AUL FORRESTER. A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. NEW YORK. 1871. CHARACTERS. MIICIIAEL FORRESTER. PAUL FORRESTER, his son. ADOLPH DE BEAUBERG. LEA DE CLERS. CAMILLE, cousin to LEA and warOd of MIChAEL FORRESTER. JAMES' JO SERVANTS JOHN I PAUL FORRESTER. ACT FIRST. Interior of Paul Forrester's Studio. Doors centre, right, and left. A large canvas on an easel. Paul and John discovered. Paul painting, and John arranging the different things about the room. Paul. LET those things there alone; go down stairs and see, Be quick, if there are any letters for me. [Exit John. Without one word or sign for three days and more, Our quarrels were never so lasting before; But now that the fault is all on her side, The effect of caprice, perhaps of false pride, Delight in my agony she seems to see, Ani waits thus for humble repentance from me; Is it that our union less worthy appears, And, to complete her joy, need she have my tears? Or, tired of love, does she hope to tire My love; and, in absence, slake my desire? Could I think Lea false, I should hate her name For trying me thus and thus fanning my flame. What means then this silence? [Enter John]. John. I've a letter here. 4 PAUL FORRESTER. Paul (taking letter hastily). I was sure she would write.'Tis not from Lea. (Crushes letter and throws it down.) [Exit John. Oh hard-hearted woman, is there then no trace Left of pity for me in that lovely face?'Tis food for your caprice you'd seek, and would dare To brave my hot tears, my disgrace, my despair. But you shall wait in vain for such proof from me, My tears, my despair, my disgrace, you'll ne'er see. I'll wait till you come, should you never return, And, if it must be so, from my breast I will spurn All trace of your false love; but you shall not see How profound that love, how deep that agony. [Enter Forrester.] Forrester. Good day, Paul. Paul. Good day, father. Forrester. Ah! what is wrong? Your eyes are on fire, your breath quick and strong. What's the matter? Paul. Nothing. It seems all in vain. I can't work as I should. It wears on my brain. Forrester (goes to Picture). Let's see! Rather weak, that Milo, rather weak. Give more force to the arm, more hue to the cheek. Or he'll seem but to tear the bark from the tree, You have given him strength: he lacks energy. Paul. I shall never gain that force which has named you Michael Angelo. ACT FIRST. 5 _Forrester. Don't despair. It is true That my name is Michael; those who add the rest Think that they flatter me; a thing I detest; Let me, as a sculptor, counsel you, my son, Since sculpture and painting are too much for one Man to practise in these days; I'll join my strength To your weakness, thus you'll meet success at length. Paul. Weakness you never had. Forrester. How should you know, pray? Paul. You moulder of marble and bronze as mere clay! What can you know of that, you who are as bold In talent, and firm as the statues you mould. Your genius, so strong, so intense, and so pure, Develops itself in those things which endure. While mine is so fitful, so weak and so tame That darkens obscures even its brightest flame. I shall never succeed. Forrester. If you would be great Strive as Pygamalion strove; so strive to create. For that which the Greeks, in their fable of old, Teach us, modern art speaks in language more cold. In the arts none can serve two masters, my son. At your age I'd made choice for myself of one. All illicit pleasure I boldly ignored, And found that in virtue lies its own reward. Paul. More easy to give than to take-such advice. 6 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. No, a happy marriage shields man against vice. Without woman's love of what worth is this life? Why, our griefs are half griefs when shared with a wife, It is woman's mission, in marriage, to prove A harbor of refuge in her sacred love. Strive hard with yourself and time itself will cure Those passions of which the mere thought is impure. Paul. You suspect me! Forrester. I do. Paul. Can you then believe?Forrester. My son, there are signs which can never deceive A father's eyes. That same hard strife with your art Proves that some strange Goddess now reigns in your heart. When, like Samson, shorn of his locks, you appear,'Tis safe to assent that Delilah is near. If such women contributed to success Or to our mental strengthPaul. To that even less Than the other. Forrester. We sacrifice for their sake All, because we give all. Paul. And because we take Nothing in return. Forrester. They destroy manly pride. ACT FIRST. 7 Paul. Make sure of their triumph, then cast us aside, Our vows turn to jests, our affections deride: And then, finding some man who pleases them more, Boldly discard the first and vote him a bore; Ask him what has put such ideas in his head, The next time they meet, with a smile, cut him dead. Forrester.'Tis true. Paul. W6men have no hearts now-a-days. F orrester. They had in my time. Paul. How well you know their ways. Forrester. You are in love, Paul. Paul. No.'Tis true I did think Myself loved, when I only stood on the brink Of a dark precipice, whose depth I now see With dread, and with hate, of its foul perfidy. Forrester. Are you sure? Paul. Can we love those whomr we despise? Forrester. I've heard of such things. Paul. Among fools-I'll be wise. 8 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. I know it is easy for parents to preach To their sons, but'tis not so easy to teach Other hearts. Of proverbs most true, this is one: It is a wise father who knows his own son. But I know your heart, and feel sure when you say The thing must be donePaul. That I'll soon find the way. Forrester. Come, confess the truth. What's her station in life? Paul. Much the same as our own. She's rich. Forrester. Ah, the strife, Of fashion and wealth has quite taken away Those feelings in which this fast world of to-day Leaves no time to indulge, for women we know Live less for their homes than they do for mere show. Flattery, love of dress, indulgence, applause,'With the sex of our day, are the only laws. Paul. My bnurthen has become too heavy for me. Forrester. Then promise me, when once from this burthen free, To renounce such folly and marry-yes, both. Paul. I will swear to do so. Forrester. I accept your oath. ACT FIRST. 9 [Enter Adolph.] Adolph. Adolph de Beauberg. Forrester. My old pupil, your hand! Adolph. Old master! And Paul! I am yours to command. Forrester. Our what? Adolph. Any thing you may please, my old boy, Your pupil, your model, your slave, your post-boy, (picking up letter which Paul has thrown down) Take care of your letters. Paul. (Looking at Postage Stamp.)'Twas posted at Nice. Forrester. From Reynal? (Paul motions " Yes.") Adolph. What news do you get from Maurice? Paul. HIe's ill. Adolph. I hope soon to be with him again. Forrester. Ah, when? Adolph. I leave Paris by this evening's train. Paul. You leave? 