Etext by Dagny
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CHARACTERS
MADAME DE SEVIGNE, Forty-five years old; model of grace, wit and kindness; very familiar with the court; brilliant small talk, maternal love, gayety, inexhaustible.
MARQUIS DE SEVIGNE, her son; eighteen years old, pennant bearer of the Dauphin's gendarmes, passionate for women and gambling; confiding and clumsy; loves letters, heroic spirit, one of the most handsome young men of the court.
THE CHEVALIER DE POMMENARS, Breton gentleman; inseparable friend of the mother and son, confidant of the latter; exposes himself ceaselessly for bon mots, always having to struggle against several orders for imprisonment; man at once formidable and refined, moral and libertine, fool and philosopher.
MARECHALE DE VILLARS, friend of Madame de Sevigne.
DARMANPIERRE, Receiver General of Finances, old friend and one of the most zealous admirers of Madame de Sevigne.
SAINT-AMANT, son of the receivers of poll taxes of Meaux, relative of Darmanpierre, friend and hunting companion of young Sevigne.
PILOIS, Breton Gardener. Thirty years of age, successor of Master Paul, deceased gardener of Livry. Frank, plain spoken, gay, bull-headed to the excess, in love for the first time in his life with the daughter of Mistress Paul, unruly, good-hearted, head over heels in love.
MARIE, Seventeen years old, the only daughter of Mistress Paul, goddaughter of Madame de Sevigne, an assembly of graces and ingenuity, in love with Pilois; exposing herself to countless dangers through her confidence.
BEAULIEU, old valet de Chambre of Madame de Sevigne.
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The action takes place on the 14th of August, in the Chateau of Livry, amidst the forest of Bondi, between Paris and the town of Meaux.
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During the entire play the stage represents a rich gothic hall. On one side, to the spectator's left, a table covered with a tapestry braided in velour; nearby, a door leading to different apartments. On the side, to the right, another door leading to the library. The large door at the back gives on a thicket.
BEAULIEU: (alone, entering by the side door to the spectator's left, holding a broom under his arm, holding in his hand a large port-folio of green morocco locked with a key, and in the other a writing desk) Ten o'clock will soon sound in the Abbey: that's the moment when Madame de Sevigne comes here every morning to write to her daughter Madame de Grignan. Let's prepare what she needs. (he places the portfolio and writing desk on the table and arranges them) It has to be me, her old valet, 'cause she has confided to me — “Especially, Beaulieu, don't lose sight of this portfolio. No, Madame. Remember that it contains the letters from my daughter, that it's my treasure, my life.” Yes, Madame — Now there they are separated for six whole months, and that for the first time, 200 leagues from each other. What a separation, good Lord! (he dusts the furniture) She's still near her uncle; this good Abbe de Coulanges seems to forget his drop when his niece recounts to him certain anecdotes of the court. As for myself, I've surprised myself a hundred times forgetting my work listening to the Marquise: I found myself nailed to the spot, there — despite myself. It's because no one tells a story better, no one has more dazzling language, more seductive than the Marquise.
MARIE: (running in through the back door) Mr. Beaulieu, you wouldn't have seen Pilois?
BEAULIEU: Ah, ah! it's you, little Marie?
MARIE: (in a broken voice) I just was looking for him in the garden — in the orangery — in all the thickets — so that now I am all out of breath.
BEAULIEU: I haven't seen him today.
MARIE: Still, I must speak to him.
BEAULIEU: (smirking and taking her hand) Then what you have to tell him is quite important?
MARIE: Oh! indeed, Mr. Beaulieu; I came to talk to him — I, we dote on each other; you know that, my godmother knows it, too, the whole village of Livry knows it even. Well! wouldn't my mother get it in her head that Pilois, by coming here from Brittany to succeed my father in his gardens, ought to succeed to his widow and marry her!
BEAULIEU: Listen, Mistress Paul is very fresh, very appetizing.
MARIE: She's in good health, thank God; but she ought not to let me fall in love with Pilois since she wants to keep him for herself. This came to me without my being aware of it; it's the first time in my life I've been in love, and the dose I've got of it — (sighing) I really think it will be the last.
BEAULIEU: (aside) Sweet kid! (aloud) But how can it be that you are so taken in love with Pilois? He's thirty at least and you are hardly half that —
MARIE: Sixteen and a half, Mr. Beaulieu — not so much different. And besides, isn't a husband supposed to be more aged than his wife?
BEAULIEU: I agree, but Pilois is a little abrupt.
MARIE: It's a sign of frankness.
BEAULIEU: Sometimes excitable and profane.
MARIE: That sparks up a household.
BEAULIEU: Loving his pleasure.
MARIE: I will have my share.
BEAULIEU: And very bullheaded!
MARIE: (excitedly) I will never do anything except what he likes. — In a word, I love only him, I want only him, and if my mother refuses him to me — I cannot blame her for wanting to marry him; he is so good, so frank, so jovial! As for myself, I feel what it will cost me to hurt my mother; with Pilois it's that I hold him dearest in all the world. Here, Mr. Beaulieu, it's only you who can get us out of this mess.
BEAULIEU: How's that?
MARIE: In the last thirty years that you've been in the service of my relative, you must have amassed some money: the whole world loves you in this chateau; they speak of you only with respect; they call you an old banterer.
BEAULIEU: (sneering) Ah! they call me an old banterer!
MARIE: Yes, Mr. Beaulieu; and I've often heard my mother speak of you — in a certain way — marry her!
BEAULIEU: Me!
MARIE: (in a caressing tone) I will love you as if you were my father; I will take care of you in your old age; once my mother's your wife, she won't care anymore, you get it, to be that of Pilois, and that way the three of us will be happy.
BEAULIEU: All this is very well planned, but your mother and I cannot agree.
MARIE: Why, Mr. Beaulieu? Didn't you say just now that she's fresh and appetizing?
BEAULIEU: (gaily) That's just it. Remember I'm past sixty-eight.
MARIE: (in the most innocent tone) Well! what of it?
BEAULIEU: (sneering) What of it? — But let's occupy ourselves with something more urgent. Today is the 14th, the eve of Saint-Mary.
MARIE: My fest day, and especially that of my relative. Oh! I haven't forgotten.
BEAULIEU: The Marquise doesn't suspect a thing; we must arrange the pleasure of surprise for her, and prepare our bouquets without her noticing it. We've are used to offering them to her after dinner, as we leave the table.
MARIE: In that case, I'm off to gather our most beautiful flowers before the great heat of the day. (starts to leave) You, Mr. Beaulieu, if you see Pilois, advise him, I beg you, not to pay court to me in front of my mother, from now on.
BEAULIEU: Don't worry.
MARIE: (turning back) But at the same time tell him carefully not to lose the habit of it, so as not to upset me.
BEAULIEU: (laughing) Leave it to me.
MARIE: I've got to fulfill the duties of a good daughter; that's proper, but I can't go to the point of giving up Pilois, I warn you of that. Bye, Mr. Beaulieu! Wait, I'll add this to what I said to you, it's only you who can get us out of this mess. (she leaves running by the back)
BEAULIEU: (alone) Lovely little thing! How many tricks despite her innocence! I love to chat with her; her babble amused me just now; her pretty face cheers me up. But I hear someone. (looking to the left) It's the Chevalier de Pommenars with the Marechale de Villars. (opens the library, dusts it and leaves a moment after by the door at the left)
(Pommenars enters with de Villars on his arm.)
POMMENARS: No, Madame Marechale, no, I'm no longer allowed to appear in Paris. The Procurer-General has just honored me with a new decree of arrest, which puts me under the safeguard of the Abbey of Livry.
DE VILLARS: Yet another order against you! And what has attracted one to you this time?
POMMENARS: A joke concerning the lassitude of Miss de Fontanges, and the latest diamonds of Madame de Montespan. They took the matter seriously, and here I am treated like a criminal guilty of lese-majesty. (laughing) It's divine.
DE VILLARS: Chevalier, will you never cease to be tormented?
POMMENARS: What do you expect? the most innocent little naughtiness is not spread about the court, without my being named the author of it. Even my generosity is misinterpreted: you shall judge. At the last meeting of the Estates in Brittany, to which I accompanied Madame de Sevigne, I found myself often at Rennes with the Count de Creance whose entire posterity consists of a daughter — ugly, with a waist a bit more than risky, and unable to be placed with the most obscure chevalier. I took pity on her; I paid her an assiduous court, I showed her with me everywhere, I pushed good nature to the point of pretending a passion, for the sole purpose of getting her out of the cruel forgetfulness in which she languished; and to put her in the line of conquests. Not at all, the Count de Creance insists that I must marry her. (with an ironic laugh) “On honor, I cannot do it — But all my family is awaiting this marriage, especially my daughter.” It was useless to protest the purity of my intentions, of my imperturbable respect for the little girl, I became the object of all Breton hate; the Parlement got involved in it; I am denounced, pursued criminally, and my head is threatened. (bursting into guffaws) Can you believe such ingratitude?
DE VILLARS: (with dignity) It's in vain that you attempt to color this adventure by a witty telling of it; in my eyes you are not without reproach.
POMMENARS: Oh! I'll punish myself, I will reform: I am only forty-seven. You laugh. Well, as flighty as I appear to you, no one is more touched by the qualities of the heart than I am. I can confess it to you, there's not a woman in the world who would be as dear to me as Madame de Sevigne.
DE VILLARS: It is certain that the Marquise is a model whose memory posterity will long preserve.
POMMENARS: All types of wit are in her domain. With what inexpressible charm she passes from amusing herself on subjects, to reflection which deepens them usefully! Who ever was flightier, with more grace and better nourished the flower of a subject? It's an enchanting mixture of negligence and careful attention, growing always above simplicity, but never deviating from the natural. She sets herself to observe, she omits nothing, and she never wearies, she sets herself to tell a story, she depicts it as she sees it, and one believes everything she depicts.
DE VILLARS: Sometimes she releases a few darts of malice.
POMMENARS: They escape her; she doesn't thrust them out.
DE VILLARS: It's true, no one can tell a story with more exact wit, a more loving heart, more generously. Widowed at twenty-five of a spouse who didn't appreciate the treasure that he possessed, she avoided, endlessly all the seductions which surrounded her wit and her beauty, to devote herself entirely to the education of her two children, to the cares demanded by the infirmities of her uncle, the Abbe de Coulanges.
POMMENARS: As for me, what I admire most in her, is the truly touching cleverness she employs to save her son from the distractions of youth and the impetuosity of passions.
DE VILLARS: The young Marquis is greatly in need of such a guide.
