Comedy of Marriage and Other Tales

GILBERTE

Where is Jean?

LÉON

Do not be disturbed, he will be back directly.

GILBERTE [in astonishment]

Has he gone out?

LÉON

Yes.

GILBERTE

Gone out? And on this evening, above all others!

LÉON

A sudden and grave circumstance compelled him to go out for an hour.

GILBERTE [excitedly]

What is going on? What is it that you are hiding from me? Your story is impossible. Some awful misfortune must have happened.

LÉON AND MARTINEL [together]

Oh, no, no!

GILBERTE

Then, what is it? Tell me! Speak!

LÉON

I cannot tell you anything. Be patient for an hour. It is Jean’s duty to tell you of the sudden and unexpected call which has summoned him hence at such a time.

GILBERTE

What curious words you use! A sudden and unexpected call? He is an orphan – his uncle is his only relative, – then what? Who? Why? Oh, God, how you frighten me!

LÉON

There are duties of many kinds, my dear; friendship, pity, sympathy can impose many of them. But I must not say any more. Be patient for an hour, I implore you.

GILBERTE [to Martinel]

And you, Uncle? Speak! I implore you! What is he doing? Where has he gone? I feel – oh, I feel the shadow of a terrible misfortune hovering over us; speak, I entreat.

MARTINEL [with tears in his eyes]

But I cannot tell you any more, my dear child. I cannot. Like your brother, I promised to say nothing, and I would have done just as Jean has done. Wait for an hour, I beseech you – just an hour.

GILBERTE

And you, too, are upset. It must be a catastrophe.

MARTINEL

No, no! The fact that you are so distressed agitates me, because you know I love you with my whole heart. [Embraces her.]

GILBERTE [to Léon]

You have spoken of friendship, of pity, and of sympathy, but if it were any of these reasons you could tell me so; meanwhile, as I look at you two, I feel that here is some unspoken reason, some mystery which appalls me.

LÉON [resolutely]

My dear little sister, won’t you trust in me?

GILBERTE

Yes, you ought to know all.

LÉON

Will you trust me absolutely?

GILBERTE

Absolutely.

LÉON

I swear to you, on my faith as a gentleman, that I would have done just as Jean has done; that his absolute fidelity to you, his fidelity, which perhaps is even exaggerated by love for you, is the only reason which had led him to forget at this very moment the very thing that he has gone to learn anew.

GILBERTE [looks Léon straight in the eyes]

I believe you, Léon, and I thank you. Nevertheless, I tremble yet and I shall tremble until he returns. If you swear to me that my husband was entirely ignorant of the cause which has made him leave me at this supreme moment, I will content myself as well as I can, trusting in you two. [She stretches both hands to the two men.]

SCENE XI

(The same, with M. de Petitpré and Mme. de Ronchard, who enters quickly C.)

PETITPRÉ

What is this I hear? Jean Martinel gone out?

MARTINEL

He is coming back very soon, sir.

PETITPRÉ

But why on earth did he go out on such an evening as this without a word of explanation to his wife? [Turns to Gilberte] You know nothing about it, do you?

GILBERTE [seated L. of table]

Father, I know nothing at all about it.

MME. DE RONCHARD

And without a word of explanation to the family! That is indeed a lack of courtesy.

PETITPRÉ [to Martinel]

And why has he acted in this way, sir?

MARTINEL

Your son knows as much as I do, sir; but neither of us can reveal it to you. Moreover, your daughter has consented to wait until she can learn all about it from her husband on his return.

PETITPRÉ

My daughter has consented – but I do not consent! Besides, it seems that you alone were forewarned of this sudden departure.

MME. DE RONCHARD [in agitation to Martinel]

It was to you they brought the letter, and you were the one who read it first.

MARTINEL

You are correctly informed, Madame; a letter was delivered here, but I would not shoulder the responsibility of this matter, and I showed the letter to your son, sir [turns to Petitpré], and asked his advice with the intention of following it.

LÉON

The advice that I gave is exactly what my brother-in-law has done of his own volition, and I esteem him all the more for it.

PETITPRÉ [turns to Léon]

It is I who should have been consulted, not you. If Jean’s action is indeed excusable, his want of courtesy is absolutely unpardonable.

MME. DE RONCHARD

It is scandalous!

