One-Act Plays Part 11

ELOISE [_irritated beyond measure, shouting_]. To tell you what?

LOUIS [_swallowing_]. That your love for me still lingers.

ELOISE [_promptly_]. Well, it doesn't. So _that's_ over!

LOUIS. Not quite yet. I--

ELOISE [_dropping into a chair_]. O Death!

LOUIS [_still gently_]. Listen. I have hope that you and Anne may be permitted to escape; but as for me, since the first moment I felt the eyes of that spy from Paris upon me I have had the premonition that I would be taken back--to the guillotine, Eloise. I am sure that he will arrest me when I attempt to leave this place to-night. [_With sorrowful earnestness._] And it is with the certainty in my soul that this is our last hour together that I ask you if you cannot tell me that the old love has come back. Is there nothing in your heart for me?

ELOISE. Was there anything in _your_ heart for the beggar who stood at your door in the old days?

LOUIS. Is there nothing for him who stands at yours now, begging for a word?

ELOISE [_frowning_]. I remember you had the name of a disciplinarian in your regiment. [_She rises to face him._] Did you ever find anything in your heart for the soldiers you ordered tied up and flogged? Was there anything in your heart for the peasants who starved in your fields?

LOUIS [_quietly_]. No; it was too full of you.

ELOISE. Words! Pretty little words!

LOUIS. Thoughts. Pretty, because they are of you. All, always of you--always, my dear. I never really think of anything but you. The picture of you is always before the eyes of my soul; the very name of you is forever in my heart. [_With a rueful smile._] And it is on the tips of my fingers, sometimes when it shouldn't be. See. [_He steps to the desk and shows her a scribbled sheet._] This is what I laughed at a while ago. I tried to write, with you near me, and unconsciously I let your name creep into my very forgery! I wrote it as I wrote it in the sand when we were children; as I have traced it a thousand times on coated mirrors--on frosted windows. [_He reads the writing aloud._]

"Permit the Citizen Balsage and his sister, the Citizeness Virginie Balsage, and his second sister, the Citizeness Marie Balsage, and Eloise d'Anville"--so I wrote!--"to embark upon the vessel _Jeune Pierrette_--" You see? [_He lets the paper fall upon the desk._] Even in this danger, that I feel closer and closer with every pa.s.sing second, your name came in of itself. I am like that English Mary: if they will open my heart when I am dead, they shall find, not "Calais,"

but "Eloise"!

ELOISE [_going to the dressing-table_]. Louis, that doesn't interest me. [_She adds a delicate touch or two to her hair, studying it thoughtfully in the dressing-table mirror._]

LOUIS [_somberly_]. I told you long ago--

ELOISE [_smiling at her reflection_]. So you did--often!

LOUIS [_breathing quickly_]. I have nothing new to offer. I understand. I bore you.

ELOISE. Louis, to be frank: I don't care what they find in your heart when they open it.

LOUIS [_with a hint of sternness_]. Have you never reflected that there might be something for me to forgive you?

ELOISE [_glancing at him over her shoulder in frowning surprise_].

What!

LOUIS. I wonder sometimes if you have ever found a flaw in your own character.

ELOISE [_astounded_]. So! [_Turning sharply upon him._] You are a.s.suming the right to criticize me, are you? Oho!

LOUIS [_agitated_]. I state merely--I have said--I think I forgive you a great deal--

ELOISE [_beginning to char_]. You do! You bestow your gracious pardon upon me, do you? [_Bursting into flame._] Keep your forgiveness to yourself! When I want it I'll kneel at your feet and beg it of you!

You can _kiss_ me then, for then you will know that "the old love has come back"!

LOUIS [_miserably_]. When you kneel--

ELOISE. Can you picture it--_Marquis?_ [_She hurls his t.i.tle at him, and draws herself up in icy splendor._] I am a woman of the Republic!

LOUIS. And the Republic has no need of love.

ELOISE. Its daughter has no need of yours!

LOUIS. Until you kneel to me. You have spoken. It is ended. [_Turning from her with a pathetic gesture of farewell and resignation, his attention is suddenly arrested by something invisible. He stands for a moment transfixed. When he speaks, it is in an altered tone, light and at the same time ominous._] My cousin, suffer the final pet.i.tion of a bore. Forgive my seriousness; forgive my stupidity, for I believe that what one hears now means that a number of things are indeed ended.

Myself among them.

ELOISE [_not comprehending_]. "What one hears?"

LOUIS [_slowly_]. In the distance. [_Both stand motionless to listen, and the room is silent. Gradually a m.u.f.fled, mult.i.tudinous sound, at first very faint, becomes audible._]

ELOISE. What is it?

LOUIS [_with pale composure_]. Only a song! [_The distant sound becomes distinguishable as a singing from many unmusical throats and pitched in every key, a drum-beat booming underneath; a tumultuous rumble which grows slowly louder. The door of the inner room opens, and MADAME DE LASEYNE enters._]

ANNE [_briskly, as she comes in_]. I have hidden the cloak and the dress beneath the mattress. Have you--

LOUIS [_lifting his hand_]. Listen! [_She halts, startled. The singing, the drums, and the tumult swell suddenly much louder, as if the noise-makers had turned a corner._]

ANNE [_crying out_]. The "Ma.r.s.eillaise"!

LOUIS. The "Vultures' Chorus"!

ELOISE [_in a ringing voice_]. The Hymn of Liberty!

ANNE [_trembling violently_]. It grows louder.

LOUIS. Nearer!

ELOISE [_running to the window_]. They are coming this way!

ANNE [_rus.h.i.+ng ahead of her_]. They have turned the corner of the street. Keep back, Louis!

ELOISE [_leaning out of the window, enthusiastically_]. _Vive la_--[_She finishes with an indignant gurgle as ANNE DE LASEYNE, without comment, claps a prompt hand over her mouth and pushes her vigorously from the window._]

ANNE. A mob--carrying torches and dancing. [_Her voice shaking wildly._] They are following a troop of soldiers.

LOUIS. The National Guard.

ANNE. Keep back from the window! A man in a tricolor scarf marching in front.

LOUIS. A political, then--an official of their government.

ANNE. O Virgin, have mercy! [_She turns a stricken face upon her brother._] It is that--