FROM THE FRENCH OF EMILE AUG1ER WITH A PREFACE BY EUGENE BRIEUX 1JCSB LIBRARY FOUR PLAYS BY AUGIER THE FOLLOWING ARE THE FOUR PLAYS IN THIS VOLUME OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE MONSIEUR POIRIER'S SON-IN-LAW THE HOUSE OF FOURCHAMBAULT THE POST-SCRIPT FOUR PLAYS By EMILE AUGIER TRANSLATED WITH AN INTRODUCTION By BARRETT H CLARK WITH A PREFACE BY BRIEUX NEW YORK 'ALFRED A KNOPF H 91 5 COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY ALFRED A. KNOPF THB'PLIMPTON-PRBSS NORWOOD-MASS-U'S-A TO J. RALPH BENZIES This volume is affectionately dedicated. CONTENTS PREFACE [LETTER BY BRIEUX] vii INTRODUCTION [BY BARRETT H. CLARK] xi LIST OF PLAYS AND BIBLIOGRAPHY xxvii OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE I [LE MARIAGE D'OLYMPE] MONSIEUR POIRIER'S SON-IN-LAW 71 [LE GENDRE DE M. POIRIER] THE HOUSE OF FOURCHAMBAULT 141 [LES FOURCHAMBAULT] THE POST-SCRIPT 217 [LE POST-SCRIPTUM] PREFACE MY DEAR MR. CLARK: AS I had occasion to explain to you when you were planning the present volume, I can see among the numerous reasons for the success which it will achieve that it is above all a timely book, introducing as it does the work of Emile Augier to the American public at the moment when the evolution of the taste of that public is directing it precisely toward that form of dramatic art which is exemplified by the author of "Le Gendre de M. Poirier." No longer content merely with dramas of adventure and plays in which sensational incidents and arbitrary development render them closely akin to the newspaper serial or the fairy-tale, this public has ceased looking to the theatre solely as an amusement, a pleasant recreation and distraction from its daily occupations; it is now interested in more complex problems; it is willing to listen to arguments a process more taxing, possibly, than the other, but thereby only the more fascinating. Avid of progress and bent on the quest of the most recent and most profound manifestations of thought, it cannot fail at this time to take an interest in the theatre of ideas. In- deed, if the drama of Ibsen has already attracted the attention of this public, it is certain that there has existed some transitional form of dramatic art between that drama and the works first presented in America. Each epoch has its particular way of thinking and its particu- lar kind of plays. Our epoch is that of the social play. The material progress of civilization, reducing the distance and obstacles which hitherto separated the nations, has resulted in bringing us closer to one another, arousing our common interests and stimulating those mental and spiritual qualities viii PREFACE which unite the Old World with the New. This art in my opinion is only the result of that sympathetic note which we seek in those who not many years ago were total strangers to us. You have made a most wise and careful choice among the works of Emile Augier. "Le Gendre de M. Poirier," his most celebrated comedy, together with "Les Fourchambault " and "Le Manage d'Olympe," set forth and defend principles and ideas which cannot but find favour in the United States. This play []"Le Gendre de M. Poirier"] may be compared with an exciting and chivalrous tournament, in which the con- testants represent the two forms of nobility: that of the heart or spirit, nobility pure and simple, and that of caste. The first triumphs over the other, yet without crushing it as is just and fitting. Antoinette Poirier, having succeeded in arousing the enthusiasm and admiration of her husband the Marquis de Presles to the point where he renders her the highest possible homage he acknowledges that in her heart he has found that of his mother the Marquise exclaims, wounded and yet radi- antly happy in the full consciousness of her legitimate pride: " I have my mother's heart!" This play then sums up in these two speeches one uttered by the representative of individual pride, the other by the repre- sentative of traditional haughtiness, which may occasionally hide but never destroy, the essential qualities of the aristocracy. Here is depicted that struggle, intelligent, courteous, tender, too, between race and caste, with honor in the balance. In short, here we are able to observe commonsense, sentiment, and French good-humour finally at swords' points with traditional pride and all its concomitant sophistry, achieving a triumph, a triumph however over what is conventional and superficial in this ancient pride, for it respects and honours the prestige and greatness of the past and even admits the charm of aristocratic idiosyncrasies. Finally, as a sort of compensation due us for the exaggera- tions of the Naturalistic School, there is not a single odious PREFACE ix personage in this lively and natural comedy, for Madame de Montjay is only a dramatic "utility," which Augier took pleasure in relegating far into the background. As for the Marquis de Presles, he is exquisitely French, and his purely superficial faults scarcely detract from his charm in the eyes of the Poirier-Verdelet partnership. Nor do the petty meannesses of these old gentlemen greatly lower them in our eyes what a good excuse they have! After this optimistic and charming play it was necessary to select one showing Emile Augier under his severest aspect. You have done this in choos- ing "Le Mariage d'Olympe." Emile Augier has always stood for the great middle classes. Its ideals are order and regularity, justice, the family and fire- side. He considers from a tragic viewpoint what Moliere laughed at in order not to cry over, and he stands forth as champion against every peril which threatens to destroy conjugal happiness. His middle-class honesty prevented his sentimentalising over the lot of the prostitute; throughout his plays he shows himself her constant enemy. His Olympe is the exact counterpart of Marguerite Gautier in " La Dame aux camelias ": she is a cynical and insidious being, whom unhoped-for good fortune has not succeeded in overthrowing. Having made her way by subterfuge into society and the intimacy of the family circle, she does not seek real redemption. Seized with a homesickness for her vile past, she makes use of her position only in order to wreck the happiness of those about her, up to the day when the gentleman of the old school, whose nephew she has ensnared and married, puts an end to her in an access of indignation. In "Les Fourchambault " we observe the struggle between ambition and the material interests on the one hand, and natural impulse and the true nobility of the heart on the other. In every scene Emile Augier maintains his antipathy to fortunes which, when they are not honourably acquired, are the brutal weapons directed against those who are weaker, or else when they are x PREFACE utilised for ends to which our reason, our commonsense and our desire for justice, are radically opposed. The sordid, petty, and ambitious Madame Fourchambault, Fourchambault, Bernard and his mother, are synthetic figures, types of humanity at large, thrust into the midst of social drama. Emile Augier was great as an observer of the society of his time. Weary of the conventional, romantic, superannuated drama of his day, of religious and historical themes, he preferred to treat those questions which the life of his time furnishes every day to the dramatist. The powers of good and evil have since Augier's day changed in the matter of terminology, together with the methods of treat- ing them as material for drama. He was among the first to realise that an individual face to face with questions of physiolog- ical and social heredity was quite as poignant a subject for study as was the legendary hero pursued by the anahke of antiquity; so that the plays of the present are more attractive to us than those of early times by reason of the interest aroused by the discussions to which they give rise, discussions which we can immediately assimilate and allow to react upon our consciousness as living beings. Such then are the questions treated in the plays of Emile Augier which this volume offers to the American public. I am delighted, Monsieur, to join you in rendering homage to the lit- erary memory of a master whom I consider one of the greatest of that line in which I am proud and happy to consider myself as a dramatist and French writer. Yours, etc., BRIEUX. INTRODUCTION EMILE AUGIER THE present volume is the first attempt to make known in English something of the rich and varied genius of one