PLAYS 
 
 BY 
 
 JACINTO BENAVENTE 
 
PLAYS BY 
 JACINTO BENAVENTE 
 
 PLAYS, FIRST SERIES: 
 His Widow's Husband, La Malquerida. The 
 Evil Doers of Good, The Bonds of Interest 
 
 PLAYS, SECOND SERIES: 
 ISTo Smoking, Princess Bebé, Autumnal 
 Roses, The Governor's Wife 
 
 Each 12mo. $2.00 net 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
• PLAYS 
 
 BY 
 
 JACINTO BENAVENTE 
 
 SECOND SERIES 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN GARRETT UNDERBILL 
 
 B£PB£S£NTATIVE OF THE SOCIEDAD DE AUTORES ESPAÑOLES IN THE UNITED 
 STATES AND CANADA 
 
 AUTHORIZED EDITION 
 
 
 J 1 > » 1! 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 1919 
 
7*? 
 
 JUL 
 
 COPTKIOHT, 1918, 1919, BT 
 
 JOHN GARRETT UNDERHILL» 
 
 PubUshed October, 1919 
 
 •/c3 C> ^J / 
 

 f CONTENTS 
 
 I PAGE 
 
 Benaventiana vii 
 
 No Smoking 1 
 
 Princess Bebé 13 
 
 Í The Governor's Wife 121 
 
 Autumnal Roses 219 
 
 4208 
 
 
r 
 
 BENAVENTIANA 
 
 A writer so subtle and various as Bena vente must of neces- 
 sity have conducted experiments in technique. Talent of 
 the first rank moulds its own instruments of expression, or 
 adapts Ihose which exist to new purposes. It will be inter- 
 esting to consider this aspect of the Benaventian theatre in 
 the light of its history, and to anticipate, perhaps, the con- 
 clusions of the reader. 
 
 When Spanish criticism appraised the yojiihiul Benavente j 
 as pre-eminently a satirist, it was unquestionably correct in »^ ' j 
 its jucigment. Although much of his early work had been | 
 serious, and the complexion of his thought as well as his 
 attitude toward life had become apparent by 1893. wit a nd 
 h uTpor in their different forms were the qualities most char- 
 acteristic of his genius; they were most personal to it, most 
 original, and most conspicuous. His wit was incisive and 
 penetrating, free from bias in any special connection, ex- 
 hibiting remarkable power of detachment, but unmistakably, j 
 also, it was illuminative of character, with the passage of 
 time growing more many-sided and tolerant. 
 
 The literatures of the Latin peoples have habitually been 
 hospitable to secondary meanings, double ententes, which in 
 certain languages, such as the Italian, have been erected into 
 definite codes of communication. The idea is unmasked by 
 veiling it. In its cruder phases, the by-play is one of vulgar 
 jest, but in skilful hands, like those of Braceo in his // frutto 
 acerbo, it arrives at the dignity of a continual traflSc in for- 
 bidden subjects, which imparts to the entire work a per- 
 petual grimace of sex. It was apparent to Benavente that 
 here was a medium which was susceptible of wholly different 
 application. More than the sexual motive falls under thej^^ 
 social ban. The mind is alive with reticences and reserva- J/ 
 tions far more interesting than any ideas which it may seel 
 fit to express. Benavente develops this system of doublei 
 ententes, previously confined to traffic m contraband wareSjá 
 into a system of multiple ententes, in which he attempts to 
 
r 
 
 viii BENAVENTIANA 
 
 realize upon the stage the inarticulate as well as the articu- 
 I late elements of intellect and of character. 
 
 For all its seeming simplicity, h is style is one of the m ost 
 
 I complex and highly personal i n literature. Primarily, it~rs* 
 
 I s uggest ive. With the thought, he contri vpsf to p nnvpy fhf^ , 
 
 i mplicatio n. The. direct meaning is not of chief concern, 
 
 but its connotations in the mind which harbors it. It is a 
 
 y'i style built upo n contrast , seizing upon the inconsistencies in 
 
 ^. which huaaaa natmfcis .ffioaLiaJLimaklyj-e.Yea]ed- Given one 
 
 point, the spectator is led to infer another, so that, without 
 
 visible means, or the appearance of doing so, the playwright 
 
 turns his characters inside out, till we view them with him 
 
 from all sides at once, while at the same time we see through 
 
 them. He shows us not o nly what his peoplg_lhink,.^iit 
 
 how the y feel ^l^pn thpy tliink ifj tReir doubts and f^.í^í^oTn- 
 
 pany ing reservatio ns .f His theatre has been called a Jtheatre 
 of ideas, an d it is a theatre of ide as in so far as ideaa^are an 
 expression of intense inteUectual q^gtivity. B uX'^Bena vente 
 is not concerned with ideas, he is concerned wiih-thought-as- 
 it formula tes itseli— with ideas in the making^ Thus his 
 comedy stimulates the mind to an extraordinary degree, in 
 which it is possible for him to communicate to an audience 
 what under more usual circumstances it would fail to per- 
 
 !i ceive. This is what he means when he says that he does 
 I not make his plays for the public, but the public for his 
 plays. He cre ates th€ LJii£iital„attitude which is necessary 
 for their appreciation, and, by a subtle psychologic or char- 
 acter dialectic, through which personality is revealed by 
 sharp reversals and successive mental jolts, disclosing the 
 innermost workings of the soul and its springs of action, he 
 induces the auditor to become for an evening a collaborator 
 himself, read ing bet ween the lines. His style may best be 
 compared to a rational cubist art, in which the elements are 
 all valid and intelligible in themselves, but which surrender 
 their true significance only when taken in juxtaposition. 
 
 With Benavente, the stor y is n ever of pr edomi nant im- 
 portance, nor in the beginningwas his treatment of It^un- 
 usual, or markedly individual. His plots unfolded symmet- 
 rically and were suflScient to sustain the interest through 
 the customary sequence of situations and climaxes. Yet as 
 his dialogue matured in fertility of suggestion, obviously a 
 
\^ 
 
 BENAVENTIANA ix 
 
 purely objective plot, a chain of circumstance and outward 
 fact, witH laws of its own, became an unsuitable vehicle for 
 its transmission. The tendency of Benavente's art is away 
 from the plastic toward the insubstantial. JJie transparent. 
 A fresh adjustment became imperative. What he had ac- 
 complished with satire he next essays with plot, turning his 
 attention to its secondary and suggestive values, transfer- 
 ring the emphasis from the events to the inferences which 
 wait upon them, and the atmosphere which they create, 
 either directly or through collocation. In the field of expo- 
 sition, the method may be observed in the first act of "The 
 Governor's Wife." A similar extension of plot had been 
 attempted by the symbolists, through the imposition of 
 parallel meanings upon the action. With Benavente, on the 
 other hand, the events induce their own meaning, while, in 
 order to permit them to do this, he deprives the story of 
 definite form. In the polychromatic spectacles, *' Saturday 
 Night" and **The Fire Dragon," belonging to the years ^ 
 1903 and 1904, vast, crowded canvases which might have 
 been painted by Tintoretto or by Rubens, teeming with an 
 abundance too multifarious to be imprisoned within the 
 limits of the stage, the drama is removed from the domain 
 of structural regularity, until it depends for its effect upon 
 the imj)ressipns derived from a panorama of incident and of 
 situation in which the story is swallowed up and upon occa-^ 
 sion lost from view. These dramas may be considered the 
 romantic outburst, the ungovernable adventure of the Bena- 
 ventian theatre, by very lack of restraint stimulating the 
 imagination to a perception, at once restless and inchoate, 
 of the awe and majesty of life. 
 
 Variety so kaleidoscopic precludes, of course, unity of im- 
 pression. At best, fact is inexpressive, and Benavente seems 
 to have felt that, independently developed, whatever its 
 transcendence, it was susceptible only of the broadest effects. 
 Besides, instead of reinforcing his character satire, the sweep 
 and apparatus of these great spectacles dissipated and be- 
 wildered it. He does not return to the manner again. In- « 
 stead, he su bordinates the story; it ceases to be the prime 
 factor in the dramatic fabric, or, in any proper sense of the 
 word, the action. Henceforward the story becomes sub- 
 servlcint wholly to the main action, which thus is unrfied, and' 
 
X BENAVENTIANA 
 
 this action is entirely psychological and subjective. In life 
 as upon the stage, says Princess Bebé, the real entertainment 
 goes on behind the scenes. "The Bonds of Interest" pro- 
 vides a typical example of this new dramaturgy. Rather 
 than the outward history of the characters, the story becomes 
 the window through which they may be seen, as they react 
 upon each other, and so interpret themselves. The old values 
 are present, but they are changed. The danger which besets 
 the reader of Bena vente is not that he will fail to appreciate 
 him, but that he will fail to appreciate him at his proper 
 worth. His d r^m^^ i,s 5^, Hrama of ^hflrartpr. not because it is 
 occupied with character, but because it takes place within 
 it, and the conflict is joined in the play and interplay of 
 thought and emotion, of volition and inhibition, of impulse 
 and desire, as they are colored and predetermined by tradi- 
 tion, by heredity, by convention, by education, and all the 
 confused network of motive and prejudice of which conscious 
 assertion of personality is but a part. This is the struggle of 
 modern life, which takes place in the individual conscious- 
 ness, as it accommodates itself to the complex of society and 
 of fixed environment, the denouement of which is already 
 foreshadowed in the mind before it is projected, imperfectly 
 and fragmentarily, into the region of deeds and of fact. 
 
 Drama so subtle that it hovers continually among the 
 shadows of the subliminal self, might appear to be far di- 
 vorced from the stage. Yet, in reality, Benavente is one of 
 the most theatric of writers. It must not be forgotten that 
 he was an actor, and that as an actor he began at the bottom. 
 The tricks of the pantomimist, the directness of the low 
 comedian and the clown, lie at the foundation of his dramatic 
 training. The clown's art is very simple; it is dependent 
 upon the immediateness of the audience's response. In the 
 popular theatres and beside the circus ring, BenSVente 
 learned that any effect may be achieved in the theatre which 
 is capable of immediate perception — it makes no matter how 
 subtle, how elusive the idea, so long as it is perceived. All of 
 his effects, if they are perceived at all, are perceived easily. 
 *'The most agreeable, as well as the most artistic, expression 
 of force is lightness." He has been enabled to ignore the 
 common precepts of craftsmanship because of his intimate 
 knowledge of the small change, the minor symbols of the 
 
BENAVENTIANA xi 
 
 actor's calling, which have made possible to him endless 
 vistas of variety and of picturesque suggestion. The task of 
 the actor in the Benaventian theatre is to place his finger 
 upon these minor effects, to catch the thought in the embryo, 
 not so much to convey it as to hint its direction, to reflect^ 
 the sudden flash, to pursue personality into its hiding-places, 
 at the same time engaging the spectator and luring him 
 along, until, passing over every facet of his subject, always 
 moving, never still, he integrates at last this drama of the 
 spirit with the actualities of th^ outward life. 
 
 "No Smoking," the first comedy included in this Second 
 Series, is a study in obvious types and in vulgar mentality. 
 The^anecdote upon which it turns has long been familiar in 
 ¿panisK, having been employed in various forms by other 
 writers, among them by Palacio Valdés, but it is distinguished 
 here by the singular vigor and force of the characterization, 
 which is almost fleshly in the sense of bodily presence con- 
 veyed. The piece was contributed to the Teatro Lara, 
 Madrid, in 1904, upon the occasion of the benefit of the 
 comedienne Leocadia Alba. 
 
 "The Governor's Wife," acted at the Teatro de la Comedia 
 in the same city three years previously, is a mordant satire, 
 associated with the name of the actress, Rosario Pino, who 
 created the role of Josefina. The political life of the prov- 
 inces, compact of unsavory intrigue, and dominated by the 
 perpetual pressure of the strong arm of caciquismo, or the 
 boss system, will be found to be mirrored exactly both in 
 incident and in atmosphere. The satire, however, never 
 becomes utilitarian, nor does it concern itself with what is 
 called in the literary phrase "the castigation of follies and 
 vices." Rather than satiric, the play is profoundly ironic, 
 descending quickly from the sphere of institutions and of 
 I)olitics to that of the personalities which underlie and ex- 
 plain them. Nowhere else has the author shown a keener 
 eye for the niceties of human imperfection, or been so scep- 
 tical of the grip of virtue upon the line of salvation. 
 
 Upon the technical side, the comedy is interesting as an 
 example of objective realism. It is a fabric of infinite detail, 
 of detail heaped upon detail. In the first act, in particular, 
 the incidents are approximately all of equal value, nor have 
 
xii BENAVENTIANA 
 
 they any conspicuous emotional quality which imparts to 
 them coherence, or lends them unity. The detail has been 
 related, composed, if one will, with exceptional adroitness; 
 nevertheless, the effect arises chiefly from the absolute verac- 
 ity and minute photographic property of the incidents them- 
 selves, by cumulation, as they follow each other in the 
 bustling sequence of a provincial holiday. The material in- 
 sinuates its significance without interference or interpreta- 
 tion upon the part of the playwright. The living scene ap- 
 pears before the spectator, and he comes to participate in it 
 in so many ways that he is taken off his guard, until he ac- 
 quires at last a sort of citizenship in the town of Moraleda — 
 that abode of conventional morality — whose people he seems 
 to know casually, as upon the street, or at the café, some 
 fairly well, perhaps, even thoroughly, while there are others 
 whom he scarcely remembers at all. By far the most nega- 
 tive and corrosive of his works, "The Governor's Wife," con- 
 firmed the^ misapprehension of Benavente at one time preva- 
 lent, as a purely destructive, maliciously clever writer. 
 
 *' Princess Bebé" and "Autumnal Roses," which complete 
 the volume, on the other hand are serious dramas, nf positi\-f> 
 content. The former, published in 1905, but withheld from 
 the stage until 1909, is a work composed by the author 
 peculiarly to please himself. "Sometimes I say what I 
 think, sometimes I have regard for the opinion of others." 
 Certain resemblances between events in the play and others 
 not yet forgotten at the Spanish Court tempered in some 
 degree the warmth of its reception when acted by Maria 
 Guerrero and Fernando Diaz de Mendoza during their 
 tenancy of the Teatro Español, although this, indéedpwas 
 not surprising when it is considered that the initial perform- 
 ances took place at what was then, to all intents and pur- 
 poses, the National Court Theatre. "Princess Bebé" is the 
 embodiment of the aspirations and ebullience of youth, 
 boundless in energy, yet tormented with uncertainties and 
 misgivings, the natural hesitations of the mind which has 
 not yet found itself. As a painter of manners, Benavente 
 may here be found at his best. Few plays are so various or 
 contain so much, few disseminate an equal atmosphere of 
 breeding or display like perception of the futile, exacerbated 
 sentimentalities of the prostitute, the criminal, and the 
 
BENAVENTIANA xiii 
 
 degenerate. The heroine is enmeshed in a snare of artificial-" 
 ities, seeking for truth amid environments that are most 
 thoroughly false, from the pretentiousness of the Court 
 through the pretenses of the theatre and the mimicries of 
 the demi-monde, down to Bohemia and the underworld, 
 counterfeits which are most deceptive of all. 
 
 Simple while it is most complex, brilliant in wit yet en- 
 gagingly human, exact in portraiture yet at every moment 
 incomparably suggestive, "Princess Bebé" floats before the 
 eyes of the spectator like a web of delusions so transparent 
 that they become luminous as truth. If the basis of reality 
 when disclosed seems little more substantial than the un- 
 reality of appearances, it must be remembered in mitigation 
 that the hopes of youth are high. In the words of Professor 
 Federico de Onís, "this type of comprehensive interpreta- 
 tion, which plumbs the eyil in humanity later to affirm the 
 idealistic, has been the essence of what is called Spanish 
 realism; it is the aesthetic conception of Velazquez and of 
 Cervantes. The work of Benavente Js a modern form of 
 the same conception, and is, therefore, essentially Spanish in 
 spirit." It is strange to one familiar with the national his- 
 tory that the modern Spanish writers who have attracted 
 most attention abroad should have been those of the florid 
 tradition of Murillo and of Calderón, of Echegaray, and of 
 Blasco Ibáñez, rather than of the high Castilian stock. 
 
 "Autumnal Roses," presented at the Teatro Español in 
 1905, is a comedy of Madrid life. Even before he is a 
 Spaniard, Benavente is a Madrileño. He has drawn in this 
 play a veracious picture of the financial circles of the capital 
 city, of the manners of the upper middle class, which is | 
 exceptional in its simplicity. No drama could be more \ 
 innocent of adventitious appeal, yet during the decade which 
 followed its production, "Autumnal Roses" has assumed by 
 common consent a foremost place in the contemporary, 
 Spanish theatre. It is characteristic of Benavente's plays 
 that they grow upon the mind; not only by repetition, but 
 through the subtlety of its charm, each succeeding play 
 seems to cast some reflection upon and to illuminate un- 
 suspected recesses in those which have preceded it. Prop- 
 erly V the comedy is the complement, or, in a sense, the sequel 
 to "Princess Bebé," which it follows almost directly in order 
 
xiv BENAVENTIANA 
 
 of composition. One is a drama of youth and the other of 
 middle-age; in one the subject is the venturing forth of the 
 spirit, in the other its return home again, when the disillu- 
 sionments of the wander-years find their compensation in 
 the family and beside the hearth. It is an error, however, 
 to pronounce "Autumnal Roses" to be a glorification of 
 bourgeois morality, or an apology for marriage when lib- 
 ^ erally "Construed; to read the comedy in such a light is to 
 ^-misconstrue and to miss its meaning. The story of Isabel 
 and Gonzalo is laid in the home, because it is in the home 
 /' that the revelation of character is most intimate and most 
 ]/ personal, and there it is that the pleasures and sorrows of 
 life are most quickly and most keenly felt. Yet even the 
 home has its conventions, its prescribed manners and modes 
 of living, in which, too, according to Benavente, the heart 
 does not reside — much less does it in any ideal perfection. 
 Life matures in the affections, where alone its fruits are 
 cherished, in those attachments in which the yea s at last 
 yield up their reward, after persistent struggle and patient 
 endurance, after trials and imperfections and misunder- 
 standings, slowly ripening into esteem, and the respect which 
 is of long growth, made but the gentler by much forgiving, 
 and coming to all of us in due season, in one form or another, 
 who have borne ourselves well in the journey through life. 
 
 The theatre of Benavente is dynamic, because it deals 
 with thought in the process of crystallization. Hence the 
 secret of its power. It anticipates appearances, and makes 
 short work of artificialities. Although all classes of m.en and 
 women are reproduced in his work, there are no types. 
 Through all his scenes, one will search in vain for one hero, 
 and one will search in vain for one villain. The jmachinery 
 of life plays small part in his analyses, which delve beneath 
 occupation. The human terms of problems engage him; the 
 postulates which inhere in their solution, the working out of 
 these in feeling and ways of thought, and in acts afterward 
 of human and irremediable import. He is free from nostrums 
 and pdSed problems; he neither courts nor wins the unimagi- 
 natÍA?^^,.jy;ig dull mind, nor is his drama more portentous than 
 life, but from page^o page and scene to scene it lives with a 
 strange, vivifying power, which infuses even the slightest 
 
BENAVENTIANA xv 
 
 detail with the significance of the greatest, and makes his 
 work in its totaUty one of the most human docjiments that 
 literature has known. BenavenlsVistHe most sophisticated 
 of arts, because it is the flower of an old, anciently corrupt, 
 disillusioned civilization, which has at length awakened spiri- 
 tually and searched itself, taking account of the evil with 
 what there is of the good, and set itself again to become 
 strong. 
 
 MAXIMS BY BENAVENTE AND OBSERVATIONS UPON 
 TEE- STAGE 
 
 The public demands that serious things be treated friv- 
 olously, and that nonsense be taken seriously. What it will 
 not tolerate is serious treatment of serious things, or speaking 
 flippantly of nonsense. 
 
 Everything that is of importance to the proper under- 
 standing of a play must be repeated at least three times 
 during the course of the action. The first time half of the 
 audience will understand it; the second time the other half 
 will understand it. Only at the third repetition may we be 
 sure that everybody understands it, except, of course, deaf 
 persons and some critics. 
 
 The public defies comprehension. No, the public is 
 merely curious; but curiosity passes, while respect remains. 
 
 He who thinks every day cannot think the same thing 
 every day. 
 
 To paint in broad strokes, but so artfully that at a dis- 
 tance it appears as if we had painted in miniature, is at once 
 the problem and the art of the theatre. 
 
 One-fourth part of the morality, rectitude, and sense of 
 justice which an audience brings into the theatre would, if 
 left outside, make the world over into paradise. 
 
 Prince Hamlet, although the prototype of doubt, like all 
 sceptics had faith in what was most preposterous: the 
 probability that a theatrical performance would disclose 
 anything. 
 
 Art is a furious individualist. 
 
^ 
 
 xvi BENAVENTIANA 
 
 All of us are shocked once a year by what goes on about 
 us for the rest of the year without shocking us, or, indeed, 
 attracting our attention at all. 
 
 Art is the one subject upon which aristocracy and de- 
 mocracy agree. Both invariably vote for foolishness and 
 vulgarity. 
 
 .It is not easy to surprise the heart while the intelligence 
 ^olds out. 
 
 With very notable exceptions, the prepossession of good 
 actors for bad plays is as general as it is deplorable. 
 
 Many, upon going to the theatre and seeing a detestable 
 play, think mistakenly: *'I could do this thing better my- 
 self." The fact is that they could do it better, only their 
 better would be worse for the dramatic effect. In the thea- 
 tre, even to be bad requires a badness all its own. 
 
 No, the theatre, like all other forms of art, is many-sided, 
 and neither can nor should live by exclusion. All styles are 
 good, even the dull, if there is any adequate reason for 
 its being so. Only dulness for its own sake is inadmissible; 
 it is not like art for art's sake. Let us be sincere with our- 
 selves. When we read "Don Quixote" or "The Divine 
 Comedy," or Shakespeare's plays for the first time, were we 
 not upon the point of finding them a little tiresome.'' If 
 we had permitted ourselves to be overcome by the first im- 
 pression, and had ceased to read, should we not have sacri- 
 ficed the most profound artistic emotions of our lives ^ 
 
 It is not more difficult to write a good play than it is a 
 good sonnet, only one must know how to write it, just as 
 one must a sonnet. This is the principal resemblance be- 
 tween the theatre and other forms of literature. 
 
 The theatre must be loved for itself, perhaps with greater 
 devotion than any other form of art. The true playwright 
 must have passed his life in the theatre, he must have seen 
 all the plays and all the actors within his reach, and he must 
 have acted himself. Remember that no small part of Shake- 
 speare and Lope de Rueda and Moliere was the actor. To 
 the playwright the world must be a vast stage, men and 
 
BENAVENTIANA 
 
 xvu 
 
 women must be tragic heroes and heroines, or comedians in 
 one immense farce. The most beautiful sights of nature 
 must appeal to his eye as stage scenery. And then, too, he 
 must have the knack of finding his plays. 
 
 If ideas were to determine what we wrote, we should 
 always write the same thing, and what we wrote would for- 
 ever be the same flummery. Art must be spontaneous, like 
 the play of children, an expression of life, of strength, of 
 natural abundance. Later, art will take on order and, again 
 like the play of children, fall into a certain rhythm, so that 
 what was at first mere activity, will presently become beauty, 
 and at last will be found good. 
 
 The impressions of the artist are not evanescent, nor do 
 they linger in the memory like common recollections of 
 pleasure or of pain. The artist's brain is ruminant of emo- 
 tions, transforming what at first was only heat into heat 
 and light combined. Thus, through a constant effort of will, 
 what was his life becomes at last the soul of his art, so that 
 every artist can exclaim with Mme. Dorval, seeing the audi- 
 ence rise in enthusiastic applause: "They do well to ap- 
 plaud me, for I have given them my life.'* 
 
 The spirit of the truly great artist differs from that of 
 the mediocre talent, who is always thoroughly at home in 
 his works, which seem to belong to him, where he is com- 
 fortable and satisfied. To the true artist, rather, work is 
 the prison of genius, and something forever hovers over it 
 with the melancholy yearning of an infinite longing, seeking 
 an outlet that it may be free. The best of his genius is not 
 what is expressed in his works, but what escapes from them. 
 
 Benavente's theory of translation is outlined in his preface 
 to his own rendering of "King Lear": 
 
 "Modern criticism prefers the type of translation which is 
 known as interlinear. It distrusts translators, and with 
 better reason it distrusts the literary translator. Truth, 
 however, like virtue, is always to be found upon middle 
 ground. An interlinear translation is preferable for the use 
 of those who are already familiar with the language of the 
 original work, or, else, who are engaged in the study of it. 
 
xviii BENAVENTIANA 
 
 To others, however, it must always prove difficult, and dis- 
 agreeable as well. 
 
 "A perfect translation would be one which succeeded 
 in conveying the spirit of the author in its entirety by means 
 of the words which he himself would have employed, given 
 his temperament, his individual style, his period, and even 
 the identical circumstances under which the work was com- 
 posed, had his medium of expression been the language into 
 which it is about to be translated. To effect such an ideal 
 translation, the translator, of course, must be none other 
 than the author himself. 
 
 **In this translation of mine ... I have sought clarity 
 before everything else. . . . After clarity, I have sought 
 fidelity; whenever it has been possible for me to be a faithful 
 translator, I have been one. Finally, I have contrived that 
 my translation should not be altogether colorless and cold. 
 Rather than to correctness of language or to elegance of 
 style, I have attended to the life and spontaneity of the 
 dramatic dialogue. Shakespeare was not only a playwright, 
 but he was what we call to-day a man of the theatre. His 
 sublimities and his buffooneries, his great qualities as well 
 as his great defects, are always those of the playwright who 
 is deeply versed in the theatre, and who is familiar with his 
 public. He was not an actor and a manager for nothing." 
 
 These principles have been followed in the translation of 
 these plays. 
 
NO SMOKING 
 
 FARCE IN ONE ACT 
 
 First Presented at the Teatro Lara, Madrid, on the 
 Evening of the Third of March, 1904 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 A Lady 
 
 A Young Lady 
 A Gentleman 
 A Conductor 
 Several Voices 
 
NO SMOKING 
 
 A compartment in a first-class railway-carriage. 
 The Gentleman is seated alone when the curtain rises, 
 
 A Voice. [OiUside] Three minutes! The train stops 
 three minutes ! 
 
 Another Voice. Water! Fresh water! Who wants 
 water ? 
 
 Another Voice. Here, girl ! Water ! 
 The Lady and the Young Lady enter. 
 
 Lady. Hurry up; it only stops a minute. I thought we'd 
 die in that compartment. See if we have everything. 
 One, two. . . . Where's the basket ? The basket ! 
 
 Young Lady. Here it is, mamma. 
 
 Lady. Gracious! What a fright you did give me! The 
 one thing, too, your aunt asked us to bring with us — She 
 would always have insisted that we lost it on purpose. — 
 Good afternoon. 
 
 Gentleman. Good afternoon. I beg your pardon, but 
 as I was riding alone, although it says "No Smoking'*. . . . 
 
 Lady. For goodness' sake, don't stop upon our account! 
 Smoke as much as you want to — it doesn't bother me, or 
 my daughter, either. We are used to it. Her poor father, 
 my first husband — who is now in glory — was never without 
 a cigar in his mouth. As he bit off one, he lit it with the butt 
 of the other. And my second husband — who now rests in 
 peace — they were alike as two buttons; you could scarcely 
 tell the difference. I had a difficulty at one time myself, a 
 
 3 
 
4 NO SMOKING 
 
 Súffóo'aíiiíig.feéliiig, :air.st«jffed up here — terrible distress — 
 and the doctors were telling me that it was asthma and that 
 it wasn't asthma — Well, I smoked then myself — aromatic 
 cigarettes — v/hich didn't do me any good, either, by the way, 
 I can say that. So you see as far as we are concerned .... 
 My dear, what on earth are you doing with that basket? 
 Don't you see that you've got it with the holes against the 
 wall, and the poor animal will be smothered to death ? It's 
 a cat, yes, sir, an aunt of my daughter's — she requested us 
 to bring it with us, as a favor to her. She is my sister-in- 
 law. It began to howl the moment the conductor came 
 after the tickets, and this poor child had to sit there and 
 sing and laugh so as to drown it — so the conductor couldn't 
 tell who was howling. I should say it was a favor ! 
 
 A Voice. [Outside] All aboard ! Passengers who are go- 
 ing will please take the train ! 
 
 Lady. Good ! They are afraid we might be left behind. 
 However, we are off now — But you needn't think you are 
 inconveniencing us. You can't annoy us by smoking. Be- 
 fore we changed we were travelling in the ladies' compart- 
 ment, and we transferred to this one as soon as we could be- 
 cause there were people in it one simply couldn't travel 
 with; they were out of the question. You would think that 
 people who travelled first class would have manners, that 
 they would know something. But not a bit of it ! Believe 
 me, if you want to find out what people are like, play cards 
 with them, or watch them eat, or else go travelling. You'll 
 find out then soon enough. There was a woman in that 
 compartment — I say she was a woman because I don't 
 know what else to call her — with her companion — she must 
 have been her companion, she was with her anyway — well, 
 I can tell you I was mortified. I was ashamed — such a con- 
 versation ! Between the two of them ! They might as well 
 
NO SMOKING 5 
 
 have been sitting in their own parlors. As far as that goes, 
 you know, speaking for myself, a widow twice, it was noth- 
 ing to me; but before my daughter. ... I had to make her 
 sit with her head out of the window all the way. It was 
 pretty chilly for her. You can see for yourself she has 
 taken cold. And she's got a cinder in her eye, too — worse 
 luck ! Her eyes are the best part of her. 
 
 Young Lady. For mercy's sake, mamma ! . What will this 
 gentleman think.'* I hope you don't mind mamma. 
 
 Lady. Keep quiet, for heaven's sake! Such women! 
 And they didn't stop there. One of them, tired of gabbling, 
 I suppose, takes out a book if you please, and settles herself 
 down to read. And what a book! There was a woman 
 on the cover in her chemise, fanning herself. 
 
 Gentleman. Evidently hot 
 
 Lady. You needn't tell me it was hot. 
 
 The Gentleman, with a detached air, reaches for a 
 book which has been lying on the seat beside him. 
 
 Gentleman. You cannot always be sure. Sometimes the 
 publishers — so as to attract attention — And then it turns 
 out that there is nothing in the book, after all. 
 
 Lady. You needn't tell me. Why, didn't she begin to 
 laugh right out loud, and the other one wanted to know what 
 she was laughing at ? And she started in to read to her, at 
 the top of her voice. It was too much for me this time. 
 There we sat in that compartment, helpless, wondering 
 what was coming next. I made up my mind I'd have to 
 ask them to show some consideration for the girl. I'd bet- 
 ter have held my tongue! How they did go for us! I 
 didn't ring the alarm and stop the train because I was too 
 excited. It isn't safe to travel with people who begin to 
 gabble and talk the minute they lay eyes on you, and tell 
 you all their private affairs just as if you were one of the 
 
6 NO SMOKING 
 
 family. People ought to be careful what they say. The 
 very least that happens is that they tell you some scandal 
 or dishonesty or something of the sort about Mr. So-and-so 
 — that he is this way or that he is that way, and the next 
 thing you know he turns out to be your father. And a per- 
 son who would talk like that about your father, what wouldn't 
 he say about your uncle or your cousins or any one else in 
 the family ? And there you are ! , 
 The Conductor enters. # 
 
 Conductor. Good afternoon. . • ♦ 
 
 Lady. The tickets, child ! What have you done with the 
 tickets? 
 
 Young Lady. Why, you have them, mamma ! 
 
 Lady. No, my dear; I gave them to you — the last time 
 they came round. I am so sorry — [The cat begins to howl.] 
 My dear! [The Young Lady begins to sing.] I can't find 
 them; you must have them. What's that.^ Ah, yes! Of 
 course ! Wait a minute. Here they are 
 
 Conductor. Thank you. G9od afternoon. [He goes out. 
 
 Young Lady. What did you ask me for ? You knew 
 perfectly well that I couldn't stop singing. 
 
 Lady. I wonder what that animal has against the con- 
 ductor.'* I told you it was a nuisance; now judge for your- 
 self. If it wasn't that my relations with my sister-in-law 
 are a little bit strained — you understand — I don't want to 
 give her a chance to do any talking — Well, the fact is she 
 wasn't pleased because I married a second time. Just as if 
 I would be likely to forget my first husband any sooner on 
 that account ! Put yourself in my place. Suppose you had 
 been a widow of twenty-six without any visible means of 
 support, and the man who was in love with you, without 
 any offense to his predecessor, without reflecting upon his 
 merits in the least, was the best man in the world — ^I ought 
 
NO SMOKING 7 
 
 to have known, though, that it couldn*t last. Something 
 was sure to happen — Good Lord ! What's the matter ? 
 
 Gentleman. We are coming to a tunnel. 
 
 Lady. Horrors ! [They pass into a tunnel. After a moment 
 they come out] Don't look at that gentleman. I was the 
 one who pinched you on the arm 
 
 Gentleman. Madam! 
 
 Lady. But that was not all. My sister-in-law is of a 
 very domineering disposition. She is the moneyed mem- 
 ber of the family, and, naturally, she expects everybody to 
 bow down before her. She wants them to grovel. Well, 
 that isn't my style. If I say anything she doesn't like, it 
 results in an explosion. Now she has set herself on marry- 
 ing my daughter to a nephew of hers about whom we know 
 absolutely nothing. It is a delicate subject. A woman only 
 marries once; at least, the first time that is all that she 
 counts on. She plans no further ahead. She says he is a 
 nice fellow, but I have made inquiries — Look out of the 
 window, my dear — I hear he is very fond of the ladies. 
 But what of that? All men are alike. Would you believe 
 it, when we had been married only eight days, I surprised 
 my first husband kissing the nurse .^ 
 
 Gentleman. Did you have a nurse when you had been 
 married only eight days ? 
 
 Lady. For my little sister. For heaven's sake, what did 
 you think ? 
 
 Young Lady. Mamma ! Mamma ! Look at all the lit- 
 tle rabbits ! 
 
 Lady. Don't talk to me about little rabbits. You can 
 take your head in now. We were discussing your fiance. 
 
 Young Lady. What does this gentleman think ? 
 
 Lady. He thinks the same as I do. He says that without 
 knowing him thoroughly — And he is perfectly right 
 
8 NO SMOKING 
 
 Gentleman. [Aside] Where did this woman get the idea 
 that I said anything ? 
 
 Lady. Are we coming to a stop ? 
 
 Young Lady. Yes, we are stopping now. That was a 
 long run, mamma. 
 
 Gentleman. I believe I shall get out and stretch myself 
 for a moment. With your permission, ladies 
 
 Lady. Be sure you have time enough. 
 
 Gentleman. Yes. The engine takes in water. 
 
 [The Gentleman goes out 
 
 A Voice. [Outside] Two minutes ! The train stops two 
 minutes ! 
 
 Another Voice. Water ! Who wants water ? 
 
 Another Voice. Buy your cinnamon-cakes ! Cmnamon- 
 cakes ! 
 
 Young Lady. Manmia, I want some cinnamon-cakes. 
 
 Lady. Didn't I tell you when you were travelling to be 
 careful what you ate.'' We've had spice enough already. 
 We're a great deal better off in this compartment. That 
 seems to be a very nice gentleman. Probably he is taking a 
 little vacation — I think we saw him in Madrid one after- 
 noon with a fat lady, that day we were at the Lyric to see 
 "The Iron Ring." Don't you remember the woman who 
 sat in front of us with the big hat, so that you couldn't see ? 
 She cried through all the, sad parts. 
 
 Young Lady. I don't remember, mamma. 
 
 Lady. When I get a good look at a person I never for- 
 get. I'll ask him when he comes back. 
 
 Voices. All aboard! Passengers who are going will 
 please take the train ! 
 
 Lady. Goodness, there's the bell ! The gentleman hasn't 
 come back — See if he's on the platform — Can't you see 
 him? 
 
 Young Lady. No. 
 
NO SMOKING 9 
 
 Lady. Here! Stop! Don't start the train! There's a 
 gentleman missing ! — I wonder where he can be ? The 
 train is moving — He's left — What can the matter be? 
 Too bad ! What a pity ! 
 
 Young Lady. He hasn't moved to another compartment. 
 Here are his things. 
 
 Lady. Of course he hasn't. We had better throw them 
 out of the window. He can pick them up on the platform. 
 It's the best we can do for him. 
 
 Young Lady. Yes ! It's the best. 
 
 Lady. Help me ! Hurry up ! 
 
 Young Lady. There they go ! 
 
 Lady. They belong to a gentleman who has lost the 
 train! Keep them for him! He'll be out in a minute! — 
 Didn't he know that the train doesn't wait for anybody ? I 
 am so sorry ! 
 
 Young Lady. We forgot the book. 
 
 Lady. Never mind; it's all right. It won't be like the 
 other one, anyhow — What a pity ! 
 
 Young Lady. [Looking at the book] What a pity ! 
 
 Lady. If there isn't another train to-day and his family 
 should be waiting for him and he should be ashamed to let 
 them know — I hate to think of it! It's too horrible for 
 words ! 
 
 Young Lady. [Giggling] Too horrible ! 
 
 Lady. God bless me! It's too bad. While he was here, 
 we had an escort, as it were. We were having a very agree- 
 able conversation. It was easy to see he had acquired a 
 great deal of information. 
 
 Young Lady. He was very good-looking. Listen, mamma; 
 where did you say that you pinched me in the tunnel? On 
 the arm ? 
 
 Lady. What do you want to know that for? 
 
 Young Lady. Nothing. Because it hurts. 
 
 ) 
 
L 
 
 10 NO SMOKING 
 
 Lady. I am so nervous; I'm always afraid of those tun- 
 nels. You never can tell what is going to happen in a tun- 
 nel. However, it's too late now for regrets — Don't you 
 feel hungry ? 
 
 Young Lady. I should say I do. It always gives me an 
 appetite to ride on the train. 
 
 Lady. If you travelled more maybe you'd pick up faster. 
 Now you look like half a Philopena — Hand me down the 
 basket — Better see how the cat is. 
 
 Young Lady. Hello, kitty ! Puss ! Puss ! My, what 
 eyes ! They shine like fire. 
 
 Lady. I'm thankful it hasn't given us any trouble, though. 
 It's time to eat. 
 
 Young Lady. Another stop. 
 
 Lady. Good. We can spread the things out now. 
 
 A Voice. One minute ! One minute ! 
 
 Another Voice. Water ! Who wants water ? 
 
 Lady. These breaded chops ought to taste good. Spread 
 the paper for a cloth — Give me a napkin — Don't upset 
 
 the wine-bottle 
 
 The Gentleman re-enters. 
 
 Gentleman. I beg your pardon, ladies 
 
 Lady. Eh? 
 
 Young Lady. Oh ! 
 
 Lady. What ! You again? 
 
 Gentleman. Yea, I was riding in the smoking-car. 
 
 Lady. But weren't you left behind ? 
 
 Young Lady. We thought 
 
 Gentleman. But my luggage ? How is this ? 
 
 Lady. Oh ! I beg your pardon ! 
 
 Young Lady. You see 
 
 Lady. We thought you had missed the train, and, so as 
 to oblige you 
 
NO SMOKING 11 
 
 Young Lady. We threw it out of the window. 
 
 Gentleman. Who told you to do that? 
 
 Lady. To accommodate you 
 
 Young Lady. How were we to suppose 
 
 Gentleman. But what am I to do now? The devil! 
 These women — I ought to have known that you would be 
 up to something ! 
 
 Lady. If you are going to take it like this, sir 
 
 Gentleman. How the devil do you expect me to take it? 
 
 Lady. Why didn't you tell us what you were going to do ? 
 
 Gentleman. Every time I go' out do I have to hold up 
 my hand to you ? If you weren't irresponsible 
 
 Lady. I don't allow gentlemen to call me irresponsible; 
 nor my daughter, either. Where are your manners ? 
 
 Gentleman. Madam ! Would you recognize them ? 
 
 Lady. You don't know what you are talking about. You 
 are the one who is irresponsible. 
 
 Gentleman. I? 
 
 Lady. Yes ! You're mad ! You're crazy ! 
 
 Young Lady. Why, mamma ! 
 
 Voice. Passengers who are going will please take the 
 train ! All aboard ! 
 
 Lady. You can telegraph when we get to the next station. 
 
 Gentleman. I can, can I ? — My bags ! My bags ! 
 
 Lady. A lady ought never to travel without a private 
 compartment. 
 
 Gentleman. Oh, travel in the dog-car ! 
 
 Lady. I ? In the dog-car ? 
 
 Gentleman. Chained. 
 
 Young Lady. Mamma ! Mamma ! 
 All talk at the same time. 
 
 Curtain 
 
PRINCESS BEBÉ 
 
 SCENES FROM MODERN LIFE 
 ARRANGED IN FOUR ACTS 
 
 First Presented by the Compañía Guerrero-Mendoza 
 AT THE Teatro Español, Madrid, on the Evening 
 OF the Thirty-first of March, 1909 
 
CHARACTERS APPEARING IN THE 
 FIRST ACT 
 
 The Emperor Michael Alexander of Suavla. 
 Prince Stephen 
 Prince Maurice (aged fifteen) 
 Prince Alex (aged eight) 
 The Chancellor 
 Herr Stirger, the Tutor 
 Princess Helena 
 
 Princess Margaret (aged fourteen) 
 Baroness Esther von Rosenberg 
 Countess Adelaide von Rosenkranz 
 Also Attendants at the Imperial Palace 
 
THE FIRST ACT 
 
 An apartvient in the Imperial Suite of the Palace of Suavia. 
 
 At the reaVy a garden covered with snow. 
 Princess Margaret, Prince Maurice, Prince Alex, and 
 
 the Countess von Rosenkranz surround the Tutor, 
 
 who expounds the daily history lesson. 
 
 Tutor. However, every day could not be glorious in the 
 history of the Kingdom of Suavia. Michael VIII was a 
 prudent king, a model of public and private virtues. His 
 wife, Edvigia, was a model queen, as all the queens of Suavia 
 have been since the beginning of the seventeenth century, 
 although, as we have already seen, previous to the seven- 
 teenth, particularly during the fourteenth and fifteenth, there 
 may have been an occasional one of unhappy memory. 
 
 Countess. Pardon, Herr Stirger, but Queen Theodo- 
 linda, to whom you refer, has been gravely disparaged in my 
 opinion through being called the Messalina of Suavia. Have 
 you read the recent monograph of Herr Tomberg, published 
 in the Journal of Historical Sciences? It would appear that 
 the name of Theodolinda had been completely vindicated. 
 Herr Tomberg proves that the unfortunate eccentricities of 
 the queen did not reflect so much upon herself as upon 
 her husband, who, it seems, condoned them. 
 
 Tutor. Very possibly. May we proceed. Countess ? 
 
 Countess. Do so, and pardon again. Queen Theodolinda 
 has always been such a sympathetic figure to me ! 
 
 Tutor. We now arrive at a dark page in the reign of 
 Michael VIII, unjustly called the Simple by his detractors, 
 who were many. But for them his reign was glorious. The 
 battle of Kuntz was not lost through the cowardice of our 
 
 15 
 
16 PRINCESS BEBÉ 
 
 ACT I 
 
 troops or the incompetence of our generals, as might be 
 imagined, but through treachery 
 
 Countess. This time I must interrupt you without ask- 
 ing pardon. There never was any such treachery as that 
 to which you now refer. You are speaking of one of my an- 
 cestors, whose memory has been completely vindicated from 
 that infamous calumny. 
 
 Tutor. Countess, pardon me. I was not aware that Baron 
 von Rosenkranz of the battle of Kuntz was related in any 
 way to the present Counts of Rosenkranz. 
 
 Countess. The succession is direct, except for a charge of 
 bastardy, which is an honor to our house, as the blemish 
 was of royal blood. To be sure, historians speak of a betrayal 
 of his country, but who are historians? I could show you 
 over six hundred letters from the archives of our family, all 
 of them in Baron von Rosenkranz's own hand, had you lei- 
 sure to examine them, in which he explains away the vile 
 accusation. It is impossible to read them without being 
 convinced. Teach history to the Princes of Suavia, among 
 whose loyal vassals the Rosenkranz have always been and 
 are. As the last, the most unworthy of their line, it is my 
 duty to declare to the Princes of Suavia, on behalf of my 
 ancestors, that there never was a traitor, either to his king 
 or to his country, whose name was Rosenkranz ! 
 
 Prince Maurice. Of course we should not believe it. 
 Countess. Herr Stirger did not wish to give offense. 
 
 Tutor. On the contrary, my aim is to emphasize virtue 
 and heroism in our lessons, passing over all doubtful points 
 in silence, or touching them but lightly, as the case may be. 
 They are not altogether absent from public or private his- 
 tory. 
 
 Countess. It is as His Majesty desires. History should 
 be a mirror of virtue to those who some day must be kings. 
 
ACT I PRINCESS BEBÉ 17 
 
 Prince Maurice. Fortunately, since the beginning of the 
 seventeenth century the Kings of Suavia 
 
 Countess. Highness, since your glorious dynasty as- 
 cended the throne. 
 
 Prince Maurice. They have all been mirrors of virtue. 
 
 Princess Margaret. The kings and the queens have, 
 but since the beginning of the twentieth century the princes 
 and princesses 
 
 Countess. Highness! Take care! His Majesty has 
 prohibited expressly reference or allusion to the recent un- 
 happy events which have saddened his heart, alas ! — and 
 the hearts of his loyal subjects. 
 
 Tutor. Alas! 
 
 Prince Maurice. The Emperor told us yesterday that 
 our uncle and aunt. Prince Stephen and Princess Helena, were 
 both dead. 
 
 Prince Alex. [Aside to Margaret] I have a surprise for 
 you later. 
 
 Princess Margaret. [Idem] What is it ? 
 
 Prince Alex. [Idem] Wait until we are alone. 
 
 Prince Maurice. [Idem] What does Alex say ? 
 
 Princess Margaret. Some foolishness or other. Wait 
 until we are alone. 
 
 Trumpets play the Royal March outside. 
 
 Countess. His Majesty returns to the Palace. 
 
 Prince Maurice. Then the study hour is over. . . . 
 
 Tutor. Yes, that will be all for to-day. 
 
 Princess Margaret. Does the Emperor visit us or shall 
 we go to him ? 
 
 Countess. As yet I have received no instructions. The 
 confusion at Court because of the arrival of — I forgot that 
 it was not to be mentioned. 
 
 Prince Maurice. Oh ! What harm can it do ? The ar- 
 
18 PRINCESS BEBÉ acti 
 
 rival of Prince Stephen. You can tell it by the humor the 
 Emperor is in. And the Empress ! . . . . 
 
 Princess Margaret. The Empress refused to see us. 
 
 Prince Alex. She saw me. 
 
 Princess Margaret. You are the favorite grandchild. 
 
 Prince Maurice. The Emperor is furious. When I asked 
 if I could go sleighing in the park yesterday, he forbade 
 me. 
 
 Countess. I must obtain the order of the day. Be dis- 
 creet during my absence. Herr Stirger will remain with you. 
 
 Tutor. Although I have not yet had luncheon 
 
 Countess. I shall not be long. [She goes out. 
 
 Prince Maurice. Alex ! Alex ! It's all right. Herr 
 Stirger doesn't mind; we are alone now. He dislikes the 
 Countess as much as we do. 
 
 Princess Margaret. Wasn't it jolly while he was telling 
 us about the treason of her old ancestor.'* 
 
 Prince Maurice. He promised to do it yesterday. We 
 knew it would make her angry. 
 
 Princess Margaret. Did you notice what she has been 
 doing to her hair.'* 
 
 Prince Maurice. Yes, the old cathedral has put in 
 stained glass. Alex, what have you got ? Hurry up ! 
 
 Princess Margaret. Before the (^ountess comes back. 
 
 Prince Alex. Here it is Ulllustration Fran^aise. 
 
 Guess what is in it. Look ! 
 
 Prince Maurice. Give it to me ! Let me see. — Watch 
 the door, Herr Stirger. Tell us if any one is coming. 
 
 Tutor. Perhaps I had better see myself first Oh, 
 
 Highness ! Where did you get this paper ? 
 
 Prince Alex. In the Empress's room. She had it hidden 
 away, but I found it. 
 
 Tutor. You surprise me. 
 
ACTi PRINCESS BEBÉ 19 
 
 Princess Margaret. Nobody cares what he does, because 
 he is the spoiled darling. It would be different if it were one 
 of us. What does it say ? " Latest Scandals at the Court of 
 Suavia." 
 
 Prince Maurice. With pictures of Prince Stephen and ^' 
 la Konigsberg, his wife .... 
 
 Tutor. His morganatic wife. 
 
 Prince Alex. His mistress. 
 
 Tutor. Highness! 
 
 Princess Margaret. Say favorite, Alex. 
 
 Prince Maurice. Yes, a cocotte. It sounds better in 
 French, doesn't it.^ French is the diplomatic language. 
 
 Tutor. Your Highness appears to have developed a talent 
 for piquant observation, wholly improper in a prince. Princes 
 should be of a benevolent, optimistic turn of mind. The 
 lady is an actress, not a cocotte, as you miscall it. 
 
 Prince Maurice. What is the difference, as long as she 
 is good-looking ? Look out ! Is any one coming ? 
 
 Tutor. No, no, no one — Ah ! she is good-looking. 
 
 Prince Alex. Oh, she is pretty ! Yes, she is ! 
 
 Princess Margaret. His Highness, Prince Alex, thinks 
 that she is pretty. What do you know about it, little imp .'' 
 
 Prince Alex. Well, she is prettier than the women in our 
 famUy. The paper says so: "In the Royal Family of Suavia 
 the women are all insignificant. The Princes, however" — 
 listen to this — '*Ils sont le type accompli de la beauté virile.** 
 
 Princess Margaret. I shall box your ears for that. 
 
 Prince Alex. I dare you to ! 
 
 Tutor. Highness ! She is your sister. 
 
 Prince Alex. What is the use of being silly ? 
 
 Prince Maurice. Stop quarrelling. Hello ! More pic- 
 tures. . . . "Princess Helena of Suavia, popularly known 
 as Princess Bebé." 
 
20 PRINCESS BEBÉ 
 
 ACT I 
 
 Princess Margaret. She is better-looking than la Konigs- 
 berg. How distinguished ! 
 
 Prince Maurice. "Herr Albert Rosmer, with whom the 
 Princess" 
 
 Tutor. Put the paper down, Your Highness. When you 
 see their pictures on the same page, the rest is suggested. 
 Give me that paper; it ought not to remain in your hands 
 another moment. Suppose this should be brought to the at- 
 tention of Their Majesties .^^ These French papers stop at 
 nothing which can prejudice a ruling house. France is a 
 country without faith, without religion; it is a blot with its 
 republic upon the face of Europe. Kings and princes should 
 unite against it, as they did in the days of Napoleon. These 
 articles make me blush, they — they — [Continuing to read in 
 spite of himself] Yet there is something about them which is 
 fascinating, the style. . . . These Frenchmen are the devil! 
 RiNCE Maurice. What does it say ? 
 
 Tutor. Nothing, nothing — Lies ! Slander ! 
 
 Prince Maurice. The Emperor ! . . . . 
 
 Princess Margaret. A nice fix we are in ! 
 
 Prince Alex. Confined to our rooms for a week ! 
 
 Tutor. The storm always bursts upon my innocent head. 
 ^Cr.'^v'* The Emperor and the Countess Adelaide enter. 
 
 Emperor. Have you finished the lesson ? 
 
 Prince Alex. Grandfather ! Grandfather dear ! 
 
 Emperor. Alex, what is this? Military salute! I have 
 appointed Your Highness to my body-guard. You have been 
 made sergeant. 
 
 Prince Alex. Shall I wear a cuirass over my uniform ? 
 Promise to make me lieutenant next year, like Maurice. 
 
 Prince Maurice. Next year ? Wait until you deserve it. 
 
 Princess Margaret. You will be promoted just as he was 
 — for your fighting qualities. 
 
ACT I PRINCESS BEBÉ 21 
 
 Prince Maurice. Oh, I do wish we might have war ! 
 
 Emperor. Not so fast ! War is never desirable, especially 
 now that it has become so expensive. Herr Stirger, are your 
 pupils making rapid progress ? I charge you to be strict with 
 them. Always, always forget that they are princes, or rather 
 never forget it. Bear in mind that it is for them to be first 
 in the rigid performance of duty. What paper is that you 
 hold behind your back ? Its appearance seems familiar. One 
 moment — What? Is it French? Upon my soul! How 
 did this paper come into the Palace? Herr Stirger, is this 
 your conception of history, of literature ? Countess Adelaide, 
 is this the influence which you exert over the Princes ? To 
 permit such papers in their study hour ! How did this paper 
 come into your possession ? There is no security any longer 
 in the Palace. I never know at what moment I may lay my 
 hand upon an anarchistic proclamation, or a libel, or upon 
 publications such as this, with pictures, with stories 
 
 Countess. Your Majesty, I am at a loss to understand 
 how this paper escaped my attention. 
 
 Tutor. His Highness Prince Alex may explain to Your 
 Majesty. 
 
 Emperor. You ? Have you seen it ? You ! 
 
 Prince Maurice. Too bad you have joined the army ! 
 You will be shot. 
 
 Prince Alex. [Bursting into tears] Grandfather ! 
 
 Emperor. What is this? You are speaking with your 
 superior oJEcer. Military salute! Explain how this paper 
 came into your possession. 
 
 Prince Alex. I found it in the Empress's room; I didn't 
 know that there was anything in it 
 
 Emperor. Silence ! Of course there is nothing in it. In 
 the Empress's room, did you say ? Women are curious crea- 
 tures. Countess, you may return it to the Empress. 
 
22 PRINCESS BEBÉ act i 
 
 Countess. If I might offer a suggestion to Your Majesty, 
 perhaps if the Empress were to continue in ignorance .... 
 
 Emperor. Quite superfluous. She will be more careful 
 another time, now that she is advised that she has a grand- 
 son who is so enterprising. [Aside to the Countess] She will 
 be proud of him, too, I assure you. [The Countess goes out] 
 Attention, Sergeant ! For this breach of discipline, which is 
 your first, you are forbidden to go skating this afternoon, and 
 for the next three days you may eat by yourself, apart from 
 your brother and sister. 
 
 Princess Margaret. What a blessed relief ! 
 
 Prince Alex. Don't you envy me? 
 
 Princess Margaret. It serves you right. 
 
 Prince Alex. I could tell grandfather some nice stories 
 about you and Maurice. 
 
 Prince Maurice. You are a fine soldier— a tattle-tale and 
 a coward. 
 
 Prince Alex. Who.? I? 
 
 Emperor. Silence ! That will do. Herr Stirger, continue 
 your instruction^in the library. I require this apartment for 
 a private conference, as it has a separate entrance. 
 
 Tutor. We have concluded our studies for the day. 
 
 Emperor. Good! Then the Countess may accompany 
 the Princes to pay their respects to the Empress. Margaret, 
 my dear, a kiss; Maurice, your hand. Alex 
 
 Prince Alex. Will Your Majesty forgive me ? 
 
 Prince Maurice. Coward ! A man never apologizes. 
 
 Emperor. I forgive you this time, but if it happens again— 
 Maurice, read him the army regulations. 
 
 Prince Alex. May I go skating with Margaret and Mau- 
 rice ? 
 
 Emperor. Of course you may. 
 
 Prince Alex. I don't mind eating by myself, because 
 Maurice and Margaret always tease me. 
 
ACT I PRINCESS BEBÉ 23 
 
 Princess Margaret. We do, do we ? He is intolerable. 
 
 Prince Maurice. He is a glutton; he eats with his fingers 
 when the Countess is not looking. 
 
 Prince Alex. You dip your bread into the gravy. 
 
 Princess Margaret. And you stuff pastries into your 
 pockets. 
 
 Prince Alex. It's for Mogul. 
 
 Emperor. Silence! 
 
 Tutor. Highnesses, His Majesty grows impatient. 
 
 Emperor. Yes, you may retire. 
 ^ ' ^ The Princes and Princess withdraw with the Tutor. 
 An Usher enters, followed shortly by Prince 
 Stephen. 
 
 Prince Stephen. How shall I address you ? Your Maj- 
 esty, father — You have always been a father to me, since 
 I never knew my own. As head of the family, his brother. 
 Emperor, I have always loved and respected you. 
 
 Emperor. Always .^^ Sit down. No, sit nearer. Al- 
 though my decision not to see you was irrevocable, although 
 I had determined that you should never enter the Palace 
 again, nevertheless, as your complaints have become in- 
 cessant and you have even had the bad taste to carry your 
 diatribes to the radical press, thus lending aid and comfort to 
 my enemies, and to those of the dynasty 
 
 Prince Stephen. May I 
 
 Emperor. I have not finished. We shall never arrive at 
 an understanding through correspondence or by means of 
 emissaries, so I have preferred to arrange this interview, which 
 will remain private, that is, unless you give it out to the papers 
 yourself, intoxicated with your new role of journalist and your 
 pose as Prince who is thoroughly up to date. It would make 
 one of those typical interviews which are the pride and glory 
 of the modern press. If the Empress were to learn of this, 
 the shock would cost her an illness. Her health is already 
 
24 PRINCESS SpEBÉ act i 
 
 precarious, as is mine, thanks to our beloved nephews and 
 nieces, whose only thought, apparently, is to sweeten the 
 final years of our reign, or to hasten its close. As if you were 
 not bad enough, Helena focuses the attention of the entire 
 civilized world upon us and our house. 
 
 Prince Stephen. It is surely not my fault that my cousin 
 has chosen this moment to agitate her divorce, not to speak 
 of her elopement with her husband's secretary. 
 
 Emperor. But you are the one who began it. She would 
 never have dared, if it had not been for you. 
 
 Prince Stephen. I fail to see the similarity; my position 
 is very different from that of my cousin. 
 
 Emperor. Perhaps, but two scandals in three months are 
 too much in any family. In a ruling dynasty they are in- 
 tolerable. This is a restless age, when every hand is raised 
 against us. Monarchies do not exist to-day by virtue of 
 divine right or inherited prerogative, but through personal 
 prestige, through the respect and admiration which royalty v 
 inspires by its behavior. Making ourselves ridiculous in the 
 eyes of those who no longer believe in us, and pathetic in the / 
 eyes of those who still do, is an ill augury for the future. 
 
 Prince Stephen. I must decline to admit having fallen 
 into either extreme, although I very well understand that my 
 conduct may appear odious to courtiers and conservatives. 
 But are you familiar with liberal opinion ? Frankly, I do not 
 believe that any intelligent person could laugh at me, or 
 take exception to my marrying for love the woman I adore. 
 
 Emperor. Have you noticed that the liberal and revolu- 
 tionary papers are the ones which have printed all the jokes 
 at your expense, or rather, I should say, at ours ? That shows 
 their appreciation of your modernity, your liberalism, and how 
 highly they value this love of yours, which in their eyes ought 
 certainly to appear admirable. 
 
ACT I PRINCESS BEBÉ 25 
 
 Prince Stephen. No doubt it does. It is not a question 
 of ideas, however, but of interests. I am a Prince; it is to 
 their advantage to make me appear ridiculous — personally, 
 in my love, and in my marriage. They do not respect me 
 because I am a Prince, yet they blame me because I love 
 like an ordinary man. 
 
 Emperor. Precisely. You have hit upon the reason for 
 the universal disapprobation which your conduct arouses, 
 both among your enemies and your friends. You were con- 
 tent to enjoy the prerogatives of Prince so long as it suited 
 you to do so; now you wish to share the immunities of a 
 private citizen, because it happens to be convenient. That is 
 the diflSculty, that is what the public with unerring instinct ; 
 condemns. Every rank has its obligations, which are in pro- , 
 portion to its privileges. 
 
 Prince Stephen. What privileges attached to mine ? I 
 might live the prescribed routine, provided I manifested no 
 initiative, and never had an original thought of my own. 
 You conferred the command of a regiment upon me; no 
 sooner did I introduce some reforms, which would have im- 
 proved the condition of my subordinates, than the govern- 
 ment took alarm, and I was reprimanded severely. I visited 
 the colonies, and returned to publish my observations. The 
 book was cut down by the censor to a few insignificant banal- 
 ities, for which I blush to be held responsible. If I desire to 
 contribute to charity, I must restrain my generosity so that 
 my contributions may not be greater than yours, nor than 
 those of others who are nearer the throne. I am a lover of 
 art, yet I am not able to express my admiration for an artist 
 or for his work, unless it accords with the official art stand- 
 ards and is thoroughly orthodox. It is the same with every- 
 thing. These are my privileges. My initiative, my intelli- 
 gence, my sympathies are never permitted to overstep the 
 
26 PRINCESS BEBÉ act i 
 
 bounds which are fixed for them by authority — bounds as 
 inviolable as the frontiers of our country. What have you 
 to offer in exchange for a life lived without love ? 
 
 Emperor. Without love ? Is there no other love than that 
 woman's ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. Not for me. A man never loves more 
 than once in his life; the only love for him is that of the 
 woman whom he loves. Of course, conceivably, there are a 
 great many persons in the world a man might love, just as 
 there are a great many women, a great many countries, a 
 great many mothers. But our love is the only love for us; 
 that is why we think it is the best — because it is ours, like 
 our own country, or our own mother. Nobody has any 
 choice in these things, yet we always think that ours is the 
 best. The only one possible is ours. 
 
 Emperor. You were scarcely in a position to make a wise 
 choice when you persistently absented yourself from Court 
 and avoided association with women of your own rank and 
 class, to hover behind the scenes of a theatre and cultivate 
 the society of a comic-opera singer. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Of an adorable, an intelligent woman, 
 who has taught me to know myself, behind the scenes — which, 
 no doubt, seems a terrible place to you — to live my own life, 
 surrounded by real people who are living their own lives and 
 succeeding strictly upon their merits. She has cured me of 
 my prejudices, she has strengthened my will, she has aroused 
 my conscience 
 
 Emperor. No doubt she has. Excellent theories a la 
 Ibsen, á la Tolstoy, á la Nietzsche, those perturbers of weak 
 minds, who, by the way, should have been born in Suavia. 
 We should have attended to them and have made an exam- 
 ple. Living your own life ? Yes, the infallible excuse for 
 every imaginable fault and delinquency. Being yourself. 
 
ACT I PRINCESS BEBÉ 27 
 
 your self! As if life were ever possible for one without the 
 co-operation of all, without the laws of society ! Good ! 
 Since these are your ideas, your sentiments, be consistent to 
 the end. Your life is that which you mould by your own will, 
 independently of the disabilities of your rank. Well, then, 
 live it, and do not expect to enjoy the privileges of your 
 former station. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Do you ask me to submit to the injus- 
 tice of being deprived of them .? I 'am in a worse position 
 without them than the man who never knew what they 
 were. Such persecution is implacable. Your humblest sub- 
 ject who has committed an unspeakable crime has his day 
 in court, he is not condemned, as I have been, in defiance of 
 all the laws of your Empire, which guarantee to the most 
 abject slave the right of disposing of his hand and of choosing 
 the companion of his heart freely. 
 
