Читать книгу L'Aiglon - Edmond Rostand - Страница 4

The Ladies.

[Surrounding the piano, laughing, and all talking at the same time.] She misses all the flats!—It's scandalous!— I'll take the bass!—Loud pedal!—One! Two!—Harp! Bombelles. [To Theresa.] What! You! Theresa. Good-day, my Lord Bombelles! A Lady. [At the piano.] Mi, sol. Theresa. I enter on my readership— Another Lady. [At the piano.] The flats! Theresa. It's thanks to you. Bombelles. My dear Theresa! Nothing! You are my relative, and you are French. Theresa. [Presenting the officer.] Tiburtius— Bombelles. Ah, your brother! [He gives him his hand and pushes forward a chair for Theresa.] Take a seat. Theresa. I'm very nervous. Bombelles. [With a smile.] Heavens! What about? Theresa. To venture near the persons of the two The Emperor left! Bombelles. Oh, is that all, my child? Tiburtius. Our people hated Bonaparte of old— Theresa. Yes—but to see— Bombelles. His widow? Theresa. And perhaps His son? Bombelles. Assuredly. Theresa. Why, it would mean I'd never thought or read, and was not French, Nor born in recent years, if I could stand Unmoved so near them. Is she lovely? Bombelles. Who? Theresa. Her Majesty of Parma? Bombelles. Why— Theresa. She's sad And that itself is beauty. Bombelles. But I'm puzzled. Surely you've seen her? Theresa. No. Tiburtius. We've just come in. Bombelles. Yes, but— Tiburtius. We feared we might disturb these ladies Whose laughter sings new gamuts to the piano. Theresa. Here in my corner I await her notice. Bombelles. What? Why, it's she who's playing bass this moment! Theresa. The Emp—? Bombelles. I'll go and tell her. [He goes to the piano and whispers to one of the ladies who are playing.] Maria Louisa. [Turning.] Ah! this child— Quite a pathetic story—yes—you told me: A brother— Bombelles. Father exiled. Son an exile. Tiburtius. The Austrian uniform is to my taste; And then there's fox-hunting, which I adore. Maria Louisa. [To Theresa.] So that's the rascal whose extravagance Eats up your little fortune? Theresa. Oh!—my brother— Maria Louisa. The wretch has ruined you, but you forgive him! Theresa de Loget, I think you're charming! [She takes Theresa by both hands and makes her sit beside her on the couch.] [Bombelles and Tiburtius retire to the back.] Now you're among my ladies. I may boast I'm not unpleasant; rather sad at times Since— Theresa. I am grieved beyond the power of words. Maria Louisa. Yes, to be sure. It was a grievous loss. That lovely soul was little known! Theresa. Oh, surely! Maria Louisa. [Turning to Bombelles.] I've just been writing; they're to keep his horse— [To Theresa.] Since the dear General's death— Theresa. The—General's? Maria Louisa. He'd kept that title. Theresa. Ah, I understand! Maria Louisa. I weep. Theresa. That title was his greatest glory. Maria Louisa. One cannot know at first all one has lost; And I lost all when General Neipperg died. Theresa. Neipperg? Maria Louisa. I came to Baden for distraction. It's nice. So near Vienna.—Ah, my dear, My nerves are troublesome; they say I'm thinner— And growing very like Madame de Berry. 'Twas Vitrolles said so. Now I do my hair Like her. Why did not Heaven take me too? This villa's small, of course; but 'tisn't bad; Metternich is our guest in passing. [She points to the door on the left.] There. He leaves to-night. The life at Baden's gay. We have the Sandors and the pianist Thalberg, And Montenegro sings to us in Spanish. Fontana howls an air from Figaro. The wife of the Ambassador of England And the Archduchess come; we go for drives— But nothing soothes my grief!