Page:Poet Lore, volume 29, 1918.pdf/113

 First Gentleman.—To tell the truth, it doesn’t, very much.

Mistress.—But surely you, too, used to speak of the stars. I remember it myself. For that matter, I do not recognize you, friend. You are so quiet today. What has happened to you? Brace up, do. This is no way to come in. That is no way to stand. More threateningly! Your hand up! Now then let it drop. And now, we come to the text of our role: “I think you love me no more.” Well?

First Gentleman.—I think truly that you don’t love me.

Mistress.—You do not err, my friend.

( staggers as if struck.)

Mistress.—Ah! that is not all yet. Now comes the leading act: “I say that you are playing a daring game. But from a French farce a tragedy easily could ensue! I will kill you.” Well. The effect would not be hurt if you reached for a revolver. Have you a revolver?

First Gentleman.—And if I should really kill you?

Mistress.—Kill me! You cannot kill my love!

First Gentleman.—Oh! I expected this.

Mistress.—Now you know it.

First Gentleman.—Oh! what a wretch you are.

Mistress.—How fortunate I am! You bored me to death with your pleasant threats. You promised to kill me and I was dying of ennui. Good-bye, friend; and never think ill of me. Why, have I not been patient long enough? Every one has laughed at me. I do not like the laugh of others, even though I myself like to laugh and look at the heavens when you go away. The stars are shining in the heavens. Many stars. It is an ill-omen for you that tonight is the ninth night and it is an ill-omen for you that tonight the stars shine.

First Gentleman (Tries to assume his customary gesture).—Madame! Sir! (But the attempt at gesture is false. He bows, leaves quietly, unnoticed. A moment of silence.)

Mistress (Turns to, who has been standing still and almost rigid during whole time).—Are you satisfied? Did I do as you wished? I have killed the past. It is no more. Only the present remains— What a beautiful present!