PATRIE! VlCTORIEN SaRDOU LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFOR.NIA SANTA BARBARA PRESENTED BY MRS. WILLIAM ASHWORTH '(jiy;--dbriiuu^rf4z PATRIE ! VOLUME IX The Drama League Series of Plays VOLUMES IN THE DRAMA LEAGUE SERIES OF PLAYS I. — Kindling By Charles Kenyan II. — A Thousand Years Ago . By Percy MacKaye III. — The Great Galeoto . . By Jose Echegaray IV. — The Sunken Bell . . By Gerhart Havptmann V. — Mary Goes First . . By Henry Arthur Jones VI. — Her Husband's Wife . . . By A. E. Thomas Vn. — Change By J. 0. Francis Vin. — Marta of the Lowlands . . By Angel Guimerd IX. — Patrie! By Victorien Sardou X. — The Thief By Henry Bernstein Other Volumes in Preparation VICTORIEN SARDOU PATRIE! An Historical Drama in Five Acts (Eight Scenes) BY VICTORIEN SARDOU TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY BARRETT H. CLARK WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE TRANSLATOR Garden City New York DOUBLEDAY. PAGE & COMPANY 1915 Copyright, 1915, by DOUBLEDAY, PaGE & CoMPANY In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only, and no performances of it may be given. Any piracy or infringement will be prosecuted in accord- ance with the penalties provided by the United States Statutes : Sec. 4S66. — Any person publicly performing or representing any dramatic or musical composition, for which copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the proprietor of the said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs or assigns, shall be liable for damages therefor, such damages in all cases to be at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent performance, as to the Court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and repre- sentation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year. — U. S. Revised Statutes, Title 60, Chap. 3. 2t^ 2 P28E UNIVERS' '-Y r-T? CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA TO CLAYTON HAMILTON WITH THE GRATITUDE OF THE TRANSLATOR INTRODUCTION Sardou is probably the oftenest referred to and least read of any dramatist of modern times. His name, together with the clever noun invented by Bernard Shaw, is constantly used as a term of re- proach; the phrase "well-made play" is usually em- ployed in a derogatory sense, as if a well-constructed play were something to be avoided. This state of affairs would not be so regrettable were it not that the plays of Sardou and his master Scribe are, with very few exceptions, inaccessible to English readers. Even Shaw based some of his most mordant and damning remarks about " Sardoodledom " upon Eng- lish adaptations, and confesses that he never read "Fedora" in the original. "Gismonda," the other play he saw at the same time with the English version of "Fedora," has never been published in French. When a critic of Shaw's standing says, "Of course I was not altogether new to it, since I had seen 'Diplomacy Dora,' and 'Theodora,' and 'La Tos- cadora,' and the other machine dolls from the same [ vii ] INTRODUCTION firm," he stands convicted of arguing from insuf- ficient premises, for "Diplomacy" is an adaptation, while "Theodora," like "Gismonda," is as yet in manuscript. "La Tosca" was not published until some years after the appearance of Shaw's article. If Sardou is to be justly estimated, he must be read, and if critics are to link the names of Sardou and Scribe together as nefarious purveyors of "well- made plays," they should at least not do so on the authority of former critics, many of whom have either not read the plays of the dramatists in ques- tion, or have only a superficial acquaintance with their works in the original. The present translation of "Patrie!" is so far as I am aware the first Sardou play in English which follows the original text line for line. There are numerous adaptations, to some of which the name of the author is added, but far oftener bearing only the name of the adapter. It is, therefore, with the hope that this much-maligned dramatist may be sympathetically, or at least intelligently, read and calmly judged that this famous play has been in- cluded in "The Drama League Series." Victorien Sardou was born in Paris on September 7, 1831. His early years were spent in the neigh- [ viii ] INTRODUCTION borhood of the Faubourg St. Antoine, not far from the Place de la Bastille. He was educated at the College Henri IV, from which he was graduated in 1852, after a career which was in no manner of speaking brilliant. The youth had been an in- terested spectator of the stormy days of '48, and it is beyond doubt that these early impressions were all carefully noted and used in later years. After his graduation he wished to enter the field of litera- ture, for which he had previously shown some pre- dilection, but his practical-minded father insisted upon a more lucrative pursuit. The young man chose medicine. After a perfunctorily attended course of study at the hospital, Sardou was left alone in Paris, as his father, under the stress of finan- cial difficulties, left the north for his native home in the Midi. Victorien then led the life of poor students, sharing his attic, trying to write, and gaining an insight into the seamy side of the "Vie de Boheme." The melodramatic story is told* that Sardou was walking the quays one night, bent on suicide, and met a water-carrier standing in the * In Jerome A. Hart's "Sardou and the Sardou Plays" (Lip- pincott), the most complete and exhaustive study of Sardou which has yet appeared. INTRODUCTION doorway of an unfinished building. " The water- carrier audibly remarked : ' Ah, mon ami, you don't know when you are well off.' The words were scarcely out of his mouth when a block of granite fell with a crash and killed him. Even then Sardou was superstitious, and, believing from this accident that he had yet room to hope, went home, and again took up his pen." The result was a number of plays, written in various styles, and showing the influence of numer- ous masters. One of these, "La Reine Ulfra," he offered to Rachel, who refused it. However, Mile Desfosses, the rival of the celebrated tragedienne, accepted the play, and failed dismally. The same fate awaited the second play, "La Taverne des Etudiants," which was performed at the Odeon in 1854. Then followed a period of disappointment: plays were peddled from theatre to theatre, and collaborators proved treacherous. But three years later he met the woman who became his wife in 1858. She had the good fortune to be a personal friend of the famous Mile Dejazet. Through Dejazet the young dramatist achieved his first success: "Les Premieres Armes de Figaro" was produced at Dejazet's theatre in 1859. As yet [x] INTRODUCTION Sardou was only trying his wings. His early plays were verse tragedies and comedies, even his suc- cess at the Theatre Dejazet, were imitative works, written for the most part while he was making a close study of the works of Scribe. In 1860 his first ac- knowledged masterpiece, "Les Pattes de Mouche, " met with the