10 PAUL FORRESTER. A dolph. Emigrate. Forrester. And you go? Adolph. Anywhere, For I'm bored! Foerrester. And your friends? Adolph. They cannot much care. _Iorrester. You travel for business or pleasure? A dolph. I'm bored, Mlust have change. Tforrester. And this change you would seek abroad. For shame; why, a handsome young fellow like you, With great lots of spare cash and nothing to do, With talent almost, pray, wherefore should you roam Strange lands for those conquests you'll find nearer home? Adolph. You'd like to know why? Forrester. Yes, I should; speak out —well? A dolph. I'll confess to you, now, if you will not tell. You think me, perhaps, a great rake; that I go To escape from the women, do you? ACT FIRST. 11 Forrester. Oh, no! Al dolph. Indeed, you surprise me. If I don't mistake All the women believe me a gay, young rake. _Forrester. I never remarked it. A do2[ph. How prudent you are! But, if you suppose it, believe me you're far From the truth, my friend; for, would you believe so, My greatest of faults is timidity. Forrester. No! Perhaps, my young friend, you've not tried the right sort. Adolph. I've tried them all, young, old, fat, lean, tall and short. Paul. Madame de Clers, perhaps? Adolph. Why, how could you know? Forrester. Lea! Adolph (to Paul). Who told you? Paul (embarrassed). (Aside.) I felt sure it was so. _Forrester. Such practices you should not have indulged here, In my house. 1 2 PAUL FORRESTER. Adolph. But — Forrester. You've been imprudent. Adolph. Look here! Now Madame de Clers' no relation to you. Forrester. MIy pupil-my niece-or, almost so. Adolph. That's true; But no blood relation, so you cannot claim - Forrester. I'm a very old friend-that's almost the same. And Paul here and she have long loved each other As I'd have them love-like sister and brother. Where old friends are concerned, it has been my pride When trouble came on them, to stand by their side. Now, it so turns out, as you are well aware, That among those old friends is Madame de Clers. And, when that wretched man, her husband, did force 1ier to demand her rights, and seek a divorce,'Twas I who did furnish the means to defend [friend, Those rights, and throughout all her grief, stood her And exposed, in spite of the world, my gray hairs To those accusations which calumny dares. A do lph. You're the same old, hot-headed chap, as of yore. Forrester. I defended virtue against vice. ACT FIRST. 13 Adolph. No more, I beseech! In this one case you are quite out, And you do not know what you're talking about. If you'd but have patience, you'd very soon see That, instead of blaming, you should pity me, For she, most persistently, turns a deaf ear To my prayers. I'orrester. I'm glad to hear it. A do phI. Lea Is notPorrester. Change the subject. You mean to confess, (slapping him on the back). Your modesty stands in your way to success? Adolph. Yes, except with women of a certain class, I'm nervous, and timid and modest, alas! And then I've pitched my standard so very high, That I can't find what I want, in fact I sigh In vain; for the woman that I choose must bring Beauty, innocence, and all that sort of thing. Paul (laughing). Pray Heaven preserve you from such a sad fate. A dolph. I'm in a sufficiently well preserved state Already. So long as I'd hope of success I never told any body my distress. Forrester. You despair? 14 PAUL FORRESTER, Adolph. I do. Forrester. Don't say so. A dolph. I'm so frank. I know that I have only myself to thank For it all. Paul. Ah Forrester. Why so? A do lph. I'm so tinlid, orModest. Forrester. I think I heard you say so before. Adolvph. You see that I open my whole heart to you. I do wish to goodness that I only knew, How you approach the sex. Paul. Why, much as you might. A dolp-h. I'll tell you what happened to me but last night. You must know then I'm never happy unless I'm in love with some dancer or some actress; Well, one of these ladies, who's very well known, An acquaintance of mine, asked me for a loan: A pretty large sum, which I thought rather cool, And said so. She called me a mean, vulgar fool, And turned on her heel. What do you think of that? ACT FIRST. 15 Forrester. I'm no judge of such matters. Adolph. Well, now, that's flat! So, you think me a fool? Forrester. I did not say so. A doloph. No, not quite; you intimated it though. Well, if I am timid, and modest, and plain, Which I doubt-'tis my parents must bear the blame. I really can't help it, for I've done my best, Spent plenty of money, am always well dressed. But I give it up, and shall now emigrate. Paul. You might try once more; it may not be too late. Adolph. My talents you none of you appreciate. Paul. Your lot's very hard. You must blame it to fate. Or, if you insist upon fighting the fates, Just make a journey to the United States. Foreign noblemen are much thought of out thereAt least so I've heard. A dolph. Oh, of that I'm aware. Forrester. You're modest, and rich, and if more things you need. You've a title; with that you're sure to succeed. Adolp2h. You give me an idea. 16 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. Just think of the use Such talents might serve; the effect they'd produce. A doloph. I'll make up my mind to set out on the spot. Forrester. I think you'd be much to blame if you did not. A dolph. Yes, I'll cross the ocean. And just take a look At America. I come back, write a book; It will be sure to take. [Enter Camille]. Forrester. Camille! Camille. Even so. Pardon that I thus invade your studio. (Presents her forehead to Forrester, who kisses her.) Adolph (to Camille). I'll bid you good-morning. I'm off now. Good bye. Forrester. Adieu, gay young rake. Paul. Adieu, Lovelace. A dolph. O fie! [Exit Adolph]. Paul. Bon voyage! Camille. Where's he going? ACT FIRST. 17 Forrester. Adolph sets out In search of adventure. Camnillc. He'll return? TForrester. No doubt! Was that question prompted by interest or whim? Camille. I don't know, I'm sure. JForriester. You don't admire him, And you're right. Well, this is your first holiday. How shall it be spent? Shall we leave Paul to say? Camille. I should like of all things to dine with Lea. Fo, rrester. You and Paul shall go and dine with her, my dear. Paul. Quite impossible. Camille. Why? Paul (embarrassed). I'm engaced —you seeWith some friends. Camille. Won't you give them up to please me? Paul. No, I really can't, though I don't care a bit To go. 2 18 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. You said nothing to me about it. Camille. How thoughtless! Paul. I forgot. Camille. It was unkind, Paul. Forrester. At least you'll accompany her, and will call Later. Paul (to Forrester). I go to her house? Forrester. Why not? and bring Camille home. Paul. Are you sure it would be the thing? Forrester. I'm not very well. Martha's busy, and soCamille. Well, John can take me, I'm sure you need not go. And since Paul has other engagements, meanwhileForrester. Very well. Paul. John's gone out. Forrester. Indeed? Camille. Why that smile? ACT FIRST. 