Valsin.She is also a wit. Susceptible henchman, concentrate your thoughts upon domesticity. In this presence remember your wife!Eloise[peremptorily]. Dismiss that person. I have something to say to you.Valsin[wiping his eyes]. Dossonville, you are not required. We are going to be sentimental, and heaven knows you are not the moon. In fact, you are a fat old man. Exit, obesity! Go somewhere and think about your children. Flit, whale!Dossonville[rising]. Perfectly, my chieftain. [He goes to the broken door.]Eloise[tapping the floor with her shoe]. Out of hearing!Valsin.The floor below.Dossonville.Well understood. Perfectly, perfectly! [He goes out through the hallway; disappears, chuckling grossly. There are some moments of silence within the room, while he is heard clumping down a flight of stairs; thenValsinturns toEloisewith burlesque ardor.]Valsin."Alone at last!"Eloise[maintaining her composure]. Rabbit!Valsin[dropping into the chair at the desk, with mock dejection]. Repulsed at the outset! Ah, Citizeness, there were moments on the journey from Paris when I thought I detected a certain kindness in your glances at the lonely stranger.Eloise[folding her arms]. You are to withdraw your soldiers,countersign the "permit," and allow my friends to embark at once.Valsin[with solemnity]. Do you give it as an order, Citizeness?Eloise.I do. You will receive suitable political advancement.Valsin[in a choked voice]. You mean as a—a reward?Eloise[haughtily].Iguarantee that you shall receive it! [He looks at her strangely; then, with a low moan, presses his hand to his side, seeming upon the point of a dangerous seizure.]Valsin[managing to speak]. I can only beg you to spare me. You have me at your mercy.Eloise[swelling]. It is well for you that you understand that!Valsin[shaking his hand ruefully]. Yes; you see I have a bad liver: it may become permanently enlarged. Laughter is my great danger.Eloise[crying out with rage].Oh!Valsin[dolorously]. I have continually to remind myself that I am no longer in the first flush of youth.Eloise.Idiot! Do you not know who I am!Valsin.You? Oh yes—[He checks himself abruptly; looks at her with brief intensity; turns his eyes away, half closing them in quick meditation; smiles, as upon some secret pleasantry, and proceeds briskly.] Oh yes, yes, I know who you are.Eloise[beginning haughtily]. Then you—Valsin[at once cutting her off]. As to your name, I do not say. Names at best are details; and your own is a detail that could hardly be thought to matter.Whatyou are is obvious: you joined Louis and his sister in Paris at the barriers, and traveled with them as "Marie Balsage," a sister. You might save us a little trouble by giving us your real name; you will probably refuse, and the police will have to look it up when I take you back to Paris. Frankly, you are of no importance to us, though of course we'll send you to the Tribunal. No doubt you are a poor relative of the Valny-Cheraults, or, perhaps, you may have been a governess in the Laseyne family, or—Eloise[under her breath]. Idiot! Idiot!Valsin[with subterranean enjoyment, watching her sidelong].Or the good-looking wife of some faithful retainer of the Emigrant's, perhaps.Eloise[with a shrill laugh]. Does the Committee of Public Safety betray the same intelligence in the appointment of all its agents? [Violently.] Imbecile, I—Valsin[quickly raising his voice to check her]. You are of no importance, I tell you! [Changing his tone.] Of course I mean politically. [With broad gallantry.] Otherwise, I am the first to admit extreme susceptibility. I saw that you observed it on the way—at the taverns, in the diligence, at the posting-houses, at—Eloise[with serenity]. Yes. I am accustomed to oglers.Valsin.Alas, I believe you! My unfortunate sex is but too responsive.Eloise[gasping]. "Responsive"—Oh!Valsin[indulgently]. Let us return to the safer subject. Presently I shall arrest those people in the other room and, regretfully, you too. But first I pamper myself; I chat; I have an attractive woman to listen. In the matter of the arrest, I delay my fire; I do not flash in the pan, but I lengthen my fuse. Why? For the same reason that when I was a little boy and had something good to eat, I always first paid it the compliments of an epicure. I looked at it a long while. I played with it. Then—I devoured it! I am still like that. And Louis yonder is good to eat, because I happen not to love him. However, I should mention that I doubt if he could recall either myself or the circumstance which annoyed me; some episodes are sometimes so little to certain people and so significant to certain other people. [He smiles, stretching himself luxuriously in his chair.] Behold me, Citizeness! I am explained. I am indulging my humor: I play with my cake. Let us see into what curious little figures I can twist it.Eloise.Idiot!Valsin[pleasantly]. I have lost count, but I think that is the sixth idiot you have called me. Aha, it is only history, which one admires for repeating itself. Good! Let us march. I shall play—[He picks up the "permit" from the desk, studies it absently, and looks whimsically at her over his shoulder, continuing:] I shall play with—with all four of you.Eloise[impulsively]. Four?Valsin.I am not easy to deceive; there are four of you here.Eloise[staring]. So?Valsin.Louis brought you and his sister from Paris: a party of three. This "permit" which he forged is for four; the original three and the woman you mentioned a while ago, Eloise d'Anville. Hence she must have joined you here. The deduction is plain: there are three people in that room: the Emigrant, his sister, and this Eloise d'Anville. To the trained mind such reasoning is simple.Eloise[elated]. Perfectly!Valsin[with an air of cunning]. Nothing escapes me. You see that.Eloise.At first glance! I make you my most profound compliments. Sir, you are an eagle!Valsin[smugly]. Thanks. Now, then, pretty governess, you thought this d'Anville might be able to help you. What put that in your head?Eloise[with severity]. Do you pretend not to know what she is?Valsin.A heroine I have had the misfortune never to encounter. But I am informed of her character and history.Eloise[sternly]. Then you understand that even the Agent of the National Committee risks his head if he dares touch people she chooses to protect.Valsin[extending his hand in plaintive appeal]. Be generous to my opacity. How couldsheprotect anybody?Eloise[with condescension]. She has earned the gratitude—Valsin.Of whom?Eloise[superbly]. Of the Nation!Valsin[breaking out again]. Ha, ha, ha! [Clutching at his side.] Pardon, oh, pardon, liver of mine. I must not die; my life is still useful.Eloise[persisting stormily]. Of the People, stupidity! Of the whole People, dolt! Of France, blockhead!Valsin[with a violent effort, conquering his hilarity]. There! I am saved. Let us be solemn, my child; it is better for my malady. You are still so young that one can instruct you that individuals are rarely grateful; "the People," never. What you call "the People" means folk who are not always sure of their next meal; therefore their great political andpatriotic question is the cost of food. Their heroes are the champions who are going to make it cheaper; and when these champions fail them or cease to be useful to them, then they either forget these poor champions—or eat them. Let us hear what your Eloise d'Anville has done to earn the reward of being forgotten instead of eaten.Eloise[her lips quivering]. She surrendered her property voluntarily. She gave up all she owned to the Nation.Valsin[genially]. And immediately went to live with her relatives in great luxury.Eloise[choking]. The Republic will protect her. She gave her whole estate—Valsin.And the order for its confiscation was already written when she did it.Eloise[passionately]. Ah—liar!Valsin[smiling]. I have seen the order. [She leans against the wall, breathing heavily. He goes on, smoothly.] Yes, this martyr "gave" us her property; but one hears that she went to the opera just the same and wore more jewels than ever, and lived richly upon the Laseynes and Valny-Cheraults, untiltheywere confiscated. Why, all the world knows about this woman; and let me tell you, to your credit, my governess, I think you have a charitable heart: you are the only person I ever heard speak kindly of her.Eloise[setting her teeth]. Venom!Valsin[observing her slyly]. It is with difficulty I am restraining my curiosity to see her—also to hear her!