One-Act Plays Part 12

LOUIS [_biting his nails_]. Of course. Our spy. [_He takes a hesitating step toward the desk; but swings about, goes to the door at the rear, shoots the bolt back and forth, apparently unable to decide upon a course of action; finally leaves the door bolted and examines the hinges. ANNE, meanwhile, has hurried to the desk, and, seizing a candle there, begins to light others in a candelabrum on the dressing-table. The noise outside grows to an uproar; the "Ma.r.s.eillaise" changes to "ca ira"; and a shaft of the glare from the torches below shoots through the window and becomes a staggering red patch on the ceiling._]

ANNE [_feverishly_]. Lights! Light those candles in the sconce, Eloise! Light all the candles we have. [_ELOISE, resentful, does not move._]

LOUIS. No, no! Put them out!

ANNE. Oh, fatal! [_She stops him as he rushes to obey his own command._] If our window is lighted he will believe we have no thought of leaving, and pa.s.s by. [_She hastily lights the candles in a sconce upon the wall as she speaks; the shabby place is now brightly illuminated._]

LOUIS. He will not pa.s.s by. [_The external tumult culminates in riotous yelling, as, with a final roll, the drums cease to beat.

MADAME DE LASEYNE runs again to the window._]

ELOISE [_sullenly_]. You are disturbing yourselves without reason.

They will not stop here.

ANNE [_in a sickly whisper_]. They have stopped.

LOUIS. At the door of this house? [_MADAME DE LASEYNE, leaning against the wall, is unable to reply, save by a gesture. The noise from the street dwindles to a confused, expectant murmur. LOUIS takes a pistol from beneath his blouse, strides to the door, and listens._]

ANNE [_faintly_]. He is in the house. The soldiers followed him.

LOUIS. They are on the lower stairs. [_He turns to the two women humbly._] My sister and my cousin, my poor plans have only made everything worse for you. I cannot ask you to forgive me. We are caught.

ANNE [_vitalized with the energy of desperation_]. Not till the very last shred of hope is gone. [_She springs to the desk and begins to tear the discarded sheets into minute fragments._] Is that door fastened?

LOUIS. They'll break it down, of course.

ANNE. Where is our pa.s.sport from Paris?

LOUIS. Here. [_He gives it to her._]

ANNE. Quick! Which of these "permits" is the best?

LOUIS. They're all hopeless--[_He fumbles among the sheets on the desk._]

ANNE. Any of them. We can't stop to select. [_She thrusts the pa.s.sport and a haphazard sheet from the desk into the bosom of her dress. An orderly tramping of heavy shoes and a clinking of metal become audible as the soldiers ascend the upper flight of stairs._]

ELOISE. All this is childish. [_Haughtily._] I shall merely announce--

ANNE [_uttering a half-choked scream of rage_]. You'll announce nothing! Out of here, both of you!

LOUIS. No, no!

ANNE [_with breathless rapidity, as the noise on the stairs grows louder_]. Let them break the door in if they will; only let them find me alone. [_She seizes her brother's arm imploringly as he pauses, uncertain._] Give me the chance to make them think I am here alone.

LOUIS. I can't--

ANNE [_urging him to the inner door_]. Is there any other possible hope for us? Is there any other possible way to gain even a little time? Louis, I want your word of honor not to leave that room unless I summon you. I must have it! [_Overborne by her intensity, LOUIS nods despairingly, allowing her to force him toward the other room. The tramping of the soldiers, much louder and very close, comes to a sudden stop. There is a sharp word of command, and a dozen muskets ring on the floor just beyond the outer door._]

ELOISE [_folding her arms_]. You needn't think I shall consent to hide myself. I shall tell them--

ANNE [_in a surcharged whisper_]. You will not ruin us! [_With furious determination, as a loud knock falls upon the door._] In there, I tell you! [_Almost physically she sweeps both ELOISE and LOUIS out of the room, closes the door upon them, and leans against it, panting. The knocking is repeated. She braces herself to speak._]

ANNE [_with a catch in her throat_]. Who is--there?

A SONOROUS VOICE. French Republic!

ANNE [_faltering_], It is--it is difficult to hear. What do you--

THE VOICE. Open the door.

ANNE [_more firmly_]. That is impossible.

THE VOICE. Open the door.

ANNE. What is your name?

THE VOICE. Valsin, National Agent.

ANNE. I do not know you.

THE VOICE. Open!

ANNE. I am here alone. I am dressing. I can admit no one.

THE VOICE. For the last time: open!

ANNE. No!

THE VOICE. Break it down. [_A thunder of blows from the b.u.t.ts of muskets falls upon the door._]

ANNE [_rushing toward it in a pa.s.sion of protest_]. No, no, no! You shall not come in! I tell you I have not finished dressing. If you are men of honor--Ah! [_She recoils, gasping, as a panel breaks in, the stock of a musket following it; and then, weakened at rusty bolt and crazy hinge, the whole door gives way and falls crashing into the room. The narrow pa.s.sage thus revealed is crowded with shabbily uniformed soldiers of the National Guard, under an officer armed with a saber. As the door falls a man wearing a tricolor scarf strides by them, and, standing beneath the dismantled lintel, his hands behind him, sweeps the room with a smiling eye._

_This personage is handsomely, almost dandiacally dressed in black; his ruffle is of lace, his stockings are of silk; the lapels of his waistcoat, overlapping those of his long coat, exhibit a rich embroidery of white and crimson. These and other details of elegance, such as his wearing powder upon his dark hair, indicate either insane daring or an importance quite overwhelming. A certain easy power in his unusually brilliant eyes favors the probability that, like Robespierre, he can wear what he pleases. Undeniably he has distinction. Equally undeniable is something in his air that is dapper and impish and lurking. His first glance over the room apparently affording him acute satisfaction, he steps lightly across the prostrate door, MADAME DE LASEYNE retreating before him but keeping herself between him and the inner door. He comes to an unexpected halt in a dancing-master's posture, removing his huge hat--which displays a tricolor plume of ostrich feathers--with a wide flourish, an intentional burlesque of the old-court manner._]

VALSIN. Permit me. [_He bows elaborately._] Be gracious to a recent fellow-traveler. I introduce myself. At your service: Valsin, Agent of the National Committee of Public Safety. [_He faces about sharply._]

Soldiers! [_They stand at attention._] To the street door. I will conduct the examination alone. My a.s.sistant will wait on this floor, at the top of the stair. Send the people away down below there, officer. Look to the courtyard. Clear the streets. [_The officer salutes, gives a word of command, and the soldiers shoulder their muskets, march off, and are heard clanking down the stairs. VALSIN tosses his hat upon the desk, and turns smilingly to the trembling but determined MADAME DE LASEYNE._]

ANNE [_summoning her indignation_]. How dare you break down my door!

How dare you force your--

VALSIN [_suavely_]. My compliments on the celerity with which the citizeness has completed her toilet. Marvelous. An example to her s.e.x.

ANNE. You intend robbery, I suppose.

VALSIN [_with a curt laugh_]. Not precisely.

ANNE. What, then?

VALSIN. I have come princ.i.p.ally for the returned Emigrant, Louis Valny-Cherault, formerly called Marquis de Valny-Cherault, formerly of the former regiment of Valny; also formerly--