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Title: Representative Plays by American Dramatists: 1856-1911: Paul Kauvar; or, Anarchy

Author: Steele MacKaye

Editor: Montrose Jonas Moses

Release date: July 23, 2004 [eBook #13006]
                Most recently updated: December 15, 2020

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Starner, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK REPRESENTATIVE PLAYS BY AMERICAN DRAMATISTS: 1856-1911: PAUL KAUVAR; OR, ANARCHY ***




Produced by David Starner, Leah Moser and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.





PAUL KAUVAR; OR, ANARCHY




[Illustration: STEELE MACKAYE]




STEELE MACKAYE

(1844-1894)


When one realizes the sociological purpose behind Steele Mackaye's
"Paul Kauvar; or, Anarchy," it is interesting to note how inefficient
the old form of drama was to carry anything more than the formal
romantic fervour. Compared with John Galsworthy's treatment in
"Strife" and "Justice," it makes one glad that realism came and washed
away all the obscuring claptrap of that period. Daly, Boucicault, and
their generation were held firmly in its grip; they could not get
away from it, and they were justified in their loyalty to it by the
insistent claim "The Two Orphans" and "The Lady of Lyons" had upon
the public. All the more credit, therefore, that Bronson Howard, David
Belasco, and James A. Herne escaped it; had the latter completely
freed himself of melodrama, his plays would be better known to-day,
better capable of revival, because of the true greatness of their
simple realistic patches.

But where Mackaye vitalized the old style was in the vigour of his
treatment. He loved the large scene, the mob movement; and he worked
with a big brush. As Nym Crinkle, the popular New York _World_
dramatic critic of the day, wrote: "Whatever else he may be, [he] is
not a 'lisping hawthorne bud'! He doesn't embroider such napkins as
the 'Abbé Constantin', and he can't arrange such waxworks as 'Elaine'.
He can't stereoscope an emotion, but he can incarnate it if you give
him people enough."

Mackaye's mind was large, resourceful, daring--both in the opinions
it upheld, and the practical theatrical innovations it introduced
into the theatre, like the double stage for the little Madison
Square playhouse, in New York, which was the precursor of such modern
paraphernalia as came later with the foreign revolving stages.
He always stood on the threshold of modernism, advocating those
principles which were to fructify in the decades to follow him. Such
pioneer spirit was evident in his ardent advocacy of Delsarte methods
of acting; his own work as an actor was coloured and influenced by the
master whose pupil he became in the early years of his career. When
one recalls the methods of Wallack, and his shy approach toward
anything which was "natural," it seems very advanced to hear Mackaye
echoing the Delsarte philosophy. This advocacy was nowhere better
demonstrated than when, at a breakfast given him at the New York
Lotos Club, he talked on the rationale of art for two hours, and held
spell-bound the attention of Longfellow, Bryant, Louis Agassiz, James
J. Fields, E.P. Whipple, Edwin Booth and others. He once said:

    A man to be a true actor must not only possess the power to
    portray vividly the emotions which in any given situation
    would be natural to himself, but he must study the character
    of the man whom he impersonates, and then act as that man
    would act in a like situation.

Mackaye's devotion to Delsarte was manifest in the many practical
ways he aided his teacher; he was rewarded by being left most of his
master's manuscripts. This passionate interest in the technique of
acting not only enriched his own work, but, in 1872, prompted him to
open a Delsarte house (the St. James Theatre), and later interested
him in a school of acting. Mackaye studied at the École des Beaux Arts
and the Conservatoire, in Paris, having as an instructor at the
latter institution M. Regnier. On his way back to America, Tom Taylor
persuaded him to attempt _Hamlet_ in London, at the Crystal
Palace. This essayal met with success. It also opened the way for
collaboration with Tom Taylor in the writing of "Arkwright's Wife" and
"Clancarty," and with Charles Reade of "Jealousy." At this time also
he commenced a dramatization of George Eliot's "Silas Marner."

There were no half-way measures about Mackaye; things of the theatre
and principles of the theatre caught and held his interest. At the
very last of his life, while he was at work on his "Spectatorus,"
which foreran the American idea of a Hippodrome, and which might have,
in years to come, happily housed his son Percy's "Caliban," he was
at the same time attempting to combine with it an educational aspect
which would lift it above the mere spectacular. The symbolical notes
which he handed his son--who was then a mere boy--for the writing of
a Chorus, show the profound approach he took to all his work. Such
seriousness is one of the consuming traits of Percy, whose sense of
humour is probably better developed than that of his father, and whose
sway of literary expression is fuller.

For none of Steele Mackaye's dramas were written with any idea of
being read. They were all constructed by one fully alive to the
theatre and its demands. In view of this, it is surprising how well
"Paul Kauvar" flows in type. The minor editorial changes made for this
edition by Mr. Percy Mackaye are based on several manuscripts, and
the result is the first authentic text of the play. Steele Mackaye was
always gripped in fascination by mob psychology, always eager to write
of the Reign of Terror. The version here used is the mature one, given
its première at Buffalo, New York, May 30, 1887. But Mr. Percy Mackaye
is authority for the statement that while his father was studying with
Delsarte, in Paris, he became enamoured of the Revolution, and there
are two manuscripts extant, "The Denouncer" and "The Terror," which
indicate that he was chipping away at his theme very early in life. He
recast these sketches in the summer of 1875, while at Brattleborough,
Vt., where he had a cottage on the Bliss Farm, familiar now to Rudyard
Kipling lovers because of the fact that here, too, Kipling wrote, at a
later day.

The years 1875 and 1887 are the mileposts between which stretched a
long period of successful play-writing by Steele Mackaye. By '75, he
had already written "Marriage" (1872), "Arkwright's Wife" (1873) and
"Clancarty" (1874). There followed quickly "Rose Michel" (1875, in
collaboration), "Queen and Woman" (1876, an adaptation from Hugo),
"Won at Last" (1877), "Through the Dark" (1878), "An Iron Will" (1879,
later to be called "Hazel Kirke," 1880), "A Fool's Errand" (1881, an
adaptation), "Dakolar" (1884), "In Spite of All" (1885), and "Rienzi"
(1886). Then came the present play, followed by "A Noble Rogue" (1888)
and "Money Mad," modelled after Hugo.

In correspondence with Mr. Percy Mackaye, it is significant to hear
him insisting on his father's change in sociological bearing having
taken place while writing "Paul Kauvar." Timeliness was given to its
initial presentment through the fact that at the moment some Chicago
anarchists had been on trial, and were condemned to death. Writing of
the incident, William Dean Howells recalls that:

    At the house of Judge Pryor, in 1887, several of us came
    together in sympathy with your father, who was trying--or had
    vainly tried--to get the United States Supreme Court to
    grant the Chicago anarchists a new trial. With your father I
    believed that the men had been convicted on an unjust ruling,
    and condemned for their opinions, not for a proven crime. I
    remember your father's wrathful fervour, and the instances he
    alledged of police brutality. [Letter to Mr. Percy Mackaye.]

In a published interview, Mackaye expressed his concern for the case;
but he likewise was reticent about making theatre capital out of it.
He is reported to have said:

    The play was first called "Paul Kauvar; or, Anarchy." Then I
    thought "Anarchy" would be the best title, and under that
    I produced it in Buffalo. After its production, the Chicago
    anarchists were hanged, and, to avoid a possible charge of
    trading on that event, I went back to my first title. Later,
    however, the subtitle, "Anarchy," was gradually reduced to
    smaller lettering and finally dropped.

The success of the play on its first night was a double triumph, for
twelve hundred leading citizens had signed an invitation to have it
given in Mackaye's native city, and the evening was a kind of public
testimony to his position. This was one of the rare instances of an
American dramatist receiving such recognition. Mackaye assumed the
title-rôle, and, supporting him were Frederick de Belleville, Eben
Plympton, Sidney Drew, Julian Mitchell, May Irwin, and Genevieve
Lytton. Commenting on the occasion, the Buffalo _Courier_ said:

    It was not as a playwright alone that his friends honour Mr.
    Mackaye. It may be said of him with strict justice that he
    is one of the few men of our day who have brought to the
    much-abused theatre the intelligence, the skill, the learning
    and the genius that it so much needs in an era of speculators
    and buffoons. He has always been able and willing to take the
    pen or the rostrum, whether at Harvard or at Steinway Hall, to
    expound the principles upon which he has so assiduously worked
    for the past fifteen years.

Mackaye had chosen his theme in the same spirit that Judge Conrad had
selected "Jack Cade." He wished to measure the danger of liberty,
but he did so indirectly, for the play does not abound in long
philosophical flights of definition and warning. He himself confessed
that the subject was defined only once, in these words, spoken by the
hero to the woman he loves, when she is pleading with him to flee from
France. He silences her by saying:

    "I must stay to war with beasts who bring disgrace upon our
    noble cause. The torch of liberty, which should light mankind
    to progress, when left in madmen's hands, kindles that blaze
    of anarchy whose only end is ashes."

This indicates very distinctly that Mackaye's stand for the Chicago
anarchists was not due to sympathy with their political monomania, but
rather championed justice which, only when rightly used, will stem
the tide of overwrought minds. With the execution of these men, he
believed the cause of anarchy would be strengthened by the general
impression gained of their martyrdom. His attitude was widely
discussed, and "Paul Kauvar" became a visible demonstration of anarchy
gone mad.

Of the component elements in his play, Mackaye left a full record. It
is worth preserving as indication of his motive. In an interview he
said:

    For many years I have devoted myself to the mechanical, as
    well as the artistic side of the theatre, in the hope that by
    improving stage mechanism I might help to develop the artistic
    ensemble essential to high art results in the theatre. To this
    end I have made numerous inventions, and designed and
    built several theatres. [The Madison Square and the Lyceum
    Theatres.]

    In this work I have been almost daily in contact with
    labourers and mechanics of every kind, and this contact
    stirred in me a very deep and sincere sympathy with these
    classes of men. I was led to realize the greatness of
    obligation under which the whole world is placed by the
    industry, ability and devotion to duty which characterizes by
    far the larger portion of the working classes.

    At the same time, through relations intimate and confidential,
    I became conscious that certain foreign ideas--the natural
    outgrowth of excessive poverty and despotism in the Old
    World--were insinuating themselves into the hearts and minds
    of American labourers to an extent perilous to their own
    prosperity and to the very life of the republic.

    In this country political corruption and the grasping spirit
    of corporations are constantly affording the demagogue or the
    dreamer opportunity to preach the destruction of civil order
    with great plausibility, giving scope to reckless theorists
    who have so often, in the world's history, baffled the
    endeavours of the rational and patient liberalists of their
    day.

    This excited in me an ardent desire to do what little I could
    as a dramatist to counteract what seemed to me the poisonous
    influences of these hidden forces: to write a play which might
    throw some light on the goal of destruction to which these
    influences inevitably lead, whenever the agitation between
    capital and labour accepts the leadership of anarchism.

    The time chosen by me was that of the Terror in France,
    1793-94, during which the noble fruits of the French
    Revolution came near to annihilation, thanks to the supremacy,
    for a time, of a small band of anarchical men who, in the name
    of liberty, invoked the tyranny of terror.

    The hero of my play, _Paul Kauvar_, has for his prototype
    Camille Desmoulins, one of the most conspicuous and sincere
    sons of liberty of his day, who--in spite of his magnificent
    devotion to freedom--when he dared oppose the Jacobins, was
    beheaded at the guillotine--a martyr to national, as distinct
    from personal, liberty.

    The typical anarchist in my play is portrayed in _Carrac_,
    whose prototype was Thomas Carier, sent into La Vendée as a
    representative of the Jacobin convention. It was this man who,
    without process of law, guillotined or destroyed most
    horribly over one hundred thousand innocent men, women, and
    children--in the name of liberty. He it was who invented
    the "republican marriage"--the drowned bodies of whose
    naked victims dammed the river Loire, and rendered its water
    pestilential.

    The _Duc de Beaumont_ portrays a type of the true noblesse of
    France--proud, fearless, often unjust, never ignoble.

    _Gouroc_ depicts the intriguing type of noblesse whose egotism
    and cruelty engendered the tyranny of the monarchy, and
    justified its destruction.

    The prototype of General Delaroche was the brave and generous
    _Henri de la Rochejacquelin_, young leader of the royalists in
    La Vendée.

    By the interplay of these types, I have sought to emphasize
    what is truly heroic in the struggle which must ensue in all
    times between men and classes possessed of differing ideas.
    Especially it is the purpose of my play to remind the American
    masses, by the history of the past, not to assist foreign
    influences to repeat that history on this continent in the
    future.

A sound attitude, and one supported now (1920) daily in the
conservative press, whenever I.W.W. and Bolshevist demonstrations
shake the country! But "Paul Kauvar" is, to-day, not the kind of drama
to drive home the lesson; fashions have changed.

On December 24, 1887, "Paul Kauvar" opened at the New York Standard
Theatre, with Joseph Haworth and Annie Robe, and thereafter started
on a stage career whose history is long and varied. It reached London,
May 12, 1890, under the management of Augustus Harris, at the Drury
Lane, with William Terriss and Jessie Millward heading the cast.

Nym Crinkle liked "Paul Kauvar" because of its vigourous masculinity.
To him there was in it the "scintillant iron," "the strong arm, ruddy
at times with the tongues of promethean fire." It is a big canvas,
avowedly romantic. "It is," he wrote, after the play had been running
in New York some months, "a work of great propulsive power, of genuine
creative ingenuity, of massive dramatic effectiveness." On that
account it is well worth the preserving and the reading.



NEW NATIONAL THEATRE.

WASHINGTON, D.C.

W.H. RAPLEY. Manager.

       *       *       *       *       *

SATURDAY EVENING,... MAY 5th, 1888,

Grand Production for the Benefit of

The Statue of Washington,
to be presented by

The United States to the Republic of France,
of the latest and greatest New York success.

PAUL KAUVAR,
by
STEELE MACKAYE.

       *       *       *       *       *

THIS PERFORMANCE IS GIVEN UNDER THE AUSPICES OF

=The President and Mrs. Cleveland=,

THE FOLLOWING DISTINGUISHED COMMITTEE OF LADIES:

MRS. NATHAN APPLETON,                  MRS. SENATOR J.P. JONES,
MISS FLORENCE BAYARD,                  MRS. SENATOR PALMER,
MRS. SECRETARY FAIRCHILD,              MRS. SECRETARY ENDICOTT,
MRS. DON M. DICKINSOX,                 MRS. JUSTICE FIELD,
MRS. SENATOR SHERMAN,                  MRS. SENATOR STANFORD,
MRS. SENATOR HEARST,                   MRS. SENATOR STOCKBRIDGE,
MRS. SENATOR MANDERSON,                MRS. SENATOR WALTHALL,
MRS. F.M.D. SWEAT,                     MRS. S.V. WHITE,
                and MRS. WASHINGTON McLEAN;

And the Following Executive Committee of Ladies and Gentlemen:

MRS. SENATOR JOHN P. JONES,            REPRESENTATIVE H.H. BINGHAM,
MRS. SENATOR THOMAS W. PALMER,         MR. M.P. HANDY,
MISS FLORENCE BAYARD,                  MR. F.A. RICHARDSON,
SENATOR W.B. ALLISON,                  MR. W. STILSON HUTCHINS,
SENATOR J.D. CAMERON,                  MR. D.R. McKEE,
SENATOR JOHN T. MORGAN,                MR. JAMES R. YOUNG,
REPRESENTATIVE J.J. HEMPHILL,          MR. W.F. O'BRIEN,
                and COL. THOMAS P. OCHILTREE.


THIS PROCUTION IS A TRIBUTE TO THE CAUSE FREELY OFFERED BY

=MR. HENRY G. MINER=,

=STEELE MACKAYE=,

And the Following Volunteer Cast.

GENTLEMEN:

PAUL KAUVAR                                                                 STEELE MACKAYE
HONORÉ ALBERT MAXIME, Duc de Beaumont                               FREDERIC DE BELLEVILLE
MARQUIS DE VAUX, alias GOUROC, one of the public accusers of the Revolutionary
  Tribunal                                                                  WILTON LACKAYE
GENERAL DELAROCHE, Commander of the Royalist Forces in La Vendée             NESTOR LENNON
GENERAL KLETERRE, Commander of the Republican Forces in La Vendée              M.B. SNYDER
COL. LA HOGUE, on the staff of General Delaroche                              LESLIE ALLEN
DODOLPHE POTIN, an usher of the Revolutionary Tribunal; afterwards sergeant in the
 Battalion of the Bonnets Rouges                                               SIDNEY DREW
CARRAC, a typical Anarchist and a Republican Representative in La Vendée      GEO. FAWCETT
BOURDOTTE, a "Sans Culottes"                                                EDWARD COLEMAN
GOUJON, a Corporal in the Battalion of the Bonnets Rouges                        E.M. HURD
TABOOZE, an officer of Gens d'Armes                                         J.F. WENTWORTH
FIRST ORDERLY                                                                 E.R. SPENCER
SECOND ORDERLY                                                                 A.S. PALMER
FIRST SANS CULOTTES                                                          RUFUS WILLIAM
SECOND SANS CULOTTES                                                          R.S. McBRIDE

LADIES:

DIANE DE BEAUMONT, daughter of the Duke                                 Miss CARRIE TURNER
NANETTE POTIN                                                               Miss HELEN MAR
SCARLOTTE                                                             Miss LIZZIE RECHELLE

AND THE FOLLOWING TRAINED AUXILIARIES:

                           LADIES.

Miss Bunee.      Miss Moore.      Miss Becks.     Miss Marshall.
Miss Pierson.    Miss Maguire.    Miss Forster.   Miss Gianetti.
Miss Frozar.     Miss Hughes.     Miss Weltars.   Mrs. Hughes.
Miss Weeks.      Miss Naylor.     Miss Lavard.    Miss Hearn.
Miss Smith.      Mrs. Boware.     Miss Arnold.    Mrs. Lack

                           GENTLEMEN.