recognition it deserved at the Gym- nase. This play firmly established Sardou as a suc- cessful playwright, and henceforth he had little difficulty, as may be imagined, in placing his next plays. These were produced in quick succession. "Nos Intimes," "Les Ganaches," and "Nos Bons Villageois" are among the best. They are well- constructed comedies of manners, built upon Sar- dou's own amplification of the Scribe formula. Many more of the same kind were to be WTitten, but Sardou, a business man as well as an artist, varied his themes to suit the taste of the time. Contemporaneous manners and customs, modes of thought and idea, all found their place in comedies and melodramas, while politics and religion formed the basis of more than one serious work. Like Au- gustus Thomas — who has declared that "the theatre is vital only when visualizing some idea in the public mind at the moment" — Sardou believed in giving [xil INTRODUCTION the public what it wanted. The Parisian pubHc was discriminating and sophisticated, and Sardou knew this; he satisfied his public, which, in return, made of him a comparatively rich and indubitably cele- brated man. But comedies of the day, plays in which contemporaneous politics and ideas played a large part, were not the sole concern of this in- defatigable dramatist : melodrama, chiefly historical, possessed charms for him. He had always been in- terested in archeology and history, and the task of reconstructing historical backgrounds for such plays as "Patrie!" and "La Haine" must have been congenial work. The prodigious output of this versatile man, its variety and its average merit, can scarcely be con- ceived by any mere cataloguing of titles and sub- jects, yet some idea may be formed when it is learned that besides the few plays already referred to, his Theatre complet would include verse tragedies, his- torical and mythical melodramas, political comedies of intrigue, drawing-room comedies and farces, scientific and mystery plays. These are laid in Russia, the United States, Greece, Rome, Spain, England. "Daniel Rochat" treats of a moral and religious problem; "Thermidor" is a psychological [ xii 1 INTRODUCTION play laid in the troublous times of the Revolution; "Rabagas" is a historical satire of the Commune; "L'Oncle Sam," a satire on American family life; "Ferreol" is one of the earliest examples of the criminal or "crook" play; "Spiritisme" hinges upon the subject which Belasco later used in "The Return of Peter Grimm"; "Maison neuve" is a picture of middle-class tradesmen; "Fernande" treats of the opening of gambling casinos; " Les Ganaches " of the advent of the railway. The enormous output of Sardou might seem to indicate some "machine-made" process, but it must be remembered that Sardou had during his early struggles been a close student of dramatic technic, and by the time "Les Pattes de Mouche" was per- formed, this technic was well in hand. From that day on he bent his efforts to perfecting what he had learned, and applying it. This technic has been for years the butt of critics, many of whom seem to assume that because an artist has perfect command of his medium he has therefore nothing to say. To base a statement of the sort upon English adapta- tions of "Divorgons!" "Dora," and "Les Pattes de Mouche" would not be wholly unjust, nor can it fairly be urged that Sardou is a great thinker; he [ xiii ] INTRODUCTION is not. On the other hand, a careful study of all his plays, a sympathetic reading of "Patrie!" and two or three of the better comedies, can but lead one to the conclusion that here is a dramatist endowed with rare power to tell a story, picture a struggle, and portray men and women with considerable skill and insight. Occasionally a critic like Professor Brander Mat- thews or Mr. Jerome A. Hart has gone to the trouble of reading the plays and arriving at a sane estimate, but these are exceptions. The French critics, too, are fair. Rene Doumic said: "He is endowed with very rare qualities, and all that he lacks is to have a higher conception of his art. Still, there is but one voice to proclaim him the most ex- pert among the masters of the stage." The careful and discriminating Jules Lemaitre remarked that he was " . . .a power . . . one of the finest dramatic temperaments of the century . . . in tragedy he has twice or thrice attained to grandeur and almost to beauty . . . one of the greatest dramatic authors of his time. 'Patrie' and 'Divor- gons!' do not fall far short of being masterpieces." And Emile Faguet adds: "This man not only pos- sessed skill in construction, emotional power, and [ xiv ] INTRODUCTION wit in dialogue, but philosophical penetration as well. . . . French audiences will long remember the man who made them laugh, who made them weep, who even made them think; who depicted France to foreign audiences in her best guise, and who honored her greatly in more ways than one." "Patrie!" was originally performed on March 18, 1869, at the Porte St. -Martin Theatre in Paris. Owing to a number of accidents, it was not seen at the Comedie Frangaise until 1901. Meantime, it had been seen in Italy, Belgium, Germany, and the United States. It is said, in tiddition, that among the first plays to be produced at the Comedie on the expiration of the present war is "Patrie!" While this drama cannot be assumed as being typi- cal of all Sardou's work, it is representative of a great part of it. Sardou was never a "thesis" dramatist, yet he rarely wTote solely for the sake of the play. He treated, as we have said, religious, moral, politi- cal, and historical questions, but never did he, like Dumas fils, deliberately attempt to set forth and prove a thesis. "Patrie!" is primarily a dramatic entertainment, but it presents at the same time food for thought: the struggle between human passion and love of one's country may be taken as the dra- [XV] INTRODUCTION matic epitome of all struggle. Taking for his magnifi- cent background the down-trodden Flanders under the cruel subjection of the Spaniards, with the Duke of Alba at their head, he conceived a play of patriot- ism, love, and death that is still as moving as on the day it was written. Yet the struggle, fcr se, its psychological import, is never thrust forward to the detriment of the play: Sardou was too great an artist to introduce a raisonneur. For him the play was the important consideration. That is why "Patrie!" is likely to live longer as drama than "Les Idees de Madame Aubray." Sardou was first a dramatist, and second a thinker; Dumas fits was first a great thinker, and a good dramatist in spite of his sermons, his theses, and his raisonneurs. In his later years Sardou suffered from his col- laboration with Sarah Bernhardt; for her he wrote many spectacular melodramas — "La Tosca," "Gis- monda," "Cleopatre," "Theodora" — in which the "star" parts were written for an actress who cared only for a role in which she might appear to advan- tage. These efforts, in spite of many splendid