of the ablest and most influential dramatists of the nine- teenth century. Up to the present, Emile Augier has been accessible to readers of English only through translations of two plays, while among the rare studies of the subject in our language the only one that pretends to any sort of completeness is the illuminating and sympathetic essay by Professor Brander Matthews in his "French Dramatists of the Nineteenth Century." The first three plays, here translated for the first time, are typical of three separate and distinct manners of their author; the fourth is a delicate and amusing trifle, serving to show rather what he could do in an odd moment than to stand for a different phase of his work. One of these is an acknowledged masterpiece of the nineteenth century drama: "Le Gendre de M. Poirier" is indubitably one of the finest comedies since Moliere, and rightly holds a place of honour in the repertory of the Comedie Franchise with "Tartufe" and "Le Mariage de Figaro." "Les Fourchambault," too, with its plea for family solidarity, its commonsense, its quiet and reasoned optimism, is still deservedly a favourite in France. "Le Mariage d'Olympe" is not often played, but its position in French drama, its historical impor- tance, its significance as a social document, containing as it does a challenge to romantic ideas about the "rehabilitation of the courtesan," entitle it to a position of high honour. A volume which aimed at including all the important and typical plays of Augier would be three or four times the size of xii INTRODUCTION the present, which seeks only to introduce three of the best of his plays. There is so much matter in the dramatic works of Augier which does not properly fall within the scope of the theatre, that the casual reader may infer, incorrectly, that Augier was more of a social reformer and champion of home and fatherland, than a man of the theatre. True it is that in practically all his plays he attacks some form of social or political corruption, and stands forth to do battle in behalf of the domestic virtues. He con- demns political trickery, he aims his shafts at the prostitute regaled as a wife and mother, trying to break her way into the homes and families of the respectable; he ruthlessly flays all forms of marital infidelity, and fearlessly enters the arena in questions of divorce and marriage but with all this, he is primarily a dramatist. His works are plays, as time has proved. Augier does not however take a subject at hazard, as Pinero often does, and then write a play; nor does he, as is usual with his disciple Brieux, write his play to fit a thesis: his themes evolve naturally out of the fable, with the apparent unconsciousness of art. He is deeply concerned with the vices and virtues of mankind, but rarely does he allow his convictions to warp the dramatic texture of his plays. Rarely, too, is he so fearlessly didactic as his fellow-playwright Dumas fils. Augier has been compared with Moliere; but it is only as a man of the theatre and a painter of character that the analogy holds. Augier 's debut was made with a graceful comedy in two acts: "La Cigiie" (1844). This is in verse, and recounts the story of a repentant debauchee. His next play, "UnHomme de bien" (1 845), likewise in verse, in spite of its hesitancy in the develop- ment of plot and the delineation of character, indicates the path which Augier was to tread; here he "manifests for the first time his intention to paint a picture of contemporary life, attack the customs of the day, in short, to write a social comedy." x But Augier did not at once adopt and develop his new 1 Henry Gaillard de Champris; " Emile Augier et la Comedie sociale " (Grasset, Paris, 1910). INTRODUCTION xiii manner. During the next few years, he continued to write verse plays in which the thesis was more or less prominent. "L'Aventuriere" (1848), "Gabrielle" (1849), "Le Joueur de Flute" (1850), "Diane" (1852), "Philiberte" (1853), and "Paul Forestier" (1868) are primarily comedies in which the purely dramatic element predominates, although "L'Aven- turiere" and "Gabrielle" are a closer approximation to the later manner than the others. "L'Aventuriere" is a modern play in spite of the fact that the scene is laid in the Italian Renaissance. It is the story of an adventuress who has managed to get into the good graces of a rich merchant of Padua. He is about to give up friends and family for the woman, when his son, who has been away for ten years, appears upon the scene. Assuming a disguise, he reveals the true character of Clorinde to his father and effects a breaking-off of their relationship. The father and family are saved and the repentant woman goes into a convent. If in "L'Aventuriere" Augier was still undecided as to the means of expression best fitted to his temperament or as to the purpose to which his powers were to be put, in "Le Manage d'Olympe," six years later, he found his most forceful and realistic manner. Meantime there is one play, forming a connecting link between the wavering "Adventuriere" and "Olympe." "Gabrielle" (1849) is, in spite of its poetic form, a realistic play. The husband who labours hard for wife and family, the wife who is bored and seeks a fuller "realisation of self" in the husband's friend this is a familiar situation. But it should be borne in mind that a serious treatment of such a story was, sixty-five years ago, something of a departure. Scribe's stock in trade was the menage a trots, but conjugal in- fidelity with him was always a subject for comedy. Augier's play then was a challenge, both to the Romanticists and the Vaudevillistes. When Julien Chabriere opens the eyes of his wife and her would-be lover to the dangers and miseries of their projected step, the lover goes away and Gabrielle, falling to her knees before her husband, speaks the celebrated line: xiv INTRODUCTION "0 pere de famille! poete, je t'aime!" Leaving the realm of poetic comedy, with its attached "moral" and more or less optimistic denouement, in 1854 Augier threw the gauntlet in the face of the Romanticists who applauded Dumas fils' "La Dame aux camelias" commonly known in English as "Camille." A curious change in public taste and manners had allowed large numbers of demi-mondaines to assume a place of distinction and honour in the social life of the day. This was due perhaps to the numerous political transformations which France was at the time undergoing, as well as the spreading of the ideas of the Romantic school of art and literature. When, in 1852, Dumas fils made a prostitute the sympathetic heroine of a play, and brought forward the doctrine that "she will be forgiven because she has loved deeply," a feeling of revolt awoke in the breast of Augier, and he wrote "Le Mariage d'Olympe." This is one of the most directly didactic of all his works: it was aimed primarily against the "reign of the courte- san." He says, in short, that such women as Olympe Taverny do undoubtedly exist, that the men are at fault as much as the women for that fact; possibly he even secretly sympathises with her, but he denies her the right to marry into good families. When the Marquis de Puygiron shoots Olympe, after endeavour- ing to force her to give up the family name which she has stolen, declaring that "God is his judge," Augier issues his ultimatum on the question. "Le Mariage d'Olympe," a play with a purpose, stands apart from the great mass of Augier's plays. In the three short and well built acts, the author has merely sketched his characters: every effort has been bent on the idea, the facts, the thesis. Just so much of characterisation as is needed to carry the story is given. The admirable and disgusting scene which closes the second act is one of the most trenchant and poignant which ever came from this dramatist's pen. Nowadays, even after Zola and Becque and the Theatre Libre dramatists, it strikes a note of horror. How it must have shocked an audience of the 'fifties! INTRODUCTION xv Although the play failed l it aroused considerable discussion and a good deal of adverse criticism. Still, its importance in the dramatic and intellectual development of the dramatist was great. It was his first straightforward declaration of independence. From 1854 on, he followed the path he had himself opened with this early play. "The reign of the courtesan" was not ended by the plays of the day, but Augier did not cease for that reason in his at- tempts to check its influence. Twelve