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THE BROKEN STATUE 
 
 de FONTANGE. 
 A DRAMATIC DAY 
 
 BY 
 
 HAROLD W. GAMMANS, AB. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF LANGUAGES, SHENANDOAH COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE 
 DAYTON, VIRGINIA. 
 
 DAYTON, VIRGINIA, U. S. A. 
 
 RUEBUSH-ELKINS CO.. PUBLISHERS, 
 
 1909 
 
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 a**,*/ ^ m* 
 
 .AsB? 
 
 Copyright, 1909 
 
 BY 
 
 HAROLD W. GAMMANS, 
 December First. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 €>CI,D 17610 
 
 >■ 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 One rainy afternoon, when I was in my 
 fourteenth year, I was reading an old volume 
 of Leslie's Weekly, and I came across an ar- 
 ticle on the cyclonic career of the Duchess de 
 Fontange. Its tragic facts stirred me to 
 action. I went to the library to get what 
 further material I could on her life. After I 
 had read the few volumes obtainable, I wrote 
 two pedantic scenes, which amused some of 
 my friends so much that I decided to start 
 over again the preparatory work of my drama. 
 This time I thought that I must learn how the 
 stage people of the Louis XIV period talked. 
 So I read a few dramas by Moliere, Racine, 
 Corveille. I read Shakespeare, also, at this 
 time. These master minds did not discourage 
 me, and, with childish confidence, I retained 
 the idea that I would produce a real drama 
 before long. 
 
 Eleven years have gone. I have hoped; I 
 have persevered; I have learned. What have 
 I now to offer in this dramatic day which 
 came to me in rough sort of rhythm ? A good 
 effort, I hope, done in the right spirit. If 
 any line is worthy, then a power, which I 
 would should direct me, spoke. 
 
 Dayton, Virginia, November, 1909. 
 
"Love is whole 
 And true; if sure of naught beside, most sure 
 Of its own truth at last; nor may endure 
 A crowd to see its face, that cannot know 
 How hot the pulses throb its heart below." 
 
 Browning: Sordello. I. 730. 
 
\ 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Marie Angelique de Fontange, Duchess, a loving 
 
 woman of eighteen years. 
 Sister Felice. 
 Sister Laura. 
 
 Sister Celeste, once la Valiere, mistress of Louis XIV 
 Novice Helen. 
 Father Ambrose. 
 Louis XIV. 
 
 SCENE : A Convent near 'Paris. 
 
ACT FIRST. 
 
 SCENE I. — A chamber in a Convent near Paris, 
 TIME :—The Latter part of the reign of Louis XIV. 
 
 Father Ambrose and Marie Angelique de 
 fontange. 
 
 Ambrose. Dost thou not crave forgiveness 
 now, my child ? 
 
 Dost thou not seek the loving intercession 
 
 Of the sweet Mother of Our Sacred Lord ? 
 
 Was not the cross He bore, the thorny 
 crown, 
 
 Enough to make thee trust in his great love ? 
 
 Thou dost not feel that He will hear thy voice. 
 
 We are all too unworthy to pray to Him. 
 
 Blest Mary will intercede for thee, but ask, — 
 
 One prayer, and only give thyself to the 
 prayer, 
 
 Mary will pity thee, and ask her Lord 
 
 That thy soul may be saved. 
 Marie. Shall I be saved 
 
8 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act I 
 
 If I surrender all, and sink myself 
 In prayer ? But how can I surrender ? 
 There is nothing in myself which is my 
 
 own. 
 Love came to me, and I gave all to love; 
 Or love, Promethus-like, filched my heart, 
 My soul, my spirit, all I was, it grasped; 
 And it doth own me. Do you know my 
 
 king ? 
 Louis, the great noble soul of the whole 
 
 world ? 
 Oh ! do you know him ? Then I say I love 
 
 him; 
 And it was he who made the bud of love 
 Burst the first moment that he looked on it 
 With friendly eye. Oh ! happy flower ? 
 Its bloom was all I could desire, Could I 
 Withhold from it one drop out of my life ? 
 No; it called my whole self unto it, 
 And I flowed to feed it, till it alone 
 Remained. It is my life, my eternity. 
 I cannot believe in anything beside, 
 No other word but his can I receive. 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 9 
 
 Am. Sister, the blood-stained road to Calvary 
 Thy Master trod. He beckons thee to come, 
 The opportunity to save thy soul. 
 Mar. Another has my soul in his keeping. 
 Am. Blaspheme thou not. Did God give 
 man a soul 
 That he could play with like a bawble ? 
 Thy soul cannot be given to any in this 
 
 world. 
 He to whom thou wouldst bequeath thy 
 
 soul, 
 Would have cast it aside as easily 
 As he hath thee. 
 Mar. Cast me aside ! Oh ! Father ! 
 
 Were that true, death would have come to me 
 In pity. My king loves me. More than 
 
 senses 
 Love tells when love responds. 
 Am. Still obdurate; 
 
 But heaven will bend if thou canst sup- 
 pliant be. 
 Hast thou no loved one who has left this 
 world ? 
 
10 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act I 
 
 Is there no saint whom thou wouldst pray 
 
 to meet ? 
 Dost thou not long to look on Heaven's 
 
 Queen ? 
 
 And hear the voice of Him who saved the 
 
 world ? 
 Mar. To be with these, and to be honored 
 
 by them 
 Through great eternities, I could abjure all 
 
 hope, 
 If I might see my king once more. Louis ! 
 Louis ! oh ! would he come ! He will come. 
 But if I cannot see him, I will be content 
 To give my every power to thought of him. 
 Pll live until I see him, the why of life, — 
 I am happy in the thought. 
 Am. It grieves me, child, 
 
 To see thee led thus far astray. I know 
 Thou wilt repent, but thy time is short. 
 I will leave thee now, and the sisters will 
 
 come, 
 And they may show thee better than I 
 The way to God; and those will come who 
 
 think 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE 11 
 
 They have known love like thine. Those 
 
 minister 
 To us best, who have known like affliction. 
 I will come to thee again, if God permit. 
 Call for me, sister. Be it day or night, 
 It matters not the hour thou shalt call. 
 I am not better than my Lord, and he 
 Cared not how heavy were his bruised feet, 
 How weary was his heart with others' sin, 
 He knew not rest while he could save a soul. 
 Farewell. Thou art so sick, so very sick, 
 I almost fear to leave thee. Farewell. 
 Mar. Farewell. [Exit Ambrose.] 
 
 Still I believe; I hope; I pray; I plead; 
 But for one thing and that one thing must be. 
 I feel, at last, the surcease of my wave of 
 
 love. 
 
 My king's last message seemed to ripple 
 
 tidings 
 Of his long-waited coming. He used those 
 
 terms, 
 
 Those sweet endearing names of our first 
 love, 
 
12 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act I 
 
 He called me by my second name, Angelique, 
 And I could hear him speak again the word, 
 And smile, and tell me how appropriate 
 The name was. [Enter Sister Felice.] 
 
 Fel. (Pausing at the door to cross herself.) 
 Holy mother, save her soul ! 
 Wilt thou allow me, sister, a few words ? 
 Mar. Yes, if they be of love. 
 Fel. [aside] I must not weaken. 
 
 [to Mar ] There was a time, 'twas but three 
 years ago, 
 I knew a man. He told me in words and 
 
 sighs; 
 In kisses, tears, and smiles, that I alone 
 Could keep the jewels of his loving heart. 
 Ah ! would I take them !— constancy, true 
 
 faith, 
 Honor, and zeal, he swore the strands on 
 
 which 
 His pearls of love were strung. If Pd not 
 
 take, 
 Then I would rend the strands, and sever life. 
 