scenes here and there, are practically negligible in any con- sideration of the plays as a whole. Sardou's best work was done before he signed his contracts with [ xvi ] INTRODUCTION "Sarah." He is assured of a place among those artists who portrayed sections of the Hfe of their time, truthfully, amusingly, with the hand of a master. Barrett H. Clark. [ xvii ] TRANSLATOR'S NOTE I have tried to preserve so far as possible the spirit of the original text; to that end I have left the names, titles, and occasional expressions (such as the Duke's " Vive-Dieu! ") unchanged. The style of the dialogue is at times rhetorical and somewhat stilted, but I have preserved this so far as I was able, believing that any sort of paraphrase would tend to throw the whole out of key. The stage- directions are complete and, even if they are found at times to be unnecessarily so for the reader, I have considered it better to present a Sardou play to the English reading public for the first time as it came from the dramatist. B. H. C. PERSONS REPRESENTED The Count de Rysoor, a Flemish nobleman The ]NL^.rquis de la Tremoille, a French nobleman Jonas the Bellringer Karloo van der Noot, a Flemish nobleman The Duke of Alba NoracARMES, Grand Provost Vargas, of the Spanish court IVIaitre Alberti, Dofia Rafaele's physician Delrio, of the Spanish court First Officer of the Prince of Orange Galena, a Flemish citizen Second Officer of the Prince of Orange William of Orange A Brewer RiNCON, a Spanish captain Navarra, a Spanish officer Goberstraet, a Flemish citizen A Pastor Miguel, of the Spanish court [ xxi] PERSONS REPRESENTED Maitre Charles, the executioner CoRTADiLLA, of the Spauish court Bakkerzeel, a Flemish citizen CoRNELis, a Flemish citizen An Ensign (Spanish) A Spy The Herald Domingo, servant of Alba A Majordomo A Courier A Soldier Dona Dolores, wife of Rysoor Dona Rafaele, Alba's daughter Sarah Mathisoon, a Flemish woman The Wo]\l\n Shopkeeper Gudule, servant of Dolores A Woman of the Streets Josuah Koppestock, a Fleming The scene is laid at Brussels, in 1568. [ xxii Patrie ! was presented for the first time at the Porte St. Martin Theatre, at Paris, on March 18, 1869. PATRIE! ACT I Scene I : The market-place of the Vieille Boucherie at Brussels. There are large pillars and cross-beams which still bear their iron hooks. This market-place, abandoned by the merchants, has been occupied by the Spanish troops, who have turned it into a camp. Up- stage the end of a street, and some gables of houses cov- ered with snow, may be seen. Under the pillars there are three huge fires: upstage to the right, down-stage to the left. Here and there among the pillar bases cuirasses, flags, arms, and rugs of varioiis sorts are strewn about. There is a group of officers gathered around the fire to the left, and groups of soldiers aroimd the other two, lying on the straw, or seated on old rugs, playing dice, drinking, polishing their weapons, or cooking. Soldiers' children and women of the streets come and go, and from time to time pour out drinks for soldiers or officers in one or other of the groups. Scattered about are heapsof broken furniture, objects of all sorts, indications of the pillage. Half- [3] PATRIE way upstage to the left is a cart full of linens, vases, etc. The disorder incident to the military occupa- tion of a city is everyivhere visible. Patrols come and go. The beat of drums and of distant fusillades are occasionally heard. Here and there are benches, buffets, and casks. Down- stage to the left there is a table with tankards of beer and goblets; to the rigid, in front of a pillar, there are two stools. As the curtain rises, the following are discovered: RiNCON, Navarra, Miguel, an Ensign, soldiers, lancers, pikemen, artillerymen, women of the streets, and children. There is a loud roll of drums in the street. RiNCON [seated, left, at the table, with the Ensign and Navarra, icith whom he is throwing dice]. What's that? Miguel [looking up-stage]. Another consignment of prisoners. RiN. The devil ! That makes the twentieth that's entered Brussels since this morning. Why are they brought here? Put them in the Jacobins'! MiG. But, Captain, the Jacobins', the wood market, the Egmont palace — they are all full to over- flowing. PATRIE RiN. And so is the Boucherie! Where the devil can we put them? Ensign. Well, Senor Rincon, over there is a sort of stable, to the left of the old pig-pen. Throw them in there — it's good enough for them ! RiN. [rising]. I'll look at it. [To the soldiers.] Throw some wood on the fire. Hell and damnation! we're freezing! [He goes out, left. MiG. [to the soldiers, who are iip-stage]. Hey! Wood, you there! Soldiers. There's no more left. MiG. [taking Rincon's place]. Well, chop some! Soldiers Very well, Lieutenant. [They chop up a cask with a hatchet.] l^AVARRA[play{ng]. Ten! Nine [Gunshots are heard in the distance.] Hello, what's that? MiG. Rebels — they've been dispatched on short notice. Nav. Downright foolishness, to waste good powder that way! It's too good for these heretic dogs! [CoRTADiLLA appears up-stage. He is greeted with laughter, as he gives some geese which he has stolen to some of the women to pluck. He then draivs forth a rabbit from his volumi- PATRIE nous breeches; the soldiers immediately snatch the rabbit from him. Laughing, the noise of arguments, cries, etc.] Hey there! Silence! Mille diables! Ensign. They're drunk! MiG. [playing]. Bah! let them be! This is car- nival season. Ensign. That's so — Mardi-gras. Nav, And to think that we're here, freezing to death for these damned Flemings! A Soldier [who has entered from tlie rear]. Cap- tain Rincon's presence is requested at the Town Hall. MiG. He isn't here. Nav. [to the Ensign, who holds a tankard]. Pour! Ensign. Empty! [To one of the women.] Hey, Carmelita ! Carmelita [coming forward]. Do the senors wish something to drink? Ensign. Yes, fair child ! [She pours out beer for them.] RiN. [reentering]. Upon my faith! I don't know what to do: here comes the whole town! Mig. Captain, you are wanted at the Town Hall. RiN. I know it — it is about the Civil Guard. [Gl PATRIE Ensign. Are they being disarmed? RiN. Yes, it is much safer! [To the soldier at the right ivho is polishing his sword.] Hand me your sword and a glass of beer. [ To C armelita, wJio runs to him.] Ah, it's you, CarmeUta? Car. [pouring out beer for him]. Yes, Captain. RiN. [as he drinks, he notices a gold chain she wears around her neck]. You have a pretty chain — who gave it to you, child ? [Other women about to look at the chain.] Car. Pacheco gave it to me. RiN. [kissing her]. Pacheco is a happy mortal! Good-bye ! A Soldier [at the left]. Captain, here are a dozen more arrests RiN. A dozen? Ten thousand devils! MiG. Put them under these pillars. RiN. Wterever you hke, so far as I am concerned ! I give it up, Miguel ! [He goes out, upstage to the right. MiG. [to the soldiers]. Bring in the prisoners! [La Tremoille and Rysoor are brought in at the back, left, guarded