The Goddess of Reason 30
YVETTE
This mantle blue, these oak leaves in my hair,
These sandals and this spear, this tunic white,
The wreathèd car, the music and the song!
All, all a mockery, unless, unless—
There is a thing I want so badly, I!
A COMMISSIONER
It is thine!
THE CROWD
Thine! Thine! Yvette Charruel!
YVETTE
Ah, I would play the goddess, that I would!
I’d have my pardon like a Breton saint,
And what I bound, it should be bound indeed!
And what I loosed, it should be loosed indeed!
A COMMISSIONER
Fast bind or freely loose, thy surety, I!
ANOTHER
Command me, and the silver moon I’ll bring thee!
YVETTE
With what a sudden glory shines the sun!
It gilds the streets, it gilds the running Loire!
And from them both the blood-stains fade away!
Ah, let us rest from death in Nantes to-day,
And think how falls the eve in Bethlehem!—
There is a little village that I know,
A hungry village by a hungry sea,
As worn and grey as any calvary!
The hungry shadows ate the sunshine up;
The children cried, the women wailed at morn;
The very Christ looked hungry on the Cross;
When lo! a miracle! for suddenly
The starving, haggard folk began to laugh,
The tender green put forth, the flowers bloomed,
Blue shone the sky, the lark sang overhead,
And mild the face of Christ and heavenly kind!
The little village had its fill of bread,
Yea, wine it drank, and cheerful breath it drew,
And, by the well, of this strange plenty talked,
Of tolls withdrawn, of perfect friendliness!
[_She moves from before_ DE VARDES.
And then it blessed the man who gave it bread,
Who had a heart to feel with wretchedness,
And a strong arm to drive the hunger forth
As Arthur drove the giants from the land!
O men of Nantes! you’ll keep your oath to me!
In Nantes to-day ‘tis mine to loose or bind!—
I loose this man—
LALAIN
Out, witch!
(_To_ DE VARDES.) Think not, think not,
René de Vardes, that she shall save thee thus!—
Mine, mine she is, she shall be, soul and all!
DE VARDES
Rémond Lalain—
LALAIN (_to the mob_)
It is an emigré!
A traitor and a black Aristocrat,
The ci-devant De Vardes!
THE CROWD
De Vardes! De Vardes!
YVETTE
Rémond Lalain, stand from my path, I say!
(_To the crowd._) Not emigré, but prisoner in La Force!
Not traitor! That’s a wretch who doth betray!
Aristocrat?—Who chooseth his birth star?
Crieth at Life’s gate, “Of such an house I’m heir!”
But in we drift from the great sea without;
A current takes us—“Of my house are ye!”
So you, so I, so this citoyen here,
Rémond Lalain, who is Lalain by chance,
And might have been Capet or Mirabeau!
And so this other, standing gravely there
Alone, a man alone upon a rock,
And the tide mounts!—The current swept him there!
Another drift, and he had been Lalain,
Orator and idol of the Jacobins!—
Names! They are the mist through which the man
Is scarce discerned, the sea-drift hides the pearl.
Ghosts of the past the present spurns! Dead leaves!
Masks for the pauper and the prince! Mere names!
I would not have them rule my spirit thus!—
Aristocrat! I know not, but I know
The man’s been known to lift a peasant’s load
And gather seaweed with a fisher’s child!
A BRETON SAILOR
‘Tis true! And in my boat he’s been with me,
When Ahès and the storm made black the sea!
A PEASANT
He walked beside me in the field and told
Name of the silver star above the fold!
A SOLDIER
I was a red Hussar! He fought like Mars.
Eh, my Colonel—
A WOMAN
We know, we Morbec folk!
_Vive Baron René!_
SÉRAPHINE
Eh, eh, monseigneur!
YVETTE
Nantes! Nantes! you’ll keep the oath you’ve made to me!
My fairing I shall have this holiday,
And what I bind it shall be bound indeed,
And what I loose is loosed to me for aye!
I ask one gift—I shall not ask again!
This is my hour, no other hour I want.
I ask one life—is’t mine, is’t mine, Citoyens?
THE CROWD
Yes, yes! ‘Tis thine!
A COMMISSIONER
Thine, Goddess!
(_To_ DE VARDES.) Citoyen, thou art free!
LALAIN
Diable!
YVETTE
I’m faint.—
SÉRAPHINE
Saint Iguinou! What of the pillar there?
A COMMISSIONER
Make way for the Citoyen Vardes!
THE CROWD
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