THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 The Intruder 
 
 THE BLIND 
 
 THE SEVEN PRINCESSES 
 THE DEATH OF TINTAGILES 
 
 BY 
 
 MAURICE MAETERLINCK 
 
 Translated by 
 RICHARD HOVEY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 
 
 1914
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1894, 1896, BY 
 STONE AND KIMBALL
 
 Collegt 
 Library 
 
 PR 
 
 Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE INTRUDER 9 
 
 THE BLIND 57 
 
 THE SEVEN PRINCESSES 117 
 
 THE DEATH OF TINTAGILES 167 
 
 1318526
 
 Persons. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. (Ht is blind.) 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 THE THREE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. 
 
 Th* scene in modern times.
 
 The Intruder 
 
 To Edmond Picard
 
 The Intruder. 
 
 [A gloomy room in an old chateau. A door 
 on the right, a door on the left, and a small 
 secret door in one corner. At the back, 
 stained-glass windows, in which green is the 
 dominant color, and a glass door opening 
 upon a terrace. A big Dutch clock in a 
 corner. A lighted lamp.] 
 
 THE THREE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Come here, grandfather. Sit under the 
 lamp. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It seems to me it is not very light here. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Shall we go out on the terrace, or shall we 
 stay in the room ? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Would n't it be better to stay here ? It has 
 rained all the week, and the nights are damp 
 and cold. 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 The stars are out, though.
 
 io The Intruder. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Oh, the stars that makes no difference. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 We had better stay here. You don't know 
 what may happen. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 We need have no more anxiety. She is out 
 of danger. . . . 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I believe she is not doing well. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Why do you say that? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I have heard her voice. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 But since the doctors assure us that we may 
 be easy. . . . 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 You know quite well your father-in-law likes 
 to alarm us needlessly. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I do not see things as you do.
 
 The Intruder. n 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Then you should trust to us, who do see. 
 She was looking very well this afternoon. She 
 is sleeping quietly now ; and we are not going 
 needlessly to poison the first pleasant evening 
 fortune gives us. ... It seems to me we have 
 a right to rest, and even to laugh a little, with- 
 out being afraid, this evening. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 That is true ; this is the first time I have felt 
 at home, as if I were in my own household, 
 since this terrible child-birth. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Once sickness enters a house, it is as if there 
 were a stranger in the family. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 And then, you see, too, outside the family, 
 you can count on no one. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 You are quite right. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Why couldn't I see my poor daughter 
 to-day ? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 You know very well that the doctor forbade it
 
 12 The Intruder. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I do not know what to think. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It is useless to alarm yourself. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 [Pointing to the door on the left.~] She can- 
 not hear us? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 We will not speak loudly enough ; besides, 
 the door is very thick, and then the Sister of 
 Charity is with her, and will warn us if we are 
 making too much noise. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 [Pointing to the door on the right. ~] He can- 
 not hear us ? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 No, no. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 He sleeps? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I suppose so. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 We ought to go and see.
 
 The Intruder. 13 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 He would give me more anxiety than your 
 wife, this little fellow. It is several weeks since 
 he was bora, and he has hardly moved ; he has 
 not uttered a single cry yet ; you would say he 
 was a wax baby. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I believe he will be deaf, and perhaps 
 dumb. . . . That is what comes of marrying 
 cousins. . . . \Reproachfulsilence, 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I am almost angry with him for the suffering 
 he has caused his mother. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 You must be reasonable ; it is not the poor 
 little fellow's fault. He is all alone in that 
 room? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Yes ; the doctor no longer allows him to 
 remain in his mother's room. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 But the nurse is with him ? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 No ; she has gone to rest a moment ; she 
 has well earned it these last few days. Ursula, 
 just run and see if he is asleep.
 
 J 4 The Intruder. 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, father. 
 
 [The three sisters get up, and go into the 
 room on the right, hand in hand.] 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 At what time is our sister coming? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 About nine o'clock, I believe. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It is after nine. I would have liked her to 
 come this evening ; my wife was quite bent on 
 seeing her. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 She is sure to come. Is it the first time she 
 has ever come here ? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 She has never entered the house. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It is very difficult for her to leave her 
 convent. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 She will be alone? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 I think one of the nuns will accompany her. 
 They cannot go out alone.
 
 The Intruder. 15 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 She is the Superior, though. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 The rule is the same for all. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You are no longer anxious? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Why should we be anxious? There is no 
 need to keep returning to that? There is 
 nothing more to fear. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Your sister is older than you? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 She is the eldest of us all. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I do not know what ails me ; I feel uneasy. 
 I wish your sister were here. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 She will come ; she promised to. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I wish this evening were over ! 
 
 [The Three Daughters come in again.]
 
 1 6 The Intruder. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 He sleeps? 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, father ; very soundly. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 What shall we do while we are waiting? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Waiting for what ? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Waiting for our sister. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 You see nothing coming, Ursula? 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 \At the window."] No, father. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 And in the avenue ? You see the avenue ? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, father; it is moonlight, and I see the 
 avenue as far as the cypress wood. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 And you see no one, Ursula? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 No one, grandfather.
 
 The Intruder. 17 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 How is the weather? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Very fine. Do you hear the nightingales ? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Yes, yes ! 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 A little wind is rising in the avenue. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 A little wind in the avenue, Ursula? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes ; the trees are stirring a little. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It is surprising that my sister should not be 
 here yet. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I do not hear the nightingales any longer, 
 Ursula. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 I believe some one has come into the garden, 
 grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER, 
 
 Who is it?
 
 1 8 The Intruder. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 I do not know ; I see no one. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Because there is no one there. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 There must be some one in the garden ; the 
 nightingales are silent all at once. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I hear no footsteps, though. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 It musf be that some one is passing near the 
 pond, for the swans are frightened. 
 
 ANOTHER DAUGHTER. 
 
 All the fish of the pond are rising suddenly. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 You see no one? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 No one, father. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 But yet the pond is in the moonlight. . . . 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes ; I can see that the swans are frightened.
 
 The Intruder. 19 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 f am sure it is my sister that frightens them. 
 She must have come in by the little gate. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I cannot understand why the dogs do not 
 bark. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 I see the watch dog in the back of his 
 kennel. The swans are crossing to the other 
 bank! . . . 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 They are afraid of my sister. I will go and 
 see. \_He calls.'] Sister ! sister ! Is it you ? 
 There is no one there. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 I am sure that some one has come into the 
 garden. You will see. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 But she would answer me. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Are not the nightingales beginning to sing 
 again, Ursula? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 I no longer hear a single one in all the fields.
 
 20 The Intruder. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 And yet there is no noise. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 There is a stillness of death. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It must be some stranger that frightens them, 
 for if it were one of the household, they would 
 not be silent. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 There is one on the big weeping willow. It 
 has flown away ! . . . 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Are you going to talk about nightingales all 
 night ? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Are all the windows open, Ursula? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 The glass door is open, grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It seems to me that the cold comes into the 
 room. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 There is a little wind in the garden, grand- 
 father, and the rose leaves are falling.
 
 The Intruder. 21 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Well, shut the door, Ursula. It is late. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, father. I cannot shut the door, father. 
 
 THE TWO OTHER DAUGHTERS. 
 
 We cannot shut the door. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Why, children, what is the matter with the 
 door? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 You need not say that in such an extraor- 
 dinary voice. I will go and help them. 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 We do not quite succeed in closing it. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It is because of the damp. Let us all push 
 together. . . . There must be something be- 
 tween the doors. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 The carpenter will set it right to-morrow. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Is the carpenter coming to-morrow?
 
 22 The Intruder. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, grandfather; he is coming to work in 
 the cellar. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 He will make a noise in the house ! . . . 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 I will tell him to work quietly. 
 
 [All at once the sound of the sharpening of a 
 scythe is heard outside.] 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 {Startled^ Oh ! 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Ursula, what is that? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 I don't quite know ; I think it is the gar- 
 dener. I cannot see very well ; he is in the 
 shadow of the house. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It is the gardener going to mow. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 He mows by night? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Is not to-morrow Sunday ? Yes. I noticed 
 that the grass was very high about the house.
 
 The Intruder. 23 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It seems to me his scythe makes as much 
 noise 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 He is mowing near the house. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Can you see him, Ursula? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 No, grandfather ; he is in the dark. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It seems to me his scythe makes as much 
 noise 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 That is because you have a very sensitive ear, 
 grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I am afraid he will wake my daughter. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 We hardly hear him. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I hear him as if he were mowing in the house. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 She will not hear it ; there is no danger.
 
 24 The Intruder. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It seems to me the lamp is not burning well 
 this evening. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It wants filling. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I saw it filled this morning. It has burnt 
 badly ever since the window was shut. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 I think the chimney is dim. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It will burn better soon. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Grandfather is asleep. He has not slept 
 before for three nights. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 He has been very worried. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 He always worries too much. There are 
 times when he will not listen to reason. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It is quite excusable at his age. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 God knows what we shall be like at his age !
 
 The Intruder. *5 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 He is nearly eighty years old. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Well, then, he has a right to be strange. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Perhaps we shall be stranger than he is. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 One does not know what may happen. He 
 is odd sometimes. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 He is like all the blind. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 They reflect too much. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 They have too much time to spare. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 They have nothing else to do. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 And, besides, they have no amusements. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 That must be terrible.
 
 26 The Intruder. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It seems they get used to it. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 I cannot imagine that. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 They are certainly to be pitied. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Not to know where one is, not to know 
 whence one has come, not to know whither 
 one is going, no longer to distinguish midday 
 from midnight, nor summer from winter. . . . 
 And always that darkness, that darkness ! . . . 
 I would rather not live. ... Is it absolutely 
 incurable ? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It appears so. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 But he is not absolutely blind? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 He can distinguish a strong light. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Let us take care of our poor eyes. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 He often has strange ideas.
 
 The Intruder. 27 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 There are times when he is not amusing. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 He says absolutely everything he thinks. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 But formerly he was not like this? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 No ; formerly he was as rational as we are ; 
 he never said anything extraordinary. It is 
 true, Ursula encourages him a little too much ; 
 she answers all his questions 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It would be better not to answer. It 's a 
 mistaken kindness to him. \_Ten o'clock strikes. 
 
 s 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 [ Waking up.~\ Am I facing the glass door ? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 You have had a good sleep, grandfather? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Am I facing the glass door? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, grandfather.
 
 28 The Intruder. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 There is no one at the glass door? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 No, grandfather ; I see no one. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I thought some one was waiting. No one 
 has come, Ursula? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 No one, grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 \To the UNCLE and FATHER.] And your 
 sister has not come? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It is too late ; she will not come now. It is 
 not nice of her. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I begin to be anxious about her. 
 
 [A noise, as of some one coming into the house.] 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 She is here ! Did you hear? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Yes ; some one has come in at the basement.
 
 The Intruder. 29 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It must be our sister. I recognized her step. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I heard slow footsteps. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 She came in very softly. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 She knows there is sickness. . . . 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I hear nothing more now. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 She will come up immediately ; they will tell 
 her we are here. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I am glad she has come. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 I was sure she would come this evening. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 She is a long time coming up. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 However, it must be she.
 
 30 The Intruder. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 We are not expecting any one else. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I hear no noise in the basement. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I will call the maid. We must know what to 
 expect. [He pulls the bell-rope, 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I hear a noise on the stairs already. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It is the maid coming up. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It seems to me she is not alone. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It is because the maid makes so much 
 noise. . . . 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It seems to me she is not alone. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 She is getting terribly stout ; I believe she is 
 dropsical.
 
 The Intruder. 3 1 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It is time you got rid of her ; you will have 
 her on your hands. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I hear your sister's step ! 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I hear no one but the maid. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It is your sister ! It is your sister ! 
 
 \A knock at the secret door. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 She is knocking at the door of the private 
 stairway. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I will go open it myself, because that little 
 door makes too much noise ; it is only used 
 when we want to come up without being seen. 
 \jHe partly opens the little door ; the MAID- 
 SERVANT remains outside in the opening.] Where 
 are you? 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. 
 
 Here, sir. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Your sister is at the door. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 I see no one but the maid.
 
 3 2 The Intruder. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 There is no one there but the maid. \To 
 the MAID -SERVANT.] Who was it who came into 
 the house? 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. 
 
 Came into the house, sir? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Yes ; some one came just now ? 
 
 THE SERVANT. 
 
 No one came, sir. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Who is it sighs so ? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It is the maid ; she is out of breath. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Is she crying? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Why, no ; why should she be crying ? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 \To the MAID-SERVANT.] No one came in 
 just now? 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. 
 
 No, sir.
 
 The Intruder. 33 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 But we heard the door open ! 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. 
 
 It was I shutting the door, sir. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It was open ? 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. 
 
 Yes, sir. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Why was it open, at this hour? 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. 
 
 I do not know, sir. / had shut it. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 But then who was it opened it? 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. 
 
 I do not know, sir. Some one must have 
 gone out after me, sir. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 You must be careful. Don't push the door; 
 you know what a noise it makes ! 
 
 THE MAID- SERVANT. 
 
 But I am not touching the door, sir.
 
 34 The Intruder. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 But you are. You push as if you were trying 
 to get into the room. 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. 
 
 But I am thr.ee steps away from the door, 
 sir. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Don't talk quite so loudly. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Are you putting out the light? 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 No, grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It seems to me it is dark all at once. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 [To the MAID-SERVANT.] You may go down 
 now ; but do not make so much noise on the 
 stairs. 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. 
 
 I did not make any noise on the stairs, sir. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I tell you, you made a noise. Go down 
 softly ; you will wake your mistress.
 
 The Intruder. 35 
 
 THE MAID-SERVANT. . 
 
 It was not I who made a noise, sir. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 And if any one comes now, say that we are 
 not at home. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Yes ; say that we are not at home. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 [Shuddering."] You must not say that ! 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 . . . Except to my sister and the doctor. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 When will the doctor come? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 He will not be able to come before midnight. 
 
 [He shuts the door. A clock is heard striking 
 eleven.] 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 She has come in? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Who, pray? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 The maid.
 
 36 The Intruder. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Why, no ; she has gone downstairs. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I thought she was sitting at the table. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 The maid? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Well, that 's all that was lacking 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 No one has come into the room? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Why no ; no one has come in. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 And your sister is rot here? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Our sister has not come. Where have your 
 thoughts wandered ? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You want to deceive me. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Deceive you?
 
 The Intruder. 37 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Ursula, tell me the truth, for the love of God ! 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 Grandfather ! Grandfather ! what is the matter 
 with you ? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Something has happened ! . . . I am sure 
 my daughter is worse ! . . . 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Are you dreaming? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You do not want to tell me ! . . . I see 
 plainly there is something ! . . 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 In that case you see better than we. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Ursula, tell me the truth. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 But we are telling you the truth, grandfather ! 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You are not speaking in your natural voice. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 That is because you frighten her.
 
 38 The Intruder. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Your voice is changed, yours, too ! 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 But you are going mad ! 
 
 [He and the Uncle make signs to each other 
 that the Grandfather has lost his reason.] 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I hear plainly that you are afraid. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 But what should we be afraid of? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Why do you want to deceive me? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Who thinks of deceiving you? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Why have you put out the light? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 But the light has not been put out ; it is as 
 light as before. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 It seems to me the lamp has gone down. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I see as well as usual.
 
 The Intruder. 39 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I have millstones on my eyes ! Children, 
 tell me what is happening here ! Tell me, for 
 the love of God, you who can see ! I am here, 
 all alone, in darkness without end ! I do not 
 know who seats himself beside me ! I do 
 not know what is happening two steps from 
 me ! . . . Why were you speaking in a low 
 voice just now? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 No one spoke in a low voice. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You spoke in a low voice at the door. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 You heard all I said. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You brought some one into the room. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 But I tell you no one has come in ! 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Is it your sister or a priest ? You must not 
 try to deceive me. Ursula^ who was it that 
 came in? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 No one, grandfather.
 
 4 The Intruder. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You must not try to deceive me ; I know 
 what I know ! How many are we here ? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 There are six of us about the table, 
 grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You are all about the table? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You are there, Paul? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Yes. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You are there, Oliver? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Why, yes ; why, yes ; I am here, in my usual 
 place. This is not serious, is it? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You are there, Genevieve? 
 
 ONE OF THE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Yes, grandfather.
 
 The Intruder. 4 1 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You are there, Gertrude? 
 
 ANOTHER DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You are here, Ursula? 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, grandfather, by your side. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 And who is that sitting there ? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Where do you mean, grandfather? There 
 is no one. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 There, there in the midst of us ! 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 But there is no one, grandfather. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 We tell you there is no one ! 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 But you do not see, any of you !
 