Scene L] DE FONTANGE. 13 
 
 Oh ! trustful love ! poor trustful love ! oh ! 
 
 love, 
 That could not doubt, nor could withhold 
 
 itself 
 From ought he asked. I almost gave up 
 
 God, 
 For he would tell our love was God. I 
 
 leaned 
 One soft spring evening on his manly breast; 
 The breeze fanned gently the arbor where 
 
 we sat; 
 The cloudy lilacs, deep-toned hyacinths, 
 And virgin lilies, sweetened all our fears 
 Till they were not; night's jewels made 
 
 complete 
 Our diadem of joy. Asudden ! a sound ! 
 A foot-fall broke the sacred stillness, 
 A woman stood before us with a child. 
 I looked upon the woman and the child. 
 No words were spoken. 
 I broke away, but moaning fled afar. 
 I felt the while his spider's coil drawing; 
 I thought I could not loose the threads. I 
 
 wailed. 
 
14 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act I 
 
 They drew me back, yet not quite back. 
 
 The threads 
 Of love, one day, seemed turned to chains 
 
 of death. 
 All lost, I cried to our blest Lady of Heaven, 
 The cry of despair, of utter hopeless despair. 
 She heard me, and I gave myself to Her, 
 And to Her blessed Son. There is happiness, 
 Dear Sister; seek and find, what I have 
 
 sought 
 And found. 
 Mar. You loved, you say, yet could find hap- 
 piness 
 In something which took it from you. Is't 
 
 love, 
 When we can let it go ? Had you e'er 
 
 known, 
 E'er felt the soulful, heart-full, life-giving, 
 
 yet 
 Life-taking power, you would never give 
 
 it up. 
 Was't love that pressed you on to shades of 
 
 death, 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 15 
 
 You could not fear, if you were in its life. 
 
 'Twas something weaker, for it does not die. 
 
 Fel. I did not give up love. 
 
 Mar. Then speak, speak on. 
 
 I would know of it. I thought you had done 
 speaking. 
 
 So you revert, and see that love was all, — 
 
 That nothing could replace it. 
 
 Fel. Worldly love 
 
 Is pale. I've found a love far better than 
 
 man's love, 
 Which bears me up. Man changes. The 
 
 Trinity, 
 The saints, the hosts of heaven rest the same. 
 A constant goal alone can hold a constant 
 
 love. 
 I wish no more to feel it of this world; 
 My Lady and Her Son are all I seek; 
 I love and honor them. 
 Mar. You mean it not; 
 
 Has ever the great Seine turned from its 
 
 course ? 
 And is the greater flood of love less constant ? 
 You spoke with tenderness of one happy eve; 
 
16 THE BROKEN STATUE Act L] 
 
 I thought I heard true music in your voice; 
 Your tone unconsciously caressed the words; 
 And you then seemed to sink away and love 
 Stood in your place. The vine-clad arbor 
 
 called, 
 The spring flowers touched your unresisting 
 
 sense, 
 And you again were in your lover's arms. 
 There you would be. If you should hear 
 
 him call, 
 Would you not flee this place ? His accents 
 
 sweet 
 And tender would make your vows forgot- 
 ten, vain; 
 Yes, should he * say, sweet-heart, I need 
 
 your love, 
 I sigh for you, my love, with weary heart, 
 Let me know rest with thee in peace and 
 
 safety, 
 Only one answer could you bear to make. 
 Fel. Oh ! no ! I would not heed, —but he'll 
 
 not call. 
 I know he did not love me. I would not 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE 17 
 
 That he should call. Oh ! temptation ! 
 Wicked temptation ! He's engulfed in sin, 
 And he would draw me to the dreadful sea, 
 And then the cruel waves would come, — 
 
 his words 
 Would swamp my good intent. My soul is 
 
 safe. 
 Why should I think of the cruel ocean— 
 From which I have been saved ? Holy 
 
 mother! 
 Keep it back ; keep him back. Help to resist. 
 I fear. —Have my penances been for naught? 
 Sister, those stronger than I should speak 
 
 to thee. 
 The power in heaven is great, is infinite. 
 Do not condemn or judge God's power by me. 
 I would relinquish silly worldly things, — 
 Renounce each one,— I thought I had— to 
 
 God. 
 No; I do not love that man. I would not go 
 
 To him, if he should— farewell; think of the 
 
 Christ, 
 Not mortal; hark to him, and let him speak. 
 
 (Exit Felice) 
 
18 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act I 
 
 Mar. Would I speak falsely of my love, and 
 say 
 
 It is not, when it is? I'll be sincere 
 
 To it, and breathe it with my latest breath, 
 
 For I know it is more than my life itself. 
 
 I doubt my lover ? Oh ! the strangler comes! 
 
 Oh ! back ! pray, back ! and grant me one 
 day more! 
 
 Then take my pale throat unresisting 
 
 To thy cold and bony fingers. One day 
 more ! 
 
 Love wills ! Thou must. No ; blandly mock- 
 ing face, 
 
 I do not fear thee. Bloodless lips, sight- 
 less eyes, 
 
 I am not afraid. Blanched jaws ! 
 
 Senseless flesh of graves ! I ask not for 
 peace. 
 
 I live in torment, with torment increasing 
 
 For future hope, if I may only live. 
 
 Good heart ! you'll not fail me. Beat for 
 the love 
 
Scene 1]. DE FONTANGE. 19 
 
 That thou wilt know; beat for the love that 
 
 throbs 
 For thee in thy king's breast. Send blood 
 
 in flames 
 To burn the strangler's grip. Aeneas 
 
 returns. 
 He comes tomorrow. Beat, throb high, for 
 
 him, 
 Mount that thy fire may light his way and 
 
 shame 
 The sun before his lover's eyes. He comes. 
 
 (Enter SlSTER LAURA). 
 
 Laura. Child, thou wilt hear me now ? I 
 
 fear that I 
 May never again see thee. 
 Mar. I am not dying: 
 
 You think that death approaches; the heart 
 
 is hid. 
 My heart is nearing birth with great travail, 
 Which racks my body, and makes me seem 
 
 weak. 
 They've said a month each day would be 
 
 my last. 
 
20 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act I 
 
 Yet, I live on. 
 Lau. Poor child, thou liv'st, and how ? 
 
 The good physician marvels as, each day, 
 He sees thou art not gone. He fears each 
 hour. 
 
 The power was not his to keep thee here. 
 The Great Physician looks upon thee still 
 With pity manifest. He knows thy trials, 
 And thy temptations; and has rendered thee 
 Accordingly. Give him the praise for life. 
 Mar. I sure will see my king once more. 
 Lau. How can one so faithless hold God's 
 
 favor ? 
 Mar. Faithless! I have faith beyond all 
 
 men. 
 Lau. But faith is what ? Embruted man. 
 Turn it 
 To God, and thou wilt find what pure love is. 
 I once thought that man's love commanded 
 
 faith, 
 Or what man would call love, fair lyric fiend, 
 Which elves into our truest selves, and 
 
 filches, 
 To our embasement, the good hindering. 
 