years after "Le Manage d'Olympe" he wrote "La Contagion." The development of society and its relation to the fallen woman may be clearly traced by a comparative study of "L'Aventuriere," "Le Manage d'Olympe," and "La Contagion." In the first play, the woman is merely an exception, an adventuress who happens to "break into" society and a good family. In "Le Mariage d'Olympe" she is a demi-mondaine who has carefully planned to obtain for herself, at any cost, a noble name. But she is checked in time by a pistol-shot. Twelve years later the Olympes and Clorindes are no longer exceptions; the rehabilitated courtesan has triumphed. By skillful manipulation she has insinuated her way into a position of equality similar to that of the respected mother and wife, and has even begun to corrupt her. "The con- sequences" of this triumph of the courtesan^ says De Champris, "were deplorable. As a result of hearing of these 'ladies,' of reading about them in the newspapers, of seeing their gorgeous equipages, of passing their pretty homes, applauding them on the stage or admiring their silhouettes in the fashion magazines, society women fell a prey to contradictory feelings and ideas: the resentment at being occasionally deserted for these women, the curiosity to know these enemies, so far away yet so near, the wish to rival them, furnished them with weapons, perhaps even a certain desire for forbidden fruit, and gave birth to a regret at being forced to pay for a reputation in society which entailed so 1 Due perhaps to the fact that the public had had enough of the subject: "La Dame aux camlias," "Les Filles de marbre," and "Le Demi-monde," all treated a similar theme. xvi INTRODUCTION rigid a restraint. For these various reasons, many honest women played the part of demi-mondaines." This was the contagion against which Augier raised his voice. The clever and diabolical Navarette, mistress of a wealthy man of the world, succeeds in ruining her lover and bringing his family to her feet. By subtle manipulation she compromises the Baron d'Estrigaud's married sister, is witness of her infidelity, and finally succeeds in holding the entire family at her mercy. A pistol-shot will do no good here: the evil has gone too far, society itself is corrupted. The kept woman, successfully rehabilitated, rich, held in high esteem, has at last attained that position for which she had striven. The war of 1 870 and the fall of the Empire put a stop to the particular state of affairs which Augier had fought against. Rarely in his later plays (except in "Jean de Thommeray") did he again attack the question. To Brieux and Hervieu and Francois de Curel he left the work of analysing deeper motives and making a study of the various ramifications, some of which were still invisible in Augier's day but this is current history. The three plays which have just been discussed are sufficient to show that Augier is the staunch champion of the family and the home. His hatred of the prostitute is not so much a matter of personal feeling as a social one. Whether or no he believes in what is now known as segregated vice or whether as a man he was occasionally lenient in matters of sex, is beside the question: he saw that the home, of all institutions in France the most important, was threatened by a fearful invasion, and he did his best to check it. It will be seen that Augier's plays, so far considered, are not in chronological order. "L'Aventuriere," "Le Manage d'Olympe," and "La Contagion," have been grouped together for the purpose of observing a particular trend in the thought of the author. Meantime, such widely different plays as " Philiberte," "La Pierre de touche," "Le Gendre de M. Poirier," and "Les Effrontes," made their appearance. "Gabrielle" was the first play to treat of a more insidious INTRODUCTION xvii evil, a greater danger to the home which Augier was ever so eager to protect: conjugal infidelity. After the comparatively timid "Gabrielle" came "Les Lionnes pauvres" (1858), which stands in much the same relation to the earlier play as "Le Manage d'Olympe" did to "L'Aventuriere." Here again is the story of a woman whom the love of luxury, too much idleness and a natural penchant, lead to take a lover. The honest and industrious husband is long kept in ignorance of the fact, believ- ing that his wife's expensive clothes are paid for out of her sav- ings. Besides being deceived, in the French sense of the word, he is being partially supported meantime by his wife's lover. At last he learns the facts, and is even willing to forgive his wife, but when she declares her unwillingness to restore the money given her, on the ground that she is "afraid of poverty," the hus- band leaves her. He seeks consolation in the home of Therese and Leon Lecarmier. Then Therese is forced to tell him that her husband, Leon, is Seraphine's lover. Seraphine, then going the path of least resistance, decides to remain a kept woman. Thenceforth she joins the ranks of Olympe and Navarette. Augier's sanity, his healthy attitude toward humanity, his belief in the eternal Tightness of things, could not long remain obscured by the temporary pessimism incident to the writing of "Les Lionnes pauvres." In 1858, the same year, he turned to light comedy, and in "La Jeunesse" produced a genial if some- what conventional play. In spite of its thesis that money is an evil, especially in the case where young people are forced into marriages of convenience it can scarcely be classed among the important social plays. It marks a return to the earlier manner. The question of money, lightly touched upon in "La Jeu- nesse," is the second of the important problems which is inti- mately concerned with the welfare of the family and the home. From this time on, sex and money are to assume a position in the front rank of Augier's work. Closely allied in spirit with "La Jeunesse" is "Un beau Mariage" (1859). The question, Should a poor man marry a rich wife, is handled with keen insight and answered in the xviii INTRODUCTION negative. Pierre Chambaud, a poor young chemist, marries the rich Clementine Bernier, whose mother, possessing nearly all the money, literally supports the daughter and her husband. Pierre soon becomes a mere figure-head in his own house and, as a result of the social ambitions of his wife and mother-in-law, is forced to give up his scientific pursuits. Soon losing the love and respect of the two women, he complains to them, and is made to feel more keenly than ever the utter degradation of his position. A certain Marquis de la Roche-Pingolley has been over-assiduous in his attentions to Pierre's mother-in-law. When he demands that the Marquis either marry Madame Bernier or cease his visits, he is humilated once again by being told by his mother-in-law that the Marquis is in her home. Receiving no help or sympathy from his wife, he goes to live with his friend, Michel Ducaine, and work out an experiment which, if successful, will revolutionise science and render him celebrated. Fearful of the scandal and inconvenience of a separation, Clementine sends the Marquis to Pierre in order to effect a reconciliation. Pierre is willing to return to his wife, but only on the condition that the mother-in-law is to have nothing to do with them. Pre- paratory to making his final experiment, which, we are told, will either kill or make Pierre a successful man, he sends a letter to his wife. Clementine arrives at the laboratory just in time to be with her husband in the hour of danger. She has somehow come to see his real worth and is willing to sacrifice comfort and luxury for his sake. She hides during the experiment, and when the seven minutes necessary for its consummation are at an end she cries "Saved!" and falls into Pierre's arms: "Oh, Pierre, my love, my life! ... We might have died together! . . . But you are given to me again! What happiness! God is good! How I love you! Forgive me! I thought you were a coward, I thought you were base, and I hated you! Now I adore you! Oh, courage, oh, genius! Forgive your comrade, your handmaid!" INTRODUCTION xix The last act shows a pretty picture of Pierre and Clementine at home: she is the incarnation of domesticity, and he, of independence and happiness. The mother-in-law, distracted at not being able to help the couple, ends by purchasing Pierre's discovery. The play's weakness is so flagrant as hardly to call for further comment. With so good a theme the dramatist ought surely to