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ALLADINE.
No, not to-night.... If you wish me to.... I like to go there with you ... the air is pure and the trees ... but not to-night.... [Cowers, weeping, against the old man's breast.] I do not feel quite well....
ABLAMORE.
What is the matter? You are going to fall.... I will call....
ALLADINE.
No, no.... It is nothing.... It is over....
ABLAMORE.
Sit down. Wait....
[He runs to the folding-doors at the back and opens both. Palomides is seen, seated on a bench. He has not had time to turn away his eyes. Ablamore looks fixedly at him, without a word, then re-enters the room. Palomides rises and retreats in the corridor, stifling the sound of his footsteps. The pet lamb leaves the room, unperceived.]
SCENE II.—A drawbridge over the moats of the palace. PALOMIDES and ALLADINE, with her pet lamb, appear at the two ends of the bridge. KING ABLAMORE leans out from a window of the tower.
PALOMIDES.
Were you going out, Alladine?—I was coming in. I am coming back from the chase.—It rained.
ALLADINE.
I have never passed this bridge.
PALOMIDES.
It leads to the forest. It is seldom passed. People had rather go a long way around. I think they are afraid because the moats are deeper at this place than elsewhere, and the black water that comes down from the mountains boils horribly between the walls before it goes hurling itself into the sea. It roars there always; but the quays are so high you hardly notice it. It is the most deserted wing of the palace. But on this side the forest is more beautiful, more ancient, and greater than any you have seen. It is full of unusual trees and flowers that have sprung up of themselves,—Will you come?
ALLADINE.
I do not know.... I am afraid of the roaring water.
PALOMIDES.
Come, come; it roars without reason. Look at your lamb; he looks at me as if he wished to come.... Come, come....
ALLADINE.
Don't call him.... He will get away.
PALOMIDES.
Come, come.
[The lamb escapes from Alladine's hands, and comes leaping toward Palomides, but slips on the inclined plane of the drawbridge and goes rolling into the moat.]
ALLADINE.
What has he done?—Where is he?
PALOMIDES.
He slipped. He is straggling in the heart of the eddy. Do not look at him; there is nothing to be done....
ALLADINE.
You are going to save him?
PALOMIDES.
Save him? But look! he is already in the tunnel. One moment more, and he will be under the vaults; and God himself will never see him more....
ALLADINE.
Go away! Go away!
PALOMIDES.
What is the matter?
ALLADINE.
Go away!—I do not want to see you any more!...
[Ablamore enters precipitately, seizes Alladine, and draws her away brusquely without speaking.]
SCENE III.—A room in the palace. ABLAMORE and ALLADINE discovered.
ABLAMORE.
You see, Alladine, my hands do not tremble, my heart beats like a sleeping child's, and my voice has not once been stirred with wrath. I bear no ill-will to Palomides, although what he has done might seem unpardonable. And as for thee, who could bear thee ill-will? You obey laws you do not know, and you could not act otherwise, I will not speak to you of what took place the other day along the palace moats, nor of all the unforeseen death of the lamb might have revealed to me, had I believed in omens for an instant. But last night I surprised the kiss you gave each other under the windows of Astolaine. At that moment I was with her in her room. She has a soul that fears so much to trouble, with a tear or with a simple movement of her eyelids, the happiness of those about her, that I shall never know if she, as I, surprised that wretched kiss. But I know what she has the power to suffer. I shall not ask you anything you cannot avow to me, but I would know if you had any secret design in following Palomides under the window where you must have seen us. Answer me without fear; you know beforehand I will pardon everything.
ALLADINE.
I did not kiss him.
ABLAMORE.
What? You did not kiss Palomides, and Palomides did not kiss you?
ALLADINE.
No.
ABLAMORE.
Ah!... Listen: I came here to forgive you everything.... I thought you had acted as we almost all act, without aught of our soul intervening.... But now I will know all that passed.... You love Palomides, and you have kissed him under my eyes....
ALLADINE.
No.
ABLAMORE.
Don't go away. I am only an old man. Do not flee....
ALLADINE.
I am not fleeing.
ABLAMORE.
Ah! ah! You do not flee, because you think my old hands harmless! They have yet the strength to tear a secret out in spite of all [He seizes her arms.] And they could wrestle with all those you prefer.... [He twists her arms behind her head.] Ah! you will not speak!... There will yet come a time when all your soul shall spirt out like a clear spring, for woe....
ALLADINE.
No, no!
ABLAMORE.
Again,... we are not at the end, the journey is very long—and naked truth is hid among the rocks.... Will she come forth?... I see her gestures in your eyes already, and her cool breath will lave my visage soon.... Ah!... Alladine! Alladine!...[He releases her suddenly.] I heard your bones cry out like little children.... I have not hurt you?... Do not stay thus, upon your knees before me,... It is I who go down on my knees. [He does as he says] I am a wretch.... You must have pity.... It is not for myself alone I pray.... I have only one poor daughter.... All the rest are dead.... I had seven of them about me.... They were fair and full of happiness; and I saw them no more.... The only one left to me is going to die, too.... She did not love life.... But one day she encountered something she no longer looked for, and I saw she had lost the desire to die.... I do not ask a thing impossible.... [ALLADINE weeps and makes no answer.]
SCENE IV.—The apartment of ASTOLAINE. ASTOLAINE and PALOMIDES discovered.
PALOMIDES.
Astolaine, when I met you several months ago by chance, it seemed to me that I had found at last what I had sought for during many years.... Till you, I did not know all that the ever tenderer goodness and complete simplicity of a high soul might be. I was so deeply stirred by it that it seemed to me the first time I had met a human being. You would have said that I had lived till then in a closed chamber which you opened for me; and all at once I knew what must be the soul of other men and what mine might become.... Since then, I have known you further. I have seen you act, and others too have taught me all that you have been.
There have been evenings when I quitted you without a word, and went to weep for wonder in a corner of the palace, because you had simply raised your eyes, made a little unconscious gesture, or smiled for no apparent cause, yet at the moment when all the souls about you asked it and would be satisfied. There is but you who know these moments, because you are, it seems, the soul of all, and I do not believe those who have not drawn near you can know what true life is. To-day I come to say all this to you, because I feel that I shall never be he whom I hoped once to become.... A chance has come—or haply I myself have come; for you can never tell if you have made a movement of yourself, or if it be chance that has met with you—a chance has come, which has opened my eyes, just as we were about to make each other unhappy; and I have recognized there must be something more incomprehensible than the beauty of the most beautiful soul or the most beautiful face; and mightier, too, since I must needs obey it.... I do not know if you have understood me. If you understand, have pity on me.... I have said to myself all that could be said.... I know what I shall lose, for I know her soul is a child's soul, a poor strengthless child's, beside yours, and yet I cannot resist it....