19 Forrester (to Paul). Well then, you must go, since he's out and I'm ill. Paul (aside). At least she shall know I went against my will. [Exit Paul. Camille. Poor Paul, all these visits seem against the grain. Forrester. You're mistaken, my dear. Well, now, to be plain, You asked me just now why I smiled; well, forsooth, Because John's down-stairs and Paul told an untruth. Camille. With what object? Forrester. Why, bless you, you little elf, Because Paul wanted to go with you himself. Camille. But then, why not say so? Forrester. He is shy, you see. Camille. Indeed! Forrester. Does the thought displease you? Camille. No. Forrester. Nor me. Camille. But, yet, why refuse? 20 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. He thought you might suspect What he was about; but to change the subject, Have you ever thought of your sad position? Camille. Sad! Forrester. Of your orphan, dependent condition; You have scarce a friend now save myself and Paul. Camille. And is not that enough? have you not been all' A fond father could? Is not Paul my brother? (Laying her hanzd on his shiouldcr.) At least I'm certain we love one anothe Forrester. Bless your little heart. I'm quite sure that you do, And that brings me to what I would say to you. You see, darling, I'm getting old and infirm, And shall very soon have attained that term, Beyond which we cannot hope to remain here; No, don't look so sad and down-hearted, my dear,'Tis the fate of all men; and certainly I Can't be an exception: all that live must die. After my time this will be no home for you, And you'll understand it is equally true That, according to the immutable rule, You cannot pass your whole life at boarding school. Camille. No, that, I of course, very well understand; There's but one way left —marry me out of hand. What do you say to that? ACT FIRST. 21. Forrester. Well, where shall we find A husband in all respects of the right kind For you? Camille. Paul would do. Forrester. What, who, Paul? Camille. Yes, he. I know that you have always wished it might be. Forrester. How stupid of me to beat about the bush As I did! How a true woman's heart will rush To its end! Yes, darling, the aim of my life Has been, before I died, to see you Paul's wife; My complete happiness but one thing has lack'd: The becoming, through Paul, your father, in fact.'Twas your mother's last prayer on her lone:death-bed, When calling down blessings from heaven on your head. And'twill be my last prayer. Canille. Your last prayer, you say? And what prevents that prayer being granted, pray?'Tis for me, to obey, for you to command. As for Paul-.Forrester. Ab, Paul! camille. Do you think he'll withstand Your will? 22 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. We must sound him. Camille. Must sound him, why? Surely he knows your wish quite as well as I. Forrester. Then he's spoken to you? Camille. On this subject-no; But your word is his law, as'tis nmine, you know. For us to marry strangers would never do; It would be but to separate us from you. A thing I'd not think of. Forrester.'Twould be hard in truth, If, after having passed together your youth, You could not unite in this old heart, which you Know, beats but for the happiness of you two. In your loves my youth will return back to me. Camille. When shall we marry? Forrester. When Paul's heart's again free. When I say his heart, I'd have you understand That I mean when he's done his work now on hand. For you know how he is wrapped up in his art; And now that alone rules supreme in his heart. Once more free from her toils we need have no fear Any other will rule but our goddess here.'Tis he (listening). Camille. Then I'm off. ACT FIRST. 23 Forrester. Not a word! Camille. I can't seek Him now, or myself be the first one to speak. [Exit. Forrester. Oh you sly little puss, who would have supposed You loved Paul all the while, yet never disclosed Your love? Womankind, what enigmas you are! We think ourselves wise, but'tis plain that you're far Wiser than we. In deceit, hypocrisy, You are very much more apt scholars than we. You call us the lords of creation,'tis true; But, in knowledge of hearts, we must bow to you. Pray heaven that Paul's heart again may be free; For I know that young soul, with its gayety And joy, holds a depth of affection so rare That to lose his love were more than it could bear. If Paul, to our grief, should have formed other ties, As I sometimes have feared, then it with me lies To use that authority which, until now, I have never made use of, and make him bow To my paternal will. Ah,'tis hard to prove That labors like these are mere labors of love. (Turning to picture.) He does not work now as he has worked of late, His color and drawing are less accurate. Let me see if I cannot, from the source Of my stronger power, give his thoughts more force. (Taking itp Paul's palette and turning to th7e picture.) [.Enter Lea stealthily, withdrawing the key from the door and putting it in hzer pocket.] 21 PAUL FORRESTER. Lea. Since the mountain won't come to Mohammed, he Must just come to the mountain. Forrester. What do I see? (Aside.) Lea. His father! Forrester. You here? Lea. Good heavens! Forrester. I am free To confess this meeting surprises me more Than my words can now give expression to, for, Of all women who might have led Paul astray, You are the last I should have suspected; nay, My past services in your behalf afford Proof that might have met with a better reward. Lea. I've deceived vou. Forrester. Lea, if fault ever did Call up all my deep sympathy and forbid Censure, it is yours. There's been so much to blast All your hopes of happiness in the sad past. Lea. Oh, how good you are, how good, how merciful; Yet have I great need of all your bountiful Charity. For I'm like some wretched outcast, Like some storm-tossed ship, without rudder or mast, ACT FIRST. 