POMMENARS: Twenty-two and standard bearer of the Dauphin's gendarmes, son of a celebrated woman, in short, one of the handsomest young men of the court, do you expect to make an anchorite of him? Ah! that I am no longer his age! How to live without follies and fantasies? Isn't it really mad, thinking to be wise, never to amuse oneself, to be diverted by nothing? But here's the Marquise.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (entering from a side door to the left) Already in the salon! (with affection) My dear Marechale, I greet you. (To Pommenars with gayety and familiarity) Good morning, Chevalier! What, Beaulieu, my son hasn't returned yet?
BEAULIEU: No, Madame.
DE VILLARS: Is that astonishing? he was, you know, at a big supper, which took place yesterday at Ninon's.
POMMENARS: And the parties she gives — (maliciously) sometimes lead — long into the night.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (low to him) Shut up, incurable!
DE VILLARS: Well! how did you leave our dear commendable Abbe?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: His gout torments him more than ever. Beaulieu, go stay with him. (Beaulieu leaves) We will go to distract him a little, right? That dear uncle! It's a just title that I call him Bien-Bon! I owe him the peace and happiness of my life. (gaily) Well, Chevalier, here you are with a new order of arrest?
POMMENARS: It's to the Marechale Duplessis that I have the honor of owing it.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Her jealousy of me spreads even to you? This divine Duplessis is most admirably, imperturbably duplicitous. She plays everything, devotion, capability, timidity, consumption, and especially feigns to make me believe that I see myself in a mirror that makes me ridiculous, in which I speak in an echo that replies to me with stupidities.
DE VILLARS: Isn't she also the one who incited Mr. de la Trousse against the young Marquis?
POMMENARS: To the degree that Sevigne had the greatest difficulty in the world to be received as standard bearer of gendarmes. The Marechale depicted him to the captain as clumsy, a wastrel, a dangerous man
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (with the sweetest smile) There was indeed something true in all that. No question my son has excellent qualities, and his confidence in me earns him all my tenderness, but he has the capacity to spend without seeming to, to ruin himself without gambling, and to pay without acquitting. Always a thirst and a need for money in peace as well as in war; it's an abyss of I don't know what sort; his hand is a pot into which money melts away. I've had a thousand occasions to discuss this with him and to make him understand. But his youth causes him too much uproar, he doesn't listen.
POMMENARS: It's so intoxicating, the delicious spring of life, and unfortunately, it is so short.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: It's certain that hardly do we leave youth than we encounter old age. As for me, I'd like to be assured of a hundred years, and leave the rest to chance.
DE VILLARS: Nonetheless, I think that the remarks of a mother like you are not without effect on the heart of the Marquis.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: I agree to that; but I have to start all over again every day, and according to me, however strong a truth may be, when you bring it up a hundred times in a hundred ways you end by making it unbearable. It's not that the Marquis doesn't push me to the limits often; the other day again I had a complaint that was serious enough, and for the first time in my life I undertook to scold him. I had even prepared a well-reasoned speech, and I had divided it into seventeen parts; but I don't know how all this got embroiled, and so well combined seriousness with frivolity— He kissed my hands, I kissed his cheeks, our eyes got damp and we reconciled; and it is no longer possible for me to offer a word.
POMMENARS: Well, ladies, shall we put into effect our plan for a stroll?
DE VILLARS: Willingly.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: As for me, I must ask your permission not to accompany you, I have to finish a letter to Madame de Grignan. (points to the table and portfolio)
DE VILLARS: Nothing more natural.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (soulfully) It's only in the morning that I can converse with my daughter, and I've never had more need. It seems to me that since our separation, that I only breathe half the air necessary to live. I vainly try to animate the nothingness in which I find myself, I have only vague ideas, such sad presentiments. (gayly) And yet, despite all that I feel I have a little madness that isn't dead yet.
POMMENARS: It's up to faithful friendship to revive it, this enchanting madness under which you hide the rarest virtues.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Good gracious, Chevalier! praise from your mouth?
POMMENARS: To renounce it would impose on me the law of never speaking of you. — But the afternoon's getting on; where does the Marechale want me to escort her?
DE VILLARS: (meaningfully, and gazing fixedly at Madame de Sevigne) Into my daughter's lane. The shade is delicious there.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (shaking her hand) Oh! yes, delicious! If you reach the end of the park, Pommenars, do me the pleasure of going into the Abbey, and informing yourself of the consequences of the Marquis de Moui's fall from his horse.
DE VILLARS: Was it dangerous?
POMMENARS: No the left foot out of joint, three ribs broken, that's all.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: What a mania to want to stage grand hunts in a small fief?
POMMENARS: They say he makes one of his lackeys dress like a stag, and that every morning he runs after him blowing a horn.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (laughing with Madame de Villars) Great joke!
POMMENARS: But can I present myself at his place in simple morning dress?
DE VILLARS: I've noticed, Chevalier, that for quite a while, you've singularly neglected your toilet.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Indeed, I've already surprised him ill-kempt, hair in disorder.
POMMENARS: (with the greatest gayety) By Jove! I would be really crazy to care for my head; the Procurere General is disputing it with me; the Breton Parlement demands it, the King, they say, wants it, the Count de Creance, intends to take it by force; when it is well decided what must be done with it, ladies, if it is up to me, I will take care of it.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Only he has ideas like that. (she opens the portfolio and pulls out several papers)
DE VILLARS: Remember me very tenderly, I beg you, to the beautiful Countess. (she reaches the back of the stage)
POMMENARS: (excitedly and low to Madame de Sevigne) Sevigne is amorous of Marie, and is trying to seduce her. Our suspicions were well founded.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: What are you telling me?
POMMENARS: We will talk about all this. (aloud) Tell Madame de Grignan that she mustn't forget to scold, sometimes.— Clumsy. (To Madame de Villars who reaches the gate at the back.) I am at your disposal. (he gives her his hand and leaves with her)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (alone) Is it possible that my son is deceitful to this degree! He would dare to attempt the peace, even the honor of innocence! No, no, his passion for Ninon is too great. Still, Pommenars has a very sharp glance. — Let's watch him, let's question Marie. — But at this moment, let's not think of any other pleasure than that of talking with my daughter. (sitting at the table) My letter is nearly complete. (writing) Two long pages already, and yet I decided this time to write her the shortest letter. (continuing to write)
(Beaulieu with several letters in his hand enters and observes her.)
BEAULIEU: Ah! there she is writing to her daughter. I don't dare interrupt her.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Let's try to brighten the picture up.
BEAULIEU: (still aside) What emotion! What excitement! Oh! I am really sure that Madame de Grignan carefully collects all these letters! I bet one day it will make the fortune of a library. (low) Madame — ? Nobody. (a bit louder) Madame? Marquise? The way she hears me? She's in Provence! — I've got an idea. Let's quietly place the letters on the table, (he does) and leave. (he leaves)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (alone, after having written a bit more) Now it's finished: let's reread it. (she reads) I only received your last letter yesterday; it is so sweet, so brilliant, that I thought to send it back to you to give you the pleasure of reading it; but I cannot part with it: for I will make a confession to you, my daughter, the first time that I read your letters I am so moved, that I don't see half of what they contain; I don't dare read them for fear of having read them, and decide to give myself only the consolation of being able to start over again. It's really wrong for you to be uneasy over my health. No more migraines, no more vapors: they only come when I make a fuss about it, but they know that I scorn them and they have gone to visit some credulous person. Last Tuesday I was at the wedding of Louvois. What can I tell you: Magnificence, lighting, the whole court, all of France. Clothes repaired and retouched with gold, stones, braisers with fires and flowers, a crowd of carriages, uproar in the streets, a thousand torches, swearing, lighthearted screams, in a word profusion, admiration, turbulence. To tell you how many spoke to me of you, how many asked questions without awaiting a reply, how many cared a little, how much I cared even less. — You grasp from this picture the whole manner of the court. I am always about Bien Bon so I can distract him sometimes with my chatter. The beauty of Livry is as great as what you can see in Provence. Everything is flowered, nuanced, perfumed. My daughter's lane especially. (with a gradual emotion) My daughter's lane offers a delicious shade, perfumed by thousands of oak leaves, whose interlacing — What a souvenir! What a change! The days no longer have anything precious for me; I only live when we were together. I savored, I devoured the hours; but since I've lost you, I no longer care about them, I push them before me, I toss them to whoever wants them, I try to use them in a thousand naive ways. (changing tone) Talking of naivete — I informed you that the widow of Master Paul has fallen suddenly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Pilois, who for his part is dying of love for Marie. Such passion has never been seen, so many struggles, so many gaucheries. How they are to be pitied and ridiculed, these mothers who wish to rival their daughters and dispute with them the right to please! If I wanted to be loved, Countess, I would have to make you hide. I'm finishing this letter; I am doing myself extreme violence to leave you. The tenderness that I have for you is so mixed up with my blood that it has become myself. Goodbye, my dear Countess, goodbye! I kiss you all around, but making way, to go straight to you, for you are the center of everything. (she folds her letter and puts it in the portfolio whose key she takes and locks)
MARIE: (running in by the gate at back, and bringing an armful of flowers) It's my Godmother. Let's run hide these flowers quickly.
(Marie exits by the door to the right.)
PILOIS: (running after her and shouting with all his strength) Marie! my little Marie! (He notices Madame De Sevigne, removes his headgear, stops suddenly in mid-stride on tiptoe in the most embarrassed posture.) Well, what is it I'm a doin'! Interruptin' the Marquise like this. I don' dare go forward or back.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE:(noticing him) Ah, ah,! it's you, Pilois — What are you doing there?
PILOIS: (twisting his hat) What I'm a doin', Madame — I'm gonna be darned embarrassed to tell you.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (laughing) Why's that?
PILOIS: (in a halting voice) By golly, when y'don't — sleep night and day — when y'head don' work — how can y'say what yer doin', Madame? (lets out a huge sigh)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Then you are really smitten by Marie?
PILOIS: So seriously, that I wish I were in the depths of my Brittany, and never set foot in Livry. My dear mother predicted it when I left her. “Jacques, you're going near Paris, take care of yourself, my lad!” Oh, indeed! the poor dear woman had it right. The night I got here: I'd done ten leagues fast — it was a question of seeing Madame again — As I hugged Ol' Mr. Beaulieu, I heard somebody say near me — an' with a voice that went straight t'ma' heart: “This good Breton! how tired he is! got to give him refreshments!” I turned around t'see where this warbler's voice was a comin' from: I looked and thar was a pretty little mug of a fifteen year old, with two big black eyes, long as this (points to half his finger) nice figger, and who darted at me, darted at me! I wanted to explain myself, no words, I wanted to escape, no legs, I felt my breath fail me, that my vision was troubled, and for true, I thought I was going to fall there, and if I had'n'a been quick an swallowed a bumper of wine which the one who was causing all the damage offered me — Oh, my mom knew what she was talking about.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (aside) Nothing truer! (aloud) You've never been able to cure yourself of this first impression?
