The Princess of Bagdad: A Play In Three Acts

John

To save you? What have you done then?

Lionnette

I have ruined you.

John

That is all.

Lionnette

It is quite enough.

John

You have never thought of…

Lionnette

Of what?

John

Of another?

Lionnette (laughing)

You are mad. You have always been a little inclined that way. It is true that if you had not been silly you would never have married me.

John

Whether I am mad or not, answer my question.

Lionnette

No, you can be assured on that point. I have never thought of any one else.

John

And if I were to die; if I killed myself; if you, in the end, became a widow, and that man who is there – that strange man, that millionaire – made you an offer, would you marry him?

Lionnette

We have not arrived at that yet.

John

Who can tell? In the meantime that man loves you, and wishes to go so far as to make you love him without waiting for my death. You have remarked it as well as I.

Lionnette

Where is the woman who does not discover such things? Ask those who have never, by anyone, been told or allowed to see that they were loved, what they think of life. Our dream is to hear such declarations; our art is to listen to them; and our genius and power not to believe in them.

John

Has he declared himself?

Lionnette

Never.

John

Your word for it.

Lionnette

My word of honour.

John

It will come to that.

Lionnette

He will not be the last, I hope. What do you want to make of it?

John

He will declare himself, perhaps, at the moment when nothing remains for you but misery or suicide: both are equally hard for a young and beautiful woman.

Lionnette (seriously and haughtily)

You are confounding me with some other woman whom you loved before me. Do I expose myself to these suppositions by my ways of living? Ah! no, no. I have many defects but no vices, I believe; and, in spite of my anxiety for the future, I have never yet dreamed of these ways of escape. I trust never to think for a moment of them.

John

How much I love you! You have in you all that is most strange and noble in this world. You have a power over me almost superhuman. I think of no one but you; I want nothing but you; I dream only of you. If I suspect, it is because I love you. When you are not here, I do not exist: when I find you again, I tremble like a child. I implore you never to trifle with that love, – so deep, and, yet, so troubled. I do not ask you to love me beyond your power of loving; but love none other more than me. You know not – I do not know myself – what the result might be. When I think of the future, I grow giddy. (In a low, eager voice) I adore you! I adore you!

(During the last words Nourvady has come on to the stage again. He has looked at John and Lionnette. He takes his hat; Godler and Trévelé follow him.)

Lionnette

Do not speak so low; you could be heard.

John

Kiss me, then.

Lionnette

You wish me to kiss you. Here?

John

Here.

Lionnette

Before everybody?

John

Before him.

Lionnette

The same subject. Take care! You are doing him a great honour.

John

It is an idea that I have.

Lionnette

You would like it?

John

Yes.

Lionnette

You know well you must not dare me to anything.

John

I implore you.

Lionnette

Once, twice, three times (kissing him on both cheeks). So much the worse for you. There!

Godler (laughing.)

Ah! my friends, ah! You have decidedly a manner of your own of receiving.

The Servant (entering)

Some one wants to see the Count.

Godler

Too late, my man, too late! He ought to have come a minute earlier.

The Servant

I beg your pardon, Sir?

Godler

Go, go! It would be too long to explain.

John (to the Servant)

Who wants to see me?

The Servant

It is a clerk of Mr. Richard.

John

Very well, I will go to him. (To Godler and to Trévelé) I am coming back immediately.

Godler

Don't study us.

(Godler and Trévelé accompany John to the room at the end, where they remain some moments talking in sight of the public; and, when John is gone away, they remain there, walking up and down, during the scene between Lionnette and Nourvady.)

Nourvady (goes towards Lionnette, hat in hand)

Adieu, Countess.

Lionnette

Are you going to leave us?

Nourvady

Yes, your house is in a visible agitation. There is less indiscretion in perceiving it than in remaining.

Lionnette

When shall we see you again?

Nourvady

Never!

Lionnette

You are going away?

Nourvady

No; but I shall come here no more.

Lionnette (laughing)

You did not enjoy your dinner?

Nourvady

Do me the honour of listening to me to the end.

Godler (to Trévelé, on seeing Lionnette seat herself again, and Nourvady approach her.)

That's well! With the other now.

