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FT"i A:' < E X A STOR Y OF THPEIO D, ADAPTED FROM THE fRENCH OF YICTORIEN 1ARDOU, BY JAMES SCHONBERGx AUTHOR OF "Narcisse, the Vagrattnt," "O'BrienI, tZhe Last of Jis Race," "Betueen yozu and mze anzd the Post," "T The yea loosy of Grffzith Gaznzt," ".I deztitfy, or No Thorowog/!fare," "Troze as Sieel," "The Richelieu of the'eriod," etc., etc., etc. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by JAIES SCHO(NTNITERG, tl thes Clerk Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. PREFATORY. The story of " Fernande" is one of absorbing interest and deep emotional power, being, indeed, one of the best of Victorien Sardou's works. It was received with unusual favor in Paris, upon its production, March, 187o, and was successfully performed for many months, at the " Gymnase Dramatique," where it was first presented. The same degree of public approval was accorded to the piece, in this country and in England, and it has beyond question, become one of the standard plays of the English Stage.'Fernande" is the first of a series of plays to be published, as much for perusal in the library as for purposes of representation on the stage, to which end special care has been bestowed upon the excellence of the typography, the quality of the paper and the general handsome appearance of the book; for all of which the publisher intends to spare neither exertion or money, so that Burnton's Library and Acting Drama may be made as nearly perfect as possible. No. 2 of this series will shortly be published. BURNTON, PUBLISHER, 92 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. BUtRNTON'S LIBRARY and ACTING DRAMA, No. i. FER N A 4ND E: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. CHiARA CTERS. MALE. FEMALE. ANDRE, CLOTILDE, betrothed to AnPOMIFEROL, a lawyer. dre. T)DE CIVRY, 1 Friends FERNANDE. THIE GENERAL, I of GEORGETTE,Wife to Pomerol. THE BARON, J Andre. MAD. DE SENECHAL, Imotlhe ROQUEVILLE, an adventurer. to Fernande. BROCASSIN, 1 MAD. DE BRIONNE, friend to ANATOLE, I, Clotilde. DON RAIIRE amesters TE BARONESS. ARESQUIER,J AN OLD LADY, aunt to De FREDERICK, servant to Mad. Civry. de Senechal. FLEUR DE PECHE, Of ALFRED, servant to Andre. AMANDA, the JOSEPH, servant to Clotilde. GIBRALTAR, DemiSANTA CRUZ, JMonde THERESE, waiting maid to Clotilde. MALE AND FEMALE GAMESTERS, SERVANTS. AcT I. DESPAIRINGT ACT II.-JEALOUS, ACT III.-BETRAYED. ACT IV.-T RIUMPHANTo' CENE- PA RIS. RELATIVE POSITIONS, ENTRANCES AND EXITS. R,, means Right; L., Left; R.H., Right Hand; L.H., Left Hand; C., Centre; S.E., (or 2 E.,) Second Entrance; U.E., Upper Entrance; C.D., Centre Door; D.F., Door in Flat. A STORY OF THE PERIOD. ACT I SCENE.-A Showy Room at a table d'hote, c.D.-Door, R.I.E.-Large Dining Room door, L. —S/a, R. —TWindow, L. 3E.-Piano, R., with mirror over it, reflecting the Dining Room doors opposite.- Table, L. FREDERICK discovered attentively turning over a pack of Playing cards. POMEROL (to servant outside) Gone out, you say? Well, then I'll wait! (Enter, C.D., speaking, and comes down to Frederick.) What the deuce are you doing? FRED. Ah, Monsieur de Pomerol, is that you? POM. Have you won? (pointing to cards) FRED. Yes,'twas a splendid Martingale -But where have you been this long time? Have you just arrived from the country? POM. Yes, but I thought you were at the old place. I have been looking for you from pillar to post. Gibraltar told me where you were.-So you've changed your quarters, have you? FRED. Yes, we've been here ever since that little affair. PoM. What little affair? FRED. Oh, that one about the Hungarian-the baldheaded General-don't you recollect? PoM. Upon my word, I don't. I've-seen so many Hungarians-old bald-headed Generals -privates - all sorts. FRED. This one became rather notorious -he was hanged in South America, for stealing, I believe. POM. Ah, now I remember-I always suspected that fellow. Old Santa Cruz introduced him to us.- But what about him? 4 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT I. FRED. He used to dine here every day, made a pretty respectable appearance, especially after a run of luck. POM. Oh, he was lucky, was he? FRED. Very! You understand. At last Anatole got angry and broke up his game. PoM. Turned him out in fact? FRED. Just so. I warned Madame about the fellow's revengeful spite, and, that as like as not, he would report the house to the police and tell them of the gaming going on here:-in fact, everything. PovM. Well? FRED. I was right. The General did as I predicted. The police made a raid and Madame'had to suffer fourteen days imprisonment. So we were forced to break up housekeeping and Madame came here under another name. POM. She's not Madame Adolphe now? FRED. No —she is Madame de Senechal. PoM. Well this seems a snug enough place. FRED. Much more convenient than the old one. Down in the garden there's a broken well, in case of alarm down we pop, and in a moment we are in the street. POM. Very convenient indeed. FRED. We are quite stylish now, all the ladies come in full dress, and no gentlemen are admitted without white neck ties. Monsieur Roqueville introduced this. PoM. Oh, he's the presiding genius, is he? FRED. Yes, he has full control here. POM. What has become of Fernande? FRED. Bless you, she never interferes. She'll be back in time for dinner. The fact is, she's no attraction now. She's too glum for our customers. Talking of customers -here come some of them. Enter BROCASSIN and AMANDA, C.D. AMA. Why, Pomerol, is that you? BROC. Where have you been?-we had quite lost sight of you. POM. I'm becoming, like you, a little older. AIMA. Why, you have abandoned us for a whole year 1 ACT I.J FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 5 BRoc. He has given up gambling, and has taken to other vices. AMA. Yes, he's married! POM. How do you get on with your sculpture? AIA, Oh, don't mention sculpture to him, he's been dreadfully cut lately. POM. Cut! how? AMA. By his friends. POMEROL and AMANDA laugh. BROC. Laugh away! for all that I have a statue. POM. Where? BROC. (tapping his forehead) Here! Enter FLEUR DE PECHE, C.D. She is dressed in the extreme of fashion. BROC. Hallo! here's Fleur de Peche. AMEA. Oh you're here at last. FLEUR. Just from Baden by the seven o'clock train. Excuse my toilet. AMvA. Oh, you're all right. BROC. You must have broken the Bank. FLEUR. On the contrary there was a dead run against me. If it hadn't been for a little German Jew, who paid my fare on, I should have been kept in pawn. BROC. Baden is not such a good place as they say it is. FLEUR. No, indeed-and then, the women! Am I a greater cheat than the rest of you? POM. No, I don't think you are. FLEUR. Well, I give you my word of honor -there were two English women there-straight-stiff-uglyred-haired and freckled - you never saw anything like them, yet all the men were crazy after them. I told the Manager that they would drive away all respectable women,- me first. PoM. You deserve a kiss for that. Enzter ANATOLE and DE CIVRY, C.D. ANA. Ladies -allow me to introduce my friend, Viscount de Civry. I have taken the liberty of bringing him here as a guest. 6 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT I. CIv. (in a courteous manner) I am much indebted to my friend for this introduction. FjEUR. (aside to BROCASSIN) What a nice young man. BRoc. (shrugging' his shoulders) Provincial! POM. De Civry! I know a gentleman of that name at Toulouse, the President of the Court! CIv. My father, sir. POM. He is a worthy man, belonging to a distinguished family. Civ. (bowing) Sir! PoM. You have an uncle at Bastia, I believe? I start for there to-morrow-any commissions I can executeCIv. You are very kind. I think it likely I may trouble you. PoM. (giving card) Here is my card. (aside) How the deuce did he get in here? ANA. My friend Civry is in Paris completing his studies. FLEUR. A student, eh? Civ. Of Law! FLEUR. Oh, I'm so fond of students. I doat on them. Civ. (bowing) Oh, Madame! ANA. He doesn't know much about Paris yet. POM. He'll soon get over that, in your hands. CIv. Yes, luckily, we live in the same street. PoM. (aside) A clear case of crow and pigeon. Enter GIBRALTAR, C.D. FLEUR. (kissing GIBRALTAR) Why, here's little Gibraltar. ANA. Frederick, bring some Maderia. FRED. Yes, sir! Exit, C.D. GIB. Oh, what do you think? I'm going to bring a real Egyptian here this evening. A grand Cairo Merchant, I met him at the Mabille. AMA. (sitti2ng at a small table and sorting a pack of cards) Oh, won't that be nice! Is he rich? GIB. Yes, and generous, which is more to the point. FREDERICK re-enters with zine and glasses which he places on table - he then goes zlp to back. POMEROL crosses and sits on sob., ACT I.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 7 GIB. I've been taking him about Paris, to the Bois de Boulogne, everywhere, at the rate of a hundred francs a day, we had an open carriage from the Grand Hotel, a gorgeous turnout-ask Pomerol, he saw us. I took him to Blanche's where he lost ten thousand francs in the drinking of a glass of champagne-how thirsty I am, nobody has offered me anything. ANATOLEfil/s a glass of wine and presents it to her. FLEUR. (rising) They've been playing at Blanche's, have they? GIB. I believe you! AMA. The mean thing, she never invited me. FLEUR. She has been reconstructed. (to CIVRY, who crosses to her) When I left for Baden she was dead broke. She goes up stage with him, and trifles with the keys of the piano. GIB. And now she has a house, furniture, carpets and pictures (sits at table, L.) and I say- she has a new American table, with slides. In case of surprise, you touch a spring, everything disappears, and they find her sitting at dinner, with dessert, decanters, glasses, and even cheese upon the plates. It's perfectly wonderful! FLEUR. (stops her planyin) What's that about her table? I haven't eaten anything since I left Strasbourg. FRED. Monsieur de Roqueville has not come in yet, neither have Madame or her daughter returned. Exit, c.D. GIB. I suppose the young lady is at church. PoM. Does that shock you? GIB. I don't care much about it, provided we get our dinner. (aside to Amzanda) I sold your Chantilly lace for you. AMiA. (aside to /her) Ho\w much? GIB. (aside) Two hundred. I have the money. AMA. (aside) Don't tell Brocassin. GIB. (aside) Catch ime doing anything half as stupid. Enter DON RAMIRE, c.D. All riSe. POM. (to FLEUR) Who's this? 8 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT I. AMIA. The Commander, Don Ramireo FLEUR. Commlander of what? PoMx. Of anything you please. Is he from the Spanish main? ANATOLE nods, POMEROL buttons up his coat and sticks his hands in his pockets. PoM. I thought so. FLEUR. He a fine looking man, isn't he? RAMI. Sefioras, accept my apologies for being late. ANA. Allow me to introduce you to Monsieur de Ponerol. RAMI. Delighted to make your lordship's acquaintance. Holdin, out his hand to POMEROL, who pretends not to see the action. ANA. (aside to POMEROL) He's holding out his hand to you. POMEROL shows himz that his hand is in his pocket. FLEUR. What a handsome ring. RAMI (pullling it off) It is at your grace's disposal. FLEUR. Oh, Don Ramire! RAIMI. ( florishing it) A trifle A diamond found in one of my mines, by one of my slaves, (as FLEUR iS about to take it he puts it on his fnger) It shall never leave me. It was my mother's. FLEUR. (poZtingly to POMEROL) Why, he as good as offered it to me. POM. A mere piece of Spanish formality, which means nothing. RAMII. (looking at the ring admiringly) It saved my life upon one occasion. BROC. (aside to POMEROL) NOW for a yarn! (yawns) RAM.L During my last campaign, I was indebted to its brilliancy for finding my way back to my regiment in the dark. PoM. (half aside) I wonder he didn't light his segar with it. ACT I.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 9 Enter MARESQUIER and SANTA CRUZ, C.D., the jorm7er a little old man, the latter a frightful old wonman. ANA. and BROC. Here come Daddy Maresquier and Santa Cruz! ALL. (derisively clapping their hands) Bravo! Bravo! SANTA. Ugh! you rough creatures. All laugh. BROC. Don't be offended Mother Cruz. Let them have their way, not many old people wear as well as you. SANTA. Impertinent coxcomb FLEUR. I'm out of temper. I'm hungry. AMA. They're half an hour late to-day. ANA. Let us wait for Roqueville. BROC. Oh, he's always late. Let us get dinner. ALL. Yes, yes. Enter FREDERICK, hastily, c.D. FRED. Mademoiselle has iust come in. FLEUR. At last! FRED. She couldn't help it. She was almost killed. POM. An accident FRED. Yes-on the Boulevard-a lady brought her home in her carriage. FLEUR. Poor thing POM. Where is she? FRED., In her room. She's not in the least hurt, and desires that you will sit down to table, and not wait for Madame, who will be down presently. Exit C.D. BROC. All right. To dinner- Colme! Make room for the young folks. Leads SANTA CRUZ off in a galop, L.D., followed by RAMIRE with FLEUR —ANATOLE and AMANDA, and MARESQUIER and GIBRALTAR. POM. (to CIVRY) You'll pardon what I'm about to say, won't you? I have had the honor of pleading before your fatherCIv. Speak: sir, you are entitled to every possible consideration. ANA. (at the door) Civry, are you coming? A* 10 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT I. POM. Yes, we'll be there presently. (ANATOLE disap/pears at door) Tell me, was it Richon who brought you here? Civ. Certainly, I asked him to do so. We provincials, you know, like to see every phase in life. I wanted to see life Pol. Even in such a den as this? CIv. Oh, excuse me, I can't call any place a den where I meet a man of your position. Poa,. I expected just such an excuse. My presence, however, proves nothing, excepting that I am at the outlet: you are at the inlet. Let me explain myself, by citing the case of a certain young man, who, like you, was, through curiosity, introduced into just such a house as this, by a friend, like Richon. He came once, twice, then daily and nightly; attracted by the hideous passion of "play." He became, (gentleman though he was), the companion of irreclaimable wretches, whom he dared not recognize in the open streets, and was punished for his willful degradation by being bound to endure their familiarity. The fortune acquired by the industry of his parents, was swallowed up by knaves, and by abandoned women. It was not play alone which destroyed him: it was not gold only that he squandered, but youth and innocence. Even now, cured of his folly, he shudders when he looks back. (a pause) I speak feelingly, for I was that man i Civ. You? PoM. Yes, I! Leave this place-leave it, I beg of you! Civ. But I am no gambler! besides, I have been seen -how can I leave so abruptly? what will they think? POM. Suppose the police were. suddenly to make a descent,-you would be arrested-your name would be bandied about. How would it look, to read in the Police Reports, the name of Viscount de Civry? CIv. Sir, you are right-I will not stay another instant -allow me to shake hands with you, and to thank you with my whole heart. POM. Bravely, and well resolved. You will depart this moment? ACT I.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. I Civ. I will I trust at one time or another to mleet you again - and again to thank you- farewell! Shakles zandids witz POMVEROL and Exit C.D., as ROQUEVILLE enters f ollo-ed by FREDERICK. ROQ. (giving hat and coat to FREDERICK) Who is that gentleman just leaving? FRED. A fiiend of Monsieur Anatole's. RoQ. Indeed! (seeing POMEROL) Your pardon, sir,Monsieur de Pomerol, I believe? Poir. (borwing coldly) That is my name. ROQ. (piqued at POMEROL'S mlannXer) Excuse me, but do you know why that young man left us so suddenly? POM. (coldly) I cannot inform you, sir! ROQ. Are you going to dinner? POM. I thank you -no I ROQ. (biinz g his lips) Oh, excuse me! Enters dining room, L., voices are heard welcoming him. FREDERICIc Exits c.D. carrying hat and coat. PoM. The sinister knave. I'd rather not dine in his company. I must see Fernande another time- I came here for a good purpose -my visit, so far, has not been entirely without result. (looks for his hat) Enter FREDERICK, C. D. FRED. Did Madame pass this way, sir? PoM. No,.