ASTOLAINE.
Do not weep.... I know too that one does not do what one would do ... nor was I ignorant that you would come.... There must indeed be laws mightier than those of our souls, of which we always speak.... [Kissing him abruptly].—But I love thee the more, my poor Palomides.
PALOMIDES.
I love thee, too ... more than her I love.... Thou weepest, as I do?
ASTOLAINE.
They are little tears.... Do not be sad for them.... I weep so, because I am woman, but they say our tears are not painful.... You see I can dry them already.... I knew well what it was.... I waited for the wakening.... It has come, and I can breathe with less disquietude, being no longer happy.... There!... We must see clearly now for you and her. For I believe my father already has suspicions. [Exeunt.
ACT THIRD.
SCENE I.—A room in the palace. ABLAMORE discovered. ASTOLAINE stands on the step of a half-open door at the back of the hall.
ASTOLAINE.
Father, I have come because a voice that I no longer can resist, commands me to. I told you all that happened in my soul when I met Palomides. He was not like other men.... To-day I come to ask your help ... for I do not know what should be said to him.... I have become aware I cannot love him.... He has remained the same, and I alone have changed, or have not understood.... And since it is impossible for me to love, as I have dreamed of love, him I had chosen among all, it must be that my heart is shut to these things.... I know it to-day.... I shall look no more toward love; and you will see me living on about you without sadness and without unrest.... I feel that I am going to be happy....
ABLAMORE.
Come hither, Astolaine. It is not so that you were wont to speak in the old days to your father. You wait there, on the threshold of a door hardly ajar, as if you were ready to flee; and with your hand upon the key, as if you would close from me forever the secret of your heart. You know quite well I have not understood what you have just said, and that words have no sense when souls are not within reach of each other. Draw nearer still, and speak no more to me, [ASTOLAINE approaches slowly.] There is a moment when souls touch each other, and know all without need that one should move the lips. Draw nearer.... They do not reach each other yet, and their radiance is so slight about us!... [ASTOLAINE stops.] Thou darest not?—Thou knowest too how far one can go?—It is I who must.... [He approaches Astolaine with slow step, then stops and looks long at her.] I see thee, Astolaine....
ASTOLAINE.
Father!... [She sobs as she kisses the old man.]
ABLAMORE.
You see well it was useless....
SCENE II.—A chamber in the palace.
Enter ALLADINE and PALOMIDES.
PALOMIDES.
All will be ready to-morrow. We cannot wait longer. He prowls like a madman through the corridors of the palace; I met him even now. He looked at me without a word. I passed; and as I turned, I saw him slyly laugh, shaking his keys. When he perceived that I was looking at him, he smiled at me, making signs of friendship. He must have some secret project, and we are in the hands of a master whose reason begins to totter.... To-morrow we shall be far away.... Yonder there are wonderful countries that resemble thine.... Astolaine has already provided for our flight and for my sisters'....
ALLADINE.
What has she said?
PALOMIDES.
Nothing, nothing.... You will see everything about my father's castle,—after days of sea and days of forests—you will see lakes and mountains ... not like these, under a sky that looks like the vault of a cave, with black trees that the storms destroy ... but a sky beneath which there is nothing more to fear,—forests that are always awake, flowers that do not close....
ALLADINE.
She wept?
PALOMIDES.
What are you asking?... There is something there of which we have no right to speak, do you understand?... There is a life there that does not belong to our poor life, and which love has no right to approach except in silence.... We are here, like two beggars in rags, when I think of it.... Go! go!... I could tell you things....
ALLADINE.
Palomides!... What is the matter?
PALOMIDES.
Go! go!... I have seen tears that came from further than the eyes.... There is something else.... It may be, nevertheless, that we are right ... but how I regret being right so, my God!... Go!... I will tell you to-morrow ... to-morrow ... to-morrow.... [Exeunt severally.
SCENE III.—A corridor before the apartment of ALLADINE. Enter ASTOLAINE and the SISTERS OF PALOMIDES.
ASTOLAINE.
The horses wait in the forest, but Palomides will not flee; and yet your lives and his are in danger. I do not know my poor father any longer. He has a fixed idea that troubles his reason. This is the third day I have followed him step by step, hiding myself behind the pillars and the walls, for he suffers no one to companion him. To-day, as the other days, and from the first gleams of the morning he has gone wandering through the corridors and halls of the palace, and along the moats and ramparts, shaking the great golden keys he has had made and singing at the top of his voice the strange song whose refrain, Go follow what your eyes have seen, has perhaps pierced even to the depths of your chambers. I have concealed from you till now all that has come to pass, because such things must not be spoken of without reason. He must have shut up Alladine in this apartment, but no one knows what he has done with her. I have listened at the doors every night and whenever he has been away a moment, but I have never heard any noise in the room.... Do you hear anything?
ONE OF THE SISTERS OF PALOMIDES.
No; I hear only the murmur of the air passing through the little chinks of the wood....
ANOTHER SISTER.
It seems to me, when I listen hard, that I hear the great pendulum of the clock.
A THIRD SISTER.
But what is this little Alladine, then, and why does he bear such ill-will to her?
ASTOLAINE.
It is a little Greek slave that came from the heart of Arcady.... He bears her no ill-will, but ... Do you hear?—It is my father.... [Singing heard in the distance.] Hide yourselves behind the pillars ... He will have no one pass by this corridor.—[They hide.]
Enter ABLAMORE, singing and shaking a bunch of great keys.
ABLAMORE (sings).
Misfortune had three golden keys. —He has no rescue for the Queen!— Misfortune had three golden keys. Go follow what your eyes have seen.
[Sits dejected on a bench, beside the door of Alladine's apartment, hums a little while longer, and soon goes to sleep, his arms hanging down and his head fallen.]
ASTOLAINE.
Come, come! make no noise. He has fallen asleep on the bench.—Oh, my poor old father! How white his hair has grown during these days! He is so weak, he is so unhappy, that sleep itself no longer brings him peace. It is three whole days now since I have dared to look upon his face....
ONE OF THE SISTERS OF PALOMIDES.
He sleeps profoundly....
ASTOLAINE.
He sleeps profoundly, but you can see his soul has no rest.... The sunlight here will vex his eyelids.... I am going to draw his cloak over his face....
ANOTHER SISTER.
No, no; do not touch it.... He might wake with a start....
ASTOLAINE.
Some one is coming in the corridor. Come, come! put yourselves before him.... Hide him.... A stranger must not see him in this state....
A SISTER OF PALOMIDES.
It is Palomides....
ASTOLAINE.
