Collected Works of Booth Tarkington

by Booth Tarkington

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

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

  ANNE [vitalized with the energy of desperation]. Not till the very last shred of hope is gone!

  [She springs to the desk and begins to tear the discarded sheets into minute fragments.]

  Is that door fastened?

  Louis. They’ll break it down, of course. ANNE. Where is our passport from Paris? Louis. Here.

  [He gives it to her.]

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

  LOUIS. They’re all hopeless —

  [He fumbles among the sheets on the desk.]

  ANNE. Any of them. We can’t stop to select.

  [She thrusts the passport and a haphazard sheet from the desk into the bosom of her dress. An orderly tramping of heavy shoes and a clinking of metal become audible as the soldiers ascend the upper flight of stairs.] ELOISE. All this is childish. [Haughtily.] I shall merely announce —

  ANNE [uttering a half-choked scream of rage]. You’ll announce nothing! Out of here, both of you!

  LOUIS. No, no!

  ANNE [with breathless rapidity, as the noise on the stairs grows louder]. Let them break the door in if they will; only let them find me alone.

  [She seizes her brother’s arm imploringly as he pauses, uncertain.]

  Give me the chance to make them think I am here alone.

  LOUIS. I can’t —

  ANNE [urging him to the inner door]. Is there any other possible hope for us? Is there any other possible way to gain even a little time? Louis, I want your word of honor not to leave that room unless I summon you. I must have it!

  [Overborne by her intensity, Louis nods despairingly, allowing her to force him toward the other room. The tramping of the soldiers, much louder and very close, comes to a sudden stop. There is a sharp word of command, and a dozen muskets ring on the floor just beyond the outer door.] ELOISE [folding her arms]. You needn’t think I shall consent to hide myself. I shall tell them —

  ANNE [in a surcharged whisper]. You will not ruin us! [With furious determination, as a loud knock falls upon the door.] In there, I tell you!

  [Almost physically she sweeps both ELOISE and Louis out of the room, closes the door upon them, and leans against it, panting. The knocking is repeated. She braces herself to speak.]

  ANNE [with a catch in her throat]. Who is — there?

  A SONOROUS VOICE. French Republic!

  ANNE [faltering]. It is — it is difficult to hear. What do you —

  THE VOICE. Open the door.

  ANNE [more firmly]. That is impossible.

  THE VOICE. Open the door.

  ANNE. What is your name?

  THE VOICE. Valsin, National Agent.

  ANNE. I do not know you.

  THE VOICE. Open!

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

  THE VOICE. For the last time: open!

  ANNE. No!

  THE VOICE. Break it down.

  [A thunder of blows from the butts of muskets falls upon the door.]

  ANNE [rushing toward it in a passion of protest]. No, no, no! You shall not come in! I tell you I have not finished dressing. If you are men of honor — Ah!

  [She recoils, gasping, as a panel breaks in, the stock of a musket following it; and then, weakened at rusty bolt and crazy hinge, the whole door gives way and falls crashing into the room. The narrow passage thus revealed is crowded with shabbily uniformed soldiers of the National Guard, under an officer armed with a saber. As the door falls a man wearing a tricolor scarf strides by them, and, standing beneath the dismantled lintel, his hands behind him, sweeps the room with a smiling eye.

  This personage is handsomely, almost dandiacally dressed in black; his ruffle is of lace, his stockings are of silk; the lapels of his waistcoat, overlapping those of his long coat, exhibit a rich embroidery of white and crimson. These and other details of elegance, such as his wearing powder upon his dark hair, indicate either insane daring or an importance quite overwhelming. A certain easy power in his unusually brilliant eyes favors the probability that, like Robespierre, he can wear what he pleases. Undeniably he has distinction. Equally undeniable is something in his air that is dapper and impish and lurking.

  His first glance over the room apparently affording him acute satisfaction, he steps lightly across the prostrate door, MADAME DE LASEYNE retreating before him but keeping herself between him and the inner door. He comes to an unexpected halt in a dancing-master’s posture, removing his huge hat — which displays a tricolor plume of ostrich feathers — with a wide flourish, an intentional burlesque of the old-court manner.

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

  Soldiers!

  [They stand at attention.]

