by Edgar Quinet
RACHEL
Yes, it’s blood; I can see it...
AHASUERUS
It’s a tear fallen from your eye. Let me wipe it away.
RACHEL
Mercy! The more you wipe, the larger the stain becomes!
AHASUERUS
Indeed? My kisses will erase it completely.
RACHEL
Your kisses are as bitter as absinthe. Oh, angels of heaven, the stain is spreading beneath his lips. Leave it!
AHASUERUS
My breath will drink it.
RACHEL
No. Your breath is a flame that tarnishes it further. Lord in Heaven, have pity on me!
AHASUERUS
Christ! Christ! I recognize you there. Yes, it’s you; what do you want with me? You’ve pursued me all the way to the heart that beats for me. You’re challenging me, aren’t you? You’re laughing at me from my own beard; you’re overwhelming me, crushing me, amusing yourself, great Master, with this long dream that you call my life—you, a dream if ever there was one, a dream become a god for a world of dreams. Well, to entertain you better, come and see my happiness at closer range; be jealous of it and die again. Tears, delirious despair, desire, envenomed delights, palpitating anguish, doubt and remorse, drowned in a tear, adulterer of earth and heaven, how much life, how much death, how much everything you drag with her, with me, in my joy of the damned!
RACHEL
What are you saying? My knees are trembling. I can’t bear it any more. Open the window, that I might breathe.
AHASUERUS
Christ, it’s you who willed it.
RACHEL
I’m at your feet; I’m embracing your knees. Have pity on me.
AHASUERUS
And him—does he have pity?
RACHEL
Christ! Help me, Christ!”
AHASUERUS
Don’t call upon Christ. All his blood will flow into the ground, before my lips ever quit yours.
XV.
CHORUS OF FAYS
1.
Speak, Sodom and Gomorrah,
Where shall I find now
In the vale before evening,
Bitumen black enough
And soot and sulfur
To reseal your gulf
Before this evening?
2.
Handsome prince of fays
Among the clouds,
Who sits so high to see even higher
Don’t you hear the voice,
Which displeases me,
Of Rachel weeping?
(The chorus draws away.)
3.
Adieu, world that gets worse every day. Adieu, dew of the woods, now too impure to bathe our invisible mounts there. Adieu, women, our rivals, with light bodies, presently too wasteful of your plaintive hearts, for us to extract our heavenly beverage from our lips. You’ve wept too much. Your beautiful eyes are weary. Your cheeks are paler than the pale flowers of lilies picked in the Val de Clarençon. Adieu, too, stars of David and the shepherd, who, without closing your eyelids forever, half-hidden in your clouds, too curious, have seen too many sly adulteries. In this great universe, there is no longer, by omnipotent God, a corner of the Earth where my chariot would not be muddied to the axles overnight. Shame! Let us launch a kick before departing.
4.
As we depart, sister Brigitte, do you know what has become of the love that I love? There’s the man with the long gaze, the clear brow, the tilted head, who never—morn or night—said: “Enough,” whose thirst was slaked for a year by a drop of May rain, whom a kiss from a kind friend might kill. There’s a word spoken on a moonlit evening that one would like to remember, and then another, and then a third, each more secret than the last, and better and quieter, and longer, which make one forget, on listening to them, that the day is dying and that the distant bell is ringing the Ave. When the dawn has brightened slightly, there’s a meadow-daisy that a queen to be married comes to consult, sighing, in her garden, about an amorous dream she has had. There’s also, if you must know, a Prince of Thule, handsome, well-built, of great renown, who is courting, on his knees, a fay on her coral sofa, in an orchard rose.
5.
O for an orchard rose! Oh, Morgande, the earth is too old. In its thatch, nothing germinates but grains that die. The eye deceives, the mouth too. To tarnish two lips only requires one breath. Already, in this ugly universe, the hem of my dress is soiled. I’d like to wash my memories in a lake of light. Yes, let’s go, and promptly. If, perchance, by lingering too long, we lost our pure innocence in his place, what would we do? Every star would point a finger at us: “Look! There’s the ill-famed fay that a gnome, her friend, seduced and abandoned on an emerald rock in an island of the sea.”
6.
In the islands of the sea, women, women with bright faces and fresh complexions, the only honey I regret in your dark vale, think of me. Oh, it costs me more than a sigh to leave you! So, I shall no longer braid your hair over your neck, whiter than snow or crystal. I shall no longer rock myself on one of your golden hairs, to amuse myself for a whole day, listening to the wind singing: “How beautiful your mistress is!” At present, your distress is too great for my balm to heal you. Men are too harsh; impure worms that gnaw your heart, once they ask you for a trifle, and afterwards, a breath, and then a whole life; and then, for your wedding, they dress you in a robe of cares. Go! Weep! Weep! One tear that you hide between your fingers will always be more beautiful than the turquoise of rings or ringlets, rarer, more precious and more cherished by heaven than the colossi of dust where the handsome dwarfs strut.