25 Deprived of Paul's love-and yours. Possessing that I'm strong to resist the world's scorn and its hate. Fogrrester. Such pity I give as of friendship is born. My pity you have; my pity, not my scorn. Lea. My loftiest aim and my happiest dream "'as, winning his love; to win your esteem. Since you condemn me not, is there need that I Fear the shafts of envy and of calumny? - Forrester.'Tis not my voice condemns, but'tis the command That speaks trumpet-tongued in the law of the land. Lea. The law of the land? Forrester. Yes, in solving the tie Which bound you for life, it gave not liberty To form other ties, for that decree enforced All those pains which fall on a woman divorced. Lea. While Paul's love for me lasts, he and I can wait. _Forrester. While it lasts; but may you not find, when too late, That the sentiment which now your hearts does move Was more passing passion than enduring love? Do you feel such faith in its force and its truth To think it will outlive the fancy of youth? And that, in after years, respect will succeed That love, which it ought the rather to precede? And can you trust to time, that slayer of all Things mortal, to strengthen your claims upon Paul? 0 O 26 PAUL FORRESTER. Were you now free, as you hope one day to be, I should force myself to be content and see You Paul's wife, and all those cherished dreams resign Which, through long years past, have not ceased to be mine. When, now in your strong hope, you say you can wait, Do you realize those awful words, " too late?" May not those dread words rise up some day and blast Those fond dreams of love, so unlikely to last? For many years Paul will still be young, while youLea. MIust soon grow old. The words are cruel, but true. And when that sad time comes I can but expect To find his indifference and his neglect? Neglect which would leave me alone, desolate. Forrester. Not only you'd have his neglect, but his hate. Lea. Oh no, say not so, for when that day had come, No selfish passion should defile the dark tomb Of our love. No sigh should be heard, and no tear Should e'er meet his gaze, no complaint greet his ear. My sorrow I'd hide in my heart; and, unseen, It should live on that happiness which had been. Forrester. No, memory is not the only support Of age; for when, from the past we seek comfort,'Tis one thing bears us up, and one thing alone; That consoling sense of a duty well done. Lea. But I have no one to claim duty from me. ACT FIRST. 27 Forrester. All ranks have their duties, if they could but see Where they lay; and it often happens that those We think farthest off are, in fact, the most close. So, in our Paul's life, you would prefer to share As angel of hope rather than of despair. Ought you not for him to shun the precipice — Not in passion triumph, but self-sacrifice? Lea. You'd have me give up Paul? Fogrrester.'Tis what I wish. Lea. No, I must not, I can not, I will not do so. Your fatherly love is too selfish by far. Forrester. All true love is selfish. Lea. In that our loves are Alike. Must mine be all the sacrifice, and Yours all the triumph? Forrester. Your most just reprimand I accept. Lea. You men, sir, are all just the same, Misfortune befalls you, and sorrow and shame; A victim is needed and, since your sex can Not yield, why of course it must be the woman. And our force to suffer must grow with our years; To you all the smiles and to us all the tears. 28 PAUL FORRESTER. TForrester. Ah, speak not of sacrifice to these gray hairs; Little you know what sacrifice has been their's. He, who now of you this great sacrifice begs, Has drained that bitter cup quite down to the dregs. The truth of that heart, which we both struggle for, Proves I've loved more wisely, if not loved him more. Lea. More wisely and more! but I defy their proof. Forrester. By its strength of sacrifice I judge love's truth. From the time that his mother died, and I stood Alone, I have sacrificed all for his good. Our union had not been happy, and so, In a second marriage, I then sought to know That happiness which I had longed for in vain, That happiness, my only hope, my sole aim. I had loved your dear mother, my cousin, and Once more being free, I again sought her hand. Ours was not a thoughtless, wild, passion of youth,'Twas founded on reason, sclf-sacrifice, truth. Lea. You were both worthy of such an union, And I fail to see how it could harm your son. Forrester. The gay heart of youth has strange ways of its own; No sooner did this plan of mine become known To Paul, and he saw that another must stand In the place his mother had filled, and command His duty, than he became sad and downcast, Neglected his studies, his playmates; at last Fell ill, so severely ill, that now the strife Had become a battle between death and life. ACT FIRST. 29 Your mother and I watched his bed night and day, Through many long weeks, in which my poor child lay Thus in his delirium and his unrest; But one idea alone seems to have possessed His mind; and, with anguish, he'd cry night and day: " Oh why should you drive my dear mother away?" This cry of his filled my sad cup to the brim; That place, to me vacant, was ne'er void to him. In my selfish love I would have cast aside That love, which had ne'er ceased to be his heart's guide. Between inclination and duty the strife Was a hard one; it seemed to hold my whole life. The temptation was fir too much for my strength; But she, with true woman's perception, at length Saw my weakness, and, in her strength, dared to stand On our duty, and then rejected my hand. Lea. After having so lost your life's paradise Indeed you may well speak of self-sacrifice. Forrester. Not alone of sacrifice, but of reward. For, however that sacrifice had been hard, The satisfaction was quite without alloy When I knew his gratitude and his great joy. Ah, it is sweet to see those whom we love gain Their happiness through our denial and pain. Lea. If denial and pain must rise from our love, MIine be the denial, mine the pain to prove Its purity. I place my fate in your hands, And bow down in the future to your commands. For myself I ask nothing, so do your worst, — But will he not suffer when I'm gone? 30 PAUL FORRESTEE. Forrester. At first, No doubt he will suffer. Trust to time to cure The wound.'Tis of all other means the most sure. Lea. I now understand his long absence of late;'Twas intended, no doubt, to facilitate A rupture; and you've undertaken as his AmbassadorForrester. No, he knows nothing of this. Lea. How know you then that Paul's love may not outlive This trial? How know you it may not deprive Him of hope, of all; or, eternal remorse And regret for ever, embitter the source Of his life? It is not my own cause I plead, But his, for I well know how great is his need Of my love. Mere absence will not break the tie That binds us. Forrester. I think that it will. Let us try. Lea. If this trial of yours should fail of success, Will you then give way to my claims on him? Forrester. Yes, Provided'tis made in good faith. Lea. I accept The test. Your conditions shall be strictly kept; For, in yielding myself, your pardon I win. Speak, what shall I do? Where am I to begin? ACT FIRST. 