Marion de Lorme — Act 3
THE COMEDY
Scene.
--_The Castle of Nangis.
A park in the style of Henry IV.
In the background on an elevation, the Castle of Nangis, part new, part old, is visible.
The old, a castle-keep with arches and turrets: the new, a large brick house with corners of wrought stone, and pointed roof.
The large door of the castle-keep is hung with black: from afar one distinguishes a coat-of-arms--that of the families of Nangis and of Saverny_ SCENE I _M.
DE LAFFEMAS, undress costume of a magistrate of the period.
Marquis de Saverny, disguised as an officer of the Regiment of Anjou;
with black mustache and imperial, and a plaster on the eye_ LAFFEMAS.
Then you were present, sir, at the attack?
SAVERNY (_pulling his mustache_).
I was his comrade: had that honor, sir!
But he is dead!
LAFFEMAS.
The Marquis de Saverny?
SAVERNY.
Yes, from a thrust in tierce, which burst the doublet, Then carved its cruel way between the ribs Through to the chest and to the liver, which, As you well know, makes blood.
The wound was fearful.
'Twas horrible to see!
LAFFEMAS.
He died at once?
SAVERNY.
Almost.
His agony was short.
I watched The spasm follow frenzy; tetanos Then came, and after opisthotonos There followed improstathonos.
LAFFEMAS.
The deuce!
SAVERNY.
So that I calculate 'tis false to say The blood passes the jugular.
Pequet And learned men should be condemned when they Dissect live dogs to study 'bout the lungs.
LAFFEMAS.
The poor marquis is dead.
SAVERNY.
A thrust is fatal.
LAFFEMAS.
You are a doctor, sir, of medicine?
SAVERNY.
No. LAFFEMAS.
You have studied it?
SAVERNY.
Somewhat.
In Aristotle.
LAFFEMAS.
You can talk it well!
SAVERNY.
Faith!
I've a most malicious sort of heart.
I like destruction; find delight in evil;
I love to kill!
So that I thought I'd be A soldier or a doctor, sir, at twenty.
But I hesitated long, and finally I chose the sword.
It's not so sure, but twice As quick.
There was a time, I will confess, I longed to be a poet or an actor, Or an exhibitor of bears--but then, I like dinner and supper every day.
A plague upon the poetry and bears!
LAFFEMAS.
With this hope in your mind you studied verse?
SAVERNY.
A little bit, in Aristotle.
Yes-- LAFFEMAS.
The Marquis knew you?
SAVERNY.
He knew me as well As a lieutenant knows an upstart soldier.
I belonged to Monsieur de Caussade first, Who gave me to the Marquis' colonel.
Poor The present, but we do the best we can!
They made me officer--I'm worth as much As any, and I wear a black mustache.
That is my history.
LAFFEMAS.
They sent you here To notify the uncle?
SAVERNY.
Yes; I came With Brichanteau, the cousin, and the corpse.
He will be buried here--where, if he'd lived, He would have had his wedding!
LAFFEMAS.
Tell me how The old Marquis de Nangis bore the news.
SAVERNY.
With calmness, without tears.
LAFFEMAS.
He loved him though?
SAVERNY.
As much as we love life.
Having no children Of his own he had but this one passion-- His nephew, whom he dearly loved, although They had not seen each other for five years.
[_In the background, the old Marquis de Nangis passes; white hair, pale countenance, arms folded across his breast, dress of the day of Henry IV.
: deep mourning; the star and the ribbon of the order of the Holy Ghost.
He walks slowly; nine guards in three rows follow; they are dressed in mourning, their halberds on their right shoulder, their muskets on their left; they keep within a short distance, stopping when he stops, and continuing when he continues.
_ LAFFEMAS (_watching him pass_).
Poor man!
[_He goes to the back and follows The Marquis with his eyes.
_ SAVERNY (_aside_).
My good old uncle!
[_Brichanteau enters and goes to Saverny.
_ SCENE II
_The same.
_ Brichanteau BRICHANTEAU.
Ah!
two words!
[_Laughing.
_] He's looking pretty well for a dead man!
SAVERNY (_low, indicating The Marquis, who passes_).
Why do you make me grieve him, Brichanteau?
I think we might explain it to him now.
Oh, let me try.
BRICHANTEAU.
No; God forbid, my friend!
His grief must be sincere; he must weep much.
His woe is one good half of your disguise.
SAVERNY.
Poor uncle!
BRICHANTEAU.
He will find it out ere long.
SAVERNY.
If sorrow has not killed him, then joy will.
These shocks are dangerous to such old men.
BRICHANTEAU.
It must be done!
SAVERNY.
I cannot bear to hear Him laugh so bitterly, then weep; then keep So still!
I hate to see him kiss that coffin.
BRICHANTEAU.
Yes--a fine coffin with no corpse in it!
SAVERNY.
But I am dead and bleeding in his heart.
The corpse lies there.
LAFFEMAS (_coming back_).
Alas, the poor old man!
His eyes show plainly how he's suffering!
BRICHANTEAU (_low to Saverny_).
Who is that surly-looking man in black?
SAVERNY (_with gesture of ignorance_).
Some friend who's living at the castle?
BRICHANTEAU (_low_).
Crows Are also black and love the smell of death.
Keep silence more than ever.
'Tis a face That's treacherous and evil; it would make A madman prudent.
[_The Marquis de Nangis re-enters; he is still absorbed in a deep reverie.
He walks slowly, does not appear to notice any one, and seats himself upon a bank of turf.
_ SCENE III
_The same.
_ Marquis de Nangis LAFFEMAS (_approaching The Marquis_).
Marquis, we've lost much.
He was a rare man; would have comforted Your old age.
I mingle my tears with yours.
