The Goddess of Reason 8

The Goddess of Reason 8

THE MARQUISE

 

Would I have fled?

 

DE VARDES

 

Why, then, without doubt

It was Vivien! But yet do you know

‘Tis the Eve of Saint John, and here, last night,

I dreamed that I saw my dream again!

 

[_The hand and arm of the statue fall, broken, to the

ground at the feet of_ THE MARQUISE.

 

THE MARQUISE

 

Ah!

 

DE VARDES (_pushes the marble aside with his foot_)

 

It is nothing! The stone was cracked last night.

Some crack-brained peasant had no better mark!

 

THE MARQUISE

 

‘Tis a _présigne_!—I feel it.—

 

DE VARDES

 

You shudder!

 

THE MARQUISE

 

One trod near my grave! I’m suddenly cold!

 

DE VARDES

 

The sun never shines on this terrace!

 

THE MARQUISE

 

No!

‘Twas an air from the Forest of Paimpont

Came over me!

 

[_Voices within._ DE L’ORIENT _sings_.

 

DE L’ORIENT

 

_In Ys they did rejoice,

In Ys the wine was free;

The Ocean lent its voice

Unto that revelry!_

 

THE MARQUISE

 

Oh, come away!

Let us find the violins and the sun!

There are other woods than Paimpont. Come away!

 

[_Exeunt_ DE VARDES _and_ THE MARQUISE.

 

YVETTE (_leaves the shadow of the statue_)

 

‘Twas he! That horseman who did waken me

That Saint John’s Eve I strayed in Paimpont Wood!

O Our Lady—

 

SÉRAPHINE (_from the statue_)

 

Saint Yves! There is bread!

 

[YVETTE _takes from the table a loaf of bread and

throws it to_ SÉRAPHINE, _who springs upon it like a

famished wolf_.

 

Ah—h—h!

 

[_Setting her teeth in the loaf._

 

[YVETTE, _about to lay her hand upon another round of

bread, sees the fan lying upon the cloth. She leaves

the bread and takes up the fan. It opens in her hand._

 

YVETTE

 

Oh!—

 

[_She sits in the great chair and waves the fan slowly

to and fro._

 

Were I a lady fair and free,

I would powder my hair with dust of gold,

I would clasp a necklace around my throat,

Of jewels rare, and a gown I would wear,

Blue silk like Our Lady of Toute Remède!

My shoes should be made of golden stuff,

And a broidered glove should dress my hand,

My hand so white that a lord might kiss!

I would spin fine flax from a silver wheel,

I would weave a web for my bridal sheets,

I would sing of King Gradlon under the sea,

Were I a lady fair and free!

 

_Enter_ GRÉGOIRE.

 

SÉRAPHINE (_from the statue_)

 

Yvette!

Yvette!

 

YVETTE

 

Peace, peace!

 

GRÉGOIRE

 

What have you there?

 

YVETTE

 

A fan.

So long I’ve wanted one!

 

GRÉGOIRE

 

A fan, forsooth!

You cannot eat a fan, drink it, wear it!

 

YVETTE

 

I would look on’t.

One day at Vannes the deputy’s sister

Showed me a fan, but it was not like this!

Oh, not like this with these wreaths of roses,

These painted clouds, this fairy ship!

 

GRÉGOIRE

 

The price

Would keep a peasant from starvation!

And belike it fell from the lifted hand

Of Madame la Marquise de Blanchefôret!

 

[_The fan breaks in_ YVETTE’S _hand_.

 

SÉRAPHINE (_leaving the statue_)

 

Thou evil-starred!

 

YVETTE

 

What have I done?

 

GRÉGOIRE

 

Diantre!

Now you will be beaten as well as hanged!

 

YVETTE

 

She called us miserable brigands!

 

_Enter_ DE VARDES.

 

SÉRAPHINE

 

Saint Yves! Saint Hervé! Saint Herbot!

 

DE VARDES (_to_ GRÉGOIRE)

 

Voices?

 

GRÉGOIRE

 

Monseigneur?

 

DE VARDES

 

The fan of Madame la Marquise.

 

GRÉGOIRE

 

Monseigneur?

 

DE VARDES (_perceiving_ YVETTE _and_ SÉRAPHINE)

 

What will you have, good people?