Scene L] DE FONTANGE. 21 
 
 Its perjurious voice seductive, vile, conjuring 
 The semblances of sacred forms to hide the 
 
 sepulchres 
 Most vile with reeking dead. The portal 
 
 lamp 
 Is dazzling bright above a jewelled door; 
 The silly victim's brain begins to burn 
 As nearer he approaches it, and he, — 
 Mar. [interrupting] Oh ! sister, thou saidst 
 
 that love was known to thee, 
 Speak to me then of that alone; 
 Speak of it tenderly as of hope's flower; 
 Speak of it sympathetically; 
 Tell of it as of a living soul, an ardent 
 
 flame, 
 Or as it used to seem to you. Speak not 
 Of love with pondering consideration. 
 Emotions are the truest part of us;— 
 Love comes from them, or,— no; love rules 
 
 them, 
 And they love's subjects, waiting on his 
 
 word, 
 Responding to his summons to put reason 
 
 down; 
 
22 THE BROKEN STATUE Act L] 
 
 To fling the gauntlet. Would one harm 
 
 their lord, 
 Their eagre billows up, and casts ashore 
 The cunning boats which evil doubt would 
 
 launch. 
 Lau. How canst thou upon such febrile folly 
 Launch all thy hopes, fatuous deluded child. 
 Thou callest the hideous tongues of lowest 
 
 flame 
 As glows which ever rule the world. 
 Mar. But thou, — 
 
 Thou, as well as I, may know deception ? 
 And I would say thou speakest false, for I 
 Know what I trust is love, the greatest 
 
 truth. 
 Lau. Oft that 
 
 Which seems to us most true is really that 
 Which is most false. I see there is some 
 
 power 
 Most black, most wicked, turning the colors 
 
 of day 
 Before thine eyes, making thee see where 
 
 truth 
 Is not. Thy passion seems pure, 'tis feculent. 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 23 
 
 And 't is the waste, the dregs of life on which 
 Thou fixest gaze with so great constancy. 
 Consider for a moment how high is the love 
 That loves the great unseen, serving it, 
 Hoping some day to live within its presence. 
 Sister, a spell is coming over thee. Thine 
 
 eyes 
 Have look unnatural. I call a priest 
 Mar. No; Sister Laura. No. My time's not 
 
 come. 
 Lau. Then, the doctor ? 
 Mar. No; my ailment is my own. 
 
 I brought it on myself. I would no cure, 
 For I might lose in it more than my life. 
 Oh ! he must come ! Oh ! how long I have 
 
 waited ! 
 Were his heart of marble, the bleeding tears 
 Which I have shed would melt it to humanity. 
 Lau. [aside, withdrawing] Never has such as 
 
 she entered these walls; 
 Never a soul so trustful in a man. 
 May God forgive her. I condemn her 
 
 way:— 
 
24 THE BROKEN STATUE Act I] 
 
 It is most sinful clinging to the world. 
 And loving carnal things. But so much love ! 
 Would it were turned aright to things of 
 
 heaven! [Exit Laura.] 
 
 Mar. Am I becoming weaker, nearer death ? 
 
 They seem to gaze on me with blank-eyed 
 
 fear, 
 Whenever they turn not their eyes away. 
 Am I grown frightful, hideous ? My king 
 Will see me just the same, his statue, 
 Every line as exquisite as 't was. 
 I care not how my eyes are sunken, 
 The light of love will make them beautiful 
 For him. When he shall come, — Oh ! he 
 
 will come,— 
 Have I struggled, do I struggle for naught ! 
 Death's near. Yes, 't is death. Good faith, 
 
 be strong. 
 A little longer, blessed hope, hold fast. 
 I would write a last appeal today, 
 Would some only help me ! Pm so tired 
 For Louis' arms, so thirsty for a tear 
 Of his. [Enter A NUN.] 
 
Scene 1]. DE FONTANGE. 25 
 
 Nun. Sister Celeste is come and sends 
 
 Inquiry if you wish her. 
 Mar. LaValiere ? 
 
 She whom my king onced loved, perhaps 
 
 yet not 
 As he loved me. 
 Nun. The veil has passed between; 
 
 She thinks no longer of the hopeless past. 
 She's travelled far with thought of help- 
 ing thee; 
 She bade me tell thee she has come to aid 
 
 In any way. 
 Mar. Oh ! I need her help ! Send her. 
 
 [Exit Nun.] 
 Yes; I am weaker. I am asking aid. 
 She must be good. I sometimes wish I 
 
 might 
 Be good and happy in ideals. But oh ! 
 I love; I love; Can she be as she seems; 
 Content, or is she cloaking her bruised 
 
 heart ? 
 How can a woman change her soulful love : 
 Oh ! God ! I would not part the ties now 
 
 bound; 
 
26 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act I 
 
 I cannot but love my king. 
 
 [Enter LaVALIERE, SlSTER CELESTE.] 
 
 Thou art a Christian; 
 I could not have sought thee out as thou 
 
 hast me. 
 You have known the love of Louis. 
 Cel. Of that 
 
 Concern is far removed from me. I look 
 Upon another king, another realm. 
 I serve the heart that broke with love for me; 
 I long to pour my love in gratitude 
 And praise to Him, heaven's King. 
 Mar. How could you leave 
 
 Whom you once loved ? What led ?— ah ! 
 
 what could lead ? 
 Cel. You know my life at court; you know 
 
 my fall 
 Into displeasure. — 
 Mar. You could not renounce, 
 
 As they would tell, or you could not have 
 
 lived. 
 You could not believe no more love's tide 
 Would flow to you, because it once had 
 
 ebbed. 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 27 
 
 Cel. I care not how the tale is told. I think 
 Not of the world, for the nail-pierced hand 
 
 led me 
 To the realm where the spirit comes to life; 
 And once we know the spirit life, our love 
 No longer roves to earthly things. It leads 
 Me still. I am satisfied. 
 
 Mar. Wilt thou not try 
 
 To think of earth-blown love, and help me 
 
 write 
 A last appeal to him, my king ? Say, yes, 
 Sweet sister; he must come before I die, 
 And I know my death is coming soon. 
 Thou wilt forgive my weak request, 
 And sympathy wilt add for my one wish, — 
 The only great desire I have ever known. 
 Yes; thou'lt forgive me what I ask ? Say 
 
 aye. 
 Cel. Lay thy head upon thy pillow, and 
 
 take some rest. 
 Dear child, I pity thee and love thee. 
 I scarcely know the best for thy soul life. 
 
 Mar. I cannot rest, and I long not for it; 
 
28 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act I 
 
 My life is gone, for that there's no regret; 
 But oh !— my king, —my king, - oh ! God ! 
 my king ! 
 Cel. He shall come, child. 
 Mar. I know— 
 
 Cel. I will help thee write. 
 
 Mar. Sweet sister, I believe there is a God, 
 For I now see one of his angels. 
 We must not tarry in the letter's writing, 
 A stupor may come over me before the end; 
 If it shall hold me, bring me back to con- 
 sciousness 
 By any means you can. Spare me nothing; 
 Beat on my fore-head; make my heart throb 
 
 with blows. 
 Yes, we will write the letter now. Where 
 
 do they keep 
 The fluid and the quills ? 
 Mar. I forgot of them. 
 
 Here is the key. The drawer in the small 
 
 table. 
 In there the treasures of my king are kept, 
 My great possessions,— messages from him. 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE 29 
 
 In you I have a trust without a fear, 
 
 And seek your help with faith. A last 
 
 appeal ! 
 Oh ! I must trust to you to lend me words. 
 I know that I must die, I am so weak. 
 A last appeal,— a single hope,— I seek 
 With dying breath to tell my love. No 
 
 words 
 Will come to call my lover perfectly, 
 They seem so weak, those former ways of 
 
 greeting. 
 Gel. Ah ! any words from heart like thine 
 
 must find 
 Response. 
 Mar. Oh ! I believe; I let it speak; 
 Write, "Lover, who supplantest life for me, 
 My lover, I am waiting patiently. 
 Yes; you are coming to your sweet-heart, 
 
 Angelique, 
 But hasten. Come now. Oh ! why do you 
 
 delay ! 
 Oh ! were it you the sick,— the sun should 
 
 not move, 
 
30 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act I 
 
 Till I were winging toward you swifter than 
 
 the winds. 
 Pd search the earth for balm to call health 
 
 back; 
 Fd lay my heart on yours and give it out. 
 All that I could I have given to you, 
 But sacrifice for love is happiness; 
 I let them take the babe from off my breast, — 
 My sweet frail babe !— I loved it, but for 
 
 you 
 I let its tender mouth be drawn away, 
 And closed my eyes to its appealing gaze. — 
 Oh ! it seemed so trustful !— And my ears 
 I stopped, and sobbed, yet could not drown 
 
 its cry. 
 They told me I might live a little longer, 
 If I could give it up. I let go. 
 I loved it so; I loved you more; come, oh ! 
 
 come, [swooning.] 
 Celeste, send the letter; send the letter." 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
Act II.] DE FONTANGE. 31 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 SCENE I. ~ A dark dusty room. 
 
