Armand/Act II

SCENE I
Room in the Cottage of Dame Babette, R. H. F. open door, L. H. F. large open window, showing a country scene. Chamber door right and left. Dame Babette with a letter in her hand. Jaqueline, seated on a low stool at window, making garlands of small green branches. Chairs and tables, jug and tin cup on table.

Bab
 * Well, well, the Duke must be obeyed - and I must say nothing of his being a Duke; - but no fear of that - I never talk. He will be here presently, and I mustsend for Blanche. Poor little Blanche, she will lose her May-day sport; but then the honor of receiving a Duke! Here, Jaqueline, child, throw down those garlands, run to the green, and tell Blanche she must hasten home directly.

Jaq
 * Not I, indeed, mother! Bid Blanche hasten home on May-day? I shan't think of such a thing. Besides, Blanche begged me to weave more garlands for the may-pole.

Bab
 * Never mind the garlands, chatterbox; go and tell Blanche she cannot dance upon the green to-day. I need her home.

Jaq
 * (still working at the garland) Just as if the villagers would let her go, mother! They can do nothing without Blanche! They would come and carry her away by force.

Bab
 * Stop talking, nimble-tongue! What a fondness these young ones have for chattering. Ah! they'll be as silent as I am when they grow old ! There! (snatching away the garland,) leave the green things and go!

Jaq
 * Blanche won't come - I wouldn't if I were she. Oh! I'll go; but Blanche shall have her garlands, if I make tbem on the road, (gathers up the garlands.) Who do you suppose would disappoint our Blanche ? (runs out door, off L.

Bab
 * How fast the child talks! Where she got her fondness for chattering, I can't tell; her poor father was as silent as a post, and I'm sure its not from me.

Enter Jaqueline, running, R. D. F.

Jaq
 * Didn't I tell you, mother, they would never let Blanche come? She insisted, and the villagers insisted on coming along with her, and they intend to carry her away again, (rustic music without.) Hark! there is the music, they will be here in a moment.

Bab
 * The villagers coming here! Oh dear, Oh dear, I shall be ruined if the Duke finds them. Run, tell Blanche that I want her alone, and they must not enter. Tell her my poor neck - no, no, - tell her they must not come in.

Jaq
 * I'll tell her, hut she wont mind; I wouldn't if I were she. (Exit. c. off L. R. D. F.

Bab
 * (music) There they come sure enough! Oh, dear, what shall I do to get rid of them! If the Duke finds them and gets angry, I shall die of fright! Oh! my poor neck - I shall never again be sure that I have it on my shoulders. Blanche! Blanche! Is Blanche coming? (Music, piano, through speech - stop at end of it.

Enter BLANCHE, R. D. F.

Blan
 * Yes, Dame, here is Blanche.

Bab
 * Good child! Good child!

Blan
 * Nay, Dame, pay homage to our Majesty! I'm chosen Queen, dear Dame, the Queen of May! You do not smile - prithee, what serious thought has cast its grave reflection on thy face?

Bab
 * I was thinking how beautiful a crown - a real crown - a crown of gold and jewels - would look upon your head.

Blan
 * A crown? Why you are dreaming, Dame, at mid-day!

Bab
 * And if I am, there's something, sometimes, in some dreams - but I say nothing - only wouldn't you like to dream of wearing such a crown?

Blan
 * No, in good sooth, not I! This woven band Of dewy wild flowers lightlier girds my head, and circles in its ring but happy thoughts! Then for my King - whom think you I have chosen!

Bab
 * Wait 'till you see the King himself.

Blan
 * Has he a nobler mien - a loftier look - a braver, truer, purer heart than Armand?

Bab
 * Have you forgotten the cavalier who walked with us in the Gardens of Versailles?

Blan No, I remember him, - 'twas but last night.

Bab
 * Then listen, what would you say if he were the King! the true King! Louis XV., the King of France! Oh dear! what would you say to that?

Blan
 * Why if he were the King - in truth the King - I could but say that wayward nature played on fortune's favorite a most idle trick! While to the humble artizan she gave the aspect, soul, and bearing of a king.

Bab
 * Oh dear, Oh dear! what a young traitor! Its very fine talk - yet for all that there's a great difference between your Armand and the King - I mean the cavalier.