Nourvady

I love you (Lionnette makes a movement). You know it; and you ought to have foreseen that I should one day tell you so.

Lionnette

Yes; it is only five minutes ago that my husband and I were speaking about it.

Nourvady

Do not laugh. You may tell by the tone of my voice that I am very serious. I love you passionately. You do not love me; you do not even think of me. It is probable that you will never love me. I possess nothing of all the essentials to tempt a woman like yourself – except a fortune.

Lionnette (rising to retire)

Sir!

Nourvady

Have patience! I am not capable of failing in respect towards you, as I love you. You are ruined – irreparably ruined. You can accept, it is true, the proposals that Madame Spadetta has had made to you, and free yourself in that manner. There would be no longer debt, but there would be straitened circumstances, and, perhaps, misery. Without counting that, it would be a great grief for you to give up, for ever, certain letters; a grief that whoever loves you ought to spare you.

Lionnette (re-seating herself)

How do you know that?

Nourvady

With money one knows all one wants to know, especially when Madame Spadetta is able to furnish all the information one requires. Do you remember, Countess, that one day, some months ago, passing through the Champs Elysées with your husband and me, you remarked at No. 20 a private house that was nearly finished.

Lionnette

Yes.

Nourvady

You admired then the exterior elegance of that house. That was sufficient to induce me to resolve that no man should inhabit it; – another time you might have looked mechanically in passing on that side, and the proprietor at his window might have imagined that it was at him the lovely Countess of Hun was looking. I have bought that house, and I have had it furnished as elegantly as possible. If, in a year, in two years, in ten years, if – to-morrow – circumstances force you to sell this house where we are at this moment, think of that house in the Champs Elysées that no one has ever yet inhabited. The carriages are waiting in the coach-houses, the horses in the stables, the footmen in the ante-rooms. The little door that this key opens is only for you. (He shows a little key.) That door you will easily recognize: your monogram is on it. From the moment you cross it, if you cross the threshold one day, you will not even have the trouble of opening another with it; all the doors will be open in the way that leads to your apartment. In the drawing-room is an Arabian coffer of marvellous workmanship; this coffer contains a million in gold, struck on purpose for you: it is virgin gold, such as gold ought to be that your little hands deign to touch. You can make use of all in this coffer; when it is empty it will fill itself again – it is a secret. The deeds which confer upon you the ownership of this house are deposited in one of the cabinets in the drawing-room. You will have only to sign them whenever you may like legally to be the owner. Is it necessary to add that you owe nothing to anyone for all that, and that you will remain absolute mistress of your actions? To-morrow I shall pass the day in that house, to assure myself that all there is in a fit state to receive you; and I shall never appear there again until you tell me yourself to come – or to remain there.

(Lionnette takes the key that Nourvady has laid upon the table while talking; rises, and goes to throw it out of the open window; passes before Nourvady in going to rejoin Godler and Trévelé.)

Nourvady (while she passes in front of him)

That window looks upon your garden, Countess, not upon the street. In a garden a key can be picked up again.

(He bows, and leaves her, to take his departure.)

Lionnette (in a low voice)

The insolent fellow!

Jane (entering, to Lionnette)

Master Raoul will not go to bed, Madam.

Lionnette

Very well; I am coming.

(She goes out by the door from which Jane has spoken to her.)

Trévelé (to Godler)

Again running away! that is too strong. This time, let us go too.

Nourvady

No, remain; I think you will be wanted here. Good bye. (He goes away.)

Scene III

GODLER, TRÉVELÉTrévelé (to Godler, while eating a cake)

I assure you that Nourvady is a personage apart. Listen now; let us eat all the cakes, drink all the lemonade, and during that time you can solve the enigma, for at length you ought to know what is going on in this house, you who have always been a friend of the Marchioness of Quansas. It is said even…

Godler (after looking around him)

In 1853.

Trévelé

You are decided?

Godler

In 1853.

Trévelé

Why did you never tell it?

Godler

In 1853 there was a Madam Duranton, who kept a shop in the rue Traversière.

Trévelé

Where may the rue Traversière be?

