The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda Part 55

Faith! I've a most malicious sort of heart.

I like destruction; find delight in evil; I love to kill! So that I thought I'd be A soldier or a doctor, sir, at twenty.

But I hesitated long, and finally I chose the sword. It's not so sure, but twice As quick. There was a time, I will confess, I longed to be a poet or an actor, Or an exhibitor of bears--but then, I like dinner and supper every day.

A plague upon the poetry and bears!

LAFFEMAS.

With this hope in your mind you studied verse?

SAVERNY.

A little bit, in Aristotle. Yes--

LAFFEMAS.

The Marquis knew you?

SAVERNY.

He knew me as well As a lieutenant knows an upstart soldier.

I belonged to Monsieur de Caussade first, Who gave me to the Marquis' colonel. Poor The present, but we do the best we can!

They made me officer--I'm worth as much As any, and I wear a black mustache.

That is my history.

LAFFEMAS.

They sent you here To notify the uncle?

SAVERNY.

Yes; I came With Brichanteau, the cousin, and the corpse.

He will be buried here--where, if he'd lived, He would have had his wedding!

LAFFEMAS.

Tell me how The old Marquis de Nangis bore the news.

SAVERNY.

With calmness, without tears.

LAFFEMAS.

He loved him though?

SAVERNY.

As much as we love life. Having no children Of his own he had but this one pa.s.sion-- His nephew, whom he dearly loved, although They had not seen each other for five years.

[_In the background, the old Marquis de Nangis pa.s.ses; white hair, pale countenance, arms folded across his breast, dress of the day of Henry IV.: deep mourning; the star and the ribbon of the order of the Holy Ghost. He walks slowly; nine guards in three rows follow; they are dressed in mourning, their halberds on their right shoulder, their muskets on their left; they keep within a short distance, stopping when he stops, and continuing when he continues._

LAFFEMAS (_watching him pa.s.s_).

Poor man!

[_He goes to the back and follows The Marquis with his eyes._

SAVERNY (_aside_).

My good old uncle!

[_Brichanteau enters and goes to Saverny._

SCENE II

_The same._ Brichanteau

BRICHANTEAU.

Ah! two words!

[_Laughing._] He's looking pretty well for a dead man!

SAVERNY (_low, indicating The Marquis, who pa.s.ses_).

Why do you make me grieve him, Brichanteau?

I think we might explain it to him now.

Oh, let me try.

BRICHANTEAU.

No; G.o.d forbid, my friend!

His grief must be sincere; he must weep much.

His woe is one good half of your disguise.

SAVERNY.

Poor uncle!

BRICHANTEAU.

He will find it out ere long.

SAVERNY.

If sorrow has not killed him, then joy will.

These shocks are dangerous to such old men.

BRICHANTEAU.