-she did not-why do you ask? FRED. A lady is enquiring for her. She seems quite respectable: I don't know whether I had better admit her. POM. I admire your scruples, Frederick. FRED. She is very persistent. I tried to make her understand by winks and signs, but she is very green. PoM. Oh, some imposter, no doubt. Where's my hat? FRED. I suppose I had better show her in. Exit c.D. PoM. A respectable woman here-it's to be noted for its oddity. Re-enter FREDERICK C.D. followed by CLOTILDE. PoMI. (ag ast.) Clotilde! CLO. Is that you, cousin? Pori. Leave us Frederick-be off, I tell you! 12 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT I. Exit FREDERICK, R.DO CLO. How rude you are to the lad.POMr. (pqzzcly) Answer me, cousin-no prevarication -is this the first time you ever entered this house? CLO. Yes,-it is a mere accident now! Poi. Then you don't gamble? CLO. Gamble! what do you mean? POM. (kissing her hand) Charming creature. Here, take my arm, and let us be off! CLO. Why? PoM. Because a woman like you dare not even enter a house like this, far less stay in it. CLO. Why, how you talk,-I see nothing amiss about the place. PoM. (taking her arm) There, come along-we'll talk about it bye and bye. CLO. You seem to forget that I'm not a baby. Where am I? POM. In a house badly kept-of bad reputationfilled with bad characters. CLO. And yet you are here! PoM. I'm here on a good errand, at any rateo CLO. So a11 I POM. You? CLO. Yes! Not ten minutes ago, my carriage was stopped, and I heard screams. A young lady was picked up from under the wheels. Fortunately, she escaped without injury. I got her into the carriage, by my side —she was pale and confused-and it was as much as I could do to get her to give me her name and address. I brought her to the door and she left me with thanks, but oh, with such a mournful tenderness of expression PoMA. But what brought you to this neighborhood? CLo. I'll tell you that bye and bye; I was about to continue my drive, but thought it as well to scold my coachman for his awkwardness. He astonished me, by declaring that it was not his fault at all: that the young lady threw herself under the horse's feet, and more than that, he was sure she would try it again. Then I determined to drive back here, so filled was I with terrible anxiety. I ACT I.J FERNANDE A STORY OF THE PERIOD. I3 feel quite re-assured now, Phillip, at seeing you here. Do you know the young lady? POM. I have not seen her for years: not since she was so high. (holding his hand a little way from the floor) CLO. But she is still very young. POM. Not more than twenty. CLO. Well, she interests me. But, by the way, what would your wife say, if she knew you were here? I did well to come. POM. I was just off without seeing Fernande, (that's her name), -but your coming saves me from a good deal of self-reproach. CLO. And saves me from a great folly. PoM. How so? CLO. You know Andre is in the country, and won't be home for eight days yetPOM. Yes, I remember, I dined with you the day he left. CLO. Well, then read that. (hands him a letter) POM. (glancing at it) An anonymous letter? (reading) "Madame de la Roseraie is weak enough to believe that "the Marquis is in the country. He returned privately to "Paris on Thursday morning. If Madame doubts the infi"delity of the Marquis, let her, (well veiled), visit the thea"'tre at Montmartre —she will be sure to see him there, for "it is there he passes his evenings." Why, Clotilde, surely you attach no importance to a thing like this? CLO. (sitting on sofa) No, but I read it. All idle nonsense, I grant you, but still it has its weight. No matter, the accident which brought me here, saved me from playing the spy, this letter would have made me, upon Andr6. Leave the subject and return to this young girl. W\hat can be done for her? POM. You wish, then, to aid me to assist her? CLO. I do! POM. Well, then, I'll begin at once. But first let me see you into your carriage. CLO. Do you wish me to go? If you want me to help you, how can I do it if I am not here? POM. You need not remain in this house to do what I suggest. 14 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT I. CLO. Why not here? PoAi. You forget I told you that this was a gambling house. CLO. (rising quickly) A gambling house? Who plays? PoM.' Oh, the regular customers, players through passion or profession,- those who live and those who die by it. CLO. From the lowest class? POM. From all classes. Sons of good families, adventurers, old military men, bankrupts, ex-magistrates, strangers, countrymen, ladies with incomes, small store-keepers, abandoned creatures, in short, people of all ages, sexes and conditions. CLO. A perfect commonwealth of gambling? PoM. Upon the green cloth there is a perfect equality. They flock from all quarters, just as decent people are going to bed, and after a night of madness they disperse, as the witches do, at break of day, with smirched faces, dimmed eyes and cadaverous countenances. CLO. What a picture? And do such people emerge from here? What a curious sight it must present. PoM. An ugly sight, at any rate. CLo. Ugly! yes: but not the less curious for all that. PoMr. (surprised) Heavens! does my description excite your curiosity? CLO. It does! let me see this wonderful sight? Poir. Are you mad? CLO. Of course I would not come here expressly to see it, but since I am here -- PoMi. You could never endure it. CLO. Oh, but with you. See, this veil is as good as a mask. POM. No, Clotilde, I must deny your request:-it would be madness — CLO. Think of the end we have in view, the means are -othing. You speak highly of this young girl. Let me have an opportunity of verifying her worth by my own observation-in her own home-with all her surroundings. PoM. But it is — CLO. An act of charity, I tell you. Don't we go into all sorts of dens of misery and poverty, to help the unfortunate, and call it duty? What is the difference now? ACT I.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 15 PoM. Duty is admirable, but curiositvCLO. Well, call it curiosity if you will-but there is a duty allied with it for all that. Not a word more. Either you gratify my wish now, or I leave you to perform your good action towards this girl alone, and drive off to the theatre, to watch for Andr6. Come -yes or no? POI. Well, you have driven 1me into a corner. But mind, I limit your stay here to one hour. CLO. One hour be it! Pon. I have no fear but that you'll be glad to get away sooner. But you will speak with Fernande? CLO. I will. POM. And take her away from here? CLO. To-morrow I I prom1ise. Enter MADAME DE SENECHAL and FREDERICK, R.D. POM. (aside to CLOTILDE) This is her mother! CLO. (sits extreme L. of table) Make her talk 2 MAD. DE S. In a carriage, did you say? Where is she? PoM. Don't be alarmed, Madame, there was no mischief done. See for yourself. Makes sign to FREDERICK, who opens the dining room, door. Sounds of laugzhter heard. MAD. DE S. (lookinzg and seeing FERNANDE) Ah, you are right. (FREDERICK closes door. MAD. falls on soqa.) I was trembling with terror! Exit FREDERICK, C.D. POM. Come, Madame, recover yourself, and thank this lady, who brought your daughter home. MAD. DE S. (for the first time perceiving CLOTILDE) I thank you, Madame, with my whole heart. (about to take her hand: stops) Do you know where you are? PoA. Oh, yes! and to tell you the truth, she suffers from a good deal of curiosity. MAD. DE S. This is no great place to be curious about. POM. Precisely what I told her, but she would stay. CLOTILDE makes a sign to POMEROL to keep MAD. DE S. talking. -But tell me, Madame de Senechal, how it comes that you keep such an establishment as this? 16 FERNANDE A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT I. MAD. DE S. How I happen to be here? Is that what you mean? POM. Yes-you did not always follow this for a living. MAD. DE S. (folding her shawl) Had any one, on my wedding-day, told me, that I would come to this, I should, indeed, have wondered. POM. True, you were married to a Montpellier merchant, were you not? MAD. DE S. No, my husband came from Bordeaux. PoM. You left him, did you not? MAD. DE S. Whoever told you that, lied. No, poor wretch, he left me. POM. Ah, that's quite another story. MAD. DE S. I was induced, Madame, to marry him when I was sixteen years old. I had a step-mother, you know what that means, and my husband was one of her choosing. He dissipated my little fortune, and my father, tired of our necessities, at last shut his door upon me and upon my child. A short time afterwards my husband's dead body was brought home on a shutter. He had broken his neck in the woods. For six weeks after that, I lay between life and death, perfectly delirious. When I recovered, I was alone, without means or friends. All my little stock of goods sold, and myself and child beggars. Fancy me with an infant, six months old, and without resources! CLO. Poor woman! MAD. DE S. (sits: POMEROL does the same) I came to Paris -I began to give lessons on the Piano, that lasted but a short time. I could not even get pupils enough to pay for the hire of the instrument. I tried fan-painting and drawing, then embroidery, and so on until my eyes became inflamed, and I nearly lost my sight. CLO. How terrible! MAD. DE S. Terrible! yes, it was terrible! My poor child meanwhile, crying for food. It filled me with rage and despair. Want came-and then the old story —down — down- downward-, until I reached this level. CLO. And are you happy as you are? MAD. DE S. Happy? No! It is a heart-wearing life ACT I.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 17 ever at the mercy of the first losing dupe, who may revenge himself by informing upon me, or-of the first hanger-on to whom I refuse credit. One instance, here, RoquevilleMonsieur de Pomerol knows him-he rules the house by threats-lives free-and harasses me with fears-besides claiming a percentage of the profits of the place. What can I do, Madame? Every one knows the fellow to be an adventurer, a swindler, and without credit,-but if he has not power for good, he has for evil, and I am forced to give in. CLO. Your daughter- you have said nothing about her. MAD. DE S. Ah, Madame, that is the greatest grief of all, to see my child surrounded by, and mixing with, such people as frequent this. What chance has the poor girl of finding a husband here, unless it be one of the worst description. I thought of the stage for her, but she is naturally sad and timid, and, now-a-days, life and vivacity are needed. Heaven intended her for a plain, honest man's wife, but Fate denies it. Madame, when I think of it, my heart almost breaks. Many and many a time I have wept bitterly, thinking of her; but then, business-habit-make me, for a while, forgetful of it. CLO. But why leave her here? amidst the danger of example 1 MAD. DE S. What can I do, Madame? Sometimes I think to myself that chance may send some respectable person, like Monsieur, here, amidst the despicable frequenters of the house, and that person, pitying and admiring her, may give my poor child a chance of escape from the bad influences around her. CLO. By marrying her? MAD. DE S. (a pazse) Well —yes. POMEROL 2and CLOTILDE both rise. CLO. (pressing POMEROL'S hanzd) Oh, Phillip, what morality-is it not %fearful? Poi. What did I not tell you? Roars of laglhter heard outside in dining room. MAD. DE S. They are rising from table-are you going to stay, Madame? 18 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT I. CLO. (putting on her veil) Don't be afraid, they will not recognize me. Above all, don't tell your daughter that I am here. I want to see her, to study her character, in order that I may help to take her from this place. Door L. opens. MAD. DE S. Oh, Madame! CLo. Stay near me, Phillip! Enter brusquely, one after another, AMANDA, FLEUR DE PECHE, GIBRALTAR, SANTA CRUZ, ROQUEVILLE, BROCASSIN, ANATOLE, RAMIRE, MARESQUIER, and other MALE and FEMALE GUESTS: all as if having dined well. FREDERICK stands at door, then goes ffL. and returns with another servant, they arrange table at back, for cofee, etc. FLEUR. Oh, here's dear Madame Senechal i AMA. Good-day, Madame. GIB. We missed you, my dear. The Commander paid his champagne bet, and Brocassin was so funny. MAD. DE S. (not heeding) Where is Fernande? (calling) Fernande! Enter FERNANDE, L.D. FER. (runs and embraces MAD. DE S.) Oh, mother! MAD. DE S. (kissing her) I was just talking about you, with — Poar. (quickly) With me FER. (zolding out her hand) Ah, Monsieur de Pomerol. (to her motzer) How late you were! MAD. DE S. You're not hurt, I hope,-that accidentFER. Do you know about it? No, not in the least, I assure you. (MAD. kisses her') FLEUR. That's right, Madame, she's a good girl. She couldn't eat any dinner, because you were not there. MAD. DE S. and FERNANDE go up stage and off cD. BROC. (at back) What about the coffee? ROQ. (to FREDERICK, who is setting table at back) Coffee and liqueurs, and look sharp POM. (aside to CLOTILDE) That is Roqueville I CLO. (aside) So I thought. ANA. (elated wtih wine) What has become of my friend? ACT I.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 19 POM. He has gone! ANA. Rather an abrupt departure, wasn't it? AMA. How is it you didn't dine with us? PoM. Thanks, I had some one with me. AMA. (seeing CLOTILDE, whose Veil is down) Oh, excuse me. (to FLEUR) Queer looking, isn't she? Look at her dress. Not much show about that! (goes to piano.) FILEUR. (aside to AMANDA) She hides her face-she must be ugly. ROQ. Will any one take cordial? GIB. Yes, I will! ROQ. Cognac or Kirchwasser? GIB. Both! -FLEUR. Brocassin, make a cigarette for me, there's a duck! RANmI. (presenting a segar) Does your grace prefer a segar, made of my own tobacco, by my own slaves? FLEUR. Perhaps it's your mother's segar, like the diamond ring. RAMIRE ofers a segar to CLOTILDE, Who refuses, he goes up stage. ANATOLE gives a light fromn his segar to FLEUR. AMANDA strikes the piano keys. ROQUEVILLE ofers liqueurs. GIBRALTAR takes a glass. MARESQUIER in corner, handkerchief on his knee, sips his coCee. SANTA CRUZ steals lumps of sugar and puts them into her pocket. GAMBLERS, men and women, arrive, C.D. FLEUR. Amanda, dear, play us a waltz? AMANDA- plays a Mazourka. FLEUR and ANATOLE dance, both smoking segars. CLO. (aside to POMEROL) What extraordinary people! PoMr. (aside to her) Indeed, they are. CLO. (aside to him) Who is that man with spectacles? PoM. (aside to her) Some provincial merchant, with a taste for vice, which he indulges when he visits Paris. Co. (aside to POMEROL) And that one with the gray hair? POM. (aside to her) You mean old Thomassen- quite a hero. He's an old notary from Grenoble-for the love 20 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT I. of gambling he has squandered his means, ruined his relations, and been nearly sentenced to the galleys. His wife died of grief on his account-his daughter is dying of the same disease,-and yet I have no doubt he pawned her very ear-rings before he came, so as to try his luck once more. CLO. (aside to POMEROL) Who is that tall, aristocratic looking woman? POM. (aside to her) Oh, that's the Countess-a leader of fashion once —she's going down-hill at a fearful rate. RoQ. Now, gentlemen, if you have finished your coffee let us lose no time in beginning. What say you? (crosseo) ALL. Yes, yes! ROQ. (to FREDERICK, who clears away things rapidly) Is everything shut up? FRED. Yes, sir. RoQ. And the dogs? FRED. They are let loose. RoQ. Try the alarm bell and keep a sharp look out. FRED. All right, sir i Enter MAD. DE S. and FERNANDE, C. D MAD. DE S. Fernande 1 FER. Yes, mother. Goes R., opens cuzpboard wi&h key and takes out packs of cards. The gaming tables are quickly arranged. ROQ. (aside to her, taking cards from her hands) I wish to speak with you this evening-don't forget 1 FER. Very well, sir! ROQUEVILLE goes up with cards, some of the other players go into dining room, the doors of which are left open, and there arrange games. BROC. (to MAD. DE S., who is distributing counters) Come, Madame, let us get on with the game, we are losing time. At L. they form a Roulette table-MARESOQU:.R, ANATOLE and others - BROCASSIN, FLEUR and SANTA CRUZ befbre piano - Gambling going on in the dinilan room. ACT I.