 Emperor. Those same abject slaves whom your poetic 
 imagination encourages you to envy, would very gladly ex- 
 change that inestimable right for the privileges and income 
 which you enjoyed as Prince, with no further effort than the 
 accident of your birth, which was considerable. \ 
 
 Prince Stephen. Then I have nothing to hope ? : 
 
 Emperor. Hope to be happy. What more do you wish ?] 
 You will make a great mistake if you are not. The question 
 is, which is preferable — love, or the income and dignities of a 
 Prince? Certainly no better guarantee of happiness could 
 be desired than the assurance that your love loves you for 
 yourself, for yourself alone, the man himself, as Shakespeare 
 expresses it. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Very well. I shall ask nothing further 
 of you, but you need expect nothing of me in return. I am 
 released from all obligation to my princely dignity. Make 
 no attempt to prevent what I purpose doing in spite of it. 
 
28 PRINCESS BEBÉ act i 
 
 Emperor. Only do it out of Suavia ! 
 
 Prince Stephen. What did I tell you? Life is more diffi- 
 cult for me than for an ordinary man. I am no longer Prince, 
 yet the laws which protect others have no validity for me. 
 You banish me from my country. 
 
 Emperor. To do you a favor. You say that you are 
 anxious to support yourself; it would be difficult in Suavia. 
 You are too well known here. Nobody would offer you a 
 menial position, while if the opportunity were a brilliant one, 
 you would feel, naturally, that it had not come to you upon 
 your merits as a man, but as the Emperor's nephew. Prince 
 of Suavia, a reflection which I am confident would prove 
 most offensive. [Cheers outside] But why these cheers ? What 
 is the matter? 
 
 ^ • He strikes a bell. The Chancellor enters. 
 O*^ Chancellor. Pardon, Your Majesty. . . . 
 
 Emperor. How is this ? What are these shouts ? 
 
 Chancellor. Your Majesty, it is unprecedented; imperti- 
 nence without parallel in my experience 
 
 Emperor. It is ? Speak ! 
 
 Chancellor. Princess Helena has arrived at Court. Upon 
 alighting from the train, she took a sleigh before it was possi- 
 ble to prevent her, and drove straight through the heart of 
 the city to the Palace gates. And she is with us now. 
 
 Emperor. [To the Prince] Now you see what you have 
 done! Shall I tolerate this? She has heard that you are 
 here, so she dares to presume ! I always regret promptly any 
 leniency I may show. What is the meaning of these cheers ? 
 
 ChancelIíOR. a crowd has gathered out of curiosity. 
 The students acclaim the Princess, taking advantage of the 
 opportunity to demonstrate against the government. 
 
 Emperor. Which should have anticipated the outbreak and 
 have been prepared for it. How has the Princess arrived 
 
ACT I 
 
 PRINCESS BEBÉ 
 
 without advices having been received of her departure? 
 Has the Department of State no intelligence ? Our Secret 
 Service deserves the name. Is this street demonstration to be 
 permitted for the remainder of the day ? 
 
 Chancellor. The guard will clear the vicinity of the 
 Palace. Your Majesty is familiar with student character. 
 Princess Helena is popular with the younger element; her 
 love-affairs interest. Besides, a young poet, admired in Bo- 
 hemian circles, has composed a poem which the students sing 
 and shout on the street-corners, a sort of paean to love, a 
 satire upon 
 
 Emperor. Upon me, is it not.? 
 
 Chancellor. Upon the government, Your Majesty. 
 
 Emperor. Oh, no ! If it had been upon the government, 
 the poem would have been suppressed and the author would 
 have been in prison by this time. Do you say that Princess 
 Helena is in the Palace ? 
 
 Chancellor. It seemed inadvisable to stop her. She 
 inquired for the Empress. 
 
 Emperor. Who surely refused to see her. It is a pleasure 
 reserved for myself ! 
 gp.SP^ Countess Adelaide enters. 
 
 Countess. Your Majesty, have you heard ? Your Maj- 
 esty, Princess Helena 
 
 Emperor. Yes, yes. Where is she? 
 
 Countess. The Empress has collapsed. She refused to 
 receive Her Highness; then her nerves gave way. The Court 
 is in an uproar. Your Majesty, we adored Her Highness ! 
 
 Emperor. Indeed ? Where is she ? 
 
 Countess. Pardon, Your Majesty. As soon as she learned 
 that the Empress had refused to receive her, she flew at once 
 to the Princes. No one thought it advisable to stop her, and 
 she is closeted with them now. 
 
30 PRINCESS BEBÉ act i 
 
 Emperor. With the Princes ? Quick ! There is no time 
 to lose. Send her to me, I command it. Do you hear, I 
 command it ! Who attends Her Highness ? 
 
 Countess. The Baroness von Rosenberg. 
 
 Emperor. Ah ! Has the Baroness the temerity to present 
 
 herself in the Palace ? Good ! I have an account to settle 
 
 with the Baroness. [The Countess retires] And yet you 
 
 .intrude yourself into my presence, you beg me to condone, 
 
 to approve your behavior! To think that I have railed 
 
 all these years against the inroads of socialism, of anarchy, 
 
 the forces of revolution ! No, their bombs are preferable a 
 
 / thousand times, they reinforce and buttress the principle of 
 
 / authority by a sort of natural reaction, but thi§ anarchy 
 
 / from above, this dissolution of all decency and morality, is 
 
 infinitely more dangerous. Better fall before a blow than 
 
 decay gradually and disintegrate ! 
 
 \ Chancellor. Your Majesty is quite correct. 
 
 Emperor. The punishment shall fit the offense, I promise 
 you. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Your Majesty, may I retire ? Argument 
 is useless in your present state of mind. I am not eager to 
 meet my cousin. Obviously, her offense is responsible for 
 our suffering the same punishment for faults which are dis- 
 tinct. I have not been recreant to my duty; my love is 
 noble, it is legitimate. Permit me to kiss Your Majesty's 
 hand. My affection will never fail. My only request is that 
 you do not pursue me with your displeasure now that I 
 am banished from Suavia; I ask it as a favor. My fortune 
 is not large, so that my task will be diflScult. I cannot fore- 
 cast my future means of support— I only know that what- 
 ever they may be, they will not be unworthy of a gentleman, 
 although he may no longer be Prince. Good-by, Your Maj- 
 esty. Some day you will judge me more justly. 
 [The Prince goes out.] 
 
ACT I PRINCESS BEBÉ 31 
 
 Chancellor. The poor Prince has my sympathy. 
 
 Emperor. How so ? He has the strength of mind to have 
 his own way; let him fortify it by opposing mine. A Prince of 
 Suavia married to a comic-opera singer ! It seems incredible. 
 
 Chancellor. Love, Your Majesty. 
 
 Emperor. Love ? Then why did he marry ? 
 
 Chancellor. I am told the lady is virtuous. 
 
 Emperor. Always distrust that brand of virtue which 
 keeps one eye upon marriage. I am told that she is an experi- 
 enced woman. My nephew is an ass, utterly ignorant, both 
 of women and of the world. If she had been a respectable 
 actress, a legitimate artist in one of the subsidized theatres — 
 but a comic-opera singer, who appeared only a month ago in 
 **La belle Héléne" and "La Filie de Mme. Angót" ! It 
 would be impossible to present such a woman at Court. As 
 they announced her, the ushers would whistle the airs which 
 they had heard her sing at the theatre the evening previously. 
 — A-hl The Princess ! Retire, but remain within call. 
 $o*^ The Chancellor goes out. Princess Helena, Prince 
 Maurice, Princess Margaret, Prince Alex, the 
 Countess von Rosenkranz, and the Baroness 
 VON Rosenberg enter. 
 
 Princess Helena. Oh, uncle ! — Your Majesty 
 
 Emperor. Do not attempt to embrace me. [To ¿^Princes 
 and Princess] Who desired you to come ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Don't scold them! They all love me; 
 and I love them, too. Everybody seems to love me; the 
 crowds ran after me, shouting, down the streets. Nobody has 
 forgotten Helena — Princess Bebé, as they used to call me — 
 for I was the life of the Palace in those days, and I really 
 beheve I left my heart behind me when I went away. You do 
 love me, don't you, you dear children.'* Margaret, poor 
 girl, never let them trifle with your heart as they did witli 
 
32 PRINCESS BEBÉ act i 
 
 mine; I wish you all the happiness which I might have found 
 in the world. Don't you yield one jot when they attempt to 
 marry you to a man whom you do not love, and never 
 can. 
 
 Princess Margaret. Don't cry, Helena ! Helena, I don't 
 want you to go away ! 
 
 Emperor. That will do. Countess, remove the Princes. 
 
 Countess. Highnesses 
 
 Emperor. Helena and I must confer for the last time. 
 
 Princess Helena. For the last time ? You are inflexible. 
 
 Prince Maurice. Grandfather is horribly angry. 
 
 Prince Alex. Will all the toys you promised me surely 
 come to-day ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Of course they will ! Just you wait and 
 see. I brought you an automobile, and an encampment with 
 soldiers in it that really walk, and cannon that really go oflF. 
 
 Prince Alex. Oh, how I love you ! 
 
 Countess. Follow me. 
 
 Princess Margaret. Grandfather 
 
 Emperor. What is this ? You are confined to your rooms 
 for the remainder of the day. We have already had suflficient. 
 ^ ^y' Countess Adelaide retires with the Princes. 
 
 Princess Helena. Your Majesty .... 
 
 Emperor. Well, why do you come ? Do you fancy that I 
 am so weak that a flood of tears can induce me to forget the 
 duty which I owe to our house, even supposing that they 
 "were genuine ? If I did not judge you as Emperor, yet as 
 head of the family, I should be obliged to repeat what you 
 already know: in my sight you are dead. 
 
 Princess Helena. You are very cruel. I asked for ad- 
 vice, for protection, and you refused to hear me. Why did 
 you oppose my divorce? 
 
 Emperor. A divorce in our family ? 
 
ACT I PRINCESS BEBÉ 33 
 
 Princess Helena. Apparently the laws of your Empire 
 are not equally for all men. I have better reason than most 
 to appeal to them, since you married me against my will. 
 
 Emperor. To a Prince who was worthy of your love. 
 
 Princess Helena. You have witnessed my sufferings. 
 Baroness. 
 
 Baroness. Alas ! Poor dear ! 
 
 Princess Helena. The Prince was a brute, and you know 
 it. You knew me, too; you knew that I could not be happy 
 with such a man. 
 
 Emperor. The performance of duty is a gratification which 
 we have always with us, as it depends wholly upon ourselves. 
 Doubtless it is one of the subtler forms of happiness, but for 
 that very reason appropriate to those of us who have been 
 born into exalted station — whether through good or evil 
 fortune. 
 
 Princess Helena. You are a man and a sovereign. It 
 is easy for you to compensate yourself for whatever sacrifices 
 you may make by noble deeds and glorious, victorious ex- 
 ploits. But love is the only motive of a woman's heart — j 
 without love, duty, ambition, sacrifice, the moral law, evenl 
 religious faith, have no meaning; but with love she can accomJ 
 plish all things without so much as a thought of duty, or 
 obligation, or punishment, or reward, simply because it is 
 love. Would you condemn me to live without love all my 
 life ? A woman might resign herself to living without being 
 loved, but never to living without loving. How .would it be 
 possible to live ? I could have done my duty by the Prince 
 as his wife if he had not loved me; but that was not his 
 only fault. He is a gross, contemptible person, as you know, 
 incapable of inspiring one single regret, not even pity, which 
 is the last refuge of the heart that struggles to maintain a 
 show of love when love itself is gone. 
 
34 PRINCESS BEBÉ act i 
 
 Baroness. True, Your Majesty ! True, and we know it. 
 Poor dear ! 
 
 Emperor. Baroness, I shall have a word with you later. 
 It was a happy thought to attach you to the Princess Helena. 
 You have been zealous in the cause of decorum. 
 
 Baroness. Your Majesty ! 
 
 Emperor. I should have inquired into your past history 
 more fully. 
 
 Baroness. Your Majesty! Your Highness! I protest; 
 I cannot submit to this. I am insulted, outraged, yet I am 
 unable to defend myself, because you are Emperor. Such 
 an insinuation is unworthy of you. You insult the Baroness 
 von Rosenberg ! 
 
 Princess Helena. Not so loud. — Your Majesty is severe 
 with the poor Baroness. 
 
 Baroness. The accusation is horrible — atrocious! Is 
 this the reward of years of faithful service ? I have sacrificed 
 my life to Your Majesty. Her Highness is at liberty to re- 
 peat the advice which I have given her. No doubt Her 
 Highness has made mistakes, she may have committed in- 
 discretions even, which I regret, but you have no idea what 
 she might have committed had I not been present to prevent 
 her. She would have eloped two months before she did, if it 
 had not been for me. 
 
 Emperor. Have we gained anything, in your judgment, 
 by the delay ? 
 
 Baroness. I appeal to Her Highness. Naturally, I sym- 
 pathized with her desire for a divorce, but in her love-affair 
 with Herr Rosmer I have been her most consistent, her most 
 vigorous opponent. 
 
 Emperor. Probably that explains how it was that they 
 met at your house. 
 
ACT I PRINCESS BEBÉ 35 
 
 Baroness. It was already too late at the time, Your 
 Majesty, if an open scandal was to be avoided. 
 
 Emperor. But the flight? Who promoted it? — a fitting 
 end to the adventure ! 
 
 Baroness. The Princess threatened suicide, and I was 
 confident that she was irresponsible. How shall I convince 
 Your Majesty ? I adore the Princess. 
 
 Princess Helena. Baroness, I shall be grateful to you 
 forever. 
 
 Baroness. I have been insulted, I have lost the favor of 
 the Emperor, the honor of a Rosenberg has been called in 
 question! The Emperor reflects upon my past — my past, 
 which was exemplary in virtue. I throw myself upon Your 
 Highness for consolation, my Princess whom I adore ! 
 
 Princess Helena. I shall never desert you. Baroness, my 
 heart, my life, my soul ! 
 
 Emperor. This is too much, upon my honor! Baroness, 
 you are insufferable. Never appear again at Court, no matter 
 what the provocation. — ^Let us have done once for all. I 
 assume that your excuses are identical with your cousin's, 
 who is another hero of love romance. Apparently you have 
 very little faith in love as the ideal road to happiness, since 
 you desire to have your allowance as Princess continued as 
 well. Am I right? 
 
 Princess Helena. You insult me. I merely ask that you 
 grant my application for a divorce, so that I may dispose of 
 my hand freely, as my heart dictates. 
 
 Emperor. After running away? What good would that 
 do you? Marriage with Herr Rosmer, as a corespondent, 
 would be extra-legal, to say the least. 
 
 Princess Helena. I am unable to see it. Herr Rosmer 
 travelled with me; it was his duty as the Prince's secretary. 
 
36 PRINCESS BEBÉ act i 
 
 I was not in love with him at the time; the Baroness will tell 
 you so. 
 
 Baroness. Upon the honor of my ancestors ! 
 
 Emperor. Baroness, I remain unconvinceTi. An end to this 
 nonsense. The scandal which you have created throughout 
 the civilized world by your conduct, the indelible blot which 
 it has cast upon the good name of our house, not to speak of 
 the moral and political disorders which your escapades have j 
 encouraged in the Empire, deserve punishment which shall; 
 be exemplary. Princess Helena, there is one way in which' 
 you may obtain pardon, and only one — indeed, in some mea- 
 sure it may be said to justify it — you may have yourself 
 declared insane, and submit to confinement in one of the royal 
 residences for an indefinite period, dependent upon your good 
 sense and deportment. * 
 
 Princess Helena. Thanks. If I am guilty, I prefer to 
 be responsible for my acts. Have you no saner suggestion 
 for my reformation .?> Frankly, I fail to appreciate your so- Í 
 licitude for the family honor. The Empire would feel itself far I 
 more secure, in my opinion, if it were to believe that we were \ 
 capable of falling in love in our right minds, than if it were to ' 
 get the idea that we are all of us such crazy imbeciles that j 
 we are incapable of anything. If you once begin to declafe 
 members of our family insane, you will have occupation to 
 last you for the rest of your life. It will be a sorry outlook 
 for the nation to find itself governed by a family in which 
 there are so many persons without sense. 
 
 Emperor. Is this a joke ? Are you laughing at me ? 
 
 Princess Helena. No, I am not laughing. I realize now 
 that it was a mistake for me to throw myself upon the mercy 
 of a man who never had any. 
 
 Emperor. Outrageous insolence ! Out of my sight ! You 
 are banished from Suavia ! 
 
 # 
 
ACT I PRINCESS BEBÉ 37 
 
 Princess Helena. Yes, we are banished because we live 
 our own lives in the sincerity of our affections, because we re- 
 fuse to learn hypocrisy of you and of the Princes you tolerate 
 about your throne, and who are worthy of it, because they 
 maintain a hollow pretense of love and respect for what no-j 
 body any longer either loves or respects. Prince Michael 
 may remain at Court in the enjoyment of all his dignities; 
 he will never marry an actress like Prince Stephen, because 
 he is provided with three or four of them already; Princess 
 Leonora may remain — she will not hear of a divorce; nothing 
 is so convenient as a husband to cover up her antipathy to 
 marriage; Princess Clothilda may remain, who never al- 
 lowed her husband to interfere with her. They are virtuous 
 officially, they neither shock nor jeopardize the security of 
 the Empire ! I am not built that way. You are right; I was 
 a fool to appeal to you and your laws, when all I had to do 
 was to satisfy my own conscience. Could anything be more 
 ridiculous ? Why appeal to others for what we have airead 
 in ourselves? Why revolutionize the world when it is 
 easy to revolutionize our own consciences ? From this ho 
 forth, I give you warning: I, Princess Helena, have become 
 a ferocious anarchist. The world, your Empire, your pre- 
 cious society, the whole of it, with its laws, its morality and 
 its lies — well, you can have it, it is good enough for you; let 
 it remain as it is; there are people who do not know how to 
 live in any other way — but I tell you that a bomb has burst 
 in my heart, in my life, that has blown into a thousand 
 fragments all this world, with its laws and its lieá! Let/ 
 me out. Baroness. Follow me! 
 
 Princess Helena and the Baroness sweep out. 
 MPEROR. I am dizzy — my head goes roimd. Give me air ! 
 
 Chancellor. Your Majesty 
 
 Emperor. Prince Stephen and Princess Helena leave 
 
 i^A 
 
38 PRINCESS BEBÉ act i 
 
 Suavia this very day without respite of one ñour at Court 
 upon any pretext whatsoever. The Crown Council which 
 was set for this afternoon is suspended. Was there business 
 of importance to attend to ? 
 
 Chancellor. The new law of Social Reform. 
 
 Emperor. A proper occasion for its promulgation ! Are 
 we to become public laughing-stocks ? Shall I pretend to re- 
 form society when my own house, my own family, are in the 
 state which all the world sees ? Is there anything else ? y 
 
 Chancellor. Nothing of importance. Oh, your signature 
 to a decree conferring a pension upon our national poet. 
 
 Emperor. National poet? Poets, philosophers, authors 
 are to blame! They unsettle men's minds, they turn the 
 world upside down. Undisciplined fools — madmen, all of 
 them ! Do not talk to me about poets. Ah ! By the way, 
 that student's song about the Princess, her amours .... Bet- 
 ter suppress it. Do you happen to have heard it by any 
 chance.^ What does it say? 
 
 Chancellor. I don't remember; it has no merit. It ad- 
 vises the Princess to forsake the Court and courtiers, and de- 
 vote her attention to students and true lovers — to form a 
 court of love. There is nothing in it. 
 
 Emperor. Certainly not. What does it say about me? 
 
 Chancellor. Nothing that I recall. Ah, yes! there is 
 a refrain : 
 
 "Little dove. 
 What does the Emperor know about love?" 
 
 Emperor. 
 
 "What does the Emperor know about love?" 
 
 Good! That will do for to-day; you may retire. I need 
 rest, to recuperate .... Keep close watch on the press. It 
 has been allowed too much liberty of late. 
 
ACT I PRINCESS BEBÉ 39 
 
 Chancellor. We have taken proper precautions already. 
 Your Majesty may repose. Rest in peace. 
 Emperor. Good ! Good night. 
 The Chancellor goes out. 
 Emperor. 
 
 "Little dove. 
 What does the Emperor know about love?'* 
 
 Curtain 
 
CHARACTERS APPEARING IN THE 
 SECOND ACT 
 
 Prince Stephen 
 
 Princess Helena 
 
 CoMTEssE Diana de Lts 
 
 Elsa Konigsberg 
 
 The Baroness von Rosenberg 
 
 comte de tournerelles 
 
 Herr Albert Rosmer 
 
 M. DE Chantel 
 
 Conductor Wulf 
 
 Mme. Clemencia Wilf 
 
 Gottfried Wilf 
 
 The Queen of Sheba 
 
 The Duchessa d'Arcole 
 
 Ladies, Gentlemen, and Attendants 
 
 
THE SECOND ACT 
 
 Grand Hall in the Casino of a winter resort upon the Riviera, 
 situated upon the border between Italy and France. 
 
 Diana de Lys is greeting the Queen op Sheba. Visitors and 
 attendants in the background. 
 
 Diana. Of course it is chance, but the same thing has hap- 
 pened two years in succession. As I was beginning to win, 
 I saw you. It is the first time that anything has come my 
 way this season. Did you run down from Paris ? 
 
 Queen. Jaunting around. 
 
 Diana. When did you arrive .í* I always look over the 
 lists. 
 
 Queen. Since my hit in the pantomime " The Queen of 
 Sheba," at the Olympia last winter, I have changed my name. 
 You were in Italy at the time; it was a popular departure, 
 fully equal to your sensation in "Le Bain de la Parisienne,'* 
 only mine was more fully undress, especially at the end before 
 Solomon. That rascally Flo-Flo invented a light effect 
 
 Diana. I should have returned from Italy if I had known 
 it. How were the notices ? 
 
 Queen. Wonderful! Lorraine wrote me two columns of 
 insults; I can never thank him enough. Since then nobody 
 thinks of me but as the Queen of Sheba. 
 
 Diana. I seem to recall the name; I wondered who that 
 new one could be. 
 
 Queen. Well, it was I; only ft was nothing new. 
 
 Diana. Are you alone ? 
 
 41 
 
42 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 Queen. Yes, this is a pleasure trip. How are you getting 
 on? Are you still with the Comte? What million is he in 
 now ? In Paris, the report is that he is down to his last. 
 
 Diana. Very likely, at the rate he is going. If he spent it 
 on himself, it would not be so bad; but the trouble is he likes 
 to see it spent. 
 
 Queen. As blase as ever, I suppose ? 
 
 Diana. He has reached the limit. Nothing excites or stirs 
 his interest in the least. Everybody here lives off him, in- 
 cluding his secretary, Chantel. 
 
 Queen. I remember that fellow. He is clever. 
 
 Diana. No more than the rest. The Comte buys carriages 
 and automobiles which he never even sees; his friends and his 
 friends' friends ride in them and show themselves off. He 
 deals out thousand-franc notes by the handful, so that others 
 can play, who lose, naturally. He never goes near a table 
 himself. If you tell him that a play is good, he sends his 
 friends, and then forbids them to mention it afterward. At 
 one time dress was his hobby, but now he leaves all that sort 
 of thing to his secretary. 
 
 Queen. Has he slipped you along, too, to the secretary? 
 
 Diana. No, he still loves me. I am the only person who 
 can do anything with him, as you will discover when we re- 
 turn to Paris; I shall be Comtesse de Tournerelles. I should 
 like to see more of you here, very naturally, but my friends 
 are rather select; I cannot afford to take any chances. 
 
 Queen. Who are your friends ? 
 
 Diana. My dear, with art and religion a woman enters 
 any society. Christians and artists will receive anybody, and 
 thank you for the opportunity. Although one must be a 
 little discreet, and careful to keep up appearances. 
 
 Queen. So you have gone in for religion ? 
 
 Diana. No, I am reserving that for my old age; for the 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 43 
 
 present I get on with art. I belong to a musical coterie; we 
 adore music — Wilf's music. What music! I suppose you 
 never heard of Wilf .? He is scarcely in your line. He was 
 an extraordinary genius who died in a madhouse, raving, 
 because nobody appreciated his music. After his death, his 
 widow, Mme. Clemencia Wilf, and his son Gottfried 
 
 Queen. What a horrible name ! 
 
 Diana. The title of a symphonic poem by his father. The 
 son and widow, together with a little group of enthusiasts, 
 made up their minds that Wilf's music should be admired and 
 appreciated by everybody, so they organized a company and 
 began giving concerts, some of them conducted by Wulf — 
 have you never heard of Wulf? — others by Gottfried Wilf. 
 Nobody paid any attention at first; some even went so far 
 as to throw potatoes; but, little by little, a change for the 
 better set in, and soon all fell at the feet of Mme. Wilf. Peo- 
 ple lost their heads, the number of admirers increased 
 
 Queen. And you lost yours, too — I can see it. 
 
 Diana. Nonsense ! Nobody was fooled, except a few ear- 
 nest admirers, who are necessary in any business. However, 
 the widow, the son and the conductor, not to speak of the 
 musicians, understand perfectly how to take advantage of 
 persons who are perfectly willing to be taken advantage of, 
 so long as they appear superior to others who do not under- 
 stand and appreciate the music of Wilf. Some very distin- 
 guished names occurred on the list, so I exerted my influence 
 with the Comte de Tournerelles to have him take stock in the 
 Wilf and Wulf Concerts Company. The other shareholders 
 welcomed me with open arms. Much was forgiven, because 
 I had loved much — the music of Wilf, their idol. Now I 
 belong to the smart set, I associate with people who are 
 chic, with princesses, the nobility, with great artists. I am 
 preparing my entree to the fashionable circles of Paris this 
 
44 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 winter upon the arm of the Comte de Tournerelles and the 
 wings of Wilf's music. You cannot tell me anything about 
 art, my old partner. 
 
 Queen. It takes my breath away. If you had been a 
 man, you could have gone anywhere. *" 
 
 Diana. The one thing I have never wanted to be is a man. 
 Pardon, some friends of my group .... We shall see more of 
 each other again. 
 
 Queen. You have not told me who is here yet. 
 
 Diana. It is awfully dull. No one does anything any more; 
 everybody comes for some purpose. I never saw it so stupid 
 before carnival. La Zaragoza, the Spanish dancer, is the 
 only woman who is enjoying herself; it is the same with her 
 everywhere. 
 
 Queen. Is that wild beast in town? I should not have 
 come if I had known it. We had a fight at Trouville last 
 summer, right out in the middle of the Casino. They called 
 the bets off on both sides when they stopped us. 
 
 Diana. I might be interested later. Good luck, until next 
 time. 
 
 Queen. Au revoir, Comtesse. [Goes out. 
 
 k^y^ Mme. Wilf, Wulf, Wilf, Elsa Konigsberg, and the 
 Duchessa d'Arcole enter. 
 
 Diana. Is the opera over? 
 
 Mme. Wilf. We were able to endure only the first two 
 acts, out of sympathy for the artists. Opera ? Imagine call- 
 ing such a thing opera ! 
 
 Wulf. Mankind has suffered a long time under the im- 
 position. 
 
 Wilf. Yet there are persons who sit there and actually 
 listen to it as if it were music. 
 
 Elsa. The Comtesse displayed rare taste in declining to 
 accompany us. 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 45 
 
 Diana. Although I should not have hesitated if it had not 
 been for the music. I met an old school friend on my way 
 to the opera-house; we could not resist stopping and recall- 
 ing old times. Does the Prince join us this evening ? 
 
 Elsa. The Prince had the bad taste to sit out the opera. 
 
 Diana. Well, is there any news.?* Has the concert been 
 arranged ? Has the Casino accepted our proposition ? 
 
 WiLF. It has in the abstract; we have only to discuss the 
 details. We anticipate a great sensation. 
 
 Elsa. I am charmed with your programme. 
 
 WiLF. As the audience will be intelligent, we need scarcely 
 give that feature consideration. 
 
 WuLF. It comes fully prepared. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. It is no longer a question of initiating a brood 
 of neophytes, but of appealing to a chosen circle of the élite, 
 who are already believers. 
 
 Wilf. You will realize that you have never before lis- 
 tened to music. We shall play the three great symphonic 
 poems: "The Slumber Poem," "The Poem of the Idea," and 
 "The Poem of Silence." 
 
 Mme. Wilf. On the whole I consider the last the greatest 
 work of Wilf. 
 
 WuLF. Nobody has been able to understand it as yet. 
 
 Wilf. It ceases to be what it is the moment that it is un- 
 derstood. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. It had only one performance in London, but 
 five ladies fainted. Two of the first violins committed suicide 
 a week after taking part in the concert. 
 
 Wulf. I never conduct the work without — shall I say re- 
 ligious ? — preparation. I confine myself to my rooms during 
 the week preceding the concert; I speak to no one — I bury 
 myself in the rare, the divine pages bequeathed to us by the 
 Master. I receive whatever food is necessary in order to 
 
46 PRINCESS BEBÉ actii 
 
 support the ordeal, and at last rise to a state of mystic ex- 
 altation, without which it is idle to aspire to a proper inter- 
 pretation of the sublime masterpiece. After the concert is 
 over, Mme. Wilf will tell you the condition I am in. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. Unfortunately." We apply a cold compress, 
 and bring him to with a strong punch, reinforced with rum. 
 It is a work which can be performed safely only now and 
 then. My son is not able to conduct it as yet. 
 
 Wilf. Although I have studied since the age of six. My 
 interpretation differs radically from that of Herr Wulf. 
 
 WuLF. But you are not able to justify your readings. For 
 example, why should the second movement of "The Poem of 
 the Idea" be lento, while you take "Silence" vivace f The 
 ideal interpretation would be one in which "Silence" was 
 not heard at all, while the "Idea" should be passed over as 
 rapidly as possible, with the swiftness of thought. I hope 
 and pray to find an orchestra some day which is capable of 
 catching the idea. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. Fascinating, is it not.?^ What does Your 
 Highness think ? What do you think, Comtesse ? And you, 
 too, Duchessa.'^ 
 
 DucHEssA. [Reviving] Ah ! I beg your pardon .... 
 
 Diana. The Duchessa is still at the Italian opera. 
 
 DucHESSA. No, it is difficult to acquire new tastes at my 
 age. Nothing appeals to me so much as "La Sonnambula." 
 As a concert number, give me "La Mandolinata." 
 
 Diana. Oh, Duchessa ! 
 
 Duchessa. [Aside to Diana] Nonsense ! I know good music 
 when I hear it — and good society. 
 
 Diana. Dissimulate. 
 
 Duchessa. Yes, if we are to continue good friends. 
 
 Diana. Hush ! They may hear us. 
 
 Duchessa. What if they do ? They are no better than we 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 47 
 
 are; we are all playing a part. This Princess is not a princessk 
 you are not a countess, and I am not a duchess. The widow) 
 of that musician is probably not a widow, if you care to look; 
 into it, nor is her husband's music music if it comes to be 
 heard. We all know what we are doing here, and the 
 best thing that others can do is to seem not to know any- 
 thing. 
 
 Diana. Duchessa ! You surprise me. 
 
 DucHEssA. Not much. We both of us know a good time 
 when we see one, and we have seen our good times, too, but 
 not this season. 
 
 Diana. We were young and thoughtless then; we have 
 had leisure since to meditate. 
 
 Duchessa. It is beyond me how you can put up with that 
 Princess, who only two months ago was singing in operetta. 
 I have heard all she knows on a hand-organ. Now it ap- 
 pears she is not only an artist, she is a great lady. 
 
 Diana. I shall give myself away if you make me laugh. 
 [Aloud] The Duchessa confesses the superiority of the new 
 music. At bottom, it is the only music. 
 
 Duchessa. It is at bottom. I feel it; I understand it. 
 Although — [Humming. A patise] Undeniably that is beau- 
 tiful; it always makes me cry. 
 
 Elsa. Why, Duchessa ! 
 
 Duchessa. However, when we complete our temple, our 
 Bayreuth 
 
 WuLF. Ah! Our Bayreuth? Bayreuth is another tra- 
 dition which is doomed presently to disappear. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. Although we must concede Wagner some 
 merit. He was a timid precursor. 
 
 WuLF. Who had his successes; but compared with our 
 temple, our vast concert-hall, upon a mountain-top, beside 
 the sea — it should be on an island, if possible 
 
48^ PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 WiLF. Where there will be ample space for all the dev- 
 otees to assemble once a year. 
 
 WuLF. As we hope and believe, our dream is about to be 
 realized. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. We have unlimited capital for its construc- 
 tion. 
 
 WiLF. Not only for the temple, but for hotels and res- 
 taurants, and whatever else may be necessary. 
 
 WuLF. We anticipate a great rush. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. Probably; although it is a phase we prefer 
 not to dwell on. We are thinking only of him. 
 
 WuLF. Not of him — of it — it, his idea. Rather than of 
 what he did, we prefer to think of what he might have done. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. To it — it, his ideal idea ! 
 
 DucHESSA. [Aside to Diana] If these people are not mak- 
 ing money out of this, then they are the greatest fools I ever 
 heard of. 
 ^-^ * ff^g CoMTE DE TouRNERELLES and Chantel enter. 
 
 CoMTE. Amusing mistake, was it not ? Suppose some gen- 
 tleman had presented himself and had insisted upon a duel ? 
 In that case it would have been still more amusing. 
 
 Chantel. If you had fought him yourself. I approached 
 Her Highness on your behalf, under instructions, as your 
 emissary. 
 
 CoMTE. At a distance, I thought she was a cocotte. But 
 you should have known better. 
 
 Chantel. How was I to tell? I thought the same when 
 I got near. She was sitting at one of the tables playing trente 
 et guárante. An elderly woman occupied the next chair, who 
 was far from respectable. One played red, the other black; 
 meanwhile they bet on the side, and laughed as they played. 
 
 CoMTE. Capital ! What did you do ? 
 
 Chantel. I suggested a fresh combination. They were 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 49 
 
 delighted. You know — it never fails. They placed their 
 money at my disposition 
 
 CoMTE. How much of it have you left.? 
 
 Chantel. Not a souy I assure you; I lost it all. The Prin- 
 cess — it was then that she turned out to be a princess — per- 
 sisted in sliding her bare arm around my shoulder. I con- 
 fess that I was nervous. I pressed my foot against hers be- 
 neath the table 
 
 CoMTE. But what did she do ? 
 
 Chantel. It wasn't she, it was the old lady. As soon as 
 I recovered sufficiently, I launched my proposal — your pro- 
 posal — and the Baroness, whose title I forget, broke loose with 
 a torrent of the most villainous abuse, in the course of which 
 I discovered who the distinguished lady was, whom we had 
 misjudged so lightly. 
 
 CoMTE. But what did she do ? 
 
 Chantel. I cannot say that she seemed offended. She 
 stood up and laughed. 
 
 CoMTE. Encouragement to continue. Who is this Prin- 
 cess ? Not Princess Helena of Sua via, who eloped with her 
 husband's secretary? 
 
 Chantel. Yes, and she is here with him now, waiting un- 
 til the Emperor consents to a divorce. 
 
 CoMTE. A divorce.? What does she want of a divorce? 
 Not to marry the secretary? It is unworthy of her. I am 
 attracted to that Princess. I might take up the adventure 
 myself at the point where you left off. A princess is de- 
 serving of some attention. 
 
 Chantel. Funds are running low. I understand that the 
 happy couple are negotiating a loan, regardless of cost. The 
 Emperor is starving them out — siege and famine. The 
 Prince Consort announces that he will no longer be responsi- 
 ble for the debts of his wife, the other relatives withhold 
 
50 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 their support so as not to fall into the Emperor's bad 
 graces, trente et guárante fails to prove more propitious 
 
 CoMTE. Good ! Keep me advised of further progress. I 
 shall introduce myself to the Princess to apologize for my 
 secretary. 
 
 Chantel. Thanks. 
 • CoMTE. Wilf*s music will furnish an excuse for a concert 
 at my villa, to which I may invite Her Highness. 
 
 Chantel. But suppose Diana becomes suspicious .'' 
 
 CoMTE. Diana has a talent for becoming suspicious. How- 
 ever, I have promised to marry her, whatever happens. 
 High society will be a good thing for us both, and high is 
 high. 
 
 Chantel. Yes, and it will be high. By the way, how much 
 do you intend to subscribe to the Wilf and Wulf Concerts 
 Company for their new theatre ? I am unable to rest; the 
 mere mention of money makes those people nervous. 
 
 CoMTE. Five thousand francs more than the largest sub- 
 scriber. 
 
 Chantel. There are subscriptions for fabulous sums. 
 
 CoMTE. The fifty thousand francs, which I have promised 
 already. 
 
 Chantel. Ah ! You have a letter La Zaragoza, the 
 
 Spanish dancer, writes me — that is, she writes you — carnival 
 is approaching and she is anxious to make a hit in the Battle 
 of Flowers. She wishes to appear well at the Casino dances. 
 
 CoMTE. Ten thousand francs. 
 
 Chantel. L'Écho de la Cote d' Azure publishes an article 
 by its most distinguished contributor, devoted wholly to you. 
 He says 
 
 CoMTE. Three thousand francs. 
 
 Chantel. Le Moniteur du Grand Monde publishes your 
 portrait — with mine. 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 51 
 
 CoMTE. Three thousand five hundred. 
 
 Chantel. I have dropped during the week 
 
 CoMTE. Why persist in these ridiculous combinations ? 
 
 Chantel. At what hour will it be convenient for you to 
 sign checks to-morrow .^^ 
 
 CoMTE. At what hour.? At what hour will it be con- 
 venient for me to sign checks .^^ Don't ask me that ques- 
 tion again. Any hour will be convenient. Make inquiries 
 about the Princess; as a diversion, I find her more interesting. 
 I must speak to these people. 
 
 Chantel. Meanwhile I shall resume my investigations. 
 
 [Retires, 
 
 Comte. [Joining the group] Ladies and gentlemen .... 
 Your Highness .... Madame ! 
 
 Mme. Wilf. I believe that my son has already expressed 
 our appreciation of your generous contribution to the 
 cause. 
 
 Comte. Do not mention it again. 
 
 WuLF. You have the soul of an artist; you comprehend 
 our work and its significance. 
 
 Wilf. We hope to inscribe your name in our temple as 
 patron. 
 
 Diana. We plan to be present each season. 
 
 Comte. [Aside] No ! That is too much. 
 
 Diana. Silence ! Leave it to me. 
 
 Comte. Would it be possible to arrange a little rehearsal 
 at my villa, previous to the public concert ? Your husband's 
 music, as it seems to me, requires a select audience if it is 
 to be appreciated, an atmosphere of intimacy, of sympathy, 
 of.... of.... 
 
 Diana. Perhaps we might be able to arrange a quiet con- 
 cert. 
 
 Wilf. I can see no objection to that. 
 
52 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 Mme. Wilf. [Aside] Fifty thousand francs deserves some 
 substantial recognition. 
 
 WuLF. Monsieur le Comte need only name the day, and 
 I assume responsibility for a satisfactory result. 
 
 Elsa. May I volunteer to sing the lament, that marvellous 
 passage ? 
 
 Mme. Wilf. Your Highness ! Is it possible ? If you do, 
 it will be the first time that it has been rendered by a pure 
 artist. 
 
 Elsa. I shall bring to it all the pathos of my art. 
 
 WuLF. The soul of the master will rise in his grave as you 
 sing. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. He will be sure to hear you. We entertain 
 no shadow of doubt. 
 
 Comte. [Aside to Diana] We shall hear Her Highness, too 
 — at less distance. 
 
 Diana. It is a far cry from "La Belle Héléne" to Wilf's 
 music. 
 
 Comte. No further than the jump from stage princess to 
 princess in fact. 
 
 Diana. Although double somersaults are less usual in 
 high art than in good society. Anybody can rub elbows with 
 a king or a grandee, but Shakespeare and Beethoven are 
 something quite diflPerent. I am not as much of a fool as you 
 think. 
 
 Comte. You certainly are not. 
 
 Diana. I failed as an actress and determined to be a count- 
 ess, and found that I was built for the part. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. As the hour is late, we must retire. Gott- 
 fried has still to consecrate the better half of the night to his 
 labors. 
 
 WuLF. I also must husband my energies for the approach- 
 ing concert. 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 53 
 
 Els A. Apparently the Prince has endured the opera to the 
 end. We had hoped to retire early this evening ourselves. 
 
 CoMTE. No, the Prince has left the theatre. I saw him at 
 one of the tables a few moments ago. 
 
 Elsa. At one of the tables ? Disgusting ! 
 
 CoMTE. He always becomes more animated about mid-, 
 night. 
 
 Elsa. Will you lead me to him at once? 
 
 CoMTE. With the greatest of pleasure. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. Again we say good night. [To the Comte] 
 Do not fail to advise us so that we may set a date for. the 
 concert. 
 
 Comte. Oh ! Yes, indeed ! Delighted Do you know, 
 
 it had slipped my mind for the moment? 
 
 ^ All go Old. 
 v^^rV^ Princess Helena and the Baroness von Rosenberg 
 enter. 
 
 Baroness. Whatever happens, I shall not return to the 
 Casino again; responsibility for the future must not rest upon 
 my shoulders. I have had enough of responsibility — yes, and 
 of remorse. I cannot sleep; only by the use of morphine am 
 I able to quiet my nerves, but sleep, innocent sleep, which 
 is the balm of a quiet conscience, has fled from my eyes for- 
 ever. 
 
 Princess Helena. I hope you do not imagine that I en- 
 joy visiting the Casino. It did amuse me for the first few 
 evenings; it was a novelty. I had never seen anything but 
 those horrible functions at the Court of Suavia. I had been 
 entertained, it is true, at one or two casinos at the deadly 
 seaside resorts of our own country, which become more 
 deadly than ever when a member of the Imperial family is 
 present; but now my curiosity has been satisfied. I shall 
 never return to the Casino again. 
 
54 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 Baroness. Where else is there to go? 
 
 Princess Helena. We shall find some place which is 
 more amusing, or more wicked — which is the same thing. I 
 have always noticed that the places which everybody agrees 
 are wicked, are by far the most amusing. That is the reason 
 I am inclined to believe that hell, which certainly has the 
 worst reputation, must be extremely funny. 
 
 Baroness. Your Highness! I am shocked beyond ex- 
 pression. You have absolutely no idea of what you are 
 talking about, and you have not had for some time. 
 
 Princess Helena. Not since I made up my mind to say 
 what I thought and do what I pleased. Is that what you 
 wish to convey ? 
 
 Baroness. Remember what happened to us this evening ! 
 A libertine has whispered phrases into m/ ear, which I had 
 never expected to hear from a man. When he let go my 
 hand, there was a hundred-franc note in it. And he had 
 the impertinence to add: "Fix it up for me with your young 
 
 friend a few moments of her time.'* I thought I should 
 
 expire on the spot. 
 
 Princess Helena. Delicious, was it not ? If I had been 
 in your place, I should have accepted the hundred francs and 
 have staked them all on the next deal. I am sure that you 
 would have continued in luck. 
 
 Baroness. Highness! Speech fails me. I shall die of 
 mortification. The world is on tiptoe, waiting to see what 
 you are going to do next. They observe us from Suavia; 
 you may depend upon it, we are watched. 
 
 Princess Helena. For that reason I am unwilling to ap- 
 pear sad or weary for a single moment. 
 
 Baroness. But you are, I can see it, in spite of yourself. 
 Nothing but a quiet conscience 
 
 Princess Helena. Why harp so much upon conscience ? 
 
ACT II 
 
 PRINCESS BEBÉ 55 
 
 Mine does not trouble me; it is at peace with all the world. 
 I have no children to prejudice by my behavior, which, after 
 all, is the only consideration which would have made it in- 
 excusable. As for my husband, I have merely repaid him — 
 without great interest — for the insolence and brutality with 
 which he has treated me. I owe the Court of Suavia nothing 
 beyond a life of mortal stagnation which was one continual 
 abdication of my will, a perpetual act of self-suppression. I 
 have struck the balance and settled my account with them 
 all. Now, I am dissatisfied with myself. 
 
 Baroness. In what way ? 
 
 Princess Helena. It is idle to attempt to change our- 
 selves when we continue in the same environment. The past, 
 not the future, governs the world. History, despised his- 
 tory, tyrannizes over the lives of men as of nations. How 
 different life would be if it were possible for us to be born on 
 the day when we can first truly say that our lives are our 
 own, that we belong to ourselves; but we are not even able 
 to say that we are born on the first day of our lives, we 
 have been living for a long time previously, from remote 
 antiquity, in the days that are far off. Life is a forest many 
 centuries old, and our souls are rooted in it like centenarian 
 trees. The wind rustles the branches, and we imagine that 
 we are spreading our wings about to fly, to soar upward 
 into the air and liberty and light. 
 
 Baroness. All of which is to say 
 
 Princess Helena. All of which is to say that I should 
 have renounced my old life gladly, but absolutely, altogether. 
 Of what use is it to forget who I am, when nobody is willing 
 to forget it around me? Everybody exacts of me the same 
 behavior, and treats me with the same deference as at the 
 Court of Suavia; everybody does, and the worst of all is the 
 very person who of all others has most reason to forget it. 
 
56 PRINCESS BEBÉ act n 
 
 When everybody from the man who loves me, for whom I 
 have renounced my rank, my position, without so much as 
 one regret, down to the humblest servant and the shop- 
 keeper who waits upon me to sell me some trinket, and the 
 beggar who follows me down the street, when everybody in- 
 sists upon reminding me that I am Princess of Suavia, neither 
 in my actions nor in my appearance nor in my expenditures 
 can I cease to be so. The honors which the government of 
 Suavia denies me officially, the world returns to me privately, 
 for its own advantage. It is utterly useless to say: "lam 
 merely a woman, like any other woman, who is in love, who 
 wishes to be happy, to be forgotten, without being responsible 
 for her conduct to anybody." Immediately the world is up 
 in arms: "No, Your Highness! It is impossible! To us 
 you are always the Princess — Princess Helena of Suavia!" 
 The Emperor assured me that I had forfeited popular respect 
 through my foolishness, but I have never been so much re- 
 spected, nor treated with so much consideration, nor so be- 
 princessed as now. That is why I could not help being pleased 
 when that roue took me for a disreputable woman, and I 
 showed it. For the first time in my life I found out what I 
 really looked like. 
 
 Baroness. Have pity on my poor nerves! I never lis- 
 tened to such conversation. Surely you did not imagine that 
 anybody was going to forget who you are ? If we did, you 
 would be the last person to thank us for it. Being treated 
 like a princess is not what you object to; it is the difficulty 
 of making both ends meet while you submit to the process. 
 
 Princess Helena. It may be so. It is impossible to con- 
 tinue as we are doing now. 
 
 Baroness. Although the crisis will be a passing one. The 
 Emperor cannot afford to permit his niece 
 
 Princess Helena. When it is a question of spending 
 money, the Emperor cannot afford anything. 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 57 
 
 Baroness. In that contingency 
 
 Princess Helena. I have considered several alternatives, 
 but Herr Rosmer disapproves of all of them. They are in- 
 correct, he says — beneath the dignity of a princess. 
 
 Baroness. Undoubtedly, although the impropriety would 
 be merely a matter of form. In the end the Emperor will be 
 obliged to pay. Of that we may be certain. 
 
 Princess Helena. I hope so, to avoid an open scandal. 
 The difficulty is that Albert is opposed to scandals. He be- 
 lieves that the Emperor will consent to my divorce, and then 
 we shall be able to return to Suavia and live like princes. 
 
 Baroness. I doubt it. The Emperor will never consent 
 that a princess of Imperial blood should suffer divorce. 
 
 Princess Helena. And he is perfectly right. All divorce 
 is ridiculous. Besides, it destroys the only certainty which 
 there is to marriage — the certainty that you will never be able 
 to do it again. I no longer give divorce a second thought; 
 it leads nowhere. Suppose I were to marry Herr Rosmer 
 now after all this talk ? It would be too much like the table 
 of errata at the end of a book, when you have read the book. 
 It corrects nothing and recalls everything. 
 -■J . Chantel enters. 
 
 Baroness. Do you see? That fellow again. Move on. 
 He is capable 
 
 Princess Helena. Let us find out of what he is capable. 
 Whatever it is, it will not shock me. 
 
 Chantel. Baroness von — von. . . . Pardon if the title 
 escapes my mind. 
 
 Baroness. Von Rosenberg. 
 
 Chantel. In my confusion, consequent upon my regret- 
 table mistake, I neglected to offer my apologies as a gentle- 
 man, to beg pardon of the Baroness and of Her Highness 
 
58 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 Baroness. Duchess, if you please. Her Highness is 
 travelling incognito. 
 
 Chantel. Pardon. Her Highness will always be Her 
 Highness to me. 
 
 Princess Helena. And to everybody else. It makes no 
 matter. 
 
 Chantel. I might say in my defense that I approached 
 Your Highness only at the suggestion of the Comte de Tour- 
 nerelles, as his private secretary. The Comte is somewhat 
 near-sighted. He supposed 
 
 Princess Helena. Quite naturally. In this cosmopolis 
 where everybody pretends to be what they are not, it is not 
 surprising that a princess should be taken for a cocotte where 
 there are so many cocottes who are taken for princesses. 
 
 Baroness. Did you say the Comte de Tournerelles ? 
 Not that Comte who enjoys the reputation for spending 
 money ? Why, they call him — I beg your pardon; I forgot 
 that you were his secretary. 
 
 Chantel. Not at all; it is no secret. In Paris they dub 
 him the "Little Chocolateer," as the origin of his fortune was 
 in chocolate. His grandfather arrived in Paris without a sou 
 to his name, and established a small factory. 
 
 Princess Helena. Needless to add that he came bare- 
 foot; it is the legend of all great fortunes. 
 
 Chantel. However, after living in Paris twenty years 
 conducting a modest factory, he branched out suddenly into 
 other lines, bought land, and commenced to build houses. 
 
 Baroness. All of them dispensing chocolate ? 
 
 Chantel. Or with it, as the case might be. To-day his 
 grandson is a multimillionaire, and a Comte. He has at- 
 tracted more attention in Paris, such as it is, over a longer 
 period of years, than any other person still living, except 
 Sarah Bernhardt and Otero. He sets the fashions. 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 59 
 
 Princess Helena. Including those in Parisian beauties, 
 according to my information. Was not the celebrated Diana 
 de Lys a creation of his ? 
 
 Chantel. Are you referring to the Comtesse Diana de 
 Lys? 
 
 Princess Helena. Ah ! So he has also made her Com- 
 tesse ? 
 
 Chantel. She is an extraordinarily intelligent woman, 
 who dominates the Comte by her ability. She is able to 
 do with him whatever she wants, even to the point of mar- 
 riage, which is exactly what she wants. 
 
 Princess Helena. Do you know, this gossip interests 
 me? These people fight, they live 
 
 Chantel. They do; and you will find plenty of them here. 
 No doubt Your Highness's life has been rather retired, as 
 unquestionably is better suited to the tastes of Your High- 
 ness; it facilitates without attracting attention. Did you 
 ever hear of the Wilf and Wulf Concerts Company ? 
 
 Princess Helena, What was the name of the company ? 
 
 Chantel. A most ingenious device for preparing the 
 ground so that one may meet everybody, whatever one may 
 have in mind, all the while apparently in the exclusive pur- 
 suit of art — that is to say, Wilf 's music. An immense theatre 
 is to be erected — nothing else is mentioned in public. Per- 
 haps Your Highness would be interested to attend a little 
 concert at the Comte's villa ? The Comte would deem it a 
 great honor if you would accept his invitation. 
 
 Princess Helena. I should be charmed. You said, did 
 you not, that the company would be rather mixed? 
 
 Baroness. Highness! 
 
 Chantel. Oh! The guests will all be distinguished peo- 
 ple. His Highness, Prince Stephen, has promised to be pres- 
 ent. 
 
60 PRINCESS BEBÉ act n 
 
 Prlncess Helena. I am so sorry ! I am not on the best 
 of terms with my cousin; I find him entirely too serious. 
 
 Baroness. Your Highness! You cannot appear at a 
 function at which Prince Stephen is present. You would 
 be obliged to meet his wife, la Konigsberg, a comic-opera 
 singer. 
 
 Princess Helena. Of course, in my position I am 
 obliged to be particular. Baroness, you amuse me. 
 
 Baroness. Highness, I am deeply grieved; I must posi- 
 tively give you up. You play havoc with my most cherished 
 convictions. 
 
 Princess Helena. Nonsense ! We left our convictions 
 behind us when we left Suavia. Tell the Comte that I shall 
 be delighted to accept his invitation and to attend his con- 
 cert. 
 
 Baroness. Oh! 
 
 Chantel. The Comte will be greatly pleased. I bow. 
 Your Highness .... Baroness, a word. A inoment with you 
 alone. ... 
 
 Baroness. Sir ! Do you intend to oiler me another hun- 
 dred-franc note.'* 
 
 Chantel. No, it is something worth your while this time. 
 
 Baroness. Sir! 
 
 Chantel. Don't be nervous. I am told that Her High- 
 ness is negotiating a loan. She has encountered difficulties, 
 as the sum is considerable. 
 
 Princess Helena. Oh, Baroness ! 
 
 Baroness. Just a minute. How interesting! So 
 
 you know, then.^* 
 
 Chantel. The Comte will be glad to oblige Her Highness 
 and to assist the negotiations by any means in his power. 
 
 Baroness. No, no! Impossible! I did not know that 
 the Comte was in this business. 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 61 
 
 Chantel. It is not business. Her Highness's name will 
 be sufficient guarantee. You may say so on behalf of the 
 Comte. I await Her Highness's reply. 
 it^v.i^ ' Chantel retires. 
 
 Princess Helena. What was your secret with the sec- 
 retary ? 
 
 Baroness. Most remarkable! I scarcely know what to 
 say. Would you believe it ? He asked me to offer you in the 
 name of the Comte whatever you require, without any other 
 guarantee than your reputation, which to him is sufficient. 
 
 Princess Helena. Not really ? We are saved ! 
 
 Baroness. Highness ! I am amazed. Money offered in 
 this spirit, by a person whom you have not even met 
 
 Princess Helena. By a person who knows perfectly well 
 that sooner or later he will have to be repaid. He has suffi- 
 cient sense and business acumen to realize that his apparent 
 confidence and disinterestedness only place me still more 
 deeply in his debt. 
 
 Baroness. Very possibly he has. One must be upon one's 
 guard with these parvenus. How can we tell but that what 
 he really wishes is to compromise your reputation, so as to 
 capitalize it afterward in some discreditable enterprise ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Quite unlikely. My personal influence 
 is no longer of account, and I am scarcely in a position to be- 
 tray political or financial secrets. I believe that the Comte 
 is merely anxious to pay handsomely for the luxury of pre- 
 senting another Highness in his house, at his entertainments, 
 where the tone of society is somewhat mixed. My cousin is 
 certainly not on friendly terms with the Comte for nothing. 
 Prince Stephen's condition must be far worse than mine by 
 this time. He is the person to advise us. . . . 
 
 Baroness. The adventure is perilous. This Comte, this 
 Comtesse, that secretary, these musicians, especially now 
 
62 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 that they are associated with Prince Stephen, and that means, 
 
 of course, his wife When all is said and done, the Court 
 
 of Suavia will overlook your separation from your husband 
 far more readily than it will condone the indecent marriage 
 of Prince Stephen. 
 
 Princess Helena. That in itself is sufficient commentary 
 upon the moral status of the Court of Suavia. We have ar- 
 rived at an impasse at which we cannot afford to be par- 
 ticular. When one rises every day to see the sun shining 
 upon an income which is adequate to one's needs and social 
 position, it is all very well to be fastidious in the choice of 
 one's friends, but morality is like army discipline: it is very 
 different in peace from what it is in time of war. I am fight- 
 ing now to make my own way in the world. I have only my- 
 self to rely upon, and I fight at a disadvantage. Ah ! It is 
 easy to rise, to force oneself up from the depths through sheer 
 power of will, through one's unaided efforts, like this Com- 
 tesse of whom we have just heard from the secretary. She 
 had no one but herself to consider, there was nothing to stop 
 her. All she had to do was to say to herself, "I want this," 
 and she had it. But to drop down from above, to hide one- 
 self, to disappear, if such a thing were possible, so as to live a 
 new life more personal, more one's own, that is difficult, be- 
 cause it is to the interest of all with whom we come in con- 
 tact not to permit us to come down, since their social position 
 is dependent upon burs, and they live by our lives, which 
 for that reason were never ours, and it is to their interest to 
 rise. However, you deceive yourself if you imagine that I 
 shall allow myself to be restrained by any such ridiculous 
 scruples. 
 
 Baroness. I do not imagine that they will interfere with 
 you in the least. What a place this world would be if other 
 people were to behave as you do ! It would become an orgy 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 63 
 
 of wild beasts. If there is no limit to selfishness merely be- 
 cause we wish to be happy 
 
 Princess Helena. But there is a limit to happiness — it is 
 the pain which we give to others. 
 
 Baroness. And do you mean to say that you have not 
 long since passed that limit ? Consider how Their Majesties 
 feel ! How does your husband feel ? Think of me ! 
 
 Princess Helena. Absurd ! You do not call that unhap- 
 piness.'' It is not my idea of pain. What I have offended 
 is merely vanity, their pride, prejudices of rank. Court eti- 
 quette. No human being has shed one real tear because of 
 me. Anger, not sorrow, is the emotion which they feel. 
 One single tear in the eyes of those who love us deserves the 
 sacrifice of all the happiness in the world, but the shrieks 
 and yells of this childish rage, which is neither sorrow, nor 
 love, nor even genuine rage, are not worth the sacrifice of 
 one passing caprice, much less of the happiness which 
 might have been ours in the world. 
 
 ^ Prince Stephen and the Comte de Tournerelles 
 4^'^ enter. 
 
 Prince Stephen. If I borrowed of the bank, my friend, 
 it was because the sum was utterly insignificant. I have 
 been playing in abominable luck this evening — although I 
 had a presentiment that my luck was about to change. 
 
 Comte. I forgive you upon the understanding that this 
 evening is to be an exception. Any reflection upon my 
 friendship, I could never forgive. 
 
 Prince Stephen. My dear Comte, I await a fitting op- 
 portunity of demonstrating my appreciation of your gener- 
 osity and esteem fully. 
 
 Comte. Will you be so kind as to present me to your 
 cousin, the Princess Helena ? I owe her an explanation and 
 an apology. 
 
64 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 Prince Stephen. With pleasure — or, rather, I should do 
 so were I certain of my own reception. My relations with 
 Princess Helena have never been overcordial, as perhaps you 
 know. Under different circumstances, through a coincidence, 
 we encountered opposition at Court at the same time. It 
 seems that the accident aggravated the condition of the 
 Emperor, so that if we were not sympathetic before, our an- 
 tipathy has since increased rapidly. 
 
 CoMTE. I beg your pardon; I had no idea. . . . 
 
 Pbincess Helena. [To the Baroness] Discussion is use- 
 less. My mind is made up. Do as I tell you. 
 
 Baroness. Oh, for the heroic soul of my ancestors and the 
 courage to oppose your wishes ! Think — think again, for the 
 last time ! 
 
 Princess Helena. Otherwise I shall speak to him my- 
 self. 
 
 Baroness. No ! Never that ! Wait [To the Prince] 
 
 Highness ! 
 
 Prince Stephen. Eh ? Ah, yes ! My dear Baroness ! I 
 am delighted — delighted and surprised. In fact, I scarcely 
 expected — certainly not before the Princess. 
 
 Baroness. It was Her Highness who insisted upon my 
 speaking to you. 
 
 Prince Stephen. She did ? It seems incredible. — If you 
 do not mind .... one moment, my dear Comte. 
 
 Comte. I retire in Her Highness's favor. Apparently she 
 wishes a word with you. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Yes, wait outside. The introduction 
 will be possible very shortly. [The Comte retires] Did you 
 say it was she? I thought she avoided me. 
 
 Baroness. She had the same impression of Your Highness. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Of me? How could she? On the con- 
 trary My dear cousin ! 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 65 
 
 Princess Helena. Why, cousin ! Really, have you no 
 grudge against me? 
 
 Prince Stephen. I thought you were avoiding me. 
 
 Princess Helena. A stupid misunderstanding has ex- 
 isted between us. Now we are united by misfortune. We 
 have both been banished for the same offense — for having 
 dared to declare the independence of our hearts. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Although mine was already free. 
 
 Princess Helena. Is that a reproach ? Mine was bound 
 to a tyrant whom another tyrant had imposed. I consider 
 myself much more heroic than you. You are a Prince and I 
 a Princess, but you had the advantage of being a single man. 
 I had three tyrannies to overcome — my rank as Princess, 
 marriage, and the disability of being a woman. I do not 
 need to tell you what a valiant spirit I had in me. 
 
 Prince Stephen. No, indeed. Your marriage was a mis- 
 take, an inexplicable caprice of the Emperor's. You must 
 have suffered tortures. But you are happy now, as I am. 
 
 Princess Helena. Yes, very happy — as happy as you are. 
 This is life at last, it is liberty, love, and they are well worth 
 all the sacrifices which we have made to enjoy them. For 
 my part, I regard them as negligible, absolutely negligible. 
 
 Prince Stephen. So do I, I assure you; although it seems 
 hardly fair to ask those whom we love to endure these pri- 
 vations with us. 
 
 Princess Helena. We cannot call ourselves rich. We ex- 
 pect nothing from the Emperor — in fact, I expect less than 
 you do. My debts are already heavy, and my credit is be- 
 coming exhausted. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Do not tell me. 
 
 Princess Helena. It occurred to me, perhaps, that the 
 Comte de Tournerelles .... Is he a close friend of yours ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. Of course; although I should scarcely 
 
66 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 presume to accept favors of such a nature, in spite of his 
 repeated offers. 
 
 Princess Helena. Then you are making a great mis- 
 take; everybody is convinced that you do. Nobody puts any 
 other interpretation upon your intimacy. 
 
 Prince Stephen. The explanation is very simple. I 
 should be intolerably selfish if I were to attempt to isolate poor 
 Elsa altogether, yet what society is open to us now ? In this 
 democracy of money and vice, which are the two great democ- 
 raftzers, the only possible selection lies among those whose 
 mofiey and vices are relieved by some touch of imagination, 
 soi^e suggestion of art. The Comte is one of these. Besides, 
 he is a thoroughly fine fellow, large-hearted, incapable by na- 
 ture of the slightest indelicacy. 
 
 Princess Helena. Then you beheve that he is a person 
 who can be relied upon thoroughly ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. Beyond question. 
 
 Princess Helena. Naturally you are in a position to know. 
 The Comte is anxious to meet me. I trust that you will ac- 
 commodate him at the very first opportunity. 
 
 Prince Stephen. At once. It will be a great pleasure to 
 him. He tells me that he owes you an explanation. 
 
 Princess Helena. It is wholly unnecessary. I shall be 
 enchanted to meet him. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Perhaps he is not far away. 
 
 [Prince Stephen goes otd. 
 
 Baroness. Your Highness! Your Highness! We totter 
 upon the verge of a precipice; I feel very much as I should 
 if I were to discover you looping the loop. My reason will 
 be unable to support these terrible blows. Who is this.'' 
 Herr Rosmer. . . . Another calamity! He could not have 
 appeared at a worse time. When he learns that you have 
 spoken to your cousin, that he has promised to present the 
 Comte de Tournerelles 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 67 
 
 Princess Helena. He will be shocked, which is the best 
 thing that he does. Let me know when my cousin arrives 
 with tíie Comte. 
 «^"iO^he Baroness retires. Herr Albert Rosmer enters. 
 
 Princess Helena. Oh, Albert! Where have you been? 
 You have played and lost ! Will you never learn that a man 
 cannot be lucky at everything ? Well, what are you going to 
 do "^ Smile, or wait for your luck to change to look pleasant ? 
 