LÉON [to M. Petitpré]

Yes, it would have been better to consult you, but the urgency of the matter did not allow it. You would have discussed the matter; my aunt would have discussed the matter; we should all have discussed the matter the whole night long, and you know there are times when one cannot afford to lose even seconds. Silence was necessary until Jean’s return. When he does return he will hide nothing from you, and I feel sure that you will judge him as I myself have judged him.

MME. DE RONCHARD [turns to Martinel]

But this letter, from whom did it come?

MARTINEL

Oh, I can tell you that. It came from a physician.

MME. DE RONCHARD

From a physician – a physician – then he must have a sick patient – and it is on account of this patient that he made Jean come to him. But who is the patient? Oh, ho! I surmise that it is a woman – that woman – his former mistress, who has played this card today. Sick! I suppose she has made a pretense of poisoning herself in order to show him that she loves him still and will always love him. Oh, the little wretch! [To Léon.] This is the kind of people you stand up for! Yes, you!

LÉON

It would be only reasonable, my dear Aunt, not to air all these revolting theories of yours in Gilberte’s presence, especially when you really know nothing at all.

GILBERTE [rises]

Do not speak any more about it, I pray you. Everything that I have heard just now distresses me beyond measure. I will wait for my husband; I do not wish to know anything except from his lips, as I have absolute confidence in him. If misfortune has threatened us, I will not hear such things talked of. [Exit L, accompanied by Petitpré. Short silence.]

MME. DE RONCHARD [turns to Léon]

Well, Léon, do you always win? You see what charming fellows these husbands are – every one of them!

ACT II

SCENE I

Musotte’s bedroom, neatly furnished, but without luxury. Disordered bed stands L. A screen stands L. I. E., almost hiding Musotte, who lies stretched at length upon a steamer-chair. Beside the bed is a cradle, the head of which is turned up stage. On the mantelpiece and on small tables at R. and L. are vials of medicine, cups, chafing-dish, etc. A table stands, R. I. E. Musotte is sleeping. La Babin and Mme. Flache stand C. looking at her.

LA BABIN [in low tones]

How she sleeps!

MME. FLACHE [in the same voice]

But she will not sleep long now, unless she is going into her last sleep.

LA BABIN

Oh, there is no chance of that. That is enough to give one the horrors. Fancy losing one’s life for a child!

MME. FLACHE

But how can you prevent it? Death is as necessary as birth, or the world would become too small for us all.

LA BABIN [sits R. of table]

All people ought to die in the same way and at the same age – every one of us; then one would know what to expect.

MME. FLACHE [pours out some tea]

What simple ideas you have, Madame Babin! Personally, I would rather not know the hour of my death. I would sooner finish my life while sleeping in the middle of the night – during slumber – without suffering – by a sudden failure of the heart.

LA BABIN

Look at the sick woman. How silly of her to wish to rest upon that steamer-chair as she has done. The doctor told her plainly that such an effort would probably finish her.

MME. FLACHE [sits L. of table]

Oh, I understand her motive. When a girl like her has a lover she commits every kind of folly, and more especially, nurse, when they are at all coquettish; but you country people do not know anything about such things. They are coquettish through and through. That is the reason she wished to look her prettiest. She was afraid of being thought ugly, don’t you understand? So I had to put on her peignoir, and tidy her up, and arrange her hair just as I have done.

LA BABIN

Oh, these Parisians! It is necessary that they should have a hairdresser even to the last gasp! [A short silence.] But will this gentleman of hers come?

MME. FLACHE

I do not think so. Men are not overfond of obeying the calls of their former mistresses at such times, and then, this lover of hers was married to-day, poor fellow!

LA BABIN

Well, that is a joke.

MME. FLACHE

I should say so.

LA BABIN

Certainly, then, he won’t come. In such a case would you go to see a man?

MME. FLACHE

Oh, if I loved him very much I should go.

LA BABIN

Even if you were marrying another the same day?

MME. FLACHE

Just the same. For such a combination of circumstances would pierce my heart; would penetrate me with a strong emotion, – and, oh, I am so fond of such emotions!

LA BABIN

Well, so far as I am concerned, I certainly would not go. I should be too much afraid of the shock.

MME. FLACHE

But Doctor Pellerin asserts that the man will come.

LA BABIN

Do you know this physician well?

MME. FLACHE

Who, Doctor Pellerin?