7.
Besides which, in departing, I read this on your white hands: “Everything will be better in the future.” From here, standing on my chariot, I can see other, bluer skies that are swarming; in this direction, a new sea that has not yet kissed its sand is waiting for me to betroth it to its shore. There, no boat will ever need a mast in open water, and my breath will inflate the veil of over-anxious desires until it arrives. Regrets will only last an hour, at the most, or two. For queens you shall be, and all your lovers will be kings. Over a bridge made of a single hair your soul will pass lightly, without shaking it; in looking down, leaning over the edge, its last tear will fall, and drown in the great river where every tear arrives.
XVI.
Rachel’s Room
RACHEL, her eyes wild
Horror, horror! Begone, demon of Hell. You’re not him! You’re not the man I love; you’ve taken his face in order to deceive a poor girl. Oh, begone, begone, I implore you. I’ll tell him everything; he’ll no longer love me—oh, that’s certain. But begone, spirit of the dead! Go, spread your black serpent’s wings. What do you want with me? I’m not dead, oh no!—only my heart is hurting, and my head too; but I’m still alive. Look!
AHASUERUS
My dear life, don’t frighten me any longer. Don’t you understand?
RACHEL, bursting out laughing
Yes, indeed I understand. Shut the window! Oh, we’re happy, aren’t we? Very happy, as happy as Berthe. You’ll never leave me again, since we’re married; never, you hear? We’ll never leave this room again. (After a moment’s reflection.) My God! You counterfeit the voice of Heaven. Once, do you know, I lived in Heaven; but today, Heaven is a long way off, and Hell is close at hand. Your eyes shine, but it’s the flame of the damned. Whatever you do, you won’t deceive me. His hair curls beneath my fingers, and yours bristles beneath a crown of darkness. You say the same things as him, but his voice was soft and yours resembles the sniggering of spirits in the night. If you’re the king of demons, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, begone!
AHASUERUS
What can I do, if you no longer know me? I’ve sought Heaven; I’ve found Hell.
RACHEL
Why do you say Hell? Are we already there? Ah yes, it’s here; here where one stifles. And him, my fiancé, where is he? Is he among the living? Is he dead too? Tell me, give me news o
f him. Is it really true that I shall never see him again?
AHASUERUS
Can’t you feel this cold water that I’m pouring over your temples? The evening air is refreshing your breath. Don’t you recognize it? If you love me, please, don’t parade your wild eyes around you like that; look into mine, again, again.
RACHEL
My feet no longer want to carry me.
AHASUERUS
Try to walk, my love, on your own, as far as me. (He holds out his arms to her and retreats as she advances.) One more step, one more step.
RACHEL
Yes, now it’s you. Your hand, oh, how hot it is! But who was here just now? Did you see him? Listen, I want to tell you a dream.
XVII.
MOB, opening the door with a burst of laughter.
She is only dressed in a fold of a cloak, which leaves her skeleton visible.
You, my lord, at this hour, in that angel’s room! A marvel! A thousand pardons for disturbing you. It’s your own fault if you see me undressed this time.
AHASUERUS
What! It’s you: frightful, mocking death that I have sought so long. Insect, dwarf, colossus! Lame, winged, crawling, with mute steps, it’s you! Let me see at my ease how you’re made.
MOB
Go on! Don’t speak too ill of me, at this moment. It’s me who gives a meaning to human beings, and who often obliges them to make a minute eternal.
AHASUERUS
What should I call you, then?
MOB
Take your choice. I have many names, from which one can make a litany:
If one speaks of the sky,
My name is the void;
Of the sea, the tempest;
Of the earth, the abyss:
Of trees, I’m the cypress;
Of birds, the vulture;
Of fire, the ashes;
Of the cup, the lees;
Of the church, the crypt:
Of the lance, I’m the point;
Of the sword, the edge;
Of love, the moment of adieu;
Of hope, the smoke
Of desire, the regret;
Of the crown, the thorn
Of the bell, the knell:
Of colors, I’m the black;
Of Arabia, the desert;
Ruins, if one speaks of empire;
If of fruit, I’m the worm;
If of the world, nothingness;
If of kings, the dust;
If of humans, the sigh;
And finally, of all things, I’m the ABSENCE.
AHASUERUS
Why did you not come when I sought you in the old trunks of forest trees? I’ve often thought I saw you beckoning to me with your finger, through the window of a basilica; I went up to the tower, but found nothing but a blind man, sounding a knell of agony.
MOB
At that moment, I was in the world. It’s there that I find myself at ease, and have a better understanding with everything that surrounds me. No, there’s a moment then, when the lamps are lit, that nothing can replace: after dinner, in a circle, everyone in his seat, when the clock chime my hour; when hands, in clasping one another, become icy; when hearts, in touching one another, break; when every woman, on her chair, weaves around her, with her ivory shuttle, despair in silken thread; and when the nothingness on which I live circulates, honeyed, in a crystal glass borne by my liveried page. Besides which, on that occasion, a single memorized tune, a line of verse learned by heart, and a cloak of sable fur disguises me marvelously.
