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Princess of Bagdad

<h3>ACT III.</h3> <div class="blockquot">The same decorations as in the first Act. </div> <h4>Scene I.</h4> JOHN, GODLER, TRÉVELÉ. (Godler is sitting down, Trévelé standing. John is walking about in great agitation.) Godler. And then? John (sitting down). Then, just as I was going to start for my sister's house, and everybody thought me gone, for I had no wish to sleep in this house, suddenly I was seized with the idea of concealing myself, and following my wife if she went out, so as to convince myself, and if she deceived me to disgrace her publicly. This morning I saw her go out veiled, take a cab, and alight at that house in the Champs Elysées. It was very clear. I went to fetch a Commissary of Police, who lives close by that house. He hesitated at first, but the fear of a greater misfortune, of a crime that I was resolved to commit, decided him to go; and on the refusal of Mr. Nourvady to open the door, they forced it open. Trévelé. And the Countess was there? John. Yes. Trévelé. With Nourvady? John. Yes. Godler (after a little while). And you are convinced?... John. Her hair undone, her arms bare, her dress-body opened! And such effrontery! such impudence! (Rising, and putting his head in his hands.) I witnessed it, I witnessed it. That man has done all in his power to exonerate her, to save her. He has given his word of honour that there has never been anything between them. It was not through any gentlemanly feeling, for he who comes to your house, takes you warmly by the hand, and appropriates, steals, and buys your wife, such a one has nothing of the true gentleman in him. But I do not know why I mention that man! After all, it is not he who is guilty; he has done his work as a man, as we have all done, and as we all do. He has met a beautiful creature, coquettish, fond of luxury, ruined, heartless, destitute of womanly feeling; heedless of her good name, her husband, or her child; without the least gratitude, or the least remembrance, even, of all I have done for her. He has offered to buy her, and she has consented. He has paid her a million; that is dear;—for what is a woman who sells herself really worth? As to me, I paid her with my name, with my mother's death and curse, that is still dearer. My mother saw clearly: she is avenged. I have no right to complain. (He sits down weeping, his head in his hands.) Godler (much moved). My poor old friend! John. I beg your pardon. It is not to tell you all this that I have asked you to come here; but, after all, I have no one else now. Here am I, alone in the world. You are my friends—you have said so at least; and then again you did not come to my house to take her away, did you? Never mind, let us try to put my ideas a little in order. I do not know very well what I am about, you can understand that. However, you are convinced that I am an honest man? That is the reason I wanted to see you. You must tell me that you esteem me still. I may have been easily smitten, very stupid. I was so young then! Alas! I feel a hundred years old to-day. I may have been foolish to marry a creature unworthy of me; but you believe me, you know me incapable of all connivance with her; you feel certain that I have no hand in all this disgusting money affair? and when I have gone away, when I am dead, for it will certainly kill me in one way or another, you will take care to say, to affirm strongly, to swear to it even, that I was ignorant of the whole thing. I shall have lost my mother, my faith, my fortune, my life, for that woman; so be it, but at least I have preserved my honour! Godler. Rely on us, my dear friend, and understand that we think you the most upright man in the world; that we esteem you for your honourableness, and sympathise with you in your great misfortune. (Trévelé, on his part, takes John warmly by the hand.) Trévelé (aside). Poor fellow! John. Then, you understand why I have raised this scandal instead of provoking the man. If I had been killed, a suspicion would always have rested on me. Mr. Nourvady paid the debts of my wife; they would have said that I did not find this enough, that I had asked for more, that he had refused me, that then I had quarrelled with him, that he had killed me, and that he had done right. If, on the contrary, I had killed him, they would have said worse things still; that I had waited until he had paid all household debts and had given my wife a fortune (for she has a splendid mansion), a million for her own use; and