Mart Townsend.   Wm. Sharkey.     Chas. Belmont.   T. Mitchell.
Henry Schaffer.  Wm. Brown.       H. Marks.        B. Fisher.
W.W. Waters.     Geo. Masten.     C.M. Mackay.     Chas. Nuger.
Geo. Turner.     Frank Comstock.  T. Jarvis.       H. Frees.
F. Daley.        Wm. Chambers.    S. Sullivan.     J. Smith.
F. King.         F. Reynolds.     E. Russell.      Daniel Charles.
R. Ryan.         S.B. Caruth.     J. Godfrey.      S. Rosenthal.
J. Sheehan.      J. Sawyer.       G.B. Merton.     A. Goldsmith.
R. Mansfield.    G. Shaffer.      P. Berger.       Jas. O'Brien.
Rufus Williams.  C. Bird.         J.J. Blake.      Wm. Mack.
Benj. Blons.     H. Hamill.       Chas. Marshall.  C. Brady.
John Kenny.      W. Sullivan.     H. Gordon.       G. Harvey.
Ben. Sharwood.   F. Medina.       M. Brickner.     C. King.
Al. Young.       Ed. Ryerson.     L.T. McDermott.  J. Macarthy.
Chas. Norman.    E. Morrison.     F. Allen.
Geo. Hopper.     F. Blake.        J. Harris.

       *       *       *       *       *

Charles Haslam                             Business Manager of "Paul Kauvar" Company
Jere. Stevens                                                          Stage Manager
Ralph Welles                                                 Assistant Stage Manager
John Ginsinger                             Master Mechanic of Miner's Newark Theatre
Charles W. Helnert               Assistant Master Mechanic of Miner's Newark Theatre
Joseph Logan                                Master Mechanic of "Paul Kauvar" Company
Harry Cashion                            Chief Flyman of H.C. Miner's Newark Theatre
Charles Dunlap                        Master of Properties of Miner's Newark Theatre
Ed. Lawrence                           Master of Properties of "Paul Kauvar" Company
A.C.E. Sturgis                           Chief Electrician of Miner's Newark Theatre
William Maston                       Assistant Electrician of Miner's Newark Theatre
Charles L'Orange                          Musical Director of Miner's Newark Theatre
       *       *       *       *       *

The Tableau of the "Dream" in the First Act represents

"THE TYRANNY OF TERROR."

SCENE--FRANCE. TIME. 1794.

ACT I.--THE TERROR. Scene--The interior of the study of Paul Kauvar.

ACT II.--THE INHUMANITY OF MAN. Scene--Prison of the Conciergerie
adjoining the Revolutionary Tribunal in Paris.

ACT III.--THE CONFESSION. Scene--The Grand Hall of the Chateau of
Delaroche in La Vendée.

ACT IV.--ON PAROLE. Scene--Same as Act III.

Three minutes will elapse between Acts IV. and V.

ACT V.--"'TWIXT LOVE AND HONOR." Scene--Same as Act IV.

The Tableau which concludes this performance, and rivals in power
and beauty the famous dream scene of the first act, represents
allegorically

"THE CONQUEST OF EVIL."

It is a poetic picture, full of deep thought and careful study. The
central figure is that of the Angel of Conquest, with one foot upon
the prostrate fiend Anarchy, holding high that irresistible weapon of
progress, the Sword of Light. The fiend carries in his hands the Torch
and Flag of Anarchy, and with these is about to sink into the Abyss of
Darkness.

       *       *       *       *       *




PAUL KAUVAR;

OR,

ANARCHY

_A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS_

_By_ STEELE MACKAYE

1915, by Harold Steele Mackaye

1919, by Harold Steele Mackaye

[The Editor wishes to thank Mrs. Steele Mackaye and Mr. Percy
Mackaye for their permission to include "Paul Kauvar" in the present
Collection. All rights are fully secured, and proceedings will
immediately be taken against anyone attempting to infringe them.]




DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

MEN.

PAUL KAUVAR, _Age 30.--President of the Revolutionary Section of
Fraternity. Afterwards Captain on_ GENERAL KLEBER'S _staff_.

HENRI DE LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN, _Age 22. Commander of the Royalist forces
in la Vendée_.

GENERAL KLEBER, _In command of the Republican forces in la Vendée_.

HONORÉ ALBERT MAXIME, DUC DE BEAUMONT, _Age 65. Cousin of_ LA
ROCHEJACQUELEIN.

GOUROC, _alias_ MARQUIS DE VAUX, _Of the Jacobin Club, and one of the
Public Accusers of the Revolutionary Tribunal_.

COLONEL LA HOGUE, _On the staff of_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.

MARDOCHE, _alias the_ ABBÉ DE ST. SIMON.

JEAN LITAIS, _A peasant of Brittany--formerly a servant of the_ DUC DE
BEAUMONT. _Then for a time turnkey in the prison of the Republic_.

ARISTIDES, _alias_ DODOLPHE POTIN, _An usher of the Revolutionary
Tribunal, afterward Sergeant in the Battalion of the Bonnet Rouge_.

CARRAC, _Republican Representative in Vendée_.

GOUJON, _Private in the Battalion of the Bonnet Rouge_.

BOURDOTTE, _Sans Culotte_.

TABOOZE, _An officer of the gens d'armes_.

ORDERLIES, _On the Staff of_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.


WOMEN.

DIANE DE BEAUMONT, _Daughter of the Duke_.

NANETTE POTIN, _Wife of_ ARISTIDES.

DENISE DUBOIS, _Foster-sister of_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN _and fiancée of_
JEAN LITAIS.

_Soldiers, Peasants, "Sans Culottes", Turnkeys, &c_.

SCENE. _France_.

TIME. _1794_.

Under the title of "ANARCHY," the play was first performed at Buffalo,
New York, May 30, 1887, at the Academy of Music. The following was the
cast:

PAUL KAUVAR                         Steele MacKaye.
GENERAL LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN          Eben Plympton.
DUC DE BEAUMONT                     Frederick de Belleville.
MARQUIS DE VAUX, _alias_ GOUROC     Henry Lee.
ABBÉ DE ST. SIMON                   John A. Lane.
COLONEL LA HOGUE                    H.B. Bradley.
CARRAC                              M.B. Snyder.
ARISTIDES POTIN                     Sidney Drew.
JEAN LITAIS                         B.T. Ringgold.
GENERAL KLEBER                      Jerome Stevens.
BOURDOTTE                           Julian Mitchell.
GOUJON                              Edward M. Hurd.
DIANE DE BEAUMONT                   Genevieve Lytton.
NANETTE POTIN                       May Irwin.
DENISE                              Marie Hartley.
SCARLOTTE                           Maud Hosford.
ALINE                               Alice Hamilton.

Cast of the first New York performance, December 24, 1887, the
Standard Theatre. The name was changed to "Paul Kauvar".

PAUL KAUVAR                         Mr. Joseph Haworth.
HONORÉ ALBERT MAXIME                Mr. Edwin Varrey.
MARQUIS DE VAUX, _alias_ GOUROC     Mr. Wilton Lackaye.
GENERAL DELAROCHE                   Mr. Nestor Lennon.
THE ABBÉ DE ST. SIMON               Mr. B.F. Horning.
GENERAL KLETERRE                    Mr. Jerome Stevens.
COLONEL LA HOGUE                    Mr. Leslie Allen.
DODOLPHE POTIN, _alias_ ARISTIDES   Mr. Sidney Drew.
CARRAC                              Mr. George D. Fawcett.
BOURDOTTE                           Mr. Edward Coleman.
GOUJON                              Mr. Edward M. Hurd.
TABOOZE                             Mr. Charles Mitchell.
FIRST ORDERLY                       Mr. E.R. Spencer.
SECOND ORDERLY                      Mr. A.E. Lohman.
FIRST SANS CULOTTE                  Mr. Fred Clifton.
SECOND SANS CULOTTE                 Mr. C.H. Wentworth.
DIANE DE BEAUMONT                   Miss Annie Robe.
NANETTE POTIN                       Miss Louise Rial.
SCARLOTTE                           Miss Lillie Eldridge.




PAUL KAUVAR



ACT I.

TIME. _The Terror_. 1794.

SCENE. _Paris. Study of_ PAUL KAUVAR'S _apartment_.

_The decorating is in the classic style of the painter David.
Old-fashioned escritoire with chair. Folding doors across corner up
stage. Window, with table beneath it. Fireplace, with picture of_ PAUL
KAUVAR _over it, and fire on andirons. Doors at the right and left of
stage.

At the Rise of Curtain_, NANETTE _crosses to fireplace and shovels
ashes into a pail_. POTIN _is heard outside, singing, in loud and
discordant tones, "La Marseillaise."_


NANETTE.

[_Starting up angrily_.]

There's that lazy man of mine, singing, while I work.

[_Crosses to folding doors, flings them open and shouts roughly_.]

Dodolphe!--Dodolphe Potin!


POTIN.

[_Meekly, outside_.]

Aye, aye!


NANETTE.

I want you!


POTIN.

[_Outside_.]

Aye, aye!


NANETTE.

Hurry up!--Do you hear?


POTIN.

[_Appearing_.]

I could hear your sweet voice if I were deaf as Justice.


NANETTE.

Fool! Justice is blind, not deaf.


POTIN.

True! That's why you always get the better of me, dear. Justice
listens too much and looks too little.


NANETTE.

Bah!

[_Pointing to pail_.]

Take that rubbish to the cellar.


POTIN.

[_Crosses, lifts pail, and looks into it_.]

Ashes!--Heigho! Every fire has its ashes.


NANETTE.

Aye--and the fire that warms a man's home may burn his house
down!--Mark you that, Citizen.


POTIN.

Oh, I see! You mean a wife, who should be a comfort, often proves a
curse.


NANETTE.

I mean, Citizen Potin, that in days of revolution, husbands are easily
suppressed.


POTIN.

[_Starting_.]

Take care! A word against the Revolution is treason and sure death.


NANETTE.

Bah! Better death, than a life of terror like that in France to-day.


POTIN.

[_Terrified_.]

Good heavens, Nanette! Fewer words than these have guillotined our
betters! Can you never hold your tongue?


NANETTE.

Never!--while I have a truth to tell.


POTIN.

Tell the truth! Good Lord, that's fatal.


NANETTE.

Aye, for in these noble days of liberty we are only free to lie.


POTIN.

[_Turning away in disgust_.]

Damn it! I must run or be ruined.

[_Starts to go, but, in passing window, recoils with a cry of
dismay_.]

Sacristie!--See!--See there!

[_Points out of window_.


NANETTE.

[_Contemptuously looking out of window_.]

What now?


POTIN.

There goes the Phantom!


NANETTE.

[_Starting_.]

The dumb girl of the guillotine!


POTIN.

Who glides like a phantom through the streets, without home, friend,
or occupation.


NANETTE.

[_With horror_.]

Except to stand by the scaffold, and count the heads that fall from
the guillotine.


POTIN.

They say that calamity overtakes everyone she follows: that it's
disaster to stand in her way, and sure death to notice her.


NANETTE.

Aye, even those who think themselves too great to believe in God, have
faith in the fatal power of this pale child. My God! look there!


POTIN.

Good Lord!--It's Mademoiselle Diane! She's crossing the street in
front of the Phantom.


NANETTE.

Aye!--Go.--Hurry Mademoiselle here, before she has a chance to heed
this messenger of misery.


POTIN.

[_Going hurriedly_.]

Goddess of Reason, save us all!

[_Exit_.


NANETTE.

Goddess of Reason!--A fine deity for days as mad as these:

[_Crossing to mantel and looking at_ KAUVAR'S _picture_.]

Ah, Citizen Kauvar!--Patriot!--Revolutionist!--Bold son of Liberty,
as you are!--You'd love this age of terror less if it brought death
to Mademoiselle Diane.--Yes, I've watched ye, sturdy citizen, and
in spite of your stern devotion to the Republic, I suspect you carry
another idol in your heart.


DIANE

[_Outside, laughing_.]

All right, Citizen,--I'll not forget; though the poor crazed girl is
not half as harmful as her saner neighbours.


NANETTE.

Ah! Here she comes--Diane Leblanc,--a ray of sunlight in this prison
men call Paris.


DIANE.

[_Entering with flowers_.]

Ah, Nanette! Quick! Water and a vase. See!


NANETTE.

What--flowers?

[_Brings vase_.


DIANE.

Yes, they bloom even in this reign of terror.

[_Putting flowers in vase_.]

But you see these fragile beauties are sinless, and therefore know no
fear.--Is my father in his room?


NANETTE.

No. He went away an hour ago.


DIANE.

Gone an hour, and not returned? That makes me anxious!--Is Citizen
Kauvar at home?


NANETTE.

Not yet! He's been away all night.


DIANE.

Good heavens!--Nanette--can anything have happened?


NANETTE.

Yes, what happens every day. Innocence is slaughtered!


DIANE.

But he--Citizen Kauvar--?


NANETTE.

Has doubtless fought all night to stop the useless flow of noble
blood.


DIANE.

Yes, he is brave, merciful.


NANETTE.

Ah! He was one of the fiercest champions of Freedom when the people
first arose; but now I think he'd give his life to still the tempest
he did so much to rouse.


DIANE.

He will return sad and worn; we must do our best to cheer him when he
comes.


NANETTE.

One look--one smile of yours will banish every thought of sorrow from
his tired brain.


DIANE.

Hush, Nanette;--you must not talk like that.


A VOICE.

[_Outside_.]

Nanette!--Diane!


NANETTE.

[_Startled_.]

What's that?


DIANE.

[_Frightened_.]

My father!


DUKE.

[_Entering wildly_.]

My child! Diane!--Where is she?


DIANE.

[_Rushing to him_.]

Here!--Safe in your dear arms!


DUKE.

[_Embracing her_.]

Thank God!

[_Turning to NANETTE_.]


My good Nanette, leave us alone awhile.


NANETTE.

[_Going_.]

All right, Citizen.


DUKE.

And warn us when anyone is coming.


NANETTE.

[_At the door_.]

Don't fear! I'll stand good guard.

[_Exit_.


DIANE.

Father, why are you so moved?


DUKE.

But now, the mob seized some poor young girl they found without
protection in the street. I heard of this and fearing for your life, I
hurried here in awful agony of mind. Ah! Diane, this dread of peril to
you is worse than the worst of deaths to me.


DIANE.

Take heart, dear father! Does not Paul Kauvar, strong and true, stand
between us and danger!


DUKE.

Yes; but 'tis hard that I, a peer of France, should owe my daughter's
life to a peasant's son--a workman!


DIANE.

A, workman with a brush so potent that the noblest born do honour to
his art. What would have been our fate but for his devotion?


DUKE.

He's a plebeian--a Republican! The sense of my obligation to him--the
enemy of my race--is almost unendurable. Ah, but for you I should long
since have braved the scaffold and buried humiliation in the grave.


NANETTE.

[_Hurrying in_.]

Take care!--A committee from the Section is on its way upstairs.


DIANE.

[_In fear_.]

A committee coming here? How strange!


NANETTE.

No, not strange! Treachery is at every door. They are coming.
Quick!--To your work!

[_The_ DUKE _sits at the desk and pretends to write_. DIANE _sits at
table and takes up sewing_. NANETTE _dusts. Knock is heard outside_.
NANETTE _answers roughly_.]

Come in!

_Enter_ GOUROC, POTIN, GOUJON _and two_ SANS CULOTTES.


GOUROC.

Health and fraternity, Citizens! We come for Paul Kauvar, President of
our Section.


NANETTE.

[_Gruffly_.]

He's not at home.


GOUROC.

Ah, indeed!

[_Sitting_.]

Then we will await him here.

[_All sit in silence_.


NANETTE.

[_Aside, in irritation_.]

Oh, the impudence of these men! How my nails ache to get at their ugly
faces! [_Crossing_.]

How often have I told you that this apartment is not a public office?


POTIN.

But, my precious angel--


NANETTE.

Bah! Religion is abolished, and angels are suppressed! I wish friends
were too!


POTIN.

[_Laughing_.]

Talk of the rack! What is it to a woman's tongue?


NANETTE.

What know you of a woman's tongue?


POTIN.

Enough to damn me, if knowledge were a crime.


NANETTE.

[_To_ GOUROC.]

Come, Citizen, there's no use waiting. President Kauvar don't do
business at home; you've no rights here.


GOUROC.

[_Rising sternly_.]

The patriot has unlimited rights, woman. He may dare all--violate all,
in his zeal for the Republic.


NANETTE.

Well, then, dare my dusting.

[_Strikes brush into her hand and sends dust all over_ GOUROC.]


GOUROC.

[_Moving off, sputtering_.]

Who is this, Citizen Potin?


POTIN.

[_Proudly_.]

My wife, Citizen Gouroc.


GOUROC.

Who taught her manners?


POTIN.

The Goddess of Liberty, a rough and ready teacher.


GOUROC.

Who teaches with sharp tools.


NANETTE.

Aye--tools so sharp they often cut the fools that use them. Mark that.


GOUROC.

[_Crossing to_ DIANE.]

You are the wife of President Kauvar, I suppose?

[DIANE _starts up and stares. The_ DUKE _rises and advances with
stern hauteur. At sight of_ GOUROC, _he starts, and surveys him with
amazement_.]

Well, old man, are you mad, or do you know me?


DUKE.

[_Significantly_.]

I think we have met before.


GOUROC.

Yes, and may meet again. Permit me to introduce myself. I am Citizen
Gouroc, of the Jacobin Club, and one of the Public Accusers of the
Revolutionary Tribunal.

[DIANE _draws close to_ NANETTE.]