—Ah, could the General—! Of course you're coming to the ball to-night? Theresa. Why— Maria Louisa. At the Meyendorffs'. Strauss will be there. She must be present, mustn't she, Bombelles? Theresa. May I solicit of your Majesty News of the Duke of Reichstadt? Maria Louisa. In good health. He coughs a little; but the air of Baden Is good for him. He's quite a man. He's reached The critical hour of entrance in the world! Oh dear! when I consider he's already Lieutenant-Colonel! Think how grieved I am Never to have seen him in his uniform! [Enter the Doctor and his son, bringing a box. Maria Louisa. Ah! These must be for him! The Doctor. Yes; the collections. Maria Louisa. Please put them down. Bombelles. What are they? The Doctor. Butterflies. Theresa. Butterflies? Maria Louisa. Yes; when I was visiting This amiable old man, the local doctor, I saw his boy arranging these collections. I sighed aloud, Alas! would but my son, Whom nothing moves, take interest in these! The Doctor. So then I answered, Well, your Majesty, One never knows. Why not? We can but try; I'll bring my butterflies! Theresa. His butterflies! Maria Louisa. Could he but leave his solitary musings To occupy his mind with— The Doctor. Lepidoptera. Maria Louisa. Leave them; come back; he's out at present. [To Theresa.] You Come, I'll present you to Scarampi. She's The Mistress of the Robes. [She sees Metternich, who enters L.] Ah, Metternich! Dear Prince, we leave you the saloon. Metternich. Indeed, I had to come here to receive the Envoy— Maria Louisa. I know— Metternich. Of General Belliard, French Ambassador; And Councillor Gentz, and several Estafets. With your permission— [To a lackey.] First, Baron von Gentz. Maria Louisa. The room is yours. [She goes out with Theresa. Tiburtius and Bombelles follow her. Gentz enters.] Metternich. Good-morning, Gentz. You know The Emperor recalls me to Vienna? I'm going back to-day. Gentz. Ah? Metternich. Yes; it's tiresome— The town in summer! Gentz. Empty as my pocket. Metternich. Oh, come now! No offence, you know, but—eh? Surely the Russian Government has— Gentz. Me! Metternich. Be frank. Who's bought you? Eh? Gentz. [Munching sweetmeats.] The highest bidder. Metternich. Where does the money go? Gentz. [Smelling at a scent-bottle he has taken out of his pocket.] In riotous living. Metternich. Good Heavens! And you're considered my right hand! Gentz. Let not your left know what your right receives. Metternich. Sweetmeats and perfumes! Oh! Gentz. Why, yes, of course. I've money; I love sweets and perfumes. Yes, I'm a depraved old baby. Metternich. Affectation! Mere pose of self-contempt. [Suddenly.] And Fanny? Gentz. Elssler? Won't love me. I'm ridiculous From every point of view. She loves the Duke. I'm but a screen; but I'm content to suffer When I remember how it serves the state If he's amused. And so I play the fool, And dance attendance on the little dancer. She bade me bring her here this very night, Just to surprise the Duke. Metternich. You scandalize me. Gentz. His mother's going out. There's dancing. [He hands Metternich a letter which he has taken out of a pocket-book.] Read— From Fouché's son. Metternich. [Reading the letter.] August the twentieth, Eighteen hundred and thirty— Gentz. He'd transform— Metternich. Good Viscount of Otranto! Gentz. Our Duke of Reichstadt to Napoleon Two. Metternich. [Handing back the letter.] A list of partisans? Gentz. Yes. Metternich. Make a note. Gentz. Do we refuse? Metternich. Without destroying hope. Ah, but my little Colonel serves me well To keep these Frenchmen straight. When they forget Their Metternich, and lean too much to the left, I let him show his nose out of his box, and—crack!— When they come right, I pop him in again! Gentz. When can one see the springs work? Metternich. Now. [Enter the French Attaché. Metternich. The Envoy Of General Belliard. Welcome, sir. [Hands him papers.] The papers. We accept in principle King Louis Philip; But don't let's have too much of '99, Or we might crack a little egg-shell! The Attaché. Sir, Are you alluding to Prince Francis Charles? Metternich. The Duke of Reichstadt? Oh, sir, as for me, I don't admit his father reigned. The Attaché. [Generously.] I do. Metternich. So I'll do nothing for the Duke. Yet— The Attaché. Yet? Metternich. Yet, should you give too loose a reign to freedom, Permit yourself the slightest propaganda, Let Monsieur Royer-Collard come too often And bare his bosom to your king; in short, If your new kingdom's too republican, We might—our temper's not angelical— We might remember Francis is our grandson. The Attaché. Our lilies never shall turn red. Metternich. And while They keep their whiteness bees shall not approach them. The Attaché. 