 Albert. I have not been playing to-night. I should never 
 play, if I had my way, nor should we come to the Casino. 
 We should not remain another day in this place. 
 
 Princess Helena. Yes, I know your love-idyl: our hearts 
 and a cabin. Unhappy the woman who is lured into that 
 dream ! I still remember the week we spent in the country 
 together, without seeing a soul, without another person to 
 speak to, alone with our immense love. Who tired of it first .f* 
 
 Albert. It irritated me to see how bored you were. 
 
 Princess Helena. And I suppose it bored me to see you \ 
 having such a good time "i What is the use of this pretense ? 
 We were both bored horribly. Love is a beautiful thing, no 
 doubt it is the most beautiful thing in the world, but it is 
 like the sun — beautiful because it shines on so much that is 
 lovely and beautiful, which appears more fascinating in its 
 light; the light itself is not beautiful. I hope and pray that 
 our love may always be surrounded by all the lovely and beau- 
 tiful things in the world. 
 
 Albert. Yes, I seem to have noticed it. What you want 
 is to be happy, eternally happy. Your idea of love is having 
 nothing serious to think about. 
 
 Princess Helena. If I had thought seriously enough to 
 satisfy your ideas, we should never have loved each other, 
 nor should we be living together now. I adore happiness 
 above everything else in the world; I have no intention of 
 saddening my life by resignation, nor of renouncing your 
 
68 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 love, nor of doing penance, either, because I am yours and I 
 love you so. Was it my duty to sit still and submit to having 
 my life regulated by an Emperor and a Court which rep- 
 resent nothing but tradition and antiquity, in which the 
 voices of the dead have more influence than the wishes of 
 the living ? No, I had a heart, I had a soul, I had my life 
 to live, which was not that life, and it was my duty to fight, 
 to rebel. Life is either accepting the conditions and environ- 
 ment in which we find ourselves, without protest, without 
 rebellion, and living on peacefully and quietly, resigned to 
 our fate, as if we were already dead — and in that case it is 
 just as well to have all the virtues about us like statues 
 on a monument — or otherwise it is protest, it is struggle, 
 rebellion against the world, and there is but one virtue in a 
 rebel, which is courage; the others, no matter how impres- 
 sive their names, are nothing but ghosts of cowardice and j 
 fear — which are all that prevent us from running to meet» 
 happiness with a light heart, when happiness calls to us 
 in our lives in the name of love. 
 
 Albert. Suppose happiness calls to you some day in your 
 life in the name of love, and the voice is not my voice ? You 
 would not hesitate, of course ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Why do you say that? You have no 
 reason to doubt my love. 
 
 Albert. Probably I have no reason to doubt it because you 
 fancy that you have sacrificed so much for my sake. 
 
 Princess Helena. It was no sacrifice for me to give up 
 a life which I loathed and despised. 
 
 Albert. If it was no sacrifice, and you loathed and de- 
 spised it so utterly, how am I to know but that the desire to 
 escape from it may not have influenced you more than my 
 love ? Without your being conscious of it, I may have rep- 
 resented this new life in your eyes, a fresh environment, and 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 69 
 
 this liberty upon which you plume yourself, forgetting who 
 you are and the respect which you owe to your rank as 
 Princess. 
 
 Princess Helena. Oh ! What is the use of talking ? 
 Now you are finding fault with me; it has become a habit. 
 I might very well doubt your love, since you should have 
 warned me before that I was forgetting who I was and what 
 I owed to myself as Princess, and not now when it is too 
 late, if all that you saw in me was Princess Helena of 
 Sua via. 
 
 Albert. You have no right to say such things; you mis- 
 judge me. What I wish is to see you respected, to feel that 
 your conduct is becoming your rank and position. I am 
 not willing to have people think that a craving for low, 
 promiscuous adventure threw us together, when it was love. 
 Besides, I am afraid that you will be disillusioned yourself 
 when you are brought face to face with the very matter-of- 
 fact hardships to which we shall presently be exposed, which 
 will appear intolerable to you. I do not wish you to have 
 stooped so low when that time comes, that it will be impossi- 
 ble to recover the position which you renounced for love of 
 me, as I hope and believe — for love of me entirely. Yes, is 
 it not true, my Princess Bebé, born into a world into which 
 of all others you should never have been born, to become the 
 terror of the Court of Suavia, like a great, unruly boy in the 
 midst of a den of musty antiquaries, who laughs at them and 
 rifles their hoary parchments and diplomas, and overturns 
 their ancient cabinets which are covered with dust ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Yes, it' is so lovely to rebel! It was 
 in heaven, next to God. There was a rebel angel, even there, 
 who for mere love of it, exchanged heaven for hell. 
 
 Albert. Exactly, for hell. Now you have said it. Per- 
 haps you will be mourning your lost paradise some day. 
 
70 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 Princess Helena. It will only be because I have not 
 found what I sought. Through whose fault, I wonder? 
 But I shall not turn back, I promise you, come what will ! 
 
 Albert. Then you will love me forever.? 
 
 Princess Helena. If your love is the love I have hoped 
 to find in the world. 
 
 Albert. What do you mean ? 
 
 Princess Helena. I have already told you that I shall 
 never turn back. 
 
 Albert. Do you realize our situation .5^ Look at these 
 letters. 
 
 Princess Helena. Bills of course, creditors, the bankers 
 
 close their vaults, a few lines of friendly advice I knew 
 
 it, I expected it. 
 
 Albert. Hitherto you have merely renounced the disad- 
 vantages of your rank. Will you be equal also to renouncing 
 its advantages ? 
 
 Princess Helena. No, I shall renounce nothing. I shall 
 fight for our love. We need money and I intend to get it. 
 My cousin. Prince Stephen, has promised to present the 
 Comte de Tournerelles. 
 
 Albert. Have you been talking with your cousin.?^ Will 
 you permit him to present the Comte de Tournerelles ? Do 
 you realize what that implies socially ? You will be obliged 
 to recognize the Prince's wife and the Comte's mistress, yes, 
 and their whole circle of fortune-hunters and adventurers. 
 No, no, it is out of the question. We are observed from the 
 Court of Suavia. If our conduct is correct as befits our sta- 
 tion, the Emperor may relent, but if we receive these peo- 
 ple 
 
 Princess Helena. Why not acknowledge at once that 
 all your hopes are based upon the Emperor's consent to my 
 divorce, so that I shall again become Princess of Suavia, and 
 then you will be Prince Consort at my side? Is that it? 
 
ACT II PRINCESS BEBÉ 71 
 
 Do you flatter yourself that any amount of good behavior, 
 or the enduring of a thousand privations, will gain us th 
 favor of the Emperor? How silly! No, there is only on 
 course to pursue: the Emperor will never yield except be-j 
 fore a scandal, or when the outcry of my creditors threatens 
 to make him ridiculous. 
 
 Albert. Are you serious about accepting money from the 
 Comte de Tournerelles ? Do you realize what that involves ? 
 Are you crazy ? Do you know to what you will be commit- 
 ting yourself, what he will undoubtedly think, what he will 
 have the impudence to expect of you ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Nothing of the sort! He neither 
 thinks nor expects anything. He merely believes that he is 
 coming off very cheaply, entertaining a Princess in his house 
 at a clever bargain. 
 
 Albert. Have you considered the persons you will be 
 obliged to meet in his house? 
 
 Princess Helena. Yes, I have; I can imagine who they 
 will be. Men and women with passions, with vices, with 
 interests and necessities, with flesh and blood and nerves-/- 
 people who live, who struggle and fight for their lives, who 
 love, hate, intrigue; people who are like everybody else, jusi 
 the same as you and I. Why this insane desire to shut our^ 
 selves off from each other, to ticket and classify ourselves, 
 to create distinctions between us, and fancy that we are 
 superior to our fellows, when we are all equal and all belong 
 to the same race, the poor, despised human race, which spends 
 all its time dividing itself and hating itself and marking it- 
 self off into classes and castes and individuals, when all the 
 sympathy and all the love in our hearts which might bind 
 us together would be too little even then among so many to 
 alleviate the sorrows of life ? 
 ^ XÍ. . The Baroness enters. 
 
 Baroness. Oh, Your Highness! His Highness and 
 
72 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 the Comte ! . . . . Herr Rosmer, has she told you ? Have you 
 influence to prevent it? I have letters from Suavia this 
 very day; they know, they exaggerate. They hear that we 
 are leading lives of degradation and shame, abandoned to 
 play — a perpetual orgy of depravity. Would you believe it ? 
 They even say that I have a lover ! Only a supreme effort 
 sustains my shattered nerves. 
 
 Albert. Further struggle is useless. Her Highness will 
 never be influenced by any suggestion which may be tainted 
 with sense. 
 
 Prince Stephen, the Comte, Elsa, and Diana enter. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Cousin, may I present the Comte de 
 Tournerelles ? [The Comtts, advances. 
 
 Comte. Highness ! I owe you an apology for a most re- 
 grettable mistake. 
 
 Elsa. Stephen! [Stopping short, astonished. Then to 
 Diana] Princess Helena? Impossible! Only yesterday he 
 swore that he would never speak to her ^gain. This will 
 reach the ears of the Emperor. 
 
 Princess Helena. I should like you to meet Herr Albert 
 Rosmer — if you have no objection ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. To what? In fact, we have met be- 
 fore. I remember him very well. 
 
 Princess Helena. Albert, Prmce Stephen wishes to speak 
 with you. 
 
 Albert. Highness ! 
 
 Prince Stephen. I have frequently had the pleasure in 
 Suavia. 
 
 Princess Helena. Now present me to your wife. Do 
 you hesitate ? You have scruples 
 
 Prince Stephen. No, indeed, I assure you. 
 
 Princess Helena. Oh, then she is the one who has 
 scruples ? Is she as jealous of her dignity and importance as 
 
ACTii PRINCESS BEBÉ 78 
 
 / 
 Herr Rosmer? How amusing! We renounce our rank be/ 
 cause of them, and then they oblige us with an imitation of it. 
 
 Prince Stephen. It is amusing — very. Elsa .... 
 
 Elsa. What are you doing with Princess Helena ? I hope 
 you do not expect me to speak to her. 
 
 Albert. [To Helena] Why did you force me to recog- 
 nize the Prince? 
 
 Prince Stephen. How perfectly absurd! She is my 
 cousin; besides, we are travelling. 
 
 Elsa. She is with her paramour. A married woman ! 
 
 Albert. I should not have objected if he had been alone, 
 but his wife is with him. A comic-opera singer ! 
 
 Princess Helena. Oh, this is too much ! What foolish- 
 ness ! I shall put an end to this nonsense at once. Comte, 
 will you present me to ... . ah, yes ! to your fiancee, the 
 Comtesse Diana de Lys ? 
 
 Comte. Ah! Delighted! Diana 
 
 Diana. Highness ! This is a great honor. It is a tremen- 
 dous satisfaction to me. 
 
 Albert. What are we coming to, Baroness ? 
 
 Baroness. Bromides have lost their eflFect. I shall be 
 obliged to get drunk or take morphine — which is a polite 
 method of getting drunk. 
 
 Princess Helena. I am anticipating your concert with 
 great pleasure. 
 
 Diana. Are you really coming ? Oh, Highness ! It is so 
 good of you ! 
 
 Comte. The honor will be unprecedented for us both. 
 
 Princess Helena. Do present me to my cousin's wife, 
 if you will be so kind. Apparently he is afraid. They are 
 disputing warmly. 
 
 Comte. Oh, no! You must be mistaken, I am sure. 
 My dear. Princess Helena desires to meet you. 
 
74 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ii 
 
 Prince Stephen. What did I tell you ? I could not help 
 myself. 
 
 Elsa. Highness! 
 
 Princess Helena. Don't call me Highness; my name is 
 Helena. Why did you object to meeting me .'' 
 
 Elsa. I? Who told you so.?' 
 
 Princess Helena. Oh, I did not mind ! We are going 
 to become very fond of each other. 
 
 Elsa. Possibly. Pardon, I was speaking with the Com- 
 tesse. ... 
 
 Princess Helena. Stephen, look at Herr Rosmer and 
 your wife. They are disgusted; it mortifies them to see us 
 such good friends. They are afraid that we may forget our- 
 selves and commit some blunder, or fail in etiquette. 
 
 Prince Stephen. I believe you are right. 
 
 Princess Helena. They deserve — well, they do deserve 
 it 
 
 Prince Stephen. What ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Nothing ! Was it worth while to defy 
 the world and to revolutionize our hearts just for this ? They 
 deserve to have us remember who we are, since they are not 
 able to forget it. 
 
 Curtain 
 
CHARACTERS APPEARING IN THE 
 THIRD ACT 
 
 Prince Stephen 
 
 Princess Helena 
 
 CoMTESSE Diana de Lys 
 
 Elsa Konigsberg 
 
 The Baroness von Rosenberg 
 
 COMTE de ToURNERELLES 
 
 Herr Albert Rosmer 
 M. DE Chantel 
 Conductor Wulf 
 Mme. Clemencia Wilf 
 Gottfried Wilf 
 The Duchessa d' Arcóle 
 Guests and Attendants 
 
THE THIRD ACT 
 
 Foyer in the villa of the Comte de Tournerelles. 
 Princess Helena and the Comte de Tournerelles in con- 
 versation. 
 
 Comte. To be perfectly frank, my dear — I beg your par- 
 don. Your Highness 
 
 Princess Helena. I prefer the status of a friend. 
 
 Comte. The familiarity will not surprise you. You are 
 one of the women whom a man feels he has known all his 
 life, when he speaks to her for the first time. I am neither 
 innocent nor confiding, as you may judge, yet I feel that I 
 have not a secret in the world which I could keep from you. 
 You are a benevolent fairy, enlivening what you touch; it 
 is a gift. I have never known until this moment what it 
 is to be alive. 
 
 Princess Helena. Until this moment ? Then I fear that 
 at this moment you are about to become a sadly disappointed 
 man. 
 
 Comte. How so ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Because you will find that ignorance 
 is a prerequisite to enjoyment. However, that was probably 
 not what you were going to say. 
 
 Comte. No, I forget. . . . Ah, yes ! I remember. It was 
 a roundabout way of telling you something else. 
 
 Princess Helena. Let us begin with the roundabout 
 way. 
 
 Comte. Before we became so intimate, when as yet I ad- 
 mired you at a distance, I imagined Herr Rosmer to b'i — how 
 shall I express it so as not to give offense ? 
 
 77 
 
•S'S PRINCESS BEBÉ act iii 
 
 Princess Helena. An ideal creature, a Knight of the 
 Swan, a legendary hero. Now you feel that he is a very or- 
 dinary person, like everybody else. Naturally, you have no 
 means of comparison; you did not know my husband. 
 
 CoMTE. You are adorable ! 
 
 Princess Helena. But speaking of the gentleman was 
 only a roundabout way. 
 
 CoMTE. Of telling you that I love you ! 
 
 Princess Helena. Doubtless you may be justified in 
 fancying yourself a Lohengrin, since you have rescued me 
 from an embarrassing predicament. However, if I were in 
 your place, I think I should delay my declaration of love just 
 a little. 
 
 CoMTE. Why delay ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Because there is no probability of 
 your being pleased with the answer. If favorable, you will 
 consider it gratitude; if unfavorable, the reverse. 
 
 CoMTE. All I ask is that it be sincere. 
 
 Princess Helena. Sincere ? When your entire conversa- 
 tion is a tissue of stock gallantries, which apparently you 
 consider obligatory, although in my case they are somewhat 
 bold. 
 
 CoMTE. Bold ? Is that intended as a rebuke ? 
 
 Princess Helena. On the contrary, it is intended as 
 friendly advice. One accepts anything from a friend. 
 
 CoMTE. Why not accept it from a lover ? Love is stronger 
 than friendship. However, your theory interests me. 
 
 Princess Helena. No, not from a lover whose love can- 
 not be returned. It is so easy to satisfy a friend. 
 
 CoMTE. Unless only love can satisfy a friend. 
 
 Princess Helena. If you flatter yourself that my love is 
 to become the guarantor of my friendship, you may as well 
 understand at once that my heart is insolvent, and you are at 
 
ACT III PRINCESS BEBÉ 79 
 
 liberty to accept my insolvency in every sense of the word, 
 mv dear friend. 
 5^A1>" The Baroness enters. 
 
 Baroness. Highness ! . . . . 
 
 Princess Helena. Is the concert over ? Is the audience 
 asleep, or is it still yawning in ecstasy? 
 
 Baroness. Your disappearance has occasioned most un- 
 favorable comment. 
 
 Princess Helena. Wilf's music is depressing; it recalls so 
 much. In leaving, I fancied that I was paying a sincere 
 tribute to its value. 
 
 Baroness. The Comte was obliged to follow in your foot- 
 steps. 
 
 Princess Helena. Far from it. The Comte had already 
 made good his retreat. 
 
 Baroness. The entire audience noticed your disappear- 
 ance, as it were, in concert. You should have heard what 
 they said ! 
 
 Princess Helena. How foolish of them to say it before 
 you ! They might have known that you would have been 
 sure to repeat it. 
 
 Baroness. Your Highness, they supposed I was asleep. 
 
 Princess Helena. Probably you were, and you dreamed 
 it. Certainly the music was propitious. 
 
 Baroness. It is useless to argue. After this, silence is 
 golden in my sight. No matter what I may hear, I shall 
 remain silent — silent as the moral sense of Your High- 
 ness. 
 
 Princess Helena. Comte, the Baroness has promised us. 
 Return to the concert and set these idle rumors at rest. 
 
 Comte. Shall we return together ? It is nearly over. We 
 shall be in time for the applause. 
 
 Princess Helena. The coincidence would be too striking. 
 
80 PRINCESS BEBÉ act m 
 
 No, leave me here; I must recuperate, gazing up into the 
 heavens on this beautiful night, which is all tenderness. 
 
 CoMTE. Under no circumstances expose yourself upon the 
 balcony. The night is cold. . . . 
 
 Princess Helena. Perhaps, for these lands where the 
 orange-flower blooms, as Mignon sings, but to me it seems 
 a beautiful midsummer evening, after the icy drafts of 
 
 the Kingdom of Suavia.— Why! I hear music It 
 
 cannot be the concert; it floats in from outside, from a dis- 
 tance. It is a waltz, a delicious waltz ! 
 
 Comte. One of those gypsy orchestras which infest the 
 neighborhood. There is an all-night restaurant near by, just 
 at the rear of the villa, a resort of the most villainous char- 
 acter. Carnival is coming on, so masked balls are in season. 
 I assure you that they are interesting, in fact unique. One 
 meets the entire Almanac de Gotha of crime at them. 
 
 Baroness. Is it possible ? You alarm me. 
 
 Princess Helena. Do you think that perhaps we might 
 arrange to be present ? 
 
 Baroness. Highness ! I am shocked The idea oc- 
 curred to you upon the spur of the moment, as the Comte 
 spoke. 
 
 Comte. I advise against it. If one goes alone, it is dan- 
 gerous; if the police are along, the thing loses its attraction. 
 The dance does not seem the same. 
 
 Princess Helena. Silence ! 
 
 Comte. Do you hear anything ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Don't you see ? 
 
 Comte. Yes, in the garden My secretary, Chantel. 
 
 Princess Helena. But who is she ? Who is she ? One of 
 the guests ? 
 
 Comte. I think not. No I cannot make out from 
 
 here. 
 
ACT III PRINCESS BEBÉ 81 
 
 Princess Helena. Baroness, your lorgnettes One of 
 
 the maids. Amusing, is it not ? Ha, ha ! Did you hear that ? 
 
 CoMTE. Yes, a kiss. There can be no doubt of it. 
 
 Baroness. A kiss ? Your Highness, retire ! 
 
 Princess Helena. Enough Your secretary is the 
 
 only person who is enjoying himself this evening. It is the 
 same everywhere, in society as in Ufe. The official enter- 
 tainment is staged in the drawing-room, where the boredom 
 is polite; the real entertainment goes on behind the scenes. 
 
 CoMTE. Why exchange it for the public view ? Permit me 
 to remain at your side; my happiness is complete. I shall 
 not speak to you, but together we shall gaze into the sky, we 
 shall listen to the mingling of music and kisses, while our 
 souls blend in the dark silences and become mute as the tears 
 well up in our eyes in a transport of love so tremendous that 
 it unites in its tremor the fulness of life and the fleeting 
 premonition of death. 
 
 Princess Helena. Poetic, is it not? Why, there are 
 tears in your eyes ! Are you much affected? 
 
 CoMTE. Do you doubt it.? 
 
 Princess Helena. No, no. Let us withdraw from the 
 balcony and return to the concert. You alarm me. 
 
 CoMTE. I do? In what way? 
 
 Princess Helena. I feel that I am becoming affected my- 
 self, without knowing why. I could easily cry, yet I could not 
 tell you the reason. I am unwilling that my life should be 
 influenced by this night of faultless blue and the thrum of 
 music afar off, or determined by a few idle words, which, if 
 I had heard them in broad daylight, in the midst of com- 
 pany, I should have laughed at — as I laugh at them now. 
 
 CoMTE. Your Highness ! Helena ! [He kisses her hand. 
 
 Baroness. Sir! 
 
 Princess Helena. Don't be alarmed, Baroness. The 
 
82 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iii 
 
 Comte is a gentleman; he kisses my hand — as Princess of 
 Suayia. The Comte is one of my very warm friends, 
 yiy M. DE Chantel erders. 
 ^ Princess Helena. Ah, M. de Chantel ! Is the concert 
 over? Have you come from the hall? 
 
 Chantel. Yes, from the hall — from that direction. Al- 
 though I believe there is more to come. . . . 
 
 Princess Helena. Your enthusiasm carries you away. 
 What divine music ! I am impatient to hear your opinion» 
 M. de Chantel. 
 
 Chantel. My opinion? I should prefer to hear that of 
 Your Highness first. Upon finding you here, my impression 
 was that you were as thoroughly bored as the Comte. 
 
 Princess Helena. Bored ? Never ! I was highly en- 
 thusiastic; in fact, I was nervous. What wonderful music ! 
 
 Chantel. Sublime ! It is really. 
 
 Princess Helena. And so inefiFably suggestive. One ex- 
 periences the most extraordinary sensations as one listens. 
 For a moment I was transported into the moonlight, into 
 the bosom of a beautiful garden, heavy with the scent of 
 violets; the music sank to a rippling murmur of lovers' kisses 
 who, as it seemed, were strolling in pairs through the garden, 
 in embraces so tight that their bodies cast but a single 
 shadow upon the ground, symbolic at that instant of the 
 fusion of their souls. 
 
 Chantel. Yes, indeed! The music is extraordinarily 
 suggestive. 
 
 Comte. [Aside to Chantel] The Princess is enjoying her- 
 self at your expense. Be careful ! She knows all. 
 
 Chantel. All? 
 
 Comte. All that we could see from here. 
 
 Chantel. Oh ! Your Highness 
 
 Princess Helena. I congratulate you, M. de Chantel. A 
 
ACT III PRINCESS BEBÉ 83 
 
 dark garden is infinitely preferable to a lighted salon, and a 
 pretty chambermaid to a respectable lady, who is more 
 cautious. As for myself, I prefer kisses to all the music in 
 the world, although I restrain my impulses so not to shock 
 the Baroness. Only vulgar persons take their art at second 
 band, manufactured for them by professionals, whose heart 
 is not in it. Superior spirits live their art — they wish it free. 
 Yours is a superior spirit, M. de Chantel, and you deserve 
 credit; I congratulate you with all my heart. Comte, shall 
 we return to the concert ? — although classic music will seem 
 rather cold after this natural music, which has drifted in at 
 the window. 
 
 Comte. I shall not be cold while I ana with you in any 
 case. Life with you is all art and all loveliness. 
 
 Princess Helena. Life with me is all happiness. Come, 
 let usijeturn to the concert. 
 ^e>. -^ [Princess Helena and the Comte go out. 
 
 Baroness. M. de Chantel, I appeal to your sympathy. 
 Was ever woman in a more humiliating position ? 
 
 Chantel. Oh, my dear Baroness! I am not a courtier; 
 I was not brought up among princes and noblemen. I am 
 low-born; I have seen everything, I have endured every- 
 thing. I have been hungry, not only myself, but my mother 
 has been hungry, my sisters and brothers, all those who were 
 near and dear to me. You do not know what that means, 
 my dear Baroness, and I hope you may never know. Of 
 humiliations, of the times I have been obliged to be false to 
 my conscience, to my innermost beliefs, I say nothing. And 
 apart from what I have suffered, I have seen a great deal. 
 Misery and degradation have no secrets from me. I have 
 seen factories and workshops and mines where human be- 
 ings are herded together like beasts to earn their deaths, for 
 it would be irony to pretend that they were earning a liv- 
 
84 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iii 
 
 ing; I have seen jails constructed to imprison those who are 
 so wanting in resignation that they rise, rather than submit 
 to the blind injustice and cruelty of their fate; I have seen 
 asylums and hospitals which gather up those who fall by the 
 wayside, who do resign themselves, and believe me there is 
 small charity in them, and no mercy. I have seen — well, a 
 great many other things, the very existence of which you 
 cannot even imagine at the Court of Sua via. I have seen 
 these things, I know these things, by experience, as a man. 
 So you will not be surprised if I reserve all my sympathy for 
 persons whose situations are somewhat more distressing than 
 yours, which you might very well alleviate if you cared to 
 do so, having everything that you wish in this world, besides 
 looking forward, no doubt, to a glorious reward in the next. 
 Excuse me, my dear Baroness. 
 
 Baroness. Are you laughing at me? The world is out of 
 joint. I scent dissolution in the air ! 
 
 Chantel. a little more dissolution, my dear Baroness, 
 and we may be able to breathe. The atmosphere is surcharged 
 already. 
 ^t • >^ Diana de Lys and the Duchessa d'Arcole enter, 
 
 Diana. I left the room so as to avoid a scene; the exhibition 
 has become a public scandal. 
 
 Duchessa. He has not allowed her one moment to herself 
 during the entire evening. 
 
 Diana. The unpleasant part of it is that everybody is 
 sorry for me. If the Comte were my husband, I should not 
 mind; then I could afford to be independent. But now all 
 my friends think that the Princess is forestalling my wedding. 
 I am not easy about it myself. You know how vain men are; 
 a princess is not to be had every day. I understand that she 
 has accepted money from the Comte. 
 
 Duchessa. Plenty of it, you may be certain. 
 
ACT III PRINCESS BEBÉ 85 
 
 Diana. That is what I intend to find out. Call Chantel; 
 get rid of the Baroness in any way you can. 
 
 DucHEssA. Chantel, the Comtesse wishes to see you. 
 Pardon, Baroness. . . . 
 
 Baroness. I beg your pardon. 
 
 DucHESSA. You did not remain to the concert? 
 
 Baroness. No, Her Highness was taken ill, and I was 
 obliged to leave the room with her. 
 
 Duchessa. With her and the Comte. We saw you go. 
 
 Baroness. The Comte has been most sympathetic. 
 
 Duchessa. The Comtesse has been most displeased. 
 
 Baroness. Ah! The Comtesse .í* I was not aware that 
 the Comte was married. 
 
 Duchessa. He expects to marry shortly. The Princess 
 has been flirting scandalously with the Comte all evening, 
 and the Comtesse 
 
 Baroness. Is she the Comtesse who was a ballet-dancer? 
 In fact, I am not sure what she was; I am not familiar with 
 the details. In a place like this one is continually treading 
 upon thin ice. I hear persons addressed as Duchess, Count- 
 ess — when I am positive that there never were any such titles, 
 and I have the entire almanac of European nobility by 
 heart. There is a Duchessa d'Arcole here, for example, not 
 to pursue the matter further 
 
 Duchessa. A title dating from the First Empire, one of 
 the most illustrious of France. 
 
 Baroness. It is not in my books. When it comes to that, 
 in questions of nobility, the First Empire does not exist. It 
 was a blot on the page of Europe. 
 
 Duchessa. Why, Baroness ! The first Due d'Arcole was 
 my great-grandfather. I would not exchange my title for a 
 library of yours. 
 
 Baroness. I regret my indiscretion, and even more that 
 
86 PRINCESS BEBÉ actiii 
 
 I am so placed that it is impossible not to commit one at 
 every step. Good evening, Madame. [Goes out. 
 
 DucHESSA. Yes, hold your head high! You may be 
 nobler than I am, but, after all, we both fill about the same 
 void in the world. 
 
 Diana. What is the matter? 
 
 DucHESSA. Nothing. That old Baroness ! I wish I could 
 have had the last word. What does Chantel say ? 
 
 Diana. He confirms it. The Princess has obtained a loan 
 from the Comte, absolutely without security. 
 
 Chantel. Beyond what there is in her name. 
 
 Diana. And her reputation. We might as well face it. 
 In spite of all this pretense of boredom and superiority, the 
 Comte is snob enough and sufficiently vain to ruin himself 
 on account of this Princess, a thing which I can never con- 
 sent to, after having sacrificed myself all these years to his 
 whims and a life of flat monotony. 
 
 DucHESSA. It would be irritating to say the least, espe- 
 cially if he does not marry you. You gave up your artistic 
 career to please him, and you had a brilliant future. You 
 abandoned your poor father, too, who took to drink when 
 you left. 
 
 Diana. No, no, that is not true. He took to drink be- 
 fore I left. 
 
 Duchessa. But he drank more heavily afterward, be- 
 cause you sent him more money. 
 
 Diana. Chantel, we have always been friends. Advise 
 me. For the first time I am confronted with a serious danger. 
 
 Chantel. Do you prefer the offensive or the defensive? 
 The defensive is more dignified, as it permits you to ignore 
 the situation. The secret of defense is delay. In the first 
 place, the Comte's attachment to you, which is something 
 more than passion by this time, or than momentary caprice. 
 
ACT III 
 
 PRINCESS BEBÉ 87 
 
 is a point in our favor. In the second place, the Princess does 
 not love the Comte. This adventure is nothing to her but a 
 convenient escape from a temporary embarrassment. 
 
 Diana. Yes, I believe you are right. The defensive has 
 advantages. 
 
 Chantel. I see only one danger. 
 
 Diana. What is it.^ 
 
 Chantel. The delay which it involves, we do not know 
 for how long. The Comte may ruin himself in the mean- 
 time. There the danger lies. 
 
 Diana. We had better take the offensive. 
 
 Chantel. It seems wiser to me. 
 
 Diana. Do you think we might make use of the Prin- 
 cess's lover? He must already be jealous. 
 
 Chantel. I place no faith in his jealousy; Herr Rosmer 
 is surely acquainted with the financial operations of the 
 Princess. Besides, a man who loves a woman who is above 
 him socially, or who permits her to love him, is not in a 
 position to be jealous. He offers nothing and accepts every- 
 thing, either because he loves her so much that he is willing 
 to forget his dignity and his self-respect, as well as the pro- 
 prieties, or otherwise he does not love her at all, and is 
 merely thinking of what he can get out of her. Whichever 
 it is, whether it is love or self-interest, whatever he sees, he 
 will notice nothing. Love is blind while self-interest shuts 
 its eyes. The result is the same. 
 
 Diana. But then ? 
 
 Chantel. The alternative is a scene; let all the world 
 know. Become jealous yourself, attack the Comte and the 
 Princess, drive her out of the house — compel her to avoid 
 appearing where you are. Then Herr Rosmer will be obliged 
 to notice it, as he expects to marry the Princess as soon as 
 she obtains her divorce. 
 
88 PRINCESS BEBÉ . act hi 
 
 Diana. Suppose it leads to a duel? An open scandal 
 might drive them together. 
 
 Chantel. Who? The Comte and Herr Rosmer? Im- 
 possible ! What has he to do with it ? He is only the Prin- 
 cess's lover. If worst comes to worst, before he fought him, 
 they would have to pay back what they owe — which would 
 be clear gain to us, whatever happens. 
 
 Diana. There is something in that. 
 
 Chantel. Five hundred thousand francs, Comtesse, not 
 to speak of small bills. Then 
 
 Diana. The scene will be a big one. Fancy trusting a 
 princess with five hundred thousand francs ! 
 
 Chantel. Apparently 
 
 Diana. The offensive ! My mind is made up. All for all ! 
 Silence ! The concert is over and the audience is coming out. 
 Float in the background. 
 
 X^ . Princess Helena, Elsa, Madame Wilf, the Baron- 
 rC/ ESS, Prince Stephen, Herr Rosmer, the Comte, 
 
 Wulf, and Gottfried Wilf enter. 
 
 Comte. Superb ! Superb ! It is an evening I shall never 
 forget. 
 
 Various Guests. Superb ! Superb ! [Complete silence, 
 
 Comte. How quiet it seems ! Everybody is depressed. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. The caress of sublimity has descended upon 
 our souls. 
 
 Wulf. The audience is annihilated. It is the custom- 
 ary effect. 
 
 Wilf. Did you observe the transfiguration of the conductor 
 before his orchestra ? 
 
 Wulf. I am no longer myself upon such occasions. I am 
 he — ity his spirit. Lay your hand upon my heart; be so 
 kind .... Place your ear there. 
 
 Elsa. Oh, indeed !. . . . How remarkable ! 
 
ACT III PRINCESS BEBÉ 89 
 
 WuLF. I beg your pardon. Madame. ... 
 
 Chantel. Baroness, you are next. 
 
 Baroness. I.^^ With my ear on a man's chest? 
 
 Chantel. Upon his bosom. 
 
 WuLF. Physicians have observed curious phenomena in 
 me immediately after the termination of a concert. Ladies 
 and gentlemen, if a magnetic needle were to be approached to 
 my brain 
 
 CoMTE. Oh, oh! This is too much. A concert and lec- 
 ture in one ! 
 
 WiLF. This is the first time I recall that the trumpets 
 have not been off the key. 
 
 WuLF. I took the precaution of suppressing them. 
 
 WiLF. Evidently a wise measure. I hope they have-not 
 overlooked supper. 
 
 WuLF. I saw an immense salmon carried by on a platter 
 as I was conducting the orchestra, entirely surrounded by 
 little shrimps. 
 
 WiLF. Mere details. 
 
 WuLF. As we hope, and many of them. The Comte's 
 reputation is magnificent. 
 
 Diana. [To the Duchessa] What did I tell you ? He does 
 not leave her. ... I never saw the Comte so excited; he is 
 in earnest. This is the occasion to make a scene. 
 
 Duchessa. I advise against it. The Comte cannot allow 
 the Princess to be insulted in his house; you may find your- 
 self in a most disagreeable position. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. [To Elsa] It was a horrible disappointment 
 when Your Highness declined to sing, as you had promised. 
 The episode of the "Wild Cats" would have been marvellous 
 in your hands. Few artists are capable of interpreting the 
 passage sympathetically. 
 
 Elsa. I should not have hesitated, of course, if there had 
 
90 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iii 
 
 been no strangers present, but Princess Helena has destroyed 
 the charm of the evening, with its informality. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. She walked out of the concert after hearing 
 the first note. 
 
 Elsa. Her attitude has been sufficiently incorrect. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. It might appear presumptuous in me to say 
 so. 
 
 Baroness. [To Prince Stephen] Your Highness is the 
 only representative of the family who is present. Exert your 
 influence with the Princess, as she regards you with favor. 
 Explain to her how her conduct only aggravates the situa- 
 tion. Everybody is gossiping. You must have noticed it 
 
 this evening. Look around While the guests are all 
 
 worried. Her Highness spends her time laughing. 
 
 Prince Stephen. If the guests are so easily shocked in 
 the house of the Comte de Tournerelles, probably my cousin 
 would reply that it was hardly worth her while to come 
 here to waste the evening. 
 
 Baroness. Do you approve of the conduct of Her High- 
 ness ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. No, it is foolish, very foolish indeed. 
 But I see nobody here who is in a position to take exception 
 to it. 
 
 Baroness. The Comtesse is jealous. I fear that she will 
 make a scene. 
 
 Prince Stephen. No, never. The Comtesse is a woman of 
 the world. The Comte could never permit a scene in his 
 house. As far as Herr Rosmer is concerned, he takes it 
 quite coolly. I am sorry for poor Helena. 
 
 Baroness. Now you are sympathizing with her ! 
 
 Prince Stephen. With all my heart. She has made a 
 mistake. The opportunity of living a new life was what at- 
 tracted her to Herr Rosmer, while he merely saw in her the 
 
ACT III PRINCESS BEBÉ 91 
 
 Princess of Suavia. Neither has found love to be what they 
 thought. Now, how rectify this new mistake ? One mistake 
 may be forgiven, one rectification in life. A woman does not 
 look nearly so foolish when she leaves her husband for a 
 lover, as she does afterward when she leaves her lover, even 
 if she goes back to her husband. The only justification for 
 certain mistakes is persevering in them. 
 
 Baroness. Not another lover! Do you mean it.? Oh, 
 that would be horrible ! 
 
 Prince Stephen. But how natural ! Why should Helena 
 resign herself to a second mistake, when she refused to re- 
 sign herself to the first .f* 
 
 Baroness. It is not a contingency that I care to contem- 
 plate. What will they think in Suavia ? Hush ! Her High- 
 ness may hear. . . . 
 
 Prince Stephen. I do not believe that our ideas are very 
 diflFerent, although the subject has not been discussed be- 
 tween us. Our sentimental history has been very much the 
 same. 
 
 Baroness. Have you also made a mistake? 
 
 Prince Stephen. I don't know. My attitude is similar 
 to yours. Baroness, when you close your eyes to what strikes 
 you in the face: — I don't want to know. I am unwilling to 
 believe it, so I do not think of it; I am unwilling to believe it. 
 
 Mme. Wilf. My .... my nerves have been on edge for the 
 
 past half -hour! I cannot control myself any longer I 
 
 must let go somehow. Oh, oh ! 
 
 All. What is the matter? What has happened to Mme. 
 Wilf? What is the trouble? 
 
 WuLF. Nothing, nothing ! Don't touch her ! The effect 
 of the music. 
 
 Wilf. Mother, mother ! . . . . Of course ! She is always 
 taken like this after hearing father's music. 
 
92 PRINCESS BEBÉ act ni 
 
 CoMTE. Ah, insupportable! The imposition has reached 
 the limit. 
 
 Mme. WiLF. Oh! Oh! 
 
 WiLF. Run for a violin ! The first bars of the "Hymn of 
 Life" bring her to with a start. 
 
 CoMTE. By all means, as long as she makes it in another 
 room, by yourselves. You can play the violin and she can 
 yell there as much as she wants to. 
 
 WuLF. M. le Comte, it is the only possible relief. Madame, 
 make a great eflFort 
 
 Mme. Wilf. It is he; it — his spirit ! I see it, and he calls 
 to me! 
 
 Comte. Chantel, do what you can for these people 
 
 Feed them, and get them out in short order. Under no cir- 
 cumstances are we to hear from them again. It is too much 
 pose to ask us to listen to this music. 
 
 Mme. Wilf, Wulf, Gottfried Wilf, and Chantel 
 
 ^^y 90 out. 
 
 ^ Comte. In any event this will be our last concert. 
 
 Princess Helena. I must confess it was terrible. My 
 only regret is that I did not hear my new cousin sing. 
 
 Elsa. 1? I did not sing. 
 
 Princess Helena. But now that we are en f amule per- 
 haps you will oblige us. 
 
 Diana. Enfamille? 
 
 Princess Helena. Yes, this seems like a family affair to 
 me. The atmosphere is delightfully familiar. We do not 
 mind what we say, and we are not ashamed to sit here and 
 listen to it either. It would not be easy to shock this com- 
 pany. Elsa, my dear, I should like to ask a favor of you, now 
 that the occasion is propitious. 
 
 Elsa. Of me ? 
 
 Princess Helena. I do so want to hear you sing — I mean 
 
ACT in PRINCESS BEBÉ 93 
 
 your real songs, the repertoire that you used to sing in the 
 theatre. I have heard so much about you that I am terribly 
 anxious to hear you, although at Court, of course, this sort 
 of thing was impossible. 
 
 Elsa. Stephen ! Is anything wrong with Her Highness ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. Elsa ! 
 
 Elsa. Tell her to respect me. She has no right, you must 
 not allow her to insult me like this. 
 
 Princess Helena. What is the matter ? What is she 
 crying about .'' 
 
 Prince Stephen. Be quiet ! Say nothing. — She thinks 
 you are trying to insult her. 
 
 Princess Helena. I? I insult her? Why should I? 
 She is crazy. 
 
 Elsa. Let me alone; don't you talk to me. She has no 
 right to treat me like this. It is all your fault. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Oh, come, come ! What is the use of 
 being silly ? 
 
 Princess Helena. But, Stephen 
 
 Prince Stephen. I told you so. They are the ones who 
 cannot forget. [Goes out with Elsa. 
 
 Princess Helena. Does she think that I tried deliber- 
 ately to insult her ^ How could she ? I ask you, was I wrong ? 
 I will be the first to apologize. She promised to sing at 
 the concert this evening. Then why should she be oflFended 
 because I ask her to sing for us afterward.'' Everybody 
 knows that she was a comic-opera singer — that is her reputa- 
 tion, her personality, to which she owes her position; but 
 now she attempts to deny it, and is offended because I men- 
 tion it. She blames it on me — me, who have always admired 
 anybody, man or woman, who has had the courage to make 
 his own way in the world, whatever his social position, and 
 who owes all that he is to his own efforts. [To Diana] 
 
94 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iii 
 
 Why, you might just as well question my admiration for you ! 
 I envy you for that very reason. The Comte has told me 
 this evening the story of your life, how he met you, how you 
 struggled up, how through sheer force of genius, yes, of 
 genius and determination, you cpmpelled at last the admira- 
 tion of all Paris. Its authors and artists flung themselves at 
 your feet 
 
 Diana. And I suppose you would like me to repeat for 
 your benefit some of the pantomimes that made me famous ? 
 Well, I am not ashamed of my past like la Konigsberg. You 
 cannot offend me by your impertinence. 
 
 Comte. Why, Diana ! 
 
 Princess Helena. What is this woman talking about ? 
 
 Diana. If either of us had been presented at the Court of 
 Suavia, and had exhibited the same utter lack of taste which 
 Your Highness does here, we should have found ourselves,, 
 upon the street again at the double-quick. < '^ 
 
 Comte. Diana! ^ , ^^rt^ 
 
 Princess Helena. She insults me ! ""^ 
 
 Baroness. A scandal ! I felt it coming ! It will be tele- 
 graphed to Suavia ! 
 
 Duchessa. You have said enough for the present. You 
 have shown them who you are. 
 
 Diana and the Duchessa move toward the door to jhiss 
 out. 
 
 Princess Helena. Oh ! So you are jealous, are you ^ Of 
 your Comte .^ What did you think? Because I have con- 
 descended to listen to him, to tolerate his imbecilities 
 
 Comte. Highness! 
 
 Princess Helena. Because I have done him the honor to 
 permit him to be my creditor 
 
 Albert. Helena! 
 
 Baroness. Great God ! 
 
ACT III PRINCESS BEBÉ 95 
 
 CoMTE. Your Highness has forgotten herself. An attack 
 of nerves. Besides, you are a woman. As no gentleman of 
 your family is present 
 
 Albert. M. le Comte ! . . . . You understand Over- 
 look this exhibition. An attack of nerves, as you say. 
 ^-^jTjy [The Comte retires. 
 ^ ^ 'Trincess Helena. Jealous, is she .? Of me ? Does she 
 flatter herself that a Princess of Suavia can be bought at 
 such a price.? All the money of this blithering upstart 
 would not repay me for the annoyance of once visiting his 
 house. I came to enjoy myself, because I chose; it was a 
 caprice; but, frankly, was it worth taking all this trouble 
 only to find myself surrounded by more hypocrisy, more 
 stupid dignity, and a world less of liberty than in my royal 
 palaces? My heart overflowed with happiness, I was sin- 
 cere, because I supposed that I was among real people at 
 last, who were not afraid to face the facts of life, but here 
 everything is taken in ill part, it gives offense. I was proud 
 to have renounced my rank and station, because I did it for 
 love — it was for love that I stepped down; but these people 
 are not only ashamed of their past, but of the very love 
 which has raised them where they never had any right 
 to be. Miserable creatures, evil-minded, soulless, all of 
 them ! Now I see ! Now I understand ! How can equality 
 ever be possible in this world, when these puny spirits with 
 their vulgarities remind us in spite of ourselves that we are 
 royal? 
 
 Baroness. You ought never to have forgotten it. Pride 
 of race was bound to reassert itself at last. 
 
 Princess Helena. Pride of race ? Not at all ! Self- 
 respect, common instinct. 
 
 Albert. Perhaps you appreciate now why I objected to 
 your visiting this house and mingling with these people. 
 
96 PRINCESS BEBÉ act in 
 
 This humiliation should surely be sufficient. You have 
 been insulted by the Comte's mistress, and I was unable to 
 protect you or to receive an explanation. Before I could 
 have done so, I should have been obliged to pay him what 
 we owe. The woman was justified in being jealous, for that 
 matter; your behavior to-night has been susceptible of the 
 worst interpretation. 
 
 Princess Helena. That will do ! Enough ! No more 
 recriminations from you, nor from anybody. My next step 
 will be to recover my liberty, and to give you yours in re- 
 turn. Baroness, telegraph to Suavia for that money to- 
 night in my name, at whatever cost. I yield, I submit to 
 the terms of the Emperor. 
 
 Albert. Helena ! You will never do that. Impossible ! 
 
 Princess Helena. You complain of the humiliations of 
 this life. These are the thanks I receive for accepting them, 
 voluntarily, for the sake of your love ! As for demanding 
 satisfaction of the Comte, if it had come to that, you would 
 ^ not have been the one who would have exacted it — it would 
 have been my cousin Stephen. He has not yet stooped so 
 low, nor have I, as to forget the obligation which we owe to 
 our name. [Discovering Stephen, who has entered a moment 
 previously] Am I right, Stephen .í* 
 ¿^ I, •^^pRINCE Stephen. My dear cousin, it is too late for us 
 now to remember who we are. My situation is as impossible 
 as yours, but your words have decided me. I am myself 
 heavily in debt to the Comte de Tournerelles. Before I 
 could exact satisfaction, like you I should be obliged to 
 throw myself upon the mercy T)f the Emperor — and the 
 Emperor has no mercy. 
 
 Baroness. He would impose but one condition. 
 
 Albert. That you return to your husband. 
 
 Prince Stephen. That I divorce my wife. 
 
ACT III PRINCESS BEBÉ 97 
 
 Baroness. Certainly. Those are the only terms. 
 
 Princess Helena. The only terms? We must think 
 them over. 
 
 Albert. What.^* 
 
 Princess Helena. We must think them over. Must we 
 
 not, Stephen? No, I can never return to Sua via; that 
 
 would be to retreat, and I have sworn already that I shall 
 never retreat. Now leave me! When I walk out of this 
 house, it will be upon the arm of the Prince, as I ought, as 
 Princess of Suavia. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Command me. 
 
 Princess Helena. Baroness, Herr Rosmer will see you 
 home. I wish to talk with the Prince. Upon the result of 
 this interview, perhaps, depends the future of our lives. 
 
 Albert. Baroness, I trust that you will be able to pre- 
 vent any further outbreaks on the part of Her Highness. 
 
 Baroness. Alas, there was more hope of preventing the 
 first! 
 <^a,iC ^^^ Baroness and Herr Rosmer go out, | 
 
 Princess Helena. What did Elsa say ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. It is offensive, absurd. She blames me 
 for the exhibition because I do not treat her with proper re- 
 spect. 
 
 Princess Helena. Did she dwell upon her humiliations ? 
 Suppose we were to remind them of ours ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. Which they do not appreciate in the 
 least. 
 
 Princess Helena. I have been through it; I have had 
 the experience. We have made a mistake. Well? What 
 shall we do now? 
 
 Prince Stephen. Admit our mistake ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Yes. 
 
 Prince Stephen. And resign ourselves to our fate ? 
 
98 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iii 
 
 Princess Helena. No. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Then what shall we do ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Resume living. 
 
 Prince Stephen. How ? 
 
 Princess Helena. By accepting what life has to offer as 
 we pass, sorrow when it is sorrow, joy when it is joy. At 
 this moment, it offers us — friendship, the mutual sympathy 
 of our hearts, it offers us ... . this music, which haunts our 
 ears and draws us toward itself. It is only a popular song, 
 from a midnight garden not far off, with a halo of legendary, 
 mysterious wickedness. A short while ago, I suggested that 
 we should all visit it together, but, naturally, everybody was 
 shocked. I wonder if you would be shocked, really ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. It might amuse me. Let us go. I have 
 had my fill of propriety for the evening. 
 
 Princess Helena. Especially when it descends upon us 
 from quarters in which it is so utterly unexpected. . . . Why, 
 I feel already like a different woman. I am happy now; the 
 past is forgotten. This adventure will repay me for the hor- 
 rible evening I have spent. And I had expected to be so 
 happy ! How beautiful it is to run away, to escape, to fly, 
 always to fly — from somebody, from something ! 
 
 Prince Stephen. If only one believes that one is flying 
 toward happiness. 
 
 Princess Helena. No, not toward happiness, because 
 happiness does not exist. There are only happy moments. 
 
 Prince Stephen. There are. . . .happy moments. 
 
 Princess Helena. Why not make this one of them ? 
 
 Curtain 
 
CHARACTERS APPEARING IN THE 
 FOURTH ACT 
 
 Princess Helena 
 Prince Stephen 
 Margot 
 
 BlONDINETTA 
 
 The Woman With the Scar 
 An Englishman 
 The Little Marquis 
 Cosi-Cosi 
 A Gendarme 
 
THE FOURTH ACT 
 
 An open-air restaurant at night. The Englishman is seated 
 at a table, drinking beer, Margot and Biondinetta enter. 
 
 BiONDiNETTA. I told you he wasn't here. He won't come 
 to-night, either. He tells me that he is coming so that I 
 won't look for him where I know he is, where I am going 
 some night to dig a knife into his heart, if he deceives me. 
 
 Margot. You talk like a fool. Kill a man, eh? Don't 
 you do it, and don't you kill yourself for him, either. He'll 
 be back after you some day soon enough, when you don't 
 want it. 
 
 Biondinetta. No, he'll never come back. He has money 
 now. Didn't you see.'* Do you know where he gets all his 
 money ? 
 
 Margot. Of course I do ! Do you suppose I'd kill mine 
 for that.? When mine bothers me is when he hasn't any 
 money. When he has, I never ask him where he gets it. 
 Do they ask us? 
 
 Biondinetta. But I don't love anybody but him, and he 
 knows it. 
 
 Margot. And he loves you; the boy has to live. You 
 ought to be glad of it; it isn't right that you should be the 
 only one who works. Come on, now, and dance. If he thinks 
 you've forgotten him and are in love with some one else, he'll 
 come back fast enough. He'll get tired, like all the rest. 
 You can find people who are willing to hand out a hundred 
 francs, five hundred francs, a thousand francs — but it's only 
 once, because they happen to feel like it, but when it comes to 
 five or ten francs every day, or whatever you've got, and if 
 
 101 
 
:l(>2:-: ;•*;•:: . .PHiKCESS BEBÉ act iv 
 
 • •« ••«' ««»••« f f 
 
 you haven't got it you dig it up out of the ground, so that 
 they shan't go without — a man can't have that unless he's 
 got somebody to love him, like you love him, and he'll never 
 find it anywhere else either. Come on and dance. 
 
 BioNDiNETTA. No, I'm not gomg. I came here to meet 
 him, and I'm not going away; I mean to look for him, and 
 I'll look for him, even if he kills me. 
 
 Margot. No, you won't. What? Go there.? He is 
 with swells now, you know that. They don't want any 
 scenes. They know how to take care of themselves when 
 they are having a good time, you'd better believe it. 
 
 BiONDiNETTA. Yes, I know. She's a fine lady and they're 
 grand people, but rotten with sin. They are worse than we 
 are, only more respectable. 
 
 Margot. That's what you get for having a boy that's 
 good-looking. Why didn't I take this fellow ? 
 
 BioNDiNETTA. Fred, the Englishman.? You'd have made 
 a big mistake. He's a sot. He'd march off for a bock with 
 the first one who happened along. I've seen him do it. You 
 are happy now; yours loves you. 
 
 Margot. Yes, he's so refined; he knows how to treat me. 
 He got into a nasty mess that time I was sick in Paris, so 
 that I shouldn't want for anything — six months in the peni- 
 tentiary was what they gave him, though nobody would ap- 
 pear against him, not even the man who was wounded; it 
 was safer for him to shut up, and he knew it. Hello ! An- 
 other quadrille. Come on, we ought to dance. M. Boni- 
 face will be angry if we don't. He says unless we dance and 
 get people to spend money in the restaurant, it isn't worth 
 his whUe to give us tickets. Help me out. There's a ship- 
 load of Italian sailors in to-night; you talk their lingo. 
 They've money after the voyage — plenty of it. Come on 
 and dance. 
 
ACT IV PRINCESS BEBÉ 103 
 
 BiONDiNETTA. I'll tell them whatever you want; but not 
 a word on my own account. 
 
 Englishman. My darling, will you buy me a bock ? 
 
 Margot. You know where you can get a bock that has 
 diamonds in it, when you want it. 
 
 Englishman. Diamonds.'* I don't believe in diamonds 
 any more. 
 
 Margot. No, I suppose you've drunk them all up by this 
 time. 
 
 Englishman. [Pointing to the beer] This doesn't play me 
 the tricks that you do. I am not myself now — I don't feel 
 well; I am sick. Lend me five francs, Margot; have a heart 
 with poor Fred. 
 
 Margot. Five francs? You can earn them easier than 
 we can. 
 
 Englishman. Don't you want to lend them to me? I'll 
 find your man, then, and kill him. I am stronger than he is. 
 
 Margot. Get out ! Let go of me, will you ? Don't be so 
 rough. 
 
 Englishman. Give me five francs ! 
 
 Margot. Let go ! 
 
 BioNDiNETTA. I'll scream if you don't. 
 
 Margot. Don't you do it. Then the police will come, and 
 jail us all. I can handle him myself; he's no good. Now get 
 out! 
 
 Englishman. All this fuss over five francs ! You don't 
 treat me right. But I'll get even with you; you'll be sorry. 
 
 Margot. Come on and dance. 
 <- - ^ The Little Marquis and Cosi-Cosi enter. 
 
 Little Marquis. What is he doing to you ? 
 
 BiONDiNETTA. Ah, SO you'rc here, are you? I never ex- 
 pected it. 
 
104 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iv 
 
 Little Marquis. Why not ? I told you I was coming, 
 and here I am. I suppose I am not a man of my word ? 
 
 BiONDiNETTA. YouT wofd ? Well, where have you been 
 then.?> 
 
 Little Marquis. That's it ! The first question you ask 
 a man is where he has been; afterward you inquire for his 
 health, which doesn't matter. I might have killed myself for 
 all you care — have been dead. 
 
 BiONDiNETTA. Killed yourself ? Not much ! 
 
 Little Marquis. You don't believe it, eh ? You tell 
 her. 
 
 Cosi-Cosi. Yes, he might have killed himself. Easily. 
 
 BiONDiNETTA. Houest? 
 
 Little Marquis. You think a man is made of stone. I 
 can't stand these rows all the time. After last night — you 
 can tell her. How did I feel? 
 
 Cosi-Cosi. Sick. He fell flat. 
 
 Margot. Don't you mind what he says. That's the game; 
 they've fixed it up between them. Don't you see ? What's 
 that ? Hold out your hand .... Another ring ? 
 
 BiONDiNETTA. Who gavc you that ring ? 
 
 Little Marquis. It isn't mine; it's one I've got to sell. 
 
 BiONDiNETTA. Who gave you that ring ? 
 
 Little Marquis. Oh, I bought it ! Will that do ? Good ! 
 Now shut up. If it won't do, just as good, see ? And shut 
 up. 
 
 Cosi-Cosi. What was the Englishman putting over when 
 we came in ? 
 
 Margot. Oh, nothing ! He's drunk. 
 
 Cosi-Cosi. He needs a sound thrashing, and I'm the man 
 to give it to him. 
 
 Margot. Let him alone, will you ? 
 
 Little Marquis. No, I am the one to do it; I'll show you. 
 
ACT IV PRINCESS BEBÉ 105 
 
 Margot. Go along ! 
 
 Little Marquis. He'll wish I had. He'll not stick his 
 nose in this place again. What is the matter with you ? 
 
 Englishman. Do you want to fight .'^ I don't fight over 
 women. Sit down. Waiter!. . . .bring a bock. Bring two 
 bocks. Call over your friend. 
 
 Cosi-Cosi. I don't care to sit down. 
 
 Englishman. I tell you sit down. The first thing that 
 gentlemen do when they meet is talk nice; then they take a 
 drink. Then they fight — only they don't fight over women. 
 You damn fools ! We are good friends. Let's get down to 
 business — serious business. 
 
 Margot. Are you going to sit there and listen to him ? 
 
 Little Marquis. Why not.^* The man talks sense; it 
 sounds reasonable. 
 
 Englishman. Tell them to get out. Our business is not 
 forewomen; it's serious. 
 
 BlONDINETTA. But 
 
 Little Marquis. Get out; leave us alone. Do you hear? 
 
 BlONDINETTA. Yes, Hsteu to me. What business have you 
 got to talk over with them ? I know what your business is. 
 
 Englishman. Tell them to shut up, will you ? Can't you 
 shut up your own women ? 
 
 Little Marquis. I told you to shut up and wait for us 
 out there. 
 
 Margot. Oh, come along ! They make me sick. They're 
 always hot to fight for us, but that's before they begin. By 
 the time they do, they are friends, and then they fight us — 
 to a finish. Come on and dance. 
 
 [Margot and Biondinetta go out. 
 
 Engushman. Waiter ! Bring three bocks. 
 ^^ Princess Helena and Prince Stephen enter. 
 
 Princess Helena. The dance could not be more respect- 
 
106 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iv 
 
 able. We have been treated with the utmost consideration. 
 If we had remained a few minutes longer, we should un- 
 doubtedly have found that it was our conduct that was in- 
 correct, as it was at the Comte's villa. 
 
 Prince Stephen. We have failed to preserve our incog- 
 nito. I heard our names whispered as we passed. 
 
 Princess Helena. Amusing, was it not ? Those who 
 recognized you said: "Prince Stephen of Sua via out for the 
 night with a cocotte." Those who recognized me: '* Princess 
 Helena and her lover — or one of her lovers." 
 
 Prince Stephen. A great many recognized us both. I 
 wonder what they thought .5* 
 
 Princess Helena. Probably that we were here out of 
 curiosity, or for some improper purpose. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Well, are you satisfied ? Shall we go ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Have you repented of our adventure 
 
 so soon 
 
 Prince Stephen. I was not thinking of myself, but of 
 you. The world will be full of this exploit to-morrow. 
 
 Princess Helena. You are more cowardly than I. You 
 realize that you have made a mistake, but instead of push- 
 / ing on, you retreat. You remind me of one of those fantastic 
 peoples who overthrow a monarchy because it is tyrannical 
 and establish a republic; then, because the republic does not 
 bring them happiness, they promptly restore the monarchy. 
 But that is not my way. If the republic proved a failure, I 
 should declare for a state of anarchy, but I should never re- 
 treat. I am enchanted with this spot. This is life — to be 
 here, to see everything, to shut one's eyes to nothing; to sym- 
 pathize, to understand .... 
 
 Prince Stephen. Everything? Perhaps that was what 
 induced you to fall in love with Herr Rosmer. It was not 
 V the man, it was the opening out of a new vista of life. 
 
ACT IV PRINCESS BEBÉ 107 
 
 Princess Helena. Yes, it is true. He was the only per- 
 son who brought to our Palace the atmosphere of another 
 world, and of truths that were different from ours. His was 
 a different environment. I had no choice when I loved him 
 any more than the prisoner has a choice, whose one desire 
 is to regain his liberty, and who flees by the first avenue 
 which lies open, which leads to freedom and the outer 
 air. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Instead of leading to freedom, you ' 
 found, when you followed it, that you had merely changed W 
 prisons. 
 
 Princess Helena. WTioUy to my disadvantage. It was 
 never my privilege to meet a more persistent stickler for 
 etiquette and every known form of propriety than Herr 
 Rosmer. If you are perfectly frank with me — ^and with 
 yourself — ^you must confess that your experience has been 
 tha same. You were as sadly mistaken as I in imagining 
 that an unequal match was the most effective assertion of 
 your individuality. We should have begun by living our^/ 
 new lives; then love would have come in due season. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Our experience reminds me of a story 
 which was told me by one of the oflBicers of my regiment, a 
 young man of the most distinguished lineage in Suavia. 
 He fell in love with a girl who lived in the same city, who be- 
 longed to the working classes, and to him the charm of their 
 association lay in wandering about the humbler quarters of 
 the city, arm in arm with his girl. They visited the obscurer 
 cafés, they frequented the popular theatres — in a word, he 
 became another person; he escaped from his environment, 
 from the society in which he had always moved, from the 
 obligations of the life which was oflScial. But he soon no- 
 ticed that the girl was always bored when she was in his 
 company; she looked upon those places with which she had 
 
108 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iv 
 
 always been familiar with disgust. What she desired was to 
 exhibit herself upon the fashionable promenades, to visit 
 the principal restaurants, the theatres which were patron- 
 ized by the aristocracy — in a word, the other life; and it was 
 natural. What amused the one, bored the other. So, 
 shortly after, my friend fell in love with a noble lady, of 
 flawless birth, and then for the first time he was able to run 
 about the lower quarters to his heart's content, and to visit 
 all the vulgar theatres and disreputable cafés, because they 
 /all proved equally amusing to that noble lady, and so they 
 were both always of one accord. I wonder if our experience 
 has been the same ? 
 
 Princess Helena. It has. 
 
 Prince Stephen. We do not live as abstractions in the 
 world, as fragments of the ideal. We are something in our- 
 selves, but the environment which surrounds us is much 
 more than ourselves — it is the landscape in which we are 
 figures. The scenery is half of the play, in life as upon the 
 stage. 
 
 Princess Helena. Yes, there are times and places in 
 which we might fall in love with the first person to present 
 himself, without ever having seen him before, or stopping 
 even to ask his name. I wonder: what are you thinking of 
 now? 
 
 Prince Stephen. I was listening to that waltz. It is 
 one of the memories of my life — a waltz that Elsa used to 
 sing in the theatre. 
 
 Princess Helena. When she was still a popular favorite, 
 a famous actress in your eyes, not merely a respectable 
 woman to whom the mention of her triumphs as an artist 
 gives offense. There is a waltz also in my life. Waltzes 
 blend themselves so easily with the past, and remain in the 
 memory even after years. Have you never noticed it? 
 
ACT IV PRINCESS BEBÉ 109 
 
 There is a quick movement in every waltz, joyous, trium- 
 phal, and then a hushed, subdued ritornello whose burden is 
 slow and reluctant, sad as the memory of a joy that is past. 
 When the lights are out and the dance is over, and we are 
 alone in the silence of the soul, the echo of a waltz still 
 lingers in our ears — the echo of a waltz that drops tears. 
 