 TIME: — The same day, ten hours later. 
 
 j4 door opens at the left Enter NOVICE HELEN, 
 
 then Sister Laura. 
 
 Hel. Yes, I was singing when we were not 
 allowed to speak, but that Novice Ave 
 need not have told. I can't help singing 
 more than the crickets. And it was not 
 talking. 
 
 Lau. Thou must learn obedience, wayward 
 child. Well thou knewest what thy 
 singing was. 
 Hel. [half aloud] I didn't think my voice 
 as bad as that. 
 
 Lau. Many times we have thought to have 
 heard thy voice, when thou wist not we 
 were attending. But now we have a 
 novice come among us, a good and simple 
 and sincere soul. — 
 
 Hel. [aside'] Good and simple, nothing worse. 
 
32 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act II 
 
 Lau. A pure, sweet child, conscientious and 
 
 obedient, and she would seek thy welfare, 
 
 and so has told us of thy sin. Would 
 
 thou wert like her. 
 
 Hel. Sister Laura, I do not feel very 
 
 guilty. 
 Lau. The deeper then thy sin. Thy mind 
 must be most depraved, most unworthy 
 of this holy house. Wast thou not con- 
 scious that thou shouldst make no unnec- 
 essary sound in the hours of silence ? 
 
 Hel. No. Yes. No. For,— 
 
 Lau. I leave thee that thy silly mind become 
 settled, and then thou mayst be prepared 
 to meditate and pray and be forgiven. 
 
 Hel. No, Sister Laura, don't go. Please, 
 Sister Laura, when you were a novice, — 
 (aside, despairingly) she looks as if she were 
 born a nun, —were there not among those 
 who entered with you any who would 
 sometimes break a rule, as I have done, 
 yet, who you knew were good, and are 
 today good members of your order ? 
 
Scene 1]. DE FONTANGE. 33 
 
 Lau. Thou seekest excuse. I will not an- 
 swer thee. Thy duty, thy vows must 
 alone be seen by thee. Thou art the 
 most froward of all the novices of recent 
 memory. 
 
 Hel. (aside.) Of recent memory. (Nods her 
 head knowingly. ) 
 
 Lau. Thou mayest improve with good asso- 
 ciates. I fear not all the novices are like 
 the gentle Ave. 
 
 Hel. [aside] Praise be to goodness, they are 
 not. 
 
 Lau. Wilt thou confess the others who have 
 broken rules ? It were better that thou 
 tell me now than I should learn from thy 
 companions. And tell of thine own faults. 
 
 Hel. [aside] Sweet Ave has told all she could 
 remember. I'm thankful her memory is 
 simple, too. Sister Laura, I never could 
 have time to tell all my faults. I can 
 only confess that I am the worst offender 
 and I have tempted all the others and 
 been successful save with Novice Ave. 
 
34 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act II 
 
 Sometime they all but she have joined 
 with me in talk, or song, or laughter, 
 when we were in the hours of silence. I 
 am truly most at fault. 
 
 Lau. Too often have I seen of late thine eye 
 with an unholy gleam. At first I took it 
 for religious zeal, and once I thought the 
 jewel tear-drop of contrition there had 
 place, thou wast so solemn and so earnest 
 at thy prayers, till a day came when I saw 
 thee pinch the novice at thy side, while 
 thou wast most ardently attending to the 
 order of the service. Dost thou remember 
 that? 
 
 Hel. [smiling] Yes, I remember it, but Alcee 
 well deserved the pinching; she had pre- 
 pared the vestments for the day, and poor 
 old Pere Jean was celebrating mass with 
 them on backwards. 
 
 LAU. [smiles faintly, but soon resumes her severe 
 attitude.] Would thou observedest the 
 spiritual thoughts and them alone ! 
 
 Hel. [aside] Then I should be like all the 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE 35 
 
 others, [to Laura] I wish I could, but 
 Pm not simple Ave. 
 
 Lau. The light coming from thine eyes at 
 this moment has many possible meanings, 
 as do the pretty notes that escape thy lips 
 too often. 
 
 Hel. And you surely accept the best possible 
 meaning. That would be just would it 
 not, Sister Laura ? 
 
 Lau. Thou art very light-minded, all too 
 worldly. And what is it thou singest in 
 the hours of silence ? Profane words and 
 music, and sometimes profane and foolish 
 words to the glorious melodies of our 
 hymns. We are too patient with thee, 
 too forgiving. Too often hath thy youth 
 been counted as excuse; our hearts have 
 softened at thy sin as we would say, "She 
 is only fourteen/ ' But thou, Novice 
 Helen, hast left the world; forget not 
 that. Thou hast renounced it with sol- 
 emn vows. When thou wast wedded to 
 the church thou trampledst, none more 
 
36 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act II 
 
 earnestly, the satin robe, which signified 
 the world, under thy feet; thine ardor 
 was so strong that rents were torn in it, 
 and we could not use it for embroidering. 
 I wonder if thou tookest it in full serious- 
 ness, if thou thoughtest of thy wedding 
 to the church as thou shouldst. 
 
 Hel. I was earnest then, believe me, Sister 
 Laura. 
 
 Lau. God grant thou wert. Then think a 
 while upon these vows and of thy daily 
 sin in breaking them each day. [She walks 
 toward the door, Helen follows her with beseech- 
 ing eyes.] Thou needest not entreat. The 
 punishment is light enough. 
 
 Hel. But the room is dark. 
 
 Lau. It is good for meditation. Speak no 
 more. [Passes out and bolts the door.] 
 
 Hel. Gentle Ave ! Sweet Ave ! Conscienti- 
 ous Ave ! Simple Ave ! She's no better 
 than the rest of us, only she doesn't know 
 how to do anything but what she is told. 
 We had some fun with her the first night 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 37 
 
 she came. Dear Matilde was with us 
 then, and she and I planned it, but the 
 others joined in the frolic. The way we 
 made the simple Ave prostrate herself at 
 every picture and beat her head before 
 each altar! And the trip we took her 
 through the grave-yard on that dark night 
 and hid behind the grave-stones and made 
 her ask questions of the saints, and then 
 we answered her ! Oh ! that penance we 
 told her she must submit to:— while she 
 said her rosary we dropped cold, cold 
 water down her back. I'm glad we did 
 it, but I think that she's found it out 
 somehow and so become so pious. Oh ! 
 sweet Matilde ! I wish she were here 
 now. She was good and pure and faith- 
 ful at devotion, but her face wasn't al- 
 ways like an Italian angel's on an altar 
 cloth. There was none better than she 
 in spirit. But she could not stand the 
 life. Oh ! how sick she was, and how re- 
 luctant she was to go. I wanted almost 
 
38 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act II 
 
 to leave when she went. Oh ! Matilde ! 
 I can't stay here any longer. Pm going 
 to cry and cry and cry until Fm sick and 
 pale, and they say I must go. (She sinks 
 on floor and mopes a little, then jumps up quickly 
 to her feet) No, Fm not going to cry; 
 they might come in and rejoice at what 
 they would think was penitence brought 
 on by their punishment. I shall not have 
 my means of penitence dictated to me. 
 Fm going to show them that I don't mind 
 being locked up alone in the dark, but I 
 do. I wonder what there is in this place. 
 I never remember that any of the 
 naughty novices were locked in here be- 
 fore; prayers are our usual penance, —but 
 they don't know that I don't mind pray- 
 ing before the beautiful altars. I'm go- 
 ing to open the shutters of that window 
 if I can. (Goes over to a window at the rear of 
 stage and begins to shake the shutters] This is 
 dustier than a saint's tomb. Oh ! wouldn't 
 the meek Ave be frightened here. She's 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 39 
 
 good because she's a coward. But I'll 
 make her sin. (From the vigorous shaking of 
 Helen the shutters suddenly fly back and almost 
 knock Helen over. She laughs at this, collecting 
 herself.) The little light that comes 
 through this dirty old window won't dis- 
 turb my meditations, I guess. I wonder 
 if there is anyihing around that might. 
 Probably an old prayer-book. Oh ! there's 
 surely something good in that big chest. 
 I hope it isn't full of sermons; if it is, I'm 
 afraid I'll say something very sinful. It 
 seems cleaner than the rest of the room, 
 and it will open. Good ! [opens the chest 
 delves into it, and sings once or twice] 
 
 "Oh ! I'm a wicked little nun, 
 
 But then a nun must have a run, 
 
 So I have just begun to have some fun." 
 