Now, who are you?


DUKE.

I am George Leblanc, private secretary to Paul Kauvar.


GOUROC.

Ah, indeed!--His private secretary? Then I can do my business with
you. It is said that two aristocrats in disguise are lurking about
this house.

[_All start_.]

I must communicate with you in secret, Citizen.

[_Turning to_ DIANE.]

Are you the daughter of this old man?


DIANE.

I am his daughter, Diane Leblanc.


GOUROC.

You remain.

[_To_ SANS CULOTTES.]

You, Comrades, wait across the street;

[_Exeunt_ SANS CULOTTES.]

and you, Citizen Potin, take your wife, leave the room, and wait
within call. You understand?


POTIN.

I do, Citizen. When the Republic commands, I obey.

[_Exit, with_ NANETTE.


GOUROC.

[_Bowing with great politeness_.]

Monsieur le Duc de Beaumont.

[DIANE _starts_.]


DUKE.

[_Turning with contempt_.]

Monsieur le Marquis de Vaux.


DIANE

[_Amazed_.]

This--the Marquis de Vaux?


GOUROC.

You are surprised to see me in this garb. I am equally surprised to
find you the guests of Citizen Kauvar, President of the Republican
Section of Fraternity.


DUKE.

Not quite as strange as discovering the dainty Marquis de Vaux a
Public Accuser and the servile slave of the guillotine.


GOUROC.

Reserve your contempt till you understand the meaning of my presence
here. I come to warn you against your host.


DIANE.

[_Haughtily_.]

How, sir! You suspect the loyalty of Monsieur Kauvar?


GOUROC.

What if he has trapped you here only to betray you?


DIANE.

That's impossible, sir! Monsieur Kauvar is the soul of honour and
devotion.


DUKE.

Besides, his head is surety for ours. The discovery that he had
sheltered us would entail his own death.


GOUROC.

Precisely! And what if the sense of that danger had prompted a
denunciation, while there still was some merit in it?

[_The_ DUKE _starts_. DIANE _turns aside with scorn_.]

One thing is certain: an anonymous denunciation of you, describing
your disguise and your retreat, has been made to our club.


DIANE.

[_Clasping her father_.]

What!--Discovered and denounced?


GOUROC.

As Public Accuser, the denunciation fell first into my hands. I have
risked my life by withholding it from the Tribunal until your safety
is assured.


DUKE.

[_Giving_ GOUROC _his hand_.]

Pardon, Marquis, that I did not realize before the motives of your
course.


GOUROC.

Grant me, then, the privilege of saving you.


DUKE.

We will. You belong to our own race; we may trust you.


GOUROC.

Then prepare for sudden and secret flight.


DIANE.

[_Starting_.]

Flight! Where can we be safer than under our present host's
protection?


GOUROC.

Under mine, Mademoiselle. Kauvar is a man of the people. To him such
words as loyalty, truth and honour are but empty puffs of air.


DIANE.

[_Proudly and passionately_.]

On whose lips is there meaning purer, or prouder, than on Paul
Kauvar's?


DUKE.

[_With haughty surprise_.]

Mademoiselle! When you speak so warmly, you forget the distance that
separates you from one of his rank.

[_Cries in the distance of_ "To the Guillotine!" _with the roll of
muffled drums_.


DIANE.

[_In solemn voice_.]

Nay, father, listen!--Do we need more to remind us of the nearness of
the protected to the protector?

[_The_ DUKE _listens with bowed head_. GOUROC _goes to window_.


DUKE.

[_To_ GOUROC, _as drums draw near_.]

Is it the patrol?


GOUROC.

[_Solemnly_.]

No. Tis the guard of the death-cart, with to-day's load for the
guillotine.


DIANE.

[_Hiding her face_.]

This constant agitation is torture.


GOUROC.

You can easily escape it, Mademoiselle. Accept the refuge I offer you.


DUKE.

We will, Marquis, at once. Come to my room, and we will complete our
plans.

[_To_ DIANE.]

My child, prepare to leave this house to-night, in haste and in
secret.

[_Exit with_ GOUROC.


DIANE.

Fly from this house to-night?--No! I will not go! And yet I must, or
tell my father the secret I have kept from him so long.


PAUL.

[_Outside_.]

I am not at home to anyone. I will not brook intrusion here.


NANETTE.

[_Outside_.]

I'll keep out all I can.


DIANE.

Paul is coming!--How can I tell him we must part?

[PAUL _enters_. DIANE _turns quickly toward him_.


PAUL.

[_Absorbed in documents he is carrying. Crossing slowly to desk, he
lays the papers down and, turning, sees_ DIANE.]

Diane! Thank heaven you're alone!

[DIANE _checks him by a warning gesture; crosses quickly to the
door, listens a moment, then slowly approaches_ PAUL, _looking back
anxiously_.]

Have you no word of welcome for a very weary friend?


DIANE.

[_Throwing herself with nervous impetuosity into his arms_.]

Ah, Paul! God bless and keep you!


PAUL.

God blessed me beyond measure, when he made your heart my own.


DIANE.

[_Leading him with nervous intensity to a chair_.]

Sit here--sit here!

[_She sits beside him_.]

Let me look at your face, and listen to your voice, while I can--while
I can!


PAUL.

How strangely you say this!


DIANE.

Do you remember the old days--before this reign of terror darkened all
our lives--the sunny room in my father's chateau, where you taught
me to paint the flowers we had gathered--oh! so gaily!--from the
quaintest corners of the garden?


PAUL.

Ah! those were ideal days.--You, almost a child--a girl just blooming
into womanhood, like those rosebuds in your hair.


DIANE.

Oh, how happy I was!--So happy, earth seemed heaven! So happy, sorrow
seemed almost a myth!--I little dreamed that I would ever drink the
bitterest dregs of that black cup.--The Revolution rushed upon us--and
then, oh then!--

[_Hides her face on_ PAUL'S _breast_.


PAUL.

Then we parted, I thought forever.


DIANE.

You came no longer. The sunshine lost its smile--the flowers faded.


PAUL.

And yet, amidst the fearful tumult of these distracted times, we met
once more.


DIANE.

[_Starting up_.]

Oh, my God! That meeting! I see the frightful scene again! My father
there before me--old--helpless, dragged from his own house by a horde
of brutal beasts.--I, shrieking, fighting vainly at his side--amidst
their mocking laughs and jeers. Ah! I can hear them now--yes, and
high above their hideous jests, rings out a clarion voice--'tis
yours--silencing this crowd of curs!--With what sublime audacity you
claim my father as your cousin, saving him and me, by the coolness of
your courage!--Paul, from that hour you were more than man to me; you
were a God, a hero, my father's Saviour!


PAUL.

[_Rising_.]

Better than all that now--your lover--guardian--husband.

[_Embraces her, then staggers_.


DIANE.

Paul--what is it?


PAUL.

Nothing,--fatigue from last night's bitter work.

[DIANE _brings wine and offers it. He puts it away_.]

No--one kiss from you will give me more strength than all the wine in
France.

[_She kisses him_.


DIANE.

Heaven knows you need more than human strength.


PAUL.

Aye, Titan strength, to stem the tide of madness that overflows the
mind of France! Ah, Diane! if it were not for your dear love, I fear
my mind would falter at the task before me.


DIANE.

Oh, Paul! Why undertake this task?--Why not fly to peace in other
lands?


PAUL.

Fly!--Desert France in the hour of her agony?--In the awful travail
which gives birth to a new and nobler era for mankind?--No, no! I love
you more than life, but my Country--ah, that is mother, sister, wife,
and child!


DIANE

But Paul--


PAUL.

Hush, sweetheart, you must not make the struggle harder! The infant
age is threatened with miscarriage!--The torch of Liberty, which
should light mankind to progress, if left in madmen's hands, kindles
that blaze of Anarchy whose only end is ashes.


DIANE.

[_Suddenly starting_.]

Hush! Listen! What is that?


PAUL.

[_After listening_.]

Nothing, foolish child.

[_He is about to embrace her_.


DIANE.

[_Turning sadly away_.]

Nay, we are too rash! We forget the dangers that environ us.


PAUL.

Would we could forget the weak concealment that makes cowards of us
both!--Oh, that something would happen to make us end this living lie!


DIANE.

[_Solemnly_.]

Perhaps that something has happened, Paul. We have been warned that
we're no longer safe beneath this roof.


PAUL.

[_Amazed_.]

Warned!--By whom?


DIANE.

What matter by whom?--Enough that we've been told the Civil Guard may
search the house this very day.


PAUL.

[_With sudden resolution_.]

I am glad of it. Thank fate that something forces us to tell your
father you are mine.


DIANE.

Nay, Paul--I cannot, dare not tell him that!


PAUL.

Then leave the task to me.


DIANE.

'Twould be but to win his curse. You little dream the deathless pride
that's rooted in his heart! To wrench out that pride would break the
heart that holds it.


PAUL.

[_Bitterly_.]

Then let it break! I, too, am proud, Diane, proud as all are proud
to be who owe their manhood to their God and not to the favour of a
king!--If your father scorns the sacred work of heaven's hand, then he
is only fit for scorn himself.


DIANE.

Oh, Paul! Be charitable!


PAUL.

Charitable! To what?--Your father's pride in the race from which
he springs--the race whose iron rule for centuries stamped shame on
honest labour--crowned infamy with honour--made gods of profligates
and dogs of workingmen--ruining their wives--insulting their
mothers--debasing their daughters, and sowing the seeds of madness
in their veins?--Ah, Diane! when I face your father, 'tis not your
husband who should blush for his race.


DIANE.

My father's race is mine.--I forgot its glories, and atoned its wrongs
in marrying you!--But I love, revere, my father still, and have
hoped each day that he would come to love you for your saving care of
me--and grow content to take you as a son.


PAUL.

Who knows--perhaps he will.


DIANE.

[_Sadly_.]

Ah, no! The more you do for me, the more his pride revolts, till now I
dare not tell him of our marriage.


PAUL.

Diane--listen. The time has come when you must choose between us. I
staked my life in saving yours, and his! He loves but little if he
hesitates to keep the precious life I saved unmarred by sorrow.


DIANE. Well, then, so be it! Have your will! But oh, seek first his
blessing for our love, before you tell him of our secret marriage.


PAUL.

My love for you will teach me tenderness for him. Go now and send him
here.

[_Kissing her_.]

Courage! All may yet be well.

[_Exit_ DIANE. PAUL _sits at desk wearily_.]

Hateful humiliation!--to stoop in pleading for that already mine! But
patience, Paul Kauvar; he is the father of the woman you adore.


DUKE.

[_Entering and advancing to_ PAUL.]

One word before we part, good friend. I thought to leave this house
without farewell, but I cannot be so cruel. I have learned that this
is no longer a safe retreat. I am forced to seek one safer.


PAUL.

And where will you find one, Monsieur?


DUKE. I shall best serve you by keeping that a secret.


PAUL.

And does your daughter go with you?


DUKE.

Could you think that I would leave her here?


PAUL.

Certainly, Monsieur. If to stay seemed less perilous than to go. Why
not let me replace you for awhile?


DUKE.

You guard my daughter here alone?


PAUL.

In my character of cousin to Diane Leblanc, gossip has already united
us by even a closer tie.


DUKE.

To my infinite annoyance, sir.


PAUL.

Monsieur le Duc, in times like these, Madame Kauvar would be far safer
than Mademoiselle de Beaumont.


DUKE.

[_With quiet hauteur_.]

There are some means of safety forbidden to my rank, sir.--Pardon me
if I must say that what you suggest is one of them.


PAUL.

What if I dared to love your daughter, to hope that you would grant me
the right to guard her as my wife?


DUKE.

Seriously?


PAUL.

Seriously!


DUKE.

[_Shrugging his shoulders_.]

This is another of the many insanities of the times.


PAUL.

[_Haughtily_.]

Suppose I had reason to believe that your daughter would consent?


DUKE.

[_Sternly_.]

One moment, Monsieur! Your first proposition involves but
madness,--your last implies dishonour.


PAUL.

[_Indignantly_.]

Dishonour!

[_Checking himself_.]

Monsieur, honesty is honoured now, even though it be not allied to an
empty title. Tis not a crest, but character, that measures manhood in
this modern age. Therefore I do not fear to tell you--

[DUKE _turns quickly_. PAUL _hesitates_.]

that I love your daughter.


DUKE.

[_With terrible contempt_.]

And you take this time to declare it! When you have burdened me with
obligations that leave me powerless at your feet?--when I must see
in the demand for the daughter's hand, a possible bargain for the
father's life.

[PAUL _turns fiercely. The_ DUKE _checks him_.]

No more, sir! Happily I have two securities against dishonour:
my child's sense of what is due to herself--my own scorn of life
purchased at such a price.


PAUL.

Perhaps your daughter may not deem the protection of my name so great
a degradation as yourself.--Dare you put her to the test?


DUKE.

What test can you propose?


PAUL.

[_Seating himself at desk and writing_.]

Here is a pass procured at the risk of my life.--I fill it out for
George Leblanc.--It will convey you, alone, safely beyond our borders.
Here is another. I make this out for George Leblanc and Diane his
daughter. This will enable both of you to escape.--These passes have
the signatures of the chief of police; I countersign them, thus--a
double surety for you, a double risk for me.--Now, Monsieur, either
one of these passes is yours, as your daughter may decide, if you will
offer her the choice of remaining under my protection, or of leaving
France with you.


DUKE.

[_Striking a bell_.]

The choice is at her will.

[_Enter_ NANETTE.]

Send my daughter here at once.

[_Exit_ NANETTE.


PAUL.

One word, Monsieur. These passes are at stake, and my life as well. I
promise to be bound by the decision of your daughter.--If she decides
to remain, you promise to go and leave her here with me?


DUKE. I promise this on one condition. I pledge my honour to put the
alternative fairly before her. You must pledge yours to use no word to
influence her choice.


PAUL.

I pledge myself to silence.


DIANE.

[_Entering pale and anxious_.]

You sent for me, Father?


DUKE.

I did. Listen, child. I am about to leave France. By my side there is
peril--here is safety. Answer frankly: will you follow me, or remain
here under the protection of Monsieur Kauvar?


DIANE.

[_Aside_.]

What can this mean? He could not ask this if he knew the truth.

[_Aloud_.]

Father, I do not understand.--What shall I say?


DUKE.

What your heart prompts, child.

[_Turning away_.]

Nay, do not hesitate; I will not influence your choice even with a
look.


DIANE.

If I shrink from danger, if I stay here, what becomes of you?


DUKE.

I go alone.


DIANE.

Alone to meet your peril?--Then, by the bond of a daughter's duty, my
place is at my father's side.

[PAUL _staggers. The_ DUKE _retires quietly to desk_. DIANE _speaks
aside to_ PAUL.]

Remember he is old, with none but me to comfort his last days.


PAUL.

[_With stern self-control_.]

Monsieur, the double pass for George Leblanc and Diane his daughter
has been fairly won.

[_Hands the pass to the_ DUKE, _bows coldly, and leaves the room
without a look at_ DIANE, _who falls into a chair and hides her face_.


DUKE.

[_Looking suspiciously at_ DIANE.]

Could there be warrant for his strange presumption? If so, this
separation is none too soon.

[_Enter_ GOUROC.]

Ah, Marquis, congratulate us. We are now released from all need of
burdening even you.--See! Here is a pass which opens the doors of our
prison. We fly to-night to Vendée, where we hope you may soon rejoin
us, and our cousin Rochejacquelein.


GOUROC.

[_Aside_.]

The devil!--

[_Aloud_.]

You are fortunate, Duke. Alas that I cannot go with you!


DUKE.

Well, come, Diane; time flies. We must prepare for our escape.

[_Going with_ DIANE.]

Au revoir, Marquis.


GOUROC.

Au revoir, Monsieur le Duc, and bon voyage, Mademoiselle de Beaumont.

[_Exeunt the_ DUKE _and_ DIANE. GOUROC _changes to a fierce and
hurried manner_.]

Ah!--Not so fast, dear Duke! You're not out of France yet. This sudden
flight destroys all my plans. Again this girl, the heiress of ten
millions, will get beyond my reach.--No!--death, dishonour--nothing
shall snatch her from me now!--Aye, but how to prevent it?

[_Reflecting_.]

The Duke has not many years to live, and in these ticklish times old
men's days are easily shortened. He dead, his daughter's at my mercy.

[_With sudden triumph_.]

I have it!--I see the way to place her wholly in my grip!--A brilliant
move and easy to execute!--Kauvar knows nothing of my rank!

[_Rings bell, goes to desk and begins to look at papers_.]

Yes, these are what I need to guarantee my triumph!

[_Enter_ POTIN.]

Have you any blank warrants?


POTIN.

I have!--I keep them always handy, especially for the petticoat sex.

[_Giving them_.]

I say, Comrade, I hope it's a she-man this time, for there's nothing
like this--[_Making sign across throat_] to stop the wag of a woman's
tongue.


GOUROC.

Go.--Remain in the ante-room.--I may want you to summon a guard.


POTIN.

[_Going_.]

All right, Citizen! I'm always ready at the call of the Republic.

[_Exit_.


GOUROC.

Good!--Now to secure my victory!--But where can I find Kauvar?

[_Starts for door_. KAUVAR _enters, absorbed in thought, without
seeing_ GOUROC, _who watches him_.]

He's just in time! Fate conspires with me for success.

[PAUL _seats himself at desk and buries his face in his arms_.--GOUROC
_goes over quietly and touches him on the shoulder_.


PAUL.

[_Starting up in dismay_]

You here, Gouroc!


GOUROC.

I am, old friend,--though you seem scarce glad to see me.


PAUL.

Pardon, Comrade; you find me at a moment when my mind's absorbed with
many cares.


GOUROC.

