The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda Part 12

_The Queen, splendidly dressed, reclining upon a couch; Fabiano Fabiani seated on a folding-chair. Magnificent costume. The garter_

FABIANI (_a guitar in his hands, singing_).

When you sleep, calm and pure, love, In shadow, 'neath my eyes, And your soft breathing gives my heart Its tenderest replies; On your sweet form my eyes can feast, Oh, beauty's priceless store!

Then sleep, my beauty, sleep, my love, Sleep on, for evermore!

And when you say, "I love you,"

In truth, it seems to be As if G.o.d's heaven were opening Especially for me.

I see dreams hidden in your eyes That we've not dreamed before; Then love me, oh, my beauty, Love me for evermore!

You see, the whole of life, dear, Lies in those words, just four-- All things that people envy, All things that men adore, All things that are seductive On which our hearts set store, To sing, to laugh, my beauty, To sleep, to love, no more!

[_He puts down his guitar._

Oh, I love you more than I can tell, madame! But this Simon Renard--this Simon Renard, who is more powerful here than you yourself--I hate him!

THE QUEEN.

I can't help it, my lord; you know that. He is here as the amba.s.sador of the Prince of Spain, my future husband.

FABIANI.

Your future husband!

THE QUEEN.

Come, my lord, let us not speak of that. I love you! What more do you wish? Moreover, it is time for you to go, now.

FABIANI.

One moment more, Mary!

THE QUEEN.

It is time for the secret council to meet. Until now, there has been only a woman here. We must let the Queen enter.

FABIANI.

I wish the woman would keep the Queen waiting at the door.

THE QUEEN.

You wish, do you? You wish, do you? Look at me, my lord! Fabiani, you have a young and beautiful head!

FABIANI.

It is you who are beautiful, madame. You need only your beauty to be all-powerful. There is something on your head which tells me you are the Queen; but it is written plainer on your brow than on your crown!

THE QUEEN.

Flatterer!

FABIANI.

I love you!

THE QUEEN.

You love me, do you not? You love only me? Say it to me again, just like that, with the same eyes! Alas! we poor women, we never know just what is pa.s.sing in a man's heart. We have to trust your eyes; and the handsomest eyes, Fabiani, are often the most false. But yours, my lord, are so full of loyalty, so full of candor, so full of good faith, they could not deceive, those eyes--could they? Yes, my beautiful page, your glances are artless and sincere. Oh, it would be shameful to take such heavenly eyes to betray with! Your eyes are the eyes either of a devil or an angel!

FABIANI.

Neither angel nor devil. A man who loves you!

THE QUEEN.

Who loves the Queen?

FABIANI.

Who loves Mary.

THE QUEEN.

Listen to me, Fabiani. I love you, too. You are young; there are many beautiful women who smile tenderly on you--I know it. People get tired of queens as well as of other women.--Don't interrupt me!--If you ever fall in love with another woman, I want you to tell me about it.--Don't interrupt me, dear!--I may forgive you, if you tell me about it. You don't know how much I love you. I don't know myself. It is true, there are moments when I would rather see you dead than happy with another; but there are also moments when I would rather have you happy. Indeed, I don't know why they try to make me out such a wicked woman!

FABIANI.

I can only be happy with you, Mary! I love no one but you!

THE QUEEN.

Are you sure? Look at me! Are you sure? Oh, I am jealous sometimes! I imagine--where is the woman who does not think of these things?--sometimes I imagine that you are false to me. I would like to be invisible, so that I might follow you, and always know what you are doing, what you are saying, where you are! In fairy stories they tell about a ring which makes one invisible; I would give my crown to have such a ring as that. I keep thinking that you go to see the beautiful women in the city. Oh, you must not deceive me--indeed, you must not!

FABIANI.

Banish such thoughts from your mind, madame. I false to you, my love, my queen, my kind mistress! To do that, I would have to be the most thankless, the most miserable of men. And I have given you no reason to think me the most thankless, the most miserable of men. I love you, Mary; I adore you! I could not even look at another woman! I love you, I say; but don't you see it in my eyes? There must be some way to persuade you! Look at me well! Do I look like a man who is false? When a man deceives a woman, you can see it at once. Women are seldom mistaken about that. And what a time you choose to tell me these things--the one moment in my life when I love you the most! It is true, I am sure I never loved you so much as I do to-day. I am not speaking to the Queen. What do I care about the Queen? What can she do to me? She can have my head cut off; what does that amount to?

You, Mary, can break my heart. It isn't your sovereignty that I love, it is yourself. It is your beautiful white and soft hand that I love to kiss; it isn't your scepter, madame.

THE QUEEN.

Thank you, my Fabiano. Good-by! Ah, my lord, how young you are! What beautiful black hair, what a graceful head you have! Come back to me in an hour.

FABIANI.

What you call an hour, I call a century!

[_He goes out. As soon as he is gone, The Queen rises hastily, goes to a concealed door, opens it, and ushers in Simon Renard._