 [as she draws a magnificent blue gown out of the 
 chest.] Oh ! this is wonderful. I didn't 
 know that fairy godmothers ever visited 
 convents. Isn't it the most beautiful 
 
40 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act II 
 
 thing in the world. I like miracles like 
 this. It must belong to some queen or 
 duchess. How did it come here ? Whom 
 would they allow to bring it in ? I never 
 saw anything like it, only once when I 
 was in Paris and saw the queen driving. 
 But her gown was not so magnificent. 
 Such color ! Such richness ! And the 
 lace so fine. No nun in our convent could 
 ever make it without losing her sight. 
 Perhaps it is a saint's and so has lasted 
 centuries. I wish it might last forever, 
 but I don't believe it is a saint's. It 
 looks too good for a saint's. Oh ! wicked 
 mirror! [She brings forth a mirror.] You say 
 to me, "My little friend, the habit of a 
 novice is not just what you need to make 
 prettiest. I know it is wicked, but I'm 
 so bad anyway, and I'll confess it all with 
 tears. [She puts the dress up in front of her, then 
 places it carefully back into the trunk- She takes 
 hold of tbe trunk-lid, and remains doubting and 
 fearing a few moments.] It would be terrible, 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 41 
 
 but it will do no harm. I can't help it. 
 I will be so careful, and, —I must put it 
 on. Someone might come. No; they 
 will leave me here for a long while, I pro- 
 voked them so. What a charming medi- 
 tation. Ah! Ah! Ah! (Throws hack the 
 lid quickly 9 dances out of her novice-costume and 
 removes her head-dress. With these she dusts the 
 floor, then shakes them, and lays them on floor 
 under her feet spread out as much as possible. 
 Finally she puts the gown on, singing gaily) 
 
 "Oh Pm a wicked little nun," etc. 
 
 (The dress on, she looks at herself roguishly in 
 the mirror.) Eh ! You are too pretty to 
 make a good nun. I wish Matilde were 
 here. Wouldn't we have a beautiful 
 scene. I never knew before how dif- 
 ferent clothes can make you feel. I am 
 independent now of everything, the con- 
 vent, the nation, and the king. (Sings.) 
 
42 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act II 
 
 Je suis une damoiselle 
 Aimable et tres belle; 
 Jesuis comme une renne, 
 Puis tremblez a ma haine. 
 
 Ah ! Mon ame ! Quel heureux ! 
 Galant, tiens du coeur 
 D'etre un courageux 
 Voleur et tu es deux. 
 
 [Enter Sister Felice.] Oh ! Holy Virgin ! 
 [She weeps.] 
 
 HEL. [Turns expecting severest censure, and stands 
 confused at the tears of FELICE.] Oh ! Sister 
 Felice ! is my soul lost, because of my 
 sin ? Can I never be forgiven ? 
 
 Fel. Poor child, thou canst not understand. 
 
 Hel. I know I am very bad. If you would 
 only pray for me, I might be better. 
 
 Fel. Yes, I will pray for thee, but child, 
 there is one who needs all our prayers at 
 this moment. Her body is dying, and 
 with her body— Oh ! Blessed Mother!— 
 her soul; yes,— I fear,— her soul. 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 43 
 
 Hel. Is she worse than I ? Who is she ? 
 
 Fel. The one whose gown thou wearest, — 
 
 Hel. Is this her gown ? 
 
 Fel. Yes, she sent me for it, and her voice 
 was that of one who has left the world, 
 but for whom the next hath no place. 
 Oh ! my heart is torn for that dying girl. 
 
 Hel. Oh ! heavens ! is someone dying, really 
 dying ? And I have her gown on ? Can 
 I do anything ? Oh ! she cannot be dy- 
 ing ! Something would save her ! 
 
 [Enter SlSTER LAURA.] 
 
 Lau. [sternly.] Do I see aright ? And thou, 
 Sister Felice, what may thy excuse be ? 
 Thy fault is not light. Thy weakness is 
 amazing. Must the request of the dying 
 wait while thou lookest with tears upon 
 this silly child ? Novice, thy lesson must 
 be taught. Come into the presence of 
 one dying because of vanity like thine. 
 I will take thee as thou art in the robe 
 she has requested. 
 
 Hel. Oh! don't, kind Sister Laura. It 
 
44 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act II 
 
 must be awful to be dying. Oh ! I will 
 be so good, keep every rule, be as meek 
 as Ave, only don't make me go to her in 
 her gown. Pity me, kind Sister Laura. 
 Oh ! Sister Felice, don't let her make me 
 go. 
 LAU. (Motions towards SISTER FELICE to be si- 
 lent. ) Come. (Stronger and firmer to Helen. ) 
 Come. If it be thine own death thou 
 shalt come. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 SCENE TWO.— Same as in Act I. DeFontange is 
 alone. 
 
 Lau. He comes: two words: but death is 
 
 stopped by them. 
 Oh ! glorious news ! How I have longed 
 
 for you ! 
 How I have lived for you ! He comes; he 
 
 comes; 
 
Scene 2.] DE FONTANGE 45 
 
 My king, he comes. When heard I the 
 
 words first ? 
 Well I remember. Little more than a 
 
 year ago 
 When I was waiting to have audience 
 With him. I held his flowers in my hand, 
 I wore the gown that he had chosen me, 
 And the simple string of uncut pearls. 
 Since then earth's loveliest flowers have 
 
 been mine, 
 Gowns most gorgeous, jewels most wond- 
 
 erous, 
 But sweetest memories still twine about 
 The simpler things which he sent me first. 
 In the little ante-room I waited long, — 
 How slow the moments passed! Assembled 
 
 there 
 Were those a month before had made me 
 
 gaze 
 With ravished and admiring jealous eyes. 
 All nobles and of great renown and fame, — 
 Yet I could not attend their words nor speak. 
 How misty, vague, unreal, the dazzle 
 
 seemed, 
 
46 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act II 
 
 The while I kept repeating, ' 'Will he come?" 
 How my head grew hot, I seemed to sway; 
 The mirrors made me think it was a dream, 
 As I would smile in them or raise my hand 
 Toward them to see if I were still awake. 
 At last when moments had grown hours 
 
 and days 
 The words came from I knew not, cared 
 
 not whom, 
 "He comes;" and I felt it was my royal 
 
 lord. 
 My love responded even before he came 
 Where I could see him. And it drove out 
 
 fears 
 And made my blood flow rich and full. I 
 
 felt 
 Such perfect ecstasy, such happiness, 
 That all confusion sparkled like the dew 
 Of morning in the glorious sun-light. 
 He called all radiant colors of my soul 
 With his kind ray. I knew that love was 
 
 king. 
 He comes, my king ! Thank God ! once 
 
 more to live 
 
Scene 2.] DE FONTANGE. 47 
 
 By glancing in my lover's eye, and hearing 
 His sweet tones, like notes from summer's 
 
 harp, 
 Tuned by the zephyrs, having each the 
 
 beauty 
 Of swaying branches, flowers, each astir 
 With song of bird, or soothing hum of bee. 
 