I understand;--in times like these perplexity pursues the patriot. I
would not now intrude, dear friend, if duty did not force me.


PAUL.

[_With sudden suspicion_.]

Duty! And what duty can bring you here?


GOUROC. I have important warrants for your signature.


PAUL.

[_Sitting again, with a sigh of relief_.]

Another time.--I cannot sign them now.


GOUROC.

[_Firmly_.]

Friend, the business of the Republic is sacred; it cannot be
postponed.


PAUL.

[_Wearily_.]

Well, well!--What are these warrants?

[_Takes up pen carelessly_.


GOUROC.

[_Calling off papers, as he gives them to_ PAUL _to sign_.]

Warrants for the arrest of Catherine Cler--

[PAUL _signs_.]

Maxime Berton--

[PAUL _signs_.]

Marie Legrand--

[PAUL _signs_.]

And this blank warrant for a suspected party, whose name that fool
Potin has registered so badly that I must get him to decipher it
before I can fill it in.

[PAUL _signs mechanically_.]

[_Aside_.]

Tis done!--And she is mine!

[_Aloud_.]

Shall you be at the club to-night, friend?


PAUL.

[_Shortly_.]

No!

[_Night comes on_.


GOUROC.

What excuse shall I offer the fraternity?


PAUL.

Say I am busy--busy--[_Striking his breast_.] breaking the heart of a
traitor to France!


GOUROC.

[_Going_.]

A welcome message.--I sha'n't forget it.

[_Exit_.


PAUL.

Wife gone!--Home desolated!--Naught left but the haunting memory of
joy forever lost!--Ah, I am weary, heart-broken--helpless!

[_He sinks into the chair at desk, and buries his face in his arms.
Slowly the light dims to darkness. At back, the stage is transformed
into a_ TABLEAU OF KAUVAR'S DREAM OF ANARCHY.

_Mysterious music accompanies the Dream, which consists of a tableau
of the guillotine in the Place de la Revolution, in Paris, by
moonlight.

Here is seen the scaffold, with its ghastly paraphernalia, surrounded
by ferocious_ SANS CULOTTES, _and_ GENS D'ARMES. _Amidst them is an
old hag.

The death-cart, with its load of victims, is seen in the
foreground--the entrance to the garden with the palace of the
Tuilleries in the background.

The_ HEADSMAN _stands ready, near the knife of the guillotine.

From the death-cart_ DIANE _glides on and slowly goes up the scaffold
steps.

As she reaches the top, she is seized roughly by the_ HEADSMAN.

_At this moment_ PAUL _starts with a cry of agony from his chair--and
at his shriek, the whole Tableau of the Dream instantly disappears_.


PAUL.

[_Starting up wildly_.]

No, no!--My life for hers!--My life for hers!

[_Waking, as the Dream disappears, he looks about dazed and
bewildered; then bursts into hysterical laughter_.]

A dream!--Thank God, a dream!--Only a horrible dream!

[_Suddenly stops short in horror_.]

How dark and still the house is. My God!--Something has
happened!--What is it?

[_Shrieks with terror_.]

Diane!--Diane!


NANETTE.

[_Entering with lamp_.]

What's the matter?


PAUL.

Diane--Mademoiselle Diane, where is she?


DIANE.

[_Appearing, dressed to go away_.]

Here!


PAUL.

[_Makes a spontaneous movement toward her, then checks himself and
turns to_ NANETTE.]

Leave us!

[NANETTE _goes silently away_. PAUL _speaks to_ DIANE _hoarsely_.]

Where are you going?


DIANE.

I am going to do my duty--follow the father who would die without my
care.


PAUL.

[_After a pause_.]

Yes, I remember now.--You are right.--You will be safer out of
France.--The dream! The dream!


DIANE.

What dream?


PAUL.

No matter! I am resigned now! Yes, resigned--resigned--resigned!

[_Sinks sobbing into chair_.


DIANE.

No, no, Paul!--I cannot endure this!--I will stay! I will stay!


PAUL.

[_Starting up_.]

No! You must not! I dare not keep you here.--I fear the worst!


DIANE.

What do you mean?


PAUL.

Don't ask me. I do not know myself. But you--when you are gone--you
will not forget me?


DIANE.

Not while memory lasts!


PAUL.

And I--perhaps I--some day--shall be free to seek you.


DIANE.

God grant that day is near!


PAUL.

And we--when we meet again, will you find courage to acknowledge who I
am?


DIANE.

Nay--if you desire it--I'll prove my deathless love before I go.--I'll
tell my father all.


PAUL.

No, never!--Never till I've won a name that even your proud father is
forced to honour. Meantime, I ask but this--your love and trust, while
I have life to strive.


DIANE.

You shall have it!--Yes, through sunshine and shadow, I will love and
trust you to the end.

[_They embrace_.


DUKE.

[_Outside_.]

Nanette, the coach is ready: be quick, bear our baggage to the door.

[PAUL _and_ DIANE _separate quickly. Entering, the_ DUKE _glances
suspiciously at the two, then advances to_ PAUL.]

Paul Kauvar, let us not part in bitterness. I owe you much; I grieve
to see you suffer. Courage! Believe me, I never honoured you as I do
now.

[_Extends his hand_. PAUL _turns away_.]

Will you not take my hand?


PAUL.

No, Monsieur. Not until you think it worthy to guide and guard your
daughter, as my wife.


DUKE.

[_Starts haughtily, then turns to_ DIANE.]

Come, child! Tis time that we were gone.


DIANE.

[_Crossing and extending her hand to_ PAUL.]

Farewell!


PAUL.

[_Taking her hand, speaks aside to her_.]

Remember, love and trust.


DIANE.

Forever!

[PAUL _kisses her hand. She comes slowly to her father, keeping her
eyes in anguish on_ PAUL.

[_The_ DUKE _leads her toward the folding doors which are suddenly
thrown open, disclosing a platoon of_ GUARDS. DIANE _shrieks, the_
DUKE _starts back_, PAUL _turns in horror_. TABOOZE _advances into the
room_.


TABOOZE.

In the name of the Republic, I arrest Honoré Albert Maxime, heretofore
Duc de Beaumont.


DIANE.

[_Clasping the_ DUKE.]

Father!


PAUL.

[_Sternly_.]

What does this mean?--Whose name is on that warrant?


TABOOZE.

[_With surprise_.]

Why, your own, Citizen.

[PAUL _recoils, stunned_.


DUKE.

What! Betrayed by you?


DIANE.

No, no! It is not true!

[_Snatching the paper, looking, then with a cry_.]

Great heaven!--It is!--His name and hand!

[_She sinks down in despair_.


PAUL.

[_Passionately, to the_ DUKE.]

I betray you!--I, Paul Kauvar.--Tis false!

[_To_ DIANE.]

You at least will not believe this lie.


DUKE.

[_Interposing_.]

Silence! Better death to her than the pollution of another word from
you!


PAUL.

But my God!--You do not know.--She is--


DIANE.

[_Starting up wildly_.]

Stop!--I forbid you to say more!


CURTAIN.




ACT II.

SCENE. _Interior of the Prison of the Republic. A room with
cells.--Entrance to outer corridor. Table with chairs near it.--As
curtain rises, howls of a Mob are heard outside_.


POTIN.

[_Entering in the midst of the howls, then clapping his hands to his
ears_.]

Oh, that I were deaf! Then I'd escape the shriek of my wife, and the
roar of this cursed tribunal condemning poor devils to death.

[_Renewed howls_.]

Aye, that's right! Howl on, hyenas! I could howl, too, yesterday, as
well as the worst of ye. But I can't now; no, not since the arrest
of the poor old Duke. There he lies, in yonder cell, and here am I
quartered as a witness against him--and that villain Gouroc has done
all this!

[_Enter_ GOUROC _quietly in the background_.]

Curse him! He rules me with a rod of red-hot iron! I wish I had him
here now! By the gods! I'd take courage for once; I'd tackle him with
my tongue--like my wife. I'd say--


GOUROC.

[_Advancing coolly_.]

Well, Citizen,--you'd say--?


POTIN.

[_Aside, startled_.]

The devil take you!


GOUROC.

What would you say?


POTIN.

Nothing!--anything!--everything!


GOUROC.

That's lucky!--I have much for you to say before the day is done. The
trial of the Duke will soon begin. When asked who gave you the order
for the Duke's arrest, you must swear that it was Paul Kauvar who did
so.


POTIN.

Why, Lord help me! 'Twas you who gave me the order, and forced me to
carry it, too.


GOUROC.

Possibly; but, in spite of that, my name must not be mentioned in the
affair, to any one, do you hear?


POTIN.

Alas, I do!


GOUROC.

And will swear as I command?


POTIN.

[_With sudden resolution_.]

Never!


GOUROC.

Do you care to save your head?


POTIN.

Of course! What could I do without it?


GOUROC.

If you refuse to attest as I have dictated, I will declare you guilty
of treason in trying to conceal the presence of the Duke in Paris.
Such a declaration from me is sure perdition to you. How say you now:
will you swear?


POTIN.

[_Wilting_.]

I will swear.


GOUROC.

You are wise.

[_Going_.]

Within an hour, the trial comes on. Be at hand, or--

[_Making a sign across his throat_.]

There's nothing like this to quiet a traitor's tongue.

[_Exit_.


POTIN.

[_Looking after him_.]

To lie living, and be a coward--or to lie dead, and be a corpse;
that's the riddle.--No! I'll be neither a coward nor a corpse. I'll
run away!--run like a brave man, enlist in the army of Vendée, and so
escape damnation, and my wife.

[_Starts off_.]

Liberty, lend thy wings that I may fly--

[NANETTE _appears_.]

Ye gods!--Fate is false again!


NANETTE.

Ha! It's you, is it?


POTIN.

No, it was me; but now you're here, I'm nobody.


NANETTE.

Where's the Duke?


POTIN

[_Pointing_.]

In that cell.


NANETTE.

And I believe 'twas you betrayed him!


POTIN.

[_Indignantly_.]

That's a lie!


NANETTE.

Well said! Short and sharp, like the truth.

[_She pats_ POTIN _on the back. He turns away_.]

Bravo!--But one moment! Do you know who did betray him?

[POTIN _shakes his head mournfully_.]

You do know! I can see by the wag of your head you know, and I mean
to make you tell me!--But I can't stop now; I'm here to see Mam'selle
Diane; where is she?


POTIN.

[_Pointing to cell_.]

There--with her father.


NANETTE.

I'll be back soon, and then I'll give you a piece of my mind.


POTIN.

Give me peace if you like, dear, but keep the mind for yourself;
you've none to spare.


NANETTE.

Woe to you when next we meet!

[_She flounces out_.


POTIN.

Yes, it's woe to me whene'er we meet!--But now to fly; I've no time
to lose; between my wife and Gouroc, I shall go cracked. So here's for
liberty, and Vendée!

[_Exit into his room_.

_Enter_ GOUROC, _followed by_ GUARDS _escorting_ MARDOCHE.


GOUROC.

[_To_ GUARDS.]

You may leave the prisoner with me.

[_Exit_ GUARDS.]

And so, Mardoche, you have been tried and condemned.


MARDOCHE.

Yes. Accused by beasts, tried by fools, and condemned by assassins.


GOUROC.

And of what were you accused?


MARDOCHE.

I was a quiet cobbler; I made shoes for Jacobins that pinched their
toes, so I was accused of sympathy with aristocrats.


GOUROC.

Is this all the cry they raised against you?


MARDOCHE.

No. I was never heard to swear, so I was watched--and was seen upon
my knees. As piety is poison to the Republic, I was accused of being a
priest! I was searched, and these were found upon me.

[_Showing a crucifix and rosary_.]

This was enough. I was immediately condemned to die.


GOUROC.

A fine fool you were, to be caught with such baubles in your bosom.
Had you forgotten old mother Dupaix?


MARDOCHE.

The old woman who never gossiped, wore clean linen, and kept four
cats?


GOUROC.

The same--who was therefore accused of being a Duchess in disguise,
and sent to the guillotine.


MARDOCHE.

Moral:--In this age of reason, death to him who prays!


GOUROC.

Or keeps four cats! But cheer up, Citizen; I have a crumb of comfort
for you yet. In your cell someone is waiting impatiently to see you.


MARDOCHE.

Who?


GOUROC.

Your sister.


MARDOCHE.

Great heavens! Of what do they accuse her?


GOUROC.

Nothing. She is here by my care to bid you farewell.--Listen and
understand.--You are going to die, and leave your sister in poverty
amidst the perils of the Republic.--What would you be willing to do to
provide her with an independence?


MARDOCHE.

I would do anything. I can do nothing.


GOUROC.

You are mistaken. If you choose, before you die, you can place in her
hands 10,000 francs.


MARDOCHE.

How?


GOUROC.

By helping me to save another man's life.


MARDOCHE.

I do not understand.


GOUROC.

The Due de Beaumont has been discovered, and is about to be condemned.
For reasons of my own, I wish to save his life. There is but one way.
You, who are destined to die soon, must be disguised as the Duke,
answer to his name, and go to the scaffold in his stead. Consent to
do this--and you shall place in your sister's hands 10,000 francs in
gold.


MARDOCHE.

What! That Jacobin of Jacobins, Gouroc, asks a cobbler to save a
Duke--?


GOUROC.

Why not? The Republic is poor, the Duke is rich. He has been condemned
for our glory. But if his secret escape will bring us gold, why
not crown the Republic with riches as well as fame? Is not this
Patriotism?


MARDOCHE.

Yes, Patriotism to-day! Yesterday and to-morrow--Jesuitism.


GOUROC.

Well, your answer. Will you save the Duke?


MARDOCHE.

[_After a pause_.]

I will.


GOUROC.

Good! In your cell you'll find everything for your disguise.


MARDOCHE.

[_As howls are heard outside_.]

Listen.--That is the voice of fraternity shrieking for fratricide!


GOUROC.

By heaven! No cobbler talks as you do!--Who are you? What are you?


MARDOCHE.

A victim--to present madness! An atonement--for past wrongs! A pledge
for future progress!--The Abbé de St. Simon.


GOUROC.

Ha! As I suspected.

[SOLDIERS _are heard approaching_.]

Take care!--Hurry to your cell; they are coming for the Duke.


MARDOCHE.

And my sister--?


GOUROC.

You shall have the money at your parting.


MARDOCHE.

Thus my death will bring her more than all the years I might have
lived to love her. [_Exit_.


OFFICER.

[_Entering, followed by_ GUARDS, _and presenting paper to_ GOUROC.]

An order for the person of Duc de Beaumont.


GOUROC.

[_Looking at order_.]

Correct.--There is his cell.


OFFICER.

[_Reading from paper at the door of_ DUKE'S _cell_.]

Honoré Albert Maxime, heretofore Duc de Beaumont, you are called for
trial for your life. In the name of the law, stand forth!

_The_ DUKE _appears with_ DIANE _clinging to him, followed by_
NANETTE.


DUKE.

I am ready.

[_The_ GUARDS _surround him_.


OFFICER.

[_To_ DIANE.]

Young woman, free your father; he must follow me alone.


DIANE.

If he is guilty, then I am guilty. I have shared his prison; I claim
the right to share his scaffold.


OFFICER.

You are not called, and cannot go with him.


DUKE.

Courage, child! Remember who you are, and scorn to show these
miscreants what you feel.

[_Putting her gently from his breast_.]

We shall meet again.--

[_Turning to_ OFFICER.]

Lead on, sir.

[_The_ GUARDS _go off with the_ DUKE.--DIANE _falls into a chair near
table, overcome_. NANETTE _approaches her;_ GOUROC _waves her back_.


GOUROC.

[_Pointing to cell_.]

Wait there, till you're wanted.

[NANETTE _goes out sullenly_. GOUROC _draws near to_ DIANE.]

At last I'm free to crave your pardon for the part I'm forced to play
in these dark days of tragedy.--Say you'll forgive me.


DIANE.

I have nothing to forgive, sir.--You did not betray my father, and if
you dare to feel for such as we, then it is for the Republic to pardon
your secret treachery.


GOUROC.

Always cruel, Mademoiselle. If you knew the truth, you could not wound
me with your scorn.


DIANE.

[_Going_.]

If my face offends you, I will go.


GOUROC.

Stay, and be just.--I am the slave of a great purpose. I am fast
securing the ruin of the Republic. My affected zeal but masks the
well-aimed blows I strike at the enemies of our order.--Before many
weeks have past, Robespierre will go to the scaffold, the Jacobins be
ruined, and the Republic crushed.--To this great end I am content to
suffer anything, even your contempt, if need be.


DIANE.

Yes, I despise all blows dealt in darkness.


GOUROC.

Even though those very blows could save your father's life?


DIANE.

[_Turning and staring at him_.]

Save my father's life?


GOUROC.

Yes; I hold it in my power to set your father free, and escape with
both of you to Vendée.--Say but the word and it is done.


DIANE.

Tell me the word that I may speak it quickly.


GOUROC.

You know the past.--My one wild dream was to win you as my wife.
Revolution came; I lost you in the chaos of the times; and when at
last I found you, a traitor had nearly caused your death.


DIANE.

[_In anguish_.]

No more, sir! No more!


GOUROC.

But I can save you yet.


DIANE.

Save my father! That is all I ask.


GOUROC.

To save his life I must imperil my own. I am willing to do this, but--


DIANE.

[_Scornfully_.]

You must have your price!


GOUROC.

Yes--that price, the right to save and guard you as my wife. One word
of hope, and I am your slave forever.


DIANE.

Such a word would be cruelty to you, and crime in me.

[_She starts to go_.


GOUROC.

[_Seizing_ DIANE'S _hand_.]

Hear me, I beg--beseech--

[_A bell tolls_.]

Nay--I command!--Listen!


A VOICE.

[_Calls slowly in the distance_.]