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 21 SANTA. (to AMANDA) Excuse me, I put down the pool before you. AMA. Well, I took it up, that's all. SANTA. What do you mean by that, you wretch? RoQ. Silence! you women. FLEUR. She's a nuisance, that's a fact. BROC. The old mummy's in a rage about her pool. SANTA. Ugh! you brute, you! ROQUEVILLE silences the quarrel. CLO. (to POMEROL) What makes her so particular about her pool? PoM. (aside to her) She fancies it brings her luck, just as a penny with a hole in it would. Look at old Daddy Maresquier-look at the black silk cap he has on his head -he has worn that for the last ten years. CLO. (aside to POMEROL) Does he, then, win with that? PoM. (to her) Never. CLO. (to POMEROL) Why, then, does he wear it? POM. A superstition, that's all! Thomassen wouldn't play without piling up his gold in a certain manner. Anatole won for months, by finding a spider on his watch one morning. Brocassin, who laughs at such stuff, always magnetizes his cards, and Gibraltar, who laughs at all of them, invariably invokes the spirit of the cheat, Mazarin. CLO. (aside) What extraordinary people The play begins. FERNANDE enters from the dining room. Comes down slowly toward sofa and drops into it in a listless manner. CLO. (aside to POMEROL) See! she is alone-now is the time. POM. (aside to her) You are right S Goes slowly toward FERNANDE, who, in reverie, does not observe him. The noise of gambling continues. FER. (to POMEROL) Ah! are you still here, Monsieur de Pomerol? Why do you stay? POM. (cheerfully) Oh, I have given up playing-I am thoroughly cured of it. FER. So you think-but some day 22 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT 1. CLOTILDE crosses quzietly and comes behind the sofa, listening. PoM. No fear-I made an oath to one T dcearly love, never to touch a card again. FER. You are then in love? PoM. Were you hurt by your accident 7 FER. Not at all1 POM. You appear sad! FER. You know I'm never very lively. PoM. True, you have no cause to be so. (Lnaughter and screams, etc., of gamblers) This is a wretched place. FLEUR. (gaily) That's ours-take it, Amanda-take it!. (All lanugh) FER. Yet theyappear to be very happy. POM. Do you envy them? FEI. Well, yes, I do envy them. They lead, at any rate, a life they like, whilst I - (a pause) - only to think, that at this very moment, there are women peacefully working by their own fireside, their husbands and children near them-such a quiet happiness I shall never knowand yet the poorest possess it. PoM. (taking her hand) And why should you not also possess it? FER. (sadly shaking her head and with/ djfficzlty restraining her tears) Ah, Monsieur de Pomerol, my strength and courage have nearly deserted me-I can bear it no longer! PoM. Well, well, we shall see! What! Tcars? FER. (sobbing) I would that I were dead-if I thought that death were near, I could be tranquil. Laughter and squabbling amongst the players. PoM, (quickly) No more of that, Fernande. It was then true; that accident was an attempt to kill yourself? FER. (quickly) Who says so? My mother? PoM. No, no, she knows nothing about your intentions. FER. Oh, then, sir, do not tell her-pray do not tell her —I did not know what I was doing. PoM. Swear that you will not do it again! CLO. (takinzg FERNANDE'S hand) Yes, Fernande, swear it 1 ACT I.] FERNANDE' A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 23 FER. Oh, Madame CLO. (sitting beside FERNANDE on solq) Yes, I have come back to console you, and to help him to keep his promise to you. Come to-morrow to my house, at five o'clock. I will take care of your mother, too. Promise? FER. (kissiin CLOTILDE'S hacnd) Oh, Madame I CLO. Hush — they are looking this way-wipe away your tears. ROQ. (suddenly) Stop! (all he players pause surprised) The dogs are barking. The players express anxious alartm BROC. The police (to RAMIRE) Leave your money in its place. Do you hear me? RAMI. But -- RoQe (authoritatively) Silence Great commotion. The roulette is replaced by a checker board. The ladies pull out work from their pockets, and appear to be sewing and embroidering. AMANDA plays the piano. One of the young men szngs. Another beats time. FREDERICK appears at C.DOOR. MAD. DE S. Is anything wrong? FRED. No, Madame-nothing. RoQ. What were the dogs barking at? FRED. It's the full moon-they always bark then. BROC. Confound the brutes! GIB. What a fright it gave me. FLEUR. Oh, you silly. All laugh. The play recommences. BROC. Who held the bank? ANA. I did RoQ. (to FERNANDE) Who is that woman who squeezed your hand so tenderly? FER. How does that concern you? RoQ. It does concern me. I distrust de Pomerol, and I want to know what you are plotting among you. FER. Nothing that concerns you. 24 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT I. RoQ. We'll see about that. To your room, MissFER. (rising) I will not go! ROQ. What's that you say? FER. I will not go! ROQ. Take care. I have remarked your feeble attempt to assert yourself for the last few days. I will be obeyed! FER. I will not obey you. I will obey you no longer. RoQ. (laughing grimly) How, little fool. Leave the room. FER. Dare to touch me and I will scream for help. CLO. (to POMEROL) Look, Phillip, look! ROQ. Your reason. FER. Because I hate and despise you i ROQ. (losing all command over himself and seizing her by the arm) You shall go willingly, or else by force. FER. (screaming) Ah I PoM. (seizing ROQUEVILLE by the throat and throwing him back upon the sofq) Wretch! All rise in excitement. MAD. DE S. (runs and catches FERNANDE in her arms) Who dares to molest my daughter? RoQ. (foaming with rage) Let go of me! Let me go! BROCASSIN and ANATOLE try to separate them. RoQ. How dare you interfere? can't I say or do what I please to my ownPOM. Another word and I'll choke the life out of you. (throws him off) MAD. DE S. (placing FERNANDE ori sq/a) Infamous liar! Out of the house, every one of you, or I'll call the police. Great commotion. The players rush to secure their money. CLO. Poor child-I see now why she wished to kill herself. TABLEA U. Frederick. Gamblers. Gamblers. Fleur. Gibraltar. Santa Cruz. Anatole. Ramire. Brocassin. Roqueville. Maresquier. Pomerol. Clotilde. Fernande. Mad. de S. END OF ACT 1. ACT II.] FEANANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 25 ACT II. SCENE. —CLOTILDE'S ApaCrtmIent- I) 0Door in?fiat - Winzdow R., looking out upon courtyard —Doors z E. R. and L. Fireplace L., wiith mirror over it, reflectin tlhe WindowSofa befbe irerelace, set obliqzlely - Sma{ll table near sofa - Table R. -Easy chairs - Chairs and footstools, or ottomans. CLOTILDE discovered sitting on sofa, writing at table.GEORGETTE enters rapidly, speaking, as she enters, to the girl who o[pens the door for her. GEORG. (feverishly) You say that Monsieur de Pomerol is not here? CLO. Your husband? GEORG. Yes, my husband, my husband! CLO. Don't you see that he isn't here? GEORG. Of course not. I was sure of it. CLO. Why, what's the matter, Georgette? GEORG. Ah, cousin, you're always blaming me for my jealousy, but this time- this time —I'm sure of it Now, now, it's of no use saying a word. He leaves at eight o'clock in the morning, telling me that he'll go here and go there, and to Clotilde's; and that he'll be back by three, and now it's five, and he's not home yet: really, it is too bad. (sits L.) CLO. Be reasonable, my dear; a lawyer's time is at every one's command. No doubt he's in court. GEORG. (rising) Of course, and last night, too. I suppose he was in court, then, till midnight. CLO. Didn't he tell you what he was doing yesterday? GEORG. Not a word. CLO. Then it is very evident that it doesn't interest you. Indeed, my dear, you are jealous without cause. GEORG. Without cause, eh? and with such a husband. Think of what he was before we were married. CLO. (rising) All the more reason why you should have confidence in him. All men of wild youthful habits, settle into devoted husbands. B z6 FERNANDE: A STORY CF THE PERIOD. [ACT II, GEORG. Devoted? Why, I find women in every pigeon hole in his desk. CLO. Women GEORG. Yes, women.! I cannot fumble among his papers a moment, without coming across letters and photographs. Look here, just before I came out I found these. (showizng cartes dle visite) CLO. Portraits? GEORG. Of women, too, look Here is one with a very low necked dress-the hussy-and this one, with her hair dressed neglib'e: and this-I declare, she looks as if she were laughing at me, and on the back there's her handwriting, more like a washerwvoman's scrawl, "the good l/t/le pussy pussy to her darlinrlg poodle poodle " CLO. They must be clients. GEORIG. That's what he says. lWhenever a handsome, veiled woman comes to the house, and he gives her an interview, in his own room, for two hours at a stretch, my dear, he says, it's a client: and then if I want to remain in the room, I am told that professional secresy forbids it. "People come to our house as they go to a doctor's, my dear Georgette," says he, "go to your room, my dear, and don't be so absurd,"- then I cry, or, at least, I used to cry, but now I have adopted a different course, so as to find out all his doings. I've bored a little hole in the panel of the door, and through it I spy everything that's going on. CLO. Well, what have you seen? G:EORG. The first time I tried it, that was a fortnight ago, it was scandalous. A tall blonde was with him, muffled up to her chin, she went in, the door'was shut, I put my eye to the hole, she took off her veil, and, upon my word, she was handsome. My husband received her, and she began to speak. I know she was-speaking although I couldn't hear a word. All at once she rose, threw off her mantle, and showed her shoulder. CLO. What? GEORG, A fact, I assure you! I waited for no more, as you may imagine, but began knocking at the door. The woman started-, a tableau —an explanation. Of course I was in the wrong. She came to begin suit for a divorce ACT II.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 27 on account of cruelty, and was showing where her lord and master had struck her. At least that was the story they told me. CLO. I hope you were satisfied? GEORG. Not a bit of it, for you see these cards? CLO. Oh, that's the past. GEORG. But I'm jealous of the past. I tell you I'm jealous of his ever having made love to other women. I tell you, every woman he looks at, in the street, makes me jealous. CLO. Well, my dear, your's is the same story that every married couple have to tell. GEORG. That's no consolation. CLO. Besides, a husband who was never in love before marriage, offers no guarantee of affection, to say nothing of the ridiculous figure he cuts. GEORG. That's the cant. Ridiculous! A fine argument, truly! A man may have a hundred sweethearts before marriage, a woman musn't even have had one admirer. CLO. Certainly. GEORG. All this is monstrous, why doesn't my husband bring me his first love, a~ I do mine? CLO. You silly creature, you! GEORG. That's no answer! Why do men expect an attribute from us, which they do not possess themselves? CLO. Because those attributes are our glory. On their account we gain esteem. Do you'pity yourself for the superiority which men accord us? GEORG. I snap my fingers at such superiority. Equality is enough for me. CLO. My darling, the day we become nothing more than their equals, we shall become their inferiors. GEORG. But are you not jealous? CLO. As much so as yourself, perhaps, but of the pres.. ent only: and that, Heaven knows, is sufficient. GEORG. What, as jealous as I am?-jealous enough to bite, to tear to pieces-to kill? CLO. Mercy on me! GEORG. If you were deceived, what would you do? CLO. Wihat would I do? 28 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT II. (GEORG. Yes? CLO. (tzrning jpale) What would I do? I don't know. I hope that time will never come. Leave such subjects alone. (goes tofireplace) GEORG. On the contrary let us talk about them. Will you let me give you a piece of advice, cousin? CLO. Advice? GEORG. Yes, about your approaching marriage. CLO. Speak, what is it? GEORG. I visited Hortense yesterday. CLO. Madame de Brionne? GEORG. Yes, tlhe gentle Brionne. Gentle, but deceitful. CLO. What then? GEORG. Whilst I was looking over an album, I overheard a conversation in the next room. It was carried on in subdued tones. Your name had just been mentioned. "When," said one voice, "does this wedding take place?"' It is more than time," was the reply, "for the Marquis — CLO. (sitting on sofa) They mentioned him, did they? GEORG. (nods) "The Marquis is about everywhere with her, one should know how the matter stands, so as to act accordingly." Somle one began speaking at that moment, and I could hear no more than Hortense's charitable answer, "It would indeed be a great pity, for Clotilde has seriously compromised herself." CLO. Compromised? GEORG. That was the word. I was determined to tell you about it, if it were only to make that horrid creature, Hortense, angry. CLO. She is a wretch. Enter THERESE, door in Jlat, (announcing) Madame de Brionne. Exit THERESE as MADAME DE BRIONNE enters D.F.CLOTILDE rises. MAD. BRI. Don't disturb yourself, my dear, I have only a moment to stay. CLO. My dear, you are always welcome, you know that. (pointing to chair) MIAD. ERI. No, I can't sit down: I really cannot. (to ACT II.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 29 GEORGETTE) Good day, my love. (to CLOTILDE) Some one is waiting for me below- only two words and then I'm off. CLO. What are they? MAD. BRI. My sister and I are dying to go to the Chamber of Deputies to-morrow, very strange things are going to happen there, and we, that is, I, thought the Marquis might be able to arrange for our going. CLO. The Marquis; he's absent, you know. MAD. BRI. What, not returned yet? CLO. No 1 MAD. BRI. You astonish me, you really do, how can it be? Chateaugiron told me he saw him yesterday. CLO. Saw the Marquis? MAD. BRI. Yes, in a close coach. CLO. Oh, he's mistaken. MAD. BRI. Evidently! You would have been the first person apprised of his arrival. I'll' scold Chateaugiron soundly, and yet he seemed very positive. CLO. (concealing her disquietude) He was wrong for all that. MAD. BRI. There are likenesses in this world, however. (risingt) Don't let us talk any more about it, I must try elsewhere. CLO. Are you off so soon? MAD. BRI. I shall hardly have time as it is. (to GEORGETTE) Bye-bye, my dear, how charmingly you look. When does your husband go away? GEORG. This evening. MAD. BRI. Do you go with him? GEORG. No, he goes alone. MAD. BRI. That's very independent, my love. You should never allow your husband to go alone, and for such a length of time, too, but, dear, dear, here I stand gossiping. I am so happy to have seen you. Good bye for so long, darling, good bye Exit MADAME DE BRIONNE, D.F. GEORG. (exasperated) The serpent! she knows, too, howA jealous I am! CLO. (cfter ringizg bell for THERESE, Who ezters D.F.) -Ias the messenger returned from the Telegraph Office? 30 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT If. THE. Not yet, Madame. Exit THERESE, D.F. GEORG. Do you expect a dispatch? CLO. From Andre6? Yes! GEORG. And you are anxious? Well, I'm not sorry to perceive that I'm not the only one. PoM. (outside D.F.) Is Madame at home? GEORG. My husband's voice! at last! come in! Enter POMEROL, D.F. POM. Ah, Georgette, you here? Good day, Clotilde! GEORG. Where do you come from, sir? POM. It's too long a story. GEORG. Where did you come from, sir? All sitting at table. POM. Fie! a scene? Come, come, not to-day, I beg of you, on my return. GEORG. Where from? PoM. I'm in a terrible humor. I've just turned everything topsy-turvy to find a small parcel. (;GEORG. I find without looking. POMr. What? GEORG. That! (putting cartes de visite uznder his nose) PoM. Why, there they are! GEORG. What do you mean? Pos,. That's what I was looking for, and you have it. GEORG. Yes, I have it. POM. I ought to have known as much. Confound it! I searched every drawer and pigeon hole over and over again. GEORG. What are they? PoM. Proofs in the Machanneau case. GEORG. The womnan in blue? PoM. Exactly! the woman in blue. Injuries and proofs of neglect and desertion. Proofs positive, with dedications. Everything, in fact, needed for the case. GEORG. Then the pussy, pussy, and poodle —PoMI. All Machanneau evidence. GEORG. And I thought they were your own PoM. At it again? Dear, dear! to think of me as puss puss -- ACT II.] FER.NANDE. A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 31 GEORG. (sZhutting his monulth with he^r hand) There, I forgive you! PoM. (kissing here hand) Oh, thank you! GEORG. (showin78 him a small zmedallion in case) But this one? POM. What is it? GEORG. The portrait: of an actress in a dress of Louis the sixteenth's time.