—when she learns of her proscription by a grateful Republic.Eloise[with shrill mockery]. Proscribed? Eloise d'Anville proscribed? Your inventions should be more plausible, Goodman Spy! Iknewyou were lying—Valsin[smiling]. You do not believe—Eloise[proudly]. Eloise d'Anville is a known Girondist. The Gironde is the real power in France.Valsin[mildly]. That party has fallen.Eloise[with fire]. Not far! It will revive.Valsin.Pardon, Citizeness, but you are behind the times, and they are very fast nowadays—the times. The Gironde is dead.Eloise[ominously]. It may surviveyou, my friend. Take care!Valsin[unimpressed]. The Gironde had a grand façade, and that was all. It was a party composed of amateurs and orators; and of course there were some noisy camp-followers and a few comic-opera vivandières, such as this d'Anville. In short, the Gironde looked enormous because it was hollow. It was like a pie that is all crust. We have tapped the crust—with a knife, Citizeness. There is nothing left.Eloise[contemptuously]. You say so. Nevertheless, the Rolands—Valsin[gravely]. Roland was found in a field yesterday; he had killed himself. His wife was guillotined the day after you left Paris. Every one of their political friends is proscribed.Eloise[shaking as with bitter cold]. It is a lie! Not Eloise d'Anville!Valsin[rising]. Would you like to see the warrant for her arrest? [He takes a packet of documents from his breast pocket, selects one, and spreads it open before her.] Let me read you her description: "Eloise d'Anville, aristocrat. Figure, comely. Complexion, blond. Eyes, dark blue. Nose, straight. Mouth, wide—"Eloise[in a burst of passion, striking the warrant a violent blow with her clenched fist]. Let them dare! [Beside herself, she strikes again, tearing the paper from his grasp. She stamps upon it.] Let them dare, I say!Valsin[picking up the warrant]. Dare to say her mouth is wide?Eloise[cyclonic]. Dare to arrest her!Valsin.It does seem a pity. [He folds the warrant slowly and replaces it in his pocket.] Yes, a great pity. She was the one amusing thing in all this somberness. She will be missed. The Revolution will lack its joke.Eloise[recoiling, her passion exhausted]. Ah, infamy! [She turns from him, covering her face with her hands.]Valsin[with a soothing gesture]. Being only her friend, you speak mildly. The d'Anville herself would call it blasphemy.Eloise[with difficulty]. She is—so vain—then?Valsin[lightly]. Oh, a type—an actress.Eloise[her back to him]. How do you know? You said—Valsin.That I had not encountered her. [Glibly.] One knows best the people one has never seen. Intimacy confusesjudgment. I confess to that amount of hatred for the former Marquis de Valny-Cherault that I take as great an interest in all that concerns him as if I loved him. And the little d'Anville concerns him—yes, almost one would say, consumes him. The unfortunate man is said to be so blindly faithful that he can speak her name without laughing.Eloise[stunned]. Oh!Valsin[going on, cheerily]. No one else can do that, Citizeness. Jacobins, Cordeliers, Hébertists, even the shattered relics of the Gironde itself, all alike join in the colossal laughter at this Tricoteuse in Sèvres—this Jeanne d'Arc in rice-powder!Eloise[tragically]. They laugh—and proclaim her an outlaw!Valsin[waving his hand carelessly]. Oh, it is only that we are sweeping up the last remnants of aristocracy, and she goes with the rest—into the dust-heap. She should have remained a royalist; the final spectacle might have had dignity. As it is, she is not of her own class, not of ours: neither fish nor flesh nor—but yes, perhaps, after all, she is a fowl.Eloise[brokenly]. Alas! Homing—with wounded wing! [She sinks into a chair with pathetic grace, her face in her hands.]Valsin[surreptitiously grinning]. Not at all what I meant. [Brutally.] Peacocks don't fly.Eloise[regaining her feet at a bound]. You imitation dandy! You—Valsin[with benevolence]. My dear, your indignation for your friend is chivalrous. It is admirable; but she is not worth it. You do not understand her: you have probably seen her so much that you have never seen her as she is.Eloise[witheringly]. But you, august Zeus, havingneverseen her, will reveal her to me!Valsin[smoothly urbane]. If you have ears. You see, she is not altogether unique, but of a variety known to men who are wise enough to make a study of women.Eloise[snapping out a short, loud laugh in his face]. Pouff!Valsin[unruffled]. I profess myself an apprentice. The science itself is but in its infancy. Women themselves understand very well that they are to be classified, and they fear that we shall perceive it: they do not really wish to be known. Yetit is coming; some day our cyclopedists will have you sorted, classed, and defined with precision; but the d'Alembert of the future will not be a woman, because no woman so disloyal will ever be found. Men have to acquire loyalty to their sex: yours is an instinct. Citizen governess, I will give you a reading of the little d'Anville from this unwritten work. To begin—Eloise[feverishly interested, but affecting languor].Mustyou?Valsin. To Eloise d'Anville the most interesting thing about a rose-bush has always been that Eloise d'Anville could smell it. Moonlight becomes important when it falls upon her face; sunset is worthy when she grows rosy in it. To her mind, the universe was set in motion to be the background for a decoration, and she is the decoration. She believes that the cathedral was built for the fresco. And when a dog interests her, it is because he would look well beside her in a painting. Such dogs have no minds. I refer you to all the dogs in the portraits of Beauties.Eloise[not at all displeased; pretending carelessness]. Ah, you have heard that she is beautiful?Valsin. Far worse: that she is a Beauty. Let nothing ever temptyou, my dear, into setting up in that line. For you are very well-appearing, I assure you; and if you had been surrounded with all the disadvantages of the d'Anville, who knows but that you might have become as famous a Beauty as she? What makes a Beauty is not the sumptuous sculpture alone, but a very peculiar arrogance—not in the least arrogance of mind, my little governess. In this, your d'Anville emerged from childhood full-panoplied indeed; and the feather-head court fell headlong at her feet. It was the fated creature's ruin.Eloise[placidly]. And it is because of her beauty that you drag her to the guillotine?Valsin. Bless you, I merely convey her!Eloise. Tell me, logician, was it not her beauty that inspired her to give her property to the Nation?Valsin. It was.Eloise. What perception! I am faint with admiration. And no doubt it was her beauty that made her a Republican?Valsin. What else?Eloise. Hail, oracle! [She releases an arpeggio of satiric laughter.]Valsin. That laugh is diaphanous. I see you through it, already convinced. [She stops laughing immediately.] Ha! we may proceed. Remark this, governess: a Beauty is the living evidence of man's immortality; the one plain proof that he has a soul.Eloise. It is not so bad then, after all?Valsin. It is utterly bad. But of all people a Beauty is most conscious of her duality. Her whole life is based upon her absolute knowledge that her Self and her body are two. She sacrifices all things to her beauty because her beauty feeds her Self with a dreadful food which it has made her unable to live without.Eloise. My little gentleman, you talk like a sentimental waiter. Your metaphors are all hot from the kitchen.Valsin[nettled]. It is natural; unlike your Eloise, I amreallyof "the People"—and starved much in my youth.Eloise. But, like her, you are still hungry.Valsin. A Beauty is a species of cannibal priestess, my dear. She will make burnt-offerings of her father and her mother, her sisters—her lovers—to her beauty, that it may in turn bring her the food she must have or perish.Eloise.Boum![She snaps her fingers.] And of course she bathes in the blood of little children?Valsin[grimly]. Often.Eloise[averting her gaze from his]. This mysterious food—Valsin. Not at all mysterious. Sensation. There you have it. And that is why Eloise d'Anville is a renegade. You understand perfectly.Eloise. You are too polite. No.Valsin[gaily]. Behold, then! Many women who are not Beauties are beautiful, but in such women you do not always discover beauty at your first glance: it is disclosed with a subtle tardiness. It does not dazzle; it is reluctant; but it grows as you look again and again. You get a little here, a little there, like glimpses of children hiding in a garden. It is shy, and sometimes closed in from you altogether, and then, unexpectedly, this belated loveliness springs into bloom before your very eyes. It retains the capacity of surprise, the vital element of charm. But the Beauty lays all waste before her at a stroke: it is soon over. Thus your Eloise, brought to court, startled Versailles; the sensation was overwhelming. Then Versaillesgot used to her, just as it had to its other prodigies: the fountains were there, the King was there, the d'Anville was there; and naturally, one had seen them; saw them every day—one talked of matters less accepted. That was horrible to Eloise. She had tasted; the appetite, once stirred, was insatiable. At any cost she must henceforth have always the sensation of being a sensation. She must be the pivot of a reeling world. So she went into politics. Ah, Citizeness, there was one man who understood Beauties—not Homer, who wrote of Helen! Romance is gallant by profession, and Homer lied like a poet. For the truth about the Trojan War is that the wise Ulysses made it, not because Paris stole Helen, but because the Trojans were threatening to bring her back.Eloise[unwarily]. Who was the man that understood Beauties?Valsin. Bluebeard. [He crosses the room to the dressing-table, leans his back against it in an easy attitude, his elbows resting upon the top.]Eloise[slowly, a little tremulously]. And so Eloise d'Anville should have her head cut off?Valsin. Well, she thought she was in politics, didn't she? [Suavely.] You may be sure she thoroughly enjoyed her