Hubert, Marquis de Ferrand,--Comte de Vigny,--Duc de Beaumont----

[DIANE _turns in horror_.


GOUROC.

Your father is called for trial! That means certain death.


DIANE.

[_Kneeling_.]

Save him!--I will pay the price with everything I have.


GOUROC

I may hope?


DIANE.

Yes! Take hope from my despair.


GOUROC.

Then you will be my wife?


DIANE.

When he and I are free.


GOUROC.

Your father shall be saved!--I go to perfect all my plans.

[_Kissing her hand_.]

From this moment I am yours--body, mind and soul!

[_Exit hurriedly_.


DIANE.

When he has saved my father--death shall deliver me.

[_Exit_.


POTIN _enters cautiously, with various things hidden under his
clothes, giving him a grotesque appearance_.


POTIN.

Now, O Fate, is your chance to protect a patriot! If I can only get
away,--I shall escape perjury in Court, and tongue-lashing from my
wife!--Now to run!--To run for Vendée! Better the awful thunder of
masculine war than the piercing tenderness of a woman's tongue!

[_Starting to run of, he begins to sing--to the tune of the
Marseillaise chorus:_]

To leave--to leave my wife!--


NANETTE.

[_Rushing in and stopping him_.]

Hold, Citizen Potin!


POTIN.

[_Wilting_.]

Oh, Republic, I am lost!


NANETTE.

Dodolphe--you're up to mischief! Speak out--what's up?


POTIN.

Patience, gentle lamb!


NANETTE.

Don't lamb me, sir!

[_Twisting him round_.]

What's this mean?

[_Tapping him_.]

Porpoise!

[_Pulling breeches from under his coat_.]

Culottes!

[_Pulling cap from his breast_.]

Ye gods, what's this?

[_Pulling hose from his pockets_.]

By heaven! A woman's hose!

[_Shaking hose in his face_.]

What does this mean?


POTIN.

Nothing, precious love! This is my uniform;--I have recruited for
Vendée.


NANETTE.

You--a soldier?


POTIN.

[_Posing_.]

Yes: The safety of France demands it. I go to preserve the Republic!
France beckons--while Victory extends her arms, panting to embrace my
noble form!


NANETTE.

Embrace ye?

[_Putting his head under her arm_.]

Let Victory try it if she dare!


TURNKEY.

[_Entering with_ GUARD.]

Citizen Potin, you are wanted as a witness.


POTIN.

Caught!--From the frying-pan into the fire!


NANETTE.

We shall meet again, my dear.


POTIN.

Don't remind me now; I'm sick enough already.

[_Enter_ PAUL KAUVAR. POTIN _starts at sight of him, and speaks to
the_ GUARD.]

I'm ready; show the way.


PAUL.

[_To_ POTIN.]

Stop!--Thank heaven I have found you! Tell me, who ordered the Duke's
arrest?


POTIN.

[_Sullenly_.]

What I know of, that I'll tell only to the Court.

[_Exit_.


PAUL.

[_Turning to_ NANETTE, _who is going_.]

Nanette, one word.


NANETTE.

What word can an honest woman speak that you would care to hear?


PAUL.

Justice!--I want that word, and all it signifies.

[_Mob howls outside_.


NANETTE.

Listen! Go to them--they'll give you justice, aye, and glory, for you
betrayed the innocent--to glut their appetite for blood.


PAUL.

That's a lie--a vile, infamous, monstrous lie!


NANETTE.

Is it a lie that you signed the warrant for the Duke's arrest?


PAUL.

My name was forged.


NANETTE.

I know your hand too well to be deceived. I've seen the warrant; it
bears your name, and written by yourself.


PAUL.

Then it was obtained by some strange trick! I've tried to learn the
truth, but no one will tell me who took the warrant to the office of
the Guard.


NANETTE.

I wish I could believe you.


PAUL.

[_Forcing her to face him_.]

And so you shall!--Do I look like the vilest of mankind?


NANETTE.

No; in looks you're lucky!


PAUL.

Would any man conspire to kill the wife he adores?


NANETTE.

Why ask that?


PAUL.

Because Diane de Beaumont is my wife.


NANETTE.

Your wife?


PAUL.

Yes! For me to betray her father would be to break her heart! Pain to
her is the anguish of the damned to me! Can you not see that I am--I
must be innocent?


NANETTE.

In these days the fairest faces mask the foulest souls! Looks and
words prove nothing! Evidence alone will clear you of this crime.


PAUL.

That--I have not been able to obtain.


NANETTE.

Then get it quickly before it is too late.


PAUL.

Where is Diane--my wife?


NANETTE.

[_Pointing_.]

There!--Praying for the father she believes you betrayed.


PAUL.

No, she cannot! By the light of her own love she sees the innocence of
mine.


NANETTE.

Then love is lunacy!


PAUL.

Send her here to me!


NANETTE.

She will not come.


PAUL.

I'll stake my life she will!


NANETTE.

You shall see.

[_Exit_.


JEAN LITAIS _enters, watching_ PAUL _intently_.


PAUL.

Two things at any cost I must accomplish! First, prove my innocence of
treachery, and save her father from the guillotine.


JEAN.

[_Advancing_.]

For that I came to help you.


PAUL.

Who are you?


JEAN.

Look well and you will see.


PAUL.

I've seen your face before, but have forgotten where we met.


JEAN.

I am Jean Litais. Six months ago, I was accused, and about to be
condemned. You saw--took pity--spoke in my behalf--and by your
eloquence saved my life! So now the life you saved, and all its
service, is yours to use, or forfeit as you please! A lion freed a
mouse--the mouse now comes to serve the lion.


PAUL.

I do not understand.


JEAN.

I am turnkey here, though once a servant of the Duke's. You love his
daughter; I can help her father to escape.


PAUL.

How?


JEAN.

[_Crossing to the door_.]

This opens on a staircase leading to the river. Here's the key. I have
a boat below. To-night I'll creep up the stairs and knock three times.
Open, then, this door--and you'll find deliverance for those you love.


PAUL.

[_Taking the key_.]

How can I repay this deed?


JEAN.

Trust me--that is all.


PAUL.

[_Extending his hand_.]

I will--I do!


JEAN.

[_Kissing_ PAUL'S _hand_.]

I'm yours in life or death.

[_Goes to door_.]

Till to-night!

[_Exit_.


PAUL.

[_Alone_.]

Saved!--Thank God!--Their freedom in my hand!--

[_Pausing_.]

And yet she does not come.--Can it be that she believes me
guilty--esteems me lower than the foulest worm?

[_Enter_ DIANE.]

No, no,--I was right!

[_Going toward her_.]

I knew you'd come.


DIANE.

[_Checking him_.]

Stop!--Let me look at you and say farewell.


PAUL.

Then you really think me guilty?


DIANE.

If an angel had accused you, I would say it was a lie.


PAUL.

Diane! Diane!--My loyal wife!

[_He embraces her_.


DIANE.

[_Shrinking from him_.]

No, no! I am not worthy of your love! I must save my father's life, no
matter what it costs me.


PAUL.

Courage, dear heart! I hold here salvation for you both.


DIANE.

You?


PAUL.

Yes! This very night your father shall fly with us to England.


DIANE.

Ah! Then I am free! I need owe him nothing!


PAUL.

Owe whom nothing?

[_The tramp of_ SOLDIERS _is heard outside_.


DIANE.

Hark!--The Guard!--Take care!

_Enter the_ DUKE, _with_ GUARD _and_ POTIN.


DUKE.

[_Contemptuously to_ PAUL.]

You here, traitor?


DIANE.

[_Aside to the_ DUKE.]

You must not call him that. He did not betray. The proof is this--that
he has come to save you.


DUKE.

And so make my debt to him a means of reaching you;--but I would not
accept my life from hands unclean with treachery.


PAUL.

There's not a drop of traitor's blood within my veins!


DUKE.

Yet you signed the warrant for my arrest.


PAUL

Then another hand than mine--unknown to me--filled in your name.


DUKE.

Plausible trickster!--We have here double proof that you are guilty.

[_Enter_ GOUROC _in background_.]

The evidence of the man to whom you gave the warrant, commanding him
to take it to the Guard.


PAUL.

There's no such man alive--or dead!


DUKE.

Potin, advance.

[POTIN _comes forward sullenly_.]

Repeat what you swore in court.--From whom did you receive the warrant
for my arrest?


POTIN.

[_After a struggle_.]

I received it from--

[_Hesitates_.


GOUROC.

[_Aside to_ POTIN.]

Take care!--If I denounce--you die!


DUKE.

Well, sir, we are waiting.


POTIN.

[_Desperately_.]

I received it--[_Pointing at_ PAUL.] from him.

[PAUL _recoils with horror_. DIANE, _with cry of agony, hides her face
upon her father's breast_.


PAUL.

[_Crossing to_ POTIN.]

Potin, look at me.--On your word hangs the honour of your old and
steadfast friend! Look in my eyes, and, in the name of your own
salvation, speak nothing but the truth.


DUKE.

[_Sternly_.]

'Tis useless to intimidate the witness. He will not prove himself
a perjurer, and condemn himself to death, even to please so dear a
friend as you.


PAUL.

My God!--There is some wicked plot!


DUKE.

Yes--and you're the plotter.

[PAUL _falls prostrate into chair near table. Supporting_ DIANE _to
the door of his cell, the_ DUKE _pauses and speaks_.]

Paul Kauvar, we shall never meet again.--Remember my last
words.--Beggars, thieves, assassins may escape perdition; but neither
here, nor hereafter, is there any hope for Judas.

[_Exit, supporting_ DIANE.

[NANETTE _follows the_ DUKE _off_. POTIN _goes into the opposite
cell_. GOUROC _crosses to_ PAUL.


GOUROC.

How's this, old Comrade? I thought you were antique in the mastery of
your emotions.--A man of iron--firm as flint!


PAUL.

Agony is fire that melts the mettle of the hardest man.


GOUROC.

But why should you--a Jacobin--care for this old Duke?


PAUL.

I loved his daughter--she became my wife.


GOUROC.

[_Starting_.]

What! Diane de Beaumont is your wife?


PAUL.

Yes--has been my wife in secret--for six months.


GOUROC.

[_Aside_.]

So I have a double task! To save her--and kill her husband.

[_Aloud_.]

The same old story, Comrade, and as usual a woman mars the plot! You
were a patriot, till love enmeshed you in his magic web; then you
became the weakest of mankind--a husband. I am sorry, very sorry; but
Paul--my friend--if I can serve you now, I beg of you command me.


PAUL.

Yes, you can serve me. You have been my friend--be more!


GOUROC.

Your sorrow seems so deep, I swear I think I'd serve it--even at the
cost of conscience! Speak then, without fear.


PAUL.

Help me to save the father of my wife!--See! This key opens yonder
door; to-night, at any moment, you may hear three knocks.--That signal
will be given by a man who will conduct you safely out of France.


GOUROC.

A man that you can trust?


PAUL.

To the death.--I saved his life.


GOUROC.

But suppose the Duke is called before the signal comes!--I must go and
find some man to take his place.

GOUROC _starts to go_. PAUL'S _face lights with a sudden resolution_.


PAUL.

Stop! The man is found.


GOUROC.

Who is he?


PAUL.

The man they call a traitor--Paul Kauvar.


GOUROC.

[_Suppressing a smile of surprise_.]

You?


PAUL.

Yes. When safely out of France, tell them of my fate. My death may
convince them I loved too deeply to betray.

[_A bell begins to toll_.


A VOICE.

[_In the distance_.]

Hubert, Marquis de Ferrand,--Mardoche, alias the Abbé de St. Simon--


GOUROC.

They're calling the condemned; there's not an instant to be lost.

[_Crossing to cell_.]

In this cell there hangs an old man's coat and wig, kept here to
disguise the spies connected with the prison. Luckily they'll serve
your purpose well.

[_Opening cell door_.]

Quick!--Get ready to answer when the Duke is called.


PAUL.

Tell my wife I died for love of her, and honour.

[_Exit_.


GOUROC.

[_In exultation_.]

Thank luck!--This man's death clears my path, and saves the money I
meant to pay the Abbé.

_Enter_ DIANE _and_ NANETTE.


DIANE.

Where is he? I must see him once again!--Paul! Paul!

[_Starting at sight of_ GOUROC.]

Who's there?


GOUROC.

Tis I! Here to save your father.


THE VOICE.

[_Outside_.]

Comte de Vigny,--André de la Roche--


GOUROC.

That's the last call of the condemned.--Your father's name stands next
upon the roll.


DIANE.

Save him!--Save him!


GOUROC.

Obey me instantly, or all is lost; hide quickly in this cell! Trust to
me and wait.


DIANE.

[_Going with_ NANETTE _into a cell_.]

God deal with you as you now deal with me!

[_Exit_.

_Tramp of_ GUARDS _outside_.


GOUROC.

[_Crossing to cell and calling_.]

Kauvar!--Be quick!--stand ready. By heaven!--A close shave!

OFFICER _and_ GUARDS _enter_.


OFFICER.

[_Advancing_.]

Honoré Albert Maxime, Duc de Beaumont, you are called to the
guillotine.

[PAUL _comes forth in silence_.]

Fall in.--Forward, march!

[_As the_ GUARDS _start with_ PAUL, DIANE _rushes in with a cry of
agony_.


DIANE.

Father!--Father!--We have been deceived!

[DIANE _rushes into_ PAUL'S _arms; he embraces her passionately_.
GUARDS _force them apart and go out with_ PAUL.]

[_Held back by_ GOUROC _and_ NANETTE, DIANE _shrieks_.]

Father--father!


DUKE.

[_Entering_.]

Diane!--What is it?


DIANE.

[_Turning in amazement and joy_.]

What!--You are there?


GOUROC.

Yes, saved by me.


DIANE.

And he--? Who was he they dragged away?


GOUROC.

A man condemned to die--whom I disguised--to take your father's place.


DIANE.

[_Falling on her knees_.]

O God! Spare this man all pain in death--and give him life eternal!


CURTAIN.




ACT III.

SCENE. _Headquarters of Royalists in Vendée. Interior of hall in old
chateau. Fireplace; large doorways with staircase leading to terrace,
overlooking Granville; Faubourg de Calvaire in middle ground. Doors
from hall. Bay window with large table covered with papers, maps, etc.
Charts near table and fireplace_.

DISCOVERED: SENTINEL _on terrace_; LA HOGUE _seated at the table busy
with papers_.

_At rise of curtain--drums and fifes heard in distance_.

DENISE _enters, goes to terrace, gazes anxiously, then turns and
crosses quickly to_ LA HOGUE.


DENISE.

[_Shouting loudly_.]

Monsieur La Hogue!


LA HOGUE.

[_Gruffly_.]

Well?


DENISE.

Do you hear?


LA HOGUE.

[_Impatiently_.]

Hear what?


DENISE.

The drums and piccolos yonder.


LA HOGUE.

[_Listening_.]

I can hear nothing.

[_Drums, etc., sound more loud_.


DENISE.

But listen now, it grows louder--up from Ville d'Avranches.


LA HOGUE.

[_Starting up_.]

D'Avranches?--Ha! Re-inforcements for the Kings' army! None too soon!

[_Drums, etc., cease_.]

[_Enter an_ ORDERLY, _who presents papers_. LA HOGUE _takes papers,
reads, and exclaims_.] The Count de Parame with recruits!

[_To the_ ORDERLY.]

Tell your Colonel to report here instantly! General de la
Rochejacquelein [_Enter_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.] is indignant at his
delay, and--


LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.

[_To_ LA HOGUE.]

Gently, old friend! La Rochejacquelein will speak for himself.

[_To_ ORDERLY.]

Ask the Count to honour me with his presence here as speedily as
possible.

[_Exit_ ORDERLY.]

Now these re-inforcements have arrived, we'll give these rebels
battle.


LA HOGUE.

At last, thank God! And we're ready for the fight.

[_Pointing_.]

In the Faubourg de Calvaire there's hardly a house but harbours a
detachment of our men.


LA ROCHE.

With that village in our hands we'll bring Granville town to terms.
To-night we will assault the place at every point.


LA HOGUE.

[_Reverently_.]

And God in mercy aid King Louis' men!


LA ROCHE _and_ DENISE. [_Together_.]

Amen!


LA ROCHE.

[_To_ LA HOGUE.]

Await the Count upon the terrace, and take him to my private room. But
no roughness to the Colonel--try to be charming for a change.


LA HOGUE.

Bah! Leave charmers to women,--only fighters win at war!

[_Exit_.


LA ROCHE.

[_To_ DENISE.]

How long since you have heard from Jean Litais?


DENISE.

Not since he, my lover, went to Paris to aid the Duc de Beaumont to
escape.


LA ROCHE.

This fiendish reign of terror has prevented me from hearing of the
Duke till now.


DENISE.

And you have heard--?


LA ROCHE.

The worst of news! Among some papers captured in a skirmish, I found
this journal, [_Producing paper_.] printed at Paris some three months
ago. It contains a list of those beheaded the preceding day.--See this
name I've underlined.


DENISE.

[_Reading_.]

"The Duc de Beaumont."

_Enter a MAN from panel in wall up stage_.


LA ROCHE.

Guillotined at night, upon the tenth of last October.


DENISE.

My God! If Jean has failed to save the Duke, he must be dead himself!


THE MAN.

[_Advancing_.]

Not yet!


LA ROCHE.

[_Turning quickly_.]

Who's this?


DENISE.

It's Jean!--

[_Rushing into his arms_.]

My Jean returned!


LA ROCHE.

Litais!--Is it really you?


JEAN.

Every bit of me, my lord.


DENISE.

Thank heaven!


LA ROCHE.

How did you pass the guard?


JEAN.

Faith, I know every corner of the old chateau. No guard could bar
my way while I'd such news to bring! The Duke and his daughter are
here--in the park.