have developed a more credible story, and sought a more logical denouement. To begin with, his thesis was irre- trievably weakened by making Clementine the sort of woman she was. If, during the entire struggle with his wife and her mother, Pierre had once received some sign of sympathy from Clementine, we might have hoped and looked for her ultimate change, but when, having stood throughout against him, she finally does go to him and at the risk of her life, stands at his side during the experiment, and then after his experiment succeeds falls into his arms, and forever after mends his clothes, we cannot doubt that we have to do with melodrama. Had Clementine at first been in earnest and made an honest endeavour to understand Pierre and then gradually been cor- rupted by her mother and her mother's money, and eventually been made to see the good qualities in Pierre, we might have believed. As it is, the last two acts spoil the play. Technically, "Un beau Manage" is important. A man of science as a serious stage-figure, a hero in fact, was a decided novelty in the 'fifties, and, if the play accomplished nothing else, it at least opened the way for the moderns, and broadened the field of the theatre. Possibly the doctors and other scientists in the plays of Brieux and Hervieu and Curel owe something to the earnest treatment of the chemist in this early play of Augier. "Ceinture doree" (1855) is little more than an expanded fable; it might well be termed "Tainted Money." The rich merchant Roussel has an only daughter, Caliste, who seeks among numerous suitors for her hand one who cares nothing for her money. Finally, M. de Tirelan makes his appearance, and Roussel offers to make him his son-in-law. But Tirelan, whose father has been ruined in business by Roussel, and who has xx INTRODUCTION scruples against marrying for money, refuses. Roussel swallows the insult, Tirelan decides to go away, and Roussel turns to another suitor, whom Caliste is about to accept when she learns that Tirelan really loves her and will not ask for her hand because of her money. Meantime, Roussel has been particularly sus- ceptible to allusions to the source of his fortune, and this suscepti- bility finally assumes the form of monomania. Once again Roussel makes overtures to Tirelan and offers to restore the money which he took from the young man's father. He is again refused. The knot is cut at last when it is learned that Roussel is ruined by unwise speculation. Tirelan is at last free to declare his love to Caliste; he can marry her now that the barrier of fortune is removed. The play is so light that it hardly deserves a place among the serious plays of Augier. Yet in its own way it stands as a further document upon the social system in which hard cash plays so large and important a role. To turn from the idealistic and timid "Ceinture doree" to "Les Effrontes" (1861) is to realise in the most forceful manner the extreme poles of the genius of Emile Augier. The earlier play appears little other than the work of a dilettante beside the later. "Les Eff rentes" is a compact yet varied picture of man- ners, in which the principal portrait is the parvenu Vernouillet, a vulgar, unscrupulous journalist with money and a vast amount of aplomb "nerve." Respected by no one, he is held in fear by all, for he is influential and rich. Politically, socially, dramatically, "Les Effrontes" is a work of the first importance. It was the first play to treat in a real- istic manner the power of the press and paint a truly modern villain. Says Vernouillet: " I have put my money to the only use to which it has not hitherto been put: making public opinion. I have in my hands the two powers which the Empire has always disputed: money and the press! Each helps the other. I open up new roads to them; I am in fact making a revolution." Although "Les Effrontes" is at the same time a comedy of character and manners with a complicated intrigue and a love story, it was INTRODUCTION xxi in its day considered mainly as an attack on the press. But what was not realised so clearly in the many heated discussions aroused by the piece, was that Augier was not so much concerned with the actual state of the press which was and is bad enough but with the power which the press, backed by money, may exert. His purpose was larger, for it was humanitarian. Once again he enlarged the scope of the theatre, and gave the stage a figure which is today one of the most familiar and oftenest used. In several of Augier's plays there is a mingling of themes which, while it adds to the atmosphere and interest, often renders any distinct classification of genres, a difficult task. " Money," "Sex," "Politics," and such-like more or less arbitrary headings are not sufficient to cover more than half of Augier's plays. "Le Gendre de M. Poirier," for example, is a comedy of character, as well as a comedy of sentiment, a picture of the nobility and the bourgeoisie, and a study of the money question. "La Pierre de Touche" (1853) and "Maitre Gu6rin" (1865), although they are not so unified as "Le Manage d'Olympe," may still be satisfactorily classified under the heading of "Money." The first is another of those lighter plays with "morals"; it shows the evil results of the acquisition of large sums of money by those who do not know its proper uses; the second is an interesting study in the character of a bourgeois merchant. "Les Eff rentes" has been classed among the works of Augier in which money was shown to be at the base of a great part of the evils of the social system. It is likewise one of the three political plays, of which the others are "Le Fils de Giboyer" and "Lions et Renards." "Le Fils de Giboyer" (1862) was for the French of the day what was called an "Anticlerical" play. The Jesuits as politi- cians were attacked, or believed themselves to be, 1 so that 1 In his preface to "Le Fils de Giboyer" Augier says: "In spite of what has been affirmed, this comedy is not a political piece in the current sense of the term: it is a social play. It attacks and defends only ideas, abstract conceptions of all xxii INTRODUCTION national discussions and conflicts arose, bitter counter-attack- made on the author and what was supposed to be his party. Augier denies (see the foot-note) that his play is political; he declares that it deals with society in a general way. As a story of father and son it indubitably surfers from what now appears as a great deal of topical and contemporaneous discussion, but that is rather the fault of the times and of the subject. The clever but unscrupulous bohemian scribbler, Giboyer who, together with his protector D'Auberive, was one of the prin- cipal characters in "Les Effrontes", has sold himself to the rich Marquis. Through political intrigues, hypocrisy, venality of the basest kind, Giboyer makes his way, until at last through his love for his son, his designated successor, he undergoes a moral "rehabilitation." The psychology of the transformation may be true enough, and would doubtless have been more credible had it been developed at greater length by a novelist like Balzac or George Eliot, but somehow we cannot believe in the sudden change, and are prone to ask how it happens that Giboyer can be redeemed by love for his son any more than could Olympe because Henri once loved her. "Lions et Renards" (1869) is valuable and historically in- teresting as a comedy of manners and character. It is another attack on the Jesuits. But the complicated intrigue, the occasional obscurity of the motivation, were sufficient to account for the failure of the play. Augier realized, as Balzac did, that money was the root of much evil, and, in the midst of the social readjustments which France was undergoing in the nineteenth century, he made one of the greatest of his protagonists. In the struggle between the classes, in the personal relationship of the family, the race for money and power was almost always the prime reason for social degradation and disintegration. Social position is mainly a question of money. Olympe Taverny attempted to climb, and sorts of government. . . . The antagonism between the old and modern prin- ciples, that, in brief, is the theme of the play. I defy anyone to find a single word to warrant the assumption that I have gone beyond this." INTRODUCTION xxiii ikx family suffered; Gabrielle's husband was forced to spend the lime he should have had with his wife, in earning the money he thought was