Blan
 * I grant you that, dear Dame, difference indeed!
 * How different seemed in each like attributes;
 * The lightness of the cavalier to me
 * Seemed senseless levity, while Armand's mirth
 * Is the o'erflowing gladness of a heart
 * At ease. Each had his separate pride - one pride,
 * The scorn that narrow minds from narrower minds
 * Inherit. But our Armand's pride looks down
 * In scorn upon mean acts alone - disdains
 * But falsehood - spurns but vice - rebels against
 * Injustice only - while he arrogates
 * No merit to his virtues! Men may bow
 * The knee to royalty, but there's a more
 * Enduring, and more sacred homage all
 * Must feel for what is better than themselves!

Bab
 * How these young ones talk to be sure! You'll sing a new burden to your song before long. You must think no more of Armand.

Blan
 * What - think no more of Armand? is he not
 * The very centre of my thoughts, round which
 * All feelings and all hopes alike revolve,
 * As planets circle round their sun? But, Dame,
 * Thou dear, mysterious and oracular Dame -
 * What boding dreams have mocked you through the night?
 * Or what portentous omens have you seen?
 * Nay, speak; prithee, what has befallen thee?

Bab
 * Oh, don't ask me. - I say nothing. - You know I never talk.

(Villagers without)
 * Where is our Queen? our Queen! Bring us our Queen! (ARMAND and Villagers appear at window.

Arm
 * (without) Patience, my friends, your patience while I seek her, and for an instant tarry where you are!

Enter ARMAND lightly and quickly, R. D. F.

Arm
 * Blanche! Blanche! Queen Blanche! where are you dallying? Your subjects grow rebellious to behold you! Ah! who can wonder that they cannot live from thy sweet sight! And I, the least of all. Good-morrow Dame, they've sent me here to claim our faithless sovereign. Come, thou truant queen.

Bab.
 * No such thing, Monsieur Armand; Mam'selle Blanche remains where she is.

Arm
 * Hey day! what next? Monsieur Armand, forsooth, and Mam'selle Blanche! how courteous we have grown! You're almost too polite Madame Babette!

Bab
 * Mam'selle Blanche cannot dance upon the green to-day.

Blan
 * Not dance, dear Dame, when I am chosen queen? And I, in turn, have chosen Armand king! Good Dame! dear Dame indeed, but I must dance!

Arm
 * Are you possessed, my good Madame Babette? The villagers would tear your cottage down. Nonsense! Come, little queen, they wait for us. The Dame is but our subject after all! obedience is her duty, and not ours. Good-day, good Dame - good-day, Madame Babette! (Puts his arm around the waist of Blanche, and is running with her to the door. Babette intercepts them, and leads Blanche away. - )

Bab
 * (with great dignity) Stay where you are, Blanche, I order you! You are to receive a visitor. The Duke will be here presently.

Arm, Blan
 * The Duke!

Bab
 * Who said anything about a Duke? I'm sure I did'nt! My foolish tongue. But it's just like me - that is, it's not at all like me - I never talk. I mean Monsieur Antoine will be here, and desires to see Blanche upon particular business. Monsieur Armand, I must request you to retire.

Arm
 * No; I remain to bid Monsieur Antoine. Make haste, and tell him we await our queen.

Bab
 * (angrily) Monsieur Armand, I tell you -

Blan
 * (crosses c.) Go, dear Armand, the Dame desires it - go! Come for me in an hour. May he, good Dame? Say yes - now do say yes - you smile the yes - You will not speak - and a consent is twice consent that with a smile is given. And now Armand, for one short hour, we say farewell.

Arm
 * Sweet sovereign, I can scarcely disregard your first command, although this banishment is tyranny. Farewell, I shall return.  Before our garlands wither, though to me their freshness and their beauty vanish with the hands that wove them. - Fare thee well, my Blanche! Madame Babette and dignity, good day! (Exit. R. D. F.

Bab
 * Such wonders as I have to tell you! - such wonders! - but I shan't say anything about it. Only suppose it was the King we saw at Versailles! I say suppose - and suppose that Monsieur Antoine was a great Lord! Only suppose - for I say nothing -I know how to hold my peace. Hark! I hear the wheels of a carriage. Go to your room, child, for I must speak with him alone. Go! Go!

