Lamoureux says that leeches would have saved her Had they been used in time, before I came.
In that case, then, why did he wait for me?
BOURDOIS
Such whys are now too late! She is past all hope.
I doubt if aught had helped her. Not disease, But heart-break and repinings are the blasts That wither her long bloom. Soon we must tell The Queen Hortense the worst, and the Viceroy.
h.o.r.eAU
Her death was made the easier task for grief [As I regarded more than probable]
By her rash rising from a sore-sick bed And donning thin and dainty May attire To hail King Frederick-William and the Tsar As banquet-guests, in the old regnant style.
A woman"s innocent vanity!--but how dire.
She argued that amenities of State Compelled the effort, since they had honoured her By offering to come. I stood against it, Pleaded and reasoned, but to no account.
Poor woman, what she did or did not do Was of small moment to the State by then!
The Emperor Alexander has been kind Throughout his stay in Paris. He came down But yester-eve, of purpose to inquire.
BOURDOIS
Wellington is in Paris, too, I learn, After his wasted battle at Toulouse.
h.o.r.eAU
Has his Peninsular army come with him?
BOURDOIS
I hear they have shipped it to America, Where England has another war on hand.
We have armies quite sufficient here already-- Plenty of cooks for Paris broth just now!
--Come, call we Queen Hortense and Prince Eugene.
[Exeunt physicians. The ABBE BERTRAND also goes out. JOSEPHINE murmurs faintly.]
FIRST LADY [going to the bedside]
I think I heard you speak, your Majesty?
JOSEPHINE
I asked what hour it was---if dawn or eve?
FIRST LADY
Ten in the morning, Madame. You forget You asked the same but a brief while ago.
JOSEPHINE
Did I? I thought it was so long ago!...
I wish to go to Elba with him so much, But the Allies prevented me. And why?
I would not have disgraced him, or themselves!
I would have gone to him at Fontainebleau, With my eight horses and my household train In dignity, and quitted him no more....
Although I am his wife no longer now, I think I should have gone in spite of them, Had I not feared perversions might be sown Between him and the woman of his choice For whom he sacrificed me.
SECOND LADY
It is more Than she thought fit to do, your Majesty.
JOSEPHINE
Perhaps she was influenced by her father"s ire, Or diplomatic reasons told against her.
And yet I was surprised she should allow Aught secondary on earth to hold her from A husband she has outwardly, at least, Declared attachment to.
FIRST LADY
Especially, With ever one at hand--his son and hers-- Reminding her of him.
JOSEPHINE
Yes.... Glad am I I saw that child of theirs, though only once.
But--there was not full truth--not quite, I fear-- In what I told the Emperor that day He led him to me at Bagatelle, That "twas the happiest moment of my life.
I ought not to have said it. No! Forsooth My feeling had too, too much gall in it To let truth shape like that!--I also said That when my arms were round him I forgot That I was not his mother. So spoke I, But oh me,--I remembered it too well!-- He was a lovely child; in his fond prate His father"s voice was eloquent. One might say I am well punished for my sins against him!
SECOND LADY
You have harmed no creature, madame; much less him!
JOSEPHINE
O but you don"t quite know!... My coquetries In our first married years nigh racked him through.
I cannot think how I could wax so wicked!...
He begged me come to him in Italy, But I liked flirting in fair Paris best, And would not go. The independent spouse At that time was myself; but afterwards I grew to be the captive, he the free.
Always "tis so: the man wins finally!
My faults I"ve ransomed to the bottom sou If ever a woman did!... I"ll write to him-- I must--again, so that he understands.
Yes, I"ll write now. Get me a pen and paper.