 42 The Intruder 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Oh, come now ; you are joking. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I have no wish to joke, I can assure you, 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Well, then, believe those that see. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 [ Undecidedly^ I thought there was some one. 
 ... I believe I shall not live much longer. . . . 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Why should we go to work to deceive you ? 
 What good would that do? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 We ought clearly to tell you the truth. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 What good would it do to deceive each other ? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 You could not live long without finding it out. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I wish I were at home ! 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 3ut you are at home here !
 
 The Intruder. 43 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Are we not at home ? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Are you among strangers? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 You are strange this evening. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It is you who seem strange to me ! 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Do you want anything? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I do not know what ails me. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Will you take anything? 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 Grandfather ! grandfather ! What do yon 
 want, grandfather? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Give me your little hands, my children. 
 
 THE THREE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Yes, grandfather.
 
 44 The Intruder. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Why are you all three trembling, my children ? 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 We are hardly trembling at all, grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I believe you are all three pale. 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 It is late, grandfather, and we are tired. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 You must go to bed, and grandfather too 
 would do better to take a little rest. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I could not sleep to-night ! 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 We will wait tor the doctor. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Prepare me for the truth ! 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 But there is no truth ! 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Then I do not know what there is !
 
 The Intruder. 45 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 I tell you there is nothing at all ! 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I would like to see my poor daughter ! 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 But you know very well that is impossible; 
 she must not be wakened needlessly. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 You will see her to-morrow. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 We hear no sound in her room. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 I should be uneasy if I heard any sound. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It is very long since I saw my daughter. . . . 
 I took her hands yesterday evening, but I could 
 not see her ! ... I no longer know what she 
 is becoming. ... I no longer know how she 
 is. ... I am no longer familiar with her face. 
 . . . She must have changed in these weeks ! 
 ... I felt the little bones of her cheeks under 
 my hands. . . . There is nothing but the dark- 
 ness between her and me, and all of you ! . . . 
 This is not life this is not living ! . . . You 
 sit there, all of you, with open eyes that look at
 
 46 The Intruder. 
 
 my dead eyes, and not one of you has pity ! . . . 
 I do not know what ails me. . . . No one tells 
 what ought to be told me. . . . And everything 
 is terrifying when you dream of it ! ... But 
 why do you not speak? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 What would you have us say, since you will 
 not believe us ? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You are afraid of betraying yourselves ! 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Do be reasonable now. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 For a long time something has been hidden 
 from me here ! . . . Something has happened 
 in the house. . . . But I begin to understand 
 now. ... I have been deceived too long ! 
 You think, then, that I shall never find out any- 
 thing? There are moments when I am less 
 blind than you, you know ! . . . Have I not 
 heard you whispering, for days and days, as 
 if you were in the house of some one who had 
 hanged himself? I dare not say what I know 
 this evening. . . . But I will know the truth ! 
 I shall wait for you to tell me the truth ; but I 
 have known it for a long time, in spite of you ! 
 And now, I feel that you are all as pale as the 
 dead!
 
 The Intruder. 47 
 
 THE THREE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Grandfather ! grandfather ! What is the 
 matter, grandfather? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It is not of you that I speak, my children ; 
 no, it is not of you that I speak. ... I know 
 quite well you would tell me the truth, if they 
 were not by ! ... And besides, I am sure they 
 are deceiving you also. . . . You will see, 
 children, you will see ! . . . Do I not hear 
 all three of you sobbing? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 For my part, I will not stay here. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Can my wife really be so ill? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 You need not try to deceive me any longer; 
 it is too late now, and I know the truth better 
 than you ! . . . 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 But after all we are not blind, are we ? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Would you like to go into your daughter's 
 room ? There is a mistake here and a misun- 
 derstanding that should end. Would you ? . . .
 
 4^ The Intruder. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 No, no ; not now . . . not yet. . . . 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 You see plainly, you are not reasonable. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 One never knows all that a man has been 
 unable to say in his life ! . . . Who was i, 
 made that noise? 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 It is the flickering of the lamp, grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It seems to me it is very unsteady very 
 unsteady. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 It is the cold wind that vexes it ... it is 
 the cold wind that vexes it. ... . 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 There is no cold wind, the windows are shut. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 I think it is going out. 
 
 THE FATHER,, 
 
 The oil must be out.
 
 The Intruder. 49 
 
 THF DAUGHTER. 
 
 It has gone entirely out. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 We cannot stay like this in the dark. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Why not ? I am already accustpmed to it. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 There is a light in my wife's room. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 We will take it by and by, when the doctor 
 has come. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It is true, we see well enough ; there is light 
 from outside. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Is it light outside ? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Lighter than here. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 For my part, I would as soon talk in the dark. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 So would I. \Silence.
 
 50 The Intruder. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 It seems to me the clock makes such a 
 noise ! . . . 
 
 THE ELDEST DAUGHTER. 
 
 That is because we are not speaking now, 
 grandfather. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 But why are you all silent? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Of what would you have us speak ? You 
 are not in earnest to-night. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Is it very dark in the room? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It is not very light. \Silence. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I do not feel well, Ursula ; open the window 
 a little. 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Yes, daughter ; open the window a little ; I 
 begin to feel the want of air myself. 
 
 [The girl opens the window. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 I positively believe we have stayed shut up 
 too long.
 
 The Intruder. 5 1 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Is the window open, Ursula? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, grandfather ; it is wide open. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 One would not have said it was open ; there 
 is not a sound outside. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 No, grandfather ; there is not the least sound, 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 The silence is extraordinary ! 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 One could hear an angel's step. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 That is the reason I do not like the country. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I wish I could hear some sound. What time 
 is it, Ursula? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Almost midnight, grandfather. 
 
 [Here the Uncle begins to walk up and down 
 the room.] 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Who is it walking around like that?
 
 5 2 The Intruder. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It is I ! it is I ! Do not be frightened ! I 
 feel the need of walking a little. \Silence.~\ 
 But I am going to sit down again, I do not 
 see where I am going. \Silence. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I wish I were somewhere else ! 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Where would you like to go, grandfather? 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I do not know where, into another room 
 no matter where ! no matter where ! . . . 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Where should we go ? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It is too late to go anywhere else. 
 
 [Silence. They are sitting motionless, round 
 the table.] 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 What is that I hear, Ursula? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Nothing, grandfather ; it is the leaves falling. 
 Yes, it is the leaves falling on the terrace.
 
 The Intruder. 53 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Go shut the window, Ursula. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Yes, grandfather. 
 
 [She shuts the window, comes back, and sits 
 down.] 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I am cold. [Silence. The three sisters kiss 
 each otherJ] What is it I hear now ? 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 It is the three sisters kissing each other. 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 It seems to me they are very pale this 
 evening. [Silence. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 What is it I hear now, Ursula ? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 Nothing, grandfather; it is the clasping of 
 my hands. [Silence. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 What is it I hear? what is it I hear, Ursula? 
 
 THE DAUGHTER. 
 
 I do not know, grandfather; perhaps my 
 sisters they are trembling a little.
 
 54 The Intruder. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 I am afraid, too, my children. 
 
 [Here a ray of moonlight penetrates through 
 a corner of the stained glass, and spreads 
 strange gleams here and there in the room. 
 Midnight strikes, and at the last stroke it 
 seems to some that a sound is heard, very 
 vaguely, as of some one rising in all haste.] 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 \_Shuddering with peculiar horror.~\ Who is 
 it that rose? 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 No one rose ! 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 I did not rise ! 
 
 THE THREE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Nor I ! ... Nor I ! ... Nor I ! 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Some one rose from the table ! 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 Light the lamp ! 
 
 [Here suddenly a wail of fright is heard ir 
 the child's room, on the right ; and thif 
 wail continues, with gradations of terror 
 until the end of the scene.] 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Listen ! the child !
 
 The Intruder. 55 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 He has never cried before ! 
 
 THE FATHER. 
 
 Let us go and look ! 
 
 THE UNCLE. 
 
 The light ! The light ! 
 
 [At this moment a hurrying of headlong 
 heavy steps is heard in the room on the 
 left. Then a deathly stillness. They 
 listen in a dumb terror, until the door 
 opens slowly, and the light from the next 
 room falls into that in which they are wait- 
 ing. The Sister of Charity appears on the 
 threshold, in the black garments of her 
 order, and bows as she makes the sign of 
 the cross, to announce the death of the 
 wife. They understand, and, after a mo- 
 ment of hesitation and fright, silently enter 
 the chamber of death, while the Uncle 
 politely effaces himself at the doorstep, to 
 let the three young girls pass. The blind 
 man, left alone, rises and gropes excitedly 
 about the table in the darkness. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER. 
 
 Where are you going? Where are you 
 going? My children! They have left me 
 all alone ! 
 
 [CURTAIN.]
 
 The Blind. 
 
 To Charles Van Lerberghe.
 
 Persons. 
 
 THE PRIEST. 
 
 THREE MEN WHO WERE BORN BLIND. 
 
 A VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 FIFTH BLIND MAN (who is also deaf). 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN (who can distinguish light 
 
 and darkness'). 
 
 THREE OLD BLIND WOMEN IN PRAYER. 
 A VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 A YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 A BLIND MADWOMAN. 
 AN INFANT, child of the MADWOMAN. 
 A DOG.
 
 The Blind. 
 
 [An ancient Norland forest, with an eternal 
 look, under a sky of deep stars. 
 
 In the centre, and in the deep of the night, a 
 very old priest is sitting, wrapped in a great 
 black cloak. The chest and the head, 
 gently upturned and deathly motionless, 
 rest against the trunk of a giant hollow 
 oak. The face is fearsome pale and of an 
 immovable waxen lividness, in which the 
 purple lips fall slightly apart. The dumb, 
 fixed eyes no longer look out from the 
 visible side of Eternity and seem to bleed 
 with immemorial sorrows and with tears. 
 The hair, of a solemn whiteness, falls in 
 stringy locks, stiff and few, over a face 
 more illuminated and more weary than all 
 that surrounds it in the watchful stillness 
 of that melancholy wood. The hands, piti- 
 fully thin, are clasped rigidly over the 
 thighs. 
 
 On the right, six old men, all blind, are sitting 
 on stones, stumps and dead leaves. 
 
 On the left, separated from them by an up- 
 rooted tree and fragments of rock, six 
 women, also blind, are sitting opposite the 
 old men. Three among them pray and 
 mourn without ceasing, in a muffled voice. 
 Another is old in the extreme. The fifth, 
 in an attitude of mute insanity, holds on 
 her knees a little sleeping child. The sixth 
 is strangely young, and her whole body is
 
 62 The Blind. 
 
 drenched with her beautiful hair. They, 
 as well as the old men, are all clad in the 
 same ample and sombre garments. Most 
 of them are waiting, with their elbows on 
 their knees and their faces in their hands ; 
 and all seem to have lost the habit of in- 
 effectual gesture and no longer turn their 
 heads at the stifled and uneasy noises of 
 the Island. Tall funereal trees, yews, 
 weeping-willows, cypresses, cover them 
 with their faithful shadows. A cluster of 
 long, sickly asphodels is in bloom, not far 
 from the priest, in the night. It is un- 
 usually oppressive, despite the moonlight 
 that here and there struggles to pierce for 
 an instant the glooms of the foliage.] 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN (who was born blind). 
 He has n't come back yet ? 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN (who also was born blind), 
 You have awakened me. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I Was sleeping, too. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN (also born blind) . 
 I was sleeping, too. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 He has n't come yet ? 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear nothing coming.
 
 The Blind. 63 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is time to go back to the Asylum. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 We ought to find out where we are. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 It has grown cold since he left. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 We ought to find out where we are ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Does any one know where we are ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 We were walking a very long while ; we must 
 be a long way from the Asylum. 
 
 FIRST BLtND MAN. 
 
 Oh ! the women are opposite us ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 We are sitting opposite you. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Wait, I am coming over where you are. 
 [He rises and gropes in the dark."] Where 
 are you ? Speak ! let me hear where you 
 are !
 
 64 The Blind. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BUND WOMAN. 
 
 Here ; we are sitting on stones. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 \_Advances and stumbles against the fallen 
 tree and the rocksJ\ There is something be- 
 tween us. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 We had better keep our places. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Where are you sitting ? Will you come 
 over by us? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 We dare not rise ! 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Why did he separate us? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear praying on the women's side. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Yes ; the three old women are praying. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 This is no time for prayer !
 
 The Blind. 65 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 You will pray soon enough, in the dormitory ! 
 [The three old women continue their prayers.] 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I should like to know who it is I am sitting 
 by. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think I am next to you. \_They feel about 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We can't reach each other. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Nevertheless, we are not far apart. \He 
 feels about him and strikes with his staff the fifth 
 blind man, who utters a muffled groan.~\ The 
 one who cannot hear is beside us. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I don't hear everybody; we were six just 
 now. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I am going to count. Let us question the 
 women, too ; we must know what to depend 
 upon. I hear the three old women praying all 
 the time ; are they together ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 They are sitting beside me, on a rock.
 
 66 The Blind. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I am sitting on dead leaves. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 And the beautiful blind girl, where is she? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 She is near them that pray. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Where is the mad woman, and her child? 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 He sleeps ; do not awaken him ! 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Oh ! how far away you are from us ! I thought 
 you were opposite me ! 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We know nearly all we need to know. 
 Let us chat a little, while we wait for the priest 
 to come back. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 He told us to wait for him in silence. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We are not in a church. 
 
 THF VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 You do act know where we are.
 
 The Blind. 67 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I am afraid when I am not speaking. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Do you know where the priest went ? 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think he leaves us for too long a time. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 He is getting too old. It looks as though he 
 himself has no longer seen for some time. 
 He will not admit it, for fear another should 
 come to take his place among us ; but I sus- 
 pect he hardly sees at all any more. We 
 must have another guide ; he no longer listens 
 to us, and we are getting too numerous. He 
 and the three nuns are the only people in the 
 house who can see ; and they are all older than 
 we are ! I am sure he has misled us and that 
 he is looking for the road. Where has he gone ? 
 
 He has no right to leave us here. . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 He has gone a long way : I think he said so 
 to the women. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 He no longer speaks except to the women? 
 
 Do we no longer exist ? We shall have to 
 complain of him in the end.
 
 68 The Blind. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 To whom will you complain ? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I don't know yet ; we shall see, we shall see. 
 But where has he gone, I say ? I am asking 
 the women. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 He was weary with walking such a long time. 
 I think he sat down a moment among us. He 
 has been very sad and very feeble for several 
 days. He is afraid since the physician died. 
 He is alone. He hardly speaks any more. I 
 don't know what has happened. He insisted 
 on going out to-day. He said he wished to 
 see the Island, a last time, in the sunshine, 
 before winter came. The winter will be very 
 long and cold, it seems, and the ice comes 
 already from the North. He was very uneasy, 
 too : they say the storms of the last few days 
 have swollen the river and all the dikes are 
 shaken. He said also that the sea frightened 
 him ; it is troubled without cause, it seems, and 
 the coast of the Island is no longer high enough. 
 He wished to see ; but he did not tell us what 
 he saw. At present, I think he has gone to 
 get some bread and water for the mad woman. 
 He said he would have to go a long way, 
 perhaps. We must wait.
 
 The Blind. 69 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 He took my hands when he left ; and his 
 hands shook as if he were afraid. Then he 
 kissed me 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Oh! oh! 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I asked him what had happened. He told 
 me he did not know what was going to happen. 
 He told me the reign of old men was going to 
 end, perhaps. . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 What did he mean by saying that? 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I did not understand him. He told me he 
 was going over by the great lighthouse. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Is there a lighthouse here? 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 Yes, at the north of the Island. I believe 
 we are not far from it. He said he saw the 
 light of the beacon even here, through the 
 leaves. He has never seemed more sorrowful 
 than to-day, and I believe he has been weeping 
 for several days. I do not know why, but I 
 wept also without seeing him. I did not hear
 
 70 The Blind. 
 
 him go away. I did not question him any 
 further. I was aware that he smiled very 
 gravely ; I was aware that he closed his eyes 
 and wished to be silent. . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 He said nothing to us of all that ! 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 You do not listen when he speaks ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 You all murmur when he speaks ! 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 He merely said " Good-night " to us whe* 
 he went away. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It must be very late. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 He said " Good-night " two or three times 
 when he went away, as if he were going to 
 sleep. I was aware that he was looking at me 
 when he said " Good-night ; good-night." 
 The voice has a different sound when you look 
 at any one fixedly. 
 
 FIFTH BLIND MAIL 
 
 fity the blind !
 
 The Blind. 7 1 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Who is that, talking nonsense? 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think it is he who is deaf. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Be quiet ! This is no time for begging ! 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Where did he go to get his bread and water? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 He went toward the sea. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Nobody goes toward the sea like that at his 
 
 age ! 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Are we near the sea? 
 
 THE OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 Yes ; keep still a moment ; you will hear it. 
 
