GILBERT. [_Looks at his watch._] He’s on time. It lacks a minute or two +of three. + +LOBEN. [_Coming forward._] He evidently doesn’t believe in keeping an +emissary of the Blausteins waiting. [GILBERT _is annoyed_.] No offense, +Mr. Gilbert—the others won’t be long in following him. [_Enter_ SIR +MORTIMER MUIRHEAD _at the centre_.] + +MUIRHEAD. [_Nods to_ GILBERT, _then turns to_ LOBEN.] Good afternoon, +Herr Loben. Graefflingen’s coming? + +LOBEN. [_Politely._] Yes, Sir Mortimer. He should be here now. + +MUIRHEAD. [_To_ GILBERT.] You have sent off the dispatches? + +GILBERT. Yes; they went this morning. I have received a wire confirming +your reservations at Geneva for next week. + +MUIRHEAD. Very good. [_To_ LOBEN.] I believe Baron Graefflingen is one +of your delegates to the Geneva Conference? + +LOBEN. Yes, he heads the delegation; our government is sending six +representatives. [_Motor-horn is heard_; LOBEN _goes to the window as +before_.] Here comes the Baron! [_He looks out._] I’m wrong! It’s +Marquis Pallot and Count Andriev! + +MUIRHEAD. Count Andriev! + +LOBEN. Yes, Sir Mortimer. They are both expected. + +MUIRHEAD. [_To_ GILBERT.] Have you seen nothing of M. D’Or? + +GILBERT. I asked before I came up. The attendants informed me that he +had taken a suite here at the hotel. [_Enter_ PALLOT _and_ ANDRIEV.] + +PALLOT. Good afternoon, Sir Mortimer. [_He nods slightly to the +others._] You know Count Andriev? + +MUIRHEAD. I have the honor. [ANDRIEV _bows_.] My secretary, Mr. +Gilbert—Herr Loben, secretary to Baron Graefflingen. + +PALLOT. Are you familiar with the circumstances that bring us together +to-day, Sir Mortimer? + +MUIRHEAD. I know absolutely nothing except that the note from Paris asks +me to meet M. D’Or at three this afternoon. + +ANDRIEV. My note read, ‘M. D’Or of the house of Blaustein.’ + +MUIRHEAD. Of course—mine also! [_Laughing._] Otherwise what claim would +the gentleman have upon our attention? [GILBERT _starts and avoids the +grinning glance of_ LOBEN.] + +PALLOT. I must say that I resent such a peremptory summons, coming from +such a source; but there is no alternative, I understand—we must simply +comply with the request. [LOBEN _coughs, and watches_ GILBERT’S _tense +face_.] + +ANDRIEV. We may as well be prepared for the Blaustein message—it +undoubtedly concerns the Geneva Conference of next week. [_Motor-horn is +heard again_; LOBEN _goes to the window_.] + +LOBEN. It is the Baron! + +MUIRHEAD. Graefflingen may be better informed than the rest of us. +Perhaps he may be able to throw some light upon the very unusual +procedure that brings us together. + +PALLOT. I doubt it. The Blausteins rarely take any one into their +confidence. They say nothing till they are ready to talk, but +then—[_Enter_ GRAEFFLINGEN.] + +GRAEFFLINGEN. Good afternoon, gentlemen. Am I late? [_He shakes hands +with the diplomats and nods to_ GILBERT.] M. D’Or has not yet appeared? + +MUIRHEAD. No. We’ve been counting on you, Baron, to tell us what it’s +all about. + +GRAEFFLINGEN. I cannot speak with any authority, but from a dispatch +received this morning I infer that the Blausteins are not pleased with +certain details of the international agreement that will probably be +adopted at Geneva next week. + +PALLOT. [_Looking at his watch._] I do not know how soon M. D’Or is +likely to join us—but I believe it would be advisable among ourselves to +oppose any material alteration in the Geneva agreement. + +MUIRHEAD. A united front might strengthen our position very much, if we +only knew what particular part of the agreement the Blausteins are +likely to assail. + +ANDRIEV. I propose, gentlemen, that when M. D’Or arrives and explains +the Blaustein views, we shall take the cue from one of our own number. I +suggest Sir Mortimer as the leader of our united forces. + +PALLOT. That seems to be most desirable. If we do not stand together +there is not the least likelihood of our accomplishing much with M. +D’Or. + +GRAEFFLINGEN. I heartily concur in Count Andriev’s proposal. We must +keep the Blaustein emissary within bounds. + +MUIRHEAD. Gentlemen, I appreciate the honor that you are showing me. At +present we are groping in the dark—we do not as yet know the intentions +of M. D’Or. + +LOBEN. [_Warningly._] Sh—h!! [_A pause._ D’OR _enters at the left, +wearing an elaborate diplomatic uniform of black satin, with a broad +gold band across his bosom_.] + +D’OR. Good afternoon, gentlemen. [_Looking about._] One hardly needs +introduction to such a distinguished group. [_He shakes hands._] Sir +Mortimer, you are looking well—Baron Graefflingen—Marquis Pallot—Count +Andriev. [_He stops at the secretaries._] + +MUIRHEAD. Our secretaries, Mr. Gilbert and Herr Loben. + +D’OR. [_Shaking their hands._] It gives me pleasure to welcome the +future lights of diplomacy. + +GRAEFFLINGEN. Perhaps you prefer that our secretaries retire during our +conference? + +D’OR. Not at all, Baron—not at all. It will do the young men good to be +present. + +ANDRIEV. Are we safe from possible eavesdroppers? + +D’OR. [_Remembering_ CLAIRE.] Certainly, but we can assure ourselves by +locking the doors. [_He locks the door, left, and the central doors._] +This door is always kept locked, I believe. [_He goes to the door, +right, and very deliberately turns the knob several times. The others +present seem satisfied._] Shall we be seated? [_They take seats at the +central table_, D’OR _at the right end, then_ MUIRHEAD, PALLOT, ANDRIEV, +_and_ GRAEFFLINGEN. GILBERT _sits at the small table, right_; LOBEN _in +the armchair, left_.] Of course, we shall take no minutes of our +deliberation—everything is informal and secret. + +GRAEFFLINGEN. That is wise. This meeting must be regarded as absolutely +confidential among ourselves. + +ANDRIEV. I presume that it is agreed that no notes shall be taken by any +one present— + +THE OTHERS. Certainly—assuredly. [GILBERT _starts from his seat and +stares ahead of him_.] + +MUIRHEAD. What is the matter, Mr. Gilbert? + +GILBERT. Nothing, Sir Mortimer. Pardon me, I thought I heard a slight +creaking noise. I was mistaken! [_He resumes his seat. Throughout the +scene_ GILBERT _pays close attention, Loben twiddles his thumbs and +yawns_.] + +MUIRHEAD. [_To_ D’OR.] Have any others been invited, or is the group now +complete? + +D’OR. Quite complete, I assure you, Sir Mortimer. I dislike dealing with +a large group of men. A few sensible minds gathered around a table can +best transact important business. You have not been chosen at random, +gentlemen. The Blausteins desired the leading figure in each delegation +to be present to-day and I am happy to say that the choice has fallen +upon you. + +GRAEFFLINGEN. You are very complimentary, M. D’Or. + +D’OR. Not at all, my dear Baron. Men like yourself who are leaders in +shaping the destinies of their country are entitled to recognition and +honor—but to come down to the immediate business of our meeting. You are +all delegates to the Geneva Conference which assembles next week. Can +you tell me, Sir Mortimer, what the convention is expected to +accomplish? + +MUIRHEAD. From the program, of which you may have seen a copy, it is +evident that the principal purpose is to consider questions concerning +international arbitration and to effect by general agreement a reduction +of the active military forces maintained by our respective governments. + +D’OR. The first is a laudable object and I believe the Blausteins are in +hearty accord with the project. As for the second—is such a reduction +possible? + +MUIRHEAD. Not only possible, but very desirable; the military and naval +budgets are the most serious problems that concern our treasury +ministers. + +GRAEFFLINGEN. There is widespread dissatisfaction throughout Europe at +the enormous appropriation of funds for military purposes. It is our +thought that if the Geneva Conference cannot effect total disarmament, +it can at least bring about a material reduction in equipment for war. + +D’OR. It is proper that you should not misunderstand the attitude of the +Blausteins toward this great question. They do not desire to foment +strife among nations. As a matter of fact, they would not permit a +European war at this time. + +ANDRIEV. Would not _permit_ a war! Those are strong words, M. D’Or. + +D’OR. [_Smoothly._] None the less, the older diplomats present will +assure Count Andriev that my words are not stronger than the case +warrants. [_He looks about. There is an awkward pause._] I am sure the +general silence is the best proof of my assertion. + +PALLOT. Pardon my remark, M. D’Or, but I cannot understand why the +Blausteins should deprecate warfare, yet at the same time insist that +the nations maintain the highest military efficiency. + +D’OR. It was to explain just such matters as you have mentioned that our +little meeting of this afternoon was arranged. There are certain things +that cannot be openly discussed— + +MUIRHEAD. One moment, M. D’Or. Are you certain that you do not wish our +secretaries to retire before you go into details? + +D’OR. Assuredly not, Sir Mortimer. I particularly desire the young men +to remain. Diplomacy has many valuable lessons to teach. Here they can +learn some of them. + +GILBERT. [_Rising._] I should much prefer to retire if— + +D’OR. Nonsense! I want you to remain—I insist on it! [GILBERT _resumes +his seat_.] You are aware, gentlemen, of the extent to which the +Blausteins hold the bonds of your respective governments, but there is +another side to the story. A government does not borrow money except to +spend it. Now, while it undoubtedly pays the Blausteins to lend you +their gold, it pays them still better to become national contractors and +purveyors, thus getting back much of the actual money with an added +profit in the second transaction. + +PALLOT. By which you mean— + +D’OR. Simply this, gentlemen. The Blausteins have secured control of +your most important gun factories, your powder works, your saltpeter and +sulphur deposits, your mines. They control the firms that get most of +the contracts for the erection of fortifications and for furnishing the +munitions of war. In fact, they feed and clothe your soldiers, they +supply the horses— + +MUIRHEAD. Can this be possible? + +D’OR. Why should it surprise