having arranged all that, and after all these disgraceful artifices, I had killed this generous lover; and that this was my way of settling with my creditors, and setting up my establishment again. This is why I have acted in this way. I wanted to raise an unmistakable scandal, well-spread abroad, from which it would be reported that she is a wretch and I an honest man ... and besides, before doing anything else, I must pay back his money. Godler. According to the light in which you place the situation, I understand now what, with the habits of our set, I did not take in directly; from the point of view in which you place the thing, you have nothing else to do,—whatever may happen. John. What do you mean by whatever may happen? Godler. We never know! The human heart.... John. You believe me so weak, so much in love, and so base as to pardon this woman after what she has done! You know perfectly well that you despise me. It is my fault. My past weakness gives you the right to believe anything of me. Godler. I believe nothing, I suppose nothing, but the whole thing appears to me very obscure, and passion, perhaps, has made you see things that do not exist. All I know is, that yesterday, in this house, Nourvady, before leaving us, spoke a long while in a low tone to the Countess. I heard nothing, but Trévelé was relating all sorts of nonsense to me, and I was supposed to be listening to it.... Trévelé. Continue. Godler. I looked unperceived at the Countess de Hun. Not only did she not listen with interest to her interlocutor, but two or three times her attitude and looks were indicative of anger. She threw something violently out of this window. I do not know what—a note, a trinket, a ring perhaps; and when Nourvady took leave of her, she said,—The insolent fellow! (To Trévelé.) Is it true? Trévelé. It is quite true.... John. She changed her mind afterwards. Night brings counsel: and she is only all the more guilty, as she knew very well what she was doing. Do not speak of her any more, I shall have to think enough about it for the rest of my life, which fortunately will not be long. At present I am going away, as I have no money, and must go and look for some. Godler. My dear fellow!... John. You understand, without my telling you, that I ask you for none, and that I should accept none. I confide in you because you are the only persons that I can consider at all as friends in our station, where one has so few; and what you do not give me out of friendship, you give me in esteem and compassion. (Godler and Trévelé take him warmly by the hand.) Trévelé. But the Countess, where is she? John. She is, no doubt, in her house in the Champs Elysées. Trévelé. Then she will not come here? John. Yes, she can come here. The house is hers; she can live here as much as she likes. It is I who am not at home here, and who come only to make my last preparations for departure. Trévelé. And Raoul? Your son? John (with a bitter laugh). Are you quite sure that he is my son? Trévelé. Do not let your anger mislead you. John. In any case he is the son of that woman; I do not wish to see him any more. He can live with her, that she may bring him up in her new life. He will avenge me one day. When he is twenty years old he will insult her. Or something else may occur. The tribunal which will pronounce our separation will order that the child shall be sent to college, or to boarding school, from which his mother will have no power to take him. Trévelé. At his age! He will be very unhappy. John. All the better for him. He will suffer at an earlier age—he will understand more easily. A Servant (entering). Mr. Richard. John (aside). It is not I who sent for him? Does he know anything? Godler. Would you like us to leave you? John. No. I have nothing to say that you may not hear.... unless you have something else to do. Trévelé. No, nothing. (To Godler.) Nor you, have you? Godler. I—no, nothing. (To Trévelé, combing his whiskers and pulling forward his lock of hair.) Florimonde is waiting for me. Trévelé. She is waiting for you with some one else. Be at ease, she will not be weary waiting for you. <h4>Scene II.