The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda - LightNovelsOnl.com
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DIDIER.
True!
But why this hesitation? [_Going back to her._ Can't you feel The ecstasy of being, each to each, a world, A country, heaven; in some deserted spot To hide a happiness kings could not buy.
MARION.
It would be heaven!
DIDIER.
Will you have it? Come!
MARION.
[_Aside._] Accursed woman! [_Aloud._] No, it cannot be.
[_She tears herself from out his arms, and falls on the armchair._
DIDIER (_freezingly_).
The offer was not generous, I know.
You've answered me. I'll speak of it no more!
Good-by!
MARION. (_aside_).
Alack, the day I pleased him! [_Aloud._] Stay!
I'll tell you. You have hurt me to the soul.
I will explain--
DIDIER (_coldly_).
What were you reading, madame, When I came?
[_Takes the book from the table and reads._
"To Marion de Lorme.
Love's Garland!" Yes, the beauty of the day!
[_Throwing the book violently to the floor._
Vile creature! a dishonor to her s.e.x!
MARION. (_trembling_).
But--she--
DIDIER.
What are you doing with such books?
How came they here?
MARION. (_inaudibly, and looking down_).
They came by chance.
DIDIER.
Do you-- You who have eyes so pure, a brow so chaste-- Do you know what she is--this woman? Well, She's beautiful in body, and deformed In soul! A Phryne, selling everywhere, To every man, her love, which is an insult, An infamy!
MARION (_her head in her hands_).
My G.o.d!
[_A noise of footsteps, a clas.h.i.+ng of swords outside, and cries._
VOICE IN THE STREET.
Help! Murder! Help!
DIDIER (_surprised_).
What noise is that out there upon the square?
[_Cries continue._
VOICE IN THE STREET.
Help! Murder! Help!
DIDIER (_looking from the balcony_).
They're killing some one! Ha!
[_He takes his sword and step's over the bal.u.s.trade. Marion rises, runs to him and tries to hold him back by his cloak._
MARION.
Don't, Didier, if you love me! They'll kill you!
Don't go!
DIDIER (_jumping down into the street_).
He is the one they're going to kill!
Poor man! [_Outside, to combatants._
Stand off! Hold firmly, sir, and pus.h.!.+
[_Clas.h.i.+ng of swords._ There, wretch!
[_Noise of swords, voices, and footsteps._