you? Is it not the most natural thing in +the world? The vast Blaustein millions cannot lie idle in the vaults. Is +there any wonder that with the accumulated surplus of three generations +of shrewd financiering, this insuperable power reaches out into new +fields to secure a firmer grasp upon the forces of civilization? + +MUIRHEAD. M. D’Or, may I ask you to state precisely what the Blausteins +desire of us, as far as the Geneva Conference is concerned? + +D’OR. Assuredly, Sir Mortimer. The Blausteins are aware that the Geneva +Conference will be watched with interest throughout the civilized world; +the press will report its proceedings in detail— + +ANDRIEV. [_Drily._] But not these proceedings—here, to-day! + +D’OR. No, that would never do. We must not give the rabble an +opportunity to peer behind the scenes; it might interfere with the +public performance. The Geneva Conference is presumably a gathering to +foster universal peace. + +GRAEFFLINGEN. Presumably! + +D’OR. Certainly, my dear Baron! Can anyone predict what such a gathering +will accomplish until the powers have sat in judgment upon it? + +PALLOT. And we are here to get the verdict of the _real_ powers and to +settle the fate of the Geneva Conference a full week before it begins! + +D’OR. You are unnecessarily bitter, gentlemen. I am surprised to find +such strange ideals in a group of experienced diplomats. This is no +fairy-tale world in which we are living—it is still the same old, +wicked, scandalous and hopeless Europe that it has always been. + +MUIRHEAD. I am afraid, M. D’Or, that you are being drawn away from the +answer to my question— + +D’OR. Thank you, Sir Mortimer—these idealists always make trouble. Now, +to the point. What the Blausteins particularly desire is that the Geneva +Conference shall not give the journalists a chance to become rampant. +Most of those vexatious pests are subsidized, but there are always +reckless fellows who have nothing to lose and who are ready to court +notoriety upon the slightest pretext. The Blausteins therefore want a +triumphant victory of the peace party at Geneva. + +THE OTHERS. [_Astounded._] The peace party! + +D’OR. You misunderstand me. They want you to talk peace, to sing peace, +to shout peace till you are exhausted. They want you to recommend +measures advising partial reduction of military equipment and eventual +disarmament in all countries, but at the same time they want it +distinctly understood by all that not one of those recommendations is to +be carried out at present. Just give each journalistic dog his bone to +gnaw, and when all is over, things will go on as they are. + +MUIRHEAD. [_Seriously._] Then what you suggest, M. D’Or, is that we +should go through the farce of gathering at Geneva next week as the +ostensible delegates of our respective governments, that we should adopt +those splendid measures that appeal to all of us, and then, to please +the Blausteins, we should nullify the work of the Conference by +permitting its recommendations to become a dead letter! It is no trifle +that you ask of us! + +ANDRIEV. [_Warmly._] Trifle! He is asking us to become the Blaustein +puppets! Are we here to take his orders? + +D’OR. [_Smoothly._] No, no, Count Andriev—not orders. I am not here to +issue any orders, least of all to such eminent diplomats as you. I am +simply telling you what the Blausteins desire; the rest I leave in your +hands. Perhaps some day you will better understand the significance of +the name of Blaustein! [GILBERT _springs up with a cry and with clenched +fists stands quivering before_ D’OR, _who has also risen_. MUIRHEAD +_quickly steps between them._] + +MUIRHEAD. Mr. Gilbert, you forget your place! You owe M. D’Or an +apology. [_The others have risen._] + +GILBERT. [_Tensely._] I—I could not control myself, Sir Mortimer— + +D’OR. [_Suavely._] Pray do not take this seriously, Sir Mortimer. Your +secretary owes me no apology. He did a very natural thing—I respect him +for it. [GILBERT _drops heavily into his chair holding his head in his +hands_. D’OR _watches him curiously. The rest resume their seats._ LOBEN +_twiddles his thumbs_.] Of course, it is very unpleasant—this mission of +mine. You can readily see that the Blausteins must protect their +interests. We are showing you how you can satisfy the clamors of your +people and silence the criticism of your newspapers by ostensibly +complying with the popular demand. After all, the execution of your +recommendations rests with others; you will do your duty at the +conference. + +ANDRIEV. Do you imagine that the people will tolerate this sort of +trickery forever? + +D’OR. Why not? The government that cannot control its masses by throwing +them an occasional sop is a confessed failure—it deserves to fall. Count +Andriev, your civic authorities have a most efficient ally in that +universal force known as human nature. When your aristocrats engage +against the rabble in that great game of skill popularly known as +maintaining the government it is your own fault if you do not win; the +dice are always loaded in your favor. + +ANDRIEV. Suppose we should refuse to be parties to your plan? + +D’OR. [_Looking around._] If you personally are eager to defy the +Blausteins, you will probably find that the rest of the gentlemen +present are not similarly inclined. [_An uneasy silence._] + +ANDRIEV. [_Bitterly._] Evidently, you are right! Heaven help the nations +that have to take orders from the Blausteins! Is there anything further, +M. D’Or? + +D’OR. Nothing except that I wish to express my thanks to all of you for +meeting me here this afternoon. I hope that we part as friends? + +PALLOT. Assuredly, M. D’Or. We must remember that you are merely the +representative of the Blausteins and in no sense personally responsible +for the policy which they have adopted. It would be absurd to harbor any +personal resentment against you. [_Offers his hand._] I wish you good +afternoon! + +ANDRIEV. [_Likewise shakes hands._] I have used hard words here this +afternoon—they were intended for the Blausteins, not for M. D’Or. Good +day! [D’OR _unlocks the central doors, and Pallot and Andriev go off +together_.] + +D’OR. [_To_ GRAEFFLINGEN.] Well, Baron, are you as kindly disposed as +these others? [_They shake hands. He turns to_ LOBEN.] I suppose you +have learned a new lesson in the science of diplomacy? + +LOBEN. [_Wearily._] Bless you, no indeed! I have been in diplomacy for +seventeen years; I have become hardened to such incidents as this. It’s +getting a bit monotonous. I wish there were some new forms of political +corruption—they might prove interesting! + +D’OR. I congratulate you, Baron, on your very blasé secretary. Such a +man must be a treasure in your profession. + +GRAEFFLINGEN. Good afternoon, M. D’Or. [_To_ MUIRHEAD.] Sir Mortimer, do +you remain at Interlaken? + +MUIRHEAD. No, I leave for Lucerne this evening. I shall spend a few days +at the _Kaiserhof_ before going to Geneva. + +GRAEFFLINGEN. I was about to ask you to dine with me. I am sorry you are +leaving so soon. Good afternoon! [LOBEN _has meanwhile shaken hands +with_ GILBERT _and clapped him on the shoulder as a sign of approval_. +GILBERT _stands in dejection_. GRAEFFLINGEN _and_ LOBEN _pass out +together_.] + +MUIRHEAD. In taking leave, M. D’Or, I still feel that Mr. Gilbert owes +you an explanation for his very remarkable conduct. I am sorry the +incident happened. + +D’OR. [_After a pause._] Perhaps you are right, Sir Mortimer. Won’t you +permit Mr. Gilbert to remain for a few moments when you go? We can talk +the matter over between ourselves. + +MUIRHEAD. Mr. Gilbert, you hear what M. D’Or has said. You may rejoin me +later at the hotel. Good day. [_They shake hands and_ MUIRHEAD _goes +off_.] + +D’OR. [_Very pleasantly._] Mr. Gilbert, Sir Mortimer has made it easy +for me to have a confidential chat with you. I am indebted to him for +it. I had no idea when I entered this room that I should meet such an +interesting personality as yourself. + +GILBERT. Sir Mortimer is right. I owe you an apology and I make it +freely. I should have known my place. + +D’OR. That is not the point. I want to know why you made that outcry? + +GILBERT. I would rather not answer that question. + +D’OR. I feel as if I have a right to insist upon an answer, Mr. Gilbert. + +GILBERT. Perhaps you have. May I give the explanation in my own way? + +D’OR. By all means! Let us sit down. [_They take seats, centre._] Do you +smoke? [_He offers a cigar._] + +GILBERT. No, thank you. [D’OR _lights his own cigar_.] M. D’Or, I sought +the appointment as Sir Mortimer’s secretary because I believed it would +prove an opening to a diplomatic career. + +D’OR. Quite right—a very good opening! + +GILBERT. At that time I regarded diplomacy as my life-work. I dreamed of +participating in the great affairs of state, of helping in my own small +way to mould the history of our own day and generation. The diplomat +seemed to be so important a figure, so essentially a servant of the +state that I was dazzled at the thought of serving my country in that +way. And now—[_He pauses._] + +D’OR. Now you think otherwise? + +GILBERT. Until to-day I regarded Sir Mortimer Muirhead as one of the +most enviable of men. Now I pity him—from the bottom of my heart. Kindly +stop me if I offend— + +D’OR. Go on. I want to hear all you have to say. + +GILBERT. I learned this afternoon how hopelessly a man may be fettered +in his efforts to serve his fellow men. To an experienced man like +yourself it must be apparent how unfit I am for the profession I have +chosen. + +D’OR. Why were you so distressed to-day? + +GILBERT. Picture a group of distinguished diplomats, representing the +leading nations of Europe, gathered in secret conclave to hear the +commands of a coterie of money-barons, and, what is worse, yielding to +those commands in spite of their own convictions! It is enough to make +one’s blood boil! + +D’OR. You forget, Mr. Gilbert, that they are practical men of affairs. +They know the power of the money-barons, as you choose to call them, and +they act accordingly. A modern nation cannot afford to entrust its +affairs to idealists and dreamers. + +GILBERT. Apparently not; but what of the national honor? Do these secret +compromises never