 [Enter NOVICE HELEN and LAURA.] 
 Lau. [to Helen.] Confess thy sin, Helen, 
 
 and crave pardon. 
 Hel. [to Laura.] Oh ! I am sorry for it all, 
 
 but speak 
 
 I can't. [Seeing Laura unmoved, she throws 
 
 herself at the feet of De Fontange.] Forgive 
 
 me, noble lady, forgive ! 
 I cannot bear to look into thy face 
 And tell my sin most horrible. Forgive ! 
 I did not think it harm. I knew not what 
 I did. [Exit Laura.] 
 
 Mar. Sweet child, what hast thou done to 
 
 me ! 
 No wrong. Thy voice brings back a mem- 
 ory 
 
48 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act II 
 
 Of girlhood days, and thoughts of happy 
 
 time, 
 But not as happy as a human knows, 
 For a woman whom love makes a woman 
 Alone has happiness that is complete. 
 I would not give one moment of that love 
 For blind eternity. My lover, thine arm 
 About me once again, let all of hell, 
 The demons and the damned lance white- 
 heat flames, 
 The closer will I cling and cry, "I love; 
 
 I love.' ' 
 Kind tender Louis, thou art coming soon, 
 And I shall hear thee tell again they love. 
 I heed not all the taunting of the world; 
 They know not what they say, not know- 
 ing love. 
 And thy gown I wear, but where is it ? 
 Hel. Good lady, I love thee, but I have 
 sinned. 
 Oh ! God ! I would not had I only known. 
 I found thy wonderous gown by chance and 
 tried 
 
Scene 2.] DE FONTANGE. 49 
 
 It on most carefully. I have it now. 
 
 I never felt a weight of sin so fierce ! 
 
 Tell them to treat me harshly as they will; 
 
 I cannot hope that thou wilt grant me par- 
 don ! 
 Mar. Oh ! gentle maid, weep not. No fault 
 is thine. 
 
 None has ever felt desire strong as mine 
 
 To hold the awful enemy away 
 
 Till I should see my king once more. And 
 now 
 
 He comes today. Forgive ? Most willingly. 
 
 Ah ! thou art young and fair. The gown 
 doth well 
 
 Become thee, and it shall be thine when I 
 
 Am gone tomorrow, and he shall have 
 come. 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
50 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act III 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 SCENE :Same as in Act /. TIME:— An hour later. 
 
 Marie DeFontange. Oh! moments! mo- 
 ments! stolen moments from death! 
 
 I know you, death, how near you are to me. 
 
 Be stayed; more horrible the hereafter for 
 my theft; 
 
 I care not. Only till my king shall come 
 
 I will stay thee. Ye bleeding moments! 
 wrestle 
 
 For your life; on you are not gone; arise; 
 
 'Tis nothing that thine eyes are bloodshot 
 red; 
 
 Another struggle for the hair's-breadth 
 space 
 
 And thrust thyself, a spear gleam, 'gainst 
 the foe 
 
 Who would advance. Oh! moment, stronger 
 than 
 
 The last! Victory! Fight! A soul thy 
 
 stake! 
 A soul, —a soul of flesh, who would be flesh. 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 51 
 
 Oh! rapturous embrace with kiss of love! 
 Oh! summer's breath laden with rose's scent! 
 Oh! sea of emerald and boat of pearl! 
 Oh! azure sky with gentle waves of foam! 
 Oh! birds of morn! Oh! cricket's hum at 
 
 noon. 
 And glorious glare of splendid blazing gold, 
 As all turns gem beneath thy royal ray. 
 Oh! crimson glow 'mid purple shrouded 
 
 clouds, 
 And whiffs of pink, smiles of the day to 
 
 night! 
 Oh! dark and wonderous shades for lovers 
 
 made, 
 And myriad worlds alight for only them! 
 
 [Enter LA VALIERE, CELESTE.] 
 
 Cel. Can I assist thee further? 
 
 Mar. Kind Celeste! 
 
 The string of uncut pearls, and that the last. 
 
 Under the pillow, the farther one. Thanks, 
 
 Kind Sister. Tell me, do I seem renewed ? 
 
 You answer not? 
 Cel. The robe is beautiful; 
 
52 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act III 
 
 The blue was made just for thy hair, I 
 
 think. 
 Mar. My hair looks well. The pain it cost 
 
 to pile 
 The locks back is forgotten. — 
 It seemed each hair a livid burning nerve, 
 Yet 'tis for him. It is his favorite way. 
 He liked it this way best, and it is fair ? 
 And the first gifts I wear; in these he saw 
 Me first. He'll see me just the same as 
 
 when 
 At court with serving train I came. My 
 
 eyes, 
 They are not glowing, but when he shall 
 
 come, 
 They sure will claim the fairest radiance. 
 My hands,— oh! poor thin hands ! They are 
 
 not fair, 
 But he will love them as the last pale rose. 
 And features gaunt and lines so deep and 
 
 dark; 
 Yet he will not despise them. Can you 
 
 bring 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 53 
 
 The powder and the rouge ? 
 Cel. I have them here, 
 
 Concealed beneath my robe. 
 Mar. Let me kiss thee. 
 
 Cel. No; it were a sin; and little have I done 
 
 For thee. 
 Mar. Then let me take thy hand. Forgive ! 
 
 (kisses it.) 
 Cel. Poor heart ! its tears might bathe the 
 
 heavenly feet. 
 MAR. No; no. (Sorrowfully— taking up the pow- 
 der puff.) How bad the powder -acts, or 
 fault 
 Is in the face. Yes, there's the fault. Oh ! 
 
 lines ! 
 You stay the same or worse. You, Celeste, 
 Will you only try ? Perhaps, I am too weak. 
 I wanted to do all I could myself, 
 For it will be my only sacrifice, — 
 My last. 
 Cel. Yes, let me try, though years are dim 
 And distant when I held those to my face. 
 (takes the puffs and cloths. ) 
 
54 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act III 
 
 MAR. (After a few moments.) 'T is useless; 
 worse than useless. Try the rouge. 
 (a pause.) 
 
 That is worse, but my hair is beautiful, 
 You said it was, and you would not speak 
 false. 
 Cel. Oh! yes; it is a radiant glory. Gem 
 
 Or diadem were no adornment there. 
 Mar. Oh! good Celeste! I promise you one 
 thing, 
 
 And I remmeber it. I will see the priest, 
 Kind Father Ambrose, and confess, in full 
 confess. 
 Cel. I knew thy promise good when thou 
 Didst make it me. Oh! tell the father all. 
 Thou must be saved. As in thy love with him 
 Be strong. I go to call him; then to pray. 
 I pray for thee all day and all night. I 
 
 pray, 
 Nor food I eat, nor sleep. God bless thee 
 
 now; 
 Farewell. 
 Mar. Farewell, most noble sister-friend. 
 (Exit Celeste.) 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 55 
 
 Mar. She goes to pray for me ? I wait for 
 
 him. 
 The priest ? No; but for him, I wait; I pray. 
 Must she not love him yet ? No; she does 
 
 not. 
 Love she has conquered. God has all her 
 
 soul. 
 Once when he came to her, she had returned, 
 But when again she entered into the vale, 
 She entered for her life. Never was she 
 As I. Oh! love! forever be but mine, 
 And I am thine, forever, love. Oh! flame! 
 Consume me, and I call thy dust and smoke 
 And ashes blessedness. Glow warmest red 
 Within my brain, my heart, my soul. Thou 
 
 may'st. 
 I promised her to see the priest. The good 
 She seeks, as does the father, I fathom not. 
 I would prepare for Father Ambrose, but to 
 
 pray,- 
 To pray,— for my own soul, to pray to God. 
 I pray to live, and my prayer is whole, 
 And every power in me comes to plead, 
 
56 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act III 
 
 To live ! To live. Oh ! God ! one hour more, 
 Throughout the day, oh! God! to live! to live! 
 