</h4> THE SAME PERSONS, RICHARD. Richard (in a low voice to John). I know all, Count. John (aloud). These gentlemen also.... Richard (bowing). Your servant, gentlemen! (To John.) I have received a note from the Countess, who begged me to go at once to the Commissary of Police and take a copy of the accusation, as the lawyer watching her interest, in the law proceedings which will take place. She has appointed an interview. John. In what place? Richard. Here. She knew very well that I would not go anywhere else. John. Then she is here? Richard. Yes. John. Have you seen her? Richard. No; but the footman told me, and he is gone to inform her. I wanted to see you in the meantime. John. And people already know it? Richard. Nothing; nothing at all. The Commissary has forbidden all communication with the newspapers, and it is neither you, nor Mr. Nourvady, nor we—is it not so, gentlemen? who would reveal the least circumstance in that sad affair. The servants of the house in the Champs Elysées know what took place, but they are ignorant of the name of the lady. The scandal will be great enough at the time of the law proceedings. It is useless to initiate the public beforehand. John. Ah! Well, you can see the affair is very simple. The Countess and I were separated, or had a separation of property; now we have a separation of the body, and we shall see each other no more; that is the whole of it. The Lady's Maid (entering). The Countess de Hun sends me to say to Mr. Richard, that when he has finished speaking to the Count she will be glad to see him.... John (to the Lady's Maid). Say to the Countess that Mr. Richard will be with her in a few minutes. (The Lady's Maid goes away.) Ah! she has audacity. When a woman has once taken up the part of infamy and dishonour it is dreadful. (To Richard.) Tell her especially that she has nothing to fear, nothing to hope from me, of whom she will hear nothing more till we meet before the tribunal that will try our case. Good bye, my dear Mr. Richard; you are her lawyer and her friend; you ought, naturally and legally, to act in her cause. I shall think no less of you for all you will be called upon to say against me. Gentlemen, we can retire; give me a few minutes more. (All three go away.) <h4>Scene III.</h4> RICHARD, afterwards LIONNETTE. Richard is about to take up his hat. At the moment that he is thinking of entering Lionnette's apartment, she appears. Lionnette. I prefer to receive you here, my dear Mr. Richard, as we shall be left alone and uninterrupted. My room, and my private reception-room, are in disorder; they are packing my trunks—the servants are there, and we could not talk privately. The reason I called you just now was, that the Count might be aware that I was here, and that I was in a hurry to see you. Have you been kind enough to do what I asked you? Richard. Yes. Lionnette. Then I have nothing more to tell you? Richard. No. All that is then quite true? Lionnette. Nothing on earth can be truer. Richard. Notwithstanding yesterday? Lionnette. Events have progressed, and I preferred to have done with it at once. I was right. I am calmer now than I have ever been in my life. I know at last what I want, and where I am going. It is a great deal, whatever one may make of it. I have struggled hard against it, but it seems that I am doomed to end in being a courtesan. Truly, I do not feel any inclination that way. Frivolous, extravagant, but never depraved. However, they willed it; it was inevitable; it was ordained; it was hereditary. My dear Mr. Richard, I have to ask you for some information, because I am still a little inexperienced in my new profession; but from the moment one begins to do those things, they must be done openly, is it not so? Ah! well, here are the title-deeds of some property I have acquired. Richard. Dearly? Lionnette. Yes, very dearly. Richard. And the price is paid? Lionnette. It is paid. Richard. Is it true? Lionnette. Paid or not paid, here are the title-deeds. (Putting them on the table, and beginning to totter.) Then I possess, too, over and above all my paid debts—for they are paid—I am possessor, also, of a million in gold, quite new: it is superb to look at. Richard. Sit down, you look as if you were going to fall. You are quite pale; the blood has rushed to your heart. Lionnette (with a great effort). Do not be afraid, I am quite strong. I cannot eternally keep a million in gold ... however beautiful it may be ... it is an incumbrance, and then it might be stolen from me ... and money ... is everything in this world! Without reckoning that in cash this million will yield nothing ... and I want it to produce something.... I should like, then, to place it out in the best way possible. You must place it for me in safety, where it cannot be touched, like the little income that remains to the Count; so that I, too, may not want bread in my old age. I am such a spendthrift. I count entirely on you for that. Richard. And