hallucination that she was a great figure in the Revolution—which was cutting off the heads of so many of her relatives and old friends! Don't waste your pity, my dear.Eloise[looking at him fixedly]. Citizen, you must have thought a great deal about my unhappy friend. She might be flattered by so searching an interest.Valsin[negligently]. Not interest in her, governess, but in the Emigrant who cools his heels on the other side of that door, greatly to my enjoyment, waiting my pleasure to arrest him. The poor wretch is the one remaining lover of this girl; faithful because he let his passion for her become a habit; and he will never get over it until he has had possession. She has made him suffer frightfully, but I shall never forgive her for not having dealt him the final stroke. It would have saved me all the bother I have been put to in avenging the injury he did me.Eloise[frowning]. What "final stroke" could she have "dealt" him?Valsin[with sudden vehement intensity]. She could haveloved him! [He strikes the table with his fist.] I see it! I see it! Beauty's husband! [Pounding the table with each exclamation, his voice rising in excitement.] What a vision! This damned, proud, loving Louis, a pomade bearer! A buttoner! An errand-boy to the perfumer's, to the chemist's, to the milliner's! A groom of the powder-closet—Eloise[snatching at the opportunity]. How noisy you are!Valsin[discomfited, apologetically]. You see, it is only so lately that we of "the People" have dared even to whisper. Of course, now that we are free to shout, we overdo it. We let our voices out, we let our joys out, we let our hates out. We let everything out—except our prisoners! [He smiles winningly.]Eloise[slowly]. Do you guess what all this bluster—this tirade upon the wickedness of beauty—makes me think?Valsin. Certainly. Being a woman, you cannot imagine a bitterness which is not "personal."Eloise[laughing]. "Being a woman," I think that the person who has caused you the greatest suffering in your life must be very good-looking!Valsin[calmly]. Quite right. It was precisely this d'Anville. I will tell you. [He sits on the arm of a chair near her, and continues briskly.] I was not always a politician. Six years ago I was a soldier in the Valny regiment of cavalry. That was the old army, that droll army, that royal army; so ridiculous that it was truly majestic. In the Valny regiment we had some rouge-pots for officers—and for a colonel, who but our Emigrant yonder! Aha! we suffered in the ranks, let me tell you, when Eloise had been coy; and one morning it was my turn. You may have heard that she was betrothed first to Louis and later to several others? My martyrdom occurred the day after she had announced to the court her betrothal to the young Duc de Creil, whose father afterward interfered. Louis put us on drill in a hard rain: he had the habit of relieving his chagrin like that. My horse fell, and happened to shower our commander with mud. Louis let out all his rage upon me: it was an excuse, and, naturally, he disliked mud. But I was rolling in it, with my horse: I also disliked it—and I was indiscreet enough to attempt some small reply. That finished my soldiering, Citizeness. He had me tied to a post before the barracks for the rest of the day. I remember withremarkable distinctness that the valets of heaven had neglected to warm the rain for that bath; that it was February; and that Louis's orders had left me nothing to wear upon my back except an unfulsome descriptive placard and my modesty. Altogether it was a disadvantageous position, particularly for the exchange of repartee with such of my comrades as my youthful amiability had not endeared; I have seldom seen more cheerful indifference to bad weather. Inclement skies failed to injure the spectacle: it was truly the great performance of my career; some people would not even go home to eat, and peddlers did a good trade in cakes and wine. In the evening they whipped me conscientiously—my tailor has never since made me an entirely comfortable coat. Then they gave me the place of honor at the head of a procession by torchlight and drummed me out of camp with my placard upon my back. So I adopted another profession: I had a friend who was a doctor in the stables of d'Artois; and I knew horses. He made me his assistant.Eloise[shuddering]. You are a veterinarian!Valsin[smiling]. No; a horse-doctor. It was thus I "retired" from the army and became a politician. My friend was only a horse-doctor himself, but his name happened to be Marat.Eloise. Ah, frightful! [For the first time she begins to feel genuine alarm.]Valsin. The sequence is simple. If Eloise d'Anville hadn't coquetted with young Creil I shouldn't be Commissioner here to-day, settling my account with Louis. I am in his debt for more than the beating: I should tell you there was a woman in my case, a slender lace-maker with dark eyes—very pretty eyes. She had furnished me with a rival, a corporal; and he brought her for a stroll in the rain past our barracks that day when I was attracting so much unsought attention. They waited for the afterpiece, enjoyed a pasty and a bottle of Beaune, and went away laughing cozily together. I did not see my pretty lace-maker again, not for years—not until a month ago. Her corporal was still with her, and it was their turn to be undesirably conspicuous. They were part of a procession passing along the Rue St. Honoré on its way to the Place of the Revolution. They were standing up in the cart; the lace-maker had grown fat, and she was scolding her poor corporal bitterly. What a habit that must have been!—they were not five minutes from the guillotine. I own that a thrillof gratitude to Louis temporarily softened me toward him, though at the very moment I was following him through the crowd. At least he saved me from the lace-maker!Eloise[shrinking from him]. You are horrible!Valsin. To my regret you must find me more and more so.Eloise[panting]. Youaregoing to take us back to Paris, then? To the Tribunal—and to the—[She covers her eyes with her hands.]Valsin[gravely]. I can give you no comfort, governess. You are involved with the Emigrant, and, to be frank, I am going to do as horrible things to Louis as I can invent—and I am an ingenious man. [His manner becomes sinister.] I am near the top. The cinders of Marat are in the Pantheon, but Robespierre still flames; and he claims me as his friend. I can do what I will. And I have much in store for Louis before he shall be so fortunate as to die!Eloise[faintly]. And—and Eloise—d'Anville? [Her hands fall from her face: he sees large, beautiful tears upon her cheeks.]Valsin[coldly]. Yes. [She is crushed for the moment; then, recovering herself with a violent effort, lifts her head defiantly and stands erect, facing him.]Eloise. You take her head because your officer punished you, six years ago, for a breach of military discipline!Valsin[in a lighter tone]. Oh no. I take it, just as she injured me—incidentally. In truth, Citizeness, it isn't I who take it: I only arrest her because the government has proscribed her.Eloise. And you've just finished telling me you were preparing tortures for her! I thought you an intelligent man. Pah! You're only a gymnast. [She turns away from him haughtily and moves toward the door.]Valsin[touching his scarf of office]. True. I climb. [She halts suddenly, as if startled by this; she stands as she is, her back to him, for several moments, and does not change her attitude when she speaks.]Eloise[slowly]. You climb alone.Valsin[with a suspicious glance at her]. Yes—alone.Eloise[in a low voice]. Why didn't you take the lace-maker with you? You might have been happier. [Very slowlyshe turns and comes toward him, her eyes full upon his: she moves deliberately and with incomparable grace. He seems to be making an effort to look away, and failing: he cannot release his eyes from the glorious and starry glamour that holds them. She comes very close to him, so close that she almost touches him.]Eloise[in a half-whisper]. You might have been happier with—a friend—to climb with you.Valsin[demoralized]. Citizeness—I am—I—Eloise[in a voice of velvet]. Yes, Say it. You are—Valsin[desperately]. I have told you that I am the most susceptible of men.Eloise[impulsively putting her hand on his shoulder]. Is it a crime? Come, my friend, you are a man whodoesclimb: you will go over all. You believe in the Revolution because you have used it to lift you. But other things can help you, too. Don't you need them?Valsin[understanding perfectly, gasping]. Need what? [She draws her hand from his shoulder, moves back from him slightly, and crosses her arms upon her bosom with a royal meekness.]Eloise[grandly]. Do I seem so useless?Valsin[in a distracted voice]. Heaven help me! What do you want?Eloise.Let these people go. [Hurriedly, leaning near him.] I have promised to save them: give them their permit to embark, and I—[She pauses, flushing beautifully, but does not take her eyes from him.] I—I do not wish to leave France. My place is in Paris. You will go into the National Committee. You can be its ruler. Youwillrule it! I believe in you! [Glowing like a rose of fire.] I will go with you. I will help you! I will marry you!Valsin[in a fascinated whisper]. Good Lord! [He stumbles back from her, a strange