by two files of soldiers, with an officer at the head.] Officer [to La Tremoille, who halts, showing surprise at being conducted to such a spot. The officer [7] PATRIE urges him forward, pushing him on the shoulder]. March, you! La Tr. [ivith dignity]. I beg your pardon, my friend! My sword has been taken from me, but I still have my cane, and I warn you if you touch me again as you did a moment ago I shall break it over your shoulders. Officer [raising his sword]. What's that, rascal? La Tr. [disarming him by a stroke of the cane, and beating him over the shoulders]. Take that, you scoundrel ! [There is a menacing movement among the sol- diers. The officer picks up his sword and is about to rush at La Tremoille, when Navarra and Miguel interpose.] MiG. [to La Tremoille] . You'll get cut to pieces ! La Tr. [eying him]. I beg your pardon, you are ? MiG. Lieutenant La Tr. And I — Marquis de la Tremoille, faithful subject and friend of his Majesty Charles King of France; although I am a prisoner, I shall allow no subaltern to raise his hand against me! You may tell that to your Government. Is there no place to sit down here? [81 I'ATRIE MiG. [who, together with Navarra and the Ensign , has taken off his hat politely at mention of La Tre- moille's name]. Monsieur le Marquis — that is dif- ferent! Here are seats, over against the pillar. La Tr. I hope they're clean? [He goes to the right and notices Rysoor, wlw is about to sit down on one of the stools.] Ah, Monsieur, I beg your pardon! Rysoor [bowing]. Monsieur, after you! La Tr. [boiving likewise]. I beg you. Monsieur! [ The officers return, left, to warm themselves over the fire.] Rys. You are French, Monsieur, while I am a citizen of this city: I am the host! La Tr. Monsieur, I need not inquire whether you are a gentleman ! Rys. [bowing]. Count de Rysoor, Monsieur — quite at your service. La Tr. [bowing]. I am the Marquis de la Tre- moille, Monsieur — at yours! [They put on their hats again.] Since you belong to this city, perhaps you will be good enough to inform me where we are? Rys. Monsieur le Marquis, this building is the former slaughter-house which the Spaniards have used for a camp, as you see. La Tr. [looking up-stage]. What a camp! [91 PATRIE Rys. And what soldiers ! The scum of the earth ! Neopohtans, Swiss, Portuguese, all of them adven- turers, highway robbers, cut-throats, and pillagers; they've gathered here with their women and their bastards, under a flag that permits them to com- mit the vilest outrages with impunity! This is our shameful yoke — it is killing us : this armed rabble that calls itself Spanish troops! La Tr. Then this, Monsieur, is where they pack those who are arrested — people like you and me? Rys. And who are executed if need be. La Tr. Nothing but butchery? Rys. Always ! La Tr. Good! I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Comte, but I have only arrived. This is my first visit to Brussels. Rys. Disagreeable beginning, Monsieur le Mar- quis! La Tr. Especially for a pleasure journey! Rys. Pleasure? La Tr. Exactly. I don't bore you, I hope? Rys. Quite the contrary! We could not spend our time to better advantage waiting for the Grand Provost, who will decide our fate. La Tr. [about to sit down]. Let us gossip, then, f 10 1 I'ATIUE But, one thing more: I must tell you, I am a Cal- vinist. Rys. 1 am delighted to hear it, Monsieur. La Tr. Are you perhaps of the same faith? Rys. I am proud to admit it! La Tr. [offering his hand]. Well, well, Monsieur le Comte, let me shake your hand — with all my heart ! Rys. [shaking hands with La Tremoille]. Mon- sieur ! [Shots are heard in ilie distance.] La Tr. What is that.'^ Rys. [talcing off his hat]. Heretics, like you and me — they are being shot ! La Tr. [taking off his hat]. God receive their souls! [He seats himself.] I was saying that His Majesty, in whose favor I am so fortunate as to find myself on account of my tennis — I am a cham- pion — His Majesty summoned me to him, and said to me: "La Tremoille, it is too warm for you here, my friend. Go and visit Italy or the Netherlands!" I came to the Netherlands. At the frontier, exactly in the middle of the river, whom do I see surrounded by a company of cavaliers? M. Louis de Nassau. He shouts to me: "Hello, La Tremoille!" I knew I 11] PATRIE him at the Louvre, at the time when he came there in company with his brother, Prince of Orange, an excellent gentleman! Rys. The Prince of Orange? Ah, Monsieur le Marquis, there is the loyalest, wisest, and bravest citizen of this land ! The pride of the Netherlands — perhaps its saviour! So his brother. Monsieur de Nassau, hailed you? La Tr. And I cried out to him : " Monsieur, what the devil are you doing in the water there?" Then he answered: "I'm looking for a ford for my men! Willyou join us?" "\Vhat are you doing?" "We're going to break a lance with the Spanish senors!" I was delighted. As a Protestant, you understand, I lost no love on His Catholic Majesty King Philip. Rys. And as for me; I hate him cordially ! La Tr. He's a melancholiac. I dislike him, too. Then I said to Monsieur de Nassau : " Indeed I will join you, and gladly!" We went on all day, and our band grew every mile we rode. At night, we were a veritable little army. Next day we encoun- tered the Spaniards at Jemmingen ! We fought, or, rather, they fought us — a total defeat. My horse was wounded, shot under me; then the horse fell on me! A Spaniard disarmed me, and sold me to his 112] PATRIE captain for a hundred pistoles — harness thrown in. The captain sold nie in turn to the colonel for a thousand ducats, who resold me for three times that amount to the Duke of Alba, who fixes my ransom at a hundred thousand French crowns. Rys. And the Duke sold you for ? La Tr. Oh, no — it stopped there, luckily. The price might grow to more than I am worth! Rys. Well, a hundred thousand crowns is very La Tr. It is considerable ! I wrote to my brother, asking him to raise the sum. It will cost me two or three chateaux, but from among the forty dis- tricts I shall still have a few left. Rys. And meantime? La Tr. Meantime, I've been bored, as you may easily imagine! To come to the Netherlands on a pleasure trip, and there find myself penned up at Jemmingen between two guards! Well, I said to myself: "I gave my word not to cross the frontier; therefore I shall not cross the frontier, but — I must see Brussels! Ventre-Mahon! Never may it be said that I made a pleasure journey to the Nether- lands without seeing Brussels in carnival time!" Rys. And here we are! f 13 1 PATRIE La Tr. Yes, here I am — arrested the moment I set foot in the land — it is rather unfortunate, on Mardi-gras. [So2inds of a dispute between two women up- stage. They enter, surrounded by soldiers, who encourage them. Miguel and some offi- cers separate the combatants.] Rys. [carefidly watching the group at the back, ichich gradually disperses among the pillars]. Yes, to-day is Mardi-gras! Ah, Monsieur le Marquis, this day three years ago, under