The Goddess of Reason 15
DE VARDES
Indeed!
YVETTE
Philosophy:
Man is born free—but who will break his chains?
DE VARDES
It is a question truly!
YVETTE
Theology:
God is the father of us all—and yet
I think I know how feels an orphan child!
DE VARDES
Defeat of France, Rousseau, and Modern Doubt!
And hast thou learnt all this in convent walls?
YVETTE
No!
DE VARDES
They are good to thee, the Sisters all?
YVETTE
Monseigneur, yes!
DE VARDES
When I did place thee here
After that day thou didst not burn Morbec!
I gave the Reverend Mother straitest charge,—
This convent oweth much to the De Vardes.
They have enriched it oft, and it in turn
Refuge hath given unto noble dames.
Oft did she sit beside the fountain there,
That Duchess Jeanne whose look thou wearest now!
YVETTE
Oh!—
DE VARDES
How mournfully thou sighest! Yet
How glorious are thine eyes this lovely day!
Thou’rt well, and thou art happy, art thou not?
YVETTE
There is no hunger here, no cold, no care!
I ever wished to learn and here I learn,
Here where the Duchess Jeanne did sit forlorn,—
And then I pray within the chapel there,
And then I count the stars as they are lit,—
And then I think of all the lights of Nantes!
DE VARDES
It hath been many days I’ve been away,
To Morbec and to Vannes and to Vitré.
YVETTE
I thought that thou wouldst never come again!
DE VARDES
Didst think the night had ceased to long for day?
Didst think the tide no more obeyed the moon?
The reed no longer bowed unto the wind?
YVETTE
Ah, do not jest!—There’s blood upon thy coat!
DE VARDES
‘Tis nothing!—We have had hard words to-day,
My men and I!
[_He gazes around at the quiet garden._
O holy peace! O balm!
O green and sunny quietude! Outside
There’s tumult, heat, confusion, enmity!
Here is a haven, here ‘tis blissful sweet!
[_They sit upon the marge of the fountain._
All is dismay and doubt in France to-day.
With troubled eyes men question destiny!
Outside I front the storm as best I may,
But here is anchorage profound and fair—
There fruit trees drifting bloom, this fountain marge!
YVETTE
I better love the wild and desolate shore!
DE VARDES
What is that ribbon closed within thy hand?
[_Yvette opens her hand and shows a ribbon cockade._
The tricolour!
YVETTE
Wilt thou not wear it?
DE VARDES
No!
YVETTE
It was my favour—Fare you well, monsieur!
DE VARDES
I might not wear that ribbon, no, not if
It were thy favour truly, Vivien!
Ah, when will cease this discord of our minds?
Wilt thou forever be a Jacobin?
[_A distant bugle, followed by a roll of drums and
martial music._
YVETTE
_Aux armes, Citoyens!
Formez vos bataillons!_
DE VARDES
Where learned’st thou the Marseillaise?
YVETTE
‘Tis in the air! Oh, on these moonlight nights
I dream of France and how he spoke to me
Of all the wrongs of France we should redress!
DE VARDES
Who spoke to thee?
YVETTE
Rémond Lalain.
DE VARDES
Rémond Lalain was once my closest friend.
He travels now a dark and winding way!
YVETTE
Where is she now, that lady bright and fair
Who’s named La Belle Marquise in Morbihan?
DE VARDES
She is in Nantes.
YVETTE
Ah!—Is she not fair?
DE VARDES
Most fair.
YVETTE
And nobly born?
DE VARDES
And nobly born.
YVETTE
Alas!
_Enter_ SISTER BENEDICTA.
SISTER BENEDICTA
Monsieur le Baron de Morbec,—
A courier, in haste, foam-flecked and spent,
Demands to speak with you.
DE VARDES
What tidings now?
Ill news like ravens to a cumbered field!
I come, my Sister!
(_To_ Yvette.) I’ll return.
[_Exeunt_ DE VARDES _and_ SISTER BENEDICTA.
YVETTE
Alas!
She is in Nantes! He sees her every day.
What is this pain that’s tearing at my heart?
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