SATNI. No.

NOURM. If the gods do not punish, and men, not having seen, do not punish either—[Pause] Well—I shall give it back.

SOKITI. I, I shall not give back. Not stolen. Another, a servant of the neighboring master stole the bracelet, not I!

STEWARD. Yet 'tis you who have it.

SOKITI. I took it from the other.

STEWARD. He let you do it?

SOKITI. Yes. Could not help it, he was wounded.

SATNI. You should have succored him.

SOKITI. I did not know him.

SATNI. He was a man like you.

SOKITI. There are plenty of them.

SATNI. We must do good to others.

SOKITI. What good will that do to me?

SATNI. You will be content with yourself.

SOKITI. I would rather have the bracelet—

SATNI. It is only by refraining from doing one another harm that mankind may hope to gain happiness; nay more, only by lending one another aid. Do you understand?

SOKITI [gloomily] Yes.

SATNI. And you, and you—

NOURM AND BITIOU [in different tones] Yes, yes.

STEWARD [to Sokiti] Repeat it then.

SOKITI. If men did not steal bracelets—

STEWARD. Well?

SOKITI. Bracelets—[He laughs].

SATNI [to Nourm] And you?

NOURM. He was wrong to take the bracelet.

SATNI. Why?

NOURM. Because you are not pleased.

SATNI. No, no, 'tis not for that.

SOKITI. I was not wrong—

NOURM. Yes! wait! I understand—If you steal, another may steal from you. Likewise if you kill—

SATNI. Right. And why is it necessary to be good?

NOURM. Wait [To Sokiti] If you do good to one whom you know not, another who knows you not, may do good to you.

STEWARD. Ah!—Do you understand, Sokiti?

SOKITI. I think so.

SATNI. Explain.

SOKITI [after a great effort] You do not want us to steal bracelets from you—

SATNI. I do not want you to steal from any one—Do you understand?

SOKITI. No.

STEWARD [to Bitiou, who listens open-mouthed] And you?

BITIOU. I—I have a pain in my head—

Satni comes to the Steward. Bitiou and Sokiti slip off.

STEWARD. Look at them—

SATNI. The tree that was bent from its birth, not in one day can you make it straight?

STEWARD. We must leave it what it is, or tear it down?

SATNI. No, we must seek patiently to straighten it. [With feeling] And above all we must keep straight those that are young.

Cries are heard outside.

STEWARD. What cries are those?

SATNI. Women in distress.

Yaouma enters, leading Mieris. Both are agitated.

YAOUMA. Come, mistress—come—We are at the house of the potter, the father of Satni—Satni help—quick! quick! Run! your father, Satni!

SATNI. Mieris, Yaouma, how come you here?

YAOUMA. They will tell you—go!

MIERIS. Fly to the rescue, he is wounded!—I have sent to the palace for those who drive out the evil spirits.

YAOUMA. We were set upon by some men.

MIERIS. He defended us—But they will kill him—go!

Satni and the Steward seize some arms left by Nourm and run out.

MIERIS. Yaouma! He is wounded! Wounded in saving us—

YAOUMA. Alas!

MIERIS [listening] Who is there?

NOURM. I, mistress.

MIERIS. Nourm! Run to the palace, bid them send hither those who drive forth the evil spirits—

YAOUMA. Alas! mistress, I do fear—already he has fallen—struck to earth.

MIERIS. They will save him, they will bear him hither—

YAOUMA. Will they bear him hither alive?

MIERIS [to Nourm] Run!—You hear!—Run to the palace, bid those who assist at the last hour be ready to come. If he have died defending us, the same honors shall be paid him as though ourselves were dead! Go! [Nourm goes out. A pause] Now, Yaouma, lead me out upon the road to the Nile.

YAOUMA. Mistress, you seek to die? Many then must be your sorrows!

MIERIS. Alas! Alas! Why did you discover my flight? Why did you seek me, find me, and bring me back—

YAOUMA. Had I not guessed your purpose?

MIERIS. What have I left to live for?

YAOUMA. You have lived all these years in spite of your affliction, what is there that is changed?

MIERIS. What is there that is changed! You ask me what is changed! Until now I lived in the hope of a miracle.

YAOUMA. Perhaps it would never have come.

MIERIS. Even at my last hour I should have still looked for it.

YAOUMA. Then you would have died believing in a lie—if what they say be true.

MIERIS. What matter, I had smiled as I died, thinking death but the journey to a land where my lost child was waiting for me. The death of a child! No mother ever can believe, at heart, in that. It is too unjust—too cruel to be possible. One says to oneself: it is but a separation! Oh! Satni, thy doctrines may be the truth. But they declare this separation eternal; they make the death of our loved ones final, irreparable, horrible, therefore I foretell thee this: Women will never believe them! What is there that is changed?—Yesterday, children came playing close to us. You know how their cries and laughter made me glad—the voice of one of them was like the voice of mine. I made him come, I put out my hand, in the old way. I felt, at the old height, tossed hair, and the warmth of a living body. And I did not weep, but my voice spoke in my heart and said: "Little child, thy years are as many as his, whom she-who-loves-the-silence took from me. But in Amenti, where he is, in the island of souls, he is happier than thou, for he is safe from all the ills that threaten thee. He is happier than thou. He lives beneath a sun of gold, amid flowers of strange beauty, and perfumed baths refresh him. And when she-who-loves-the-silence takes me in my turn, I shall see him, I shall see him for the first time—and I shall fondle him as I fondle thee, and none, then, may put us asunder. Go, little child, the happy ones are not on this side of the earth!" Now have I lost the hope of a better life before death, and the hope of a better life beyond as well. If you took both crutches from a cripple, he would fall. Only this twofold hope sustained me. They have taken it from me. And so, it is the end, it is the end—'tis as though I were fallen from a height, I am broken, I have no strength left to bear with life: I tell you, it is the end, it is the end!

YAOUMA [with intense fervor] Mistress, they speak not the truth!

MIERIS. Our gods, did they exist, would already have taken vengeance.

YAOUMA. Before the outrage, already, they had taken vengeance on you.

MIERIS. Good Yaouma, you would give me back my faith, you who could not keep your own.

YAOUMA. Mistress, I lied to you; nothing is destroyed in me.

MIERIS. You refuse to give yourself in sacrifice!—Oh, you are right....

YAOUMA. I do not refuse.

MIERIS. You do not?

YAOUMA. No. Know you how I learned, a while ago, that you were gone?

MIERIS. How?

YAOUMA. I, too, was seeking to escape.

MIERIS. You?

YAOUMA. To go to the temple, to place myself in hands of the priests, to give to Ammon the victim he has chosen.

MIERIS. Do you believe in all these fables still?

YAOUMA [in a low voice] Mistress, I have seen Isis.

MIERIS. Has one of her images been spared then?

YAOUMA. It was not an image that I saw. It was Isis herself, the goddess—I have seen her.

MIERIS. You—you have seen—what is it? I know not what you say—to see—that word has no clear sense for me.

YAOUMA. She has spoken to me—

MIERIS. You have heard her voice—

YAOUMA. I have heard her voice.

MIERIS. How! How!—You were sleeping—'twas in a dream—

YAOUMA. I did not sleep. I did not dream. I saw her. I heard her. I was alone, and I wept. A great sound filled me with terror. A great light blinded me. Perfumes unknown ravished my senses. And I beheld the goddess, more beauteous than a queen. Then all was gone—

MIERIS. But her voice—

YAOUMA. The next day she came again, she spoke to me, she called me by name and said to me: "Egypt will be saved by thee."

MIERIS. Why did you not speak of it?

YAOUMA. I feared they would not believe me.

MIERIS. Oh, Yaouma, how I envy you! If you but knew the ill they have done me. They have half killed me, killing all the legends and all the memories that were mine. They made me blush at my simplicity. I felt shamed to have been so easily fooled by such gross make-believes. And now, what have I gained by this revelation? My soul is a house after the burning, black, ruined, empty. Nothing is left but ruins, ruins one might laugh at. [In tears] I am parched with thirst, I hunger, I tremble with cold. They have made my soul blind, too. I cry out for help, for consolation. Oh! for a lie, some other lie, to replace the one they have taken away from me!

YAOUMA. Why ask a lie? Why not forget what they have said. Why not recall what you learned at your mother's knee—Why not, yourself, set up in your heart again, those images which they threw down—

MIERIS. Yes! Yes! I will do it. They have awakened my reason, and killed my faith. I shall kill my reason, to revive our gods. Though I no longer believe, I shall do the actions of believers—and, if my god be false, I shall believe so firmly in him that I shall make him true!—Yes, the lowest, the most senseless superstitions, I venerate them, I exalt—I glory in them! The ugliest, the most deformed, the most unreal of our gods, I adore them, and I bow down before their impossibility. [She kneels] Oh, I stifle in their petty narrow world, sad as a forest without birds! Air! Air! Singing! The sound of wings! Things that fly!

YAOUMA [kneeling] Let me be sacrificed!

MIERIS. Let me have a reason for living!

YAOUMA. I would give my life to the gods who gave me birth!

MIERIS. I would believe that there is some one above men!

YAOUMA. Some one who watches over us!

MIERIS. Who will console as with his justice!

YAOUMA. Some one to cry our sorrows to!

MIERIS. Yes, some one to pray to, and to thank!

YAOUMA [sobbing] Oh! the pity of it, to feel we were abandoned!

MIERIS [throwing herself in Yaouma's arms] I would not be abandoned!

YAOUMA. We are not! Gods! Gods!

MIERIS. Gods! We need gods! There are too many sorrows, it is not possible this earth should groan as it groans beneath a pitiless heaven—Ammon, reveal thyself.

YAOUMA. Isis, show thyself! Have pity! [A pause. Then in a hushed voice] Mistress, I think she is going to appear to me again!—Isis!—mistress—do you hear—

MIERIS [listening] I hear nothing.

YAOUMA. Singing—the sound of harps—'tis she—

MIERIS. I do not hear—

YAOUMA. She speaks! Yes—goddess!

MIERIS. Do you see her?