PILOIS: I thought at first I was only stupid and that with time, I'd get my reason back. (letting out a huge sigh) Ah, really!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (meaningfully, and rising) And tell me, does Marie approve, does she share your love?
PILOIS: She's told me so a hunnert times, but I'm really scared she's deceivin' me, or rather that she's deceivin' herself.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: How?
PILOIS: First of all, I am not young enuff, nor hansome enuff fur her. I leave it t'you, Madame, ain't it true she deserves bettern me? And then she's yer Goddaughter: which makes her sought after by the most fashionable boys in the village; an' me, all I got's an honest, lovin' heart, so out of order, that it ain't no great gift to give her. (another huge sigh) Oh, I'm a lost lad! (Madame de Sevigne bursts out laughing) Nah, really, I'm a lost lad.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (still laughing) Why there's a way to parry these great events — You must marry Marie!
PILOIS: (with intoxication) Marry her! I beg you, don't take away from me the little reason that remains to me.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (more meaningfully) Establishing Marie occupies me seriously. I intend to put her out of danger of seductions — that sooner or later could surround her. As for you, Pilois, you are good, an excellent gardener, your head's a bit Breton, it's true, but honest, frank! You will be her husband.
PILOIS: (with distraction) Her husband! Me, Pilois! She will be mine, all mine! Here she is: Oh, how to contain my joy?
MARIE: (entering and curtsying) Your servant, godmother!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Good morning, little girl! (aside as Marie kisses her hand with respect) Let's make her chat. (aloud) Where are you coming from? There, you are all wet.
MARIE: (drying her face with her apron) 'Cause I'm coming from the garden — (controlling herself) so hot that it's hard to water the flowers — I had a lot of trouble, go.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: How's that?
MARIE: These beautiful immortal violets that you love so much which the Marquis, your son, made into a crown the other day and put on your head and looked so good on you. —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (smiling) Well, these immortals — ?
MARIE: (with ingenuous scorn) Dead — and never to return.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (laughing) What a shame! — flowers so well named.
PILOIS: They were so damn well watered that they ended by a drownin'.
MARIE: So there you are, cursed run away that I've been looking for all morning?
PILOIS: (staring at her fixedly and taking her by the hand) Why look at her, will ya, Madame, look at her. (to Marie) Hang on a bit, I beg you. (to Madame de Sevigne) Hasten our marriage, Madame, hasten our marriage.
MARIE: (hugging him with joy) Would my godmother be good enough to — ?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Yes, I intend to keep you near me; I want you to marry.
MARIE: Is it really possible! Everything's in agreement! (turning towards Pilois) I will become your wife! (turning toward Madame de Sevigne) When's it gonna be, godmother?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Why, sooner than you hope, perhaps. (Observing Marie) If sometimes you share Pilois' feelings.
MARIE: (with rapidity) Oh! as to that, godmother, you ought to be real sure that if I've had the happiness to turn Pilois' head, he's done the same for me. It's not that I'm not well courted by all the village bachelors; but none of 'em, has, like Pilois, the gayety that rejoices you, the frankness that attaches you, and the fine face that seems to say: trust me, you're going to be happy.
PILOIS: (transported) Yes, yes, you are gonna be happy. y'are my little woman, I intend that there won't be any gardener-girls in all France, in all Livry, who are not envious of your fate. My dear little Marie (to Madame de Sevigne, stopping, suddenly, respectfully) Excuse, at least, this heart which carries me away. It's 'cause when I'm near her — Hasten our marriage, Madame, hasten our marriage.
MADAME de SEVIGNE: (to Marie) First of all it's necessary to get your mother's consent, and I know, that on her part she's formed the plan of marrying Pilois herself.
MARIE: She maintains I am too young for him, that he'll be jealous, that I will go bad in my household, and at the least thing she will bring it up! The other night even, your son the Marquis kissed me under the linden tree as I was coming home. (the Marquise gestures) and with such a good heart, that I was completely thoughtless about it. “What's wrong with you there, little girl? What is it, mama? What's that redness around your neck? Ah, ah, that's a kiss that the Marquis just gave me. The Marquis lowered himself to kiss a stupid little girl like you? By Jove, mama, it's not the first time.” Indeed, godmother, there's not a day when the Marquis doesn't give me more'n ten kisses. (another gesture by the Marquise.)
PILOIS: (with the most confident simplicity) That's because he's not a proud'un.
MARIE: It was no use for me to swear by my great gods that he's not, Pilois, she would never stop nagging me about it. And yet the pure truth was that the kiss was from the Marquis.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (in a marked tone) Well, to put an end to these arguments, it's up to you, Marie to try to carefully avoid — so that hereafter the Marquis does not kiss you.
MARIE: (with the most ingenuous smile) My Godmother is making fun of me.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (gravely) No, I am speaking seriously.
MARIE: (still ingenuous) My godmother ought to be sure that the Marquis will come take a hundred kisses from me one after the other, and that I won't budge while he does. — I know the respect owed to masters.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: There are bounds still where that respect ought to stop.
PILOIS: Right, with anyone else, but with the Marquis!
MARIE: Not a day goes by without him making me some present; this fine lace which was so much noticed at the last fest, it was from the Marquis. Just the other day, didn't he want to pull me into his carriage to take me to see Paris with him.?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (after a shiver) All — all earnest!
MARIE: Come, he said to me, little Marie, come. I didn't know what to reply and without my mother, who by mischance called me at the same moment — That good Marquis! Also, I haven't forgotten to fulfill the promise I made him.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: What promise?
MARIE: Every morning to bring flowers into his apartment.
PILOIS: That's the least thing, really. This dear Marquis. I'd go through fire for him, really.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (smiling despite herself) You are so good — my dear Pilois. (seriously to Marie) Still, I don't advise you to bring flowers into the apartment of the Marquis — without having asked permission from your mother: understood?
MARIE: No, godmother, I won't fail to get it.
PILOIS: (approaching Madame de Sevigne) Madame will do us the kindness of speaking to her concerning our marriage?
MARIE: And if she refuses, say to her: Now listen here, Mrs. Paul —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: I will say what needs to be said — Go, and trust me to do it.
PILOIS: (low to Marie) Now that Madame is taking a hand in it, I can regard us as married, huh?
MARIE: (low to Pilois) Oh! yes; I think now we can. (they bow and leave arm in arm, by the door at the back where they meet Pommenars who watches them go.)
POMMENARS: Finally, I was able to escape. The Marechale just went to your uncle's. Well, have you made Marie talk?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: No more doubt that my son has the most serious plan for seducing that poor little child.
POMMENARS: We will know how to put things in order.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: What really makes me uneasy, is that she has so much trust, so much respect for the Marquis! And this unfortunate Pilois, he's such a nice guy — ! Chevalier, I have never had greater need of you.
POMMENARS: (thoughtlessly blunt) So much the better for me! You have no idea the pleasure I experience in being able to be useful to you. (going to her) The more I've known others, the more I love you. (Madame de Sevigne smiles) Don't go imagining this must be love; I don't think so at least — Still, if someday I urged you to grant me your hand, don't do a thing, Marquise, that would be the greatest extravagance! (Madame de Sevigne bursts out laughing)
BEAULIEU: (enters at the back) The Marquis has just arrived; his carriage is in the large court.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (to Beaulieu) It suffices.
POMMENARS: I intend with a little cleverness to learn his plans about Marie and I hope —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Peace! Here he is!
SEVIGNE: (entering in the costume of the Dauphin's Gendarmes) Let them refit my carriage. Especially let my horses rest three whole days, they are in great need of it. (Beaulieu leaves) Homage to the most lovable, to the best of mothers! (He kisses her. To Pommenars, shaking his hand) How are you?
POMMENARS: Marvelous, Marquis and you?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (examining him) Always brilliant! always joyful!
SEVIGNE: I'm coming back to you — I've made the most delicious trip! You know my dispute with Dacier, over the interpretation of that passage from Horace which gathers so many beauties; he thinks that my youth, my inexperience — But the Academy pronounced on our two translations yesterday; I am named the winner.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (with emotion) You couldn't bring me more pleasant news.
SEVIGNE: Day before yesterday I dined with the Duchess de Chaulnes: what a friend you've got there! They never cease to speak of you, Pommenars; they laugh a lot over your latest arrest.
POMMENARS: They're too good to concern themselves with me.
SEVIGNE: (to his mother) The Receiver-General Darmanpierre was there.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: One of my oldest friends.
SEVIGNE: You will see him at dawn, — The Princess d'Harcourt, who's so bull headed she won't put on any rouge.
POMMENARS: While she as pale as The Commander of the Stone fest.
SEVIGNE: Madame de Crussol who puts on too much.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: She isn't beautiful but she has a nice face.
POMMENARS: (maliciously) Well, Marquis, how's Ninon?
SEVIGNE: (embarrassed) Why, always beautiful — always likeable —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (examining him) You've eaten, no doubt?
POMMENARS: (maliciously) With intimate friends, right?
SEVIGNE: On the contrary; the company was never more numerous, more brilliant. To say it all in a word, Moliere came to read us a new masterpiece which ought to enrich the Theatre-Francais.
POMMENARS: And what's it have for a title?
SEVIGNE: Tartuffe, or the Impostor.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: A new and bold idea.
SEVIGNE: What precision in the plan! what truth in the scenes! what richness in details! what fearless maxims! Moliere was never greater, more creative. I still see him, standing, covered with sweat, by Ninon's armchair, who was laughing again and again from the most beautiful mouth, and her beautiful eyes moist with tears, soon pressed the hand of the great man on her heart, soon seized the immortal writing and covered it with kisses. I see the great Corneille ecstatic, bent over his cane, Lafontaine leaving, pierced by enthusiasm despite his simplicity; Boileau finally letting praise succeed criticism; La Bruyere seizing each character with avidity; Saint Evremeont, Quinault, Baron, La Chapelle, Lully, Mignard, and Girardon — One would have said that all who France honors were joined to surround the genius — (to his mother) Only you were lacking.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (very moved) With what fire, Marquis, you depict this beautiful reunion!
POMMENARS: I never saw him so heated!
SEVIGNE: Never, also, never will this reading be effaced from my memory. By the way, I was forgetting that the great Corneille ordered me to place on your beautiful hand the most respectful kiss. (kissing his mother's hand)
POMMENARS: (always maliciously) He doesn't forget the preference that you still give him over Racine.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: I can't be unfaithful to my old admirations. My youth was as if enchanted by the masterpieces of that great man: first impressions are never effaced.
BEAULIEU: (entering) Mr. de Saint-Amant sends to ask if his son is in the chateau.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: I haven't seen him since he went to Paris with you (to her son) five days ago.
SEVIGNE: (with the greatest unease) What! Saint-Amant didn't pass through here yesterday?
