  The interior of a church in Nantes used as a prison. Great broken windows of stained glass, purple and crimson, through which streams the sunlight. Prisoners of both sexes and all ages and conditions of life move to and fro, or lean against the pillars which support the vaulted roof. Some rest or kneel upon the steps before the altar rail. Three children play beside a broken font. Against a door at the left of the great altar lounge several turnkeys dressed in blue woollen with red liberty caps. The Marquise sits beside a pillar. She talks with De Buc and Enguerrand La FÔret. Near her are Count Louis and Mlle. de ChÂteau-Gui. De L’Orient stands upon a bench beneath a shattered window. De Vardes sits at a rude table writing. A butterfly enters at the broken window and flutters through the church. A Child The butterfly! The butterfly! Mlle. de ChÂteau-Gui Oh, see Its painted wings! A Child There! There! Mlle. de ChÂteau-Gui It comes my way!—I’ve caught it!—No! I! I have it fast, the pretty prisoner! De L’Orient It will not stay— Count Louis It soars into the roof! No! down again on yon long ray of light!— Give chase! De L’Orient Here! Mlle. de ChÂteau-Gui There! The Actress Oh, oh! It sails this way, The fairy boat— De L’Orient With freight of heart’s desire! The Actress I have it! Count Louis No, I! [The butterfly lights upon his hand. ‘Tis youth! De L’Orient ‘Tis gone!— [The butterfly brushes his shoulder. ‘Tis joy! Fled!—Ah, ah!—‘Tis hope! [The butterfly touches her outstretched arm, then rises again. No longer! [The butterfly rests upon the fair hair of The Marquise. The Marquise As I was saying, then I felt despair— [The butterfly rises, flutters in a shaft of sunshine, then passes out of the window. The prisoners watch its flight. A Child The butterfly has gone! Mlle. de ChÂteau-Gui Whither! De L’Orient ‘Tis for The blue skies and the sunny fields! The Actress The flowers We shall not gather any more! De L’Orient High hills, The water running in the sun and shade! Mme. de Malestroit A garden old beside a winding stream— Oh, death in life! It was a soul set free. By now a thousand shining leagues it’s mounted! [The door at the left of the altar opens. Enter GrÉgoire. Mlle. de ChÂteau-Gui Here is GrÉgoire! GrÉgoire Good-morrow, Citoyens! Count Louis Good-morrow, Gaoler. Mlle. de ChÂteau-Gui Ah, this place, GrÉgoire! It is so triste! Shall we forever stay Imprisoned in a church? La FÔret Oh, gayer far The Bastille or Vincennes! The Actress These frowning saints! The wind that whistles in! Mme. de Malestroit The stones so cold! Count Louis The Church will make us martyrs ere our time! And did you buy, GrÉgoire, the cards for ombre? The Actress Masks for our play? De L’Orient A violin? The Actress Wax-lights? De Buc The foils? A Child My ball, GrÉgoire? GrÉgoire I’ve nothing bought— The judges sit to-day. Complain to them. The church is cold! ‘Tis not so cold as Loire! The prisons are too crowded! Well, to-day We’ll weed them out! De Buc So! GrÉgoire You are warned! Prepare! Make your farewells—the time is very short! [Exit GrÉgoire. De Buc Strike camp! The open road! Count Louis Who goes? La FÔret Who stays? Mlle. de ChÂteau-Gui Our comedy!—we cannot have it now! The Actress Oh, we will rearrange the parts! [De Vardes folds his letter and rises from the table. De Vardes We’ll play, Though all the world is sliding ‘neath our feet! De Buc The world’s a stage— The Nun De profundis clamavi Ad te Domine! Enter the AbbÉ Jean de Barbasan, pale, wounded, and with disordered dress. Mlle. de ChÂteau-Gui Monsieur l’AbbÉ! De Vardes Ah! De Barbasan, we feared for you! Morbleu! I am reprieved! Lambertye proved my friend! It seems that once I saved the villain’s life!— Pure accident!—stumbled on him in a ditch, Played the Samaritan!—so now I’m spared, Come forth like Daniel from the lions’ den, That Judgment Hall of theirs across the way! Lions! They are not lions, they are wolves, Hyenas, tigers, and baboons. Faugh! De Buc So! They are hungry yet? The AbbÉ Oh, they are portents! And portents are the folk that fill that hall! Not women they who sit aloft and knit; Not men, those scarecrow visages below; For robed judges, wolves at Lammas tide, And Nantes the winter forest for the pack!— But ah, the deer at bay, the little lambs!