The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda Part 101

Phoebus, my future son-in-law, listen to me. I am fond of you.

Be master here, as if you were another self.

Look to it that every one is gay to-night.

And you, my daughter, come, get ready.

You will be the most beautiful at this festival, Be also the most happy.

[_She goes up stage and gives orders to the servants, who continue the preparations._

FLEUR-DE-LYS.

Sir, since the other week, We have hardly seen you twice!

This festival brings you back.

How fortunate for us!

PHOEBUS.

Don't scold, I beg of you!

FLEUR-DE-LYS.

I understand. Phoebus forgets me!

PHOEBUS.

I swear to you--

FLEUR-DE-LYS.

Don't swear!

They only swear who deceive.

PHOEBUS.

Forget you? What folly!

Are you not the most fair?

Am I not the most loving?

PHOEBUS (_aside_).

My beautiful betrothed Is out of sorts to-day; Suspicion is in her mind.

What a pity!

Beauties, the lovers you treat ill Go elsewhere.

You can do more with pleasure Than with tears.

FLEUR-DE-LYS (_aside_).

To betray me, his betrothed, Who belong to him!

I, who have only him to think of And worry about!

Ah! whether he is away or here, What grief!

Present, he scorns my joy; Absent, my tears.

FLEUR-DE-LYS.

Phoebus, the scarf that I worked for you-- What have you done with it? I don't see it.

PHOEBUS (_troubled_).

The scarf? I don't know!

[_Aside._] Good G.o.d! unlucky chance!

FLEUR-DE-LYS.

You forgot it?

[_Aside._]To whom has he given it?

And for whom am I deserted?

MADAME ALOISE (_coming up to them and trying to reconcile them_).

Heavens! get married! Then you can quarrel.

PHOEBUS (_to Fleur-de-lys_).

No! I have not forgotten it.

I remember, I carefully folded it And put it in an enameled box That I had made for it.

[_Pa.s.sionately to Fleur-de-lys, who still frets._

I swear I love you better Than one could love Venus herself!

FLEUR-DE-LYS.

Don't swear! Don't swear!

They only swear who deceive!

MADAME ALOISE.

Children, don't quarrel--everything is bright to-day!

Come, my daughter, you must be seen!

The guests are coming! Everything has its turn.

[_To the servants._] Light the candles and let the ball begin.

I want everything to be beautiful, to seem as bright as day.

PHOEBUS.

Since we have Fleur-de-lys, nothing is wanting to the ball.

FLEUR-DE-LYS.

Yes, Phoebus--love is wanting! [_They go out._