POMMENARS: Not at all, Marquis.
SEVIGNE: And his father is asking for him.
BEAULIEU: He is, and from what it appears, very uneasy.
SEVIGNE: Without doubt he will have remained in Paris. (aside) Could he have been imprudent enough!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (observing him) What's wrong with you?
SEVIGNE: Me? nothing. (aside) So recently I was talking with that young man. (to Beaulieu) Make the carriage wait, I will go speak to him in a moment.
(Beaulieu leaves by the gate at the back.)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (low to Pommenars) There's something behind this.
POMMENARS: (in a low voice giving his hand to Madame de Sevigne) I'll find out.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (still examining her son who is motionless and pensive) Well! Marquis, aren't you coming to greet your great-uncle?
SEVIGNE: (with the same unease) No doubt, I'm delighted to see him, and join you in distracting him. (he takes the other hand of Madame de Sevigne and they leave by the side door at the left)
CURTAIN
SEVIGNE: That Marechale de Villars will spend her whole life at cards!
POMMENARS: (with an observing eye, hiding the spirit of friendship beneath the appearance of dullness) She lets a pretty hand be seen! she makes it shine with grace and abandon! To my mind, nothing is more seducing, than this green clothe enameled with thousands of gold pieces; this flux and reflux of fortune directed by the most pretty women who cover the precipice with a spicy sally, with a killing eye. So I have placed there — as lost funds — three quarters and a half of my fortune. You yourself, Marquis (observing him) you are already there with something of yours. (Sevigne gestures) Youth must run its course: each mortal is obliged to prove from one time to another that he isn't a god.
SEVIGNE: Chevalier, it's impossible to have a secret from you. Well! yes, I confess it to you; I lost yesterday at Blondel's near the hotel Soubise —
POMMENARS: That's really the most dangerous meeting place — I was mad about it — Well! you lost there?
SEVIGNE: Two hundred crowns that I had on me — and four hundred on my word.
POMMENARS: That's a mere nothing — Still, I recall that despite my dumbness, I had a maxim — never to play for more money than I had on me. Word of honor is such easy money! And to whom do you owe these four hundred crowns?
SEVIGNE: To someone who is perhaps compromised for me. I will be inconsolable over it — But let's leave that. Tell me, Chevalier, what's my mother intend to say speaking of Pilois' marriage?
POMMENARS: (observing him) It's completely decided — He's marrying Marie at dawn.
SEVIGNE: (explosively) Marie! you say! (dissimulating) She is still so young! Besides, as goddaughter of my mother, before being dowered in an agreeable manner — this marriage won't be able to take place.
POMMENARS: (with a nasty smile) I foresaw that it wouldn't be to your taste.
SEVIGNE: It's unheard of to sacrifice innocence in that way.
POMMENARS: (more maliciously, then mysteriously) You would arrange a more brilliant fate for her, wouldn't you? I know it, confess it, Marquis, that you had some intentions towards the little one — very particular intentions.
SEVIGNE: Nothing escapes you — I don't forbid myself this charming ingenue who has inspired me with an irresistible feeling, a true passion — You are going to make fun of me.
POMMENARS: My word no; the little thing is very seductive.
SEVIGNE: (with passion and trust) Isn't that true?
POMMENARS: Raised near you, almost the same age, she must have revealed new charms each day to your eyes; perhaps she's the first to give you the happiness of feelings and love: whatever may be the object which inspires us with these first transports of the soul they are difficult to detach from it. I went through all that. Look, what's your plan?
SEVIGNE: I don't know anything about that. (forcefully) But the idea of seeing Marie belong to someone else — is capable of carrying me everywhere.
POMMENARS: (repressing a gesture) It's certain that if I were your age, in your place (in a marked tone) I'd be afraid after all that the Marquise would never forgive me for having seduced her goddaughter, for having betrayed her maternal confidence, for having violated the most sacred duties that honor and delicacy impose. (with simulated dullness) But after all, Marie is so pretty! Still, I think I'd be stopped by the character of Pilois: impetuous and headstrong, he will never see in the ravisher of Marie anything but the object of his vengeance. (heatedly) he would fill the whole countryside with his well founded complaints; he would change into public hate the attachment and respect of the good dwellers hereabouts; he would necessitate leaving this chateau and trouble the old age of a benefactor uncle, and separate from an adored mother — (changing tone) But then again, Marie is so pretty!
SEVIGNE: My friend, I've made all these reflections a thousand time, they stop me, they thwart my plans, but as soon as Marie appears, one single look from her, one sweet ingenuity escaping from her mouth.
MARIE: (in the wings) Pilois! Pilois!
SEVIGNE: Here she is — You'd say that she's trying to increase without remission the trouble that distracts me.
POMMENARS: (aside) Let's not lose sight of them.
MARIE: (entering from the back) Pilois! — He's decided that I will have to chase after him all day long. Your servant, Sir! (to Sevigne) Well, Sir, it's for this evening
SEVIGNE: What do you mean?
MARIE: The party for my godmother that's what. I am coming to find my speech.
POMMENARS: Indeed, it's the Marquise's party.
MARIE: (to Sevigne)You've prepared all this for me nicely, right?
SEVIGNE: (change of tone) I haven't had the time yet.
MARIE: My opinion is that this is more urgent than anything else.
SEVIGNE: Well! say to my mother — whatever comes into your head, that will please her completely, I assure you.
MARIE: The Marquis wants me to make myself laughed at by everyone.
POMMENARS: The Marquis is right: let your pretty mouth express all that's taking place in your heart, and your bouquet will be received all the better.
MARIE: If I do something clumsy, it's you who will answer for it first off.
SEVIGNE: (meaningfully) By the way, they say you are marrying — soon.
MARIE: I wish it were to be tomorrow.
(The Marquise gestures.)
POMMENARS: (watching Sevigne) It appears to me you don't like to wait.
MARIE: By Jove! when something needs to be done.
SEVIGNE: (with controlled but growing unease) And — so Pilois is the one you prefer?
MARIE: He's the one who loves me most; he earned the preference.
SEVIGNE: It seems to me you ought to be able to find a more advantageous match.
MARIE: Impossible, sir.
SEVIGNE: Why's that?
MARIE: Cause I'm mad about him.
(Another gesture by the Marquis.)
POMMENARS: (aside) Let's pretend to second him. (to Marie, imitating her naive tone) I am mad about him. — That's well said. I am mad about him. But there comes a time in a relationship when this madness, this intoxication is replaced by the coldest indifference.
SEVIGNE: (passionately) And sometimes by the most bitter regrets.
MARIE: (with the most touching ingenuity) Good for you old big folks; but as for us we have the time to love only once, and it's for our whole lives. (gaily and mysteriously) Anyway, my godmother is at this very moment with my mother to make her consent to our marriage.
POMMENARS: (meaningfully and staring at Sevigne) Oh! once the Marquise is involved in it to this degree —
SEVIGNE: But aren't you afraid Pilois is abusing you?
MARIE: Oh! for that! — he notices me in the gardens, and he's always where I am when his work is most urgent. If our eyes meet in front of my mother, he blushes almost as much as I do; he speaks to me, his voice becomes soft like that of a child, and finds himself interrupted by the most comical sigh. (she imitates Pilois' huge sigh) I leave it to you, sir, isn't that love? And you, (to Chevalier) who ought to know it so well, isn't that the most faithful and true love?
POMMENARS: (bursting into laughter) It's unique.
SEVIGNE: (meaningfully) Well, since your marriage is decided — I want to make a gift to you of your wedding attire.
MARIE: Sir, you are too good.
SEVIGNE: And as I intend that they be in the best taste, and especially that they go well with your pretty figure —
POMMENARS: (aside) What's he up to?
SEVIGNE: (pulling her aside) You will come with me — to choose them in Paris.
(Remarkable gesture by Pommenars.)
MARIE: Oh! I'd like nothing better.
SEVIGNE: I intend that such a pretty bride has never been seen in Livry.
MARIE: Oh! what a pleasure to outshine our prettiest girls! to shine before the whole village.
SEVIGNE: (lower still and pulling her aside) Tomorrow if you like — before anyone in the chateau gets up.
POMMENARS: (aside, listening) Tomorrow!
SEVIGNE: I will wait for you in my carriage at the end of the park.
MARIE: You'll bring me back as soon as possible; I'll go tell my mother that I have to bring a bouquet to my aunt Marie Louise who's dying in Bondi; and that way she won't suspect I've gone to Paris. There it's all agreed, tomorrow at daybreak. (Sevigne makes a sign for her to be quiet) But I'm late finding out if my godmother has made my mother consent. (to Pommenars) Ah, really, do you advise me to tell her for her birthday whatever comes into my head? My godmother (she leaves slowly, seeming to search for some words) Godmother! — for sure — I'll never get it right, that's certain, I'll never be able to get out of it properly. (she leaves by the door at the back)
POMMENARS: (aside) Pretend not to have heard anything. (resuming his dull tone) With what cleverness you've flattered her vanity, caressing it so to speak! Marquis, you promise much; but I have to leave you; I have something to prepare for the Marquise's party.
SEVIGNE: (still very troubled) I am going to try to prepare some verses for her. (aside) That little thing troubles me to such a degree —
POMMENARS: (also aside) Let's deliver him to his reflections and let's run to serve him. (leaves by the side door)
SEVIGNE: (pacing about the stage in agitation) How to resist so many charms, so many naive graces? When I think how many considerations Pommenars made me. (remains a moment, pensive) And Saint-Amant hasn't got here — The uneasiness of his family, the deposit with which he is charged — And I was able to lead him! — Oh! what imprudence, what stupidity! But let's dissipate the trouble that agitates me and think of nothing but my mother's party. There's no passion which can efface it from my heart. (sits down and pulls writing materials from his pocket, a pencil and notebooks) Let's see: what shall I say to her that will be at once worthy of both of us?
(As he is composing Madame de Sevigne enters from the back.)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: He's in the passion of composition.
SEVIGNE: How to depict that inimitable grace, that smile precursing the most lively wit, the most brilliant sallies? (he writes)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: It's the portrait of some stupid beauty.
SEVIGNE: How to express that charm that spreads over all that surrounds her. The happiness with which she embellishes my life? (he writes)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Ah! I've got it — It's Ninon de l'Enclos who always lights his imagination — That reassures me for Marie.
SEVIGNE: (stops writing and in a most emotional tone) I cannot rest my thoughts on her without my heart shivering.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: That's a marked passion: this woman is very seductive!
SEVIGNE: (noticing her and rising) Ah! pardon me! I didn't know I was so near you. (aside) Could she have heard me?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Stay put, Marquis; your lyre appears disposed to render the most tender, the most harmonious tones; I would be in despair to distract you.
SEVIGNE: I am indeed busy rhyming some thoughts.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Your muse, I guess, is some celebrated beauty?