-powdered hair-look! PoM. Did you find that in my desk? GEORG. Yes, look at it. (opens zi ansd shows it to him) PoM. That's my great-grandmother? GEORG. Yours? why it's a young woman. PoI. Of course she was a young woman in I787. GEORG. (stupefed) O0 PoM, (to CLOTILDE) She Is crazy, perfectly crazy. le sits at table. GEORG. Well, then I forgive you for that, too. But there are plenty of other things. PoMi. But what about my trunks, linen and baggage, are they packed? GEORG. Gracious! I forgot them! I'm going! Show me that picture again, will you? (hze show7s ii) Yes, it is old! (kissing hoim) Oh, how I love you, and how happy I am, (in a low voice) Swear that you'll be faithful to me whilst you're in Corsica. Pow. Yes, but the trunks? GEORG. I'm going! But you'll come back soon? PoM. Immediately! GEORG. I'm so glad! so glad! I'm so glad! Exits D.F. running and clapping hands. CLO. Acknowledge that she loves you with her whole heart? PoM. You must acknowledge that I return it with all my soul. CLO. I believe you. POM. Have you any news of Andre? CLO. A letter this morning. PoM. From Blois? CLo. Here is the post-mark. 32 FFERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT II. POM. Yes, that's right. CLO. It arrived just as I was dispatching a telegram to know if he was really there. I am waiting an answer. PoiM. What, suspicious? CLO. Ah, this is nott the first time that I have asked myself whether he loves me as much as ever. What can I tell you, you, who love? To understand me, you must become a woman, with a woman's organization, her fears, her jealousies. Pom. And her nervousness? CLO. With, perhaps, a little of her folly? PoM. Perhaps! CLO. Leave these silly fears, however, and let us talk of your proteges. You have done, I hope, all that was agreed for them? POMa. More than was hoped for. At nine o'clock this morning I was at the Rue D'Acacias, and there found the poor women, sad enough, as you may imagine. CLO. We were not then deceived in that dreadful Roqueville? PoM.'Alas, no! CLO. What misery. POM. It was at the time her mother was arrested, that the wretch who pretended to be the instrument of her release, thus abused her with promises and threats, and that, too, when she was defenceless and alone. CLO. Poor child. PoMa. It was most unfortunate that I w.as not there at the time. CLO. Both, then, were resolved upon departure? PoMI. Their trunks were all packed. Gibraltar was there at the appointed hour to arrange about the price of the furniture. At ten everything was concluded, and the assignment of the bond was being made. At eleven o'clock they entered a coach, and a quarter of an hour later I registered their names at the Hotel Normandie, as two provincials just arrived in Paris. CLO. (rising) The rest concerns me. POM. (rising) I did not dare, my dear Clotilde, to remind you, but you see it in the right light. I am about to ACT II.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF T'1'HI PERIOD. 33 depart upon a journey, and'tis for you to continue the good work until my return, which will be soon. CLO. Leave all to me. They do not intend to remain at the Hotel in which you placed them, do they? Pon. Oh, no, they only await your advice to go to some place which shall best suit our plans. CLo. All shall be thought of, their position, their behavior, everything! POM. You can judge of that yourself, for there they are in the square, opposite, seated on a bench. See! (they;pproc/ch the mzirror overfireplace and see the reflection of the exterior) CLO. Those two women in dark dresses? PorM. Yes! CLO. What are they doing there? PoM.. Waiting. They have but one dream- to be received by you, for, notwithstanding your formal invitation, and my persuasion, they would not consent to come up with me. A commendable reserve. I am here to transmit your orders - decide. CLO. Let them come, I must speak with them. POM. You will, then, receive them? CLO. Instantly. Po.r. (jafter mzakizrg a sgn azt the windorw) I was sure of it. They see me. Clotilde, you are an angel of goodness. Now, farewell. I leave you with them. My time is up. CIO. When shall I see you again? Por. In a month or six weeks: I can't say for certain. My address is Bastia, Corsica. CLO. There, good bye! Enter JOSEPH D.F. Jos. Two ladies, Madame, waiting to see you. CLO. Show them in. Exit JOSEPH, then FERNANDE and her mzother enter D. F. Both are in dark or mourning dresses. POM. (going to FERNANDE and taking her hand) Allow me, my dear Clotilde, to present to you a poor child, who B13 ;4 FE-RNANDE: A STORY OF THI' PERIOD. [ACT II. will cease to be afraid of you, when she knows you as well as I do. CLO. (ta/king FERNANDE'S hand) Surely, you don't tremble at sight of me, d3 you? FER. (tiimidly) A little, Madame. PoM. Once more, good bye, and good bye to you my dear child. I leave you and your mother in better hands than mine. CLO. I will give a good account of them, have no fear. Exit POMEROL, D.F. CLO. (to FERNANDE, leadingr he/r anld her mother to sofa) MAD. DE S. (ZwitZhouat sit/ting) Ah, Madame, you are very good to us, we do not know how to thank you. CLO. All in good time. Sit down, I beg of you. You are, Monsieur Pomerol tells me, now staying at a hotel? MAD. DE S. Yes, Madame, for the present. CLO. Of course you cannot stop there MAD. DE S. Oh, no, Madame, we thought of looking out for some rooms in a quarter far away from where we were; but Monsieur Pomerol told me to do nothing without first consulting you. CLO. He was right. Now, in addition to the rooms you require, there will be the furniture: that will soon swallow up your small income. Did you get a good price from the purchaser? MAD. DE S. Ten thousand francs, Madame, for every thing. I only received two thousand in money, the rest I had to take in promissory notes. CLO. Two thousand francs won't go very far. Before you were fairly settled you would be ruined. We must think of some other way. (rising with. MAD. DE S.) I have a small house over there, it belongs to me. (pointzizg out o'window) It is a small furnished dwelling, formerly occupied by one of my servants, now two months dead. Nothing would suit you better than that. It is all ready for occupation, fully furnished, even to a piano. (to FERNANDE) Do you play? FER. Yes, Madame. MAD. DE S. She might even lay claim to be a brilliant musician. ACT' II.] FE!ENANDE: A STORY OF THIS, PERIOD. 35 CLO. So much the better.'Tis a talent which may prove useful to us. Well, does my offer please you? MAD. DE S. an1d FER. Oh, Madame. CLO. Besides that economy which you are compelled to practise, you need have no trouble about references. You will now live in an entirely different sphere. Well, now that all is settled, we will go and visit your new home together. One of the servants will attend to the baggage, and all you have to do will be to settle yourselves comfortably. One word more, -your name, for all our sakes, must be changed. M7AD. DE S. The name we went by was but an assumied one. Heaven be praised, no one in Paris knows our real name. CLO. Then that is the one,you must assumeo What is it? MAD. DE S. De La Briere. CLO. Your daughter, -has she not a different nanle from that of Fernlande? MAD. DE S. She is also called Marguerite. CLO. Then by that name let her be known here. For all needful purposes you are Madalme de la Briere, whose husband was killed in a steeple-chase. At his death you found yourself ruined. Until now you have lived in the country, with the small income still left you, and you have come to Paris, in order to find a position remunerate enough to live upon. MAD. DE S. Yes, Madame. CLO. We must tell an untruth where truth would be of no service. (io FERNANDE, who endeavors to restrain her tears) I do not wish to hurt your feelings. ER. Oh, forgive me, Madame, it is more than I can bear. Never, till now, have I realized my own unworthiness. Oh, I beg of you, Madame, not to judge of me by what you know; you shall never regret your goodness to us. I swear it MAD. DE S. My dear —CLo. Calm yourself, pray. Remember there is forgiveness for every one. iMAD, E. DL S. Oh, Madame, assure her of that. She 36 FERNLANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT II. does not believe me, and her unhappiness quite unnerves me. CLO. Come, come, my dear, believe our assurances, and think of nothing now but the cruel fate from which you have been saved. FER. (wui/jlg /er eyes) Oh, Madame. CLO. Now let us visit your new home. Enter THERESE, D.F., wzith telegraphic dispatch. THE. The answer, MNadame. CLO. (quickly) A telegraph! You'll excuse me? (reading) "The Marquis arrived in Blois on Wednesday, and left for Paris on the following day." (staggering,, as if she were abo2ut o ofal) "'The following day!" why, then he has been in Paris five days! THE.'(quickly) Madame is not alqne! CLO. (mnastering her emotion) True! Take them with you, Therese. (aloud) Excuse me. I have just received news. Therese will accompany you. IFER. You are pale, Madame, can I do anything? CLO. A sudden surprise, that is all! Go my dear, go with your mother, I will see you presently. FER. Yes, Madame. MAD. DE S. Come, child, come! FER. (aside to he1r mnother) She is in. trouble, mother, I am sure of it. Exeunt FERNANDE, MAD. DE S. and THERESE, D. F CLO. (reading) "The following day," that is five days ago! He has been in Paris five days, and not at his own house, not here. Oh, this is an outrage. To deceive me in this manner -but the reason? what can be his motive? (suddenly) A duel! He wished to conceal it from me, and yet in five days everything would have been made public. The anonymous writer spoke truth, —my presentiments were not false, —he loves me no longer-he is deceiving me 1'Tis for another that he-oh, if I were certain of that,-if he loves me no longer, what shall I do? what shall I do? Enter TH.ERESE, qluickly, DF. ACT II.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 37 THE. Madame, Madame, here is the Marquis. CIO. Andre? THE. The carriage has just driven up, so I left the ladies and ran in to tell you. CLO. Heaven be praised, he will explain it all. THE. If I dare advise, Madame, it would be, not to scold the Marquis. CLO. (turniZZg o zheij with a smile) Look at me. Do I look as if I were going to scold? THE. (surprised) No, indeed, Madame. CLO. (trembling) That's his step. THE. You are right, Madame, it is the Marquis. CLo. Courage,-my life depends upon it. Enter ANDRE, D.F. CLO. Ah, Andre, is that you? AND. Yes, here I am! (taoiing her hand) CLO. To come without warning, in this way. AND. The fact is — CLO. No matter. (pressing his hand) Leave us, Therese. Exil THERESE, D.R. CLO. So you have just arrived? AND. This moment! CLO. (sits on sofcq) You left in haste, for your letter said nothing about your departure. You told me not to expect you before the end of the week. AND. Yes, true, but unforseen circumstances, you know. However, here I am. CLO. That's the important point. Sit down. (he sits onz sqfa) How have you spent the time, absent from me? AND. Oh, a thousand occupations,-farming matters, rents, leases, mortgages, a few days' shooting, and two or three county dinners. CLO. In short, the time flew by without knowing how; you had no plea for feeling lonesome AND. Only time to think of you. CLO. No trifling. Own, Andre, that you enjoyed yourself? AND. I don't understand you, Clotilde. 38 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT Il. CLo. You will do so bye and bye. When you left me, my dear Andre, I considered it a great trial, for three-in fact, ever since we loved each other, this was our first separation; let us hope that neither of us has suffered by it. AND. (rising) What do you mean? CLO. (so/fly) Let me conclude. Your letter this morning was very re-assuring; it was affectionate but calm. You even perpetrate a joke about being agreeably employed by your daily avocations as a gentleman farmer. Your prolonged absence does not seem to extort more regret from you than common politeness exacts. AND. Clotilde! CLo. (smilzing) Allow me to finish. I don't look like an angry woman, do I? and I am not reproaching you, am I? AND. That's it! That's what astonishes me, your calm manner of saying all this. CLO. Ah, Andre, you have taken a heavy load off my shoulders. I had but one fear, when I thought that you could not live without me, and that if I were to give you up AND. To give me up? CLO. Thank heaven, the trial has been made, the ordeal is past. You left me without a single regret, you meet me without demonstration. Well, love is full of good and bad fortune. We have traveled the same road together for a long time, and we can now part without vexation of hope or spirit. AND. Clotilde, do you know what you are saying? It sounds like a dismissal! CLO. Precisely what it is, my clear Andre. AND. I little expected this from you! CLO. Answer me truly: did you observe my indifference to you before your departure? AND. Never!A Co. Then I must have played my part admirably, for now I am free to confess the many times I have asked mlyself, when you have quitted me, whether I had a single complaint to make of you; and always found the answer to be "no." Is Andr', worthy of my love?'yeCS!" " How ACT II.] FERNANDE: A STOIY OF THE PERIOD. 39 is it that my heart being changed, his remains the same?" for it has changed, I cannot hide that from myself. "I do not await his arrival with so much impatience -no longer do I feel that anxious-inquietude for his presence-for the sound of his voice-of his footstep upon the stairs. I esteem him, I reverence him as much as ever, but loveno -I must confess it, I love him no more!" AND. And it is you, Clotilde, who says this? S/he goes zp to table and plays with a hand mirror. CLO. I hear you ask how this can be? I know not. How does love vanish? HIow does it coime? I did not order my heart to love you. I did not tell it not to do so. Love takes back as freely as he gives. It is the law of the universe that all things must have an end, and that love should die by lwhat supports its life. At this grievous point I have arrived. "Andre," said I, "shall know nothing. I will sacrifice myself for him. I will, for his sake, be untrue. He shall think himself adored, whilst I, alone, will suffer." Oh, what a burden that falsehood was upon my heart; how I bless the journey that took you from me, that proved that I was not indispensable to your happiness. Falsehood now would be unnecessary. You knowr all, you will pity me, and if my inconstancy needs apology you will find it in your own breast. AND. (sitting dowln) Clotilde, you are an adorable woman - an exquisite - a charming woman. Your frankness confounds me: it should overwhelm me with shame. Hfow superior to me you are at this moment.'Tis you who first speak,'twas I who was first guilty! CLO. (with a pang of grief) Ah! AND. Your sincerity encourages me. It delivers me from doubt. I, on my part, can now confess. The story of your heart's change, Clotilde, is also the story of my own. All that your have said of yourself, I have also suffered. I, too, have kept silence, and never should I have had the courage to have spoken, had you not set me the example. CLO. (mastering her emotion with a great efort) True -very true 40 FERNANDE A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT II. AND. As true as that this journey was nothing but a pretext — CLo. You did not, then, go to Blois? AND. (gaily,'rising) For a single day, yes. For one day only. It was a complete comedy. I can smile at it now, for I breathe freely. No more hypocrisy. Only imagine CLO. (rising) What? AND. Imagine to yourself-I merely took time to arrive there, to confide to a friend those letters which you have received, after laving arranged with him to post them, and to be careful of the dates. CLO. A very ingenious way, indeed, to deceive me. AND. Was it not? But you see what means a false position often conmpels us to resort to. CLO. Then you returned secretly to Paris? AND. (gaily) The very next day. CLO. There is, then, another woman in the case. Remember, Andrei, the truth. AND. Of what use would concealment be now? My answer is "' yes" and " no,"-" yes" in imagination, in reality "no." On that point believe me, Clotilde, ingrate as I may have been, I was not utterly bad. You have loved me and that is sufficient that you should command and ceserve the respect of my whole life. With me memory is not only a religion, ic is a genuine pride. I am too proud of having it in my power to say that you deemed me worthy of your love, not to hope that you will always think me so. CLO. There is, then, a woman in the case? AND. As in a dream. CLO. In a dream be it. Your return to Paris: was it on her account? AND. Yes! CLo. Tell me how? AND. (crosses /toire/ltice) Is that necessary? CLO. (szittlzg onz a loa seat) Of course I t is indispensab e. I have a right to be inquisitive, especially now that it is of no consequence. AND. And the matter is so innocent of itself. ACT II.