 Prince Stephen. What is your favorite music ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Do not inquire into my musical 
 tastes; they are of deplorable vulgarity. Music appeals to 
 me because of the words I associate with it, and so one air 
 is as good as another. How empty a man's soul must be¿^ 
 which is unable to provide words to any music ! I am more 
 exacting with poets, because they speak for themselves, and 
 in their case I will tolerate no vulgarity. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Who is your favorite poet.?* 
 
 Princess Helena. Women feel very much toward poets 
 á!s they do toward other men. They do not love the ones 
 whom all the world admires. We single out one quality, 
 perhaps, for our love and admiration amid a multitude of 
 defects, or it may be that we love the very defects them- 
 selves, because then we know that our choice has been our 
 own — it has been more truly ours. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Do you admire Shelley, the aivine 
 Shelley? 
 
 Princess Helena. I admire and love him. He was the 
 universal lover. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Are you familiar with his life ? 
 
 Princess Helena. It was wholly wonderful, more won- 
 derful even than his verse. He persuaded his own wife to 
 abet his elopement with Emilia Viviani. What marvellous 
 power of suggestion that genius must have possessed, which 
 was able to unite two women in a single love ! 
 
 Prince Stephen. Do you remember his verses ? 
 
lio PRINCESS BEBÉ act iv 
 
 "True love in this differs from gold and clay. 
 That to divide is not to take away. 
 Love is like understanding, that grows bright. 
 Gazing on many truths." 
 
 And then he adds: 
 
 "Narrow 
 The heart that loves, the brain that contemplates. 
 The life that wears, the spirit that creates 
 One object, and one form, and builds thereby 
 A sepulchre for its eternity.'* 
 
 Princess Helena. It is Gabriele d'Annunzio's "Hymn to 
 Life": 
 
 "Diversity, vision and siren, 
 
 I never chose — to choose were to slight you. 
 
 Diversity, vision and siren ! 
 
 The rose that is red, the rose that is white you 
 
 Present to the taste 
 
 Both as one. 
 
 All tastes are the same 
 
 And all savors. 
 
 All things pure and impure to the flame 
 
 Of my love. 
 
 Diversity, vision and siren. 
 
 Because I love you, I love you, I love you !" 
 
 [A patise. 
 What are you thinking of now ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. I was thinking — what our life was at 
 the Court of Suavia. What a wall of convention, of preju- 
 dices, and of jealousies hemmed us round ! We lived there 
 almost together, and yet we never knew each other at all. 
 I always thought that you were a frivolous creature, wild 
 
ACT IV PRINCESS BEBÉ 111 
 
 and foolish. Even your love-affair appeared to me ridiculous, 
 because I felt that if you had really been as independent and 
 as forceful as was said, then you would have refused to be 
 forced into a marriage against your will. 
 
 Princess Helena. At that time I fancied that marriage 
 was the first step toward becoming free, so I consented to it 
 gladly, as no doubt you understand. I had always heard 
 that you were a dull person, steeped in useless learning, and 
 consequently without any knowledge of life, whom any 
 woman could twist about her finger, if she cared to take the 
 trouble. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Now what do you think of me ? 
 
 Princess Helena. I think that we might have been very 
 happy. 
 
 Prince Stephen. As we are to-night. Life is strange. 
 After all our striving, all our efforts to attain happiness, when "^f 
 the inevitable hour arrives and we look into our hearts and 
 ask what has been the sum of sorrow or of happiness in our 
 lives, it may be that the only recollection which is not tinged 
 with sadness, will be that of some idle encounter such as 
 this, which chance has brought, to linger in the memory like 
 a high moment of life, which we cherish as a fond and beauti- 
 ful dream. 
 
 Princess Helena. It takes so little to make us happy — 
 a beautiful night of deep and faultless blue, the murmur of 
 the sea afar off, a vulgar dance here at our side, with its cheap 
 music, and the mutual confidences of our hearts as they 
 search to find words of absolute truth that they may re- 
 veal themselves and trust entirely. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Or verses of favorite poets to speak for 
 us, or silences deep as the night, yet clear as this spread of 
 lucent sky with all its host of stars. Like stars in the night, 
 the eyes are the light of silence. 
 
So^ 
 
 112 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iv 
 
 Princess Helena. Perhaps we shall never be more happy. 
 Can it be that all our efforts and struggles to obtam even a 
 small part of that which we desire in life, are fruitless ? Is it 
 that life admits of no violence, and only when we have 
 ceased to hope and struggle and strive, lets fall upon us as if 
 by chance, a little of the great store of happiness which it 
 treasures .'^ If it is, then let us try not to think, let us lull 
 our wills to sleep, that life may bring us joy or sorrow at its 
 pleasure. Who can say but that when we think that we are 
 shaping life most surely to our purposes, we are not sub- 
 mitting most blindly to the immutable laws of fate? 
 
 The Woman With the Scar enters, and runs rapidly 
 up to the Prince and Princess. A Gendarme /oZ- 
 lows her. 
 
 Princess Helena. [Surprised and startled] Oh ! 
 
 Woman With the Scar. Ah ! Please excuse me 
 
 Don't be frightened, lady. I thought — but it isn't he. A 
 
 mistake. Strangers, eh? Foreigners? they don't know 
 
 me. I am sorry if I frightened the lady. She is beautiful. 
 
 Little Marquis. [Calling from outside] Are you coming ? 
 You are invited to-night. 
 
 Woman With the Scar. Let me alone, will you ? 
 
 [Goes out. 
 
 Gendarme. [Approaching the Prince and Princess with 
 ostentatious deference and respect] I am sorry the woman an- 
 noyed you. 
 
 Princess Helena. No, poor thing ! What a singular 
 person ! Apparently she thought she knew us. 
 
 Gendarme. Pardon, Your Highness, pardon. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Ah ! So you know then ? 
 
 Gendarme. I have watched Your Highnesses since your 
 arrival. It was imprudeat of Your Highnesses to venture 
 here alone. 
 
ACT IV PRINCESS BEBÉ 113 
 
 Princess Helena. But why ? The behavior of these peo- 
 ple could not possibly be more correct, especially after the 
 villa of the Comte de Tournerelles. Don't you think so, 
 Stephen ? 
 
 Gendarme. Superficially, perhaps, but a night seldom 
 passes without some incident which is unpleasant. These 
 are dangerous folk, without exception. Three of the worst 
 are near by — the Little Marquis, an Englishman who was a 
 jockey, long since disqualified for cheating, and a fine speci- 
 men of Italian, known as Cosi-Cosi. They are watching us 
 now. All have long records in the police courts, and at least 
 one has been within a step of the guillotine. 
 
 Princess Helena. How wonderful ! What marvellous 
 people, living by their wits, by sheer strength of brute cour- 
 age, snapping their fingers in the face of society, its moral- 
 ity, and its laws 1 They live. This is life ! 
 
 Prince Stephen. Professors of strenuosity, as we should 
 call them nowadays. 
 
 Princess Helena. Who was that singular woman .í* 
 
 Gendarme. She is crazy. They call her the Woman With 
 the Scar. 
 
 Princess Helena. What a horrible name ! 
 
 Gendarme. Would you like to see? I'll send for her. 
 Come here ! Don't be afraid. Tell this lady and gentleman 
 who you are. 
 
 Woman With the Scar. No, let me go. Don't you be- 
 lieve what he says. There's no truth in it. 
 
 Gendarme. Come here, I tell you. Loosen that collar 
 around your neck. 
 
 Woman With the Scar. Take your hands off me. 
 
 Princess Helena. Don't hurt her ! Let go. Poor 
 woman ! 
 
114 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iv 
 
 Woman With the Scar. Thanks, lady. I'll show it to 
 you, if you like. Here .... 
 
 Princess Helena. Oh ! Terrible ! 
 
 Prince Stephen. What is it.? 
 
 Princess Helena. Can't you see ? A great gash, which 
 circles her neck entirely, like a collar. Where did you get 
 
 this SCSLT? 
 
 Woman With the Scar. I did it myself; it was an acci- 
 dent! 
 
 Gendarme. You cannot believe what she says. She met 
 a stranger one night at the Casino two years ago; he was a 
 foreigner, and they went out together — it was one of I don't 
 know how many such adventures. The man was a pro- 
 fessional gambler who had lost everything — we have plenty 
 of them every season — ^and he determined to recoup himself 
 at the expense of one of these unfortunate women, who, 
 naturally, are not able to be too particular about the persons 
 with whom they deal. As soon as he thought she was asleep, 
 he ripped the lock ofiF the drawer where he expected to find 
 her valuables; but she awoke, and before she could cry out, 
 he flung himself upon her to kill her; and he thought that he 
 had killed her. The wound was a terrible one, as you see. 
 He fled.... 
 
 Prince Stephen. But surely you were able to arrest him ? 
 
 Gendarme. The next morning, although she was in no 
 condition to appear against him. They had been seen leav- 
 ing the Casino together; they had been observed when they 
 entered the house. We had no diflScuIty in apprehending the 
 man. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Needless to say he paid dearly for his 
 exploit. 
 
 Gendarme. You will not believe it, but when he was 
 taken before this woman, she denied roundly that he was the 
 
ACT IV PRINCESS BEBÉ 115 
 
 man with whom she had spent the night, or that he had at- 
 tempted to kill her. 
 
 Princess Helena. Perhaps he was not. There may have 
 been some mistake. 
 
 Gendarme. There could be no doubt of it. He was the 
 man. We found the jewels on him, and the money. 
 
 Prince Stephen. In that ease 
 
 Gendarme. We were helpless. What could we do in the 
 face of the uncontradicted testimony of such a witness ? 
 
 Woman With the Scar. It's a lie, the whole story ! It 
 wasn't he. He didn't do it. 
 
 Gendarme. Nonsense! We have the facts; we know 
 wjiy he did it. It seems incredible. 
 
 Princess Helena. No, I can understand; I can under- 
 stand that sublime silence. That man had known how to 
 make himself loved in one night. 
 
 Woman With the Scar. Lady ! 
 
 Princess Helena. But what became of him ? How did 
 he repay her act of silence ? 
 
 Gendarme. He took ship for America. Since then her 
 one idea has been to go to him. Whatever she earns, she 
 saves toward the voyage. She is miserably poor, she is even 
 obliged to beg, now that her earnings are insufficient. 
 
 Princess Helena. Is it possible ? And all your illusion 
 is to join him again ? Speak frankly, my poor woman. 
 
 Woman With the Scar. Yes, all. 
 
 Princess Helena. All ? [To Stephen] It is in our power 
 to make the memory of this moment even happier in our 
 lives. The happiness of this poor creature lies in our hands. 
 
 Woman With the Scar. What do you mean ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Nothing. You shall go to him, I 
 promise you. [To the Gendarme] Bring me her address in 
 the morning. 
 
116 PRINCESS BEBE act iv 
 
 Woman With the Scar. What is she talking about ? It's 
 a lie. You are laughing at me 
 
 Gendarme. Stop! Do you know with whom you are 
 speaking ? Down on your knees, and beg pardon ! And 
 away with you ! 
 
 Woman With the Scar. Oh, lady ! Lady ! I kiss your 
 hand .... I am going ! Going ! It is my voyage ! I shall 
 never get there, I know that; it would be too much happi- 
 ness. I shall die on the ^journey ! 
 
 Gendarme. No, you won't. You will find him and he 
 will kill you. And this time he will make a good job of it. 
 
 Woman With the Scar. Find him ? He can kill me then 
 if he wants to; I am willing. 
 
 Gendarme. If he really kills you and they catch him, you 
 won't be able to save him then like you did last time. 
 
 Woman With the Scar. Oh, yes, I will ! Because I have 
 a letter, and it will be suicide. And he will be saved! I 
 have planned it all beforehand. [She goes ovt. 
 
 Prince Stephen. What an extraordinary woman ! 
 
 Gendarme. Did you ever see anything to equal it ? 
 
 Princess Helena. Oh ! If passion and madness were^ 
 never to sweep through our souls, what would be the value 
 of life? 
 
 Gendarme. Perhaps I had best remain with Your High- 
 nesses ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. No, no; it is quite unnecessary. Ah ! . . . . 
 thank you. And good night. 
 
 Gendarme. Under no circumstances. I cannot accept 
 anything. 
 
 Princess Helena. Remember to send me her address in 
 the morning. 
 
 Gendarme. At your service. [Goes out 
 
ACT IV PRINCESS BEBÉ 117 
 
 *^^' Prince Stephen. As you see, we are known. Our pres- 
 ence here is no secret. 
 
 Princess Helena. Where shall we go where we may 
 cease to be what we are? Among these people, upon the 
 uttermost edge of society, we fancied that we were forgotten. 
 But the gendarme reminds us that he is in the secret; he is 
 watching over us, to protect us. 
 
 Prince Stephen. It cannot be helped; you heard what he 
 said. These people are dangerous. 
 
 Princess Helena. People are dangerous everywhere; the 
 whole world is like this, and so are our own souls — the 
 eternal struggle of life, force against force, the hand of those 
 who seek to live their own lives as individuals in the name of 
 human instinct, against the hand of those who would main- 
 tain the social fabric in the common name of all. On the 
 one side the criminal, on the other the police; and in the great 
 world as in this little world, all the classes which do duty as 
 police, with their codes af morals, their sacrosanct dignities 
 and their laws, are able to accomplish no more in their fight 
 with the classes which we call criminal, than we see them 
 do here; they impart an air of gayety to the dance, which 
 seems to be respectable under the paternal eye of the police, 
 while in reality the dancers are doing nothing but plotting 
 and scheming to outwit them. The very life of these people 
 is to outwit the police. How would any human life be possi- 
 ble if we were not able to outwit the social laws ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. I am amazed to hear you talk. How 
 is it that you were permitted reading so radical, so subver- 
 sive at the Court of Sua via? 
 
 Princess Helena. Does it sound as if it were reading to 
 you? No, the ideas are my own. I feel as I do because I 
 have never allowed myself to be frightened by any truth, and 
 I have never become so enamored of any, that I have been 
 
118 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iv 
 
 afraid to see it transformed into a lie. If I could look into 
 my soul every day and discover a new truth, which when 
 found would disarrange my life completely, I should not 
 hesitate to destroy my life every day so as to live a new life 
 every day with a new truth. Is that the way that you feel ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. It is so hard to destroy ! Who knows ? 
 — when love has already become a lie in our hearts, it may 
 still be, perhaps, the truth of another heart, which we have 
 no right to destroy. 
 
 Princess Helena. Do you believe that either Elsa or 
 Herr Rosmer would have any regrets ? 
 
 Prince Stephen. I believe that it is not so easy to escape 
 responsibility in life, nor to stifle the pangs of remorse. Pos- 
 sibly the motives of the woman who is now my wife, and of 
 the man who is now your lover, may not have been altogether 
 disinterested when they accepted our love. Yet we led them 
 to believe that they might safely build the future fabric of 
 their lives upon it. If we fail them now, then what of that 
 future ? It becomes impossible. How false their position, to 
 what humiliation they will be exposed, to what reprisals! 
 And our condition will be no better. We shall no longer be 
 romantic lovers who have sacrificed everything to love. 
 Another experiment, and we shall renounce something more 
 than our dignity as Princes; we shall forfeit our self-respect 
 as well. 
 
 Princess Helena. Then the past must always influ- 
 ence our lives. There can never be a moment which we 
 can really call ours, when we speak and feel and love as at 
 that moment we really do. The dead body of something 
 must always be chained at our heels. No, I can no longer 1 
 pray at an altar when I have lost my faith. My prayers end, ] 
 my faith is exhausted. I must love when I love, forget when 
 I forget. If I were to hesitate now, I should go further; I 
 
 
ACTiv PRINCESS BEBÉ 119 
 
 should return to the Court of Suavia, I should again become 
 Princess. Duty for duty, respect for respect, I should ac- 
 cept those which are mine, which belong to my race, to my 
 name. All that these democrats value in our love, is the 
 opportunity which it affords them to become Princes like 
 ourselves. 
 
 Prince Stephen. The aspiration of every true democrat 
 who foments a revolution. 
 
 Princess Helena. The only revolution which can be pro- 
 ductive of good in the world will be a revolution undertaken 
 by us, the great, from above, who are already equals. Then 
 it will be a disinterested revolution. We shall not be seek- 
 ing riches nor liberty, nor even justice — we shall simply be 
 seeking the truth. And the truth is — for us — to-night — 
 that we may be happy, that we may unite our lives and des- 
 tinies in one, while the memory of the Court of Suavia fades 
 as dimly from our sight as the illusion of that bourgeois home . 
 which, in the name of a false happiness, we had dreamed, i 
 Ah, no! It was not happiness, it was not life — not yet. 
 Life, to us, is to love each other — to love you. 
 
 Prince Stephen. Forever ? 
 
 Princess Helena. To-day, to-morrow, a few hours 
 longer. . . .perhaps only to-night. Who can tell ? What does 
 it matter .Í* There are dreams which are worth all the real- j 
 ities of life. In another moment, I may feel as you do, that 
 there are duties and responsibilities and the sting of remorse, 
 that we have done wrong, that we must turn back, yes, that 
 we shall turn back, even that .... we ought. But not yet ! 
 First, let us talk of ourselves again, of anything, nothing, as 
 before. . . .of verses, and music afar off, the blue heaven 
 above us, while in the distance lies the sea, and silence — 
 silence, deep as the night. 
 
 Prince Stephen. My Princess Bebé ! You touch the 
 
120 PRINCESS BEBÉ act iv 
 
 world with joy, you infuse our thoughts with light. Life be- 
 comes more intense at your side, and the soul stretches out 
 toward infinity. 
 
 Princess Helena. Which is life. To understand life, to 
 understand all of it, to love it wholly, and then to live it — to 
 live it all our lives ! 
 
 Prince Stephen. No, not to live it. For life is sad and 
 bitter, it is doing evil and suflPering wrong — but to dream, 
 to dream as we do now. . . . 
 
 Princess Helena. To live — to dream ! Both — what does 
 it matter ? To love. To love is all. It is dreaming and it is 
 living ! 
 
 Curtain 
 
THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 
 
 COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
 
 First Presented at the Teatro de ia Comedia, Madrid, 
 ON THE Evening of the Eighth of October, 1901 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 Josefina 
 
 The Marchioness of Torbelodones 
 
 Doña O 
 
 Esperanza 
 
 JiMENA 
 
 Bemsa 
 
 The Marchioness op Vilxaquejido 
 Teresa 
 La Menendez 
 A Maid 
 Don Santiago 
 Manolo 
 Paco 
 
 Don Teodoro 
 Don Guillermo 
 Don Baldomero 
 The Marquis of Torrelodones 
 Don Basilio 
 Antonio Campos 
 Pimentón 
 Polito 
 Reguera 
 Garcés 
 Don Trino 
 ; Don Rosendo 
 Damián 
 A Clerk 
 Servant 
 LadieSt Gentlemen, Townspeople, and Visitors 
 The scene is Moraleda, a supposed provincial capital of Spain 
 
THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 
 THE FIRST ACT 
 
 The main square of Moraleda. As the curtain riseSy the church- 
 hells ring and a discharge of firewcrrks is heard. Crowds 
 move backward and forward across the stage in every di- 
 rection. Newsboys rush up and down calling *' Daily 
 ^ Mail,'' ** Voice/' ^'Programme of ths Bull-fight,''' ''Names 
 and Descriptions of all the Bulls." 
 
 Presently Don Rosendo disengages himself from the crowd 
 and seats himself at one of the tables which stand before the 
 café opening upon the main square. Damián approaches 
 
 Damián. Good morning, Don Rosendo. 
 
 Rosendo. Good morning. 
 
 Damián. A fine day, sir! If this weather only continues 
 through the feria! Well, what will be it to-day, Don Ro- 
 sendo ? Beer ? [Saluling the passers-by] Good morning, gen- 
 tlemen. A fine day, eh ? If we could only have this weather 
 every fiesta! [To Don Rosendo] Did you say beer? 
 
 Rosendo. No. Bring me coffee and toast. 
 
 Damián. Coffee and toast .5* [Laughing] Diablo, Don 
 Rosendo ! What ever put such an idea in youi^ead ? 
 
 Rosendo. Man ! One must eat. After dressing the win- 
 dow since six o'clock in the morning 
 
 Damián. Busy times for us all, Don Rosendo. Do you 
 open to-day ? 
 
 Rosendo. Only the window; this is a holiday. 
 
 Damián. Yes, but in the middle of the feria! You will 
 lose money. , 
 
 123 
 
lU THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE acti 
 
 Rosendo. What of it? I cannot afford to oifend the 
 ladies. They have formed a society under the patronage of 
 the bishop — you know the bishop has always been very par- 
 tial to me ? 
 
 Damián. I know, sir. [Calling] Coffee and toast ! Well, 
 every man to his taste. Excuse me, a lady — [To a young 
 woman who is parsing] Won't you have something ? . . . . Oh ! 
 
 I see. A full basket ? . . . . Guests, eh .^^ . . . . Of course ! 
 
 Well, if you won't [Returning to Don Rosendo] 
 
 Don Baldomero's housekeeper. A fine girl ! They say she's 
 the real mistress of the house; a mountaineer from Villa- 
 quejido — yes, sir. Don Baldomcro has an eye for the ladies. 
 If she is number one, number two for Doña O, although 
 they tell me she was beautiful once, yes she was! But 
 time flies. That girl and Don Baldomcro — would you be- 
 lieve it ? — just between us, don't say a word — she poisons her 
 mistress's life. Yes, sir ! What do you think of that? All I 
 know is she comes in every morning to get an ice. 
 
 Rosendo. You poison your ices. 
 
 Damián. No, what an idea! Speaking of antidotes, did 
 you read "The Memoirs of a Chief of Police. A Half Cen- 
 tury of Crime"? An old poisoner, who always gave his 
 victims something deadly in their coffee, which it was impos- 
 sible to distinguish from the drink, until one day the chief 
 of police got down to the bottom of his cup 
 
 Rosendo. But man ! My coffee ! 
 
 Damián. Your coffee ? Caramba I Haven't you had yours 
 
 yet? Really, I have to laugh, Don Rosendo. Coming ! 
 
 The toast on the side ? 
 
 Rosendo. Wherever it happens to drop. 
 
 Damián goes out. Meanwhile La Menéndez and 
 Garcés have entered^ seating themselves at one of the 
 tables. As Damián is about to disappear into the 
 café, Garcés calls to him. 
 
ACTi THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 125 
 
 Damián. [Re-entering] Well, what is it going to be ? 
 
 Garces. Nothing at present. Bring pen and paper. 
 
 Damián. And the lady? 
 
 Garces. The same for the lady. 
 
 Damián. Pen and paper for two, sir ? 
 
 Garces. No, no, nothing at present. 
 
 Damián. [Calling] Pen and paper! [To Don Rosendo] 
 From the theatre — the company that's playing through the 
 feria. Not so bad, eh ? On the side .... Coming ! [Goes out. 
 
 Menendez. Are you writing to some one.? 
 
 ^G ARCES. No. We are expected to order: I can do my 
 accounts. I am not like most actors — ^Bohemians, who know 
 nothing about business. I keep all my bills. Whatever I 
 make, I always save half, and am never in want. 
 Figuring at his accounts. Damián re-enters. 
 
 Damián. [To Don Rosendo] The toast, sir. [Calling 
 through the window] Coffee ! 
 
 Menendez. I shall not pay that rascal more than four 
 pesetas when the feria is over. Now he is charging six for a 
 room opening on an inner court with a bed in it that's so big 
 that no woman could ever occupy it alone. 
 
 Garces. Don't say that. 
 
 Menendez. Why ? Did I say anything ? 
 
 Garces. Say occupy — not alone. Don't you see? It 
 sounds better. Don't you understand syntax? Can't you 
 express yourself correctly? How do you expect to appear 
 in a purely literary play unless you express yourself prop- 
 erly, unless you know grammar? It is easy to see you 
 were brought up in the varieties. 
 
 Menendez. Yes, and there was something doing in the 
 varieties while I was in them, I can tell you. Now what do 
 we get with this legitimate stuff? Five coppers a week — 
 when we get them. The people here are all against us. They 
 
ne THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE acti 
 
 won't let us play "Oscurantismo'*; it's the only show we 
 have that has a chance. 
 
 Garcés. "Obscurantismo''- there is a 6 between the o 
 and the s, 
 
 Menéndez. Oyhe. . . .sI 
 
 Garcés. Yes, with emphasis on the s. Correct ! And you 
 are to play the part of Lucinda, the personification of wis- 
 dom. I suppose you understand that the play is wholly 
 symbolic ? Have you prepared yourself for your part ? You 
 don't even know what you are going to wear. 
 
 Menéndez. With our trunks held for board in Madrid? 
 
 Garcés. Never mind our trunks. Don Paco has promised 
 me money from the advance. Then we can send to Madrid 
 and there are our clothes. 
 
 Menéndez. Yes, advance ! Somehow or other, I have an 
 idea that we are going to be run out of this place without any 
 advance. 
 
 Garcés. Run without any advance ? Impossible ! 
 
 Menéndez. They say this town is very puritanical — that 
 is proper, I suppose. They'll never let us play "Obscuran- 
 tismo." 
 
 Garcés. Correct this time. 
 
 Menéndez. If they do, nobody will come to see us. 
 
 Garcés. Pshaw ! There is a strong liberal element. 
 
 Menéndez. It will get a chill the first night and after that 
 it won't be heard from. Besides, if the women don't come, 
 the men won't. Then what will become of the audience ? 
 
 Garcés. 
 
 "Out, gentlemen, to die! 
 The ladies stay and pray." 
 
 Menéndez. The papers all score us. They call us ac- 
 tresses Messalinas. 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 127 
 
 Garcés. Oh, people make allowances for that. 
 
 Menendez. They say the actors are rotten. 
 
 Garcés. That is too bad ! 
 
 Menendez» And I'd hate to tell you what they say about 
 the management. 
 
 Garcés. Bigots! Fanatics! — Waiter, the papers! The 
 morning papers ! 
 
 Damián. Here you are, sir: The Eckoy The Voice. When 
 do you open ^ Believe me, the town is on tiptoe. I wonder 
 if you are going to play that piece which has made such a 
 sensation? We certainly do need it here. People are very 
 Pharisaical. 
 
 Garcés. Pharisaical is the word. 
 
 Damián. The fact is, the ladies have formed a league. 
 
 Garcés. A league ^ 
 
 Damián. Yes, sir, and they will be against you. They 
 have been here already to ask the proprietor not to distribute 
 the hand-bills nor to allow placards to be hung in the café. 
 
 Menendez. What do you think of that? 
 
 Garcés. Bigots ! Fanatics ! Spain is going to the dogs. 
 They'll rend us limb from limb. 
 
 Menendez. And nobody will come to see us ! I knew it 
 all the time. 
 
 Damián. Not if you have a league of ladies against you. 
 Music and cries down the street. A number of boys run 
 across the stage. 
 
 Menendez. What is the matter? 
 
 Garcés. What has happened? 
 
 Damián. It's the bull-fighters — the toreros arriving at their 
 hotel. The Hotel of the Universe, sir. 
 
 Garcés. What enthusiasm ! Rome in her decadence was 
 never like this. 
 
128 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 Damián. Campos, the torero of the day. Ah ! 
 
 Menendez. Who gets six thousand pesetas at every 
 corrida? 
 
 Garces. And the fellow doesn't even know how to talk! 
 
 Damián. Really, you do him injustice. Campos is a very 
 cultivated person; it is pleasure to listen to him. He can 
 converse upon any topic — politics, for instance, music. It 
 is the same thmg as reading the papers. He is received by 
 the best people. 
 
 Garces. Would you believe it, at our boarding-house they 
 wanted to make us pay in advance.?* 
 
 Damián. Are you going to the fight? 
 
 Garces. No, I detest the spectacle. They usually send 
 me free tickets when I am in Madrid out of compliment, but I 
 always get rid of them to some friend at a discount, and so 
 save myself the trouble of going. 
 
 Damián. [To Don Rosendo] Are you going, Don Ro- 
 sendo ? 
 
 Rosendo. I may at the last moment. When you think 
 how these toreros used to slink in at the station with their 
 packs on their backs, and then look at these fellows .... Did 
 you see ? Riding if you please in the coach of the Marquis of 
 Solar ! How are the bulls this year ? 
 
 Damián. A new herd in the plaza, belonging to the Mar- 
 quis of Torrelodones. Campos insisted upon it, as he is a 
 friend of the Marquis's daughter. She is in town to see the 
 corrida. They are related to the Governor. 
 
 Rosendo. Are they staying at the Palace? Now I re- 
 member they were in the shop yesterday to make some pur- 
 chases with the Governor's wife. Clearly people of taste. 
 
 Damián. Here comes the Governor. 
 
 Rosendo. On his way to service at the cathedral. [Don 
 Santiago enters y surrounded by a group of dignified and elderly 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 129 
 
 gentlemen. They pass across the stage] Your servant, Your 
 Excellency. 
 
 Santiago. Delighted to see you. [Goes out. 
 
 Garcés. Was that the Governor? 
 
 Rosendo. What a cultivated gentleman ! 
 
 Garcés. Is he a good man? 
 
 Rosendo. Excellent. 
 
 Menendez. Then he will not interfere with us. 
 
 Garcés. Don't say that. Tell me, is he liberal in his 
 opinions ? 
 
 Rosendo. Liberal ? In Moraleda it isn't worth one's while 
 to be liberal. Imagine, every year on the eleventh of Feb- 
 ruary the republicans unite to dine together in this café, and 
 they always eat at two tables, because there are four of 
 them, and they are divided into two parties. 
 
 Menéndez. Gracious! What a place to come to! The 
 minute you scent money, touch Paco for the advance. 
 
 Garcés. Scent money ? How you talk ! 
 
 Doña O and Esperanza enter from Don Rosendo's 
 shop. 
 
 Doña O. We have oeen shopping so long that we snail 
 be too late for the sermon. 
 
 Esperanza. Don't be silly, mamma. You know Josefina 
 said there was no need to hurry. She promised to keep two 
 good seats for us. 
 
 Rosendo. IBowingl Señora Doña O ! Señorita Esperanza ! 
 
 Doña O. Why, Don Rosendo ! We just this moment left 
 your shop. 
 
 Rosendo. To what am I indebted for the honor? The 
 shop is closed to-day. 
 
 Doña O. Another notion of my daughter's ! She insists 
 that if she is going to the bull-fight, she must have a mantilla 
 with tassels on it. 
 
130 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 Rosendo. How charmingly appropriate ! 
 
 Esperanza. Thank you so much. Who is that woman 
 you were talking to? 
 
 Rosendo. Hm! I don't know that is, a stranger. 
 
 The fact is, they were asking me 
 
 Doña O. [Looking them over] Heavens ! But she has a 
 bad face. I hope I do not do her injustice. 
 
 Menendez. [Aside to Garcés] Look at that old hypocrite 
 staring at me. 
 
 Garcés. Don't you stare back. Somebody must have 
 manners. 
 
 Rosendo. I hope you found something to suit. 
 
 Doña O. I arranged with the boy to send home some 
 things on approval. We can make up our minds later at our 
 leisure. 
 
 Rosendo. As you say. 
 
 Doña O. Heaven knows what we are going to do with any 
 more mantillas! We have them by the dozen in the house 
 already, and of the very best quality: blacks, whites, creams, 
 browns. But somehow or other, something always seems to 
 be lacking. My daughter always wants something that she 
 hasn't yet got. 
 
 Rosendo. It is the way with all young ladies. 
 
 Esperanza. I never have anything that I want, Don 
 Rosendo; they always advise me. 
 
 Doña O. For heaven's sake, don't begin talking non- 
 sense ! Fortunately you understand, Don Rosendo. 
 
 Rosendo. I know her father. 
 
 Esperanza. I never have my own way. I have nothing 
 to live for ... . 
 
 Doña O. My dear, don't make yourself ridiculous. The 
 next thing, I suppose, she'll be wanting to die. 
 
 Rosendo. Doña Esperancita ! 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 131 
 
 Esperanza. I am very unhappy ! 
 
 Doña O. Don't you believe a word of it. Fortunately 
 you understand 
 
 Rosendo. Perfectly, Doña 0. 
 
 Doña O. However, you might send the mantillas. Mean- 
 while, we shall be at the cathedral. 
 
 Rosendo. Does His Reverence preach this morning? 
 
 Doña O. Yes, and he will have something to say, too, 
 which will be a novelty. Did you ever hear of such an out- 
 rage ? In the midst of the feria these impudent actors come 
 here to perform this infamous play ! 
 
 Menendez. Will you listen to that? 
 
 Garces. Calm yourself. Somebody must be tolerant. 
 
 Doña O. Oh, His Reverence will be heard from ! He 
 knows what he is talking about — and yet all the while it 
 really seems as if he were saying nothing at all. 
 
 Rosendo. I have noticed that myself. 
 
 Esperanza. What an attractive display you have for the 
 fiesta! 
 
 Rosendo. I always endeavor to present some novelty for 
 the holidays, if only for the honor of the shop — and Moraleda. 
 
 Doña O. You show excellent taste. 
 
 Esperanza. How cunning, mamma ! Look ! An orches- 
 tra of pigs ! 
 
 Rosendo. Did you notice the brooches? They are art 
 nouveau. 
 
 Esperanza. Yes, they were lovely. Send me home some 
 to select from. 
 
 Doña O. And don't forget the pigs. I can see she has set 
 her heart on them. Even then she won't be satisfied. 
 
 Rosendo. Hardly, at her age. Young ladies don't know 
 what they want. As you say, when they do, it is always some- 
 thing that they haven't yet got. 
 
132 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 Doña O. Good morning, Don Rosendo. Come, Esperan- 
 cita ! Don't let me catch you looking in that window again. 
 
 Rosendo. I shall send everything. Good morning. 
 
 Esperanza. Do you know, instead of those pigs I believe 
 I'd rather have that dog in the automobile ? The little rascal ! 
 
 Rosendo. Suit yourself. 
 
 Doña O. What did I tell you ? Hurry, my dear ! If we 
 don't, we shall be too late to get seats. 
 
 Doña O and Esperanza go out, continuing the con- 
 versation. 
 
 Menendez. Are those some of your best people ? 
 
 Damián. I should say they were ! They are the wife and 
 daughter of Don Baldomcro Remolinos, the richest man in 
 Moraleda. The girl is an only child and will inherit half the 
 province. 
 
 Rosendo. They call her the Golden Girl. Her parents 
 deny her nothing. 
 
 Damián. Except her marriage with Don Manolito. They 
 have some pretty hot times together — at least so I hear from 
 the servants. 
 
 Rosendo. Why shouldn't her parents object.?* Who is 
 Don Manolito? The Governor's secretary — one of those 
 bounders from Madrid. It is all his fault the way things go 
 here. Don Santiago does nothing. Beyond question, he 
 was responsible for that last gambling scandal. 
 
 Damián. You see, sir, the secretary and the Governor's 
 wife. . . . 
 
 Garces. Aha ! Good for Moraleda ! 
 
 Menendez. And yet they make so much fuss about a play. 
 
 Rosendo. How much do I owe you ? 
 
 Damián. Forty céntimos, and a beer yesterday. 
 
 Rosendo. That's so, I forgot. I must hurry and send 
 those things to Doña O. 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 133 
 
 Damián. Good morning, Don Rosendo. 
 
 Rosendo. Good morning, 
 
 Garces. Good morning. 
 
 Menendez. Good-by. [Don Rosendo goes out. 
 
 Garces. [Nodding toward the rear] The proprietor of that 
 shop ? 
 
 Damián. Yes, sir, and a very liberal gentleman, accom- 
 modating, always polite with the ladies, although his cus- 
 tomers are all respectable folk. . . . 
 
 Menendez. I didn't like the way he spoke of Madrid. 
 Bounders ! I am a Madrileña. 
 
 Damián. Oh, don't mind him ! When his first wife ran oflp 
 the second time, it was with a gentleman from Madrid. 
 
 Garces. Prejudice, of course. 
 
 Don Teodoro and Don Guillermo enter, 
 
 Guillermo. How do you know? 
 
 Teodoro. Oh, it's a long story, but delicious! When I 
 make up my mind to find out a thing, depend upon me. 
 Man ! Don Rosendo's shop is closed. 
 
 Guillermo. So it is. We might stop at the café. We 
 have time for a vermouth before the music. 
 
 Teodoro. [Discovering La Menendez] I remember that 
 face. 
 
 Guillermo. Strangers. 
 
 Teodoro. Damián! 
 
 Damián. Ah, gentlemen! You are early this morning. 
 What weather we are having for the feria ! Well, what is it 
 going to be? 
 
 Guillermo. Bring two vermouths with bitters. 
 
 Damián. How is it that you are not at the cathedral ? I 
 know you are not overreligious, but, Don Teodoro, if only to 
 see the ladies .... 
 
 Teodoro. No, I saw all that I wanted in the Calle San 
 
\ 
 
 134 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE acti 
 
 Pablo — the display was satisfactory. Every day they grow 
 more beautiful. There's a great advance this year. 
 
 Damián. Clotilda, the hair-dresser, dropped in this morn- 
 ing. She was asking for you. Busy times for us all. 
 
 Teodoro, That girl is too serious. She talks about mar- 
 riage as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 
 
 Damián. To you ? 
 
 Teodoro. In such matters I make it a rule to follow the 
 catechism: the sacraments in their proper order. Marriage 
 comes seventh, after extreme unction. 
 
 Damián. Good! 
 
 Guillermo. [Laughing loudly] Who would ever have 
 thought of that ? 
 
 Damián. Unless it were yourself, Don Guillermo; only you 
 do all your work in the dark. Do you know who has moved 
 in across the street.?* Teresa, the corsetiere. 
 
 Teodoro. A terrible bore. She reckons everything from 
 the date of her mishap. "One year after," "Two years 
 after".... 
 
 Damián. What mishap was that? 
 
 Teodoro. Ah! 
 
 Damián. Why ! She's a slip of a child 
 
 Teodoro. Exactly, a slip of a child. 
 
 Guillermo [Laughing] Ah ! Ah ! Clever ! 
 
 Damián. Now who would ever have thought of that.? 
 
 Guillermo. Ready for anything! I envy that man; he 
 will have his joke. 
 
 Damián. We all know Don Teodoro. 
 
 Guillermo. I have no mind for such business, but if you 
 could only put down everything that has happened to him, 
 saints and martyrs, but you would have a book ! 
 
 Damián. It would be on the index expurga torius. 
 
 Teodoro. Bring us the vermouths. [Damián goes out. 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 135 
 
 Menéndez. The town sports. 
 
 Garcés. Two of the boys. 
 
 Teodoro. I know that face. We must ask Damián. 
 
 Menéndez. But where is Don Paco.? I am famished. 
 
 Garces. He may find nobody at the Palace on a day like 
 to-day. 
 
 Menéndez. It would be awful to leave without taking 
 anything. 
 
 Garces. Order what you like; the waiter knows us by this 
 time. We might pay him to-morrow. 
 
 Menéndez. I'll have coffee and toast. The chocolate here 
 is dreadful. 
 
 Garces. Toast ? An actress in a first-class company seen 
 eating in public ? Try something delicate. Take tea. 
 
 Menéndez. You can't fill me up on tea. 
 
 Teodoro. [To Guillermo] Hello ! Who is that on the 
 balcony ? 
 
 Guillermo. She sees us. 
 
 Teodoro. Striking poses, eh ? Look, there ! . . . . Feed- 
 ing the canary sugar with her mouth. What a picture that 
 would make ! 
 
 Guillermo. It's a pity her husband is such a brute. 
 Damián re-enters with the orders. 
 
 Damián. The vermouth and bitters. What's the matter ? 
 Ah! The captain's wife! [Mysteriously] Every morning 
 after he goes off to the barracks she comes out on the balcony 
 and makes a signal — I don't know to whom, but it's to some 
 one. 
 
 Teodoro. About what úme? 
 
 Damián. Between eight and nine. 
 
 Teodoro. I must get around some morning myself. 
 
 Menéndez. Look, look ! . . . . Don Paco, At last ! [CaU- 
 ing] Don Paco ! 
 
136 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 Garcés. He sees us. 
 
 Teodoro. [To Damián] Pst! Who are those people? 
 
 Damián. Actors — the company that's opening at the 
 theatre. 
 
 Teodoro. Ask her whether she was ever in Almendralejo 
 and if her name is Luisa. 
 
 Damián. Certainly, sir. In Almendralejo? 
 
 Menéndez. Who is that talking to Paco? 
 
 Garcés. That rascal, Moreno. He is making a strike .... 
 Ha ! He doesn't see us. 
 
 Damián. [To La Menéndez] Don't seem to notice, but 
 that gentleman wants to know whether you were ever in Al- 
 mendralejo, and if your name is Luisa. 
 
 Menéndez. [Addressing Teodoro directly] In Almendra- 
 lejo? Did you see me there? 
 
 Teodoro. In eighty-four. 
 
 Menéndez. Noí no, in ninety-two. 
 
 Teodoro. Right, in ninety-two. It was ninety-two, my 
 dear Luisa ! 
 
 Menéndez. My name isn't Luisa any more, but it is I. 
 Holy Mother! But you have changed. I can't remember 
 you at all. 
 
 Teodoro. You can't remember me? | 
 
 Menéndez. Not at all. / 
 
 Teodoro. Then I'll have to remind you. 
 
 Menéndez. [Calling him over] Do, do ! I wish you would ! 
 
 Guillermo. [To Damián] This Teodoro ! Clever ! 
 
 Damián. Now who would ever have thought of that? 
 Paco enters. 
 
 Paco. [To Garcés] I beg your pardon. I am sorry to have 
 kept you waiting. 
 
 Garcés. What news ? Good ? 
 
 Paco. Splendid! The best. Who is that talking to Adela ? 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 137 
 
 Garces. Oh! Some old admirer. Adela! I beg your 
 pardon. . . . Here is Don Paco. 
 
 Menéndez. Ah, Don Paco ! What news ? 
 
 Garces. Good. The best ! Nothing could be better. 
 
 Menéndez. Which? 
 
 Garces. Nothing could be better than best. 
 
 Menéndez. [To Paco] Let me embrace you. 
 
 Garces. Woman! Not on the public street ! You mustn't 
 let people see you embracing Don Paco, not if we are to ap- 
 pear here in that scandalous play. Have a little reserve. 
 
 Menéndez. What difference does it make ? He's our map- 
 ager. A manager isn't a man; he's like an author on a first 
 night. You embrace him without meaning anything by it. 
 [To Don Teodoro] This gentleman is our manager. 
 
 Paco. Delighted to meet you. 
 
 Guillermo. You must be a bold man, sir, to come here to 
 present this objectionable play. 
 
 Teodoro. *' Obscurardismo." We are anxious to see what 
 it is like. 
 
 Menéndez. Why ? Don't you think ? 
 
 Teodoro. I am afraid you are going to be disappointed 
 and lose your money. 
 
 Menéndez. Ah, Don Paco! But you said you brought 
 good news. 
 
 Paco. So I did. For the present the Governor will not 
 prohibit the performance, as we feared. 
 
 Guillermo. But have you seen the Governor's wife? 
 Wait till she hears of it. 
 
 Teodoro. Nothing is done here without her approval. 
 She belongs to everything — all the ladies' clubs and all the 
 church societies. She will never consent to her husband's 
 prejudicing himself by permitting the performance of an ob- 
 jectionable play. 
 
138 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 Guillermo. If you do give it, nobody will come to see you. 
 Not even the official element. 
 
 Teodoro. You cannot count upon the ladies, and without 
 the ladies you cannot count upon the men. A theatre with- 
 out women is like — what shall I say.'* — like a jail without 
 birds. 
 
 Garces. An excellent comparison. 
 
 Paco. But the Governor cannot disobey the laws. 
 
 Guillermo. It is not necessary to disobey the laws. All 
 he need do is to enforce all of them. The theatre has no fire 
 protection, the gallery is falling down .... 
 
 Menendez. Ay I Don Paco ! It's a death-trap ! 
 
 Teodoro. Who asked you to come here with this '* Ob- 
 scurantismo" anyway .'' 
 
 Garces. Well, sir, all I have to say then is that this town 
 must have changed a great deal. I played an engagement 
 here during the revolution when we had the republic, and 
 there were a great many liberals here in those days. I re- 
 member particularly one Baldomcro Remolinos — he was 
 called Baldomcro after General Espartero. 
 
 Teodoro. [Laughing] Will you listen to that? 
 
 Guillermo. Ha ! Ha ! [Laughing also. 
 
 Garces. What is the matter.?* 
 
 Guillermo. Nothing is the matter. Why, this Baldomcro 
 to-day is the greatest magnate in Moraleda — he is the grand 
 seignior. He pays what taxes he likes, holds mortgages on 
 one-half of the province, has notes on the other half, and he 
 would go into an apoplexy if he should so much as hear the 
 sound of the revolutionary hymn. 
 
 Gabces. The "Hymn of Riego" ? Is it possible.? 
 
 Menéndez. He must be the man they were telling us 
 about. Is he the father of a very spoiled girl.'' 
 
 Guillermo. Named Esperanza. * 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 139 
 
 Menéndez. Who is madly in love with the Governor's 
 secretary ? And her parents won't let them marry ? 
 
 Teodoro. Exactly. 
 
 Paco. In love with the Governor's secretary. With Don 
 Manolo ? 
 
 Teodoro. Yes. Do you know him ? Keen as a razor — a 
 young chap from Madrid .í* 
 
 Paco. Do I know him.?* Well, I should say so. Do I? 
 Adela, Garcés, give me your hands. We are saved ! We are 
 the masters of Moraleda — yes, as much as Don Baldomcro, 
 more than the Governor, as much even as the Governor's 
 wife. 
 
 Menéndez. Goodness ! What has happened ? 
 
 Garcés. Don't stop ! 
 
 Paco. Nothing has happened, but Manolo, the Governor's 
 secretary, is my brother. 
 
 Menéndez. Your brother ? 
 
 Garcés. Bastard or legitimate.?* 
 
 Paco. How bastard ? Leave off with your plays. 
 
 Teodoro. Well, upon my word ! 
 
 Guillermo. And to think we were innocent ! What a co- 
 incidence ! 
 
 Teodoro. The early bird ! It pays. 
 
 Paco. Imagine my surprise when I heard the name of my 
 brother at the Palace — the last place I ever expected to find 
 him. It is five years since we have seen each other — not since 
 I sailed for Buenos Aires. We began earning our living so 
 young. 
 
 Menéndez. But didn't you see him ? 
 
 Paco. No, he was at the cathedral. But I dropped him a 
 few lines, and I am expecting an answer. 
 
 Garcés. You parted good friends.?* 
 
 Paco. Naturally. If we haven't written for so long ¡t was 
 
140 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 it was .... well, why was it ? Because that is the way 
 
 we are made. When a man has to grapple with life for his 
 bread, he forgets everything. Affection becomes a bm'den 
 that bears him down. 
 
 Garces. Talk of the theatre ! There is a drama in this. 
 
 Teodoro. This puts another face on the matter. Now, 
 with the support of your brother, you will make money. 
 
 Menendez. [To Don Teodoro] God bless you ! 
 
 Teodoro. Nothing can stop you. With Esperanza, the 
 daughter of Don Baldomcro, backed by her father and his 
 money on the one hand, and the Governor's wife with her 
 influence — for she has influence — and all the ladies' societies 
 on the other, how can you help making money? Eh, Guil- 
 lermo ? 
 
 Guillermo. How can they help it? 
 
 Teodoro. Especially since your brother is so popular with 
 the ladies — without offense to you, sir. He can do whatever 
 he pleases. 
 
 Paco. No, no ! No offense to me ! Believe me, if I leave 
 here with my pockets full of pesetas, there'll be no offense to 
 me. 
 
 Menendez. Nor to any of us. 
 
 Guillermo. Then don't trouble yourselves. If your 
 brother protects you, you are sure to make money. 
 
 Teodoro. In this world and the next, so much is a ques- 
 tion of skirts. 
 
 Menendez. 
 
 "When lovely woman'* 
 
 Garces. No more of your vaudeville stuff ! 
 Paco. Adela, Garcés, I invite you to lunch to celebrate our 
 good fortune. Gentlemen, will you join us ? 
 
 Teodoro. Thank you, success. Good luck in Moraleda ! 
 
ACTi THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 141 
 
 Paco. Happy to have met you, I am sure. [To Garces and 
 La Menéndez] Pass into the restaurant. 
 
 Garces. They are waiting for us at our boarding-house. 
 
 Menéndez. Oh, let them wait! What difference does it 
 make ? They will get used to it. Don Paco, I am hungry. 
 
 Garces. Not on top of what you have just had ? 
 
 Menéndez. What.?* 
 
 Garcés. And the sherry? 
 
 Menéndez. Yes, but after the bicarbonate 
 
 Paco. We might sit by the window and enjoy the paseo 
 In this town it begins after high mass. 
 
 Menéndez. [To Garcés] Do you think we fooled him 
 with those sandwiches.'* 
 
 Garcés. What sandwiches ? 
 
 Menéndez. Go on and eat ! Adios, Don Teodoro. 
 
 Teodoro. Adios, Luisa — I mean Adela. 
 
 Paco, Garcés and La Menéndez pass into the café. 
 
 Guillermo. That was a discovery. We are in luck. 
 
 Teodoro. Nothing was wanting except the family por- 
 trait. The Governor s secretary, brother of a theatrical man- 
 ager of a travelling troupe ! What a scandal ! 
 
 Guillermo. If the play is not performed, all the pro- 
 prietors of the gambling-houses which have been closed by 
 the Governor's order, will set up a howl in the name of lib- 
 erty. If what they say about favoritism is true 
 
 Teodoro. Of course it is. There is no playing anywhere 
 except at Pedrosa's. And do you know why ? Because Don 
 Baldomcro makes a fortune out of the rent, and he uses his 
 influence with the Governor to prevent them from playing 
 anywhere else. Haven't you seen the Abejorro F Here is the 
 last number. It's tremendous ! 
 
 He takes a handful of papers oiU of his pocket, and lets 
 a letter drop. 
 
142 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 Guillermo. Letters, eh? 
 
 Teodoro. Yes. You could never guess Here is the 
 
 Abejorro. 
 
 Guillermo. Who the devil is behind this ? 
 
 Teodoro. Reinosa, the proprietor of the Recreo. They 
 have shut up his house. Listen: "In preparation for the feria 
 several large candelabra have been placed in front of the 
 Governor's Palace, in the worst possible taste. In view of the 
 circumstances, it would seem that His Excellency might have 
 chosen a less public occasion on which to turn on the light." 
 
 Guillermo. The devil you say ! To turn on the light ! 
 
 Teodoro. Wait! "In order to insure the greater success 
 of the Bull-fight to-morrow, the Governor is to preside over 
 the Plaza. In the interest of sport, it is to be hoped that the 
 ignorance of His Excellency does not extend to all matters 
 which take place under his eye." What do you think of 
 that.? 
 
 Guillermo. No, no, that is his business. I don't see the 
 connection. A man may be a good governor. . . . 
 
 Teodoro. And yet be afraid to turn on the light? It's 
 not in the oath of office. 
 
 Guillermo. Hello ! What's the crowd ? 
 
 Teodoro. Campos, the bull-fighter, and the people shout- 
 ing after him. 
 
 Damián enters. 
 
 Damián. Here comes Campos ! 
 
 A crowd of men and boys run across the stage shouting 
 ** Campos I'' "Campos I" 
 
 Menendez. [Rising in her seat in the window] What a 
 figure ! What jewels ! 
 
 Garces. Don't be a fool staring at that pocket gladiator. 
 The brute has no soul. 
 
 Paco. Garcés, don't preach. Life is no old morality. 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 143 
 
 Garces. No, this is art When we arrived, not even 
 
 a beggar turned to look. 
 
 Paco. What sauce will you have ? Mayonnaise ? 
 
 Garc±s. Mayonnaise or Bordelaise [Yawns. 
 
 Campos, Reguera, Pimentón, Polito, and the Mar- 
 quis OF ToRRELODONES enter, surrounded by a crowd 
 of hangers-on. 
 
 Campos. [Bowing to the people] Thank you! To-morrow 
 in the arena ! Thank you, gentlemen. Adios !. . . . 
 
 Pimentón. Make room, boys. 
 
 Teodoro. Hello, Polito. 
 
 Polito. Hello! Together again, eh.^ The combination? 
 
 Guillermo. We are waiting for the music. 
 
 Polito. Won't you join us ? Gentlemen, allow me to pre- 
 sent my friends. [To Campos] There is no need to present 
 you. 
 
 Teodoro. Everybody knows Campos. 
 
 Polito. Two inseparable companions — Don Teodoro An- 
 dú jar -and Don Guillermo Juncales, the Don Juan and Don 
 Luis of Moraleda. 
 
 Teodoro. This Polito! 
 
 Guillermo. You must not libel us before these strangers. 
 
 Polito. The Marquis of Torrelodones; Señor Reguera, a 
 great lover of sport, who comes from Madrid especially to 
 see Campos wipe out the impression he left here two years 
 ago. 
 
 Campos. You are joking, Doh Leopoldo. 
 
 Reguera. I should be sorry if he was not. 
 
 Campos. Pay no attention to him. 
 
 Reguera. We shall have fine sport this year. 
 
 Teodoro. Won't you take something ? A cigar ? 
 
 [Offering Campos a cigar 
 
 Reguera. He doesn't smoke. 
 
144 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 PoLiTO. No, he doesn't smoke. It is bad for him. 
 
 Campos. I don't smoke. 
 
 Damián. Well, what will it be? 
 
 Teodoro. What will you have? [To Campos] A drink? 
 
 Reguera. He doesn't drink. 
 
 PoLiTo. No, he doesn't drink. 
 
 Campos. I don't drink. You might bring me something 
 mild. 
 
 PoLiTO. Something mild? [To Reguera] What do you 
 ^say to something mild ? Will it hurt him ? 
 
 Reguera. Something mild ? What do you think ? 
 
 PoLiTO. I wonder. 
 
 Campos. I am in your hands, gentlemen. 
 
 Damián. We have lemon, sarsaparilla, fresh currant. . 
 
 Reguera. How about a little fresh currant ? 
 
 PoLiTO. But at the normal temperature, without ice 
 
 Teodoro. You are in the hands of your friends. 
 
 PoLiTO. Beer and lime for us. And you, Marquis? 
 
 Marquis. The same. 
 
 Pimentón. Bring me a glass of rose-water. 
 
 Teodoro. [To Guillermo] Epicures, these bull-fighters. 
 Currant, rose. ... 
 
 Reguera. We shall have good bulls this year. 
 
 Teodoro. A novelty in the plaza. 
 
 Campos. From the herd of the Marquis here present. 
 
 Guillermo. But hereafter ? 
 
 Reguera. He comes with his eyes open to see the corrida. 
 
 Marquis. Oh, we all do that ! 
 
 Pimentón. What do you think of the little spotted fellow ? 
 Í noticed you looking him over. 
 
 Reguera. I'd like to see you get after him. 
 
 Pimentón. The Señor Marquis knows what I can do. I 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 145 
 
 am a gooa picador, eh. Señor Marquis? I do well by my 
 friends. You have no reason to complain. 
 
 Marquis. No. 
 
 Pimentón. Devil of a time we had with those bulls last 
 year, pushing the horses up to them from behind, and then 
 holding the damn beasts with one hand while we stuck the 
 prod into them with the other. What more do you want? 
 I know this isn't the same herd, but it belongs to the Señor 
 Marquis. Well, what is there in it? When you want to 
 make a herd look good, you know what you've got to do. 
 
 Reguera. And we know what you do. 
 
 Campos. Yes, and that will do, too. 
 
 Pimentón. I was answering the Señor Marquis. 
 
 Teodoro. [To Polito] By the way, that reminds me; is 
 it nothing but bulls in these days of fiesta ? How about the 
 seven suits and twenty-two ties you promised to show us? 
 What does Esperanza say? How goes your affair with the 
 lady? 
 
 Polito. The same as ever. The mother receives me very 
 well, the father neither well nor ill, keeping an eye on the 
 state of my bank-account, which he knows better than I do; 
 but the girl cannot bear the sight of me even in a picture. 
 
 Teodoro. Is it true that she is in love with Don Manolito ? 
 
 Polito. Daft over him entirely. And since the Gover- 
 nor's wife has set herself to promote the match 
 
 Teodoro. Then you don't believe what they say about 
 her and. . . . 
 
 Polito. I believe that there exist between the Governor's 
 wife and Don Manolito merely relations of — interest. 
 
 Campos. Don Rosendo's shop is closed. 
 
 Reguera. Do you need anything? 
 
 Campos. Only some white ties. Joseliyo left mine out of 
 my grip. He'll be forgetting my dinner-coat next. 
 
146 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 PoMTO. Oh! We can fix you up. 
 The church-beUs ring, 
 
 Guillermo. The service is over. In a moment the prom- 
 enade will begin and we shall have music. Is this your first 
 visit to Moraleda ? 
 
 Marquis. My first, yes. I find the place interesting, his- 
 torically. 
 
 Reguera. I was here once before with Rafael at another 
 corrida. 
 
 Marquis. You devote yourself to the fashionable mat- 
 ador. 
 
 Reguera. Well, one has got to go somewhere. 
 Don Basilio enters with Jimena and Belisa. 
 
 Jimena. Did you expect us to stand and wait for the rest 
 of the afternoon? 
 
 Belisa. You gave us a terrible fright. 
 
 Basilio. But, my dears, didn't I tell you that His Rever- 
 ence had sent for me to come to the sacristy ? He wished to 
 consult me about a matter of grave importance — the res- 
 toration of the tomb of the Giráldez family. 
 
 Jimena. And all the while we were running about the altar, 
 without being able to locate you anywhere ! 
 
 Belisa. Afraid that something had happened to you. 
 
 Jimena. Without daring to go home in such a crowd for 
 fear of what people would think. 
 
 Basilio. Why, what would people think ? 
 
 Belisa. Don't deceive yourself. The very last thing they 
 would think would be that we were looking for you. 
 
 Jimena. You gave us such a shock ! 
 
 Belisa. My nerves are all on edge. 
 
 Jimena. Thank heaven ! I caught myself. ... I can con- 
 trol myself now, but in a week the reaction will be terrible ! 
 
 Basilio. But, my dears, it was nothing. You are un- 
 
ACTi THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 147 
 
 reasonable. Bah ! You draw too much on your imaginations. 
 Shall we sit down ? 
 
 Belisa. No, let us take a turn through the plaza; we can 
 rest later. We are ahead of the crowd. 
 
 Teodoro. [Bowing] Good morning, Don Basilio. Seño- 
 ritas, good morning 
 
 Don Basilio and his daughters bow and 2>ass out. 
 
 Guillermo. The rector of the university and his daughters, 
 Jimena and Belisa. 
 
 Campos. Are those names or jokes? 
 
 Teodoro. They are no jokes. We call them Poetry and 
 Rhetoric; the father afflicts the community with them both. 
 
 PoLiTO. They are thinking of marriage. They get no rest 
 during the feria, when there are strangers in town. 
 
 Campos. Whom have we here ? A magnificent woman ! 
 
 Teodoro. Most extraordinary ! The Governor's wife. 
 
 Marquis. Yes, Josefina, and my daughter with her. 
 
 PoMTO. And Esperanza Remolinos. 
 
 Campos. Do you mean to tell me that woman is only a 
 governor's wife ? Why then do we have empires ? 
 
 Josefina, the Marchioness of Torrelodones, Doña 
 O, Esperanza, Don Baldomsro and Manolo enter. 
 
 Josefina. Look, Carmen, we are among friends. This is 
 a reception ! [The men rise and bow] How do you do? 
 
 Teodoro. [To Campos] How is that for a corrida ? 
 
 Pimentón. A whole herd in herself ! 
 
 Marquis. Are you on your way from the cathedral? 
 How was the service? 
 
 Marchioness OP Torrelodones. Divine! Everybody was 
 there. 
 
 Josefina. It was simply suffocating. 
 
 Doña O. You ought to have heard His Reverence. What 
 a sermon ! 
 
148 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 Baldomero. It wasn't a sermon, it was a sensible dis- 
 course. How did you like it, Josefina? 
 
 Josefina. Splendidly ! I agreed with it in everything. 
 
 Doña O. I am so glad to hear you say so. Now it will 
 be your duty to h^lp us persuade your husband to stand with 
 us and the decent people in the community upon the side 
 of order and right. 
 
 Josefina. Yes, that is true. But men do have their ideas 
 — at least they have what they call their ideas. They have 
 obligations. Santiago is not able to do whatever he pleases. 
 
 Baldomero. With us upon his side he will be able to do 
 whatever he pleases. He can aflFord to snap his fingers at the 
 government. The respectable element of Moraleda is solidly 
 with us. 
 
 Manolo. [Aside] I had better change the subject. [Aloud] 
 Josefina almost fainted in the cathedral. 
 
 Josefina. Oh, I had a dreadful quarter of an hour! 
 Every eye was fixed upon me. 
 
 Doña O. You must have had a dreadful quarter of an 
 hour. 
 
 Baldomero. What do you say to a stroll ? 
 
 Doña O. No, indeed; I am too tired. Let us sit down 
 here for a moment — that is, if you don't mind ? [To Josefina. 
 
 Josefina. Certainly not. [They seat themselves at a table, 
 
 Baldomero. We shall rejoin you presently. My dear 
 Marquis, what do you say to a stroll ? After mass, the prom- 
 enade is superb. 
 
 The Marquis and Don Baldomero go off to stroll 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. [To Campos] I have 
 picked the little mottled one for you; I felt certain that you 
 would be pleased. Have you had time to look them over? 
 
 Reguera. He'll try to make the best of it. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Leave it to me. You 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 149 
 
 are going to create such a sensation this year that hereafter 
 you will never want to kill any bulls but papa's. 
 
 PoLiTO. [To Reguera] The Marchioness knows. 
 
 Reguera. I agree with her. 
 
 Campos. I shall wear your cloak. I never intend to ap- 
 pear in it unless you are present. 
 
 Marchioness op Torrelodones. Tell me, really, do you 
 like it.? 
 
 Campos. Do I.? 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. I made it myself; I did 
 all the embroidery. 
 
 Campos. I shall keep it to be buried in. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Heavens ! Don't speak 
 of such a thing ! I want you to live and to kill many bulls. 
 
 Reguera. [To Polito] Bulls of papa's. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Naturally, people here 
 are a little suspicious after that affair two years ago. You 
 have very few admirers. But I get in a good word when- 
 ever I have an opportunity. 
 
 Campos. So long as you are there, I don't care if they 
 turn the whole herd loose in the plaza. 
 
 Polito. The public admires toreros who get hurt. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. For heaven's sake, don't 
 you think of such a thing — no matter what they admire. 
 
 Reguera. No, better not. You must deny yourself. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Really, you must. 
 
 Esperanza. [To Manolo] I'll tell you later. Mamma is 
 looking, and you know what that means. 
 
 Manolo. Aren't you coming to the Palace this evenmg to 
 see the fireworks ? 
 
 Esperanza. I hope so. Be careful ! I don't want to dis- 
 please mamma. 
 
150 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. [Laughing loudly] It 
 seems to me I have heard that story before. 
 
 Doña O. [To Josefina] What do you think of a woman 
 who spends all her time flirting with a bull-fighter ? She for- 
 gets she is not in Madrid, where everything goes. 
 
 Josefina. But what can we do ^ 
 
 Doña O. She ought to remember with whom she is and 
 behave accordingly. 
 
 Manolo. [To Teodoro and Guillermo] Won't you take 
 something.? It was terribly hot in the cathedral. 
 
 Teodoro. Did His Reverence have much to say.'^ 
 
 Manolo. Yes, he was very eloquent. 
 
 Guillermo. We were discussing bulls and the Marquis's 
 daughter. 
 