SEVIGNE: (soulfully) She has a name that will never die.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: And this woman that you rank so highly is doubtless very dear to you?
SEVIGNE: (always soulfully) I will love her until my last moment.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (aside) Poor dupe! (aloud) Would it be indiscreet to ask you to read your verse?
SEVIGNE: (after having considered for a moment) Willingly. You know quite well I always loved to submit my essays to you; this is still only a rough draft.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (curious) Who care? let's see.
SEVIGNE: (reading with the most tender expression) You who hide a seductive charm Under wisdom's aegis (Madame de Sevigne bursts out laughing) The beginning makes you laugh?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (still laughing) I will admit it to you, Marquis — I didn't expect to find — the aegis of wisdom.
SEVIGNE: (aside) What can she be deriding?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Let's continue.
SEVIGNE: (resuming expressively) You for whom kindness, graceful enchantress, Make suspect whether wit is more rejoicing than the heart. Adored woman! Ah! deign to instruct us By what secret, by what happy magic, You know how to extract laughter The moment when you moisten all eyes.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (aside) It's really Ninon.
SEVIGNE: (continuing) Everything, near you is soul, joy. You seduce, you effortlessly astound Until in your negligence Which knows how to reveal treasures — That's as far as I got when you came.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: It seems to me this praise is very fulsome.
SEVIGNE: The one to whom I destine it is still above it — I would like now to express what I owe her — If you would help me.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Me!
SEVIGNE: My verse would have more charm, more expression.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (aside) He's amusing himself at my expense : we'll take revenge.
SEVIGNE: (aside) It would be charming to make her contribute to her bouquet. (aloud) Let's resume.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Sit you down. (Sevigne sits. She leans over his shoulder)
SEVIGNE: Until in your negligence Which knows how to reveal its treasures (composing) I owe you everything: my reason
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (smiling) My delirium —
SEVIGNE: The purest happiness —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: If there's anything perfect in it.
SEVIGNE: Every breath I take You can count a benefit. Guide, protect my career. Mercy, don't abandon me a single moment!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (laughing still and chucking his chin) For I'm still a child Who has to be led by his mother's apron strings.
SEVIGNE: You think you're joking. Well, I want to end with that idea — with which, alas, I cannot contest the truth. (with abandon and kissing his mother's hands) Yes, I'm still a child Who must be led by his mother's apron strings.
(He writes these last verses in his notebook.)
BEAULIEU: (entering by the side door at the left) How to inform him, unbeknownst to his mother, that this young man —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Beaulieu, you come at the right time. (she goes to open the big portfolio resting on the table)
BEAULIEU: (low to Sevigne) The young Saint-Amant has just arrived. He's in the gallery, distracted, care worn — He wants to speak to you alone.
SEVIGNE: That suffices.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (taking her daughter's letter out of the portfolio and relocking it) Now's the hour when the courier passes through Livry; you will go await him and deliver this letter to him — You yourself, you understand .(she delivers the letter to him) Also, take this portfolio back to my apartment. (Beaulieu takes the portfolio and leaves.)
SEVIGNE: (troubled) Pardon — I have some orders to give for the great hunt tomorrow; I will rejoin you as soon as possible. Your conversation has charm, and I have great need of advise, of indulgence! Oh! you are really right. Yes, I am still a child Who must be led by mother's apron strings. (He leaves by the door to the left)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (alone) So much confidence and distraction makes amends to me for his stupidities! I hope that with time — But I haven't seen these letters (she takes letters placed on the table, unseals one and reads) Ah! good! it's from Princess d'Harcourt. She writes me in a scrawl I cannot read; I often reply to her without having actually read her letters; she doesn't understand anything, me either, and still it's lasted two years; it's admirable!
POMMENARS: (running in from the gate at the back) Have you seen Sevigne?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: He just left me.
POMMENARS: And Marie? Where is she? what's she doing?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: I don't know — But, Chevalier, weren't we deceiving ourselves about the Marquis? I can't get used to the idea that he has serious intentions about my goddaughter.
POMMENARS: He intends to carry her off tonight.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Are you certain of it?
POMMENARS: Suffice to say that, under a clever pretext that flatters the vanity of the little girl, he intends to take her to Paris tonight — in his carriage. (Gaily) But, calm down, I've already placed an obstacle there, and profiting by the order that he gave to refit his carriage I've made them deconstruct it in a way that it won't be in condition to roll for a week: it's up to you now to prevent him from having recourse to yours.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: I cannot get back from the unease into which you are casting me. But what was able to ignite this passion?
POMMENARS: It isn't a passion; marry your goddaughter; Sevigne will no longer think about her.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: You are right; and without losing an instant, we must prepare the marriage contract between Pilois and Marie.
POMMENARS: I'll charge myself with all the details — It's important that the Marquis not know them. The names and the dowry are blank; the customary articles — I'll be back in a moment. (he leaves by the door at the back, and finds himself face to face with Pilois and Marie who enter. He watches her intently, chucks her under the chin, furtively kisses her face and leaves in a rush.)
PILOIS: He doesn't trouble himself .
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (motionless and pensive at the front of the stage) What! this very night!
MARIE: (approaching her Godmother, sweetly) Well, my godmother — is it over?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (with the most lively interest) It's you, dear little one!
PILOIS: (on the other side of her, twisting his hat up) Mistress Paul — has she given in?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Yes, she gave in to my logic: she consents to your marriage.
MARIE: (intoxicated with joy) She consents to it! (resuming with gusto) Excuse me, godmother; really, I was thinking about jumping on your neck.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (pressing her in her arms) Eh! who's stopping you? (staring at her with great emotion again) Lovable and interesting creature! — Wait (She goes to a table and opens a drawer)
PILOIS: Ah! Now we can talk and be seen together without fear.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (returning purse in hand) Here, Marie, here, my darling goddaughter, here's your dowry.
MARIE: (opening the purse) My godmother is too kind. Ah! good God! how many gold pieces!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: They are my spares, that I've long destined for you.
MARIE: Ah! if I could express to you — there — how I feel —
PILOIS: Never, Madame, never, can we pay you back for all this.
MARIE: Here, Pilois. (delivering the purse to him) Do you know what you can do with it?
PILOIS: First off, buy you the most beautiful wedding gowns.
MARIE: (smiling meaningfully) Oh! no, no, that's unnecessary — I've got an idea. (to Madame de Sevigne) You know indeed, facing the fountain, there's a pretty little white house for sale with a garden. (to Pilois) Well! we'll buy it! I'll make your good mother come from Brittany, that you love so much, so I can have her near us, and care for her in her old age.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (shaking Marie's hand) Fine, Marie! Very fine! (aside) And if she is victimized, how I will suffer!
MARIE: Well! Pilois, you don't say anything?
PILOIS: (in a hesitating voice) And what do you want me to say — I am ravished — so moved.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (passing between the two of them) Now it's only a question of fixing the day for your marriage. It's easy for me to have the necessary expenses; if you trust me, today the contract, tomorrow the banns, and the day after, the wedding.
MARIE: I ask nothing better.
PILOIS: No, no; that can't go so quick.
MARIE: (stung) You refuse, Pilois. I would never have believed it of you.
PILOIS: But listen to me, will ya; first off we need time for my good mother to come here from Brittany, I hear and I intend that she be at my marriage, it's the last good day which remains to this poor dear woman. — Then, we must think about preparations for the wedding.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (quickly) I will have it at the Chateau; I'll take care of everything.
MARIE: There! cursed bull head.
PILOIS: And what about our clothes?
MARIE: Oh! mine will soon be ready.
PILOIS: (with growing obstinacy) That's good for you to have nothing to wear! But Me! No, no, it can't be for the day after tomorrow.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (meaningfully) I see a way that can put us all in agreement. While I talk to Pilois, you Marie, go back to your mother: you cannot delay too long to thank her for having consented to your marriage.
MARIE: I'm running — Especially, godmother, (pointing to Pilois) don't give in to him, I beg you.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Don't worry.
MARIE: Whatever he says, whatever he does, try to make it for as soon as possible — d'ya hear, godmother, as soon as possible (she rushes out by the door at the back)
PILOIS: I really demand pardon of Madame, but it won't work for day after tomorrow.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Now that we are alone —
PILOIS: Saving the respect that I owe you I won't give in about it.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: But listen to me will you?
PILOIS: Cause when I've decided something on my part, there's no power in the world —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (impatiently) Will you listen to me, cursed Breton?
PILOIS: Yes, Madame, I'm listening to you — But it won't work, I warn you.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (low) But she's really dear to you isn't she?
PILOIS: Very, dear, Madame.
MADAME: You wouldn't see me deprived without enduring pain?
PILOIS: I would die of it, madame.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (mysteriously) Well! what assures you that there isn't — in this village, in this very chateau someone, who, like you may be amorous of Marie, who, jealous of the preference she gives you, plans to seduce her — to carry her off at the first opportunity?
PILOIS: (stupefied) Is it possible?!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: What I say, I don't suppose — But Marie is so trusting, so easy to deceive! Her youth, her naivete could embolden a seducer. Once she's your wife, she's saved — That's what make me rush your marriage: that's what ought to determine you not to lose a single instant.
PILOIS: (in the greatest agitation) Nothing makes me recoil, that's for sure. To seduce her, to carry her off from me, Pilois! No, no, whatever it costs me, I won't wait for my dear mother. Today, the contract, and day after tomorrow — There, it's decided, Madame. Oh, if it were true that someone would dare! If he fell into my hands!
POMMENARS: (running in from the back, out of breath and drying his face) The notary is drawing up the articles. Everything will be ready in the evening.
PILOIS: (aside) If this were this great dumb stud —
POMMENARS: I wasn't long as you see.
PILOIS: Or rather this fat frisky major domo —
POMMENARS: And that notary really has the prettiest wife.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: But so pale, so cold! She's a Galathea who lacks the breath of Venus.
POMMENARS: (stupidly) Ah! what care I took to animate her! You will see that bad things will happen to that old notary, and that one of these days she'll be carried off — (Pilois gestures, stares at Pommenars) they will carry her off, I tell you, she is too pretty, word of honor, to stay in the village. (turning on his heel) Well! Pilois, here you are at the fulfillment of your wishes, you are going to marry Marie.