'Tis feared in spite of you the Duke may hope. Metternich. No. The Attaché. Things are happening. Metternich. But we filter them. The Attaché. Doesn't he know that France has changed her king? Metternich. Yes; but the detail he does not yet know Is that his father's flag, the tricolor, Is re-established. 'Twill be time enough— The Attaché. He would be drunk with hope! Metternich. We'll keep him sober. The Attaché. He's not so strictly guarded here at Baden. Metternich. Oh, here there's nought to fear. He's with his mother. The Attaché. Well, sir? Metternich. What spy could have such interest In watching him? For any plot would trouble Her lovely calm. The Attaché. Is not that calmness feigned? She cannot have a thought but for her eaglet! Maria Louisa. [Entering hurriedly. My parrot! The Attaché. [Starting.] Eh? Maria Louisa. [To Metternich.] Margharitina's flown! Metternich. Oh! Maria Louisa. My parrot, Margharitina! Metternich. [To the Attaché.] There, sir! The Attaché. [To Maria Louisa.] May I not seek it, Highness? Maria Louisa. [Curtly.] No. [She goes out. The Attaché. [To Metternich.] What's wrong? Metternich. We say, Your Majesty; you called her Highness. The Attaché. But if we don't allow the Emperor reigned She cannot be addressed as Majesty Except as Parma's Duchess— Metternich. That's her title. The Attaché. Then that was why she looked such daggers at me! Metternich. Question of protocols and of precedence. The Attaché. [Preparing to take his leave.] May the French Embassy from this day forward Display the tricolor cockade? Metternich. [With a sigh.] Of course, Since we're agreed— [Seeing the Attaché silently throw away the white cockade which was on his hat and replace it with a tricolor which he takes out of his pocket.] Come, come! You lose no time! [Noise of harness-bells without.] Metternich. What is it now? Gentz. [Who is on the terrace.] The guests of the Archduke. The Meyendorffs, Lord Cowley, Thalberg— Bombelles. [Who has quickly come in R. at the sound of the bells, followed by Tiburtius.] Meet them! The Archduchess. [Appearing on the threshold surrounded by a crowd of lords and ladies in elegant summer costumes. (Light dresses and parasols; large hats.) Two little boys and a little girl dressed in the latest fashion.] 'Tis but a villa; not a palace. [The room is crowded. She turns to a young man.] Quick! Thalberg, my Tarantelle! [Thalberg sits at the piano and plays.] [To Metternich.] Where is her Majesty, My lovely sister? A Lady. We looked in to fetch her. Another Lady. We're rushing through the valley on a coach. Sandor is driving. A Man's Voice. We must thrust the lava Back in its crater! The Archduchess. Oh! do hold your tongues They will insist on talking of volcanoes. Bombelles. What's this volcano? A Lady. [To another.] Astrachan this winter. Sandor. [To Bombelles.] Why, liberal opinions. Bombelles. Ah! Lord Cowley. Or, rather, France! Metternich. [To the Attaché.] You hear him? A Lady. [To a young man.] Montenegro, sing to me Under your breath, for me alone. Montenegro. [Whom Thalberg accompanies, sings very softly.] Corazon— [He continues, pianissimo.] Another Lady. [To Gentz.] Ah, Gentz! [She dips into her reticule.] Some bon-bons, Gentz? [She gives him some.] Gentz. You are an angel. Another Lady. [Similar business.] Perfume from Paris? [She takes out a little bottle of scent and gives it to him.] Metternich. [Hurriedly to Gentz.] Tear the label off! "The Reichstadt scent"! Gentz. [Smelling perfume.] It smells of violets. Metternich. [Snatches the bottle out of his hand and scrapes the label off with a pair of scissors he takes from the table.] If the Duke came he'd see that still at Paris— A Voice. [Among the group at the back of the stage.] The Hydra lifts its head— A Lady. Our husbands talk Of Hydras! Lord Cowley. And it must be stifled. A Lady. Yes; Volcanoes first, then hydras. A Maid of Honor of Maria Louisa. [Followed by a servant