  To the street door. I will conduct the examination alone. My assistant will wait on this floor, at the top of the stair. -Send the people away down below there, officer. Look to the courtyard. Clear the streets.

  [The officer salutes, gives a word of command, and the soldiers shoulder their muskets, march off, and are heard clanking down the stairs. VALSIN tosses his hat upon the desk, and turns smilingly to the trembling but determined MADAME DE LASEYNE.]

  ANNE [summoning her indignation]. How dare you break down my door! How dare you force your —

  VALSIN [suavely]. My compliments on the celerity with which the citizeness has completed her toilet. Marvelous! An example to her sex.

  ANNE. YOU intend robbery, I suppose.

  VALSIN [with a curt laugh]. Not precisely.

  ANNE. What, then?

  VALSIN. I have come principally for the returned Emigrant, Louis Valny-Cherault, formerly called Marquis de Valny-Cherault, formerly of the former regiment of Valny; also formerly —

  ANNE [cutting him off sharply]. I do not know what you mean by all these names — and “formerlies”!

  VALSIN. NO? [Persuasively.] Citizeness, pray assert that I did not encounter you last week on your journey from Paris —

  ANNE [hastily]. It is true I have been to Paris on business; you may have seen me — I do not know. Is it a crime to return from Paris?

  VALSIN [in a tone of mock encouragement]. It will amuse me to hear you declare that I did not see you traveling in company with Louis Valny-Cherault. Come! Say it.

  ANNE [stepping back defensively, closer to the inner door], I am alone, I tell you! I do not know what you mean. If you saw me speaking with people in the diligence, or at some posting-house, they were only traveling acquaintances. I did not know them. I am a widow —

  VALSIN. My condolences. Poor, of course?

  ANNE. Yes.

  VALSIN. And lonely, of course? [Apologetically.] Loneliness is in the formula: I suggest it for fear you might forget.

  ANNE [doggedly]. I am alone.

  VALSIN. Quite right.

  ANNE [confusedly]. I am a widow, I tell you — a widow, living here quietly with —

  VALSIN [taking her up quickly]. — Ah —

  “with”! Living here alone, and also “with” — whom? Not your late husband?

  ANNE [desperately]. With my niece.

  VALSIN [affecting great surprise]. Ah! A niece! And the niece, I take it, is in your other room yonder?

  ANNE [huskily]. Yes.

  VALSIN [taking a step forward]. Is she pretty?

  [ANNE places her back against the closed door, facing him grimly. He assumes a tone of indulgence.]

  Ah, one must not look: the niece, likewise, has not completed her toilet.

  ANNE. She is — asleep.

  VALSIN [glancing toward the dismantled doorway]. A sound napper! Why did you not say instead that she w
as — shaving?

  [He advances, smiling.]

  ANNE [between her teeth]. You shall not go in! You cannot see her! She is —

  VALSIN [laughing]. Allow me to prompt you. She is not only asleep; she is ill. She is starving. Also, I cannot go in because she is an orphan. Surely, she is an orphan? A lonely widow and her lonely orphan niece. Ah, touching — and sweet!

  ANNE [hotly]. What authority have you to force your way into my apartment and insult —

  VALSIN [touching his scarf]. I had the honor to mention the French Republic.

  ANNE. SO! Does the French Republic persecute widows and orphans?

  VALSIN [gravely]. No. It is the making of them!

  ANNE [crying out]. Ah, horrible!

  VALSIN. I regret that its just severity was the cause of your own bereavement, citizeness. When your unfortunate husband, André, formerly known as the Prince de Laseyne —

  ANNE [defiantly, though tears have sprung to her eyes]. I tell you I do not know what you mean by these titles. My name is Balsage.

  VALSIN. Bravo! The Widow Balsage, living here in calm obscurity with her niece. Widow Balsage, answer quickly, without stopping to think. [Sharply.] How long have you lived here?

  ANNE. TWO months. [Faltering.] — A year!

  VALSIN [laughing]. Good. Two months and a year! No visitors? No strangers?

  ANNE. No.

  VALSIN [wheeling quickly and picking up Louis’s cap from the dressing-table]. This cap, then, belongs to your niece.

  ANNE [flustered, advancing toward him as if to take it]. It was — it was left here this afternoon by our landlord.

  VALSIN [musingly]. That is very, very puzzling.

