To think evil of other people without reason, you must be a villain yourself.
(HENRIETTE looks hard at him. Pause.)
HENRIETTE. To think evil of others, you must be a villain yourself.
MAURICE. What do you mean?
HENRIETTE. What I said.
MAURICE. Do you mean that I--?
HENRIETTE. Yes, that"s what I mean now! Look here! Did you meet anybody but Marion when you called there yesterday morning?
MAURICE. Why do you ask?
HENRIETTE. Guess!
MAURICE. Well, as you seem to know--I met Jeanne, too.
HENRIETTE. Why did you lie to me?
MAURICE. I wanted to spare you.
HENRIETTE. And now you want me to believe in one who has been lying to me? No, my boy, now I believe you guilty of that murder.
MAURICE. Wait a moment! We have now reached the place for which my thoughts have been heading all the time, though I resisted as long as possible. It"s queer that what lies next to one is seen last of all, and what one doesn"t _want_ to believe cannot be believed--Tell me something: where did you go yesterday morning, after we parted in the Bois?
HENRIETTE. [Alarmed] Why?
MAURICE. You went either to Adolphe--which you couldn"t do, as he was attending a lesson--or you went to--Marion!
HENRIETTE. Now I am convinced that you are the murderer.
MAURICE. And I, that you are the murderess! You alone had an interest in getting the child out of the way--to get rid of the rock on the road, as you so aptly put it.
HENRIETTE. It was you who said that.
MAURICE. And the one who had an interest in it must have committed the crime.
HENRIETTE. Now, Maurice, we have been running around and around in this tread-mill, scourging each other. Let us quit before we get to the point of sheer madness.
MAURICE. You have reached that point already.
HENRIETTE. Don"t you think it"s time for us to part, before we drive each other insane?
MAURICE. Yes, I think so.
HENRIETTE. [Rising] Good-bye then!
(Two men in civilian clothes become visible in the background.)
HENRIETTE. [Turns and comes back to MAURICE] There they are again!
MAURICE. The dark angels that want to drive us out of the garden.
HENRIETTE. And force us back upon each other as if we were chained together.
MAURICE. Or as if we were condemned to lifelong marriage. Are we really to marry? To settle down in the same place? To be able to close the door behind us and perhaps get peace at last?
HENRIETTE. And shut ourselves up in order to torture each other to death; get behind locks and bolts, with a ghost for marriage portion; you torturing me with the memory of Adolphe, and I getting back at you with Jeanne--and Marion.
MAURICE. Never mention the name of Marion again! Don"t you know that she was to be buried today--at this very moment perhaps?
HENRIETTE. And you are not there? What does that mean?
MAURICE. It means that both Jeanne and the police have warned me against the rage of the people.
HENRIETTE. A coward, too?
MAURICE. All the vices! How could you ever have cared for me?
HENRIETTE. Because two days ago you were another person, well worthy of being loved--
MAURICE. And now sunk to such a depth!
HENRIETTE. It isn"t that. But you are beginning to flaunt bad qualities which are not your own.
MAURICE. But yours?
HENRIETTE. Perhaps, for when you appear a little worse I feel myself at once a little better.
MAURICE. It"s like pa.s.sing on a disease to save one"s self- respect.
HENRIETTE. And how vulgar you have become, too!
MAURICE. Yes, I notice it myself, and I hardly recognise myself since that night in the cell. They put in one person and let out another through that gate which separates us from the rest of society. And now I feel myself the enemy of all mankind: I should like to set fire to the earth and dry up the oceans, for nothing less than a universal conflagration can wipe out my dishonour.
HENRIETTE. I had a letter from my mother today. She is the widow of a major in the army, well educated, with old-fashioned ideas of honour and that kind of thing. Do you want to read the letter? No, you don"t!--Do you know that I am an outcast? My respectable acquaintances will have nothing to do with me, and if I show myself on the streets alone the police will take me. Do you realise now that we have to get married?
MAURICE. We despise each other, and yet we have to marry: that is h.e.l.l pure and simple! But, Henriette, before we unite our destinies you must tell me your secret, so that we may be on more equal terms.
HENRIETTE. All right, I"ll tell you. I had a friend who got into trouble--you understand. I wanted to help her, as her whole future was at stake--and she died!
MAURICE. That was reckless, but one might almost call it n.o.ble, too.
HENRIETTE. You say so now, but the next time you lose your temper you will accuse me of it.
MAURICE. No, I won"t. But I cannot deny that it has shaken my faith in you and that it makes me afraid of you. Tell me, is her lover still alive, and does he know to what extent you were responsible?