supporting her; marriages of love and inclination are forced to give way before marriages of convenience, which means ruin for the home and the family; the press and the Church strive for power, political and financial the very basis and sinews of politics is cash. France, says Augier, is money- mad, and a nation which forgets what is of supreme importance family and home and the virtues of old is heading for destruction. The remaining important plays are all more or less concerned with money; sometimes it hovers in the background, is only apprehended; sometimes it is obscured by other considerations, but it is always present. "Le Gendre de M. Poirier" (1855), written in collabora- tion with Jules Sandeau, is without doubt one of the finest comedies of character ever written. The figure of the "bon- homme" Poirier is one of the greatest in the realm of dramatic literature. In this play Augier was less concerned with social considerations than was his wont, although money again is the basis of the action. The Marquis de Presles, a ruined member of the aristocracy, has in a way entered into a business pact with Poirier, but the business dealings of the two have been utilised by the authors chiefly as a frame in which to depict and contrast the nobleman and the bourgeois. The plot is of necessity rather thin: character is the important consideration. The last three important plays of Augier, written after the war, might possibly be classified under the general headings which we have so far been using, but each, by reason of a com- parative novelty of theme, may well be placed apart in different categories. The plays in question are "Jean de Thommeray," "Madame Caverlet," and "Les Fourchambault." Besides these, there is, however, "Le Prix Martin," written in collabora- tion with Eugene Labiche, a conventional and amusing little comedy. "Jean de Thommeray" (1873) written with Jules Sandeau, xxiv INTRODUCTION whose novel of the same name was used as a basis is a patri- otic piece, in which a young aristocrat, succumbing to the de- moralising influences of the capital, finally redeems himself by fighting for the Patrie. The value of the play lies rather in the separate pictures of the life of the aristocratic De Thom- merays, than in the story. Jean's redemption is not very satis- factorily explained, while the plot is loose and our interest consequently wavering. "Madame Caverlet" (1876) is a strong and passionate plea for divorce. Again it points out an evil in the social system which militates against the good of the family. Sir Edward Merson and his wife have been separated for a number of years. She has found consolation in the upright and honourable M. Caverlet, with whom, and her two children, she has been living in what is all but a legal status of marriage. When the daughter, however, is about to marry, Caverlet and "Madame" Caverlet confess to the suitor's father the truth of the case, and the pro- posed marriage is broken off without delay. Merson then appears, demands his son and daughter, forces Caverlet to go away, and ends by breaking up the family until he is offered a large sum of money to go to Switzerland and there become a citizen. This ameliorates the situation, as the wife can then obtain a divorce and become the lawful wife of Caverlet. But Henri, the son, completely disillusioned, joins the army and goes to a foreign country. The marriage then takes place. We cannot but feel that Augier's case would have been stronger had he not loaded the dice. If Merson had really cared more for his wife than for her money, and had he insisted on his "rights," then the injustice of the law and its bitter conse- quences would have been more strikingly proved. Had Augier, as Hervieu did in "La Loi de 1'homme, " pushed his thesis to its logical conclusion, we should have had a more touchingly poignant play, as well as a stronger plea for divorce. "Les Fourchambault " (1878) is the last play of Emile Augier. In structure, in character analysis, it shows no diminution in the dramatist's powers; it is indeed a proof of his deepening INTRODUCTION xxv sympathy and broader understanding of human life, it shows a brighter optimism and a more deep-rooted belief in the basic goodness of humanity. Viewed from a strictly logical angle, the play may seem reactionary if not contradictory, yet the young man in the early 'fifties denouncing the fallen Olympes and Navarettes, had with increasing years come to realise that there were exceptions in life, that human nature cannot always be evil. Leaving aside particular questions of the day, wishing to attack no specific institution, law, or social wrong, he bases his play on human frailty and human goodness, infusing the whole with a generous portion of good and kindly humour and gentle satire. Madame Fourchambault is after all only silly and weak, not criminally ambitious or vicious. Leopold, too, is weak, like his father, and not wicked. Madame Bernard, though she once sinned, has redeemed her error by a life of ser- vice. Marie and Bernard are almost too good. If a criticism may be urged, it is that the play is too kindly and optimistic. Bernard's and Marie's rhapsody on marriage is a little too much like a sermon. This play is Augier's idealistic swansong. It seems, that, tired of attacking, worn out by the sight of vice and stupidity, he was prompted, in his old age, to raise up an ideal of virtue, and make that ideal triumph over evil. Augier is the Balzac of the French stage of the last century: his power of observation, his commonsense, his straightforward and honest way of speaking the truth, the great extent and variety of his work, bring him into closer relationship with the great novelist than any other dramatist of his time. Considered as a moralist or social reformer, as exponent of the domestic virtues, as champion of the fireside, he is of great importance, but as a painter of the life of his time, of the bourgeoisie as well as of the aristocracy, as a literary artist depicting living men and women, he occupies a position in French literature and drama as sure, though possibly not so exalted, as that of Moliere or Balzac. Biographical Note. Emile Augier was born in 1 820. He once said that his life was devoid of events. His first play, produced in 1844, met with considerable success, and was followed, not long after, with a series of plays which brought him first esteem and finally fame. For nearly thirty-five years he continued to put forth plays at regular and frequent intervals. Respected and beloved in his country, he died in 1889. PLAYS BY EMILE AUGIER La Cigiie 1844 Un Homme de bien 1845 L'Aventuriere 1848 Gabrielle 1849 Le Joueur de Flute 1850 Diane 1852 Philiberte 1853 La Pierre de louche 1853 Le Mariage d'Olympe 1854 Ceinture doree 1855 Le Gendre de M. Poirier 1855 (In collaboration with Jules Sandeau) La Jeunesse 1858 Les Lionnes pauvres 1858 Un beau Mariage 1859 Les Eff rentes 1861 Le Fils de Giboyer 1862 Maitre Guerin 1865 La Contagion 1866 Paul Forestier 1868 Lions et Renards 1869 Jean de Thommeray 1 873 (In collaboration with Jules Sandeau) Madame Caverlet 1876 Le Prix Martin 1877 (In collaboration with Eugene Labiche) Les Fourchambault 1878 La Chasse au Roman (1851), written in collaboration with Jules Sandeau, is not included in the "Theatre complet." L'Habit vert, in collaboration with Alfred de Musset, and Le Post-scriptum, are one-act plays. Le Fils de Giboyer as the Son of Giboyer is to be found in translation in The Universal Anthology, also, translated by Benedict Papot, in The Drama, no. 2. L'Habit vert is translated by Barrett H. Clark, in The World's Best Plays Series (Samuel French); likewise Le Post-scriptum (as The Green Coat and The Post-scriptum). REFERENCES FRENCH: Leopold Lacour, "Trois Theatres." 1880. Edouard Pailleron, "Emile Augier." 1889. Parigot, "Emile Augier." 1890. Antoine Benoist, "Essais de critique." Henri Gaillard de Champris, "Emile Augier et la comedie sociale.' 