_At the rising of the curtain, the drawing-room is empty. The stage remains thus unoccupied for about a moment. A curtain screen lowered at the left of the spectator, also one equally lowered at the right. A large screen lowered at the back, and concealing, like the other two, a door that can be locked._
SCENE I.
LIONNETTE_, veiled, enters at the left; draws back the screen, stops, looks around her; goes slowly to the door at the back, which she opens and shuts again, after having looked in. Ten o"clock strikes. She goes and looks through the door at the right, then through the gla.s.s between the two rooms over the mantel-piece, and presses the k.n.o.b of the electric bell, which is by the side of the chimney-piece. Silence reigns for a few seconds._ LIONNETTE, _astonished, looks around her_. NOURVADY _appears at the back of the room_.
SCENE II.
LIONNETTE, NOURVADY.
(NOURVADY _stops, after having let fall the screen, and salutes_ LIONNETTE _very respectfully. He is hat in hand._)
LIONNETTE (_troubled_).
Is it you?
NOURVADY.
You rang.
LIONNETTE.
I thought a footman would answer.
NOURVADY.
Your most grateful and humble slave has come.
LIONNETTE (_severely_).
You were waiting for me?
NOURVADY.
Yes.
LIONNETTE.
That is the reason you said yesterday that you would be in this house to-day.
NOURVADY.
Yes.
LIONNETTE.
You were sure that I should come.
NOURVADY (_a little ironically_).
Sure. I only regret that you have had to take the trouble to go and look in your garden for the key that you threw there.
LIONNETTE.
The fact is that you have discovered the only way to compel me,--an infamous way, Sir. (_While speaking she has taken off the veils that covered her face, and thrown them on the table._) You acknowledge, Sir, do you not, the infamous means you have adopted. Answer me!
NOURVADY.
I have no answer. You are in your own house; I could if I wished withdraw myself from your insult and anger: but, apart from the fact that my courage to do so forsook me from the moment you came here, I am sure you have something else to say to me, and I remain to hear it.
LIONNETTE.
Truly, Sir, an explanation between you and me is necessary; and, as you did not wish to return to my house, I am come to seek it in yours.
Besides, I like plain and open situations; and I do not fear, especially at this moment in my life, categorical explanations and undisguised expressions,--blunt even, if we can understand each other better in that way. I heard such things yesterday that my ears now can lend themselves to anything. An act such as yours--a step such as I have taken--an interview like this that we are having, and which may lead to results so positive and so serious--are so exceptional that words of double meaning could not explain them. (_Seating herself._) I have not long known you; I have never attempted to attract you by the least coquetry; I have never asked anything of you; and you have just dishonoured me morally and socially without my being able to defend myself. It is remarkably clever. Whatever I may say, no one will believe me. My husband, who loves me, will not believe me; and he has treated me accordingly. What have I done to you that you should think yourself authorized to inflict such a public affront on me, for, if it isn"t public yet, it will be to-morrow.
NOURVADY.
I have already told you: I love you.
LIONNETTE.
And this, then, is your fashion of proving your love?
NOURVADY.
If I had had any other at my disposal, I should have employed it. I love you (_changing his tone, and approaching her_). I have loved you madly for years. (_She recoils involuntarily from the movement of_ NOURVADY.) Fear nothing: I dishonour you, perhaps, in the eyes of others, but I respect you; and you are sacred to me. If ever you are mine, it will only be with your consent; that is, when you will have said, "I return your love." I know well all the kinds of love one can buy! It is not for a love such as that I ask: you would not give it to me, and I do not wish for it from you. You are beautiful; I love you; and you have a great grief, a trouble, a common-place preoccupation, beneath your consideration, that one of your race and character ought never to know.
On account of what? On account of some bank notes; of a few hundred pounds that you are in want of; and that I have in such profusion that I know not what to do with them. This grief--this annoyance--may cause you to lose your repose; may cost you your beauty--even your life; for you are a woman who would die in the face of an obstacle that you could not conquer. I have what is wanted to dispel this grief and care. I do it, therefore. Was it necessary to ask your permission? If I had seen your horse running away with you, should I have asked your permission to help you? I should have rushed to your horse"s head and saved you, or he would have pa.s.sed over my body. If I had saved your life, and survived, you would, perhaps, have loved me for that heroic act: if I had been killed, you would certainly have been sorry, and have wept for me. I have not exposed my life in saving you as I have done: I have not accomplished an act of heroism, I have only done a thing that was very easy for me; but I could not control the circ.u.mstances.
LIONNETTE.
Ah! Well, your devotion led you astray, Sir; and if I am in your house, it is to call upon you to repair--before it be irremediable--the harm you have done.
NOURVADY.
It is out of my power to do anything myself. I have expressly employed this method because I knew it to be the only one, and irremediable. It would be now necessary that your creditors should consent to take back their bills, and give back their money. Do you think they would consent to that?
LIONNETTE.
This, then, is what you said to yourself: This woman that I respect, esteem, and love, I am going first to compromise and dishonour her in the eyes of everybody; I am going to make her despised, insulted, and turned out of doors by her husband; and, the first emotion over, she will have nothing left to choose; she will take up her part, and will then be mine.
NOURVADY.
I did not reflect at all. It did not please me at all that the tradespeople should have the power of hunting and humiliating you. I paid them. I did not wish you to be sorrowful; I could not endure to see you poor. It is a fancy, like any other, and I am willing to take the consequences of my fancy. If you had been in my place you would have done what I have done.
LIONNETTE.
No! If I were a man and pretended to love an honest woman, whatever might come of it, I would respect her dignity and the proprieties of the society in which she moves.