where is this million? Lionnette. It is over there, in my house, the house that I ... bought—in a coffer that I have even forgotten to shut; that is to say ... there are pieces of gold lying in all directions ... on the table ... on the carpet. The Commissary of Police opened his eyes!... If the footmen have taken some, say nothing about it.... I am rich ... for there is also in a cabinet a will of Mr. Nourvady, who, in the event of his death, leaves me all his fortune: forty millions. That is worth something! But death is like everything else in this world, it must not too surely be reckoned on. Richard (aside.) Poor creature! Lionnette. You already have my power of attorney, from the time that my affairs got into confusion. It will enable you to take possession of my house and of my capital during my absence. There ought also to be some jewels, a great many jewels, in the drawers; I have not the least idea which, however; I have never opened them—I have not even thought of them! You will deposit them all in your house I do not want them in travelling ... and then, I shall have plenty of others given to me—now; I shall have all I can wish for given to me. Richard. And you are going away with Mr. Nourvady? Lionnette. We start this very day. Richard. It is positively arranged? Lionnette. I think so; I have not seen him again, but I want absolutely to start to-day. Richard. And where will you meet? Lionnette. I suppose they will come for me here. Richard. Quite openly? Lionnette. Quite openly; at least, if they have not already had enough of me ... that may happen ... anything may come to pass.... That would be strange. Richard. Do you love Mr. Nourvady, then? Lionnette (hoping to deceive Richard). Madly, and for a long time past. I struggled against it. And then, candidly, in the position in which I was, it was the only thing to do. Richard. And your husband? Lionnette (sincere). Oh! he! that is another thing; I hate him ... oh, yes! I hate him well ... without doubt.... Richard. And your child? Lionnette. I see at what you are aiming, my dear Mr. Richard ... you want to touch my tender feelings. Feel my hands, they are cold; listen to my voice, it does not tremble; if you put your hand on my heart, you would feel that I have not one pulsation more than ordinarily. You still hope there is some remedy for what has happened ... there is none ... there can never be any. If there were any I should reject it. Would you like me to open my heart to you? I merit what has happened. I often condemned my mother, because the guilty always accuse some one else of the faults that they commit; but I am no better than she was. There is too great a mixture in me, and I should be foolish to attempt to discover what I am. I am simply and logically what I was destined to be. I shall not be the first woman who was proud of her disgrace, especially in these times; and what difference will that make to the world? I ought to have been economical or ugly! These two men who hate each other, and are equally resolved to be the ruin of me, are yet better than I, for they love, though one suffers and the other desires; whereas I desire nothing more, I can suffer no more, and this disclosure of affairs will appear quite natural to those who knew me. It is horrible; it is monstrous ... it is all that, and I tell it to you because I have no one now to deceive, thank God! And, apart from that, I am going into vice that I like no better than anything else, as I entered into marriage and motherhood, without considering why. I have no heart! no heart! that is at the bottom of it all. A creature of luxury and pleasure. You ask me, then, why I do not kill myself—why I do not put an end to myself—that is the word? That would be done more quickly, and would simplify everything. Yesterday I was ready to die to avoid dishonour. To-day, what good would it do? I am dishonoured. What do you want me to destroy in myself? Nothing has any more life in me, and it seems that I can still bestow pleasure, love—happiness may be. You say to yourself that all that is impossible, because you call to mind your mother, your wife, your children. Yes, there are, indeed, mothers, wives, children ... and, again, there are some beings who have the same forms, and bear the same names, but who are not in any degree the same thing. What do you want still to know? Richard. I do not dispute; only embrace your child for the last time. Lionnette. Why disturb him? he is playing no doubt. Richard. I am going to look for him. Lionnette. No, I beg of