 Pimentón. Antonio don't know what to do — take it from 
 me ! The poor fellow is done for. And he won't listen to any 
 talk. Why, he can't even sign a paper unless the Marquis's 
 bulls are scratched all over it! And what bulls! Just to 
 show you: last year a shower came up at Salamanca; there 
 was a puddle in the middle of the ring. The bull ran out, the 
 people yelled — and the bull stuck his nose in the puddle. 
 
 [All laugh. 
 The Marquis ana Don Baldomero re-enter. 
 
 Baldomero. My dear Marquis, it is the old story. The 
 province is rich, its resources are inexhaustible; but every- 
 thing here is subordinated to Madrid. It is a calamity. This 
 poor Santiago, with the best intentions in the world, can do 
 nothing. Besides, between ourselves, his wife makes him 
 ridiculous. Not that she is bad, but she is frivolous — edu- 
 cated in Madrid, and there you know everything is super- 
 ficial. Ah! I beg your pardon; I forgot you were from 
 Madrid. 
 
 Marquis. You will not find my daughter superficial; she 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 151 
 
 has been brought up in the English fashion, with plenty of 
 physical exercise and languages. She can keep books. Her 
 training has been practical. When I tell you that she man- 
 ages the bulls, you can judge for yourself. And she handles 
 the men, too. Yes, sir! They are all mad over her. So 
 are the toreros. 
 
 JiMENA, Belisa and Don Basilio re-enter with the 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido and Teresa. 
 
 Basilio. Apparently everybody has anticipated us. 
 
 Doña O. My dear Marchioness ! And Teresita ! This is 
 a great pleasure. [Greetings and kisses] Do sit down. 
 
 Esperanza. Sit by me, Jimena. Here is a chair, Belisa. 
 
 Marchioness op Villaquejido. And I shall sit by Jose- 
 fina. We must conspire together, eh, Josefina? And with 
 whom better? Now don't denounce me to your poor hus- 
 band ! I have not been in to see you since the beginning of 
 the week. You have guests in the house, and I know what 
 that means. 
 
 Josefina. Yes, the Marquis and his daughter. I want 
 you to meet them. 
 
 Doña O. If she ever gets through with that Campos. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Polito! You know 
 everybody. Who are those women who just arrived? 
 
 Polito. The Rector's daughters. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Poetry and Rhetoric? 
 I know them; I mean the others. 
 
 Polito. Oh! The Marchioness of Villaquejido and her 
 daughter, Teresita. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. The girl who is going 
 to be a nun ? 
 
 Polito. Her mother intends her to be one, and so as to 
 fortify her against temptation, she is taking her about now 
 
152 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 to show her life at first hand before she shuts her up in the 
 cloister. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. An opportunity for 
 them both. Under the pretext of bidding farewell to the 
 world, they contrive to cut a few capers. 
 
 Campos. A sort of combination benefit and farewell. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. I'd better leave you for 
 a moment; I must speak to the ladies. They are beginning 
 to whisper. If I don't look out they will say next that I run 
 after the men. Just a moment, Campos. . . . 
 
 Reguera. Don't you mind what they say. 
 
 Campos. Do you know how this is likely to end? That 
 girl will get my name into the papers. 
 
 Esperanza. Did you go very far.'' 
 
 JiMENA. Oh, there was such a crowd, we couldn't make 
 any progress at all ! 
 
 Belisa. For the present we gave up all hope. 
 
 JiMENA. It certainly did look hopeless to me. 
 
 Belisa. There are very few strangers in town this year. 
 
 JiMENA. The men here are so backward ! All they think 
 of is bulls. Look at Polito, look at Manuel. Why, they can't 
 even get up courage to take the first step ! 
 
 Esperanza. Do you know, I could have had them both? 
 
 JiMENA. That is easy to say. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. [To Teresa] When do 
 you enter the convent? 
 
 Teresa. Mother is anxious for me to see the world first. 
 I don't intend to be a saint through ignorance, as says Santa 
 Teresa. I want to know life. As it was written of Saint 
 Francis: "Among sinners he seemed to be one." 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. How familiar you are 
 with the lives of the saints ! 
 
ACT I THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 153 
 
 Teresa. Oh, I know them backward ! But you ought to 
 see me dance sevillanas. 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. Don Baldomcro, Don 
 Basilic, listen to me. I call you all to witness. Josefina 
 promises us solemnly that she will do everything in her power 
 to prevent her husband from consenting to the performance 
 of this objectionable play. 
 
 All. Bravo! Bravo! 
 
 Josefina. I will do my best. But Santiago, perhaps, may 
 have something to say. 
 
 Doña O. Then appeal to his conscience. That should be 
 our last resort. Vice cannot be suffered to prevail in Moraleda. 
 
 Baldomero. We cannot fail if we stand together. 
 
 Teodoro. [To Manolo] A conspiracy. 
 
 Manolo. So I see. 
 
 Guillermo. And what do you say as secretary ? Shall we 
 have ''Obscurantismo"? How about the Governor? 
 
 Manolo. He awaits instructions from Madrid. 
 
 Teodoro. But man, a government that pretends to be 
 liberal ! 
 
 Manolo. There might be trouble; you know these people. 
 
 Guillermo. Some actors were just here from the company. 
 
 Teodoro. With their manager. He seemed to know you. 
 
 Manolo. To know me ? 
 
 Teodoro. Yes, He is from Madrid. 
 
 Guillermo. You must have been pretty intimate, for he 
 is relying upon your influence. 
 
 Manolo. Do you remember his name? 
 
 Teodoro. No, but he is lunching in the café — in the win- 
 dow. Do you see the lady's hat ? You can see him 
 
 Manolo. I'll take a look when I get a chance. I can't 
 imagine. A manager from Madrid ? . . . . 
 
 Teodoro [To Don Guillermo] Now for the surprise. 
 
154 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act i 
 
 Guillermo. Look innocent. 
 
 Teodoro. Yes. I say, Polito no, it's a secret 
 
 The hand begins to play. 
 
 Doña O. Agreed ! Then it is all arranged. 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. Wliat a surprise this will 
 be for His Reverence ! 
 
 Baldomero. It is a triumph ! Bravo, Josefina ! You are 
 a woman of courage. 
 
 Doña O. The true Christian woman ! 
 
 Basilio. Our Joan of Arc ! 
 
 Paco. [Discovering Manolo] Ah ! Manolo ! 
 
 Manolo. Paco! 
 
 Menéndez. [Jumping up] Your brother? 
 
 Paco. Embrace me ! 
 
 He tries to climb through the window. 
 
 Manolo. [Holding him hack and endeavoring to force him 
 
 down] ^Oy no I Wait! They might see us. Later You 
 
 don't know who these people are. 
 
 Great animation. All talk at the same time. 
 
 Curtain 
 
 ''^^^Hl 
 
THE SECOND ACT 
 
 Reception-hall in tlie Governor's Palace. Two large balconies 
 at the rear. The table and chairs are strevm with ladies' 
 hats, wraps, and other garments. A Clerk and Don 
 Santiago in conversation. 
 
 Santiago. Where is Don Trino? Why don't you send 
 me Don Trino ? How is this ? What are these things doing 
 here ? 
 
 Clerk. I don't know. Your Excellency. I was at service 
 at the cathedral during the morning. 
 
 Santiago. So? That will do for to-day. Send me Don 
 Trino. [Ironically to himself] A good government ! A pretty 
 government ! 
 
 Josefina enters. 
 
 Josefina. Are you making an address for the opposition ? 
 
 Santiago. I? 
 
 Josefina. You were just saying *'A good government ! A 
 pretty government ! " 
 
 Santiago. Never mind about the government; the gov- 
 ernment can take care of itself. Where am I to sit ? Where 
 am I to write? [To the Clerk] Send me Don Trino. 
 
 Josefina. Don Trino? He is busy doing something for 
 me. 
 
 Santiago. Oh ! That will do for to-day. 
 The Clerk goes out. 
 
 Josefina. I asked him to decorate the table for the re- 
 freshments. 
 
 Santiago. But, Josefina ! A man in his position, a public 
 
 servant 
 
 155 
 
156 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 Josefina. He offered himself. In such matters he really 
 has very good taste. 
 
 Santiago. Well, have the clerks set the table, cover the 
 furniture, yes, and sew on the machine, too, if they want to, 
 only do me the favor to remove these things from the chairs. 
 
 Josefina. Have a little patience; Carmen is unpacking 
 her trunks. Besides, I had to empty the armoires to make 
 room for my new gowns from Madrid. We spread every- 
 thing out so as to get a good look at it. You know how up- 
 setting it is to have guests in the house. These old buildings 
 are absolutely without conveniences. 
 
 Santiago. But where am I to receive visitors.'' 
 
 Josefina. Oh, you annoy me ! [Ringing. 
 
 The Clerk enters. 
 
 Clerk. Did you ring ? 
 
 Josefina. Yes. Ask the Marchioness's maid to come 
 down. And tell Don Trino that if he runs short of carna- 
 tions, there are two bunches waiting for him on my dressing- 
 table. 
 
 Clerk. Certainly. [The Clerk goes out. 
 
 Josefina. The maid will pick up for you. 
 
 Santiago. Phew ! But it's hot. I wish I didn't have to 
 wear this frock coat. 
 
 Josefina. Why don't you take it off ? Nobody will be in 
 before evening. 
 
 Santiago. But, wife, I have to write to the Prime Min- 
 ister. 
 
 The Maid enters. 
 
 Maid. What does madame wish.?* 
 
 Josefina. Pick up these things. How is the Marchioness 
 this afternoon ? 
 
 Maid. She is dressing for the reception. 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 157 
 
 Santiago. Goodness ! Tell her it isn't a reception — just a 
 few friends dropping in to see the fireworks from the balcony. 
 
 Maid. That makes no difference. After six the Mar- 
 chioness always wears an evening-gown, in the English 
 fashion, sir. 
 
 Santiago. Well, if that is the case 
 
 Maid. The only difference is that if it is an informal af- 
 fair, she wears a high neck, but if it is public, of course, the 
 neck is cut low. 
 
 Josefina. Of course, Santiago, of course. [The Maid with- 
 draws] You ought to be ashamed of yourself to be taking 
 lessons from a maid. 
 
 Santiago. But how was I to know.'' Who would ever 
 have supposed that in public it would be cut low ? 
 
 Josefina. I wish you would keep your eyes open, San- 
 tiago. 
 
 Santiago. Just as you say, my dear. Oh! You don't 
 know how I feel ! 
 
 Josefina. What is the matter? 
 
 Santiago. I have sent word to Madrid but they refuse to 
 answer anything definite — generalities, that is all. They say 
 that I am in a better position than they are to appreciate the 
 conditions; that the government lacks knowledge of the local 
 situation. 
 
 Josefina. Why do you have to ask the government what 
 to do ? They will think that you are a fool, and they will be 
 right, too. Can't you make up your own mind.'' The first 
 thing that a man needs in order to fill an oflSce of importance 
 is character, and to have character is to do whatever one 
 thinks is right, no matter what comes of it. If it turns out 
 to be wrong, all the more reason for sticking to itl 
 
 Santiago. Then I will 
 
158 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act n 
 
 Josefina. Do what ? What is it you are going to do ? 
 
 Santiago. Comply with the law. 
 
 Josefina. Comply with the law.? Don't talk nonsense. 
 You don't mean to say you have authorized the performance 
 of that horrible play.? 
 
 Santiago. There wasn't any way out of it. The posters 
 are up for the first performance already. 
 
 Josefina. With your consent ? 
 
 Santiago. Why not ? 
 
 Josefina. After having heard what His Reverence said 
 this morning ? After all the leading citizens of Moraleda have 
 come to you in face of this onslaught and joined hands to 
 form a dike 
 
 Santiago. Come down out of the pulpit, my dear; it isn't 
 your sphere. My duty is not to please a faction, however 
 large — no, not if it included everybody. My duty is to obey 
 the law. 
 
 Josefina. Very well, then. Do as you see fit. I knew that 
 sooner or later you would succeed in making yourself ridic- 
 ulous. You will go out of office in disgrace, discredited as a 
 politician or as anything else. 
 
 Santiago. Josefina, what conception have you of the law ? 
 They can say what they like, but women possess only the 
 rudiments of moral sense. It is much less highly developed 
 with them than with us. 
 
 Josefina. That may be, but we possess plenty of common 
 sense, which is a thing that you haven't any idea of. What 
 did your uncle say to me when I went to him to ask him to 
 recommend you to the ministry for the position which you 
 now hold, because you were too inefficient to earn your own 
 living — our situation at that time could not possibly have 
 been worse — what did he say to me? "Undeceive yourself, 
 Josefina. Poor Santiago is no good. He will never amount 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 159 
 
 to anything. If he goes into office on horseback like Don 
 Quixote, he will come out of it on an ass like Sancho Panza." 
 And your uncle was a prophet. He knew what he was talk- 
 ing about. 
 
 Santiago. My dear wife, Josefina, let us not disturb the 
 peace of our home, even though it be a governor's house — 
 temporarily — by questions of politics. They ought never to 
 cloud the brow of a creature so fair as yourself — you, for whom 
 I have toiled, although I never was ambitious, for whom I 
 would strive, yes, and fight with all my might, not only in a 
 governorship of the second class, but, upon a throne, if I 
 had one, to seat you beside me in ermine. 
 
 Josefina. Upon a throne ? How long do you suppose you 
 would stay there ? 
 
 Santiago. You are lovely, you are beautiful; do not for- 
 get that, my dear. Don't you think that with such a wife a 
 governor might be pardoned something, even if his ideas are 
 a little advanced ? 
 
 Josefina. Don't advance, Santiago! For heaven*s sake, 
 don't advance ! And stop talking nonsense. This is a seri- 
 ous matter. 
 
 Santiago. That is precisely the reason I don't intend to 
 have you meddle in it. 
 
 Josefina. So? That is what I am to you, is it? In the 
 serious affairs of life, I am a meddler.^ I have no voice? I 
 am not your wife, your equal; I am a butterfly, a toy who 
 cares for nothing but frivolity ? This is the consideration I 
 receive after so many years of sacrifice, after all the priva- 
 tions I have endured for you ! 
 
 Santiago. Josefina ! My dear ! 
 
 Josefina. At least you cannot say that my eyes were not 
 open when I married you. I had no illusions about your 
 future. When I first met you, you were the last person in 
 
160 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 the world that any one would have fallen in love with, with 
 that old green coat you used to wear — I can see it now — and 
 twenty-five pesetas a week in the Court of Claims. Didn't 
 my parents take me away for a whole summer to Escorial 
 so that I could get you out of my head? But I could not. 
 No, I was young and foolish then, and I loved you, I loved 
 you out of pity like. . . .like. . . .Desdemona loved Othello ! 
 
 Santiago. I know, Josefina, I know. If I ever doubted 
 for one moment, if I have ever ceased to merit your affec- 
 tion 
 
 Josefina. I remember the first present I ever gave you — 
 half a dozen linen pocket-handkerchiefs to replace that old 
 cotton towel you used to carry and pull out whenever you 
 had a cold. Ay I How it used to mortify me ! And in those 
 days you always had a cold. 
 
 Santiago. I know, my dear, I know. You were so thought- 
 ful, so providing .... 
 
 Josefina. And after we were married, in times of trial and 
 privation, who was it who was the first to economize, to cut 
 herself down ? I was. Didn't we go for whole months with- 
 out a maid, without any servant in the house whatever? 
 And I was laundress and cook, and I helped you translate 
 feuilletons from the French, although they might better 
 have been left untranslated, and I made all my clothes for 
 two years myself so as to appear decently and spend as lit- 
 tle upon them as possible, and made them all alike so that 
 nobody could tell when I had new ones, though I never had 
 any, and the worst that you ever heard me say in all that 
 time was that another man in your place would have acted 
 differently, that he wouldn't have been a good-for-nothing, 
 that he would not have behaved himself like an ass ! But 
 you never heard me complain. And now you repay all my 
 sacrifices by telling me that I cannot understand anything 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE IGl 
 
 serious, that I am a woman without judgment, without char- 
 acter 
 
 Santiago. What I said was 
 
 Josefina. You treat me like a cocotte. 
 
 Santiago. Wife ! I never treated such a person in my life. 
 
 Josefina. As soon as a woman ceases to be honorable, 
 everybody begins to blame her. Her husband is the first ! 
 
 Santiago. Naturally. 
 
 Josefina. Why are women so foolish as to be honest? 
 Why, oh, why do we love ? How often you see a woman who 
 has thrown herself away upon a man who hasn't the remotest 
 idea what to do with her ! What is the use ? 
 
 Santiago. This number was not on the programme of the 
 feria. 
 
 Josefina. And yet you talk of being serious ! What you 
 do, that is serious; what you do, that is dignified! Is it 
 dignified to be false to your promises? To be a traitor to 
 your friends, to those who support and defend you? And 
 when all they ask of you is a trifle ! 
 
 Santiago. A trifle? To break the law, to violate the 
 constitution ? Are those trifles ? 
 
 Josefina. You evade me. To leave me publicly exposed 
 after what happened in the cathedral this morning — is that 
 \^ trifle ? The petitions of all the ladies' societies, the requests 
 of our friends, the Solars, the Villaquejidos, the Remolinos, 
 the Peribáñezs, everybody 
 
 Santiago. Everybody? Yes, the whole world, the uni- 
 verse ! That is what makes me angry. Who are these peo- 
 ple that they should set themselves up to dictate to me ? It 
 is a pretty sign of morality when all the rogues begin to 
 moralize. Don Baldomcro Remolinos shocked by a comedy ? 
 Think of it ! As if every one didn't remember that he opened 
 his first shop to the tune of the "Hymn of Riego," and what 
 
1G2 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 a shop it was ! — a counter of decayed vegetables, which was 
 all that he had until he got the contract to furnish meals for 
 the jail. In those days, let me tell you, no one ever thought 
 of committing a crime. No, sir! The provisions of Don 
 Baldomcro inspired a terror more salutary than all the 
 penalties of the code. 
 
 Josefina. You don't mean to say that you believe all 
 those stupidities.'* It seems incredible. Lies, calumnies in- 
 vented by the rabble, yes, by the very people you want to 
 pander to now with a spectacle debased to their taste. You 
 want to win their applause, to appear popular; but you have 
 not reckoned upon one thing — I shall not stand by you in 
 this humiliation. I am going to Madrid this very night! 
 To Madrid ! 
 
 Santiago. Are you crazy ? 
 
 Josefina. Do you think I can face the reproaches, the 
 contempt of my friends, the scorn of everybody? 
 
 Santiago. I wouldn't worry myself so much about every- 
 body. Does everybody consist of the few persons who pos- 
 sess the honor of introductions to you ^ 
 
 Josefina. Everybody is everybody, and it is too late for 
 you to change it. You want to set yourself up as a tribune 
 of the people. Very well ! But you need not expect me to 
 be present at your funeral. When they throw you out of 
 office, and they won't hesitate to do it, when you slink away 
 in dishonor, hooted at, disgraced, then you will remember 
 who gave you advice; then you will see that it was your wife 
 who had your interests at heart. And to think that you 
 should be dreaming of a governorship of the first class ! 
 
 Santiago. Dreaming? I'd be satisfied if I could get a 
 chance to sleep ! My head will go round for a week. 
 
 Josefina. This is not a laughing matter. I am going to 
 get ready — to-night ! 
 
 Santiago. But, my dear .... Impossible ! 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 163 
 
 Josefina. There is only one way to prevent it. 
 
 Santiago. I am your husband, Josefina. 
 
 Josefina. Yes, and I suppose you would like to demon- 
 strate your force of character upon me ? That would be too 
 much. No, no ! I am going ! I am going .... 
 
 Santiago. But, wife ! Josefina ! In the midst of the feria .'' 
 Don't create a scandal. Reflect. 
 
 Josefina. Conscience dictates, Santiago; it never reflects. 
 You are the one to reflect. 
 
 Santiago. In the name of all the saints, tell me what it is 
 that you wish me to do. I will consider, I will reflect, I will 
 consult — with everybody! If there is a way out of this 
 dilemma, without breaking the law 
 
 Josefina. You will consult ? Yes ! With persons of abil- 
 ity, of judgment, I suppose ^ I can tell you this: they will say 
 precisely the same thing that I do. We shall see how many 
 it takes to make up your mind. Won't it be pleasant for 
 me to have everybody boasting that they could turn you 
 around their little finger and I couldn't .'* Won't it be pleas- 
 ant for me? 
 
 Santiago. If it was not for you, do you suppose that I 
 would hesitate for one moment? It is only for you that I 
 search and pray, yes, pray, that there may be some legal 
 way to violate the law, for we are in Spain, thank God, and 
 there must be one. But don't talk about going to Madrid 
 and don't cry ! Don't reproach me. Look ! Your hair is 
 falling down, and you have crumpled your dress. 
 
 Josefina. What do I care about my dress? I am not 
 thinking about my clothes. Why do I wear clothes anyway ? 
 So that you may look decently and present a proper appear- 
 ance before the people. For the very same reason that I used 
 to put on my apron and go down into the kitchen, and do 
 whatever there was to be done about the house. 
 
 Santiago. I know, my dear, I know. And there never 
 
164 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 were such meals as when you, with your own royal hands, 
 prepared our simple fare. 
 
 Josefina. Really? Do you mean it? Then Governor's 
 wife that I am, I shall put on my apron and go down into the 
 kitchen, and bring back again those happy days. 
 
 Santiago. So much happier, so much more tranquil than 
 now! 
 
 Josefina. What is the use of poetizing at a distance? 
 You forget the disappointments, the humiliations, the black 
 hours that we went through in Madrid. And I want you to 
 remember them and to keep them always in mind, so as to 
 frighten you out of the danger of losing in a moment what it 
 has cost us so many years to attain. 
 
 Santiago. It is true. There were black hours. 
 
 Josefina. And who encouraged you? Who animated 
 you ? Who always gave you advice ? 
 
 Santiago. You, you ! You always gave me advice. You 
 are right. I don't know how I came to be so foolish as to 
 displease you. I'll do whatever you wish, without consulting 
 anybody. Does that satisfy you ? Now do I appreciate you 
 at your true worth ? Now do I deserve your love ? 
 
 Josefina. Yes, yes ! Now you do ! And you will see that 
 I know how to reward you. I am satisfied. How easy it is 
 
 to satisfy me ! Embrace me. Ah ! Again How 
 
 good you are at heart, and how I love you ! 
 
 Santiago. It is so long since you have embraced me — not 
 since my inauguration. 
 
 Josefina. Nonsense ! Since your inauguration ? Suppose 
 somebod}'^ should hear you say that ! 
 
 Santiago. I mean a real, spontaneous embrace. Well, my 
 dear, I will see what I can do. [He rings. 
 
 Josefina. Yes, at once. 
 
 Santiago. But I must legalize the blow. [The Clerk 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 165 
 
 enters] Send me Don Trino. Tell him to drop whatever he 
 is doing and come immediately. [The Clerk goes out] If 
 there is a riot, if the people rise against me, let him who is 
 without a wife cast the first stone. 
 
 Josefina. What is the use of talking about riots? The 
 people are like women. They need a man of character to 
 dominate them, by force if necessary. 
 
 Santiago. Why didn't you begin with that proposition ? 
 
 Josefina. You'll be saying next that you never do any- 
 thing but what I tell you; that I am the real Governor. 
 
 Santiago. No, no ! What have I to say anyway ? Let us 
 not begin another discussion. 
 Don Trino enters. 
 
 Trino. What does the señora wish? 
 
 Santiago. It is not the señora, this time it is I. Some- 
 times it has to be I. Sit down. 
 
 Trino. If it is nothing very urgent, sir, I should like to 
 finish the shield and the towers 
 
 Santiago. What shield and what towers ? 
 
 Trino. The coat of arms of the province, sir, which I am 
 constructing entirely of flowers — to be placed in the middle 
 of the table at the supper this evening. Your Excellency's 
 initials on one side and those of your worthy spouse on the 
 other. Very beautiful, sir, very beautiful ! 
 
 Josefina. Did you do all that yourself, Don Trino? It 
 is a pity to put you to so much trouble. 
 
 Trino. If one possesses talent, señora, it is his duty to 
 display it when occasion requires. You have guests to-liight 
 from Madrid, and I am anxious that they should see that 
 here, too, we are lovers of art. 
 
 Santiago. Sit down, Don Trino. I shall be ready to dic- 
 tate in a moment. Then you can finish the towers. 
 
 Josefina. It won't detain you long. 
 
166 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act n 
 
 Santiago. Yours is the only handwriting that is legible 
 in the house. 
 
 Trino. True, Your Excellency, though self-praise does 
 not become me, but the seventy-two governors who have oc- 
 cupied the Palace during the twenty years I have lived in it, 
 have always valued my services highly. I say nothing of 
 their wives, who continually send me presents. When it 
 comes to a question of repairing umbrellas, or mending china, 
 or any little handiness about the house, or entertaining the 
 children with the latest toys, or preparing a special kind of 
 starch for the wash, a secret which I had from some nuns, 
 who as a particular favor passed it on to an aunt of mine, 
 who brought me up, a sister of my father, sir, who is now in 
 glory, God keep him, sir 
 
 Santiago. Don Trino, this is a very urgent matter. 
 
 Trino. I beg your pardon, but since the señora was listen- 
 ing with such interest. ... 
 
 Josefina. I ? I was thinking of something else. 
 
 Trino. You will never find me backward with the pen. 
 
 Santiago. Don't construct so many bouquets for yourself. 
 
 Trino. As you say, sir. Ah! before I forget it; the re- 
 freshments 
 
 Josefina. What is the matter ? Haven't they come ? 
 
 Trino. Sí, señora. But the fact is they were ordered from 
 the Café of the Four Nations 
 
 Santiago. As is usual. 
 
 Trino. I beg your pardon. As is usual during liberal ad- 
 ministrations, for the proprietor is a leading liberal; but dur- 
 ing conservative administrations the order is always placed 
 with the Café de Europa, whose proprietor is a conservative, 
 and he has taken great offense, in my judgment with good 
 reason, sir, for he has made many sacrifices for the party 
 
 Santiago. I didn't know that when I gave the order. 
 
\ 
 
 \ ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 167 
 
 Josefina. Of course, you didn't know — as is usual ! 
 
 Santiago. Come, come! Let us not begin another dis- 
 cussion over refreshments. 
 
 Tbino. I hope not, sir. With your permission — although 
 without consulting you — I knew I might count upon your 
 approval — I have effected a compromise. I have ordered the 
 ices from the Café of the Four Nations, and the creams from 
 the Café de Europa, so that in this way I have established a 
 precedent, for in my opinion, sir, subject to your approval, 
 a political question ought not to be made out of the serving 
 of ice-cream. You will dictate when you are ready, sir. 
 Don Santiago begins to dictate. Voices outside, 
 
 Josefina. Who is coming at this hour? 
 Esperanza enters. 
 
 Josefina. So early, my dear.? And alone.'* 
 
 Esperanza. [Weeping y flinging herself into the arms of 
 Josefina] Oh, Josefina ! I am utterly miserable ! 
 
 Josefina. What is the matter with you ? 
 
 Santiago. What has happened.?^ [To Don Trino] Just a 
 moment, just a moment. . . . 
 
 Josefina. Have you had another tiff with papa and mam- 
 ma? 
 
 Esperanza. I have no papa, I have no mamma, I have 
 nobody in all the world, but you ! 
 
 Santiago. My child ! . . . . 
 
 Josefina. Nonsense ! Up to her old tricks. 
 
 Trino. [To Don Santiago, who pays no attention to him] 
 If you don't mind, sir, if you don't mind, I think I might 
 finish the shield and the towers. . . . 
 
 Santiago. [Absorbed] Yes, yes. ... Of course! 
 Don Trino goes out. 
 
 Santiago. [To Esperanza] But what is the trouble.^ 
 How is it that you are alone ? 
 
168 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 Esperanza. I am not alone; the maid brought me. And 
 I am gomg to stay with you forever! Our house is worse 
 than the Inquisition. 
 
 Josefina. No, Esperanza 
 
 Santiago. If we didn't know better, we might think you 
 were one of the martyrs. 
 
 Esperanza. How little outsiders can tell ! Papa has done 
 nothing all day but buy me presents. 
 
 Josefina. Horrible! 
 
 Esperanza. Yes, I knew you would laugh at me. When- 
 ever papa buys me presents, it is because he means to do 
 something unpleasant, and he wants to get me into good 
 humor beforehand. 
 
 Josefina. Have you found out what it is that he is go- 
 ing to do ? 
 
 Esperanza. Have I.'' This afternoon he called me into 
 his study, and he said to me, he said to me 
 
 Josefina. Go on. 
 
 Esperanza. "Esperanza, my dear daughter" — whenever 
 papa calls me his dear daughter, it is always because he 
 means to do something unpleasant — "my dear daughter, I 
 would not for the world displease you in anything.'* 
 
 Josefina. Of course not. 
 
 Esperanza. Wait! "Do you love Polito or do you love 
 Manolo.?* Decide. Choose for yourself and let us not have 
 any more of this coquetry, playing off one against the other 
 and making both yourself and your parents ridiculous." 
 
 Santiago. There is some sense in what he says. 
 
 Esperanza. Is there any sense in his telling me to make 
 up my mind without anybody's giving me any advice, with- 
 out its being anything to anybody whether I am unhappy 
 afterward or not for the rest of my life ? Then if I complain, 
 they will say: "You did it yourself; it was your own fault." 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 169 
 
 Santiago. That would be a predicament. 
 
 Josefina. Between ourselves, which do you prefer? 
 Polito or Manolo ? 
 
 Esperanza. How can I tell ? 
 
 Josefina. Did you leave word that you were coming with 
 mamma ? 
 
 Esperanza. That would have been a nice thing to do! 
 You should have seen the state mamma was in when she 
 heard that Don Santiago had given permission for the per- 
 formance of the play. 
 
 Santiago. You don't say so ? But if I That reminds 
 
 me. Don Trino ! Where is Don Trino ? [He rings. The 
 Clerk enters] Send me Don Trino. [The Clerk goes out. 
 
 Josefina. What did your mother say ? 
 
 Esperanza. Oh, you will find out soon enough! The 
 Marchioness saw the posters in the street, so she knew that 
 you had broken your promise, and His Reverence has given 
 orders to find out who is responsible, so as to fix the blame, 
 and the ladies are all angry, so nobody is coming to the re- 
 ception this evening, and when they pass you on the street 
 they are going to cut you as if they didn't know you at all. 
 
 Josefina. [To Santiago] Now see what you have done! 
 Didn't I tell you ? We are in a nice fix. But, if this should 
 not be so, if it is all a mistake.^ [To Santiago] Leave me! 
 Don't speak to me ! I shall write at once to the Marchioness 
 and explain everything. [She seats herself at the desk and be- 
 gins to write. To Santiago] And you ! Why don't you give 
 that order ? Do you want me to do it myself ? 
 
 Santiago. That would be the last straw. At once ! Don 
 
 Trino ! Don Trino ! I suppose I shall have to find him 
 
 [Don Santiago goes out. 
 
 Josefina. [Withovt looking up] What did the Marchion- 
 ess say ? Was she much put out ? 
 
170 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 Esperanza. Was she? I was so sorry for you, Josefina. 
 You know how I love you. 
 
 Josefina. I know, my dear. 
 
 Esperanza. And it isn't your fault, is it, if your husband 
 will do what he pleases ^ 
 
 Josefina. Certainly not. What can you do with a man 
 anyway.^ You will find out when you get married. They 
 do whatever they like. Pardon a moment. . . . 
 
 [She continues to write. 
 The Marchioness of Torrelodones enters. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Hello, Esperancita! I 
 am all dressed. Isn't mamma coming to see the fireworks ^ 
 
 Esperanza. I don't know. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Do you expect many 
 people, Josefina .^^ 
 
 Josefina. I couldn't say. Pardon, I shall be done in a 
 moment. ... 
 
 Esperanza. Probably nobody will come. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Nobody! Heavens! 
 What is the complication .^^ Anything new.?* The trouble 
 about the theatre.?* 
 
 Josefina and Esperanza both speak at the same time. 
 
 Josefina. Another blunder of Santiago's. Imagine 
 
 Esperanza. A mistake of the Marchioness's who has mud- 
 dled up everything 
 
 Josefina. Without realizing what he was doing, he gave 
 permission 
 
 Esperanza. And the Marchioness says that Josefina has 
 been false to her word 
 
 Josefina. And so nobody is coming this evening. 
 
 Meanwhile Don Santiago Aoó* re-entered^ preparing to 
 resuTne the dictation, hut because oj the conversation 
 he is unable to proceed. 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 171 
 
 Santiago. If you will be so kind. . . . Just a moment 
 
 Let me see, where were we? 
 
 Trino. What is this ? I didn't write this. 
 
 Santiago. Give it to me. [Reading] "My dear Mar- 
 chioness, I hasten to apologize" [To the others] And on 
 
 the other side my letter to the Ministry ! Josefina, this mix- 
 ing of public and private business is intolerable. [To Don 
 Trino] Come with me. 
 
 Josefina. No, no, we had better go. Don't tear up that 
 letter; I will copy it. 
 
 Santiago. No, let him copy the despatch 
 
 Josefina. Couldn't you have given the order without say- 
 ing anything about it to the Ministry ? 
 
 Santiago. Yes, it is more important to make explanations 
 to the Marchioness. Copy the despatch, Don Trino. 
 
 Trino. [With politesse] The señora may take the litter if 
 she wishes; I remember perfectly the terms of the despatch. 
 
 Santiago. Here, take it. [To Josefina] I beg your par- 
 don. Carmen; but these festivals. . . . What a festival ! 
 
 Josefina. And all because you lack character ! 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. These provincials are 
 impossible. Give me Madrid. 
 
 Josefina. Talk about liberty ! You can do what you please 
 there. 
 
 Esperanza. When I get married I am going straight to 
 Madrid. 
 
 Josefina, the Marchioness of Torrelodones and 
 Esperanza go outy conversing busily. 
 
 Santiago. What can you do with a woman anyway ? 
 
 Trino. Women are the gentler sex, sir. We pass agree- 
 able moments with them, but when it comes to business — 
 Let me see. Where did \ye leave off ? [Reading] "In a fright- 
 ful commotion". ... 
 
172 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 Santiago. That's it. "In a frightful commotion** 
 
 [Dwtating] A strenuous protest was registered 
 
 Don Baldomero enters. 
 
 Baldomero. Señor Don Santiago! 
 
 Santiago. Don Baldomero ! My friend ! To what am I 
 indebted for this honor ? 
 
 Baldomero. Is Esperanza with you ? 
 
 Santiago. Yes; that is. . . . Did you wish to see her.? 
 
 Baldomero. No, no ! Go on, go on ... . 
 
 Santiago. Not before him ! [To Don Trino] Wait in the 
 study; I shall be with you in a moment. 
 
 Trino. The wine is in the study, sir. 
 
 Santiago. Then dispose of it at once. [Don Trino goes 
 out] At your service, Don Baldomero. 
 
 Baldomero. At my service, Don Santiago, at my service ! 
 Perhaps you will explain to me first whether to juggle with 
 your promises, to be false to your word is to be at my ser- 
 vice ? 
 
 Santiago. Calm yourself and everybody as my wife says, 
 Don Baldomero. At this moment I am sending a despatch to 
 the ministry, prefacing it at the same time by a telegram, 
 announcing the prohibition of ''Obscurantismo.'' 
 
 Baldomero. Then how is it that they have posted the 
 bills.? Why are they selling tickets at the box-office.? For 
 they are selling tickets. On my way here I saw the line my- 
 self. 
 
 Santiago. Is there a line? I thought you said nobody 
 would go ? 
 
 Baldomero. There is a line, that is true; but of what peo- 
 ple! 
 
 Santiago. The fact is, I did issue a permit. Now, if it is 
 withdrawn you are responsible — you and your friends. I 
 shall resign my office into the hands of the captain-general. 
 Oh, if it were only so easy to resign one's wife ! 
 
ACTii THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 173 
 
 Baldomero. I should not think of such a thing. The law- 
 abiding element is solidly with you. 
 
 Santiago. That may be, but the art of government con- 
 sists in having with you the non-law-abiding element. 
 
 Baldomero. Let me tell you, Don Santiago, wit in a gov- 
 ernor is entirely out of place. Where is your secretary, Don 
 Manolo ? Hasn't he come to-day ? 
 
 Santiago. I don't know. I will see. [He rings. 
 
 Baldomero. He is a man it is well to keep an eye on. 
 The Clerk enters. 
 
 Santiago. Has Don Manolo come in ? 
 
 Clerk. I think so, sir. He was just here with a strange 
 gentleman. 
 
 Santiago. Tell him that Don Baldomero would like to see 
 him. [The Clerk goes out] You say that he is a man it is 
 well to keep an eye on ? I suppose because he is paying at- 
 tention to your daughter ? I might warn you that at present 
 his prospects are not very bright; his position is a humble one. 
 But he is honest, industrious 
 
 Baldomero. I am delighted to know your opinion. 
 
 Santiago. You will find him extremely handy about the 
 house. 
 
 Baldomero. So I understand from your wife. 
 
 Santiago. Yes, of course. Ah ! Here he comes. 
 Manolo enters. 
 
 Manolo. Gentlemen 
 
 Baldomero. My dear Manolito! Come to me. You 
 know how highly I value your abilities. 
 
 Manolo. I know, sir. 
 
 Santiago. Don Baldomero wishes to speak with you. I 
 have this business to attend to. 
 
 Manolo. About the theatre ? 
 
 Santiago. Yes. Absolute prohibition ! It is necessary to 
 show character. 
 
174 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 Manolo. Prohibition? 
 
 Baldomero. Yes, man, yes. Prohibition ! 
 
 Santiago. [Alarmed] Why, don't you think Doesn't 
 
 it seem to you .... 
 
 Manolo. No, no, I don't think. You have reasons of 
 your own, no doubt. At your disposition, Don Baldomero. 
 
 Baldomero. Sit down, my son; sit down. 
 
 Manolo. [Aside to Don Santiago] How affable ! 
 
 Santiago. [To Manolo] You are making progress. He 
 wants to speak with you alone. What luck ! Pardon me .... 
 
 [Don Santiago retires. 
 
 Manolo. How is it that after having given permission, he 
 now retracts it ? That will put him in a pretty position. 
 
 Baldomero. If I were you, I wouldn't concern myself 
 about it. You are not responsible — especially since you 
 won't be here when the performance takes place. 
 
 Manolo. I won't be here.^^ 
 
 Baldomero. No, as you are going away beforehand. 
 
 Manolo. I ? Going away ? Who told you so ? 
 
 Baldomero. Nobody. I am telling you. You are going 
 because I wish it, because it is not convenient for me to have 
 you stay. 
 
 Manolo. You are not speaking seriously. 
 
 Baldomero. It is necessary to be frank with you; for that 
 reason I speak seriously. 
 
 Manolo. Do you mean to tell me 
 
 Baldomero. It is the simplest thing in the world. All you 
 have to do is to resign your position, upon any pretext which 
 may occur to you at the moment, pack your trunk, and re- 
 turn by the first train to Madrid. 
 
 Manolo. Because you wish it ? Because you tell me to ? 
 
 Baldomero. Not at all. Because it is for your best in- 
 terests to do so, because in that way you will avoid unpleas- 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 175 
 
 antness. You know, my dear Manolo, I have always had 
 your welfare at heart. 
 
 Manolo. Now you are sympathizing with me. 
 
 Baldomero. You are so young, you have so few friends, 
 that, naturally I sympathize with you. 
 
 Manolo. I see. I think I divine the motive of your solici- 
 tude without further explanation. I cannot deny that I have 
 paid some attention to your daughter. Whether or not she 
 has responded suflficiently to justify you in rising up in your 
 pride as a potentate, or in your affection as a father, I am not 
 at present in a position to determine; but however great my 
 presumption may have been in laying eyes upon that young 
 lady, inasmuch as I am not your servant, nor your debtor 
 in any particular, I am unable to see in just what way you 
 purpose to enforce this decree of banishment, however great 
 a personage you may be in Moraleda, without any other 
 authority than your own say-so. 
 
 Baldomero. To a man of my years, my son, boasting 
 sounds idle and vain. Had I wished, there are a thousand 
 ways in which I might have caused your departure, without 
 your so much as suspecting one of them; but I could not 
 bring myself to employ them in the case of one of whom I 
 was so fond. But when I say to you directly, face to face, 
 "I want you to go away," I say it as counsel, I say it as ad- 
 vice. If you prefer, Don Santiago will say it as a command. 
 
 Manolo. Through your advice ? 
 
 Baldomero. For the sake of his own reputation. When 
 you say that you owe me nothing, you forget that there are 
 a thousand ways in which a man may incur obligation — 
 papers which may pass from hand to hand, compromising 
 documents which may perhaps be brought to light. 
 
 Manolo. Compromising documents ? In your possession ? 
 
 Baldomero. Don't be a fool. You know Reinosa, the 
 
176 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act n 
 
 manager of the Circle? Well, his place was running until 
 last night, when some one brought word to the Governor 
 that his order to close the house had not been complied with. 
 He had continued playing because he had understood that 
 he was within his rights; he had received a letter 
 
 Manolo. Eh ? Have you that letter ? 
 
 Baldomero. Don't you see? That letter served as a 
 guarantee, a receipt for a certain sum of money, and it has 
 come into my possession. Unless you take steps to prevent 
 it, it will presently come into that of Don Santiago. I know 
 this letter is not signed by you, although it is directed to 
 you, and by a person who, by addressing you in such con- 
 nection, gives ample evidence of the esteem in which you are 
 held by her; I know you will say that it is a great deal to ask 
 you to leave Moraleda in exchange for a letter, but in order 
 to placate Reinosa, whose casino is closed in spite of the 
 guarantee, I understand that you have paid a visit to a 
 certain club of which I am landlord and honorary president, 
 and I wish to inform you that even suppose they do gamble 
 there 
 
 Manolo. They do. There is no supposition about that. 
 
 Baldomero. Even if they do, let me tell you, they know 
 what they are doing, they are of full age, and it calls for no 
 interference from you. We are not all equally influential, 
 young man, though you may not realize it, and whether pre- 
 tending to the hand of my daughter, or pretending to put me 
 before the community in a contemptible light as the pro- 
 prietor of a gambling-hell 
 
 Manolo. Pardon any pretense upon my part. So long as 
 I supposed that family reasons, which I respect, prompted 
 this behavior, I remained silent; but now that it appears to 
 have also its business side, that puts another face upon the 
 matter. Do as you see fit with that letter, but let me tell 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 177 
 
 you, if you do not happen to remember how a gentleman 
 should behave, I happen to remember very well how to treat 
 persons who do not. Not another word ! . . . . Josefina ! 
 
 Baldomero. We shall see, young man. We shall see. 
 Josefina enters. 
 
 Baldomero. [To Josefina] Lovelier than the day! 
 
 Josefina. Don Baldomero! You have come for Esper- 
 anza? But you did not know she was here. 
 
 Baldomero. Where better .^^ No, I did not come for her. 
 Perhaps she told you that she had had a little tiff with 
 mamma.'' A mere trifle! Believe me, if you are thinking 
 of having children, a dozen or none. 
 
 Josefina. I agree with you perfectly. Where is my hus- 
 band .? 
 
 Baldomero. He assures me that everything has been pro- 
 vided for, thanks, no doubt, to you. You are his good an- 
 gel. A man is to be envied who has an intelligent wife. 
 
 Josefina. I suppose your wife is coming to see the fire- 
 works.'* There will be music and dancing for the young 
 people. 
 
 Baldomero. She would not miss them for the world. I 
 shall bring her myself — before the crowd is too great. 
 
 Josefina. Adiós till then. Esperanza will be so delighted 
 to see her mamma. 
 
 Baldomero. She is always delighted when she is with 
 you, whom she loves so dearly. [To Manolo] Adiós till 
 then, my son. 
 
 Manolo. [Acridly] Adios. 
 Don Baldomero goes out. 
 
 JosEiTNA. Your future father-in-law. 
 
 Manolo. Why put it in the future? 
 
 Josefina. The girl is madly in love with you; make no 
 
178 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 mistake about that. She told me so herself; she is only 
 waiting for her parents 
 
 Manolo. To consent? 
 
 Josefina. No, to refuse. Don't you see ? 
 
 Manolo. May that girl avenge upon her father the wrongs 
 of Moraleda ! But they will never refuse; they are too clever 
 for that. He has devised other means. Don Baldomcro is 
 going to send me away. 
 
 Josefina. You? 
 
 Manolo. Yes, he has me in his power. Don Baldomcro 
 understands. If it were only a question of myself, if I were 
 the only one, but when it concerns another, the dearest, the 
 most respected. . . . You can guess. 
 
 Josefina. My husband ? 
 
 Manolo. I said the dearest — if I said respected, it was 
 only because I respect that which is exacting of respect. 
 
 Josefina. Are you speaking of me ? Has Don Baldomcro 
 been speaking to you of me? You don't mean to say that 
 he is going to oblige you to renounce your marriage with 
 Esperanza, to leave Moraleda upon my account? 
 
 Manolo. As far as the marriage is concerned, I could re- 
 nounce that well enough. It was you who advised me to 
 make up to Esperanza. 
 
 Josefina. She asked me to. It would have been a bril- 
 liant match for you, and she would have lost nothing by it. 
 What a difference between you and these country fellows 
 who don't know enough to move out of the club ! They 
 never had a serious thought in their lives, but they have all 
 the vices of Madrid — yes, they have. Besides, I had set my 
 heart on it. Our friendship — well, the long and the short of 
 it is that our friendship is a friendship between a man and 
 a woman, and such friendships are always dangerous. 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 179 
 
 Manolo. But delicious ! Love without responsibility; on 
 the contrary, with a certain immunity 
 
 Josefina. Immunity .f* What are you talking about? 
 
 Manolo. Why not ? 
 
 Josefina. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. If you 
 expect any immunity from me you are no friend of mine. 
 
 Manolo. Expect .f' No! Far from it! But when you 
 first confided in my loyalty, when, with tears in your eyes 
 you said to me : "I am alone, all alone in the world. I have 
 nobody but my husband, and there are so many things you 
 cannot confide to a husband, however much you may respect 
 him — for instance, what you think of him — it would be sure 
 to make him angry ! " 
 
 Josefina. Did I say that ? 
 
 Manolo. In substance; I may have forgotten the words. 
 Then I clasped your hand and pressed it tenderly, while you 
 said to me: "Be my friend, my true friend !" And from that 
 moment the faith, the trust which you placed in me, aU those 
 little confidences which we shared together, which were yours 
 and mine — ours, Josefina — trifles that to another who loved 
 you less might have proved tiresome, a bore, but which only 
 served to increase my affection and captivate my heart. . . . 
 Ah! How happy, how contented we were then, Josefina! 
 How noble I thought myself ! How worthy your regard ! 
 Believe me, I would not have exchanged this sweet friend- 
 ship of ours for all the loves of the united world ! 
 
 Josefina. You are so upright ! So noble ! 
 
 [Taking one of his hands. 
 
 Manolo. [Taking her other hand] Never doubt me! 
 Never ! I would give up everything for you. 
 
 Josefina. No, I could not accept such a sacrifice. What 
 did Don Baldomcro say ? 
 
 Manolo. Josefina! Unless I leave immediately, Don 
 
180 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 Baldomcro will drive us all out in disgrace. He is deter- 
 mined. I irritate, I infuriate him. — I don't know whether as 
 suitor to his daughter or as secretary to the Governor; but 
 it is all the same. 
 
 Josefina. But have you anything to do in Madrid .? 
 
 Manolo. Nothing. If I go, I abandon everything. I 
 don't know what will become of me. I have struggled so 
 long, so hard — ^yes, I am sure of it, these last days a pain 
 has come over my heart. ... I do not feel well; yes, it is 
 in my heart. . . . 
 
 Josefina. Don't say that ! It cannot be anything. Do 
 you know, sometimes I feel as if I had an affection there my- 
 self .? But you mustn't go ! I won't let you go ! I will ex- 
 plain to Santiago 
 
 Manolo. Don Santiago .f* Do you know that Don Bal- 
 domcro has a letter of yours in his pocket? 
 
 Josefina. A letter of mine ? What letter ? 
 
 Manolo. A letter which you directed to me. 
 
 Josefina. But there never was anything in any letter 
 which I directed to you. 
 
 Manolo. That depend^ upon what you call anything. 
 Don't you remember.? You had to pay some bills in Madrid 
 which your husband knew nothing about, and it was neces- 
 sary to obtain money at once. There was only one way to 
 get it. Reinosa demanded a guarantee. Though Don San- 
 tiago doesn't count, there was no reason why anybody should 
 trust me; so we agreed that you should write me a letter, and 
 that letter 
 
 Josefina. You didn't let that letter get out of your pos- 
 session ? 
 
 Manolo. You insult me. Do you suppose that it was I 
 who wanted the guarantee.'* 
 
 Josefina. But why didn't you tell me that you were go- 
 ing to give up that letter? 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 181 
 
 Manolo. Why did you tell me that if you didn't have that 
 money in Madrid within twenty-four hours, your husband 
 would apply for a separation ? So that I shouldn't pay any 
 attention to you, I suppose. 
 
 Josefina. Did I tell you that ? But don't you see ? Now 
 we are in the hands of these people. 
 
 Manolo. You didn't suppose that those rascals were go- 
 ing to get you out of debt out of gallantry ? 
 
 Josefina. You ought to have told me this before. Now 
 what are we to do ? If my husband sees that letter 
 
 Manolo. He won't see it. I am going away. 
 
 Josefina. There will be more trouble! Believe me, this 
 is only the beginning. A woman is never safe until she is 
 dead. No wonder we are deceived so easily when you men 
 who know the world and what it is 
 
 Manolo. We do, and that is the reason I intend to get 
 you that letter before I go, cost what it may. I do not pur- 
 pose to have you suffer upon my account. 
 
 Josefina. And I do not purpose to have you lose your 
 position upon mine. And all because my husband lacks 
 character ! Suppose he should hear of it.?* He would be con- 
 vinced that I had deceived him; he would insist upon it. 
 And I never did; I never deceived anybody — least of all my 
 husband. What difference does it make whether they play 
 for money or don't play for money ? Let them play if they 
 want to. What harm is there in it ? But no ! We must 
 uphold morality, we must act with decorum. As if on the 
 miserable salary a governor gets one could act with4ecorum ! 
 But that is the way you men are; you are all the same. You 
 might have thought of something — but no ! You have only 
 one idea — which would have occurred to anybody: "/ will 
 go away, you will stay here, alone — alone in the jaws of these 
 wolves who are ravening to devour you, God knows how!" 
 And yet you talk as if I hud no heart, as if I cared for nothing 
 
182 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE actii 
 
 but myself, as if you were of no consequence at all ! Oh, if I 
 were only a man I would show you ! You would see what stuff 
 I had in me ! 
 
 Manolo. I know already, Josefina. And if you only 
 dared, if I could only count upon you 
 
 Josefina. What do you mean ? 
 
 Manolo. I would accept the challenge and give them bat- 
 tle all along the line. Don Baldomcro would soon learn 
 what stuff I had in me. I would raise the downtrodden, I 
 would summon the oppressed, I would stir up against him 
 all those who hate, who despise him, and when he attempted 
 to drive us out, the unanimous voice of the people would be 
 on our side. Ah, if you would only believe in me ! If you 
 only had it in you to despise these rapscallions who loom so 
 large in your eyes ! H, 
 
 Josefina. What could I do ? 
 
 Manolo. Attack them on their own ground. In the first 
 place, tell Don Santiago to permit the performance of "06- 
 scurantismo," tell him to go to it, be present yourself. 
 
 Josefina. I ? What nonsense ! 
 
 Manolo. Yes, it would seem like nonsense to your friends. 
 Your friends ! Were they your friends when you were strug- 
 gling so hard in Madrid, when they had nothing to get out 
 of you, and you had everything to get out of them ? 
 
 Josefina. That is true 
 
 Manolo. Then look at the other side. What a triumph 
 with the people ! If you had only seen the crowd at the box- 
 office ! What enthusiasm ! What ecstasy ! And how easy 
 it would be to take advantage of it ! But when the order ar- 
 rives suspending the performance, and they see in it the in- 
 fluence of the reactionary element— don't deceive yourself, 
 it will precipitate a crisis. It may even necessitate the dis- 
 missal of Don Santiago under the most unfavorable circum- 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 183 
 
 stances, with the ministry and with the people. On the 
 other hand, suppose that the reactionaries drive him out 
 because he shows leanings toward liberalism. Then the 
 great body of the people will be on his side. They will ac- 
 claim him as the champion of popular rights, and the gov- 
 ernment — the government is in a very critical situation. A 
 crisis will have to be met by making concessions to the liberal 
 elements, and these will have no alternative but to support 
 Don Santiago, to promote him perhaps to a governorship 
 of the first class. That is clear; it is politics. It is necessary 
 to look up, to peer into the far horizons, to cultivate large- 
 ness of view and grandeur of soul, and not to fall into the 
 error of believing that to be most important which lies di- 
 rectly under our eyes. Don't you see.^^ 
 
 Josefina. No, I don't. I don't see anything at all. It 
 may be, since you say so. If there should be a crisis 
 
 Manolo. Make no mistake. There will be one. 
 
 Josefina. What makes you think so.^^ 
 
 Manolo. The country is disturbed. There are disorders 
 in the provinces. It will soon be necessary to suspend the 
 constitutional guarantees, and for suppressing liberties, you 
 know, there is no government like a liberal one. It inspires 
 greater confidence. Besides, it is fall. There are two seasons 
 in the year which are especially dangerous to any govern- 
 ment — the summer when it begins to grow warm, and when 
 the cold weather comes on again in the fall, with the conse- 
 quent changes of clothes. Thousands of families in the op- 
 position anxious to take baths in the summer, and other 
 thousands uncertain when to change to their heavy under- 
 wear in the fall, together these constitute an incalculable 
 force which needs only the slightest pretext in order to over- 
 throw any government. Believe me, if he is to preserve 
 himself, Don Santiago must make overtures to liberalism 
 
184 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 and the first step for him to take is to permit the perform- 
 ance of ''Obscurantismo,'' in spite of the opposition which it 
 has aroused. 
 
 Josefina. But if I tell him that, don't you see, he will 
 think that I am crazy ? He will be justified in believmg that 
 I am out of my head. 
 
 Manolo. Why? 
 
 Josefina. Because not half an hour ago I threatened to 
 go back to Madrid if he consented to it. 
 
 Manolo. But in half an hour you have seen a new light, 
 you have come to look at the matter from another point of 
 view. When you spoke before, it was upon impulse. No% 
 you advise him more deliberately. 
 
 Josefina. But how am I to tell him the opposite of every- 
 thing which I told him before ? 
 
 Manolo. You convinced him before against his will. 
 That makes it all the easier. 
 
 Josefina. But you don't know what I said ! Besides, 
 what good will it do ? People will only repeat what the Mar- 
 chioness said to Doña O: My husband permits the perform- 
 ance because your brother is manager of the company and 
 you have an interest in it. That is the reason you have 
 used your influence with my husband and with me. Imagine 
 what they will invent ! 
 
 Manolo. Yes, they know everything. The last person I 
 expected to see here was my brother; but he is my brother — 
 yes, he is ! He has been knocking about the world as I have 
 been knocking about life, both of us fighting for a foothold, 
 a chance to live — he with his actors and his comedians, I 
 among actors also — and for both of us the real comedy has 
 been the same, the earning of our daily bread; and we have 
 written it with our lives. I am not sorry I met him. He 
 comes in time to remind me that all men are my brothers 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 185 
 
 who at one season or another have had to struggle and 
 fight for their lives as we have done — all of us who are denied 
 the luxury of a conscience which conforms to our acts, the 
 disinherited, the oppressed. I may wear this livery of re- 
 spectability, of the hypocrite, it is true, but I should be a 
 dastard and a coward if I did not stand by his side, if I did 
 not flaunt this society of Tartuffes, who pretend to defend 
 their principles when they are merely defending their pock- 
 ets. Liberty, patriotism, religion — fine words these for 
 barricades behind which to bolster up their social position, 
 their salaries, yes, or their interests in dives and gambling- 
 hells, like Don Baldomcro. At least I do not deceive — I fight 
 in the open, and I hold to my own. You know that already. 
 Choose ! Decide for yourself — you are a woman of courage. 
 You, too, have struggled up, and you ought to know upon 
 which side are yours — upon theirs or upon ours ! 
 
 Josefina. You are right. I often have thought so my- 
 self. We ought not to allow these people to impose upon us. 
 We ought to teach them a lesson. What I don't see is how 
 I am to convince my husband. 
 
 Manolo. Here he comes. You can try. 
 
 Josefina. He will think I am crazy. 
 Don Santiago enters. 
 
 Santiago. [Greatly pleased with himself] Well, I hope you 
 will be satisfied. [To Manolo] On the whole it is for the 
 best. I have sent a complete explanation to the ministry, 
 and an order of prohibition to the management. Why? 
 What is the matter.^ What faces! Have I made another 
 mistake ? Josefina ! Speak ! 
 
 Josefina. Santiago, a wife ought never to meddle in her 
 husband's affairs. She is too impressionable; the circle of 
 
 her ideas is too limited, too confined [Aside to Manolo] 
 
 How is that? 
 
186 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 Manoix). Good! 
 
 Josefina. We attach too much importance to trifles, we 
 forget to look up, to peer into the far horizons 
 
 Manolo. Sublime! 
 
 Santiago. What is the meaning of all this ? 
 
 Josefina. The meaning of it is, Santiago, that a sensible 
 man never pays any attention to what he is told by his wife. 
 
 Santiago. And has that just occurred to you in the last 
 quarter of an hour.? [To Manolo] What do you say.?^ 
 
 Manolo. Josefina has been imposed upon by designing 
 persons. Without realizing it, she has been influ^ced to 
 her disadvantage. 
 
 Santiago. You don't mean to tell me that it was a mis- 
 take? [To Josefina] I said so from the beginning; and you, 
 you tell me now 
 
 Josefina. That you have committed a blunder, that you 
 have fallen into a trap, that you have flown in the face of 
 public opinion, and without a moment's loss of time you 
 ought to save the remnants of your reputation by removing 
 at once this arbitrary, this ridiculous prohibition. 
 
 JVIanolo. More arbitrary than ridiculous, . . . 
 
 Santiago. Oh, oh, oh ! This is too much ! [To Manolo] 
 What am I to do ? I knew it ! I knew it ! Advise me. How 
 will it be possible for me to change my order a second time ? 
 My authority will be gone. No, no ! This time I will stand 
 by my decree though the heavens fall. Wouldn't it be con- 
 temptible if now — tell me impartially 
 
 Manolo. Yes. ... It would 
 
 Josefina. [To Manolo] Back me up. [Aloud] Manolo 
 will tell you, if he is sincere, what he has told me: that you 
 are exposing yourself to a great danger. There will be riots. 
 Your obstinacy will cost you dear. 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 187 
 
 Santiago. My obstinacy? Great God! What do they 
 call obstinacy ? 
 
 All begin to speak at the same time. 
 
 Josefina. Tell him what you told me 
 
 Manolo. I said 
 
 Santiago. No, no ! I couldn't think of it. Impossible ! 
 
 Josefina. You will be sorry when it is too late 
 
 Manolo. Don't get excited ! Please ! Please ! 
 
 Santiago. Not though the heavens fall! Not though a 
 thunderbolt consume Moraleda ! 
 
 Manolo. Some one is coming. 
 
 Josefina. The guests ! Not another word ! 
 
 [Moving forward to receive them. 
 
 Santiago. I should like to know what Richelieu or Philip 
 II or any other great statesman would have amounted to 
 with such a wife. 
 
 Don Basilio, Jimena, and Belisa enter. All exchange 
 bows and salutations. 
 
 Josefina. My dears, I am delighted! The first fruits of 
 the evening .... 
 
 Basilio. Señor Don Santiago ! 
 
 Belisa. The crowd is so gi*eat that positively it would have 
 been impossible for us to have passed if we had been later. 
 
 Jimena. A mare magnum; it was like the sea. 
 
 Belisa. We were in danger of being squeezed to death. 
 
 Jimena. Although we had determined to take the risk. 
 
 Josefina. What risk ? 
 
 Jimena. There was a riot at the theatre. 
 
 Santiago. A riot ? 
 
 Basilio. Hardly a riot. Three or four persons who pro- 
 tested. . . . 
 
 Josefina. [A&ide to Santiago] You see what you have 
 done. 
 
188 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 Santiago. I knew it, I knew it. It is getting dark. I'll 
 turn on the lights. What ! There is no current. 
 
 Josefina. Who ever saw such wretched service.?' 
 
 Jemena. It is the same at our house. 
 
 Manolo. Another monopoly of Don Baldomero's. Every- 
 thing here belongs to Don Baldomcro. 
 
 Santiago. With all the illuminations of the fiesta, of 
 course there isn't enough power. 
 
 Basilio. Don't talk to me about these modern improve- 
 ments. As far as I can see, they are nothing but show. 
 
 Josefina. [Who has called a servant] Bring candelabra with 
 candles. 
 
 Servant. [Handing Manolo a card] A gentleman to see 
 you — and His Excellency. It is important; about the public 
 order, sir. 
 
 Manolo. The manager of the theatre. 
 
 Josefina. [Aside to Manolo] Your brother.? 
 
 Manolo. [Idem] Hush! [To Don Santiago] Will you 
 see him ? 
 
 Santiago. See him yourself, if you want to. I. will see 
 nobody. Get out of it if you can. I resign the command. 
 
 Josefina. [Aside to M\nolo] What are you going to do ? 
 
 Manolo. [Idem] Fix Don Baldomcro! [Aloud] Have I 
 your consent ? 
 
 Santiago. You have my consent. Do as you see fit — as 
 both of you see fit. In any case I send in my resignation. 
 Manolo goes out. 
 Basilio. With so many responsibilities resting upon your 
 shoulders, it is diflficult to understand how you can take so 
 much pleasure in holding office. 
 Santiago. Pleasure ? None whatever, I assure you. 
 Belisa. [From the balcony] Do you see who is there? 
 Jimena. Did you ever.? Look, papa! Look! 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 189 
 
 Josefina. What is the matter? 
 
 Belisa. One can no longer be sure of the clothes on one's 
 back. 
 
 Basilio. Who is it ? These girls keep me always with my 
 heart in my throat. 
 
 JiMENA. It's Tomasa, the maid. She asked permission to 
 go and see the fireworks from her aunt's, and there she is 
 walking up and down with a man who must be her fiance at 
 least. 
 
 Santiago. Possibly. 
 
 JiMENA. Now if anything happens to her, they will say 
 that we weren't looking out. 
 
 Belisa. Or that we set her the example. 
 
 Josefina. Heavens ! Who would say that ? 
 
 JiMENA. [To Don Basilio] You had better run down and 
 send her home. 
 
 Belisa. The next thing you know she will be introducing 
 a man into the house. 
 
 Santiago. [Aside to Josefina] What more could they 
 wish? 
 
 The Marchioness op Torrelodones and Esperanza 
 enter. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. [To Josefina] We were 
 waiting for you. 
 
 Josefina. I have just been in conference. Important 
 business — politics . 
 
 Esperanza. Hello, Jimena ! Hello, Belisa ! 
 
 Belisa. How attractive you look this evening! Is that 
 your new gown from Madrid? 
 
 Esperanza. No, it's from Paris. — I knew it must be a 
 fright. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Where is papa ? I have 
 
190 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 scarcely seen him since we arrived in Moraleda. He is be- 
 coming quite shameless. 
 