become public? What can the reputable people of a +great nation think when its rulers stoop to curry favor with the rich +and powerful? + +D’OR. My young friend, you have a distorted image in your mind; I advise +you to set it right. Who are your reputable people who are to cavil at +those who seek wealth or the influence that wealth affords? How many of +your apparently reputable people are not themselves engaged in the +pursuit of wealth by every method, direct or devious, that lies within +their power? Look about you, Mr. Gilbert, and examine your fellow man a +little more closely. Don’t place him on a pedestal. He’s a corrupt +specimen of creation when you get to know him thoroughly. + +GILBERT. [_Hotly._] What makes him corrupt but the fact that there are +forces of evil abroad to tempt him— + +D’OR. [_Smiling._] Like myself, for example? + +GILBERT. Some men are not strong enough to resist temptation. You know +that, M. D’Or. The shame of it is that men like you take advantage of +it. + +D’OR. Nonsense, Mr. Gilbert. We corrupt none of them. If need be we +ascertain the price of their corruption, but there our responsibility +ends. The work of the world must be accomplished. We cannot have men +pulling in all directions at once. There must be some harmony of action +to achieve results. If any one impedes the progress of a great plan, it +is policy to buy him off; if he refuses to yield he must be swept out of +the way. Usually he is too wise to resist—he takes his price and +withdraws gracefully. The world is waiting to be bought. + +GILBERT. There is one thing I cannot understand, M. D’Or—why do you tell +me these things? + +D’OR. Because I take an interest in you. I should like to see you make +something of your career. A few moments ago there were four prominent +diplomats in this room who did me the honor to confer upon the important +question that you heard discussed, yet for this quartette of notables I +have infinitely less respect than I have for you. I took real pleasure +in your outburst of disapproval. + +GILBERT. But they all opposed you, particularly Count Andriev. + +D’OR. Yes, but they all yielded at last—that is the fact that makes them +contemptible in my eyes. Mr. Gilbert, may I ask what salary Sir Mortimer +pays you for acting as his secretary? + +GILBERT. Five hundred pounds. + +D’OR. If I were to offer you a thousand pounds to become my secretary, +would you accept? + +GILBERT. No! + +D’OR. If I were to make it five thousand pounds, would you listen to the +offer? + +GILBERT. No, M. D’Or! + +D’OR. If I were to discover that the Blausteins needed an eminently +trustworthy agent and that you fulfilled the requirements exactly, would +you consider a salary of ten thousand pounds? + +GILBERT. Never! + +D’OR. [_Puffing his cigar, coolly._] I knew it! That’s why you interest +me—you are a human curiosity. A few, years ago I was ready to declare +there were no such men in existence. Remember, I have not insulted you +by really making the offer that I put just now. I pride myself that I +read your character aright and knew the offer would be rejected. + +GILBERT. Are such offers ever made seriously? + +D’OR. Certainly, if the man is worth it. Such matters are always subject +to the dictates of reason. + +GILBERT. I now realize the source of your overwhelming power. I have +learned something from this interview—I shall not give up diplomacy. + +D’OR. Will you remain Sir Mortimer’s secretary? + +GILBERT. Yes, for the present. If I am one of the few of whom you speak +so highly, my country needs me and I intend to remain in her service. + +D’OR. [_Smiling._] There speaks the patriot! Be careful, my friend, to +avoid tight places, so that you may not have to yield to the tempter one +of these days. [_They rise._] May I wish you success in your career? +[_He extends his hand._] + +GILBERT. [_Painfully._] M. D’Or, I don’t want to insult you +again—but—I’d rather not shake your hand. + +D’OR. [_With assumed indifference._] Just as you wish—it is better that +we should understand each other exactly. Perhaps I should feel offended, +but I don’t—I’m not going to quarrel with you. I wish you success just +the same. You may be right, after all—you young fellows have a great +deal of enthusiasm. There ought to be more like you. + +GILBERT. [_Eagerly._] M. D’Or, there’s a real strain of good in you—why +don’t you give it a chance? + +D’OR. [_Uneasily._] I may change my mind some day. If I do, I shall +remember you, Mr. Gilbert— + +GILBERT. [_Seizes_ D’OR’S _hand and looks squarely in his eyes_.] I hope +so, M. D’Or—I hope so! Good-bye! [_He goes out._] + +D’OR. [_Places his cigar on the table and looks toward the central +door._] I’d give my fortune for that man’s outlook on life! [CLAIRE +_enters silently at the right, holding her notes in her hand. She looks +curiously at_ D’OR.] + +CLAIRE. Well—there are some honorable people, after all! + +D’OR. [_Turning quickly._] What! I must confess I had quite forgotten +that you were in the next room. You heard everything? + +CLAIRE. [_Drily._] Yes—and profited by it, too! + +D’OR. You have a verbatim report? + +CLAIRE. Everything; even your interesting little chat with Mr. Gilbert. + +D’OR. See here, mademoiselle—that has no place in the report. Kindly let +me have those sheets. + +CLAIRE. Never fear, M. D’Or—the Blausteins will never see any part of +this report! + +D’OR. What do you mean? + +CLAIRE. I intend to destroy every line that I wrote in that room. I +heard what Mr. Gilbert said. I will no longer be the servile spy of the +Blausteins! + +D’OR. [_With a sneer._] Ah! Virtue seems to be contagious. + +CLAIRE. There are always immunes. + +D’OR. Your tongue has not lost its cunning, in spite of your moral +awakening. So you won’t let me have the notes? + +CLAIRE. Not unless you take them by force. [_With determination._] I +warn you, I shall not give them up tamely. + +D’OR. Calm yourself. You forget the Blaustein maxim, ‘Above all things, +no public scandal.’ I shall not make the least effort to obtain those +notes without your consent. + +CLAIRE. Thank you. May I go? + +D’OR. [_Earnestly._] Mlle. Lasalle, I will give you five thousand francs +for those notes. + +CLAIRE. [_Frightened._] Please let me pass! + +D’OR. Ten thousand francs—for the notes. + +CLAIRE. How dare you! [_A pause._] Remember Mr. Gilbert! + +D’OR. [_With a start, then quietly._] Mademoiselle, will you give me +those notes at your own price if I promise to destroy them—now, here, +before your eyes? + +CLAIRE. [_After a pause._] I shall give them to you on one condition. + +D’OR. Name it. + +CLAIRE. [_Slowly._] That you don’t ask me to touch any more Blaustein +money. I’m trying to do a decent thing this time. + +D’OR. [_With admiration._] I understand. You have my promise. [CLAIRE +_fixes her gaze on_ D’OR, _and hands over the sheets. He keeps his eyes +on her as he tears the notes into tiny scraps which fall on the table. +He gathers up the scraps and throws them into the fire._] + +CLAIRE. [_Earnestly._] We two are not entirely hopeless. + +D’OR. [_Still gazing at her._] Not after this! + +CLAIRE. We are not likely to meet again. I am going to some remote +corner of the earth—to try to forget the past. The Blausteins shall +never hear of me again. Let us make one good resolution before we part. + +D’OR. What shall it be? + +CLAIRE. Let us both try to remember Mr. Gilbert! + +D’OR. I shall never forget Mr. Gilbert—[_Extending his hand._] nor Mlle. +Claire Lasalle, stenographer! + +CLAIRE. [_Taking his hand._] Good-bye, M. D’Or! [_She hurries out at the +centre._ D’OR _looks after her for a moment, then snatches the gold band +from across his bosom and dashes it on the table with a gesture of +disgust. He drops into a chair as the curtain falls._] + + + + + SCENE IV + + +[_A sombre, darkly furnished room in a Balkan palace. There are wooden +panels and heavy gold hangings; also a window, left, a door, right, and +large double doors, centre. At the left there is a table on which is a +lamp with a dull gold shade. Nearby are an armchair, a footrest and a +smaller chair. At the right there is a small table with two chairs. +Against the walls are several quaint high-backed chairs and a curious +medieval stove. As the curtain rises_, D’OR _is in the armchair asleep. +He wears a dark dressing gown with deep gold borders and embroidery. He +still has his gold rings. The window at the left is open and from the +outside come the plaintive notes of a shepherd’s pipe. The light is that +of early evening._ EDITH PACKARD, _dressed as a nurse, enters at the +right. She feels_ D’OR’S _pulse and tiptoes noiselessly about. She +places fresh golden flowers in a vase on the smaller table, then lights +the lamp at the larger table and turns the flame low. After tidying the +room a bit, she takes another look at_ D’OR, _feels his forehead lightly +and goes off, right. The shepherd’s pipe is silenced. There is a sudden +flash of lightning at the open window and the distant rumble of +thunder._] + +D’OR. [_In his sleep._] Not Death! Not Death! I’ve bought off Death for +a time! Not yet! [_He awakes with a start._] Miss Packard! I’ve been +dreaming horribly again! [_He looks about anxiously._] Miss Packard! Has +Dr. Mirsky arrived? [_Listens for reply._] They take my money, yet +they’re not here when I need them most. [_He experiences a convulsive +spasm and is unable to articulate_ MISS PACKARD’S _name, though he makes +a painful effort to do so. He rises heavily from his chair and staggers +to the bell rope near the door, right. He manages to pull it and falls +in a faint over the chair standing near. Lightning and distant thunder._ +EDITH _rushes in and rubs his wrists. He revives and she succeeds in +getting him to the table, right._] + +D’OR. [_Bewildered._] Where am I? Yes—I remember—I called— + +EDITH. You were sleeping peacefully when I left the room a moment ago! + +D’OR. Not peacefully! I never sleep peacefully. + +EDITH. Do you feel any better? + +D’OR. Worse—much worse! How long did I sleep? + +EDITH. Over three hours. It is past six o’clock. + +D’OR. Evening already! Another day gone! [_Lightning._ EDITH _starts to +close the window. It thunders as she looks out._] + +EDITH. Oh! M. D’Or, a terrible storm is approaching! The whole