LA BABIN

Yes; he has the air of a charming man of the world.

MME. FLACHE

Oh, yes; he is all that, but he is also a good physician. Then he is such good company, and has such a smooth tongue. And you know he is not physician to the Opera for nothing.

LA BABIN

That little puppy of a —

MME. FLACHE

A puppy! You don’t very often find puppies among men of his caliber, and then, – oh, how he used to love the girls! Oh, oh! Although, for the matter of that, there are many physicians who are like him. It was at the Opera that I first met him.

LA BABIN

At the Opera!

MME. FLACHE

Yes, at the Opera. You know, I was a dancer there for eight years. Yes, indeed, even I – just as you see me, a dancer at the Opera.

LA BABIN

You, Madame Flache!

MME. FLACHE

Yes, my mother was a midwife, and taught me the business at the same time that she taught me dancing, because she always said it was well to have two strings to your bow. Dancing, you see, is all very well, provided you are not too ambitious of appearing on first nights, but, unhappily, that was the case with me. I was as slender as a thread when I was twenty, and very agile, but I grew fat and scant of breath, and became rather heavy in my steps; so when my mother died, as I had my diploma as a midwife, I took her apartment and her business, and I added the title of “Midwife to the Opera,” for all their business comes to me. They like me very much there. When I was dancing, they used to call me Mademoiselle Flacchi the première.

LA BABIN

Then you have been married since then?

MME. FLACHE

No, but a woman in my profession should always assume the title of Madame for the sake of its dignity. You know, it gives confidence. But, how about you, nurse, from what place do you come? You know, you have only just come here, and nobody consulted me about engaging you.

LA BABIN

I am from Yvetot.

MME. FLACHE

Is this your first engagement as a nurse?

LA BABIN

No, my third. I have had two daughters and a little boy.

MME. FLACHE

And your husband, is he a farmer or a gardener?

LA BABIN [Simply]

I am not married.

MME. FLACHE [laughing]

Not married, and with three children! Upon my word, let me compliment you; you are indeed precocious.

LA BABIN

Don’t talk about it; it was not my will. It is the good God who does these things. One cannot prevent it.

MME. FLACHE

How simple you are! Now you will probably have a fourth child.

LA BABIN

That’s very possible.

MME. FLACHE

Well, what does your lover do? What is his business? Or perhaps you have more than one?

LA BABIN [with indignation]

There has never been more than one. I give you my word, upon my hope of salvation. He is a lemonade-seller at Yvetot.

MME. FLACHE

Is he a handsome fellow?

LA BABIN

I believe you, indeed! He is handsome! [Confidentially.] If I tell you all this, it is only because you are a midwife, and a midwife in such affairs as this is like a priest in the confessional. But you, Madame Flache, you, who have been a dancer at the Opera, you must also have had, surely – little love affairs – little intrigues?

MME. FLACHE [evidently flattered, and in a dreamy tone]

Oh, yes, one or two!

LA BABIN [laughs]

And have you never had – this sort of accident? [Points to the cradle.]

MME. FLACHE

No.

LA BABIN

How did that come?

MME. FLACHE [rises and approaches the mantelpiece]

Probably because I was a midwife.

LA BABIN

Well, I know one in your profession who has had five.

MME. FLACHE [with contempt]

She evidently did not come from Paris.

LA BABIN

That’s true; she came from Courbevoie.

MUSOTTE [in a feeble voice] Is no one there?

MME. FLACHE

She is awakening. There, there! [Folds up the screen which hides the long steamer-chair.]

MUSOTTE

Hasn’t he come yet?

MME. FLACHE

No.

MUSOTTE

He will arrive too late – my God! My God!

MME. FLACHE

What an idea! He will come.

MUSOTTE

And my little darling – my child?

MME. FLACHE

He is sleeping like an angel.

MUSOTTE [after looking at herself in a hand-mirror]

I must not look like this when he comes. Oh, God! Bring my child – I want to see him.

MME. FLACHE

But if I show him to you he will wake up, and who knows if he will go to sleep again.

MUSOTTE

Bring the cradle here. [A gesture of refusal from Mme Flache.] Yes, yes! I insist, [Mme. Flache and the nurse gently bring the cradle to her.] Nearer, nearer, so that I can see him well – the darling! My child, my child! And I am going to leave him! Soon I shall disappear into the unknown. Oh. God, what agony!