Cardinal Granville and Madame la Gouvernante, you woidd have seen nothing but continual feasting and merrymaking — masks, sarabandes, and jousts! The whole week there was dancing, night and day, at the Egmont Palace, while for the entire month the Prince of Orange held open house. To-day Monsieur d'Eg- mont is dead: he died on the scaffold, and his wife goes from door to door begging bread for her little ones; the Prince of Orange has no longer a roof over his head : he who once had a king's fortune is reduced to the necessity of selling his goldplate to the Jews of Strassburg to supply ammunition for his fol- lowers ! And this city ! This once flourishing city, rich beyond her rivals — this unfortunate city is f 14 1 PATRIE nothing more than a bivouac where the Spaniards and their horses wallow in the straw at every street corner. Everywhere streets are hushed in silence and sorrow, streets through which an occasional passer-by skulks, clinging close to the walls for fear of jostling drunken soldiers ! Everywhere the shops are closed, workshops stand empty! From every belfry floats the black flag! On every door hangs mourning! [Gunshots in the distance.] Every in- stant that rattle of musketry telling the tale of death — a ghastly knell reminding us that more poor devils are seeing the last of life. La Tr. Monsieur le Comte, this is a hideous carniAal ! Rys. You have already seen how it is celebrated in the country! There it is different: they don't take the trouble to bury the dead! The course of the Royal Army can be traced by the flight of the vultures — entire villages without a soul in them! Smoking ruins everywhere you look ! Ruined walls ! Before every door a pool of blood, where bodies fester, lying about at the mercy of wolves ! Herds of women and children, dying of hunger, snatching food from the very beasts of the field ! And everywhere, everywhere the eternal gibbet! ^^^len the gallows [15 1 PATRIE are too heavy to bear an extra burden they use trees; when the trees are overweighted, then gates, sheds, gable-ends, sign-posts! Every overhanging projec- tion is a gallows ! And when these leave no room — a wheel on a pole, and from each spoke hangs a victim. These objects line every approach to the gates of Brussels: avenues of human flesh! When rope is lacking, and when they cannot even steal more, they try grapeshot; when powder is scarce, they resort to drowning! When the rivers choke, they burn the victims ! This is winter — they must make use of their opportunities — the garrison must be kept warm ! La Tr. Horrible! Rys. And all this because we, the citizens of Flanders, are unwilling to be subjects of the King of Spain, who is for us nothing but the Due de Bra- bant. Nor do we wish to be judged by the frightful Inquisition! Because we, the rightful heirs of those franchises and privileges which our forefathers won at the price of their life's blood, will not allow our- selves to be outraged by this double-faced and perjured king, who with his hand on the Holy Scripture, before God and man, swore to protect these rights and privileges! Because we want no other faith than that which is right according to our [16] PATRIE consciences, nor other soldiers than our own! Be- cause, in short, we are a free-born people, who refuse, so long as there remains a single drop of Flemish blood in our Flemish veins, to remain the slaves of a despot, an inhuman soldier, and an ambitious monk ! La Tr. Spoken like a gentleman ! You are right ! I have no idea what Fate has in store for us, you and me, but if we escape alive, here are two strong arms and a loyal heart at your service ! Rys. Many thanks. Monsieur le Marquis! But there is no doubt as to what will happen to us : you will be freed, I put to death. LaTr. Why? Rys. I do not know the reason. For instance, I may be accused of having left the city in defiance of the edict forbidding one to pass the gates without official permission from the Duke of Alba. La Tr. So there is an edict — forbidding that? Rys. And seventeen others, each with the sim- plest of penalties for infringement; in every case death. La Tr. For this, too? Rys. Yes, for this. LaTr. Frightful! Rys. This is the government under which we [17 1 PATRIE exist, Monsieur le Marquis, and have existed since the Duke of Alba annulled all our laws and imposed on their ruin his infamous court. He calls it the Court of Troubles; we call it the Court of Blood. And worse — do you see that placard, the brown and yellow one, over there, on the pillar? [He points to the first pillar to the left.] La Tr. Yes. Rys. This is what it contains (I had to read it three times in order to believe my eyes) : " In the name of the Holy Church and of the King, the Duke of Alba, the commander-general, it is decreed: All the inhabitants" — {all, mark you, all the inhabi- tants of the Netherlands) — "without distinction of rank, age, or sex, are condemned to death as here- tics!" LaTr. All the inhabitants? Rys. All — three millions of men condemned with one scrape of the pen ! La Tr. [going to the left in order to read the pkioard]. This is madness! Rys. Yes, but how expeditious ! No more cross- questioning, no witnesses! Every man who is ar- rested may be executed on a moment's notice: he is condemned in advance. [18] PATRIE La Tr. Monsieur le Comte, are we in the Nether- lands, or is this hell? Rys. Ah! King Philip has chosen the right man ! This insane and melancholy king needed a fanatical and bloodthirsty servant — a man whose face is the only human thing about him. No! He is a father, and a good father. He has a daughter whom he idolizes. She is ill and is slowly dying — he is des- perate. The air even of her native Spain could not prolong the days of the poor child, and the air of Brussels, so dark and humid, hastens her end. And this father — how sure is God's vengeance! — this father in despair only aggravates his daughter's malady! These massacres, these unspeakable hor- rors, are breaking the girl's heart. She is good and charitable; her despair is killing her! What a heavenly chastisement, striking the father through his child! Each blow he delivers is a deathblow at his daughter's heart; the more he kills — the mon- ster ! — the nearer she approaches to her death ! La Tr. And this nation allows itself to perish as that girl is perishing, through laziness and torpor! Have not these three million men, condemned as one, thrown themselves on this madman and torn him to pieces .