valley is +filled with black clouds! [_Lightning._] + +D’OR. Close that window quickly! I cannot bear lightning. [_She closes +it amid thunder._] Another storm! I shall lie awake all night! +[_Groans._] Hasn’t Dr. Mirsky arrived? + +EDITH. No, he has not come. Perhaps the storm will prevent his getting +here to-night. + +D’OR. I _must_ see the doctor—he must come to-night! He takes my money; +he should be at my beck and call. I need him now—I may die before +morning. Is there no one at the palace whom you can send to the village? +[_Heavy thunder._] + +EDITH. Cyril is downstairs. + +D’OR. The gardener’s son? I’ll not send the boy on such a night as this. +Perhaps Mirsky will get here after all. + +EDITH. He should come. + +D’OR. I pay him well enough, eh? I pay you well, Miss Packard? I pay +everybody well. I may be feeble, but I still have my gold. It serves me +yet! [_Thunder._] + +EDITH. Do you care for something to eat? + +D’OR. No, I have no appetite. I am an unhappy creature. Turn up the +lamp, Miss Packard—it is too gloomy. I can scarcely see. [_She turns up +the lamp._ D’OR _notices the flowers_.] Why are those wilted flowers on +the table? + +EDITH. They do seem wilted—yet they were quite fresh when I brought them +in a few minutes ago. [_Thunder._] Perhaps the storm— + +D’OR. Nonsense! A storm cannot affect cut flowers! They must have been +dying when you brought them in. [_Raises their drooping heads._] Dying! +Dying—their golden beauty waning—a few hours more and all will be over! +[_Groans._] I must see Mirsky! I feel wretched to-night. Look down the +road, Miss Packard, and see if there are any signs of the doctor’s +carriage. He would not come on foot to-night. [EDITH _opens the window. +Lightning and a wild blast of wind._ D’OR _covers his eyes and groans_.] + +EDITH. [_Peering out._] It is too dark to see far—but the road seems +quite deserted. [_Thunder._] + +D’OR. Quick! Close the window! [EDITH _does so_.] Even Mirsky fails me +when I need him most. He shall hear from me to-morrow—[_A pause._] if I +am still alive. Have you had your dinner? + +EDITH. No, but there’s no hurry—I do not wish to leave you alone. + +D’OR. Get your dinner by all means. You are young and healthy—you can +enjoy it. Send up Cyril to keep me company; I like the boy. + +EDITH. Very well. Is there nothing else I can do for you? + +D’OR. [_More softly._] Nothing, Miss Packard. You are very kind to me. +Are you satisfied in this Balkan wilderness? Am I paying you enough for +coming to this desolate region? + +EDITH. Don’t say such things. I am a nurse—it is my duty to serve you. +Besides, you have been very generous to me. + +D’OR. Thank you. Run along now—and don’t forget to send up Cyril. [_She +goes off, centre._ D’OR _looks nervously about him, holds his hand over +his heart, then draws himself slowly up and goes to the window to peer +out. Seeing nothing he opens it. A furious downpour of rain is heard, +then a flash of lightning half-blinds him. He closes the window with a +loud bang._] No hope of Mirsky to-night. Even my money won’t bring him +out on such a night as this. [_He walks slowly to the armchair._] If he +does not come, I shall be dead before sunrise! + +CYRIL. [_Putting in his head, centre._] May I come in, M. D’Or? + +D’OR. [_Brightening._] Cyril! By all means! Come in, my boy! [_He +resumes his seat._] + +CYRIL. Miss Packard said you wouldn’t be angry. + +D’OR. I am very glad to see you. What have you been doing all day? + +CYRIL. I have been exploring along the other side of the river. I left +the palace this morning at five o’clock and joined some boys in the +village. We tramped for several miles along the river, then crossed the +bridge at Arak and went into the woods. + +D’OR. It must have been delightful. You started at five o’clock? + +CYRIL. Yes, it was still dark. I saw the sun rise from the Hadderberg. +By dinner time we were over ten miles beyond Arak. + +D’OR. How did you get home so quickly? + +CYRIL. Oh! we saw the storm coming—at first it was a little speck of +black cloud floating far off in the sky beyond the mountain range. We +hurried through the woods and reached home a half-hour ago. + +D’OR. You must have had a glorious tramp. Did you do any hunting? + +CYRIL. Oh no! The season has not opened yet—we shall go hunting later +on. M. D’Or, did you ever take such trips when you were a boy? +[_Rumbling thunder._] + +D’OR. No, I never had such sport. I didn’t live near the mountains and +the forests. + +CYRIL. [_Sits on the foot rest at_ D’OR’S _feet_.] How do the boys in +your country spend their time? + +D’OR. The most sensible spend their time in learning how to make money. + +CYRIL. Do they need much money when they grow up? + +D’OR. Nearly all of them think they need more than they have. + +CYRIL. What do they buy with their money? + +D’OR. Whatever they think they want. What would you buy if you had +twenty florins? + +CYRIL. A pair of hunting boots and a new knife. [_He pulls out his +knife._] Not a cheap knife, like this one—but one with six silver bands +on the handle. + +D’OR. Why six bands? + +CYRIL. Because my friend Boris has one with five bands and his knife is +the finest in the village. + +D’OR. Ah! I see! And what would you buy if you had fifty florins? + +CYRIL. Fifty florins! [_After a pause._] I wouldn’t buy anything. I’d +save until I had a hundred. + +D’OR. [_Interested._] And then— + +CYRIL. Then I would buy a handsome rifle such as I saw in a shop window +in Buda-Pesth. Were you ever in Buda-Pesth? + +D’OR. Yes, Cyril. I’ve seen those fine shops. Now, isn’t it pleasant to +think that you can go into such a shop with a pocket full of money and +pick out anything you want? + +CYRIL. Yes—it’s like a fairy-tale. + +D’OR. [_Drily._] Well, that’s why the boys in my country learn how to +make money! + +CYRIL. [_With enthusiasm._] And when they have it, they go to the shops +and buy what they wanted? + +D’OR. No; by that time they have usually lost interest in what they +wanted—and then they desire something which they cannot buy. + +CYRIL. Then it isn’t much fun after all? + +D’OR. [_Stroking_ CYRIL’S _hair_.] No, it isn’t much fun. You have +something better than money, Cyril. You have youth and health—be careful +how you spend them. You wouldn’t sell them at any price, would you? + +CYRIL. How can one sell youth, M. D’Or? + +D’OR. By doing foolish things and by wasting the precious hours of early +manhood—that is how one sells youth. I want you to realize how very rich +you are, even if you haven’t enough money to buy that new rifle. [_The +noise of carriage wheels is heard._] Do you hear a carriage? Can it be +Dr. Mirsky, after all? + +CYRIL. [_Opens the window._] Yes, it is the doctor—and another man with +him in a long white robe—a strange-looking man! + +D’OR. You see very well in the dark, Cyril! + +CYRIL. I have good eyes; father calls them forester’s eyes. + +D’OR. Is it still raining? + +CYRIL. [_Puts out his hand._] A little, but the worst is over. The +clouds are breaking. + +D’OR. I am glad of it; you may leave the window open. [_Enter_ MIRSKY +_at centre_.] + +MIRSKY. Good evening, M. D’Or! I’m a bit late to-night on account of +this cursed storm—I never experienced such weather before. The road to +the palace is a veritable river! At every turn a fresh torrent bursts +over it. How do you feel? + +D’OR. Fairly well since Cyril has been keeping me company, but I felt +miserable before—I feared you would not come. + +MIRSKY. Not come for such a patron as M. D’Or! My dear sir, I would have +come if it had been necessary to swim to the palace! + +CYRIL. [_Laughing._] People don’t swim up hills, Dr. Mirsky. + +MIRSKY. No, and well-behaved boys don’t make impertinent remarks to +their elders. + +D’OR. Cyril tells me you had a companion in your carriage. + +MIRSKY. Yes—the queerest fellow I’ve ever come across. I picked him up +on the road just beyond the village. He had sought shelter under a tree +but I saw he would be drenched if he remained there long enough—to say +nothing of the danger from lightning. He’s a sort of oriental sage—calls +himself Ramanand. I expect to take him back to the village when I leave +and have a chat with him to-night. + +D’OR. I am interested in your find! Can’t we have him up here? + +MIRSKY. I turned him over to Miss Packard—I believe he is drying out at +the kitchen fire. Cyril, run along and fetch up the philosopher. + +CYRIL. [_Meekly._] Very well, doctor. I hope you will forgive me for my +impertinence just now— + +MIRSKY. [_Clapping his shoulder._] Impertinence, my boy? It was the +truth. As you say, people do _not_ swim up hill. [CYRIL _laughs and runs +off, centre_. MIRSKY _turns to_ D’OR.] Well, how is my patient? [_Feels +his pulse._] Still feverish and unsettled—appetite poor—all out of +sorts, eh? + +D’OR. Doctor, I feel like a man whose life is ebbing away. I had a +horrible seizure this evening. It’s all up with me. I’ve been burning +the candle at both ends all my life. I have crowded more experience into +my forty years than properly belongs there—that’s all! + +MIRSKY. My dear M. D’Or, you talk like a man who is preparing for +another world, yet you are paying me handsomely to keep you here. One +can hardly regard such remarks as complimentary— + +D’OR. True enough, doctor, but there’s no power of resistance left in +me. I’ve been fighting Death for some time and now I have only one real +weapon left— + +MIRSKY. [_Surprised._] One weapon? + +D’OR. Yes, my money! Youth and health are gone, and I have long since +turned my back upon my few friends—but my money is still my faithful +slave. It has provided me this airy retreat in the Balkans, it has +brought me such a devoted nurse as Miss Packard, such a skilful +physician as yourself— + +MIRSKY. Come, come—I’m not so sordid! A true physician thinks first of +the professional obligation. + +D’OR. But a successful doctor does not give up a lucrative practice in +Buda-Pesth to bury himself in the mountains with a solitary patient +unless the latter pays handsomely, eh? + +MIRSKY. It is true that you are giving me many times what I could earn +by my practice, but why do you constantly remind me of it? + +D’OR. I don’t want to offend you, doctor—but I like to feel that my +money is still helping me to keep