1910. (Contains an extensive bibliography.) ENGLISH: Brander Matthews, "French Dramatists of the Nineteenth Century.' Scribner's. W. N. Guthrie, in "The Drama," no. 2. OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE (LE MARIAGE D'OLYMPE) A PLAY IN THREE ACTS PERSONS REPRESENTED MARQUIS DE PUYGIRON. HENRI DE PUYGIRON. BARON DE MONTRICHARD. BAUDEL DE BEAUSE~JOUR. ADOLPHE. MARQUISE DE PUYGIRON. GENEVIEVE DE WURZEN. PAULINE. IRMA. The scene of the first ad is laid at Pilnitz, and that of the second and third acts in the home of the MARQUIS DE PUYGIRON, at Vienna. OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE ACT I The scene is the conversation-room at Pilnitz, a watering-place. There are three large arched entrances at the back, opening upon a garden; a divan is in the centre; to the right stands a table with numerous newspapers on it; to the left is a small tea-table. As the curtain rises, the MARQUIS DE PUYGIRON is seated by the table to the left, MONTRICHARD on the divan, facing the audi- ence; BAUDEL DE BEAUSfijOUR is likewise on the divan, but only his legs are seen by the audience. MONTRICHARD. [Reading his guide-book"] "Pilnitz, nine kilometres south-east of Dresden, summer residence of the Court. Castle . . . Natural waters . . . Magnificent baths . . . Casino ..." [Throwing down the book] Palpitating with interest, that little book! MARQUIS. Tell me, M. de Montrichard you are a great authority on modern France who is Mile. Olympe Taverny? An actress? MONTRICHARD. No, M. le Marquis, she is one of the most luxuriously and frequently kept women in Paris. How does it happen that her fame has reached Pilnitz? MARQUIS. The Constitutionnel announces her death. MONTRICHARD. Is that possible? A girl of twenty-five! Poor Olympe! BAUDEL. [Rising from behind the divan] Is Olympe dead? MONTRICHARD. [After looking for the person who is speak- ing ."] Did Monsieur know her? BAUDEL. [Embarrassed*] Just as everyone did hm yes, very well. OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE MONTRICHARD. What was the cause of her death? MARQUIS. Here's the item: [He reads] "Our California correspondent writes, 'Yellow fever has just claimed as its victim one of the most charming of our young compatriots, Mile. Olympe Taverny. A week after her arrival in San Francisco she met her death.'" MONTRICHARD. What the devil was she doing in Cali- fornia? She had an income of ten thousand francs! BAUDEL. Which she must have lost in investments. MONTRICHARD. [To the MARQUIS] It has always seemed to me the most cruel injustice that these happy young creatures should be exposed to so serious an accident as death, the same as honest women are. MARQUIS. That is the only possible way for them to make regular their position in society. But what surprises me is that the papers give her long death-notices. MONTRICHARD. \_At Ihe right of the table] You have been away from France for some time, have you not, M. le Marquis? MARQUIS. Since the Vendee 1832. MONTRICHARD. There have been great changes in twenty- two years. MARQUIS. So I imagine: then things were going from bad to worse. But the devil! then, at least, there was some sentiment of public modesty. MONTRICHARD. What can public modesty do in the face of facts? The existence of this class of women is one of the facts I refer to. These women have passed out of the lower strata of society and come into the broad daylight. They constitute a little world of their own which makes its orbit in the rest of the universe. They go about, give and attend dances, have families, and gamble on the Bourse. Men don't bow to them as yet when they are with mothers or sisters, but they are none the less taken to the Bois in open carriages; in the theatre they occupy prominent boxes and the men are not considered cynics. BAUDEL. Exactly. OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE MARQUIS. That's all very curious. In my day the boldest man would never dream of parading himself in that way! MONTRICHARD. Well, in your day this new social circle was still in the swamp; now it's dried up, if not thoroughly renovated. You used to hunt in high-top boots, buckled up to the belt; now we walk about in pumps. Streets have been cut through, squares, whole residential sections. Like the city of Paris, society takes in new suburbs every fifty years. This latest is the Thirteenth Arrondissemcnt. Do you know, these women have so strong a hold on the public that they have even been made the heroines of plays? MARQUIS. In the theatre? Women who? And the audience accepts that? MONTRICHARD. Without a murmur which proves that having made their entree into comedy, they have done likewise into correct society. MARQUIS. You could knock me down with a feather! MONTRICHARD. Then what have you to say when I tell you that these ladies manage to get married? MARQUIS. To captains of industry? MONTRICHARD. No, indeed to sons of good families. MARQUIS. Idiots of good families! MONTRICHARD. No, no. The bane of our day is the rehabilitation of the lost woman fallen woman, we say. Our poets, novelists, dramatists, fill the heads of the young generation with romantic ideas of redemption through love, the virginity of the soul, and other paradoxes of transcendental philosophy. These young women must become ladies, grand ladies! MARQUIS. Grand ladies? MONTRICHARD. Marriage is their final catch; the fish must be worth the trouble, you see. MARQUIS. [Rising] Good God! And the father-in- law doesn't strangle a woman in a case of the sort? MONTRICHARD. [Also rising] What about the law, M. le Marquis? OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE BAUDEL rises and wal^s slowly down-stage to the left. MARQUIS. Devil take the law then! If your laws permit such shame to fall upon good families, if a common prostitute can tarnish the honour of a whole family by marrying one of its drunkard sons, it is the father's right to take his name from the thief of his honour, even if it were glued to her skin like Nessus* tunic. MONTRICHARD. That's rather a brutal form of justice for the present age, is it not, M. le Marquis? MARQUIS. Possibly, but I am not a man of the present age. BAUDEL. But, M. le Marquis, suppose the woman in ques- tion does not drag her stolen plumage in the gutter? MARQUIS. I cannot admit the hypothesis, Monsieur. BAUDEL. Is it not possible that she should like to give up her former life and want to lead a quiet and pure existence ? MARQUIS. Put a duck on a lake among swans, and you will observe that the duck regrets its mire, and will end by returning there. MONTRICHARD. Home-sickness for the mud! BAUDEL. Then you don't believe in repentant Magdalens? MARQUIS. I do in the desert. The MARQUISE and GENEVIEVE come in through an archway. MARQUIS. Shh! Messieurs, beware of chaste ears! MONTRICHARD. And how are Mme. la Marquise and Mile. Genevieve? MARQUISE. Much better, thank you, Monsieur. Have you seen the papers, dear? MARQUIS. Yes, dear, and I am now at your disposal. GENEVIEVE. No news from Turkey, grandfather? MARQUIS. No, my child. MONTRICHARD. Are you interested in the war, Made- moiselle? GENEVIEVE. I should so like to be a man and fight! MARQUISE. Hush, child. OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE GENEVIEVE. I'm not so stupid or if I am, I owe it to you, grandmother. You shouldn't blame me! MARQUISE. [Tapping GENEVIEVE gently on the cheek, then going toward her husband^} Coming to the spring, Tancrede? It's time. MARQUIS. Very well. [To the others} We invalids are here to take the waters. My arm, Marquise. And you lead the way, granddaughter. [To his wife} Sleep better? MARQUISE. [To her husbanf] Almost well; and you? MARQUIS. So did I. [They go out. MONTRICHARD escorts them to the door and returns.^] BAUDEL. [To MONTRICHARD] I am delighted, Monsieur, to have made your acquaintance. MONTRICHARD. When did I have the honour, Monsieur ? BAUDEL. Why here just now MONTRICHARD. The few words we exchanged together? Good Lord, you are a quick acquaintance-maker! BAUDEL. I have known you a long time, by reputation. I have always wanted to be counted among your friends. MONTRICHARD. That's too good of you! Though my friendship is not a temple of etiquette, people do not as a rule enter it unannounced. [Aside"} Who is the fellow? BAUDEL. [Bowing} Anatole de Beausejour MONTRICHARD. Knight of Malta? BAUDEL. I confess it. MONTRICHARD. Fifteen hundred francs and what did the title of Beausejour cost you? BAUDEL. Two hundred thousand in land. MONTRICHARD. Dear enough. You deserve another a little less expensive. BAUDEL. Ha, ha! Good! Baudel, Monsieur, is my patro- nymic. MONTRICHARD. Baudel? Just as the Montmorency were called Bouchard. I seem to have heard your name somewhere before, Monsieur. Didn't you apply for membership in the Jockey Club last year? 8 OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE BAUDEL. I did. MONTRICHARD. And you were refused because you were one moment! because your father was a milliner? BAUDEL. He financed the concern: partner of Mile. Aglae. MONTRICHARD. Partner, yes. Well, Monsieur, if I were your father's son I should call myself merely Baudel. It's no disgrace to be bald; only when one wears a wig does one run the risk of appearing ridiculous, M. de Beausejour. And so your very humble He is about to leave. BAUDEL. [Intercepting him} Monsieur, the estate of Beausejour is situated oh the road to Orleans, thirty-three kilometres from Paris. Could you tell me where Montrichard lies? MONTRICHARD. [Reluming to BAUDEL] Three imperti- nent fellows have asked me the same question. To the first I replied that it was situated in the Bois de Boulogne; 1 to the second, in the Bois de Vincennes; 1 to the third, in the Forest of St. Germain. 