— The earth gives ‘neath their feet, they face the Loire! [A confused sound from the square without the window; voices, menacing and execrating, a cry, then silence. De Vardes One has not gained the Loire! The AbbÉ Ah, oftentimes, They fall before they reach the Judgment Hall! Both youth and age, fair women and brave men. Their blood cries to another judgment seat! From yonder window you may see it all! The Marquise We will not look! Count Louis Fie, fie, De Barbasan! There is a time for everything! Not now, Nor in this place is’t meet or debonair To speak of ravening wolves or stricken deer! To work, my friend! You find us much concerned About this play of MoliÈre’s! We give Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. The Marquise You’ll play Jourdain? BÉjart had promised us, but then he went. He’s not returned. The AbbÉ Nor will, I think. But, yes, I’ll take the part; I’ll speak in prose to you To whom I else would speak in poetry! The Marquise (with a curtesy) Monsieur Jourdain, your prose is ravishing!— I’m DorimÈne. De Buc And I Dorante! Mlle. de ChÂteau-Gui Lucille. Nicole! The Actress I am, Monsieur Jourdain, your wife! La FÔret Your son-in-law the Turk! De Vardes Behold, monsieur, Your fencing master! De L’Orient Your maÎtre de danse. Imagine, pray, you hear my violin: La, la—The minuet!—La, la, la! [He plays an imaginary violin. The prisoners hesitate, laugh, then begin to step a minuet. The children and the gaolers watch them. De Vardes does not dance. He leans against a pillar to the left. Enter a turnkey, CÉleste, AngÉlique, Nanon, and SÉraphine. SÉraphine (crossing herself) Eh! Eh! They dance!—Well, what a thing it is To be a noble born! CÉleste (jealously) We dance as well! SÉraphine Ay, the Carmagnole! AngÉlique ‘Tis a swifter dance! They are too gay of heart, these ci-devants! Let’s to the Judgment Hall, or to the Loire. CÉleste SÉraphine would come— SÉraphine Patience, Citoyennes, No haste! I’ve just a little word to speak Unto monseigneur there. CÉleste Monseigneur! SÉraphine Oh, The Citoyen Vardes! You know my tripping tongue. Nanon (to the turnkey) Where is that ci-devant men once did call La belle Marquise? The Turnkey ‘Tis she who dances there, Fair-haired and dressed in violet. Nanon Awhile I’ll watch her dance. CÉleste Their cheeks are pale. They smile. I would not smile if I were they. [Nanon, CÉleste, and AngÉlique watch the dancers. SÉraphine approaches De Vardes. SÉraphine (in a low voice) Monseigneur! De Vardes SÉraphine Robin, I believe? SÉraphine Saint Yves! Now just to think! Monseigneur knows my name!— Eh! Morbec was my home for many a year. When all is said and done, Home is just Home, Hut or chÂteau—and always the De Vardes Were lords of Morbec did they good or ill! Most like ‘twas ill—but they were proper men! And when they smiled we always said ‘twas day; And old men say—but it was long ago— A baron lived was named RenÉ the Good! Saint Gil! Monseigneur gave us back Lisette. Saint Maudez! ‘Tis a dangerous thing, but see! [She takes from her bosom a silken purse. Eh, monseigneur, ‘tis yours! Take it! Quick, quick, Before CÉleste—the baggage!—turns her head! [She thrusts the purse into his hand. De Vardes From whom? Look in it! You will see. ‘Tis gold. De Vardes Gold! SÉraphine And something more.—Here is AngÉlique! AngÉlique Aristocrat—That ring upon thy finger— SÉraphine Out! De Vardes Not yet, Citoyenne! AngÉlique Then afterwards! I’ll have it at the trenches or the Loire! [She rejoins CÉleste and Nanon. They watch the dancers. De L’Orient Nicole—Lucille—ClÉonte— SÉraphine My errand’s done— Look in the purse, monseigneur, look at once! De L’Orient La, la, la, la! De Vardes I have no need of gold. Look, monseigneur! De Vardes Again, from whom? SÉraphine A friend. De Vardes I have no friend in Nantes. Take back thy purse! SÉraphine It is not mine, the pretty, silken thing! I swore that I would leave it, so I will! And I was told to tell you, “Look within.” [Nanon approaches. Nanon In Nantes one is Suspect when one is seen Whispering in shadows with Aristocrats! SÉraphine Nothing I said you might not hear, Nanon! Come, come away! (To De Vardes as she turns from him.) Monseigneur, have a care! [SÉraphine, Nanon, CÉleste, and AngÉlique watch the dancers. A grating sound is heard without the door to the left of the altar. The turnkeys move aside, the door opens and discloses a passage lined with gaolers and soldiers. Enter GrÉgoire with three or four Patriots. They wear great boots, plumed hats, sashes of tricolour, sabres and pistols. De L’Orient La, la, la, la, la! The list for the day. [The dance ceases. CÉleste Now, now we’ll see the birds drop one by one! AngÉlique It is what I love! GrÉgoire (He descends the step from the choir) The list, Citoyens! You whom I name pass out at yonder door. Across the square the judges sit— De Buc Just so! Who leads? “I better love the heartsease at thy feet.” The peasant flower! Rememb’rest thou that day? ‘Twas Saint John’s Eve— De Vardes Would I remembered not! The Marquise The heartsease— De Vardes The heartsease withered. [A roar from the square. De L’Orient turns from the window. De L’Orient Ah! Count Louis What do you see? De L’Orient Too much! [A turnkey laughs. The