PILOIS: (with the most extreme agitation) Damn, yes, I'm gonna marry her — and bad luck, yeah bad luck to whoever wants to carry her away from me! (Pommenars stares at him in astonishment) Were he a great lord, a prince (scrutinizing Pommenars) a chevalier — I won't be responsible for what might happen — No, dammitall, I won't be responsible. (leaves)
POMMENARS: Well, what's wrong with him.?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (laughing)I can guess — It's because, to decide him to marry immediately, I made him envisage, cleverly, the dangers which might threaten Marie: his Breton imagination is already seeking to know who the seducer is: You came with your customary frivolity, to speak of kidnapping
POMMENARS: (laughing) So I'm the one he suspects? Oh, that's lovely! Indeed, he was rolling his big eyes at me (mopping his face) And I, who just ran, to expose myself to that — Ah! he suspects me! (laughs heartily, as does Madame de Sevigne)
SEVIGNE: (enters from the door at back, to Saint-Amant who he drags in forcefully) My mother has to know everything I tell you.
POMMENARS: It's young Saint-Amant.
SEVIGNE: She alone will know how to save us from irreparable misfortune.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: What do you mean?
SAINT-AMANT: (distracted) Ah, madame! You see the most unfortunate —
SEVIGNE: I am in despair.
POMMENARS: Explain yourself.
SEVIGNE: I told you that having lost 400 crowns on my word, I had entrusted them to a friend that I feared to have compromised: and behold the too trusting friend —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Finish.
SEVIGNE: Charged by his father to remit to the treasury 22,000 pounds, taking receipt for the monthly taxes of Brie, he made me accept the 400 crowns I had just lost, certain, he told me, of finding them back the same evening in the purse of a friend to whom he presented himself and who he's found absent for three days. He was late. Tomorrow morning, Saint-Amant must remit the deposit confided to him.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Well?
SEVIGNE: In this horrifying predicament, he imagines that luck will return him what I've lost; he's returning into the house into which I've led him — and there, he lost everything — But I alone am guilty: without me, he would never have known this fatal house. Ah! what must the sorrow be that he's experiencing; it cannot compare to that which overwhelms me.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (in a pronounced tome) What Marquis! you were able to compromise to this degree?
SAINT-AMANT: What completes my despair, is that they are speaking already at the public treasury of the delay of this receipt. You know the excessive strictness of M. Darmanpierre.
POMMENARS: Inexorable: he has destituted two hundred receivers during his life.
SAINT-AMANT: And my father, if he came to know of it?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: There are only three hours for you to remit the 22,000 pounds to the general receipts.
POMMENARS: I have 3000 of them; oh! really, by chance: they are yours.
SEVIGNE: Worthy friend! (glancing towards his mother) If my mother —
(Madame de Sevigne casts a severe look at him; and after a moment of silence goes into the library.)
SEVIGNE: (following her with his eye) What a look, what silence, how offended she seemed!
POMMENARS: That's not without reason. You have committed a grave fault. I am not scrupulous, you know; I've done lots of things in my life, really — but I don't think I've ever been in this position.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (returning with a jewel box in her hand) Here, Marquis. (with emotion and dignity. Here's the jewel box that your father gave me at your birth. (she opens it) It suffices and more than that for the sum necessary. May all these jewels be the presage of the beautiful days that your son will embellish your career with — your father said to me. Marquis, I doubt that this day will be placed in that number. (she presents the jewel box to her son who covers her hand with kisses as she looks at him in a penetrating way) But time presses; the least delay could cause irreparable harm.
POMMENARS: Post horses! In two hours you will be in Paris.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: You will address yourself to my jeweler, who will direct you in the sale of these jewels. You, Mr. Saint-Amant, you will present yourself to the treasurer general; you pretend a negligence, a stupidity of youth. You will receive from Mr. Darmanpierre a severe scolding — and you will deserve it.
SAINT-AMANT: Ah! madame how to thank you.
POMMENARS: Let's go, leave, leave.
BEAULIEU: (announcing at the gate at back) Mr. Darmanpierre.
SAINT-AMANT: Gods!
SEVIGNE: What a lightning bolt.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (pointing to the door at the left) Hide in this apartment.
(Saint-Amant goes in.)
POMMENARS: How to get out of this?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: You, Marquis, discretion, courage! (to Mr. Darmanpierre) Eh! Hello, Mr. Receiver-General.
DARMANPIERRE: (in an abrupt officious tone) I didn't want to pass through Livry without presenting my homage to my old friend. (kissing her hand. To Pommenars) Chevalier, I greet you (taking Sevigne's hand) I told you indeed that you wouldn't delay to see me here.
POMMENARS: (gaily) Mr. Receiver-General is going without doubt to visit his beautiful farms of Brie.
DARMANPIERRE: (abruptly) Not at all; I'm going to Meaux for a delayed receipt which surprises and worries me greatly. (Glance exchanged between mother and son) You know the family of Saint-Amant very well, whose head, my relative, excellent gentleman, but without fortune, was named last year receiver of taxes in Brie.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: A completely honorable family.
SEVIGNE: The son is my friend — I am attached to him for life.
DARMANPIERRE: After that, this relative performed this duty for which I had sponsored him to the king, without failing to bring me his receipts in advance, by the tenth of the month, as is customary: we're at the 14th and nothing has yet come to me. If this is negligence, I will teach him a virtuous lesson; and if it's embezzlement, even involuntary, I will destitute him and abandon him forever. (new glance exchanged between mother and son)
SEVIGNE: (aside) All is lost!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: I cannot think that the respectable Mr. Saint-Amant —
DARMANPIERRE: (even more abruptly) Why this delay then, which they are already whispering about in the Royal Treasury? Oh! I am in a fury —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (to Beaulieu who enters) Some seats —
SEVIGNE: (aside) Impossible to get to Paris before —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (with an apparent calm) Mr. Darmanpierre, I see, has lost nothing of his usual inflexibility.
DARMANPIERRE: It's indispensable to me in important functions confided to me. Yes, if Saint-Amant has embezzled; I will pity his family; but I will make an example of him.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Sit down. (pointing to a seat Beaulieu has just placed behind Darmanpierre)
DARMANPIERRE: (leaning on his cane) No, no, I cannot stop. I only wanted news of your dear health.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Excellent, as you see — But a moment, mercy, for several months I have rarely had the pleasure of seeing you.
DARMANPIERRE: The war in Flanders keeps me so busy.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (aside) Where to find the 20,000 pounds right away?
DARMANPIERRE: I cannot get this Saint-Amant out of my head.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (low to her son) Perhaps, the receiver of the Abbey
DARMANPIERRE: (to Beaulieu who pulls up a second chair) As soon as the relays are changed, you will come inform me.
BEAULIEU: The relays — The big post?
DARMANPIERRE: Eh, yes, — don't you understand me?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (low to Marquis) Run give a counter-order, and have dinner served.
BEAULIEU: (going and smirking) He still amuses me with his abruptness.
POMMENARS: (low to Madame de Sevigne) Let's try to keep him.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (low) Second me carefully.
(Exit Beaulieu and De Sevigne.)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (gaily) Well! Mr. Receiver-General, what news from Paris?
POMMENARS: (the same) Are the small suppers still in vogue?
DARMANPIERRE: (unwinding, bit by bit) More than ever, and it must be admitted that nothing is more pleasant. They laugh there without grimacing, you forget to disparage at them, you make true friends at them: no, you can count them as amongst the best days in life. (looking to the back)
POMMENARS: The last one I had was at the Duchess de Longueville's. You know that she regularly had a headache on Tuesday's. (laughing) meaning she ordered the Swiss to escort out the importunates, and only to let her inseparables in.
DARMANPIERRE: (laughing) I know, I know.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (pulling him by his coat) Will you sit down?
(Darmanpierre finds himself seated despite himself next to Madame de Sevigne.)
POMMENARS: (sitting on the other side of him) The Duchess was on a sofa, beautiful, pink and in negligee — the most careful — Oh, if you had seen how she knew how to plead cleverly, with what ingenious languor she was able to attract compassion! how she was showered with care and attention: as for me, I looked at her with curiosity which she mistook for the most tender interest which suited my taste the best in the world.
(Darmanpierre half rises again staring at the door at the back.)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (making him sit down) I was present the other day at a grand supper in which the serious etiquette was interrupted by the most diverting scene. It was at the grand overture. They brought a drink to Mademoiselle; she had to be given a napkin; Madame de Gevres presented herself first, and took on herself the duty of pouring, but as she has a black hand and fleshless arm, she hesitated, making vain efforts. I nudged Madame Arpajon who was near me; she understood me, she poured as well; cut off the Duchess, and presented the napkin with her customary grace, and the most beautiful arm in the world. Madame de Gevres remained on the platform stupefied, confounded and especially annoyed at the lively ungloved being. The Queen could not prevent herself from laughing; the King thought of forgetting his dignity; Mademoiselle didn't dare raise her eyes, and as for me I made a face that told nothing.
DARMANPIERRE: I see you from here. But the relay ought to be changed by now.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (approaching him more gaily) Luckily, luckily, I was extracted from the constraint I was in in which I was unable to laugh, by the arrival of an old Dowager from the provinces, a real spectre. Monsieur was put in fright and asked what she wanted. “Alas", she said to him — in a shrill voice and with the timidity of sixty — “I would really pray the King to have me speak to Mr. Louvois.” The King replied to her in a most humble tone: “Wait, Madame, here's Mr. de Rheims who can speak better than I.” Everybody burst out laughing, especially me, who was dying of envy to do it.
DARMANPIERRE: These great ladies from the provinces are so amusing when they want to take on the airs of the court.!
POMMENARS: That reminds me of a grave Baroness from Utrecht, still young and attractive, to whom Monsieur le Duc recently made some provocative remarks — by chance. By god, Milord, said the Baroness with the most profound respect, Your Highness is so kind as to be very insolent.
DARMANPIERRE: (laughing hard) I will remember that one!
POMMENARS: (aside) We've got him!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (also aside and staring at the back door) I am on pins and needles.
DARMANPIERRE: Although your old friends no longer dare, since your separation, to pronounce Madame de Grignan's name in your presence, I cannot resist asking you for news of that dear and beautiful Countess.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (emotionally) Her letters assure me that she is as happy as she deserves to be. Ah! Mr. Darmanpierre! there isn't a day that I don't have the experience — (in a very marked tone) a mother's heart is an altar destined for many sacrifices!
POMMENARS: (excitedly) Well, Madame de Carman no longer has a seat by the Queen —
DARMANPIERRE: Completely disgraced.
POMMENARS: I am not surprised by that: she is an unbearable know-it-all, who would put even her ugliness in question.
DARMANPIERRE: (suddenly rising impatiently) I should have left already.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (also rising with excitement) Will you go to the meeting of the Estates in Brittany this year?
DARMANPIERRE: No, I swear to you, it reminds me too much of the mortal boredom that I experienced at the last one.
POMMENARS: (rising also) It is certain that the etiquette, the confusion —
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: And what's the result? Don't ask what the king intends; he doesn't say a word more. Forty thousand crowns for the governor; double that for the repair of roads, which are not less unusable. Fifteen to twenty large tables, a continual gambling, deathly balls, mutilated comedies, fifty Low Bretons decorated in gilt up to the eyes, thirty charming women fighting over the step, lackies dressed to the nines, fearing to smudge or tear their livery, and twisting themselves into tails, laughter, uproar, prattle, bowing and scraping, disdain — Now that's your meeting of the Estates.
