William Wilfred Campbell - Daulac: Act II, Scene 1 lyrics

PLACE—Front of an inn in a forest. TIME—Some days after Act I. Enter, from left, FILLET, a short, stout inn-keeper, carrying a table too big for him. He places it. FIL. Here! (hurries out left and returns with a chair, places it at right of table) Here, for the gentleman, one louis. (hurries out again, returns with another chair, places it at left) This for the lord, two louis d'or, ha! Enter DESJARDINS, booted and spurred, with sword, and whip in hand. DES. Not yet? FIL. Nay, master. DES. Master? FIL. (bowing) Sir! DES. Sir? FIL. Sieur! DES. (more angry) Sieur? FIL. (almost touching the ground) My lord! (aside) Nothing! DES. Wine, quick! FIL. Yea, sire! (goes out bowing behind and yelling within) One bottle for his majesty the devil! DES. Scoundrel! [Exit FILLET. The devil was ever notary to a fool [Page 137], And I'm the devil. This dead dotard uncle And orphan niece were waxen in my hands; And now to trap this Daulac in my snare. How I do hate him only heaven doth know, Or fitter hell, for am I not the devil? His luck against my cunning, chance for chance, I'll match him yet. Why doth not Piotr come? Enter PIOTR running, at right, breathless; falls, clutching his breast, at DESJARDINS' feet. As he runs he knocks over FILLET, who enters at same time, spilling wine. FILLET looks around in disgust. DES. Quick, knave, quick! the letter! PIO. (fumbling in his breast) Here, master, here! DES. (opening quickly and reading) Ha, ha! 'tis done, 'tis done, the letter de cachet. It means his banishment and deep disgrace. (to PIOTR) Who gave you this letter? PIO. The Duke's own man, master. DES. And when do the officers arrive? PIO. To-morrow. Master, I faint! DES. Wine, quick, wine. [Goes on reading letter. FIL. (who has been sighing over the decanter) Yea, sire, yea. [Exit shaking his fist at PIOTR. (calling) Once more bottle for his majesty the devil! Re-enter with wine; PIOTR takes it at a gulp. FIL. Thou mindest me of a cowhard's lanthorn. PIO. Why? FIL. Thou art so transparent! Say, (aside) be he thy master, boy? [Pointing at DESJARDINS. PIO. Yea, old firkin-sides. FIL. Then art thou damned indeed. [Exit at left. PIO. Yea, not like thee, but for my leanness. DES. (coming to center) Doth he not come yet? [Page 138] PIO. Who, master, who? DES. Why, who else but Daulac? PIO. Not yet, master. DES. Not yet! Not yet! A soldier should be prompter. A like gallant is this to win his lady. Had I his fortune-given mask of form, His mock-heroic ways, his poet face, I would not dally all my days at Paris, But with quick siege and sans all ceremonie I'd win her to my liking. Heaven, earth, hell! How I do hate him! PIO. Say, master! DES. Well, rascal? PIO. Old firkin-sides taketh thee for the devil. DES. What think you? PIO. Naught, seeing if it be so I be damned. DES. Like you my form? PIO. May he never come in worse. DES. Look here, master Piotr, a word with you: I've half suspicioned you these many days; Indeed, I chose you for a rogue's whip-lash. Now, hearken, rascal: if you at my bidding But crack anon to suit my spirit's will, Your fortune's made; but if you do but fail me,— You'll meet the very devil. PIO. Yea, master, I understand. I am the lash, you snap me, and someone else gets hurt. Ha, ha, that's it! DES. Yea, you've caught it. But, to change the subject, how does the sprightly Fanchon? PIO. (in amazement) Ah, master! How knew you I love Fanchon? DES. Am I not the devil? PIO. But she would no more have me than Mademoiselle would give a thought to you. DES. Fiends of hell! What did you say, rascal [Page 139]? PIO. (aside) Now the bung is out of the barrel! (to DESJARDINS) I—I did but remark that she won't do the love business with me. She prefers a basket paunch to a bean pole, and so favors that fool, p**nac. DES. So that's the trouble, is it? PIO. Yea, master. That's what makes me so thin; that she likes me not for my leanness but makes me the leaner, so that her distaste but aggravates the disease, so to speak. DES. Oh, that's nothing. PIO. Nothing, master? Nothing? Yea, that's me, or what