(She sits down again, all her enthusiasm gone, her elbow on the end of the couch, and her cheek propped on her hand.)
NAPOLEON (greatly astonished). Womanish!
LADY (listlessly). Yes, like me. (With deep melancholy.) Do you think that if I only wanted those despatches for myself, I dare venture into a battle for them? No: if that were all, I should not have the courage to ask to see you at your hotel, even. My courage is mere slavishness: it is of no use to me for my own purposes. It is only through love, through pity, through the instinct to save and protect someone else, that I can do the things that terrify me.
NAPOLEON (contemptuously). Pshaw! (He turns slightingly away from her.)
LADY. Aha! now you see that I"m not really brave. (Relapsing into petulant listlessness.) But what right have you to despise me if you only win your battles for others? for your country! through patriotism!
That is what I call womanish: it is so like a Frenchman!
NAPOLEON (furiously). I am no Frenchman.
LADY (innocently). I thought you said you won the battle of Lodi for your country, General Bu-- shall I p.r.o.nounce it in Italian or French?
NAPOLEON. You are presuming on my patience, madam. I was born a French subject, but not in France.
LADY (folding her arms on the end of the couch, and leaning on them with a marked access of interest in him). You were not born a subject at all, I think.
NAPOLEON (greatly pleased, starting on a fresh march). Eh? Eh? You think not.
LADY. I am sure of it.
NAPOLEON. Well, well, perhaps not. (The self-complacency of his a.s.sent catches his own ear. He stops short, reddening. Then, composing himself into a solemn att.i.tude, modelled on the heroes of cla.s.sical antiquity, he takes a high moral tone.) But we must not live for ourselves alone, little one. Never forget that we should always think of others, and work for others, and lead and govern them for their own good.
Self-sacrifice is the foundation of all true n.o.bility of character.
LADY (again relaxing her att.i.tude with a sigh). Ah, it is easy to see that you have never tried it, General.
NAPOLEON (indignantly, forgetting all about Brutus and Scipio). What do you mean by that speech, madam?
LADY. Haven"t you noticed that people always exaggerate the value of the things they haven"t got? The poor think they only need riches to be quite happy and good. Everybody worships truth, purity, unselfishness, for the same reason--because they have no experience of them. Oh, if they only knew!
NAPOLEON (with angry derision). If they only knew! Pray, do you know?
LADY (with her arms stretched down and her hands clasped on her knees, looking straight before her). Yes. I had the misfortune to be born good. (Glancing up at him for a moment.) And it is a misfortune, I can tell you, General. I really am truthful and unselfish and all the rest of it; and it"s nothing but cowardice; want of character; want of being really, strongly, positively oneself.
NAPOLEON. Ha? (Turning to her quickly with a flash of strong interest.)
LADY (earnestly, with rising enthusiasm). What is the secret of your power? Only that you believe in yourself. You can fight and conquer for yourself and for n.o.body else. You are not afraid of your own destiny.
You teach us what we all might be if we had the will and courage; and that (suddenly sinking on her knees before him) is why we all begin to worship you. (She kisses his hands.)
NAPOLEON (embarra.s.sed). Tut, tut! Pray rise, madam.
LADY. Do not refuse my homage: it is your right. You will be emperor of France.
NAPOLEON (hurriedly). Take care. Treason!
LADY (insisting). Yes, emperor of France; then of Europe; perhaps of the world. I am only the first subject to swear allegiance. (Again kissing his hand.) My Emperor!
NAPOLEON (overcome, raising her). Pray, pray. No, no, little one: this is folly. Come: be calm, be calm. (Petting her.) There, there, my girl.
LADY (struggling with happy tears). Yes, I know it is an impertinence in me to tell you what you must know far better than I do. But you are not angry with me, are you?
NAPOLEON. Angry! No, no: not a bit, not a bit. Come: you are a very clever and sensible and interesting little woman. (He pats her on the cheek.) Shall we be friends?
LADY (enraptured). Your friend! You will let me be your friend! Oh!
(She offers him both her hands with a radiant smile.) You see: I show my confidence in you.
NAPOLEON (with a yell of rage, his eyes flashing). What!
LADY. What"s the matter?
NAPOLEON. Show your confidence in me! So that I may show my confidence in you in return by letting you give me the slip with the despatches, eh? Ah, Dalila, Dalila, you have been trying your tricks on me; and I have been as great a gull as my jacka.s.s of a lieutenant. (He advances threateningly on her.) Come: the despatches. Quick: I am not to be trifled with now.
LADY (flying round the couch). General--
NAPOLEON. Quick, I tell you. (He pa.s.ses swiftly up the middle of the room and intercepts her as she makes for the vineyard.)
LADY (at bay, confronting him). You dare address me in that tone.
NAPOLEON. Dare!
LADY. Yes, dare. Who are you that you should presume to speak to me in that coa.r.s.e way? Oh, the vile, vulgar Corsican adventurer comes out in you very easily.
NAPOLEON (beside himself). You she devil! (Savagely.) Once more, and only once, will you give me those papers or shall I tear them from you--by force?
LADY (letting her hands fall ). Tear them from me--by force! (As he glares at her like a tiger about to spring, she crosses her arms on her breast in the att.i.tude of a martyr. The gesture and pose instantly awaken his theatrical instinct: he forgets his rage in the desire to show her that in acting, too, she has met her match. He keeps her a moment in suspense; then suddenly clears up his countenance; puts his hands behind him with provoking coolness; looks at her up and down a couple of times; takes a pinch of snuff; wipes his fingers carefully and puts up his handkerchief, her heroic pose becoming more and more ridiculous all the time.)
NAPOLEON (at last). Well?
LADY (disconcerted, but with her arms still crossed devotedly). Well: what are you going to do?
NAPOLEON. Spoil your att.i.tude.
LADY. You brute! (abandoning the att.i.tude, she comes to the end of the couch, where she turns with her back to it, leaning against it and facing him with her hands behind her.)
NAPOLEON. Ah, that"s better. Now listen to me. I like you. What"s more, I value your respect.
LADY. You value what you have not got, then.
NAPOLEON. I shall have it presently. Now attend to me. Suppose I were to allow myself to be abashed by the respect due to your s.e.x, your beauty, your heroism and all the rest of it? Suppose I, with nothing but such sentimental stuff to stand between these muscles of mine and those papers which you have about you, and which I want and mean to have: suppose I, with the prize within my grasp, were to falter and sneak away with my hands empty; or, what would be worse, cover up my weakness by playing the magnanimous hero, and sparing you the violence I dared not use, would you not despise me from the depths of your woman"s soul? Would any woman be such a fool? Well, Bonaparte can rise to the situation and act like a woman when it is necessary. Do you understand?
The lady, without speaking, stands upright, and takes a packet of papers from her bosom. For a moment she has an intense impulse to dash them in his face. But her good breeding cuts her off from any vulgar method of relief. She hands them to him politely, only averting her head. The moment he takes them, she hurries across to the other side of the room; covers her face with her hands; and sits down, with her body turned away to the back of the chair.
NAPOLEON (gloating over the papers). Aha! That"s right. That"s right.
(Before opening them he looks at her and says) Excuse me. (He sees that she is hiding her face.) Very angry with me, eh? (He unties the packet, the seal of which is already broken, and puts it on the table to examine its contents.)
LADY (quietly, taking down her hands and showing that she is not crying, but only thinking). No. You were right. But I am sorry for you.
NAPOLEON (pausing in the act of taking the uppermost paper from the packet). Sorry for me! Why?