The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda Part 42

DIDIER.

True!

But why this hesitation? [_Going back to her._ Can't you feel The ecstasy of being, each to each, a world, A country, heaven; in some deserted spot To hide a happiness kings could not buy.

MARION.

It would be heaven!

DIDIER.

Will you have it? Come!

MARION.

[_Aside._] Accursed woman! [_Aloud._] No, it cannot be.

[_She tears herself from out his arms, and falls on the armchair._

DIDIER (_freezingly_).

The offer was not generous, I know.

You've answered me. I'll speak of it no more!

Good-by!

MARION. (_aside_).

Alack, the day I pleased him! [_Aloud._] Stay!

I'll tell you. You have hurt me to the soul.

I will explain--

DIDIER (_coldly_).

What were you reading, madame, When I came?

[_Takes the book from the table and reads._

"To Marion de Lorme.

Love's Garland!" Yes, the beauty of the day!

[_Throwing the book violently to the floor._

Vile creature! a dishonor to her s.e.x!

MARION. (_trembling_).

But--she--

DIDIER.

What are you doing with such books?

How came they here?

MARION. (_inaudibly, and looking down_).

They came by chance.

DIDIER.

Do you-- You who have eyes so pure, a brow so chaste-- Do you know what she is--this woman? Well, She's beautiful in body, and deformed In soul! A Phryne, selling everywhere, To every man, her love, which is an insult, An infamy!

MARION (_her head in her hands_).

My G.o.d!

[_A noise of footsteps, a clas.h.i.+ng of swords outside, and cries._

VOICE IN THE STREET.

Help! Murder! Help!

DIDIER (_surprised_).

What noise is that out there upon the square?

[_Cries continue._

VOICE IN THE STREET.

Help! Murder! Help!

DIDIER (_looking from the balcony_).

They're killing some one! Ha!

[_He takes his sword and step's over the bal.u.s.trade. Marion rises, runs to him and tries to hold him back by his cloak._

MARION.

Don't, Didier, if you love me! They'll kill you!

Don't go!

DIDIER (_jumping down into the street_).

He is the one they're going to kill!

Poor man! [_Outside, to combatants._

Stand off! Hold firmly, sir, and pus.h.!.+

[_Clas.h.i.+ng of swords._ There, wretch!

[_Noise of swords, voices, and footsteps._