31 Forrester. Leave Paris. Lea. Well? Forrester. And you must not let him know Which way you are gone. You must even do so Without meeting again. Lea. Oh no, that I can Never do. Forrester. Then that puts an end to my plan. Lea. What will he think if I abandon him thus? Forrester. Nothing that to your love can be dangerous, Trust me. Unless you part there is not enough To test his constancy, and therefore this proof. Such love as you speak of, must be but a jest If it cannot withstand the proof of such test. And how can he or can you credit its truth Unless by your absence you put it to proof? The doubt which in your hesitation is shown Lays bare those suspicions your lips dare not own. Lea. When will the term of my exile be complete? Forrester. I'll send you word. Lea. You? 32 PArL FORRESTER. Forrester. I attempt no deceit. Lea. Will he ever forgive you? tForrester. You must allow That it is not his cause you are pleading now. Lea. I tremble. Forrester. You fear to put him to the test: I have no more to say. Lea. No, I yield. It is best I should go. Forrester. Thanks. Lea. I set out at once. Forrester. May He VWho reads your inmost heart guide your destiny. (Emnbraces her.):END OF ACT FIRST. ACT SECOND. A room in Forrester's house, handsomely furnished. Do6rs Right, Left and Centre. Paul, Camille and Forrester discovered, Paul on his knees painting Camille's portrait, who sits for the pz2upose. Forrester stands behind Paul, watching him at work. Paul (to Forrester.) She has certain lights and shades I cannot seize. Camille. Oh, I'm ugly then Forrester. No. (Camille rises and approaches Paul.) Paul. Well? Carmille. Just one peep, please. Paul. Ah, you naughty child, to your place, and don't stir. Camille. I will have some recompense, then; (Draws his head back and kisses him on theforehead.) there, now, Sir! Paul. To your place. 3 PAUL FORRESTER. Camille. What tyrants these husbands are. Paul. Thanks. Forrester. Are they not? Camille. Downright brutes. Paul. Silence in the ranks. Camille. What, not talk? Paul. No, it is your mouth I am at. Camille (with closed li2s). I may listen, then; now, you won't prevent that? Paul. You may. Camille. Then tell me the news, papa, I'm mute. Forrester. About what? Camille. About Lea's dreadful lawsuit. Forrester. Now that her husband's dead, his family claim All that she had to live on. Camille. Oh; what a shame! Forrester. But their lawyers propose a compromise, and,'Tis ever my rule, that a bird in the hand ACTr sECOND. 35 Is worth two in the bush; or, as it is said:'Tis better to have half a loaf than no bread! Paul. Will you decide, yourself, while Lea's away? Forrester. I have telegraphed, and look for her to-day. Camille (rising). Oh, how nice! We shall once more see her dear face. What do you say, Paul. Ar'nt you glad? Paul. To your place! Camille. Oh! Paul. I've no time to think of things of that kind. Camille. After just five months-out of sight, out of mind. Paul. I've a wife now, what have I to do with her? Camille. Though you may not love her, I love her still, Sir. Forrester. I thought your happiness full without that. Camille. No. I have no one to talk to about it. Forrester. Oh Fate! Even mother Eve could do nothing less Than let out the secret of her happiness. 36 PAUL FORRESTER. But, would it be well while her sorrow's so new, To speak of your happiness? Camille. Is is not true That Lea's life was sacrificed to that man? Florrester. True, but does that not prove-as far as we canThat, for those who have heaven's blessings,'twere best Not to parade those gifts to others less blest? Paul. The delicacy which you show, in this case, My dear father, would seem to me out of place. The indifference of our fair friend for both The dead and-the living-seems equal, forsooth! Camille. Her affection for you, you know, is devout. Paul. Your happiness then will charm her, beyond doubt. Forrester. Let by-gones be by-gones. Camille. I hope that she won't Ask me any questions. Paul. But, if she should, don't Scruple to tell —her, what you know is quite true, That, in your husband's heart, there's room but for you. Florrester. What's the matter with you? Paul. What do you blush for? ACT SECOND. 37 Camille. Paul never said any thing like that before. Paul. Don't move; that is just the expression I want. Look, father. Oh, if I could only transplant That look to my canvas. Ah, now it is fled Quite away; something else must be tried instead. Go, quick, chance your head-dress, we'll try the effect Of some other color. Forrester. If I might direct, I'd( change the position, or, to be more plain, I'd( begin the portrait all over again. Clamille. I think you are right. Paul has done too much To make me look pretty. Forrester. Stop, I said no such A' thing. Camille. I wish I was as ugly as sin, And that you thought me lovely. IForrester. My love, you're in A strange humor to-day. Paul. Are you not aware, That heaven has granted one half of your prayer? Camille. Which half, Sir? Pattl. Never mind, go and chance your dress. 38 PAUL FORRESTER. Camille. WVhich half, I must know? Am I ugly, Sir? Paul. (Kissing her affectionately) Yes. Camille. Oh, you story-teller! (patting his cheek). Forrester. Be off, then! Camille. I fly! [Exit, kissing her hand to Paul.] Paul. O ye women; heigTh ho! Forrester. Well, Paul, why that sigh? Paul. Indeed, I don't know; I am vexed, ill at ease, Discontented, perplexed; nothing seems to please Me to-day. Every thing seems bent to annoy Me; I'm weary of life. Forrester. You're bilious, my boy. Paul. No,'tis not the stomach;'tis the heart, the mind, That are out of order. I hate all my kind, Despise human nature. WVhat blind fools are we To build thus on quicksands, and fondly fancy That what seems truth, is truth, because we are told So, and that all which glitters must be pure gold. There's but one thing lasting, but one thing a part Of Eternity's self-'tis Art, only Art. ACT SECOND. 39 Forrester. Ah; you are partly right and yet partly wrong. All true art is one of those things which, among Others, outlive time; but'tis not art alone Can fill up our whole life; Art cannot atone. For the loss of all else. You seem to forget Her who has just left us, whose influence yet Seems to linger behind to dispel our gloom; Whose bright smile ever welcomes us to our home. Paul. No, truly; is she not my wife?