YAOUMA [in ecstasy] I see her! She is bending down above us—

MIERIS. O goddess!—

YAOUMA. She is gone—Mistress, you could not see her, but did you hear the sound of her feet?

MIERIS. Yes, I believe I heard it—I believe and I am comforted.

YAOUMA. I am happy! To the temple! She beckoned me! To the temple! Come!

They go up. Rheou meets them and leads them away. Satni enters with some men bearing Pakh, who is wounded. Kirjipa almost swooning follows, supported by some women who lead her into the house. The Exorcist, who with his two assistants follows Pakh, takes some clay from a coffer carried by one of his men, shapes it into a ball, and begins, then, the incantation.

EXORCIST. Pakh! Son of Ritii! Through thy wound an evil spirit has entered thee. I am about to speak the words that shall drive him out: "The virtues of him who lies there, and who suffers, are the virtues of the father of the gods. The virtues of his brow are the virtues of the brow of Thoumen. The virtues of his eye are the virtues of the eye of Horus, who destroys all creatures."

A pause.

PAKH. Begone!

EXORCIST. His upper lip is Isis. His lower lip is Neptes, his neck is the goddess, his teeth are swords, his flesh is Osiris, his hands are divine souls, his fingers are blue serpents, snakes, sons of the goddess Sekhet—

PAKH. Begone! I no longer believe in your power!

EXORCIST [taking a doll from the coffer] Horus is there! Ra is there! Let them cry to the chiefs of Heliopolis—

PAKH. Have done!

He knocks down the doll which the Exorcist holds over him. The music stops suddenly.

EXORCIST. The evil spirits are strongest in him. He will die. Only his son has the right to be with him at death.

All go out save Pakh and Satni.

SATNI. My father—

PAKH. You are there, my son—'tis well—I am glad—that that maker of spells is gone. [Simply] Heal me.

SATNI. Yes, father, you shall be healed. But you must have patience.

PAKH [simply] Heal me, now, at once.

SATNI. I cannot.

PAKH. Why do you not want to heal me?—See you not that I am wounded—I suffer—come, give me ease—

SATNI. I would give all, that it were in my power to do so.

PAKH. You know prayers that our priests know not—

SATNI. I know no prayers.

PAKH [in anguish] You are not going to let me die?

SATNI. You will not die—have confidence.

PAKH. Confidence? In what? [A pause] You cannot heal me?

SATNI. I cannot.

PAKH. All your knowledge, then, is but knowledge of how to destroy—My son!—I pray you—my blood goes out with my life—I do not want to die! I pray you—give me your hand. I seem to be sinking into night—hold me back—you will not let me die—your father! I am your father. I gave you life—hold me back—all grows dim around me—But at least do something—speak—say the incantations—[He raises himself] No! No! I refuse to die! I am not old. [Strongly] I will not! I will not! Do not let go my hand! I would live, live—All my life, I have worked, I have sorrowed, I have suffered—Satni—will you let me go before I share the peace and happiness you promised—

SATNI. Oh! My father!

PAKH. You weep—I am lost, then—Yes—I have seen it in your eyes. And the silence deepens around me. To die—to die—[A long pause] And after? [Pause] And so this is a poor man's life! Work from childhood, blows. Then work, always, without profit. Only for bread. And still work. For others. Not one pleasure. We die. And 'tis finished! You came back to teach me that—Work—blows—misery—the end. [A silence] What did you come here to do? Is that your work? [Strongly] Satni, Satni! Give me back my faith! I want it! Ah! Why were you born a destroyer? Is that your truth? You are evil—you were able to prove that all was false. Prove to me now that you lied! I demand it! Give me back my faith, give me back the simple mind that will comfort me.

SATNI. Do not despair—

PAKH. I despair because the happy fields do not exist—

SATNI. Yes, father, yes, they exist—

PAKH. You lied, then!

SATNI. I lied.

PAKH. They exist—and if I die—

SATNI. If you die, you will go to Osiris, you will become Osiris.

PAKH. It is not true. 'Tis now you lie—There is no Osiris! There is no Osiris! Nothing! there is nothing—but life. I curse you, you who taught me that [He almost falls from his litter, Satni reverently lifts him up] Ah! accursed! Accursed! I die in hate, in rage, in fear. Bad son! Bad man! I curse you, come near. [Seizing him by the throat] Oh! If I were strong enough!—I would my nails might pierce your throat—Ah! Ah! accursed [He lets him go] All my life lost! All my suffering useless!—Forever—Never! Never! shall I know—Pity! [He holds out his arms to Satni and falls dead].

SATNI [horror-stricken] He is dead!—[He lifts him reverently and lays him on the litter] Father! For me, too, at this moment there would have been comfort in a lie—

He weeps, kneeling by the body with his arms stretched over it. Kirjipa appears at the door of the house. She comes near, then standing upright cries out to the four points of the horizon, tearing her hair.

KIRJIPA. The master is dead! The master is dead! The master is dead! The master is dead!

The five mourners appear outside, Delethi, Nazit, Hanou, Zaya, and Nagaou.

KIRJIPA [with cries that are calls] The master is dead! The master is dead!

MOURNERS [entering] The master is dead! The master is dead!

Music till the end of the scene.

KIRJIPA. O my father!

MOURNERS [louder and in a chant] O my master! O my father!

KIRJIPA. O my beloved!

MOURNERS. The she-wolf, death; the she-wolf, death; the she-wolf, death, has taken him!

They rush at the body, kissing it with piercing cries. They beat their breasts, uttering long cries, after silent pauses. Kirjipa and another woman dance a hieratic dance, their feet gliding slowly over the ground. They bend to gather handfuls of earth, which they scatter on their heads as they dance. The cries are redoubled.

KIRJIPA [after bowing before the corpse] Go in peace towards Abydos! Go in peace towards Osiris!

ALL. Towards Abydos! Towards Osiris! To the West, thou who wast the best of men!

KIRJIPA. If it please the gods, when the day of eternity comes, we shall see thee, for behold thou goest towards the earth that mixeth men.

ALL. Towards Abydos! Towards Osiris!

They make believe to bear away the corpse; ritual movements.

KIRJIPA. O my husband! O my brother! O my beloved! Stay, live in thy place. Pass not away from the earthly spot where thou art! Leave him! Leave him! Wherefore are ye come to take him who abandons me.

MOURNERS [in a fury of despair] Groans! Groans! Tears! Sobs! Sobs! Make, make lamentation without end, with all the strength that is given you.

The music stops.

KIRJIPA [to the corpse] Despair not. Thy son is there!

They point to Satni.

ALL. Despair not. Thy son is there!

DELETHI. When I have spoken, and after me Hanou, and after her Nazit, thy son will speak the magic words, whose power shall make thee go even unto Osiris, before the two and forty judges. They shall place thy heart in the balance, and thou shalt say: "I have done wrong to no man, I have done nothing that is abominable in the sight of the gods."

SATNI [to himself] No, I will not speak the magic words.

The music begins again.

ALL. Despair not! Thy son is there!

HANOU. Despair not, thy son is there. When I have spoken and after me Nazit, thy son will say the magic prayers whose power shall bring thee even unto Osiris, and thou shalt say: "I have starved none, I have made none weep, I have not killed, I have not robbed the goods of the temples."

SATNI [to himself] No, I will say no useless words.

ALL. Despair not! Thy son is there!

NAZIT. Despair not! Thy son is there! When I have spoken he will say the sacred words whose power shall bring thee even unto Osiris and thou shalt say: "I did not filch the fillets from the mummies, I did not use false weights, I did not snare the sacred birds. I am pure—"

ALL. I am pure! I am pure!—

KIRJIPA [continuing] Give to me what is my due, to me who am pure. Give me all that heaven gives, all that the earth brings forth, all that the Nile bears down from its mysterious springs. Despair not! Thy son is there! Thy son will say the sacred words!

A pause. All look at Satni.

SATNI. No, I will not say words that are lies!

General consternation. Kirjipa comes to him and lays her hands on his shoulders.

KIRJIPA. Speak the sacred words!

SATNI. No!

KIRJIPA. Accursed!

She falls in a swoon. The women press round her. Satni bursts into sobs.

CURTAIN



ACT IV

SCENE:—The interior of a temple.

Columns, huge as towers and covered with hieroglyphics. On the left the Sanctuary; in the foreground in a little nook, invisible to the faithful, but visible to the audience is installed the machinery for the miracle, a lever, and ropes. Against the central pillar two thrones, one magnificent, that of the Pharaoh; the other simple, that of the High Priest.

The Pharaoh, the High Priest, an officer, an old man, and six priests discovered. When the curtain rises all are seated, the priests on little chairs between the two thrones.

THE OFFICER [prostrated before the Pharaoh] Pharaoh! may Ammon-Ra preserve thy life in health and strength!

THE PHARAOH. [with fury] My orders! My orders!

THE OFFICER. Lord of the two Egypts, friend of Ra, favorite of Mentu, may Ammon—

THE PHARAOH. Enough! my orders!

THE OFFICER. I would have died—

THE PHARAOH. The wish shall be granted, be assured, and soon! My orders! Dog, why did you not carry out my orders?

THE OFFICER. Satni—

THE PHARAOH. Satni! Yes, Satni, the impostor! Where is he?

THE OFFICER. Pharaoh—may Ammon, Soukou Ra, Horus—

THE PHARAOH. I will have you whipped till your blood run—Satni! Where is Satni! I sent you to seize him! Where is he?

THE OFFICER. No one knows.

THE PHARAOH. Scoundrel! You are his accomplice!

THE OFFICER. O Ammon!

THE PHARAOH. Did you go to the house of his father, to Rheou?

THE OFFICER. We searched them in vain.

THE PHARAOH. He has taken flight, then?

THE OFFICER. I know not.

THE PHARAOH. You are a traitor! You shall die! Take him out! And you others, hear the commands of the High Priest and begone.