LA ROCHE.

Alive and safe--?


JEAN.

As you are!--Grant me a guard to bring them through our lines.


LA ROCHE.

[_Strikes a bell_.]

[_Enter_ ORDERLY, _who salutes_.]

See that Monsieur and his friends have safe passage through our lines.


ORDERLY _crosses stage and stands at door_.


JEAN.

In an instant we'll return.--Come, Denise; you shall see your old
master once again.


DENISE.

And never let you leave my side while I have life to love you.

[_Exeunt_ DENISE, JEAN _and_ ORDERLY, _who salutes_ GUARD _before
departing. Tumult in distance_.]


LA HOGUE.

[_Entering_.]

The Count is here and anxious for the fight.

[LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN, _listening, pays no attention_. LA HOGUE _speaks
impatiently_.]

Do you hear?


LA ROCHE.

Yes, I hear a tumult yonder! Can it be mutiny--revolt?

[_Enter_ SECOND ORDERLY. _He presents paper to_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN,
_who reads it aloud_.]

"Have captured Jacobin soldiers. The peasants demand their lives.
Shall I surrender them or hold them at your pleasure? La Val--Captain
of King's Guards."

[_To_ LA HOGUE _eagerly_.]

We may obtain information from these fellows. See La Val at once,
command him to guard his prisoners with his life, and send them here
to me.


LA HOGUE.

But the Count is awaiting orders for to-night's attack.


LA ROCHE.

[_Going_.]

While you see La Val, I'll see the Count.

[_Exit_.


LA HOGUE.

[_To_ ORDERLY.]

To Captain La Val!

[_Exit quickly with_ ORDERLY.


SENTINEL.

[_Outside_.]

Who goes there?


JEAN.

[_Outside_.]

A friend!


SENTINEL.

[_Outside_.]

Advance with countersign.

ORDERLY _advances, salutes the_ SENTINEL, _whispers in his ear, then
steps back against balustrade of terrace as characters enter.--When
characters are on,_ ORDERLY _salutes_ SENTINEL, _who returns salute_.
ORDERLY _goes out_. SENTINEL _about faces and disappears_.

_Enter_ JEAN, DENISE, GOUROC, NANETTE, DUKE, AND DIANE.


JEAN.

[_To the_ DUKE.]

You're safe at last, Monsieur, among your friends.


DIANE.

[_Grasping_ JEAN'S _hand_.]

Thanks to your devotion.


DENISE.

[_To the_ DUKE.]

I will announce your coming to the General.

[_Exit_.


NANETTE.

[_To_ DIANE.]

Here, child, be seated, and taste comfort once again.

[DIANE _sits near the fire; the_ DUKE _and_ GOUROC _at table_.]

Now try to smile a bit.


DIANE.

I have forgotten how.

[_Calling_.]

Jean!


JEAN.

[_Crossing to_ DIANE.]

Yes, Madame?


DIANE.

Hush! Do not let my father hear you call me Madame.

[_Converses aside with_ JEAN.


GOUROC.

[_Taking a newspaper from table_.]

Strange!--a Paris journal, dated the day after our escape.


DUKE.

[_Taking the paper_.]

There may be some notice of our flight.

[_Reads_.


JEAN.

[_To_ DIANE.]

Will you never confess your marriage to Kauvar?


DIANE.

Never!--Unless he finds us with evidence of innocence none can
question.


JEAN.

He will! We can trust the wit of his deep love for that.


DIANE.

So you believe him innocent?


JEAN.

As innocent as my own sweetheart, dear Denise.

[DIANE _weeps_.]

What--tears, Madame?


DIANE.

Tears of triumph--that your heart echoes mine! Ah, Jean, we two,
alone, of all the world, believe he's not a traitor.


DUKE.

Here's a list of martyrs slaughtered the day that we escaped.


GOUROC.

[_Taking the paper_.]

And here's a name underlined with ink.

[_Starting up with great joy_.]

By heaven, your own!--See!--In the list of fallen heads--the Duc de
Beaumont!

[_The_ DUKE _takes paper_.


DIANE.

[_Coming toward_ GOUROC.]

You speak of the man who took my father's place, as though you exulted
in his death!--Was he an enemy of yours?


GOUROC.

I rejoice that the man's disguise was not discovered--for the report
of your father's death prevented our pursuit.


DUKE.

[_Joyfully to_ GOUROC.]

You remember the Abbé de St. Simon?


GOUROC.

Yes. He was condemned to die with you.


DUKE.

This journal says that he escaped from the death-cart as it rumbled to
the scaffold through the crowd.


GOUROC.

[_Starting, and with great emphasis_.]

Impossible!


DUKE.

[_Holding out the paper_.]

See for yourself!

[GOUROC _takes paper eagerly_.


LA ROCHE.

[_Entering, with a cry of joy_.]

Duke!


DUKE.

[_Holding out his arms_.]

Henri!


LA ROCHE.

[_Embracing the_ DUKE.]

In days of misery, a moment such as this is sweet indeed. But how did
you escape? I saw your name among the guillotined.


DUKE.

[_Turning to_ GOUROC.]

This gentleman wrought a way for our deliverance!--Monsieur le Marquis
de Vaux.


LA ROCHE.

[_Grasping_ GOUROC'S _hand_.]

Monsieur--the King's friends are all your debtors.


GOUROC.

Nay, sir, the debt is mine. Tis a privilege to save such precious
lives.


DUKE.

[_Presenting_ DIANE.]

Here's a lass you played with, years ago.


LA ROCHE.

What!--My little cousin--grown so stately and so sad! Mademoiselle, I
claim a kinsman's right to kiss away these shadows.


DIANE.

And I yield the right with pleasure, cousin Henri.


LA ROCHE.

[_Kisses her_.]

Good cheer, sweet cousin! You are now protected by the soldiers of the
King, who--God willing--will punish those who brought this shadow to
your face.


GOUROC.

That may not prove an easy task! Granville is overrun with rebels, who
are urged to most atrocious crimes by Carrac.


LA ROCHE.

Yes--Thomas Carrac--a brutal monster, reeking with loyal blood; a
loathsome anarchist, who glories in the vilest deeds.


GOUROC.

Ravishing without remorse the daughters of our race.


LA ROCHE.

If we could capture wretches such as he, it might end our civil war.


DIANE.

Is he so hard to take?


LA ROCHE.

Yes. Reptiles are worse to overcome than lions. They bite unseen, and
escape by crawling. This Carrac is brave in words, but too craven
to face fighting in the field. Our soldiers rarely reach these civil
sinners.


DUKE.

Let us forget them here. For now we will task your hospitality for a
time.


LA ROCHE.

I swear I have not felt the poverty that war entails till now. My
old chateau has been dismantled--this hall alone is habitable. I feel
ashamed to offer you such shabby quarters.


DUKE.

Nay, cousin, a bed of stones with friends is better than a bed of down
with those we do not love.


DENISE.

[_Entering, speaks to_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.]

A couch and fire are ready in the room that was your mother's.


LA ROCHE.

[_To_ DIANE.]

Where doubtless you'll be glad to take some rest.


DIANE.

I confess the need, Monsieur.


LA ROCHE.

Denise, show the way.

[DENISE _crosses to the door_.


DIANE.

[_At the door_.]

Till to-night, kind friends.


LA ROCHE.

Till then, good rest.

[DIANE _courtesies and goes out with_ NANETTE.]

Gentlemen, I pray you, make yourselves at home; important business
claims my time.--I'll rejoin you within an hour.


DUKE.

We're here to help, not mar the cause; command us in all ways.


LA ROCHE.

Presently!--Till then the poor old house is yours.

[_Exit_.

[_Exit_ JEAN.


DUKE.

[_Sitting near the fire_.]

At last, praise God! We're out of reach of traitors!


GOUROC.

Not yet!--The rebel hosts have gathered here at Granville in great
force. They may rout the royal army, and capture all of us.


DUKE.

No, not all, for I shall die first, fighting in the ranks.


GOUROC.

But Diane, your daughter--?


DUKE.

Must take the chances of a soldier's child.


GOUROC.

You forget her peril from this scoundrel, Carrac.--Why not put her
safely out of the reach of such a brute?


DUKE.

How?


GOUROC.

There are vessels here by which we can escape to England.


DUKE.

I fly no further. I owe the King and country service here.


GOUROC.

Then let Diane go with me to friends in London. When I've found for
her safe asylum, I'll return to do my duty at your side.


DUKE.

The daughter of a peer of France could hardly go so far without
protection worthy of her rank.


GOUROC.

That she can secure as a Marquise, and my wife.

[_The_ DUKE _turns quickly in surprise_.]

I know, dear Duke, that you are richer, nobler than myself, but then
the love I bear your daughter, together with the dangers that surround
her life and honour here--


DUKE.

Say no more!--There's nothing that would ease my mind so much as to
see Diane your wife.


GOUROC.

Then plead my cause with her.


DUKE.

I'll more than plead.--Her perils urge me to command this marriage.


GOUROC.

Then do not lose a moment; the attack begins to-night. Before our army
strikes, she and I, as man and wife, should sail for England.


NANETTE.

[_Entering_.]

Monsieur, your daughter desires a word with you--[_Glancing at_
GOUROC.] alone.


DUKE.

Say I'll see her here at once.

[_Exit_ NANETTE.]

I'll broach this marriage to my child without delay.


GOUROC.

[_Going_.]

I'll be at hand in case you call me.

[_Exit_.


DUKE.

[_Alone_.]

This alliance secures Diane from peril. The Marquis is young,
noble,--has saved her life, and has a claim on it. She must marry
while there's time to get away.

[_Enter_ DIANE.]

Now, dear child, what is it?


DIANE.

Father, I loathe this useless life of mine! I long for
action--danger--anything that stirs the blood, and brings oblivion.


DUKE.

Oblivion!--Nay, Diane, I have something happier to suggest than that.
Time and circumstance commend to you a marriage. We owe our lives to
the wisdom of a man who seeks your hand to-day.


DIANE.

The Marquis?--[_After a pause_.] I cannot marry, for I do not love
him.


DUKE.

Then 'tis time you did.


DIANE.

No more, I beg of you.--It is impossible!


DUKE.

Impossible! When prompted by the wisdom of a father's love? When your
escape from peril and my peace of mind demand it?


DIANE.

I cannot argue.


DUKE.

Then at least explain.


DIANE.

Alas, I dare not.


DUKE.

You fear mere frankness with your truest friend?

[DIANE _sinks into a chair and hides her face. The_ DUKE _looks at her
with suspicion_.]

By heaven! You hide your face as though to speak implied dishonour.


DIANE.

No, no! It is not that!


DUKE.

Then why torture me with this concealment? Have I been cruel, or
faithless as a father?


DIANE.

Never!


DUKE.

Then I claim a father's sacred right to confidence. Give me one good
reason why you refuse the man to whom we owe our lives?


DIANE.

I love another.


DUKE.

[_Starting_.]

Another!

[_After a pause_.]

His name--?


DIANE.

What matter, since we shall never meet again?


DUKE.

I understand at last!--'Tis Paul Kauvar!

[DIANE _bows her head_.]

So! The saviour of your father's life is scorned for his betrayer! No
wonder that you blush to own it! This makes my course more clear. The
safest cure for this disgraceful love will be your marriage.


DIANE.

That cannot be!


DUKE.

[_Going_.]

I say it shall!


DIANE.

[_Startled_.]

Where are you going?


DUKE.

To seek the priest! Delay is dangerous! You wed to-day and sail
to-night for England.


DIANE.

No, no! Have pity! I have no right to marry.


DUKE.

[_In horror_.]

No right?


DIANE.

[_Falling at his feet_.]

I am a wife already.


DUKE.

His wife?--You, my flesh and blood, a traitor's wife!--Oh God! What
have I done to merit such a blow as this?


DIANE.

Father,--forgive! Hear me!


DUKE.

[_Flinging her off, rushes to the door_.]

Henri, Marquis--here! All of you!

[_Enter_ LA HOGUE, LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN, GOUROC, JEAN _and_ DENISE.]

[_To_ LA ROCHE.]

Call your guards! Drag this woman away! Fling her to these rebel
dogs--for she is one of them!


GOUROC.

What has she done?


DUKE.

Deceived a father's love! Become the mate of my betrayer.

[_Turning on_ DIANE.]

Degraded remnant of my race!--Go! Back to your own, wife of a Sans
Culotte!


GOUROC.

[_Stepping between them_.]

Stay! There must be some mistake!


DUKE.

No! She has confessed that she's the wife of Paul Kauvar.


GOUROC.

That cannot be, for Paul Kauvar is dead.


DUKE.

Dead? How do you know that?


GOUROC.

Because he, disguised, took your place on the guillotine.


DIANE.

[_Rising_.]

My God!


DUKE.

What! I owe my life to him?


GOUROC.

He died to atone his treachery to you.


DIANE.

Traitors do not die to save their victims! His life was noble! His
death sublime!

[_To the_ DUKE.]

You have foully wronged the man who bravely met a martyr's death for
you!--have scorned and spurned me from your side, because I was his
wife. You have disowned me--I now disown you!

[_Turning, she goes swiftly up the steps to the terrace_.


LA ROCHE.

Where are you going?


DIANE.

Back to the Sans Culottes!


DUKE.

Diane!--Daughter!


DIANE.

No! Not your daughter--but his wife! No longer Diane de Beaumont--but,
thank God,--Diane Kauvar!


CURTAIN.




ACT IV.

SCENE. _Same as Act III_.--DUKE _discovered seated in attitude of
despair_.--GOUROC _standing near mantel_.--LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN _enters
sadly_.


DUKE.

[_Rising anxiously_.]

What news?


LA ROCHE.

None.

[_The_ DUKE _sinks back into chair_.


GOUROC.

Then she has positively escaped?


LA ROCHE.

While we stood dazed with horror at her words--she vanished. Our
soldiers have searched, but can find no trace of her.


DUKE.

[_Starting up_.]

I will find her!


LA ROCHE.

[_Barring his way_.]

This is madness.


DUKE.

Let me pass!


LA ROCHE.

Hear me!


DUKE.

While I listen, she is lost!--An army shall not stop me.

[_Breaks from him towards door_.


DENISE.

[_Entering joyfully_.]

She is found!


ALL.

Found?


DENISE.

Yes. Jean tracked her,--they are bringing her here.


JEAN.

[_Entering_.]

General, I have not failed.


LA ROCHE.

[_Grasping his hand_.]

You never do.


LA HOGUE _enters first, followed by two_ GUARDS, _whom he directs
to the entrance at top of steps_.--DIANE _enters, followed by two_
GUARDS.


DIANE.

[_To_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.]

By what authority, Monsieur, am I arrested?


DUKE.

By mine. I am your father.


DIANE.

My marriage has set me free of parental rule. I claim the right to fly
from those who have defamed my noble husband. General, command your
soldiers to release me!


GOUROC.

No!--You shall not go.


DIANE.

What will prevent me?


GOUROC.

The force of your own honour.


DIANE.

Honour commands me to return to my husband's friends.


GOUROC.

Honour commands you to keep your word with me.

[DIANE _starts and turns away_.]

You promised, if I saved your father, and you were free, you'd be my
wife.--I have done my part, you must do yours.


DIANE.

[_Passionately, to_ GOUROC.]

Now I understand your joy when you read of the beheadal of the man who
took my father's place!--You knew he was my husband.


GOUROC.

I did.


DIANE.

You planned his death to free and force me to this marriage.


GOUROC.

I did not learn that you were his wife till he was going to the
guillotine.--Then he told me all, confiding you to my care. I promised
him I'd shield you from all peril.--I but keep my word with him, in
asking you to keep your word with me.


DIANE.

So you would wed the widow of a Sans Culotte?


GOUROC.

Your husband was my friend; I knew and honoured him.


DIANE.

Ah, you believe, then, that Potin lied when he declared he got the
warrant for the Duke's arrest from Paul Kauvar?


GOUROC.

I now believe that your husband was the victim of a trick.


DIANE.

Then swear--before those who have heard the dead defamed--swear that
you believe my husband was innocent of infamy.


GOUROC.

[_With deep sincerity_.]

As I hope for mercy from my God, I believe that Paul Kauvar was
guiltless of dishonour.


DIANE.

[_Impressed with his sincerity_.]

Then his widow swears to keep her word with you.

[_She extends her hand to_ GOUROC.

LA HOGUE _crosses, up steps, to_ GUARDS, _and directs them silently to
exit.--They about-face, and go out_.


GOUROC.

[_Aside, triumphantly kissing_ DIANE'S _hand_.]

At last!

[_Howls of execration outside_.]

What is that?


LA ROCHE.

The mob howling at some captured rebels.

[_Enter_ ORDERLY, _who presents paper_.]

[_Reading paper_, LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN _speaks to_ ORDERLY.]

Conduct the prisoner here.

[_Exit_ ORDERLY.]

[_Turning to_ DIANE.]

Cousin, I must ask you to retire. We have secret business to transact.


DUKE.

[_Giving_ DIANE _his arm_.]

We will await you in my daughter's room.

[_To_ GOUROC.]

Marquis, we can complete the plans for your marriage and escape to
England.

[_Exeunt_ DIANE, DUKE, JEAN, DENISE _and_ GOUROC.


GOUROC.

[_Aside, as he goes out_.]

Now I know that I shall triumph!


LA ROCHE.

[_To_ LA HOGUE.]

When and where were these prisoners secured?


LA HOGUE.

At dawn this morning, in the centre of the Faubourg. They fought like
fiends! Their leader is a veritable lion.--Though overcome by numbers,
he don't seem conquered in the least!--Hang my hide! I cannot help but
like him!

[_Howls renewed outside_.


ORDERLY.

[_Entering_.]

The prisoner is here, General.


LA ROCHE.

Bring him in.