I am going to cover his poor eyes.... [She covers ABLAMORE'S face.]—I would not have Palomides see him thus.... He is too miserable.
Enter PALOMIDES.
PALOMIDES.
What is the matter?
ONE OF THE SISTERS.
He has fallen asleep on the bench.
PALOMIDES.
I have followed him without his seeing me.... He said nothing?...
ASTOLAINE.
No; but see all he has suffered....
PALOMIDES.
Has he the keys?
ANOTHER SISTER.
He holds them in his hand....
PALOMIDES.
I am going to take them.
ASTOLAINE.
What are you going to do? Oh, do not wake him!... For three nights now he has wandered through the palace....
PALOMIDES.
I will open his hand a little without his noticing it.... We have no right to wait any longer.... God knows what he has done.... He will forgive us when he has his reason back.... Oh! oh! his hand has no strength any more...
ASTOLAINE.
Take care! Take care!
PALOMIDES.
I have the keys.—Which is it? I am going to open the room.
ONE OF THE SISTERS.
Oh, I am afraid!... Do not open it at once.... Palomides!...
PALOMIDES.
Stay here.... I do not know what I shall find....
[He goes to the door, opens it, and enters the apartment.]
ASTOLAINE.
Is she there?
PALOMIDES (in the apartment).
I cannot see.... The shutters are closed....
ASTOLAINE.
Have a care, Palomides.... Wilt thou that I go first?... Thy voice is trembling....
PALOMIDES (in the apartment).
No, no.... I see a ray of sunlight falling through the chinks of the shutters.
ONE OF THE SISTERS.
Yes; it is broad day out of doors.
PALOMIDES.
[Rushing headlong from the room.] Come! Come!... I think she ...
ASTOLAINE.
Thou hast seen her?...
PALOMIDES.
She is stretched out on the bed!... She does not stir!... I do not think she ... Come! Come! [They all go into the room.
ASTOLAINE AND THE SISTERS OF PALOMIDES.
[In the room.] She is here.... No, no, she is not dead.... Alladine! Alladine!... Oh! oh! The poor child!... Do not cry out so.... She has fainted.... Her hair is tied across her mouth.... And her hands are bound behind her back.... They are bound with the help of her hair.... Alladine! Alladine!... Fetch some water....
[ABLAMORE, who has waked, appears on the step of the door.]
ASTOLAINE.
There is my father!...
ABLAMORE (going to PALOMIDES).
Was it you who opened the door of the room?
PALOMIDES.
Yes, it was I.... I did it—well, then?—well, then?... I could not let her die under my eyes.... See what you have done. Alladine!... Fear nothing.... She opens her eyes a little.... I will not ...
ABLAMORE.
Do not cry out.... Do not cry out so.... Come, we will open the shutters.... You cannot see here. Alladine!... She is already sitting up. Alladine, come too.... Do you see, my children, it is dark in the room. It is as dark here as if we were a thousand feet under the ground. But I open one of the shutters, and behold! All the light of the sky and the sun!... It does not need much effort; the light is full of good-will.... It suffices that one call it; it always obeys.... Have you seen the river with its little islands between the meadows in flower?... The sky is a crystal ring to-day.... Alladine! Palomides, come see.... Draw both of you near Paradise.... You must kiss each other in the new light.... I bear you no ill-will. You did what was ordained; and so did I.... Lean out a moment from the open window, and look once more at the sweet green things.... [A silence. He closes the shutter without a word.]
ACT FOURTH.
Vast subterranean crypts. ALLADINE and PALOMIDES.
PALOMIDES.
They have bound my eyes with bands; they have tied my hands with cords.
ALLADINE.
They have tied my hands with cords; they have bound my eyes with bands.... I think my hands are bleeding....
PALOMIDES.
Wait. To-day I bless my strength.... I feel the knots beginning to give way.... One struggle more, and let my fists burst! One struggle more! I have my hands! [Tearing away the bandage.] And my eyes!...
ALLADINE.
You see now?
PALOMIDES.
Yes.
ALLADINE.
Where are we?
PALOMIDES.
Where are you?
ALLADINE.
Here; can you not see me?
PALOMIDES.
My eyes weep still where the band has left its trace.... We are not in darkness.... Is it you I hear toward where I can just see?
ALLADINE.
I am here; come.
PALOMIDES.
You are at the edge of that which gives us light. Do not stir; I cannot see all that there is about you. My eyes have not forgot the bandage yet. They bound it tight enough to burst my eyelids.
ALLADINE.
Come; the knots stifle me. I can wait no longer....
PALOMIDES.
I hear only a voice coming out of the light....
ALLADINE.
Where are you?
PALOMIDES.
I have no idea myself. I walk still in darkness.... Speak again, that I may find you. You seem to be on the edge of an unbounded light....
ALLADINE.
Come! come! I have borne without a word, but I can bear no more....
PALOMIDES (groping forward).
You are there? I thought you so far away!... My tears deceived me. I am here, and I see you. Oh, your hands are wounded! They have bled upon your gown, and the knots have entered into the flesh. I have no longer any weapons. They have taken away my poniard. I will tear them off. Wait! wait! I have the knots.
ALLADINE.
Take off the bandage first that makes me blind....
PALOMIDES.
I cannot.... I do not see.... It seems to be surrounded by a net of golden threads....
ALLADINE.
My hands, then, my hands!
PALOMIDES.
They have taken silken cords.... Wait, the knots come undone. The cord has thirty turns.... There, there!—Oh, your hands are all blood!... You would say they were dead....
ALLADINE.
No, no!... They are alive! they are alive! See!...
[With her hands hardly yet unbound, she clasps Palomides about the neck and kisses him passionately.]
PALOMIDES.
Alladine!
ALLADINE.
Palomides!
PALOMIDES.
Alladine, Alladine!...
ALLADINE.
I am happy!... I have waited a long while!...
PALOMIDES.
I was afraid to come....
ALLADINE.
I am happy ... and I would that I could see thee....
PALOMIDES.
They have tied down the bandage like a casque....—Do not turn round; I have found the golden threads....
ALLADINE.
Yes, yes, I will turn round.... [She turns about, to kiss him again.
PALOMIDES.
Have a care. Do not stir. I am afraid of wounding thee....
ALLADINE.
Tear it away! Fear nothing. I can bear no more!...
PALOMIDES.
I would see thee too....
ALLADINE.
Tear it away! Tear it away! I am no longer within reach of woe!... Tear it away!... Thou dost not know that one could wish to die.... Where are we?
PALOMIDES.
Thou'lt see, thou'lt see.... It is innumerable crypts ... great blue halls, gleaming pillars, and deep vaults....
ALLADINE.
Why dost thou answer when I question thee?