Death at bay. I have gone through life +believing that wealth is power and I want to think so yet. Don’t you +share that belief? + +MIRSKY. Frankly, I do. I have even coined a new beatitude—blessed is the +rich man, since he can have what he wants! + +D’OR. [_Gravely._] Not always—I have found that out. I want health, +vigor, an interest in life. + +MIRSKY. Your money would obtain any of these if you gave it a fair +chance. You are sated, that is all— + +D’OR. It is worse than that. I’m worn out—done for! + +MIRSKY. M. D’Or, you are absolutely wrong. I cannot comprehend your +passive yielding to this chronic invalidism. You harm not only yourself, +but me likewise—professionally, I mean. I shall be quite frank with you. +My reputation is at stake. All Buda-Pesth knows that I am treating the +rich M. D’Or. If I restore you to health, my fortune is assured! I shall +no longer be the promising Dr. Mirsky in his shabby carriage—I shall +become the famous Dr. Mirsky in his automobile. Do you realize what it +means to me? + +D’OR. So you wish me to get well for _your_ sake? + +MIRSKY. Certainly, if you have no reasons of your own. I pretend to no +philanthropy in the matter. You are paying me lavishly, M. D’Or—give me +a chance to earn the money. + +D’OR. [_Shaking his head._] You’ve taken a bad case, doctor—I’m sorry +for you. You’ll have your money and the automobile in any event. Of +course, you expect to find greater happiness in becoming more prominent +in your profession? + +MIRSKY. Yes, both happiness and reputation. I look upon it as a +recompense for my early years of struggle. + +D’OR. You had to make your own way? + +MIRSKY. My father was a poor village shoemaker; my mother eked out his +income by what she could earn at washing and sewing. I was the youngest +of five children. + +D’OR. And the others? + +MIRSKY. They were all sacrificed for my sake. They are hard-working men +and women to-day. My parents died before I achieved independence in my +profession. I should like to help my brothers and sisters, but they +refuse my aid. + +D’OR. Perhaps you don’t offer them enough. + +MIRSKY. M. D’Or, they have pride! They feel that an unfair advantage was +given to me—and they are right! + +D’OR. I fail to see it. This was clearly a case of one rising from the +depths, or none at all. If they have pride, they should take pride in +you. + +MIRSKY. It has made a permanent breach between us, I fear. + +D’OR. And they will feel even more bitter when you return to Buda-Pesth +and ride about in your new automobile? + +MIRSKY. [_Gloomily._] Yes, I have been thinking of that. If I could only +drive them from my mind! + +D’OR. Yet you look forward to happiness! Is there no way of making +wealth obedient to our desires? + +CYRIL. [_Putting in his head at central door as before._] May I bring in +Mr. Ramanand? + +D’OR. Certainly—I shall be glad to see him. [CYRIL _throws the door open +and_ RAMANAND _enters in stately fashion, garbed in an oriental robe_.] + +MIRSKY. Ah! Ramanand, quite dry now? I want to present you to M. D’Or, +the tenant of this palace and my worthy patron. He has heard of our +meeting on the road. + +RAMANAND. [_With a profound bow, speaks in a deep, rich voice._] My +salutations and greetings, monsieur. I am indebted to you for your +hospitality. + +D’OR. Won’t you be seated? [RAMANAND _takes a seat, right_, CYRIL _sits +on the foot rest_.] I trust they made you comfortable downstairs. Didn’t +you suffer in the storm? + +RAMANAND. A slight wetting—no more. I am accustomed to rough weather. I +travel constantly on foot. It is no hardship for such as I. + +MIRSKY. Are you familiar with this country? + +RAMANAND. No. I am on my way to the West, to study the civilization of +other lands. I have read of them and their manners; I now seek to know +them by actual experience. + +D’OR. You have doubtless traveled far enough to find things different? + +RAMANAND. Yes, I already feel the mark of the West in your customs. In +the East, all things are deliberate and, whether right or wrong, rest +upon traditions handed down from the remotest ages. Here you strive for +things that are new and you are ever ready to forget the old. + +D’OR. But why do you follow such a roving life? Is there any profit in +it? Will you be better off when you have completed your travels? + +RAMANAND. There is much profit in it—I shall enrich my mind with golden +thought— + +D’OR. But does it enrich your purse with golden coin—that’s more to the +point! + +RAMANAND. Money! It is a delusion! + +MIRSKY. A delusion? + +RAMANAND. [_Placidly._] Yes. Has it ever proved otherwise? + +D’OR. Why, it brings power, the thing best worth having in life. + +RAMANAND. It brings mostly care and sorrow. + +MIRSKY. Did you ever hear such a philosophy? + +D’OR. [_To_ CYRIL.] Cyril, you recall speaking to me this evening of a +new rifle? + +CYRIL. Yes, M. D’Or. + +D’OR. We shall send to Buda-Pesth to-morrow for that rifle and when it +arrives it is yours. + +CYRIL. [_Leaping up in pleasure and kissing_ D’OR’S _hand_.] Oh! dear M. +D’Or, you are like a good magician in the story-books! + +D’OR. [_To_ RAMANAND.] And the agency of such happiness as this you call +a delusion! Where’s your care and sorrow? + +RAMANAND. [_Smiling._] You are a ready man with your proof. No one can +deny the momentary exaltation that follows a gift or a favor, nor do I +believe that gratitude is a forgotten virtue. But look about you, and +note what a curse wealth has brought upon humanity. + +MIRSKY. I should not care to entertain the philosophy of the East. + +RAMANAND. Mine is not the philosophy of the East. We also have the +worship of gold among us and its devotees lead the same blind lives in +its pursuit as your own people. The views I express are my own. + +D’OR. Then you really believe that the poor man is the happiest man? + +RAMANAND. Yes, if he is not possessed by the lust for gold. + +MIRSKY. And the rich man is the unhappiest man? + +RAMANAND. Yes, if he is the slave of his own wealth. + +D’OR. Rail against wealth if you will—I maintain that poverty has +nothing to recommend it. + +RAMANAND. [_Reflectively._] I too sought material wealth as a young man +and I gained nothing but care; for many years I have cherished poverty +and my days are crowned with peace. I ask no better test of my +philosophy. + +MIRSKY. If you are satisfied, you have reached a state of mind that +neither M. D’Or nor I shall ever experience. [EDITH _enters, centre_; +MIRSKY _and_ RAMANAND _rise_.] + +EDITH. Pardon me—I have come to tell Cyril that his father is ready to +take him back to the lodge. + +CYRIL. [_Leaping up and running to the window._] Oh! it is clearing up +beautifully—the moon will rise soon. I suppose I’ll have to go. [_He +shakes hands._] Good night, Dr. Mirsky. [_He stands abashed before_ +RAMANAND.] Good night, Mr. Ramanand. + +RAMANAND. [_Stroking_ CYRIL’S _hair as if invoking a blessing on the +boy_.] Good night, Cyril. + +CYRIL. Good night, M. D’Or. Shall I pray that you should get better? + +D’OR. [_Surprised._] Should you pray—why—yes, if you care to. + +CYRIL. You won’t forget about the new rifle? + +D’OR. What has the rifle to do with your prayer? + +CYRIL. I think I could pray better if I knew I was sure to get it. +[RAMANAND _shakes his head_.] + +D’OR. Very well, Cyril, just pray your very best for me. Good night. + +CYRIL. Good night, Miss Packard. Why don’t you make M. D’Or get better? +That’s what nurses are for. + +MIRSKY. The young rascal will be censuring me next for not having M. +D’Or in perfect physical condition. Run along. + +CYRIL. [_Laughing._] Good night, everybody. [_He goes off hastily._] + +EDITH. [_To_ D’OR.] It is time for your medicine. + +MIRSKY. One moment, Miss Packard. We shall discontinue that medicine; I +am not satisfied with our patient’s response. We shall adopt a new +course—no drugs at all for the next few days. + +D’OR. I am heartily glad of it. I get far more benefit from your talk, +doctor, than from your medicines. Our little discussion to-night has +made me forget myself for the time. By the way, let us see how Miss +Packard feels about the matter. She will be an unprejudiced judge. + +MIRSKY. One whose opinion will be worth having. [RAMANAND _bows +politely_.] + +D’OR. We were trying to decide among ourselves whether wealth is a +blessing or a curse. Do you believe it brings power? + +EDITH. Yes, unquestionably. + +MIRSKY. Does it bring happiness? + +EDITH. Certainly. Why shouldn’t it bring happiness? + +RAMANAND. Does it bring sorrow and misery? + +EDITH. Far too often, I fear. + +D’OR. Are all three of us right in our contentions? Wealth seems to be +rather fickle, Miss Packard, according to your view. + +EDITH. It appears a very simple matter to me. The unattainable always +seems attractive; what we possess is apt to pall after a time. Wealth +does not usually bring power, nor happiness, nor sorrow until its +possessor has taken some initiative in the matter. The owner of the +wealth must in a large measure determine its influence on his career. + +D’OR. If you possessed great wealth, would you test its power to secure +for you the things that you might deem most desirable—social position, +for instance? + +EDITH. I think not. I should prefer to expend it in a quest of +happiness, but it would be a happiness that came from service—from using +the wealth to bring sunshine and peace into other lives. Perhaps as a +nurse I have come to think differently than many other women— + +MIRSKY. More self-sacrificing, I am sure. + +RAMANAND. Does Miss Packard believe in the philosophy of service—that +our lives can be counted most successful when we make ourselves most +useful to our fellow men? + +EDITH. Assuredly. Service seems to me the ideal of a well-ordered life. +I can imagine no finer life than that of my honored country-woman, Miss +Eleanor Richmond— + +D’OR. [_Springing up._] Eleanor Richmond! + +RAMANAND. A noble woman, indeed, a goddess of charity. I met her in +Bombay last year. + +MIRSKY. I have heard of her—she organized a relief committee for the +India famine— + +EDITH. Yes, and is devoted heart and soul to the great cause. + +D’OR. Eleanor Richmond—in India! [_To_ EDITH.] You know her? + +EDITH. Very well. I have been with her at different times for