-I love Hier for her guileless heart, her faith, but above All else for the peace which she brings this home, where All dead hopes are forgot. Forrester. Where all grief and care Are dispelled by her happy face. Paut. Ah, yes, true. Forrester. Why, my son, she's just the companion for you. Paul. For us both. Jiorrester. For us both? Paul. You may well rejoice In the happy result. My wife has your choice. Forrester. Was she not your choice, then? 40 PAUL FORRESTER. Paul. Oh! well, for my part, It did not matter much, but you'd set your heart On the marriage. Forrester. It surely was not for me That you married Camille? Remember how she Had worshipped us both. Paul. Yes, that worship contained Revelations for me; fbr when you named Camille as your choice, her name called to my mind My great debt of gratitude; and that, combined With my filial love, t-hen made me forget MIy own wishes in yours. Forrester. What! Paul. Itv was a debt. For}rester. A debt? Paul. I'd long owed, and at length the day Had come, which I'd prayed for, in which I could pay That debt. I had not forgot the sacrifice Made to my heedless youth, my thoughtless caprice; And I plainly saw that, in choosing Camille To be my wife, I should contribute to heal The wound I had caused. By conferring the right To claim her as your child I thought that I might Agoain unite that bond once severed by me, And for your sakeForrester. Sacrifice yourself, I see. ACT SECOND. 41 Paul. Oh!'twas not much. 2Forrester. Heaven will bless you, my son, For, in seeking rmly happiness, you have won Your own. Paul. True love's often crushed, but seldom dies. Forrester. Say not so; for Lea, in breaking the ties Which bound you then to her, may have done, who knows, You a great service. Paul. Greater than you suppose. Much greater; she taught me to value aright All the truth of her sex. Forrester. But, might not her flight Have been prompted by real affection for you? Paul. What, affection for me? Is it not then true She abandoned me without even one word Of farewell?-ay, truly,-but I can afford To forget all that; let it pass. TForrester. You're severe In your judgment, my son. [Enter Camille, followed by Lea.] Camille. Come in; papa's here. 42 PAUL FORRESTER. Paru, (aside). Lea! Lea (aside). Paul Camille (aside). As I thought! Forrester. Forgive my surprise At your sudden return. Lea. Did you not advise Me to come back at once? 7Forrester. Yes, of course, my dear, But I did not expect to receive you here; In fact, your opponent himself has not come. Lea. I suppose I may wait. Will this troublesome Lawsuit never end? Much rather than prolong It I'm willing to suffer loss, right or wrong, And yield to his demand. iForrester. If that is the case, The matter's soon ended. Lea. Yes, let right give place To might, and let's end it. Forrester. I fear you must wait Some time yet; our appointment was fixed for eight, And it is not six yet. ACT SECOND. 43 Lea. Ah, well,'till he come I'll talk to my niece. Camille. And to your nephew, whomn You have not yet addressed. Lea. My nephew? Camille. Why, yes, Of course! Forrester. You know Canmille's married? Lea. Married? Camille. Bless You! two mnonths ago! Lea. What? Forrester. Did you not receive My letter? Lea. What letter? F'orrester (aside to Camille). I hope you'll believe I would have spared you this. Lea. My nephew, in fact! I congratulate you. 44 PAUL FORRESTER. Paul. My happiness lacked But that to be complete; it makes full amends For the past. Lea. Ah, the past! But we may be friends, May we not? Paul. Why not, ipray? such friendship as we Aust feel, is such friendship as men rarely see. A friendship so lasting, so true; the effect Of such confidence, such esteem, such respect! Lea. I heard of your marriage, but I did not know You had married Camille: I'm glad it is so. Forrester (to Lea). Yes, of course, Paul, of course. (Aside) This will never do. You've not seen this portrait (showing Camille's portrait). Lea. Camille's, oh how true; How speaking! Camille. MIr. Paul, you see I was right; You said it was ugly. Paul.'Tis a downright fright. Lea. Your husband is right, my dear, if you compare The picture with yourself. Camille. Oh, fie, Aunt! how dare You flatter me so? ACT SECONDq. 45 Lea. He painted mine once, and Thought it ugly at first. Paul. At that time my hand, Like my heart, was too trusting, too bold; in truth, It possessed the foolish reliance of youth.'Tis time and experience which overthrow All those false delusions: I know better now. [Enter James.] Jamces. A gentleman waits, Sir, to see you below. Forrester (aside). He has arrived at last. Lea (aside).'Tis time I should go. (Aloud.) Let us see him at once, I will not detain You longer. (To Paul) Good day, Sir. Camille (kissing her). Pray come soon again. [Exeunt Forrester, Lea and Jagmes.] Camnille. WVhy so silent, Paul, eh? Paul (to Camille). 0 innocence, youth; O unlimited faith, 0 unbounded truth; O bright angel of peace, of quietness, rest, Of all that is purest, of all that is best, Such, such are your titles! 46 PAUL FORRESTER. Camille (laying her hand on lhis shoulder). You have forgot love. Paul (breaking from her). That there should be others,-great heaven above! All falsehood, treachery; all fraud and deceit, Like some fair, shining pool, which, down at your feet, Looks so peaceful and calm; but only to cheat The eye, while, below in its foul depths, the while Lie adders and vermin; things loathsome and vile. Camille. Why, Paul, what's the matter? Paul. And yet'tis too true There are men who'd prefer such coquettes to (to her) you. Camille. Of whom do you thus speak? Paul. Of some friends of mine Not a thousand miles off. Camille. Migiht I then assign To Adolph de Baublerg — Paul, Why not? Let us say'Tis of him that I speak. Ccamille. Oh, Paul, lmy love, nay; I think you are unjust. Paul. Well, perhaps I am. ACT SECOND. 4 7 Camille. We know our friend Adolph's a thoughtless young man; But have you not remarked that he's much changed of late: That he's now more subdued, more staid, more sedate? Paul. No, I've not,'pon my word. Camille. Indeed, it is so; Adolph de Bauberg is[Enter Adolph.] Adolph. The proverb, you know, Says: Speak of thePaul. Angels and you hear their wings. A dolpIh. But then you were talking of quite different things, I am sure, were you not, Paul? tell me. Paul. Oh, no, We were talking of nothing. A dolph. If I'm de trop), I'll be off. (Yamille. No, pray stay. A dolIh. Well, then, you'll resume Your conversation; and, if I might presuirie To ask you its object 48 PAUL FORRESTER. Camille. Yourself. dolp7h. No? Paul. Yes, Adolph. Pray What of me? Camille. e were just beginning to say That, like angels' visits, your visits were few And far between. Paul. That's it. A dolp1h. How kind. It is true I have slighted my friends; but I'm a changed man. Oh, my dearest friend, Paul, conceive if you can The most perfect woman that you ever saw. Such hands, and such feet, and — Camille. I'd better withdraw. Paul. I think you might as well. A dolph. Will you pardon me, Mv intrusion just now? Camille. Perhaps-let me seeIf you won't keep him long. ACT SECOND. 