Blan
 * But, Dame, I'm only queen for one short day, My crown may fade, my sceptre wither up before I use them - so I pray thee haste to free me. You'll remember? will you, Dame? (Exit into chamber, R. 2 E.

Enter Duke De Richelieu, R. D. F. - comes down L. H.

Bab
 * Oh ! dear, if she only knew that the King himself - a real King - Oh! your Highness, (brings chair down c.) the walls of my poor habitation are so honored by your presence that they -

Rich
 * Where is Blanche?

Bab
 * In her chamber, your Highness, waiting your gracious pleasure. They were just going to dance upon the green when I sent for her. Shall I summon her?

Rich
 * I first must speak to you - mark well my words! Blanche must be saved - the King must never more Behold her - to remove her secretly, would be impossible - yet at the risk of life, be it her's or mine - or both - she shall not breathe the court's contaminating air.

Bab
 * But the honor, your Grace, the honor!

Rich
 * Be silent, woman! at your peril make ready to do my bidding.

Bab
 * Oh! How terrible these grand people are! Monsieur - I mean, my Lord, on my knees I swear to obey you!

Rich
 * That's well - since flight then is impossible, Death only can protect her from the King -

Bab
 * Death! commit murder! Monsieur Antoine, murder poor little Blanche? Oh! how terrible! But I say nothing - what a Duke commands of course is right - but death - Oh! my poor Blanche!

Rich
 * A seeming death may serve - so that the King shall think it real. There are drugs which produce a sleep that seems the very twin of death, yet do not harm the sleeper. Take this phial, its contents have played servants to my wish before to-day : Blanche too must prove their power. The liquid, look, is colorless: 'tis tasteless, And not immediate in its influence. Your part is to administer the draught.

Bab
 * Oh! no Monsieur Antoine, I dare not touch it, - I shall never have courage.

Rich
 * You have already sworn, you shall abide your oath. Take it, I say: act cautiously, and in your act be speedy.

Bab
 * This is to deal with great persons! What shall I do? What shall I do?

Rich
 * Do as I command you - be quick and silent!

Bab
 * Silent, indeed! your Grace, as if I ever said anything!

Blan
 * May I come in ? Dear Dame, the stirring sound of the glad music through my casement steals - My feet dance to it of their own accord, and threaten shortly to dance after it! I give you warning, Dame!

Rich
 * Come hither, Blanche.

Blan
 * (crosses to c.) Monsieur Antoine - but is it you indeed? Your face and voice I know, or this rich garb had well disguised you - I could half believe it was no jest, when Dame Babette declared that Monsieur Antoine was a lord!

Bab
 * Ah! your Highness, excuse her - she will talk - she won't learn to say nothing as I do. Blanche, control that

little tongue of yours, lest it give offence to his Grace, the Duke - the Duke of Richelieu!

Blan
 * Richelieu! Oh! no - Richelieu that bold, bad man, Monsieur Antoine whom I have known so long -- have loved so

well - the Duke de Richelieu - no - that cannot be! - (sinks into chair.

Rich
 * Who taught the child this folly?

Bab
 * Oh! indeed, your Grace, I didn't - I never said a word about it I'm sure.

Rich
 * Blanche - ha! she faints! Bring water and take this. Fortune, I thank thee! Take it. [hands her the phial

unperceived by Blanche.

Bab
 * I dare not! I dare not!

Rich
 * Take it! Fool! (imperatively).

Bab
 * Oh! dear, I must! (takes the phial, goes to table, pours out water and mixes the liquid with it.

Rich
 * Child, you are ill -

Blan
 * No, no, I am not ill - I was confused - stunned at the thought - don't heed me. I am well! (Babette hands her

the glass, turning away her head) I do not need it, Dame.

Rich.(taking the glass) Drink, drink! your lips Are quivering - you are fainting - drink! you must - must drink!

Blan
 * (looks with surprise in his face, and calmly takes the glass) If you desire it, certainly - (drinks.

Rich
 * (aside as she is drinking. laughing) Richelieu, when did thy star abandon thee!