several +years. I was a member of her party that went into the fever district. + +D’OR. She—has not married? + +RAMANAND. Such a woman needs no family of her own. All mankind is her +family! + +D’OR. How strange that you should know her. I always passed over the +accounts of India famines in the papers—such unpleasant reading, such +harrowing details. + +MIRSKY. Think of the heroism of a woman who will plunge into the midst +of such misery and desolation! + +RAMANAND. There are parts of India where Miss Richmond is worshiped as a +saint! + +EDITH. She deserves it. I know of no one who has made such a splendid +use of wealth as she has done. She has been an inspiration to me at +times when I felt weak and discouraged. [_Moonlight shines in at the +window._] + +MIRSKY. The moon has risen; what a glorious light it sheds into this +room. We must be going, M. D’Or, if we are to reach the village before +midnight. We shall have a well-lighted road, at all events. [_He goes to +the window._ D’OR _is staring into space_.] + +EDITH. I shall have the carriage sent around to the door. [_She goes +off, centre._] + +RAMANAND. Monsieur, I am deeply indebted to you and to the good doctor +for the shelter you have afforded me, and for your tokens of good will. + +D’OR. [_Recovering himself._] And to-morrow you continue your westward +march—in search of truth? + +RAMANAND. In search of truth, M. D’Or. There is the most precious wealth +that the earth affords. It will be a long and difficult quest. + +D’OR. I have been searching for truth for many years and in many lands; +to-night I believe I have stumbled upon it by chance. A few hours ago I +was wondering what new bribe I might offer Death to postpone for a time +the final settling of my account. Now I yearn for a chance to redeem my +past follies, to add a new and more creditable chapter to my career. You +have done me much good to-night, doctor! I feel better and happier at +this moment than I have been for many years! + +MIRSKY. Not too fast! Don’t be in too much of a hurry to deprive me of +so profitable a patient. + +D’OR. Have no fear, doctor—you shall have no occasion to regret the cure +that you wrought here to-night. + +MIRSKY. You are indeed a changed man—I am glad to see it. Good night, M. +D’Or. + +RAMANAND. [_To_ D’OR.] Good night, monsieur. [_He bows._] + +D’OR. Good night! A pleasant ride back to the village! [_They go out, +centre._ D’OR _examines the wilted flowers and laughs softly. He then +goes over to the window and stands in the moonlight. He calls to the +others below._] Good night! Good night! [_The sound of carriage wheels +is heard._ EDITH _comes in, centre, and looks at_ D’OR _a few moments +before speaking_.] + +EDITH. You may catch cold at the window— + +D’OR. [_Turning._] Miss Packard! I did not hear you enter. + +EDITH. You are feeling much better? + +D’OR. I am a new man to-night. Pray tell me, do you know if Eleanor +Richmond is in India now? + +EDITH. She is on her way to India. She wrote me from London that she +would be at Port Said in a fortnight. + +D’OR. Port Said! You have a letter from her? + +EDITH. Yes. Do you know her? + +D’OR. We were very good friends—many years ago, over in America. It +seems so long ago—almost like another existence. + +EDITH. Would you like to see her letter? It tells of her plans for the +coming year. + +D’OR. You are very kind— + +EDITH. I shall fetch the letter; I am sure it will interest you. [_She +goes off, right._] + +D’OR. [_In meditation._] Fifteen years! It seems like a lifetime! A +lifetime of hideous nightmare and delusion. Fifteen years! [_He paces +the room._ EDITH _returns_.] + +EDITH. Here is Miss Richmond’s letter. + +D’OR. [_Takes the letter to the light and tries to read. His hand +trembles. He speaks in an uncertain voice._] Won’t you read it for me? + +EDITH. [_Reading._] ‘I am now in London with my secretary, Mr. Hanson, +making final preparations for another year’s work in the Orient. Mr. +Hanson’s wife and I have been buying great quantities of supplies to be +shipped to the East. She is a most helpful woman—just another like’—[_A +pause._] + +D’OR. [_Softly._] ‘Like yourself.’ + +EDITH. [_Embarrassed, continues._] ‘From all reports the distress is +even greater than before and we shall have to labor harder than ever to +relieve the miseries of those unfortunate people. How my heart bleeds +for them! I have found many good friends who have contributed generously +to our fund, but the need is so great that we can never bring adequate +relief. We can assist a little here and there, and instil new courage in +those who are partly able to help themselves, but there is much that we +can never hope to undertake. I wonder that I ever had the hardihood to +attempt this work. Now it has become my mission in life and it means +everything to me. We shall be at Port Said on the 25th, and shall spend +two or three days there. I wish you could arrange to rejoin me this +year. I recall our days of labor among the poor in New York and in +Chicago. You were so very’—Oh! M. D’Or, won’t you read the rest? + +D’OR. [_Taking the letter._] Too modest to sound your own praises? _[He +reads in silence._] Very true, Miss Packard, what she says of you is +indeed true. No wonder she wants you with her again. [_He reads._] ‘The +work is a consecration—it has made life very sweet to me’—[_As he goes +on_, EDITH _silently steals from the room by the centre door_.] ‘What a +pleasure it is to bring the light of joy and gratitude into the eyes of +others. In my devotion to their welfare I have tried to forget an early +sorrow of my own’— [_He pauses, overcome with emotion. He looks up and +sees that he is alone. His hand trembles as he holds the letter near the +lamp._] ‘I hope we may soon meet again—time alone can tell.’ Time alone +can tell! How that phrase brings back that last evening together in the +garden—the legend on the sun-dial—‘Time will reveal all things.’—[_He +rises and stands by the window, glancing over the letter in the +moonlight._] ‘I have tried to forget an early sorrow of my own’—_Tried_ +to forget! Eleanor! [_He gazes at the letter as the curtain slowly +falls._] + + + + + EPILOG + + +[_A parlor in the Hotel Orient, Port Said, furnished as a writing-room +for the guests. There is at the right a table with pens, ink, magazines, +railway guides and folders. At the left a table with writing materials, +blotters, etc. Each table is flanked by two chairs. There are also +several comfortable armchairs and a revolving case with time-tables and +other hotel literature. From the room a wide central entrance leads +through glass doors to a porch with posted placards. There are exits +right and left and a window on the left beside the door. The sun shines +brightly through this window and also illumines the prospect from the +porch. As the curtain rises_, MR. MATHEWS _enters at the centre and +casts a critical eye over the room. He puts the papers, etc., into order +at both tables and throws several soiled sheets into a wastebasket under +the table on the right._ MR. HANSON _enters with a large bundle of +letters and goes to the opposite table_.] + +MATHEWS. Good morning, Mr. Hanson. I hope you slept well. + +HANSON. Thank you, Mr. Mathews. My first night in Africa was one of +undisturbed repose. What a lovely morning! Is such weather common in +Egypt? + +MATHEWS. It is during the season. We often have fine weather at this +time of the year. + +HANSON. Your hotel seems quite crowded. + +MATHEWS. It filled up yesterday after the arrival of your steamer. Most +of our guests are tourists who are on their way to Cairo and the +Pyramids. + +HANSON. Have you seen Miss Richmond this morning? + +MATHEWS. Yes, she is now at breakfast. What a charming lady she is! + +HANSON. One of Heaven’s good angels, I should say. My wife and I have +been associated with her for two years in her American charities and in +this India relief work. Her soul is wrapped up in it. You should see how +people respond to her appeal for aid. [_He reads the mail as he talks.]_ +One contribution after another. Our fellow-passengers on the ship raised +a fund of one hundred pounds. + +MATHEWS. That reminds me to give you this check on behalf of the +management. [_He takes a check from his wallet._] We desire to show our +interest in the cause. + +HANSON. Thank you very much. I am certain your kindness will gratify +Miss Richmond. [_He reads a letter with an enclosure._] Here’s a curious +one! From the English missionary at Kermeh—‘ten pounds from our mission +for the India relief fund.’ Where is Kermeh? + +MATHEWS. It is far up the Nile—at the Third Cataract. That’s the sort of +coöperation that counts; it shows that Miss Richmond’s noble work is +known in the remotest regions. [_He takes out his check book and +writes._] Mr. Hanson, I wish you would add this personal contribution to +that of the management. I want to help a little. + +HANSON. You are indeed generous. I wish the world could realize the +nature of the task that Miss Richmond has undertaken—the feeding of +impoverished thousands is but a small part of it. There are schools and +hospitals to be provided—an effort is being made to raise the whole +country to a better standard of living. The fever must be stamped +out—[_Reads._] Twenty pounds—fifty pounds—Heaven bless them all. [_He +takes up a telegram._] A dispatch from Paris. [_As he reads it, the +paper trembles in his hand. He starts up with a cry._] + +MATHEWS. What is the matter? + +HANSON. [_Excitedly._] The matter! It’s too wonderful to be true. I +doubt whether I’m awake! It can’t be possible—yet here it is, black on +white. It’s like a voice from Heaven answering Miss Richmond’s prayer. +[_Hands over the telegram._] Read it, Mr. Mathews. + +MATHEWS. [_Reads._] ‘The Messrs. Blaustein have the honor to inform Miss +Richmond that securities amounting to ten million pounds’— + +HANSON. [_Wildly._] It does say ten million? I’m not dreaming? + +MATHEWS. You’re wide awake—it’s ten million. I’m not familiar with the +sum, but I know what the figures look like. [_He resumes reading._] +‘Securities amounting to ten million pounds have been deposited with +them to form a permanent fund known as the Eleanor Richmond Fund, the +income thereof to be expended in the interests of Miss Richmond’s great +charities throughout the world. Provision is made that one hundred +thousand pounds shall be immediately available for Miss Richmond’s +relief work in India. The Messrs. Blaustein regret that they are not at +liberty to mention the name of the donor, who prefers to remain +anonymous because he wishes only one name to be associated with the +fund—that of Miss Richmond herself.’ Did you ever hear anything like +that before in your life, Mr. Hanson? + +HANSON. [_Almost delirious._] Has there ever been anything like it +before? It is stupendous! How can such a gift be kept secret! How can +any human being give away ten million pounds without public recognition? +Can you realize what burdens it will lift from Miss Richmond’s mind? She +can now proceed safely with many noble enterprises which she has long +hoped to carry out when funds were available. How she will rejoice at +this wonderful answer to her prayers! + +MATHEWS. [_Gravely._] By the way, Mr. Hanson, be careful in giving her +the information. Good news may cause as severe a shock as bad news. Tell +her gradually— + +HANSON. You’re right. It’s a wonder it didn’t knock me over—I haven’t +had my breakfast yet. I don’t believe a doctor would recommend hearing +such news on an empty stomach. [_Enter_ ROBERT DORR _at the centre. He +wears a plain sack suit and no jewelry of any sort. He seems alert and +vigorous._ HANSON _continues to read the mail_.] + +DORR. Good morning, Mr. Mathews. + +MATHEWS. Good morning, Mr. Dorr. You are an early riser—the porter told +me you went out at five o’clock for a stroll about the harbor. + +DORR. I am enjoying the best of health. You must have observed the +improvement in the four days that I have been here. The climate of Egypt +is wonderful—bracing, invigorating! + +MATHEWS. [_Drily._] Yes, just now—but wait till next summer! + +DORR. I haven’t time to wait. I’ll take your word for it. + +MATHEWS. By the way, Mr. Dorr, you ought to know Mr. Hanson, secretary +to Miss Richmond. Mr. Hanson, Mr. Dorr. You are both Americans— + +DORR. The best of reasons for our knowing each other, Mr. Hanson. I have +heard of Miss Richmond’s splendid services for India. You have doubtless +taken part in that work? + +HANSON. Yes. Mrs. Hanson and I have been associated with Miss Richmond +for several years. It has been a pleasure to help even a little in the +great cause, but I’ve never been so happy as this morning. What do you +think has happened? + +DORR. I’m sure I never could guess. + +HANSON. A noble hearted soul has established a fund of ten million +pounds to carry on Miss Richmond’s work. + +DORR. Ten millions! Who is your Crœsus? + +HANSON. That’s the most remarkable part of it. He is as modest as he is +magnanimous—he prefers to remain unknown. + +DORR. What does Miss Richmond say? + +MATHEWS. She doesn’t know it yet. The dispatch arrived from Paris this +morning. + +HANSON. It will be the happiest day of her life, I am sure. + +DORR. How long do you remain at Port Said? + +HANSON. Our steamer leaves day after to-morrow at ten. That reminds me, +I must send off a note at once to the steamship office. You will pardon +me? [_He goes to the table, left, and writes._] + +MATHEWS. [_Beside the table._] Just look at that mail, Mr. +Dorr—contributions coming in from all quarters. There are many hundred +pounds in all, and yet how small that seems beside those ten millions! +How would you like to be able to give such a donation? + +DORR. [_Uncomfortably._] I—I think it would be very pleasant—I think I’d +rather like it! + +MATHEWS. I should say so! A man with such generous impulses should not +hide his light— + +DORR. [_Interrupting._] Pardon me, Mr. Mathews, have you a Bradshaw +handy? + +MATHEWS. [_Indicating to the table, right._] You will find one on that +table. [_He crosses._] Here it is. [DORR _follows and takes a seat with +his back to the others_. MATHEWS _turns to the back as if to go out and +meets_ ELEANOR RICHMOND. _He comes front with her._ DORR _pretends to be +reading his Bradshaw_.] + +ELEANOR. Good morning, Mr. Mathews. It’s a full year since I was here. +How have you been? + +MATHEWS. Very well. I need not ask— + +ELEANOR. [_Smiling._] Always well and busy. Perhaps I should say always +well because I’m busy. What a lovely sunny morning. You seem to furnish +such beautiful weather whenever I come to your hotel. + +MATHEWS. I hope you will enjoy your stay here, Miss Richmond. + +ELEANOR. I always do. I’m sorry it must be such a short stay, but you +know—India is calling and I’m needed there. [_To_ HANSON.] Good morning, +Hanson—have you breakfasted? + +HANSON. Not yet, Miss Richmond—I’ve been looking over the mail. The fact +is, I’m not at all hungry— + +ELEANOR. You’re not getting ill, I hope? You seem strangely excited +about something. Is the fever prevalent now, Mr. Mathews? + +MATHEWS. No, indeed. I don’t think anything serious is the matter with +Mr. Hanson. He is simply suffering from a slight shock. + +ELEANOR. A shock! Why, what has happened? + +HANSON. You see I was reading the mail—it’s a goodly batch of letters. +Nearly all of them contain donations, both large and small—I was simply +overcome by their generosity. Here is one from the English mission at +Kermeh in the upper Nile valley. Mr. Mathews has given me a check on +behalf of the management of the hotel and a personal contribution as +well. + +ELEANOR. [_Gratefully._] Thank you for your aid. It is an inspiration to +find people everywhere so anxious to help! [_She has taken a seat at the +table, left, her back to_ DORR. HANSON _is seated at her side and_ +MATHEWS _is standing_.] + +HANSON. [_Slowly and seriously._] Miss Richmond, you know that now and +then there is an unusually large donation announced in the mail. [_She +nods expectantly as she looks over the letters._] That happened this +morning. [_A pause._] It is the most splendid gift that your cause has +ever received. [_She drops the letters and looks eagerly at_ HANSON.] +This is a trust fund, the interest of which is to be applied to your +work. Do not be startled at the sum—it is very great. You remember last +year the Earl of Shropshire gave— + +ELEANOR. Ten thousand pounds—a munificent sum! And you say this is even +more? + +HANSON. [_Deliberately._] Conceive the Earl of Shropshire’s gift +multiplied ten fold—a hundred fold—a thousand fold! + +ELEANOR. [_Rising from her seat._] Hanson, what do you mean? + +HANSON. [_Rising._] Miss Richmond, the amount is ten million pounds. [_A +pause. She looks from_ HANSON _to_ MATHEWS. HANSON _gives her the +dispatch. Tense silence as_ ELEANOR _reads it_. DORR _trembles, but does +not look around. The paper shakes in_ ELEANOR’S _hand_.] + +ELEANOR. [_Faintly._] Ten million pounds—a permanent fund—one hundred +thousand pounds immediately available! [_She sinks into her chair._] Can +this be true? It is like the realization of a fairy-dream. Hanson, I +_must_ know the donor of this enormous fund— + +HANSON. The dispatch says he prefers to remain anonymous. + +ELEANOR. I must know. His name may be kept secret if he so desires, but +I must see that man and thank him from the bottom of my heart for the +good that he is doing. His bounty will reap a perpetual harvest—he must +see for himself what his unparalleled generosity will accomplish. + +HANSON. Shall I write to the Blausteins at Paris, asking that the +donor’s name be communicated to you? + +ELEANOR. No—I shall let you have a telegram for them. I want to know +before I leave Port Said. What a wonderful day this is! You knew of it, +Mr. Mathews? + +MATHEWS. Mr. Hanson told me just before you came in. Let me say in all +sincerity, it is the kind of support that your noble work has merited +all along. + +ELEANOR. It makes me happy past all understanding. We can achieve real +results now—not temporary relief, but permanent progress. Won’t you get +your breakfast, Hanson? I am forgetting all about you. No wonder you +seemed so excited. I shall telegraph to the Blausteins at once. [_She +reaches for a telegram pad and writes._] + +HANSON. Very well. [_He gathers up the mail, leaving the dispatch from +the Blausteins in_ ELEANOR’S _possession_.] Mr. Mathews, won’t you +deposit these remittances in your safe for the present? [DORR _at his +table writes out a check_.] + +MATHEWS. Certainly. Can I be of further service, Miss Richmond? + +ELEANOR. Not now, but I shall call upon you later. Let me thank you once +more for your kindness! I must get off this dispatch at once. + +MATHEWS. Let me know when I can serve you in any way. [_He goes off, +centre, with_ HANSON. ELEANOR, _when alone at the table, reads the +dispatch again, clasps it to her breast and looks upward in +thankfulness. Trying to compose her own telegram, she once more reads +the other and weeps softly as she does._ DORR _rises and turns towards +her. She is trying to compose herself to write, but cannot._] + +DORR. [_Advancing._] Pardon me, Miss Richmond—I should like to +contribute a trifle to your fund. [_He hands her the check._] + +ELEANOR. How good of—[_Looks intently at him._] why—I—[_In a whisper._] +Bobbie Dorr! + +DORR. Yes. + +ELEANOR. Bobbie Dorr—in Egypt! Oh! what a surprise! Were you sitting +over there reading that Bradshaw? I took you for an ill-mannered +tourist! + +DORR. And you recognized me at once—after fifteen years. + +ELEANOR. Is it as long as that? Then you must not mention the fact +again. You’ve grown broader and heavier, Bobbie—you look more sensible, +too! + +DORR. And you’re just the same charming Eleanor that you were in the old +Lenox days. + +ELEANOR. The idea of your saying such a thing! I just remarked that you +seemed more sensible—now I am inclined to doubt it. What have you been +doing all these years? + +DORR. Wandering over the face of Europe and learning many things. I fear +you have never forgiven me for the unceremonious way I cleared out after +that dance of Aunt Martha’s. I sailed from New York a few hours after +that—that last evening we spent together. + +ELEANOR. I have never forgotten that evening, Bobbie. You seemed like a +man possessed of some evil spirit. You remember how you raved about the +power of wealth— + +DORR. I meant it then. My money is practically all gone now. + +ELEANOR. You have run through