 JiMENA. Heavens ! What a thing to say ! And she comes 
 from Madrid. 
 
 Belisa. I don't like the fit of her dress. 
 
 JiMENA. No. Nor the way she does her hair. 
 
 Belisa. Have you noticed her walk ? Yet they laugh at 
 the provinces. 
 
 Josefina. [Aside to the Marchioness] Poetry and Rhet- 
 oric are giving us a course. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. They had better look 
 out. There's a tang of the street to every Madrileña, even 
 though she is a marchioness — a touch of the low quarters 
 and the Lavapiés. 
 
 Josefina. I can believe it. 
 Doña O and Polito enter. 
 
 Doña O. Everybody is here this evening. 
 
 Esperanza. Why, mamma ! 
 
 Polito. Good evening, ladies. 
 
 Josefina. So you got up your courage, did you ? 
 
 Doña O. After the explanations of your husband. Ah ! 
 Don Santiago. . . . 
 
 Santiago. Oh ! Doña O 
 
 Esperanza. And papa ? 
 
 Doña O. He was coming with me, but we happened on 
 Polito, so I have him instead. Your father stopped off at the 
 club. He was anxious to inquire. . . . There were rumors 
 afloat. ... 
 
 Basilio. Has there been any trouble.? 
 
 Doña O. Oh, the rabble — people who have nothing better 
 to do, making a demonstration in front of the theatre. 
 
 Belisa. Name of Joseph ! Do you think we shall be safe, 
 Don Santiago? 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 191 
 
 Santiago. Perfectly safe. You have nothing to fear. 
 
 PoLiTO. [Aside] Are you angry with me, Esperancita? 
 
 Esperanza. I am angry with everybody ! 
 
 PoLiTO. It doesn't seem possible — when everybody loves 
 you. 
 
 Esperanza. I don't care to be loved by everybody. 
 
 PoLiTO. How amiable you are this evening ! 
 
 Esperanza. You ought to know. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Where is papa ? 
 
 PoLiTO. We left him at the café with Campos and Re- 
 guera. They will drop in later to see the fireworks. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Really ? How jolly ! 
 
 Doña O. [To Josefina] Those buU-fighters in the Pal- 
 ace ? Who ever heard of such effrontery ? 
 
 The Marchioness of Villaquejido and Teresa enter^ 
 accompanied by Don Teodoro and Don Guillermo. 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. See whom we are bring- 
 ing with us! 
 
 Teresa. Yes, they are coming by force. They planned to 
 stay below and watch the fireworks from the plaza. 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. We declined to trust 
 them, however, in the crowd. 
 
 Guillermo. There is a crowd 
 
 Santiago. The fact is, although the plaza is large, the 
 people will press over to one side 
 
 Teodoro. There is a natural tendency to pressure in a 
 crowd. 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. You ought to know; you 
 are the talk of Moraleda. My last cook left upon your ac- 
 count. 
 
 Guillermo. Ha, ha! Sorcery. 
 
 Belisa. At least they show taste; she was a good one. 
 
 JiMENA. Parsley and onions are their favorite perfumes. 
 
192 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE actii 
 
 Teodoro. Even among vegetables, we have learaed to 
 discriminate. 
 
 Belisa. How polite ! 
 
 JiMENA. Don't bother with them. They are confirmed 
 bachelors, both. 
 
 Teresa. I simply adore fireworks. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. You won't get much of 
 that sort of thing in the convent. 
 
 Teresa. So I am making the most of my opportunities 
 
 now. Look at those boys ! Did you ever ? 
 
 The Marquis of Torrelodones, Campos and Re- 
 guera enter. 
 
 Marquis. [Bowing] Ladies and gentlemen ! 
 All exchange greetings. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. [To Campos] Step out 
 for a moment upon the balcony, Campos. I have a favor to 
 ask of you. 
 
 Campos. At your service, señorita. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. I want to take your 
 picture. So — that is perfect. 
 
 Campos. Preparing to thrust, eh.? How is^this? 
 
 Marchioness op Torrelodones. Divine! There! [She 
 takes the picture] Bring up a chair. 
 
 Doña O. [To Josefina] She takes him out on the bal- 
 cony so that people can see her with him. She talks of noth- 
 ing else. 
 
 Josefina. I know it. And people are beginning to grow 
 nervous. 
 
 Marquis. Yes, sir, there was a great commotion all about 
 the theatre. Some shouted "Prohibition," others "No pro- 
 hibition !" There were boos and viva^ — cries of "Death !" 
 
 Santiago. Why wasn't I informed of this before? Call 
 
ACT II THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 193 
 
 the police. [Rings] Public order must be preserved at any 
 cost. 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. Is anything wrong? 
 What is the matter.? 
 
 Santiago. No, nothing is the matter. Are there no ser- 
 vants in the house ? A good government ! A pretty govern- 
 ment! 
 
 Don Baldomero enters. 
 
 All. [As he appears] What is the matter ? What has hap- 
 pened ? 
 
 Esperanza. Papa! 
 
 Baldomero. A barbarity ! An atrocity ! Stand back, for 
 God's sake ! They have insulted me. 
 
 All. You! 
 
 Baldomero. A riot ! A mob ! A demonstration in front 
 of the theatre, and they are marching here singing the 
 "Hymn of Riego" ! . 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. The "Hymn of Riego'*? 
 Goodness ! When we heard it in my day, we always ran to 
 hide the silver. 
 
 Teodoro. Since then it has marched off to other tunes, so 
 now she can spare herself the trouble. 
 
 Manolo enters, followed by the Clerk. 
 
 Manolo. Don Santiago ! Quick ! They are marching on 
 the Palace. You can hear them: "Long live liberty!" and 
 
 "Death ! Death" [To Don Baldomero] Principally to 
 
 you. 
 
 Santiago. Quick ! My stick ! My hat ! No, not my new 
 one [The wornen scream. Bemsa faints] Stand back ! 
 
 Baldomero. And all this because you lack character ! 
 
 Santiago. If you had only let me do my duty 
 
 Doña O. Now you see what it means to pander to the 
 people. 
 
194 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act ii 
 
 Josefina. It is my husband's fault — yes, for having lis- 
 tened to you ! Didn't you tell us that everybody was on your 
 side ? 
 
 Shouts y cries of ''Viva!'* and ** Death!'' 
 
 All. Here they come! Shut the windows! Don't be 
 afraid. Look out for stones ! Turn down the lights ! 
 Great confusion. The lights are turned down. 
 
 Santla-Go. Where am I ? Let me go ! 
 
 Josefina. Don't go, Santiago ! Don't go ! 
 
 Santiago. Duty before everything! [Tremendous ex- 
 'plosion in the plaza. A red glow illuminates the windows at the 
 rear. Shouts and cries] An explosion ! Fire ! 
 
 Manolo. The fireworks have gone off ! 
 
 Doña O. Alas for Moraleda ! 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. It is the end of the world ! 
 
 Josefina. And it is all your fault ! 
 
 Curtain 
 
THE THIRD ACT 
 
 Two boxes in the hull-ring at Moraleda. The Governor's box 
 is upon the right, and is somewhat larger than the other, 
 which is upon the spectator's left. 
 
 An usher is distributing programmes printed upon silk through 
 the vestibules of the boxes. Don Trino and Damián un- 
 pack the lunch upon a table in the vestibule of the Gov- 
 ernor's box. 
 
 Trino. Set the basket on the floor, the glasses go here. 
 Have we everything ? 
 
 Damián. Yes. I shall be back during the intermission to 
 serve lunch — ^after the third bull. 
 
 Trino. [Going up to the box] How is the plaza ? [Applause. 
 Don Trino draws back hurriedly] Ah! They took me for 
 the Governor and applauded me. They are ready to begin. 
 
 Damián. It's half an hour yet. The people in the sun 
 come early, as the seats are not reserved. There's less en- 
 thusiasm than there was last year. Have a drop ? 
 ' Trino. Demonio I 
 
 Damián. A bottle more or less. What difference does it 
 make? 
 
 Trino. They'll see us from the boxes. 
 
 Damián. There's nobody in the boxes — the country peo- 
 ple are still coming in. Too much excitement yesterday. It 
 detracts from the interest. 
 
 Trino. Good wine ! Very good wine 
 
 Damián. Everybody has timiditis. Did you notice the 
 precautions in the plaza? 
 
 195 
 
196 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act m 
 
 Trino. Well, what more do they wish? The most exact- 
 ing should be satisfied. Liberty has triumphed. We have 
 seen the play, and it turns out to be a good one. Yes, sir ! 
 Those who didn't like it, didn't like it, but the public has 
 been heard from. 
 
 Damián. Yes, but how ? On their way home they broke 
 two windows in the café. At Don Baldomero's there isn't so 
 much as a whole pane of glass. 
 
 Trino. He hasn't given up, though. Did you see the Abe- 
 jorro ? 
 
 Damián. And the Echo! This story about the secretary 
 and the Governor's wife — Nothing else was talked of in 
 the café this morning. Have another glass ? [Offering wine. 
 
 Trino. No, thank you. It would never do to have it go 
 to my head. This story — you can take it from me — it's a 
 lie out of the whole cloth, a calumny. I come into contact 
 daily with Doña Josefina and Don Manuel, yes, sir, and with 
 the Governor himself, and I consider them all in their way 
 decent people, very decent people — without meaning any- 
 thing by it — among the most decent we have had in the 
 Palace during the twenty years I have been in it, and we 
 have had all sorts of people, including decent people. But 
 politics have no heart. It is every one for himself and the 
 devil for all of them. Poor Doña Josefina ! She was cry- 
 ing all morning like a Magdalen. 
 
 Damián. No ! She was ? 
 
 Trino. She hides nothing from me. While she was comb- 
 ing her hair, she let fall such a tear ! 
 
 Damián. But there are people who have seen the letters. 
 You can read them in the papers. 
 
 Trino. You can, can you? How do you know they are 
 not forgeries ? Yes, sir ! 
 
 Damián. [Much impressed] Ah ! Very likely. 
 
ACTiii THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 197 
 
 Trino. Take that French case for example: the scandal 
 nearly disrupted the army; even generals were mixed up in 
 it. All politics, of course. Talk about handwriting — I 
 could fix up for you myself pretty much what you please. 
 If I had had any leaning toward evil, as thank God I have 
 had toward good, and I have never had reason to regret it 
 —a quiet conscience is better than great riches — well, the 
 fact is I could fix up for you pretty much what I pleased. 
 But I have never taken advantage of this ability, no, sir, 
 unless sometimes in jest. Now and then a man must have 
 his jest. But there are people who think otherwise, who will 
 go to any length in order to get money. Yes, sir ! But Doña 
 Josefina.'* Nonsense! She is innocent. If you could see 
 her as I do every morning, sitting at the foot of the bed fixing 
 the collars and cuffs on the Governor's shirt! 
 
 Damián. I wouldn't have believed it possible. 
 
 Trino. No, sir, I tell you people are malicious, evil- 
 minded. For instance, I brought up a niece of my wife's out 
 
 of charity from a very tender age, and everybody said 
 
 Believe me, there is more in these things than appears upon 
 the surface. Yes, sir ! I have had experience. Don Baldo- 
 mero's daughter is in love with Don Manolo; her father is 
 opposed to the match; then Josefina intervenes with Doña 
 O, and she is offended by it; so to disillusion the girl, they 
 invent the first slander that comes into their heads. 
 Noise in the plaza. 
 
 Damián. Caramba I They are growing impatient. 
 
 Trino. Yes, the sun is hot and they bring their wine-skins. 
 They are warming up. [Looking into the box] Ah ! Now they 
 hiss me. 
 
 Damián. If it begins like this 
 
 Trino. What will the end be ? 
 Josefina and Manolo enier. 
 
198 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act m 
 
 Josefina. What is the matter? What are they hooting 
 at? 
 
 Trino. Nothmg, señora, the heat, the wine 
 
 Josefina. [Seating herself at the table vnthovt entering the 
 hox] Ay! I never was so nervous. Everything upsets me. 
 
 Trino. And His Excellency the Governor ? Did he come 
 with you ? 
 
 Manolo. No, he is in conference with the manager and 
 the chief of the Guardia civil. 
 
 Josefina. We thought it best to be early so as to avoid 
 the crowd. Have we long to wait ? 
 
 Manolo. A few minutes. 
 
 Trino. We were setting out the refreshments. 
 
 Damián. Yes, the lunch. I shall be back during the in- 
 termission. With your permission, señora. . . . 
 Goes out. 
 
 Trino. If there is nothing for me to do, I will retire also. 
 
 Josefina. Aren't you going to stay to see the fight ? 
 
 Trino. <Sí, señora, I have seats with my family. 
 
 Josefina. Gracious ! Have you a family, Don Trino ? I 
 didn't know you were married. 
 
 Trino. I am a widower, si, señora. I have a niece and 
 three small children. At your service, señora. 
 
 Josefina. Why does he say at my service ? A widower ! 
 I hope there is not going to be any trouble. 
 
 Trino. I hope not, señora. It is only the people amusing 
 themselves. If the toreros are good and the bulls fierce, all 
 will be well; but if the bulls are bad, as they were last year — 
 Good Lord ! They will burn the plaza ! At least that is the 
 custom. 
 
 Manolo. It is ? 
 
 Josefina. Barbarous! 
 
 Trino. Worse than barbarous; it is terrible! The spec- 
 
ACT III ^ THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 199 
 
 tacle itself is a savage one, si, señora; but, believe me, the 
 people, when they are aroused, are a thousand times more 
 savage than the spectacle. Si, señora. 
 
 Josefina. I don't think I shall enjoy it. I like the ani- 
 mation, the parade of the fighters, the entrance of the bull, 
 but nothing else. The truth is, this year I didn't want to 
 come. . . . 
 
 Trino. No wonder. The circumstances — that is, the con- 
 ditions Ah! What a world we live in! Si, señora/ 
 
 If you wish nothing more ? 
 
 Josefina. No, no, nothing, Don Trino. 
 Don Trino goes ovt. 
 
 Manolo. [Looking into the plaza] There is a big crowd. 
 
 Josefina. There is ^ I am sorry to hear it. I wish there 
 wasn't anybody at all. Give me a glass of water. 
 
 Manolo. Have a sandwich.? A cake.?* Didn't you eat 
 anything this morning ? You look pale. 
 
 Josefina. No, I couldn't eat. I am so restless, so nervous. 
 
 Manolo. Why.^^ It is quite unnecessary. I tell you we 
 have won. 
 
 Josefina. Yes, it was all very well last night while the 
 performance was going on — applause and cheers at the thea- 
 tre; but this afternoon, after people have seen the papers, 
 after they have had a chance to talk! On the way here 
 everybody was reading the Abejorro, I could see them from 
 the carriage. 
 
 Manolo. Yes, but everybody was indignant, as I thought. 
 They say it is a calumny invented by Don Baldomcro to re- 
 venge himself for the insults of last night. 
 
 Josefina. That may be. But didn't you hear? Es- 
 peranza made a scene this morning — I had it from the ser- 
 vants. She says she is going to marry you, and she is going 
 to marry you immediately. 
 
200 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE ^ act m 
 
 Manolo. If I thought that her parents— But no, let 
 them keep her. Precious baggage ! Where is Don Santiago ? 
 Has he said anythmg to you ? Has he read the papers ? 
 
 Josefina. I don't think so. He never reads the qppo- 
 sition papers. But that letter— If he ever sees that letter ! 
 
 Manolo. Don Baldomero says that he is going to send it 
 to the minister at Madrid. 
 
 Josefina. It would take more than that to shock Garcia 
 Pérez. 
 
 Manolo. Yes, he is shock-proof. 
 
 Josefina. But this afternoon ! It is this afternoon I am 
 afraid of. 
 
 Manolo. This afternoon you will have a triumph. Every- 
 thing is provided for. 
 
 Josefina. Do you think so.? 
 
 Manolo. You will see. When Campos comes to his 
 speech, it will be a sensation. I have given it to him in writ- 
 ing and he is studying it in his dressing-room. He will say: 
 "Your Excellency, I fight for you and for liberal governors 
 like you, for virtuous and beautiful women like those who 
 sit at your side, liberal also like yourself. For the bull is a 
 reactionary, and he would be for obscuration wherever it 
 was to be found." He will say this looking straight into the 
 box of Don Baldomero. "And long live liberty!" It will 
 be an ovation. If there is any trouble, we have packed the 
 amphitheatre. He who protests. . . . Have no fear, Jose- 
 fina, the sovereign public is with us. If the bulls are only 
 good and Campos in form so as to arouse the people, the 
 victory is ours ! 
 
 Josefina. I don't know. What do you want me to say ? 
 I am very much afraid. 
 
 The Marchioness of Torrelodones, Don Santiago 
 and the Marquis of Torrelodones enter. 
 
ACT III THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 201 
 
 Santiago. We had better not show ourselves until the 
 last moment. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. [To Josefina] How is 
 it that you are so early ? 
 
 Josefina. We were anxious to get ahead of the crowd. 
 Later the men stand in two rows at the foot of the stairs 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Yes, but they don't say 
 such things as they do in Madrid. [To Manolo] Are you 
 very fond of bulls? 
 
 Manolo. I know very little about them. The sooner 
 they are disposed of the more agreeable to me. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. I hope that everything 
 will pass off smoothly. 
 
 Santiago. I know absolutely nothing about bulls. The 
 mayor was to have presided this year as usual, but there was 
 some trouble at the last minute — an unsavory dispute with 
 the management. They refused to give him the contract to 
 remove the carcasses and dead horses for his brother-in-law, 
 so now I am obliged to assume the responsibility. 
 
 Marquis. We shall prompt you at the proper moment. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Remember when the 
 picadors are on, Campos will give a signal. If he lays his 
 finger beside his nose you are to call for banderillas. Three 
 pairs will do, as you know, unless they miss; then give them 
 four. Or if the bull is no good, two will be sufficient. It is 
 all very simple. You will pick it up as you go along. 
 
 Marquis. In case you are uncertain what to do, the public 
 will advise you. It is the safest way. If they shout "Hi, hi ! 
 Wake up there!" or "At him. Governor!" or 
 
 Santiago. Or call me idiot or fool, I suppose, or some- 
 thing worse ? It is all very divertmg. After the comedy of 
 yesterday, the tragedy of to-day ! 
 
 Marquis. Unfortunately the bulls have gone stale after 
 
202 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act in 
 
 four days in the corrals. It was a great mistake upon your 
 part to postpone the corrida. 
 
 Santiago. That is right. Blame it on me ! It will be my 
 fault, I suppose, if they turn out to be cows. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Don Santiago, you 
 must not say such a thing. You ought to see that mottled 
 fellow, though. And we have another that is a wonder ! 
 
 Marquis. Do you know, I can't keep Lucerito away 
 from the littlest one.'^ 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. But I promised that 
 Campos should kill him. 
 
 Marquis. What can I do ? 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. It is all our fault for 
 not bringing the overseer along. 
 
 Manolo. Is this a pet bull ^ 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Oh, I took a fancy to 
 him, so, naturally, I wished Campos to kill him. Sometimes 
 one will take a fancy. . . . 
 
 Josefina. For heaven's sake ! What a fancy to take ! 
 
 Santiago. I am in the hands of the Lord. In any event, 
 it will be my last oflScial act in the province. 
 
 Josefina. Eh.'' 
 
 Santiago. I have telegraphed my resignation. 
 
 Josefina and Manolo. Your resignation ? 
 
 Marquis. Man ! Why so hasty.? It is not as bad as that. 
 You take these trifles too seriously. 
 
 Santiago. Perhaps I do, my dear Marquis. But if the 
 exigency had not been so great, I should have resigned long 
 ago. Order must be preserved. 
 
 Josefina. But don't you see that without consulting me 
 
 without Now people will believe they will say 
 
 and it seems to justify them .... 
 
 Santiago. What will they say? They have deceived me. 
 
ACT III THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 203 
 
 you have deceived me. Everybody, everybody has deceived 
 me! 
 
 Josefina. Santiago! 
 
 Santiago. Everybody ! And I don't care to hear another 
 word about it. 
 
 Josefina. [Aside to Manolo] He has seen the letter. 
 
 Manolo. [Aside to Josefina] No. He has read the Abe- 
 jorro. 
 
 Josefina. [Aside to Manolo] His resignation ! Now what 
 are we going to do ? 
 
 Manolo. [Aside to Josefina] Forget it ! It will come out 
 all right. 
 
 Belisa, Jimena, Don Basilio, Don Teodoro and 
 Don Guillermo enter, 
 
 Teodoro. How charming you look to-day ! 
 
 Belisa. Don Teodoro, you are a flatterer ! 
 
 Jimena. We are too clever for you. When you are with 
 us, you need not think that you have all the sport. 
 
 Guillermo. Are you going into Don Baldomero's box? 
 
 Basilio. They are and they are not. 
 
 Teodoro. The devil you say ! How is that ? 
 
 Basilio. It is our wish to remain neutral in these quar- 
 rels. My daughters are invited both by the Governor and 
 by Don Baldomcro; so, in order not to give offense 
 
 Jimena. I am going into the Governor's box. 
 
 Belisa. And I into Don Baldomero's. 
 
 Teodoro. Very clever indeed! But what are you going 
 to do.'* 
 
 Basilio. I am going home when I leave them. These 
 spectacles do not divert me; on the contrary, they disgust 
 me. They make me despair of the future of this unfortunate 
 land. 
 
204 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act m 
 
 Teodoro. Bah! As long as we have the sun — and these 
 ladies — we shall worry along. 
 
 JiMENA. Thank you for mcluding us. 
 
 Guillermo. Were you at the theatre last evening ? 
 
 Basilio. They were and they were not. 
 
 Teodoro. Good ! One was and the other was not ? An 
 excellent idea ! 
 
 Belisa. Jimena was there. 
 
 JiMENA. It was very exciting. 
 
 Teodoro. Tut, tut, there was nobody there but men. 
 
 JiMENA. You seemed to enjoy it. 
 
 Teodoro. We are invited to sit with Don Baldomcro. 
 
 Basilio. I must leave Jimena with Josefina. 
 
 Belisa. Goodness, papa! Not before the ladies arrive. 
 It would never do for me to be left alone with these gentle- 
 men. [To Don Teodoro and Don Guillermo] Not with 
 your reputations ! 
 
 Teodoro. I assure you we shall be judicious. 
 
 Basilio. Nonsense! Don Teodoro is old enough to be 
 your father. He might be for all you know. 
 
 Belisa. Why, papa! 
 
 Teodoro. He might and he might not. 
 
 Basilio. Come with me, Jimena. Good-by, my dear. 
 Remember, we meet in front of the Palace. 
 
 Belisa. [Going into the box] What a magnificent sight ! 
 
 Teodoro. Did you ever see a woman look ugly in a man- 
 tilla.'^ [To Guillermo] Lend me your glasses; they magnify 
 better than mine do. 
 
 Josefina. Jimena! 
 
 Santiago. How charming you look to-day ! 
 
 Basilio. I am leaving her with you. 
 
 Santiago. But you? Aren't you going to stay? 
 
ACT III THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 205 
 
 Basilio. No. I do not care for these spectacles. On the 
 contrary, they disgust me. Good day. 
 
 JiMENA. Good-by, papa. 
 Don Basilio goes out. 
 
 Josefina. But where is Belisa.? 
 
 Jimena. Belisa is in the next box. 
 
 Josefina. Oh ! With the Remolinos J 
 
 Jimena. Yes, they invited us both, but, of course, we both 
 preferred to come with you. So in order not to give offense, 
 we had to draw lots, and I was the more fortunate. 
 
 Josefina. It is very kind of you to say so. 
 
 Doña O, Esperanza and Don Baldomero enter, 
 
 Baldomero. We have plenty of time. 
 
 Esperanza. Is that the reason you kept shouting at me, 
 "Hurry up ! Hurry up ! " .'^ 
 
 Baldomero. What else could I do, my dear, with you try- 
 ing on seven dresses and fourteen mantillas, without getting 
 anywhere with any of them .? 
 
 Esperanza. The result is I look like a fright. 
 
 Doña O. You are too much for your papa and mamma. 
 I cannot stand this any longer, now that Petronila has left. 
 She will never do our hair for us again after the way you 
 have treated her. 
 
 Esperanza. I don't care if she doesn't, mamma. If you 
 are going to talk all afternoon, I might as well sit with 
 Josefina. 
 
 Doña O. This is too much. That a child should strike her 
 parent such a blow ! 
 
 Baldomero. Esperanza, listen to me. No more of your 
 nonsense ! I forbid you to notice anybody in the next box. 
 I intend to create a scandal in the plaza. 
 
 Esperanza. A scandal ? So that is what you brought me 
 here for ? 
 
206 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act iii 
 
 Doña O. Nothing of the sort. We wanted to get some- 
 where where there'd be more noise than you could make. 
 
 Baldomero. Now don't begin to cry. Come on into the 
 box. — ^How do you do, gentlemen ? 
 
 Teodoro. Baldomero! 
 
 Belisa. How charming you look to-day ! 
 
 Teodoro. Wonderful! Superb! 
 
 Esperanza. And Jimena ? 
 
 Belisa. Oh ! She is with Josefina. They invited us both. 
 Of course, we both preferred to come with you, so in order 
 not to give offense, we had to draw lots, and I was the more 
 fortunate. 
 
 Doña O. Did you have to draw lots last night to see who 
 was to go to the theatre ? 
 
 Belisa. I should think we did. And poor Jimena was 
 sacrificed ! 
 
 Baldomero. I suppose you were there ? 
 
 Teodoro. Don Baldomero ! Between the acts, as it were, 
 out of curiosity — to see who was in the audience. I never 
 heard such shouting and yelling, booing and hissing, over 
 nothing as it seemed to me. 
 
 Do^A O. They broke all our windows when they came out. 
 
 Esperanza. I lost some lovely double geraniums which I 
 had on my balcony. 
 
 Baldomero. And all in the name of Liberty ! 
 
 Doña O. All because we have an idiot for a governor 
 who does not even know how to govern his wife ! 
 
 Baldomero. He cannot control his wife, yet he expects to 
 rule a province. 
 
 Esperanza. Papa, be careful ! They'll hear us. They are 
 in the next box. 
 
 Doña O. That is the reason he speaks so loudly. 
 
 Baldomero. We want them to hear. 
 
ACT III THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE ^07 
 
 Josefina. [To Manolo] Are they there yet? Listen 
 
 Manolo. Yes. I hear Don Baldomero. 
 
 Josefina. And I hear his wife. They may drive my hus- 
 band back to Madrid, but before they do, I promise you that 
 they will hear from me. Oh, they will hear from me ! 
 
 Manolo. How lovely you are when you are angry ! How 
 lovely you always are ! 
 
 Josefina. And you are like the people — too forward. I 
 shall have to suspend the constitutional guarantees. 
 
 Doña O. Sit down by me, Belisa. [To Esperanza] You 
 sit on this side. 
 
 Belisa. I warn you, I shall scream the whole afternoon. 
 Only think ! The bull may catch a man ! 
 
 Teodoro. It must seem incredible — I mean, he may, he 
 may. 
 
 Santiago. It is time to begin. We had better pass in. 
 The ladies on this side. . . . 
 
 Marquis. Yes, as far from Your Excellency as possible. 
 Otherwise it might deprive the public of the freedom to pro- 
 test. 
 
 Santiago. Do you think so ? Perhaps we had best all sit 
 together. . . . 
 
 Josefina. Come, Carmen ! Come, Jimena ! 
 PoLiTO and Reguera enter. 
 
 PoLiTO. This is not a box. Reguera — it is a garden of 
 flowers. 
 
 Ladies. Thank you ! Thank you so much ! 
 
 Marquis. Are you in costume, Polito? Do you expect 
 to qualify in the corrida ? 
 
 Santiago. Remain by me, gentlemen. You understand 
 these things better than I do. I never presided over anything 
 in my life except the Provincial Deputation. 
 Commotion in the arena. 
 
208 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act iii 
 
 Marquis. It is time to begin. 
 
 Santiago. Good ! Pass in. 
 
 They enter the box; the Governob gives the signal. 
 Trumpet. 
 
 Josefina. [To Manolo] No applause at the entrance of 
 my husband ? A bad sign ! 
 
 Manolo. Wait. They are holding back. 
 Hisses. 
 
 Josefina. Ah ! They hiss. 
 
 Manolo. It's the algtuwil. He has lost a stirrup. 
 
 Josefina. Ay I But they have rattles ! They are shaking 
 them at me. 
 
 Grand march and entrance of the toreros. Loud applause. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Campos! There's 
 Campos! How graceful that man is in the arena! He is 
 wearing my cloak. 
 
 PoLiTo. He has a i;ew suit. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. The first time of every- 
 thing. 
 
 The Marchioness of Villaquejido and Teresa 
 enter. 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. We are late. 
 
 Teresa. The parade has begun. Hurry, I like a fine en- 
 trance How do you do ? Gracious ! What a crowd ! 
 
 Isn't it stirring? 
 
 Doña O. Come right in. 
 
 Santiago. You throw the key, Polito. I'll be sure to hit 
 somebody on the head. 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. Did Josefina come with 
 her husband.^ 
 
 Doña O. Yes, they are in the next box. Who ever heard 
 of such eflfrontery ? Exhibiting herself in public after what 
 happened this morning ! Never mention her to me again. 
 
ACT III THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 209 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. Never mention her to 
 me. 
 
 Trumpet. Applause. 
 
 Marquis. Ah ! Ah ! What do you think of him ? 
 
 PoLiTO. I can't see the animal. 
 
 Marquis. Didn't I tell you ? 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Beautiful! Divine! 
 By Marrullero out of La Pintada, isn't he, papa.'* 
 
 Marquis. You understand these things better than I. 
 
 Teodoro. [To Don Guillermo] Can you tell me who 
 that buxom blonde is in the front row of Section Eight.'' 
 
 Guillermo. Who is she ? Oh [In Teodoro's ear. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Everybody knows who 
 she is. 
 
 Marquis. Now for some sport. 
 
 PoLiTO. The picadors ! 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Why doesn't Campos 
 throw off that cloak .^ 
 
 PoLiTO. Why doesn't he ? I wonder. 
 
 Reguera. How would you like to be in the ring now? 
 
 Marquis. The fools ! Look ! Look ! They'll murder the 
 bull 
 
 Santiago. But what are they there for.?* 
 
 Baldomero. You needn't tell me that is a bull. It is from 
 the herd of that marquis from Madrid.? Ha! It must be 
 from Madrid ! 
 
 Teodoro. It looks to me like an ox. 
 
 Guillermo. [Shouting] Ox! 
 
 Teresa. What makes you call him an ox.'' 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. Don't ask foolish ques- 
 tions, Teresa. 
 
 Marquis. What are they doing ? What a way to begin ! 
 
210 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act m 
 
 Belisa and Jimena. [Screaming] Oh! Oh! He'll catch 
 him, he'll km him! 
 
 Josefina. That wasn't so bad after all. 
 
 Doña O. Don't scream like that. There is no reason for 
 you to be afraid. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. What is the matter 
 with Campos ? Why don't they go at him the right way ? 
 
 Reguera. I'll give him a tip 
 
 PoLiTO. Don't shout down from here. 
 
 Josefina. How absurd ! He is running away. 
 
 Manolo. Good afternoon, he says, that will be all for 
 to-day. 
 
 Santiago. When a bull won't fight, what are you going to 
 do? 
 
 Marquis. Who says he won't fight ? They don't give him 
 a chance. They don't go at him the right way. Ha ! Send 
 that rascal to jail ! He'll injure the animal. What does he 
 get paid for ? 
 
 Cries and hooting in the arena. "Back to the peni'' 
 "Give him torpedoes T' 
 
 Santiago. They call for torpedoes. 
 
 Marquis. It will be a damned outrage, sir, if you give 
 them torpedoes. 
 
 Santiago. Ah ! Another discussion ! 
 
 PoLiTO. Take care ! He may strike you. The Marquis is 
 capable of anything when it comes to his bulls. 
 
 Santiago. That would be the last indignity. Does he ex- 
 pect me to go down into the arena and pull him out by the 
 tail ? There you are ! [Rhythmic hand-clapping. Palmas de 
 tango] What is that? 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Palmas de tango, the 
 latest thing in Madrid. 
 
 Polito. Yes, I introduced it here last season myself. 
 
ACT III THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 211 
 
 Marquis. With the first automobile. I suppose that was 
 the fault of the bull. Look ! Look ! What a way to handle 
 a lance ! 
 
 Tremendous uproar. ** Torpedoes! Torpedoes T* Hisses. 
 ^'What's the matter?'' ''Wake up there! Wake up!'* 
 
 Josefina. Didn't I tell you .? 
 
 Manolo. The bull has settled down for a nap. 
 
 Santiago. Now what am I to do ? 
 
 Teodoro. Shoot him, I say. 
 
 Baldomero. He must have influence with the liberal 
 party. He is gubernatorial. 
 
 The uproar increases. \ 
 
 JiMENA AND Belisa. Ay 1 Ay! He'll catch him, he'll kill 
 him! 
 
 Josefina. Don't you hear the people, Santiago ? 
 
 Santiago. Don't you see the Marquis, Josefina ? 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Campos gives the sig- 
 nal. 
 
 Santiago. The signal for what? The benediction? 
 
 Marquis. For the banderillas, 
 
 Santiago. 'What banderillas? With torpedoes ? 
 
 Marquis. How torpedoes ? 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. It doesn't matter. Let 
 Campos fix the torpedoes. He will make it all right with the 
 people. 
 
 Santiago. Good ! The banderillas I Ah ! Now she is the 
 one to blame. 
 
 He gives the signal. Trumpet. Hisses, followed by ap- 
 plause. 
 
 Marchioness op Torrelodones. No wonder. As soon 
 as he saw the banderillas. . . . 
 
 Marquis. Ha ! That bull can never bear fire. 
 
 Santiago. No, he is more accustomed to drawing water. 
 
212 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act iii 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. There ! See him turn ! 
 Beautiful. . . . 
 
 Torpedoes. 
 JiMENA AND Belisa. Ay t Ay t Ay! 
 Josefina. Holy Mother ! What nerves ! 
 
 AfplaiLse. 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. A hit! A hit! He 
 threw in a pair! [Applause] Another! Another! I shall 
 go out of my head. 
 JiMENA AND Belisa. ^2^/ Ay! Ay! 
 Santiago. It is coming out all right after all. 
 Marquis. Give the signal to kill. 
 Santiago. To kill.? What a pity! 
 He gives the signal. Trumpet. 
 Manolo. Now for the speech. Aha, Don Baldomcro! 
 Your time has come. Now for the verdict of the people. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. I wonder what he is 
 going to say. Something gallant, of course. Campos is so 
 
 clever at making speeches Everywhere he goes, it is the 
 
 same .... 
 
 Campos. [Within] Your Excellency liberal beauti- 
 ful. . . .ladies. . . .liberal also like yourself And long live 
 
 liberty ! 
 
 Great ovation. Vivas to liberty. Vivas for the Gov- 
 ernor, vivas for the Governor's wife. 
 Marquis. Bow, bow ! And you bow ! All bow ! 
 Baldomero. What a farce! This is intolerable! I will 
 not submit to it. 
 
 He rises from his seat; cries of ''Death to the reaction- 
 aries ! " ** Down with obscuration I " Hisses. 
 Manolo. I wonder who is getting his now. 
 Doña O. But it is not for you ? It is not for us ? 
 Esperanza. Ay y papa ! It is for us ! 
 
ACT III THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 213 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. The ruffians ! No, 
 
 no ! Impossible ! 
 Belisa. An insult ! To you ? 
 
 Doña O. Disgusting ! Come ! They are booting my hus- 
 band. There is no respect, no decency anywhere. 
 
 Baldomero. I will teach them a lesson! I will show 
 them ! This was all put up beforehand. 
 Teodoro. There must be some mistake. 
 Marquis. The bull is cooling off ! 
 
 Doña O. No, no. Don't speak to me ! Let us go ! Let 
 us go! 
 
 Marchioness of Villaquejido. And we shall go with 
 you. 
 
 Belisa. Yes, indeed, Doña O ! 
 
 Doña O, Esperanza, Teresa, Bemsa, the Mar- 
 chioness OF Villaquejido and Don Baldomero 
 go out. 
 Teodoro. Well, they are gone. I must say I am glad of 
 it. 
 Guillermo. Now we can enjoy ourselves. 
 Teodoro. It served them right. There is no doubt where 
 the people stand. 
 
 Voices : ** Riego I Riego ! The *Hymn of Riego ' / '* 
 Santiago. They are calling for the " Hymn of Riego." 
 Marquis. The bull is cooling off ! 
 
 uproar. Cushions thrown and missiles. A bottle strikes 
 the side of the box and breaks above the heads of the 
 
 ' Marchioness op Torrelodones. How can they expect 
 Campos to kill the bull when they throw things like that ? 
 Voices : *' Riego I Riego I " 
 
 Santiago. Where is the speaking-tube? Ah ! 
 
 Marquis. Tell them to play the " Hymn of Riego." 
 
214 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act iii 
 
 Santiago. Of course. [Through the tube] The "Hymn of 
 Riego " ! Yes, tell them to play the " Hymn of Riego.'* 
 
 Manolo. What do they say ? 
 
 Santiago. Another complication ! They don't know it. 
 A second bottle. 
 
 Josefina. I wish they would stop throwing those bottles. 
 Somebody is going to get hurt. 
 
 Santiago. [Through the tube] Hello ! The Herald ! Yes, 
 send for the Herald. Tell him to announce that the band 
 can't play the "'Hymn of Riego," because it doesn't know 
 it, but it will learn it by to-morrow. How is that? 
 
 All, Good! Good! 
 
 Santiago. Now see if they won't be quiet. 
 
 Manolo. [To Josefina] Don Baldomcro has left — and his 
 family with him. What did I tell you ? , 
 
 Josefina. You are a genius. 
 
 Manolo. Only that.? I am a friend 
 
 The voice of the Herald is heard. 
 
 Herald. Ladies and gentlemen: The band can't play the 
 "Hymn of Riego" because it doesn't know it, but it will 
 learn it by to-morrow, so as to be able to play it hereafter 
 whenever required. 
 
 Drum. Applause. Distant '* Vivas." 
 
 Marquis. Bow ! Bow ! All bow ! 
 Ovation. 
 
 Santiago. Really, I am very much affected. The people 
 — more than the people, the entire community acclaims a 
 man when he has had the courage to do his duty. 
 
 Josefina. And to whom do you owe this triumph, Santi- 
 ago ? Who gave you advice ? 
 
 Santiago. You— yes, you— one way or the other, but you 
 always gave me advice ! Now we shall have to wait for them 
 
ACT III THE GOVERNOR'S WIEE 215 
 
 to clear the arena. It seems incredible that they could have 
 thrown so many things in such a little while. 
 
 Manolo. My only regret is that no one was hit. 
 
 Marquis. The bull is cooling off. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Poor Campos! They 
 won't give him a chance. 
 The Clerk enters. 
 
 Santiago. What is the matter ? 
 
 Clerk. A telegram for Your Excellency. 
 
 Santiago. Here ! Give it to me. 
 
 Josefina. From Madrid ? 
 
 Santiago. Yes. You open it, Manolo. I am so nervous. 
 Everything upsets me to-day. 
 
 Manolo. The reply. Just as I thought. [Reading] "Crisis 
 imminent. Ministry more strongly liberal." 
 
 Santiago, ^h.? 
 
 Manolo. "Government refuses to accept resignation. 
 Congratulates you upon your liberal campaign and offers 
 governorship of the first class." 
 
 Santiago. Of the first class ! Josefina ! 
 
 Marquis. Felicitations. 
 
 Polito. Best wishes ! 
 
 Santiago. Embrace me ! And you ! And you ! 
 He embraces all the ladies. 
 
 JiMENA. We didn't come for nothing after all. 
 
 Josefina. You see how it is! If it hadn't been for me, 
 where would you have been? And yet you allowed yourself 
 to doubt, yes, perhaps even to suspect me! If. y on only 
 knew what I have gone through with for you ! 
 
 Santiago. And I for you! But doubt you? Believe those 
 calumnies ? Never, Josefina ! Never ! 
 
 Josefina. Now you talk like a man. I knew that some 
 day you would do me justice. 
 
¿16 THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE act m 
 
 PoLiTO. Of the first class! Of the first class! Come! 
 Come ! We must celebrate. Some wine ! 
 
 Santiago. Bring wine ! 
 
 Teodoro. [Entering the box] We must celebrate with you. 
 We are all one now; there are no divisions among us any 
 more. [All laugh] What a bevy of beautiful ladies! And 
 here's to you ! [They drink. General laughter. 
 
 Marquis. The ring is clear. Campos is after the bull. 
 
 All. The bull! The bull! 
 
 Teodoro. A fine pass. 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Did you see him turn ? 
 What a feint ! Again ! Again ! I shall go out of my head ! 
 
 PoLiTO. Now he'll show us. 
 
 Santiago. The critical moment. 
 
 JiMENA. Ay I Ay I Ay t 
 
 All. Hurrah! Hurrah! Dead without a struggle ! Bravo! 
 Bravo ! 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. How was that? How 
 was that? [Applause. Voices: 'What* s the matter with you f 
 *'Hi, there r "fFaA;e wp/"] What is the matter? What are 
 you waiting for? Stand up! 
 
 Santiago. I? Stand up? Ah! What an afternoon! 
 What a festival ! A people that within half an hour hisses 
 me, applauds me, shouts vivas in the name of liberty, acclaims 
 a bull-fighter, cheers the ladies, then falls to hissing and then 
 to applaud again— oh ! how is such a people to be governed 
 by mere man? 
 
 Manolo. Nothing could be easier. Like ladies and 
 toreros y tlie people cannot be governed; they must be enter- 
 tained. 
 
 Marquis. Don Santiago ! The second bull ! 
 
 Santiago. Great heaven ! It may spoil everything. Ah, 
 Manolo, in my emotion I forgot to thank you ! Whatever 
 
ACT III THE GOVERNOR'S WIFE 217 
 
 my destiny, wherever I may be, I want you always to re- 
 main with me, I want you always to be at my side. 
 
 ManoloI Don Santiago ! 
 
 Santiago. I can never repay you. In these days of trial, 
 you have been the real governor, you, you have taken my 
 place. 
 
 Manolo. Don Santiago ! 
 
 Uproar, Cries in the arena. 
 
 Marquis. The second bull ! 
 
 They re-enter the box. Applause, Santiago gives the 
 signal, 
 
 Manolo. [To Josefina, who remains below] Well, are you 
 satisfied? Do I deserve your confidence, your respect? 
 
 Josefina. I don't know You torment me, you 
 
 [Trumpets] Ay I What a shock! 
 
 Manolo. You are nervous. 
 
 Josefina. I am nervous, I confess it. I don't know how 
 to thank you. You have sacrificed, you are about to sacrifice 
 so much for me — your future, your. . . . 
 
 Manolo. My future ? It is for you to decide. Shall I re- 
 turn to Madrid ? Shall I accept the offer of Don Santiago ? 
 
 Josefina. What shall I say ? 
 
 Marquis. A hit ! A hit ! Ha ! A home thrust ! 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. Josefina ! Bravo ! 
 
 Bravo ! Break away ! Break away ! 
 
 Josefina. Accept 
 
 Marchioness of Torrelodones. I wonder what that fel- 
 low is up to? 
 
 Tremendom applause. Ovation. "Music! MusicI " 
 
 Curtain 
 
/ 
 
AUTUMNAL ROSES 
 
 COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
 
 First Presented by the Compañía Guerrero-Mendoza 
 AT THE Teatro Español, Madrid, on the Evening 
 OF THE Thirteenth of April, 1905 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 Isabel 
 
 María Antonia 
 
 Carmen 
 
 Laura 
 
 Josefina 
 
 Luisa 
 
 Gonzalo 
 
 Pepe 
 
 Ramón 
 
 Manuel 
 
 Adolphe 
 
 A Servant 
 
THE FIRST ACT 
 
 Salon in a home in Madrid, furnished with refinement and 
 taste. As the curtain rises, Gonzalo is speaking with a 
 Servant. 
 
 Gonzalo. Have my clothes at the club before seven. 
 
 Should any letters arrive 
 
 Isabel enters. 
 
 Isabel. Are you going out? Do not be long. 
 
 Gonzalo. How is that? 
 
 Isabel. You are the most irresponsible man I ever saw. 
 Have you forgotten that Maria Antonia and Pepe are com- 
 ing to dinner? And we have asked a few friends. 
 
 Gonzalo. Do you know, it had quite slipped my mind? 
 
 Isabel. Did you plan to dine out? 
 
 Gonzalo. Yes, at the club. I have some business with 
 Aguirre and his partner in reference to that affair at Bilbao. 
 I must drop him a line. [To the Servant] You may wait. 
 
 [He seats himself and begins to write. 
 
 Isabel. I hope you are not disappointed ? 
 
 Gonzalo. No, although I am sorry I did not think of it 
 before. I am in no humor for company this evening. 
 
 Isabel. We expect only a few — in fact, scarcely any one 
 but the family. 
 
 Gonzalo. Who is coming ? 
 
 Isabel. Maria Antonia and Pepe, Laura, Ramón and Car- 
 men with their daughter, besides Manuel Arenales. I have 
 asked your correspondent's son and his wife, the bride and 
 groom, as well. The dinner is in their honor, so that makes 
 it more formal. I am surprised that you should forget it. 
 
 221 
 
222 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 Gonzalo. The bride and groom ? Ah, yes ! I remember 
 I am so sorry. 
 
 Isabel. Perhaps you will conceal your feelings, as you 
 almost prostrated yourself to entertain them when they first 
 arrived in Madrid; the change would come as too much of a 
 shock — although I never cared for them myself. He seems 
 foolish, and she — well, she is too forward. To convince us 
 that she talks Spanish, she employs the most objectionable 
 language. 
 
 Gonzalo. May I have a moment ? I have made two slips 
 already 
 
 Isabel. I beg your pardon. You should have said so. 
 
 Gonzalo. [To the Servant] Take this letter to the club. 
 Never mind the clothes. Lay them out in my room. [The 
 Servant withdraws] At what hour do we have dinner ? 
 
 Isabel. At half after seven — half an hour earlier than 
 usual, so as to accommodate the young Parisians. In Paris 
 they dine early. When Arenales drops in at about nine, that 
 French girl will say that all Spaniards have bad manners. 
 
 Gonzalo. What French girl ? 
 
 Isabel. The bride. A foolish question to ask ! 
 
 GbNZALO. She is not French. Besides, I consider it bad < 
 taste to call people names. No one could be more thoroughly ^<^ 
 Spanish — she has lived in Paris all her life, so that I find Jy 
 her intelligent, indeed especially delightful. i 
 
 Isabel. I had no idea that you felt so strongly. 
 
 Gonzalo. Nonsense. Do we have to go through this all 
 over again ? 
 
 Isabel. All over again .?> How about* me.'' How do you 
 suppose I feel ? 
 
 Gonzalo. You are a martyr of course: this is intolerable. 
 
 Isabel. Gonzalo, you are not willing to let me say a sin- 
 gle word. You don't like it if I am silent, either. 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES ^rs 
 
 Gonzalo. No, I prefer to have you talk — talk all the time, 
 only be direct about it; don't insinuate. I know why you 
 don't like that girl: it is because you think I am fond of her; 
 you think that I am in love with all women. 
 
 Isabel. Not all women. 
 
 Gonzalo. No doubt you would be happier if I possessed 
 the manners of a boor. Laura is the only woman you are 
 willing to receive in the house; in your eyes, apparently, she 
 is perfectly safe. 
 
 Isabel. You will never fall in love with Laura. She is too 
 fond of you. 
 
 Gonzalo. I seem to have heard that story before. 
 
 Isabel. It is truer than most of your stories. 
 
 Gonzalo. Yes, my stories ! Don Juan Tenorio ! No 
 woman is safe in my hands. Don't you see that your jeal- 
 ousy only makes us both ridiculous ? We are not children; I 
 was not a child when I married you — I was a widower when 
 I was a mere boy; I have a married daughter. Nobody 
 imagines that I was looking for a nurse when I proposed 
 to you, like most widowers who have children. If my 
 heart had been so fickle and flighty, why should I have 
 married again ? What good would it have done me ? 
 
 Isabel. None; except that you had set your heart on it, 
 
 Gonzalo. On what ? 
 
 Isabel. There was no other way with me. 
 
 Gonzalo. You could have refused me if that was your 
 opinion of me; you had another way. 
 
 Isabel. I thought that you loved me. 
 
 Gonzalo. Loved you ? Don't I love you ? 
 
 Isabel. Yes, you do. It is very easy to love me. 
 
 Gonzalo. Why are you so fascinated with the role of 
 martyr.'* Do you think it becoming? 
 
 Isabel. I don't know; it is very trying. The hardest 
 
224 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 thing about it is trying not to show how hard it is. Your 
 only excuse is that you don't know how much you make me 
 suffer. 
 
 Gonzalo. Although some day I am likely to find out. I 
 am a tyrant, a monster, an evil genius — ^I, a poor, inoffensive 
 gentleman, who thinks of nothing but his business, his wife, 
 bis daughter, his home, who never cared for nor even dreamed 
 of anything else ! 
 
 Isabel. As for myself, I say nothing, because I am used 
 to it. But you owe something to your daughter — yes, our 
 daughter — I love her as much as if she were mine. I suppose 
 you think that she is wedded to the role of martyr like I am, 
 when she has everything in the world to make her happy.'* 
 
 Gonzalo. María Antonia ? Never ! That is, unless .... 
 But no, you would be incapable 
 
 Isabel. Yes, Gonzalo, and it is not her fault either; it is 
 yours, her husband's — men's. You are as God made you, or 
 else as opportunity has, or as bad as the law will allow, for 
 you have made it yourselves. It is as lenient with your faults 
 as it is intolerant of ours. 
 
 Gonzalo. Are we elevating the discussion to a moral and 
 philosophical plane ? It is time to dress. I cannot afford to 
 get into any worse humor. 
 
 Isabel. You certainly cannot. Don't you care to hear 
 about your daughter ? 
 
 Gonzalo. But what am I to hear? That she is jealous of 
 her husband, as you are of me, and upon precisely the same 
 grounds. I am sorry for poor Pepe. 
 
 Isabel. However, Maria Antonia is right, and it is my 
 duty to warn you. I talk to her exactly as you do to me, 
 although you will never believe it; I tell her that it is of no 
 consequence, that Pepe is neither better nor worse than 
 other husbands; it is no disgrace and nothing to feel badly \ 
 about, anyway. 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 225 
 
 Gonzalo. Do you talk like that to Maria Antonia? It 
 does seem incredible. 
 
 Isabel. I not only talk to her, I convince her. Maria An- 
 tonia is not a woman of my disposition; she is excitable, 
 her temperament is not one to resign itself. Besides, she 
 does not love her husband as I do you. She was in love 
 with another man when she married. 
 
 Gonzalo. Whom she might just as well have married; 
 there was no objection. I never was able to understand why 
 she broke off with Enrique so suddenly. His mother and 
 you had your heads together by the hour; then Maria An- 
 tonia made up her mind that she did not love him over- 
 night, and the boy left Madrid. The ways of women are 
 inexplicable. 
 
 Isabel. Ignorance is your invariable excuse. Do you mean 
 to tell me that there was no obstacle to the marriage of 
 your daughter with Carmen's son.'^ 
 
 Gonzalo. I thought that was coming. Now I have been 
 too friendly with Carmen. I explained how that was; that 
 was before we were married — in fact, before I was a widower. 
 
 Isabel. Which is a great comfort to me. Yes, Carmen is 
 my most intimate friend. She has suffered dreadfully, and 
 her confession was not only more sweeping, it was far more 
 sincere than yours. She has told me everything; she could 
 not rest until she made me promise by all that was dear to 
 me, to spare no effort to persuade Maria Antonia to give 
 up Enrique, while she did whatever she could to influence 
 her son. 
 
 Gonzalo. Why, does she think 
 
 Isabel. She was not sure. Prejudice and the law are very 
 well, but we cannot avoid the consequences of our acts, 
 wholly irrespective of sex. A man may doubt what children 
 are really his, but a woman never knows whether her chil- 
 
226 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 dren's brothers and sisters may not become their husbands 
 and wives. Did you know that you had made your daughter 
 very unhappy ? A trifling matter may become of importance; 
 thoughtlessness has its results. But I am sorry that I told 
 you — I intended to keep this to myself, but I was afraid for 
 your daughter's sake, and little by little, without meaning it, 
 I have let you see what was in my heart, I have told you 
 everything, because I am afraid, yes, afraid, that you may 
 mistake my resignation for indifference; for if you only knew 
 how deeply it hurts me whenever I detect that uneasy look in 
 your eye or discover a fresh insincerity — and I always do 
 discover them — you are not good at deceit, you are too 
 jauntily insolent — ah, you have no idea how you make my 
 heart bleed, or you would never again be so cruel as to tor- 
 ment me ! But that is how you are. If you don't hear the 
 cry, you do not realize that you have inflicted the wound; 
 unless. you see my tears, you cannot believe that my life is 
 unhappy. 
 
 Gonzalo. [Deeply affected] Isabel ! Why, Isabel ! — Come, 
 come ! This is no way to dress for dinner. 
 
 Isabel. No, it is foolish to complain. But I have suf- 
 fered so much, and now 
 
 Gonzalo. Now? What do you mean? 
 
 Isabel. You know what I mean. I am not blind. I can 
 see what you are thinking about. 
 
 Gonzalo. Business, my affairs — How ridiculous ! 
 
 Isabel. No, you take your business very calmly, but now 
 you are irritable; your mood changes hourly, not daily. I 
 love you too much not to know that you are disappointed 
 when you seem happiest, or happy when you wish me to 
 believe that you are sober and dignified. 
 
 Gonzalo. Pure imagination ! However, I have no right 
 to complain. You knew my life as a bachelor. 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 227 
 
 Isabel. As a married man. 
 
 Gonzalo. I married very young. . , . 
 
 Isabel. As a widower. 
 
 Gonzalo. I was a very young widower. 
 
 Isabel. It made no difference to you. 
 
 Gonzalo. Difference? But then I married you. How 
 was it then? 
 
 Isabel. Gonzalo, let us not pursue the matter further. 
 I made up my mind long ago to shut my eyes, neither to 
 hear nor to see; but I have seen and heard — everything. 
 Why will you raise questions when you know inevitably that 
 you must lie out of them? I detest nothing so much as a 
 lie. 
 
 Gonzalo. When did I ever lie to you ? Who told you my 
 adventures ? 
 
 Isabel. You did; I admit it — but not in confidence. It 
 was imprudence. 
 
 Gonzalo. I mpnidence i<f fl. species of confidence. 
 The Servant enters. 
 
 Servant. The mail from the club, sir. [Goes out. 
 
 Gonzalo. Circulars, advertisements. .. . Hello! Anote 
 from Aguirre. He cannot dine with me this evening. Sup- 
 pose I had gone ? I should have enjoyed myself. 
 
 Isabel. You are enjoying yourself. 
 
 Gonzalo. But this ? What is this ? Ah, yes ! I remem- 
 ber. . . . Here, run through them if you like. Look them 
 over. ... s 
 
 Isabel. Thank you. I said you were imprudent, not that 
 you were a fool. Of course, there is nothing in those letters; 
 I am not a fool, either. It is not necessary to compromise 
 oneself in a letter in order to make an appointment or to 
 cancel one in case of need. All these communications are 
 as innocuous as the tailor's announcement of the season's 
 
^28 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 styles, or a circular letter from the President of the Coun- 
 cil, presenting his compliments and soliciting your vote. 
 They are precisely as innocent. 
 
 Gonzalo. I must give you credit for ingenuity, which, on 
 the whole, is extremely flattering. When I feel older, men- 
 tally and physically, every day, to find that at my age you 
 still consider me fascinating — it is delightful ! 
 
 Isabel. No, fascinated, which is not the same. Your 
 vanity is your undoing, as it is with all men. So why be 
 vain? You are spoiled from the cradle. Parents, relatives 
 and friends, down to the last gossiping old crone who is at- 
 tached to the house, all flatter you: "What a cunning little 
 dear !" "And how manly !" So the poor boy is lured on. I 
 was always sent out of the room when I was a girl, when they 
 began to talk about you. 
 
 Gonzalo. You hid behind the door and listened to every 
 word. 
 
 Isabel. I was so inexpressibly shocked that I hated all 
 men because I thought they were like you. 
 
 Gonzalo. All men but me, apparently. I made love to 
 you before we were married. 
 
 Isabel. And I boxed your ears. 
 
 Gonzalo. You did, and it was tremendous ! I never for- 
 got you. And I don't believe that you ever forgot me, either. 
 I was your sweetheart from that hour. 
 
 Isabel. I was as great a fool as you say, 
 
 Gonzalo. It is not easy to forget me. 
 
 Isabel. Oh, how I wish you were bald and gray-haired, 
 with crows'-feet about your eyes, and a paunch to make you 
 respectable ! I pray God for one every day — I give you warn- 
 ing. But nothing happens. Apparently, you are the devil's, 
 and at forty 
 
 Gonzalo. Come, come ! Stop at forty ! 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 229 
 
 Isabel. You are a gay deceiver. Do you know, I suspect 
 your hair and mustache jJj^ 
 
 Gonzalo. No, upon my word of honor! A sKampoo, a 
 shampoo ! 
 
 Isabel. The hair-dresser*s art has made rapid progress. 
 I wish you would teach me the secret. If that color were 
 natural, it would be an insult. 
 
 Gonzalo. Would you really like to see me old ? 
 
 Isabel, So old that no woman would ever look at you 
 again, so ugly that they would all laugh when you attempted 
 to presume. Then at last I could say: He is mine, thank 
 God, all mine ! 
 
 Gonzalo. But whose am I .? What other woman has ever 
 been able to call me hers, before God and before man, and 
 in my own heart ? Only you, my Isabel ! \He kisses her, 
 
 Isabel. You don't know how I love you, nor how you ^ 
 
 make me suffer ! 
 
 María Antonia and Pepe enter, 
 
 Pepe. Applause! Bravo! Bravo! 
 
 Gonzalo. Hello! 
 
 Isabel. Why, Maria Antonia ! ^ 
 
 María Antonia. Isabel ^vX* g 
 
 Pepe. But we interrupt. Go on, go on ! '^VjJ 
 
 Gonzalo. We were setting you an example, which, need- ^ir 
 less to say, was unpremeditated, as we did not see you com- 
 ing. You surprised us, as it were, although these little epi- 
 sodes are not unusual with us, otherwise it would have been 
 surprising had you happened on one of them. My dears, 
 unless a man is married, unless he has children, he does not 
 know what true love means, absolutely he does not. This 
 is happiness. There is nothing else like it. 
 
 María Antonla.. Papa is in fine humor. 
 
230 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 Isabel. [Aside to María Antonia] Yes, siace the mail 
 arrived from the club. Fortunately, it was the last one. 
 
 María Antonia. Poor Isabel! Isn't it terrible to be a 
 woman ? 
 
 Isabel. No indeed. How silly ! 
 
 María Antonia. I am awfully anxious to see you alone. 
 
 Gonzalo. By the way, Pepe, we must have a serious talk. 
 
 Pepe. Name your own time. 
 
 Gonzalo. Oh, there is no hurry ! That reminds me: what 
 was that play you recommended the other evening? I 
 dropped in as I was passing the theatre, but I did not see 
 the girl. It seemed to me rather tame. 
 
 Pepe. She has been out of the cast for a few days. The 
 manager discharged her because of some trouble, although 1 
 must say that I sympathized with the girl. Her parts were 
 impossible. La Vélez has the company completely under her 
 thumb, although she sings like a cat and wears clothes 
 
 Gonzalo. She will never make a hit with her clothes. 
 
 Pepe. We might compare notes, however, about the other 
 one. The town has gone mad over her — it is a hit every 
 time she appears. She has — how shall I put It? Oh, you 
 know — personality; there is something about her. . . . / 
 
 Gonzalo. I know. You talk like the girl's mother. 
 
 Pepe. Was that what you wanted to say ? 
 
 Gonzalo. No; speaking seriously, Isabel thinks. . . . We 
 might take it up later. Did you say she was still out of the 
 cast? 
 
 Pepe. No, you can see her any night in "Impulse" and 
 "A League of the Garter," the second and fourth zarzuelas. 
 Highly sensational. 
 
 GcNZALo. I suppose you drop in every night? 
 
 Pepe. No, when I have nothing else to do. 
 
 Gonzalo. But you never do anytliing else. You are mak- 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 231 
 
 ing a great mistake. Women are hypersensitive about the 
 theatre; it is so public. I never specialized in theatres my- 
 self; I do not recommend them to others. 
 
 María Antonia. What is papa telling Pepe ? 
 
 Isabel. He is calling him to account. It was only right 
 that he should know. 
 
 María Antonia. Who ? Papa ? You ought never to have 
 told him. He will think that I am silly. 
 
 Isabel. You would be silly, if you were not right; and you 
 are foolish to be unhappy because you are. The silliest thing 
 in the world would be for you to make your husband unhappy. 
 
 María Antonia. I am not making my husband unhappy. 
 
 Isabel. But what is the matter? What are you trying 
 to do ? 
 
 María Antonia. Do you suppose that I married to be 
 humiliated and neglected by my husband ? 
 
 Isabel. Has he done anything else.? 
 
 María Antonia. Has he ? Only to-day 
 
 Isabel. Hush ! They may hear us 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, wait until we are alone 
 
 Pepe. I must step out for a moment, my dear; I hope to 
 return shortly — that is, if I can slip away. 
 
 Isabel. Oh! Don't you know whether you can return 
 or not.? Aren't you going to stay to dinner? 
 
 María Antonia. Of course he is not. 
 
 Pepe. I shall do my best — if possible 
 
 María Antonia. What is the use of this farce ? You know 
 perfectly well that you are not coming back. 
 
 Pepe. María Antonia ! 
 
 Gonzalo. I think, perhaps, you take these matters too 
 seriously. I understand his position. In fact, I feared for a 
 moment that I might be prevented from dining with you 
 myself. Women have an idea that men have nothing to do 
 
232 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 but keep engagements which they make for them. They 
 plan and settle it all beforehand, days ahead; such a night 
 we go to the theatre, such an evening we have guests to 
 dinner. A man cannot be expected to burden his mind 
 with these petty details. You are the very first to find fault 
 with us when we neglect our business or our other affairs, yet 
 you expect us always to be sitting at home, waiting on your 
 pleasure. I cannot understand women; positively, I cannot 
 understand them. 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, women are all unreasonable. No- 
 body understands them. He has known perfectly well since 
 Monday that we were to dine here this evening, yet he must 
 select this very evening 
 
 Pepe. Don't you want me to go? Very well, then, I 
 won't go; I am perfectly agreeable. 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, you are ! You are going just the 
 same. I insist upon it. I don't care to have you sitting 
 around all evening if this is what you are going to look like. 
 
 Pepe. Whether I go or not, I shall make it a point to 
 provide a little opportunity, shortly, for you to look pleasant. 
 
 María Antonia. It will take a great deal to malie me look 
 like you do now. 
 
 Pepe. Whenever I turn around, it seems I am responsible. 
 
 Isabel. You are two children. 
 
 Pepe. Why didn't you tell me that you had prepared this 
 little scene before we left home ? 
 