HIGH PRIEST. Let each fulfil the mission he is charged with. Let the young priests mix with the crowd, the moment it enters the Temple. Let them excite the people's fervor, that as many prodigies as possible may be won from the goddess. Now when you are gone the stones that screen the sanctuary will roll away before the Pharaoh and the High Priest; and, first by right, they shall behold the goddess face to face. Humbly prostrated we shall speak to her the mysterious words that other men have never heard. Bow down before the Pharaoh, may he live in health and strength [All kneel and remain with their faces on the ground during what follows, save an old man whom the High Priest calls to his side by a sign; and to whom he says in low tones] Let the man Satni be taken from the crypt where he is imprisoned [The old man bows] When I give the signal let them bring him here. While the Pharaoh goes in procession through the town let them do what I have told you [The old man bows] [To the others] Rise! [To the Pharaoh] Son of Ammon-Ra, bow down before him who represents the god. [The Pharaoh rises and after a slight hesitation bows down before the High Priest] Withdraw, we would pray. [Motionless the High Priest and the Pharaoh wait till the last of the assistants are gone].

THE PHARAOH [giving up his hieratic pose, angrily] I would all the flies of Egypt might eat thy tongue.

HIGH PRIEST [without feeling] The flies of Egypt are too many and my tongue is too small, for your wish to be realized, Pharaoh.

THE PHARAOH. This is the result of my weakness!

HIGH PRIEST [with flattering unction] The Pharaoh, Son of Ammon-Ra—Lord of the two Egypts—Friend of Ra—

THE PHARAOH. Enough! Enough! We are alone. There are none whom your words may deceive. And your mock-reverence fools not me. You would not let me put Satni to death, your subtleties confused my mind, I gave in to you, and now Satni escapes us.

HIGH PRIEST. You should not let anger master you for that.

THE PHARAOH. Satni has foretold to thousands of ears that there will be no miracle.

HIGH PRIEST. The miracle will be.

THE PHARAOH. Who knows that?

HIGH PRIEST. I.

THE PHARAOH. Satni has declared he will enter the temple—

HIGH PRIEST. 'Tis possible.

THE PHARAOH. He has declared he knows the secret recess, whence one of your priests makes the head of the image move.

HIGH PRIEST. Most like he speaks the truth.

THE PHARAOH. He declares the miracle will not take place. If the people suffer this disappointment, tell me what chance can there be for the war of conquest I would wage in Ethiopia?

HIGH PRIEST. Why wage a war of conquest in Ethiopia?

THE PHARAOH. I need gold. I need women. I need slaves. There will be a share of the spoil for your temple.

HIGH PRIEST. I like not bloodshed.

THE PHARAOH. The treasury is empty. Our whippings are useless now. Our blows no longer bring forth taxes. If the people lose confidence in the gods, what will happen to-morrow? Who will follow me, unless they believe the gods confirm my orders?

HIGH PRIEST. Satni will not prevent the miracle.

THE PHARAOH. What do you know of it?

HIGH PRIEST. I know.

THE PHARAOH. Is Satni dead?

HIGH PRIEST. He lives.

THE PHARAOH [suddenly guessing] You are hiding him!

HIGH PRIEST. Yes.

THE PHARAOH. You knew I was about to rid me of him, and you took him to prevent me?

HIGH PRIEST. Yes.

THE PHARAOH. What do you intend?

HIGH PRIEST. It shall be done with him as I wish, not as you wish.

THE PHARAOH. His crime is a crime against Egypt.

HIGH PRIEST. A crime against me. That is still more grave. Therefore be satisfied.

THE PHARAOH. Why then all these ceremonies before you kill him?

HIGH PRIEST. That all may know his faults.

THE PHARAOH. Satni was one of yours, and you defend him.

HIGH PRIEST. We must not make martyrs—if we can avoid it. In killing Satni you would have killed only a man. If what I dream succeed, I shall kill his work. That is a better thing.

THE PHARAOH. What will you make of him?

HIGH PRIEST. A priest.

THE PHARAOH. A priest?

HIGH PRIEST. He was initiated before he went away. He was then a young man, pious and wise. On his travels he lost some piety, and gained some wisdom.

THE PHARAOH. Have I not always said: "it is not good to travel."

HIGH PRIEST. I think like you. Travellers learn too much. Yet am I hopeful. I shall bring him back to our gods.

THE PHARAOH. You will fail.

HIGH PRIEST. He who for long has breathed the air of temples can never wholly clear his breast of it. If he give way, he shall never leave the house of the Gods again, if he be still rebellious, he shall leave to go to his death.

THE PHARAOH. I order you to give Satni up to me.

HIGH PRIEST. I would I might bow to your will. But he is a priest: his life is sacred. And I may not transgress the orders given me by the Gods.

THE PHARAOH. Prate not of these follies to me—do you take me for one of your priests? Obey! I command you!

HIGH PRIEST. Do you take me for one of your soldiers?

THE PHARAOH. I command it.

HIGH PRIEST. The gods forbid.

THE PHARAOH. I laugh at your gods.

HIGH PRIEST. Beware lest your people hear.

THE PHARAOH. I would be master, in truth. And more, I refuse to submit to the humiliation that again you put on me a while ago.

HIGH PRIEST. How should that humiliate you? Before you, the highest bow down.

THE PHARAOH. Yes. And straightway, then, I must bow me down before you.

HIGH PRIEST. You salute, not me, but the god whom I represent.

THE PHARAOH. I pay homage to the god, it is the priest who receives it.

HIGH PRIEST [faintly smiling] Rest assured! I pass it on to him.

THE PHARAOH. And you mock me, besides! Oh! if I but dared to kill you, hypocrite!

HIGH PRIEST. Vain man!

THE PHARAOH. You tremble at sight of a sword, coward!

HIGH PRIEST. Being a butcher, you know only how to kill.

THE PHARAOH. Liar!

HIGH PRIEST. Who made you Pharaoh?

THE PHARAOH. Beware lest one day I have you thrown to my lions!

HIGH PRIEST. Beware lest one day I strike the crown of the two Egypts from your head, telling the people the god has set his face against you! [A pause] Come, we must work together. We complete each other. To govern men, we have both the reality of the evils you inflict on them, and the hope of the good I promise them. Believe me, we must work together. The day that one of us disappears, the fate of the other will be in jeopardy—I perceive they make sign to me. They think our prayers are long and fervent. The hour is come for you to receive the acclamation of your people, and follow them to the shrine of Isis—when Satni will not prevent the miracle, I pledge my word to that.

The cortege comes on and goes out with Pharaoh. Satni is led before the High Priest.

HIGH PRIEST. You know me again!

SATNI [troubled] Yes, you are the High Priest.

HIGH PRIEST [with sweet gentleness] I, too, I know you again. Your father is a potter. You were brought up and taught by us. In the crowd of neophytes I singled you out by your gentleness, your great intelligence; and I saw you destined for the highest dignities. I esteemed you, I was fond of you. We took you from wretchedness. What you know, for the most part, you owe to us. This thing that you have done should anger me—I am only sad, my son. [A pause] You are troubled.

SATNI. Yes, I looked for threats, for torture. The kindness of your voice unmans me.

HIGH PRIEST. Be not distressed. Forget who I am. None hear us. Let us talk together as father and son. Or better, since your learning makes you worthy, as two men. You have proclaimed broadcast that the miracle will not come to pass.

SATNI. The goddess is stone. Stone does not move itself. The image will not bow its head unless man intervene.

HIGH PRIEST. That is evident.

SATNI. You admit it?

HIGH PRIEST. To you, yes. We give to each one the faith he deserves. Had you remained with us, at each step in the priesthood you would have beheld the gods rise with you, become more immaterial, more noble, as you became more learned. We give to the people the gods they can understand. Our god is different. He is the one who exists in essence. The one who lives in substance, the sole procreator who was not engendered, the father of the fathers, the mother of mothers. The one and only. And we crave his pardon for belittling him by miracles. But they are part of that faith which alone contents the simple-minded. You are above them—I admit freely that the miracle could be prevented. You declared it would not take place—you have found the means to make it impossible?

SATNI [suspecting the trap] I said that, left to herself, the goddess would not move.

HIGH PRIEST. To say only that, would not have served you. You intended to prevent the miracle. Come, admit it—it is so.

SATNI. Perhaps.

HIGH PRIEST. By seizing you, I prevent your committing the sacrilege. Your purpose will not be realized. In an hour the festival of the Prodigy will take place, and you are my prisoner. It follows then, the miracle will be performed—you believe that, do you not?

SATNI [after a pause] Yes, I believe it.

HIGH PRIEST. And so your cause is lost. [A pause] Listen to me; the priests who have taken their final vows are as wise and as little credulous as you. I offer you a place among them. Return to us. A little wisdom banishes the gods—great wisdom brings them back.

SATNI. I refuse.

HIGH PRIEST. My son, my son, you will not cause me this sorrow. Think what you will drive me to, if you refuse—Satni, do not force me to send you before the tribunal, whose sentence must be death. Death, for you, so young, whose future is so bright!

SATNI. I do not fear death.

HIGH PRIEST. Besides—I mind me—you were betrothed to that little Yaouma whom the god has chosen as victim. You know she may be saved from the sacrifice, if she become the wife of a priest. They guarded her but ill at Rheou's house, she is here. I have seen her; she is kind and gentle, and you would lead a happy life with her.

SATNI. Yaouma! Yaouma! [He hides his face]

HIGH PRIEST [laying a hand on his shoulder] So that on one side is Yaouma's death and yours; on the other, happiness with her—and power. Say nothing. I speak as a father might, you can see. I say besides, that you will better serve the crowd in leaving them their gods. I wish to convince you of it, and you will stay with us—weep no more. You will stay, will you not? Wait! Hear me, before you answer. You seek happiness for the lower orders? There is no happiness for them without religion. Already you have seen what they become, when it is taken from them. The riots of yesterday cost your father his life. He suffered much, they tell me. Is it true? I do not know the details. You saw him die, did you not? Tell me how it happened.

SATNI. Ah! I was right. It was in truth torture that awaited me here. You have guessed you would gain nothing racking my body—you keep your torments for my heart.

HIGH PRIEST. Have I said other than what is true? The conversions that your preaching made were followed by disorders—was it not then that your father was wounded? I knew him. He was a man, simple and good. You are the cause of his death, as you will be the cause of Yaouma's.