MME. FLACHE

Now don’t go worrying yourself like that; you are not as ill as you think. I have seen lots worse than you. Come, come! you are going to recover. Take away the cradle, nurse. [They put the cradle again in its place; then to the nurse.] That will do, that will do. Watch me. You know very well that it is only I who can quiet it. [Sits near the cradle, and sings a lullaby while rocking it.]

  “A little gray fowlCame into the barn,To lay a big eggFor the good boy that sleeps.Go to sleep, go to sleep,My little chicken!Go to sleep, sleep, my chick!”

LA BABIN [stands near the end of the mantelpiece, drinks the sugared water, and slips loaf sugar into her pocket; aside]

I must not forget the main thing. I have just seen in the kitchen the remains of a leg of mutton, to which I should like to go and say a few words. I am breaking in two with hunger just now.

MME. FLACHE [sings softly]

  “A little black fowlCame into the room,To lay a big eggFor the good boy that sleeps.Sleep, sleep, my little chicken,Sleep, oh, sleep, my chick!”

MUSOTTE [from the long chair, after moaning several times]

Has he gone to sleep again?

MME. FLACHE [goes toward Musotte]

Yes, Mademoiselle, just as if he were a little Jesus. Do you wish to know what I think about him, this young man lying here? You will lead him to the altar for his marriage. He is a jewel, like yourself, my dear.

MUSOTTE

Do you really think him pretty?

MME. FLACHE

On the honor of a midwife, I have seldom brought into the world one so pretty. It is a pleasure to know that one has brought to the light such a little Cupid as he is.

MUSOTTE

And to think that in a few hours, perhaps, I shall see him no more; look at him no more; love him no more!

MME. FLACHE

Oh, no, no! You are talking unreasonably.

MUSOTTE

Ah, I know it too well! I heard you talking with the nurse. I know that the end is very near; this night, perhaps. Would the doctor have written to Jean to come and see me on this evening – the evening of his marriage – if I were not at the point of death? [The bell rings. Musotte utters a cry.] Ah, there he is! it is he! Quick! quick! Oh, God, how I suffer! [Exit Mme. Flache C. Musotte gazes after her. Enter Dr. Pellerin, in evening clothes.]

SCENE II

MUSOTTE [despairingly]

Ah! it is not he!

PELLERIN [approaches Musotte]

Has he not come yet?

MUSOTTE

He will not come.

DR. PELLERIN

He will! I am certain of it; I know it.

MUSOTTE

No!

DR. PELLERIN

I swear it! [Turns toward Mme. Flache.] Hasn’t he answered the note yet?

MME. FLACHE

No, Doctor.

DR. PELLERIN

Well, he will come. How is my patient?

MME. FLACHE

She has rested a little.

MUSOTTE [in an agitated voice]

All is over! I feel that I shall not rest any more until he comes, or until I depart without having seen him.

DR. PELLERIN

He will come if you will go to sleep immediately and sleep until to-morrow morning.

MUSOTTE

You would not have written to him to come this evening if I had been able to wait until to-morrow morning. [The bell rings.] If that is not he, I am lost – lost! [Mme. Flache runs to open the door. Musotte listens intently, and hears from below a man’s voice; then murmurs despairingly.] It is not he!

MME. FLACHE [re-enters with a vial in her hand]

It is the medicine from the chemist.

MUSOTTE [agitated]

Oh, God! how horrible! He is not coming; what have I done? Doctor, show me my child. I will see him once more.

DR. PELLERIN

But he sleeps, my little Musotte.

MUSOTTE

Well, he has plenty of time in the future for sleep.

DR. PELLERIN

Come, come, calm yourself.

MUSOTTE

If Jean does not come, who will take care of my child? – for it is Jean’s child, I swear to you. Do you believe me? Oh, how I loved him!

DR. PELLERIN

Yes, my dear little child, we believe you. But please be calm.

MUSOTTE [with increasing agitation]

Tell me, when you went away just now where did you go?

DR. PELLERIN

To see a patient.

MUSOTTE

That is not true. You went to see Jean, and he would not come with you, or he would be here now.

DR. PELLERIN

On my word of honor, no.

MUSOTTE

Yes, I feel it. You have seen him, and you do not dare to tell me for fear it would kill me.