Blan
 * I do not understand -

Rich
 * Ay, but you shall! Go, dance, they wait you on the green - (crosses to Babette who stands motionless) Why stand you there as you were petrified? Come, rouse yourself. Bid her go dance - Fool! rouse yourself! Sweet Blanche - go dance - light foot, and joyous heart! The wise man cogs the dice and laughs at fate, (aside) (R. D. F. exit hastily, off R.

Blan
 * Why, Dame -why do you stand so motionless ? Why gaze upon me thus with that fixed look of wondering terror?

Dame, - dear Dame Bahette, will you not speak ? pray you - do speak to me!

Bab
 * (recovering, throws herself weeping upon Blanche's neck) My poor, poor Blanche!

Blan
 * Poor Blanche? nay Dame, I needs must laugh at that.

Bab
 * You seemed so happy!

Blan
 * Then did I - do I seem the thing I am!
 * Seem happy - how could I seem otherwise? '
 * Tis happiness to me to live - to be!
 * My very instincts - nay, the«very use
 * Of every separate sense by which we hold
 * Communion visible with external being
 * Is happiness! To gaze upon the sky
 * Arched in blue glory o'er my upturned head -
 * The forms of beauty, called by loving spring
 * Out of the affluent bosom of the earth;
 * The sun, beneath whose warm, resplendent light
 * All nature teems: these simplest, daily things,
 * Which custom cannot strip of loveliness,
 * To look on these is to be happy! - is
 * To feel my bosom swell with gratitude
 * To him who made them, to make us more blest!

Bab
 * Oh! Blanche! Blanche! (music heard at a distance.

Blan
 * Hark! 'tis the villagers; they come for me, and Armand, too, expects his queen. Good Dame, my subjects must not wait. Adieu! Adieu! (going -

Bab
 * Blanche! Blanche! My child! my kind, light-hearted child, embrace me. Do not go until you've said that you

forgive me.

Blan
 * (embracing her) Forgive you, Dame ! What crime have I to pardon, except, indeed, too doting love for me. What

ails you? You are weeping? What's the matter?

Bab
 * No, no, I'm not - I'm not weeping. Oh, my darling Blanche! (bursts into tears.

Blan
 * Can I have wounded you, dear Dame?

Bab
 * Wound me? Did you ever wound a fly? I've seen you brush away with careful hand the very insect that had stung

you. (Music without.) They are coming for you. Go to the green. Go, go.

Blan
 * First, with a kiss, let me seal up the fountains of those dear eyes, where tear and smile contend, like April

sun and rain, they know not why. now for my crown and sceptre. Dame, adieu! (As Blanche is running off Armand appears at the door. (Exeunt R. D. F.

Bab
 * Blessed mother, guard her! That dreadful drug! If harm comes to her, I shall never know a happy hour! Oh, this it is to deal with grand people. Yet for all that, he is a duke; and to be sure, what a duke says must be

right. How could a duke do anything wrong? (Exit into chamber, R.

SCENE II
Village green. A maypole in the centre dressed wiht long garlands hanging to the ground. Jaqueline, Etienne, Jacot, and Villagers busied about it. Music playing. Several Villagers as musicians, with pipes and tabors.

Jac
 * Give another look towards old Babette's cottage, Etienne, and tell us if you see our queen.

Etien
 * I see two figures yonder, through the trees. They turn this way. Yes, 'tis Blanche, and Armand is with her.

Jac
 * Then hurrah for the dance, hurrah for the king and the queen! Finish with your garlands, and let us dance.

Enter Armand and Blanche r. u. e.

Arm
 * Ay, for a dance, make ready, lads and lasses, and be your hearts as light as are your feet, in honor of the May. (Blanche puts her hand to her head and appears to be ill) Blanche, you are ill! Your eyes are heavy, and your cheek how pale!

Blan
 * Oh! no, no, Armand; I am well - quite well. and yet I think my very happiness oppresses me; a faintness steals upon my yielding sense, as if it were the languor of a content so perfect, it could wish for nothing on this earth it hath not now, but on the far-off future shuts its eyes.

Arm
 * Our future, Blanche! It must indeed be bright to vie in promise with the present joy! We live in that which is, and so defy what may be. Let the unknown future bring us years - long years of unimagin'd woe.- It cannot steal the lustre from these hours, whose very memory would irradiate the darkest, time and fate can hold in store!