I will be if this wasting of affections and flesh keeps on. Nothing! DES. I but meant, rascal, that it is all right. PIO. Oh, it is all right, is it? (counting on his fingers) That's me, or I am no logician. DES. I mean to say, fool, that she shall marry you. PIO. Master, master, say that again. Marry me—who? DES. Fanchon. PIO. Fanchon? Look here, master. You may be the devil, and his uncle to boot, but you can't move a maid's mind, let alone Fanchon's. Why, master, she keeps me dancing to her changes like a turkey on hot irons. Nay, nay, master. DES. Pshaw, she's but a woman! Changeable as the moon On moving water. Truthful as the lie That trembles on the breathings of a slander. Keep you courage, man, do my bidding, And leave the maid to me. PIO. But, master, she loves p**nac. DES. Love? She'll love you just as well. I know a woman. PIO. Well, if you do, then all that I can say is, you're devilishly more devilish than the devil. (aside) But I have my doubts [Page 140]. DES. Fanchon is like her mistress. She will go Which way the other. That's the way she's blown. Love's not in this. Mad'moiselle's uncle dead, She's by my schemes the mistress of his fortunes, And Daulac by the same brave fact a pauper. PIO. A pauper? The Sieur Daulac a pauper? DES. What else? 'Twas I drew up his uncle's will. What would you call that man who stands therein Sans land, sans houses, monies, destitute? PIO. A pauper, master. Ergo, he has nothing, therefore he is nothing. That's like me. DES. Well, such is Daulac. PIO. And, master, you did this? DES. Yea. PIO. Then—you—are—the—devil! DES. Now, hearken, sirrah, that you know my power, Remember I am your master and dread mine anger. Now, next to win the mistress. When that happens, Be you but with me, you shall have the maid. Do you mark me, sirrah? Now go. Send me yon Barrel-paunch. PIO. Yea, I mark you. (aside) But be you devil or no, I much misdoubt me if you do know Fanchon. I like this not, I like it not, I smell murder Or something deeper here. I'll watch this devil Whom fate hath made my master. [Goes out calling. Firkin-sides, firkin-sides! Re-enter the Landlord. FIL. (bowing low) Yea, your majesty. DES. Whom do you take me for? The devil? FIL. Who else? DES. Look you here, scoundrel, do you know this name? [Whispers in his ear. FIL. (retreats, trembling with fear. PIOTR comes in listening) Nay, your majesty, not here, he comes not here [Page 141]! DES. Yea, and to-night. FIL. To waylay this lord? Then this means murder. PIO. (aside) Yea, so say I. Monsieur Daulac, you are more than dead if I do not save you. [Exit. DES. Now, villain, this will pay you. [Gives a purse. FIL. (going out) But murder, murder, murder. Oh, murder! [Counts gold. DES. Ha, ha, I'll have him sure. All cannot fail. I'll slay him here to-night, or missing that, The officer from Paris comes to-morrow With letter de cachet wheedled from the King, Banishing Daulac from these shores forever. Ha, ha! the duke doth hate him for that lunge He gave him in that secret midnight duel. So gains his vengeance granting my poor prayers. This last disgrace will wreck him; meanwhile I Will come back here to-night in cloak and mask And see if fate dare give him to my blade. With these two villains to aid me I may do it. Ha, ha! Why, here he comes at last, at last. Damn him! Damn him! How I hate his face! Enter DAULAC, booted and spurred, with sword and military cloak. DAUL. Desjardins, Desjardins! DES. Welcome, Daulac, mine own noble friend. This is a meeting. [Grasps and wrings his hand. DAUL. Welcome, Desjardins, wisdom's counselor, The brother-confessor to my many follies. The cynic chider, he who hath forgiven More in mine acts than ever Heaven can.