PALOMIDES.
What matter where we be, if we be but together?...
ALLADINE.
Thou lovest me less already?
PALOMIDES.
Why, what ails thee?
ALLADINE.
I know well where I am when I am on thy heart.... Oh, tear the bandage off!... I would not enter blind into thy soul.... What doest thou, Palomides? Thou dost not laugh when I laugh. Thou dost not weep when I weep. Thou dost not clap thy hands when I clap mine; and thou tremblest not when I speak trembling to the bottom of my soul.... The band! The band!... I will see!... There, there, above my hair!... [She tears away the bandage.] Oh!...
PALOMIDES.
Seest thou?
ALLADINE.
Yes.... I see thee only....
PALOMIDES.
What is it, Alladine? Thou kissest me as if thou wert already sad....
ALLADINE.
Where are we?
PALOMIDES.
Why dost thou ask so sadly?
ALLADINE.
No, I am not sad; but my eyes will hardly open....
PALOMIDES.
One would say your joy had fallen on my lips like a child at the threshold of the house.... Do not turn away.... I fear lest you should flee, and I fear lest I dream....
ALLADINE.
Where are we?
PALOMIDES.
We are in crypts that I have never seen.... Doth it not seem to thee the light increases? When I unclosed my eyes, I could distinguish nothing; now little by little it is all revealed. I have been often told of wondrous caverns whereon the halls of Ablamore were built. It must be these. No one descends here ever; and the king only has the keys. I knew the sea flooded the lowest vaults; and it is probably the reflex of the sea which thus illumines us.... They thought to bury us in night. They came down here with torches and flambeaus and saw the darkness only, while the light came out to meet us, seeing we had none.... It brightens without ceasing.... I am sure the dawn pierces the ocean and sends down to us through all its greening waves the purest of its child-soul....
ALLADINE.
How long have we been here?
PALOMIDES.
I have no idea.... I made no effort till I heard thee speak....
ALLADINE.
I do not know how this took place. I was asleep in the room where thou didst find me; and when I waked, my eyes were bound across, and both my hands were pinioned in my girdle....
PALOMIDES.
I too was sleeping. I heard nothing, and I had a band across my eyes ere I could open them. I struggled in the darkness; but they were stronger than I.... I must have passed under deep vaults, for I felt the cold fall on my shoulders; and I went down so far I could not count the steps.... Did no one speak to thee?
ALLADINE.
No; no one spoke. I heard some one weeping as he walked; and then I fainted....
PALOMIDES (kissing her).
Alladine!
ALLADINE.
How gravely thou dost kiss me!...
PALOMIDES.
Close not thine eyes when I do kiss thee so.... I would see the kisses trembling in thy heart, and all the dew that rises in thy soul.... We shall not find such kisses any more....
ALLADINE.
Always, always!
PALOMIDES.
No, no; there is no kissing twice upon the heart of death.... How fair thou art so!... It is the first time I have seen thee near.... It is strange, we think that we have seen each other because we have gone by two steps apart; but everything changes the moment the lips touch.... There, thou must be let to have thy will.... I stretch my arms wide to admire thee, as if thou wert no longer mine; and then I draw them nearer till I touch thy kisses and perceive only eternal bliss.... There needed us this supernatural light!... [He kisses her again.] Ah! What hast thou done? Take care! we are upon a crest of rock that overhangs the water that gives us light. Do not step back. It was time.... Do not turn too abruptly. I was dazzled....
ALLADINE.
[Turning and looking at the blue water that illuminates them.] Oh!...
PALOMIDES.
It is as if the sky had flowed hither....
ALLADINE.
It is full of moveless flowers....
PALOMIDES.
It is full of moveless flowers and strange.... Hast thou seen the largest there that blooms beneath the others? It seems to live a cadenced life.... And the water ... Is it water?... It seems more beautiful, more pure, more blue than all the water in the world....
ALLADINE.
I dare not look upon it longer....
PALOMIDES.
See how about us all is luminous.... The light dares hesitate no longer, and we kiss each other in the vestibules of heaven.... Seest thou the precious stones that gem the vaults, drunken with life, that seem to smile on us; and the thousands and thousands of glowing blue roses that climb along the pillars?...
ALLADINE.
Oh!... I heard!...
PALOMIDES.
What?
ALLADINE.
Some one striking the rocks....
PALOMIDES.
No, no; it is the golden gates of a new Paradise, that open in our souls and sing upon their hinges!...
ALLADINE.
Listen.... again, again!...
PALOMIDES (with voice suddenly changed).
Yes; it is there.... It is at the bottom of the bluest vaults....
ALLADINE.
They are coming to....
PALOMIDES.
I hear the sound of iron on the rock.... They have walled up the door or cannot open it.... It is the picks grating against the stone.... His soul has told him we were happy....
[A silence; then a stone is detached at the very end of the vault, and a ray of daylight breaks into the cavern.]
ALLADINE.
Oh!...
PALOMIDES.
It is another light....
[Motionless and anxious, they watch other stones detach themselves slowly in an insufferable light, and fall one by one; while the light, entering in more and more resistless floods, reveals to them little by little the gloom of the cavern they had thought marvellous. The miraculous lake becomes wan and sinister; the precious stones about them are extinguished, and the glowing roses appear as the stains and rotten rubbish that they are. At last, the whole side of rock falls abruptly into the crypt. The sunlight enters, dazzling. Calls and songs are heard without. Alladine and Palomides recoil.]
PALOMIDES.
Where are we?
ALLADINE (embracing him).
I love thee still, Palomides....
PALOMIDES.
I love thee too, my Alladine....
ALLADINE.
They come....
PALOMIDES.
[Looking behind him as they still recoil.] Have a care....
ALLADINE.
No, no; have no more care....
PALOMIDES (looking at her).
Alladine?
ALLADINE.
Yes ...
[They still recoil before the invasion of light or peril, until they lose their footing; and they fall and disappear behind the rock that overhangs the underground and now gloomy water.—A silence. Astolaine and the sisters of Palomides enter the crypt.]
ASTOLAINE.
Where are they?
ONE OF THE SISTERS OF PALOMIDES.
Palomides!...
ASTOLAINE.
Alladine! Alladine!...
ANOTHER SISTER.
Palomides!... It is we!...
THIRD SISTER.
Fear nothing; we are alone!...
ASTOLAINE.
Come! come! we have come to rescue you!...
FOURTH SISTER.
Ablamore has fled....
FIFTH SISTER.
He is no longer in the palace....
SIXTH SISTER.
They do not answer....
ASTOLAINE.
I heard the water stirred!... This way, this way!
[They run to the rock that overlooks the underground.]
ONE OF THE SISTERS.
They are there!...