1 I accompanied each of these three sceptics to the duelling grounds; they returned convinced grievously convinced so convinced that no one has since dared repeat the question. I trust, Monsieur, that you no longer desire the information? BAUDEL. You refer to pleasure parties on your estates, I take it? You forget, perhaps, that there are other places for such? Spa, Homburg, Baden, and Pilnitz! MONTRICHARD. Monsieur then insists on a wound? BAUDEL. Yes, Monsieur, I need one. I have arranged this little conversation with that end in view. They sit down at the table. MONTRICHARD. Very well, M. Baudel. But I warn you that you have already an inch of steel in your arm. Take good care that the weapon goes no deeper! 1 Famous places for duelling. OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE BAUDEL. I am fully aware that Monsieur is the best swords- man in Paris. Your blade stands you in good stead of every- thing, including a genealogy. MONTRICHARD. Two inches. BAUDEL. Of an ambiguous title, relying entirely upon chance. You have by your bravado and your cleverness made an entree in the world of fashion and high life; you are even one of the leaders in that world, where you always behave like a perfect gentleman: spending generously, never borrowing a good gambler, good comrade, dead shot, and a gallant knight. MONTRICHARD. Three inches. BAUDEL. Unfortunately, however, you have recently lost your luck. You are now without a sou, and are looking for fifty thousand francs with which to tempt fortune once again. You cannot find the money. MONTRICHARD. Five inches! BAUDEL. I shall loan you that amount. MONTRICHARD. Ha! BAUDEL. Now how many inches? MONTRICHARD. That depends on the conditions you make. You have conditions? BAUDEL. Yes. MONTRICHARD. Speak, M. de BeausSjour. BAUDEL. It's quite simple: I should like MONTRICHARD. What? BAUDEL. The devil! It's not so simple as it seemed. MONTRICHARD. I am very intelligent! BAUDEL. Monsieur, I have an income of a hundred and twenty-three thousand francs. MONTRICHARD; You are fortunate. BAUDEL. No, I am not. I have received a gentleman's education and I have aristocratic instincts. My fortune and my breeding call me to the more brilliant realms of society MONTRICHARD. And your birth stands in your way. BAUDEL. Precisely. Every time I knock at the door, it is closed in my face. In order to enter and to remain, I must 10 OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE fight a dozen duels. Now, I am no more of a coward than the average man, but I have a hundred and twenty-three thousand reasons for wanting to live, while my adversary as a rule would have only thirty or forty thousand. It's not too unevenly matched. MONTRICHARD. I understand: you want to earn your spurs once for all, and you turn to me? BAUDEL. That's it. MONTRICHARD. But, my dear Monsieur, my inserting an inch of steel into your arm will not prove that you're a good swordsman. BAUDEL. That is not exactly MONTRICHARD. Then what ? BAUDEL. It's rather a delicate matter to explain. MONTRICHARD. Say it out let us be frank. BAUDEL. You are right: I propose a bargain. MONTRICHARD. For what? You remind me of a bottle of that sort of champagne that takes a quarter of an hour to blow the cork out! Good God, man, ask for a corkscrew! BAUDEL. Monsieur, your device is Cruore dices, isn't it? MONTRICHARD. Yes, Monsieur, Cruore dices; Enriched by his blood. This was not my own invention: it was given by Louis XIV to my great-grandfather four generations ago; he received eight wounds at the Battle of Senef. BAUDEL. What was the estate worth at the time? MONTRICHARD. One million. BAUDEL. [Lowering his eyes\ Twenty-five thousand francs a wound. I am not as rich as Louis XIV, Monsieur, but there are wounds and wounds. A scratch on the arm, for instance doesn't that seem worth fifty thousand francs? MONTRICHARD. [_Seterely] Do you mean you wish to buy a wound? You're mad! BAUDEL. Bear in mind that it is more to my interest than yours to keep the matter a secret. There is nothing reprehen- sible in the arrangement: the price of blood has always been an honourable thing. Your own device proves that. OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE 11 MONTRICHARD. \_Afler a moment's hesitation] You know, I like you I couldn't for the life of me say why but I like you. It will be very amusing to make you a man of the world. I'll take that wound from you, but gratis, you understand? BAUDEL. To himself] That will cost more but I don't mind! MONTRICHARD. Send your seconds. BAUDEL. But the cause of the quarrel? MONTRICHARD. Your name is Baudel. I am said to have suggested that you cross the L. 1 BAUDEL. Good! Montrichard, a duel to the bitter end! MONTRICHARD. And afterward we shall have a house- warming for our new friendship at the Hotel du Grand Scander- burg. I shall await your seconds here, my dear M. Baudel. BAUDEL. De Beausejour. MONTRICHARD. Yes, yes: de Beausejour. [BAUDEL goes out] There's a queer type! I'll make something of him: first a friend very attached with a string to his paw ! This duel is exactly what I needed to set me going once again. Montrichard, the hour of fate has sounded, the hour of marriage! \_He goes to the door, meets PAULINE and bows to her7\ MONTRICHARD. You? You're not dead, then? Why, the papers are full of it! PAULINE. Doubtless a mistake! MONTRICHARD. Aren't you Olympe Taverny? PAULINE. Ah, I thought so! This is not the first time I have had the honour to be mistaken for that lady. I am the Countess de Puygiron, Monsieur. MONTRICHARD. A thousand pardons, Madame! The resemblance is so striking! Even your voice ! You will excuse me for making so natural a mistake? Especially as this is as likely a place to meet Olympe Taverny as the Countess de Puygiron. I beg your, pardon once more, Madame. PAULINE. \jGoing down-stage to the right] Of course, Mon- sieur. I was looking for my uncle and aunt here. 1 Which makes the word "Baudet"; "ass." 12 OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE MONTRICHARD. They are at the spring. M. le Marquis never told me his nephew was married. PAULINE. For an excellent reason: he didn't know it him- self. MONTRICHARD. Ah! PAULINE. It's a surprise that my husband and I have in store for him. Please be good enough, therefore, not to tell him of our arrival, if you happen to see him before we do. Or will you please show me the way to the spring? MONTRICHARD. Do me the honour of taking my arm, Madame. I have the good fortune to be slightly acquainted with your family. [Bowing^ Baron de Montrichard most pleased to this is nonsense, introducing an old friend! PAULINE. Monsieur! MONTRICHARD. Are you afraid I'll tell? You know I'm always on the woman's side. You and I can help each other; in my own interest, if for no other reason, I am bound to be dis- creet on your score. PAULINE. In what way, M. de de Montrichard, can I be fortunate enough to serve you? MONTRICHARD. Ah, you're defiant? Do you want secu- rity? I'm only too pleased. I am thinking of marrying: your great-uncle, the Marquis de Puygiron, has a charming granddaughter. I have just made her acquaintance, but have not as yet been received into the family circle. If you will arrange that for me and further my suit, I shall see to it that whoever has the impertinence to recognise you will have to deal with me. He holds out his hand to her. PAULINE loofe quickly about to see whether anyone else is present. PAULINE. [Taking his hanf] How did you recognize me? MONTRICHARD. First, your face, then that little pink mark on your beloved ivory neck. The mark I used to adore! PAULINE. Do you still remember it? MONTRICHARD. You were my only real love. OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE 13 