SATNI. Peace! You would have my sorrows crush my will!

HIGH PRIEST. I shall speak of them no more. But think of the people of Egypt, what evils you would bring on them! If you take away their religion, what will keep them virtuous?

SATNI. What you call their virtue, is only their submission.

HIGH PRIEST. You let loose their vilest instincts, if you remove the fear of the gods.

SATNI. The fear of the gods has prevented fewer crimes than were needed to create it.

HIGH PRIEST. Be it so. But it exists.

SATNI. It is your interest to spread the belief, that the fear of the gods is a restraint. And you know that it is not. You do not leave the punishment of crime to the gods. You have the lash, hard labor in the mines; you have scaffolds, you have executioners. No one believes sincerely in the happy life beyond the grave. If we believed, we should kill ourselves, the sooner to reach the Island of the Souls, the fields of Yalou.

HIGH PRIEST. By what then are the appetites restrained?

SATNI. By the laws, by the need of the esteem of others—

HIGH PRIEST. We have just seen that, in sooth. So then it was virtue that the people showed yesterday, after you made them break their gods? They seemed to care little for the esteem of others, for they stole, they pillaged, they killed. Do you approve of that? Have they gained your esteem, those who have done what they have done?

SATNI. Oh, I know! I know! That is your strongest argument. Creatures degraded by centuries of slavery, drunk with the first hours of freedom, commit crimes. You argue from this, that they were meant for slaves. Yes, it is true that if you take a child from the leading strings that upheld it, the child falls down. But you who watch over it, you rejoice at the fall, for then you can assert that the child must go back to its leading strings—and be kept in them till death.

HIGH PRIEST. Then you declare that all supports must be suppressed? [A pause] Religion is a prop. It soothes—consoles. He does evil who disturbs it.

SATNI. Many religions died before ours. The passing of each caused the sorrows you foresee. Should we then have kept the first, to prevent some suffering?

HIGH PRIEST. Ours is yet young, though so old; look in the halls of our temples, behold the countless thank-offerings brought there for prayers that were granted.

SATNI. Your temples could not hold the offerings, unthinkable in number, that those whose prayers were not granted might have made, and who none the less prayed as well as the others.

HIGH PRIEST. Even unanswered their prayers were recompensed. They had hope, and it is likewise a boon to the poor to promise them welfare in the world to come.

SATNI. You promise them welfare in the world to come, to make them forget that all the welfare in this world is yours.

HIGH PRIEST. Can you give happiness to all who are on earth? We are more generous than you; at least we give them consolation.

SATNI. You make them pay dear for it.

HIGH PRIEST. In truth the granaries of our temples are full to overflowing. Left to themselves, the people would not think of the lean years, in the years of abundance. We think for them, and they bring us, gladly, what they would refuse did they not believe they gave to the gods. We proclaim the Nile sacred; it is forbidden to sully its waters. Is that to honor it as a god? Not so, it is to avoid the plague. And all the animals we deified are those man has need of. You did not learn all things on your travels—

SATNI. You would have the peasant remain a child, because you fear the reckoning he would demand of you, if you let him grow up. You know you could not stay him then by showing him the god-jackal, the god-ram, the god-bull, and the rest that do not exist.

HIGH PRIEST. Are you certain they do not exist?

SATNI. Yes.

HIGH PRIEST. Know you where you are?

SATNI. In the temple.

HIGH PRIEST. In the temple; where you were brought up. There was a time when you dared not have crossed the first sacred enclosure. You are in the third. Look round! There is the holy of holies. At my will the stones that mask the entrance will roll back, and the goddess will be unveiled. Except the High Priest and the Pharaoh, no mortal, if he be not priest himself, may look on her and live—save at the hour of the annual Festival of Prodigies, which is upon us now. Do you believe that you can endure to be alone in her presence?

SATNI. I do believe it.

HIGH PRIEST. We shall see. If you be afraid, call and prostrate yourself. Afterwards you shall go and tell what you have seen, to those whom you deceived.

The High Priest makes a sign. Total darkness. A peal of thunder.

SATNI. Ah! [Terrified, he leaps forward. A faint light returns slowly, the temple is empty] I am alone! [He is terrified, standing erect against a pillar facing the audience] Alone in the temple, within sight of the goddess almost. I know 'tis but an image—yet am I steeped in terror, even to the marrow of my bones. [He utters an agonized cry] Ah!—I thought I beheld in the darkness—No—I know that there is nothing—Oh! coward nature! Because I was cradled amid tales of religion, because I grew up in the fear of the gods, because my father and my father's father, and all those from whom I come, were crushed by this terror even from the blackest night of time, I tremble, and my reason totters. All this is false, I know—the god obeys the priest. Yet, from these towering columns, horror and mystery descend upon me—[A thunder clap brings him to his knees. The stones that mask the entrance to the sanctuary roll slowly back. He tries to look] The holy of holies opens—I am afraid—I am afraid—[He mutters words, wipes the sweat from his brow with his hand. He trembles and falls sobbing to the ground. A long pause] 'Tis the beast in me that is afraid—Ah! coward flesh! [Biting his hands] I shall conquer thee—I would chastise my weakness. I am shamed—I am shamed—In spite of all I will look her in the face. I have the will! but I must fight against so many memories, against all the dead whose spirits stir in mine. I shall conquer the dead. My life, and my will—courage!

With great effort and after many struggles he gains the mastery of himself, goes to the shrine and looks upon the goddess. The High Priest reappears touching him on the shoulder.

HIGH PRIEST. Terror does not move you. Let us see if you be proof against pity. Come—[He leads him to the side of the shrine, presses a spring and a door opens, revealing in the interior of the shrine the machinery of the miracle, a lever and cordage] Look! 'Tis by pressing this lever that one of ours, in a little while, will bring about the miracle. I leave you in his place. At my signal the doors of the sacred enclosure will open, and the people draw near the sanctuary. Listen to them. And if you are moved to pity by their prayers, you—you shall give them the consoling lie for which they pray.

SATNI. There will be no miracle.

HIGH PRIEST. Watch and hear. [He leaves Satni, who remains visible to the audience. The stones roll back over the shrine. The High Priest makes a sign, other priests appear] All is ready?

A PRIEST. All.

HIGH PRIEST [to another] Listen.

He whispers to him. The Priest bows and goes out. While the crowd comes in later, this priest is seen to enter the hiding-place right, where he stands watching Satni, dagger in hand.

HIGH PRIEST. Now, let them come in.

He makes a gesture and all disappear. A pitiable crowd bursts into the temple, bustling, running, filling all the empty spaces. Four men carry a litter on which is a beautiful young woman clothed in precious stuffs. Mieris, Yaouma, and all the characters of the play come on.

YOUNG WOMAN. Nearer, lay me nearer the goddess! She will drive forth the evil spirit that will not let me move my legs.

Cripples, people on crutches, creatures with hands or feet wrapped in bandages crowd past her.

A BLIND GIRL [to him who leads her] When the stone rolls back and the goddess appears, watch well her face, to tell me if she will not give me back my sight.

A paralytic drags himself in on his hands.

THE PARALYTIC. I would be quite near, quite near! In a little while I shall walk.

Two sons lead in their mother, who is mad, striving to calm her. A mother, with her child in her arms, begs the crowd to let her get near. A man, whose head is bandaged, and whose eyes and mouth are mere holes, hustles his neighbors. Many blind, and people borne on chairs.

A WOMAN. She will speak, she will say "yes." She will reveal herself again as protectress of Egypt.

ANOTHER. They say not. They say that great calamities are in store for us.

ANOTHER. If she answer not?

ANOTHER. Silence!

Music. The Pharaoh's procession enters. He is conducted down left where he remains invisible to the spectators. The High Priest mounts his throne. The people prostrate themselves.

HIGH PRIEST. Ammon is great!

A pause.

THE PEOPLE. Ammon is great!

HIGH PRIEST. The sanctuary is about to open.

VOICES. The stones will roll back! I am afraid! The goddess will appear! We shall behold her! Hush! Hush!

The High Priest lifts his hands to heaven.

A PRIEST [in the recess, to some men ready to work the ropes, in a low voice] Now!

The men pull the ropes, the stones roll back. The crowd bow themselves flat on the ground. Those who cannot, hide their faces on their arms.

HIGH PRIEST. Rise! Behold and pray! [A smothered cry of terror rises, women mad with terror are seized with nervous fits. They are carried out] O goddess! Thy people adore thee, and humble themselves before thee!

ALL. Isis, we adore thee!

HIGH PRIEST. This year, once more, show to us by that miraculous sign of thy divine head, that still thou art our protectress. [The people repeat the incantation in a murmur] O goddess, if thou hast pity on those who suffer, thou wilt bend thy head. Pity! Pity! we suffer! The evil spirits torment us.

THE PEOPLE. We suffer! Drive forth the evil spirits!

HIGH PRIEST. Neith! Mother of the Universe! The evil spirits torment us! Neith! Virgin genetrix! Isis, sacred earth of Egypt, bend thy head! Sati, queen of the heavens! Bend thy head!

THE MOTHER. The soul of a dead man has entered the body of my child, O Isis! And he is dying. I hold him towards thee, Isis. Behold how he is fair, behold how he suffers. Look, he is so little. Let me keep him! Isis! Isis! Let me keep him!

ALL. Pity! Pity!

HIGH PRIEST. Show us that thou dost consent to hear us! Isis, bend thy head!

BLIND GIRL. Open my eyes! Ever since I was born a demon held them closed. Let me see the skies of whose splendor they tell me. I am unhappy, Isis! He whom I love, he who loves me, I have not looked upon his countenance! I am unhappy, Isis!

ALL. Pity! Pity!

HIGH PRIEST. Anouke! Soul of the Universe! Pity! We are before thee like little children who are lost.

THE PEOPLE. Yes! Yes! like little children who are lost!

THE SON. For my father who is blind, Isis, I implore thee!

ALL. Isis! Father! Pity!

HIGH PRIEST. Thmei, Queen of Justice! Mirror of truth! Bend thy head!

THE YOUNG PARALYTIC. I have offered up ten lambs to thee. Let me get up and walk!

