PS 1819 jxtiyii : " vv' Z IV 'i V --«:rV-.j^{ ■ \ i.TiiN'^'u. .H572 Copy 1 K • PURSE : i l""" rib J. A Comedy in Two Acts BY ' ! i i 1 THEODORE HARRIS | i Dry The Dramatic PrBLrsmxfj Company. THE Pr RSE. ACT I. SCENE 1. — Mada.mk LESEKiXEuirs apartnients in Hotel Gibraltar. \Enter Madame Leseigxeur and Adelaide.] A, Come, mamma, let us dress! It is almost time for our walk. See, what a beautiful day we have! The sun is shining brightly from the bluest of skies, and the air seems to distill a heavenly elixir! O these September days, mamma, are they not glorious? IVI. L. Ah, my child, September brings me at once the happiest and the saddest of memories. It was in Sep- tember I was married; in September, sixteen years ago, you were born; and in September, alas! your poor father was killed in battle. A. Dear papa! I am so proud of him! General Kergaronet always says to me, " Yes, my dear Adelaide, we fought like tigers that day! Three times we advanced, and three times we were repulsed. In the third attack, a German officer broke through my guard, and cut me this ugly scar, clean across my cheek — see, my dear! and a tall giant of a soldier had his bayonet within a foot of my throat — when up rushed your father, and cut! cut! — up with the bayonet! — down with the sword! — a thrust here! — a thrust there! — and both lay in a heap on the ground. Then forward he went like a lion — and — and — I saw him never again! — ah, my child! Since I can not pay the debt I owe to my dear, my honored friend — let me at least testify my gratitude to his daughter!" And 4 THE PURSE. then the General sobs like a girl, mammal Is it noir strange that so brave a man should have so soft a heart? He is brave, because you know it was he who led the men on to the fourth charge and won the battle. M. L. Strange? No; how could it be otherwise! My old nurse used to sing" to me while I was yet a little child:- ^ ^ A brave heart and a tender heart, A staunch heart and a true : That is the one for you, my dove, That is the one for you. And though all my life I have lived among soldiers — I have never seen a brave man who was not tender- hearted; nor a coward that was not cruel. A. Well, the General is as soft-hearted as a woman, at any rate — the dear old hero! But do I not imitate him well, mamma? — his "cut! cut! up with the bayonet! down with the sword! — a thrust here! — a thrust there! — and both lay in a heap on the ground." If only you w^ould let me go on the stage! .Tust think, I might be- come a great actress! — and then wouldn't you have a grand chatteau, and horses and carriages, and servants — and — [.1 lo}a.ief?, and icandering in his speech.] A little more and it will be done! Yes, I shall soon finish it. It will bring me, perhaps, five thousand francs. Think of it, Hippoljte de Xeuville! — and you only twenty- four! M. L. Mon Dieu, Adelaide; he is out of his head. [Aside:] H. Now, exit poverty — and enter fame and riches! What a gorgeous studio I shall have! And yet it will be hard to leave this little attic here — where I have had so many struggles — so many little triumphs — such jolly carousals — so m.uch of mingled tempest and sunshine. How do those lines of Beranger run: — "Willi pensive eyes tiie little room I view, Where in my youth I weathered it so long; With a gay sweetheart, a staunch friend or two — Filling each day with merry jest and song — Making a mock of life and all its cares, Rich in the glor}" of my rising sun, Li gilt jV I vaulted up four pair of stairs, In the brave days when I was twenty-one! " But what is this — blood? I am faint! What is the mat- ter with me? M. L. [Coming for loard.] Sir — you must be more quiet; — you must not exert yourself — you have had a fall. H. Madame Leseigneur! I am highly honored! — and Mademoiselle Adelaide too! Ladies — to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? I am at your service — pray command me. Be seated, I beg of you. M. L It is you who must be seated, Monsieur de Neuville! You have had a fall — see, this step-ladder was across your breast when we came in. We heard a loud crash, and then^ groan — and we flew up stairs at once. H. Yes, now I remember! I was hanging