ANOTHER SISTER.
Yes, yes; at the very bottom of the black water.... They embrace.
THIRD SISTER.
They are dead.
FOURTH SISTER.
No, no; they are alive! they are alive!... See....
THE OTHER SISTERS.
Help! help!... Call!...
ASTOLAINE.
They make no effort to save themselves!...
ACT FIFTH.
[A corridor, so long that its furthest arches seem to lose themselves in a kind of indoor horizon. The sisters of Palomides wait before one of the innumerable closed doors that open into this corridor. They seem to be guarding it. A little further down, on the opposite side, Astolaine and the Physician converse before another door, also closed.]
ASTOLAINE.
[To the Physician.] Nothing has ever happened until now in this palace, where all things have seemed to be asleep since my sisters died; and my poor old father, pursued by a strange restlessness, has fretted without reason at this calm, which seems, for all that, the least dangerous form of happiness. Some time ago,—his reason beginning to totter even then,—he went up to the top of a high tower; and as he stretched his arms out timidly toward the forests and toward the sea, he said to me—smiling a little fearfully at his words, as if to disarm my incredulous smile—that he called about us events which had long been hidden beneath the horizon. They have come, alas! sooner and more in number than he expected, and a few days have sufficed for them to reign in his stead. He has been their first victim. He fled to the meadows, singing, all in tears, the evening when he had little Alladine and luckless Palomides taken down into the crypts. He has not since been seen. I have had search made everywhere throughout the country and even on the sea. He has not been found. At least, I had hoped to save those he made suffer unwittingly, for he has always been the tenderest of men and the best of fathers; but there, too, I think I came too late. I do not know what happened. They have not spoken yet. They doubtless must have thought, hearing the sound of the iron and seeing all at once the light again, that my father had regretted the kind of surcease he had granted them, and that some one came to bring them death. Or else they slipped as they drew back, upon the rock that overhangs the lake; and so must have fallen through heedlessness. But the water is not deep in that spot, and we succeeded in saving them without difficulty. To-day it is you alone who can do the rest. [THE SISTERS OF PALOMIDES have drawn nearer.
THE PHYSICIAN.
They are both ailing with the same disease, and it is a disease I do not know.—But I have little hope left. They were seized perhaps with the cold of the underground waters; or else those waters may be poisonous. The decomposed body of Alladine's lamb was found there.—I will come back to-night.—Meanwhile they must have silence.... The level of life is very low in their hearts.... Do not go into their rooms and do not speak to them, for the least word, in the state they are in, might cause their death.... They must succeed in forgetting one another. [Exit.
ONE OF THE SISTERS OF PALOMIDES.
I see that he will die.
ASTOLAINE.
No, no.... Do not weep;... one does not die so, at his age....
ANOTHER SISTER.
But why is your father angry without reason at my poor brother?
THIRD SISTER.
I think your father loved Alladine.
ASTOLAINE.
Do not speak so of it.... He thought I suffered. He thought to have done good, and he did evil unwittingly.... That often happens to us.... It is my fault, perhaps.... I recall it to-day.... One night I was asleep. I was weeping in a dream.... We have little courage when we dream. I waked.... He was beside my bed, looking at me.... Perhaps he was deceived....
FOURTH SISTER (running).
Alladine has stirred a little in her room....
ASTOLAINE.
Go to the door ... listen.... Perhaps it was the nurse rising....
FIFTH SISTER (listening at the door).
No, no; I hear the nurse walking.... There is another noise.
SIXTH SISTER (also running).
I think Palomides has moved too; I hear the murmur of a voice seeking....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
[Very feebly, within the room.] Palomides!...
ONE OF THE SISTERS.
She is calling him!...
ASTOLAINE.
Let us be careful!... Go, go in front of the door, that Palomides may not hear....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
Palomides!
ASTOLAINE.
My God! My God! Silence that voice!... Palomides will die of it if he hear it!...
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
[Very feebly, within the other room.] Alladine!...
ONE OF THE SISTERS.
He answers!...
ASTOLAINE.
Three among you remain here,... and we will go to the other door. Come, come quickly. We will surround them. We will try to defend them.... Lie back against the doors.... Perhaps they will hear no longer....
ONE OF THE SISTERS.
I shall go into Alladine's room....
SECOND SISTER.
Yes, yes; prevent her from crying out again.
THIRD SISTER.
She is already cause of all this evil....
ASTOLAINE.
Do not go in, or I go in to Palomides.... She also had a right to life; and she has done nought but to live.... But that we cannot stifle in their passage their deadly words!... We are without help, my poor sisters, my poor sisters, and hands cannot stop souls!...
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
Palomides, is it thou?
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
Where art thou, Alladine?
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
Is it thou whom I hear far from me making moan?
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
Is it thou whom I hear calling, and see thee not?
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
One would believe thy voice had lost the last of hope....
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
One would believe that thine had crossed the winds of death....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
It goes hard with thy voice to pierce into my room....
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
And I no longer hear thy voice as of old time.
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
I have been woe for thee!...
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
They have divided us, but I do love thee ever....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
I have been woe for thee.... Art then still suffering?
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
No; I no longer suffer, but I fain would see thee....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
We shall not see each other more; the doors are shut....
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
Thy voice would make one say thou lovedst me no more....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
Yes, yes; I love thee still, but it is mournful now....
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
Whither is thy face turned? I hardly understand thee....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
We seem to be an hundred leagues from one another....
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
I try to rise in vain; my spirit is too heavy....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
I too would come,—I too—but still my head falls back....
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
Thou seemest almost to speak in tears despite thyself....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
No; I wept long ago; it is no longer tears....
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
There's something in thy thoughts thou dost not tell me of....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
They were not precious stones....
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
And the flowers were not real....
ONE OF THE SISTERS OF PALOMIDES.
They rave....
ASTOLAINE.
No, no; they know what they are saying....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
It was the light that had no pity on us....
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
Where goest thou, Alladine? Thou'rt being borne away....
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
I have no more regret to lose the light o' the sun....
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
Yes, yes; we shall behold the sweet green things again!...
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
I have lost desire to live....
[A silence; then more and more faintly:]
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
Alladine!...
THE VOICE OF ALLADINE.
Palomides!...
THE VOICE OF PALOMIDES.
Alla ... dine!...
[A silence.—Astolaine and the sisters of Palomides listen, in anguish. Then the nurse opens, from the inside, the door of Palomides' room, appears on the sill, makes a sign, and all enter the room. The door doses behind them. A new silence. A little afterwards, the door of Alladine's room opens in its turn; the other nurse comes out in like manner, looks about in the corridor, and, seeing no one, re-enters the room, leaving the door wide open.]
