Woman on Her Own, False Gods and the Red Robe

Act I

SCENE:--A Louis XV sitting-room. To the right a large recessed window with small panes of glass which forms a partition dividing the sitting-room from an inner room. A heavy curtain on the further side shuts out this other room. There are a table and piano and doors to the right and at the back. The place is in disorder. One of the panes in the large window has been taken out and replaced by a movable panel. It is October.

Madame Guéret is sitting at a table. She is a woman of forty-five, dressed for the afternoon, cold and distinguished looking. Monsieur Guéret, who is with her, is about fifty-five and is wearing a frock coat. He is standing beside his wife.

GUÉRET. Then you really don't want me to go and hear the third act?

MADAME GUÉRET [dryly] I think as I've been let in for these theatricals solely to please your goddaughter you may very well keep me company. Besides, my brother is coming back and he has something to say to you.

GUÉRET [resignedly] Very well, my dear.

A pause.

MADAME GUÉRET. I can't get over it.

GUÉRET. Over what?

MADAME GUÉRET. What we're doing. What are we doing?

GUÉRET. We're giving a performance of Barberine for the amusement of our friends. There's nothing very extraordinary in that.

MADAME GUÉRET. Don't make fun of me, please. What we are doing is simply madness. Madness, do you hear? And it was the day before yesterday--only the day before yesterday--we heard the news.

GUÉRET. We--

MADAME GUÉRET [Who has seen Lucienne come in] Hush!

Lucienne comes in, a girl of twenty, dressed as Barberine from Musset's play; then Maud, Nadia, and Antoinette [eighteen to twenty-two], dressed as followers of the queen. Lucienne goes to the piano, takes a piece of music, and comes to Madame Guéret.

LUCIENNE. You'll help me along, won't you, dear Madame Guéret? You'll give me my note when it comes to "Voyez vous pas que la nuit est profonde"?

MADAME GUÉRET. Now don't be nervous.

MAUD [coming in] We're ready.

ANTOINETTE. If the third act only goes as well as the first two--

MAUD. We'll listen until we have to go on.

ANTOINETTE. Won't you come with us, Madame?

MADAME GUÉRET. No, I can't. I've had to undertake the noises behind the scenes. That job might have been given to someone else, I think.

LUCIENNE. Oh, Madame, please don't be angry with us. Madame Chain let us know too late. And you're helping us so much.

MADAME GUÉRET. Well, I've invited the people, and I suppose I must entertain them. As I gave in to Thérèse about getting up this play, I don't want to do anything to spoil the evening.

LUCIENNE. How pretty she is as Kalekairi.

MADAME GUÉRET. You don't think people are shocked by her frock?

LUCIENNE. Oh, Madame!

MADAME GUÉRET. Well!

LUCIENNE. I shall have to go in a moment. Thérèse has come out; I can hear her sequins rattling.

MADAME GUÉRET. Yes; so can I. But René will let us know. Never mind.

She goes to the piano. René appears at the door at the back.

RENÉ. Are you ready, Lucienne?

LUCIENNE. Yes.

RENÉ. You've only two lines to say.

LUCIENNE. Only one. [She speaks low to René] No end of a success, wasn't it, for your Thérèse?

RENÉ [low] Wasn't it? I am so happy, Lucienne. I love her so.

LUCIENNE. Listen. That's for me, I think.

RENÉ. Yes, that's for you. Wait. [He goes to the door at the back, listens, and returns] Come. Turn this way so as to make it sound as if you were at a distance. Now then.

Madame Guéret accompanies Lucienne on the piano.

LUCIENNE [sings]

Beau chevalier qui partez pour la guerre, Qu'allez vous faire Si loin d'ici?

Voyez-vous pas que la nuit est profonde Et que le monde N'est que souci.

MADAME GUÉRET [civilly] You have a delightful voice, Mademoiselle Lucienne.

Lucienne places her music on the piano with a smile to Madame Guéret.

RENÉ [to Lucienne, drawing her to the partition window and showing her where a pane has been removed] And your little window! Have you seen your little window? It was not there at the dress rehearsal. You lift it like this. It's supposed to be an opening in the wall. It ought to have been different; we were obliged to take out a pane. May I show her, Madame Guéret?

MADAME GUÉRET [resigned] Yes, yes, of course.

RENÉ. You lift it like this; and to speak you'll lean forward, won't you, so that they may see you?

LUCIENNE. I will, yes.

RENÉ. Don't touch it now. [To Madame Guéret] You won't forget the bell, will you, Madame? There's plenty of time--ten minutes at least. I'll let you know. Mademoiselle Lucienne, now, time to go on.