 (Enter FATHER AMBROSE.) 
 
 Am. Thou callest for me ? 
 
 Mar. Father, so you come. 
 
 Am. Yes, happy at thy call. 
 
 Mar. I would confess, 
 
 And yet I have to give my every force 
 In strife to keep alive. 
 
 Am. For what avail ? 
 
 Is death so terrible to thee ? Then seek 
 The only one who hath conquered of himself 
 The dread enemy, who can only make 
 Thy resurrection sure in heaven. 
 
 Mar. ' Tis death, 
 
 Not the hereafter that I fear. Oh ! dread 
 Of death before I see my king again once 
 
 more. 
 It shakes my soul as earth-quakes shock, 
 
 and chains 
 Of lightning quick succeeding, twist, and 
 
 dart, 
 And warp, and burn, and pierce, and rage, 
 and ring 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 57 
 
 Unearthly discords, clanging, screaching. 
 
 Oh! damned 
 Of all the ages, worse my state. 
 Am. Dear child, 
 
 Be still, and let us seek for peace and it 
 Will come. Look only to the source of peace, 
 The Virgin, and her Son. 
 Mar. Father, I seek 
 
 To live. I go to Heaven or Hell for aid. 
 Am. 'T is Heaven will aid through Heaven's 
 Queen. Then seek 
 Aright. 
 Mar. I seek. I will be calm. One day 
 A lady of the court spoke thus of me, 
 1 'Surely a person never lived, 
 Who was so happy and yet so unhappy." 
 I laughed full gay when someone told the 
 
 words 
 To me, but now I know that they are true. 
 Am. But thou wast happy when thy life was 
 
 good. 
 Mar. No; I was happy when my king was 
 near. 
 
58 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act III 
 
 Am. My child, what then of years before 
 you knew 
 
 The court ? 
 Mar. Oh ! they were nothing. Happiness 
 
 Was then unknown. 
 
 Am. The days of childhood, simple 
 Sweet days of perfect joy ! To me 
 They were life's fondest moments. 
 Remember how the Master said, "Except 
 As little children ye become, ye shall 
 In no wise enter Heaven. " Then is our life — 
 Oh ! even as the violets we cull 
 'Mid song and laughter. Oh ! perfect hours! 
 For we are full content, and only wish 
 In play. Think of these moments of thy 
 
 youth. 
 Mar. Youth and childhood, distant is the 
 
 time, 
 Though I can count my years only eighteen. 
 When I was very young, maybe, six or 
 
 eight, 
 I played like other children, careless, free, 
 Among the birds and flowers and grasses 
 
 oft, 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 59 
 
 I never thought of being happy then, 
 
 I played till I was tired, and that was all. 
 Am. You have forgotten of the church. You 
 went 
 
 To church ? 
 Mar. Yes. 
 
 Am. When were you confirmed ? 
 Mar. Too late, father. 
 Am. I do not understand. 
 
 My child, too late? 
 Mar. Yes, I was ten. 
 
 Am. Too late, 
 
 She says, and only ten. 
 Mar. Yes, for at ten 
 
 I was vain. My beauty was my only thought. 
 
 The turn of a wrist, a finger's move, was 
 more 
 
 To me than any prayer I read. I thought 
 
 Throughout the confirmation of how I 
 looked, 
 
 And of the admiration of the world; 
 
 And even when the archbishop the cross 
 
 Imprinted, I thought of how the cross of oil 
 
60 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act III 
 
 Became my beauty and decided poor, 
 Indeed, and within were a jewelled orna- 
 ment 
 To claim a place upon my forehead. 
 Am. Oh ! Heavens ! 
 
 Mar. Ah ! was it not too late ? Yes, late; 
 
 too late. 
 Am. How could it be ? 
 Mar. It was my life. All I 
 
 Was taught after my eighth birthday had 
 
 passed 
 Was grace and beauty that I might attract 
 A nobleman some day, and riches bring 
 And glory on my name and family. 
 My single subject, single lesson, through 
 
 the years 
 Was to be beautiful in every look 
 And move. My life has been a strife for 
 
 this. 
 Death sounding makes me see as 't is the 
 
 room 
 From which I soon depart, its contents vain. 
 Am. Thou hast attended church ? 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 61 
 
 Mar. Yes, but never worshipped. 
 
 Am. The power of the church thou knowest; 
 
 thou faith 
 Wilt add, and it will comfort thee, and give 
 Thee needed strength for the journey dark 
 
 and lone. 
 It is a never- failing aid. The tomb 
 Confounds it not; it triumphs over all. (He 
 
 goes over to a large crucifix on the wall, blesses 
 
 himself, then takes the crucifix down and places it 
 
 in Marie's hands.) 
 Trust the blessed Saviour, see his pierced 
 
 hands 
 And feet, his thorn-crowned brow, his 
 
 riven side. 
 The bleeding flow can cover all thy sins. 
 Mar. I try. Blest Mother of God, plead 
 
 with thy Son. 
 
 Oh ! wicked, vile am I, and full of sin, — 
 (Enter a messenger: to the messenger.) Speak 
 is he come here yet ? 
 Mess. He comes. 
 
 (Marie lets the crucifix fall and it breaks on the floor.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
62 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act IV 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 SCENE iSame as in Act I. TlME:— An hour later. 
 
 Louis, [meditating] The mystic madness of 
 
 the dream, the dream— 
 I dare not speak its name. Too soon 't 
 
 will come: 
 Never to wake again; yet it must be, 
 For tombs are speechless and pale lips of 
 
 graves 
 Are dumb. What is it ? What am I ? A 
 
 soul? 
 And what is it w T hich passes out of me ? 
 I live, and it will live somehow, somewhere. 
 Can it dissolve and melt into nothingness ? 
 Or can it feel itself as here ? Does it 
 Take to the air or seek the sea or go, 
 Go out and that is all as of the wind ? 
 Can it possess the crumbling flesh alone, 
 And can it cling to that which falls to dust ? 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 63 
 
 Is that its heritage ? Is it of life ? 
 
 It may be it has larger life and hope, — 
 
 It may then know more that all we know 
 
 as life ? 
 It cannot be. [Looks toward MARIE] Oh ! 
 
 God! 'T is death; death. 
 Mar. Come nearer king and lover, it is I. 
 Lou. [aside] Am I a king and do I tremble ? 
 
 Fear, 
 Is it a royal attribute ? To answer her 
 All fails; to answer her I have despised 
 As weakest of our race, of frailest mind, 
 Without a will. [He approaches her.] 
 Mar. Oh ! speak once more of love 
 With rapturous voice, and kiss me once 
 
 again. 
 
 Oh ! happiness of first-born love; oh ! smile 
 
 Of all the seasons beaming one, again 
 
 To see thy face. [She reaches out a hand; he 
 
 kisses it] Oh ! treasure of my soul ! 
 The night is gone ! Come, let us climb the 
 
 hill 
 
 To greet the rising sun with laughter and 
 song. 
 