bringing a tray with large glasses of iced coffee.] Eis-Kaffee? The Archduchess. [Seated; to a young lady.] Recite some verses, Olga. Gentz. May we have Something of Heine's? Several Voices. Yes! Olga. [Rising.] The Grenadiers? Metternich. [Quickly.] Oh! No! Scarampi. [Coming out of Maria Louisa's apartment.] Her Majesty is on her way! All. Scarampi! Sandor. We'll drive out to Krainerhütten, The ladies there can rest upon the green. Metternich. [To Gentz.] What are you reading yonder? Gentz. The "Debats." Lord Cowley. The politics? Gentz. The Theatres. The Archduchess. How futile! Gentz. Guess what they're playing at the Vaudeville. Metternich. Well? Gentz. "Bonaparte." Metternich. [With indifference.] Oh? Gentz. The Nouveautés? Metternich. Well? Gentz. "Bonaparte." And the Variétés? "Napoleon." The Luxembourg announces "Fourteen years of his life." At the Gymnase They are reviving the "Return from Russia." What is the Gaiety to play this season? "Napoleon's Coachman" and "La Malmaison." An unknown author's done "Saint Helena." The Porte-Saint-Martin's going to produce "Napoleon." Lord Cowley. It's the fashion. Tiburtius. It's the rage. Gentz. The Ambigu "Murat;" the Cirque "The Emperor." Sandor. A fashion. Bombelles. Yes, a fashion. Gentz. Yes, a fashion Which will recur from time to time in France. A Lady. [Reading the paper over Gentz's shoulder through a long-handled eye-glass.] They want to bring his ashes home. Metternich. The Phœnix May rise again, but not the eagle. Tiburtius. What An unknown quantity is France! Metternich. Oh, no; I've gauged it. A Lady. Well, then, mighty prophet, speak! The Archduchess. His words are graven in bronze. Gentz. Or, maybe, zinc. Lord Cowley. Who will be France's Saviour? Metternich. Henry the Fifth. The others—Fashion. Theresa. That's a useful name For calling glory by at times. Metternich. So long As all the shouting's only done in theatres, I think there's no— Cries. [Without.] Long live Napoleon! All. What?—Here, at Baden!—Here! Metternich. Ridiculous! Pray, have no fear! Lord Cowley. We must not lose our heads Because a name is shouted. Gentz. He is dead. Tiburtius. [On the terrace.] It's nothing. Metternich. Yes, but what? Tiburtius. An Austrian soldier. Metternich. Austrian? Tiburtius. Two of them. I saw them. Metternich. Vexing! Maria Louisa. [Entering hurriedly and pale with fear from her room.] Did you not hear the shout? Oh, horrible! It brought to mind—One day the people surged About my coach in Parma with that cry! It's done to vex me! Metternich. What could it have meant? Tiburtius. Two of the Duke of Reichstadt's regiment Caught sight of him as he was riding homeward. You know the deep ditch bordering the road? His Highness wished to leap it, but his horse Shied, swerved, and backed. The Duke sat firm, And brought him to it again, and—over! Then The men, to applaud him, shouted. And that's all. Metternich. [To a lackey.] Fetch one of them at once! Maria Louisa. They seek my death! [An Austrian sergeant is brought in.] Metternich. A sergeant! Now, my man, speak up. What meant That shouting? The Sergeant. I don't know. Metternich. What! You don't know? The Sergeant. No; nor downstairs the corporal don't know neither. He shouted with me. It was good to see The Prince so young and slender on his horse. And then we're proud of having for our Colonel The son of— Metternich. That'll do. The Sergeant. He took the ditch So cool and calm! As pretty as a picture! So then a sort of lump came in our throats, Pride and affection—I don't know—we shouted "Long live—! Metternich. Enough, enough! It's just as easy To shout "Long live the Duke of Reichstadt," idiot! The Sergeant. Well— Metternich. What? The Sergeant. "Long live the Duke of Reichstadt" Isn't so easy as "Long live—" Metternich. Be off. Don't shout at all! Tiburtius. [To the Sergeant as he passes him to go out.] You fool! Maria Louisa. [To the ladies who surround her.] I'm better, thank you. Theresa. The Empress! Maria Louisa. [To Dietrichstein, pointing to Theresa.] Baron Dietrichstein, this is My new companion-reader.