THE MAN [with the bandaged head] An unseen monster devours my face making me howl with pain.

PARALYZED MAN. I drag through the mire, like a beast unclean. Let me walk upright like a god.

THE TWO SONS [of the mad woman] Behold our mother, Isis, behold our mother, who knows us no more, who knows not herself even, and who laughs!—

THE MOTHER. Isis! Thou art a mother. Isis, in the name of thine own child, save mine. Let me not go with empty arms, bereft of my tender burden. Thou art a mother, Isis!

HIGH PRIEST. All! All! Pray! Supplicate! Fling you with your faces to the ground—yes! yes! again! Silence! She is about to answer. [A long pause] Your prayers are lukewarm. Your supplications need fervor! Pray! Weep! Cry out! Cry out!

ALL. Isis! Drive out the evil spirits! Answer us! Answer us!

HIGH PRIEST. Louder! Louder!

THE PEOPLE. Sorrows! Tears! Sobs! Cries! Have pity!

HIGH PRIEST. Once more, though you die!

THE PEOPLE. Thou dost abandon Egypt! What ills will overwhelm us! Help! Help us! Have pity!

HIGH PRIEST. Have pity! Have pity! [bursting into sobs] Oh! unhappy people, Isis, if thou dost abandon them.

VOICES [amid the sobs of the others] She hears us not! She answers not. Evil is upon us! Evil overwhelms us!

HIGH PRIEST. Desperate! We are desperate!

ALL. We are desperate!

A CRY. Her head is bending! No! Yes!

Silence. Then a great cry of distress and disappointment.

HIGH PRIEST. O mother! O goddess!

THE MOTHER. O Isis! mother of Horus! the child god! Wilt thou let die my child? Behold him! Behold him!

YOUNG PARALYTIC. Thy heart is hard, O goddess!

PARALYZED MAN. Thou hast but to will it, Isis, and I walk!

THE MAN [with the bandaged head] Heal my sores! I sow horror around me! Heal my sores!

HIGH PRIEST. Answer us! Bend thy head!

ALL. Pity!

The crowd, delirious, cries and sobs in a paroxysm of despair.

SATNI. Oh! the poor wretched souls!

He presses the lever. As the head of the statue bows, the people respond with one wild roar of acclamation.

CURTAIN



ACT V

SCENE:—Same as Acts I and II.

The statues of the gods are set up again, in their places, facing them a throne has been erected on which the High Priest is seated. Rheou, Satni, Mieris, Yaouma, Sokiti, Nourm, Bitiou, the Steward and all the women and servants of the household, and the laborers. When the curtain rises all are prostrate with their faces to the ground.

HIGH PRIEST [after a pause] Rise! [All rise to their knees. A pause] The divine images are again in their places. You have shown that you repent. You have begged for pardon. You have testified your horror of the terrible crime you were driven to commit. You await your chastisement. The gods now permit that we proceed to the sacrifice, that will bring about the overflowing of the Nile, and give for yet another year, life to the land of Egypt. She who has chosen, the elect, the savior, is she here?

YAOUMA [rising to her feet, radiant] I am here!

HIGH PRIEST. Let her go to clothe her in the sacred robe. Form the procession to bear her to the threshold of the abode of the glorious and the immortal.

YAOUMA. Come!

A number of the women rise and go out right with Yaouma.

HIGH PRIEST. To-day, at the hour when Ammon-Ra came forth from the underworld, I entered the sanctuary. Face to face with the god, I heard his words, which now you shall hear from me. These are the commands of the God. Rheou! [Rheou stands up] You have been to make submission to the Pharaoh—Light of Ra—you have implored his mercy. You have sworn on the body of your father, to serve him faithfully, and you have given that body to him in pledge of your obedience. You have denounced to his anger and justice those who conceived the impious plot to dethrone the Lord of Egypt. You have declared that if you did permit the images of the gods to be thrown down before you, it was because the spells of Satni had clouded your reason. Ammon has proclaimed to me that you are sincere! You are pardoned, on conditions which I shall presently impart. [Rheou bows and kneels down] Satni! [Satni stands up. He casts down his eyes, he is steeped in sorrow and shame] Satni, you have admitted and proclaimed the power of the gods, whom you dared to deny. You have bowed you down before them. Once, in the temple, you took the first priestly vows; your life is therefore sacred. But you stand now reproved. This very day you will quit Egypt. Withdraw from the Gods! [Satni, with eyes on the ground, withdraws, the people shrink aside to let him pass, abusing him in whispers, shaking their fists, and some even striking him. He goes to the terrace down left where he stands, hiding his face on his arm] Ammon has spoken other words. [The people turn from Satni] All you who are here, you are guilty of the most odious, the most monstrous of crimes. You are all deserving of death. Such is the decree of the God.

ALL. O Ammon! Pity! Pity! Ammon!

HIGH PRIEST. Cease your sobs! Cease your cries! Cease your useless prayers! Hear the God who speaks through my mouth.

ALL. Be kind! Thou! Thou! Have pity! Beseech the God for us, we implore thee! We would not die. Not death! not death! not death!

HIGH PRIEST. Yes—I—I have pity on you. But your crime is so great! Have you considered well the enormity of your sin? None can remember to have seen the like. The Gods! To overthrow the Gods! And such Gods! Ammon and Thoueris! I would I might disarm their wrath. But what shall I offer them in your name that may equal your offence?

PEOPLE. All! Take all we possess, but spare our lives.

HIGH PRIEST. All you possess! 'Tis little enough.

PEOPLE. Take our crops.

HIGH PRIEST. And who then will feed you? Already you pay tithes. I will offer a fourth of your harvests for ten years. But 'tis little. Even did I say you would give half of all that is in your homes, should I succeed? And would you give it me?

PEOPLE. Yes! Yes!

HIGH PRIEST. Still it will not be enough. Hear what the God hath breathed to me. There must be prayers, ceaseless prayers in the temple. Every year ten of your daughters must enter the house of the God to be consecrated.

PEOPLE. Our daughters! Ammon! Our daughters!

HIGH PRIEST. The God is good! The God is good! Lo! I hear him pronounce the words of pardon. But further, you must needs assist the Pharaoh to carry out the divine commands. Ammon wills that the Ethiopian infidels be chastised. All who are of an age to fight will join the army, that is on the eve of departure.

PEOPLE [in consternation] Oh! the war! the war!

HIGH PRIEST. Proud Ethiopia threatens invasion to Egypt. You must defend your tombs, your homes, and your women. Would you become slaves of the blacks?

PEOPLE. No, no, we would not!

HIGH PRIEST. You will go to punish the foes of your kings?

PEOPLE. We will go.

HIGH PRIEST. And what will be your reward? Know you not that victory will be yours, because the god is with you. And if some fall in battle, should we not all envy their fate, since they leave this world to go towards Osiris. The arrows of your foes will fall harmless at your feet, like wounded birds. Their swords shall bend on your invulnerable bodies. The fire they light against you will become as perfumed water. All this you know to be true. You know that your gods protect you. You know they are all-powerful, because, yesterday, you all did see how the stone image of the goddess Isis did bow, to show you she protects you.

PEOPLE. To the war! To the war! To Ethiopia!

SATNI [leaping up to the terrace] I have been coward too long! [To the crowd] The miracle of yesterday—'twas I—'twas I who worked it.

General uproar.

HIGH PRIEST. I deliver this man to you, and I deliver you to him. You will not let him deceive you twice.

Execrations of the people, Satni cannot speak. The High Priest is borne out on his throne accompanied by Rheou.

SATNI [when the uproar subsides] I was in the temple—

PEOPLE. That is a lie!

SATNI. It was I who made the head of the image bow.

PEOPLE. He blasphemes. Have done! Have done! Let him not blaspheme!

SATNI. It was I! And I ask your forgiveness.

A MAN. Why should you do it, if you despise our gods?

SATNI. I did it out of pity.

PEOPLE. We have no need of your pity.

SATNI. That is true. You have need only of my courage. And I failed you. I was touched by your tears. I was weak, thinking to be kind.

A MAN. You are not kind. You would have handed us over to foreign gods.

PEOPLE. Yes! yes! that is true!

SATNI. I gave you the lie that you begged for. I wanted to lull your sorrows to sleep.

A MAN. You have brought down on us the anger of the gods.

ANOTHER. The evils that crush us, 'tis you have let them loose on us.

ALL. Yes, yes! Liar! Curse you! Let him be accursed!

SATNI. Curse me. You are right. I am guilty. I had not the strength to persevere; to lead you, in spite of your tears, to the summits I would lead you to. To still a few sobs, to give hope to some who were stricken, I worked the miracle; and, beholding that false miracle, you made submission. I have confirmed, I have strengthened the empire of the lie.

A MAN. 'Twas you who lied.

SATNI. I have given back your minds, for another age, to slavery and debasement. I have given back to the priests their power that was endangered. I have given them means to increase your burdens, to take your daughters, to send you to a war, covetous, murderous, and unjust.

A MAN. You are a spy from Ethiopia!

ANOTHER. You are a traitor to your country!

ALL. Yes! a traitor! Death to the traitor!

SATNI. And to defend your tyrants, you will kill men as wretched as yourselves, dupes like you, and like you enslaved.

A MAN. We know you are paid to betray Egypt!

ALL. Yes, we know it! We know the price of your treason!

ANOTHER. You would sell Egypt, and 'tis to weaken us you would overthrow our gods.

ALL. Traitor! Traitor!

SATNI. If I am a traitor, 'tis to my own cause! But a while ago I was proud of my deed, thinking I had sacrificed myself to you. Alas! I only sacrificed your future to my pity. I wept for you; to weep for misfortune—what is that but an easy escape from the duty of fighting its cause? I pitied you. Pity is but a weakness, a submission—To perpetuate the falsehood of the miracle, and the life of atonement to come is to drug misery to sleep.

A MAN. Misery!—can you give us anything to cure it?

They laugh.

SATNI. They have implanted in you, the belief that misery is immortal, invincible. By my falsehood, I too have seemed to admit this; and thus I have helped those, in whose interest it is that misery should last for ever.