64 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act III 
 
 Love is a child, and children nothing fear. 
 This is the spot on the bank beneath this 
 
 tree. 
 Come, let us sing, and love, and live, and 
 
 love ! 
 Lou. [half aloud] She f aces it with love upon 
 
 her lips. 
 Mar. I see you only, other thought is not. 
 Yes, love upon my lips, for I am happy. 
 'T is perfect joy. 
 Lou. Poor child ! Ah ! curse me with latest 
 
 breath. 
 Why these words, my kind master ? You 
 
 are here; 
 You were so good to grant my simple 
 
 request, 
 So good,— I always think of you as good. 
 Come, whisper to me the old words so sweet, 
 And for this hour we live in former scenes; 
 Repeat the words of that inclement day, 
 When you were sheltering me with your 
 
 plumed hat. 
 Be not sad. I am happy. 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 65 
 
 Lou. [aside] To answer ! 
 
 How horrible the torment even here ! 
 Mar. I wait, my lover. Shall I tell them 
 over? 
 I know them as the lark its song. How 
 
 often 
 They have been on my lips and in my heart, 
 As I have tried to voice them. 
 Lou. Poor, dear child, 
 
 Forgive me. 
 Mar. Yes, though what to be forgiven ? 
 
 Now the song. 
 Lou. ' 'Hair of the comet combed by the sun, 
 Depths of the blue of even, 
 Passionate red, and glow of the stars, 
 Goddess,— " 
 
 Oh ! ask me not 
 For more in such an hour. You are— 
 Mar. Happy, aye. 
 
 Lou. Angelique, hast thou nothing to ask of 
 me? 
 
 Yes. Yes, everything except myself. You 
 keep 
 
66 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act IV 
 
 My soul, 't is my bequest, 't is all I have; 
 You keep it, lover. 
 Lou. Sweet-heart, keep thy soul ? 
 
 Thou meanest thy soul ! 
 Mar. Aye. 
 
 Lou. [aside] Oh ! God ! am I 
 
 Turned fiend to filch men's souls ? [to Mar. ] 
 
 Thy thought is wild. 
 Mar. So is my love. Wild ! Ah ! 't is the 
 
 word ! My love 
 Is as the lion wild, as the savage wild, 
 And as the partridge wild, as the thyme 
 
 wild. 
 We have an hour for wild and glorious love. 
 Oh ! rapturous embrace and kiss of love. 
 Oh ! summer's breath laden with rose's 
 
 scent. 
 Oh ! sea of emerald and boat of pearl. 
 Oh ! azure sky with gentle waves of foam. 
 Oh ! birds of morn ! Oh ! crickets' hum at 
 
 noon ! 
 And glorious glare of splendid blazing gold, 
 As all turns gem beneath thy royal ray. 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE. 67 
 
 Oh ! crimson glow 'mid purple deepening 
 
 clouds, 
 And whiffs of pink, smiles of the day to 
 
 night. 
 Oh! dark and wonderous shades for lovers 
 
 made, 
 And myriad worlds alight for only them. 
 Lou. Her mind is wandering. So near to 
 
 death 
 Without a fear! Her mind is gone. 
 Mar. Good heart, 
 
 Thou must not fail me now. Beat for the 
 
 love 
 That thou wilt know; beat for the love that 
 
 throbs 
 For thee in thy king's breast. Send blood 
 
 in flames 
 To burn the strangler's grip. Aeneas re- 
 turns! 
 He comes to-morrow; throb high for him; 
 Mount that thy fire may light his way and 
 
 shame 
 The sun before his lover's eye. He comes! 
 
68 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act IV 
 
 Oh! Louis! speak of love! never enough! 
 
 Lou. She thinks not what she says. A 
 
 frame! 
 
 Vain empty frame which love doth haunt. 
 
 Mar. No word to me? 
 
 What were you saying? Have you been 
 
 here long? 
 
 I have been sick. How long I waited you! 
 You could not come before. You loved me? 
 You loved the baby? I loved it, but for you 
 I let them draw its tender mouth away, 
 And closed my eyes to its appealing gaze. 
 But oh! it seemed so trustful. And my 
 
 ears 
 I stopped, and sobbed, yet could not drown 
 
 its cry. 
 They told me I might live a little longer, 
 If I could give it up. I let it go. 
 Oh! my sweet babe! But I loved you more. 
 You have come, oh! you have come. I lean 
 Oh! lover, on thine arm. Oh! happy time, 
 Though death must come. 
 Lou. Not death, but love and life. 
 
 Mar. It were too full. Love for a moment, 
 
 love! 
 
Scene 1.] DE FONTANGE 69 
 
 I own it, and I die content. 
 Lou. No thought 
 
 Of life to come. 
 Mar. This moment is enough. 
 
 Lou. I call a priest. 
 
 Mar. The God of love is here. 
 
 Lou. Pray ! let me call ! The church should 
 
 be here this hour. 
 Mar. Oh ! leave me not, for then thou has- 
 tenest death; 
 
 But love and thought of it will keep me here; 
 
 Thou lovedst me more than all and love me 
 still 
 
 The same. 'T was not the pomp and luxury, 
 
 The riches of the palace and the power, 
 
 The titles and the adoring multitudes; 
 
 I had a pride in them which I now hate. 
 
 My only claim, my only wish is you. 
 
 Alway thy love my great desire, but now 
 
 'T is all: no thought save of thy love; no 
 word 
 
 But love and thee. 
 Lou. Oh ! tell me some request; 
 
70 THE BROKEN STATUE [Act IV 
 
 Speak as you care for me. 
 Mar. Ask forgiveness 
 
 From those whom I have wronged and pay 
 my debts. 
 Lou. But for thyself ? 
 Mar. Remember me sometime, 
 
 And when thou takest from thy breast a 
 
 flower, 
 Its head drooping, but sweetness rare ex- 
 haling, 
 Breathe in its dying fragrance full and deep, 
 And kiss its grateful leaves with thought 
 of me. 
 Lou. Whence sprung this love? I promise 
 all and more. 
 Ah ! what could pay for love like thine ? 
 Mar. Thy love. 
 
 A light is bursting through the window now; 
 'Tis dazzling, a new light. Tired ! Happy ! 
 What is approaching ? (She starts up, then 
 
 falls back*) 
 LOU. (Bending toward her.) Silent; yet she 
 breathes. 
 
Scene L] DE FONTANGE. 71 
 
 A priest must come. To die without a hope. 
 
 'Tis strange no priest is here. 
 
 Mar. (Reviving.) I have profaned 
 
 The church. Call not a priest. None will 
 
 answer. 
 
 Lou. In such an hour the church cannot 
 
 refuse thee. 
 Mar. Oh ! leave me not to call. 'T will not 
 
 avail. 
 Lou. The thief upon the cross the Lord for- 
 gave. 
 Mar. I am the other thief. I reviled the 
 Christ. 
 Behold the broken crucifix. When I 
 Heard you come, I threw it from me. 
 Lou. Great God ! 
 
 My soul is lost, as I thy cause of sin. 
 Oh ! pray, and clasp the crucifix about my 
 
 neck. 
 We cry to God, to Mary, and to Christ. 
 For thy soul, pray; pray ! 
 Mar. Sweetest pledge of love, 
 
 Thou prayest for me. 
 
72 THE BROKEN STATUE [ Act IV 
 
 Mar M„ „ • Th ° U must J° in the praver 
 
 Mar Ah ! C0 »W it save thy soul ? 
 
 ^athts^ ^ ° f *■* a "e G 
 C ach P ietT Whatma ^ -t then the love 
 Lou. What words to comfort thee ! 
 
 J^e same forever, I lo^ o r rdSWhiChare 
 
 As I hate myself I love you, AniltV™' 
 
 and brigft° Wmgr ** but soft th * "fcht 
 
 Th (sl?n, ?" TT 6S ° f ,ove and ^ee. 
 I on nffi lmp - He kneds beside *«*) 
 
 1d£ me n ° t; a farewe11 word - * 
 
 Ma? h m T dUCh6SS ' Marie ' Antique. 
 mJi H . dfopenin S her «*) I die happy; 
 my king weeps for me. 
 
 FINAL CURTAIN. 
 
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