that great fortune of your grandfather’s? +You have spent it all? + +DORR. All but a very little—I couldn’t give you much of a contribution— + +ELEANOR. [_Looking at the check._] How thoughtless of me! Here I have +been holding your check all this time without even glancing at it. One +thousand pounds! Generous as ever, Bobbie! + +DORR. I’m sorry it isn’t more— + +ELEANOR. [_Examining the signature._] What’s this? What a strange way of +spelling your name! + +DORR. I’ve been known as M. D’Or ever since I left America—it was simply +a fancy of mine. Now that I’m through with my money, I shall be plain +Bobbie Dorr hereafter. + +ELEANOR. It certainly sounds better, Bobbie—more like old times. Do you +know, I always felt that we should meet again and that you would tell me +truly whether or not wealth can buy power— + +DORR. It cannot, Eleanor, I admit that. I spent my money foolishly for +the most part—that is, until recently, when I acquired more common +sense—but I’m glad I’m done with it. Now I’m going to ask you a favor. + +ELEANOR. What is it, Bobbie? + +DORR. Won’t you take me along to India? + +ELEANOR. Take you along to India! Why, this is no pleasure excursion. It +means work—the hardest kind of work. + +DORR. [_Dejectedly._] I know I don’t amount to much, but I thought I +might serve as a second or third assistant secretary. [_Brightening._] I +was watching your secretary this morning. When the mail comes in I might +open the envelopes and hand them over to Mr. Hanson. + +ELEANOR. And what then? + +DORR. Well, I suppose I’d have to look out of the window until the next +mail arrived. But, Eleanor, I’m serious about this—I’m no longer the +frivolous youngster I was at Lenox. + +ELEANOR. We’ve both seen a good bit of life since then, Bobbie. I became +interested in charitable work, and my labors at home and in India have +been crowned with great success. Did you hear us speak before of the +wonderful good fortune that has just befallen us—the income of ten +million pounds to be annually devoted to our cause? Isn’t it marvelous! +I was just about to write in order to learn the name of the donor. + +DORR. I shouldn’t ask the Blausteins about him—they won’t tell you +anyway. + +ELEANOR. How did you know it was the Blausteins? I didn’t mention their +name. + +DORR. Why, I—that is, Mr. Hanson happened to mention it to Mr. Mathews +before you came in. + +ELEANOR. And knowing that, you were willing to sit there in that +cold-blooded manner reading your Bradshaw? + +DORR. I didn’t want to take you by surprise. I wanted to give you a +chance to hear what Mr. Hanson had to say before I forced my unworthy +self on your attention. + +ELEANOR. What Mr. Hanson had to say? It seems to me that you show very +little enthusiasm over this wonderful endowment. I must discover the +donor; won’t you help me? + +DORR. I don’t see why you bother about him. He’s probably some eccentric +old fellow—he must be a queer chap to turn over such a sum to a Board of +Trustees— + +ELEANOR. Board of Trustees—[_Reading the dispatch._] The dispatch says +nothing about a Board of Trustees! + +DORR. Doesn’t it? Well, you see, they usually do such things in that +way. I inferred from what Mr. Hanson said to Mr. Mathews— + +ELEANOR. [_Alert._] Bother Mr. Hanson and Mr. Mathews. [_Coming +closer._] Bobbie Dorr, tell me the truth. You left us fifteen years ago +to prove that wealth was power. + +DORR. I know I made myself ridiculous. I believed then that humanity +could be bought and sold like merchandise over a counter. For a time I +succeeded after a fashion. I know better now. I confess my defeat. + +ELEANOR. [_Watching him._] What did you do with that large fortune, +Bobbie? + +DORR. [_Evasively._] It’s all gone—no use crying over spilled milk. I’m +rather poor now, and glad of it. There’s just enough left to provide for +my wants. All the rest is gone. Why do you look at me so strangely? It’s +all spent—that is, I got rid of it—I had no further use for it—I—gave it +away—I— + +ELEANOR. Bobbie! It was you!! + +DORR. Eleanor, a few moments ago you remarked to Mr. Hanson that you +wanted the donor of that fund to see what good it would accomplish. Now +I—I’m willing to confess—provided you take me along to India. + +ELEANOR. You have triumphed, after all! Wealth is power! + +DORR. Only when such a noble soul as yours dispenses it. [_He takes her +hand._] Give me a chance, Eleanor! May I go along to India? + +ELEANOR. Yes. [_She picks up her half-finished dispatch to the +Blausteins and smilingly they look at it as the curtain falls._] + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + Early Reviews of + English Poets + + + EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION + + BY + + JOHN LOUIS HANEY, Ph.D. + + +=The Regular Edition=, bound in red buckram cloth, gold stamped, with +gilt top, uncut, at =$1.20= _net_ (postage 13 cents). + +=The Library Edition=, printed on superior laid paper, with frontispiece +on Japan paper, bound in green boards with paper labels, gilt top, +uncut, limited to three hundred numbered copies at =$2.00= _net_ +(postage 16 cents). + + “It was a happy thought, that of collecting in one handy volume these + selected and important reviews.... It is not merely as a convenience + to the student, who can have here under his hand important documents + not otherwise readily accessible, that we welcome this volume, but as + comprising an instructive and significant chapter in English + literature.... The present work is complemented by excellent notes, + and an introduction containing an interesting historical sketch of the + English critical journals.”—_The Nation._ + + “Dr. John Louis Haney has performed a task of considerable usefulness + to students of literary history.... The introduction is a valuable + sketch of English periodical literature, bringing together many facts + for which we should hardly know where else to look.”—_The Dial._ + + “An entertaining book, ... Mr. Haney’s book needs neither excuse nor + explanation; it is surprising that such a book has not been written + long ago.... Until the appearance of Mr. Haney’s book the general + conception of early British criticism was a vague, formless thing.... + It is an amusing and certainly an edifying book.”—JOHN R. YOUNG in + _Chicago Evening Post_. + + “An interesting and serviceable survey of the history of English + criticism.... A valuable and entertaining collection.”—DR. RICHARD + GARNETT in _The Speaker_. + + + + + A BIBLIOGRAPHY + + OF + + Samuel Taylor Coleridge + + BY + + JOHN LOUIS HANEY, Ph.D. + +This important bibliography was issued in an edition limited to three +hundred numbered copies, printed from type and bound in boards with +paper labels; also, a large paper (quarto) edition of thirty copies, +numbered and signed, with frontispiece on Japan paper. It enumerates all +editions of Coleridge’s works; his contributions to other works and +periodicals; biographies, and editions of his letters; critical +articles, poetical tributes, portraits, etc. + + =Regular edition (300 copies), $4.00 _net_, postpaid.= + + =Large paper edition (30 copies), $10.00 _net_, postpaid.= + + “The importance of Mr. Haney’s book may be inferred from the fact that + under the heading ‘Marginalia’ no fewer than three hundred and + forty-one items are collected, as against the seventy odd titles + enumerated under that heading in the British Museum Catalogue—the only + other list of marginalia extant. The compiler has aimed at producing a + practical handbook for the literary worker.... In Mr. Haney’s work we + recognize a worthy attempt to grapple with a laborious and somewhat + intricate task, which has never yet been seriously taken in hand on + this side of the water.”—_The Athenæum._ + + “We do not remember a more comprehensive individual bibliography.... + The items are fully and systematically recorded and described. The + notes are valuable, giving the contents of collected works, facts + concerning publication, and many exact references to contemporary + reviews and criticisms of the newly issued works. This makes the list + of special use to students.... If more of Coleridge’s valuable + criticisms can be rescued from their penciled desuetude for + publication, Mr. Haney will have performed a double service by his + painstaking and very excellent work.”—_The Literary Collector._ + + “Il n’y a que des éloges à donner à la _Bibliographie de Coleridge_ + publiée par M. Haney. Ce volume de luxe deviendra indispensable à tous + ceux qui voudront étudier de près Coleridge.”—_Revue Germanique._ + + + + + THE NAME OF + + William Shakespeare + + A STUDY IN ORTHOGRAPHY + + BY + + JOHN LOUIS HANEY, Ph.D. + + +This extensive study deals with the origin, history and orthography of +the name Shakespeare and discusses the merits of the variant spellings. +It has received the cordial endorsement of the leading students of +Shakespeare in England and America. + +Seven hundred and fifty numbered copies, printed from type and bound in +blue-ribbed cloth, stamped in gold. + + =$1.00 _net_. (Postage 6 cents.)= + + “Accept my hearty thanks for your book on _The Name of William + Shakespeare_, which I have read with much interest and edification. It + is complete and exhaustive, and ought to be ‘the final word’ on the + subject—Your book ought to go into all the college and other leading + libraries, and into the hands of all critical students of Shakespeare. + I should doubt whether your limited edition would supply the natural + demand for it.”—DR. WILLIAM J. ROLFE. + + “A fair, complete and clear exposition of the subject. So far as we + have observed, it takes account of every scrap of evidence + available—Externally, the volume is a model of good taste; type, page + and binding are alike excellent. We regret that the edition should + have been limited to seven hundred and fifty copies.”—_The Nation._ + + THE EGERTON PRESS + 934 NORTH ELEVENTH STREET PHILADELPHIA + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + + ● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + ● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. + ● Enclosed blackletter font in =equals=. + ● HTML alt text was used for images that didn’t have captions. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77765 *** |