LUCIENNE. Yes, yes. [She goes out]

MADAME GUÉRET [with a sigh] To have a play being acted in the circumstances we're in--it's beyond everything! I cannot think how I came to allow it.

GUÉRET. You see they'd been rehearsing for a week. And Thérèse--

MADAME GUÉRET. And I not only allowed it, but I'm almost taking part in it.

GUÉRET. We couldn't put off all these people at twenty-four hours' notice. And it's our last party. It's really a farewell party. Besides, we should have had to tell Thérèse everything.

MADAME GUÉRET. Well, you asked me to keep it all from her until to-morrow--though it concerns her as much as it does us. [Monsieur Féliat comes in, a man of sixty, correct without being elegant] Here's my brother.

FÉLIAT. I've something to tell you. Shall we be interrupted?

MADAME GUÉRET. Yes, constantly.

FÉLIAT. Let's go into another room.

MADAME GUÉRET. I can't. And all the rooms are full of people.

GUÉRET. Marguerite has been good enough to help here by taking the place of Madame Chain, who's ill.

MADAME GUÉRET [angrily] Yes, I've got to do the noises heard off! At my age! [A sigh] Tell us, Etienne, what is it?

GUÉRET. We can wait until the play is over.

MADAME GUÉRET. So like you! You don't care a bit about what my brother has to tell us. Who'd ever believe this is all your fault! [To her brother] What is it?

FÉLIAT. I have seen the lawyer. Your goddaughter will have to sign this power of attorney so that it may get to Lyons to-morrow morning.

GUÉRET [who has glanced at the paper] But we can't get her to sign that without telling her all about it.

MADAME GUÉRET. Well, goodness me, she'll have to know sometime! I must say I cannot understand the way you've kept this dreadful thing from her. It's pure sentimentality.

GUÉRET. The poor child!

MADAME GUÉRET. You really are ridiculous. One would think that it was only her money the lawyer took. It's gone, of course; but so is ours.

GUÉRET. We still have La Tremblaye.

MADAME GUÉRET. Yes, thank goodness, because La Tremblaye belongs to me.

René comes in in great excitement.

RENÉ. Where is Mademoiselle Thérèse? She'll keep the stage waiting! [Listening] No, she's coming, I hear her. Nice fright she's given me! [To Madame Guéret] Above all, Madame, don't forget the bell, almost the moment that Mademoiselle Thérèse comes off the stage.

MADAME GUÉRET. Yes, yes.

RENÉ. And my properties! [He runs out]

FÉLIAT. Now we can talk for a minute.

MADAME GUÉRET. Yes.

FÉLIAT. You've quite made up your minds to come to Evreux?

GUÉRET. Quite.

FÉLIAT. Are you sure you won't regret Paris?

MADAME GUÉRET. Oh, no.

GUÉRET. For the last two years I've hated Paris.

MADAME GUÉRET. Since you began to play cards.

GUÉRET. For the last two years we've had the greatest difficulty in keeping up appearances. This lawyer absconding is the last blow.

FÉLIAT. Aren't you afraid you will be horribly bored at La Tremblaye?

GUÉRET [rising] What are we to do?

FÉLIAT. Well, now listen to me. I told you--

René comes in and takes something off a table. Féliat stops suddenly.

RENÉ. Good-morning, uncle. [He hurries out]

FÉLIAT. Good-morning, René.

GUÉRET. He knows nothing about it yet?

FÉLIAT. No; and my sister-in-law asked me to tell him.

MADAME GUÉRET. Well, why shouldn't you? If they are engaged, we know nothing about it.

GUÉRET. Oh!

MADAME GUÉRET. We know nothing officially, because in these days young people don't condescend to consult their parents.

FÉLIAT. René told his people and they gave their consent.

MADAME GUÉRET. Unwillingly.

FÉLIAT. Oh certainly, unwillingly. Then I'm to tell him?

MADAME GUÉRET. The sooner the better.

FÉLIAT. I'll tell him to-night.

GUÉRET. I'm afraid it'll be an awful blow to the poor chap.

MADAME GUÉRET. Oh, he's young. He'll get over it.

FÉLIAT. What was I saying when he came in? Ah, yes; you know I've decided to add a bindery to my printing works at Evreux; you saw the building started when you were down there. If things go as I want them to, I shall try to do some cheap artistic binding. I want to get hold of a man who won't rob me to manage this new branch and look after it; a man who won't be too set in his ideas, because I want him to adopt mine; and, at the same time, I'd like him to be not altogether a stranger. I thought I'd found him; but I saw the man yesterday and I don't like him. Now will you take on the job? Would it suit you?

Continue reading Woman on Her Own, False Gods and the Red Robe free in the Wunder reader →