  [He leans against the dressing-table in a careless attitude, his back to her.]

  ANNE [cavalierly]. Why “puzzling”?

  VALSIN. Because I sent him on an errand to Paris this morning.

  [She flinches, but he does not turn to look at her, continuing in a tone of idle curiosity.]

  I suppose your own excursion to Paris was quite an event for you, Widow Balsage. You do not take many journeys?

  ANNE. I am too poor.

  VALSIN. And you have not been contemplating another departure from Boulogne?

  ANNE. No. —

  VALSIN [still in the same careless attitude, his back toward her and the closed door]. Good. It is as I thought: the portmanteau is for ornament.

  ANNE [choking]. It belongs to my niece. She came only an hour ago. She has not unpacked.

  VALSIN. Naturally. Too ill.

  ANNE. She had traveled all night; she was exhausted. She went to sleep at once.

  VALSIN. IS she a somnambulist?

  ANNE [taken aback]. Why?

  VALSIN [indifferently]. She has just opened the door of her room in order to overhear our conversation.

  [Waving his hand to the dressing-table mirror, in which he had been gazing.]

  Observe it, Citizeness Laseyne.

  ANNE [demoralized]. I do not — I — [Stamping her foot.] How often shall I tell you my name is Balsage!

  VALSIN [turning to her apologetically]. My wretched memory. Perhaps I might remember better if I saw it written: I beg a glance at your papers. Doubtless you have your certificate of citizenship —

  ANNE [trembling]. I have papers, certainly.

  VALSIN. The sight of them —

  ANNE. I have my passport; you shall see. [With wildly shaking hands she takes from her blouse the passport and the “permit,” crumpled together.] It is in proper form —

  [She is nervously replacing the two papers in her bosom when with a sudden movement he takes them from her. She cries out incoherently, and attempts to recapture them.]

  VALSIN [extending his left arm to fend her off.] Yes, here you have your passport. And there you have others.

  [He points to the littered floor under the desk.]

  Many of them!

  ANNE. Old letters!

  [She clutches at the papers in his grasp.]

  VALSIN [easily fending her off]. Doubtless!

  [He shakes the “permit” open.] Oho! A permission to embark — and signed by three names of the highest celebrity. Alas, these unfortunate statesmen, Billaud Varennes, Carnot, and Robespierre! Each has lately suffered an injury to his right hand. What a misfortune for France! And what a coincidence! One has not heard the like since we closed the theaters.

  ANNE [furiously struggling to reach his hand]. Give me my papers! Give me —

  VALSIN [holding them away from her]. You see, these unlucky great men all had their names signed for them by somebody else. And I should judge that this somebody else must have been writing quite recently — less than half an hour ago, from the freshness of the ink — and in considerable haste; perhaps suffering considerable anguish of mind, Widow Balsage!

  [MADAME DE LASEYNE, overwhelmed, sinks into a chair. He comes close to her, his manner changing startlingly.]

  VALSIN [bending over with sudden menace, his voice loud and harsh]. Widow Balsage, if you intend no journey, why have you this forged permission to embark on the Jeune Pierrette? Widow Balsage, who is the Citizen Balsage?

  ANNE [faintly]. My brother.

  VALSIN [straightening up]. Your first truth. [Resuming his gaiety.] Of course he is not in that room yonder with your niece.

  ANNE [brokenly]. No, no, no; he is not! He is not here.

  VALSIN [commiseratingly]. Poor woman! You have not even the pleasure to perceive how droll you are.

  ANNE. I perceive that I am a fool!

  [She dashes the tears from her eyes and springs to her feet.]

  I also perceive that you have denounced us before the authorities here —

  VALSIN. Pardon. In Boulogne it happens that I am the authority. I introduce myself for the third time: Valsin, Commissioner of the National Committee of Public Safety. Tallien was sent to Bordeaux; Collot to Lyons; I to Boulogne. Citizeness, were all of the august names on your permit genuine, you could no more leave this port without my countersignature than you could take wing and fly over the Channel!

  ANNE [with a shrill laugh of triumph]. You have overreached yourself! You’re an ordinary spy: you followed us from Paris —

  VALSIN [gaily]. Oh, I intended you to notice that!