light in his eyes.]Eloise. You are afraid—Valsin[with sudden loudness]. I am! Upon my soul, I am afraid!Eloise[smiling gloriously upon him]. Of what, my friend? Tell me of what?Valsin[explosively]. Of myself! I am afraid of myself because I am a prophet. This is precisely what I foretold tomyself you would do! I knew it, yet I am aghast when it happens—aghast at my own cleverness!Eloise[bewildered to blankness]. What?Valsin[half hysterical with outrageous vanity]. I swear I knew it, and it fits so exactly that I am afraid of myself!Aha, Valsin, you rogue! I should hate to have you onmytrack! Citizen governess, you are a wonderful person, but not so wonderful as this devil of a Valsin!Eloise[vaguely, in a dead voice]. I cannot understand what you are talking about. Do you mean—Valsin.And what a spell was upon me! I was near calling Dossonville to preserve me.Eloise[speaking with a strange naturalness, like a child's]. You mean—you don't want me?Valsin.Ah, Heaven help me, I am going to laugh again! Oh, ho, ho! I am spent! [He drops into a chair and gives way to another attack of uproarious hilarity.] Ah, ha, ha, ha! Oh, my liver, ha, ha! No, Citizeness, I do not want you! Oh, ha, ha, ha!Eloise.Oh![She utters a choked scream and rushes at him.] Swine!Valsin[warding her off with outstretched hands]. Spare me! Ha, ha, ha! I am helpless! Ho, ho, ho! Citizeness, it would not be worth your while to strangle a man who is already dying!Eloise[beside herself]. Do you dream that Imeantit?Valsin[feebly]. Meant to strangle me?Eloise[frantic]. To give myself to you!Valsin. In short, to—to marry me! [He splutters.]Eloise[furiously]. It was a ruse—Valsin[soothingly]. Yes, yes, a trick. I saw that all along.Eloise[even more infuriated]. For their sake, beast! [She points to the other room.] To savethem!Valsin[wiping his eyes]. Of course, of course. [He rises, stepping quickly to the side of the chair away from her and watching her warily.]Iknew it was to save them. We'll put it like that.Eloise[in an anger of exasperation]. Itwasthat!Valsin. Yes, yes. [Keeping his distance.] I saw it from the first. [Suppressing symptoms of returning mirth.] It was perfectly plain. You mustn't excite yourself—nothing couldhave been clearer! [A giggle escapes him, and he steps hastily backward as she advances upon him.]Eloise.Poodle! Valet! Scum of the alleys! Sheep of the prisons! Jailer! Hangman! Assassin! Brigand!Horse-doctor![She hurls the final epithet at him in a climax of ferocity which wholly exhausts her; and she sinks into the chair by the desk, with her arms upon the desk and her burning face hidden in her arms.Valsin,morbidly chuckling, in spite of himself, at each of her insults, has retreated farther and farther, until he stands with his back against the door of the inner room, his right hand behind him, resting on the latch. As her furious eyes leave him he silently opens the door, letting it remain a few inches ajar and keeping his back to it. Then, satisfied that what he intends to say will be overheard by those within, he erases all expression from his face, and strides to the dismantled doorway in the passage.]Valsin[calling loudly]. Dossonville! [He returns, coming down briskly toEloise.His tone is crisp and soldier-like.] Citizeness, I have had my great hour. I proceed with the arrests. I have given you four plenty of time to prepare yourselves. Time? Why, the Emigrant could have changed clothes with one of the women in there a dozen times if he had hoped to escape in that fashion—as historical prisonershavewon clear, it is related. Fortunately, that is impossible just now; and he will not dare to attempt it.Dossonville[appearing in the hallway]. Present, my chieftain!Valsin[sharply]. Attend, Dossonville. The returned Emigrant, Valny-Cherault, is forfeited; but because I cherish a special grievance against him, I have decided upon a special punishment for him. It does not please me that he should have the comfort and ministrations of loving women on his journey to the Tribunal. No, no; the presence of his old sweetheart would make even the scaffold sweet to him. Therefore I shall take him alone. I shall let these women go.Dossonville.What refinement! Admirable! [Eloiseslowly rises, staring incredulously atValsin.]Valsin[picking up the "permit" from the desk]. "Permit the Citizen Balsage and his sister, the Citizeness Virginie Balsage, and his second sister, Marie Balsage, and Eloise d'Anville—" Ha! You see, Dossonville, since one of thesethree women is here, there are two in the other room with the Emigrant. They are to come out, leaving him there. First, however, we shall disarm him. You and I have had sufficient experience in arresting aristocrats to know that they are not always so sensible as to give themselves up peaceably, and I happened to see the outline of a pistol under the Emigrant's frock the other day in the diligence. We may as well save one of us from a detestable hole through the body. [He steps toward the door, speaking sharply.] Emigrant, you have heard. For your greater chagrin, these three devoted women are to desert you. Being an aristocrat, you will pretend to prefer this arrangement. They are to leave at once. Throw your pistol into this room, and I will agree not to make the arrest until they are in safety. They can reach your vessel in five minutes. When they have gone, I give you my word not to open this door for ten. [A pistol is immediately thrown out of the door, and falls atValsin'sfeet. He picks it up, his eyes alight with increasing excitement.]Valsin[tossing the pistol toDossonville]. Call the lieutenant. [Dossonvillegoes to the window, leans out, and beckons.Valsinwrites hastily at the desk, not sitting down.] "Permit the three women Balsage to embark without delay upon theJeune Pierrette. Signed: Valsin." There, Citizeness, is a "permit" which permits. [He thrusts the paper into the hand ofEloise,swings toward the door of the inner room, and raps loudly upon it.] Come, my feminines! Your sailors await you—brave, but no judges of millinery. There's a fair wind for you; and a grand toilet is wasted at sea. Come, charmers; come! [The door is half opened, andMadame de Laseyne,white and trembling violently, enters quickly, shielding as much as she can the inexpressibly awkward figure of her brother, behind whom she extends her hand, closing the door sharply. He wears the brocaded skirt whichMadame de Laseynehas taken from the portmanteau, andEloise'slong mantle, the lifted hood andMadame de Laseyne'sveil shrouding his head and face.]Valsin[in a stifled voice]. At last! At last one beholds the regal d'Anville! No Amazon—Dossonville[aghast]. It looks like—Valsin[shouting]. It doesn't! [He bows gallantly toLouis.] A cruel veil, but, oh, what queenly grace! [Louisstumbles in the skirt.Valsinfalls back, clutching at his side. ButEloiserushes toLouisand throws herself upon her knees at his feet. She pulls his head down to hers and kisses him through the veil.]Valsin[madly]. Oh, touching devotion! Oh, sisters! Oh, love! Oh, honey! Oh, petticoats—Dossonville[interrupting humbly]. The lieutenant, Citizen Commissioner. [He points to the hallway, where the officer appears, standing at attention.]Valsin[wheeling]. Officer, conduct these three persons to the quay. Place them on board theJeune Pierrette. The captain will weigh anchor instantly. [The officer salutes.]Anne[hoarsely toLouis,who is lifting the weepingEloiseto her feet]. Quick! In the name of—Valsin.Off with you! [Madame de Laseyneseizes the portmanteau and rushes to the broken doorway, half dragging the others with her. They go out in a tumultuous hurry, followed by the officer.Eloisesends one last glance over her shoulder atValsinas she disappears, and one word of concentrated venom:"Buffoon!"In wild spirits he blows a kiss to her. The fugitives are heard clattering madly down the stairs.]Dossonville[excitedly]. We can take the Emigrant now. [Going to the inner door.] Why wait—Valsin.That room is empty.Dossonville.What!Valsin[shouting with laughter]. He's gone! Not bare-backed, but in petticoats: that's worse! He's gone, I tell you! The other was the d'Anville.Dossonville.Then you recog—Valsin.Imbecile, she's as well known as the Louvre! They're off on their honeymoon! She'll take him now! She will! She will, on the soul of a prophet! [He rushes to the window and leans far out, shouting at the top of his voice:]Quits with you, Louis! Quits! Quits![He falls back from the window and relapses into a chair, cackling ecstatically.]Dossonville[hoarse with astonishment]. You've let him go! You've let 'emallgo!Valsin[weak with laughter]. Well,you'renot going to inform. [With a sudden reversion to extreme seriousness, he levels a sinister forefinger at his companion.] And, also, takecare of your health, friend; remember constantly that you have a weak throat,and don't you ever mention this to my wife! These are bad times, my Dossonville, and neither you nor I will see the end of them. Good Lord! Can't we have a little fun as we go along? [A fresh convulsion seizes him, and he rocks himself pitiably in his chair.]
Valsin.She is also a wit. Susceptible henchman, concentrate your thoughts upon domesticity. In this presence remember your wife!
Eloise[peremptorily]. Dismiss that person. I have something to say to you.