a picture, and the ladder gave way all of a sudden — and down we came to the floor! G THE ITKSi:. A. O, Monsieur de Xeuvillel Let us find the picture T What if it should be ruined? H. Mademoiselle — you are too kind I It was only an old study I was hanging aloft out of the way. M. L. Come Adelaide — let us go — we left our door wide open — H. To hasten to me — A.. O that is nothing-! H. Pardon, mademoiselle, it is everything! — on my account, too! M. L. I will call the portress, sir; you may wish to send for a physician. H. Indeed, madame, do not trouble yourself — it is a trifle! I would have fallen from, the roof to have gained this acquaintance! M. L. Sir, you flatter us! H. May I not call to express my gratitude, madame? If you will permit it, I will avail myself of this intro- duction, and be more neighborly in future. So near, you know; my studio but one flight, and directly over your apartments. M. L. My daughter and I will be always glad to see you, ]\Ionsieur de IS'euville; and now, sir, let us bid you good day. A. Good day. Monsieur de Neuville. Pray accept this bottle of cologne-water, in case your head gives you trouble. H. My best thanks, mademoiselle! Ladies, wi re- voirl ' [Exeimi M. L. & A.] At last I have spoken to her, my angel! How modest she is! — and to think — maybe her little hand lay on my forehead! Ah, no wonder my brain was filled with sweet visions when I awoke! And it was this very morning that I resolved once more to follow them m their daily walk and find some means to introduce myself. Yet 1 would not have done it! How often have 1 fol- lowed them at a distance, and vainly endeavored to mus- ter the courage to speak! How often I have paused at their door, with m.y hand" raised to knock — and then fled at the slightest noise within! And at last you have spoken to her; you are invited to call! How her lianA TllK Pl'KSK. trembled — how sweetly she bhished when slio o-avo you this bottle! Ah princess, 1 am your devoted slave foi- evermore! But what — ^looking at W((tch\ hveo^cliH-kV And invited to dinner at six! What a coid'oundod boro! I will hurry through, — take my leave — and then ciill on the Leseigneurs. A whole evening of bliss befortN me! Quick, Hippolyte; make your toilet and be off! |AV,V.| SCENE 8. — Mada.mi-: I.'s L KSE. 15 AlphoDse Latourette, if you do not well substantiate this wretched calumny — you shall account to me for every word — for every breath you have drawn in its vile utterance! Alph. [^s^c?6.] Poor fellow! I'm airaid its too late! [Aloud.] But patience! patience! Hippolyte! Bear with me a little longer and I will have finished! You have been to the Leseigneurs' rooms every night now for a month past! And you know as well as I — that every evening, without a single exception, General Kergarouet has been there with his friend, the Count Du Halga; and that as regularly as the hour strikes, he has a game of cards and loses just fifty francs! Now, have you reflected on this? Have you considered why he loses his fifty francs each night? Have you observed any familiarity on his part with Adelaide? Do they not seem to be on very intimate terms? Does he not kiss her lips, pat her cheek, chuck her under the chin — nay, have you never seen her in his lap? H. A thousand devils! Whence learned you this, Alphonse? Alas! I can no longer doubt your sincerity! It is ail true — too true! I have tried to blind myself — but in vain. Ah, God! What tortures have I not endured! Alph. And then, too, — the Leseigneurs live well — • that is to say, they dress superbly for such humble lodgings! They have but a small estate; the rent of which would not half suffice to pay their dressmaker! And in addition, Madame Leseigneur has a snug little account at her banker's; laid up against a rainy day, like the shrewd schemer she is! H. Hold! now I think of it — Mademoiselle Leseig- neur told me once that General Kergarouet was her god- father. Yes — now I remember it well! Does not this explain it all — we should now no longer doubt — it is clear — is it not? Say yes, my dearest Alphonse! If you love me, if you are, indeed, my friend — O say yes! Aiph. I wish I might, Hippolyte! But if that is so — why