Blan
 * How should the placid current of our lives bear aught but flowers upon its laughing tide? And yet, I sometimes think to see it ruffled. Thou and thy state, Armand, are not akin; And thy ambition wakes my fear - Yet why! - Why should he feel ambition to be great, whose nobler struggle, in a nobler strife, has made him good.

Arm
 * My nature is not cast, sweet Blanche!, in mould so true and pure as thine ambition winds itself about the root of every vigorous mind. Ambition gives the startling impulse to its higher action! Ambition spurs it on - sustains - inspires! And, rear the better beacon which shall guide ambition's course aright, it is no more a vice!

Blan
 * Ah! when I listen to thee, Armand, I tremble lest the artizan's poor garb hould hide the warrior's danger-loving heart.

Arm
 * Nay, Blanche, to love my country with my soul is nor to love the warrior's perils - nor his triumphs. - All men, be they high or humble, owe to the land that gives them birth a tribute! And with his talents man may pay the debt, or with his industry, or with his blood !

Blan
 * Oh, never with the last! I could not live and see thee pay it! How is this? we both are grave, though this bright morn would bid us think of gladness only. Come, my king, be sure that I shall chide thee, if I trace a shadow upon thy brow.

Arm
 * And shall I not chide thee for that white lip and cheek, on which the rose so lately bloomed? Come, let us dance, my queen! To quicken in thy veins the timid blood, and stain these lilies with a healthier red. Jacot, Etienne, are you not ready yet?

Jac
 * Most excellent and worthy sovereigns! we but wait your pleasure.

Arm
 * Now, Blanche, for thy light foot. Come, lads, a dance! (Maypole dance with garlands. Towards

the close, Blanche appears to grow fatigued, and falls suddenly in Armand's arms, as if fainting.

Blan
 * Armand, I cannot - I am weary - stay -

Arm
 * Thou weary, Blanche; whose airy foot were match for the blithe humming bird's untiring wing? Great Heaven! How pale thou art! thou tremblest, too!

Blan
 * 'Tis only weariness - so - let me rest. (falls, c.) My head is strangely heavy, and before my eyes a floating vapour spreads itself. Armand, I scarce can see thee. - Art thou there?

Arm
 * Blanche! Blanche! my own, my only love ! Oh, Heaven! she grows more ghastly white. Etienne! Quick, fly for help, - and Jaqueline bring Babette! (Exeunt Jaqueline and Etienne, r. u. r.) How cold thou art! Speak to me, Blanche! thou hearest me? Tell me thou hearest me!

Blan
 * Yes, Armand, yes, I hear thee, my beloved, yet I feel - that we are parting - death -

Arm
 * We cannot part! This is not death ! no, no, we will not part!

Blan
 * Nay, Armand, war not thou with heaven's high will! Death cannot break the bond that knits our souls! Shall I not be thy bride - there - where I go to wait thee? For awhile we needs must part! - Death's icy finger chills and clogs my blood, like frost it falls upon my heavy eyes - and yet I seem to see! A luminous mist envelopes all things round me - through its veil a threshold paved with light appears - beyond a land of flowers - and now bright forms in robes of radiant white are flitting round me - ah! They bear me from thee. Armand! Oh! Armand! I cannot see thee - though I feel thine arms girdle my frozen limbs!

Arm
 * Thou wilt not leave me, distract me not - but once more speak - let me once more drink in the music of thy voice! Speak to me! Give me one last proof of love.

Blan
 * Armand - I do - this - (raises herself with an effort, feebly kisses him and sinks back apparently dead.

Arm
 * 'Twas her first kiss! Thou pitying heaven, - let it not be her last! She is not dead! Dost thou not hear me, Blanche? No, no, she is not dead! It were to lose the sun that warms with life - to lose the light that tells the presence of that sun, - it were to lose the air we breathe, to lose thee, Blanche! I stifle at the thought! My life's sole light is endless darkness now - Oh! Blanche, my Blanche! My earth and heaven! all peace - all joys - all dreams - all blessings, and all hopes, are gone with thee! (Flings himself upon the ground beside Blanche.

Peasants group around them. Tableau. Slow Curtain.

END OP ACT II.