[ORDERLY _beckons.--Yells outside_. GUARDS _enter and form on terrace
behind entrance.--Enter_ PRISONER, _who strides haughtily in_.]

[_To_ ORDERLY.]

Retire and guard the doors.

[ORDERLY _right-faces_.--GUARD _goes of with_ ORDERLY.]

[_Politely to_ PRISONER.]

I see, sir, you're an officer.


PRISONER.

Yes.--Captain of Volunteers in the ranks of the Republic.


LA ROCHE.

To what corps do you belong?


PRISONER.

Kleber's--who waits upon the banks of the river to cut off your
retreat.


LA ROCHE.

[_Smiling_.]

We do not propose to retreat, but to advance.


PRISONER.

Before another day you will be driven, routed, into the heart of
Vendée.


LA ROCHE.

If boasting wins, your side will doubtless better ours.


PRISONER.

If blows win--your side is sure to fail. You've not a regiment that's
trained better than a pack of boys!


LA HOGUE.

I wish he were a liar, but he isn't.


LA ROCHE.

Our boys struck hard enough, it seems, to capture you.


PRISONER.

We were ten, surprised by a battalion, and yet it cost you nearly
fifty of your friends to take but ten of us.


LA HOGUE.

There he goes again riddling us with facts.


LA ROCHE.

Sir,--you know there is no quarter given to traitors found in arms
against the King.


PRISONER.

France has no sovereign but the people.--It is you who are the
traitors.


LA ROCHE.

Answer civilly and I may show you mercy.


PRISONER.

I neither ask, nor accept mercy. I have done my best to deal a
crushing blow to you.--So call your guards, and shoot me without more
waste of words.


LA ROCHE.

I see that you are brave.


PRISONER.

Brave? Because I'm not afraid to die?

[_Laughs bitterly_.]

Bah! It takes more courage sometimes to consent to live.


LA ROCHE.

You are young, a Frenchman, and--though misled--a credit to your
country. If you'll give me some excuse, I swear I'd rather spare your
life.


PRISONER.

[_Laughing_.]

Thank you, General; but frankly, I'd rather give you some excuse to
take it.

_Tremendous explosion heard in the distance. Then a second explosion.
The Faubourg in middle ground is blown up and is seen to burn into a
blaze_.


LA ROCHE.

My God!--See!--The Faubourg!


PRISONER.

[_Triumphantly_.]

Blown up and burning!--In an hour the houses that were to shelter your
attack on our defenses will be gone, and you will have to fight our
forces in the open field.--That means defeat for you.


LA HOGUE.

Sacristi! Gag this rogue, or we'll be whipped before we fight.

LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN _writes hastily, and strikes a bell. Enter GOUROC,
who starts and goes out again with a gesture of menace towards the_
PRISONER. _Enter_ ORDERLY.


LA ROCHE.

[_To_ ORDERLY.]

Despatch these orders instantly, and send a guard with loaded muskets
here at once.

[_Exit_ ORDERLY.]

[_Turning despondently to_ LA HOGUE.]

I fear this is a death-blow to our plans to-night.


PRISONER.

A death-blow dealt by me!--You'd better kill me quickly before I do
more damage.


LA ROCHE.

You are right, sir; I should be faithless to my King if I showed you
mercy now.


PRISONER.

Bravo! Mercy to enemies is as base as cruelty to friends.


LA HOGUE.

Damn me! There's no fun in killing such a fool--he seems to like it!

[_Enter_ ORDERLY _with_ GUARDS.


LA ROCHE.

[_To_ ORDERLY.]

Take the prisoner outside and shoot him there at once.

[GUARD _crosses to_ PRISONER.]

Have you any last request?


PRISONER.

But one.--You have shown me the kindness of an honest-hearted man.
War has made us enemies, but, in the presence of the peace of death,
I would like to feel that as Frenchmen we are friends, and ask one
parting grasp from you.


LA ROCHE.

[_Grasps his hand_.]

With all my heart!--May we meet like this above.


LA HOGUE.

[_With emotion_.]

Curse these youngsters, they make me snivel like a fool.

[_He blows his nose furiously.

The_ PRISONER _bows, takes his place in the platoon of_ GUARDS, _who
begin to march off. When they are on the terrace_, LA HOGUE _suddenly
cries out_.


LA HOGUE.

Halt!--

[ORDERLY _about-faces and waits for orders_.]

You have not given us your name.


PRISONER.

I prefer to let it die with me.


LA HOGUE.

Hang it, sir! Courage is glorious even in a rebel rascal like
yourself.


LA ROCHE.

Some friend may be glad to know how fearlessly you met your fate.


PRISONER.

The only ears I'd care to reach would rather never hear my name again.


LA HOGUE.

But curse your stubbornness! I want to know your name myself. Can't
you be civil as well as brave?


PRISONER.

[_Laughing_.]

Well, then, to please your gentle highness, I must give it. I am
Captain on the Staff of General Kleber--Captain Kauvar.


LA ROCHE _and_ LA HOGUE.

[_Starting_.]

Kauvar?


PAUL.

Yes--Captain Paul Kauvar.


LA ROCHE.

[_Turning amazed to_ LA HOGUE.]

What do you think of this?


LA HOGUE.

That if I had a regiment of Paul Kauvar's, I'd conquer Europe.


LA ROCHE.

My cousin's husband was guillotined. There's some mistake.

[_To_ GUARD.]

Leave the prisoner, and wait outside for orders.


PAUL.

[_Stopping the_ GUARD.]

Stay!--

[ORDERLY _waits for further orders_.]

[_To_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.]

General, I beg of you to spare me further waiting.--Make an end of
this.


LA ROCHE.

When I have questioned you again.


PAUL.

I shall refuse to answer further questions.


LA ROCHE.

I may find a way to break your silence.


PAUL.

I swear you cannot do it.


LA ROCHE.

[_Motions_ GUARDS _to go_.]

[ORDERLY _about-faces, goes on to terrace_. GUARDS _then march off_.]

We shall see! You've given a name that's not your own.

[PAUL _starts, but remains silent_.]

Paul Kauvar was guillotined the night of the ninth of May.

[PAUL _turns, amazed but silent_.]

He died to save my kinsman, the Duc de Beaumont.

[PAUL, _about to speak, checks himself_.]

He was the husband of my cousin.


PAUL.

[_Exploding_.]

Diane--your cousin?


LA ROCHE.

Ha! I thought I'd make you speak.


PAUL.

[_Eagerly_.]

You know her?--She has escaped?--Is safe?--alive?--happy?


LA ROCHE.

Oh, ho!--So you would turn the tables--question me?


PAUL.

Is she alive and well?--I ask to know but this.


LA ROCHE.

I'll tell you more, if you will answer first my questions.


PAUL.

All!--that do not force me to betray my cause.


LA ROCHE.

Explain!--You escaped the guillotine?


PAUL.

The story is too long.


LA ROCHE.

Make it brief, but answer.


PAUL.

In the death-cart I found a priest confessing those about him. He
questioned me, soon saw that I was not the Duke. "My child," he
said, "I die to-day, but as a priest shall be the last to mount the
scaffold.--Let me take your place, assume the same disguise, while you
slip from the cart and live." At first I refused, as I no longer cared
for life! But when he said Diane might not escape unless I lived to
aid her, I yielded.--The night was cloudy. When the moon was hidden,
the priest put on my coat and wig, and as the death-cart neared the
scaffold, I slipped through its slatted floor, and in the darkness
mingled with the crowd.


LA ROCHE.

Who was the holy man who set you free?


PAUL.

The Abbé de St. Simon.


LA ROCHE.

Strange! We heard the Abbé had escaped.


PAUL.

He answered when the Duke was called and so was guillotined; but when
the Abbé's turn had come, they could not find him, and so gave out
that he'd escaped.


LA ROCHE.

Yes, I understand it now.--Proceed!


PAUL.

I found Diane had gone, believing I was guilty of a most ignoble
crime. Too sick at heart to follow her, I enlisted and, seeking death,
obtained promotion to my present grade.


LA ROCHE.

What if your willingness to die to save her father had convinced Diane
that you were innocent, and had taught her a deeper love for you?


PAUL.

Ah! Then life would be worth living once again!--Can you have heard
from her--seen her?


LA ROCHE.

You can see her for yourself--save your own life--and bring boundless
joy to hers.


PAUL.

How?


LA ROCHE.

Espouse our cause!


PAUL.

What!--Betray my country?


LA ROCHE.

No.--Redeem your country!--Desert the side of those who bring disgrace
upon your native land--of fiends, who drown her soil in blood!--blood
bred from the noblest heroes of her history.


PAUL.

Heroes who debauched our women, and enslaved our men!--Libertines who
let harlots reign in France! Despots whose arrogant descendants are
crushed to-day beneath their fathers' sins!


LA ROCHE.

What, sir! You, a soldier, justify these Jacobins--anarchists like
Carrac, who slaughter hundreds of defenceless women every day, and
even outrage little children?


PAUL.

Anarchists are monsters your race bred when it brutalized their
mothers.


LA ROCHE.

Enough, sir! I see that I must leave you to your fate.


PAUL.

But Diane, my wife! Give me one word of her.


LA ROCHE.

Yes. You shall know that she believes you innocent, is sick with grief
and desolation in thinking you are dead.


PAUL.

You have seen her, then?


LA ROCHE.

Yes--here, within an hour.


PAUL.

She is here now, within call--?

[LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN _makes sign of assent_. PAUL _kneels at his
feet_.]

My God! In pity's name, let me see her once again.


LA ROCHE.

And so re-open the old wounds?--re-awaken hope, but to deepen her
despair?


PAUL.

[_Rising slowly_.]

No, no! You're right. I will not purchase joy at the cost of pain to
her!--Call your guards. I die happy, knowing she'll remember me with
love.


LA ROCHE.

For her sake renounce rebellion, and I unite you both forever.


PAUL.

Better I should never see her face again than be unworthy of her love.


LA HOGUE.

Great Cæsar! Here's an eagle facing death in loyalty to carrion
crows!--The noble bird is mad! We must not kill, but cure him.


LA ROCHE.

What do you propose?


LA HOGUE.

Put him on parole. Let him give his word that he'll not fight until
he's exchanged.


LA ROCHE.

True! Captain Kauvar, you are a prisoner of war, a man of proven
honour.--Give me your word that you will not lift your sword against
the King, till you're exchanged, and you're paroled and free.


PAUL.

Free with honour, to see my wife once more?


LA ROCHE.

Yes!


PAUL.

Oh, generous foe! Next to my country, my life belongs to you.


LA ROCHE.

I have your word?


PAUL.

[_Raising his hand_.]

You have.


LA ROCHE.

Captain Kauvar, you are paroled.


PAUL.

And my wife?


LA ROCHE.

[_Going_.]

Shall come to you at once.

[_Exit_.


PAUL.

Great heavens!--I'm going mad with joy!

[_Turning to_ LA HOGUE.]

Colonel, I must explode or die!

[_He embraces_ LA HOGUE.


LA HOGUE.

[_Submitting with gusto_.]

Damme! Embraced by a Sans Culotte! I like it, too!

_Artillery is heard in the distance_.


PAUL.

[_Looking off_.]

By heavens!--The Republicans are sweeping down from Granville!

[_To_ LA HOGUE.]

Colonel, see! My comrades have attacked you under cover of the town I
burned.

[_Crash of artillery again_.


LA HOGUE.

Damnation!

_Enter_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.


ORDERLY.

[_Rushing in_.]

General, the enemy are upon us!


LA ROCHE.

[_Excitedly to_ LA HOGUE.]

Quick!--To arms!--We must rouse and lead our men!


PAUL.

But Diane--my wife?


LA ROCHE.

Gone!--to England.

[_Handing a paper_.]

Read, and remember, whatever be my fate, you are on parole.

[_He rushes off with_ LA HOGUE.

_The crash of firearms increases_.


PAUL.

[_Reading_.]

"Dear Henri:--The town is burning, my daughter in peril. I see
Diane embarked for England, and join you on the field.--Duc de
Beaumont."--Gone!--No! I will find her, and fly with her myself.

[_Noise of battle outside_.--PAUL _is about to go, but stops_.]

No, no! My God!--She's lost to me again! I cannot go to seek her, for
I'm a prisoner on parole!

[_He falls prostrate on the stairs_.


CURTAIN.




ACT V.

SCENE. _Same as Act IV--one hour later. Noise of battle in
distance_.--PAUL _discovered looking on and listening in
excitement.--Noise increases and sounds nearer_.


PAUL.

[_Triumphantly_.]

Ah!--The enemy weakens!--gives way!--falls back!--The Royalists
fly!--The Republic wins!--Progress triumphs!

[_The noise of battle grows louder, but the cries of triumph from
Republicans decrease, then die away_.--PAUL _checks his joy and speaks
in changed tones_.]

And I--I have no part in this glorious play--because I'm on parole.

[_Walking up and down excitedly_.]

What torture!--to be here; with heart aflame, and limbs all free;
to see the fight, and yet be bound to idleness by an oath, as much a
prisoner as though in fetters at the bottom of a cell!

[_Changing his whole manner_.]

And Diane--where is she? But now within my reach--almost in my
arms--naught between us but a promise, a mere breath--that breath as
strong as adamantine walls to part us!


JEAN.

[_Entering, sees_ PAUL _and cries out_.]

Kauvar!


PAUL.

[_Turning, starts_.]

Jean Litais!


JEAN.

You, alive?


PAUL.

My wife!--Where is she?


JEAN.

Don't ask me!


PAUL.

You promised to save her.


JEAN.

I did.--But for the burning of the Faubourg, and the attack of the
rebels, she would be alive and safe.


PAUL.

And now--?


JEAN.

She's lost!--She, with her father and the Marquis, fell into an
ambush--were fired on from every side--


PAUL.

Killed! And I am her assassin!


JEAN.

You?


PAUL.

Yes! I planned the burning of the Faubourg, placed the mines that blew
it up, and opened a way for our attack.--In serving my country, I have
killed my wife!


JEAN.

You are a soldier, then,--one of the blues?


PAUL.

Yes--and captured there at dawn. [_Points at the Faubourg_.


JEAN.

And not shot?


PAUL.

No--paroled!--paroled!--paroled!


JEAN.

Impossible! The watchword on both sides is "No mercy."


PAUL.

La Rochejacquelein spared my life, that I might once more see my
wife.--Useless generosity, for she had gone to meet her death!


JEAN.

But he--the General--was merciful, magnanimous to you?


PAUL.

He was. I owe him an eternal debt.


JEAN.

Are you willing to pay your debt?


PAUL.

With my life!


JEAN.

His army is routed. He will be captured--shot like a dog, unless he's
saved.


PAUL.

He must be saved.


JEAN.

There's a secret passage from this castle to the glen. If I could put
his pursuers off his track, he would escape.


PAUL.

Bring the General here and leave the rest to me.


JEAN.

You will aid him?


PAUL.

I will.--Be quick; we're wasting time.

[JEAN _crosses to door and beckons; enter_ LA HOGUE, LA
ROCHEJACQUELEIN _and_ DENISE.


PAUL.

[_Putting off his coat and crossing_.]

General, off with your coat!


LA ROCHE.

What does this mean?


PAUL.

You were merciful to me--'tis my turn now! We exchange uniforms; I am
captured in your place, mislead your pursuers while you escape.


LA ROCHE.

For you to assist me is treason to your cause.


PAUL.

Ingratitude is treason to my God!--I owe you more than life; let men
call this what they will; I have a divine right to pay my debt.


LA ROCHE.

I refuse to let you do a deed that may bring dishonour on your head.


PAUL.

Then I refuse to owe my life to you.--Accept my assistance, or

[_Drawing pistol from the belt of_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.] with my own
hand I'll shoot the prisoner you paroled.


LA HOGUE.

[_Grasping_ PAUL'S _arm_.]

Stop! This can be arranged.


PAUL.

How?


LA HOGUE.

You are a prisoner on parole.--The General is as good as captured
now.--Let him release you from your word, then his escape will only be
an exchange of prisoners.


PAUL.

Will you consent to this?


LA ROCHE.

No, I cannot. The exchange would not be fair to the side you serve. I
am a General; you, but a Captain.


LA HOGUE.

But we have the other prisoners, the comrades of the Captain; we can
shoot them all at once, or exchange them if we choose for you.


PAUL.

Free them--and I but make a fair exchange in helping you to get away.

[_Shouts outside_.

[_Cheers_.


JEAN.

My God! The crowd rush on this way.


DENISE.

[_Kneeling to_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.]

In Mercy's name--!


LA HOGUE.

The King's cause dies with you!--You are bound to live for him!


LA ROCHE.

[_Stripping off his coat_.]

Enough--I consent.


DENISE.

Thank God!

PAUL _and_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN _exchange uniforms_.


LA ROCHE.

By heavens! I never thought to wear this colour on my back! I do it
for King Louis' sake.


PAUL.

And I wear this in honour of the King of Kings, who is our common
Father.


LA ROCHE.

My saviour!


PAUL.

Nay, your brother!

PAUL _and_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN _look in each other's eyes a moment,
then part in silence_. JEAN _and_ DENISE _cross to panel in wall_. LA
ROCHEJACQUELEIN _crosses and turns_.


LA ROCHE.

[_Saluting_ PAUL.]

Long live the King!


PAUL.

[_Saluting_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN.]

Long live the Republic!


LA HOGUE.

[_As_ LA ROCHEJACQUELEIN _goes out,_.]

Your comrades are there.

[_Pointing_.]

This key will set them free.


PAUL.

[_Taking_ LA HOGUE'S _hand_.]

Our lives are yours!--Farewell!


LA HOGUE.

Damme! I never thought I'd live to love a Sans Culotte!

[_As_ LA HOGUE _goes out_, JEAN _crosses to_ PAUL.


JEAN.