Valsin[wiping his eyes]. Dossonville, you are not required. We are going to be sentimental, and heaven knows you are not the moon. In fact, you are a fat old man. Exit, obesity! Go somewhere and think about your children. Flit, whale!
Dossonville[rising]. Perfectly, my chieftain. [He goes to the broken door.]
Eloise[tapping the floor with her shoe]. Out of hearing!
Valsin.The floor below.
Dossonville.Well understood. Perfectly, perfectly! [He goes out through the hallway; disappears, chuckling grossly. There are some moments of silence within the room, while he is heard clumping down a flight of stairs; thenValsinturns toEloisewith burlesque ardor.]
Valsin."Alone at last!"
Eloise[maintaining her composure]. Rabbit!
Valsin[dropping into the chair at the desk, with mock dejection]. Repulsed at the outset! Ah, Citizeness, there were moments on the journey from Paris when I thought I detected a certain kindness in your glances at the lonely stranger.
Eloise[folding her arms]. You are to withdraw your soldiers,countersign the "permit," and allow my friends to embark at once.
Valsin[with solemnity]. Do you give it as an order, Citizeness?
Eloise.I do. You will receive suitable political advancement.
Valsin[in a choked voice]. You mean as a—a reward?
Eloise[haughtily].Iguarantee that you shall receive it! [He looks at her strangely; then, with a low moan, presses his hand to his side, seeming upon the point of a dangerous seizure.]
Valsin[managing to speak]. I can only beg you to spare me. You have me at your mercy.
Eloise[swelling]. It is well for you that you understand that!
Valsin[shaking his hand ruefully]. Yes; you see I have a bad liver: it may become permanently enlarged. Laughter is my great danger.
Eloise[crying out with rage].Oh!
Valsin[dolorously]. I have continually to remind myself that I am no longer in the first flush of youth.
Eloise.Idiot! Do you not know who I am!
Valsin.You? Oh yes—[He checks himself abruptly; looks at her with brief intensity; turns his eyes away, half closing them in quick meditation; smiles, as upon some secret pleasantry, and proceeds briskly.] Oh yes, yes, I know who you are.
Eloise[beginning haughtily]. Then you—
Valsin[at once cutting her off]. As to your name, I do not say. Names at best are details; and your own is a detail that could hardly be thought to matter.Whatyou are is obvious: you joined Louis and his sister in Paris at the barriers, and traveled with them as "Marie Balsage," a sister. You might save us a little trouble by giving us your real name; you will probably refuse, and the police will have to look it up when I take you back to Paris. Frankly, you are of no importance to us, though of course we'll send you to the Tribunal. No doubt you are a poor relative of the Valny-Cheraults, or, perhaps, you may have been a governess in the Laseyne family, or—
Eloise[under her breath]. Idiot! Idiot!
Valsin[with subterranean enjoyment, watching her sidelong].Or the good-looking wife of some faithful retainer of the Emigrant's, perhaps.
Eloise[with a shrill laugh]. Does the Committee of Public Safety betray the same intelligence in the appointment of all its agents? [Violently.] Imbecile, I—
Valsin[quickly raising his voice to check her]. You are of no importance, I tell you! [Changing his tone.] Of course I mean politically. [With broad gallantry.] Otherwise, I am the first to admit extreme susceptibility. I saw that you observed it on the way—at the taverns, in the diligence, at the posting-houses, at—
Eloise[with serenity]. Yes. I am accustomed to oglers.
Valsin.Alas, I believe you! My unfortunate sex is but too responsive.
Eloise[gasping]. "Responsive"—Oh!
Valsin[indulgently]. Let us return to the safer subject. Presently I shall arrest those people in the other room and, regretfully, you too. But first I pamper myself; I chat; I have an attractive woman to listen. In the matter of the arrest, I delay my fire; I do not flash in the pan, but I lengthen my fuse. Why? For the same reason that when I was a little boy and had something good to eat, I always first paid it the compliments of an epicure. I looked at it a long while. I played with it. Then—I devoured it! I am still like that. And Louis yonder is good to eat, because I happen not to love him. However, I should mention that I doubt if he could recall either myself or the circumstance which annoyed me; some episodes are sometimes so little to certain people and so significant to certain other people. [He smiles, stretching himself luxuriously in his chair.] Behold me, Citizeness! I am explained. I am indulging my humor: I play with my cake. Let us see into what curious little figures I can twist it.
Eloise.Idiot!
Valsin[pleasantly]. I have lost count, but I think that is the sixth idiot you have called me. Aha, it is only history, which one admires for repeating itself. Good! Let us march. I shall play—[He picks up the "permit" from the desk, studies it absently, and looks whimsically at her over his shoulder, continuing:] I shall play with—with all four of you.
Eloise[impulsively]. Four?
Valsin.I am not easy to deceive; there are four of you here.
Eloise[staring]. So?
Valsin.Louis brought you and his sister from Paris: a party of three. This "permit" which he forged is for four; the original three and the woman you mentioned a while ago, Eloise d'Anville. Hence she must have joined you here. The deduction is plain: there are three people in that room: the Emigrant, his sister, and this Eloise d'Anville. To the trained mind such reasoning is simple.
Eloise[elated]. Perfectly!
Valsin[with an air of cunning]. Nothing escapes me. You see that.
Eloise.At first glance! I make you my most profound compliments. Sir, you are an eagle!
Valsin[smugly]. Thanks. Now, then, pretty governess, you thought this d'Anville might be able to help you. What put that in your head?
Eloise[with severity]. Do you pretend not to know what she is?
Valsin.A heroine I have had the misfortune never to encounter. But I am informed of her character and history.
Eloise[sternly]. Then you understand that even the Agent of the National Committee risks his head if he dares touch people she chooses to protect.
Valsin[extending his hand in plaintive appeal]. Be generous to my opacity. How couldsheprotect anybody?
Eloise[with condescension]. She has earned the gratitude—
Valsin.Of whom?
Eloise[superbly]. Of the Nation!
Valsin[breaking out again]. Ha, ha, ha! [Clutching at his side.] Pardon, oh, pardon, liver of mine. I must not die; my life is still useful.
Eloise[persisting stormily]. Of the People, stupidity! Of the whole People, dolt! Of France, blockhead!
Valsin[with a violent effort, conquering his hilarity]. There! I am saved. Let us be solemn, my child; it is better for my malady. You are still so young that one can instruct you that individuals are rarely grateful; "the People," never. What you call "the People" means folk who are not always sure of their next meal; therefore their great political andpatriotic question is the cost of food. Their heroes are the champions who are going to make it cheaper; and when these champions fail them or cease to be useful to them, then they either forget these poor champions—or eat them. Let us hear what your Eloise d'Anville has done to earn the reward of being forgotten instead of eaten.
Eloise[her lips quivering]. She surrendered her property voluntarily. She gave up all she owned to the Nation.
Valsin[genially]. And immediately went to live with her relatives in great luxury.
Eloise[choking]. The Republic will protect her. She gave her whole estate—
Valsin.And the order for its confiscation was already written when she did it.
Eloise[passionately]. Ah—liar!
Valsin[smiling]. I have seen the order. [She leans against the wall, breathing heavily. He goes on, smoothly.] Yes, this martyr "gave" us her property; but one hears that she went to the opera just the same and wore more jewels than ever, and lived richly upon the Laseynes and Valny-Cheraults, untiltheywere confiscated. Why, all the world knows about this woman; and let me tell you, to your credit, my governess, I think you have a charitable heart: you are the only person I ever heard speak kindly of her.
Eloise[setting her teeth]. Venom!
Valsin[observing her slyly]. It is with difficulty I am restraining my curiosity to see her—also to hear her!—when she learns of her proscription by a grateful Republic.
Eloise[with shrill mockery]. Proscribed? Eloise d'Anville proscribed? Your inventions should be more plausible, Goodman Spy! Iknewyou were lying—
Valsin[smiling]. You do not believe—
Eloise[proudly]. Eloise d'Anville is a known Girondist. The Gironde is the real power in France.
Valsin[mildly]. That party has fallen.
Eloise[with fire]. Not far! It will revive.
Valsin.Pardon, Citizeness, but you are behind the times, and they are very fast nowadays—the times. The Gironde is dead.
Eloise[ominously]. It may surviveyou, my friend. Take care!
Valsin[unimpressed]. The Gironde had a grand façade, and that was all. It was a party composed of amateurs and orators; and of course there were some noisy camp-followers and a few comic-opera vivandières, such as this d'Anville. In short, the Gironde looked enormous because it was hollow. It was like a pie that is all crust. We have tapped the crust—with a knife, Citizeness. There is nothing left.