DARMANPIERRE: That's it exactly — on honor, I think that to be there again — It's that you depict it truthfully — But, for the last time, receive my salutations — (kissing her hand)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (in an altered voice) Then goodbye, Mr. Receiver-General.
BEAULIEU: (entering) Madame is served.
SEVIGNE: (aside) I can breathe!
DARMANPIERRE: (to Beaulieu) Well! the relays have been changed, no doubt?
BEAULIEU: Your carriage is indeed in the great court, but there are still no horses.
DARMANPIERRE: What! after so long!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (smiling) These days with army couriers passing by, you experience some delays. You will dine with us.
DARMANPIERRE: Impossible; I ought to have been in Meaux already.
POMMENARS: You don't need two hours.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: And it is so hot!
POMMENARS: You still have time in the evening.
DARMANPIERRE: A moments delay is often very fatal in business.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: The Marechale de Villars who honors you so much is here; you cannot leave without greeting her.
BEAULIEU: She's just come into the room.
POMMENARS: (low to Darmanpierre) And then, it's the eve of Sainte-Marie: they must celebrate the Marquise at dessert: you cannot dispense with offering her flowers with us.
(Madame de Sevigne speaks low to Beaulieu, pointing to the door to the left. Beaulieu also leaves by this door.)
DARMANPIERRE: (low to Pommenars and hesitating) Indeed, it is the 14th. (aloud to Madame de Sevigne) I had really determined to get to Meaux in two hours — (brusquely) But I warn you that as soon as dinner is over I'm getting back in my carriage.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (with a secret joy) You will be the master completely. We would be ill company, I confess it to you, if you were to leave.
DARMANPIERRE: (taking her hand) The way to resist you!
POMMENARS: (taking her other hand) Despite his austerity, the Receiver-General (laughing) reveals a depth of gallantry. (They leave by the back)
CURTAIN
(Marie and Pilois enter by the side door at the right. Marie enters slowly and appears to be drying some tears.)
PILOIS: Come on, Marie, come on, no reason to be ashamed about that.
MARIE: As for me, I thought that my mother had agreed to my marriage — in good faith. (suddenly imitating a harsh tone) I was unable to refuse the Marquis, she said to me in a rage, marry Pilois since that's what you want, but I won't come to the wedding, I'll tell you that. (natural tone) My mother — not to be at my wedding.
PILOIS: Bah! bah! I'll go make her come. It's just a remainder of that idea she had of marrying me.
MARIE: She was right to have a yen for you: you are going to be such a good husband! Damn! it's just that I have a yen for you, too, I do. I did all I could to give you up to my mother.
PILOIS: What do you call giving me up?
MARIE: Why, the more I tried to detach myself from you, Pilois, the more I felt I loved you. Also, look what's been decided; it will be vain for my mother to say anything; I will reply that I did my best to plant you there, but that it didn't take at all. I will add that you would die of shame if you didn't marry me; that I will die in my turn if you die, and that for that reason it's preferable, although it costs me, that she suffer a little mite to see us united, than for the two of us to die for not being.
PILOIS: Then it's really true that you still love me, that you prefer me to all others. (meaningfully) I was afraid that now — that you were being wheedled by the Chevalier de Pommenars.
MARIE: (in the most naive tone) What do you mean?
PILOIS: I thought I saw him making eyes at you, really (very meaningfully again) that he offered some jewels — some presents?
MARIE: (with the same ingenuity) Do I lack something? — Especially with the Marquis —
PILOIS: Oh! it's not the Marquis who torments me; he has only good intentions, he does — but this cursed Chevalier de Pommenars — (changing tone) Y'see, Marie, I'd be very angry if someone came to disturb our marriage.
MARIE: Leave that; we will have the nicest little household! Not that I don't expect some squabbles from time to time — First of all, you will be bull-headed — but I don't care; they say it's natural to Bretons, and that it hides a good heart in them; that's all that matters to me. I suspect also that you will be very suspicious and jealous! That's fine with me, because every time that gets you I will make you blush for it and that will divert me completely. In the end, you'll get carried away and make a row, but that's still fine with me, 'cause with my mother I'm accustomed to a row, and with the weather, perhaps heaven will do me the grace of shouting as strongly as you.
PILOIS: (laughing) Come on, come on, I see we're made for one another. But it seems to me (pointing to the door at back) that they're not going to be slow in leaving dinner: have you prepared the bouquets?
MARIE: Ah! my God! I have still to make one that the Chevalier ordered me to prepare.
PILOIS: (with a gesture he tries to hide) Ah! he asked a bouquet of you.
MARIE: Composed of only three flowers.
PILOIS: And he ordered it from you.
MARIE: As if it were a big trouble. But I haven't very much time. You, Pilois, stay here, you will come warn me if the company enters the salon. (leaving by the door at the right)
PILOIS: (alone, agitated) Ah! he orders bouquets from her! Still a new trap! he's so clever in seduction. An' I suspect that he's the one who wants to kidnap Marie from me! As for me, I've got eyes. Oh, I've really got to be on the look out.
(Sevigne enters by the door at the rear, breathless and mopping his face.)
SEVIGNE: (without seeing Pilois) I ran vainly through the village and its surroundings. It seems everything is joining to overwhelm me. (he sits down and leans on a table)
PILOIS: (aside, observing him) What's wrong with him?
SEVIGNE: I was unable to appear at dinner. In what torment my mother must be! And Saint-Amant; oh, how he must be suffering! I judge that from what I am enduring.
PILOIS: He seems to be beside himself.
SEVIGNE: (after a moment of silence and consideration) I see only the Commander Destournelles as able to get us out of this crisis. He's a true friend, on whom I can count. (to Pilois who advances towards him) Ah, it's you, Pilois. (rising, agitated) Go have my mare saddled.
PILOIS: Yes, Milord.
SEVIGNE: You'll take it to the end of the park: no, no in the grand court: I will go there myself. Run! don't lose a moment.
PILOIS: Rest easy. (aside) Let's have another look at this Chevalier de Pommenars.
SEVIGNE: Why, get going
PILOIS: I'm running. (runs out the door to the left)
SEVIGNE: But from here to the Commander's is more than a league: however swift I am, I fear that Darmanpierre will have left. How to decide what to do?
POMMENARS: (entering from the back, a napkin in his buttonhole) Well! Marquis, they are just serving the dessert: where are you coming from?
SEVIGNE: I didn't find at the Receiver of the Abbey anything but a few crowns, which, joined to your three thousand and what my mother was able to procure for me, are far from the indispensable amount.
POMMENARS: Let's make up the rest as quickly as possible.
SEVIGNE: But from where? By what means? I made my groom run to the Baron's — at the hunt.
POMMENARS: He won't budge from there.
SEVIGNE: My valet at the home of the vicomte— at Versailles for several days. You'd say that all those who could, at this moment, open their purse for me, have given themselves the word to absent themselves. If I had had — only three hours I would myself have been in Paris — But this Darmanpierre is so abrupt, so pressed! I don't know to whom to address myself — Ah! — madame de Villars.
POMMENARS: She is so worthy, so reserved! some dozen crowns at most.
SEVIGNE: How to get out of this cruel fix?
POMMENARS: We still don't have moment to lose. Darmanpierre has just renewed his order to put horses to his carriage.
SEVIGNE: You make me shiver.
POMMENARS: (always gaily) Oh! he still hasn't gone! I am returning to table to tell your mother first that the Receiver of the Abbey was unable to fill up the sum; I animate the conversation further; I attack the new financial operations; caustic and strict, the Receiver General defends them: I riposte, he gets annoyed. —
SEVIGNE: Leaves you there, get back in his carriage and leave for Meaux.
POMMENARS: Oh! that hasn't happened yet. I seduced one of the postillions — I make him break a wheel. No, no, (whispering in his ear) I am making him overturn nicely leaving Livry, that will be better. In a word there's no way that I will not attempt to prevent him from going to Meaux. He won't leave, I tell you, he won't leave! (going out by the back right)
SEVIGNE: (alone) In what abyss am I plunged! How shall I be able to get out of it?
SAINT-AMANT: (emerging cautiously from the door at the left.) Marquis! Marquis!
SEVIGNE: (going to him) Beware of showing yourself, all will be lost. (giving him a purse) Here is what we've been able to put together already. Dinner isn't yet finished; I hope that before the departure of The Receiver-General — Calm down, go back into my apartment, and especially don't come out unless I come myself to find you. (Saint-Amant returns to the apartment) I had great care to hide my desperation from him. Cursed gaming! Fatal passion! How dearly you make us pay for your momentary favors.
(Madame de Sevigne rushes in from the door at the back.)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Can what Pommenars just told me really be true? The Receiver of the Abbey cannot make up the 22,000 crowns?
SEVIGNE: Although per your orders he remitted to me all that he had in his cash box, we still lack more than a quarter of that sum.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Thus despite all our efforts, our steps, our sacrifices we cannot prevent a scandal, misfortunes that I would prevent at my life's expense.
SEVIGNE: Ah! if you could keep the Receiver-General!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Don't you know his character? But for a dispute that Pommenars has just given birth too very cleverly, and which I profited by to escape for a moment, Darmanpierre would already have left. No, no, nothing can stop that impatient and suspicious man, and soon he will bring the most frightful despair into the family of Saint-Amant. That idea overwhelms me and kills me.
SEVIGNE: I was far from expecting that a moment of forgetfulness — that simple mistakes.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (with power and agitation) Mistakes! Can you thus characterize your conduct? I hate remonstrances, you know it, and I am always pleased to disguise the authority of a mother under the language and effusion of a friend — But you engage on faith in a gaming house! you mingle with vile intriguers! draw into the abyss a trusting and generous young man, oblige him take from the deposit that his father had confided to him! expose me to hear this respectable old geezer say : “I had, after great misfortunes obtained an honorable place, the sole support of my numerous family, I was living happily, esteemed; I was terminating with pride a reproachless career — The Marquis de Sevigne has destroyed everything, he corrupted my son, betrayed my faith, compromised my honor.” (terrible gesture by Sevigne) I feel that I am injuring you, that, despite myself, I am taking the tone of an austere censor; but I cannot hide from you what I am suffering, all that I foresee. Ah! Marquis, Marquis! how ill you are making me!