DR. PELLERIN

Ah, the fever is coming back again. This must not go on. I don’t wish you to be delirious when he comes. [Turns to Mme. Flache.] We must give her a hypodermic injection. Give me the morphia. [Mme. Flache brings the needle and morphia, from the mantelpiece and gives it to Dr. Pellerin.]

MUSOTTE [uncovers her own arm]

But for this relief, I do not know how I should have borne up during the last few days. [Dr. Pellerin administers the hypodermic.]

DR. PELLERIN

Now, you must go to sleep; I forbid you to speak. I won’t answer you, and I tell you of a certainty that in a quarter of an hour Jean will be here. [Musotte stretches herself out obediently upon the couch and goes to sleep.]

LA BABIN [silently replaces the screen which hides Musotte]

How she sleeps! What a benediction that drug is! But I don’t want any of it. It scares me; it is a devil’s potion. [Sits near the cradle and reads a newspaper.]

MME. FLACHE [in a low voice to Dr. Pellerin]

Oh, the poor girl, what misery!

DR. PELLERIN [in the same tone]

Yes, she is a brave girl. It is some time since I first met her with Jean Martinel, who gave her three years of complete happiness. She has a pure and simple soul.

MME. FLACHE

Well, will this Monsieur Martinel come?

DR. PELLERIN

I think so. He is a man of feeling, but it is a difficult thing for him to leave his wife and his people on such a day as this.

MME. FLACHE

It certainly is a most extraordinary case. A veritable fiasco.

DR. PELLERIN

It is, indeed.

MME. FLACHE [changes her tone]

Where have you been just now? You did not put on evening dress and a white cravat to go and see a patient?

DR. PELLERIN

I went to see the first part of the Montargy ballet danced.

MME. FLACHE [interested, and leaning upon the edge of the table]

And was it good? Tell me.

DR. PELLERIN [sits L. of table]

It was very well danced.

MME. FLACHE

The new directors do things in style, don’t they?

DR. PELLERIN

Jeanne Merali and Gabrielle Poivrier are first class.

MME. FLACHE

Poivrier – the little Poivrier – is it possible! As to Merali I am not so much astonished; although she is distinctly ugly, she has her good points. And how about Mauri?

DR. PELLERIN

Oh, a marvel – an absolute marvel, who dances as no one else can. A human bird with limbs for wings. It was absolute perfection.

MME. FLACHE

Are you in love with her?

DR. PELLERIN

Oh, no; merely an admirer. You know how I worship the dance.

MME. FLACHE

And the danseuses also, at times. [Lowering her eyes.] Come, have you forgotten?

DR. PELLERIN

One can never forget artists of your worth, my dear.

MME. FLACHE

You are simply teasing me.

DR. PELLERIN

I only do you justice. You know that formerly, when I was a young doctor, I had for you a very ardent passion which lasted six weeks. Tell me, don’t you regret the time of the grand fête?

MME. FLACHE

A little. But reason comes when one is young no longer, and I have nothing to complain of. My business is very prosperous.

DR. PELLERIN

You are making money, then? They tell me that you are giving dainty little dinners.

MME. FLACHE

I believe you, and I have a particularly good chef. Won’t you give me the pleasure of entertaining you at dinner one of these days, my dear Doctor?

DR. PELLERIN

Very willingly, my dear.

MME. FLACHE

Shall I have any other physicians, or do you prefer to come alone?

DR. PELLERIN

Alone, if you please. I am not fond of a third party. [The bell rings.]

MUSOTTE [awakens]

Ah, some one rang, run and see. [Exit Mme. Flache. A short silence.]

A VOICE [without]

Madame Henriette Lévêque?

MUSOTTE [emitting an anguished cry]

Ah, it is he! There he is! [Makes an effort to rise. Enter Jean Martinel.] Jean! Jean! At last! [Springs up and stretches her arms to him.]

SCENE III

(The same, – with Jean Martinel.)

JEAN [comes rapidly forward, kneels near the long steamer-chair, and kisses Musotte’s hands]

My poor little Musotte! [They begin to weep and dry their eyes; then they remain silent and motionless. At last Jean rises and holds up his hand to Dr. Pellerin.]

PELLERIN

Did I do well?

JEAN

You did indeed, and I thank you.

PELLERIN [introduces them]

Madame Flache, the midwife – the nurse – [indicates the cradle with a grave gesture] and there!