A MAN. He insults the Pharaoh!

ANOTHER. Do not insult our priests!

SATNI. Had there been no miracle, you would have despaired—you would have sorrowed. I ought to have faced that. I ought to have faced the death of a few, to save the future of all. We go forward only by destroying. What matter blood and pain! Pain and blood—never a child is born without them! I would—

An angry outburst.

A WOMAN. Kill him! Kill him! He says we must put our children to death!

SATNI. All are glorious who preach new efforts—

PEOPLE. Death! Death to the traitor!

SATNI. All are infamous who preach resignation—

PEOPLE. Enough! Kill him! Death!

SATNI. It is in this world that the wretched must find their paradise, it is here that every one's good must be sought with a zeal that knows no limit, save respect for the good of others.

A burst of laughter.

PEOPLE. He is mad! He knows not what he says! He is mad!

Yaouma is borne on right on a litter carried by young girls. She is decked out like an idol; she stands erect, half in ecstasy.

PEOPLE. Yaouma! The chosen of Ammon-Ra! Glory to her who goes to save Egypt!

With jubilant cries the procession goes slowly towards the gates at the back, preceded and surrounded by musicians and dancers.

SATNI. Yaouma! Yaouma! One word! One look of farewell! Yaouma! 'Tis I, Satni! Look on me!

The acclamations drown his voice. Yaouma is wrapped in her soul's dream. She passes without hearing Satni's voice. The crowd follows her.

MIERIS [to Delethi who supports her] Lead me to Satni—go—[To Satni] Satni, your words have sunk deep in my heart—Yaouma, they tell me, did not hear your voice. She is lost in the joy of sacrifice. The need to make sacrifice is in us all. If the gods are not, to whom shall we sacrifice ourselves?

SATNI. To those who suffer.

MIERIS. To those who suffer.

During this Bitiou has come slowly down behind Satni.

BITIOU. Look! He too, he will fall down!

He plunges a dagger in Satni's back. Delethi draws Mieris away. Satni falls.

SATNI [raising himself slightly] It was you who struck me, Bitiou—[He looks long and sadly at him] I pity you with all my heart—with all my heart. [He dies]

Bitiou looks at the blood on the dagger, and flings it away in horror. Then he crouches down by Satni and begins to cry softly.

DELETHI [to Mieris] Mistress, come and pray!

MIERIS. No, I do not believe in gods in whose name men kill.

Outside are heard the trumpets and acclamations that accompany Yaouma to the Nile.

CURTAIN



THE RED ROBE

CHARACTERS

MOUZON VAGRET ETCHEPARE MONDOUBLEAU LA BOUZOLE BUNERAT ATTORNEY-GENERAL PRESIDENT OF ASSIZES DELORME ARDEUIL BRIDET POLICE SERGEANT RECORDER PLACAT DOORKEEPER YANETTA ETCHEPARE'S MOTHER MADAME VAGRET MADAME BUNERAT BERTHA CATIALENA

Time—The present.



ACT I

SCENE I:—A small reception-room in an old house at Mauleon.

The curtain rises, revealing Madame Vagret in evening dress; she is altering the position of the chairs to her own satisfaction. Enter Bertha, also in evening dress, a newspaper in her hand.

BERTHA. Here's the local paper, the Journal. I sent the Official Gazette to father; he has just come home from the Court. He's dressing.

MADAME VAGRET. Is the sitting over?

BERTHA. No, not yet.

MADAME VAGRET [taking the newspaper] Are they still discussing the case?

BERTHA. As usual.

MADAME VAGRET. One doesn't need to search long. There's a big head-line at the top of the page: "The Irissary Murder." They're attacking your father now! [She reads] "Monsieur Vagret, our District Attorney." [She continues to read to herself] And there are sub-headings too: "The murderer still at large." As if that was our fault! "Justice asleep!" Justice asleep indeed! How can they say such things when your father hasn't closed his eyes for a fortnight! Can they complain that he hasn't done his duty? Or that Monsieur Delorme, the examining magistrate, isn't doing his? He has made himself quite ill, poor man! Only the day before yesterday he had a tramp arrested because his movements were ever so little suspicious! So you see! No! I tell you these journalists are crazy!

BERTHA. It seems they are going to have an article in the Basque paper too.

MADAME VAGRET. The Eskual Herria!

BERTHA. So the chemist told me.

MADAME VAGRET. I don't care a sou for that. The Attorney-General doesn't read it.

BERTHA. On the contrary, father was saying the other day that the Attorney-General has translations sent him of every article dealing with the magistracy.

MADAME VAGRET. The Attorney-General has translations sent him! Oh well, never mind. Anyhow, let's change the subject! How many shall we be this evening? You've got the list?

BERTHA [She takes the list from the over-mantel] The President of Assizes—the President of the Court—

MADAME VAGRET. Yes. Yes, that's all right; nine in all, isn't it?

BERTHA. Nine.

MADAME VAGRET. Nine! To have nine people coming to dinner, and not to know the exact hour at which they'll arrive! That's what's so trying about these dinners we have to give at the end of a session—in honor of the President of Assizes. One dines when the Court rises. When the Court rises! Well, we'll await the good pleasure of these gentlemen! [She sighs] Well, child!

BERTHA. Mother?

MADAME VAGRET. Are you still anxious to marry a magistrate?

BERTHA [with conviction] I am not!

MADAME VAGRET. But you were two years ago!

BERTHA. I am not now!

MADAME VAGRET. Look at us! There's your father. Procurator of the Republic—Public Prosecutor—State Attorney; in a court of the third class, it's true, because he's not a wire-puller, because he hasn't played the political game. And yet he's a valuable man—no one can deny that. Since he's been District Attorney he has secured three sentences of penal servitude for life! And in a country like this, where crimes are so frightfully rare! That's pretty good, don't you think? Of course, I know he'll have had three acquittals in the session that ends to-day. Granted. But that was mere bad luck. And for protecting society as he does—what do they pay him? Have you any idea?

BERTHA. Yes, I know; you've often told me, mother.

MADAME VAGRET. And I'll tell you again. Counting the stoppages for the pension, he gets altogether, and for everything, three hundred and ninety-five francs and eighty-three centimes a month. And then we are obliged to give a dinner for nine persons in honor of the President of Assizes, a Councillor! Well, at all events, I suppose everything is ready? Let's see. My Revue des Deux Mondes—is it there? Yes. And my armchair—is that in the right place? [She sits in it] Yes. [As though receiving a guest] Pray be seated, Monsieur le President. I hope that's right. And Monsieur Dufour, who was an ordinary magistrate when your father was the same, when we were living at Castelnaudery, he's now President of the second class at Douai, and he was only at Brest before he was promoted!

BERTHA. Really!

MADAME VAGRET [searching for a book on the over-mantel] Look in the Year Book.

BERTHA. I'll take your word for it.

MADAME VAGRET. You may! The Judicial Year Book. I know it by heart!

BERTHA. But then father may be appointed Councillor any day now.

MADAME VAGRET. He's been waiting a long time for his appointment as Councillor.

BERTHA. But it's as good as settled now. He was promised the first vacancy, and Monsieur Lefevre has just died.

MADAME VAGRET. I hope to God you are right. If we fail this time, we're done for. We shall be left at Mauleon until he's pensioned off. What a misfortune it is that they can't put their hands on that wretched murderer! Such a beautiful crime too! We really had some reason for hoping for a death sentence this time! The first, remember!

BERTHA. Don't worry, motherkins. There's still a chance.

MADAME VAGRET. It's easy for you to talk. You see the newspapers are beginning to grumble. They reproach us, they say we are slack. My dear child, you don't realize—there 's a question of sending a detective down from Paris! It would be such a disgrace! And everything promised so well! You can't imagine how excited your father was when they waked him up to tell him that an old man of eighty-seven had been murdered in his district! He dressed himself in less than five minutes. He was very quiet about it. But he gripped my hands. "I think," he said, "I think we can count on my nomination this time!" [She sighs] And now everything is spoilt, and all through this ruffian who won't let them arrest him! [Another sigh] What's the time?

BERTHA. It has just struck six.

MADAME VAGRET. Write out the menus. Don't forget. You must write only their titles—his Honor the President of Assizes, his Honor the President of the High Court of Mauleon, and so forth. It's the preamble to the menu. Don't forget. Here is your father. Go and take a look round the kitchen and appear as if you were busy. [Bertha leaves the room. Vagret enters in evening dress]

SCENE II:—Vagret, Madame Vagret.

MADAME VAGRET. Hasn't the Court risen yet?

VAGRET. When I left my substitute was just getting up to ask for the adjournment.

MADAME VAGRET. Nothing new?

VAGRET. About the murder? Nothing.

MADAME VAGRET. But your Monsieur Delorme—the examining magistrate—is he really looking for the murderer?

VAGRET. He's doing what he can.

MADAME VAGRET. Well, if I were in his place, it seems to me—Oh, they ought to have women for examining magistrates! [Distractedly] Is there nothing in the Official Gazette?

VAGRET [dispirited and anxious] Yes.

MADAME VAGRET. And you never told me. Anything that affects us?

VAGRET. No. Nanteuil has been appointed Advocate-General.

MADAME VAGRET. Nanteuil?

VAGRET. Yes.

MADAME VAGRET. Oh, that's too bad! Why, he was only an assistant at Luneville when you were substitute there!

VAGRET. Yes. But he has a cousin who's a deputy. You can't compete with men like that. [A pause. Madame Vagret sits down and begins to cry]

MADAME VAGRET. We haven't a chance.

VAGRET. My dearest! Come, come, you are wrong there.

MADAME VAGRET [still tearful] My poor darling! I know very well it isn't your fault; you do your best. Your only failing is that you are too scrupulous, and I am not the one to reproach you for that. But what can you expect? It's no use talking; everybody gets ahead of us. Soon you'll be the oldest District Attorney in France.

VAGRET. Come, come! Where's the Year Book?

MADAME VAGRET [still in the same tone] It's there—the dates, the length of service. See further on, dear.