you. (Richard walks towards the room.) I do not wish it. (The Footman appears.) The Footman. Mr. Nourvady would like to know if the Countess de Hun can receive him. Lionnette (in a natural tone.) Certainly! (To Richard.) Good bye, my dear Mr. Richard ... I will write if I have any instructions to give you. My kind regards to your wife ... if she knows nothing yet. Richard. Do not remain long here, that will be more prudent. Lionnette. I am going away directly. (The Footman lets Nourvady pass, and goes away.) Nourvady. You excuse me, Madam? Lionnette. For what? Nourvady. For coming here to look for you. Lionnette. Wherever I may be, have you not the right to come there; I was waiting for you. I said so, a moment ago, to Mr. Richard, who knows all. Richard. Good-bye, Countess. Lionnette (giving him her hand with an involuntary and visible emotion). Adieu, my dear Richard. Richard (bowing coldly to Nourvady). Sir.... (He goes away.) <h4>Scene IV.</h4> LIONNETTE, NOURVADY, afterwards RAOUL. Lionnette. You appear quite distressed. Nourvady. It is on your account. Lionnette. I thought nothing ever troubled you! It is the scene of this morning that has unnerved you. Nourvady. In the first place.... Lionnette. The fact is that you were hurt at the way in which the Commissary entered; and your millions were powerless. As to me, I am quite myself again. You love me still? Nourvady. You ask me that? Lionnette. One never knows. The heart is so changeable. You see, this morning I did not love you; it is not five o'clock, and I love you. (She rings twice violently.) Nourvady. You are feverish; you, too.... Lionnette. That will go off.... (To the Lady's Maid, who has entered) Bring me my things to go out. Nourvady. Is your husband in this house? Lionnette. Yes. Nourvady. Have you seen him? Lionnette. No. Nourvady. It is, nevertheless, to see you, that he has come back here. Lionnette. No more than that I came here to meet him. We were living here; we are both going away, each his own way. We come to get what we want. It is evident that he and I would very much prefer, at this moment, to be somewhere else. It is you who ought not to be here; but, since this morning, it is strange we are all in places where we ought not to be. (To the Lady's Maid, who comes back.) That will do; put them down there. (The maid, puts down a hat, gloves, and a travelling cloak, and goes away.) Nourvady. I went back to your house, hoping to find you there. You had gone away. I supposed you were here. The servant who announced me, and who, evidently, knows nothing of all that has happened.... Lionnette. No one knows anything about it except the parties interested. Nourvady. The servant asked me if he were to announce me to the Count or Countess de Hun. It was in that way that I knew that your husband was here at the same time as you. I had a strong inclination to say to the man: Announce me to your master. Lionnette. What could you have to say to him now? Nourvady. He came to look for you in my house: I come to look for you in his. You are a woman; you do not understand certain insults. Lionnette. Do you think so? Nourvady. That man forced my door; he even broke it. He insulted you before me, who love you. Lionnette. You must remember he loves me too: that is his excuse. Nourvady. You defend him. Lionnette (while putting on her hat, mantle, and gloves). Ah! heaven help me, no! Well, what would you have said to him if they had announced you to him as you said, and he had received you? But I doubt if he would have received you after what is passed. Nourvady. If he had refused to receive me, I should have burst open his door in my turn, and.... Lionnette. Ah! I forbid you absolutely to provoke him at present.... If I were a widow through you ... or if he killed you, you would not be able to marry me ... and if, one day, we could legitimize the false position we are going to hold, I should be very glad of it. Let us trust to Providence, as my mother used to say. Apart from all that, I am ready.... Let us start!... (At the moment that she turns round to go out Raoul enters, and throws himself into her arms to kiss her.) Raoul. Mamma! Lionnette (surprised and agitated). Ah! it is you. You frightened me! Raoul. Kiss me. Lionnette (kissing him coldly). You think then of embracing me to-day. (With a sigh) It is rather late. Raoul. Where are you going? Lionnette. I am going out. Raoul. When are you coming back? Lionnette. I don't know. Raoul. To-day? Lionnette. To-day. Raoul. Take me with you. Lionnette. It is impossible. Raoul. Why? It