The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda - BestLightNovel.com
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"To Marion de Lorme."
SAVERNY.
They talk of nothing But this in Paris. That book and "The Cid"
Are the successful efforts of the day.
MARION (_taking the book_).
It's very civil of you; now, good-night!
SAVERNY.
What is the use of fame? Alack-a-day!
To come to Blois and love a rustic! Bah!
MARION (_calling to Dame Rose_).
Take care of the Marquis, and show him out!
SAVERNY (_saluting her_).
Ah, Marion, you've degenerated! [_He goes out._
SCENE II
_Marion, afterward Didier_
MARION (_alone, shuts the door by which Saverny went out_).
Go-- Go quickly! Oh, I feared lest Didier-- [_Midnight strikes._ Hark!
It's striking midnight! Didier should be here!
[_She goes to the balcony and looks into the street._
No one!
[_She comes back and sits down impatiently._
Late! To be late--so soon!
[_A young man appears behind the bal.u.s.trade of the balcony, jumps over it lightly, enters, places his cloak and sword on the armchair. Costume of the day: all black: boots. He takes one step forward, pauses_ _and contemplates Marion, sitting with her eyes cast down._
At last!
[_Reproachfully._ To let me count the hour alone!
DIDIER (_seriously_).
I feared To enter!
MARION (_hurt_).
Ah!
DIDIER (_without noticing it_).
Down there, outside the wall, I was o'ercome with pity. Pity? yes, For you! I, poor, accursed, unfortunate, Stood there a long time thinking, ere I came!
"Up there an angel waits," I thought, "in virgin grace, Untouched by sin--a being chaste and fair, To whose sweet face s.h.i.+ning on life's pathway Each pa.s.ser-by should bend his knees and pray.
I, who am but a vagrant 'mongst the crowd, Why should I seek to stir that placid stream?
Why should I pluck that lily? With the breath Of human pa.s.sion, why should I consent To cloud the azure of that radiant soul?
Since in her loyalty she trusts to me, Since virtue s.h.i.+elds her with its sanct.i.ty, Have I a right to take her gift of love, To bring my storms into her perfect day?"
MARION (_aside_).
This is theology, it seems to me!
I wonder if he is a Huguenot?
DIDIER.
But when your tender voice fell on my ear, I wrestled with my doubts no more--I came.
MARION.
Oh, then you heard me speaking--that is strange!
DIDIER.
Yes; with another person.
MARION (_quickly_).
With Dame Rose!
She talks just like a man, don't you think so?
Such a strong voice! Ah, well, since you are here I am no longer angry! Come, sit down.
[_Indicating a place at her side._ Sit here!
DIDIER.
No! at your feet.
[_He sits on a stool at Marion's feet and looks at her for some moments in complete silence._
Hear me, Marie!
I have no name but Didier--never knew My father nor my mother. I was left, A baby, on the threshold of a church.
A woman, old, belonging to the people, Preserved me, was my mother and my nurse.
She brought me up a Christian, then she died And left me all she had--nine hundred francs A year, on which I live. To be alone At twenty is a sad and bitter thing!
I traveled--saw mankind: I learned to hate A few and to despise the rest. For on This tarnished mirror we call human life, I saw nothing but pride and misery And pain; so that, although I'm young, I'm old, And am as weary of the world as are The men who leave it. Never touched a thing That did not tear and lacerate my soul!
Although the world was bad, I found men worse.
Thus I have lived; alone and poor and sad, Until you came, and you have set things right.