 [Murmur of a sea, near by and very calm, 
 against the cliffs.] 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear only the three old women praying. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 Listen well; you will hear it across their 
 prayers.
 
 72 The Blind. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Yes ; I hear something not far from us. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It was asleep ; one would say that it awaked. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 He was wrong to bring us here ; I do not 
 like to hear that noise. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 You know quite well the Island is not large. 
 It can be heard whenever one goes outside 
 the Asylum close. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I never listened to it. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It seems close beside us to-day; I do not 
 like to hear it so near. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 No more do I ; besides, we did n't ask to go 
 out from the Asylum. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We have never come so far as this ; it was 
 needless to bring us so far.
 
 The Blind. 73 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 The weather was very fine this morning ; he 
 wanted to have us enjoy the last sunny days, 
 before shutting us up all winter in the Asylum. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 But I prefer to stay in the Asylum. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 He said also that we ought to know some- 
 thing of the little Island we live on. He 
 himself had never been all over it; there is a 
 mountain that no one has climbed, valleys one 
 fears to go down into, and caves into which no 
 one has ever yet penetrated. Finally he said 
 we must not always wait for the sun under the 
 vaulted roof of the dormitory; he wished to 
 lead us as far as the seashore. He has gone 
 there alone. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 He is right. We must think of living. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 But there is nothing to see outside ! 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Are we in the sun, now? 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Is the sun still shining?
 
 74 The Blind. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think not : it seems very late. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 What time is it? 
 
 THE OTHERS. 
 
 I do not know. Nobody knows. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Is it light still? \To the sixth blind inan.~] 
 Where are you? How is it, you who can 
 see a little, how is it ? 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think it is very dark ; when there is sun- 
 light, I see a blue line under my eyelids. I 
 did see one, a long while ago ; but now, I no 
 longer perceive anything. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 For my part, I know it is late when I am 
 hungry : and I am hungry. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Look up at the sky; perhaps you will see 
 something there ! 
 
 [All lift their heads skyward, with the excep- 
 tion of the three who were born blind, who 
 continue to look upon the ground.] 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I do not know whether we are under the sky.
 
 The Blind. 75 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 The voice echoes as if we were in a cavern. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think, rather, that it echoes so because it is 
 evening. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 It seems to me that I feel the moonlight oj> 
 my hands. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I believe there are stars ; I hear them. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 So do I. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear no noise. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear only the noise of our breathing. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I believe the women are right. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I never heard the stars. 
 
 THE TWO OTHERS WHO WERE BORN BLIND. 
 
 Nor we, either. 
 
 [A flight of night birds alights suddenly in the 
 ioliage.]
 
 76 The Blind. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Listen ! listen ! what is up there above 
 us ? Do you hear ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Something has passed between us and the 
 sky ! 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 There is something stirring over our heads ; 
 but we cannot reach there ! 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I do not recognize that noise. I should like 
 to go back to the Asylum. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 We ought to know where we are ! 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I have tried to get up ; there is nothing but 
 thorns about me ; I dare not stretch out my 
 hands. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We ought to know where we are ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We cannot know ! 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 We must be very far from the house. I no 
 longer understand any of the noises.
 
 The Blind. 77 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 For a long time I have smelled the odor of 
 dead leaves 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Is there any of us who has seen the Island in 
 the past, and can tell us where we are ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 We were all blind when we came here. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 We have never seen. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Let us not alarm ourselves needlessly. He 
 will come back soon ; let us wait a little longer. 
 But in the future, we will not go out any more 
 with him. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We cannot go out alone. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 We will not go out at all. I had rather not 
 go out. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 We had no desire to go out. Nobody asked 
 him to.
 
 78 The Blind. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 It was a feast-day in the Island ; we always 
 go out on the great holidays. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 He tapped me on the shoulder while I was 
 still asleep, saying : " Rise, rise ; it is time, the 
 sun is shining ! " Is it? I had not perceived 
 it. I never saw the sun. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 / have seen the sun, when I was very young. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 So have I ; a very long time ago ; when I 
 was a child; but I hardly remember it any 
 longer. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Why does he want us to go out every time 
 the sun shines? Who can tell the difference? 
 I never know whether I take a walk at noon or 
 at midnight. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I had rather go out at noon ; I guess vaguely 
 then at a great white light, and my eyes make 
 great efforts to open. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I prefer to stay in the refectory, njar the sea- 
 coal fire ; there was a big fire this morning. . . .
 
 The Blind. 79 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 He could take us into the sun in the court- 
 yard. There the walls are a shelter ; you can- 
 not go out when the gate is shut, I always 
 shut it. Why are you touching my left elbow? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I have not touched you. I can't reach you. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I tell you somebody touched my elbow ! 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 It was not any of us. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I should like to go away. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 My God ! my God ! Tell us where we are ! 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 We cannot wait for eternity. 
 
 [A clock, very far away, strikes twelve slowly.] 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 Oh, how far we are from the asylum ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is midnight.
 
 8o The Blind. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is noon. Does any one know? Speak ! 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I do not know, but I think we are in the 
 dark. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I don't know any longer where I am ; we 
 slept too long 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I am hungry. 
 
 THE OTHERS. 
 
 We are hungry and thirsty. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Have we been here long? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 It seems as if I had been here centuries ! 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I begin to understand where we are. . . . 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We ought to go toward the side where it 
 struck midnight. . . . 
 
 [All at once the night birds scream exultingly 
 in the darkness ]
 
 The Blind. 81 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Do you hear ? Do you hear ? 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 We are not alone here ! 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I suspected something a long while ago : we 
 are overheard. Has he come back? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I don't know what it is : it is above us. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Did the others hear nothing ? You are 
 always silent ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We are listening still. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I hear wings about me ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 My God ! my God ! Tell us where we are ! 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I begin to understand where we are. . . . The 
 Asylum is on the other side of the great river ; 
 we crossed the old bridge. He led us to the 
 north of the Island. We are not far from the
 
 82 The Blind. 
 
 river, and perhaps we shall hear it if we listen 
 a moment. . . . We must go as far as the 
 water's edge, if he does not come back. . . ,. 
 There, night and day, great ships pass, and the 
 sailors will perceive us on the banks. It is 
 possible that we are in the wood that surrounds 
 the lighthouse ; but I do not know the way out. 
 . . . Will any one follow me? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Let us remain seated ! Let us wait, let us 
 wait. We do not know in what direction the 
 great river is, and there are marshes all about 
 the Asylum. Let us wait, let us wait. . . . He 
 will return .... he must return ! 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Does any one know by what route we came 
 here ? He explained it to us as he walked. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I paid no attention to him. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Did any one listen to him ? 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We must listen to him in the future. 
 
 SDCTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Were any of us born on the Island ?
 
 The Blind. 83 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 You know very well we came from else- 
 where. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 We came from the other side of the sea. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I thought I should die on the voyage. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 So did I ; we came together. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 > We are all three from the same parish. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 They say you can see it from here, on a clear 
 day, toward the north. It has no steeple. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We came by accident. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I come from another direction. . . . 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 From where ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I dare no longer dream of it. ... I hardly 
 remember any longer when I speak of it. ... 
 It was too long ago. ... It was colder there 
 than here. .
 
 84 The Blind. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I come from very far. . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Well, from where? 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I could not tell you. How would you have 
 me explain ! It is too far from here ; it is 
 beyond the sea. I come from a great country. 
 ... I could only make you understand by 
 signs : and we no longer see. ... I have wan- 
 dered too long. . . . But I have seen the sun- 
 light and the water and the fire, mountains, 
 faces, and strange flowers. . . . There are none 
 such on this Island ; it is too gloomy and 
 too cold. ... I have never recognized their 
 perfume since I saw them last. . . . And I 
 have seen my parents and my sisters. ... I 
 was too young then to know where I was. . . . 
 I still played by the seashore. . . . But oh, how 
 I remember having seen ! . . . One day I saw 
 the snow on a mountain- top. . . I began to 
 distinguish the unhappy . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 What do you mean ? 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I distinguish them yet at times by their 
 voices. ... I have memories which are clearer 
 when I do not think upon them. . . .
 
 The Blind. 85 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I have no memories. 
 
 [A flight of large migratory birds pass clamor- 
 ously, above the trees.] 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Something is passing again across the sky ! 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Why did you come here ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Of whom do you ask that ? 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Of our young sister. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I was told he could cure me. He told me I 
 would see some day; then I could leave the 
 Island. . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 We all want to leave the Island ! 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 We shall stay here always. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 He is too old ; he will not have time to cure 
 us.
 
 86 The Blind. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 My lids are shut, but I feel that my eyes are 
 alive. . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Mine are open. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I sleep with my eyes open. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Let us not talk of our eyes ! 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is not long since you came, is it? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 One evening at prayers I heard a voice on 
 the women's side that I did not recognize ; and 
 I knew by your voice that you were very 
 young. ... I would have liked to see you, to 
 hear you. . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I did n't perceive anything. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 He gave us no warning. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 They say you are beautiful as a woman who 
 comes from very far.
 
 The Blind. 87 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I have never seen myself. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We have never seen each other. We ask 
 and we reply ; we live together, we are always 
 together, but we know not what we are ! . . . 
 In vain we touch each other with both hands ; 
 the eyes learn more than the hands. . . . 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I see your shadows sometimes, when you are 
 m the sun. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We have never seen the house in which we 
 live ; in vain we feel the walls and the win- 
 dows ; we do not know where we live ! . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 They say it is an old chateau, very gloomy 
 and very wretched, where no light is ever seen 
 except in the tower where the priest has his 
 room. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 There is no need of light for those who do 
 not see. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 When I tend the flock, in the neighborhood 
 of the Asylum, the sheep return of themselves 
 when they see at nightfall that ' light in the 
 tower . . . They have never misled me.
 
 88 The Blind. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Years and years we have been together, and 
 we have never seen each other ! You would 
 say we were forever alone ! ... To love, one 
 must see. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I dream sometimes that I see . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I see only in my dreams . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I do not dream, usually, except at midnight 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Of what can one dream where the hands are 
 motionless ? 
 
 [A flurry of wind shakes the forest, and the 
 leaves fall, thick and gloomily.] 
 
 FIFTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Who touched my hands? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Something is falling about us ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 That comes from above ; I don't know what 
 it is ...
 
 The Blind. 89 
 
 FIFTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Who touched my hands ? I was asleep ; let 
 me sleep ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Nobody touched your hands. 
 
 FIFTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Who took my hands ? Answer loudly ; " am 
 a little hard of hearing . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We do not know ourselves. 
 
 FIFTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Has some one come to give us warning? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is useless to reply ; he hears nothing. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It must be admitted, the deaf are very 
 unfortunate. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I am weary of staying seated. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I am weary of staying here.
 
 90 The Blind. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 It seems to me we are so far from one 
 another. . . . Let us try to get a little nearer 
 together, it is beginning to get cold. . . . 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I dare not rise ! We had better stay where 
 we are. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We do not know what there may be among 
 us. 
 
 SKTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think both my hands are in blood ; I would 
 like to stand up. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 You are leaning toward me, I hear you. 
 
 [The blind madwoman rubs her eyes violently, 
 groaning and turning obstinately toward the 
 motionless priest.] 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear still another noise. . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I think it is our unfortunate sister rubbing 
 her eyes. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 She is never doing anything else ; I hear her 
 every night.
 
 The Blind. 91 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 She is mad ; she never speaks. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 She has never spoken since she had her chiH 
 . . . She seems always to be afraid. . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 You are not afraid here, then? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Who? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 All the rest of us. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 Yes, yes ; we are afraid. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 We have been afraid for a long time. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Why did you ask that ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I do not know why I asked it. ... There is 
 something here I do not understand. ... It 
 seems to me I hear weeping all at once among 
 us. ... 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 There is no need to fear ; I think it is the 
 madwoman.
 
 9 2 The Blind. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 There is something else beside. ... I am 
 sure there is something else beside. ... It is 
 not that alone that makes me afraid. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 She always weeps when she is going to give 
 suck to her child. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 She is the only one that weeps so. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 They say she sees still at times. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 You do not hear the others weep. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 To weep, one must see. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I smell an odor of flowers about us. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I smell only the smell of the earth. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 There are flowers, there are flowers about 
 us.
 
 The Blind. 93 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I smell only the smell of the earth. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I caught the perfume of flowers in the 
 wind. . . . 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I smell only the smell of the earth. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I believe the women are right. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Where are they ? I will go pluck them, 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 At your right. Rise ! 
 
 [The sixth blind man rises slowly and advances 
 groping, and stumbling against the bushes 
 and trees, toward the asphodels, which he 
 breaks and crushes on his way.] 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I hear you breaking the green stalks. Stop ! 
 stop ! 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Don't worry yourselves about flowers, but 
 think of getting home. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I no longer dare return on my steps.
 
 94 The Blind. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 You need not return. Wait. [She rises. .] 
 Oh, how cold the earth is ! It is going to 
 freeze. [She advances without hesitation 
 toward the strange, pale asphodels ; but she is 
 stopped, in the neighborhood of the flowers, by 
 the uprooted tree and the fragments of rock.~\ 
 They are here. I cannot reach them ; they 
 are on your side. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I believe I am plucking them. 
 
 [He plucks the scattered flowers, gropingly, 
 and offers them to her ; the night birds 
 fly away.] 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 It seems to me I saw these flowers in the old 
 days. ... I no longer know their name. . . . 
 Alas, how sickly they are, and how soft the stems 
 are ! I hardly recognize them. ... I think it 
 is the flower of the dead. 
 
 [She twines the asphodels in her hair.] 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear the noise of your hair. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 It is the flowers. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We shall not see you. , . .
 
 The Blind. 95 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I shall not see myself, any more. ... I am 
 cold. 
 
 [At this moment the wind rises in the forest, 
 and the sea roars suddenly and with vio- 
 lence against cliffs very near.] 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 It thunders ! 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think there is a storm rising. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I think it is the sea. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 The sea ? Is it the sea ? But it is hardly 
 two steps from us ! It is at our feet ! I hear 
 it all about me ! It must be something else ! 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I hear the noise of breakers at my feet. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think it is the wind in the dead leaves. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think the women are right. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It will come here !
 
 96 The Blind. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 What direction does the wind come from? 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 It comes from the sea. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It always comes from the sea. The sea 
 surrounds us on all sides. It cannot come 
 from anywhere else. . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Let us not keep on thinking of the sea ! 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 We must think of it. It will reach us soon. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 You do not know if it be the sea. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear its surges as if I could dip both hands 
 in them. We cannot stay here ! It is perhaps 
 all about us. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Where would you go ? 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 No matter where ! no matter where ! I will 
 not hear this noise of waters any longer ! Let 
 us go ! Let us go !
 
 The Blind. 97 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think I hear something else. Listen ! 
 
 [A sound of footfalls is heard, hurried and faf 
 away, in the dead leaves.] 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 There is something coming this way. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 He is coming ! He is coming ! He is 
 coming back ! 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 He is coming with little quick steps, like a 
 little child. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Let us make no complaints to him to-day. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I believe that is not the step of a man ! 
 
 [A great dog enters in the forest, and passes 
 in front of the blind folk. Silence.] 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Who 's there ? Who are you ? Have pity 
 on us, we have been waiting so long ! . . . 
 [The dog stops, and coming to the blind man, 
 puts his fore paws on his kneesJ] Oh, oh, 
 what have you put on my knees? What is it? 
 ... Is it an animal? I believe it is a dog. 
 . . . Oh, oh, it is the dog, it is the Asylum dog ! 
 Come here, sir, come here ! He comes to save 
 us ! Come here ! come here, sir !
 
 98 The Blind. 
 
 THE OTHERS. 
 
 Come here, sir ! come here ! 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 He has come to save us ! He has followed 
 our tracks all the way ! He is licking my hands 
 as if he had just found me after centuries ! He 
 howls for joy ! He is going to die for joy ! 
 Listen, listen ! 
 
 THE OTHERS. 
 
 Come here ! Come here ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Perhaps he is running ahead of some- 
 body . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 No, no, he is alone. I hear nothing coming. 
 We need no other guide ; there is none 
 better. He will lead us wherever we want to 
 go ; he will obey us ... 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I dare no f follow him. . . . 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 /lor I. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Why not? His sight is better than ours.
 
 The Blind. 99 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Don't listen to the women ! 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I believe there is a change in the sky. I 
 breathe freely. The air is pure now . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 It is the sea wind passing about us. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 It seems to me it is getting lighter ; I believe 
 the sun is rising . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I believe it is getting colder. . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 We are going to find our way again. He is 
 dragging me ! ... he is dragging me. He is 
 drunk with joy ! I can no longer hold him 
 back ! . . . Follow me, follow me. We are 
 going back to the house ! . . . 
 
 [He rises, dragged by the dog, who leads him 
 to the motionless priest, and stops.] 
 
 THE OTHERS. 
 