is such fine weather. Lionnette. I am going too far. I shall send you some toys, you may be sure. Raoul. I like better going with you. Lionnette. Impossible, I tell you. Go now; let me pass. Raoul. No! Lionnette. You must, my child. Nourvady (very agitated and very impatient during this scene, walks from right to left to see if any one is coming.) Some one is coming. Lionnette (a little more harshly). Now, now, let me go. Raoul. No. (He puts himself in front of his mother.) Nourvady (taking the child by the arm, and throwing him far from him). Leave us alone, then! (The child totters, falls, and remains motionless. Lionnette stops, looks with stupor on what has passed, recoils, covers her face with her hands, utters a piercing cry, and rushes at Nourvady, whom she seizes by the throat as if to strangle him.) Lionnette. Miserable wretch! <div class="blockquot">Nourvady (whom she has struck on the shoulder, who feels himself getting exhausted, but who will not defend himself, with a feeble voice). </div> You are hurting me. Lionnette (releasing him). Go away; go away! I shall strangle you. I shall kill you. My child! My child! (She utters several cries, and throws herself in despair upon the child.) Richard (who has entered during this scene, to Nourvady). Go away, sir, go away, in the name of heaven! Enough of such misfortunes, without that. (He makes Nourvady go away.) Raoul (half raising himself up). There is nothing the matter ... Mamma.... Nothing, I assure you. (Lionnette on her knees, with Raoul's head on her breast, kissing him with rapture, sobbing without power to stop herself). Richard (near her). Saved! You are saved! Lionnette (with sobs, tremulously accentuating every word). Yes, yes, yes, saved! (To Richard.) Ah! I was mad.... I was mad.... But when that man laid his hand on my child, it is awful what took possession of me! I do not know how it was I did not kill him. What is the use of a man struggling with a mother? For I am a mother. I am.... Oh! I felt it truly, from my heart, that that could never be. Richard, you guessed rightly; yes. Right-minded people guess rightly!... They want my father's letters; very well, they shall have them. You shall sell everything; you shall pay—you must give that man back his money;—there will be an end to it all. Go, and find my husband. (Richard goes away.) I want to see him before I die, for I am going to die, I feel it. (She lets her head fall upon the couch, and half loses consciousness.) Raoul (jumping upon the couch, taking his mother's head in his arms, and kissing it.) Mamma, mamma, mamma ... do not die, I beseech you. Lionnette (recovering consciousness). No, no, I shall live, for I love you!... (She covers him with kisses, and does not see John, who enters with Richard, who is showing him the scene. John starts back, comprehending nothing yet. Godler and Trévelé look on and rejoin John, who cannot take his eyes off the picture of the mother and her child. Richard touches Lionnette's shoulder, who turns round and sees John.) <h4>Scene V.</h4> LIONNETTE, JOHN, RAOUL, RICHARD, GODLER, TRÉVELÉ. Lionnette to John (running to him and falling on her knees). Do not leave me any more. I will explain all to you. I understand, I see it all clearly now! I am innocent, I swear to you! I swear to you! I swear to you! We will live modestly in some quiet place, wherever you like. What difference does that make now that my child has awakened my soul in me? (She throws herself again on her son's neck). John (in the hands of Godler and Trévelé). My friends, my friends, I am losing my senses! Godler. You can, indeed, boast of having a true woman as a wife! Trévelé (touching him). Go and kneel at her feet. (Lionnette is sitting on the couch, supporting her son's head on her knees, and her head thrown back, in an attitude of weariness and contentment. John throws himself on his knees before her, and kisses the hand she has free. She holds out the other to Richard.) Lionnette (to Richard). It was just in time. Richard. Yes, the cry of a child! that is sufficient. When all is nearly lost, God's way is all-powerful. John. I believe in you, and I love you. Lionnette (with a long sigh of joy). Ah! how happy I am! Godler (wiping his eyes). How foolish I am, at my age! Trévelé (to Godler, wiping his eyes, and trying to conceal his emotion). Bring forward your lock of hair. Chateau de Salneuve, September, 1880. FINIS. <hr class="full" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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