Turnkey Carrier! Lalain! Oh, they judge quickly! Vive la RÉpublique! The Marquise It was a summer day when first we met, And now we part within a prison here, And never shall we see each other more! De Vardes Oh, briefer than the fairest summer day Soon, soon I’ll follow thee, and all of these! The reaper hath his sickle in the corn. He is a madman, but the field is God’s, And God will garner up the fallen ears, And in another life we two shall meet! The Marquise And wilt thou love me then? Ah, no! Ah, no! De Vardes Thou art a lady brave and fair— The Marquise Alas! GrÉgoire The Nun BenÔite, an Ursuline! [A nun rises from her knees, makes the sign of the cross, and passes out between the soldiers. The Marquise Ah me! The unknown land, just guessed at and no more, To which this loud wind sends my cockle boat!— Where are my beads? Lost, lost with all things else! Jewels and gold and friends and lovers too!— Ah, short my shrift with GrÉgoire glowering there. My hatred of Madame la MarÉchale, I’m sorry for’t. The Captal de Montgis Once did me wrong. Well, well, I can forgive!— Sieur de Morbec, where’s she that flung us down, Lifted her finger and behold us here! She was your mistress, yes? De Vardes No! The Marquise What then? De Vardes Cold that I warmed, and hunger that I fed. The Marquise O strike her, Frost! O Hunger, with her wed! De Vardes Ah, curse her not! She knew not what she did! The Marquise Alas! Alas! GrÉgoire The Citoyenne L’Esparre! The Marquise The women go—He’ll call my name! Ah, look! The purple saints within the windows there, See how they wave their palms and smile at me! They wave their palms, they strike their golden harps, Their aureoles are brighter than the sun! GrÉgoire The Citoyenne BlanchefÔret! The Marqui
ve! De Vardes There’s blood upon thy hand. Yvette Forgive! Alas! Thou didst betray! Yvette I would that I were dead In Paimpont Wood, beside the Druid Stone! De Vardes I would that I had never strayed that way! Yvette I won that paper in that purse of gold! And it was life, I tell thee, life for both! O God! how all things here miscarry! De Vardes I would that I had never seen thy face! Yvette Oh, much I hated her, la belle Marquise, And yester morn I did betray her there, Just in the moment God gave o’er my soul! And she is dead—I cannot bring her back. Oh, swift the madness passed and came remorse, And I did hate myself, and strove to save!— Oh, woe, and double woe! He promised me! Oh, I have striven with a fiend from hell And not prevailed, though sorely I did strive! O God! O God! I’m weary of the light! Now, now thou too wilt die unless—unless— Ah, let me go—Farewell, a little while! De Vardes Not till I know where thou dost go, and why. RÉmond Lalain gave me that paper. It was an order, written by himself, Whom even Carrier would not offend— A secret paper not for every eye. Reward he asked for certain services,— Two lives, your life and hers—and hers, I swear! He does not leave his villa all this day, But at the judgment bar you were to show That paper to Lambertye or Sarlat, And both were saved—both, both, I swear it, both! And now she’s dead—‘Twas life you flung away Shut in that purse! You gave it to GrÉgoire! GrÉgoire! He serves the Revolution, Is flint to all beside! Oh me! Oh me! I could not come myself, I could but send. I won it not till cockcrow of this morn! De Vardes Till cockcrow! Yvette The dawn came slowly on. The cock crew and I drew the curtain by And saw the morning star above the Loire! De Vardes The morning star! Yvette ‘Twas like the eye of God! I used to watch it from the fields at dawn; This morn ‘twas watching me! RÉmond Lalain! Yvette ‘Twas all in vain. She’s dead—ah, ages since! You’ll not forgive—So fare you well again! De Vardes Where goest thou, Yvette? Yvette To SÉraphine, Beneath the Lanterne, Sign of the Hour Glass! De Vardes Hear and obey! It is a dying man Speaks to thee now and with authority!— Thy seigneur too, and head of all thy house. When I am dead, the last of the De Vardes Will be thyself, my cousin!—All song doth say That Duchess Jeanne who lived so long ago, Whose pictured face and thine are counterparts, E’en to the shadowy hair, the cheek’s soft curve, The light of eye, the slow, enchanting smile,— All song doth say she had a bruisÈd heart, But in God’s sight a height of soul! So thou. Go thou to Morbec. Leave this Babylon. Back! from the travelled road thy foot’s upon! List not unto the music that is played; Touch not the scarlet flowers, the honey-sweet, They’ll poison thee! Think not the light is fair, It is false dawn. Take thou the darkling way Shall lead thee to white light and lasting bloom! Spin thou thy flax and listen to old tales, Peacefully,
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