[CURTAIN.]
Home.
To Mademoiselle Sara de Swart.
Persons.
IN THE GARDEN.
THE OLD MAN. THE STRANGER. MARTHA } granddaughters of the old man. AND MARY, } A PEASANT. THE CROWD.
IN THE HOUSE
THE FATHER, } THE MOTHER, } Silent characters. THE TWO DAUGHTERS,} THE CHILD, }
Home.
* * * * *
[An old garden, planted with willows. At the back, a house in which three windows on the ground-floor are lighted. A family, sitting up under the lamp, is seen rather distinctly. The father is seated by the fireside. The mother, one elbow on the table, is staring into space. Two young girls, clad in white, embroider, dream, and smile in the quiet of the room. A child lies asleep with his head under the mother's left arm. Whenever one of them rises, walks, or makes a gesture, his movements seem to be grave, slow, rare, and, as it were, spiritualized by the distance, the light, and the vague veil of the windows. The old man and the stranger enter the garden cautiously.]
THE OLD MAN.
We are in the part of the garden behind the house. They never come here. The doors are on the other side.—They are closed, and the shutters are up. But there are no shutters on this side, and I saw a light.... Yes; they are sitting up still under the lamp. It is fortunate they have not heard us; the mother or the young girls would have come out, perhaps, and then what should we have done?...
THE STRANGER.
What are we going to do?
THE OLD MAN.
I should like to see, first, if they are all in the room. Yes, I see the father sitting in the chimney-corner. He waits, with his hands on his knees;... the mother is resting her elbow on the table.
THE STRANGER.
She is looking at us....
THE OLD MAN.
No; she doesn't know where she is looking: her eyes do not wink. She cannot see us; we are in the shade of great trees. But do not go any nearer.... The two sisters of the dead girl are in the room too. They are embroidering slowly; and the little child is asleep. It is nine by the clock in the corner.... They suspect nothing, and they do not speak.
THE STRANGER.
If one could draw the father's attention, and make him some sign? He has turned his head this way. Would you like me to knock at one of the windows? One of them ought to be told before the others....
THE OLD MAN.
I don't know which one to choose.... We must take great precautions.... The father is old and ailing.... So is the mother; and the sisters are too young.... And they all loved her with such love as will never be again.... I never saw a happier household.... No, no, do not go near the window; that would be worse than anything else.... It is better to announce it as simply as possible,—as if it were an ordinary event,—and not to look too sad; for otherwise their grief will wish to be greater than yours and will know of nothing more that it can do.... Let us go on the other side of the garden. We will knock at the door and go in as if nothing had happened. I will go in first: they will not be surprised to see me; I come sometimes in the evening, to bring them flowers or fruit, and pass a few hours with them.
THE STRANGER.
Why must I go with you? Go alone; I will wait till I am called.... They have never seen me.... I am only a passer-by; I am a stranger....
THE OLD MAN.
It is better not to be alone. A sorrow that one does not bring alone is not so unmixed nor so heavy.... I was thinking of that as we were coming here.... If I go in alone, I shall have to be speaking from the first minute; in a few words they will know everything, and I shall have nothing more to say; and I am afraid of the silence following the last words that announce a woe.... It is then the heart is rent.... If we go in together, I shall tell them, for example, after going a long way about, "She was found so.... She was floating in the river, and her hands were clasped."...
THE STRANGER.
Her hands were not clasped; her arms were hanging down along her body.
THE OLD MAN.
You see, one speaks in spite of oneself.... And the sorrow is lost in the details;... but otherwise, if I go in alone, at the first words, knowing them as I do, it would be dreadful, and God knows what might happen.... But if we speak in turn, they will listen to us and not think to look the ill news in the face.... Do not forget the mother will be there, and that her life hangs by a thread.... It is good that the first wave break on some unnecessary words.... There should be a little talking around the unhappy, and they should have people about them.... The most indifferent bear unwittingly a part of the grief.... So, without noise or effort, it divides, like air or light....
THE STRANGER.
Your clothes are wet through; they are dripping on the flagstones.
THE OLD MAN.
It is only the bottom of my cloak that dipped in the water.—You seem to be cold. Your chest is covered with earth.... I did not notice it on the road on account of the darkness....
THE STRANGER.
I went into the water up to my waist.
THE OLD MAN.
Was it long after you found her when I came?
THE STRANGER.
A few minutes, barely. I was going toward the village; it was already late, and the bank was getting dark. I was walking with my eyes fixed on the river because it was lighter than the road, when I saw something strange a step or two from a clump of reeds.... I drew near and made out her hair, which had risen almost in a circle above her head, and whirled round, so, in the current.
[In the room, the two young girls turn their heads toward the window.]
THE OLD MAN.
Did you see the two sisters' hair quiver on their shoulders?
THE STRANGER.
They turned their heads this way.... They simply turned their heads. Perhaps I spoke too loud. [The two young girls resume their former position.] But they are already looking no longer.... I went into the water up to my waist and I was able to take her by the hand and pull her without effort to the shore.... She was as beautiful as her sisters are.
THE OLD MAN.
She was perhaps more beautiful.... I do not know why I have lost all courage....
THE STRANGER.
What courage are you talking of? We have done all man could do.... She was dead more than an hour ago....
THE OLD MAN.
She was alive this morning!... I met her coming out of church.... She told me she was going away; she was going to see her grandmother on the other side of the river where you found her.... She did not know when I should see her again.... She must have been on the point of asking me something; then she dared not and left me abruptly. But I think of it now.... And I saw nothing!... She smiled as they smile who choose to be silent, or who are afraid they will not be understood.... She seemed hardly to hope.... Her eyes were not clear and hardly looked at me....
THE STRANGER.
Some peasants told me they had seen her wandering on the river-bank until nightfall.... They thought she was looking for flowers.... It may be that her death....
THE OLD MAN.
We cannot tell.... What is there we can tell?... She was perhaps of those who do not wish to speak, and every one of us bears in himself more than one reason for no longer living.... We cannot see in the soul as we see in that room. They are all like that.... They only say trite things; and no one suspects aught.... You live for months by some one who is no longer of this world and whose soul can bend no longer; you answer without thinking; and you see what happens.... They look like motionless dolls, and, oh, the events that take place in their souls!... They do not know themselves what they are.... She would have lived as the rest live.... She would have said up to her death: "Monsieur, Madame, we shall have rain this morning," or else, "We are going to breakfast; we shall be thirteen at table," or else: "The fruits are not yet ripe." They speak with a smile of the flowers that have fallen, and weep in the dark.... An angel even would not see what should be seen; and man only understands when it is too late.... Yesterday evening she was there, under the lamp like her sisters, and you would not see them as they should be seen, if this had not occurred.... I seem to see her now for the first time.... Something must be added to common life before we can understand it.... They are beside you day and night, and you perceive them only at the moment when they depart forever.... And yet the strange little soul she must have had; the poor, naive, exhaustless little soul she had, my son, if she said what she must have said, if she did what she mast have done!...