— O my friend, had I one thousandth part Of all the wisdom under your brain's roof, I would not be the reckless soul I am. Well, well! Heaven ne'er made two single souls alike. You'd laugh, Desjardins, did you hear my follies. I've fought six duels, old comrade; ponder that— [Page 142] And come off in them all without a scratch, Save in the first, and that was but a prick, Healed up in a week—and all for you I know not, save that chivalry wanes at court, And men will slander women in my presence. DES. I heard you pinked the Duke? DAUL. (starting) You heard that? DES. Ha, ha! a rumor, but 'tis a dangerous business. DAUL. When a man insults a woman, be he King, [Lifts his hat. He answers to my sword. DES. (taking snuff) Ha, ha! Yea, yea, brave, brave, but dangerous. (aside) As you will find. DAUL. O Desjardins, think me not all lightness; Amid the court I sickened of its follies. It's shallow conceits and hollow mock of worth, Where arrogance and cringing joined in one, Jan*s-like, in every soul I met, Till all my spirit in a ferment burned. DES. For paths of glory? DAUL. Yea, friend, you read me right. Some day, somewhere, I know not where, only in dreams that come, I will loose my spirit battling on some field For France and glory. But tell me, mine old friend, How be it that I meet you on my way? DES. I came to meet you. DAUL. To meet me! That was kind. God bless you, friend! [Wrings his hand again. And how is Helène? DES. She is well. DAUL. And happy? DES. As her circumstances grant. DAUL. And my uncle [Page 143]? DES. He—is—well. DAUL. Poor uncle, I have often grieved him sore, And now I'll grieve him sorer: I can never Give up in life the great career of arms To settle down to humdrum country life, And, beating my sword into a gentle ploughshare , Play me the squire of vineyards. Nay, Desjardins, For I was born a soldier. In my cradle My spirit must have run on war's alarms And drained its ardors from my mother's breast. Yea, you have known it, Desjardins, my true friend, And now it had but one sole rival thought. DES. And that? DAUL. My love for Helène. DES. (aside) Curse him! does he dare to prate of that? DAUL. Yesterday in Paris the Sieur de Condé, Who sails anon to try his soldier's fortunes In those new lands discovered by Champlain, Did bid me share his perils, and perchance The glory or d**h that fate will grant him there. DES. (aside) This is my chance. (to DAULAC) You agreed? DAUL. Nay, I did neither say him yea nor nay. DES. And why? DAUL. My love for Helène drew me hitherward, And bound my feet to France's holy shores, While glory pointed promising toward the West. But Helène conquered. DES. (aside) S'd**h, I'll crush him now! DAUL. And then I thought me of my poor old uncle, How he would grieve; I could not break his heart. DES. (aside) Now the dagger goes home. (to DAULAC, solemnly) 'Twill break no more. DAUL. What, what! did you not say he was well [Page 144]? DES. Yea, well, indeed, for Daulac, he is dead. DAUL. (rising) My uncle dead! My God! When did he die? DES. Four days ago. DAUL. And— DES. Was buried yesterday. DAUL. And Helène? DES. Is heiress to all his fortune. DES. Great heavens, Desjardins, what doth all this mean? DES. It means but this: your uncle for some time Has marked your course in anger, and at last, Thinking you unworthy of his trust Willed all his wealth to Mad'moiselle Helène, Cutting you off without one single louis. DAUL. Then I am ruined! DES. Yea, ruined. DAUL. And this is why— DES. I came to meet you. DAUL. To break it to me, ere I saw Helène. (taking DESJARDIN'S hand) Thank you, friend. God knows I need a friend. In this hard hour. Not that I grudge the wealth. Heaven is witness, I joy for Helène's sake. She in her pure and simple womanhood Is fitter trustee to that splendid wealth Than such a spirit as I, but O great God! That he, the uncle that I have always loved, Should die without forgiving, nay, with thoughts Unmerited by my worst and wildest follies; Should think me so unoworthy of his love,— 'Tis this unmans me. DES. You know me, Daulac, one sans aspirations, Believing only what my reason holds, Deeming not overmuch those attributes Of love, hope, glory, friendship, as men mouth them [Page 145], Save as poor ebullitions of the moment, Gendered in foolish souls that know not life And its gray, stern realities, and would not Be o'erhard on you in this bitter hour, Save to remind you, you have one thing left 'Mid all this wreck of earthly hope and fortune, Which is— DAUL. Mine honor. I would die