49 Adolph. Ten minutes, no more. Camille. I'll give you just twelve and a half. A dolph. Au revoir. [Exit Camille.] Adolph. I want your advice; before I tell the cause Though, which has brought me here, I'll just shut the doors; For it's a great secret. Paul. I think I can guess; You're in love, are you not? Am I not right? Adolph. Yes; Over head and ears. Paul. Ah, that is deep indeed!. dolph. You mean that my ears are so long; pray proceed. Call me just what you like: you mean I'm an ass For my pains. Paul. No, I don't. Adolph. Well; we'll let that pass; I don't mind. Paul. That is not what I had to say, But I've remarked, of late, that you have a way, 4 50 PAUL'FORRESTER. When you're in a scrape, of asking my advice, Which I strongly suspect is but a device To confirm your folly. Adolph. Ungrateful! for shame! Paul. If I share your misdeeds I won't share the blame. Adolph. Have I not always asked your opinion, hey? Paul. Yes; then always have gone the opposite way. Adolph. Accidents will happen, but this time I swear To be guided by you. Paul. If so, the affair Must be serious indeed. Adolph. More than'serious. Paul. A matter of life and death, eh? Adolph. Don't discuss It in that flippant way. Paul. Well, then I'll be grave. Tell me all about it. (Taking his arm and walking up and down slowly.) ACT SECOND. 51 Adolph. You know that I have A susceptible heart. Paul. So I've heard you say. Adolph. After that last affair I could not well stay In Paris. I went to seek some gayer place. Paul. How did emigration agree with your case? Adolph. Why, at first, not at all; but, after a time, I became reconciled. With a heart like mine One can't always be sad. Well, then, at Berlin, I met such a charmer; but if I begin To describe her charms I shall never have done. Paul. Then pray don't. Adolph. No, I won't; and then there was one, A Russian, at Munich; such eyes, and such hair, Such a bust, and such feet, and suchPaul. We'll stop there. Adol2h. I wish I had stopped there. Paul. Indeed, (aside) so do I. Well, what of the last one? get on! 52 PAUL FORRESTER. Adolph. I'll try To describe her. Paul. Never mind. Ado lph. Over head and ears I fell. For a time she was deaf to my tears, To my prayers, to my vows. Paul. Only for a time! So the Frauline had you? Adolph. She was no Frauline; But a real Parisian. Paul. With real hair and eyesAnd all the rest? Adolph. Stop, Paul, no jokes; otherwise I've done. Paul. I am mum. Adolph. Be quiet, if you can; To give her a name-let's call her Marianne. Paul. Why not Sally Ann? Adolph. I declare, you'd disgust The best fellow alive. ACT SECORD. 53 Paul. Well, then, if you must Have your way, call her MIary Ann by all means. A dolph. If I could but recount to you all the scenes Of our love. Paul. No, don't; I'll take them all on faith. Adolph. I'll not describe to you how I dogged her path; Followed her everywhere, and lived in her sight Alone; how I dreamed of her form day and night. How my appetite failed, and how I lost flesh. My buttons fell away, and how every fresh Day brought only fresh grief; I, quite a changed man, Lived only on air, on one word —Marianne! At length the day came, and we met —'twas by chance, The usual way, you know; I asked her to dance:'Twas a waltz. Shall I ever forget that taste Of heaven, when I put my arm round her waist And pressed her close to me! Oh,'twas like a dream! And then, afterwards, how my joy was supreme When we walked in the grove, alone by the Rhine, How, in spite of myself, and without design, My arm stole about her; she did not resist My tender advances; and then how I kissed Her lips and her eyes andPaul. Well, let the rest go, We all know what followed. Adolph. You don't. 54 PAUL FORRESTER. Paul. I guess. Adolph. No You can't; well, what was it, say? Paul. I'd rather not. There are things done which are not spoken of. Adolph. What You would insinuate is quite wrong, for when My joy seemed complete, and she yielded, why —then She sprang from my arlms, wildly hastened away, Shrieking " I am revenged, and I hate you!" Say, Can you explain that? Paul. Yes,'twas the reaction Of gratified love, or else the distraction Of a lunatic; but you pursued, of course. Adolph. No, I didn't. Paul. Why not? A dolph. To tell truth, remorse Had seized me. Paul. Oh, nonsense! Adolph. But,'tis a fact. ACT SECOND. 55 Paul. Ah! Adolph. And besides, I felt the want of a cigar. Paul.'Twas only a dream, then, and when you awoke Your hot love, like all love, had vanished in smoke. Adolph. No, it was not all smoke; the fire still burned That consumed me; but can you tell why she spurned Me away as she did? Paul. Yes, I have told you. Adoluph. You're wrong.'Twas that she had loved another, who Had been false to her. Paul. Oh! Adolph. And this was the way She took her revenge. Paul. Did I not hear you say That this was her home? Adolph. Yes. Paul. Her name? 56 PAUL FORRESTER. Adolph. Marianne! I said so before. Paul. Ah, of course. Adolph. If you can, Now, guess what followed next. Paul. I've had quite enough Of your guessing. Get on! Adolph. Well, my strange rebuff Had driven me wild, and I wandered the street All that night, in spite of the rain and the sleet, Without an umbrella or overshoes, quite Wet through and through —down to the skin. Paul. Served you right! There's no woman worth that. Adolph. The walk cleared my head. Paul. And quenched your flame, eh? Adolph. No, I went home to bed, But not to sleep one wink; and when mid-day came, I dressed with great care, and again sought the same Street I'd walked in all night. I had but one aim: To see her. I approached the house; there she sat, At an upper window; I took off my hat; ACT SECOND. 57 But she saw me not, so I rang; was struck dumb By the servant's reply —" Madam's not at home." I withdrew crestfallen, but soon I came back; All in vain;'twas no go. I had got the sack. Paul. Vulgar, but no doubt true! Adolph. Then my appetite Told me'twas dinner-time. Paul. And you dined. A dolph. You're right, I did; and dinner done, I went out once more To try my hard luck. When I came to her door'Twas shut, and so was the whole house, and there met My gaze these four dreadful words: " This house to let." Paul. She'd thrown you over. Adolph. I went straight off home And wrote; it would have moved the heart of a stone To read all that I wrote-so tender, so long, Full thirty-two pages. Paul. That was rather strong., Adolph. It took a long time, but in my eagerness I'd forgot that I had not got her address. 