SYLVETTE. Killed him!
STRAFOREL. With a single blow!
SYLVETTE. Monsieur!
STRAFOREL. I understand you, you who have never been understood.You want romance, do you not? Romance at any price?
SYLVETTE. But, Marquis—
STRAFOREL. To-night we elope!
SYLVETTE. Monsieur!
STRAFOREL. We shall go away, never to return.
SYLVETTE. Monsieur!
STRAFOREL. My dream is realized. You consent! To-night! If your father objects, so much the worse for him!
SYLVETTE. Monsieur!
STRAFOREL. Let them follow us—I know how to deal with pursuers.In some far land, at last, we shall live happily in a little cottage!
SYLVETTE. But I—
STRAFOREL. For I am poor. I have nothing. We shall live on bread soaked in sweet tears!
SYLVETTE. But, I tell you—
STRAFOREL. We shall thrive on misfortune—with you I shan't care for anything else. A tent, perhaps—
SYLVETTE. A tent?
STRAFOREL. Of nothing at all—just the stars!
SYLVETTE. Oh, I—
STRAFOREL. Why, you're trembling—possibly you don't want to go so far away? Then we shall hide somewhere—
SYLVETTE. But, Monsieur, you are mistaken!
STRAFOREL. Let people say what they will!
SYLVETTE. Good Heavens!
STRAFOREL. I shall spend every moment of my time telling you howI love you!
SYLVETTE. Monsieur—
STRAFOREL. Ours shall be a long life of poetry. And I shall be furiously jealous!
SYLVETTE. Monsieur—
STRAFOREL. Are you afraid now?
SYLVETTE. Heavens, what a lesson for me!
STRAFOREL. Ha, now you look like a little boarding-school miss.Tell me, shall we fly together, or shall I go alone?
SYLVETTE. Monsieur—
STRAFOREL. I understand. I see you are strong: we shall go together. I shall throw you across my saddle. No sedan-chair— they are used only in make-believe abductions! I return soon! [He goes up-stage.]
SYLVETTE. Monsieur, let me tell you—
STRAFOREL. I must get my horse and my mantle!
SYLVETTE. [Deeply distressed] Monsieur!!
STRAFOREL. [With a sweeping gesture] We shall travel from land to land. My dream at last. I shall return and take you away, never to return!
SYLVETTE. [Gasping] Never to return!
STRAFOREL. You shall live by the side of your adored one, by the side of him who loved you before he set eyes on you. [As he is about to leave, she falls onto the bench, and he says aside] It's now time for you, Percinet! [He goes out.]
SYLVETTE. [Opening her eyes after a moment] Monsieur le marquis— No, not across the saddle, please. I couldn't do that! Please, please let me stay home. Iama little boarding-school miss! Why—he's gone! Marquis! Heavens, what an awful dream! [Another pause, then she rises.] Romance? Was it not romance that you craved not so long ago? It has come, and are you afraid? Love, stars, a cottage. Yes, I did want it—but only a little—like seasoning in a stew! This is too much—I couldn't stand it. [The sun is setting. SYLVETTE takes up her scarf, which she had left on the bench, and puts it over her head.] Who knows whether—?
[PERCINET appears. He is in rags, and his arm is in a sling. He looks ill, and can scarcely walk.]
PERCINET. [Not seeing SYLVETTE] I have had nothing to eat since yesterday—I can hardly walk. I'm not proud now! I want no more adventures. [He sits down on the wall. His hat falls from his eyes, and reveals his identity. SYLVETTE sees him.]
SYLVETTE. You?! [He rises, and stands looking at her.] What has happened to you? Can it be—?
PERCINET. [Piteously] It can!
SYLVETTE. [Wringing her hands] Heavens!
PERCINET. I resemble somewhat the prodigal son, do I not? [He totters.]
SYLVETTE. You can't stand up!
PERCINET. I am so tired.
SYLVETTE. [Looking at his arm, with a cry] Wounded!
PERCINET. Can you pity the ungrateful?
SYLVETTE. [Severely] Only fathers kill fatted calves. Still, that wounded arm?
PERCINET. Oh, I assure you it's not serious.
SYLVETTE. But what have you been doing, Monsieur Vagabond, all this while?
PERCINET. Nothing very creditable, Sylvette. [He coughs.]
SYLVETTE. You are coughing?
PERCINET. Walking the damp roads at night.
SYLVETTE. What strange clothes you have!
PERCINET. Mine were stolen, and the thieves left me these.
SYLVETTE. [Ironically] How many fortunes did you find?
PERCINET. Sylvette, please say nothing about that.
SYLVETTE. You must have scaled many a balcony?