AHASUERUS
Another time, it seemed to me that I met you in the morning mist, on a bare mountain-top; you were fighting hand-to-hand with the cross-bearer of Nazareth. His brandished steel blade blazed on your escutcheon, and your strike-weapon fell without restraint upon his aureole. When I came closer I could only see the dew trodden by the feet of two jousters.
MOB
Your senses deceived you again. I never strike more than one blow; and then again, if I remember correctly, I was amusing myself that day by attaching a crown to a king’s head and whispering in his ear the sacred liturgy: Rex in aeternum.
AHASUERUS
What has been has been. Now take us wherever you wish. Hide us, drag us, bury us in one of your tombs—but seal the stone well over my head, so that I can never emerge therefrom.
MOB
Very good, Master. If you were a snail that the rain finds on the road far from its shelter, or a viper in the undergrowth, or a poor man in the street, I’d be able to drag you off unceremoniously to where you say. But that this moment—can you imagine it?—I honestly have a scruple. This young woman is interested in you. You have the appearance of having been created for one another. Such a union touches me, and I’m certainly not the one who’ll break it. All that morality demands is that it ends with marriage, and I’m the one who’ll arrange the betrothal.
RACHEL
Her, the betrothal! Oh, flee, flee! All is lost, and for eternity!
MOB
Excitement is making you unjust, my dear. I don’t know you with that fake cherubic tone.
RACHEL, to Ahasuerus
Come into my arms, that I might cover you with my body. She’ll be unable to do anything to harm you.
MOB
Truly, passion embellishes you, Rachel, and that kind of coquetry suits you marvelously. You know, however, that I have very irritable nerves, and you ought to be wary of me.
RACHEL
Oh, don’t kill him, Mob, in the name of Heaven, let him live as long as me. If I’ve offended you, forgive me. Everything you command, I’ll do. Tell me, what do you want? Why don’t you know what it is to say: “I love you?” You wouldn’t want to torture me more than the damned.
MOB, to Ahasuerus
The girl has the physiognomy, you know, and I congratulate you on the choice you’ve made. So much religion and poetry. I can’t wait to see you married.
AHASUERUS
Have pity on her; now she’s fainted.
MOB
How delightfully that befits her! Her blonde hair, hanging loosely over her pale lips! Admit it, she’s almost as beautiful as death, and I can understand your inclination better than anyone.
AHASUERUS
Curse you! Will you let her die?
MOB
I’m very tempted—but fear not; I’ll answer for her on my honor.
AHASUERUS
You swear?
MOB
Yes. Here, take this pinch of dust as a pledge.
AHASUERUS
What do you intend to do, then?
MOB
This. I don’t doubt that your love is as pure as the day; however, my scruples demand that you and Rachel receive the nuptial blessing as soon as possible; otherwise, I won’t sleep tranquil.
AHASUERUS
You mock when you command; but this time, whatever it is, your order isn’t hard.
MOB
It’s a veritable angel that I’m going to give you, you understand. However, if I have any advice to give you, it’s that when she’s in your possession and you’ll be the law for her, you treat her as a simple slave.
AHASUERUS
You can kill her, but you can’t disenchant that utterly celestial being.
MOB
Let me be. For a long time your situation has touched me. It would, in fact, be infinitely regrettable if your name were to perish, and no offspring remained to collect the advantage that life has given you. Your isolation pained me, and I felt it only too keenly myself—for you see before you a poor widow.
AHASUERUS
Whose widow?
MOB
Oblivion’s. You need a companion. Without that, the meaning of your life would be incomplete. In future, all your impressions will be doubled. When you dream of haven, your companion will darn your socks and count her stitches; that’s how you’ll arrive at the mirror of reality, in which I never tire of looking at my face.
AHASUERUS
&nbs
p; Will you be at our wedding?
MOB
Almost always, nowadays, I make arrangements to be between two spouses in their nuptial bed.
AHASUERUS
And when you want to leave?
MOB
I die of impatience. Of all the sacraments of the living, a rational marriage is the one that suits me best.
AHASUERUS
Your power ties my tongue. I no longer feel either joy or dolor.
MOB
We shan’t invite anyone, shall we? And yet, there’ll be no lack of witnesses.
AHASUERUS
You’re dragging me; I’ll follow you anywhere.
MOB
Can you hear my horse pawing the ground in the courtyard? Let’s go, handsome spouse! It’s time for the dance of the dead. Go buckle his saddle. Load your fiancée on to his rump, and hold hard with her to the saddle-bows.
AHASUERUS
I’ll obey you, but I can’t help shivering.
MOB
That’s good. Hold the bridle high and firm; otherwise he’ll go to lick the bloody dew of Pharsalia or Roncevaux.
AHASUERUS
I’m ready.
MOB
Just one minute more; I’ve forgotten my hour-glass. There—let’s depart together.