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIDD. 41 CLO. Let me judge of that! AND. You are charming! Well, then, about a fortnight ago-you remember we had a quarrel about that time? — CLO. Never mind that,-go on I AND. I left you after dinner. I was very surly and resolved not to see you again until the following day. I was wandering about without any fixed purpose, in a thickly populated neighborhood, when suddenly I found myself opposite the door of a theatre, of which I didn't, at that time, even knowx the name. With the same purposeless anxiety to do something, I bought a ticket and entered. Of the performance I can say nothing, for I really don't know what they were playing. My eyes were instantly fixed, from the moment of my entrance, upon two womlen who had, at the same moment as myself, enterec an adjoining box. They appeared to be mother and daughter. The younger woman was a picture of grace, modesty and beauty. (sits on chair Z/wichz he had brozhzt down) CLO. You were enchanted on the spot? AND. So much so that I could not leave. I did not lose sight of her during the whole first act of the piece, which appeared popular enough, to judge by the laughter around me; though what it was about is more than I can tell. My unknown beauty, however, never deigned to do more than smile; but with such a charming and just appreciation of the situation, as assured me of her superiority of mind. In one or two touching situations of the drama, her tearful expression spoke as eloquently of the excellence of her heart. CLO. In short, this beauty, who smiled and laughed in the right places, made a conquest of you? AND. Not in the sense, you, perhaps, mean, for it was all unconsciously on her part. I admired her delicate white hand, her easy, well-bred deportment, no less than her solemn beauty. Imagine my disappointment, on my return to the boxes, for the last act, to find that she and the lady who accompanied her, had departed. I returned home disquieted and. unhappy — CLO. And next da? — 42 FERNANDE: A STORY CF THE PERIOD. [ACT II. AND. Next day I came to make my peace with you, but the spirit of evil interfered with my plans, and I found you absent from home. I again visited the theatre, but failed to find she whom I sought. Providence, however, —CLO. (im/paie'ntly) Providence? AND. Yes, Providence for, on passing the Cathedral, I suddenly perceived the mother and daughter entering the building. I followed them. In church, as in theatre, she wore the same gentle, charming manner. From the church I followed them, unnoticed, to a shop on the Boulevard, lwhich they entered. For a full half hour I hung about the door, until growing weary, I entered, only to discover that there was another door leading to a back street, by which they had evidently departed. That very evening I visited you, and no doubt you found nme nervous, quarrelsome and altogether insupportable. CIo. True, I foresaw danger approaching. AND. It had already come. CLO. Is this all? AND. Yes, that is all. CLo. You have since found your charmer, have you not? AND. I have not. It was no fault of mine. Day by day I have passed and re-passed the place where I first saw her, but in vain. I tried the theatre to as little purpose. Every evening, when you thought me at Blois, I was haunting that wretched theatre, till at last I became disheartened and was upon the eve of renouncing all further search — CLO. Upon my word, Andr6, you have told me a very charming story. AND. And what adds to its charm, Clotilde, is, that I am able to tell it you. Acknowledge that it is curious to see two lovers exchanging such confidence,-rejoicing instead of being angered. Is it not most charming? CLO. Delicious AND. (caking both zer han/?ds) No more jealousies-no more torments? How delightful is woman's friendship, when it takes the place of love, for I love you, as mluch as one can love, apart from love. You have the same esteem ACT Ii. j FERNANDF: A STORYX OF THE PERIOD. 43 for ime: you told me so yourself, so nothing need be clhanged. I bless the fate which enables me, after having loved 3you with fervor, to love you now with respect and adlmiiration. CL o. Dear friend AND. I lpromise to be very candid with you; to conceal nothilng frionm you. CTO. You will then marry? Why not.? AND. I confess the thought. Oh, if I could but find her! CTo. Let us both seek her. AND. You? CLO. Why not? AND. Clotilde, women are the better creatures of the two; a man would be incapable of such devotion. Cro. (zwith a suzdden blrst of gay ]humor) You will not ianrry me, then? AND. You? CLo. Yes, somebody will, by chance, be attracted by me. You are, surely, not so free from the past as to sanction such a Ilmarriage? AND. Well, the fact is-with all my heart, if I thought your happliness depended on itC L. (aside, wzit/Z wounzded pride) All is over! (aloud, witil a fo rcd smzle) You see, Andre, we are worthy of each other! AND. Clotilde, you have made me a happy man. I leave you with ligllter spirits than those with which I approached you. No, I cannot stay, I am going to dine, and then, off to the eternal theatre, you understand? Before 1 go let me ilmprint upon this fair hand my last kiss, in wlich I place my whole heart. CLO. (m?,Nstering her tears with an efort) Go-leave ne — good bye! AND). You are vexed? Cro. (turnir-zg away) A little! AND. Good bye! You are the best of women, and if I had never loved you before, I should commence doing so this very day. Exit, jo)f dI'y, D.F. CIo. T'herese Quick Therese! 44 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT II. Enter THERESE quiZckly, DOOR R. Ti-E1. What is it, Madame? CLO. Air, quick 1 Open the window, I am suffocating THERESE -rtns and o/penis the zwindow-music of a pinlao-forte heard ouZtsilde-p-/;ianiSSimo - CLOTILDE falls back on sofa — THERESE offers her waterSlhe refZuses it. CTo. (lying on sofa, gasping wilzt/ rare) Coward! In-!nlous wretch 1 Miserable villian! THE. Comllpose yourself, Madame! Exit, D.F. CIO. (/fro2i grief to anger) Is there nothing that I can do? For nearlv an hour has he torln miy heart with his selfishness, and to think that I should have loved a thing like that. (ryciping) He forgets everything. Ungrateful. (risin') And shall I not punish him? I will have revenge. Certain vengeance. (falliig upon the loor, weeping ) What power can I invoke to make him suffer as I have suffered? TIlIHE. (enters hastily, D.F.) Madame. he has returned! CrO. Returned? THERESE r/uns if DOOR R. AND. (enter D.F.) Clotilde I CrO. You back? AND. It is she CLo. WAho? AND. My unknown-she is here in your house. CTr,. In mly house? AND. Yes, in this very house. I told you Providence had to do with it. I was crossing the courtyard, on my way out, when the sound of a piano caused me to stop and listen. The window was open, I looked in, and there sat the fair girl I have been seeking. Look! (running to the wvindo(w) You can see her from this window-I ran back to tell you. Cr,. (aside) Fernande! (aloud) You say thatAND. That the young girl I have sought, and that yonder. are one and the same person! CLO. Are you sure? AND. I am1 sure 1 WhAere could another be found like her? Ah, yes, I cannot be 1mistaklen. CLO. (aside) H-ow he loves her I ACT II.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 45 AND. (still/ Zt rzwin2dow) See! she is positively radiant. Look at her hands. She's an angel! CLO. (bztterly) An angel? AND. (in extasy) Beautiful creature! CLO.' (aside, and wat/chilZ ANDIRE) And is it for such as she that he never gazed at me with that look of love? And. tlhis girl - this creature whom I pick up- is my rival? Wait, we shall see-we shall see! She commennces writing rapidly, then rings the bell. THERESE enters DOOR R. AND. IS she not beautiful? CLO. (giiZng letler to THERESE, who exitS D.F.) Is she not? (she walches ANDRE ironically) AND. (still at windowz) If there is happiness and true love in the world, Clotilde, it is surely there. CLO. (aside) If such a thing exists. AND. (turnlng rozund) What say you? CLO. I say you are right I (the sound of the piano ceases) AND. (closinlg l/e window) It is done. The charm is broken. (coazes down) CLO. (smiling bitterly) I thank you! AND. Forgive me? I am crazy! But who is she? Do you know her? CLO. Do I know Marguerite — AND. Marguerite? CLo. De la Briere, a little provincial lady. Her father was a nobleman, killed in a steeple-chase. Ruined by unlucky speculation, he left the mother and daughter both penniless. AND. Poor creatures CLO. Upon the pittance saved they have supported themselves, but now, alas, they have nothing. I knew them when they were prosperous, and, yesterday, meeting them, I offered them an asylum, with a promise to help them to the full extent of my power. You will aid me to do so, will you not? AND. You are jesting, are you not? CLO. No, indeed, I am not! They are worthy of being helped. The daughter especially. To such a face as 46 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT II. her's all doors would be open; besides they are honest and good, and will repay kindness. Two mere provincials-a little timid-unused to mixing in society. AND. Why, all this is glorious! Talent - beauty - virtue! That girl is a perfect treasure! CLO. You shall judge for yourself. AND. In what way? CLO. She dines with me to-day-and here she is I Enter THERESE and FERNANDE, D.F. FER. Madame, my mother was so fatigued that she begged to be excused. CLO. You shall, at any rate, be my guest, my dear. Therese, see what you can do for Madame de la Briere. (THERESE exits D.F.) Marguerite, this is a friend of mine. Marquis, this is my new guest whom you admired so greatly, not long ago. AND. I could scarcely refrain from applauding your playing. CLO, (aside to FERNANDE) My dear Marguerite, try to please my friend, I have my reasons. FER. (asicde to CLOTILDE) Is there a chance for a situation? CLO. Perhaps. FEE. Oh, how good you are. Everything seems like a dream to me. I fear to wake. Servant opens door L. SERV. Dinner is served, Madame. AND. Well, good evening! CLO. Will you not stay? AND. (quickly) How can I refuse? CLO. I am not so very bad after all, am I?' There, offer your arm to MIarguerite and come to dinner. ANDRE ofer is iarm to FERNANDE, they converse apart. CLO. (aside, watching thern) None but a creature of the purest innocence could capture your heart, Andre I Well, then, so be it 1 Ouick Drop. END OF ACT II. ACT' III.] FERNANDE A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 47 ACT III. SCENE.- Samze as Act IL. E2ter POMEROL, in travelin'g dress, ftllowed by JosEPH, D.F. POM. Is my wife here? Jos. Yes, sir. POM. Where is she? (G-EORG. (outside) Bye-bye, for the present. Jos. She has just left Madame: she will be very glad that you have returned. He goes ouzt at.F. Enter GEORGETTE, DOOR R.; she screams and?runs into his arms. GEORG. My own Phillip! PoaM. My own darling! GEORG. There, turn around, so, so, oh, what a beard POM. Isn't it? GEORG. Ah, my own darling, but you don't look pleased (kisses lzim) POrio. I'm almost smothered, I can't see. GEORG. Well, upon my word, you're the coolest man PoM. What, a quarrel already? GEORG. I'm too good to you: I'm spoiling you. A whole month without seeing you, though. 1PoM. I might as well go away again, the greeting is so pleasant! GEORG. By the way, how is it you return without telling me when to expect you? POAi. If you don't like it I'll go back. GEORG. Oh, nonsense. PoM. What a woman you are! Here, I almost break my neck to see you: pay an exorbitant price to the cabman to drive at railroad speed, and nearly kill his horse, and yet you chide me for want of attention in not announcing my return. When I do arrive the girl tells me you are out. GEORG. The girl was right: it was this morning —PoMl. What? GEORG. The iarriage, you klnow. 48 FERNANDE: A STORY OF- THE PERIOD. [ACT III. PoOr. True, and that accounts for your toilet? GEORG. That's it. PoAI. Andr6's marriage-? GEORG. Yes. POM. It was a good idea of mine to come back, wasn't it? GEORG. Your idea? Why, I wrote and told you to do so. POli. Not at all. GEORG. Yes I did, in my last letter. I sent it with Clotilde's 1 PoMi. I received no letter from Clotilde! GEORG. Well, I declare, she took charge of mine, and said she would post it with her own. PoMl. No matter. So she's going to be married, eh? I'm rejoiced at it for her sake. GEORG. What do you mean? POM. Precisely what I say. GEORG. No such thing; it's Andre who's going to be married, not Clotilde. POM. Well, isn't he going to marry Clotilde? GEORG. Of course not, how stupid you are. Andre marries Marguerite de la Briere —he adores her PoM. And Clotilde? GEORG. Why,'twas she that made the match. POM. Oh, now I see! No, I don't! I must be losing my senses! GEORG. Have you kept you promise? How about the Corsican women? tell me all about them. PoM. There are no women in Corsica. GEORG. Nonsense! PoMr. Upon my honor, not one! GEORG. Well, I'll never let you leave me alone again. ANDRE eznters D.F. and takes of /zis great coat at back of szage. GEORG. There's Andre, he'll tell you all about it. PoM. I have not breakfasted yet. GEORG. I'll run straight home. Pol. Do so, and look out my clothes. I want to attend the wedding, you know, ACT III.] FERNANDE A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 49 GEORG. (running away) Yes, yes, I'm off! (speaking to ANDRE as she is going) There's Phillip there's Phillip' Exits D.Fo AND. (joyfully) So it is! Why, old fellow, how are you? How do you feel after your trip? POM. Never better. AND. And the law-suits? PoM. Successful, every one of them. But how about this marriage? I knew nothing of it. AND. Didn't your wife tell you? PoM. No, I've just heard about it. AND.'Tis true, my dear boy I I'm going to marry, and very happily, too. You were the only one I was waiting for. POM. (in a low voice) Are we alone? AND. Yes. POM. (in the samze tone) And- (pause) -and Clotilde? AND. Clotilde? POM. Didn't she try to strangle or to poison you? AND. Look at me and judge for yourself. POM. I am completely staggered by the news! AND. You've been away a month. Well, in that time Clotilde and I agreed to disagree. PoM. In short, the match was broken off? AND. (quickly) In a most friendly manner. POM. (zncredulously) In afriendly manner? AND.'Twas her own fault. POM. Clotilde's? AND. Yes. PoM. Then I know nothing of women. I suppose a mutual reconciliation followed? AND. With promise of mutual affection, and with such proofs on her side, that I believe her friendship is worth more than her love. POM. In that case everything goes on swimmingly: now, as to the new love? They sit R., between window and table. AND. (with warmth) Ah, my friend, a dream, an angel, a beauty, a sunbeam, and-I know not what else 1 Her presence intoxicates me with bliss and happiness. c 50 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [-ACT III. POM. You're enthusiastic, at any rate. AND. Judge for yourself, when I tell you, I consider it no sacrifice to my independence. They say, you know, that marriages are made in heaven. I hunted everywhere for her, and where do you think I found her? why, in this very house. POM. Here? AND. (rising) In that very parlor. She was one of Clotilde's tenants. (showing him the window) POM. (looking oZl) I see no one. AND. You will see her. (sitting down) Her name is Marguerite. Clotilde has known her mother for years. PoM. A very beautiful name. Tell me all: where did you meet? AND. One evening, here. Only think of a fellow like me, blase of everything, to come in contact with such an angel as she is. I ran home crazy, really crazy. The next day Clotilde wrote, imploring me, if I had any heart, or any esteem for her, not to take advantage of an unsophisticated girl, and above all to remember that she was her protege. She said that if I entertained the love that I professed, I should marry her, at the same time acquainting me that she was below my station. PoM. That was wisely done. So you came back the same evening? AND. I did. POM. And the next day? AND. Every day. PoM. Exactly. And Clotilde? AND. Got out of patience seeing me enter and re-enter so often, until one fine morning she told me to come to a decision regarding my future conduct. POM. You did so? AND. I did. I left the self same day and proposed(pazse) —to go into the country; so off I went and remained Sunday, Monday, Powi. And Tuesday? AND. (nods) But came back on Wednesday, resolved on marriage. POM. That was right, and Clotilde? ACT III.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 5 AND. Judge for yourself. "Andre," said she, "I cannot be your counsellor in this matter, but nothing could please me more; naught can be said of the girl, but your happiness is in question, and prudence alone commands me to enquire further about her. That I will do. Leave all to me." POM. (rising) A woman's friendship, my dear boy, surpasses everything. AND. The enquiries were made, everything proved satisfactory, the bans were published, we signed the marriage contract, and this day I wed her. (shaking bolth is hands warmly) She's mine! she's mine! POM. Be composed, my dear fellow, pray do. But — AND. How dare you say but? POM. Excuse me! I have heard your story. But Marguerite, does she-does she love you? AND. Of course she does! POM. Are you sure? AND. Oh, I will answer for it with my life. She is of a quiet temperament and does not say much, but a look a word from her is sufficient. For all that I have never been alone with her ten minutes in my life: but Clotilde has settled it all, and I feel like a new made man, with a first love; in fact, that's what it is. I assure you, I tremble like an aspen leaf, thinking that I shall be alone with her on our bridal tour. POM. You are going to leave us? AND. Certainly You must know this has been very sudden. My house is being re-decorated and won't be ready for a fortnight yet, during that time I'll take my Marguerite to Blois, whilst her mother, who is an invalid, will pass the winter at Nice. POM. And when do you leave us? AND. The moment we quit the church; the ceremony will be short, no cards, you know:'tis one of Marguerite's wishes, and I conform myself to everything which can make her happy. Witnesses of Clotilde's will give the bride away: you and your wife will be my sponsors. Ten minutes in church and everything is done. I reserve all ceremonies until my return. 