 Where are you ? Where are you ? Where 
 are you going ? Take care !
 
 ioo The Blind. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Wait, wait ! Do not follow me yet ; I will 
 come back . . . He is stopping. What is the 
 matter with him? Oh, oh, I touched some- 
 thing very cold ! 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 What are you saying ? We can hardly hear 
 your voice any longer. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I have touched I believe I am touching a 
 face ! 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 What are you saying ? We hardly under- 
 stand you any longer. What is the matter with 
 you ? Where are you ? Are you already so 
 far away ? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Oh, oh, oh ! I do not know yet what it is. 
 There is a dead man in the midst of us. 
 
 THE OTHERS. 
 
 A dead man in the midst of us ? Where 
 are you ? Where are you ? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 There is a dead man among us, I tell you ! 
 Oh, oh, I touched a dead man's face ! You 
 are sitting beside a dead man ! One of us
 
 The Blind. 101 
 
 must have died suddenly. Why don't you 
 speak, so that I may know who are still alive ? 
 Where are you ? Answer ! answer, all of you ! 
 
 [The blind folk reply in turn, with the excep- 
 tion of the madwoman and the deaf man. 
 The three old women have ceased their 
 prayers.] 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I no longer distinguish your voices . . . 
 You all speak alike ! . . . Your voices are aU 
 trembling. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 There are two that have not answered . . . 
 Where are they? 
 
 [He touches with his stick the fifth blind man.] 
 
 FIFTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Oh ! oh ! I was asleep ; let me sleep ! 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is not he. Is it the madwoman ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 She is sitting beside me ; I can hear that she 
 is alive . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I believe ... I believe it is the priest ! 
 He is standing up ! Come, come, come !
 
 102 The Blind. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 He is standing up ? 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Then he is not dead ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Where is he? 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Let us go see ! 
 
 [They all rise, with the exception of the mad- 
 woman and the fifth blind man, and advance, 
 groping, toward the dead.] 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Is he here ? Is it he ? 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Yes, yes, I recognize him. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 My God i my God ! what will become of us ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 Father ! father ! Is it you ? Father, what 
 has happened ? What is the matter ? 
 Answer us ! We are all about you. Oh ! 
 oh! oh! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Bring some water ; perhaps he still lives.
 
 The Blind. 10; 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Let us try ... He might perhaps be able 
 to take us back to the Asylum . . . 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is useless ; I no longer hear his heart. 
 He is cold. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 He died without speaking a word. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 He ought to have forewarned us. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Oh ! how old he was ! . . . This is the first 
 time I ever touched his face ... 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 [ Feeling the corpse '.] He is taller than we. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 His eyes are wide open. He died with hi? 
 hands clasped. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 It was unreasonable to die so ... 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 He is not standing up, he is sitting on 9 
 atone.
 
 104 The Blind. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 My God ! ray God ! I did not dream of 
 such a thing ! . . . such a thing ! . . . He has 
 been sick such a long time . . . He must have 
 suffered to-day . . . Oh, oh, oh ! He never 
 complained ; he only pressed our hands . . . 
 One does not always understand . . . One 
 never understands ! . . . Let us go pray about 
 him ; go down on your knees . . . 
 
 [The women kneel, moaning.] 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I dare not go down on my knees. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 You cannot tell what you might kneel on 
 here. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Was he ill? ... He did not tell us ... 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I heard him muttering in a low voice as he 
 went away. I think he was speaking to OUT 
 young sister. What did he say? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 She will not answer. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Will you no longer answer us? Where are 
 you, I say? Speak.
 
 The Blind. 105 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 You made him suffer too much; you have 
 made him die. . . . You would not go on ; you 
 would sit down on the stones of the road to 
 eat ; you have grumbled all day ... I heard 
 him sigh . . . He lost heart. . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Was he ill? Did you know it? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We knew nothing . . . We never saw him. 
 . . . When did we ever know anything behind 
 our poor dead eyes? . . . He never com- 
 plained. Now it is too late ... I have seen 
 three die . . . but never in this way ! . . . Now 
 it is our turn. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 / 
 
 It was not I that made him suffer. I said 
 nothing. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 No more did I. We followed him without 
 saying anything. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 He died, going after water for the mad- 
 woman. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 What are we going to do now? Where shall 
 we go?
 
 io6 The Blind. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Where is the dog? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Here; he will not go away from the dead 
 man. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Drag him away ! Take him off, take him 
 off! 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 He will not leave the dead man. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 We cannot wait beside a dead man. We 
 cannot die here in the dark. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Let us remain together ; let us not scatter ; 
 let us hold one another by the hand ; let us all 
 sit on this stone . . . Where are the others? 
 . . . Come here, come, come ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Where are you? 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Here ; I am here. Are we all together? 
 Come nearer me. Where are your hands? 
 It is very cold.
 
 The Blind. 107 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 Oh, how cold your hands are ! 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 What are you doing? 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I was putting my hands on my eyes; I 
 thought I was going to see all at once . . . 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Who is weeping so? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 It is the madwoman sobbing. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 And yet she does not know the truth. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think we are going to die here. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 Perhaps some one will come . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Who else would come? . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I do not know.
 
 io8 The Blind. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think the nuns will come out from the 
 Asylum . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 They do not go out after dark. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 They never go out. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think the men at the great lighthouse will 
 perceive us ... 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 They never come down from their tower. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 They will see us, perhaps. . . . 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 They look always out to sea. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is cold. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Listen to the dead leaves. I believe it is 
 freezing. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 Oh ! how hard the earth is !
 
 The Blind. 109 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear on my left a sound I do not under- 
 stand. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is the sea moaning against the rocks. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I thought it was the women. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I hear the ice breaking under the surf. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Who is shivering so? It shakes everybody 
 on the stone. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I can no longer open my hands. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear again a sound I do not understand. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Who is shivering so among us? It shakes 
 the stone. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think it is a woman. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I think the madwoman is shivering the 
 hardest.
 
 no The Blind. 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 We do not hear her child. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I think he is still nursing. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 He is the only one who can see where we 
 are ! 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear the north wind. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 I think there are no more stars ; it is going 
 to snow. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 Then we are lost ! 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 If any one sleeps, he must be aroused. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Nevertheless, I am sleepy. 
 
 [A sudden gust sweeps the dead leaves around 
 in a whirlwind.] 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 Do you hear the dead leaves ? I believe 
 one is coming toward us.
 
 The Blind. m 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is the wind ; listen ! 
 
 THIRD BLIND MAN. 
 
 No one will ever come. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 The great cold will come . . . 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I hear walking far off. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear only the dead leaves. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I hear walking far away from us. 
 
 SECOND BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear only the north wind. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I tell you, some one is coming toward us. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 I hear a sound of very slow footsteps. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I believe the women are right. 
 
 [It begins to snow in great flakes.]
 
 ii2 The Blind. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Oh, oh ! what is it falling so cold upon my 
 hands ? 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 It is snowing. 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Let us press close to one another. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 No, but listen ! The sound of footsteps ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 For God's sake, keep still an instant. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 They come nearer ! they come nearer ! 
 listen ! 
 
 [Here the child of the blind madwoman begins 
 suddenly to wail in the darkness.] 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 The child is crying. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 He sees ! he sees ! He must see something 
 if he cries. [She seizes the child in her arms 
 and advances in the direction from which the 
 sound of footsteps seems to come. The other 
 women follow her anxiously and surround her.~\ 
 I am going, to meet him.
 
 The Blind. 113 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Take care. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 Oh, how he cries ! What is the matter with 
 him ? Don't cry. Don't be afraid ; there is 
 nothing to frighten you, we are here ; we are 
 all about you. What do you see? Don't be 
 afraid at all. Don't cry so ! What do you 
 see ? Tell me, what do you see ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 The sound of footsteps draws nearer and 
 nearer : listen, listen ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 I hear the rustling of a gown against the 
 dead leaves. 
 
 SIXTH BLIND MAN. 
 
 Is it a woman ? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND MAN. 
 
 Is it a noise of footsteps ? 
 
 FIRST BLIND MAN. 
 
 Can it be perhaps the sea in the dead leaves? 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 No, no ! They are footsteps, they are foot- 
 steps, they are footsteps !
 
 H4 The Blind. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 We shall know soon. Listen to the dead 
 leaves. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 I hear them, I hear- them almost beside us; 
 listen, listen ! What do you see ? What do 
 you see? 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 Which way is he looking? 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 He keeps following the sound of the steps. 
 Look, look ! When I turn him away, he turns 
 back to see . . . He sees, he sees, he sees ! 
 He must see something strange ! 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN \Steppitlg forward~\ . 
 
 Lift him above us, so that he may see better. 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 Stand back, stand back. \She raises the 
 child above the group of blind folk. ~\ The foot- 
 steps have stopped amongst us. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 They are here ! They are in the midst of 
 us! .
 
 The Blind. 115 
 
 THE YOUNG BLIND GIRL. 
 
 Who are you? [Silence. 
 
 THE VERY OLD BLIND WOMAN. 
 
 Have pity on us ! 
 
 [Silence. The child weeps more desperately.] 
 
 [CURTAIN.]
 
 The Seven Princesses.
 
 Persons. 
 
 THE OLD KING. 
 THE OLD QUEEN. 
 THE PRINCE. 
 THE SEVEN PRINCESSES. 
 A MESSENGER. 
 CHORUS OF SAILORS.
 
 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 [A spacious hall of marble, with laurel, laven- 
 der, and lilies in porcelain vases. A flight 
 of seven white marble steps divides the 
 whole hall lengthwise, and seven princesses, 
 in white gowns and with bare arms, lie 
 sleeping on these steps, which are furnished 
 with cushions of pale silk. A silver lamp 
 shines on their sleep. At the back of the 
 hall, a door with powerful bolts. To the 
 right and left of this door large windows 
 whose panes reach down to the level of 
 the tiles. Behind these windows, a terrace. 
 The sun is just setting, and through the 
 panes a dark, marshy country is seen, with 
 pools and forests of oaks and pines. Ver- 
 tically with one of the windows, between 
 huge willows, a gloomy canal without a 
 bend, on the horizon of which a large man- 
 of-war approaches. 
 
 The old King, the old Queen and the Mes- 
 senger come forward upon the terrace and 
 watch the approach of the man-of-war.] 
 
 THE QUEEN. 
 
 It comes with all sails set. . . . 
 
 THE KING. 
 
 I do not see it well through the fog. . . .
 
 122 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 They are rowing they are all rowing. . . . 
 I believe they are going to come to the very 
 windows of the chateau. . . . You would say 
 it had a thousand feet . . . the sails touch 
 the branches of the willows. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 It looks larger than the canal. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 They are stopping. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 I do not know how they will be able to go 
 back. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 They are stopping . . . they are stopping. 
 They are coming to anchor. . . . They are 
 making fast to the willows. . . . Oh ! oh ! I 
 believe the prince is coming down . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 Just look at the swans. . . . They are going 
 to meet him. . . . They are going to see what 
 it is. ... 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 &re they still asleep? 
 
 [They come and look through the windows 
 into the hall.]
 
 The Seven Princesses. 123 
 
 KING. 
 
 Let us wake them. ... I told you so a long 
 while ago ; they must be wakened. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Let us wait till he come. ... It is too late 
 now. . . . He is here ; he is here ! My God, 
 my God ! what shall we do ? I dare not ! I 
 dare not ! . . . They are too ill. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 Shall I open the door? 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No, no ! Wait ! Let us wait ! Oh, how 
 they sleep ! how they still sleep ! . . . They do 
 not know he has come back they do not 
 know he is here. ... I dare not wake them 
 . . . the physician forbade it ... let us not 
 wake them. . . . Let us not wake them yet. 
 . . . Oh, oh ! I hear a sound of footsteps 
 on the bridge. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 He is here ! He is here 1 ... He is at the 
 foot of the terrace ! . . . 
 
 \_They leave the window. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Where is he? Where is he? Is it he? 
 I should no longer know him ! . . . Yes, yes ; 
 I should know him still ! Oh, how tall he is !
 
 124 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 how tall he is ! He is at the foot of the steps ! 
 . . . Marcellus ! Marcellus ! Is it you ? Is it 
 you ? Come up ! come up ! We are so old 
 we can no longer come down to you. . . . Come 
 up ! come up ! come up ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 Take care you do not fall ! . . . the steps 
 are very old . . . they all shake. . . . Take 
 care ! . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Come up ! come up ! come up ! 
 
 [The Prince ascends to the terrace and throws 
 himself in the arms of the King and Queen.] 
 
 THE PRINCE. 
 
 My poor grandam ! My poor grandfather ! 
 
 [They kiss. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh, how handsome you are ! How you have 
 grown, my child ! How tall you are, my little 
 Marcellus ! I do not see you well ; my eyea 
 are full of tears. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Oh, my poor grandam, how white your hair 
 is ! ... Oh, my poor grandfather, how white 
 your beard is ! ... 
 
 KING. 
 
 We are poor little old people ; our turn is 
 coming. . . .
 
 The Seven Princesses. 125 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Grandfather, grandfather, why do you bend 
 so? 
 
 KING. 
 
 I am always bent. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 We have waited for you so long ! . . . 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Oh, my poor grandam, how you tremble this 
 evening ! . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 I always tremble so, my child. . . . 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Oh, my poor grandfather ! Oh, my poor 
 grandam ! I hardly know you any longer. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 No more do I ! no more do I ! I no longer 
 see very well. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Where have you been so long, my child? 
 Oh, how tall you are ! You are taller than we ! 
 . . . There, there, I am weeping as if you were 
 dead! 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Why do you receive me with tears in your 
 eyes?
 
 126 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No, no, it is not tears, my child. ... It is 
 not the same thing as tears. . . . Nothing has 
 happened. . . . Nothing has happened. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 Where are my seven cousins? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Here, here ; listen, listen. ... do not speak 
 too loud ; they sleep still ; we must not speak 
 of those who sleep . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 They sleep ? . . . Are they still living, all 
 seven? . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Yes, yes, yes ; take care, take care. . . . They 
 are asleep here ; they are always asleep. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 They are always asleep? . . . What? what? 
 what? Do they ? ... all seven! all 
 seven ! . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh, oh, oh ! what did you think? . . . what 
 did you dare think, Marcellus, Marcellus? 
 Take care ! They are here ; come, look 
 through the window . . . come, look. . . . 
 Quick, quick ; come quick ! It is time to see 
 them. . . . 
 
 [They draw near the windows and look into 
 the hall. A long silence.]
 
 The Seven Princesses. 127 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 It is my seven cousins? ... I do not see 
 plainly. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Yes, yes ; they are all seven there on the steps. 
 . . . Do you see them ? Do you see them ? 
 
 PRINCE. 
 I see only some white shadows. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 It is your seven cousins ! . . . Do you see 
 them in the mirrors? . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 It is my seven cousins ? . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Pray, look in the mirrors at the very end of 
 the hall . . . you will see them; you will see 
 them. . . . Come here, come here; you will 
 see better, perhaps. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I see ! I see ! I see ! I see them, all 
 seven ! . . . One, two, three \he hesitates a 
 moment], four, five, six, seven. ... I hardly 
 recognize them. ... I do not recognize them 
 at all. . . . Oh, how white they are, all seven ! 
 . . . Oh, how fair they are, all seven ! . . . Oh, 
 how pale they are, all seven ! . . . But why do 
 all the seven sleep ?
 
 128 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 They always sleep. . . . They have slept 
 here since noon. . . . They are so ill ! ... 
 You can no longer wake them. . . . They did 
 not know you were about to come. . . . We 
 have not dared wake them. . . . We must wait. 
 . . . They must awake of themselves. . . . They 
 are not happy ; it is not our fault. . . . We are 
 too old, too old ; everybody is too old for them. 
 . . . People are too old without knowing it. ... 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Oh, how beautiful they are ! how beautiful 
 they are ! . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 They hardly live any longer since they have 
 been here ; they have been here ever since 
 their parents died. ... It is too cold in this 
 chateau. . . . They come from the warm coun- 
 tries. . . . They are alway seeking the sun- 
 shine ; but there is almost none. . . . There 
 was a little on the canal this morning; but 
 the trees are too tall; there is too much 
 shade ; there is nothing but shade. . . . There 
 are too many fogs, and the sky is never clear. 
 ... Oh, how you look at them ! Do you 
 see anything extraordinary? 
 
 PRINCE. 
 Oh, how pale they are, all seven !
 