Eloise[contemptuously]. You say so. Nevertheless, the Rolands—
Valsin[gravely]. Roland was found in a field yesterday; he had killed himself. His wife was guillotined the day after you left Paris. Every one of their political friends is proscribed.
Eloise[shaking as with bitter cold]. It is a lie! Not Eloise d'Anville!
Valsin[rising]. Would you like to see the warrant for her arrest? [He takes a packet of documents from his breast pocket, selects one, and spreads it open before her.] Let me read you her description: "Eloise d'Anville, aristocrat. Figure, comely. Complexion, blond. Eyes, dark blue. Nose, straight. Mouth, wide—"
Eloise[in a burst of passion, striking the warrant a violent blow with her clenched fist]. Let them dare! [Beside herself, she strikes again, tearing the paper from his grasp. She stamps upon it.] Let them dare, I say!
Valsin[picking up the warrant]. Dare to say her mouth is wide?
Eloise[cyclonic]. Dare to arrest her!
Valsin.It does seem a pity. [He folds the warrant slowly and replaces it in his pocket.] Yes, a great pity. She was the one amusing thing in all this somberness. She will be missed. The Revolution will lack its joke.
Eloise[recoiling, her passion exhausted]. Ah, infamy! [She turns from him, covering her face with her hands.]
Valsin[with a soothing gesture]. Being only her friend, you speak mildly. The d'Anville herself would call it blasphemy.
Eloise[with difficulty]. She is—so vain—then?
Valsin[lightly]. Oh, a type—an actress.
Eloise[her back to him]. How do you know? You said—
Valsin.That I had not encountered her. [Glibly.] One knows best the people one has never seen. Intimacy confusesjudgment. I confess to that amount of hatred for the former Marquis de Valny-Cherault that I take as great an interest in all that concerns him as if I loved him. And the little d'Anville concerns him—yes, almost one would say, consumes him. The unfortunate man is said to be so blindly faithful that he can speak her name without laughing.
Eloise[stunned]. Oh!
Valsin[going on, cheerily]. No one else can do that, Citizeness. Jacobins, Cordeliers, Hébertists, even the shattered relics of the Gironde itself, all alike join in the colossal laughter at this Tricoteuse in Sèvres—this Jeanne d'Arc in rice-powder!
Eloise[tragically]. They laugh—and proclaim her an outlaw!
Valsin[waving his hand carelessly]. Oh, it is only that we are sweeping up the last remnants of aristocracy, and she goes with the rest—into the dust-heap. She should have remained a royalist; the final spectacle might have had dignity. As it is, she is not of her own class, not of ours: neither fish nor flesh nor—but yes, perhaps, after all, she is a fowl.
Eloise[brokenly]. Alas! Homing—with wounded wing! [She sinks into a chair with pathetic grace, her face in her hands.]
Valsin[surreptitiously grinning]. Not at all what I meant. [Brutally.] Peacocks don't fly.
Eloise[regaining her feet at a bound]. You imitation dandy! You—
Valsin[with benevolence]. My dear, your indignation for your friend is chivalrous. It is admirable; but she is not worth it. You do not understand her: you have probably seen her so much that you have never seen her as she is.
Eloise[witheringly]. But you, august Zeus, havingneverseen her, will reveal her to me!
Valsin[smoothly urbane]. If you have ears. You see, she is not altogether unique, but of a variety known to men who are wise enough to make a study of women.
Eloise[snapping out a short, loud laugh in his face]. Pouff!
Valsin[unruffled]. I profess myself an apprentice. The science itself is but in its infancy. Women themselves understand very well that they are to be classified, and they fear that we shall perceive it: they do not really wish to be known. Yetit is coming; some day our cyclopedists will have you sorted, classed, and defined with precision; but the d'Alembert of the future will not be a woman, because no woman so disloyal will ever be found. Men have to acquire loyalty to their sex: yours is an instinct. Citizen governess, I will give you a reading of the little d'Anville from this unwritten work. To begin—
Eloise[feverishly interested, but affecting languor].Mustyou?
Valsin. To Eloise d'Anville the most interesting thing about a rose-bush has always been that Eloise d'Anville could smell it. Moonlight becomes important when it falls upon her face; sunset is worthy when she grows rosy in it. To her mind, the universe was set in motion to be the background for a decoration, and she is the decoration. She believes that the cathedral was built for the fresco. And when a dog interests her, it is because he would look well beside her in a painting. Such dogs have no minds. I refer you to all the dogs in the portraits of Beauties.
Eloise[not at all displeased; pretending carelessness]. Ah, you have heard that she is beautiful?
Valsin. Far worse: that she is a Beauty. Let nothing ever temptyou, my dear, into setting up in that line. For you are very well-appearing, I assure you; and if you had been surrounded with all the disadvantages of the d'Anville, who knows but that you might have become as famous a Beauty as she? What makes a Beauty is not the sumptuous sculpture alone, but a very peculiar arrogance—not in the least arrogance of mind, my little governess. In this, your d'Anville emerged from childhood full-panoplied indeed; and the feather-head court fell headlong at her feet. It was the fated creature's ruin.
Eloise[placidly]. And it is because of her beauty that you drag her to the guillotine?
Valsin. Bless you, I merely convey her!
Eloise. Tell me, logician, was it not her beauty that inspired her to give her property to the Nation?
Valsin. It was.
Eloise. What perception! I am faint with admiration. And no doubt it was her beauty that made her a Republican?
Valsin. What else?
Eloise. Hail, oracle! [She releases an arpeggio of satiric laughter.]
Valsin. That laugh is diaphanous. I see you through it, already convinced. [She stops laughing immediately.] Ha! we may proceed. Remark this, governess: a Beauty is the living evidence of man's immortality; the one plain proof that he has a soul.
Eloise. It is not so bad then, after all?
Valsin. It is utterly bad. But of all people a Beauty is most conscious of her duality. Her whole life is based upon her absolute knowledge that her Self and her body are two. She sacrifices all things to her beauty because her beauty feeds her Self with a dreadful food which it has made her unable to live without.
Eloise. My little gentleman, you talk like a sentimental waiter. Your metaphors are all hot from the kitchen.
Valsin[nettled]. It is natural; unlike your Eloise, I amreallyof "the People"—and starved much in my youth.
Eloise. But, like her, you are still hungry.
Valsin. A Beauty is a species of cannibal priestess, my dear. She will make burnt-offerings of her father and her mother, her sisters—her lovers—to her beauty, that it may in turn bring her the food she must have or perish.
Eloise.Boum![She snaps her fingers.] And of course she bathes in the blood of little children?
Valsin[grimly]. Often.
Eloise[averting her gaze from his]. This mysterious food—
Valsin. Not at all mysterious. Sensation. There you have it. And that is why Eloise d'Anville is a renegade. You understand perfectly.
Eloise. You are too polite. No.
Valsin[gaily]. Behold, then! Many women who are not Beauties are beautiful, but in such women you do not always discover beauty at your first glance: it is disclosed with a subtle tardiness. It does not dazzle; it is reluctant; but it grows as you look again and again. You get a little here, a little there, like glimpses of children hiding in a garden. It is shy, and sometimes closed in from you altogether, and then, unexpectedly, this belated loveliness springs into bloom before your very eyes. It retains the capacity of surprise, the vital element of charm. But the Beauty lays all waste before her at a stroke: it is soon over. Thus your Eloise, brought to court, startled Versailles; the sensation was overwhelming. Then Versaillesgot used to her, just as it had to its other prodigies: the fountains were there, the King was there, the d'Anville was there; and naturally, one had seen them; saw them every day—one talked of matters less accepted. That was horrible to Eloise. She had tasted; the appetite, once stirred, was insatiable. At any cost she must henceforth have always the sensation of being a sensation. She must be the pivot of a reeling world. So she went into politics. Ah, Citizeness, there was one man who understood Beauties—not Homer, who wrote of Helen! Romance is gallant by profession, and Homer lied like a poet. For the truth about the Trojan War is that the wise Ulysses made it, not because Paris stole Helen, but because the Trojans were threatening to bring her back.
Eloise[unwarily]. Who was the man that understood Beauties?
Valsin. Bluebeard. [He crosses the room to the dressing-table, leans his back against it in an easy attitude, his elbows resting upon the top.]
Eloise[slowly, a little tremulously]. And so Eloise d'Anville should have her head cut off?
