The Goddess of Reason 3
COUNT LOUIS (_to_ GRÉGOIRE)
Was that Rémond Lalain?
GRÉGOIRE
It was, Monsieur le Comte.
COUNT LOUIS
Ah, scélérat!
THE VIDAME
The talked-of Deputy for Vannes?
LA FÔRET
Tribune
Eloquent as Antony!
COUNT LOUIS
Demagogue!
THE ENGLISHMAN
I heard him in the Jacobins. He spoke,
And then they went and tore a palace down!
COUNT LOUIS
Stucco!
_Enter, laughing_, MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI, MELIPARS DE
L’ORIENT, _and_ CAPTAIN FAUQUEMONT DE BUC. DE
L’ORIENT _has in his hand a paper of verses_.
My daughter and De L’Orient,
Captain Fauquemont de Buc!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Messieurs, mesdames!
The poet and his verses!
THE COMPANY
Ah, verses!
COUNT LOUIS
Who is the fair, Monsieur de L’Orient?
Lalage or Laïs or little Fleurette?
Men sang of Célestine when I was young,—
Ah, Célestine, behind thy white rose tree!
DE L’ORIENT
I do not sing of love, Monsieur le Comte!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
He sings of this day—
DE BUC
The Eve of Saint John.
DE L’ORIENT
It is a Song of Welcome to De Vardes!
DE BUC
But yesterday poor Colonel of Hussars!
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
To-day Monsieur the Baron of Morbec!
DE L’ORIENT
_Mars to Bellona leaves the tented field._
DE BUC
That’s Bouillé at Metz! Kling! rang our spurs—
De Vardes’ and mine—from Verdun to Morbec!
DE L’ORIENT
_The warrior hastens to his native weald._
COUNT LOUIS
Would I might see again Henri de Vardes!
DE BUC
It would affright you, sir! The man is dead.
COUNT LOUIS
Ah, while he lived it was as did become
A nobleman of France and Brittany!
He was my friend; together we were young!
From dawn to dusk, from dusk to dawn again,
We searched for pleasure as for buried gold,
And found it, too, in days when we were young!
From every flint we struck the golden sparks,
We plucked the thistle as we plucked the rose,
And battle gave for every star that shone!
O nymphs that laughing fled while we pursued!
O music that was made when we were young!
O gold we won and duels that we fought!
_On guard, monsieur, on guard! Sa! sa! A touch!
What shall we drink? Where shall we dine? Ma foi!
There’s a melting eye at the Golden Crown!
The Angel pours a Burgundy divine!
Come, come, the quarrel’s o’er! So, arm in arm!_
O worlds we lost and won when we were young!
O lips we kissed within the jasmine bower!
O sirens singing in the clear moonlight!—
With Bacchus we drank, with Apollo loved,
With Actæon hunted when we were young!
The wax-lights burned with softer lustre then.
The music was more rich when we were young.
Violet was the perfume for hair powder,
Ruffles were point and buckles were brilliant
And lords were lords in the old land of France!
We did what we would, and _lettres de cachet_,
Like cooing doves they fluttered from our hands!
DE L’ORIENT
_Our tribute take, last of a noble line!_
COUNT LOUIS
Women! There will come no more such women!
DE L’ORIENT
_The laurel and the empress rose we twine._
COUNT LOUIS
And Henri’s gone! And now his cousin reigns,—
René de Vardes that hath been years away!
The King is dead. Well, well, long live the King!
They say he’s brave as Crillon, handsome too,
With that _bel air_ that no De Vardes’s without!
_Enter_ MME. DE VAUCOURT _followed by the_ ABBÉ JEAN DE
BARBASAN.
MLLE. DE CHÂTEAU-GUI
Monsieur l’Abbé!
DE BUC
Madame de Vaucourt!
MME. DE VAUCOURT (_with outspread hands_)
You’ve heard? Last night they strove to burn Morbec!
ALL
What?
MME. DE VAUCOURT
The peasants!
COUNT LOUIS
Again!
DE BUC
Ah, I am vexed.
Messieurs, mesdames, the Baron of Morbec
Silence enjoined, or the tale I’d have told!
The abbé is so bold—
THE ABBÉ
De Buc’s so proud!
And just because he brought us help from Vannes!
The red Hussars to hive the bees again!
THE ENGLISHMAN
The seigneur and his peasants are at odds?
THE ABBÉ
Slightly!
COUNT LOUIS (_complacently_)
Henri was hated! Hate descends
With the land.
DE L’ORIENT
There is a girl of these parts—
COUNT LOUIS
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