does he not make them a present of the money? His revenues amount to some ninety thousand francs a year! Why then does he not give Mademoiselle Ade- 16 THZ PL'RSK. laide an inc»3me of fiiteen thousand francs, instead of losinor it at cards? Ah, depend open it, that is a mere pretext — there is something" behind it all! And again, Hippolvte, have you not lost — do you not lose — at almost every game*? And does not Madame Leseigneur always press you to plaj"? Come, my dear Hippolyte, do not allow your rea>5on to entireiy desert jou! H. Enoucrhl Enoucrh! ^fv briin is already ?T>n!Tiiiig' and whirlincr with a thoasar - and evil _• 2^. I can stand this no loEiger, r. _ .i! I m - -,-t! I thank you £rom my heart I You have save«i me from — from — at any rate, from being any longer an egregious dupe and patspaw. I will see you again. But noief Good evening, gentlemen ! [Ejcit.l Alph. We must not let him go off alone! God know* what he will do in this mood! He may destroy himself! Come, let us follow him! \£xKurit.'\ ACT II. SCENE 1. — Madaite LESi:i»iA kin's apartmenU, — MjkDAMS L- and Ai>et.att>e di^yjfcertd. A. Yes, mamma, that Ls the way we Yoa engage his attention — call him to one =: - -ikata picture, pretending to want his opinion — and I will, while his back is tume»i, take bis purse and sKp it in my pocket. He will never know it! M. L iyil you ever see such an absent-minded fel- low'? For instance, the other nig-ht when he came, he had had neither breakfast nor dinner that dav. And did not feel ic — ^d not know it, till I offered h im some liruit. Then he was at a loss to account for his sudden appetite till he happen e" ^ ^ ' * - — A. Ii is &lre£ ' Ai lasi ::^::«?' Jss: .-^-e i-':S'i^-d-T-e-d »-ii-d 18 THE PURSE. eighty kisses! Still, that is nothing to you, oh no! a mere trifle! Well — may be there are others who do not think so! May be there are others who would count one second with my lips as worth an hour of ordinary time! H. True, mademoiselle, true! I forgot! Perhaps there are others! Perhaps your lips are common, too! Perhaps with you, kisses are merchandise! and that may be why you are so thrifty at reckoning with me! A. Heavens! Hippolyte, how wild you look! You are ill! You have a fever! H. Now I have your own word for it! Tell me, Ade- laide, do I not look like any simple country lout — to be fooled by pinchbeck and paste? I am good game, am I not? As innocent and guileless, as a maiden at her first ball! To you, mademoiselle, it must be, indeed, re- freshing! A. Why, Hippolyte, what are you saying! What do you mean? You are angry with me! What have * I done? H. If false kisses are forgeries on heaven — oh why may we not detect their signatures on a maiden's lips! But no! there they are, just as rosy, as full, as fresh and dewy with fragrance, as if they were still inviolate! Ah, Adelaide, when first a man learns that the woman he loves is false to him — it is as if he who had been dreaming in Paradise were to awaken suddenly and find himself in hell! I have been dreaming, fondly dreaming — have I not, Adelaide? O tell me, if there still dwells in your soul one atom of pity, one shred of God's truth — whether I am now awake! A. Hippolyte! You are taken ill! Your eyes are burning with a wild fever! Your cheek is flushed! You are trembling! O my darling — I was but jesting! It was cruel! Yet how could I know that — H. Is it even so, my sweet one? Nay, I am not ill! See, I am calm now! I will dream yet a little longer! Do you not remember the sailor in the old song who was drawn — madly — irresistibly — to the arms of the Lorelei — even though he knew death awaited him! A. Hippolyte! THE PRUSE. 19 H. Yes, dearest! A. When you came — you offered to — you wanted— you— H. What, Adelaide? I am obtuse — I do not take your meaning! A. Quick! Kiss me, just once, Hippolyte! We may not be long alone! [Bnier M. L.] M. L Welcome, Monsieur de Neuville! You are come to keep us from being lonesome! Here is a tele- gram from the General. He is detained out of town indefinitely, and will not be here to-night! So we shall have to play our evening's game without him! H. I am at your service, Madame Leseigneur! M. L Well, the cards are ready — let us begin at once! [jSU doion and prepare to play. M. L. a?zc? A. 2nLt some coins in front of them on the table. H. takes out an old silk pnrse and places it also on the tahle.