Valsin. Well, she thought she was in politics, didn't she? [Suavely.] You may be sure she thoroughly enjoyed her hallucination that she was a great figure in the Revolution—which was cutting off the heads of so many of her relatives and old friends! Don't waste your pity, my dear.
Eloise[looking at him fixedly]. Citizen, you must have thought a great deal about my unhappy friend. She might be flattered by so searching an interest.
Valsin[negligently]. Not interest in her, governess, but in the Emigrant who cools his heels on the other side of that door, greatly to my enjoyment, waiting my pleasure to arrest him. The poor wretch is the one remaining lover of this girl; faithful because he let his passion for her become a habit; and he will never get over it until he has had possession. She has made him suffer frightfully, but I shall never forgive her for not having dealt him the final stroke. It would have saved me all the bother I have been put to in avenging the injury he did me.
Eloise[frowning]. What "final stroke" could she have "dealt" him?
Valsin[with sudden vehement intensity]. She could haveloved him! [He strikes the table with his fist.] I see it! I see it! Beauty's husband! [Pounding the table with each exclamation, his voice rising in excitement.] What a vision! This damned, proud, loving Louis, a pomade bearer! A buttoner! An errand-boy to the perfumer's, to the chemist's, to the milliner's! A groom of the powder-closet—
Eloise[snatching at the opportunity]. How noisy you are!
Valsin[discomfited, apologetically]. You see, it is only so lately that we of "the People" have dared even to whisper. Of course, now that we are free to shout, we overdo it. We let our voices out, we let our joys out, we let our hates out. We let everything out—except our prisoners! [He smiles winningly.]
Eloise[slowly]. Do you guess what all this bluster—this tirade upon the wickedness of beauty—makes me think?
Valsin. Certainly. Being a woman, you cannot imagine a bitterness which is not "personal."
Eloise[laughing]. "Being a woman," I think that the person who has caused you the greatest suffering in your life must be very good-looking!
Valsin[calmly]. Quite right. It was precisely this d'Anville. I will tell you. [He sits on the arm of a chair near her, and continues briskly.] I was not always a politician. Six years ago I was a soldier in the Valny regiment of cavalry. That was the old army, that droll army, that royal army; so ridiculous that it was truly majestic. In the Valny regiment we had some rouge-pots for officers—and for a colonel, who but our Emigrant yonder! Aha! we suffered in the ranks, let me tell you, when Eloise had been coy; and one morning it was my turn. You may have heard that she was betrothed first to Louis and later to several others? My martyrdom occurred the day after she had announced to the court her betrothal to the young Duc de Creil, whose father afterward interfered. Louis put us on drill in a hard rain: he had the habit of relieving his chagrin like that. My horse fell, and happened to shower our commander with mud. Louis let out all his rage upon me: it was an excuse, and, naturally, he disliked mud. But I was rolling in it, with my horse: I also disliked it—and I was indiscreet enough to attempt some small reply. That finished my soldiering, Citizeness. He had me tied to a post before the barracks for the rest of the day. I remember withremarkable distinctness that the valets of heaven had neglected to warm the rain for that bath; that it was February; and that Louis's orders had left me nothing to wear upon my back except an unfulsome descriptive placard and my modesty. Altogether it was a disadvantageous position, particularly for the exchange of repartee with such of my comrades as my youthful amiability had not endeared; I have seldom seen more cheerful indifference to bad weather. Inclement skies failed to injure the spectacle: it was truly the great performance of my career; some people would not even go home to eat, and peddlers did a good trade in cakes and wine. In the evening they whipped me conscientiously—my tailor has never since made me an entirely comfortable coat. Then they gave me the place of honor at the head of a procession by torchlight and drummed me out of camp with my placard upon my back. So I adopted another profession: I had a friend who was a doctor in the stables of d'Artois; and I knew horses. He made me his assistant.
Eloise[shuddering]. You are a veterinarian!
Valsin[smiling]. No; a horse-doctor. It was thus I "retired" from the army and became a politician. My friend was only a horse-doctor himself, but his name happened to be Marat.
Eloise. Ah, frightful! [For the first time she begins to feel genuine alarm.]
Valsin. The sequence is simple. If Eloise d'Anville hadn't coquetted with young Creil I shouldn't be Commissioner here to-day, settling my account with Louis. I am in his debt for more than the beating: I should tell you there was a woman in my case, a slender lace-maker with dark eyes—very pretty eyes. She had furnished me with a rival, a corporal; and he brought her for a stroll in the rain past our barracks that day when I was attracting so much unsought attention. They waited for the afterpiece, enjoyed a pasty and a bottle of Beaune, and went away laughing cozily together. I did not see my pretty lace-maker again, not for years—not until a month ago. Her corporal was still with her, and it was their turn to be undesirably conspicuous. They were part of a procession passing along the Rue St. Honoré on its way to the Place of the Revolution. They were standing up in the cart; the lace-maker had grown fat, and she was scolding her poor corporal bitterly. What a habit that must have been!—they were not five minutes from the guillotine. I own that a thrillof gratitude to Louis temporarily softened me toward him, though at the very moment I was following him through the crowd. At least he saved me from the lace-maker!
Eloise[shrinking from him]. You are horrible!
Valsin. To my regret you must find me more and more so.
Eloise[panting]. Youaregoing to take us back to Paris, then? To the Tribunal—and to the—[She covers her eyes with her hands.]
Valsin[gravely]. I can give you no comfort, governess. You are involved with the Emigrant, and, to be frank, I am going to do as horrible things to Louis as I can invent—and I am an ingenious man. [His manner becomes sinister.] I am near the top. The cinders of Marat are in the Pantheon, but Robespierre still flames; and he claims me as his friend. I can do what I will. And I have much in store for Louis before he shall be so fortunate as to die!
Eloise[faintly]. And—and Eloise—d'Anville? [Her hands fall from her face: he sees large, beautiful tears upon her cheeks.]
Valsin[coldly]. Yes. [She is crushed for the moment; then, recovering herself with a violent effort, lifts her head defiantly and stands erect, facing him.]
Eloise. You take her head because your officer punished you, six years ago, for a breach of military discipline!
Valsin[in a lighter tone]. Oh no. I take it, just as she injured me—incidentally. In truth, Citizeness, it isn't I who take it: I only arrest her because the government has proscribed her.
Eloise. And you've just finished telling me you were preparing tortures for her! I thought you an intelligent man. Pah! You're only a gymnast. [She turns away from him haughtily and moves toward the door.]
Valsin[touching his scarf of office]. True. I climb. [She halts suddenly, as if startled by this; she stands as she is, her back to him, for several moments, and does not change her attitude when she speaks.]
Eloise[slowly]. You climb alone.
Valsin[with a suspicious glance at her]. Yes—alone.
Eloise[in a low voice]. Why didn't you take the lace-maker with you? You might have been happier. [Very slowlyshe turns and comes toward him, her eyes full upon his: she moves deliberately and with incomparable grace. He seems to be making an effort to look away, and failing: he cannot release his eyes from the glorious and starry glamour that holds them. She comes very close to him, so close that she almost touches him.]
Eloise[in a half-whisper]. You might have been happier with—a friend—to climb with you.
Valsin[demoralized]. Citizeness—I am—I—
Eloise[in a voice of velvet]. Yes, Say it. You are—
Valsin[desperately]. I have told you that I am the most susceptible of men.
Eloise[impulsively putting her hand on his shoulder]. Is it a crime? Come, my friend, you are a man whodoesclimb: you will go over all. You believe in the Revolution because you have used it to lift you. But other things can help you, too. Don't you need them?
Valsin[understanding perfectly, gasping]. Need what? [She draws her hand from his shoulder, moves back from him slightly, and crosses her arms upon her bosom with a royal meekness.]
Eloise[grandly]. Do I seem so useless?
Valsin[in a distracted voice]. Heaven help me! What do you want?
Eloise.Let these people go. [Hurriedly, leaning near him.] I have promised to save them: give them their permit to embark, and I—[She pauses, flushing beautifully, but does not take her eyes from him.] I—I do not wish to leave France. My place is in Paris. You will go into the National Committee. You can be its ruler. Youwillrule it! I believe in you! [Glowing like a rose of fire.] I will go with you. I will help you! I will marry you!
Valsin[in a fascinated whisper]. Good Lord! [He stumbles back from her, a strange light in his eyes.]
Eloise. You are afraid—
Valsin[with sudden loudness]. I am! Upon my soul, I am afraid!
Eloise[smiling gloriously upon him]. Of what, my friend? Tell me of what?