 María Antonia. You can stop it by leaving if you don't 
 like it — and the sooner the better. If you had let me come 
 alone, as I wished, you would have avoided it altogether. 
 
 Pepe. I didn't want Isabel and your father to think 
 
 ^ ^ María Antonia. What do you care what they thmk ? 
 Papa always sides with you, and Isabel has too much sense 
 to interfere. 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 233 
 
 Gonzalo. I am at a loss to know how you can say tliatX 
 I side with him because he is right; I put myself in his place. ) 
 
 María Antonia. Exactly ! In his place. ^^ 
 
 Gonzalo. Yes, in his place — why not.?* I am sure that 
 Pepe would remain to dinner unless some very important 
 engagement took him away. 
 
 María Antonia. No doubt it seems important to him, 
 which is sufficient. Why does a broker have to be present 
 at a reading of a zarzuela ? 
 
 Pepe. I told you the author is a friend of mine and it is 
 my idea, substantially. I know the manager. Great heaven, 
 can't a man go to the theatre .? I must have some relaxation 
 after a long and tiring day. If I had had my way, I should 
 have been an actor, and I might have written plays, too, if I 
 had had time, which would not have been worse than other 
 popular successes. I have plenty of ideas — original ideas — 
 and I never make a mistake as to what will prove acceptable. 
 One rehearsal is ample for me to judge. If I were a man- 
 ager, I should make money, naturally. 
 
 María Antonia. Who ever heard of such foolishness ? 
 All he thinks of is the theatre — a theatre. 
 
 Pepe. A theatre, a theatre ! Yes, because the manager is 
 a friend of mine. 
 
 Isabel. Pepe, I had no idea that you were so fond of the 
 theatre. 
 
 Pepe. It is my hobby — as innocent a hobby, I suppose, as 
 a man could well have. Don't you agree with me? 
 
 Gonzalo. All hobbies are innocent, although I must say I 
 had supposed that you had some better reason f|j^ot re- 
 maining to dinner. ^^ 
 
 María Antonla.. You see that even father deserts vou.l 
 The reading must be important if they want to have yWi at I 
 it. 
 

 ^34 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 Pepe. I shall return immediately. I will ask my friends 
 to postpone it until another day, or else go on without me. 
 Unless I hurry, I shall be late .... What is the matter ? 
 Don't make a scene. God knows nothing could be more un- 
 pleasant ! 
 
 Gonzalo. [Aside to Pepe] Yes, hurry as much as you can, 
 you may slip away later. We shall not sit long at table, as I 
 have an engagement myself. Better humor Maria Antonia. 
 
 Pepe. I shall be back directly — directly, I promise you. 
 
 María Antonia. Suit yourself. 
 
 Pepe. Good-by, then. Now don't make up any stories 
 about me. 
 
 María Antonia. I shall not make up any stories. 
 
 Pepe. Isabel, make it all right with Maria Antonia. You 
 know how it is. . . . 
 
 Isabel. Of course, although if you are not coming back, I 
 advise you to say so. 
 
 Pepe. No, I am coming — on my word of honor! Di- 
 rectly ! [Goes out, 
 ■^ Gonzalo. Now you can tell us the truth. Isabel says 
 that you are unhappy, that you are dissatisfied with your 
 husband. How is that? Have you any ground for com- 
 plaint ? 
 
 María Antonia. No, none whatever. I was joking with 
 Isabel. It amuses me to see how fond Pepe has suddenly be- 
 come of the theatre. Because his friend Castrojeriz, who is 
 keeping some soprano or other, wants to exhibit his mistress 
 in public and ruin himself as a manager, is no reason why 
 Pepe d^uld haunt the playhouse day and night. He isn't 
 the p^ipter or leader of the orchestra. Now we have a 
 steady stream of actors running to the house asking for 
 recommendations, to say nothing of authors who want a 
 good word said for their plays. Only yesterday, I re- 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 235 
 
 ceived an applicant for the chorus, chaperoned by her 
 mother. . . . 
 
 Isabel. How exciting ! 
 
 María Antonia. She insisted upon the girl's singing the 
 romanza from "The First Officer." 
 
 Gonzalo. If that was all, it was not so bad, though no 
 doubt it was trying. You must remember that Pepe has 
 seen very little of the world. His father brought him up 
 very strictly; he was put to work when he was a mere boy. 
 Naturally, he is interested in these light girlish frolics. An 
 opportunity has offered to peep behind the scenes in a thea- 
 tre — behind the scenes, just imagine it! And up to that 
 time the boy bad seen practically nothing. He was de- 
 lighted, as was to be expected. A great many thoroughly 
 respectable persons who have no connection with the thea- 
 tre professionally, spend their time about the dressing-rooms 
 and behind the scenes, studying the performances and ob- 
 serving what goes on at rehearsals. When we wish our own» 
 doctor, for example, we always send to the theatre for him, 
 and his diagnoses have become purely theatric. If nothing is 
 the matter, he says: "Pshaw! A performance will do you 
 good to-morrow evening." If it is serious, he says: "This 
 is too bad ! I advise you to remain away from the opening." 
 And our doctor is a sober and dignified man, a gentleman, 
 and a fine physician. 
 
 Maria Antonia. Do not exert yourself to convince me. I 
 knew, of course, that you were going to side with Pepe. jj 
 
 Gonzalo. My point is that if you wish to prevent himjr^ I 
 
 from taking his relaxation away from home, and from you, . /1l4T^\ 
 sulking and complaining and making it thoroughly unpleas- * ^^ 
 ant is about the worst system you could adopt for the pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Isabel. Your father is right about that. 
 
 %r 
 
^36 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 Gonzalo. Are you jealous? Do you suspect that he is 
 deceiving you ? 
 
 María Antonia. Suspect .í^ Not at all; he is not deceiv- 
 ing me. I made up my mind before I married, exactly what 
 I would do when the time came — and I proved it. 
 
 Isabel. It is foolish to make up one's mind in advance or 
 to map out a course of action in life. We become wedded un- 
 consciously to the attitude which we expect to assume, and 
 the event often happens because we expected it. Never de- 
 cide anything in advance. Life takes us by surprise, and 
 determines the future without our advice, and life is always 
 wise and always just. We may be deceived and betrayed, 
 it may even seem that our lives have been wrecked com- 
 pletely, yet if we can truly say with a clear conscience that 
 it was undeserved, we are happier by far than those who 
 brought misfortune upon us. The only sorrow for which 
 there is no consolation is the sorrow we have brought upon 
 ourselves. 
 
 Gonzalo. She is perfectly right. Remember what she 
 says. Gracious ! It is time to dress. The guests will think 
 that they are attending a funeral. 
 
 María Antonia. No, it was foolish of me to complain. 
 I was very silly. I ought to be— and I intend to be— happy. 
 
 Gonzalo. I see no reason why not. [Goes out. 
 
 María Antonia. Why did you say anything to papa.? 
 I did not wish him to know. 
 
 Isabel. Am I closer to you than your own father.? 
 
 María Antonia. Certainly. You understand how I feel. 
 A man's point of view is entirely different. A love-affair 
 means so little in their lives, and they put so little heart in 
 it, that they imagine that it means even less to us. But they 
 are mistaken. I can understand how a great love, an irre- 
 sistible passion, might sweep everything before it, until the 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 237 
 
 pain, the anxiety, and the humiliation of the woman might 
 count as nothing and be forgotten — for this a man might 
 have some excuse; but when he does not hesitate to give a 
 woman pain merely to gratify a passing caprice, that is in- 
 excusable; it shows exactly what men think of us. 
 
 Isabel. Has Pepe?. . . . 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, he has; and his unfaithfulness is 
 more cowardly because it began at a time when of all others 
 I was most deserving of his respect, if not as his wife, as the 
 mother of his child. Who knows but that the horrible morti- 
 fication of his cowardly, cruel behavior, may not have been 
 the cause of our terrible sorrow ? And all for a low, vulgar 
 woman, who is the attraction which he finds in the theatre ! 
 
 Isabel. Oh ! So she is the one ? 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, and he thinks I suspect nothing. 
 His friend, Castrojeriz, wheedles his money out of him to 
 pay the expenses of his theatre. We shall be ruined and 
 become public laughing-stocks at one and the same time, 
 which I can never submit to, I promise you. I have not 
 your patient disposition. 
 
 Isabel. My patient disposition ? 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, poor Isabel ! You are like my own 
 dear mother, as good and as patient as she. Life has had 
 no secrets for me since I was a child. I was brought up 
 alone with my father, or rather without him, for I seldom 
 saw him at all. Nurses and servants did not hesitate to gos- 
 sip when I was present, nor spare me the details of what they 
 had heard. Aunt Rosario was the only person who really 
 cared for me, and her affection consisted chiefly of an im- 
 placable hatred of my father. She was my mother's sister, 
 so she could never forgive him. Her undying hate took no 
 thought of my innocence, she never considered the harm 
 which she did me by destroying my respect for my father, 
 
238 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 and the faith which I had in his love. She even carried her 
 resentment beyond the grave, and when she died she put 
 into my hands my mother's letters, which she made me prom- 
 ise never to open until I had married myself. 
 
 Isabel. What was in those letters ? 
 
 María Antonia. They were terrible beyond words. My 
 mother's life was torment and hell. When you see them, 
 you will understand why I cannot confide in my father. So 
 I open my heart to you, and cry my eyes out in bitterness 
 when I realize that I have thrown myself away upon a con- 
 temptible cur, who, like all men, is a deceiver. 
 
 Isabel. Not like all men. 
 
 María Antonia. Then let me believe that all men are like 
 him, because I should be even more unhappy than I am if I 
 thought that there was one who was not. 
 
 Isabel. Why ? Are you keeping something back ? 
 
 Are you trying to deceive me ? This bitterness seems more 
 like rebellion than regret, and I am frightened by it. I 
 know that you loved another man before you did Pepe, you 
 loved him with your whole soul .... It may be, as you say, 
 that life has never had any secrets from you since you were 
 a child, yet perhaps you have never understood why you 
 were obliged to give him up, perhaps you have never been 
 able to forget. . . . 
 
 María Antonia. No, I understood. How could 4 help 
 but understand ? I accepted your reasons without question. 
 It was not necessary for Enrique to go away in order to in- 
 duce me to forget him. 
 y- Isabel. If that is true, you are in love with another man ! 
 J He pursues, he torments you— and you struggle to defend 
 yourself. Who is he? No, you need not tell me— I know 
 who he is. His name has been too frequently upon your lips 
 for me not to guess where the danger lies. But you cannot 
 believe in his love ! You could not be so false to yourself, 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 239 
 
 although in the bitterness of disillusionment you may feel 
 that revenge is the only relief. You will not do it, because 
 you believe in your mother and you believe in me. You 
 have faith in us both — she is in heaven, and I am still here at 
 your side. If you have read your mother's letters, you 
 understand what my life is; we have both borne the same 
 sorrows. Yours cannot be greater, so do not let your resig- 
 nation be less Dry your eyes; here comes Laura. She 
 
 will see that we have been crying. 
 Laura enters. 
 
 Laura. My dear Isabel ! Maria Antonia. . . . 
 
 Isabel. How effective ! Your new gown is most striking. 
 
 Laura. Do you really like it.?* The taste of my maid. 
 I have not had a moment to look in the glass. This has been 
 a terrible day for me — seven hours spent in a coach, which 
 I paid for myself, all for the love of my fellow man. 
 
 Isabel. Are you still so active in benevolent work ? You 
 belong to all the charitable societies. 
 
 Laura. I am vice-president of two, secretary of three, and 
 treasurer of four, which goes without saying. The most diffi- 
 cult assignments invariably fall to me. "As you have no 
 
 family, Laura, no children to take care of" "As you 
 
 have nothing to occupy your time". . . . They forget that I 
 have children on all sides of me, while the whole world is my 
 family, and I feel responsible for them all. I console myself 
 as best I may for the misfortune — or the crime — of remain- 
 ing single. 
 
 Isabel. Gracious! In your case it has been neither a 
 misfortune nor a crime. One home and one family were not 
 enough for you; you have embraced a wider field. 
 
 Laura. A vulgar misapprehension. I keep house myself; 
 I am a model housekeeper. I need scarcely remind you of 
 the demands society makes upon my time. 
 
 Isabel. No, you go everywhere; I admire you for it. 
 
240 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 Laura. I am not narrow-minded like 
 
 María Antonia. Like us, you were going to say ? 
 
 Laura. No, like most women. From the woman's point 
 of view, home and family are of first importance, as is proper; 
 on the other hand, it is not well to be excessively domestic. 
 If I had married, I should have urged my husband on to 
 glorious exploits, instead of intimidating and holding him 
 back, as do most women, including yourselves. 
 
 María Antonia. Including us ? 
 
 Laura. Yes, including you. A man of your father's ability 
 and social position ought to amount to something; he should 
 have had his fill by this time of being cabinet minister, or 
 whatever it is that he would like most to be. Do you know 
 what has always been lacking in your father's life ? A woman. 
 
 María Antonia. We had had a different idea. 
 
 Laura. A woman who should be as unwomanly as possi- 
 ble. Exceptional men cannot be loved like ordinary men. 
 Love watches beside genius as beside a sick bed, in silence 
 and at a respectful distance, waiting until the patient calls, 
 and is satisfied. To pester such a man with attentions or 
 domestic trivialities is a crime, if you will pardon the sugges- 
 tion. When I came in, I scented at once domestic discord in 
 the air. You have both been crying. 
 
 María Antonia. No, indeed — although memory brings 
 tears to our eyes; we have no differences. 
 
 Laura. You need not tell me. Was it serious? Has he 
 had a letter.? Or did your husband go out and neglect to 
 tell you where he was going ? Perhaps he stayed out too 
 long. You have been quarrelling with your husband 
 
 María Antonia. In any event, my conscience will never 
 reproach me with ruining a genius, however much I may 
 quarrel with my husband. 
 
 Laura. I was not thinking of your husband. Pepe is a 
 
ACT! AUTUMNAL ROSES 241 
 
 nice boy, apt to learn; but that is all. Your father is an in- 
 telligent man; he has knowledge of the world, he has ad- 
 dress. . . . 
 
 Isabel. We realize it fully. All he lacks is inspiration, 
 which I have been unable to supply. 
 
 Laura. However, do not distress yourself. He has just 
 been offered the direction of the new company in Paris, which, 
 in fact, was his idea. It will control the world very shortly, 
 because of the nature of its business, dominating the banks 
 and consequently the politics and destinies of Europe; yet, 
 instead of encouraging him to accept, you are in a panic for 
 fear that, possibly, you may be obliged^to move, to leave Spain. 
 
 Isabel. Maria Antonia and I are not ambitious. We are 
 suiBciently well-to-do to be able to afford the luxury of 
 remaining here at home among our friends, and the associa- 
 tions which have always been ours. Gonzalo has accepted 
 the chairmanship for Madrid, and is entirely satisfied. 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, why go to Paris ? Do you wish us 
 to separate .i^ 
 
 Laura. Oh, go along. Your father might find Pepe em- 
 ployment in some confidential capacity. 
 
 María Antonia. My husband in Paris ? No, thank you. 
 His theatrical tastes have already been cultivated. 
 
 Laura. Theatrical tastes .f^ You surprise me. 
 
 Isabel. Maria Antonia is very silly. 
 
 Laura. How absurd ! I suppose you are jealous because 
 your husband has attended the theatre once or twice, and one 
 of your friends has had the bad taste to mention it. Ridicu- 
 lous! 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, I am ridiculous, I am jealous, and 
 I am a woman ! I should like to have my husband stay at 
 home alone by me, and be satisfied. I have not the skill to 
 make a Napoleon out of my husband, or a Bismarck, or any 
 
242 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 other genius now in fashion. When he goes out and stays 
 later than he should, it is no consolation to me to think that 
 he may be conquering new worlds or conducting experiments 
 in navigation. 
 
 Carmen, Luisa and Ramón enter. 
 
 Isabel. Carmen and her husband with Luisa. . . . Good 
 evening, my dear ! Luisita 
 
 Carmen. Do not tell us that we are late. Ramón insists 
 we are to blame. 
 
 Ramón. Obviously. A woman's toilette is inexhaustible; 
 it takes three hours for them to dress — to no purpose. Now 
 they are trying to persuade me to subscribe for seats at the 
 theatre. But what is the use.^^ If I wish to see a play or 
 hear an opera, I must leave them at home. We are lucky 
 to arrive in time for the second act if they go. Isn't it foolish 
 to spend a fortune not being on time ? 
 
 María Antonia. Luisita, you are adorable this evening, 
 
 Luisa. Naturally — you heard papa; I have been three 
 hours dressing. How he does love to exaggerate ! 
 
 Ramón. Where is Gonzalo ? 
 
 Isabel. He is almost ready. What do you hear from 
 Enrique ? 
 
 Ramón. Nothing; he never writes. I cannot understand 
 what is the matter with that boy. 
 
 Carmen. [Aside to Isabel] I am dreadfully worried; I must 
 tell you about it later, Isabel. I don't want to disturb 
 Ramón. You know what he is. 
 
 Laura. Were you on the Exchange this afternoon 7 
 
 Ramón. Yes, but there were no developments. It was un- 
 usually quiet. 
 
 Laura. I must consult you about a plan which I am 
 taking under consideration. It may be foolish 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 243 
 
 Ramón. No, Laura, you are a competent judge; you are 
 unquestionably capable of taking care of yourself. 
 
 Laura. Yes, I have acquired the habit, thanks to your 
 advice and friendly assistance. 
 
 Carmen. Your talent for business has always been aston- 
 ishing. The mere idea of business is appalling to me. If I 
 were a widow, I am sure I should not have courage to make 
 'any advances, or to speculate upon the Exchange. 
 <^---Xaura. I should have fared poorly had I shared your re- 
 
 kictance. What I had from my father was modesty itself, 
 
 which would have disappeared long ago had I displayed no 
 taste for affairs. Fortunately, I trusted my principal to Gon- 
 zalo and he has doubled my income with incredible rapidity, 
 
 Ramón. We hope to surprise you shortly now that the new 
 company has been organized. The scope of the business has 
 been broadened, and at the same time the foundations have 
 been made more secure. We shall no longer be dealing in 
 castles in the air. 
 
 Laura. So I trust, as does everybody. I am enchanted 
 with the prospect; it is entrancing. [To Isabel and Carmen] 
 I am amazed that you do not take any interest in business. 
 
 Ramón. Yes, discuss business with a woman! My wife 
 has preserved some notion of economy in the management 
 of the house, as she knows what it means to begin, but 
 Luisita, who was bom in days of plenty, seems to believe 
 that the sky rains down money. If she had her way, we 
 should be ruined in less than two months. 
 
 Luisa. Do you wonder that I am not engaged? The young 
 men listen to papa, and then decline absolutely to make ad- 
 vances. 
 
 Ramón. Engaged ? Engaged ? Show me the young man 
 who has the hardihood to venture with one of these girls. 
 Naturally, a young man's position is none too brilliant; he 
 
244 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 is struggling to establish himself in his profession, or in busi- 
 ness, and as yet he has not had time to inherit. Encumber 
 yourself under these circumstances with a young lady who 
 is accustomed to shine, and to spend money without any idea 
 of what it costs to make it ! A few years ago marriage meant 
 a girl's first gown from the dressmaker, her first lingerie that 
 was not the plainest of the plain; it meant her first jewelry 
 that was of value and her introduction to society as well, 
 and this was true even if she belonged to the uppermost 
 classes; but now this is all changed. Marriage is a step down 
 for a girl, it is to restrict herself, to have a poorer house, a 
 worse table, inferior service; it is to ride in a hack or a trolley- 
 car, instead of her own carriage; it is to remodel a dress ten 
 times and a hat fourteen; it is to listen to her husband preach 
 that she is spending too much money, that it is impossible to 
 continue like this, and these things sound very differently 
 from a husband than they do from a father. If there should 
 be children, wives nowadays can only bring them up upon 
 money. What with nurses and governesses and doctors at 
 every turn, the infant does not have an opportunity to sneeze. 
 A fortune is squandered upon laces and batistes, so as to 
 accustom him to the refinements from the cradle, and I don't 
 know what else besides — yes, a French priest to teach him 
 to pray, because mothers cannot even do that nowadays. 
 Show me the young man who is willing to marry upon a 
 salary such as we pay men in Spain, and an income which we 
 are pleased to call modest. 
 
 Luisa. Father seems to think that money is the supreme 
 end of existence. 
 
 Laura. And he is perfectly right. Money cannot make 
 us happy, but it is the only compensation that we have for 
 not being so. 
 
 Gonzalo enters. 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 245 
 
 ^~-N^ Gonzalo. My dear Laura, I am delighted How are 
 
 ^^u, Carmen? And Luisita Hello, Ramón. Anything 
 
 new? Are we making progress? 
 
 Ramón. Excellent. 
 
 Laura. I am angry with you, because you have proved 
 yourself an ingrate. 
 
 Gonzalo. Ah, doubtless because I neglected to answer 
 your last letter! You must not sell at the present figure 
 under any circumstances. I should have placed myself at 
 your disposition at once should you have done so. 
 
 Laura. Remember, I have blind faith in you. 
 
 Gonzalo. I fear that you are unduly confiding; I am not 
 infallible. 
 
 Laura. I should gladly face ruin, following you. 
 
 Gonzalo. I should not feel any less guilty, even though 
 you were following me. 
 
 Luisa. [Aside to María Antonia] Laura is mad over your 
 father, but at least her attitude is perfectly open. How 
 does Isabel tolerate it? 
 
 María Antonia. Oh, she is harmless ! It is a platonic 
 attachment, upon the Exchange. Laura breathes fire and 
 passion into such prosaic questions as: "How is the foreign 
 loan ? " " Was it strong at the close ? " ** Quote me prices on 
 redemption bonds.'* Fancy Romeo and Juliet discussing 
 quotations upon the Bourse at the window, instead of de- 
 bating whether it is the lark or nightingale which sings ! 
 
 Luisa. What difference does it make? It would be a ^ 
 love scene just the same. No words are too prosaic to ex- / 
 press what love means. *"" 
 
 Josefina and Adolphe enter, 
 
 María Antonia. [To Luisa] The young couple from Paris 
 — on private view. 
 
246 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 Adolphe. Ladies and gentiemen [To Isabel] Ah, 
 
 madamel 
 
 Isabel. How do you do, Josefina? 
 
 Gonzalo. Allow me to present our friends. Ramón, this 
 is Adolphe Barona, our correspondent's son. 
 
 Ramón. Yes, yes indeed. His father is a great friend of 
 mine. Great man, Barona ! 
 
 Gonzalo. His wife. — ^Introduce your wife and daughter. 
 
 Ramón. My wife, my daughter. Although we have not 
 had the pleasure before, we may consider ourselves old 
 friends. Your father is like a brother to Gonzalo and my- 
 self. We entered business together when we were boys. 
 
 Adolphe. I believe you did. Papa talks about you in- 
 cessantly. Apparently you had rare sport in your day; you 
 were up to — what is it.'' — tricks. 
 
 Ramón. Tricks.^ 
 
 Adolphe. Yes, de hetises, I mean you made damn 
 
 fools of yourselves. 
 
 Ramón. You don't say so. 
 
 Gonzalo. Although he speaks Spanish perfectly, without 
 trace of foreign accent, as he has lived in Paris all his life 
 he is unfamiliar at times with the precise meaning of words. 
 
 Adolphe. I always speak Spanish at home with papa; 
 but the habit of thinking in French makes me commit — 
 how shall I say? I cannot help it — une gdffe^ Josefina, une 
 gaffe 
 
 Josefina. You break badly. Is that what you say? 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, that is what you say. [Aside to 
 Luisa] Say and do. 
 
 Gonzalo. Josefina speaks charmingly, like an unadulter- 
 ated Madrileña. 
 
 Josefina. Oh, please don't accuse me of anything quite 
 so shocking, or your expectations may be forfeited. 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 247 
 
 María Antonia. Evidently Spanish has no secrets for her. 
 
 Gonzalo. She is pure joy. Are you becoming more recon- 
 ciled to Madrid.'^ 
 
 Ramón. Don't you like it here? 
 
 Josefina. Yes, it seems rather pleasant. We have made 
 our formal calls and found everybody poUte and agreeable. 
 
 Adolphe. Ah, very ! But what wretched houses ! There 
 is an utter lack of comfort, of taste—although yours is an 
 exception. 
 
 Isabel. You must not say that. 
 
 Adolphe. Ah, yes, indeed ! It displays taste, a delicate, 
 feminine touch, which is artistic, harmonious. Where was 
 it that we saw a salon empire with paintings Louis quinze ? 
 
 Horrible! They were how do you say, Josefina? Vn 
 
 melange f 
 
 Josefina. Upside down. Am I right? 
 
 María Antonia. You are. {Aside to Luisa] With whom 
 has this girl been talking Spanish in Paris ? 
 
 Adolphe. Such bad taste quite takes my nerve away. I 
 find the toilettes of the ladies a trifle criardes, 
 
 María Antonia. Crude and loud. 
 
 Adolphe. Exactly — howling. What lady was it who re- 
 ceived us in a blue tea-gown and a burst of gigantic yellow 
 bows ? I yearned to rip it off her. 
 
 Josefina. Adolphe's temperament is so artistic. 
 
 Adolphe. Life would be sad without art. The toilette is 
 half the woman. Surprising a rare toilette may in itself be 
 a poem. 
 
 Luisa. [Aside to María Antonia] Which is the madanw 
 in this Parisian couple? 
 
 Ramón. [Aside to Gonzalo] Is this the boy you wish to 
 put at the head of our Madrid office? 
 
 Gonzalo. I see no reason why not. He is highly in tell i- 
 
248 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 gent, as you will soon be convinced. He talks like this to 
 please the ladies. 
 
 Ramón. In that case he is more of a fool than I thought. 
 He shows absolutely no knowledge of women. 
 
 Gonzalo. How should he? — after having been in busi- 
 ness all his life under the eye of his father. The position re- 
 quires no intelligence. 
 
 Ramón. It is one of great responsibility. When we al- 
 ready have Jiménez 
 
 Gonzalo. Jiménez is satisfied with the post which he 
 occupies. How can we refuse Barona what he asks for his 
 son? 
 
 Ramón. Asks for him? He asks nothing. He wrote me 
 that his son was coming to Madrid on a pleasure-trip, on 
 his honeymoon. 
 
 Gonzalo. Well, the boy told me that his father's purpose 
 in sending him was to obtain this position. It seems that he 
 had contracted relations in Paris before his marriage with a 
 woman of certain character, and it is not wise at present for 
 him to reside there. His wife insists upon a change. 
 
 Ramón. Is that so ? His wife — and yours, I suppose ? I 
 understand perfectly. The moment that she entered I saw 
 that you were interested. 
 
 Gonzalo. Absurd ! I have no idea what you mean. Do 
 
 you suppose that I would dare With a girl who has just 
 
 been married ? The wife of a son of my friend ? 
 
 Ramón. Yes, yes, that makes a great difference to you. 
 
 Gonzalo. Eh? 
 
 Ramón. I believe my wife is the only woman you have 
 ever respected, and that is not because I trust you; I trust 
 her. 
 
 Gonzalo. Don't be a fool. To-morrow we shall present 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 249 
 
 his name at the meeting of the Junta together. A word will 
 suffice. 
 
 Laura. [To Adolphe] What is the opinion of Panama 
 shares in France ? I bought a number at a most flattering 
 figure. Everybody agrees that I am long now on futures. 
 
 Adolphe. They are a dormant security — but with the 
 water let in it, Panama will be a second Suez. [Noticing 
 Laura's earrings] May I examine those pearls? They are 
 exquisite. I have seen few of such clear lustre, and I am 
 familiar with pearls. Par excellence» the pearl is the feminine 
 jewel. 
 
 Laura. I inherited these from my Aunt Leonor, who 
 left me the few jewels I possess. I regard it as wasteful to 
 lock up money in jewels, where it is no longer liquid. They 
 cost a fortune to buy, but when one comes to sell... . . 
 
 Josefina. I see that your disposition, like mine, is severely 
 practical. My husband is quite the opposite. He has the 
 soul of an artist; he spends all his money on things which 
 are useless. 
 
 María Antonia. Yet he has devoted his life to business, 
 among men of affairs. 
 
 Adolphe. That is the reason I detest them so thoroughly. 
 Ah ! What is life without poetry, without an ideal ? 
 
 Josefina. We exchanged roles, as you see, when we married. 
 
 María Antonia. [To Luisa] We were confused for a 
 moment ourselves. 
 
 Josefina. Life slips by Adolphe like a beautiful dream. 
 
 Gonzalo. He is making a tremendous mistake. 
 
 Josefina. Do you think so ? 
 
 Gonzalo. If he dreams, he must be asleep — not a proper 
 attitude in a young husband. 
 
 Josefina. Shocking ! But meii are never serious in Spain. 
 Do you know, I am beginning to have my doubts about you ? 
 
250 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 Gonzalo. About me ? 
 
 Josefina. Yes, I distrust your word. Have you urged 
 Adolphe's appointment upon the directors, as you promised ? 
 
 Gonzalo. We were discussing it now. You may consider 
 it assured. 
 t Josefina. Time will tell. I should be sorry to quarrel, but 
 if you plan to take advantage of me 
 
 Gonzalo. Ha, ha ! 
 
 Josefina. Are you laughing? I warn you: you will be 
 obliged to win your spurs in advance. . . . 
 
 Gonzalo. I was laughing at the turn of your speech. 
 
 Josefina. Was it improper .^^ 
 
 Gonzalo. It was inviting. 
 
 Josefina. But it is not safe to laugh at me. I find you 
 are a deceiver who perverts the moral sense. 
 
 Gonzalo. Adorable! You are adorable! What more 
 could be wished "i 
 
 Mabía Antonia. Oh, how shamelessly brazen ! She flirts 
 with papa just as if this were a country which permitted 
 divorce. And I must say her husband takes it calmly. Ap- 
 parently he is explaining to Laura and Luisa the hang of a 
 skirt .... How revolting ! 
 
 Ramón. Isabel, I wish you would speak to your husband. 
 He insists upon appointing this boy to a position of grave 
 responsibility. I suppose he told you that he was recom- 
 mended by his father? His father knows well enough by 
 this time that the boy is a fool. He married him in a hurry 
 to this girl, whose family and antecedents will not bear in- 
 spection, and packed him off to Madrid to settle down, but 
 not in a position of such importance. Use yoiu* influence 
 with Gonzalo. 
 
 Isabel. I? Carmen knows me better. I should not 
 dream of advising him, much less of opposing his wishes. 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES g51 
 
 He might be never so sincerely affectionate, yet I should not 
 believe one word that he said. To effect more than promises 
 of reform, to be forgotten with the week, I should be obliged 
 to do more than talk. 
 
 Ramón. Yes, but what do you do, Isabel ? 
 
 Isabel. I? Resign myself — ^and wait. 
 
 Ramón. Poor Isabel ! 
 
 A Servant enters, — : 
 
 Servant. A letter for the señorita. 
 
 [Offering it to María Antonia. 
 
 María Antonia. If there is an answer. ... 
 
 Servant. The messenger did not wait. 
 
 María Antonia. Very well. [The Servant retires] From 
 Pepe. There is no need to read it; he is not coming, of course 
 .... I knew it, I expected it. 
 
 Isabel. No, read it 
 
 María Antonia. What is the use ? You read it. Does 
 he excuse himself? 
 
 Isabel. Substantially. His friends refuse to let him 
 come. The reading is important. . . . 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, yes, no doubt. Pass the letter 
 around. 
 
 Luisa. Isn't your husband coming ? 
 
 María Antonia. Here, take it and read it to your fiance 
 when you have one. It will serve him as a model after you 
 are married. All men are alike. 
 
 Luisa. No, that is not true; I don't believe it. If you had 
 only married Enrique 
 
 María Antonia. Hush ! Don't talk to me about En- 
 rique, if you love me. Please ! It hurts. 
 
 Luisa. My poor brother is so sad when he writes. 
 
 María Antonia. Sad ? Yes, we are all sad. God for- 
 give those wretched creatures who, for a moment's pleasure. 
 
252- • AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 a caprice, for gratification of the sort in which my husband 
 is now engaged, are willing to wreck the happiness of their 
 dear ones for all the rest of their lives ! 
 
 Luisa. I have not the faintest idea what you are talking 
 about. 
 
 María Antonia. Oh, nothing ! I am not talking. 
 Manuel enters. 
 . Manuel. Good evening. Am I punctual? Ah, Isa- 
 bel, you don't say so. . . . 
 
 Isabel. For once you are, and I appreciate it. We have 
 guests this evening. 
 
 Manuel. So I see. Present me. 
 
 Isabel. Don Manuel Arenales, M. Adolphe Barona .... 
 His wife. 
 
 Manuel. A great pleasure, a very great pleasure ! 
 
 Gonzalo. At last you have met an unadulterated Ma- 
 drileño. He is just up and beginning the day. 
 
 Manuel. Have you any objection.^ Time is purely ar- 
 bitrary. There is no reason why the day should begin with 
 the sun. I am more gallant; I concede the privilege to the 
 moon. I render homage to the eternally feminine. 
 
 Laura. I have often been astonished to see you up early 
 in the morning as I hurried to a lecture or a charitable 
 affair. 
 
 Manuel. Were you making your rounds so early ? Well, 
 I was returning from mine. One may easily judge who had 
 the better start of the day. 
 
 Laura. Silence ! I despise you. You are a reproach to 
 the state of bachelorhood. Of what use are you in the world .? 
 
 Manuel. A question, perhaps, that others might ask. To 
 permit you to send me tickets every Monday and Tuesday 
 for your benefits, and subscription-blanks for every manner 
 of good works, to all of which I contribute most gladly, my 
 
ACT I AUTUMNAL ROSES 253 
 
 dear Laura, and believe me when I tell you that this is no 
 joke. 
 ., " Laura. True. Through this tiny door, perhaps, we may 
 succeed in saving your soul, and you find indulgence for your 
 multitudinous sins. 
 
 Manuel. So Pepe is not dining with us this evening ? 
 
 María Antonia. Why ? Did you see him ? 
 
 Manuel. Yes, a moment ago 
 
 María Antonia. Where ? 
 
 Manuel. In the Calle de Alcalá. 
 
 María Antonia. Oh ! With some friends ? 
 
 Manuel. No, he was alone. 
 
 María Antonia. Alone? Why, his note said. . . . 
 
 Manuel. What did his note say ? 
 
 María Antonia. Nothing. — ^Alone ! Did you hear that ? 
 He was alone ! 
 
 Gonzalo. Be careful! Never see a married man any- 
 where unless his wife is along. 
 
 Manuel. Careful.? Because I said I met him alone on 
 the street ? Did you expect me to tell her that I saw him 
 running up-stairs at the Restaurant Fornos with a party of 
 friends — his friends, your friends, and mine ? 
 
 Gonzalo. Not mine, no ! Do me that favor. 
 
 Manuel. At least I suppose they were friends of yours. 
 What woman is not your friend? 
 The Servant enters. 
 
 Servant. Dinner is served. 
 
 Adolphe. Le dernier cri this season runs the gamut of 
 yellows: sulphur, lemon, orange, apricot — one may even 
 wear yolk of an egg. . . . 
 
 Ramón. This fellow's conversation is limited to diet and 
 clothes. 
 
254 AUTUMNAL ROSES act i 
 
 María Antonia. To diet, it seems, as applied strictly to 
 clothes. 
 
 Isabel. [To Gonzalo] Gonzalo, I have placed the bride 
 by you. Undoubtedly, she will introduce the question of her 
 husband's appointment. 
 
 Gonzalo. Do we have to go into that? 
 
 Isabel. Ramón is against it. He will oppose it at the 
 meeting of the Junta. 
 
 Gonzalo. I thought that you were up to something. 
 
 Isabel. I? I simply wish to prevent you from making 
 a mistake; I am thinking about you, do you hear.'* — about 
 you. What do I care? It is only another one, and I am 
 used to it. However, do as you please — as you will. 
 
 Curtain 
 
 i 
 
THE SECOND ACT 
 
 The scene is the same as in the First Act. 
 
 Isabel, Carmen and Ramón are discovered together^ while 
 
 the voices of the other characters are heard oiUside. A 
 
 piano plays meanwhile. 
 
 Ramón. I have dine^ well, Isabel; I have dmed extremely 
 well. 
 
 Isabel. It is a great pleasure to me. 
 
 Carmen. Who is playing now? That cannot be Luisita. 
 
 Isabel. No, it is the groom. He plays excellently, with 
 rare feeling. 
 
 Ramón. Is that how you knew that it was not Luisita ? 
 
 Carmen. I marvel at that young man. His wife ought to 
 be very happy. 
 
 Ramón. Well, she does not look happy to me. 
 
 Isabel. Why? Ridiculous! 
 
 Ramón. Isabel, I am a blunt man. I have been able to 
 swallow everything at this dinner except that couple. They 
 stick in my throat. 
 
 Carmen. Perfectly disgusting! I hope you don't mind 
 what he says. 
 
 Isabel. Antipathies, like sympathies, are instinctive. 
 
 Ramón. It seems incredible that that boy should be 
 Barona's son — ^Barona, a man of affairs, a forceful, ener- 
 getic character! To be sure he always complained of his 
 wife, because she brought up his children badly. What 
 sort of woman has this fellow married? Isabel, I am a 
 blunt man 
 
 Carmen. Ramón ! Be careful ! 
 255 
 
^56 AUTUMNAL ROSES act n 
 
 Ramón. Of what? We are as much at home as if this 
 were our own family. Isabel is — what shall I say? — she is 
 like a sister to me; I have sisters and brothers of whom I 
 am not nearly so fond. And I am fond of Gonzalo, too. We 
 have been in business together since we were boys; he has 
 always been good to me. No doubt he has his faults, but 
 what of it ? Who has not ? They do not interfere with me, 
 so why should I complain? I must say, though, Isabel, 
 that when Gonzalo knows what he does know about this 
 young woman who has married herself to our correspondent's 
 son, yes, to the son of our friend — and I know it, too — well, 
 he has no right to introduce her into your house. 
 
 Carmen. Ramón ! Ramón ! 
 
 Ramón. I know what I am talking about. 
 
 Isabel. Do you suppose Gonzalo knows? 
 
 Ramón. Of course he does. This girl's mother is an im- 
 pudent hussy, a Spaniard who ran off to Paris with a com- 
 mercial traveller. The daughter went on the stage there — 
 the stage, did I say? It was in a café concert. You can 
 guess what she was. Then the mother and daughter set 
 their caps for this fool. Here they are now posing as ladies 
 u^der your protection and sitting beside our daughters; 
 you ought not to consent to it — it is a thing Gonzalo has no 
 right to do. That boy will never have that position if my 
 vote counts for anything. I am very fond of you, Isabel, I 
 do not need to tell you that; and I shall always take your 
 part, whatever happens — always. 
 
 Isabel. Thank you, Ramón, thank you very much .... 
 She rises and moves slowly toward the door, parsing into 
 the room where the others are talking. 
 
 Carmen. I hope she has not forgotten that this is just 
 after dinner. Otherwise, what will she think ? Why do you 
 bother poor Isabel ? 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES 25^ 
 
 Ramón. I suppose I said what I did because I have had 
 too much champagne? 
 
 Carmen. No, of course not. But I am sorry for poor Isa- 
 bel 
 
 ^>J8,AMÓN. So am I. I am out of patience with Gonzalo; 
 t£at is why I cannot hold my tongue. Nobody expects a 
 married man to be as ideally faithful as his wife, but he 
 ought to stray only occasionally, when it is of no importance. 
 This notion of never being without a love-affair on his hands 
 when he has a wife like Isabel. . . . How have you the 
 effrontery to complain of me? Compare us, now compare 
 us ... . 
 
 Carmen. I ? Complain of you ? Never ! 
 
 Ramón. Yes, you do. Women's imaginations are too ac- 
 tive; you are too much given to romance. Did you notice 
 Isabel's martyred air? Well, she enjoys it; she likes to feel 
 her husband is that way. All this talk about love-affairs, 
 about women who have lost their heads over him, this never 
 being certain whether he is hers or whether he is not, makes 
 him important in her eyes and surrounds him with a poetic i 
 halo. Isabel is more in love with her husband every day, í 
 you can take it from me, which she would never be after ') 
 having been married all these years if Gonzalo were a hus- | 
 band like I am — without accidents, or anything that is ro- / 
 mantic. Come, now, be honest: have you ever appreciated » 
 my incredible fidelity in the least? You think it is not 
 virtue, but lack of ability to make myself attractive. Yes, 
 you do. You do not love me as Isabel loves Gonzalo. I am 
 a simple bourgeois, all prose, who is good enough to work 
 and to strike balances, and provide for the future of my 
 children. Why, if some day some hussy should come along 
 and turn my head — which God forbid — yes, if it were for no 
 more than half an hour — I should feel all the while that I 
 
¿58 AUTUMNAL ROSES act n 
 
 was robbing you and the children, and I could never forgive 
 myself, even though you might forgive me. 
 
 Carmen. Yes, there are things which we can never forgive 
 ourselves. But don't hurt Isabel. Surely she must have 
 noticed that woman coquetting with her husband, when 
 everybody else has noticed it. 
 
 Ramón. Coquetting ? Coquetting ? Well, I call it cocot- 
 ting, and precious little pretense about it either. That is the 
 only. term that describes it. 
 
 Carmen. Isabel again ! Change the subject. 
 
 Isabel and Manuel enter. Carmen and Ramón 
 converse together at one side, and presently disappear 
 into the salon in which the others are supposed to he. 
 
 Isabel. [To Manuel] I must say that you are unob- 
 servant. I have been pulling at your sleeve for the past 
 half -hour, as a signal for you to follow me; but you were 
 oblivious. I wish to speak with you. 
 
 Manuel. Didn't you see Maria Antonia pulling me by 
 the other sleeve as a signal for me not to follow ? She also 
 wishes to speak with me. 
 
 Isabel. When it is a question between mother and 
 daughter, although the heart may incline to youth, courtesy 
 must sacrifice itself to age. 
 
 Manuel. In this case, courtesy and the heart were of one 
 accord, but Maria Antonia has a grip which is terrific. How- 
 ever, I remain in my part. 
 
 Isabel. In your part? What is your part.?* 
 
 Manuel. Don't you know, my friend? That of uni- 
 versal confidant, of everybody's friend, or rather the friend 
 of everybody's friend. I am like a telephone central; people 
 call me up in order to establish a connection. It is not a 
 glorious role, as you must confess. 
 
 Isabel. But how necessary ! 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES 259 
 
 Manuel. Cervantes said something of the sort concerning 
 an occupation very similar to mine; he said that it was neces- 
 sary in any well-ordered republic. 
 
 Isabel. I am not asking now for a connection; on the con- 
 trary, I wish to discontinue service. 
 
 Manuel. What did I tell you? In any event, mine is 
 an intermediary role. 
 
 Isabel. Is Federico Reinosa, the author, one of your 
 friends ? 
 
 Manuel. Do you mean the dreamer? 
 
 Isabel. Infinitely more dangerous! Authors who write 
 their dreams exhaust themselves in the process, but dreamers 
 who never write but attempt to live out their dreams, neither 
 rest nor give others any rest. Life to them is a blank page 
 which they are at liberty to dash off at their pleasure. 
 
 Manuel. Apparently you know Federico 
 
 Isabel. Yes, he is madly in love with Maria Antonia. 
 I am told that you enjoy his confidence 
 
 Manuel. I merely offer him advice. 
 
 Isabel. Good advice ? 
 
 Manuel. Naturally, as I am fond of Maria Antonia. I 
 know the value of example and bringing-up, and Maria 
 Antonia has never had anything but bringing-up, and ex- 
 amples of virtue in her mother and in you. 
 
 Isabel. When virtue has always been touched with 
 sadness in a girl's experience, is it likely that at twenty she 
 will resign herself to a life of suffering, unless her love is so 
 impassioned, so blind, that it is able to transform even sorrow 
 into something more precious than joy ? 
 
 Manuel. True, Maria Antonia was not violently in love 
 when she married. But Pepe is a nice boy. He may make a 
 slip now and then 
 
 Isabel. Slip? Maria Antonia is wearing her heart out 
 
Í260 AUTUMNAL ROSES achí 
 
 because of his slips. I live in terror of slips, so I wish to 
 prevent Maria Antonia from making any. She has the 
 greatest confidence in you; besides, you are Federico's friend. 
 Tell me honestly what you know. Does he speak much of 
 Maria Antonia? 
 
 Manuel. Incessantly; yes, indeed! He is in love with 
 her madly. 
 
 Isabel. But does he. . . . 
 
 Manuel. What are you asking me ? I merely offer him 
 good advice, which I do very easily by repeating for his 
 benefit the precepts which I have urged so frequently upon 
 myself. 
 
 Isabel. I remember — in that great passion of your life, 
 to which you remain faithful even yet. Then by your love 
 for Maria Antonia's mother, which was all admiration and 
 all respect, help me to protect her daughter, the daughter 
 of the woman you so dearly loved ! 
 
 Manuel. And always did respect. 
 
 Isabel. So the memory of her love has become the re- 
 ligion of your life. Would you have had it otherwise.? I 
 trust you entirely. I fear for Maria Antonia, it is useless to 
 conceal it; there is something in her attitude which makes 
 me apprehensive of the worst. Be fair with me, and warn me 
 when there is danger. I love Maria Antonia as if she were 
 my own child. 
 
 Manuel. I am sure of it, but why worry ? Federico has 
 no reason to suspect my interest in this affair. He trusts 
 me implicitly. 
 
 Isabel. Thanks, my friend, my good and loyal friend. 
 
 Manuel. The friend of everybody — always the friend. 
 The world lives around me; men love, quarrel, suffer — and 
 then they tell me about it. And so I live. 
 
 Isabel. In the memory of a great love, which at least is 
 something. 
 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES 261 
 
 Manuel. Only it was not love. It was merely a great 
 friendship. 
 
 María Antonia enters. 
 
 María Antonia. Are you whispering secrets ? 
 
 Isabel. Why are you running away.í^ What are they do- 
 ing in the other room.?' 
 
 María Antonia. Who cares? It does not interest me. 
 Manuel, you forgot to finish that story; I foimd it ex- 
 tremely amusing. 
 
 Isabel. What story ? 
 
 María Antonia. Oh, an account of some pranks of 
 Federico Reinosa's — eccentricities of an artist. 
 
 Isabel. Does he still visit your house frequently? 
 
 María Antonia. No, he and Pepe had a falling out — 
 some difference about art. They both became excited, and, 
 needless to say, when Pepe becomes excited, he forgets him- 
 self completely. 
 
 Isabel. Was Pepe the only one who forgot himself? 
 
 María Antonia. Federico is a perfect gentleman, who 
 would be incapable of acting discourteously, as Manuel 
 knows. [To Isabel] Naturally, you have seen very little of 
 him. 
 
 Isabel. Although I have heard him talked about a great 
 deal. 
 
 María Antonia. Is that so ? By whom ? 
 
 Isabel. By you. I have hinted it several times, but 
 
 it has escaped your attention. It may not have escaped 
 
 .^everybody's. 
 
 ^^XMaría Antonia. It certainly has Pepe's. Pepe is an 
 
 ^ Othello when it is a question of one of his stage princesses, 
 
 but when his wife is concerned, he is no better than any other 
 
 husband. In his eyes I am so insignificant that he never 
 
 bothers his head about me. If anybody were to tell him that 
 
262 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ii 
 
 a man had fallen in love with me, he would simply know 
 that it was impossible. 
 
 Manuel. Don't you exaggerate ? Now, really ! 
 **% María Antonia. Oh, yes, yes, yes, I do ! Of course any 
 affection, any decent treatment even, is offensive to me ! I 
 am happy, exquisitely happy. You must have noticed how 
 vivacious and communicative I have been all evening. 
 
 Manuel. Yes, I did at once. I said to Isabel: "What is 
 the matter with Maria Antonia ? She seems so happy." 
 
 María Antonia. Blissfully happy ! 
 
 Isabel. A nervous sort of happiness — the pretended 
 happiness with which, when we are not thinking of others 
 in the first moments of a great sorrow, we attempt to deceive 
 ourselves. It is a peculiarity of great sorrows; they strike 
 so deep, so very deep into the heart that they seem to be 
 buried in it, and we are horrified that we do not feel them; 
 but the deception does not last long. They are graven there 
 -^ for the remainder of our lives. We shed tears in the begin- 
 ning, we complain, we rage — then we resign ourselves and 
 bear them with a smile, a sad and mournful smile, like a 
 gaping wound which never heals. 
 
 María Antonia. Isabel has had experience both of wounds 
 and of smiles. 
 
 Laughter outside. 
 
 Manuel. They appear to be enjoying themselves. 
 
 María Antonia. Another hit of papa's ! He is in rare 
 form this evening. Look at him, surrounded by all the ladies 
 in rapt adoration, from Carmen, who would have been a 
 model wife had papa not crossed her path, to calculating 
 Laura, who you would swear was completely monetized, 
 and the bride, who may be a fool, although she has been 
 married only two months— yes, and Luisa, even, bursting 
 forth in her first evening-gown, there they all sit in ecstasy 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES 263 
 
 before the eternal Don Juan. It is a picture too good to be 
 missed. I tell Isabel that it is symbolic. Whatever happens 
 to papa with the ladies is not entirely his fault. 
 
 Manuel. No, take my word for it. Inspiring love is a 
 gift; you must have it in you. The most fascinating men are 
 the ones who are the most indifferent. Don Juan says: 
 
 "One day to enamour, 
 * Two days to achieve." 
 
 which, by the way, sounds wholly fantastic to me. One*s 
 name must be Tenorio to attain such success. Don Luis's 
 conquests cost him double, while Avellaneda and Captain 
 Centellas — but why pursue the matter further .?• Judging 
 by appearances they never inspired love in their lives, which 
 explains why they spent all their time betting upon their 
 friends. I have always had a great deal of sympathy for 
 those two characters. 
 
 Carmen, Laura, Josefina, Luisa, Gonzalo, Ramón 
 and Adolphe enter. 
 
 Laura. We are in full flight before your husband. He has 
 scandalized us outrageously. 
 
 María Antonia. While you fly, you still manage to keep 
 up with him. 
 
 Laura. He will scarcely repeat his sallies before you. 
 What a remarkable man ! Honestly, if it is put properly, I 
 * believe one may say anything. 
 
 María Antonia. Even if it is put improperly, if the 
 speaker appears properly, one may listen to everything. 
 
 Josefina. It is his air as he says it. I should never have 
 believed that I could have laughed so much at thosethdnjs^ 
 
 María Antonia. [To Maííuel] She is of the sort whoare 
 accustomed to giggle. 
 
 Adolphe. Josefina, is the occasion propitious for my 
 
264 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ii 
 
 imitations of Parisian actresses, or a monologue, perhaps, or 
 petite fantasie? 
 
 Josefina. No, these people are all respectable. Make 
 an impression on the hostess; it may do us some good. 
 Compliment her upon her toilette. 
 
 Adolphe. I have exhausted my stock of compliments. 
 
 Josefina. Then see what you can do with Don Ramón, 
 since he is a friend of your father's. I must say that he does 
 not look it; he is not overenthusiastic. When I asked him 
 to use his influence, you should have heard what he said to 
 me! 
 
 Adolphe. Helas I Ma petite femmei Our illusions fade 
 rapidly. 
 
 Josefina. And don't talk so much. I know what I am 
 doing, and I shall get what I want — you can leave it to me. 
 
 Adolphe. Of course I can leave it to you. I leave every- 
 thing to you. [They continiie the conversation. 
 
 Gonzalo. [To Cabmen] Do me the favor to persuade 
 Ramón to support this young man for the position. The 
 future of a loving couple is at stake. It is in our power to 
 contribute to their happiness, and you who are so good 
 
 Carmen. Please, Gonzalo ! I have no idea whether or not 
 you are in earnest, but you must not involve me in your 
 affairs, whether in jest or in earnest. I can only tell you 
 that you are doing wrong, you are doing very wrong, Gonzalo 
 — and you always have done wrong. 
 
 Gonzalo. Will you never forgive me? 
 
 Carmen. I have forgiven you, but I can never forgive 
 myself. In spite of my feelings, I am obliged to receive you 
 as a friend because we are not alone in the world. When 
 you married Isabel, I confessed to her, so that I might feel 
 myself a little less unworthy of her friendship. I had not of- 
 fended against her, yet she might have closed her house to 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES 205 
 
 me, and have justified herself by explaining the reason, or 
 otherwise, I should have been placed in a position where I 
 should not have been able to explain it. But she forgave 
 me — at least she took pity on me. Now to ask me to repay 
 Isabel with a suggestion even of treachery, which she does 
 not deserve of any one, much less of you or of me 
 
 Gonzalo. Who is talking about treachery? — unless you 
 ^ have become so friendly with Isabel that your mind, too, has 
 ' I been poisoned, and you are jealous yourself. 
 
 Carmen. Oh, no doubt you believe it! And I cannot 
 blame you. Why should my repentance be more genuine 
 to-day than my virtue was yesterday? 
 
 Gonzalo. I did not wish to give offense. 
 
 Carmen. No, you could not be so cruel. I have not yet 
 wept sufficiently to be able to control myself in public ex- 
 cept at great cost. 
 
 Adolphe. [To Luisa] I shall send for the waltzes and 
 whatever else you desire. 
 
 Luisa. I warn you that you will be throwing your money 
 away, as I play atrociously. 
 
 Adolphe. Yes, through lack of practice. You have abil- 
 ity — oh, you have! You have the equipment of a great 
 pianist — ^you have the fingers, the heart, and you have 
 sympathy for the music. What you need is to learn to play. 
 IVIusic is a tonic to the soul. When one is unhappy, there is 
 nothing like music. I should never have survived my en- 
 gagement to Josefina if it had not been for music. Love 
 went wrong with us from the beginning; it fell out badly. 
 Señorita, we were so romantic ! Our families were Capulets 
 and Montagues, while we were Romeo and Juliet. At one 
 time we thought that we should both die, and be buried 
 togetlier like them in the same tomb. 
 
 Luisa. Not really? You must have been very happy! 
 
f 
 
 266 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ii 
 
 Adolphe. Have you never been in love, señorita? 
 
 Luisa. No, never. Father frightens my suitors away, as 
 you will discover presently. He examines them about their 
 incomes and, of course, the most interesting men never have 
 any incomes. On the other hand, a man who has money and 
 wants to get married is a fool entirely. 
 
 Gonzalo. \To Isabel a?iá María Antonia] Shall we 
 step out to the theatre? What do you say? We might 
 take a look at that play which has made such a hit. It will 
 amuse Josefina and Adolphe because it is so typically Spanish. 
 They sing and dance jotas and tangos. 
 
 Adolphe. Oh, yes, indeed ! Spanish music and dancing 
 interest me immensely. We are Spanish at heart. When I 
 go to a hal masqué in Paris, I am a torero. 
 
 Manuel. A toreador ? 
 
 Adolphe. Ah, but you should see my costume! It is 
 beautiful, authentic, rose velvet, with green and gold 'pail- 
 lettes. The Figaro is embroidered with carnations, and I top 
 it off with a round hat with a red cockade, muzzling myself 
 meanwhile in my great Spanish cloak. I stick a broadsword 
 in my belt to finish the bull. 
 
 María Antonia. [To Josefina] What do you do? 
 
 Josefina. Oh, I am Carmen ! 
 
 María Antonia. With a knife in your garter ? 
 
 Josefina. No, it would not be seen; I wear it in my hair 
 to feature my coiffvre. I fasten the open blade between the 
 teeth of two combs. It is inscribed: "To your heart!" 
 
 Ramón. Oh, you devil ! 
 
 Adolphe. Yes, that was on it, too, at least that was what 
 papa said: "Oh, you devil!" Probably he wrote you the 
 details. 
 
 Ramón. Yes, when we had no business that was more 
 pressing to attend to. 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES 267 
 
 Gonzalo. Well, are we ready for the theatre? [To Isa- 
 bel] I am sorry you are not coming. 
 
 Isabel. No, I am^obliged to refuse. 
 
 María Antonia. [Aside to Isabel] Yes, you are obliged 
 to refuse, but you are not obliged to say so. 
 
 Isabel. [To Josefina] You must excuse me, as I cannot 
 leave our guests. 
 
 Gonzalo. [To Ramón] Perhaps you would like to come 
 along ? 
 
 Ramón. No, I must drop in at the club. The ladies will 
 remain with Isabel; I shall dismiss the carriage immediately. 
 
 Laura. I, too, must tear myself away, as I rise early. 
 To-morrow is my busiest day. 
 
 Manuel. Is it? Let me have your itinerary, as I may 
 catch a glimpse of you when you get up. 
 
 Laura. Do you expect to rise early? 
 
 IManuel. I expect not to go to bed. 
 
 Laura. Most unlikely. I shall stop firsl at the bank, 
 where I have some drafts to indorse. 
 
 Manuel. Do not look for me at the bank. It would seem 
 unveracious. 
 
 Laura. I attend a conference next and then fly to the 
 soup-kitchen. 
 
 Manuel. We may meet at the soup-kitchen one of these 
 days. 
 
 Laura. Next ah! I forgot to take San Antonio his 
 
 share of the lottery. I purchased a ticket and we won — or 
 rather, it was the tenth part of a ticket. 
 
 Manuel. Have you been playing the lottery? 
 
 Laura. The prize was merely nominal — thirty pesetas. 
 
 Ramón. How much are you allowing the saint? 
 
 Laura. Two pesetas, poor dear ! He is charity itself. 
 
 Ramón. Did you let him m when you sold that last block 
 
«¿68 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ii 
 
 of stock ? If you did, he must have come off with a pretty 
 penny. 
 
 Laura. It is not right to joke about such things. 
 
 Ramón. What? Stocks.'' 
 
 Laura. No, saints. 
 
 Ramón. My dear, you are the one who is making a joke 
 out of saints. 
 
 Gonzalo. Well, we shall be late. . . . 
 
 Ramón. [Saying farewell] Isabel, remember — you may 
 count upon me. 
 
 Adolphe. Ladies, good evening. The pleasure of seeing 
 you is so great that we hope to abuse frequently. 
 
 Josefina. You will conclude that we are pests before we 
 
 go. 
 
 María Antonia. Do not put it too strongly. 
 
 Adolphe. [To Carmen and Luisa] Señora, señorita. . . . 
 
 delighted, delighted [To Laura] I shall send you the 
 
 fashion-plates. [To Luisita] And you shall have waltzes and 
 the latest designs. 
 
 Gonzalo. Good evening. Carmen and Luisita. Good 
 night, Isabel .... 
 
 Laura. [To Isabel] We shall not see each other, I fear, 
 for a long, long time — at least, do not count upon me for 
 the iemainder of the week. Manuel, are you staying behind ? 
 
 Manuel. For a few moments. 
 
 After exchanging farewells, Laura, Josefina, Gonzalo, 
 Ramón and Adolphe pass out. 
 
 Manuel. Shall we wait to gossip until they reach the 
 door ? 
 
 Isabel. I forbid it. Positively, I detest gossip. 
 
 María Antonia. Do you know, the bride and groom 
 rather appeal to me ? They come, of course, bent upon the 
 conquest of Madrid, but when they retire they may consider 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES 2G9 
 
 they are lucky to get oif themselves. I know what these 
 young couples are. 
 A silence. 
 
 Manuel. It seems very quiet. 
 
 Luisa. An angel has passed. 
 
 María Antonia. Or a devil. Which ? When every ^pne 
 is silent it is usually because every one is thinking the same 
 thing, and it is unnecessary to speak in order to understand 
 each other. 
 
 Carmen. Possibly. 
 
 María Antonia. Then good night. 
 
 Isabel. Aren't you going to wait for Pepe ? He is surely 
 coming; his letter said so. 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, and meanwhile I can sit here and 
 wait. God knows when he will put in appearance. If he 
 does come, and does not find me here, there will not be any 
 regrets. 
 
 Isabel. Sit down for a moment. He will surely come. 
 
 María Antonia. No, no, I am going — if only for that 
 reason. Besides, I am nervous; I do not feel well. I have an 
 idea — why should I hide it from you ? — and when I have an 
 idea, until I put it into execution 
 
 Isabel. But Maria Antonia ! What is it ? You alarm me ! 
 
 María Antonia. You will find out soon enough. Good 
 night for the present. Good night. Carmen and Luisita. 
 
 Isabel. Manuel will see you home. 
 
 María Antonia. Why should he? It is not necessary. 
 He seems happy and comfortable. 
 
 Manuel. Not at all ! I am going with you. Good eve- 
 ning, ladies. Luisita. . . . Isabel. . . . 
 
 Isabel. I depend upon you. 
 
 Manuel. Trust me entirely. 
 
h 
 
 270 AUTUMNAL ROSES actii 
 
 Carmen. Good night, Maria Antonia. Rest quietly and 
 calm your nerves. I do hate to see you uncomfortable. 
 
 María Antonia. Of course. Good night, everybody. 
 Good night Are you coming along? 
 
 Manuel. Gladly. 
 They go out. 
 
 Carmen. Poor Maria Antonia ! The first disillusionments 
 of married life. 
 
 Isabel. They are the saddest, the most cruel; we have both 
 passed through the experience. Luisita listens horrified .... 
 you must not mind us, my dear. However clear the warning 
 of our experience may be, you are too young to abandon a 
 single illusion, or avoid in the future so much as one of the 
 disenchantments of life. Nobody can leam through the ex- 
 perience of another. We sat at our mother's feet and lis- 
 tened, precisely as you do at ours, and our mothers listened 
 to their mothers, yet we have all confided our hearts to a 
 man with the same love, the same faith, and the same il- 
 lusions as they. Life would be even sadder than it is if we 
 were to realize upon its threshold, that we do no more in 
 living than reincarnate the sorrows of those who have passed 
 before us through life. 
 
 Luisa. Maria Antonia ought never to have married Pepe. 
 To be happy, a girl must marry only when she is very much 
 in love. I shall never marry in any other way. I must 
 marry a man whom I love with my whole soul, and who loves 
 me with his; then what reason can there be why we should not 
 be happy .i^ Maria Antonia would have been very happy if 
 she had married Enrique. I am sorry for my poor brother; 
 it was foolish of them both. I have never yet been able to 
 understand why they drifted apart. I suppose the fault was 
 Enrique's — some slight of his, perhaps, or a mistake, which 
 Maria Antonia was unwilling to forgive. 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES 271 
 
 Carmen. Don*t say that, my dear. You do not know 
 how terribly it makes me feel. 
 
 Isabel. What have you heard from Enrique? Does he 
 write frequently ? 
 
 Luisa. His letters are very sad. Father was dreadfully 
 severe when he went away. He is severe with us all; he 
 imagines that we do not love him sufficiently. 
 
 Carmen. Ramón is extremely kind, but he feels that 
 he best expresses his affection by working incessantly to 
 makei^us rich. When he turns impatiently from the caresses 
 of his children because he is absorbed in business cares, he 
 expects them to appreciate his ill-humor, and to thank him 
 for it, since it is an evidence of additional thousands which 
 he is earning for them. 
 
 Luisa. He cannot understand that love takes no interest 
 in account-books. 
 
 Carmen. There came a time when they grew hateful, too, 
 to me; but then, after the bitterness of many sorrows, I have 
 learned that if true affection exists anywhere, it is only in the 
 prose of life, and we must reconcile ourselves to finding it 
 there, amid aridness and vulgarity, unless we are prepared 
 to mourn all our lives an irreparable loss. 
 