VAGRET [throwing the Year Book aside] Don't cry like that! Remember I'm chosen to succeed Lefevre.

MADAME VAGRET. I know that.

VAGRET. I'm on the list for promotion.

MADAME VAGRET. So is everybody.

VAGRET. And I have the Attorney-General's definite promise—and the presiding judge's too.

MADAME VAGRET. It's the deputy's promise you ought to have.

VAGRET. What?

MADAME VAGRET. Yes, the deputy's. Up to now you've waited for promotion to come to you. My dear, you've got to run after it! If you don't do as the others do, you'll simply get left behind.

VAGRET. I am still an honest man.

MADAME VAGRET. It is because you are an honest man that you ought to try to get a better appointment. If the able and independent magistrates allow the others to pass them by, what will become of the magistracy?

VAGRET. There's some truth in what you say.

MADAME VAGRET. If, while remaining scrupulously honest, you can better our position by getting a deputy to push you, you are to blame if you don't do so. After all, what do they ask you to do? Merely that you should support the Ministry.

VAGRET. I can do that honestly. Its opinions are my own.

MADAME VAGRET. Then you'd better make haste—for a ministry doesn't last long! To support the Ministry is to support the Government—that is, the State—that is, Society. It's to do your duty.

VAGRET. You are ambitious.

MADAME VAGRET. No, my dear—but we must think of the future. If you knew the trouble I have to make both ends meet! We ought to get Bertha married. And the boys will cost us more and more as time goes on. And in our position we are bound to incur certain useless expenses which we could very well do without; but we have to keep up appearances; we have to "keep up our position." We want Georges to enter the Polytechnique, and that'll cost a lot of money. And Henri, if he's going to study law—you'd be able to help him on all the better if you held a better position.

VAGRET [after a brief silence] I haven't told you everything.

MADAME VAGRET. What is it?

VAGRET [timidly] Cortan has been appointed Councillor at Amiens.

MADAME VAGRET [exasperated] Cortan! That idiot of a Cortan?

VAGRET. Yes.

MADAME VAGRET. This is too much!

VAGRET. What can you expect? The new Keeper of the Seals is in his department. You can't fight against that!

MADAME VAGRET. There's always something—Cortan! Won't she be making a show of herself—Madame Cortan—who spells "indictment" i-n-d-i-t-e? She'll be showing off her yellow hat! Don't you remember her famous yellow hat?

VAGRET. No.

MADAME VAGRET. It's her husband who ought to wear that color!

VAGRET. Rosa, that's unjust.

MADAME VAGRET [painfully excited] I know it—but it does me good!

Enter Catialena.

CATIALENA. Madame, where shall I put the parcel we took from the linen-closet this morning?

MADAME VAGRET. What parcel?

CATIALENA. The parcel—you know, Madame—when we were arranging the things in the linen-closet.

MADAME VAGRET [suddenly] Oh—yes, yes. Take it to my room.

CATIALENA. Where shall I put it there?

MADAME VAGRET. Oh well, put it down here. I will put it away myself.

CATIALENA. Very good, Madame. [She leaves the room]

MADAME VAGRET [snipping at the parcel and speaking to herself] It's no use stuffing it with moth-balls—it'll all be moth-eaten before ever you wear it.

VAGRET. What is it?

MADAME VAGRET [placing the parcel on the table and opening the wrapper] Look!

VAGRET. Ah, yes—my red robe—the one you bought for me—in advance—two years ago.

MADAME VAGRET. Yes. That time it was Gamard who was appointed instead of you.

VAGRET. What could you expect? Gamard had a deputy for his brother-in-law; there's no getting over that. The Ministry has to assure itself of a majority.

MADAME VAGRET. And to think that in spite of all my searching I haven't been able to discover so much as a municipal councillor among our relations!

VAGRET. Well—hide this thing. It torments me. [He returns the gown, which he had unfolded, to his wife] In any case I dare say it wouldn't fit me now.

MADAME VAGRET. Oh, they fit anybody, these things!

VAGRET. Let's see—[He takes off his coat]

MADAME VAGRET. And it means a thousand francs more a year!

VAGRET. It isn't faded. [At this moment Bertha enters. Vagret hides the red gown] What is it?

BERTHA. It's only me.

VAGRET. You startled me.

BERTHA [catching sight of the gown] You've been appointed! You've been appointed!

VAGRET. Do be quiet! Turn the key in the door!

BERTHA. Papa has been appointed!

MADAME VAGRET. Do as you're told! No, he hasn't been appointed.

VAGRET. It's really as good as new. [He slips it on]

MADAME VAGRET. Well, I should hope so! I took care to get the very best silk.

VAGRET. Ah, if I could only wear this on my back when I'm demanding the conviction of the Irissary murderer! Say what you like, the man who devised this costume was no fool! It's this sort of thing that impresses the jury. And the prisoner too! I've seen him unable to tear his eyes from the gown of the State Attorney! And you feel a stronger man when you wear it. It gives one a better presence, and one's gestures are more dignified: "Gentlemen of the court, gentlemen of the jury!" Couldn't I make an impressive indictment? "Gentlemen of the court, gentlemen of the jury! In the name of society, of which I am the avenging voice—in the name of the sacred interests of humanity—in the name of the eternal principles of morality—fortified by the consciousness of my duty and my right—I rise—[He repeats his gesture] I rise to demand the head of the wretched man who stands before you!"

MADAME VAGRET. How well you speak!

Vagret, with a shrug of the shoulders and a sigh, slowly and silently removes the gown and hands it to his wife.

VAGRET. Here—put it away.

MADAME VAGRET. There's the bell.

BERTHA. Yes.

MADAME VAGRET [to her daughter] Take it.

BERTHA. Yes, mother. [She makes a parcel of the gown and is about to leave the room]

MADAME VAGRET. Bertha!

BERTHA. Yes, mother!

MADAME VAGRET [tearfully] Put some more moth-balls in it—poor child!

Bertha goes out. Catialena enters.

SCENE III:—Vagret, Madame Vagret, Catialena.

CATIALENA [holding out an envelope] This has just come for you, sir. [She goes out again]

VAGRET. What's this? The Basque paper—the Eskual Herria—an article marked with blue pencil. [He reads] "Eskual herri guzia hamabartz egun huntan—" How's one to make head or tail of such a barbarian language!

MADAME VAGRET [reading over his shoulder] It's about you—

VAGRET. No!

MADAME VAGRET. Yes. There! "Vagret procuradoreak galdegin—" Wait a minute. [Calling through the further doorway] Catialena! Catialena!

VAGRET. What is it?

MADAME VAGRET. Catialena will translate it for us. [To Catialena, who has entered] Here, Catialena, just read this bit for us, will you?

CATIALENA. Why, yes, Madame. [She reads] "Eta gaitzegilia ozda oraino gakpoian Irrysaryko."

VAGRET. And what does that mean?

CATIALENA. That means—they haven't arrested the Irissary murderer yet.

VAGRET. We know that. And then?

CATIALENA. "Baginakien yadanik dona Mauleano tribunala yuye arin edo tzarrenda berechiazela." That means there are no magistrates at Mauleon except those they've got rid of from other places, and who don't know their business—empty heads they've got.

VAGRET. Thanks—that's enough.

MADAME VAGRET. No, no! Go on, Catialena!

CATIALENA. "Yaun hoyen Biribi—"

MADAME VAGRET. Biribi?

CATIALENA. Yes, Madame.

MADAME VAGRET. Well, what does Biribi mean in Basque?

CATIALENA. I don't know.

MADAME VAGRET. What? You don't know? You mean you don't want to say? Is it a bad word?

CATIALENA. Oh no, Madame, I should know it then.

VAGRET. Biribi—

BERTHA. Perhaps it's a nickname they give you.

MADAME VAGRET. Perhaps that's it. [A pause] Well?

CATIALENA. They're speaking of the master.

MADAME VAGRET [to her husband] I told you so. [To Catialena] Abusing him?

VAGRET. I tell you that's enough! [He snatches the paper from Catialena and puts it in his pocket] Go back to the kitchen. Hurry now—quicker than that!

CATIALENA. Well, sir, I swear I won't tell you the rest of it.

VAGRET. No one's asking you to. Be off.

CATIALENA. I knew the master would be angry. [She turns to go]

MADAME VAGRET. Catialena!

CATIALENA. Yes, Madame?

MADAME VAGRET. Really now, you don't know what Biribi means?

CATIALENA. No, Madame, I swear I don't.

MADAME VAGRET. That's all right. There's the bell—go and see who it is. [Catialena goes] I shall give that woman a week's notice, and no later than to-morrow.

VAGRET. But really—

CATIALENA [returning] If you please, sir, it's Monsieur Delorme.

MADAME VAGRET. Your examining magistrate?

VAGRET. Yes. He's come to give me his reply. [To Catialena] Show him in.

MADAME VAGRET. What reply?

VAGRET. He has come to return me his brief.

MADAME VAGRET. The brief?

VAGRET. Yes. I asked him to think it over until this evening.

MADAME VAGRET. He'll have to stay to dinner.

VAGRET. No. You know perfectly well his health—Here he is. Run away.

MADAME VAGRET [amiably, as she goes out] Good-evening, Monsieur Delorme.

DELORME. Madame!

SCENE IV:—Vagret, Delorme.

VAGRET. Well, my dear fellow, what is it?

DELORME. Well, it's no—positively no.

VAGRET. Why?

DELORME. I've told you. [A pause]

VAGRET. And the alibi of your accused?

DELORME. I've verified it.

VAGRET. Does it hold water?

DELORME. Incontestably.

VAGRET [dejectedly] Then you've set your man at liberty?

DELORME [regretfully] I simply had to.

VAGRET [the same] Obviously. [A pause] There is not a chance?

DELORME. No.

VAGRET. Well, then?

DELORME. Well, I beg you to give the brief to someone else.

VAGRET. Is that final?

DELORME. Yes. You see, my dear fellow, I'm too old to adapt myself to the customs of the day. I'm a magistrate of the old school, just as you are. I inherited from my father certain scruples which are no longer the fashion. These daily attacks in the press get on my nerves.

VAGRET. They would cease at the news of an arrest.