SEVIGNE: Oh! how the idea of making you suffer to this degree has cruelly made me expiate my misconduct! Well, I will know at least how to repair it. (aside) Yes, this is the only way: let's run find Saint-Amant: Darmanpierre cannot resist my remorse, my intreaties (to his mother) But, in the name of heaven don't abandon me. Perhaps your son is not yet unworthy of the fine name you bear. Perhaps he will be able to force you to restore your tenderness to him. (runs into his room at the left)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: What's he going to do, and what is his scheme? I'm afraid of having too heavily driven the picture into his head. But, I see it, it's only by the strength of impressions that one can direct, that one can subdue, the impetuosity of his age. What! I cannot save the family of Saint-Amant from the frightful blow that threatens it! I cannot deliver this unfortunate young man from reproaches, from the distraction of a justly irritated father? An idea is coming to me. (excitedly) Yes, in that way I will forestall all the ill which my son has rendered himself guilty, I will restore him to himself, I will enchain his passions through gratitude. Ah! God! let's not lose a moment!
BEAULIEU: (entering) They are awaiting you for the coffee.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: I'm going there — Could you have seen Pilois? where can he be?
BEAULIEU: He's arranging flowers in the salon. (excitedly in an officious tone) The Receiver General is no longer complaining of my negligence I hope.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: How's that?
BEAULIEU: The horse have been put to his carriage, and I myself just aided in harnessing them up.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Who gave you the order to do that? Today you are so clumsy!
BEAULIEU: (stupefied) What! what do you mean!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Run unharness them: a crown to the postillions; send them away; and remember carefully not to do anything, not to do anything, without having informed me of it (she leaves upset by the back)
BEAULIEU: (alone) I can't get over my surprise. For the twenty-seven years I have been in her service she has never treated me this way. Ah! I am so clumsy! It's the first time I've heard that said. You still learn something as you get older. (with bitterness) Ah! I am so clumsy! (leaves by the back)
(Sevigne and Saint-Amant enter by the door on the left.)
SEVIGNE: We cannot hesitate any longer, we must declare everything to Mr. Darmanpierre. I want, I must name myself as the only guilty person.
SAINT-AMANT: Never, no, never will he pardon me for having disposed of the receipt which was confided to me, but at least my father will be saved.
SEVIGNE: Oh! if I had had time!! But no more resources, no more hope; we must give in to the fate that pursues us.
PILOIS: (entering, breathless, a purse in his hand) There you are Milord Marquis. They said you were in the gallery. Ah! my God! my God! how you made me run!
SEVIGNE: What do you want with me?
PILOIS: (presenting him the purse) Take — take. You've only got a quarter of an hour; I know that —
SEVIGNE: Who told you?
PILOIS: Oh! take — accept these 6000 crowns!
SEVIGNE: Six thousand crowns!
SAINT-AMANT: (to Sevigne) That's more than what we need.
SEVIGNE: Eh! who gave you this sum?
PILOIS: It's not mine, it's Marie's
SEVIGNE: What do you mean?
PILOIS: It's her dowry, what Madame just gave her; it's yours, all yours. It is so nice to oblige a good master. Don't refuse me: procure me the honor of counting this day as one of the most fine in my life.
SEVIGNE: (aside, greatly troubled) And I who wanted to ravish her! Oh! what a lesson!
PILOIS: (with all the emotion of sensibility) You need gold; I clearly understood what Madame said to me; yes, you need gold; you were looking for it everywhere. Grant me the preference. It will make me so happy! This will make me look with pleasure on the little corner of the earth I have. (Sevigne wants to speak; emotion stops his voice, he jumps on Pilois' neck and hugs him.) The Marquis deigns to accept?
SEVIGNE: (in a choked voice and taking the purse) Yes, Pilois — yes, I accept.
SAINT-AMANT: By what happy chance!
PILOIS: (with intoxication) Ah! We were far from hoping, Marie and I, of placing this gold so well. It will profit us, Milord Marquis, it will bring happiness to our household. (changing tone) So much was preventing us from uniting.
SEVIGNE: (excitedly) And who could obstruct it?
PILOIS: Ah, Milord Marquis if you knew (pulling him aside mysteriously) they want to seduce Marie — they want to carry her off (terrible gesture by Sevigne) I was real sure y'would feel the effect of that. I've discovered the seducer. (another terrible gesture by Sevigne) It's this cursed Chevalier de Pommenars.
SEVIGNE: Pommenars!
PILOIS: Because he's a great lord an' he imagines — he doesn't suspect there's a heart here that — but someone's coming.
(He listens at the door in the back.)
SEVIGNE: (aside) What I am enduring is inexpressible.
PILOIS: It's Madame your mother and all her company: let's run warn Marie to bring her bouquets. (he leaves by the door at the right)
SEVIGNE: We are saved, and my mother's jewels won't be sold! Let's beware of revealing anything to Darmanpierre; let's try to get out of this without the least suspicion. Get a grip on yourself and leave it to me.
(Enter Darmanpierre giving his arm to Madame de Sevigne, Pommenars giving his to the Marechale de Villars.)
DARMANPIERRE: Well, we will quarrel, ladies, but I am leaving right away.
POMMENARS: Eh! here's the Marquis.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: My plan's put into effect: what will be the result?
POMMENARS: (pretending surprise) Why I am not mistaken; it's young Saint-Amant.
DARMANPIERRE: Young Saint-Amant
MADAME DE VILLARS: How troubled he seems!
DARMANPIERRE: (very sharply) Ah! so it's you, sir, could you inform me —
SAINT-AMANT: (falling at his feet) Punish me — overwhelm me with all your wrath, but my father — my family. I alone am guilty.
DARMANPIERRE: (raising him, brusquely) Explain yourself, sir.
SAINT-AMANT: (stammering) I left Meaux — on the evening of the ninth.
DARMANPIERRE: Well?
SEVIGNE: (making it up as he goes along) He came to Paris to discharge the monthly receipts, according to the custom — when on route he met a friend who dragged him to the wedding of a rich farmer in the vicinity. I know all about it— from one of my servants who went to this wedding, I ran to the farm — I found Saint-Amant there. I depicted your anger to him, the unease of his family, and I brought him here, confused, desperate — But I told him again and again, it was his friend who was wrong.
DARMANPIERRE: (to Saint-Amant) Imprudent youth! to compromise thus your father's honor, to expose him to my suspicions, and myself to these fears. (low to Madame de Sevigne) At bottom, I am delighted to be off with a scare.
SAINT-AMANT: Ah! sir, all that I dare expect of your bounty is that you never mention this fault to my father. Its memory will weigh for a long time on my heart.
DARMANPIERRE: But for concern for your father — (changing tone) How much did these receipts amount to?
SAINT-AMANT: (with warmth) Twenty-two thousand crowns; I have the sum on me in gold.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (aside) Worthy Pilois.
DARMANPIERRE: (with some remaining brusqueness) That's fine, sir; I will avoid going to Paris and I will sign your receipts here; but that's on condition that for two years you not have the reversion of your father, that you have long requested of me; you've just forced me to put you on good behavior.
MADAME DE VILLARS: Oh! mercy! complete forgiveness!
POMMENARS: (fixing a malicious smile on De Sevigne) We must hope that he shan't meet on his path the dummy that led him — to the wedding of those good folk.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: I will bet that dummy himself will no longer abuse the confidence of his friend to this degree. (to Darmanpierre) I join myself to the Marechale: mercy, complete forgiveness.
DARMANPIERRE: (to Madame de Sevigne) You make me do whatever you wish.
(Marie and Pilois enter from the back each with several bouquets in their hands. Marie is hiding behind Pilois so Madame de Sevigne cannot see her she hopes.)
MARIE: (low) Why get going, Pilois. (he comes forward in the most awkward posture) It's going wrong.
PILOIS: (not daring to come forward and fumbling in his pockets) Hell, I can't hide you any better than this.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Well! why don't you approach?
PILOIS: It's that saving your respect — (to Sevigne) Can I give her the bouquets?
SEVIGNE: Eh! yes! come forward. (Pilois steps forward and Marie hands out the bouquets to everyone starting with Sevigne.)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Hey! Why all these flowers?
POMMENARS: To feast the most celebrated — the most lovable of Maries.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Indeed, tomorrow's the fifteenth. (staring at her son) I admit it, I was far from thinking of my party.
DARMANPIERRE: By Jove! but for that I would have gone a long while ago.
MARIE: (delivering a bouquet to the Chevalier; Pilois observes her carefully) Here's yours, Milord Chevalier.
SEVIGNE: (presenting his with emotion) You who hide a seductive charm Beneath wisdom's aegis — (smiling) You will admit now that it is fine in its place.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: What! it was for me?
SEVIGNE: (rushing to her arms) Eh! who else could deserve this homage? (Kissing and hugging her several times)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: And there I was thinking! Ah! Marquis how I have been your dupe!
(Marie, nestled near Pilois expresses by the movement of her lips that she is rehearsing her compliment.)
POMMENARS: My bouquet is very simple: but perhaps it won't be less well received. (meaningfully presenting it to her) It's a rose separated from an immortal — both of them rejoined by thought. (offering his bouquet)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (shaking and taking the flowers) My daughter! (to Madame de Villars and Darmanpierre who offer their bouquets at the same time as Pommenars) My friends! Ah! Chevalier — this bouquet will remain in my heart for a long while. (she puts it on her breast)
PILOIS: (coming forward with Marie) If Milady will deign to permit
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (with enthusiasm) Come, good Pilois! come! (in a marked tone, observing her son) You are not the one who contributed the least to embellishing this day.
SEVIGNE: (aside) She knows everything — She managed everything.
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: Worthy Breton! Excellent man! (she takes his hand) Hey! don't squeeze me so hard.
MARIE: (extending her simple bouquet of jasmin.) Godmother — respect and gratitude (halting then resuming) No, no, gratitude and respect — Will you let me kiss you? (She kisses her. Turning back toward Pommenars and Sevigne) I told you so — that I could never do it right.
BEAULIEU: (entering a contract in hand) I don't know if I should do it yet (meaningfully) some clumsiness — but they charged me with delivering this paper to Madame instantly.
POMMENARS: Doubtless it's Marie's marriage contract?
SEVIGNE: (with an involuntary gesture) Marie's!
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (in a very marked tone) Yes — they love each other; they suit perfectly, and in a word I am marrying them the day after tomorrow. Marquis, you will sign the contract with me (to Pilois and Marie) and I hope that now, nothing can delay it, (staring at Sevigne) nothing can trouble your happiness.
SEVIGNE: (with heat and passion) Eh! who could be so cruel, so ungrateful? Come, Pilois, come! It's in my arms, it's under the auspices of an adored mother — who returns me to myself — that I give you the assurance of the most happy union. (he clasps him in his arms)
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: (low to Pommenars) I've got my son back. It seems that everything is joined to intoxicate my heart — to embellish my fest day. There's only one thing lacking for it to be complete.
POMMENARS: What's that, Marquise?
MADAME DE SEVIGNE: The presence of my daughter.
CURTAIN