Valsin[explosively]. Of myself! I am afraid of myself because I am a prophet. This is precisely what I foretold tomyself you would do! I knew it, yet I am aghast when it happens—aghast at my own cleverness!
Eloise[bewildered to blankness]. What?
Valsin[half hysterical with outrageous vanity]. I swear I knew it, and it fits so exactly that I am afraid of myself!Aha, Valsin, you rogue! I should hate to have you onmytrack! Citizen governess, you are a wonderful person, but not so wonderful as this devil of a Valsin!
Eloise[vaguely, in a dead voice]. I cannot understand what you are talking about. Do you mean—
Valsin.And what a spell was upon me! I was near calling Dossonville to preserve me.
Eloise[speaking with a strange naturalness, like a child's]. You mean—you don't want me?
Valsin.Ah, Heaven help me, I am going to laugh again! Oh, ho, ho! I am spent! [He drops into a chair and gives way to another attack of uproarious hilarity.] Ah, ha, ha, ha! Oh, my liver, ha, ha! No, Citizeness, I do not want you! Oh, ha, ha, ha!
Eloise.Oh![She utters a choked scream and rushes at him.] Swine!
Valsin[warding her off with outstretched hands]. Spare me! Ha, ha, ha! I am helpless! Ho, ho, ho! Citizeness, it would not be worth your while to strangle a man who is already dying!
Eloise[beside herself]. Do you dream that Imeantit?
Valsin[feebly]. Meant to strangle me?
Eloise[frantic]. To give myself to you!
Valsin. In short, to—to marry me! [He splutters.]
Eloise[furiously]. It was a ruse—
Valsin[soothingly]. Yes, yes, a trick. I saw that all along.
Eloise[even more infuriated]. For their sake, beast! [She points to the other room.] To savethem!
Valsin[wiping his eyes]. Of course, of course. [He rises, stepping quickly to the side of the chair away from her and watching her warily.]Iknew it was to save them. We'll put it like that.
Eloise[in an anger of exasperation]. Itwasthat!
Valsin. Yes, yes. [Keeping his distance.] I saw it from the first. [Suppressing symptoms of returning mirth.] It was perfectly plain. You mustn't excite yourself—nothing couldhave been clearer! [A giggle escapes him, and he steps hastily backward as she advances upon him.]
Eloise.Poodle! Valet! Scum of the alleys! Sheep of the prisons! Jailer! Hangman! Assassin! Brigand!Horse-doctor![She hurls the final epithet at him in a climax of ferocity which wholly exhausts her; and she sinks into the chair by the desk, with her arms upon the desk and her burning face hidden in her arms.Valsin,morbidly chuckling, in spite of himself, at each of her insults, has retreated farther and farther, until he stands with his back against the door of the inner room, his right hand behind him, resting on the latch. As her furious eyes leave him he silently opens the door, letting it remain a few inches ajar and keeping his back to it. Then, satisfied that what he intends to say will be overheard by those within, he erases all expression from his face, and strides to the dismantled doorway in the passage.]
Valsin[calling loudly]. Dossonville! [He returns, coming down briskly toEloise.His tone is crisp and soldier-like.] Citizeness, I have had my great hour. I proceed with the arrests. I have given you four plenty of time to prepare yourselves. Time? Why, the Emigrant could have changed clothes with one of the women in there a dozen times if he had hoped to escape in that fashion—as historical prisonershavewon clear, it is related. Fortunately, that is impossible just now; and he will not dare to attempt it.
Dossonville[appearing in the hallway]. Present, my chieftain!
Valsin[sharply]. Attend, Dossonville. The returned Emigrant, Valny-Cherault, is forfeited; but because I cherish a special grievance against him, I have decided upon a special punishment for him. It does not please me that he should have the comfort and ministrations of loving women on his journey to the Tribunal. No, no; the presence of his old sweetheart would make even the scaffold sweet to him. Therefore I shall take him alone. I shall let these women go.
Dossonville.What refinement! Admirable! [Eloiseslowly rises, staring incredulously atValsin.]
Valsin[picking up the "permit" from the desk]. "Permit the Citizen Balsage and his sister, the Citizeness Virginie Balsage, and his second sister, Marie Balsage, and Eloise d'Anville—" Ha! You see, Dossonville, since one of thesethree women is here, there are two in the other room with the Emigrant. They are to come out, leaving him there. First, however, we shall disarm him. You and I have had sufficient experience in arresting aristocrats to know that they are not always so sensible as to give themselves up peaceably, and I happened to see the outline of a pistol under the Emigrant's frock the other day in the diligence. We may as well save one of us from a detestable hole through the body. [He steps toward the door, speaking sharply.] Emigrant, you have heard. For your greater chagrin, these three devoted women are to desert you. Being an aristocrat, you will pretend to prefer this arrangement. They are to leave at once. Throw your pistol into this room, and I will agree not to make the arrest until they are in safety. They can reach your vessel in five minutes. When they have gone, I give you my word not to open this door for ten. [A pistol is immediately thrown out of the door, and falls atValsin'sfeet. He picks it up, his eyes alight with increasing excitement.]
Valsin[tossing the pistol toDossonville]. Call the lieutenant. [Dossonvillegoes to the window, leans out, and beckons.Valsinwrites hastily at the desk, not sitting down.] "Permit the three women Balsage to embark without delay upon theJeune Pierrette. Signed: Valsin." There, Citizeness, is a "permit" which permits. [He thrusts the paper into the hand ofEloise,swings toward the door of the inner room, and raps loudly upon it.] Come, my feminines! Your sailors await you—brave, but no judges of millinery. There's a fair wind for you; and a grand toilet is wasted at sea. Come, charmers; come! [The door is half opened, andMadame de Laseyne,white and trembling violently, enters quickly, shielding as much as she can the inexpressibly awkward figure of her brother, behind whom she extends her hand, closing the door sharply. He wears the brocaded skirt whichMadame de Laseynehas taken from the portmanteau, andEloise'slong mantle, the lifted hood andMadame de Laseyne'sveil shrouding his head and face.]
Valsin[in a stifled voice]. At last! At last one beholds the regal d'Anville! No Amazon—
Dossonville[aghast]. It looks like—
Valsin[shouting]. It doesn't! [He bows gallantly toLouis.] A cruel veil, but, oh, what queenly grace! [Louisstumbles in the skirt.Valsinfalls back, clutching at his side. ButEloiserushes toLouisand throws herself upon her knees at his feet. She pulls his head down to hers and kisses him through the veil.]
Valsin[madly]. Oh, touching devotion! Oh, sisters! Oh, love! Oh, honey! Oh, petticoats—
Dossonville[interrupting humbly]. The lieutenant, Citizen Commissioner. [He points to the hallway, where the officer appears, standing at attention.]
Valsin[wheeling]. Officer, conduct these three persons to the quay. Place them on board theJeune Pierrette. The captain will weigh anchor instantly. [The officer salutes.]
Anne[hoarsely toLouis,who is lifting the weepingEloiseto her feet]. Quick! In the name of—
Valsin.Off with you! [Madame de Laseyneseizes the portmanteau and rushes to the broken doorway, half dragging the others with her. They go out in a tumultuous hurry, followed by the officer.Eloisesends one last glance over her shoulder atValsinas she disappears, and one word of concentrated venom:"Buffoon!"In wild spirits he blows a kiss to her. The fugitives are heard clattering madly down the stairs.]
Dossonville[excitedly]. We can take the Emigrant now. [Going to the inner door.] Why wait—
Valsin.That room is empty.
Dossonville.What!
Valsin[shouting with laughter]. He's gone! Not bare-backed, but in petticoats: that's worse! He's gone, I tell you! The other was the d'Anville.
Dossonville.Then you recog—
Valsin.Imbecile, she's as well known as the Louvre! They're off on their honeymoon! She'll take him now! She will! She will, on the soul of a prophet! [He rushes to the window and leans far out, shouting at the top of his voice:]Quits with you, Louis! Quits! Quits![He falls back from the window and relapses into a chair, cackling ecstatically.]
Dossonville[hoarse with astonishment]. You've let him go! You've let 'emallgo!
Valsin[weak with laughter]. Well,you'renot going to inform. [With a sudden reversion to extreme seriousness, he levels a sinister forefinger at his companion.] And, also, takecare of your health, friend; remember constantly that you have a weak throat,and don't you ever mention this to my wife! These are bad times, my Dossonville, and neither you nor I will see the end of them. Good Lord! Can't we have a little fun as we go along? [A fresh convulsion seizes him, and he rocks himself pitiably in his chair.]