 The Seven Princesses. 129 
 
 QUEEN: 
 
 They are still fasting. . . . They could not 
 stay in the garden any longer ; the lawn daz- 
 zled them. . . . They have the fever. . . . 
 They returned this noon holding one another 
 by the hand. . . . They are so weak they can 
 hardly walk alone now. . . . They shook with 
 fever, all seven. And no one knows what 
 ails them. ... They sleep here every day. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 They are strange. . . . Oh, oh, they are 
 strange ! . . . I dare no longer look at them. 
 Is this their bedchamber? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No, no ; it is not their bedchamber. . . . You 
 see plainly; there are no beds. Their seven 
 little beds are above, in the tower. . . . They 
 are here, waiting for the night. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 I begin to make them out. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Draw near, draw near; but do not touch 
 the windows. . . . You will see better when the 
 sun has set; it is too light still outside. . . . 
 You will see better soon. Stand close to the 
 window-panes; but make no noise. . . .
 
 130 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 Oh, how light it is in the hall ! . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 It will be lighter still when the night has 
 come. ... It is about to fall. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 What is that about to fall? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 I spoke of the night. Do you see anything ? 
 
 PRINCE. 
 There is a great crystal vase upon a tripod. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 That is nothing; it is water; they are so 
 thirsty when they wake ! . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 But why is that lamp burning? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 They always light it. They knew they would 
 sleep a long time. They lighted it this noon 
 that they might not wake in the darkness. . . . 
 They are afraid of the dark. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 They have grown tall !
 
 The Seven Princesses. I3 1 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 They are growing yet. . . . They are getting 
 too tall. ... It is perhaps that which makes 
 them so ill. . . . Do you recognize them? 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I should recognize them, perhaps, if I saw 
 them in broad daylight. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 You have played so often with them when 
 they were little. . . . Open your eyes. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 I see plainly only their little bare feet. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 \_Looking in at another window."] I cannot 
 see in very clearly this evening. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 They are too far from us. ... 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 There is something over the mirrors this 
 evening; I do not see quite what it is. ... 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 There is a mist over the window-panes. . . . 
 I am going to see if I can wipe it away. . . .
 
 132 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No, no ! do not touch the window ! They 
 would wake with a start ! It is on the inside ; 
 it is on the other side ; it is the heat of the 
 hall. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Six of them I can make out very well ; but 
 there is one in the middle. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 They all look alike ; I only distinguish them 
 by their necklaces of precious stones. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 There is one I cannot see well. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 Which do you like best ? 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 The one you cannot see well. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 Which ? I am a little hard of hearing. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 The one you cannot see well. . . . 
 KING. 
 
 Which one is it you cannot see well? I 
 hardly see any of them.
 
 The Seven Princesses. 133 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 The one in the middle. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 I knew well you would see her only ! . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 Who is it? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 You know well who it is ; I need not tell you. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 It is Ursula? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Why, yes ; why, yes ; why, yes ! You know 
 well it is Ursula ! it is Ursula ! It is Ursula, 
 who has waited for you for seven years ! all 
 night long ! all night long ! all day long ! all 
 day long! . . . Do you recognize her? . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I do not see her well ; there, is a shadow over 
 her. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Yes, there is a shadow over her; I do not 
 know what it is. ... 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I think it is the shadow of a column. ... I 
 shall see her better soon, when the sun has 
 wholly set. . . .
 
 134 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No, no ; it is no shadow of the sun. . . . 
 
 PRIWCE. 
 We shall see if the shadow moves away. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 I see what it is ; it is the shadow of the lamp. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 She is lying differently from the others. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 She sleeps more soundly, that is all. ... 
 
 PRINCE. 
 She sleeps like a little child. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 Come to this window; you will see better, 
 perhaps. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 [Going to another window .] I see her no 
 better. It is the face I cannot see. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Come to this window; you will see better 
 perhaps. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 [Going to another window .] I see her no 
 better. ... It is very difficult to see her. . . . 
 One would say she was hiding. . . .
 
 The Seven Princesses. 135 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 The face is almost invisible. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I see the body very well, but I do not make 
 out the face. ... I think it is entirely turned 
 heavenward. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 But you look only at one ! . . . 
 PRINCE. 
 
 [Still looking.~\ She is taller than the 
 others. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 But do not look always at the only one we 
 cannot see. . . . There are six others ! . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I look at them, too. . . . Oh, how clearly one 
 can see the others ! . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Do you recognize them ? There is Genevieve, 
 Helen, and Christabel . . . and on the 
 other side there is Magdalen, Clara, and 
 Claribel with the emeralds. . . . Just see; 
 I believe they are holding each other, all 
 seven, by the hand. . . . They fell asleep, 
 taking hold of hands. . . . Oh, oh ! the little 
 sisters ! . . . You would say they were afraid 
 of losing each other in their sleep. . . . My 
 God, my God ! I wish they would awake ! . . .
 
 36 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Yes, yes; let us wake them. . . . Will you 
 let me wake them? . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No, no ; not yet, not yet. . . . Let us not 
 look at them any more ; come, do not look at 
 them any more ; they will suddenly have bad 
 dreams. ... I will look at them no more ; I 
 will look at them no more. ... I might break 
 the glass ! . . . Let us not look at them any 
 more, we should be frightened ! . . . Come 
 away, come away, to the foot of the terrace ; 
 we will talk of other things ; we have so many 
 things to say. . . . Come away, come away ; 
 they will be afraid if they turn over ; they will 
 be afraid if they see us at all the windows. \_To 
 the old KING.] You too, you too ; come away, 
 do not glue your white beard to the panes so 
 . . . you do not know how terrifying you are ! 
 ... For the love of God, do not stay, both 
 of you, at the windows ! . . . Oh, come away ; 
 come away, I tell you ! . . . You do not know 
 what is going to happen. . . . Come here, 
 come here, turn away, turn away ! Look the 
 other way ! Look the other way a moment ! 
 . . . They are ill, they are ill ! ... Let us go 
 further away. . . . Let them sleep alone ! . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 [ Turning.'] What is the matter ? Why, what 
 is the matter ? Oh, how dark it is without ! . . . 
 Where are you ? I cannot find you. . . .
 
 The Seven Princesses. 137 
 
 KING. 
 
 Wait a moment ; you have the light of the 
 hall in your eyes still. ... I do not see either. 
 . . . Come. We are here. . . . 
 
 {They leave the windows. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Oh, how dark it is in the fields ! . . . Where 
 are we ? 
 
 KING. 
 The sun has set. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Marcellus; why did you not come sooner, 
 Marcellus ? 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 The messenger has told you ; I have thought 
 only of coming. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 They have waited for you so many years ! 
 They have been always in this marble hall ; 
 they have watched the canal day and night. . . . 
 On sunny days they have gone on the other 
 bank . . . there is a hill there, from which you 
 can see further; you cannot see the sea; but 
 you can see the rocks. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 What is that gleam under the trees?
 
 138 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 KING. 
 
 It is the canal by which you came ; there is 
 always a gleam on the water. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Oh, how dark it is to-night ! I no longer 
 know where I am ; I am like a stranger 
 here. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 The sky is overcast suddenly. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 There is a breeze in the willows. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 There is a breeze day and night in the 
 willows ; we are not far from the sea. 
 Listen ; it rains already. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 One would say there was weeping about the 
 chateau. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 It is the rain falling on the water; it is a 
 very gentle rain. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 One would say there was weeping in the 
 sky. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Oh, how the water sleeps between the 
 walls ! . . .
 
 The Seven Princesses. 139 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 It always sleeps so ; it is very old too. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 The swans have sought shelter under the 
 bridge. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 And here are peasants bringing home their 
 flocks. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 They seem to me very old and very poor. . . . 
 KING. 
 
 They are very poor; I am king of very 
 poor people. ... It is beginning to grow 
 cold. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 What is there yonder, across the water? 
 KING. 
 
 Down there ? It was some flowers ; the cold 
 has killed them. . . . 
 
 [At this moment, far off across the fields 
 a monotonous song is heard, of which the 
 refrain only can be distinguished, taken up 
 in chorus at regular intervals.] 
 
 FAR-AWAY VOICES. 
 
 The Atlantic ! The Atlantic ! 
 
 KING. 
 What is that ?
 
 140 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 It is the sailors ; I think they are turning 
 the ship ; they are preparing to depart. . . . 
 
 FAR-AWAY VOICES. 
 
 We shall return no more ! We shall return 
 no more ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Already all its sails are set. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 They depart to-night. . . . 
 
 FAR-AWAY VOICES. 
 
 The Atlantic ! The Atlantic ! 
 
 KING. 
 Is it true that they will return no more ? 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I do not know; perhaps it will not be the 
 same ones. . . . 
 
 FAR-AWAY VOICES. 
 
 We shall return no more ! We shall return 
 no more ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 You do not look happy, my child. 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I ? Why should I not be happy ? I came 
 to see her, and I have seen her ... I can see
 
 The Seven Princesses. 141 
 
 her nearer if I will ... I can sit by her side 
 if I will. . . . Can I not open the doors and 
 take her hand ? I may kiss her when I will ; 
 I have only to wake her. Why should I be 
 unhappy ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 You do not look happy, though ! . . . I 
 am nearly seventy-five years old now . . . and I 
 have been waiting for you always ! ... It 
 is not you, not you ! ... It is no longer 
 you ! . . . 
 
 [She turns away her head and sobs.] 
 
 KING. 
 
 What is the matter? Why, what is the 
 matter? Why do you weep all at once? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 It is nothing ; it is nothing ; it is not I 
 who weep. . . . Do not rnind me ; one weeps 
 often without reason ; I am so old to-day. 
 It is over. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 I shall look happier soon. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Come, come; they are perhaps there with 
 open eyes. . . . Give me your hand ; lead me 
 to the windows; let us go look in at the 
 windows. ,
 
 142 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 FAR-AWAY VOICES. 
 
 The Atlantic ! The Atlantic ! 
 
 [They all return and look through the windows.] 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I cannot see yet. ... It is too light. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 There is something changed in the hall ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 I see nothing at all. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 It is brighter than before. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 It is not the same ; there is something 
 changed in the hall. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 My eyes are not yet used to the light. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 They are no longer all in the same posi- 
 tion ! . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Yes, yes ; I believe they have made a little 
 movement. ,
 
 The Seven Princesses. 143 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh, oh ! Christabel and Claribel? . . . See, 
 see ! ... They were holding Ursula by the 
 hand. . . . They no longer hold their sister by 
 the hand. . . . They have let go her hands. . . . 
 They have turned the other way. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 They were on the point of waking. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 We have come too late ! We have come 
 too late ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 I see only the lilies by the windows : they 
 are closed. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 They know it is nightfall. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 And yet there is a light there. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 She is holding one of her hands strangely. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 Who is? 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Ursula. . . .
 
 144 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 What is that hand? ... I did not see it 
 just now. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 The others concealed it. ... 
 
 KING. 
 
 I do not know what you mean; I do not 
 even see the mirrors. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 She will be hurt ! . . . She will be hurt ! . . . 
 She cannot sleep so ; it is not natural ... I 
 wish she would put down her hand a little. 
 My God, my God, grant that she put down 
 that little hand ! ... Her little arm must ache 
 there so long ! . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I see nothing to sustain it ... 
 QUEEN. 
 
 I cannot see her sleep so . . . - 1 never yet 
 saw her sleep so. ... It is not a good sign. 
 ... It is not a good sign ! . . . She will never 
 be able to move her hand again. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 There is no reason to be so disturbed. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 The others sleep more simply. . . .
 
 The Seven Princesses. 145 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 How tight their eyes are shut ! How tight 
 their eyes are shut ! . . . Oh, oh ! the little 
 sisters ! the little sisters ! . . . What shall we 
 do ? Oh, what shall we do about it ? . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 Take care, do not speak so close to the 
 windows. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 I am not so close as you think. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 Your mouth is on the panes. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I see something else something very in- 
 distinct. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 So do I, so do I. There is something I am 
 beginning to see. ... It stretches out to the 
 door. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 There is something on the marble slabs. . . . 
 It is not a shadow. ... It cannot be a shadow. 
 ... I cannot be clear what it is. ... It 
 might be her hair. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 But why has she not bound up her hair? . . . 
 All the others have bound up their hair. . . . 
 Look. ,
 
 146 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I tell you it is her hair ! ... It stirs. . . . 
 Oh, her hair is beautiful ! ... It is not the 
 hair of a sick woman. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 She does not arrange it so for sleeping. . . . 
 You would say she had intended to go out. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 She said nothing to you? . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 She said this noon as she closed the door : 
 " Above all, do not wake us." Then I kissed 
 her, not to see that she was sad. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 They will be cold with their little feet almost 
 naked on the marble ! 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Yes, yes ; they will be cold ! Oh, do not 
 look so eagerly ! \To the KING.] Nor you 
 either ! Nor you either ! Do not look every 
 moment ! Do not look all the time ! Let 
 us not all look together ! . . . They are not 
 happy ! They are not happy ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 What is it now, all at once ? Are you the 
 only one that may see, pray ? Why, what is
 
 The Seven Princesses. 147 
 
 the matter with you this evening ? You are 
 not reasonable any more ... I do not under- 
 stand you . . . Everybody else must look the 
 other way; everybody else must shut their 
 eyes. . . . But this concerns us as much as 
 you, I think. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh, I know it concerns you. . . . Do not 
 speak so, for the love of God ! . . . Oh, oh ! 
 . . . Do not look at me ! Do not look at me 
 just now ! . . . My God, my God ! how motion- 
 less they are ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 They will not wake to-night ; we would do 
 better to go and sleep too. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Let us wait still ; let us wait still. . . . We 
 shall see perhaps what it is. ... 
 
 KING. 
 
 We cannot look forever through the window- 
 panes ; something must be done. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 Perhaps we could wake them from here. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 I am going to knock softly on the door.
 
 148 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No, no ! Never ! Never ! . . . Oh ! No, 
 not you, not you ! You would knock too 
 loud. . . . Take care ! Oh, take care ! They 
 are afraid of everything ... I will knock my- 
 self on the window, if it must be. ... They 
 must see who knocks. . . . Wait, wait. . . . 
 
 [She knocks very softly at the window. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 They do not wake. . . . 
 KING. 
 I see nothing at all. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 I am going to knock a little louder. . . . 
 [She knocks again at the window.'} They do 
 not stir yet ... [The QUEEN knocks again 
 at the window."} You would say the hall 
 was full of cotton ... Are you sure this 
 is sleep ? Perhaps they have fainted . . . 
 I cannot see them breathe . . . [The QUEEN 
 knocks again at another window} : Knock a 
 little harder . . . Knock on the other panes ! 
 Oh, oh! these little panes are thick! [The 
 QUEEN and the PRINCE knock anxiotisly with 
 both hands."} How motionless they are ! How 
 motionless they are ! It is the heavy sleep of 
 the sick ... It is the sleep of fever, which 
 will not go away ... I want to see them 
 near ! . . . They do not hear the noise we
 
 The Seven Princesses. 149 
 
 make. ... It is not a natural sleep. ... It is 
 not a healthy sleep ... I dare not knock 
 harder. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 [Listening against the panes."] I do not 
 hear the least noise. . . . 
 
 [A long silence. 
 QUEEN. 
 
 [Her face against the panes and in a sudden 
 burst of tears.~\ Oh, how they sleep ! how 
 they sleep ! ... My God, my God ! deliver 
 them, deliver them ! How their little hearts 
 sleep ! You cannot hear their little hearts ! 
 It is a fearful sleep ! Oh, oh ! how fearful 
 people are, asleep ! . . . I am always afraid in 
 their sleeping-room ! ... I no longer see their 
 little souls ! . . . Where then are their little 
 souls ! . . . They make me afraid ! they make 
 me afraid ! It is now that I see it ! ... How 
 they sleep, the little sisters ! Oh, how they 
 sleep, how they sleep ! . . . I believe they will 
 sleep forever ! . . . My God, my God, I pity 
 them ! . . . They are not happy ! they are not 
 happy ! . . . Now I see it all ! ... Seven little 
 souls all night ! . . . Seven little helpless souls ! 
 . . . Seven little friendless souls ! . . . Their 
 mouths are wide open. . . . Seven little open 
 mouths ! . . . Oh, I am sure they are thirsty I 
 ... I am sure they are terribly thirsty ! . . . 
 And all their eyes shut ! . . . Oh, how alone
 
 150 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 they are ; all seven ! all seven ! all seven ! . . 
 And how they sleep ! How they sleep ! . 
 How they sleep, the little queens ! . . . I am 
 sure they do not sleep ! . . . Oh, what a sleep ! 
 what a deep sleep ! . . . Oh, wake the dear 
 hearts ! Wake the little queens ! . . . Wake 
 the little sisters ! All the seven ! all the seven ! 
 ... I cannot bear to see them so any longer ! 
 My God, my God, I pity them ! I pity them ! 
 And I dare not wake them ! . . . Oh, the light 
 is so faint ! ... so faint ! ... so faint . . . 
 And I dare not wake them ! . . . [She sobs 
 desperately against the window.] 
 
 KING. 
 