Godler

It was a little cross street, of compromised fame, leading from the rue St. Honoré to the rue Richelieu. Madame Duranton, a widow – one could not be more a widow – sold left-off clothes. You can imagine the rest…

Trévelé

Yes, I see, I see; make haste.

Godler

Madame Duranton, at whose house two or three friends and I went sometimes to pass the evening, and who gave us sometimes cider and chesnuts in her little back shop…

Trévelé

In 1853?

Godler

In 1853.

Trévelé

How old were you?

Godler

I was 39 years old.

Trévelé

You are old, then?

Godler

I am 66.

Trévelé

You don't look that age.

Godler

Because I get myself up very well.

Trévelé

What a good fellow! Go on.

Godler

Would you like us to make a bet?

Trévelé

No, you would gain it; Florimond has told it to me.

Godler (who is sitting down)

Very well; go and shut the window, and give me something to drink.

Trévelé

Go on.

Godler

Madame Duranton had a daughter.

Trévelé

To whom you made love?

Godler

To whom we all made love, without any good intention – you can understand. The young girl, then between 18 and 19 years old, was a beautiful creature, with naturally golden hair, like women have artificially now-a-days, with violet-blue eyes, cheeks like a rose of Bengal, and teeth and lips resembling almonds between two halves of a cherry.

(During this time Godler from time to time arranges his whiskers, and a lock of hair which falls over his forehead, with a little comb that he takes out of his pocket.)

Trévelé

One could almost wish to taste thereof. You are a poet!

Godler

That I had from my youth. At that time…

Trévelé

In your youth?

Godler

No, in 1853, there were a king and queen…

Trévelé

Who reigned…

Godler

Exactly.

Trévelé

Happy time! Where did they reign?

Godler

At Bagdad.

Trévelé

Thank you.

Godler

This king and this queen had an only son, who was to succeed them. This son, 23 years old, took much too seriously his part of heir-presumptive. But what was the use of having a crown, if, in his turn, he was not to have an heir to leave it to? However, nothing in the young prince indicated the least inclination towards love, legitimate or otherwise.

Trévelé

He was not like you.

Godler

No, he was not like me.

Trévelé

Go on.

Godler

Always study; always reflection; always indifference.

Trévelé

A strange prince!

Godler

The ambassadors opened negotiation upon negotiation uselessly with foreign courts in view of a political alliance. Several young princesses of surrounding countries, of Hindostan, of Persia, and even of Europe…

Trévelé

How well you relate a thing!

Godler

Were waiting full-dressed, their hair well-dressed and splendidly perfumed, for the king of Bagdad to ask their hand for his son. The telegraph replied always: Wait! Wait!

Trévelé

Go on quickly.

Godler

A chamberlain had a very simple idea.

Trévelé

In general the ideas of chamberlains are very simple.

Godler

This was, to let the prince travel, in order that he might see other women than those of Bagdad, since they were acknowledged to be insufficient, and to send him at once to Paris.

Trévelé

Bad complaints require strong remedies.

Godler

But this was not all; beauty was necessary, and it must be stock of a particular kind: also those that he did not marry must differ only in rank from the one he did marry. In fact, it was not a Lycœnion, but a perfect Chloe, that was sought for the instruction of this Daphnis, and it was not to be child's play.

Trévelé

I see the young Lionnette dawning. But how did everything come about?

Godler

That will make the subject of the following chapter. The ambassador of Bagdad came with us sometimes in the evening, to eat chesnuts and drink cider at Madame Duranton's.

Trévelé

And he discovered a way of leading the prince to eat the cherries and almonds?

Godler

Who acquired such a taste for these delicious fruits, that he wanted to eat nothing else, had no wish to go away, had no inclination whatever for study, no longer wished to reign – he wanted to marry. However, the king, informed and satisfied on the subject, recalled his son. He must go back to Bagdad. Daphnis wept, and Chloe also.

Trévelé

You are king, you cry, and I depart.

Godler

And that is how the beautiful Lionnette came into the world; having for legal father a Marquis de Quansas, a ruined gentleman, rather a bad character, who turned up just at the right moment to lay his hand on a marriage portion, give his name to the mother and daughter, and die a short time after, without falling into the hands of the correctional police, as every one expected to see him do.

