Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 39

GUeRIN. So it's come to that!

FRANcOISE. You see, Marcel can't get used to the idea that his other life is over, dead and buried, that he's married for good--that he must do as others do. I do my best and tell him, but my very presence only reminds him of his duties as a husband. For instance [_interrupting herself_]. Here I am telling you all this--

GUeRIN. Oh!--Please.

FRANcOISE [_bitterly_]. He likes to go out alone at night, without me.

He knows me well enough to understand that his being away makes me very unhappy, and as a matter of form, of common courtesy, he asks me to go with him. I try to reason and convince myself that he doesn't mean what he says, but I can't help feeling sincerely happy when once in a while I do accept his invitation. But the moment we leave the house I realize my mistake. Then he pretends to be in high spirits, but I know all the time he is acting a part; and when we come home again he lets drop without fail some hint about having lost his liberty; he says he took me out in a moment of weakness, that he really wanted to be alone.

GUeRIN [_interrupting_]. And when he does go out alone?

FRANcOISE. Then I am most unhappy; I'm in torment for hours and hours. I wonder where he can be, and then I'm afraid he won't come back at all.

When the door opens, when I hear him come in, I'm so happy I pay no attention to what he tells me. But I made a solemn vow never to show the least sign of jealousy. My face is always tranquil, and what I say to him never betrays what I feel. I never knowingly betray myself, but his taking way, his tenderness, soon make me confess every fear; then he turns round and, using my own confession as a weapon, shows me how wrong I am to be afraid and suspicious. And when sometimes I say nothing to him, even when he tries to make me confess, he punishes me most severely by telling me stories of his affairs, narrow escapes, and all his temptations. He once told me about an old mistress of his, whom he had just seen, a very clever woman, who was never jealous! Or else he comes in so late that I must be glad, for if he came in later, it would have been all night! He tells me he had some splendid opportunity, and had to give it up! A thousand things like that! He seems to delight in making me suspect and doubt him!

GUeRIN. Poor little woman!

FRANcOISE. That's my life; as for my happiness, it exists from day to day. [_With determination._] If I only had the right to be unhappy! But I must always smile, I must be happy, not only in his presence, but to the very depths of my soul! So that he may deceive me without the least remorse! It is his pleasure!

[_She bursts into tears._]

GUeRIN [_rising_]. The selfish brute!

FRANcOISE. Isn't my suffering a reproach to him?

GUeRIN. I pity you, Madame, and I think I understand you better than any one else. I have trouble not unlike your own; perhaps greater, troubles for which there is no consolation.

FRANcOISE. If you understand me, Monsieur, advise me! I need you!

GUeRIN [_startled back into reality_]. Me, help you? I? [_Aside._] No!

FRANcOISE. You spoke of your friends.h.i.+p. The time has come, prove that it is genuine!

GUeRIN. Madame, why did I ever see you? Why did I listen to you?

FRANcOISE. What have you to regret?

GUeRIN. Nothing, Madame, nothing.

FRANcOISE. Explain yourself, Monsieur. You--you make me afraid!

GUeRIN [_trying to calm her suspicions_]. Don't cry like that! There is no reason why you should behave that way! Your husband doesn't love you as he ought, but he does love you. You are jealous, that's what's troubling you. But for that matter, why should he deceive you? That would be too unjust.

FRANcOISE [_excited_]. Too unjust! You are right, Monsieur! No matter how cynical, how blase a man may be, isn't it his duty, his sacred duty, to say to himself, "I have found a good and true woman in this world of deceptions; she is a woman who adores me, who is only too ready to invent any excuse for me! She bears my name and honors it; no matter what I do, she is always true, of that I am positive. I am always foremost in her thoughts, and I shall be her only love." When a man can say all that, Monsieur, isn't that real, true happiness?

GUeRIN [_sobbing_]. Yes--that is happiness!

FRANcOISE. You are crying! [_A pause._]

GUeRIN. My wife--deceived me!

FRANcOISE. Oh! [_A pause._] Marcel--

GUeRIN. Your happiness is in no danger! Yesterday I found some old letters, in a desk--old letters--that was all! You weren't his wife at the time. It's ancient history.

FRANcOISE [_aside_]. Who knows?

GUeRIN. Forgive me, Madame; your troubles remind me of my own. When you told of the happiness you still have to give, I couldn't help thinking of what I had lost!

FRANcOISE. So you have come to fight a duel with my husband?

GUeRIN. Madame--

FRANcOISE. You are going to fight him? Answer me.

GUeRIN. My life is a wreck now--I must--

FRANcOISE. I don't ask you to forget; Monsieur--

GUeRIN. Don't you think I have a right?

FRANcOISE. Stop!

GUeRIN. I shall not try to kill him. You love him too much! I couldn't do it now. In striking him I should be injuring you, and you don't deserve to suffer; you have betrayed no one. The happiness you have just taught me to know is as sacred and inviolable as my honor, my unhappiness. I shall not seek revenge.

FRANcOISE [_gratefully_]. Oh, Monsieur.

GUeRIN. I am willing he should live, because he is so dear, so necessary to you. Keep him. If he wants to spoil your happiness, his be the blame!

I shall not do it. It would be sacrilege. Good-by, Madame, good-by.

[_Guerin goes out, back, Francoise falls into a chair, sobbing._]

[_Enter Marcel by the little door._]

MARCEL [_aside, with a melancholy air_]. Refused to see me!

FRANcOISE [_distinctly_]. Oh, it's you!

MARCEL [_good-humoredly_]. Yes, it's I. [_A pause. He goes toward her._]

You have been crying! Have you seen Guerin? He's been here!

FRANcOISE. Marcel!

MARCEL. Did he dare tell you!

FRANcOISE. You won't see any more of him.

MARCEL [_astounded_]. He's not going to fight?

FRANcOISE. He refuses.