 What is the matter? What is the matter 
 now ? Come, come, look no longer ; it is 
 better not to see them. . . . Come, come, 
 come. \_ffe tries to take her away. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Grandmother ! grandmother ! . . . What 
 have you seen ? what have you seen ? I 
 have seen nothing. . . . There is nothing, 
 there is nothing. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 \To the PRINCE.] It is nothing, it is noth- 
 ing ; do not mind her ; it is old age, it is the 
 night. . . . She is unnerved. Women must 
 weep. She weeps often in the night. \To the 
 QUEEN.] Come, come, come here. . . . You
 
 The Seven Princesses. 151 
 
 will fall ! Take care. . . . Lean on me. . . . 
 Do not weep any more ; do not weep any 
 more, come. . . . \He kisses her tenderly^\ 
 It is nothing; they are sleeping. . . . We 
 sleep, too. . . . We all sleep so. ... Have 
 you never seen any one sleep? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Never ! Never as to-night ! Open the 
 door ! Open the door ! . . . No one loves 
 them enough ! . . . No one can love them ! 
 Open the door ! Open the door ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 Yes; yes; we will open the door. ... Be 
 calm, be calm, think no more of it ; we will 
 open it, we will open it. I ask nothing better ; 
 I told you to open it, just now, and you would 
 not. . . . Now, now, do not weep any more. 
 ... Be reasonable. ... I am old too, but I 
 am reasonable. Now, now, do not weep any 
 more. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 There, there ; it is over ; I will weep no more, 
 I will weep no more. . . . They must not hear 
 me weeping when they wake. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 Come, come, I shall open the door very softly ; 
 we will go in together. . . . \He tries to open 
 the door ; the lock grates, and, inside the hall, 
 the latch can be seen to lift and fall back again.']
 
 152 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 Oh, oh ! what is the matter with the lock, I 
 wonder ? I cannot open the door . . . push 
 a little. ... 1 do not know what it can be. 
 ... I did not know it was so hard to get into 
 this hall. . . . Will you try? [7%<? QUEEN tries 
 in her turn, without success.] It does not 
 open. ... I believe they have drawn the 
 bolts. . . . Yes, yes; the door is locked; it 
 will not open. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 They always lock it. ... Oh, oh ! do not 
 abandon them so ! . . . They have slept so 
 long ! 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 We might open a window. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 The windows do not open. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 It seems to me it is not so light in the hall. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 It is just as light there ; but the sky is clearing. 
 Do you see the stars ? 
 
 PRINCE. 
 What shall we do? 
 
 KING. 
 
 I do not know. . . . There is another 
 entrance. ,
 
 The Seven Princesses. 153 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 There is another entrance ? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No ! no ! I know what you mean ! . . . 
 Not that way ! not that way ! I will not go 
 down ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 We will not go down ; we will stay here ; 
 Marcellus will go alone. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh, no, no, no ! ... Let us wait. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 But, after all, what will you have us do? 
 There is no other way to get into the hall . . . 
 that is as clear as possible. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 There is another entrance? 
 
 KING. 
 
 Yes ; there is still a little entrance . . . you 
 cannot see it from here . . . but you will easily 
 find it. You must go down underneath- . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 Where must I go down?
 
 154 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 KING. 
 
 Come here. \_He draws him a little aside.~\ 
 It is not a door . . . you could not call it a 
 door ... it is a trap, rather ... it is a 
 movable slab in the floor. It is quite at the 
 back of the hall. . . . You must go through 
 the vaults . . . you understand. . . . Then 
 come up again. . . . You will need a lamp . . . 
 you might lose yourself . . . you might dash 
 yourself against the . . . the marble ... do 
 you understand ? . . . Take care ; there are 
 chains between the . . . the little passages. 
 . . . But you should know the way. . . . You 
 went down there more than once formerly. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 I went down there more than once formerly? 
 
 KING. 
 Why, yes ; why, yes ; where your mother . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Where my mother . . . ? Ah, is it there I 
 must go? ... 
 
 KING. 
 
 [Makes a sign with his head."} It is there. . 
 And where your father also . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Yes, yes ; I remember . . . and where others 
 also .
 
 The Seven Princesses. 155 
 
 KING. 
 
 You understand ! . . . The stone is not 
 cemented : you have only to push a little. . . . 
 But be careful. . . . There are some slabs that 
 are not regular. ... Be on your guard for a 
 bust that bends its head a little across the path 
 ... it is marble. . . . There is a cross, too, 
 with arms a little long ... be on your guard 
 ... do not hurry ; you have plenty of time. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 And it is there I must go? ... 
 
 KING. 
 
 It is there ! . . . He must have a lamp. 
 \_He goes to the edge of the terrace and rails.] 
 A lamp ! a lamp ! a little lamp ! . . . [ To the 
 PRINCE.] We will wait here at the windows. 
 . . . We are too old to go down there. . . . 
 We could not climb up again. . . . \_A lighted 
 la.mp is brought^ Ah, ah, here is the lamp; 
 the little lamp. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 Yes, yes ; the little lamp. . . . 
 
 [At this moment great cries of joy from the 
 sailors are heard suddenly without. The 
 masts, yards, and sails of the ship are 
 illuminated, in the midst of the darkness, 
 on the horizon of the canal, among the 
 willows.] 
 
 KING. 
 
 Oh, oh, what is that ?
 
 156 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 It is the sailors. . . . They are dancing on 
 the bridge ; they are tipsy. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 They have lighted up the ship. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 It is the joy of departure. . . . They are 
 just leaving. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 Well, will you go down ? ... It is this way. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 No, no, do not go there ! . . . Do not go 
 that way ! ... do not wake them ! do not 
 tvake them ! . . . You know they must have 
 rest ! . . . I am afraid ! . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I will not wake the others, if you wish. . . . 
 [ will wake one only. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh ! oh ! oh ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 Make no noise as you enter. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 I am afraid they will not recognize me. . .
 
 The Seven Princesses. 157 
 
 KING. 
 
 There is no danger. . . . Eh, eh ! take care 
 of the little lamp ! . . . Don't you see there is 
 a wind ? . . . the wind will blow it out ! . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 I fear they will not all wake at once. 
 
 KING. 
 
 What does that matter? ... Do not wake 
 them roughly, that is all. 
 
 PRINCE. 
 
 I shall be all alone before them. ... I shall 
 look as if . . . they will be afraid. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 You will only wake them after putting the 
 stone back in its place. . . . They will not 
 notice anything. . . . They do not know what 
 there is under the hall where they sleep. . . . 
 
 PRINCE. 
 They will take me for a stranger. . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 We will be at the windows. Go down ; go 
 down. Take care of the lamp. Above all, 
 do not lose yourself in the vaults ; they are of
 
 158 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 a great depth. ... Be careful to put the slab 
 back. . . . Come up as soon as possible. . . . 
 We will wait at the windows. . . . Go down, 
 go down ; careful ! careful ! . . . 
 
 [The Prince leaves the terrace ; the old King 
 and the old Queen look through the win- 
 dows, with their faces against the panes. 
 A long silence.] 
 
 FAR-AWAY VOICES. 
 
 The Atlantic ! The Atlantic ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 [Turning his head and looking toward the 
 canal.~\ Ah, ah ! they are going. . . . They 
 will have a fair wind to-night. . . . 
 
 FAR-AWAY VOICES. 
 
 We shall return no more ! We shall return 
 no more ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 [Looking toward the canal.~\ They will be 
 on the open sea before midnight. . . . 
 
 VOICES. 
 
 [Farther and farther away.~\ The Atlantic 1 
 The Atlantic ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 [Looking into the hall.~\ If only he does not 
 lose himself in the darkness. .
 
 The Seven Princesses. 159 
 
 VOICES. 
 
 [Almost inaudible^ We shall return no 
 more ! We shall return no more ! 
 
 [A silence ; the ship disappears among the 
 willows.] 
 
 KING. 
 
 [Looking toward the canal."] You cannot 
 see them any longer. [Looking into the hall.~\ 
 He has not come yet ? [Looking toward the 
 canal.~\ The ship is no longer there ! [To 
 the QUEEN.] You pay no attention? You 
 do not answer ? Where are you ? Look at 
 the canal. They have gone ; they will be on 
 the open sea before midnight. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 [Distractedly. .] They will be on the open 
 sea before midnight. . . . 
 KING. 
 
 [Looking into the hall.~] Can you see the 
 slab he should lift ? It is covered with in- 
 scriptions ; it must be hidden by the laurels. 
 He has grown tall, Marcellus, has he not? 
 We would have done better to wake them 
 before he landed. I told you so. We should 
 have avoided all these scenes. I do not know 
 why he did not look happy this evening. 
 They were wrong to draw the bolts ; I will 
 have them taken off. If only his lamp does 
 not go out ! Where are you ? Do you see 
 anything? Why do you not answer? If only 
 he does not lose himself in the darkness ! 
 Are you listening to me ?
 
 160 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 If only he does not lose himself in the 
 darkness ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 You are right. Do you not find it is begin- 
 ning to grow cold ? They will be cold on the 
 marble. It seems to me he is taking his 
 time. If only his little lamp does not go out ! 
 Why do you not answer? What are you 
 dreaming about? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 If only his little lamp . . . ! The stone ! 
 the stone ! the stone ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 Is he there ? Is he coming in ? I cannot 
 see that far. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 It rises ! it rises ! . . . There is a light ! . . . 
 look . . . listen ! listen ! It creaks on its 
 hinges ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 I told him to go in very softly. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Oh, he is coming in very softly. . . . See, 
 see, he is putting his hand through with the 
 lamp. . . .
 
 The Seven Princesses. 161 
 
 KING. 
 
 Yes, yes ; I see the little lamp. . . . Why 
 does he not enter at once ? . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 He cannot. . . . He is lifting the stone very 
 slowly. . . . Yes, yes ; very slowly . . . Oh, 
 how it creaks ! how it creaks ! how it creaks ! 
 . . . They will wake with a start ! 
 
 KING. 
 
 I cannot see very well what is going on ... 
 I know the stone is very heavy. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 He enters . . . He comes up ... He comes 
 up more and more slowly . . . Oh, but the 
 stone cries now ! . . . oh, oh ! it cries ! it 
 cries ! It wails like a child ! .< . . He is half 
 in the hall ! . . . Three steps more ! three 
 steps more ! [ Clapping her hands,~\ He is 
 in the hall ! He is in the hall ! . . . Look ! 
 look ! . . . They wake ! . . . They all wake 
 with a start ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 Has he let the slab fall ? 
 
 [The Prince, letting go the sepulchral slab he 
 has just lifted, stops, lamp in hand, at the 
 foot of the marble steps. Six of the prin- 
 cesses, at the last grating of the hinges, 
 open their eyes, stir a moment on the edge 
 of sleep, and then rise simultaneously at
 
 162 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 his approach, their arms raised in slow 
 attitudes of waking. One only, Ursula, 
 remains stretched on her back on the mar- 
 ble steps, motionless, in the midst of her 
 sisters, who exchange with the Prince a 
 long look full of marvellings, bewilderments 
 and silences.] 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 [At the windows^] Ursula ! Ursula ! Ursula ! 
 . . . She does not wake ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 Patience ! patience ! She sleeps a little 
 heavily. . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 [Crying out, her face against the windows. ~\ 
 Ursula ! Ursula ! Wake her ! [Knocking on 
 the windows^] Marcellus ! Marcellus ! 
 Wake her ! Wake her too ! Ursula ! Ursula ! 
 . . . Marcellus ! Marcellus ! . . . She has not 
 heard ! . . . Ursula ! Ursula ! Arise ! He 
 is there ! He is there ! ... It is time ! It 
 is time ! [Knocking at another window."] 
 Marcellus ! Marcellus ! Look before you ! 
 look ! She is sleeping still ! . . . [Knocking 
 at another window .] Oh, oh ! Christabel ! 
 Christabel! Claribel ! Claribel ! . . . Clara! 
 Clara ! Oh, Clara ! ... She has not heard ! 
 . . . [Knocking constantly and violently on the 
 windows.'] Ursula ! Ursula ! He has come 
 back ! He is there ! He is there ! ... It is 
 time ! It is time ! .
 
 The Seven Princesses. 163 
 
 KING. 
 
 \Also knocking at the windows^ Yes ; yes ; 
 wake her ! . . . Oh, wake her ! . . . We are 
 waiting. . . . 
 
 [The Prince, unheeding the noises outside, 
 approaches in silence the one who has not 
 risen, lie gazes upon her a moment, hesi- 
 tates, bends his knee and touches one of 
 the arms lying bare and inert on the silken 
 cushions. At the contact of the flesh he 
 rises suddenly, with a long and sweeping 
 look of terror at the six princesses, who 
 remain mute and are extremely pale. They, 
 at first undecided and trembling with the 
 desire to flee, stoop finally with a unani- 
 mous movement over their prostrate sister, 
 lift her, and, in the deepest silence, bear the 
 body, already rigid, with head dishevelled 
 and stiff, to the highest of the seven mar- 
 ble steps ; while the Queen, the King, and 
 the people of the chateau, who have hurried 
 to the scene, knock and cry out violently 
 at all the windows of the hall : these two 
 scenes take place simultaneously.] 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 She is not asleep ! She is not asleep ! It 
 is not sleep ! It is not sleep ! It is no longer 
 sleep ! [She runs desperately from window to 
 window ; she knocks at them, she shakes the 
 iron bars ; she stamps and her white unknotted 
 hair is seen quivering against the panes. ,] She 
 is no longer sleeping, I tell you ! \To the 
 KING.] Oh ! oh ! oh ! you are a man of 
 stone ! . . . Cry out ! cry out ! cry out ! For 
 God's sake ! cry out, I tell you ! I scream
 
 164 The Seven Princesses. 
 
 myself to death and he does not understand ! 
 Run ! run ! cry ! cry ! He has seen 
 nothing ! nothing ! nothing ! nothing ! never ! 
 never ! never ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 What? what? What is it? What is it? 
 Where must I cry out? 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 Down there ! down there ! Everywhere ! 
 everywhere ! on the terrace ! over the water ! 
 over the meadows ! . . . Cry ! cry ! cry ! . . . 
 
 KING. 
 
 [ On the edge of the terrace,~] Oh ! . . . 
 oh ! ... Hurry ! hurry ! here ! here ! . . . 
 Ursula ! Ursula ! . . . There is something the 
 matter ! . . . 
 
 QUEEN. 
 
 \At the windows.'] Ursula ! Ursula ! . . . 
 Pour some water on her ! . . . Yes, yes, do 
 that, my child ... It is perhaps not . . . ! Oh, 
 oh, oh ! ... her little head ! . . . \Servitors, 
 soldiers, peasants, women, run up on the terrace 
 with torches and lanterns."] Ursula ! Ursula ! 
 .... It is perhaps not that ... It may be 
 nothing at all ! ... Eh ! eh ! Claribel ! Clai- 
 ibel ! Take care ! ... She will fall ! ... Do 
 not tread on her hair ! . . . Open ! open ! She 
 will wake ! she will wake ! . . . water ! water ! 
 water ! Open ! open ! the door ! the door !
 
 The Seven Princesses. 165 
 
 the door ! . . . No one can get in ! Every- 
 thing is locked ! everything is locked ! . . . 
 You are deaf as dead folk \ ... [To those about 
 her.~\ Help me ! You are horrible people ! 
 My hands ! . . . My hands ! . . . You see my 
 hands? . . . Help me! help me! Oh, oh! 
 It is late ! ... It is too late ? ... It is too 
 late ! . . . closed ! closed ! closed ! . . . 
 
 ALL. 
 
 [Shaking the door and knocking at all the win- 
 dows^ Open ! open ! open ! open ! . . . 
 
 [A black curtain falls brusquely.]
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 To A. F. Lugnt-Poe.
 
 Persons. 
 
 TlNTAGILES. 
 
 YGRAINE, ) 
 
 > sisters of Tintagiles. 
 BELLANGERE, V 
 
 AGLOVALE. 
 
 THREE SERVANTS OF THE QUEEN.
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 ACT FIRST. 
 
 At the top of a hill, overlooking the castle. 
 Enter YGRAINE, holding TINTAGILES by the hand. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Thy first night will be troubled, Tintagiles. 
 Already the sea howls about us ; and the trees 
 are moaning. It is late. The moon is just 
 setting behind the poplars that stifle the palace. 
 . . . We are alone, perhaps, for all that here 
 we have to live on guard. There seems to be 
 a watch set for the approach of the slightest 
 happiness. I said to myself one day, in the 
 very depths of my soul, and God himself could 
 hardly hear it, I said to myself one day I 
 should be happy. . . . There needed nothing 
 further ; in a little while our old father died, 
 and both our brothers vanished without a single 
 human being able since to tell us where they 
 are. Now I am all alone, with my poor sister 
 and thee, my little Tintagiles ; and I have no
 
 172 . The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 faith in the future. . . . Come here ; sit on my 
 knee. Kiss me first ; and put thy little arms, 
 there, all the way around my neck ; . . . per- 
 haps they will not be able to undo them. . . . 
 Rememberest thou the time when it was I that 
 carried thee at night when bedtime came : and 
 when thou fearedst the shadows of my lamp in 
 the long windowless corridors ? I felt my soul 
 tremble upon my lips when I saw thee, sud- 
 denly, this morning. ... I thought thee so far 
 away, and so secure. . . . Who was it made 
 thee come here? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I do not know, little sister. 
 