PERCINET. [Aside] I nearly broke my neck once!
SYLVETTE. Guitar in hand! And what nocturnes and serenades you must have sung!
PERCINET. Which earned for me more than one bucket of water!
SYLVETTE. But I see you have been wounded in a real duel?
PERCINET. It came near being mortal.
SYLVETTE. And now you return to us—?
PERCINET. Thoroughly worn-out.
SYLVETTE. Yes, but you have at least found romance and poetry?
PERCINET. No—I was seeking afar what was here all the time.Don't make fun of me: I adore you!
SYLVETTE. Even after our disillusion?
PERCINET. What difference does that make?
SYLVETTE. But our fathers played an abominable trick on us.
PERCINET. What of it? What I feel in my heart is real.
SYLVETTE. They pretended to hate each other.
PERCINET. Did we pretend that we loved?
SYLVETTE. The wall was a punch-and-judy theater—you said so yourself.
PERCINET. I did, Sylvette, but it was blasphemy. Ah, wall, you gave us a divine setting, with moonlight and stars, flowers and vines, the four winds for music, and Shakespeare for prompter! Yes, our fathers made us go through the motions, but it was Love that made us speak:itpulled the strings!
SYLVETTE. [Sighing] That's true, but we loved because we believed it was wicked!
PERCINET. And it was! Only the intention counts, and thinking we were guilty, we were!
SYLVETTE. Really?
PERCINET. Really, my dear, we were infamous. It was wrong of us to love.
SYLVETTE. [Seating herself beside him] Very wrong? [She changes her tone, as she rises and goes away.] Still, I wish the danger had been a little more real.
PERCINET. Itwasreal, because we believed it so.
SYLVETTE. No: my abduction, like your duel, was false.
PERCINET. Was your fear false? If you were afraid then, it was as if you were really being abducted.
SYLVETTE. No, the dear remembrance is gone. All those masks and torches, the soft music, the duel; it is too cruel to think that Straforel prepared it all.
PERCINET. But who prepared the spring night? Was that Straforel? Did he also sprinkle the sky with stars? Did he plant roses, did he create the gray of evening and the blue mists of night? Did he have anything to do with the rising of that huge pink star?
SYLVETTE. No, of course—
PERCINET. Was it his doing that we were two children of twenty, on a spring night, and that we loved each other? We loved, that was the charm—all the charm!
SYLVETTE. All the—? That's true, yet—
PERCINET. A tear? Am I then—forgiven?
SYLVETTE. I have always loved you, my poor dear.
PERCINET. At last I have you again! [He takes SYLVETTE's scarf and plays with it.] What beautiful shades and lights in this gorgeous satin.
SYLVETTE. What satin?
PERCINET. Oh, nothing! Nothing!
SYLVETTE. But it's only muslin!
PERCINET. [Kneeling and kissing her hand] No, it is everything!
SYLVETTE. [Falling into his arms] See? I know now that poetry and romance are in the hearts of lovers; they have nothing to do with other things.
PERCINET. That is true, Sylvette. I have seen what ought to be poetry and romance, but it wasn't—to me!
SYLVETTE. And what was prepared for and arranged beforehand was real, though it was contrived for us by others.
PERCINET. We can weave realities on a false frame.
SYLVETTE. How foolish we were to seek elsewhere for romance, when it was our own hearts!
[STRAFOREL appears, followed by the two fathers, and shows themSYLVETTE and PERCINET in each other's arms.]
STRAFOREL. Ah!
BERGAMIN. My son! [He embraces PERCINET.]
STRAFOREL. Now do I get my money?
PASQUINOT. [To his daughter] Do you love him?
SYLVETTE. Yes.
STRAFOREL. [To BERGAMIN] Shall I have my money?
BERGAMIN. You shall.
SYLVETTE. [Trembling as she hears STRAFOREL's voice and recognizes it] But—that—voice—the Marquis D'Asta—fior—
STRAFOREL. [Bowing] —quercita. Yes, my dear Mademoiselle. 'Tis Straforel. Pardon my excessive zeal. I have at least taught you how tiresome and hollow and useless real adventures are. You might, like this young man, have had your share, but I allowed you to see them in prospect through the magic-lantern of my imagination.
PERCINET. What is this?
SYLVETTE. [Quickly] Nothing, nothing. I love you!
BERGAMIN. [Pointing to the wall] And to-morrow we shall knock down these few rows of bricks!
PASQUINOT. Yes, away with it!
STRAFOREL. No, let us finish it; it is indispensable.
SYLVETTE. [Gathering them all about her] Let us say no more about it!
Curtain