DELORME. Precisely. I should end by doing something foolish. Well, I have done something foolish already. I should not have arrested that man if I had not been badgered as I was.

VAGRET. He was a tramp. You gave him shelter for a few days. There's no great harm done there.

DELORME. All the same—

VAGRET. You let yourself be too easily discouraged. To-night or to-morrow something may turn up to put you on a new scent.

DELORME. Even then—Do you know what they are saying? They are saying that Maitre Placat, the Bordeaux advocate, is coming to defend the prisoner.

VAGRET. I don't see what he has to gain by that.

DELORME. He wants to come forward at the next election in our arrondissement—and he counts on attacking certain persons in his plea, so as to gain a little popularity.

VAGRET. How can that affect you?

DELORME. Why, he can be present at all the interrogations of the accused. The law allows it—and as he is ravenous for publicity, he would tell the newspapers just what he pleased, and if my proceedings didn't suit him, I'd be vilified in the papers day after day.

VAGRET. You are exaggerating.

DELORME. I'm not. Nowadays an examination takes place in the market-place or the editorial offices of the newspapers rather than in the magistrate's office.

VAGRET. That is true where notorious criminals are concerned. In reality the new law benefits them and them only—you know as well as I do that for the general run of accused persons—

DELORME. Seriously, I beg you to take the brief back.

VAGRET. Come! You can't imagine that Maitre Placat, who has a hundred cases to plead, can be present at all your interrogations. You know what usually happens. He'll send some little secretary—if he sends anyone.

DELORME. I beg you not to insist, my dear Vagret. My decision is irrevocable.

VAGRET. Then—

DELORME. Allow me to take my leave. I don't want to meet my colleagues who are dining with you.

VAGRET. Then I'll see you to-morrow. I'm sorry—

DELORME. Good-night.

He goes out. Madame Vagret at once enters by another door.

SCENE V:—Vagret, Madame Vagret, then Bertha, Bunerat, La Bouzole, Mouzon.

MADAME VAGRET. Well, I heard—he gave you back the brief.

VAGRET. Yes—his health—the newspapers—

MADAME VAGRET. And now?

VAGRET. Be careful. No one suspects anything yet.

MADAME VAGRET. Make your mind easy. [She listens] This time it is our guests.

BERTHA. [entering] Here they are.

MADAME VAGRET. To your work, Bertha! And for me the Revue des Deux Mondes.

They sit down. A pause.

BERTHA. They are a long time.

MADAME VAGRET. It's Madame Bunerat. Her manners always take time.

THE MANSERVANT. His Honor the President of the Court and Madame Bunerat.

MADAME VAGRET. How do you do, dear Madame Bunerat? [They exchange greetings]

THE MANSERVANT. His Honor Judge La Bouzole. His worship Judge Mouzon.

Salutations; the guests seat themselves.

MADAME VAGRET [to Madame Bunerat] Well, Madame, so another session's finished!

MADAME BUNERAT. Yes, at last!

MADAME VAGRET. Your husband, I imagine, is not sorry.

MADAME BUNERAT. Nor yours, I'm sure.

MADAME VAGRET. And the President of Assizes?

BUNERAT. He will be a little late. He wants to get away early to-morrow morning, and he has a mass of documents to sign. You must remember the Court has barely risen. When we saw that we should be sitting so late we sent for our evening clothes, and we changed while the jury was deliberating; then we put our robes on over them to pronounce sentence.

MADAME VAGRET. And the sentence was?

BUNERAT. An acquittal.

MADAME VAGRET. Again! Oh, the juries are crazy!

VAGRET. My dear, you express yourself just a little freely.

MADAME BUNERAT. Now, my dear Madame Vagret, you mustn't worry yourself.

She leads her up the stage.

BUNERAT [to Vagret] Yes, my dear colleague, an acquittal. That makes three this session.

MOUZON [a man of forty, whiskered and foppish] Three prisoners whom we have had to set at liberty because we couldn't hold them for other causes.

BUNERAT. A regular run on the black!

LA BOUZOLE [a man of seventy] My dear colleagues would prefer a run on the red.

BUNERAT. La Bouzole, you are a cynic! I do not understand how you can have the courage to joke on such a subject.

LA BOUZOLE. I shouldn't joke if your prisoners were condemned.

MOUZON. I'm not thinking of our prisoners—I'm thinking of ourselves. If you imagine we shall receive the congratulations of the Chancellery, you are mistaken.

BUNERAT. He doesn't care a straw if the Mauleon Court does earn a black mark in Paris.

LA BOUZOLE. You have said it, Bunerat; I don't care a straw! I have nothing more to look for. I shall be seventy years old next week, and I retire automatically. Nothing more to hope for; I have a right to judge matters according to my own conscience. I'm out of school! [He gives a little skip] Don't get your backs up—I've done—I see the Year Book over there; I'm going to look out the dates of the coming vacation for you. [He takes a seat to the left]

BUNERAT. Well, there it is. [To Vagret] The President of Assizes is furious.

MOUZON. It won't do him any good either.

VAGRET. And my substitute?

BUNERAT. You may well say "your substitute"!

MOUZON. It's all his fault. He pleaded extenuating circumstances. He!

BUNERAT. Where does the idiot hail from?

VAGRET. He's far from being an idiot, I assure you. He was secretary to the Conference in Paris; he is a doctor of laws and full of talent.

BUNERAT. Talent!

VAGRET. I assure you he has a real talent for speaking.

BUNERAT. So we observed.

VAGRET. He's a very distinguished young fellow.

BUNERAT [with emphasis] Well! When a man has such talent as that he becomes an advocate; he doesn't enter the magistracy.

MADAME VAGRET [to La Bouzole, who approaches her] So really, Monsieur La Bouzole, it seems it's the fault of the new substitute.

MADAME BUNERAT. Tell us all about it.

LA BOUZOLE. It was like this. [He turns towards the ladies and continues in a low tone. Bertha, who has entered the room, joins the group, of which Vagret also forms one]

MOUZON [to Bunerat] All this won't hasten our poor Vagret's nomination.

BUNERAT [smiling] The fact is he hasn't a chance at the present moment, poor chap!

MOUZON. Is it true that they were really seriously thinking of him when there is a certain other magistrate in the same court?

BUNERAT [with false modesty] I don't think I—Of whom are you speaking?

MOUZON. Of yourself, my dear President.

BUNERAT. They have indeed mentioned my name at the Ministry.

MOUZON. When you preside at Assizes the proceedings will be far more interesting than they are at present.

BUNERAT. Now how can you tell that, my dear Mouzon?

MOUZON. Because I have seen you preside over the Correctional Court. [He laughs]

BUNERAT. Why do you laugh?

MOUZON. I just remembered that witty remark of yours the other day.

BUNERAT [delighted] I don't recall it.

MOUZON. It really was very witty! [He laughs]

BUNERAT. What was it? Did I say anything witty? I don't remember.

MOUZON. Anything? A dozen things—a score. You were in form that day! What a figure he cut—the prisoner. You know, the fellow who was so badly dressed. Cock his name was.

BUNERAT. Ah, yes! When I said: "Cock, turn yourself on and let your confession trickle out!"

MOUZON [laughing] That was it! That was it! And the witness for the defence—that idiot. Didn't you make him look a fool? He couldn't finish his evidence, they laughed so when you said: "If you wish to conduct the case, only say so. Perhaps you'd like to take my place?"

BUNERAT. Ah, yes! Ladies, my good friend here reminds me of a rather amusing anecdote. The other day—it was in the Correctional Court—

THE MANSERVANT [announcing] Monsieur Gabriel Ardeuil.

SCENE VI:—The same, with Ardeuil.

ARDEUIL [to Madame Vagret] I hope you'll forgive me for coming so late. I was detained until now.

MADAME VAGRET. I will forgive you all the more readily since I'm told you have had such a success to-day as will make all the advocates of the district jealous of you.

Ardeuil is left to himself.

LA BOUZOLE [touching him on the shoulder] Young man—come, sit down by me—as a favor. Do you realize that it won't take many trials like to-day's to get you struck off the rolls?

ARDEUIL. I couldn't be struck off the rolls because—

LA BOUZOLE. Hang it all—a man does himself no good by appearing singular.

ARDEUIL. Singular! But you yourself—Well, the deliberations are secret, but for all that I know you stand for independence and goodness of heart in this Court.

LA BOUZOLE. Yes, I've permitted myself that luxury—lately.

ARDEUIL. Lately?

LA BOUZOLE. Yes, yes, my young friend, for some little time. Because for some little time I've been cured of the disease which turns so many honest fellows into bad magistrates. That disease is the fever of promotion. Look at those men there. If they weren't infected by this microbe, they would be just, kindly gentlemen, instead of cruel and servile magistrates.

ARDEUIL. You exaggerate, sir. The French magistracy is not—

LA BOUZOLE. It is not venal—that's the truth. Among our four thousand magistrates you might perhaps not find one—you hear me, not one—even among the poorest and most obscure—who would accept a money bribe in order to modify his judgment. That is the glory of our country's magistracy and its special virtue. But a great number of our magistrates are ready to be complaisant—even to give way—when it is a question of making themselves agreeable to an influential elector, or to the deputy, or to the minister who distributes appointments and favors. Universal suffrage is the god and the tyrant of the magistrate. So you are right—and I am not wrong.

ARDEUIL. Nothing can deprive us of our independence.

LA BOUZOLE. That is so. But, as Monsieur de Tocqueville once remarked, we can offer it up as a sacrifice.

ARDEUIL. You are a misanthrope. There are magistrates whom no promise of any kind—

LA BOUZOLE. Yes, there are. Those who are not needy or who have no ambitions. Yes, there are obscure persons who devote their whole lives to their professions and who never ask for anything for themselves. But you can take my word for it that they are the exceptions, and that our Court of Mauleon, which you yourself have seen, represents about the average of our judicial morality. I exaggerate, you think? Well! Let us suppose that in all France there are only fifty Courts like this. Suppose there are only twenty—suppose there is only one. It is still one too many! Why, my young friend, what sort of an idea have you got of the magistracy?