Trévelé

Then the countess is daughter of a prince?

Godler

Daughter of a king, even – for the prince succeeded his father.

Trévelé

What a strange country!

Godler

Daughter of a king and of an adventuress; daughter herself of no one knows who. From that comes, no doubt, the strangeness in the nature of Lionnette, whom we, who know the circumstances, named, when she was very young, the Princess of Bagdad. People never knew what it meant, but it is useless for all the world to know what some things mean.

Trévelé

And the mother, the Marchioness of Quansas, has she seen the king again since that adventure?

Godler

Often, and for several years. Thence comes the great luxury and style of the house. But she became so badly-conducted, and abused so much the goodness of the king to her, that he – himself now become father of a large family, as everything led to hope after his return from Paris, and the marchioness no longer being young – lost all patience, and gave no more money, except to his daughter, whom he adored, and whom he saw in secret. But he died quite suddenly.

Trévelé

I know whom you mean.

Godler

Then we both know it, that is sufficient. After the death of the king all the resources disappeared. Fortunately, the love and marriage of our friend John de Hun were found in the nick of time, to maintain for some time the importance of the house; but at this moment I think the downfall is not far off, and all these comings and goings of to-day may very well be the last signs of it. All the legitimate ways are exhausted; there remains nothing now but the others.

Trévelé

Which are happily the most numerous. It costs too much for us, my poor old Godler. For the present it is just the affair of the gloomy millionaire: we shall see later on. There is nothing more to drink; they have quite forgotten us. Put your comb in your pocket again, your lock of hair is very well like that; now let us go away. A peculiar kind of a house. Where is my hat?

(While they both look for their hats, their backs turned to the bottom of the room, John enters, very pale, and visibly affected.)

Scene IV

THE SAME PERSONS, JOHN.

John

I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for having left you so long alone in my house, but I have been suddenly called away. I reckoned upon being back sooner. And…

(He draws his hand across his forehead.)

Godler

You are suffering much?

John

It is nothing… A little fatigue, it is very warm.

Trévelé

We are going away.

John

However, it may be that I shall stand in need of two sure friends. Can I count upon you?

Trévelé (aside)

Nourvady was right.

Godler

Certainly; we shall breakfast, Trévelé and I, to-morrow at 12 o'clock at the club. If you have anything to say to us.

John

Thank you. Till to-morrow then.

Godler (aside, as he goes out)

Poor fellow.

Trévelé (aside, as he goes out)

The weather is getting stormy, as the sailors say.

Scene V

John alone at first, afterwards LionnetteJohn, standing alone, lays his hand on the top of a chair; then he pulls off his cravat and loosens the collar of his shirt, as if he were suffocating and wished to breathe more freely. He goes at length to the window, breathes the air strongly two or three times, and walks towards the door by which Lionnette went out: Lionnette enters by the same door when he is half-way towards itJohn (standing still)

Where have you come from?

Lionnette

I have just come from putting the child to bed, who was very disobedient this evening, and I came back to find the gentlemen again.

John

They are all three gone.

Lionnette

What is the matter with you? You are quite pale… What has happened again?

John

You want to know?

Lionnette

Yes, certainly. I ask you to tell me.

John (walking up to her and putting his fist towards her face)

When I think how I failed in respect for my mother, who died cursing me, and all for this creature.

Lionnette (coming up to him)

I do not understand.

John

You do not understand!

Lionnette

No; I believe, I hope, that you are still madder than usual. What is it?

John (drawing some papers from his pocket)

What is all this? It is this, that Mr. Nourvady has had all your debts paid. He had no wish to do me the honour of paying mine; but you, you owe nothing any more. That is what it is. Now do you understand?

Lionnette (stupified)

Mr. Nourvady!

John

Yes, Mr. Nourvady, your lover!

Lionnette (indignantly)

My lover!

John

Yes, your lover, to whom you have sold yourself and my name, your honour and mine, for some hundreds of thousands of francs. For your own honour it is too much, but for mine it is too little.

Lionnette

Perhaps you will tell me what all this means?

John

Mr. Richard has just sent some one for me; on his return home this evening he found all the bills of your creditors sent back to him receipted, at the same time writing that they were all fully paid. By whom? You know well.