52 FERNANDE A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT III. POM. At what hour is the ceremony to take place? AND. At eleven precisely. POM.'Tis now nine-I must be offo AND. Without seeing Clotilde? POM. Oh, I shall see her at church. AND. And then you shall judge whether I have made a good choice. POM. A young and beautiful woman, whom you love and who loves you. It speaks for itself. Well, I'll see you soon: good bye, you lucky dog i He is going outz DoF. as CLOTILDE comes OZlt of her apartment, DOOR R. CLO. (anxiously) Who's there? that voice I AND. (perceiving CLOTILDE and re-calling POMEROL) Phillip! Phillip CLO. (alarmed) Phillip? AND. Yes,'tis Pomerol (to POMEROL) Here's Clotilde! POM. (coming down) Then I'll stay. CLO. You here? POM. To kiss you, cousin, if you'll allow me. CLO. (anxiously) You were not expected so soon. POM. What, would you have him married without me? CLO. He has told you, has he? JOSEPH enters D.F. carrying a box which he sets upon the table and exits. ANDRE goes to table. POM. All! and you are an angel! CLO. (looking at him) You think so, do you? POM. Who can doubt it? None but you could have acted thus. I bow the knee to you. CLO. (aside) He knows nothing. POM. Bye the bye, how about my protoge, Fernande? CLO. Oh, leave her to me, you will be satisfied. POM. What have you done for her? CLO. Better than could have been expected. POM. Thanks, and where? CLO. Oh, it will take too long to tell now. See that you come and escort Georgette and me to the church POM. I will do so 1 ACT III.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 53 AND. (who has opened the box) At eleven precisely,don't forget! CLO. (aside to POMEROL) Never mind what that distracted lover says. Be here at half-past eleven, that will be time enough. POM. You are right, it's fashionable to be a little late: good bye! Exit POMEROL, D.F. CLO. (asidc) At half-past eleven they will be on the road! He will be too late. He must be detained here or else all is lost AND. (with box in his hand) I beg your pardon, Clotilde, I am afraid I'm trespassing on your good nature. CLO. (near the chimney) What a child you are! My house is always yours, you know it! AND. I really think I am rather out of place here, today! CLO. Don't say that; is not our's a compact, binding, through friendship? AND. You are a better soul than I. I want you to pass judgment on these trifles before they are sent to Marguerite. Women understand that sort of thing better than men. Look at those emeralds CLO. I never saw handsomer. For a bride, however, they are a little matronly. AND. Well, then, these pearls? CLO. The very thing! But I must go and finish my toilet. Exit CLOTILDE, DOOR R. AND. Ah, she is here! I will give them to her myself. (enter FERNANDE, DOOR L.) Marguerite! (he runs to her) FER. (a little embarrassed) I did not know you were here! AND. (tenderly) And are you sorry? FER. (tenderly) You can't think so. I wanted to speak to you. AND. Clotilde is getting ready, and we are alone, and together, a very unusual thing, Marguerite.'Tis the first time it has happened, and I shall take advantage of it, for you know, that one moment between ourselves is worth all the time devoted by friends for our welfare. Before becoming your husband, my dear Marguerite, I wished to 54 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT ILT. know if you really were mine, and wanted you to tell me so, to let your heart speak and say you love me. FER. Yes, Heaven knows I do! AND. My dear Marguerite! FER. Why should I not love you; how can I help loving you? after all you have done for me. AND. Oh, that's only gratitude. I want more, I want love! FER. You have both, for you are my salvation! AND. (joyfully)'Tis you, my love, who are my salvation. You are my guiding star, and on you I now depend for all my future happiness. FER. Oh, how good you are! AND. You cannot imagine the bliss when a man contents himself by feeling that he possesses, in his affianced bride, youth, innocence and virtue, (FERNANDE shudders) and a heart that knows no evil. FER. (aside) Oh, God! AND. There, I need no further assurance of my future happiness, so good bye, my darling, until we meet again at church. Exits, D.F. FER. (having ~followed him with her eyes, cries out) He knows nothing! nothing! CLOTILDE re-enters from her room, DOOR R. CLO. Marguerite, what is the matter? FER. Ah, Madame, you have deceived me, it was very wrong of you! CLO. Deceived you? FER. When you came to tell me that Andre loved me and asked my hand, did I not answer "never?" CLO. Y6u did. FER. (in an agitated voice) I told you I could not accept a heart of which I was unworthy; that I never could become the wife of an honest man, I, who did not know how to maintain my own respect. CLO. Yes, you said that. FER. MIy tears spoke more appealingly than words. CLO. I remember all-what then? FER. Then you returned the following day and told me ACT II.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 55 that he knew all, and that his love remained unchanged. I doubted it, for I did not believe in so much goodness. CLO. But why doubt the truth? FER. No, no, not the truth-do not say that-he knows nothing. CLO. Wihat makes you think so? FER. He, himself, for he has just spoken to me as one who thinks me pure. CLO. (quickiy) You have seen him? What did he tell you? FER. Exactly what my own conscience told me. Judge how I must have suffered. But you have deceived me, you have been false to me, and led me to believe that I was loved, when all has been but a deception, a thing that might never be. Is it not dreadful to have led me within a few steps of happiness, only that it might escape my grasp and leave me more desolate than ever. (she falls on so/a, weeping) CLO, (trying to soothe her) Marguerite, be calm! FER. (in an qagony) And even before I loved him, you know not what I suffered; the nights, the days of agony I passed through, what prayers I offered up to Heaven for peace. The sacrifice of an eternity of happiness would be a cheap price to pay for oblivion of the past: and yet there are those who believe in forgetfulness —when he whom you could love approaches you, you shudder and remember that you dare not return the passion. If he remain in ignorance his presence makes you tremble, and if he knows all, then you have to dread reproaches and insults-he would be right, too. Redemption before the world? it is an impossibility, a visionary longing never to be realized. Oh, accursed fate! wretched here! terrible in the future 1 CLO. Marguerite, you are too much excited. Andre, certainly, has not reproached you? FER. Reproached me with what he is ignorant of? CLO. But I repeat it, he knows all. FER. And yet speaks to me as if I were innocence and virtue personified. CiO. Is that all? Upon my word you frightened me. (she makes her sit dovwn acnd sits herself) It is now for you 56 FERNANDE A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT III. to remember what I said when I returned to renew his demand. FER. (abstractedly) What was it? CLO. Beyond what you re-called, what else did I say? FER. What else? (trying to recollect) CLO. This "Andre, with a goodness of heart entirely his own, desires that the sad past should never be revived; he desires that it should be as if it had never been. His dream is to efface it effectually from his remembrance, as you will, ere long, efface it from your's!" Was that what I said? yes or no. FER. Yes, Madame, yes I CLO. And yet you are surprised that he should keep his word. You seem not to understand the noble feeling which prompts him to feign ignorance, so that you might be freed from shame. FER. If I could but believe this? CLO. I assert it. FER. No, no,'tis impossible: I cannot be mistakenhe knows nothing. CLO. And having that belief, what do you intend to do? FER. To tell him all. CLO. (frigzhtened) You do? FER. I do CLO. Marguerite, you cannot dream of such a thing? FER. I must be frank,'tis the only honor left me. CLO. And have you the courage? —but no, do not do this: take care: there are words that kill, and sentences which burn into the memory, never to be effaced. FER. Well, then, let them kill. Better to die from disdain than to live under the torment of my own contempt. CLO. What madness! Don't think of it, for you, for himself, for your mother's sake, whose happiness is also at stake: it shall not be -I forbid it! FER. And would you prefer, Madame, my becoming his wife with this stain upon my character? Do you wish me to go to the altar asking myself whether he knows the woman he is marrying?'Tis infamy you counsel me to, CLO. (quickly) No, no you are right! FERO Oh, I am so glad you think with me. ACT III.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 57 CLO. But you must not say a word under any circuim stances. FER. What do you mean? CLO. Write! What is painful to say is always better written. FER. (going to the table) True!'tis the best way. (seated and trembling) Yes, it's so. Ah, heaven, how shall I begin: how express myself? CLO. Remember, you are going to write what he already knows. FERNANDE writzes, CLOTILDE goes R. FER. Oh, how terrible it is to form words against one's own self! CLO. (alarmed) And yet you wanted to utterthem Courage! FER. And I love him and he loves me. CIo (in a harsh voice) Quick! the time passes, Marguerite. FER. (choking with tears) I cannot see to write more. CLO. That is enough. May I read it? (she takes the letter and reads it) FER. (in despair) Yes, this, which would be to others a day of rejoicing, is to me a day of agony. CLO. Now for a messenger. FER. Let me take it: let me hand it to him, and then run home and upon my knees await the answer. CLO. (anxiously) Ah, you are pale; you tremble. FER. (staggering) Yes, I am faint! CLO. (supporting her, calling) Therese! Therese (THERESE enters, D.F,) Oh, you could never face him. FER. (seated)'Tis true, Madame, I give up the idea. (holding out her hand) Take this letter to the Marquis, immediately, Therese! CLOTILDE attempts to stop THERESE. FER. (clznging to her dress) Oh, Madame, do not leave me now! Exit THERESE, DOOR L. CLO. But I FER. Oh, do not leave me alone! CLO. (aside) Is fate against me? FER. (listening) That is surely his voice CLO. (angrily)Not finding you in, he is coming here. FER. Therese will meet him. c^ 58 FERNANDE A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT III. CLO. So she will. FER. (rising) All, then is over. He will read it. No, no, I don't want him to do so-my letter!-I want my letter back 1 CLO.'Tis too late! too late I FER. Call to him, he must listen to you. CLO. Too late, I tell you. (looking out of window) Look, Therese is speaking to him. FER. And the letter? CLO. She gives it to him; he has it in his hand; he tears the envelope. FER. I am lost CLO. He has entered the vestibule; I cannot see him now, he is coming here. FER. (f/alling helplessly on the sofa) Ah, heaven forgive me, and be Thou the instrument of his forgiveness. CLO. (leaning on the window sill, despondingly) This vengeance was not ordained to be accomplished: perhaps'twas for the best! FER. His step,'tis he 1 ANDRE enters by the D.F. in his bridegroom's suit. AND. Not ready yet, my dear Marguerite? FER. (quickly) No, I was waiting. CLO. (surprised at ANDRE'S manner) She is a little nervous, poor girl! AND. (joyfully) This is no time for nerves: the church won't wait for us. FER. (trembling and crying with joy) Can this happiness be real? Oh, forgive me! the joy, the surprise! oh, how good and generous you are! I have nothing but my heart to give you, but'tis all your own! AND. I do nothing but what mine dictates. Do you think'twill change? FER. Perhaps! AND. Don't believe it I But quick, darling, I am all impatient to call you wife. FER. See, I'm off! (to CLOTILDE) YOU were right, Madame: oh, how happy I am I Exit FERNANDE, D,.F ACT III.j FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD, 59 AND. (following her with eyes) Poor thing, how nappy she is. CLO. (quickly) Andre, did Therese give you a letter? AND. She did. I came up stairs so quickly I forgot it. (taking it ot o f his pocket) Here it is! CLO. You have not read it, have you? AND. No, but I will:'tis from you, is it not? CLO. Yes! AND. (laughing) lWell, then, let us read it together. CLO. No, no! Therese did not accomplish her errand. That letter was not to have beeh given you until after leaving church. AND. A surprise, eh? CLO. Something like it. AND. That is very tempting: but suppose I read it now? CLO. You would take away all the pleasure that I promised myself, in seeing you read it later. AND. I will not do you that injustice. It shall not be opened until I return from church. CLO. Will you promise? AND. I will do more. I'll return it to you. You shall give it me back when I require it: here it is. CLO. Thanks. (taking it) AND. Clotilde, what is the matter with you? CrLo. (hesitatingly) I was thinking what a strange world this is, in which a man's whole existence depends sometimes upon a single word. AND. Is it to the sacred "yes," you allude? CLO. (looking at him) Perhaps I The present is a decisive moment. AND. (gaily looking at his watch) And we are fifteen minutes behind-hand. CLO.'Tis, perhaps, a respite sent from heaven. AND. (surprised) A respite? CLO. (still holding the letter) Andre, there is still time. This union grieves my heart, I must confess, and to think that it is I who made it: that at this moment your happiness depends on so little. Think of it well, and if you have any scruples or regrets — 60 FERNANDE A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT III. AND. Of what? CLO. How can I tell? perhaps yourliberty. Remember, one loves to-day, but what of to-morrow? I am an evidence. AND. You are adored, but in a different manner. CLO. Not in the right way. AND. (hissing her hand) The right way, but, perhaps, not the true one. CLO. (hiding the letter) Really, Marquis, you conquer me. Marry, marry, then since you deserve it Enter THERESE, D.F. THE. Mademoiselle de la Briere is ready they only wait for the Marquis. AND. I am coming 1 CLO. I'1 follow you, I must wait for Phillip. AND. Do not be late. CLO. Don't fear, I shall be there. Exit ANDRE, D.F, CLO. Therese, follow them, and then return and tell me when they leave the church. THE. Very well, Madame. Exit THERESE, D.F. CLO. (looking from window) Ah, there they go; he gives her his hand; she is radiant, and he too looks bright and happy. No, she was right, he never loved me like that: and I was on the point'of pitying him on the ace of giving him this letter. (about to burn it, she stops) No, this avowal, under her own hand, is of value. (noise of coaches outside) I must keep it, I must keep it! Ah, they are gone-gone where fate directs them. Yes, hasten to be happy, poor fools, I know not for how long my torment may endure, coward that you are; but it shall be terribly avenged 1 Enter POMEROL, DoF. in full dress he is breathless. POM. Here I am, just in time. CLO. Where's Georgette? POM. She will be here soon: but now that we are alone, tell me something about my protege? CLO. Fernande? PoM. You were saying that you had found her a good place, ACT III.