 YGRATNE. 
 
 Thou dost not know any longer what was 
 said? 
 
 TINTAGILES, 
 
 They said I had to leave. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 But why hadst thou to leave ? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Because it was the Queen's will. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 They did not say why it was her mil? I am 
 sure they said many things. . . .
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 1 73 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I heard nothing, little sister. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 When they spoke among themselves, what 
 did they say? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 They spoke in a low voice, little sister. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 All the time ? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 All the time, sister Ygraine; except when 
 they looked at me. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 They did not speak of the Queen ? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 They said she was never seen, sister Ygraine. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 And those who were with thee, on the bridge 
 of the ship, said nothing? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 They minded nothing but the wind and the 
 sails, sister Ygraine. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Ah ! ... That does not astonish me, my 
 child. . . ,
 
 174 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 They left me all alone, little sister. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Listen, Tintagiles, I will tell thee what I 
 know. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 What dast thou know, sister Ygraine ? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Not much, my child. . . . My sister and I 
 have crept along here, since our birth, without 
 daring to understand a whit of all that happens. 
 . . . For a long while indeed, I lived like a 
 blind woman on this island ; and it all seemed 
 natural to me. ... I saw no other events than 
 the flying of a bird, the trembling of a leaf, the 
 opening of a rose. . . . There reigned such a 
 silence that the falling of a ripe fruit in the 
 park called faces to the windows. . . . And no 
 one seemed to have the least suspicion; . . . 
 but one night I learned there must be some- 
 thing else. ... I would have fled, and could 
 not. . . . Hast thou understood what I have 
 said? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Yes, yes, little sister ; I understand whatever 
 you will. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Well, then, let us speak no more of things 
 that are not known. . . . Thou seest yonder,
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 1 75 
 
 behind the dead trees that poison the horizon, 
 thou seest the castle yonder, in the depth 
 of the valley ? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 That which is so black, sister Ygraine ? 
 
 YGRA1NE. 
 
 It is black indeed. ... It is at the very 
 depth of an amphitheatre of shadows. . . . We 
 have to live there. ... It might have been 
 built on the summit of the great mountains that 
 surround it. ... The mountains are blue all 
 day. . . . We should have breathed. We 
 should have seen the sea and the meadows on 
 the other side of the rocks. . . . But they pre- 
 ferred to put it in the depth of the valley ; and 
 the very air does not go down so low. ... It 
 is falling in ruins, and nobody bewares. . . . 
 The walls are cracking ; you would say it was 
 dissolving in the shadows. . . . There is only 
 one tower unassailed by the weather. ... It is 
 enormous ; and the house never comes out of 
 its shadow. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 There is something shining, sister Ygraine. 
 . . . See, see, the great red windows i . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 They are those of the tower, Tintagiles : they 
 are the only ones where you will see light ; it 
 is there the throne of the Queen is set.
 
 176 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I shall not see the Queen? 
 
 YGRAINE. / 
 
 No one can see her. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Why can't one see her ? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Come nearer, Tintagiles. . . . Not a bird 
 nor a blade of grass must hear us. ... 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 There is no grass, little sister. . . . [A silence.] 
 What does the Queen do? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 No one knows, my child. She does not 
 show herself. . . . She lives there, all alone in 
 her tower; and they that serve her do not go 
 out by day. . . . She is very old ; she is the 
 mother of our mother; and she would reign 
 alone. . . . She is jealous and suspicious, and 
 they say that she is mad. . . . She fears lest 
 some one rise into her place ; and it was doubt- 
 less because of that fear that she had thee 
 brought hither. . . . Her orders are carried 
 out no one knows how. . . . She never comes 
 down ; and all the doors of the tower are 
 closed night and day. ... I never caught a 
 glimpse of her ; but others have seen her, it 
 seems, in the past, when she was young. . . .
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 177 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Is she very ugly, sister Ygraine ? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 They say she is not beautiful, and that she is 
 growing huge. . . . But they that have seen 
 her dare never speak of it. ... Who knows, 
 indeed, if they have seen her? . . . She has a 
 power not to be understood ; and we live here 
 with a great unpitying weight upon our souls. 
 . . . Thou must not be frightened beyond 
 measure, nor have bad dreams ; we shall watch 
 over thee, my little Tintagiles, and no evil will 
 be able to reach thee ; but do not go far from 
 me, your sister Bellangere, nor our old master 
 Aglovale. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Not from Aglovale either, sister Ygraine ? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Not from Aglovale either. . . . He loves 
 us. ... 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 He is so old, little sister ! 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 He is old, but very wise. . . . He is the only 
 friend we have left ; and he knows many things. 
 ... It is strange ; she has made thee come 
 hither without letting any one know. ... I do 
 not know what there is in my heart. ... I was
 
 1 78 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 sorry and glad to know thou wert so far away, 
 beyond the sea. . . . And now ... I was 
 astonished. ... I went out this morning to see 
 if the sun was rising over the mountains ; and it 
 is thou I see upon the threshold. ... I knew 
 thee at once. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 No, no, little sister; it was I that laughed 
 first. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 I could not laugh at once. . . . Thou wilt 
 understand. ... It is time, Tintagiles, and the 
 wind is growing black upon the sea. . . . Kiss 
 me harder, again, again, before thou stand'st 
 upright. . . . Thou knowest not how we love. 
 . . . Give me thy little hand. ... I shall 
 guard it well ; and we will go back into the 
 sickening castle. 
 
 [Exeunt.
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 An apartment in the castle. AGLOVALE and 
 
 YGRAINE discovered. 
 
 Enter BELLANGERE. 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 Where is Tintagiles? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Here ; do not speak too loud. He sleeps in 
 the other room. He seems a little pale, a little 
 ailing too. He was tired by the journey and 
 the long sea-voyage. Or else the atmosphere 
 of the castle has startled his little soul. He 
 cried for no cause. I rocked him to sleep on 
 my knees; come, see. . . . He sleeps in our 
 bed. . . . He sleeps very gravely, with one 
 hand on his forehead, like a little sad king. . . . 
 
 BELLANGERE (bursting suddenly into tears). 
 My sister ! my sister ! ... my poor sister I . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 What is the matter?
 
 180 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 I dare not say what I know, . . . and I am 
 not sure that I know anything, . . . and yet I 
 heard that which one could not hear. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 What didst thou hear? 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 I was passing near the corridors of the 
 tower. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Ah ! ... 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 A door there was ajar. I pushed it very 
 softly. ... I went in. ... 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 In where ? 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 I had never seen the place. . . . There were 
 other corridors lighted with lamps; then low 
 galleries that had no outlet. ... I knew it was 
 forbidden to go on. ... I was afraid, and I 
 was going to return upon my steps, when I 
 heard a sound of voices one could hardly 
 hear. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 It must have been the handmaids of the 
 Queen ; they dwell at the foot of the tower. . . .
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 181 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 I do not know just what it was. . . . There 
 must have been more than one door between 
 us ; and the voices came to me like the voice 
 of some one who was being smothered. ... I 
 drew as near as I could. ... I am not sure of 
 anything, but I think they spoke of a child that 
 came to-day and of a crown of gold. . . . They 
 seemed to be laughing. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 They laughed ? 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 Yes, I think they laughed . . . unless they 
 were weeping, or unless it was something I did 
 not understand ; for it was hard to hear, and their 
 voices were sweet. . . . They seemed to echo 
 in a crowd under the arches. . . . They spoke 
 of the child the Queen would see. . . . They 
 will probably come up this evening. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 What? . . . This evening? . . . 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 Yes. . . . Yes. . . . I think so. ... 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 They spoke no one's name ? 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 They spoke of a child, of a very little 
 child. ,
 
 1 82 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 There is no other child. . . . 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 They raised their voices a little at that 
 moment, because one of them had said the day 
 seemed not yet come. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 I know what that means ; it is not the first 
 time they have issued from the tower. ... I 
 knew well why she made him come ; . . . but I 
 could not believe she would hasten so ! ... 
 We shall see ; ... we are three, and we have 
 time. . . . 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 What wilt thou do? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 I do not know yet what I shall do, but I 
 will astonish her. . . . Do you know how you 
 tremble? ... I will tell you. . . . 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 What? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 She shall not take him without trouble. . . . 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 We are alone, sister Ygraine. . . .
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 183 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Ah ! it is true, we are alone ! . . . There is 
 but one remedy, the one with which we have 
 always succeeded ! . . . Let us wait upon our 
 knees as the other times. . . . Perhaps she will 
 have pity ! . . . She allows herself to be dis- 
 armed by tears. . . . We must grant her all she 
 asks us ; haply she will smile ; and she is wont 
 to spare all those who kneel. . . . She has been 
 there for years in her huge tower, devouring our 
 beloved, and none, not one, has dared to strike 
 her in the face. . . . She is there, upon our 
 souls, like the stone of a tomb, and no one dare 
 put forth his arm. ... In the time when there 
 were men here, they feared too, and fell upon 
 their faces. . . . To-day it is the woman's turn ; 
 . . . we shall see. . . . It is time to rise at last. 
 . . . We know not upon what her power rests, 
 and I will live no longer in the shadow of her 
 tower. . . . Go, go, both of you, and leave me 
 more alone still, if you tremble too. ... I 
 shall await her. . . . 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 Sister, I do not know what must be done, but 
 I stay with thee. . . . 
 
 AGLOVALE. 
 
 I too stay, my daughter. For a long time 
 my soul has been restless. . . . You are going to 
 try. . . . We have tried more than once. . .
 
 184 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 You have tried . . . you too? 
 
 AGLOVALE. 
 
 They have all tried. . . . But at the last moment 
 they have lost their strength. . . . You will see, 
 you too. . f . Should she order me to come up 
 to her this very night, I should clasp both my 
 hands without a word ; and my tired feet would 
 climb the stair, without delay and without haste, 
 well as I know no one comes down again with 
 open eyes. ... I have no more courage against 
 her. . . . Our hands are of no use and reach no 
 one. . . . They are not the hands we need, and 
 all is useless. . . . But I would help you, be- 
 cause you hope. . . . Shut the doors, my child. 
 Wake Tintagiles ; encircle him with your little 
 naked arms and take him on your knees. ... 
 We have no other defence. .
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 
 The same. YGRAINE anJAGLOVAiE discovered. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 I have been to all the doors. There are three. 
 We will guard the largest. . . . The other two are 
 thick and low. They never open. Their keys 
 were lost long ago, and the iron bars are bedded 
 fast in the walls. Help me shut this ; it is 
 heavier than the gate of a city. ... It is strong, 
 too, and the thunder itself could not enter. . . 
 Are you ready for everything? 
 
 AGLOVALE (seating himself on the threshold") . 
 
 I shall sit on the steps of the threshold, with 
 the sword on my knees. . . . Methinks it is not 
 the first time I have watched and waited here, 
 my child ; and there are moments when we do 
 not understand all we remember. ... I have 
 done these things, I know not when ; . . . but 
 I never dared draw my sword. . . . To-day it 
 is there, before me, although my arms have no 
 more strength ; but I will try. . . . Perhaps it is 
 time to defend ourselves, although we do not 
 understand. ,
 
 1 86 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 BELLANGERE, carrying TINTAGILES, enters from 
 the adjoining room. 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 He was awake. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 He is pale. . . . Why, what is the matter? 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 I do not know. . . . He was crying silently. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Tintagiles. . . . 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 He looks the other way. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 He does not recognize me. . . . Tintagiles, 
 where art thou ? It is thy sister speaking to 
 thee. . . . What lookest thou at there ? Turn 
 back this way. . . . Come, we will play. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 No. ... No. ... 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Thou wouldst not play ? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I can no longer walk, sister Ygraine. . .
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 187 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Thou canst no longer walk ? . . . Come, come, 
 what ails thee ? Art thou in pain a little ? . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Yes. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Where is the pain, then ? Tell me, Tintagiles, 
 and I will cure thee. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I can't tell, sister Ygraine, it is everywhere. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Come here, Tintagiles. . . . Thou knowest 
 my arms are gentler, and one is cured quickly 
 there. . . . Give him to me, Bellangere. . . . He 
 shall sit on my knees, and it will go away. . . . 
 There, thou seest how it is ! ... Thy great sisters 
 are here. . . . They are about thee ; ... we will 
 defend thee, and no harm can come. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 It is there, sister Ygraine. . . . Why is there 
 no light, sister Ygraine ? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 There is, my child. . . . Thou dost not see the 
 lamp that hangs down from the vault? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Yes, yes. ... It is not big. . . . There are 
 no others?
 
 1 88 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Why should there be others ? We can see all 
 we need see. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 Ah! ... 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Oh, thine eyes are deep ! . , . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Thine too, sister Ygraine. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 I had not noticed it this morning. ... I saw 
 arise . . . one never knows just what the soul 
 believes it sees. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I have not seen the soul, sister Ygraine. . . . 
 Why is Aglovale there on the threshold ? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 He is resting a little. . . . He wanted to lds 
 thee before he went to bed. . . . He was wait- 
 ing for thee to wake. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 What is that on his knees? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 On his knees ? I see nothing on his knees. . . .
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 189 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Yes, yes, there is something. . . . 
 
 AGLOVALE. 
 
 Nothing much, my child. ... I was looking 
 at my old sword ; and I hardly recognized it. ... 
 It has served me many years ; but for some time 
 I have lost all faith in it, and I think it will soon 
 break. . . . There, by the hilt, there is a little 
 spot. ... I have observed the steel was growing 
 paler, and I asked myself ... I know not any 
 longer what I asked. . . . My soul is very heavy 
 to-day. . . . How can it be helped ? . . . We have 
 to live in expectation of the unexpected. . . . 
 And then we have to act as if we hoped. . . . 
 There are those heavy evenings when the use- 
 lessness of life rises in the throat ; and you 
 would like to close your eyes. . . . It is late, and 
 I am tired. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 He is wounded, sister Ygraine. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Where? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 On the forehead and the hands. . . . 
 
 AGLOVALE. 
 
 Those are very old wounds that do not hurt 
 me any more, my child. ... It must be the 
 light falling on them to-night. . . . Thou hast 
 never noticed them till now ?
 
 1 90 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 He looks sad, sister Ygraine, . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 No, no ; he is not sad, but very weary. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Thou art sad too, sister Ygraine. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Why, no; why, no; you see, I am smil- 
 ing. ... 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 And my other sister, too. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Why, no ; she is smiling, too. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 That is not smiling. ... I know. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Come ; kiss me and think of something else. 
 . . . [She kisses him.~\ 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 What else, sister Ygraine ? Why dost thou 
 hurt me when thou dost kiss me so? 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 I hurt thee?
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 191 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Yes. ... I don't know why I hear thy heart 
 beat, sister Ygraine. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Thou nearest it beat? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Oh ! oh ! it beats, it beats, as if it would . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 What? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I don't know, sister Ygraine. ... 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Thou must not be alarmed without reason, 
 nor speak in riddles. . . . Stop ! thine eyes are 
 wet. . . . Why art thou troubled ? I hear thy 
 heart beat, too. . . . You always hear it when 
 you kiss so. ... It is then it speaks and says 
 things the tongue knows not of. ... 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I did not hear it just now. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Because then . . . Oh ! but thine ! . . . Why, 
 what ails it? . . . It is bursting ! . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES (crying). 
 Sister Ygraine ! sister Ygraine I
 
 I9 2 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 What? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I heard ! . . . They . . . they are coming 1 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 They, who? . . . Why, what's the matter? . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 The door ! the door ! They were there ! . . . 
 [He falls backward on YGRAINE'S knees. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Why, what's the matter? ... He has .... 
 
 he has fainted. . . . 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 Take care ; . . . take care ! . . . He will 
 fall. . . . 
 
 AGLOVALE. 
 
 [Rising abruptly, sword in hand."] I hear 
 too ; . . . some one is walking in the corridor. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Oh ! ... 
 
 [A silence they listen. 
 
 AGLOVALE. 
 
 I hear. . . . There is a crowd of them. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE, 
 
 A crowd! . . . What crowd?
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 193 
 
 AGLOVALE. 
 
 I do not know ; . . . you hear and you do not 
 hear. . . . They do not walk like other beings, 
 but they come. . . . They are touching the 
 door. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 [Clasping TINTAGILES convulsively in her 
 arms.'} Tintagiles ! . . . Tintagiles ! . . . 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 \Kissing him at the same time.] I too ! . . . 
 I too ! . . . Tintagiles ! . . . 
 
