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YVETTE
I am coming.
[_She descends the stair. Men and women clutch her
and thrust her forward to the bar._
I am here!
I am Yvette, called Right of the Seigneur.
My mother was the peasant girl, Yvonne;
My father was the Baron of Morbec.
I am tired of _Ça ira, Carmagnole_,
I would sleep with the Loire for my pillow!
THE CROWD
Ah—h—h!
LALAIN
A head beside thine on that pillow!
DE VARDES
Mon Dieu!
YVETTE
Perhaps, Citoyen!
A VOICE
I denounce
Yvette Charruel!
OTHER VOICES
And I!—And I!—And I!
_CURTAIN_
SCENE II
_The banks of the Loire. Night. Branching trees; between their
trunks is seen the river. There is a full moon, but a drifting
mist obscures the scene. In the background, upon the river bank,
dimly appears a crowd of the condemned, men, women, and children,
soldiers and executioners of the Company of Marat. From this
throng comes a low, continued, confused sound of command,
entreaty, distress, and lamentation. In the foreground the
condemned form into groups or move singly to and fro._
_Enter_ YVETTE _from the shadow of the trees_.
A SOLDIER (_following her_)
Holà! Give us not the slip!
YVETTE
Thou soldier!
There is no gold could make me flee this place!
How long dost think before they throw me in?
THE SOLDIER
A little while!
[_He returns to the river._ YVETTE _sits upon the
earth at the foot of a tree, and with her chin upon
her hand watches those who come and go_.
YVETTE
He comes not yet! O Our Lady!
I would not drown till I have seen him once!
A WOMAN (_passing with a man_)
How shines the moon! Did we not always say,
We two would die by such a moon as this?
Rememberest thou—
THE MAN
Rememberest thou that night,
That Versailles night within the Orangerie?
THE WOMAN
Rememberest thou—
[_They pass._
A SOLDIER (_calling to another_)
To bind them hand and foot,
We need more rope!
THE SECOND SOLDIER
Just thrust them in the stream
With bayonets!
A CRY FROM THE RIVER
Miséricorde!
[_A child with flowers in her hand speaks to_ YVETTE.
THE CHILD
I’m tired—
YVETTE
Rest here, thou little bird!
THE CHILD
My name’s Aimée.
I did not know that flowers grew at night.
Is that the moon?
YVETTE
It is the silver moon!
Aimée’s a pretty name. My name’s Yvette.
THE CHILD
Kiss me, Yvette—I’ll look now for Ursule!
YVETTE
Who is Ursule?
THE CHILD
My _bonne_—Adieu, Yvette!
[_The child passes on._
VOICES FROM THE RIVER
Hélas! Hélas! Miséricorde!
[_A nun advances from the shadow. She is in ecstasy,
her hands clasped, her eyes raised._
THE NUN
The skies open: heaven appears!
Heaven my home!
O for the wings of the dove,
The eagle’s speed!
The gates of pearl are opening,
My harp is strung.
The Virgins come to meet me.
Sainte Agnès, Sainte Claire!
Our Lady stoops to greet me.
My father smiles.
My brothers two I see there!
Who is that one
Who kneels and to me beckons?
‘Tis he I loved!
What radiance grows, what splendour?
Who waiting stands?
Light! O Light! O Christ my Lord!
Heaven my home!
O Love! O Death, come quickly!
I would be gone!
[_A soldier touches her on the arm._
THE SOLDIER
Thy time it is!
[_The nun regards him with a radiant and dazzling
smile, then turns and moves swiftly before him to the
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