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 61 CLO. And if you are not satisfied with it, you must be, indeed, difficult to please. POM. Poor child. So much the better. What is it like? CLO. Oh, that's the point. (in/errupting herself) Please pass me the glove box, there it lies, on the table. I have a surprise in store for you. PoM. When? CLo. After church. PoM. I have not very long to wait, and as I know her to be happyCLO. Very happy, if it lasts; and now, dear Phillip, give me an account of yourself. (the quarter strikes) PoMo That's the quarter! CLO. Yes. POM. Shall we not be late? CLO. What an impatient fellow you are I You know very well that the minister likes his breakfast too well, to be in a hurry; he's just about getting up from table now. POM. Oh, you're right. I have no doubt that I should have had time to smoke a segar. CLO. Well, light one now. PoM. What, here? CLO. I'll indulge you to the extent of a small cigarette. POM. You are a charming creature, upon my soul. CLO. So you gained your law suits? POM. (rolling a cigarette) Every one of them. I was inundated with briefs. One of them proved quite interesting-a criminal suit: an old Corsican story,-love, jealousy and murder. It was quite an exciting case-very romantic, cruel, and exceedingly dramatic. CLO. Indeed i Tell me all about it? POM. Briefly, this:-dramatis personse -a beautiful Corsican girl, her affianced husband, and a young maiden, the girl's bosom friend. The old story again. Affianced husband transferred his love to bosom friend, and indignant Corsican girl, becoming furious with jealousy, watched her opportunity, and shot them — CLO. Both? POM. Both of them. CLO. (rising) And you were her counsel? 62 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT III. POM. I had that honor. (half hour strikes) There's the half hour i CLO. What a man you are. Therese will call us in good time. Go on with your story, it interests me. What did they do with the girl? POM. Acquitted her, of course: they couldn't resist my arguments. We shall certainly be too late at the church! (looking at his watch) They'll be married before we get there! CLO. No such thing, we have plenty of time. Go on with your story. PoM. Well, I've told it: they acquitted her. CLO. I'm glad of it! Those cowardly thieves of affection: they shrink from breaking faith with men, but esteem it no crime to deceive and wrong a woman i Enter THERESE, D.F. CLO. Is that you, Therese? PoM. Ah, so much the better let us go 1 CLO. (stopping him) Well, where are they? THE. They are entering church. CLO. (with joy) So far, good PoM. (stupefed) At church? THE. The ceremony is nearly over. PoM. We are too late! THE. Yes, sir, there is nothing to be done now but to utter the marriage-blessing. They will be here before we can get there. Exit THERESE, D.F. PoM. Do you hear what she says, Clotilde? CLo. Of course I do. POM. They are married without us. CLO. So they are married, are they? PoM. (stzpefed) Why do you say that so triumphantly, eh? CLO. You will see why I triumph! You have told me how the women in Corsica avenge, themselves: I will show you how a woman may revenge herself here! It's a drama with three characters, too, like your's Andre, his wife and myself. POM. Andre? ACT III.J FERNANDE A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 63 CLO. And the same story, for to me he made a thousand protestations I also was publicly insulted. I also was told that I was no longer beloved. Your friend deceived me, yet trusted my friendship so m.uch so, indeed, that he imagined I could have the heart to give him in marriage to a rival, and look upon it tranquilly. But he was mistaken, for I laid my plans darkly, deeply, and he fell. P'OM. (frightened) What is all this you are talking about, Clotilde? CLO. (beside herself) Ah, miserable wretch, I would have given him my best years. I would have forgotten all for him. I would have been his slave, and yet he threw me aside. You cannot blame me for seeking revenge. PoM. Clotilde, you frighten me 1 What have you done? CLO. What have I done? He loved a girl; a girl, mark you! not a marriageable girl! but for all that I married him to her. He is chained for life to shame, and here they come. What have I done, eh? look for yourself! (crosses to window) POM. This is atrocious! it is infamous! But who is it -who is it that Andre has married? CLO. They descend from their carriage-look 1 PoM. Fernande? CLO. Fernande? yes! You know the rest. PoM. Have you deceived him thus? CLo. Your Corsican awaited her enemies' arrival from church, with her murderous weapon; I wait for them with mine. (seated at table and showing letter) Where she merely killed two bodies, I will sacrifice two living souls. Mine is the more fiendish. POM. (f/rightenled) You await them? CLO. With proof in hand. POM. You dare not. CLO. I will do it, you shall see! Poi. I will see nothing, and you will do nothing I CLO. And who shall prevent me? POM. I will! CLO. You? POM. I! I who have nothing to do with your lover's 64 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT III. quarrels, but who do not wish your vengeance to harm the innocent. CLO. What is that to me? I hate your innocent. I hate her, for she has been my ruin. PoM. I forbid you from being the cause of her shedding a single tear. CLO. Who cares for her tears? POM. You will say nothing? CLO. Phillip POM. I will gag your mouth and tie your hands and feet, before I will allow you to do such an atrocious thing. No power on earth can prevent me from hindering you in your cruel purpose. CLO. (going to the door in jlat) Threats? I despise them! 1 POMo (barring the passage andforcing her to retire before him) One single word, and, upon my honor, you shall not finish the sentence. CLO. Coward! like all your sex I POM. They come! CLo. Well, then, observe me. PoM. (barring her passage) You shall see how I treat such as you. First and foremost, that letter! He tears it from her. CLO. (frightened) Give me my letter! PoM. (taking her by the wrist) To your room! to your room! CLO. Take your hands off —take them off! PoM. Go then to your room. CLO. Help i help! POMEROL shuts her mouth and drags her to the door R. PoM. Not a word not a word! CLO. (trying to hold on to the door) You dastardly coward, to lay hands upon a woman! Poa. (loses all control over himself) Silence 1 serpent that you are 1 silence i He drags her to the room R., where they both disappear for a second, and he comes back alone, after turning the key of the door. As he re-enters from door Ro, ANDRE and FERNANDE appear at D.F. END OF ACT IISM ACT IV.] FERNANDEE: A STORY OF THE PERIODo 65 ACT IV. SCENE.-Apartment in ANDRE S house-Door R. 2 E.Door in flat (bedroom)-lWindow L.-Masked door in skirting R. 3 E.-Fireplace L. —Sofa in front offire.-Fire burning- Time, night. —A whist table R.-ANDRE, THE BARON, MADAME DE BRIONNE, and THE BARONESS playing. -A tea table L., at which FERNANDE is presiding.-An OLD LADY is seated on the SOfa.- GEORGETTE at the back watching for her husband's return.- The GENERAL L. Of fireplace, MAD. BRIl Nine-ten-we have won, Baron 1 BARONESS. Andre, why did you not return my lead of hearts? AND. You are quite right, aunt, I was to blame. MAD. BRI. The Marquis is absent-minded. He looks in every direction. Is he lost in admiration of the General? BARON. But a month married, it is very excusable. AND. Come, uncle, now for our revenge! OLD LADY. (to FERNANDE, who hands a cup of tea to her) My dear Marchioness, give me plenty of sugar, if you please. FER. (patting szugar in the tea) Is that right? OLD LADY. Yes, my dear. FERNANDE helps the others. MAD. BRI. What can have become of Phillip? GEORG. (coming down) That's what I wonder at. He left us after dinner. Where is he? FER. Georgette's fancies are beginning, again, to trouble her. GEORG. Not at all. But you must acknowledge it is very extraordinary. MAD. BRI. Certainly it is: however, if I were Georgette -- GEORG. (aside, coming down extreme L) Oh, you dear, good soul! AND. (taking sugar in his tea, to- GEORGETTE) Remember, he has his business to attend to, my dear. GEORG. You don't mean to tell me that he is pleading at ten o'clock at night? 66 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT IV. BARON. Come, come, he has not gone out on pleasure, the cold is terrific! GEN. I am sure we shall have snow. FER, (giving him a culp of tea) You are quite right, General, it has commenced falling. GEN. I felt it in my poor old legs. Thanks, Marchioness. Enter ALFRED, door R. 2 E., with letters. ALF. A letter for the Marchioness! FER. From Nice? It is from mamma! You'll allow me, will you not? ALL. Certainly certainly! ALF. Another, for M. de PomerolO GEORG. (quickly) Give it to me! She snatches the letter out of his hands. ALFRED eXits door R. 2 E, AND. Good news, Marchioness? FER. (reading) Excellent! She is as well as can be! AND. So much the better: we shall have her with us the sooner. BARONESS. Tut! tut! what playing oh, what playing 1 BARON. Hush, Baroness, don't influence the game! GEORG. (who has been turning the letter about inz every directioz) I should so like to break the seal! No, it is from a man-an ugly, cramped hand. Pah, it smells of tobacco -but that's no proof-women sometimes smoke. (she tries to peep into the letter.) FER. (coming down) Why,what are you doing, Georgette? GEORG. You wouldn't open it, would you? Come, acknowledge that sometimes you do it. FER. What! open my husband's letters? Never 1 GEORG. You're not jealous, then, that's the reason. FER. Jealous? Ofwhat? I am toohappyto be jealous. GEORG. (aside) How young she is! (aloud) Oh, I understand. The perfect model-husband- the honeymoon, too. I am calm, am I not? No one can say that I am excited. Well, then, tell me what reason he can have for going out at such an hour? and what can he be doing in the streets at such a time? ACT IV.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 67 FER. Do you mean Phillip! What should make you think he's in the streets*? GEORG. (in an altered voice) Do you think he's in a room? FER. For his own sake, I hope he is. GEORG. And who is he in a room with? FER. (surprised) How should I know? GEORG. Oh, you don't understand, do you? But then, my dear, for the last fortnight, ever since your return, indeed, he has been coming and going-at all times and all seasons. He is absent-minded-pre-occupied-there is something-a woman-I am sure of it. Oh, this letter, -if I could only open it without it's being discovered BARON. Nine! That's our's! Mark it, my dear! BARONESS. We've won the rubber, General! The GENERAL rises and crosses to her. MAD. BRI. By the way, what has become of Clotilde? AND. I don't know: she left the day of our marriage, and has not yet returned. MAD. BRI. No letter from her? FER. No, it is singular. She was slightly ailing at the moment we left. MAD. BRI. (wlickedly) Indeed! GEORG. (aside) What a nuisance! BARONESS. Why what are you doing, Andre? you are trumping my king. AND. So I am-I really beg pardon. MAD. BRI. (to FERNANDE) If you don't go further away from us, my dear, your husband will do nothing but revoke. FER. Oh, if that's the case, I'm off. AND. (stofpping her) No, no, I promise to attend to the game. GEN. And here comes Phillip. Enter POMEROL door R. 2,. GEORG. At last! AND. So here you are, wanderer? POM. I beg to announce to the company, that it is snowing heavily. 68 FERNANDE' A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT IV. FER. Come and warm yourself, quickly: here's a good fire! PoM. (to FERNANDE) Yes, that's it, and a little tea-red hot —I am frozen. (seeing GEORGETTE, who has been watching him disdainzllly) It'scolder over there, however. GEORG. Where do you come from? POM. IGEORG. Give me an answer quickly-quickly, without inventing one. PoM. Certainly. GEORG. Phillip, don't lie I PoM. I cameGEORG. It's not true i POM. (laughing) Ha! ha! ha GEORG. YOU say you're frozen, and your hands are burning hot! POM. I had gloves on. GEORG. And this hat is dry-it snows, and yet this hat is dry-it is dry! POM. I was in a coach. GEORG. Take care, sir, I'm watching you. PoM. You are, eh? Have you been ransacking my papers again? GEORG. Perhaps. What is this? (showing him tze letter) POM. That's a letter directed to me. GEORG. What say you to opening it together? PoM. (shaking hands with her) All right, I've no objection. GEORG. Well, then, let us read it. POM. Well, then, let us do so. GEORG. (reading) " She is on her way back" PoM. Is that there? GEORG. Certainly it is. PoM. And I, who came from her house, andGEORG. YOU came from her house? PoM. Yes, and they told me quite the contrary GEORG. Where they told you the contrary? PoM. (aside, wal/kig zip and down, followed by GEORGETTE) Can it be possible? There's the danger, now! We were so happy — ACT IV.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 69 GEORG. You were happy? POM. So tranquil — GEORG. YOU said tranquil, did you? POM. She must needs come back! GEORG. But who is this eternal she, she, she? POM. Ah, true, you don't know, you cannot comprehend, you cannot even guess. GEORG. I beg your pardon, I comprehend perfectlya woman i PoM. Oh, no, - a woman? What makes you think that? Not at all — GEORG. A man, perhaps? POM. Certainly. GEORG. You said "she:" if it had been a man it would have been he. POM. Yes i GEORG. (ironically) And who is this she, he, it? PoM. Her Highness' Chamberlain. GEORG. What? PoM. Her Highness, the Princess of Worowzoff, for whom I am counsel. She has arrived from Russia. GEORG. Oh POM. That's how it is, GEORG. Enough, sir, enough! We'll have a full explanation of all this, sir, this evening -this evening, I say, and alone. POM. Oh, very well, when you please, love. GEORG. Just oblige me by not indulging in any familiarities; not until we have had an explanation. POM. Yes, Madame. (aside) A sweet quarrel, upon my word: well, the reconciliation will be the sweeter. But Clotilde in Paris, in secret, what danger lies in that? Enter ALFRED door R. 2 E. ALF. Madame, the countess' nephew. OLD LADY. My nephew! Oh, show him in. You'll permit me, Andr6? AND. Whatever you wish, by all means. Exit ALFRED and enter CIVRY, door R. 2 E. OLD LADY. (presenting him) My nephew, Monsieur de Civry. 70 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT IV. POM. (stiruck) Civry AND. You are welcome, sir. Marchioness — POMo Heavens! AND. Monsieur de Civry, our excellent friend's nephew. CIv. Forgive me, Madame, for the lateness of the hour, of this, my first visit. FER. Will you allow me to offer you a warm welcome in a hot cup of tea? CIv. I can refuse nothing, Madame, from your fair hand. POM. (aside) Ah, true-how foolish I am. He never saw her-thanks to me. (breathing freely) Confound it, what a turn it gave me 1 CIv. I am afraid I disturb your party, Marquis! AND. Not at all. General, please to take my place? (to CIVRY) The good countess has spoken to me about your business. It is about a duel, is it not? OLD LADY. (proudly) Oh, yes. He killed his man. Civ. I had that misfortune, Marquis. I do not know what to do, whether to stay or go away, and so avoid the annoyance of the inquest and trial. My aunt has made me hope that you would aid me with your counsel, and I give myself up to you. AND. I have better than that to offer, Monsieur de Civry. I have here one of my best friends, who is also one of the ablest lawyers, and who will advise better than I. Phillip! POM. Yes! Civ. (joyfully) Monsieur de Pomerol — PoM. (shaking hands with him) At your entire service! AND. You know each other? PoM. I have that pleasure. CIv. And I the honor. I comprehend, exactly, and I pray you to burthen yourself with my defence. PoM. With joy! AND. It is about a duel OLD LADY. (proudly) In which he killed his man! POM. Ah, the deuce! You go fast, my young friend. Where was the meeting? CIv. At Ville d'Avray. POM. That's vexatious. Why didn't you go to Belgium? ACT IV.