PAULINE. And you mine, dear Edouard. MONTRICHARD. No, no Alfred you're mixing the names. Your "only real love" has had so many names! What the devil put it into your head to marry? You were very happy before? PAULINE. Did;you ever happen to notice, when you stepped out into the boulevard, that you had left your cane in the restau- rant? MONTRICHARD. Yes. PAULINE. And you went back for it. There in the private dining-room you saw the wreckage of the orgy: candelabra in which the lights were burned out; tablecloth removed; a candle- end on the table which was all covered with grease and stained with wine. Instead of lights and laughter and heavy perfumes, that made the place gay not long since, were solitude, silence, and a stale odor. The gilded furniture seemed like strangers to you, to everyone, even to themselves. Not a single article among all this that seemed familiar, not one was reminiscent of the absent master of the house or awaited his return. Complete abandonment! MONTRICHARD. Exactly. PAULINE. Well, my life is rather like that of the private dining-room. I must be gay or utterly lonely there is no possible compromise. Are you surprised then that the restau- rant aspires to the dignity of the home? MONTRICHARD. Not to mention a certain taste for virtue that you must have acquired? PAULINE. You're joking? MONTRICHARD. No, virtue is for you a new play-thing, I might almost say, forbidden fruit. Let me warn you that it will set your teeth on edge. PAULINE. We shall see. MONTRICHARD. The career of an honest woman is a fearful undertaking! PAULINE. It can't compare with ours! If you only knew how much energy it required to ruin a man! 14 OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE MONTRICHARD. No matter, you are now Countess de Puygiron. Now tell me what is the meaning of the news of your death in the Conslitut ionnel ? PAULINE. A note my mother sent to all the papers. MONTRICHARD. How is good old Irma, by the way? PAULINE. Very well and happy. When I married, I gave her all I had furniture, jewels, income. MONTRICHARD. That was something of a consolation for losing you. PAULINE. So you see how necessary it was to throw people off the scent? Thanks to this plan, no one will dare recognise Olympe Taverny in the Countess de Puygiron. Now, dear, you know if I had persisted in not being recognised, you would have retired with excuses that is, if you hadn't given me your security. MONTRICHARD. Suppose you happen to meet one of your friends who knew of your liaison with the Count? PAULINE. No one knew of it. MONTRICHARD. Ah! PAULINE. Henri took me seriously from the very first. He was most discreet: Didier and Marion Delorme, you see! You must know that I've played my cards well. I talked of going into a convent; then he asked me to marry him, and I accepted. I pretended I was going to California. Henri met me in Brittany; I married him there a year ago, under my real name, Pauline Morin. MONTRICHARD. Is he as big a fool as that? PAULINE. You insulting creature! He's a very intelligent and charming young man. MONTRICHARD. Then how does it happen that ? PAULINE. He never had a mistress his father was very severe with him. When he became of age, he was as innocent as MONTRICHARD. As you at the age of four! Poor fellow! PAULINE. He's not to be pitied; he's very happy with me. OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE 15 MONTRICHARD. Do you love him? PAULINE. That is not the question. I strew his path with flowers artificial, perhaps, but they are prettier and more lasting than real ones. MONTRICHARD. Truly, do you think the game worth the candle? PAULINE. So far, I don't. We've been spending ten months alone in Brittany all by ourselves. For the past two months we've been travelling, alone again. I can't say that we've been hilarious. I live the life of a recluse, going from hotel to hotel; with the maids, servants, and postilions, I am "Madame la Comtesse." All that would be dull enough if I hadn't other dreams for the future but I have. Now that Olympe Taverny (God rest her soul!) has had time to go to California and die and be mourned for in Paris, I can boldly enter society by the front door, which the Marquis de Puygiron is to open for me. MONTRICHARD. Is your husband going to introduce you to his uncle? PAULINE. Indeed he is! But he's not expecting the kind of meeting I have planned! MONTRICHARD. There's a fine fellow caught in a trap! PAULINE. It's all for his own happiness! If he intro- duces me as an honest woman, he will not be lying: for a year I have been the personification of virtue. I have a new skin. MONTRICHARD. You have only to shed it, Countess! PAULINE. Impertinent! Here is my husband! MONTRICHARD walks away and bows ceremoniously to PAULINE. Enter HENRI. MONTRICHARD. Will you be good enough, Madame, to present me to M. le Comte? PAULINE. My friend, M. le Baron de Montrichard. HENRI. [_Bowing~] Monsieur. PAULINE. We owe our acquaintance to a rather strange 16 OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE accident: M. de Montrichard, when he saw me come in, mistook me for you know whom I am thought to resemble? MONTRICHARD. The mistake was all the more inexcusable as the person you speak of recently died in California, and I do not believe in ghosts. PAULINE. Is the poor creature dead? Well, I haven't the courage to mourn her! Let us hope I shan't again be mistaken for her! HENRI. Take care, Madame, perhaps M. de Montrichard feels the loss more keenly than you? MONTRICHARD. Right, Monsieur, I thought a great deal of the lady. Her heart was much above her station in life. HENRI. Ah? Doubtless Monsieur was in a position to appreciate her better than anyone else? MONTRICHARD. No, Monsieur, no. My relations with her were always of a very brief and friendly nature. HENRI. [Shading hands with him cordially] I am very glad to have made your acquaintance, Monsieur we must become friends! MONTRICHARD. Monsieur! [To himself] I feel sorry for him! A servant enters. SERVANT. Two gentlemen who wish to see M. de Montrichard. MONTRICHARD. [To himself] Baudel's seconds! [Aloutf] Good, I shall be with them in a moment. \_The servant goes out] I hope, M. le Comte, that we shall soon find an opportunity of continuing the conversation? Madame! HENRI. [To himself, as he sees his uncle] My Uncle! MONTRICHARD. [Meeting the MARQUIS at the door] M. le Marquis, you find yourself in the bosom of your family. [He goes out] The j^RQujg an j the MARQUISE enieff MARQUIS. It's Henri! My dear boy, what a surprise! [He opens his arms; HENRI kisses him, then kisses the MARQUISE' OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE 17 hand~\ Three years without coming to see us! And not a letter for a whole year ! How ungrateful of you ! MARQUISE. What of it? Family affection doesn't die out like other affection, through absence or silence. Two hundred leagues away, when we were both grieving for the same reason, we were together in our sorrow. MARQUIS. We expected you just before your poor father's death. We thought you would feel the need of being with us. PAULINE has meantime gone to the archway, without losing sight of the others. She ta^es off her hat, lays it on a chair, then comes forward. HENRI. I was very, very lonely and I thought of you, but important business affairs MARQUIS. I understand the will and so forth. The most painful part of human bereavements is that we cannot escape from material worries. Well, here you are at last, and we are very happy to see you. MARQUISE. How did you know we were here? HENRI. The fact is, I didn't. I expected to meet you in Vienna, at the end of my German tour. MARQUIS. Heaven bless the chance that brought you to us, then! We have you and we mean to keep you. HENRI. I should be only too glad to spend some days with you, only I was just passing through Pilnitz! I must leave in an hour MARQUIS. Nonsense! HENRJ. It's a matter of great importance MARQUIS. What an idea! There can't be anything to prevent ? HENRI. Excuse me. [He looks toward PAULINE, who stands near the table. The MARQUIS watches him] MARQUIS. Ah? [Aside to Henrf\ You're not travelling alone? Well, youth is youth! \_Aloud~] If you have only an hour to stay here, let us spend the time together at least! 18 OLYMPE'S MARRIAGE Our hotel is just two steps from here. Give your aunt your arm. The MARQUIS takes his hat. HENRI offers his arm to his aunt; they start for the door. PAULINE. I shall wait for you here, Henri. MARQUIS. [Turning roun