 Isabel. All men are egotists; they are forever indifferent 
 
 to the emotions which we feel. Luisita is still horrified 
 
 She will dream of unhappy marriages to-night, as children 
 have nightmares when they listen to ghost-stories or hear 
 tales of robbers before going to bed. No, pay no attention 
 to what we say; it does not interest you. These are old 
 
 wives' tales Ah! Pepe has kept his word and Maria 
 
 Antonia did not wait. . . . 
 Pepe enters. 
 
 Pepe. Good evening. Carmen. Luisita — ^how stunning! 
 Where is Maria Antonia? 
 
272 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ii 
 
 Isabel. She was afraid you were not coming. She was 
 tired, and did not wait. 
 
 Pepe. Is that so ? Well, was she in a horrible humor all 
 evening .'* 
 
 Isabel. She was nervous. How was the reading ? Inter- 
 esting ? 
 
 Pepe. No, it was not. What are you trying to insinuate ? 
 I went to obligfe a friend, as a matter of duty, although I 
 could never convince Maria Antonia. 
 
 Isabel. Men are not always easy to convince either — 
 not that I excuse Maria Antonia, but it might prove illumi- 
 nating, perhaps, if we could have a little talk. I feel like a 
 mother-in-law to-night for the first time in my life, without, I 
 suppose, any title to the part. 
 
 Pepe. Shall we postpone it till another evening.? I must 
 hurry home if I am to receive credit for being early. Maria 
 Antonia 
 
 Isabel. Just a moment. The lecture will not be a long 
 one. 
 
 Carmen. Has the carriage returned? 
 
 Isabel. Do not go upon our account; make yourselves 
 thoroughly at home. Besides, it is no secret. I shall not 
 speak less plainly because you are present, and Pepe will 
 not listen with any less patience. 
 
 Carmen. No, we feel at liberty to go because we know 
 you so well. Let the reproof be less public, but make it a 
 thousand times more severe. 
 
 Isabel rings, and a Servant enters. 
 
 Isabel. Has the carriage returned for the ladies ? 
 
 Servant. Yes, señora, a moment ago. ^ 
 
 Carmen. Adios, then, Isabel and Pepe. Remember, 
 whatever Isabel tells you will be for your own good. 
 
 Pepe. Surely. I only wish Maria Antonia were like her. 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES 273 
 
 Carmen. Yes, I wish we were all like her. But think 
 what it has cost her to become what she is ! 
 
 Luisa. Good night, Isabel. 
 
 Isabel. Adios, my dear. Forgive us for clouding the 
 heaven of your dreams, but this has been a foggy day. 
 Carmen and Luisa go out. 
 
 Pepe. What did Maria Antonia say.? Did she tell you 
 anything about me.'* How does she excuse her behavior? 
 
 Isabel. She had nothing to say; she has no particular ex- 
 cuse. She is uneasy, apprehensive of something which only 
 you can explain. We have all noticed it; naturally, your wife 
 was the first. . . . 
 
 Pepe. You are wholly mistaken. There is absolutely not 
 one word of truth in it. 
 
 Isabel. Nonsense, Pepe! Do not try to deceive me. It 
 may mean much or little in your life, and doubtless you judge 
 the importance which your wife and others should attach to 
 it, by the light in which it appears to you; but do not pretend 
 that it is nothing, that for some months your attitude has 
 not changed completely. All men are bad actors. It is one- 
 of their best qualities. Your vanity plays havoc with your 
 judgment and with your self-interest. The humblest woman 
 in the world might fall in love with a king, and no one, as far 
 as she was concerned, be the wiser; but woe betide the luck- 
 less queen who falls in love with an ordinary man ! He would 
 make it his business to proclaim it from the housetops, al- 
 though life itself were forfeit in the process. 
 
 Pepe. If that is your opinion of men 
 
 Isabel. Seriously, Pepe, if love never sacrifices itself, 
 how is it to be distinguished from indifference .'' A man has 
 a thousand opportunities to engage in adventures without 
 design upon his part, into which his heart does not enter at 
 all; nevertheless, he is tormenting the woman who has con- 
 
274 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ii 
 
 fided her heart to him with all its illusions, for the rest of 
 her day^. Men are always so sure of themselves. When you 
 embark upon an affair, you fancy you know beforehand ex- 
 actly how far you will go, and you expect us to be as certain 
 of it as yourselves. But it is never possible to answer for the 
 heart, and it is dangerous to trifle with it, whether it be one's 
 own, or belong to another. It is diflicult to resign oneself, 
 as I have learned by experience. Perhaps, even, resignation 
 is not a virtue; it may be no more than temperament. There 
 are persons who never resign themselves, who protest, who 
 fight — ^and I have told you already that it is not safe to 
 trifle with the heart; it is dangerous. 
 
 Pepe. But how shall I convince you ? Who invented this 
 story? 
 
 Isabel. Poor Pepe ! Do you really believe that you can 
 deceive me? What are your shifts and devices beside those 
 of my Don Juan, whom I have always with me ? Merely by 
 looking in his face, I read his innermost soul. 
 
 Pepe. But all men are not the same. I begin to suspect 
 that you are the one who has been tampering with Maria 
 Antonia. 
 
 Isabel. If you are foolish enough to believe that, I shall 
 never speak to you again. I am interested in your happi- 
 ness — ^I wished to warn you in time. Now you may thank 
 me for it. . . . But never mind. Some one is coming. . . . 
 Maria Antonia ! 
 ^ María Antonia enters. 
 
 Pepe. María Antonia ! What are you doing ? 
 
 Isabel. What is the matter? 
 
 María Antonia. As I had no intention of encountering 
 him at home, perhaps it is fortunate that I have happened 
 upon him here. Didn't you expect me ? I told you that I 
 had an idea, and that I would not rest until I had put it into 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES £75 
 
 execution. Well, here they are. . . . [Throwing a number of 
 letters and photographs upon the table] Do you see them? 
 Now you know what it was; there is no need for me to tell 
 you. 
 
 Pepe. María Antonia ! 
 
 Isabel. What have you done? 
 
 Mabía Antonia. Now deny it ! Say that it is a case of 
 nerves, that I am a spoiled child ! Tell me I am impossible, 
 that I never give you any peace ! What more peace do you 
 want? You seem to have been enjoying yourself. Here, 
 
 look at them ! Letters, pictures Lovely, are they not? 
 
 Fascinating ! 
 
 Pepe. Are you crazy? I demand that Isabel read these 
 letters. Let her decide whether there is any warrant for this 
 jealous scene, which you have trumped up out of some ri- 
 diculous play. Letters, are they? Yes, interesting letters, 
 such as anybody might write — to anybody, to a friend; 
 letters from actors, pictures of actresses — because there is 
 more than one. They are not all from the same person. 
 
 María Antonia. So I see. And they are not all written 
 in the same tone either. 
 
 Pepe. Do you suppose that I attach any importance to 
 these contemptible souvenirs ? I should have shown them to 
 you before, if I had not been certain that you would put ex- 
 actly this interpretation upon them when I did so. 
 
 María Antonia. If I had never seen them, either before 
 or now, then I should never have put any interpretation 
 upon them. Do you mean to tell me that there is noth- 
 ing in those letters ? I am likely to believe it. Here, take 
 any one of them. What does it say? "As I told you yes- 
 terday " How about this? "Of course, you under- 
 stand '* Another: " Remember %hat we said '* Ev- 
 ery one presupposes an interview. Why waste your time 
 
276 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ii 
 
 saying anything when it is as plain as day that everything 
 has been said already ? No, there is nothing in them, there 
 is not one glimmer of sense ! 
 
 Isabel. Are you perfectly sure? 
 
 Pepe. Probably that explains why I concealed them so 
 carefully, where it was easy for you to lay your hands on 
 them as soon as you descended to breaking open my fur- 
 niture, with the help of the servants, no doubt, as further 
 evidence of your delicacy and good taste. 
 
 María Antonia. At least I still retain womanliness enough 
 to respect myself, and I shall not soon forget how to do so. 
 I am quite equal to discovering what I have a right to know, 
 in whatever way may suit my convenience. 
 
 Pepe. If you had any regard for the truth when you had 
 discovered it. I should be deligtdted. Instead, all you do is to 
 distort it, and invent lies, which have no existence outside of 
 your own imagination. 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, I have been dreaming. None of 
 this is true; it is all imagination, a fit of nerves. Well, I have 
 decided to cure myself. I have come here to forget — to find 
 peace, repose ! 
 
 Pepe. Yes, and you have lost no time either in rushing 
 back to stage the spectacle. I wonder what your father will 
 say ? What will Isabel think ? What will the world think ? 
 
 María Antonia. All you need worry about is what I 
 think. I did not come here to make a scene — on the con- 
 trary, I came to avoid one, to remain in my own home in 
 peace, as if we had never seen each other, as if nothing had 
 ever happened between us, as if all this were a bad dream ! 
 Do you understand me? 
 
 Isabel. Maria Antonia ! 
 
 Pepe. What are you talking about? Do you suppose 
 that I will consent to this? 
 
ACTn AUTUMNAL ROSES 277 
 
 María Antonia. We shall see. 
 
 Pepe. We certainly shall see. Have you so little pride 
 that you are willing to make us both ridiculous, not only be- 
 fore your parents, but publicly ? When it comes to suspicion, 
 I might have suspected myself that when one of my most 
 intimate friends made advances to my wife, it was because 
 her conduct justified his insolence, 
 
 MarU Antonia. Do you hear him ? He insults me ! 
 
 Isabel. Pepe, stop ! What are you trying to do ? 
 
 Pepe. No, I did not believe it, I could not believe it. I 
 contrived a pretext and our friendship cooled, so that no- 
 body might suspect. You cannot say that I seemed to notice 
 it, or that I insulted you with suspicions, as you contmually 
 insult me. 
 
 María Antonia. This is too much ! Our cases are not 
 similar. 
 
 Pepe. I am not so sure. It is not a question of motives, 
 it is a question of common decency. 
 
 María Antonia. Have you the impudence to insinu- 
 ate Oh, how insulting! How insulting! He dares to 
 
 pretend that he might have had a suspicion of me. And you 
 said nothing, I suppose, out of delicacy, out of fineness of 
 feeling ? Well, your delicacy is a measure of your affection, 
 because I am not able to remain silent. I have less regard 
 for decency than you have. 
 
 Isabel. Listen to me, Maria Antonia 
 
 María Antonia. This is the end ! Let him go; I have 
 
 finished I shall remain here, in my own home, with my 
 
 father, and with you — yes, with you, my mother. For you 
 are my mother! 
 
 Isabel. Reflect ! Consider— if not for my sake, for your 
 mother's sake ! You cannot do it ! 
 
278 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ii 
 
 Pepe. No, argument is useless. This was all prearranged; 
 she has been waiting for a favorable opportunity to stage 
 the scene. 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, it is all my fault ! It is my nerves, 
 my nerves ! 
 
 Isabel. Silence! Your father Whatever you do, 
 
 keep it from him. Don't let him know Pepe ! María 
 
 Antonia, I implore you. . . . Go before he sees you, unless 
 you can control yourselves. 
 
 Pepe. I can conceal my feelings. 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, so can I. I shall learn for once 
 how to pretend — but it will not be for long. 
 
 Pepe. Very well. We shall take it up with your parents 
 in the morning, when we can discuss matters more calmly. 
 
 Isabel. Yes, to-morrow, let us wait imtil morning. . . . 
 Dry your eyes, if you love me. 
 Gonzalo enters, 
 
 Gonzalo. Hello! Are you still here? 
 
 Pepe. Yes, we were just going. It was so late that we 
 thought that perhaps we might see you. 
 
 Gonzalo. I stepped out to the theatre for a moment with 
 our young friends from Paris. Well, how was the reading ? 
 
 Pepe. Pshaw ! What can a man tell by a reading ? 
 
 María Antonia. Good-by, Isabel. Good night, papa. 
 
 Gonzalo. Have the clouds passed away ? 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, all is over. 
 
 Gonzalo. Have you been crying? Tears of forgiveness 
 are sweet 
 
 María Antonia. As tears of repentance. 
 
 Pepe. Do you leave early in the morning ? 
 
 Gonzalo. No. Why do you ask ? 
 
 Pepe. I may drop in to see you. — Will you tell him, Isabel ? 
 
 Isabel. I don't know; I cannot think Be sensible. 
 
ACT II AUTUMNAL ROSES 279 
 
 ^ ^ Pepe. . . . Control yourself, Maria Antonia. I shall come to 
 - you the very first thing in the morning. 
 Pepe and María Antonia go oid. 
 
 Gonzalo. Another scene, eh ? 
 
 Isabel. No, we spent a quiet evening. How did you like 
 the play ? Did our guests enjoy themselves .'' 
 
 Gonzalo. Vastly. The music is charming — most agree- 
 able. She was delighted; they danced a tango. 
 
 Isabel. Josefina must have attracted a great deal of at- 
 tention. She is beautiful, and exceedingly well-dressed. 
 
 Gonzalo. I noticed everybody staring at our box. Natu- 
 rally, when a new face appears in Madrid 
 
 Isabel. Especially if the face is thoroughly worth while. 
 
 Gonzalo. Is there a light in the study? I have some 
 letters to write before going to bed; I must be up early, 
 
 Isabel. Please don't write to-night. 
 
 Gonzalo. I shall not have time in the morning. That re- 
 minds me: I told Pepe I should not leave early; but I must. 
 
 Isabel. Why? 
 
 Gonzalo. A conference with Ramón before the meeting 
 of the Junta. 
 
 Isabel. Oh, yes ! To persuade him to favor the nomina- 
 tion ? 
 
 Gonzalo. And other business. I must finish those let- 
 ters. [He passes into the study, 
 
 Isabel, Oh ! By the way 
 
 Gonzalo. [Outside] What is it? 
 
 Isabel. Nothing. [Isabel rings and a Servant enters] 
 Ask Lucila to come to my room; I shall retire immediately. 
 [Gonzalo begins to sing in the study] You seem to be happy. 
 
 Gonzalo. I was not thinking. That music runs in my 
 head. 
 
280 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ii 
 
 Isabel. Oh, horrible! Too horrible! It cannot be 
 
 possible 
 
 Gonzalo. I have always had a bad ear. 
 
 [He continues to sing, 
 
 Isabel. But how how can you be happy? 
 
 Gonzalo. Are you sorry to see me happy ? 
 
 Isabel. No, no No doubt you have reason to be 
 
 happy. 
 
 A pause, Isabel bursts into tears, Gonzalo suddenly 
 appears in the doorway. Isabel endeavors to con- 
 trol herself, as she sees him. 
 
 Gonzalo. Isabel, I have something to tell you 
 
 Isabel. What is it? What do you wish? 
 
 Gonzalo. But what is the matter? Why are you crying? 
 For you are crying. What is the matter? 
 
 Isabel. Nothing, oh, nothing. I did not mean to trouble 
 you, but Maria Antonia is very unhappy. She is jealous. 
 Pepe 
 
 Gonzalo. Nonsense! Utter foolishness! Who pays any 
 attention to such things? Nerves in a spoiled child. 
 
 Isabel. Perhaps. . . .you don't know. . . . 
 
 Gonzalo. And at present I do not care to be told either. 
 I have important letters to write, I have no time to waste 
 upon trifles. Moreover, I am happy, and I do not intend to 
 get myself into bad humor. 
 
 Isabel. You are right — if you can be happy. 
 
 Gonzalo. But what is the matter ? Why must we always 
 have these scenes ? I shall finish these letters, and then you 
 can tell me whatever you like. Good-by, for the present. 
 
 [He disappears into the study. 
 
 Isabel. [At the door] Good night ! 
 
 Curtain 
 
THE THIRD ACT 
 
 The same scene. 
 
 Isabel, Cabmen, Laura, and Luisa surround Gonzalo. 
 
 Isabel. Protests are useless, as you cannot go out. Do 
 help me convince him. 
 
 Laura. Positively, you must not leave the house. 
 
 Carmen. It is folly to think of it. 
 
 Gonzalo. But I am perfectly well. The carriage ¡s 
 closed; besides, I am wrapped up majestically. 
 
 Isabel. Why should you go out? 
 
 Gonzalo. I must stop at the office. 
 
 Isabel. Why ? Ramón says it is wholly unnecessary. 
 
 Carmen. Ramón will keep you fully informed. Isn't he 
 coming to-day? He comes every day. 
 
 Gonzalo. Yes, but it is an imposition. He has more than 
 he can attend to already. 
 
 Laura. Come, come, don't be disagreeable. You are 
 worse than a spoiled child. I believe he is not himself yet; 
 he looks very badly. 
 
 Isabel. Doesn't he? He is weak; he cannot eat. 
 
 Laura. And yet you insist upon going out? Take off 
 that coat at once, hand me your hat, and have done with it ! 
 What you need is peace and quiet at home in the house. If 
 you give us any more trouble, we shall put you to bed by 
 main force. 
 
 Gonzalo. Very well. I surrender. 
 
 Laura. The weather to-day is terrible. I ventured out 
 to visit my poor, when, suddenly, a gust came up, and I 
 was in danger of being wafted away. 
 
 281 
 
282 AUTUMNAL ROSES act iii 
 
 Isabel. The doctor says that he is in no condition to go 
 out. 
 
 Laura. Pneumonia lurks on the street-corners. It is 
 making a specialty this season of prominent people. 
 
 Gonzalo. If the best people are all dying But are 
 
 you sure that it is the modish disease.'* 
 
 Laura. I advise you not to take it too lightly. Is he 
 really unable to eat? 
 
 Isabel. He can swallow nothing — as yet he has strength 
 to resist. 
 
 Laura. It seems incredible. Here, take some nourish- 
 ment at once. What would you prefer ? 
 
 Gonzalo. But my dear Laura 
 
 Laura. We must feed him forcibly. {She rings and a Ser- 
 vant enters] Choose what you wish. 
 
 Isabel. No, the doctor has prescribed these pills first. He 
 insists that he cannot swallow them either. 
 
 Laura. What is that? Give me those pills. 
 
 Gonzalo. But my dear Laura 
 
 Laura. Open your mouth. How many does he take.? 
 
 Isabel. Two. 
 
 Laura. Better make it three for good measure. Come, 
 open your mouth. One, two 
 
 Gonzalo. I am choking. ... 
 
 Laura. Water! Water! 
 
 Luisa. Run quick ! A glass of water ! He is choking ! 
 
 Gonzalo. Gracious! Don*t be alarmed; I am better 
 
 now. . . , 
 
 Luisa. Wasn't it awful ? I was frightened to death. 
 
 Laura. Now the other one. 
 
 Gonzalo. No, one is sufficient. Thank you so much. 
 
 Laura. You cannot accuse us of neglecting you, whatever 
 happens. 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 283 
 
 Gonzalo. I appreciate it. 
 
 Laura. Remember that you do not deserve such atten- 
 tion. I wish you could have seen us on the first day of the 
 attack ! 
 
 Luisa. We could not have cried more if you had really 
 been dead. 
 
 Laura. And I do not believe we should have felt worse. 
 
 Gonzalo. You are extremely considerate. 
 
 Laura. I indulged myself in a vow, which I am ashamed 
 to tell, because I am sure you would laugh at me. 
 
 Luisa. I made a vow, too. 
 
 Isabel. Did you, Luisita ? What was your vow ? 
 
 Luisa. Not to go to the theatre for the rest of the month. 
 
 Carmen. But she never said one word to us about it. 
 Her father could not sleep last night because she refused an 
 invitation to go to the opera. 
 
 Laura. My vow was somewhat more ambitious. It was 
 to make peace with my sister-in-law, Vicenta, although it is 
 six years since we have spoken to each other. God knows 
 it is the greatest sacrifice I could think of, because the only 
 result of our making up will be that we shall be fighting 
 harder than ever within two or three days. 
 
 Gonzalo. But you must not do that upon my account. 
 Your poor sister-in-law did not make any vow. 
 
 Laura. Let her talk herself to death, if she wants to; she 
 is a shrew. My poor brother died of her by lingering de- 
 grees. 
 
 Carmen. [To Isabel] Are you more reassured now ? 
 
 Isabel. Yes^ the doctor feels that the attack was not 
 serious. 
 
 Laura. You should take him to a temperate climate to recu- 
 perate, such as Málaga or Nice. If you decide upon Nice, I 
 am planning to accompany you. I have never visited Nice, 
 
284 AUTUMNAL ROSES act iii 
 
 and the gay life of the Casino attracts me. Then there is 
 roulette at Monte Carlo, which I find alluring. 
 
 Isabel. But, Laura, you are not serious! You don't 
 really mean it .'* 
 
 Laura. I am utterly serious. I have every intention of 
 trying my luck. 
 
 Carmen. [To Isabel] Have you talked with Ramón ? 
 
 Isabel. No. Why do you ask? 
 
 Carmen. He has something to tell you. 
 
 Isabel. About 
 
 Carmen. Yes, they are leaving for Paris. 
 
 Isabel. Do you believe it is true.?* 
 
 Carmen. It was to be expected after the trouble. You 
 should be greatly relieved. It is the best possible solution. 
 That woman is dangerous. 
 
 Isabel. I am not satisfied as yet. ... I never saw Gon- 
 zalo so preoccupied; he was infatuated in sober earnest. 
 
 Carmen. I am sceptical myself. 
 ^ Laura. [T^o Gonzalo] Thestoryhas become common prop- 
 erty. You were head over heels in love, like a schoolboy. 
 What with strolls through the Moncloa and out to the Casa 
 de Campo, to say nothing of a fortune squandered in pres- 
 ents Why, my friends have done nothing but meet 
 
 you in the shops all winter, jewellers' shops, florists' and 
 confectioners' quite indifferently. Apparently her tastes 
 were expensive. To cap the climax, somebody surprised 
 you buying a tambourine with red tassels on it, and pictures 
 of bull-fighters painted all over it. 
 
 Gonzalo. How people do love to gossip ! There is nothing 
 unusual in my making purchases of that nature. Correspon- 
 dents abroad are continually sending me commissions, or I 
 have friends to oblige who live in foreign countries. Gen- 
 erally, they wish something distinctively Spanish, perhaps 
 for a gift, or else as a memento. 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 285 
 
 Laura. That might explain the tambourine, or even jus- 
 tify a pair of banderillas. But who orders jewels and flowers 
 from Madrid ? 
 
 Gonzalo. We entertain constantly. The daughter of a 
 business friend is married to-day, to-morrow the wife of an- 
 other arrives, and expects me to pay her attention. 
 
 Laura. In that case, my dear, your friends have been 
 marrying this season en rrmssey and you have returned every 
 species of favor. A few more winters like this, and you will 
 be ruined irreparably. 
 
 Gonzalo. What is this talk ? Seriously, I am interested 
 to hear. You meet all sorts of people; you pick up a great 
 deal of gossip. 
 
 Laura. For once all the different versions agree. The 
 debacle was tremendous. 
 
 Gonzalo. Idle chatter; preposterous. Anything else? 
 
 Laura. It seems that the husband, whom you had placed 
 with the company, presumed upon your influence to abuse 
 his subordinates. One of them, tired of his insolence, forgot 
 himself one day, and so the story came out, to the huge de- 
 light of the bystanders. At first a duel seemed inevitable. 
 You flew into the appropriate passion, she no doubt did the 
 same, but the husband remained unmoved, as the best he 
 could do was to resign his position, and he would not have 
 done that had it not been for the repeated, urgent msistence 
 of the stockholders, reinforced by your good friend Ramón. 
 Are there any corrections which you desire to make? Or is 
 the story complete as it stands? 
 
 Gonzalo. For once it does not depart very widely from 
 the truth. 
 
 Laura. But your poor wife. ... 
 
 Gonzalo. Suspects nothing. 
 
 Laura. Or you prefer to believe that she does not, in 
 which case one ground of remorse is eliminated. How like a 
 
286 AUTUMNAL ROSES act iii 
 
 man ! The world is cruel. I have never ceased to bless the 
 hour when I declined to marry. 
 
 Gonzalo. Was it only a question of an hour? 
 
 Cabmen. Come over and sit by us, Luisita. The poor 
 child wanders about the room like a lost soul .... 
 
 Luisa. Your conversation was not proper for me to 
 hear, so I moved over and joined the others, and their 
 conversation was not proper either. How old must a girl 
 be before it is proper for her to listen to what people say ? 
 
 Laura. When it ceases to interest her, because it is no 
 longer possible to tell her anything new. 
 Ramón enters. 
 
 Ramón. I observe that you are taking good care of the 
 patient. 
 
 Gonzalo. Care ? It is sequestration. They forbid me to 
 go out, although I should be at the oflSce. 
 
 Ramón. Not as yet. I brought you some letters 
 
 Pardon, Laura, I did not see you when I came in. Have 
 you received the announcement of the new loan? I sent it 
 immediately, at your request. 
 
 Laura. Thank you so much; I was curious to look it over. 
 
 Ramón. I had no idea that you would subscribe. [To 
 Isabel] What does the doctor say ? 
 
 Isabel. He may sit up, but he must not leave the house 
 in this weather. 
 
 Ramón. Clearly not. 
 
 CarmeNí Now that Ramón is here, we may say good-by 
 with a clear conscience; you have company. 
 
 Gonzalo. No, remain with Isabel. We shall retire to the 
 study. 
 
 Carmen. Isabel is coming with us. 
 
 Gonzalo. She is ? 
 
 Isabel. I must see Maria Antonia; I am becoming anx- 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 287 
 
 ious. Yesterday, she sent word that she was ill, and neither 
 she nor Pepe have been heard from to-day. Since Ramón 
 is with you 
 
 Gonzalo. Oh, yes! Go if you like. However, nothing 
 can be the matter, or we should have heard before this. 
 
 Laura. We withdraw, as you see, in a solid phalanx. I 
 predict a speedy recovery. 
 
 Gonzalo. Yes, instantaneous. Evidently my convales- 
 cence is not to proceed by half measures. 
 
 Laura. I hope not, only beware of a second attack. It 
 might prove dangerous. 
 
 Carmen. Good morning, Gonzalo. 
 
 Gonzalo. Adiós, Carmen; adiós, Luisita. 
 
 Isabel. Remember, you must not talk too much about 
 business nor anything that is serious. Whatever you do, 
 do not allow him to smoke. I shall return in a moment. 
 Isabel, Carmen, Laura and Luisita go out, 
 
 Ramón. Do you feel better now.? 
 
 Gonzalo. I am sick, tired, bored to death. What shall 
 I say? I am nervous. 
 
 Ramón. After the collapse. Everybody knows how that 
 girl has enjoyed herself at your expense, putting you 
 off with promises in exchange for substantial realities. A 
 fitting end to Don Juan, who lacked the grace to retire in 
 time! Fortunately, her departure in company with her 
 obliging husband will not long be delayed. 
 
 Gonzalo. Very well. You have forced his resignation, 
 you have left nothing undone to magnify the incident to 
 the utmost. I tender my resignation. I shall not concern 
 myself further with the company nor its affairs, under any 
 circumstances whatsoever. 
 
 Ramón. So you say. 
 
 Gonzalo. Do you expect me to submit to being made 
 
288 AUTUMNAL ROSES act m 
 
 publicly ridiculous by an insignificant whippersnapper of a 
 clerk, while you stand by and laugh, and have the bad taste 
 to applaud him? 
 
 Ramón. If your young protege had had the sense to 
 mind his own business, instead of meddling among his 
 betters with his impertinence 
 
 Gonzalo. Impertinence.'^ He merely insisted that they 
 should do their duty. He is accustomed to the discipline of 
 a Parisian office, where the employees are trained to obey 
 and to respect their superiors. Here, of course, with our 
 sidewalk democracy, one man is as good as another — we 
 are all gentlemen, hidalgos who work as a favor when some 
 one pats us on the back, or bribes us by a show of familiar- 
 ity between superior and inferior. That is our conception of 
 business. 
 
 Ramón. You say that because it suits your convenience. 
 Nobody is more affable than you are, nor treats people with 
 greater consideration in the true Spanish fashion, nor are 
 you less respected for it. That yoimg cub fancied he had 
 been ordained to initiate us in the ridiculous routine of the 
 French bureaucracy, where a subordinate no sooner finds 
 himself seated behind a desk or at an office- window, than he 
 imagines that he belongs to a special aristocracy, which is 
 superior to the rest of mankind. 
 
 Gonzalo. If anybody was dissatisfied, why didn't they 
 come to me? This is a conspiracy; somebody is behind it. 
 
 Ramón. I suppose I am? Is that it? 
 
 Gonzalo. And you are not the only one. You have been 
 influenced by your wife. 
 
 Ramón. By Carmen ? What do you mean ? 
 
 Gonzalo. No, not precisely by her either — by Isabel. 
 They are always together; they could not well be more 
 intimate. 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 289 
 
 Ramón. You talk like a fool. There never was any con- 
 spiracy. Isabel did not influence my wife, although, of course, 
 she knew all about it, nor did my wife influence me. Why 
 should we wish to make you the laughing-stock of the 
 office, not to say of all Madrid? 
 
 Gonzalo. You have been admirably successful, however. 
 And you have transformed my house into a dumb hell, 
 which is the worst kind of hell. 
 
 Ramón. Hell? 
 
 Gonzalo. Yes, and you know it. Isabel never opens her 
 mouth, but her air of martyred resignation is a perpetual 
 accusation, which I do not intend to tolerate. My nerves 
 are on edge; I am determined to have done with it. I 
 prefer to have her talk; let her get angry if she wants to. 
 Such exaggerated resignation is too much like indiflFerence 
 or contempt — it is downright selfishness. Whatever it is, it 
 is a poor indication of love. 
 
 Ramón. Either you misjudge Isabel, or you misjudge 
 yourself, when you imagine that she could have accomplished 
 by protest what she failed to accomplish by resignation. 
 When love absents itself and grows cold, how detain it in 
 its flight ? By threats, perhaps, by force ? By murder ,and 
 sudden death? When the bird leaves the cage, how recall 
 him as he flies ? Either you must shoot him, resolved that he 
 will be yours or belong to nobody, in which case you will 
 surely recover him, but you will recover him dead, or other- 
 wise, if you prefer him as he was, you have no recourse but 
 to wait — to wait until the cage shall seem sweeter in his eyes 
 than the liberty which he has enjoyed. 
 
 Gonzalo. I did not know that you were a poet. It is a 
 new side to your genius, unsuspected hitherto. 
 
 Ramón. We never learn to know each other fully. I am 
 not a poet, but I understand Isabel's heart better than you 
 
290 AUTUMNAL ROSES act iii 
 
 do. There was a time when I felt my Carmen's love grow 
 cold, as Isabel does yours. Her spirit was dreamy, am- 
 bitious, while our life was prosaic indeed. I am a man so 
 blind to idealities that it seems to me a crime not only to 
 dream, but to sleep, unless the provision for the morrow is 
 assured. My one thought was to work — for the sake of my 
 wife and my children, naturally; but work, which bound me 
 to them most closely, was, as it appeared, that which pushed 
 them farthest away. So I observed at first a certain wistful- 
 ness, an impatience in Carmen, then coldness and indiffer- 
 ence, then. . . .then. . . .how can I tell? If I had not been so 
 sure of her honor, I might even have believed that her heart 
 was no longer mine. I sought to impose myself, my com- 
 plaints became violent and loud; I turned to threats, but the 
 most that I could achieve was submission, respect, the out- 
 ward show of love — love still absented itself and grew cold. 
 So then, I waited; I waited, working on as before, with the 
 same purpose — my wife, my children, and with the same 
 love. I was hers, always hers ! Then, one day, as I sat over 
 my books and accounts, I felt two arms steal about my 
 neck, which hugged me tight, and another face pressed close 
 to mine, looming up over the accounts, and two tears fell 
 upon the page and blotted the figures out, and a voice said 
 to me, and a soul quivered in that voice: "Ramón, how 
 good you are! And how I love you!'* It was love which 
 had returned again, love at last had understood — who knows 
 after how many wanderings? For the poetry of our lives 
 to-day, which are barren of swords and lances and princesses 
 and troubadours and Moors, consists in simple duty done 
 and the tasks of every day, in prosaic labor, to which poetry 
 and glory are alike denied — ^few men, indeed, may aspire to 
 these, or rather we all may, because glory, to men who are 
 engaged in noble deeds, is love which comes from everywhere. 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 291 
 
 from afar off, but to those of us who toil in humble spheres, 
 
 to us to us love is our glory, the glory of the poor, 
 
 of the outcast. It is a glory which lies very near at hand, 
 and for that reason it strikes so quickly to the heart. 
 
 Gonzalo. But did you ever doubt that that glory would 
 be yours, that you were assured of Carmen's love and 
 the children's? 
 
 Ramón. I feared for them; but I never doubted for my- 
 self. So I waited — as Isabel is waiting now. That is why I 
 told you that you knew nothing of her heart, as you know 
 nothing of mine. 
 
 Gonzalo. You never spoke like this to me before. How 
 should I know? You are right; we never learn to know 
 each other fully, or if we do, it is too late. 
 A Sebvant enters. 
 
 Servant. Pardon, sir. [Offering a card] A gentleman to 
 see you. If you cannot receive him, he will wait, or he 
 will come back when you are ready, sir. He must see 
 you. 
 
 Gonzalo. [Offering the card to Ramón] "Adolphe Ba- 
 rona." I am not at home. 
 
 Servant. He knows that you are at home, sir. 
 
 Gonzalo. I cannot see him. 
 
 Ramón. It is only a question of time, if he is determined. 
 Better face the situation and learn what he wants — ^an ex- 
 planation, no doubt, sufficiently annoying and unpleasant. 
 Shall I receive him? 
 
 Gonzalo. No, but you might remain. If you do, the inter- 
 view will be less embarrassing and more brief. Show him in. 
 The Servant retires. Adolphe enters immediately. 
 
 Adolphe. Gentlemen! You have quite recovered, I 
 
 trust ? 
 
 Gonzalo. Thank you, in part. 
 
292 AUTUMNAL ROSES act iii 
 
 Adolphe. Don Ramón 
 
 Ramón. Sir! 
 
 Adolphe. Your wife is well, I trust ? 
 
 Gonzalo. Thank you, very. 
 
 Adolphe. [To Ramón] I trust your wife is well? 
 
 Ramón. Perfectly. 
 
 Adolphe. How is your charming daughter? 
 
 Ramón. Perfectly 
 
 Adolphe. [To Gonzalo] No doubt you expected a call. 
 I hesitated whether to write or to come myself, but Josefina 
 advised me to call. Writing is more delicate. When one 
 goes too far, it is easy to take it back if it is only talk, 
 but when it is written down, if you let yourself go, there you 
 are. Don't you think so? You know I have been insulted; 
 you know that I must kill some one. 
 
 Ramón. Heavens, man ! Kill some one ? 
 
 Adolphe. Yes, kill some one, and I should have done it 
 before, had I not cooled off and thought it over. I am not 
 the only one who has been insulted. My wife has been in- 
 sulted, France has been insulted. 
 
 Ramón. Gracious ! The question is assuming international 
 proportions. 
 
 Adolphe. Yes, somebody said, speaking of me, that I 
 was a typical French husband. 
 
 Ramón. Of course, you ignored it. Literature is prob- 
 ably responsible for the prevalent opinion of French hus- 
 bands. 
 
 Adolphe. Ah ! Suppose I had not cooled off and thought 
 it over ? 
 
 Gonzalo. Don't you exaggerate? I see nothing in all 
 this except ignorance of our character and our customs upon 
 your part, an excessive formalism, if you will^-severity; as 
 for those who insulted you, they merely displayed ill-breed- 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 293 
 
 ing and ¡11-temper. Now, when you attempt to magnify the 
 mcident 
 
 Adolphe. I understand it rather thoroughly; I have 
 talked it over with my wife. If we had been willing to sub- 
 mit to humiliation, of course this never would have hap- 
 pened. We should have had no difBculty whatever. 
 
 Ramón. What do you mean? 
 
 Adolphe. An influential person has been paying court to 
 my wife. I do not know who he is, I do not care to know 
 
 Ramón. [To Gonzalo] There you are 
 
 Adolphe. I cannot continue with dignity in my present 
 position. Nobody comes forward to indemnify me for my 
 loss of time, for the expenses of removing to Madrid, where I 
 had understood that my position was to be permanent. As 
 my wife says, I am ruined. I expected stable employment, 
 now we are obliged — how do you put it ? 
 
 Ramón. To saddle yourselves. 
 
 Adolphe. Exactly. It is a mistake. We came prepared, 
 but we have been defrauded. We find oiu-selves saddled with 
 an establishment. 
 
 Gonzalo. If you have suffered loss, or been inconvenienced 
 in any way 
 
 Ramón. I offered him the necessary relief, but he said 
 that his dignity had been offended. Was that what you 
 said? 
 
 Adolphe. Yes, but I was excited at the time. I have 
 cooled off and thought it over. Suppose I had not had any 
 dignity, I might have retained my position, I might have 
 been promoted and have made a great deal of money, like 
 other men without brains, who have never done anything, 
 and nobody can explain it either, except their wives; yet 
 they are the ones who gossip and criticise everybody. 
 
 Ramón. What is that? What are you talking about? 
 
294 AUTUMNAL ROSES act m 
 
 Adolphe. i know what I am talking about, because I 
 have heard other people talking, although you may not 
 
 Ramón. I certainly have not, but you are in a position 
 to inform me. You are not such a coward as to be afraid 
 to mention names. 
 
 Adolphe. I am not such a coward as to be intimidated 
 into mentioning them. 
 
 Ramón. Eh? 
 
 Gonzalo. [To Adolphe] As this is my house, you will 
 kindly address your remarks to me; I am the person you de- 
 sired to see. 
 
 Ramón. No, leave him to me 
 
 Gonzalo. Enough of this ! Obviously, your chief concern 
 is — what shall I say.?* — the practical question; at least you 
 convey that impression. As for these expenses you speak of, 
 this indemnization to which you consider yourself entitled, 
 and which I ought to provide — I take it that I am a person 
 who is thoroughly competent to estimate the expenses of your 
 establishment. 
 
 Adolphe. You are, as I take it; Josefina always con- 
 sulted you and your wife. I never know the cost of any- 
 thing. However, we shall be obliged — how shall I say it? — 
 to hold an auction, to ask for the highest bidder. So I am 
 giving you notice before posting the bills. If you are inter- 
 ested, we are making special prices to our friends. 
 
 Ramón, Thank you very much. 
 
 Gonzalo. Good ! You shall be reimbursed in full in the 
 morning; we understand each other. I am anxious that you 
 should carry away only pleasant memories of Madrid. 
 
 Adolphe. Yes, indeed! Poor Josefina is desolated at 
 the thought of quitting Madrid. Should she ever meet dis- 
 aster, she says we must look for her here. So if to-morrow 
 is convenient 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 295 
 
 Gonzalo. To-morrow then. Without fail. 
 
 Adolphe. I trust that we may often have the pleasure 
 
 Gonzalo. Assuredly. 
 
 Adolphe. I trust that you appreciate my delicacy in thiá 
 affair. 
 
 Gonzalo. It has been exquisite, my dear Alghonse— 
 pardon, Adolphe. ^ 
 
 Adolphe. Yes, Adolphe, if you please. Alphonse is a ^ 
 term applied to certain subjects in Paris. . . . ^-^^^-^^"^ ^^-^ 
 
 y Gonzalo. Acquit me of any intention. 
 '^v. Adolphe. I hope so. Adios, Don Ramón. 
 
 Ramón. Señor! 
 
 Adolphe. Don't call me that. Why so formal? I have 
 cooled off and thought it over. 
 
 Ramón. I thought it over before I was cold. Does that 
 satisfy you ? 
 
 Adolphe. Entirely. I retire, as my wife says, I take my 
 leave. Or, as you put it, I swallow it whole. Good luck, 
 gentlemen. [Goes out, 
 
 Ramón. If that boy were not his father's son 
 
 Gonzalo. What makes you think so? 
 
 RamÓj-í. He would never leave this house sound and 
 whole. Who says that he is a fool ? Precious angel ! Al- 
 though this was not his idea; it shows the hand of that 
 shameless hussy, his wife. 
 
 Gonzalo. She certainly has an appealing touch. 
 
 Ramón. Appealing? Very. But there was one thing 
 that he said 
 
 Gonzalo. I did not hear him say anything. 
 
 Ramón. There was one thing that he said which you did 
 not let him finish. You seemed to anticipate his demands,. 
 as if you were afraid that he might talk too much if you 
 
296 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ni 
 
 did not, but as soon as he was satisfied .... I am not with- 
 out means, however, of verifying his insinuations. 
 
 Gonzalo. I heard nothing which could have been intended 
 even remotely for you. 
 
 Ramón. He could not have invented it; he must have 
 been told 
 
 Gonzalo. Come, come! If we are to continue like this, 
 we shall all of us go mad. This is nothing more than mere 
 vulgar extortion, a case of ridiculous chantage, which it 
 would be even more ridiculous to take seriously. You were 
 right: it is a fitting end to Don Juan, who lacked the grace 
 to retire in time. It was my fault. I admit it, and rest in 
 peace. I fail to see how the matter interests you. What 
 are you thinking about .^ Is it possible that you can take 
 it seriously ? Come, come, man ! 
 
 Ramón. Let me alone, I tell you ! Let me alone ! 
 
 Gonzalo. Ramón! 
 
 Ramón. If it should be true, if it is But no ! No ! 
 
 Gonzalo. Ramón ! Hush ! Isabel ! We shall see. 
 
 Ramón. Yes, for her sake — ^let us wait ! 
 Isabel enters. 
 
 Isabel. Am I Isiie? Are you feeling better? But what 
 is the matter .Í* Why are you looking like this? 
 
 Gonzalo. Nothing is the matter. 
 
 Isabel. No, you have been talking business. You have 
 been arguing, and you are both angry. 
 
 Gonzalo. I tell you that we have not. How was Maria 
 Antonia ? How about Pepe ? Did you find them in ? 
 
 Isabel. No, they were out. 
 
 Gonzalo. Then But you do not seem pleased. 
 
 What is the matter? 
 
 Isabel. Didn't I tell you that they were both out? It 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 297 
 
 is a sign they are well. I was surprised to find you so ex- 
 cited when I came in; you have been quarrelling. 
 
 Gonzalo. How silly! A mere difference of opinion. 
 Ramón will explain. 
 
 Ramón. We were discussing the company. 
 
 Isabel. Gracious! But are you ill? You look so pale. 
 ITo Ramón] I am sure you are not the one who began it. 
 
 Gonzalo. It was all my fault. I must sign these papers 
 and send an explanation to the boy's father. They are re- 
 turning to Paris. 
 
 Isabel. Who are ? 
 
 Gonzalo. Who do you think? Why must you force me 
 to say it ? Don't you know ? Aren't you glad of it ? 
 
 Isabel. I? 
 
 Gonzalo. Will you never say what you think ? [Goes out. 
 
 Isabel. I am helpless. He is not satisfied to torment 
 me; he wants to see me suffer. 
 
 Ramón. Isabel, will you forgive me if I revert to the past 
 and reopen sores that are forgotten? 
 
 Isabel. You? 
 
 Ramón. I know that you will not tell me the truth, but 
 no matter. You are the only one who can restore peace to 
 my mind, although it may be with a lie. 
 
 Isabel. But what is it? What happened between you 
 and Gonzalo while I was away ? That woman's husband was 
 here. But why ? What did he say ? 
 
 Ramón. Who cares ? Is he a rogue or a fool ? But there 
 was one thing that he said, which either he invented, or which 
 he has heard, gossip, perhaps, for its own sake, which amounts 
 to nothing, but which had never occurred to me before. 
 There are moments when a chance word, like a lightning 
 flash, illuminates the darkest, most hidden comers of our 
 
/ 
 
 298 / AUTUMNAL ROSES act hi 
 
 lives. * Why did my boy Enrique give up Maria Antonia? 
 Why was it? 
 
 Isabel. That is indeed a sore that is forgotten. Don't 
 you know? 
 
 Ramón. Yes, I know what Enrique told me, what was 
 said by our friends. Enrique had had relations with a poor 
 girl, Maria Antonia was jealous and unwilling to forgive. She 
 believed that the intimacy had not been broken off 
 
 Isabel. Then you know as much about it as we do. 
 
 Ramón. Only it never occurred to me till now that this 
 explanation might not be the real one, that it was merely a 
 pretext of Carmen's, of yours, of our friends, so as to avoid 
 
 I never dreamed until this moment — well, what I have 
 
 just heard. I am not a man of great ability, my talents cannot 
 have been of much assistance to Gonzalo, yet he has always 
 kept me by him, in the positions of chief importance. Thanks 
 to him, I enjoy a fortune, I am rich, I thought I was happy. 
 But why? Why is it that I have all these things? My 
 God, why is it? 
 
 Isabel. You have worked faithfully and hard, you are 
 intelligent. This is unworthy of you. What are you thinking 
 about ? What have you heard ? When you doubt, you not 
 only doubt Gonzalo's friendship, you doubt 
 
 Ramón. I know it — and I cannot, no, I cannot. It would 
 be too horrible. Tell me that I am wrong, that I have no 
 right to think it, that if this thing could be, if it could have 
 been 
 
 Isabel. Carmen would not be my most in':imate friend. 
 Is that what you mean ? I could not have loved her as I 
 do, as a sister. And you see it, you know it. Surely I 
 would have suspected before you, if your suspicions had 
 been justified. If they are true, I must have disguised my 
 feelings out of policy, or under the threats of my husband. 
 Policy and pretense have their limits. I am not a saint; the 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 299 
 
 most that I could have done would have been to have pre- 
 sented an outward appearance of courtesy in public, but 
 genuine, unreserved friendship, friendship such as that which 
 unites me with Carmen, friendship which is of the heart, 
 because I am convinced of her loyalty, as you must be 
 convinced of it. . . . However anxious a jealous woman may 
 be to pretend, she is incapable of pretending to such an 
 extent; in itself that should be enough to convince you. 
 I could not pretend with Josefina. Neither policy nor cour- 
 tesy availed for one moment, and I refused to receive her in 
 my house. When you imagine that I have pretended to 
 love Carmen all these years. ... I appreciate the com- 
 pliment, Ramón, but either you have too sublime an idea 
 of me, or else you know very little about women, when you 
 persuade yourself that however discreet a woman may be, 
 she is capable of admitting another woman to her house, as 
 I admit Carmen, if a suspicion, even, has crossed her mind 
 
 that now or ever although Gonzalo's reputation might 
 
 make any suspicion seem plausible. But we insult Carmen 
 when we deny what there never was any reason to believe. 
 Neither in my heart, nor in hers, nor in yours is there warrant 
 to do so. Nonsense, Ramón, these are evil thoughts. I do 
 not know how I shall punish you, unless having had them, 
 indeed, is not the worst of all punishments. 
 Manuel enters. 
 
 Manuel. My dear Isabel Don Ramón! 
 
 Isabel. This is an unexpected pleasure. I should have been 
 obliged to send for you had you remained away another day. 
 
 Ramón. I was about to leave as you came. Isabel, surely 
 Gonzalo has signed those papers by this time. Good 
 day. — Good day 
 
 Manuel. Good day to you. 
 
 Isabel. Is it all over? Not a shadow of an evil thought 
 remains ? 
 
/ 
 
 300 AUTUMNAL ROSES act m 
 
 Ramón. I told you that you could make me believe what- 
 ever you wished, whether the truth or a lie. You are so 
 good, so very good, that you can do what you say no woman 
 can ever do, however saintly she may be ! [Goes out. 
 
 Isabel. I am exhausted. 
 
 Manuel. Was he too much for you ? What is the trouble ? 
 
 Isabel. No, but I have lied so sincerely, so honestly, 
 / that it really seems to me as if I had not been lying. To lie 
 like that does not lie upon the conscience; it is absolved by 
 the heart. 
 
 Manuel. You lie ? 
 
 Isabel. Let us talk of something else. I have been im- 
 patient to see you, to-day of all others. 
 
 Manuel. I have been thinking of you so busily that 
 doubtless I have appeared forgetful. 
 
 Isabel. Have you forgotten your promise.^ 
 
 Manuel. Not for an instant. Vigilance has been neces- 
 sary of late — to the limit. 
 
 Isabel. Of late ? How so ? What do you know ? 
 
 Manuel. Maria Antonia and Pepe live in a state of open 
 warfare. 
 
 Isabel. They never come to see us, in spite of Gonzalo's 
 illness. I called at their house to-day, but they were out; 
 and the maid, a girl whom I trust, as I placed her with 
 Maria Antonia, told me the whole story. They quarrel in- 
 cessantly; there are recriminations at all hours. To continue 
 like this is impossible. 
 
 Manuel. It is positively dangerous for Maria Antonia. 
 ' Isabel. What have you heard ? 
 
 Manuel. I have heard of chance encounters in the Prado 
 Gallery. 
 
 Isabel. Between whom ? Maria Antonia and 
 
 Manuel. Oh, they are purely casual; quite by chance. 
 As if you were to say to me, casually: Do you know, I am 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 301 
 
 wholly igaorant of the Prado Gallery? And I were to reply: 
 Is it poss hie ? And you : I intend going one of these days. So 
 I go evevy day until, naturally, as I go every day and you 
 one of these days, we meet casually, and that is the way that 
 they met, casually. 
 
 Isabel. I knew it all the time ! Did your friend tell you 
 this? 
 
 Manuel. Can't you see them? — a dreamer in love with 
 an innocent woman! They view the paintings together, 
 their artistic susceptibilities are aroused Art has al- 
 ways been a prime conductor of love currents. 
 
 Isabel. Flippancy is out of place. Tell me seriously what 
 you know, everything that your friend has confided to 
 
 you. 
 
 Manuel. I can tell you something a great deal more serious. 
 Maria Antonia has committed an indiscretion. She has been 
 foolish 
 
 Isabel. Great heaven ! 
 
 Manuel. She has written a letter. 
 
 Isabel. Which you have read? Did that man trust it 
 to you ? The scoundrel ! He is no better than the rest— an 
 empty boaster, puffed up with vanity ! Is this the ideal for 
 whom my poor child has forgotten her duties as a wife ? Tell 
 me what was in that letter. 
 
 Manuel. I merely said that it was indiscreet. She dis- 
 misses him, she deprives him of all hope. Nevertheless, she 
 entreats, and to entreat is to confess weakness; to confess 
 weakness is to fear vanquishment. 
 
 Isabel. Does this fellow hope 
 
 Manuel. He permits himself a slight hope. 
 
 Isabel. I must see Maria Antonia at once, in the pres- 
 ence of her father and her husband. They must real- 
 ize the danger clearly. Maria Antonia must be saved at 
 any cost. She shall never have cause to hang her head 
 
302 AUTUMNAL ROSES act iii 
 
 in shame before her husband — she must always be right, 
 always, not only because I love her as I should my own 
 daughter, as I do myself, as I did her mother, but because 
 my pride in my womanhood, amid all the inequalities which 
 we suffer at the hands of men, admits of every inequality 
 and will endure any humiliation save this — that they should 
 ever have the right to say to one of us: Who are you to ac- 
 cuse me ? Ah ! Never that ! Our burdens may be more 
 onerous but we are stronger than you to bear them. You 
 cannot say that we are equal, no, but we can say: We 
 are not equal, it is true. We are better than you are. 
 María Antonia and Pepe enter, 
 
 María Antonia. Isabel ! Mother ! 
 
 Isabel. Maria Antonia ! 
 
 María Antonia. Ah! At last I can cry ! At last I can tell 
 you everything — yes, you, only you, my mother! For him 
 I have only scorn and contempt, and I ignore him with 
 silence. 
 
 Pepe. It does not matter. Remain silent, or indulge your 
 contempt, as may prove convenient. It is my turn to speak, 
 
 Isabel. What have you doné ? What is it ? 
 
 María Antonia. Who cares what he says ? My only re- 
 gret is that he is not right when he says it. 
 
 Pepe. You hear her, Isabel. Where is her father ? I have 
 business with him. [To Manuel] No, don't you go; appar- 
 ently, you are one of the family. Besides, you are sufficiently 
 intimate with a certain person to render it desirable that 
 you be present. Where is her father.'* 
 
 María Antonia. A proper person for you to consult. 
 I shall talk with Isabel, and with no one else. Never let 
 me see you again! You can tell my father whatever 
 you like. 
 
 Pepe. I shall. 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 303 
 
 Isabel. Yes, leave us. I must consult with Maria An- 
 tonia. Find Gonzalo. Tell him whatever you see fit. I 
 shall say nothing until I have talked with her — ^for I know 
 that she will not deceive me. 
 
 Pepe. Is he in the study.'* 
 
 Isabel. Yes. [Pepe hurries ovt] Follow him, Manuel. 
 You know the truth — if what you have told me is the truth, 
 and nothing else can be the truth. 
 
 Manuel. Whatever Maria Antonia tells you will be the 
 truth. 
 
 Isabel. She will tell the truth to me. 
 Manuel goes out. 
 
 Isabel. Yes, whatever you tell me will be the truth to 
 me. Is Pepe jealous ? 
 
 María Antonlí. You heard what he said. 
 
 Isabel. Does he 
 
 María Antonia.. It is all as clear to him as day. He is 
 returning me to you; now he is the one who is doing it, so 
 that his honor shall not suffer. Nothing could be simpler. 
 What a noble, sensitive thing this sense of honor is ! Thanks 
 to it I have accomplished in one hour what tears and com- 
 plaints, yes, and a broken heart, could never do. I am home 
 again to forget, to find release. He would never have let me 
 come upon my own account, and you would not have received 
 me — you would all have been against me. But now that it is 
 no longer I, now that it is a question of his honor, nobody 
 opposes it. I was a fool not to realize before how easy it 
 would be to rid myself of him, and to regain my self-respect 
 before my own conscience, to bring relief to my heart ! 
 
 Isabel. Yes, talk, talk as you do now, and, I will listen 
 undisturbed, conscious that you have not failed. Grow indig- 
 nant, bum with holy rage ! Do not be cast down nor de- 
 
304 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ni 
 
 pressed — that might mean humihation, that might mean 
 guilt. But there was none, I know. Look at me, in the 
 face, full in the eyes — now. They are aS clear as the heart 
 
 below; not a tear. It was not your fault? By the 
 
 memory of your mother! 
 
 María Antonia. No, by her memory. But by her memo- 
 ry, by all the deviltries and all the faithlessness of men, I tell 
 you that if the wish, yes, and the purpose, to be guilty are 
 as guilty as the act itself, no woman ever was more guilty. 
 From the bottom of my soul I swear it ! I wish that nothing 
 had held me back — not virtue, nor shame, nor my mother's 
 name, nor example, no, and not your love nor your example, 
 holy as were hers; nothing, nothing! You know what I 
 have suffered; your heart has been torn, your life has been 
 wrecked; and you, too, must have felt sometimes, however 
 saintly you may be, the thirst for vengeance for wrongs, for 
 humiliations undeserved — yet you know that when a woman 
 is born honorable, it is not easy for her to cease to be so. 
 Gonzalo enters. 
 
 Gonzalo. Is what Pepe tells me true.'' Has your hus- 
 band told me the truth ? If he has, there is no room for you 
 in my house any more than in his. If you dishonor your 
 husband there, you dishonor your father here. 
 
 María Antonia. Ah ! 
 
 Isabel. Gonzalo! 
 
 Gonzalo. Do not defend her ! Make no excuse ! Out of 
 my house ! Never let me see you again ! 
 
 Isabel. No, you shall not see her. Come with me, and 
 do not cry — do not cry, my daughter. Resent this insult if 
 you are not guilty, as you have resented it to me, angrily. 
 For you have told me the truth?. . . . 
 
 María Antonia. Yes, mother. 
 
 Gonzalo. Out of my house, I tell you ! Get out ! 
 
ACT III AUTUMNAL ROSES 305 
 
 Isabel. Not so fast! She is going later. And she 
 
 will not go alone. 
 
 María Antonia and Isabel 'pass out, but 'presently 
 Isabel returns, 
 
 Gonzalo. Not alone, do you say? 
 
 Isabel. Once more you are unjust, selfish, cruel, because 
 you are — a man ! Do you think that Maria Antonia has 
 done wrong? You do believe it, don't you? And you are 
 outraged. I tell you that even if she has, I understand it, I 
 excuse it, and I shall say to her: You did right, you did 
 perfectly right ! Do you hear ? 
 
 Gonzalo. An easy thing for you to say, since she is not 
 your daughter. 
 
 Isabel. Another lie. If she were, all the more reason 
 why I should say to her; You did right, you did perfectly 
 right, my daughter ! 
 
 Gonzalo. Yes, and doubtless you have said it already; 
 you have excused her in advance, and encouraged her. I 
 suspected it 
 
 Isabel. Why not add that I set her the example ? Be as 
 extreme as you like. This is one of those decisive days in 
 which life presents us with the balance of many years. It 
 contains everything — all our words, all our deeds, however 
 insignificant; life forgets nothing. This is a day of reckoning 
 for you, and it was time. It comes to us when we least ex- 
 pect it, almost always in some roundabout way, as a blessing, 
 perhaps, or filling us with alarm. There are men who toil all 
 their lives, apparently without result, until, as they are giving 
 up in despair, a legacy drops from heaven, or it may be the 
 lottery — something which seems to be chance, but it is life 
 which pays. There are others who commit terrible crimes, 
 yet live on prosperously and rich during many years; but one 
 day sorrow comes— the death of a loved child, or it may be a 
 
306 AUTUMNAL ROSES act iii 
 
 grinding sickness, or disaster unforeseen, "when no riches can 
 avail. Life presents its bill. It takes your daughter, the 
 absorbing passion of your life, the paragon of womanly sub- 
 mission in your eyes, of all the virtues which belong to 
 honorable wives; and you are indignant, you are shocked; 
 you yearn to punish your daughter, when it is your daughter 
 who is punishing you, punishing you for her mother — for her 
 mother and for me. 
 
 Gonzalo. Punishing me? But why.^ Why should she? 
 
 Isabel. What do men know about women.? You under- 
 stand the lies of the women who deceive you, but you have 
 no conception of the love of a good woman, how deeply and 
 truly she loves you. Reserve is always more instinctive in 
 women than love. Our love is silent through reserve, 
 through reserve our desires are silent, too, and our jealousy 
 is silent oftentimes. Yet you do not, you will not understand 
 that an honest woman cannot struggle without violence to 
 her very being when your love turns away and grows cold. 
 So we submit in silence to the humiliation and the pity of 
 the women who attract you with all the coquetry and cal- 
 culated coyness of their art, which you would despise in us, 
 because even you can never confound their boudoirs with our 
 homes» You take your passions to them, you fly to them 
 in the easy irresponsibility of a certain sort of life; you 
 squander upon them what you scrape and save with us, and 
 implore of them lavish kisses which you would disdain in 
 your wife, because her duty assures you of them — whenever 
 your desire exacts, we obey — yes, your desire, which often 
 enough is plainly only another desire which you have not been 
 able to satisfy, and which drives you to us with all the ap- 
 pearances of love. This is what men are, and yet you pre- 
 sume to sit in judgment upon us at the suggestion even of a 
 fault, without mercy. I tell you from my heart that I am 
 
ACT in AUTUMNAL ROSES 307 
 
 only sorry that the fault was not real, and that it was not 
 mine, if it might have caused you greater pain had it been so. 
 Gonzalo. No, Isabel. You are unjust if you have ever 
 thought, however great my offenses against you may have 
 been, that they deserved the punishment of not believing in 
 you, or of doubting your faith for one moment. You can- 
 not know how deeply I love you. I have been cruel and self- 
 ish, as you say, I have tortured your heart, but you cannot, 
 you must not doubt my love. It may be that we give no 
 one so much pain in our lives as we do our mother; it may 
 be that there is no love to which we sacrifice less, so sure are 
 we of its possession forever, that forever it will pardon and 
 forgive. With merely living and being happy it seems to us 
 that our mother's love is repaid. But the living faith which 
 inspires us, in appearance makes us seem less devout, all the 
 while in the recesses of our hearts more deeply believing in 
 that holy, never-dying love of which we are assured. What 
 other love in life is equal to this, which is at once and eter- 
 nally the faith and hope of the heart .^^ Confess that there 
 has never been a moment when you would have exchanged 
 places with any of the other women who have passed through 
 my life; confess that you have always believed that when I 
 have compared you with them all together, the thought of 
 you has been as a halo, as the altar before the image of the 
 saint. Can you imagine how proud I have been to repeat 
 over and over, that among all of them, she alone has been in 
 my heart, she alone has been faithful, she always has been 
 true, she, my wife — as my mother ? And do you pretend that 
 Maria Antonia has acted wisely ? No, you do not believe it; 
 you do not think it, because you know that my love is true, 
 and the adoration which I feel, because you were always the 
 one who waited, the one who forgave, always, like a mother, 
 like a saint, like something which is above and superior to 
 
308 AUTUMNAL ROSES act ni 
 
 all else in the world, like heaven in our lives. No, do not 
 attempt to tell me that Maria Antonia has acted wisely, do 
 not tell me that you wish it had been you. If I had had for 
 one instant ground to accuse you .... I do not know .... 
 I do not know How can I tell, when I cannot even con- 
 ceive that such a thing could be? 
 
 Isabel. Gonzalo! My Gonzalo! You are right — for- 
 giving always, waiting always, for I have learned to wait 
 
 And now, at last, I feel that my waiting has not been in 
 vain! 
 
 Cabmen enters. 
 
 Cabmen. Isabel ! Isabel !. . . . 
 
 Isabel. Carmen! 
 
 Cabmen. Ramón has told me. He came to me in tears, 
 like a child, and asked my forgiveness for having dared even 
 so much as to doubt. Forgiveness from me, imagine it — 
 who can never forgive myself ! He told me that you — and 
 I could not wait, I had to see you, to fall on my knees be- 
 fore you, if only you allow. I suffer horribly. I should 
 have confessed, but then the mortification would no longer 
 have been mine alone, it would have attached to you — 
 and you are free from blame. 
 
 Isabel. Yes, I am free from blame I am very 
 
 happy. Gonzalo, bring your daughter. As you believe in 
 me, there was no fault in her. 
 
 Gonzalo. I obey 
 
 Manuel enters. 
 
 Manuel. Isabel, Pepe has listened to reason. He is con- 
 vinced that he is wrong, and he is willing to forgive. He 
 only fears that Maria Antonia 
 
 Isabel. Yes, not as yet 
 
 Cabmen. Not as yet? Maria Antonia and Pepe ? 
 
ACT m AUTUMNAL ROSES 309 
 
 Isabel. It is not easy to resign oneself, to learn to wait. 
 María Antonia enters^ followed by Pepe. 
 
 Isabel. Come, Maria Antonia. Come, both my chil- 
 dren .... Embrace your father. You will forgive your hus- 
 band, too, some day. 
 
 María Antonia. No, all is over between us. I shall never 
 forgive him, 
 
 Isabel. Oh, yes, you will ! And you will be as happy as 
 I am. 
 
 María Antonia. As you are ? Are you happy ? 
 
 Isabel. Very. Light and thoughtless love, which breathes 
 only illusion and desire, sheds all its flowers in one brief 
 burst of spring; but the love of a wife, love which is holy 
 and true, love which has learned to wait, has other, later 
 flowers. Autumnal Roses, which are ours. They are not the 
 flowers of love, they are flowers of duty, watered patiently 
 by tears of resignation, and fragrant of the soul, with the 
 touch of eternity, my husband. 
 
 Gonzalo. My wife and saint ! On my knees I adore you. 
 
 Isabel. I am very happy. These are my Autumnal Roses. 
 
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