Young, handsome, good, naught more could be desired;
Obeying God, respecting women, strong;
Just in his actions, sensible in speech, A perfect nobleman, whom all revere!
To die so young!
Most cruel fate!
Alas!
[_The Marquis lets his head fall on his hands.
_ SAVERNY (_low to Brichanteau_).
The devil take this funeral discourse!
These praises but augment the old man's grief.
Console him, you; Show him the other side.
BRICHANTEAU (_to Laffemas_).
You are mistaken, sir.
I was in the Same grade.
A bad comrade, this Saverny-- A shiftless fellow, growing worse each day.
Courageous!
Every man is brave at twenty;
His death is nothing much to boast about.
LAFFEMAS.
A duel!
Surely, that is no great crime.
[_Banteringly to Brichanteau, pointing to his sword.
_ You are an officer?
BRICHANTEAU (_in the same tone, pointing to Laffemas's wig_).
A magistrate?
SAVERNY (_low_).
Go on!
BRICHANTEAU.
He was capricious, thankless, and A liar: not worth any real regret.
He went to church, but just to ogle girls.
He was a gallant, a mere libertine, A fool!
SAVERNY (_low_).
Good!
good!
BRICHANTEAU.
Intractable and stubborn;
Rude to his officers.
As to good looks, He had lost his; he limped, had a large wen Upon his eye; from blonde had turned to red, And from round-shouldered had become hump-backed.
SAVERNY (_low_).
Enough!
BRICHANTEAU.
He gambled--every one knows that.
He would have staked his soul on dice.
I'll wager That cards had eaten up his property.
His fortune galloped faster every night.
SAVERNY (_low, pulling his sleeve_).
Enough!
Good God!
Your consolation is Too strong.
LAFFEMAS.
To speak so ill of a dead friend!
Unpardonable!
BRICHANTEAU (_indicating Saverny_).
Ask this gentleman!
SAVERNY.
Oh, no; I beg to be excused!
LAFFEMAS (_affectionately, to the old Marquis_).
My lord, We'll comfort you.
We have his murderer, And we will hang him.
We have kept him safe.
His end is sure.
[_To Brichanteau and Saverny.
_ But can one understand The Marquis?
There are duels, we all know, That cannot be avoided, but to fight With any one named Didier-- SAVERNY (_aside_).
What?
Didier?
[_The old Marquis, who has remained silent and motionless during all this scene, rises and goes out slowly on the side opposite where he came in.
His guards follow him.
_ LAFFEMAS (_wiping away a tear and following him with his eyes_).
In truth, his sorrow deeply touches me.
LACKEY (_running_).
My lord!
BRICHANTEAU.
Why can't you leave your master quiet?
LACKEY.
It is the burial of the young marquis!
What is the hour?
BRICHANTEAU.
You'll know it by-and-by.
LACKEY.
A few comedians have arrived here from The city; they beg shelter for the night.
BRICHANTEAU.
The time's ill-chosen for comedians, but The law of hospitality holds good.
Give them this barn.
[_Indicating a barn on the left.
_ LACKEY (_holding a letter_).
A letter!
'Tis important!
[_Reading.
_] For a Monsieur de Laffemas.
LAFFEMAS.
'Tis I!
Give it to me!
BRICHANTEAU (_low to Saverny, who has remained thoughtful in a corner_).
Saverny, let us go!
Come and arrange things for your funeral!
[_Pulling him by the sleeve.
_ What is it?
Are you dreaming?
SAVERNY (_aside_).
Oh, Didier!
[_They go out.
_ SCENE IV
LAFFEMAS (_alone_).
The seal of State!
The great seal of red wax!
Come!
this is business.
Let me know at once!
[_Reading.
_] "Sir Criminal Lieutenant: We make known To you that Didier, the assassin of The late Marquis Gaspard, has fled."
My God!
That is unfortunate!
"A woman is With him, called Marion de Lorme.
We beg You to return as soon as possible."
Quick!
Get me horses!
I, who felt so sure!
Another matter spoiled for want of sense.
Outrageous!
Of the two, not one!
One, dead!
Escaped, the other!
I will catch him, though!
[_He exits.
Enter a troupe of strolling actors, men, women and children in character costumes.
Among them are Marion and Didier, dressed as Spaniards.
Didier wears a great felt hat and is covered with a cloak.
_ SCENE V
_The Comedians_, Marion, Didier A LACKEY (_conducting the Comedians to the barn_).
This is your lodging.
You're on the estate Of the Marquis de Nangis.
Behave well, Try to be quiet, for some one is dead.
The burial is to-morrow.
Above all, Don't mix your songs with the funereal chants Which will be sung for him throughout the night.
GRACIEUX (_small and hump-backed_).
We'll make less noise than do your hunting-dogs Who bark around the legs of all who pass!
LACKEY.
Dogs are not actors, my good friend.
TAILLEBRAS (_to Gracieux_).
Be still!
You'll cause us to sleep in the open air!
[_Lackey exits.
_ SCARAMOUCHE (_to Marion and Didier, who until now have remained quietly apart_).
Come!
let us talk.
Now you belong to us.
Why Monsieur fled with Madame on behind, If you are man and wife or lovers only, Escaping justice, or black sorcerers Who held Madame a prisoner, perhaps-- Is not my business.
What I want to know Is what you'll act.
Chimènes are best for you, Black eyes.
[_Marion makes a courtesy.
_ DIDIER (_aside, indignant_).
To hear that mountebank speak thus!
SCARAMOUCHE (_to Didier_).
For you: if you should want a splendid part, We need a bully--a long-leggèd man, Tremendous strides, a thundering voice; and when Orgon is robbed of wife or niece, you kill The Moor and terminate the piece.
Great part!
High tragedy!
'Twill suit you splendidly.
DIDIER.