for it. DES. Then you must die to love. DAUL. O Desjardins, this worst final stroke! DES. You are a man of honor. She is rich And you a pauper. DAUL. Yea, you are right, so infinitely removed Is Helène from my hopes that Ind to Ind Were nearer. O inexorable fate, Thou mockest me, miserable! I will go and die. DES. Daulac, methought thou wert at least a man. DAUL. I am a man; for that dread reason I Do suffer all the torments of the damned. Man, man, cannot you see I am shut out From all I love best? It is easy seen That you have never loved. O Desjardins, Your coldly calculating nature views This life as but a problem to be solved Like an equation. He hat never suffered Who never loved. DES. (aside) I never love? Yea, I can hate, too. (to DAULAC) You wrong me in your heat of suffereing, Daulac. Heaven knows I meant but for the best. I thought you strong, but see I was mistaken. There is a way: forget this barrier fate Hath built between you; go to her, and if She truly loves you nought can come between Your mutual happiness. DAUL. And lose mine honor? [Page 146] DES. Yea, what is honor but a thing to prate of, But never practiced in this material world? DAUL. Never, Desjardins! Since this one short hour Helène is dead to Daulac. Whoe'er may hope To win her happy, Daulac never can. Nay, brightest honor, thou captain of my spirit, Beloved of heaven and worshipped of holy men, Without thee love were never love at all, But life's poor semblance. DES. I did but plead for your own happiness; But now you've forsworn love for glory's sake, What is your purpose? DAUL. There's but one pathway in this world for him Whom love that banished, that which leads to d**h. I have decided; this new western world Will coffin Daulac from his many woes. DES. Then you go to Canada? DAUL. It is my object, if such as I can hold A living interest. DES. (aside) 'Twas an easy victory. I'm rid of him. (to DAULAC) But will you send no message to your cousin? No farewell? DAUL. Farewell to Helène? Desjardins, I cannot go Before I see her pure, sweet face again. This much I owe to nature, come what will. DES. (aside) He'll weaken, will he? be a man of straw. For all his protestations? Never, Daulac! You have too good a foe to forfeit now Your boasted honor. (to DAULAC) Do you not fear that in this tender meeting (Man is but flesh and woman over-loving) That his same honor boasted now so loud May not get worsted? DAUL. Never, Desjardins! DES. (aside) Ha, ha! We'll see! The devil is sceptic [Page 147], Or else this world were all an innocent place. (to DAULAC) Do you return with me? DAUL. Nay, friend, forgive me my weak human nature. Leave me a space to wrestle with my sorrow, And I will follow. DES. (aside) Now I'll see the poison work this side, I'll go prepare the lady, till the rift In this sweet lute spills all the music out. Piotr, Piotr! [Exit, calling out. PIO. (outside) I'm coming, master. DAUL. Now must I make the soldier shame the man, And in one short hour change this throbbing nature Into the semblance of a heartless stone. O Helène, next to Heaven thou wert to me. I placed you in that niche in my heart's temple Where blessed thoughts and sacred only dwell. Tear out this bleeding heart with these two hands, And still its beat forever. O great Heaven! Let not one single tender sigh of hers, One last sweet glance of sorrow, melt my soul From out this marble semblance of a man. I'll go to her, but I will go as stone, All pa**ion dead as I am dead to her. [Sinks his head on table. The stage grows darker. Re-enter PIOTR, rushing in. PIO. Danger, danger! Draw and guard yourself! [Rolls under the table. DAULAC leaps to his feet and draws. Enter two a**a**ins,with DESJARDINS cloaked and masked. They all attack DAULAC. He fights the three. DES. Ha, ha, ha! PIO. (under the table) Murder! murder! FIL. (at side, calling) Murder! thieves! murder! [They fight harder. DAULAC k**s one, then wounds the second, fighting his way out [Page 148]. DES. Damn him! damn him! he still lives, still lives! But wait! The letter de cachet! ha, ha, ha! I'll have him yet! I'll have him yet! CURTAIN.