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 71 CIv. It was so far away —there was no timeO POM. And the cause of the duel! Civ. Ah, there's the rub — FER. (offei ing cup of tea to CIVRY) Will you allow me, sir? CIv. A thousand pardons, Madame. The cause was the most simple, and, indeed, Monsieur de Pomerol is in some way involved with ito POM. I? Civ. Yes Monsieur Anatole Richon (FERNANDE and POMEROL both start) introduced me into a certain saloon, where a generous friend (shaking POMEROL'S hand) explained to me, that I had no business to be seen. The day before yesterday, chance brought me into the presence of the person whom I quitted abruptly in that very place. He reproached me bitterly for my sudden departure-I answered as it seemed best. A certain person, who took up Monsieur Richon's cause, did it in such a manner, and with so much grossness, that I was compelled to answer the affront with a blowOLD LADY. Well done, nephew. CIv. From that, in spite of the efforts of witnesses, who desired to prevent me from compromising myself with a person of such bad repute, a meeting with swords took place: a fatal one for my adversary, for he died upon the field. AND. Not a very interesting personage, this defunct, was he? CIv. Monsieur de Pomerol shall judge better than Ihe was called Roqueville! POM. What-he? AND. (observing FERNANDE, who tlrns pale) What is the matter, Marguerite? All rise. PoM. (zzickly supporting FERNANDE) Nothing but a little faintness - the snow - she is like me - my sight is affected by it - I know it must be the snow, for I, myself, stumbled on the stairs. CIv. Nervous people are often affected that way. PoM. Yes, it's the nerves. But it only requires a little effort to overcome it. 72 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT IV. AND. Let me take you to your room. It was the story of the duel and the dead man. There, don't be frightened. Exit with her into room D.F. All, except POMEROL and CIVRY go up stage. POM. Thanks, old fellow! (shaking his hand warmly) Civ. What for? POM. For the lunge you gave that fellow. All good actions, however, bring their own rewardCIv. You will be my counsel, then? POM. To the last extremity. BARONESS. (Zu stage) It is time to go, Baron,- Marguerite is sick. MAD. BRr. Yes, poor thing! I wonder what ails her? AND. (entering at that moment D.F.) Oh, nothing-she's better. OLD LADY. Come, nephew, we must be off. Civ. Good bye, Monsieur Pomerol, till to-morrow. PoM. Not to-morrow, —say the day after, at ten! ALFRED enters door R. 2 E. All the characters, except GEORGETTE and POMEROL, take leave of ANDRE and exeunt door R. 2 E. PoM. (c) Here we are safe. We must watch the other side. (to ALFRED, who is removing the tea tray) Come here -do you know Madame de la Roseraie? ALF. Certainly, sir. I have been two years in the Marquis' service. POM. That will do,-she may come here to-morrow,prevent her from seeing your master, at any price. ALF. What price would you name, sir? POM. Well, say a thousand francs. (aside) The scamp! ALF. You may trust me implicitly, sir. Exit ALFRED with tray, door R. 2. E. POM. That gives me time. I have no fears for this evening. To-morrow the contest will begin. GEORG. (with dignity) Now, sir, when you are readyPoM. (in the same manner) Your most obedient slave, Madame. AND. (surprised) What is the meaning of all this ceremony? ACT IV.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 73 POM. A letter from a woman. Always distrust a woman's letter in your house. GEORG. That's all very fine-you may laugh-it's a joke! PoM. I think we will laugh a little. (to ANDRE) Can I breakfast with you to-morrow? AND. Certainly. POM. (offering; his ar? to GEORGETTE) Come, MIadame! Good bye, Andre. POMEROL and GEORGETTE exeunt, door a. 2 E. AND. I thought they were never going. (to the female servant who enters from FERNANDE'S room D.F.) How is your mistress? SERV. Much better, sir. I left her in her room, writing. AND. No doubt to her mother! As the servant exits, door R. 2 E., the small door R. 3 E. opens softly and CLOTILDE enters. AND. You here? Did you come through the garden? CLO. Yes, I had my key: I forgot to return it to you. Here it is! (gives key to him) AND. Why did you come that way, why not by the front door? CLo. For reasons of my own. I saw a light in your room, and knew that you were alone, so I came in to have a little talk with you. AND. The hour was not exactly well chosen — CLO. You never found fault with it before. AND. But in such weatherCLO. I have often come through worse AND. You have a good memory, Clotilde. CLO. And you? AND. I? I honor the past, adore the present, and frankly, when a man has to do with a jealous woman — CLO. You had none of those scruples formerly. AND. Marriage changes all things -illusions vanishand we must look at facts CLO. (interrupting him) In short, here I am, expelled from your thoughts by unpleasant recollections. AND. What a wonderful faculty women have for not understanding. D 74 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT IV. CLO. Oh, I understand. AND. Listen, Clotilde! we are friends, or ought to be. What I owe you I will never'forget as long as I live: but I am happy, and happiness is selfish. Do not reproach me for it, since I owe it to you. CLO. You are right and I'm wrong. You are perfectly happy, are you? AND. Beyond my expectations. CLO. So that any unforeseen event which might happen to disturb that joy — AND. What an idea. CLO. Suppose it did happen,-'twould be a cruel blow, would it not? AND. (surprised) What do you mean? CLO. (changing her tone) You think, then, that a man can be devoid of honor and perfidious-faithless and a perjurer, with neither heart or soul, and yet free himself with impunity from his infamy. Did you really think that? AND. Clotilde, why do you speak to me in that way? I must be dreaming — CLO. You are waking from your dreams — AND. My infamy? What do you mean? Were you not the first toset me free? CLO. No, coward!'Twas you who broke faith with me. I adored you, and your desertion has broken my heart — AND. (stupefed) Why, you told me — CLO. (interruzpting him) Yes, when you ceased to love me-when you loved another-I forced the avowal from your own lips. Did you not see that I lied in order to draw the truth from you? Did you not understand me? No! Your eyes were fixed on a vision, an angel form that you invested with every virtue. Your passion for me had vanished, your love for another had taken its place, and when you had tortured me, had trodden me under foot, then you cried mercy Have I injured you? AND. This is a mere tissue of falsehoods. CLO. That was not enough, when you had disgraced me, you found a deeper degradation for me still —and now — you drive me from your house. You don't imagine that I ACT IV,] FERNAN.DE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 75 am a dupe to your pretended conjugal delicacy. Don't you think i read all that passes in your thoughts? Do you not believe that my presenlce here is a disgrace to you and to your wife? Her ilnoncece would blush at my presence! AND. Enough, Mada.lmeCLO. No, not enoug-h I come here to-night, holding in my hand your happiness, and I ask myself, shall I crush it? (sits down) But in this house, that ought to be mineat that door, which should be the door of my apartment,I little thought I should be humbled to this degree, for the one who occupies my place, and who is not worthy of it. No, no,'tis too ch too much — I tell you'tis too much (ANDR goes to his wife's door an:,d closes it) That's right, shut the door, let us not disturb her chaste repose. AND. (comingz2 down to her and in a cool mzanner) And what do you intend to crush? CLO. Are you afraid that she might hear us — AND. Now that i know you, tell me how you will destroy my happiness- I defy you! CLo. Indeed! AND. I know what you meditate. You will seek my wife and tell her that I was once your lover. Was not that your intention? CLO. No- something better than that — AND. No matter! I command you to leave me, and if you do not go of your own accord, I will turn you out of my house! CLO. That's plain speaking, indeed, especially if you don't know how a woman like me takes revenge upon a man like yourself. Have you no desire to know that? AND. Will you leave this room? CLO. Well, yes, I'll go: but as decent women are only admitted here, call Madamno, your wife, and tell her to come along with me. AND. You dare to insult my wife? CLO. Yes, go and call the woman w-hom I made your wife, and ask her from what gutter I picked her up, in order to fling her into your arms — AND. You lie.! CLO. I lie, do I? Then call her 76 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT IV. AND. (starlinfg towards the D. F. which he opezns hurriedly) Marguerite! Marguerite! FERNANDE appears at the threshold. CLO. Call her Fernande - she will understand you better by that name. FER. (runs down quzickly to enbrace CLOTILDE) Clotilde! AND. Yes, Clotilde, whom I summoned you to confound-who dares to reproach your past lifeFER. (starting) My past life? AND. I cannot tell you fiom what a wretched condition she pretends to have taken you.'ER. (starting and looking at hinm with terror) Do you not know? AND. (almost beside himself) Tell her that she lies! FER. (ma2kiZn an efort to speak) Sir,- I -(zturns snpplicaZtingly towards CLOTILDE, who looks at her coldly) Oh, Madame! CLO. Have I calumniated her? Look! FER. Unhappy woman, you have destroyed me! CLO. (trzziuphantly) Now, Marquis, I have no more to say -I wish you no further harm. Exit by door R. 3 E. AND. (recoveSZing himself slowly) Impossible! It cannot be! There is some dreadful error I Marguerite, tell me it is not true: answer me, and tell me it is not true. (he lijts her zip and spea/k.s in a voice choked wi/h tears) Ah, wretch! she spoke the truth. I will kill you! FER. (weeping ) Do so and I will bless you. AND, (hoarsely) Not before I know to what horror and shame I have linked my life. Tell me all FER. (quickly) Tell you? Oh, no! Crush me with insults. Strike me, sir, but do not compel me to do that. AND. Tell me all,-where did that woman find you? FER. At my mother's house. At theAND. Go on! FER. The gambling house. Question me, I have no strength — AND. A gambling house filled with cheats, villains and libertines: your lovers, no doubt. (FERNANDE nmak/es a gesture of protest) At least confess to one-speak of that one --- ACT IV.. FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 77 FER. (sobbing) I would rather die - AND. Answer me -that one FER. Oh, sir, we were two helpless women, we feared himl AND. Go on01 FER. The police entered the house, everything was seized, my mother was thrown into prisonAND. A prison, too? FER. (quickly) Don't ask me to go on, it is too dreadful. AND. Yourmother was in prison? Speak I FER. But you, sir, know everything. Well, this man promised to get her out. I was alone, with no one to counsel me. Oh, sir, I am very guilty — am very guilty! (falls on her knees) AND. Guilty? yes You have preyed upon my credulity, and have become, through falsehood, my wife. Why were you silent about the past? FER. I thought you knew all, she swore it to me so often, and I thought that you had pardoned me. AND. Pardoned you? FER. Yes, sir, after my letter to you —AND. A letter to me? FER. Oh, yes, sir, recall it to your mind- I wrote to you. AND. This is another daring falsehood — f ER. (half rising) No, no, it is no falsehood, sir, I swear that it is no falsehood. Did you not receive it? AND. I tell you no! I never received a letter from you! Do you hear? Never! FER. (sinking back upon her knees) Then all the world is against me. AND. Even supposing you had done so, was that the limit of your duty. Why did you not tell me all with your own mouth? FER. That, sir, I wished to do, but had not the courage. AND. I do not believe you: you avowed nothing, wrote nothing. You became that woman's accomplice to rob me of my honor. (thrusting her aside) Oh, heaven's, here are tears. Don't come near me-I detest you, I curse you for the evil you have done me. Oh, what a dreadful waking is this 78 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. [ACT IV. FER. Hear me, sirAND. Wretched woman, to deceive me thus-I who loved you so. (sobbing) FER. (dragging herself u to him) Oh, sir, your anger is preferable to your tears-pity, pity, sir? AND. And this is my wife? FER. I am fully conscious of my unworthiness. I can no longer be your wife. This marriage dishonors you-it must be dissolved-you must be freed from me — AND. Heaven grant it! FER. I will do anything you wish, all that you command. AND. (suddenly) But, no I This, like all the rest, is a mere farce. Begone [ FER. Alas I where to? AND. I care not, provided I see you no more. Begone! you make me shudder. FER. You are implacable. (rising) Well, sir, I'll goyou shall see me no more- I am going-I —(staggers a few steps and pauses on the door step) Pardon me, I am too ill-IANDRE instinctively making a movement towards her. AND. Marguerite —-- He draws bach, rings the bell. Two female servants enter D. F the same time that POMEROL comes in door R. 2 E, AND. (to the servants) Conduct your mistress to her room, she is unwell. POMEROL helps to support FERNANDE and the servants lead her Zn. ANDRE falls on the sofa, his head in his hand. POMEROL advances slowly, without being seen, and takes ANDRE'S hand. PoM. Andre I AND. Oh, Phillip, my friend I POM. I know allAND. What? PoM. All —'twas through me that Clotilde first knew Fernande AND. And yet you told me nothing! ACT IV.] FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 79 Pom. How could I? I did not know who your wife was, until you left the church. AND. (despairi'gly) True!Oh, Phillip, rescue me from this shame —you are a lawyer-you know the law: there is, surely, some way to annul this frightful marriage? Poi. There is no way. AND. Yes, yes, there is —find it-invent it; do that much for me. PoM. I tell you there is no way. AND. And I tell you, I will no longer be the husband of that — PoM. (quzietly) Do not insult the unfortunate. I know better than you what excuse she has — AND. Excuse? PoM. Believe everything she told you in her despair, for I confirm it: believe that there is only one error in her life, for'tis true. AND. What do you mean? Do you speak to me of pardon? PoMt. I speak to you of devotion, of sacrifice, I ask for her a pardon, full and unreserved. AND. You are surely mad. If even I believed you, what do you know more than Clotilde does? and what hundreds will know to-morrow- and I to suffer this public scandal-the world, too POM. The world?-the crowd, you meanAND. I speak of society. PoM. Oh, no doubt, the good are always indulgent towards the bad, charitable towards the repentant. Libertines and people of debased character are always unpitying -those are the people who will always be against you. AND. But to give my arm to the woman that is iry wife, and perhaps meet himl — POM. He is dead!'Twas he that Civry killed. AND. He lived too long-the stain remains. (as POMBROL i. about to speak) Hush, you ask of me too much, I am not a hero-I am only a man. PoM. Then be strong and courageous against yourself. AND. And forgive, eh? With that word you think you comprise all. Well, yes, I think she was excusable, be 8o FERNANDE: A S'IORY OF THE PERIOD. -ACT IV. cause you wish me to think so. Well, then, I forgive and wish her happy: there, I have done. Are you satisfied? But do you think I can forget, don't you think that the frightful memory will still remain? ANDRE falls on the sofa, gloomily. FERNANDE appears, a shawl thrown over her shoulders, she reaches the door at back, trying to avoid being seen: POMEROL perceives, rzls up to her and stops her at the threshold. ANDRE has, in the meantime, commenced writzng. FER. (weeping) Oh, let me go, he has driven me away. POM. (holding her back) No, not yet. FER. (sobbing) He accuses me cf having deceived him -he does not believe that I wrote him a letter. PoM. A letter? I have it, here it is! FER. Thank heaven! He will, at any rate, see that I have not told a falsehood. Farewell! PoM. (still holding her) No, stay! (he goes towards ANDRE) Andre! AND. I am going to leave this accursed house. Here are a few directions — POM. To-morrow, yes! You are right-you have convinced me. (ANDRE expresses satisfaction), It is the only step you can take except separation. AND. Can that be done? POM. Certainly. I will answer for it. AND. Yes, say how I have been deceived, how I have been made the puppet of an intriguing woman. FERNANDE rises and goes near door R. Z E. PoM. Besides I have proofs-here is a letter written in her own handwriting — AND. To whom is it addressed? To me? Pow. Yes,'twas intercepted by Clotilde, I snatched it from her handAND. She did, then, write to me? FERNANDE pauses at door. PoM. And sent it on your wedding day. AND. Al, I recollect. ACT IV.1 FERNANDE: A STORY OF THE PERIOD. 8 I POM. Listen. (reads) "They tell me that you know "my sad story and are willing to forget it. The knowledge "of my unworthiness becomes more evident to me daily, "and casts a gloom by contrast upon what I am and what "I should be. Oh, sir, think well of it, while there is yet';time, for the day may come when you may, perhaps, "regret your goodness towards me." Poor girl, she was sincere, at all events. FERNANDE advances a few steps to listen. ANDRE turns and leans his head zupon the table between his hands. POMEROL mnakes a sign to FERNANDE to approach: she obeys mechanzically. POMEROL continzues the reading. "'The devotion of a whole life can scarcely prove lmy "sincerity." FERNANDE, trembling with nervous excilemlent, continues the reading inz an nhumble voice, wihoult coming down the stage. FER. "I am not what you believe me to be, sir. 1 6lived in the midst of corruption, with fear and horror." ANDRE, at the change of voice, sobs silently, without uncovering his f ce. "If you could read my heart and see how I loathe and de"test the past-if you will really raise me up to you- do "6not answer me- I will understand your silence,, and bless "you from my inmost soul. If not, I will accept my pun"ishment without a murmur, and only thank you on my "knees for patiently listening to my prayer." Her voice dies away?in tears and she ends by falling upon her knees. AND. 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