THE STRANGER.
Just now they are smiling in silence in the room....
THE OLD MAN.
They are at peace.... They did not expect her to-night....
THE STRANGER.
They smile without stirring;... and see, the father is putting his finger on his lips....
THE OLD MAN.
He is calling attention to the child asleep on its mother's heart....
THE STRANGER.
She dares not raise her eyes lest she disturb its sleep....
THE OLD MAN.
They are no longer working.... A great silence reigns....
THE STRANGER.
They have let fell the skein of white silk....
THE OLD MAN.
They are watching the child....
THE STRANGER.
They do not know that others are watching them....
THE OLD MAN.
We are watched too....
THE STRANGER.
They have lifted their eyes....
THE OLD MAN.
And yet they can see nothing....
THE STRANGER.
They seem happy; and yet nobody knows what may be—....
THE OLD MAN.
They think themselves in safety.... They have shut the doors; and the windows have iron bars.... They have mended the walls of the old house; they have put bolts upon the oaken doors.... They have foreseen all that could be foreseen....
THE STRANGER.
We must end by telling them.... Some one might come and let them know abruptly.... There was a crowd of peasants in the meadow where the dead girl was found.... If one of them knocked at the door...
THE OLD MAN.
Martha and Mary are beside the poor dead child. The peasants were to make a litter of leaves; and I told the elder to come warn us in all haste, the moment they began their march. Let us wait till she comes; she will go in with me.... We should not have looked on them so.... I thought it would be only to knock upon the door; to go in simply, find a phrase or two, and tell.... But I have seen them live too long under their lamp....
Enter MARY.
MARY.
They are coming, grandfather.
THE OLD MAN.
Is It you?—Where are they?
MARY.
They are at the foot of the last hills.
THE OLD MAN.
They will come in silence?
MARY.
I told them to pray in a low voice. Martha is with them....
THE OLD MAN.
Are they many?
MARY.
The whole village is about the bearers. They had brought lights. I told them to put them out....
THE OLD MAN.
Which way are they coming?
MARY.
They are coming by the footpaths. They are walking slowly....
THE OLD MAN.
It is time....
MARY.
You have told them, grandfather?
THE OLD MAN.
You see plainly we have told them nothing.... They are waiting still under the lamp.... Look, my child, look! You will see something of life....
MARY.
Oh, how at peace they seem!... You would say I saw them in a dream....
THE STRANGER.
Take care, I saw both sisters give a start....
THE OLD MAN.
They are getting up....
THE STRANGER.
I think they are coming to the windows....
[At this moment, one of the two sisters of whom they speak draws near the first window, the other near the third, and, pressing their hands at the same time against the panes, look a long while into the darkness.]
THE OLD MAN.
No one comes to the window in the middle....
MARY.
They are looking.... They are listening....
THE OLD MAN.
The elder smiles at what she does not see.
THE STRANGER.
And the other has eyes full of fearfulness....
THE OLD MAN.
Take care; we do not know how far the soul extends about men....
[A long silence, MARY cowers against the old man's breast and kisses him.]
MARY.
Grandfather!...
THE OLD MAN.
Do not weep, my child.... We shall have our turn.... [A silence.
THE STRANGER.
They are looking a long while....
THE OLD MAN.
They might look a hundred thousand years and not perceive anything, the poor little sisters.... The night is too dark.... They are looking this way; and it is from that way the misfortune is coming....
THE STRANGER.
It is fortunate they look this way.... I do not know what that is coming toward us, over by the meadows.
MARY.
I think it is the crowd.... They are so far away you can hardly make them out....
THE STRANGER.
They follow the undulations of the path.... Now they appear again on a hillside in the moonlight....
MARY.
Oh, how many they seem!... They had already run up from the suburbs of the city when I came.... They are going a long way around....
THE OLD MAN.
They will come in spite of all; I see them too.... They are on the march across the meadow lands.... They seem so small you hardly make them out among the grasses.... They look like children playing in the moonlight; and if the girls should see them, they would not understand.... In vain they turn their backs; those yonder draw near with every step they take, and the sorrow has been growing these two hours already. They cannot hinder it from growing; and they that bear it there no longer can arrest it.... It is their master too, and they must serve it.... It has its end and follows its own road.... It is unwearying and has but one idea.... Needs must they lend their strength. They are sad, but they come.... They have pity, but they must go forward....
MARY.
The elder smiles no longer, grandfather....
THE STRANGER.
They leave the windows....
MARY.
They kiss their mother....
THE STRANGER.
The elder has caressed the curls of the child without waking him....
MARY.
Oh! the father wants to be kissed too....
THE STRANGER.
And now silence....
MARY.
They come back beside the mother....
THE STRANGER.
And the father follows the great pendulum of the clock with his eyes....
MARY.
You would say they were praying without knowing what they did....
THE STRANGER.
You would say that they were listening to their souls.... [A silence.
MARY.
Grandfather, don't tell them to-night!...
THE OLD MAN.
You see, you too lose courage.... I knew well that we must not look. I am nearly eighty-three years old, and this is the first time the sight of life has struck me. I do not know why everything they do seems so strange and grave to me.... They wait for night quite simply, under their lamp, as we might have been waiting under ours; and yet I seem to see them from the height of another world, because I know a little truth which they do not know yet.... Is it that, my children? Tell me, then, why you are pale, too? Is there something else, perhaps, that cannot be told and causes us to weep? I did not know there was anything so sad in life, nor that it frightened those who looked upon it.... And nothing can have occurred that I should be afraid to see them so at peace.... They have too much confidence in this world.... There they are, separated from the enemy by a poor window.... They think nothing will happen because they have shut the door, and do not know that something is always happening in our souls, and that the world does not end at the doors of our houses.... They are so sure of their little life and do not suspect how many others know more of it than they; and that I, poor old man,—I hold here, two steps from their door, all their little happiness, like a sick bird, in my old hands I do not dare to open....
MARY.
Have pity, grandfather....
THE OLD MAN.
We have pity on them, my child, but no one has pity on us....
MARY.
Tell them to-morrow, grandfather; tell them when it is light.... They will not be so sorrowful....
THE OLD MAN.
Perhaps you are right, my child.... It would be better to leave all this in the night. And the light is sweet to sorrow.... But what would they say to us to-morrow? Misfortune renders jealous; they whom it strikes, wish to be told before strangers; they do not like to have it left in the hands of those they do not know.... We should look as if we had stolen something....