-^ [19] PATRIE Rys. Patience! The time is near — revolution is growing in the upper provinces — we have command of nearly all the coast. William de la Marck has entered the harbor of La Brielle; the province of Utrecht refused to pay its taxes, and is now secretly arming. Overburdened with debts, at the end of his resources, stripped of the subsidies he expected from Spain by the English pirates, the Duke has just raised the taxes again, and a wave of horror and hatred runs through the Netherlands : it means ruin to the entire nation! Let the Prince of Orange, our saviour, our God, once make up for his setback at Jemmingen and gain one victory over the Spaniards — behold, the rebellion breaks forth, enveloping and devouring the oppressors! La Tr. Monsieur le Comte, I shall be ready to take any part! Rys. Ah! Monsieur, shall / live that long? [Roll of drums in the distance.] The drums we hear may be those of the Grand Provost and his worthy acolytes ! [He goes to the right. La Tr. [jolloiving him]. Is it the Grand Provost who will decide our fate? Rys. Yes — Noircarmes, a vile brute, who has well [20] PATRIE deserved by his exploits the nickname of Butcher! Delrio, an insane fanatic, more stupid than wicked, is with him; and ^'argas, secretary of the council, a nasty fellow who was forced to leave Spain after violating a young girl whose tutor he was; he is acquiring a fortune here by confiscation and robbery. La Tr. And of these three scoundrels not one, I dare say, is a gentleman? Rys. No. La Tr. Good ! I shall use language fitting to their station! [The noi.sc of the drums sounds nearer.] Rys. Here they come, Monsieur le Marquis. This may be our last hour. Will you let me give you some advice? La Tr. I beg you Rys. If you are questioned about your religious beliefs, conceal the fact that you are Calvinist! If you were discovered it might mean the forfeiture of your life. La Tr. Monsieur le Comte, if I gave you the same advice, would you act on it? Rys. No! La Tr. Then allow me to imitate you in one re- [211 PATRIE spect — that is the only way I can accomplish my duty. Rys. [grasping La Tremoille's hands]. You are right, Monsieur. God save you! [The beat of drums is heard in the street. All the soldiers, women, etc., reenter, station them- selves about, awaiting the arrival of the court; some crowd the benches, other various articles of furniture, carts, etc. The stage, all except the centre, is filled with soldiers, who have run in from all sides. Four of the ProvosVs Guards, two of them carrying torches, precede NoiRCARMEs; the torch-bearers go to the left and station themselves around the fire. The other tioo, sword in hand, put the crowd into place. Filter Noircarmes, Vargas, and T)el,rio, followed by two clerks of the court and more soldiers, who carry drawn swords.] Noircarmes [brutally, as he enters]. It's cold as the devil here ! Wood ! [He approaches the fire, left.] Soldiers [upstage]. Wood! Vargas [also going to the fire]. Light torches, too! We shan't be able to see a thing in a few minutes. MiG. Torches! Soldiers [outside]. Torches! [ 22 ] PATRIE Delrio [going to the table]. Come, let's waste no time ! We almost froze at the Jacobins' ! NoiR. Where is Captain Rincon? MiG. At the Town Hall, Monseigneur, in order to disarm the Civil Guard! NoiR. Very good ! And, by the way, this Karloo Van der Noot been found? Rys. [quivering, aside]. Karloo! Good God! what do these wretches want with him? [He listens with an air of anxiety.] MiG. Monseigneur, Karloo was not at home. Vargas [warming his feet]. Who is this Karloo? NoiR. [going to the right of the table in order to sit in the place first occupied by Rincon]. Former trumpeter of Monsieur d'Egmont, at the battle of Gravelines — very suspicious character! Delrio. Calvinist? NoiR. No, a Catholic, but not a jot better than a Calvinist. When he was captain of the Civil Guard he received an order to disarm his whole company within twenty-f our hours ; he did nothing whatsoever about it! [He sits down.] Delrio [above the table]. That looks very suspi- cious. Vargas. Miguel, send a soldier at once to the PATlllE captain with the following order: "Karloo is granted the right to take the weapons from his company to the Town Hall. If, however, at seven o'clock in the morning we lack a single musket, at a quarter- past he will have an opportunity at a distance of ten feet from the ground of meditating on the advantages of exactitude." [The soldiers laugh.] NoiR. [in an undertone]. It might be wise to begin at that point! Vargas [in an undertone, sitting down, left]. Yes, but we should not then have the muskets. There is always time later! Rys. [drawing a free breath]. He is saved! La Tr. [in a whisper]. Until to-morrow ! Rys. [likewise in a whisper, hopefully]. Oh, to- morrow ! La Tr. Really, Monsieur, you trembled much more for him than for yourself! Rys. I did, for I love him as a brother — I might say like a child ! NoiR. Let us begin now, Miguel. [At a signal from Delrio, the clerks lay the registers on the table, where they have already placed inkstands and pens.] How many prisoners are here? [24] PATRIE MiG. Excellency, a hundred and fifty — and close- packed ! NoiR. Let us enlighten them ! [ The soldiers laugh. To Delrio.1 Has Your Grace the papers? Delrio. Here! NoiR. [to Miguel]. Proceed — and quickly! [The soldiers have filled the benches; others sit around the bases of the pillars and on the tables. The stage is so crowded that scarcely anything of the men can be seen but their heads. Night falls; the stage is lighted only by the flickering torches and the reflections from many hearths. A prisoner, dressed in black, is brought forward from the back, right.] Vargas [looking over the documents ivhich he and Delrio have received from the clerks]. Who is this fellow? MiG. [to the prisoner]. What's your name? Prisoner. Balthazar Cuyp. NoiR. Profession? Prisoner [simply]. Pastor. [Murmurs from the soldiers.] Delrio. Very well! This simplifies matters! NoiR. Good! [To Miguel.] Take him away! Soldiers. Death ! Death ! 125 1 PATRIE MiG. Hang him! NoiR. Yes. MiG. Monseigneur, we have no more rope! Delrio. Then shoot him. Vargas [his nose buried among the documents]. Don't waste powder. Burn him with the others — that's the simplest way. Wood costs nothing. NoiR. You are right! Away with him to the Jacobins' ! Mig. To the Jacobins' ! [The soldiers open their ranks and allotv Cuyp to pass; then close them at once, left, as they shout: ''Death! Death!"] Next! [ The soldiers bring forward an old man.] NoiR. Who is this.'' Delrio [looking at a document]. Goberstraet from Naerden. Old Man [trembling]. Pity me, Monseigneur. I'm a poor, harmless old man. I'm a father — I have a family. Pity me! NoiR. [To Delrio]. What is the charge.' Delrio. Protested against the latest tax. Old Man. I meant no harm, Monseigneur. Pity me! [26] PATRIE NoiR. [pointing to the placard on the pillar]. Haven't you read the edict — article nine ? Old Man. Have mercy! [He disappears as the first prisoner did, amid the derision of the soldiers.] Nom. Next ! [A child of fourteen, who struggles with his guards, is brought fonvard. The soldiers have to drag him along on his knees.] Delrio. a child? MiG. Josuah Koppestock. Vargas. Refused to take off his cap as the pro- cession passed. [Murmurs in the crowd.] Child [terror-stricken]. Have pity, Monseigneur, I'm so young! NoiR. All the more reason — if we allowed these children to grow up as rebels ! [ To the soldiers.] Take him away! Child [breaking