  ANNE [unheeding]. You have claimed to be Commissioner of the highest power in France. We can prove that you are a common spy. You may go to the guillotine for that. Take care, Citizen! So! You have denounced us; we denounce you. I’ll have you arrested by your own soldiers. I’ll call them —

  [She makes a feint of running to the window. He watches her coolly, in silence; and she halts, chagrined.]

  VALSIN [pleasantly]. I was sure you would not force me to be premature. Remark it, Citizeness Laseyne: I am enjoying all this. I have waited a long time for it.

  ANNE [becoming hysterical]. I am the Widow Balsage, I tell you! You do not know us — you followed us from Paris. [Half sobbing.] You’re a spy — a hanger-on of the police. We will prove —

  VALSIN [stepping to the dismantled doorway]. I left my assistant within hearing — a species of animal of mine. I may claim that he belongs to me. A worthy patriot, but skilful, who has had the honor of a slight acquaintance with you, I believe. [Calling.] Dossonville!

  [Dossonville, a large man, flabby of flesh, loose-mouthed, grizzled, carelessly dressed, makes his appearance in the doorway. He has a harsh and reckless eye; and, obviously a flamboyant bully by temperament, his abject, doggish deference to VALSIN is instantly impressive, more than confirming the latter’s remark that Dossonville “belongs” to him. Dossonville, apparently, is a chattel indeed, body and soul. At sight of him Madame de Laseyne catches at the desk for support and stands speechless.]

  VALSIN [easily]. Dossonville, you may inform the Citizeness Laseyne what office I have the fortune to hold.

  DOSSONVILLE [coming in]. Bright heaven! All the world knows that you are the representative of the Committee of Public Safety. Commissioner to Boulogne.

/>   VALSIN. With what authority?

  DOSSONVILLE. Absolute — unlimited! Naturally. What else would be useful?

  VALSIN. YOU recall this woman, Dossonville?

  DOSSONVILLE. She was present when I delivered the passport to the Emigrant Valny-Cherault, in Paris.

  VALSIN. Did you forge that passport?

  DOSSONVILLE. NO. I told the Emigrant I had. Under orders. [Grinning.] It was genuine.

  VALSIN. Where did you get it?

  DOSSONVILLE. From you.

  VALSIN [suavely]. Sit down, Dossonville.

  [The latter, who is standing by a chair, obeys with a promptness more than military. VALSIN turns smilingly to MADAME DE LASEYNE.]

  Dossonville’s instructions, however, did not include a ‘‘permit” to sail on the Jeune Pierrette. All of which, I confess, Citizeness, has very much the appearance of a trap!

  [He tosses the two papers upon the desk. Utterly dismayed, she makes no effort to secure them. He regards her with quizzical enjoyment.]

  ANNE. Ah — you —

  [She fails to speak coherently.]

  VALSIN. Dossonville has done very well. He procured your passport, brought your “disguises,” planned your journey, even gave you directions how to find these lodgings in Boulogne. Indeed, I instructed him to omit nothing for your comfort.

  [He pauses for a moment.]

  If I am a spy, Citizeness Laseyne, at least I trust your gracious intelligence may not cling to the epithet “ordinary.” My soul! but I appear to myself a most uncommon type of spy — a very intricate, complete, and unusual spy, in fact.

  ANNE [to herself, weeping]. Ah, poor Louis!

  VALSIN [cheerfully]. You are beginning to comprehend? That is well. Your niece’s door is still ajar by the discreet width of a finger, so I assume that the Emigrant also begins to comprehend. Therefore I take my ease!

  [He seats himself in the most comfortable chair in the room, crossing his legs in a leisurely attitude, and lightly drumming the tips of his fingers together, the while his peaceful gaze is fixed upon the ceiling. His tone, as he continues, is casual.]

  You understand, my Dossonville, having long ago occupied this very apartment myself, I am serenely aware that the Emigrant can leave the other room only by the window; and as this is the fourth floor, and a proper number of bayonets in the courtyard below are arranged to receive any person active enough to descend by a rope of bed-clothes, one is confident that the said Emigrant will remain where he is. Let us make ourselves comfortable, for it is a delightful hour — an hour I have long promised myself. I am in a good humor. Let us all be happy. Citizeness La-seyne, enjoy yourself. Call me some bad names!