Morituri: Three One-Act Plays Part 39

The Marquis In Pink (_approaching timidly_).

We stand benumbed at such a glorious deed.

The Marquis In Pale Blue (_likewise_).

And we are almost beside ourself with admiration.

The Marquis In Pink.

What? Really dead?

The Painter (_tauntingly_).

Sir, you seem to be in doubt?

The Marquis In Pink.

Oh, dear man, how could you think it? I wished only to afford myself the rapture of seeing whether you had altogether freed us.

The Marquis in Pale Blue.

Yes, indeed, freed! For even although you hated him, you can never imagine how, in the chambers of this castle, he has trodden on our dignity.

The Marquis In Pink.

He stalked about, puffed up with self-conceit, and when we were rising in the esteem of his or her majesty----

The Marquis in Pale Blue.

Then came this man with a couple of new triumphs.

The Painter.

How odious!

The Marquis In Pink.

If you please, sir, how we have laughed when his dear name rang through all the streets after some brand-new fight! As the clever man is aware, fools advertise fools. And without going too near him, I will----

The Marshal.

There, wait!

(All The Marquises _starting With fear_.)

The Marquis In Pink (_trembling_).

You said?

The Painter.

I said nothing at all.

The Marquis in Pale Blue.

Yet plainly----

_EIGHTH SCENE_.

THE SAME. THE VALET DE CHAMBRE. THE QUEEN. THE DEAF MAID OF HONOUR. THE SLEEPY MAID OF HONOUR.

The Valet (_announces_).

Her Majesty!

The Queen.

I heard a rumour which greatly displeased me and troubled my peace of mind extremely. Is it true?... There lies the great hero; and truly, in death he seems even more insignificant than he was--as insignificant as one of the most insignificant. Yet mourn with me! We have had a great loss. Even if ambition urge you on with a double spur, many a fine day will come and go before his like will be born to us.

(The Marshal _clears his throat softly_.)

The Queen.

May his courtliness, too, be pleasantly remembered! After his campaign he always brought back to his Queen the best of the splendid spoil of his booty. That touched my royal heart and will be cited as a glorious example. And yet now to you ... What did they say to me? It sounds almost untrue and unnatural: are you the David of our Goliath? I use the term "Goliath" only figuratively. For though we are mourning at his bier, it cannot be said that he was a giant. Yet we know his disposition was haughty. (The Marquises _eagerly a.s.sent_.) Surely he broke in upon you in sudden anger? You are silent out of generosity. So I will graciously forgive this fault and another fault too. (The Painter _clears his throat softly. She stretches out her hand to him, which he kisses_.) And be not grieved! (_To_ The Marquises.) Does not what has happened seem almost like a judgment of G.o.d?

The Marquis in Pale Blue.

It is true! Here a higher power has been at work.

The Deaf Maid Of Honour.

Pardon me, your Majesty! The Marshal is laughing.

The Marquises (_muttering in horror_).

Is he laughing? Is he laughing? (_Silence_.)

The Marshal (_rising_).

Madam, forgive me! In the fight a sudden fainting fit overcame me.

The Marquis in Pale Blue.

(_Pointing at_ The Painter's _sword lying on the floor_.) And what is this blood? (_Movement by_ The Painter.)

The Marshal.

Until the return to my senses relieved me (_with emphasis_) of _this_ trouble and _another_ trouble.