The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda Part 40

"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.