loose from his two guards, and clasping Noircarmes's knee, then his arm]. Mon- seigneur, have pity on me — pardon me! Noir. [casting him off]. Take him away! If we listened to them, they would all be innocent ! Take him off at once! [27] PATRIE Child [still struggling with the guards, who finally take him of]. Pity me! Help! Let me be! Help! Mother! Mamma! Mamma! [He disappears as the others have done, crying out as he goes.] La Tr. [aside to Rysoor]. This waiting is fearful, Monsieur; it tears my heart ! Rys, [also aside]. Poor child — and the mother! La Tr. Are you married, Monsieur le Comte! Rys. Alas, Monsieur: to a wife whom I adore! La Tr. Courage, Monsieur! Vargas. Now, the next ! Hurry up ! We're freez- ing! [The soldiers laugh brutally as Jonas is brought forward.] Rys. [nervously]. Ah, the bellringer! Poor devil! How does he happen to be here.' NoiR. Come forward! [He takes the documents from Vargas.] Vargas. Battery and assault on a soldier. Norn, [to Jonas]. Your name is Jonas? Jonas. Yes, Monseigneur. I'm also called "L'Enfle,"* but I don't insist on that! [The soldiers laugh.] Delrio [smiling]. Fine face! Ha! * " Blockhead." [28 1 PATRIE NoiR. [also smiling]. Yes. What do you do, my friend? Jonas [confidently]. Just now, Monseigneur, I spend my time objecting to things as they are, but a year ago, before the Duke of Alba came, I was bell- ringer of the Town Hall. NoiR. Ah, you're the bellringer? Good! You live in the belfry.' Jonas. Yes, Monseigneur, with my wife and little ones. They left me my lodgings on the main floor, after they'd stopped the ringing of the bells for service Vargas. Yes — and you are now lodging Corta- dilla the trumpeter at your place, are you not? [CoRTADiLLA advancss and makes a military salute.] Jonas. Yes, Monseigneur — unfortunately. Vargas. Well, the trumpeter Cortadilla, who is present, complains that he has suffered many humili- ations at your hands. Jonas. He is deprived of some things, Monsei- gneur — my wine ! He drank the whole cellar dry ! [The soldiers laugh.] NoiR. You should count yourself lucky, Maltre Jonas, to be allowed to quench the thirst of one of His Catholic Majesty's servants! Especially when [29 1 PATRIE he is the victim of such an infirmity : for he is dumb, you know — ever since the battle of Saint-Quentin. ■ Jonas. Yes, Monseigneur, he told me about that — a bullet that cut off half his tongue. NoiR. Well, then Jonas. A very unfortunate accident! What an awful tragedy! \Miat a talker he must have been before the battle! But now it's much worse — you can't understand a damned word he says — he ex- plains himself with his trumpet! He plays certain calls to tell the various circumstances of his life: one to announce that he is ready for meals; one means he wants soup; one for more wine, and I know that one! Why, we lead a dog's life, Monsei- gneur! He comes home at one in the morning ! [He imitates the call of a trumpet.] Ta ra ta ta ta! That means: "Open the door!" I get up — then he goes to bed; no sooner do I drop ofP to sleep than — [He again imitates the call, sadly] — Ta ra ta ta ta! He's sick! Again I get up and help him. I get no more sleep that night. All that's not so bad, but what do you think? This morning he took it into his head to invent a new call ! [Once more he imitates a call, this time allegro.] Ta ra ta ta ta ! D'you know what that means.'* [30 1 PATRIE NoiR. No — what? Jonas, "Have Madame Jonas come up to my room at once! I must speak to her!" [The sol- diers laugh.] I pretended not to hear! Then a louder call. I got angry — then we quarrelled; but, what the devil, he always has the last word with his trumpet! I'm damned if I take the rascal back! Vargas. By the way, Maitre Jonas, I notice here that there are serious reports about you. Jonas. Lord in Heaven! About me? Vargas. Yes, on account of your opinions. Jonas. My belfry gives me the only opinions I ever have. Vargas. Exactly! Well, your belfry is under suspicion ! Jonas. My belfry! Vargas. It is suspected of belonging to the rebels. Jonas. It never says anything! Vargas. Because it cannot ; but every one knows that, if it weren't muffled, it would play only Flemish airs — music which is hostile to the King! Jonas. But NoiR. [brutally]. That's enough! How many bells are there in your belfry? [311 PATRIE Jonas [intimidated]. Three, Monseigneur: the big one, called Roland ; then there's Jacqueline, and Jeanneton. They're for holidays, when the people used to have good times. Delrio. You have been ordered to sever all the ropes from these bells. Jonas. That's been done — and even the stairs leading up to the first landing have been smashed. NoiR. Good! But that is not enough! You were also ordered to play Spanish instead of Flemish melodies. Have you done that.'' Jonas. I've tried to, Monseigneur, but my bells can't change so easily; they're terribly stub- born. Vargas. I think the clown is making game of us! Delrio [aside]. Yes; but, you see, he's the only man in the city who can ring the bells ! We'll hang him later! NoiR. Master Bellringer, we give you exactly forty -eight hours in which to transform your Flemish belfry into a good Spanish one, faithful to the King and the Church ! Don't forget it ! Now go ! [Jonas is about to leave.] Vargas. One more word! You referred a mo- ment ago, my friend, to the days when people had a [32 1 PATRIE good time. This is Mardi-gras — the time when people should be gay Jonas. Well, you see V.^RGAS. You clown, in the da^'s when you lived in disorder and anarchy your life was one series of festivals and debauchery; now that the city is filled with soldiers in order to maintain discipline, you pretend to be downcast! There's not a mask in the streets; and on a holiday of this sort, too — not even a drunken reveller! Jonas [pointing to Cortadilla]. I beg your par- don — there's the trumpeter! [Laughs in the crowd.] NoiR. Ah, I had forgotten! Trumpeter Corta- dilla, give your arm to this ape; then decorate his head with feathers, or give him a mask — do anything you like — then walk around with him, from wine shop to wine shop, and gather as many comrades as you can! He will bear all expenses — and set an example! Go now, and enjoy your- selves ! Jonas [as Cortadilla takes his arm]. Only too happy, Monseigneur — too happy ! At least don't let him play his old trumpet ! Soldiers [Zaw^^in^]. Yes! Yes! Yes! [33] PATRIE NoiR. You're mistaken — that will add to the festivities [as Jonas is being taken off]. Jonas. That is too much pleasure at one time! [They go out arm in arm, while the soldiers laugh.] Rys. [to La Tremoille]. Well, the poor man got off easily ! Norn. Next! MiG. It's a woman ! [There is a movement in the crowd. A woman is brought in.] NoiR. Name? Delrio [reading a document which is handed to him]. Sarah Mathisoon — killed Spanish soldiers [Threatening murmurs among the soldiers.] NoiR. [to the woman]. Have you killed soldiers? Woman. I've killed ten! Soldiers. Death! She's a sorceress! Kill her! Death! NoiR. Silence! Wliat