~\ By the bye — Monsieur de Neuville — I wish to ask your ad- vice about a pastille of my husband, that was made now a long time since — by an artist who was then of some note. It is much faded, and I am afraid it will last but a few years at most, before it becomes entirely obliterated. Come with me a moment; — Adelaide excuse us! [While they examine portrait on the loall Adelalde takes his pnrse and^pnts it in her pocket ?\ H. Yes, madame, you are right! In a short while it will be quite worthless! If you will allow me, I will take the greatest pleasure in making you a painting from it. M. L. Sir, you are too generous — I could not think of taking advantage of your kindness. You are so busy already; it would perhaps withhold you from work far more important! H. I assure you it would be an exceeding pleasure! So far from trespassing on my time, it would be indeed a relief — a recreation — a pastime for my leisure moments. Ah, what noble features! What a fine head — how strongly your daughter resembles her father! Madame, allow me, I beg of you, to send for it to-morrow. 20 THE PURSE. M. L. Monsieur, I could not — H. Nay, I insist! M. L. Well if you insist — I will confess it would be- a very great happiness to me. But should it add to your^ labors, sir, I shall never forgive myself. Now, let us re- turn to our game! Adelaide, have you lost your patience? Do you know that M. de Neuville is to paint a fresh por- trait from the pastille of — H. Pardon, ladies, my purse! Where can it have gone? I left it here, on the table! A. Your purse! M. L. On the table! A. May be it is on the floor! IVI. L. Let us search! A. Are you positive, monsieur, that you had it with you ? M. L. Can you not be mistaken? What if you left it in your room! H. Did you not see it? It was surely here when I left the table. A. Impossible, monsieur! M. L We should have seen it without doubt! H. [Aside.] And now to put the climax to it all — this open, bare-faced theft! [Aloud.] Ah yes! you are right. Now that I think of it, it is in my room: How stupid of me! A thousand pardons, ladies, for my blunder! What, is it already eif^lit o'clock! I forgot! I meant only to stay a few^ momei.is. I have an appoint- ment in half an honr. I must be off! I shall send for the portrait to-morrow, without fail. Be kind enough to have it ready! And now — good evening, Madame Le- seigneur — Mademoiselle Adelaide, adieu! [Exit.] M. L. What sudden haste! A. Let us call him back! He is angry at something! Come, mamma! \Bxeimt.] SCENE 2.— Hippolyte's Studio. H. Most wretched of men! She to whom you have given the first ardent love of your manhood — a common adventuress! Ah, I see it all now! This diabolic ruse THE PURSK. 21 of cards — a mere pretext — a foil to keep up the slimmest of appearances I But to steal my purse with a pitiful forty francs I This is the pettiest of thievery! And so naive — so unblushing — so ready with lie upon lie — pah! it sickens me! To think — deceit — treachery — and worse — a thousand times worse — can have its abode in those limpid, beautiful eyes through which an angel might look forth unabashed! That steadfast, unfaltering gaze, which seemed to pierce my inmost soul and search out its secrets! Those chaste and delicate features — that clear, transparent cheek — now su5used with rosy blushes, and now waxen-pale! O God! is it because I have seen but with a painter's vision, that I have been so blinded to all else! It must be! O thou divine mistress, Art! Thou bast indeed punished me for my unfaithfulness! Hence forth, I am thine alone! And now — let me seek oblivion in my work! But hold! you have one first duty yet to perform! He who has shattered your ideal — who has so nearly wrecked your life, with all its fondly-cher- ished hopes — he must meet his deserts. I will write him a challenge at once. [ Writes.^ Ah, ray General, your duoe shall be avengedi For each lauah behind his back — twenty groans to his face! Yes, that is a fair reckoning. [^rnl>».