(He throws the papers on the table.)

Lionnette

I swear to you…

John (mad with rage)

'Tis false? 'Tis false! There was a way, painful for you, to free yourself; it was proposed to you at first; you obstinately rejected it… You had your own reasons, it was useless! The contract was concluded and carried out. Since when, may I ask?

Lionnette

Ah! when will you have finished insulting me! I tell you that of which you accuse me is not true. At present, if you do not believe me, do whatever you like.

John (exasperated)

I turn you out of doors.

Lionnette

Unfortunately, this house is mine, and I remain in it.

John

It is true; I beg your pardon! I forgot that your mother had foreseen all. This house, paid for by me, is yours, but the debts incurred by you are paid by some one else. It is a compensation. It is I who will leave this house, you may rest contented. I am going at once… I am going to look for some money – at my sister's – it signifies not where. I must find some, even if I have to steal in my turn. And after that we shall see. Adieu!

(He goes away with a menacing gesture.)

Lionnette (alone)

Adieu! (Shrugging her shoulders, and going towards her apartment.) The idiot! (She goes into her room.)

ACT II

A small drawing-room, in great taste, combined with much luxury. General arrangements of the room rather adapted for repose and sleep – for tête-à-tête – than for general conversation and reception. A closed iron coffer, containing the million which has been spoken of in the First Act, placed on a table.

At the rising of the curtain, the drawing-room is empty. The stage remains thus unoccupied for about a moment. A curtain screen lowered at the left of the spectator, also one equally lowered at the right. A large screen lowered at the back, and concealing, like the other two, a door that can be locked.

Scene I

Lionnette, veiled, enters at the left; draws back the screen, stops, looks around her; goes slowly to the door at the back, which she opens and shuts again, after having looked in. Ten o'clock strikes. She goes and looks through the door at the right, then through the glass between the two rooms over the mantel-piece, and presses the knob of the electric bell, which is by the side of the chimney-piece. Silence reigns for a few seconds. Lionnette, astonished, looks around her. Nourvady appears at the back of the room.

Scene II

LIONNETTE, NOURVADY

(Nourvady stops, after having let fall the screen, and salutes Lionnette very respectfully. He is hat in hand.)

Lionnette (troubled)

Is it you?

Nourvady

You rang.

Lionnette

I thought a footman would answer.

Nourvady

Your most grateful and humble slave has come.

Lionnette (severely)

You were waiting for me?

Nourvady

Yes.

Lionnette

That is the reason you said yesterday that you would be in this house to-day.

Nourvady

Yes.

Lionnette

You were sure that I should come.

Nourvady (a little ironically)

Sure. I only regret that you have had to take the trouble to go and look in your garden for the key that you threw there.

Lionnette

The fact is that you have discovered the only way to compel me, – an infamous way, Sir. (While speaking she has taken off the veils that covered her face, and thrown them on the table.) You acknowledge, Sir, do you not, the infamous means you have adopted. Answer me!

Nourvady

I have no answer. You are in your own house; I could if I wished withdraw myself from your insult and anger: but, apart from the fact that my courage to do so forsook me from the moment you came here, I am sure you have something else to say to me, and I remain to hear it.

Lionnette

Truly, Sir, an explanation between you and me is necessary; and, as you did not wish to return to my house, I am come to seek it in yours. Besides, I like plain and open situations; and I do not fear, especially at this moment in my life, categorical explanations and undisguised expressions, – blunt even, if we can understand each other better in that way. I heard such things yesterday that my ears now can lend themselves to anything. An act such as yours – a step such as I have taken – an interview like this that we are having, and which may lead to results so positive and so serious – are so exceptional that words of double meaning could not explain them. (Seating herself.) I have not long known you; I have never attempted to attract you by the least coquetry; I have never asked anything of you; and you have just dishonoured me morally and socially without my being able to defend myself. It is remarkably clever. Whatever I may say, no one will believe me. My husband, who loves me, will not believe me; and he has treated me accordingly. What have I done to you that you should think yourself authorized to inflict such a public affront on me, for, if it isn't public yet, it will be to-morrow.