THE STRANGER.
There is no more time, besides; I hear the murmur of prayers already....
MARY.
There they are.... They are passing behind the hedges....
Enter MARTHA.
MARTHA.
Here I am. I have brought them this far. I have told them to wait on the road. [Cries of children heard.] Ah! the children are crying again.... I forbade their coming.... But they wanted to see too, and the mothers would not obey.... I will go tell them.... No; they are silent.—Is everything ready?—I have brought the little ring that was found on her.... I have some fruit, too, for the child.... I laid her out myself on the litter. She looks as if she were asleep.... I had a good deal of trouble; her hair would not obey.... I had some marguerites plucked.... It is sad, there were no other flowers.... What are you doing here? Why are you not by them?... [She looks at the windows.] They do not weep?... They ... you have not told them?
THE OLD MAN.
Martha, Martha, there is too much life in your soul; you cannot understand....
MARTHA.
Why should I not understand?... [After a silence and in a tone of very grave reproach.] You cannot have done that, grandfather....
THE OLD MAN.
Martha, you do not know....
MARTHA.
I will tell them.
THE OLD MAN.
Stay here, my child, and look at them a moment.
MARTHA.
Oh, how unhappy they are!... They can wait no longer.
THE OLD MAN.
Why?
MARTHA.
I do not know;... it is no longer possible!...
THE OLD MAN.
Come here, my child....
MARTHA.
How patient they are!
THE OLD MAN.
Come here, my child....
MARTHA.
[Turning.] Where are you, grandfather? I am so unhappy I cannot see you any more.... I do not know what to do myself any more....
THE OLD MAN.
Do not look at them any more; till they know all....
MARTHA.
I will go in with you....
THE OLD MAN.
No, Martha, stay here.... Sit beside your sister, on this old stone bench, against the wall of the house, and do not look.... You are too young; you never could forget.... You cannot know what a face is like at the moment when death passes before its eyes.... There will be cries, perhaps.... Do not turn round.... Perhaps there will be nothing.... Above all, do not turn if you hear nothing.... One does not know the course of grief beforehand.... A few little deep-rooted sobs, and that is all, usually.... I do not know myself what I may do when I shall hear them.... That belongs no longer to this life.... Kiss me, my child, before I go away....
[The murmur of prayers has gradually drawn nearer. Part of the crowd invades the garden. Dull steps heard, running, and low voices speaking.]
THE STRANGER (to the crowd).
Stay here;... do not go near the windows.... Where is she?...
A PEASANT.
Who?
THE STRANGER.
The rest ... the bearers?...
THE PEASANT.
They are coming by the walk that leads to the door.
[The old man goes away. Martha and Mary are seated on the bench, with their backs turned to the windows. Murmurs in the crowd.]
THE STRANGER.
S—t!... Do not speak.
[The elder of the two sisters rises and goes to bolt the door....]
MARTHA.
She opens it?
THE STRANGER.
On the contrary, she is shutting it. [A silence.
MARTHA.
Grandfather has not entered?
THE STRANGER.
No.... She returns and sits down by her mother.... The others do not stir, and the child sleeps all the time.... [A silence.
MARTHA.
Sister, give me your hands....
MARY.
Martha!... [They embrace and give each other a kiss.
THE STRANGER.
He must have knocked.... They have all raised their heads at the same time;... they look at each other....
MARTHA.
Oh! oh! my poor little sister!... I shall cry too!... [She stifles her sobs on her sister's shoulder.
THE STRANGER.
He must be knocking again.... The father looks at the clock. He rises.
MARTHA.
Sister, sister, I want to go in too.... They cannot be alone any longer....
MARY.
Martha! Martha!... [She holds her back.
THE STRANGER.
The father is at the door.... He draws the bolts.... He opens the door prudently....
MARTHA.
Oh!... you do not see the...
THE STRANGER.
What?
MARTHA.
Those who bear....
THE STRANGER.
He hardly opens it.... I can only see a corner of the lawn; and the fountain.... He does not let go the door;... he steps back.... He looks as if he were saying: "Ah, it's you!"... He raises his arms.... He shuts the door again carefully.... Your grandfather has come into the room....
[The crowd has drawn nearer the windows. Martha and Mary half rise at first, then draw near also, clasping each other tightly. The old man is seen advancing into the room. The two sisters of the dead girl rise; the mother rises as well, after laying the child carefully in the armchair she has just abandoned; in such a way that from without the little one may be seen asleep, with his head hanging a little to one side, in the centre of the room. The mother advances to meet the old man and extends her hand to him, but draws it back before he has had time to take it. One of the young girls offers to take off the visitor's cloak and the other brings forward a chair for him; but the old man makes a slight gesture of refusal. The father smiles with a surprised look. The old man looks toward the windows.]
THE STRANGER.
He dares not tell them.... He has looked at us.... [Rumors in the crowd.
THE STRANGER.
S ... t!...
[The old man, seeing their faces at the windows, has quickly turned his eyes away. As one of the young girls continues to offer him the same armchair, he ends by sitting down and passes his right hand across his forehead several times.]
THE STRANGER.
He sits down....
[The other people in the room sit down also, while the father talks volubly. At last the old man opens his mouth, and the tone of his voice seems to attract attention. But the father interrupts him. The old man begins to speak again, and little by little the others become motionless. All at once, the mother starts and rises.]
MARTHA.
Oh! the mother is going to understand!...
[She turns away and hides her face in her hands. New murmurs in the crowd. They elbow each other. Children cry to be lifted up, so that they may see too. Most of the mothers obey.]
THE STRANGER.
S ... t!... He has not told them yet....
[The mother is seen to question the old man in anguish. He says a few words more; then abruptly all the rest rise too and seem to question him. He makes a slow sign of affirmation with his head.]
THE STRANGER.
He has told them.... He has told them all at once!...
VOICES IN THE CROWD.
He has told them!... He has told them!...
THE STRANGER.
You hear nothing....
[The old man rises too, and, without turning, points with his finger to the door behind him. The mother, the father, and the two young girls throw themselves on this door, which the father cannot at once succeed in opening. The old man tries to prevent the mother from going out.]
VOICES IN THE CROWD.
They are going out! They are going out!...
[Jostling in the garden. All rush to the other side of the house and disappear, with the exception of the stranger, who remains at the windows. In the room, both sides of the folding-door at last open; all go out at the same time. Beyond can be seen a starry sky, the lawn and the fountain in the moonlight, while in the middle of the abandoned room the child continues to sleep peacefully in the armchair.—Silence.]
THE STRANGER.
The child has not waked!... [He goes out also.
[CURTAIN.]
THE END |
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