the devil! Woman. Bellows you beasts! NoiR. Why did you kill them? Woman. Do you ask me why? I'll tell 3'^ou! I'm a country woman — your soldiers broke into our house — they pillaged, stole, got drunk! When they [34 1 PATRIE drank all they could they beat my husband to death. They roasted my son alive, in order to make him confess where we had hidden our gold ! Drunk with blood, they took my pure and innocent daughter, a girl of sixteen, threw her about from one to the other — for fun, they said — until she died of shame and anger! And I was praying, calling to God, who is deaf! He didn't do a thing! There is no God! All [revolted at the idea]. Oh! Oh! Wo^L\N [turning to the soldiers]. No, there is no God! You are highway robbers and brutes! Why does He let you behave as you do? He doesn't avenge our wrongs. / had to do it! I myself! I made them all drink, more and more, so much that they fell down dead drunk. I locked every door and window of the house, and set it on fire, and burned them all ! Burned them alive, and heard them howl inside! I regret only one thing: that they died too soon, and that all of you were not with them, so that I could tear your hearts to pieces with my finger- nails, and gnaw them vn\h my teeth — you devils! Soldiers [fj/rioi/s/?/]. She's blaspheming ! Death! Drown the sorceress! NoiR. [to Vargas and Delrio]. Suppose we give her over to them ? [35 1 PATRIE Vargas. Good ! NoiR. We'll give her to you ! Take her away ! [The soldiers, with joyful cries, seize her. A bell rings, and the drums beat.] Vargas [standing up loith Noircarmes and Del- Rio]. TheAngelus! [ The soldiers fall to their knees. There is silence as the bell continues striking.] Rys. [who stands without taking his hat off; to La Tremoille in an undertone]. Please, please. Mar- quis, take off your hat! La Tr. [aside to Rysoor]. Will you take off yours, Monsieur le Comte? Rys. No! LaTr. Then I shall keep on mine! [The Angelus ceases striking. The soldiers rise as the drum beats, and take the shrieking woman away.] Soldiers. Drown her ! Drown her ! \N OMAN [as she is carried out]. Cut-throats! Kill me, torture me! You can't have back the lives of the men I killed ! Rys. [aside]. What frightful torture! Will this never end ? My God ! NoiR. [wJio, together with Delrio has reseated him- [36] PATRIE self]. Let us make haste. Messieurs; it is nearly night already. [Catching sight of Rysoor.] Who is that over there? MiG. Monseigneur, a citizen who has just been arrested. A spy has reported him. NoiR. What is his name? Rys. [advancing toivard Noircarmes]. My name is Count de Rysoor! Vargas [who has been standing in order to warm his feet, suddenly turning round] . The Count de Rysoor? [To Noircarmes.] I have certain notes regarding this prisoner, who deserves special attention. [To Rysoor.] Wius not Your Grace one of the chief officers of the citj- under the Queen Regent? Rys. I was so honored, and Madame la Regente deigned to receive me at her councils. Delrio. Then we should have no reason to wonder that matters turned out so badly in her time. Vargas [at the table, about to sit doivn]. You are charged with having attended the celebrated banquet at the Hotel de Culembourg! Rys. Yes, Monsieur. Vargas. You confess to having worn the cos- tume of the Queen's family — the Wallet and Shield — insignia of the revolt against royal authority? [37 1 PATRIE Rys. I beg to differ : I am emphatically opposed to senseless buffoonery, and have given my opinion to Monsieur dc Brederode, who agrees with the Prince of Orange. Vargas [sitting down]. Good! Let us speak of the Prince of Orange! You are accused of being a friend of his ! Rys. I am his childliood friend, Monsieur — one of his most faithful friends. NoiR. Of that rebel.? Delrio. Heretic? Rys. He lives according to the dictates of his conscience. Happy the man who can lay his head on the pillow without having obeyed another master ! Vargas. Your being simply a friend is not so im- portant; you are cited as his accomplice. You are here to clear yourself of that suspicion. Rys. If your Excellencies will be good enough to let me hear of what I am accused, I shall answer. Vargas [to whom Miguel has given a note]. You are charged, Monsieur le Comte, with having dis- appeared and been absent from this city for a period of four days. The object of this sojourn was an in- terview with William the Silent. Rys. Who makes that charge.? [38] PATRIE Vargas [pointing to a spy, who comes forward to the right]. This man! Tell him what you know. Spy, I know that Monsieur le Comte left his home Saturday at noon, and only returned to-day, Tuesday, after Vespers. Rys. That fellow is a groom who was discharged from my service for theft ! For the accomplishment of his base profession he gets six sous a day from headquarters. If I were to ask him to lay his hand on the Holy Scriptures and swear I had never left my door, I should merely have to offer him twelve. [ The soldiers laugh; their jeers serve as accom- paniment to the spy's exit.] NoiR. Silence! [The spy disappears.] Here is another proof : the clerk of the court presented him- self at your home yesterday, Monday, during the afternoon — you were not there. Rys. How was I to know he was coming? Vargas. Very well; but when your wife was questioned she was very much embarrassed, and answered that you had gone out ! Rys. Well, so I had! Vargas. Very good; but you must prove that you were at home when the curfew rang ! (39 1 PATRIE Rys. Let your Excellencies ask me to give you proof of that by a witness ! NoiR. You will have a chance of doing that, and easily. You are, as a rich merchant, lodging a Spanish oflBcer at your home. Rys. Yes; Captain Rincon and three soldiers. NoiR. [to Miguel]. Have Captain Rincon brought at once. [Soldiers run out.] Your Grace may be seated. If the captain's statement does not con- stitute sure proof that you were at home last night, then your absence is a certainty, and you may as well confess to the other charges ! [During the following dialogue Noircarmes, Vargas, and Delrio sign documents.] Rys. God's will be done! [He returns to his 'place] La Tr. [in an undertone]. Well, that's over! Let us not lose hope ! Rys. [aside, quickly]. Monsieur le Marquis, I am a dead man ! La Tr. Good God ! is that so? Did you leave the city? Rys. For four days! The captain will swear I was away. I haven't a quarter of an hour to live! La Tr. Ah, Monsieur le Comte! [40] PATRIE Rys. INIonsieur, every minute is numbered. I have a cruel favor to ask of you. LaTr. With all my heart! Rys. If you ever escape from this hell, as I sin- cerely hope you will, go to the Place du Grand-Mar- che, where I live, see the Countess de Rysoor, and tell her what they have done to me. La Tr. I give you my word of honor, I will do it. Rys. Break the news gently, you understand? Do not tell it bluntly, but come gradually to the point. Although I may appear ridiculous to you. Monsieur le Comte, with my gray hair, I love my wife with the p