When you are recognized, our pursuit will recommence.


PAUL.

How much time is needed to make sure your escape?


JEAN.

At least one hour.--If your disguise is discovered in less time, you
will have risked your life in vain.


PAUL.

Don't fear!


JEAN.

I have your word, and no matter what happens, you will play your part
for one whole hour?


PAUL.

You have my word, however tragic this comedy may become.


JEAN.

When the General is free, I shall return.

[_A bell tolls the hour of Two_.]

Listen! Remember, you have pledged your honour to endure all things
for an hour. Till then--God help you!

[_Exit_.

_Shouts and yells outside from Republican soldiers_; PAUL _sits near
the fire and pays no attention. Firing outside, followed by cries and
cheers_.


POTIN.

[_Outside_.]

This way!--This way!--That's his nest!--We'll find the bird in there!

[_Rushes on, followed by_ SOLDIERS.]

[_Looking around_.]

Deserted! The rogue of a royal General is hiding like a mouse! We'll
unearth him!--Come on!

[_He is going toward door, followed by his_ MEN, _when he sees_ PAUL,
_and starts back_.]

Halt!

[_Points at_ PAUL.]

See!--There is La Rochejacquelein!

[_To the_ MEN.]

Make ready--Aim!

[SOLDIERS _aim at_ PAUL, _who does not move_]

[_To_ PAUL.]

General La Rochejacquelein, we recognize your uniform. Surrender!

[PAUL _does not move_.]

General, your sword, or we fire!


PAUL.

[_Rising coolly_.]

Fire!


POTIN.

We do not want to kill you.

[_Advancing with extended hand_.]

We'd rather have your sword.


PAUL.

[_Recognizing_ POTIN, _speaks aside_.]

Potin!--The wretch!--He may recognize me before the hour is up!

[_He draws his sword and extends it backward_.


POTIN.

[_Taking the sword_.]

General, you are our prisoner.

[_To_ SOLDIERS.]

Comrades, to us--a squad of the battalion of the Bonnet Rouge--is due
the glory of taking the leader of these Royalist Brigands!--Hurrah for
our Battalion!

[_All cheer_.


VOICES.

[_Outside_.]

Long live the Republic!


POTIN.

[_Looking off_]

Bah! Here come the rabble--a crowd of anarchists!


GOUJON.

Who never share the fighting.


POTIN.

But claim all the glory fighting brings.


GOUJON.

Curse these civil shouters!

SOLDIERS _all groan. Cries of "Carrac! Carrac!" with cheers heard
outside_.


POTIN.

Here they come, led on by Scarlotte--


GOUJON.

Scarlotte! A woman in form--a fury in nature!


POTIN.

Like my wife.

[_Cheers outside_.]

Good heavens! Worse and worse! Yonder comes Carrac--the king of
curs!--Damme! The devil himself is a saint compared with him.


GOUJON.

The beast!


POTIN.

The bloodiest beast of all--a tiger!

[_To_ SOLDIERS.]

Quick, form on this side [_Pointing to the left_.] and protect the
General.--This hog will want to eat him, before we can deliver him to
Kleber and get the credit of his capture.

[SOLDIERS _form in front of_ PAUL.


SCARLOTTE.

[_Outside_.]

This way, you fools!--Death to Rochejacquelein. Come on!


MOB.

[_Outside_.]

Death to Rochejacquelein!


SCARLOTTE.

[_Entering, followed by_ MOB.]

Rochejacquelein!--Rochejacquelein!--Where is Rochejacquelein?


MOB.

Down with Rochejacquelein! Down with Rochejacquelein!


BOURDOTTE.

[_Appearing_.]

Silence! Here comes Carrac, the great Carrac--representative of the
Republic--who never spares an enemy!

[_Comes down stage_.


POTIN.

And never makes a friend.


MOB.

Carrac!--Carrac!--Long live Carrac!

CARRAC _appears, followed by a second_ MOB, _and makes a gesture
commanding silence_.


CARRAC.

So--this is the ancestral hall of that cursed kin of kings, La
Rochejacquelein!--Ha! He's doubtless sneaking like a coward in some
safe corner of his den. Is the place surrounded?


BOURDOTTE.

On every side.


SCARLOTTE.

Good!--Tear his house about his ears!


CARRAC.

Aye--strip the old hawk's nest.


MOB.

Aye!--Aye!

[_The_ MOB _dismantle the house, with yells of exultation_.


SCARLOTTE.

[_Urging them on_.]

Heroes of Liberty!--demolish every trace of beauty in the place!

_Amid a scene of anarchic rage and turmoil, the room is stript stark_.


CARRAC.

Well done--noble levellers of the age!--Pull the boasted culture of
the nobility to the gutter.--Bravo!--We've demolished the old nest;
now to hunt the young hawk down!


MOB.

Aye!--Aye!


POTIN.

[_Waving the_ MOB _back_.]

Stop!--La Rochejacquelein is found!


SCARLOTTE.

Where is he?


POTIN.

There--our prisoner.


SCARLOTTE.

Drag him to the river!


MOB.

Aye--to the river!


POTIN.

Stand back!--He belongs to our battalion.


CARRAC.

What insolence is this? We demand his surrender here--to us.


POTIN.

We surrender him to none but our own Colonel.


CARRAC.

We are the people and supreme!--We represent the civil power of the
State, that rules the soldier.


MOB.

Aye!--Aye!


POTIN.

[_To the_ SOLDIERS.]

Make ready!--Aim!

[SOLDIERS _aim_;--_the_ MOB _fall back_.]

You're ten to one.--Come on, you civil rulers, and take him if you
can.


CARRAC.

This is treason!


SCARLOTTE.

Aye--treason!--Treason!

[_The_ MOB _groan_.


POTIN.

Soldiers have no rulers but their officers!


CARRAC.

Someone go for General Kleber. Bid him come at once--to quell this
mutiny.


SCARLOTTE.

I will bring him.

[_Crosses_.]

Death to all who dare to balk the people's will!

[_Exit_.


BOURDOTTE.

Meantime, Citizen Carrac, we have some prisoners here at hand that we
can dispatch at once.


CARRAC.

How many?


BOURDOTTE.

Five.--Two men, and three women--perfect beauties!


CARRAC.

Bravo! Their beauty and their lives are ours!

[_Cheers from_ MOB.]

Bring them in!

[_Exeunt eight_ SANS CULOTTES.]

Citizens, we've won to-day a glorious victory.


POTIN.

There he goes boasting, when he never struck a blow.


CARRAC.

Let's complete our triumph--prove our power--


MOB.

Bravo!--Bravo!


CARRAC.

You are the people!--You are France!--Let the Nation voice her will
through you.--What shall we do with our prisoners?


BOURDOTTE.

Kill them.


MOB.

Aye--kill them--kill them!


BOURDOTTE.

Drown the men like puppies, and put the women to public shame!


MOB.

Aye! Aye!


CARRAC.

The voice of the people is the voice of God.--Have your will--it is
God's command!

_Enter_ CITIZENS, _dragging the_ DUKE, GOUROC, DIANE, NANETTE, _and_
ALINE, _a young girl_.

_The_ MOB _groan and laugh mockingly.

The young girl is dragged forward--two_ SANS CULOTTES _contending for
her_.


FIRST SANS CULOTTE.

She's mine!


SECOND SANS CULOTTE.

You lie!--I caught her first!


ALINE.

Mercy!--Kill me if you will,--but spare me this!


CARRAC.

[_Laughing_.]

Citizens,--behold your victims!

[MOB _rush forward with ferocious yells_.


DUKE.

[_Interposing_.]

No, no!--Let my grey hairs suffice!

[_The_ MOB _pause_.


PAUL.

[_Starting up, speaks aside_.]

My God!--That voice!

[_During what follows_, PAUL--_screened from the_ MOB'S _view by his
soldier_ GUARDS--_expresses in pantomime his conflicting emotions_.


CARRAC.

[_To the_ DUKE.]

Who are you?


GOUROC.

[_Speaking quickly_.]

We are Citizens of the Republic!--He

[_Pointing at the_ DUKE.]

is George Leblanc--and I, Citizen Gouroc of the Committee of Public
Safety.

[CARRAC _and_ MOB _draw back with astonishment_.


PAUL.

[_Aside_.]

And Diane!--Is she there?--I must see!

[_Starts, stops_.]

No, no!--They would know me; the hour is not up!


CARRAC.

You, Citizen Gouroc?--I don't believe it.


GOUROC.

[_Holding out papers_.]

Here are our credentials.


CARRAC.

They may be forgeries.


MOB.

Aye--forgeries! forgeries!


CARRAC.

[_To the_ MOB.]

Silence! While we proceed in our examination.

[_The_ MOB _utter low murmurs_. CARRAC _turns to_ NANETTE.]

Who are you?


NANETTE.

[_Advancing defiantly_.]

I am Citizeness Nanette Potin.


POTIN.

[_Aside_.]

My wife!--

[_Sneaks behind comrades_.


CARRAC.

Ha, wait!

[_Seeing_ DIANE, _he drags her forth_.]

By the gods!--here's a feast for Jupiter himself.--Speak out,
delicious wench, and tell us who you are.


DIANE.

I am Diane--


GOUROC.

[_Interrupting quickly_.]

She is Diane Gouroc.--

[_Pointing at the_ DUKE.]

His daughter and my wife.


PAUL.

[_Exploding_.]

Liar!

[_All start and turn toward_ PAUL, _who speaks aside_.]

God help me!--I forget; the hour is not ended.


CARRAC.

Who is it calls this citizen a liar?


GOUJON.

The prisoner.


CARRAC.

Ah, ha! It seems he knows these citizens.--In the name of the law
and the Republic, I summon instantly as a witness Henri de la
Rochejacquelein.


DIANE.

My cousin captured?

[_All turn toward her, amazed_.


GOUROC.

[_Starting_.]

My God!--We're lost!


CARRAC.

So--the prisoner is the beauty's cousin.

[_To_ GOUROC.]

Traitor! You have lied!--This convicts you all.


MOB.

To the guillotine!--To the guillotine!


BOURDOTTE.

No! A marriage! A Republican marriage!


MOB.

Aye! A marriage! marriage!

[BOURDOTTE _drags forth_ NANETTE.


NANETTE.

What are you going to do?


BOURDOTTE.

Tie you to this man and throw you in the river.--That's the way we
marry Royalists!

[_The_ MOB _laugh mockingly_.


NANETTE.

[_Shrieking_.]

Help!


POTIN.

[_Exploding_.]

Damnation!--Tongue or no tongue, I must save her.

[_Bounds forward and frees his wife_.]

Nanette!


NANETTE.

[_Joyfully embracing_ POTIN.]

Dodolphe!


CARRAC.

What does this mean?


POTIN.

This is my wife; the wife of a soldier of the Republic, and so, sacred
to her country.


SOLDIERS.

Aye! Aye!


POTIN.

[_Pointing to_ GOUROC.]

Do what you like with him--for such cattle as he deserve to die!

[GOUROC _turns and glowers_.]

Glare! Who cares? I'm a soldier. 'Tis my turn now!--You shall pay
dearly for making me a perjurer!

[_To_ MOB.]

Citizens, this devil here forced me to swear falsely against a
patriot.


BOURDOTTE.

When was this?


POTIN.

Three months ago in Paris.--I was secretary to my Section.--This man
had a blank warrant signed by our president, Paul Kauvar.--He made me
fill it in with the name of the Duc de Beaumont--and, after, falsely
swear that Kauvar had ordered the arrest.

[_Cries of execration from the_ MOB.


DIANE.

Father! You hear? It is to him that we owe our agony!--One of your own
race.


POTIN.

Kauvar was his friend--this dog betrayed him!


NANETTE.

Yes, while he himself was all the time a Marquis in disguise.


PAUL.

He, my friend--a traitor!


CARRAC.

Death to the brigand!


MOB.

Death to him! To the river! Drown him!

[_They seize_ GOUROC.


GOUROC.

[_Breaking away from them_.]

Fiends--I defy you, and escape you!

[_Draws pistol, fires, and falls dead_.


BOURDOTTE.

[_Feeling_ GOUROC'S _breast_.]

Dead.--Dead as potted pork.


CARRAC.

And the people cheated of their just revenge!

CITIZENS _bear_ GOUROC'S _body off_.


BOURDOTTE.

Ah, look, we have still the old Aristo and his daughter!


MOB.

Aye!--Aye! Away with them! Away with them!

[_They rush on the_ DUKE _and_ DIANE.


PAUL.

My God! Will this hour never end?


CARRAC.

[_To the_ MOB.]

Here! Strip her! Drive her to her death!

[_The_ MOB _howls_.--DIANE _breaks from_ CARRAC.--_Bell tolls_.


PAUL.

[_With a cry of joy_.]

The hour strikes!--I'm free!

[CARRAC _seizes_ DIANE _again and drags her to the centre of the
stage.

Rushing from his concealed position_, PAUL _tears_ DIANE, _fainting,
from the arms of_ CARRAC, _whom he flings to the ground--warning back
the_ MOB, _who pause for a moment, staring in amazement_.


BOURDOTTE.

Ha--the brigand--kill him!--


MOB.

[_Advancing_.]

Kill him!--Kill him!


POTIN.

[_Aiming, with_ SOLDIERS.]

Halt!--He is our prisoner.

[_The_ MOB _recoil_.


PAUL.

[_Flinging off his coat and hat_.]

No! Not your prisoner! Your officer!--Captain on Kleber's staff:
Captain Paul Kauvar.


DIANE.

[_With a cry--quivering, incredulous_.]

Paul!--Alive!


PAUL.

Heaven is merciful at last!

[_He takes her in his arms_.


POTIN.

By the gods, it is!--The Citizen Kauvar!


GOUJON.

Then La Rochejacquelein has got away?


CARRAC.

[_Rising, to_ PAUL.]

If you are a soldier of the Republic, how is it we find you in the
coat of a brigand?


PAUL.

That's my affair, not yours.


CARRAC.

What! You refuse to answer? [_Coming close to_ PAUL.] Do you know who
I am?


PAUL.

[_With quiet, increasing intensity, before which_ CARRAC _is utterly
cowed_.]

Yes,--Carrac--an anarchist--a fiend--in the name of liberty invoking
the tyranny of terror! An assassin--shouting fraternity and committing
fratricide! A libertine--claiming equality with the good, while
ravishing the pure! A monster--part vulture, part toad--who, in the
holy name of progress, makes our Country and our Cause revolting to
the world!


BOURDOTTE.

Ha! See! Carrac recoils! He's found his match at last!--

[MOB _laugh and jeer_.


SCARLOTTE.

[_Appearing_.]

Room there!--Room for General Kleber.


MOB.

[_Falling back on both sides_.]

Kleber!--Kleber!--Long live Kleber!


KLEBER.

[_Entering with three_ OFFICERS.]

I am told there is mutiny--treason here. Who and where are the
accused?


CARRAC.

[_Pointing at_ PAUL.]

There stands the worst of them!


KLEBER.

[_Astounded_]

Captain Kauvar!--Of what is he accused?


CARRAC.

Treachery to France! He has worn the colours of the Royal Cause.


GOUJON.

We arrested him as Rochejacquelein.


CARRAC.

Whom he has aided to escape.


KLEBER.

A terrible charge! The punishment is instant death.--Captain Kauvar,
what have you to say?


PAUL.

But little.--I led last night the band of men who mined the Faubourg
and cleared the road for our army to advance.


KLEBER.

A desperate undertaking, crowned with great success!--We gave you all
up as dead.


PAUL.

We should have been, but for the clemency of Rochejacquelein. He
spared my men, and put me on parole. He could have shot us all, but by
letting him escape I saved the band of patriots to whom our army owes
its victory to-day.

[_All cheer_.


KLEBER.

Captain Kauvar, you did right!

[_The_ MOB _cheer_.


CARRAC.

Citizens, the watchword sent from Robespierre to Vendée was this:
"Death without mercy to the Aristocrats."

[_Pointing at the_ DUKE.]

Here is one, at least; I claim him for the guillotine.


MOB.

Aye--to the guillotine! To the guillotine!


KLEBER.

[_As the_ MOB _rush on the_ DUKE.]

Halt!

[_The_ MOB _fall back_.]

Citizens, I bring you glorious news! These despatches have just
reached me on the field. They come from the National Convention at the
Capitol of France. Listen!

[_Reads_.]

"The tyrant Robespierre has been guillotined. The reign of terror is
at an end. Proclaim amnesty, mercy, and fraternity to all Frenchmen in
Vendée."

[_All cheer_.


CARRAC.

Robespierre dead! What will the people do without the guillotine?


PAUL.

Drive anarchists and Carracs out of France!


BOURDOTTE.

Aye! Away with him! Away with him!

[_Rushing on_ CARRAC, _the_ MOB _nearly tear him to pieces as they
bear him away_.


SCARLOTTE.

[_Fighting the_ MOB.]

Ingrates--traitors--dogs--ye shall not harm him--back! back! back!

[_Exit, facing the_ MOB, _and trying to save_ CARRAC.


JEAN.

[_Bounding in from panel, speaks to_ PAUL.]

You see I have returned!


DUKE.

And the General?


JEAN.

Has escaped to England, [_Pointing to_ PAUL.] thanks to him.


KLEBER.

[_Taking a cross from his own breast, and advancing to_ PAUL.]

Captain Kauvar, you risked almost certain death to purchase victory
for France. In the name of the Republic, I decorate you for heroic
courage on the field!

[_He places the cross on_ PAUL'S _breast. All cheer_.


DUKE.

[_Extending his hand to_ PAUL.]

My son!--

[PAUL _clasps it_.


DIANE.

At last, thank God, dear France is free of tyrants.


PAUL.

Liberty is wed to Justice, and Anarchy is ended!


CURTAIN.




_End of the Play_.













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