 AGLOVALE. 
 
 They are shaking the door . . . listen . . . 
 soft ! . . . They are whispering. . . . 
 
 \A key is heard grating in the lock. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 They have the key ! . . . 
 
 AGLOVALE. 
 
 Yes; . . . yes. ... I was sure of it. ... 
 Wait. . . . 
 
 [He posts himself, with raised sword, on 
 
 the last step. To the two sisters :J 
 Come ! . . . come, too ! . . . 
 
 [A silence. The door opens a little. Trem- 
 bling like the needle of a compass, Aglovale 
 puts his sword across the opening, sticking 
 the point of it between the beams of the 
 door-case. The sword breaks with a crash 
 under the ominous pressure of the folding* 
 
 u
 
 194 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 door, and its fragments roll echoing down 
 the steps. Ygraine leaps up with Tintagiles, 
 still in a faint, in her arms ; and she, Bel- 
 langere and Aglovale, with vain and mighty 
 efforts, try to push back the door, which con- 
 tinues to open slowly, although no one is 
 heard or seen. Only a brightness, cold and 
 calm, pierces into the room. At this mo- 
 ment, Tintagiles, suddenly straightening up, 
 comes to himself, utters a long cry of deliv- 
 erance and kisses his sister, while at the very 
 moment of this cry, the door, resisting no 
 longer, shuts abruptly under their pressure, 
 which they have not had time to interrupt. ] 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Tintagiles ! . . . 
 
 [They look at each other in amazement. 
 
 AGLOVALE (listening at the door) . 
 I no longer hear a sound. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE (wild with joy) . 
 
 Tintagiles 1 Tintagiles ! ... See ! See ! ... 
 He is saved 1 ... See his eyes ! . . . you can 
 see the blue. . . . He is going to speak. . . . 
 They saw we were watching. . . . They did 
 not dare ! . . . Kiss us ! ... Kiss us, I tell 
 thee ! . . . Kiss us ! ... All ! all ! ... To the 
 very depths of our souls ! . . . 
 
 [All four, with eyes filled with tears t remain 
 closely embraced^
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 
 [A corridor before the apartment of the pre- 
 ceding act. Enter, veiled, three handmaids 
 of the Queen.] 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID (listening at the door). 
 They watch no longer. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 It was useless to wait. . . . 
 
 THIRD HANDMAID. 
 
 She preferred that it should be done in 
 silence. . . . 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 I knew that they must sleep. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 Open quickly. . . . 
 
 THIRD HANDMAID. 
 
 It is time. . . . 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 Wait at the door. I will go in alone. It i 
 needless to be three. ,
 
 196 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 It is true, he is very little. . . . 
 
 THIRD HANDMAID. 
 
 You must be on your guard for the eldei 
 sister. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 You know the Queen would not that they 
 should know. . . . 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 Fear nothing ; I am never easily heard. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 Go in, then ; it is time. 
 
 [The first handmaid opens the door pru- 
 dently and enters the room.~\ 
 
 It is nearly midnight. . . . 
 
 THIRD HANDMAID. 
 
 Ah! ... 
 
 [A silence. The first handmaid comes 
 back from the apartment^ 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 Where is he? 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 He is asleep between his sisters. His arms 
 are about their necks ; and their arms are about 
 him, too. ... I could not do it aloue. . . .
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 197 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 I will go help you. . . . 
 
 THIRD HANDMAID. 
 
 Yes; go in together. ... I will watch 
 here. . . . 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 Take care : they are aware of something. 
 . . . They are all three struggling with a bad 
 dream. . . . 
 
 [The two handmaids enter the room. 
 
 THIRD HANDMAID. 
 
 They are always aware ; but they do not 
 understand. . . . 
 
 \A silence. The first two handmaids come 
 back again from the apartment.~\ 
 
 Well? 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 You must come too ; ... we cannot detach 
 them. . . . 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 As fast as we undo their arms, they close them 
 on the child again. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 And the child clings to them harder and 
 harder. . . . 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 He is rating with his forehead on the elder 
 sister's heart. ,
 
 198 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 And his head rises and falls on her 
 breasts. . . . 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 We shall not succeed in opening his hands 
 the least. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 They plunge to the very depths of his sisters' 
 hair. . . . 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 He clenches a golden curl between his little 
 teeth. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 The hair of the elder will have to be cut 
 off. ... 
 
 FIRST HANDMAK). 
 
 The other sister's as well, you will see. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 Have you your shears? 
 
 THIRD HANDMAID. 
 Yes 
 
 4. \fi3 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 Come quick ; they stir already. 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 Their hearts and eyelids beat in the same 
 time. . . .
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 199 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 It is true; I caught a glimpse of the blue 
 eyes of the elder. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 She looked at us, but saw us not. . . . 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 When one of them is touched, the other two 
 start. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 They struggle without being able to move. . . . 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 The elder would have cried out, but she could 
 not. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 Come quickly ; they look warned. . . . 
 
 THIRD HANDMAID. 
 
 The old man is not there ? 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 Yes ; but he sleeps in a corner. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 He sleeps with his forehead on the pommel 
 of his sword. 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 He is aware of nothing; and he does not 
 dream. . . .
 
 2OO The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 THIRD HANDMAID. 
 
 . / 
 
 Come, come ; we must have done with it. ... 
 
 FIRST HANDMAID. 
 
 You will have trouble untangling their 
 limbs. . . . 
 
 SECOND HANDMAID. 
 
 True; they are intertwined like those of 
 the drowned. . . . 
 
 THIRD HANDMAID. 
 
 Come, come. . . . 
 
 [They enter the room. A great silence, broken 
 by sighs and dull murmurs of an anguish 
 smothered by sleep. Afterwards, the three 
 handmaids come out in all haste from the 
 sombre apartment. One of them carries 
 Tintagiles asleep in her arms, his little hands 
 and mouth shrivelled with sleep and agony, 
 and flooding him all over with the flowing 
 of long golden locks ravished from the two 
 sisters' hair. They flee in silence until, when 
 they come to the end of the corridor, Tin- 
 tagiles, suddenly waking, utters a great cry 
 of supreme distress.] 
 
 TINTAGILES (from the depths of the corridor) . 
 
 A-ah! . . . 
 
 [New silence. Then the two sisters are heard, 
 in the next room, waking and rising un- 
 easily.] 
 
 YGRAINE (in the room) . 
 Tintagiles 1 ... Where is he ? . . .
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 20 1 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 He is no longer here. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE (with increasing anguish) . 
 
 Tintagiles ! . . . A lamp ! a lamp ! . . . Light 
 it! ... 
 
 BELLANGERE. 
 
 Yes . . . yes ! . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 [She is seen, through the open door, coming 
 forward within the room, with a lamp in her 
 hand.] 
 
 The door is wide open ! 
 
 THE VOICE OF TINTAGILES (almost inaudible in 
 the distance). 
 
 Sister Ygraine ! . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 He cries ! ... he cries ! . . . Tintagiles ! 
 Tintagiles ! . . . 
 
 [She rushes headlong into the corridor. Bel- 
 langere tries to follow her, but faints on the 
 steps of the threshold.]
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 
 A great iron door beneath gloomy arches. 
 Enter YGRAINE, haggard, dishevelled, with a 
 lamp in her hand. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 [Turning back wildly '.] They have not fol- 
 lowed me. . . . Bellangere ! . . . Bellangere ! . . . 
 Aglovale ! . . . Where are they ? They said 
 they loved him, and they have left me all 
 alone ! . . . Tintagiles ! . . . Tintagiles ! . . . Oh ! 
 it is true. ... I have climbed up, I have climbed 
 up innumerable steps between great pitiless walls, 
 and my heart can no longer sustain me. . . . The 
 arches seem to stir. . . . \_She leans against the 
 pillars of an arch.~] I shall fall. . . . Oh ! oh ! my 
 poor life! I feel it. . . . It is at the very edge of 
 my lips, trying to get away. ... I do not know 
 what I have done. ... I have seen nothing ; I 
 have heard nothing. . . . Oh, the silence ! . . . 
 I found all these golden curls along the steps and 
 along the walls ; and I followed them. I picked 
 them up. . . . Oh ! oh 1 they are very beautiful ! 
 Little thumbkin ! . . . little thumbkin ! . . . What 
 did I say? I remember. ... I do not believe in it, 
 either; . . . one can sleep. ... All that is of no 
 consequence, and it is not possible. ... I do not 
 know what I think any longer. . . . One is waked 
 up, and then ... At bottom, come, at bottom,
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 203 
 
 one must reflect. . . . They say this, they say 
 that ; but the soul that follows another road 
 altogether. You do not know all you unloose. 
 I came here with my little lamp. ... It was not 
 blown out in spite of the wind in the stairway. . . . 
 At bottom, what must be thought of it ? There 
 are too many things unsettled. . . .And yet there 
 are some who should know them ; but why do 
 they not speak? [Looking about her.~] I have 
 never seen all this. . . . One may not climb so 
 high ; everything is forbidden. ... It is cold. . . . 
 It is so dark, too, one might fear to breathe. . . . 
 They say the shadows poison. . . . Yonder door 
 is fearful. . . . [She approaches the door and 
 gropes over it.~] Oh ! it is cold ! ... It is of 
 smooth iron ; all smooth, and has no lock. . . . 
 Where does it open, then ? I see no hinges. . . . 
 I believe it is embedded in the wall. . . . One can 
 go no higher ; . . . there are no more steps. . . . 
 [ Uttering a terrible cry.'} Ah ! ... still more 
 golden curls, shut in the door ! . . . Tintagiles ! 
 Tintagiles ! . . . I heard the door fall to just 
 now ! . . . I remember ! I remember ! ... It 
 must ! . . . [She beats frantically with fist and 
 feet on the door.~] Oh ! the monster ! the mon- 
 ster ! . . . You are here 1 ... Listen i I blas- 
 pheme ! I blaspheme and spit at you ! . . . 
 
 [Knocking, in tiny strokes, heard on the other 
 side of the door ; then the voice of Tintagiles 
 pierces, very feebly, through the iroo 
 barriers.] 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Sister Ygraine, sister Ygraine 1
 
 204 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Tintagiles! . . . What? . . . What? . . . 
 Tintagiles, is it thou? . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Open quickly, open quickly ! . . . She is 
 there ! . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Oh ! oh ! . . . Who ? . . . Tintagiles, my little 
 Tintagiles ! . . . dost thou hear me ? . . . What is 
 it ! ... What has happened ? . . . Tintagiles ! 
 . . . Thou hast not been hurt ? . . . Where art 
 thou ? . . . Art thou there ? . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Sister Ygraine, sister Ygraine ! . . . I shall die 
 if thou dost not open me the door. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Wait ; I am trying ; wait. ... I am opening 
 it, I am opening it. ... 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 But thou dost not understand me ! . . . Sister 
 Ygraine ! . . . There is no time ! . . . She could 
 not hold me. ... I struck her, struck her. . . . 
 I ran. . . . Quick, quick, she is here ! . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 I am coming, I am coming. . . . Where is she ?
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 205 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I see nothing, . . . but I hear ... oh ! I am 
 afraid, sister Ygraine, I am afraid ! . . . Quick, 
 quick ! . . . Open quickly ! ... for the love of 
 the dear God, sister Ygraine ! . . . 
 
 YGRAINE {groping over the door anxiously) . 
 
 I am sure to find . . . wait a little ... a min- 
 ute ... a moment . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I cannot wait any longer, sister Ygraine. . . . 
 She is breathing behind me. . . . 
 
 YGRAINJE. 
 
 It is nothing, Tintagiles ; my little Tintagiles, 
 don't be afraid. ... It is because I cannot 
 see. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Yes, thou canst ; I see thy light plainly. .... 
 It is light by thee, sister Ygraine. . . . Here I 
 can see no longer. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Thou seest me, Tintagiles? Where can one 
 see ? There is no chink. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Yes, yes, there is one, but it is so little ! . . . 
 
 YGRAINE 
 
 Which side ? Here ? . . . Tell me, tell me ! 
 . . . There, perhaps?
 
 206 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Here, here. . . . Dost thou not hear ? I am 
 knocking. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Here? 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Higher. . . . But it is so little ! . . . One 
 could not pass a needle through it ! . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Don't be afraid ; I shall be there. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Oh, I hear, sister Ygraine ! . . . Pull ! Pull ! 
 Thou must pull ! She is here ! . . . if thou 
 couldst open it a little . . . just a little. ... I 
 am so tiny ! . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 I have no nails left, Tintagiles. ... I have 
 pulled, I have pushed, I have pounded ! . . . I 
 have pounded ! . . . [She pounds again and fries 
 to shake the immovable door.~\ Two of my fingers 
 are numb. . . . Do not weep ; ... it is iron. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES (sobbing desperately) . 
 
 Thou hast nothing to open it with, sister 
 Ygraine ? . . . Nothing at all, nothing at all j ... 
 and I could go through ; ... for I am so little, 
 so little. . . . Thou knowest well. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 I have nothing but my lamp, Tintagiles. . . . 
 There ! There i . . . [She beats hard on the
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 207 
 
 door, with the help of her lamp of clay, which 
 goes out and is broken^ Oh! . . . Everything 
 is dark all at once ! . . . Tintagiles, where art 
 thou ? . . . Oh, listen, listen ! . . . Thou canst 
 not open it from within? . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 No, no ; there is n't anything. ... I can't 
 feel anything at all. ... I can't see the little 
 bright chink any longer. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 What ails thee, Tintagiles? ... I hardly 
 hear any longer. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 Little sister, sister Ygraine. ... It is no longer 
 possible. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 What is it, Tintagiles? . . . Where goest 
 thou? . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 She is there ! . . . I have no more courage. 
 Sister Ygraine, sister Ygraine ! . . . I feel her ! . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 V/ho? . , . Who? . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 I do not know. ... I do not see. . . . But it 
 is no longer possible ! . . . She . . . she is taking 
 me by the throat. . . . She has put her hand on 
 my throat. ... Oh ! oh ! sister Ygraine, come 
 here. . . .
 
 208 The Death of Tintagiles. 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Yes, yes. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES. 
 
 It is so dark ! . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Struggle, defend thyself, tear her ! . . . Don't 
 be afraid. . . . One moment ! . . . I shall be 
 there. . . . Tintagiles ! . . . Tintagiles ! answer 
 me ! ... Help ! . . . Where art thou ? . . . I 
 am going to help thee. . . . Kiss me . . . through 
 the door . . . here . . . here. . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES ( very feebly) . 
 Here . . . here . . . sister Ygraine. . . . 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 It is here, it is here I am giving kisses, hearest 
 thou ? Again ! again ! . . . 
 
 TINTAGILES (more and more feebly) . 
 
 I am giving them, too . . . here . . . sister 
 Ygraine ! . . . sister Ygraine ! . . . Oh ! . . . 
 \Thefall of a little body is heard behind 
 the iron door.~] 
 
 YGRAINE. 
 
 Tintagiles ! . . . Tintagiles ! . . . What hast 
 thou done ? . . . Give him up ! give him up ! ... 
 for the love of God, give him up ! ... I no 
 longer hear. ... What have you done with 
 him ? . . . Do him no harm, will you ? . . . It
 
 The Death of Tintagiles. 209 
 
 is only a poor child ! . . . He does not resist. . . . 
 See, see. ... I am not wicked. ... I have gone 
 down on both knees. . . . Give him up, I pray 
 thee. ... It is not for myself alone, thou 
 knowest. ... I will do all one could wish. . . . 
 I am not bad, you see. ... I beseech you with 
 clasped hands. ... I was wrong. ... I sub- 
 mit utterly, thou seest well. ... I have lost all 
 I had. . . . Let me be punished some other 
 way. . . . There are so many things that could 
 give me more pain ... if thou lovest to give 
 pain .... Thou wilt see. . . . But this poor 
 child has done nothing. . . . What I said was 
 not true . . . but I did not know. ... I know 
 well you are very good. . . . One must forgive 
 in the end ! . . . He is so young, he is so beau- 
 tiful, and he is so little ! . . . You see, it is not pos- 
 sible ! . . . He puts his little arms about your 
 neck, his little mouth on your mouth ; and God 
 himself could not resist any longer. . . . You 
 will open, will you not ? . . . I ask almost noth- 
 ing. ... I should only have him a moment, 
 one little moment. ... I do not remember . . . 
 thou understandest. ... I did not have time. . . . 
 There needs hardly anything to let him pass. . . . 
 It is not hard. . . . \A long inexorable silence '.] 
 Monster ! . . . Monster ! . . . I spit . . . ! 
 \She sinks down and continues to sob 
 softly, with her arms stretched up on 
 ike door, in the darkness."] 
 
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