58 PAUL FORRESTER. Paul. What a pity that you should take so much pains To spoil paper and ink. Adolph. To blow out my brains I resolved. Paul. That was rash. Ado lph. Perhaps it was, but I took up my pistol, approached the glass, shut My eyes, and with them shut I then tried to find The right spot to shoot —thenPaul. Then you changed your mind. Adolph. No, nothing of the sort, Sir, and as a proof, I pulled at the trigger; it wouldn't go off. My fates refused to help me out of my scrape. Paul, How very unkind. Adolph. I'd a narrow escape, Had I not? Paul. Truly, yes. Adolph. Well, what do you say? Paul. To what? ACT SESCOND. 59 Adolph. To Marianne. Paul. Excuse me, I pray, From expressing my mind. Adolph. She is nothing less' Than an angel. Paul. An angel? Of some sort, yes i But there are two sorts. A dolph. Well, then to the point! Shall I marry or not? Now don't disappoint Me by saying" No." Paul. Where's the use? Why should I? She's free? Adolph A widow! Paul. A widow? Adolph. Husbands die, Sometimes, do they not? Paul. Ah, yes. Is he long dead?.Adolph. No, quite recently. 60 PAUL FORRESTER. Paul. Then this woman has led You to Paris. You know where to find her? Adolph. Yes, I have seen her this morning. Paul. I think I guess Her true name. It is not Marianne. Adolph. It may Perhaps be something else. Paul. I must know some day, So then why not confess? Now out with it. A.dolph.'Tis clear You must know some day. Paul. Well, her name isAdolph. Lea. Paul. Ah! (aside) I knew it was she. Adolph. Well, your advice, Paul; Shall I marry her, eh? Paul. Why ask, after all My advice, when you've made your choice? ACT SECOND. 61 Adolph. You're unkind To say so. Paul. You've already made up your mind. So go, take my blessing. A dolph. Now, I want your aid In the matter. Paul. My what? Adolph. I'm really afraid To ask her myself. Paul. I regret much to say That I can't interfere. Some one comes this way; So let's change the subject. [Enter Forrester.] Adolph (to Forrester). Ah, how do you do? Forrester. I'm quite well, I thank you, and pray how are you? A dolph. Oh, I'm only so-so. I'm awfully bored. I'm in love. Forrester. When did you return from abroad? Adolph. Only this very morning. 62 PAIUL FORRESTER. Forrester. This morning! that Is odd. A dolph. What the deuce have I done with my hat? Forrester. When you went you said you should make a long stay. A do2lph. Yes, but then-well, you seeForrester. You're off? A dolph. Yes, good day. I'm in haste. Forrester. Good evening. Paul (aside to Adolph). Mind you let me know The result. Adolph (aside). Why should you care? Paul. But I do. Adolph. Oh, Very well; au revoir. [Exit.] Paul (laughing). Ha! ha! ha I Forrester., Why, Paul, What is the matter? ACT SECOND. 63 Paul. Father, did you not call Lea spotless, and pure, and innocent? Forrester. All This I did. Paul. Oh, wonder of purity, grace, Of innocence, virtue! Oh, most lovely face, With nothing but modesty stamped on thy brow! Whose look was so open, so honest, that thou A bright angel seemed! Well, all this innocence, Allthis pure modesty, was but a pretence. A pretence I say. A pretence to entice Men to believe her pure, and cover her vice. Within this very week she has yielded, and To whom do you think? Forrester. I do not understand You, Paul. Paul. And no wonder, for were you to guess Even ten thousand times, you'd have to confess Yourself beaten at last. Who do you suppose Has shared in her pure love; who was it she chose To stand in my place; to whom has she given All her innocent love, herself? NbWhy, even To that fine gentleman who just now stood here, To that puppet, that fool, that thing! Forrester. Poor Lea! Paul. There was but one thing lacked to my full content, And I have got it now. 64 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. Such a sad event Fills me with grief. Paul. And it fills me with joy, for I reproached myself with being hasty; nor Could reconcile my mind and feel quite at rest, With my hasty marriage. Forrester. All is for the best As it is. Paul. Without doubt. (During this scene Lea has entered unperceived by Forrester and Paul,followed by Camille, and stands hesitatingly. Paul sees Camille without seeing Lea. Camille flies to his arms.) Paul. To my heart, my wife; To my heart, and lie close; henceforward my life Is your own. Camille. Dear husband! Paul. We'll leave the deceit And falsehood to others. Our joy is complete. (Camille sinks into a chair, covering her face.) END OF ACT SECOND. ACT THIRD. A room in Lea's house. Covers on furniture and chandelier, as if the room had been long uninhabited. Lea and James discovered. Lea sunk in a chair, with her arms hanging listlessly. James" on his knees, lighting thefire. James.'Tis out of all reason to grieve as you do For a man, whom all the world very well knew, Was a hard-hearted wretch, and one who defied All decency, and who, when he died, Did the only right thing he'd done in his life; Of course it is requisite, being his wife, To wear mourning for him, if only to thank Him for dying so soon. I know that your rank Requires that you should, but then it's all stuff To cry in this way. I'd see him hangedLea. Enough! You forget yourself, James. James. Oh, do pray forgive An old servant, whose heart breaks to see you live As you do now, without more life than a stone. Ever since last night you've sat here all alone, And you might have been frozen for all you care, With the fire all out, and the winter air 5 66 PAIUL FORRESTER. As cold as December, and you like a block Of ice. You forbade me to wind up the clock, So that you might forget the course of time, or Bring you a light. Lea (starting up). There's a ring at the door; If it's Monsieur Adolph, pray send him away; Tell him I'm very ill, or else you may say I'm ou-t James. I understand quite well, for you told Me before. One need not be deaf tho' one's old. [Exit.] Lea (sinking into her chair). At length I'm quite alone, and life, all a blank, Lies before me. Oh, why was it that I drank Of its draught, which the blush of sorrow and shame Has called up to my cheek? Where, where's my fair name? Where are all my proud hopes, where my faith, my trust In myself? —All blasted in hate and disgust. [Enter James.] James. Tis Madame Forrester. Lea. Well, what does she want? James. She asked for madame. Lea. You must say that I can't.See her now. James. Very well (going). ACT THIRD. 67 Lea. No, stop! Show her in. [Exit James.] Now, poor, helpless woman, your strife must begin With yourself. Oh heaven, do but grant me strength For that strife! [Enter Camille.] Camille. I intrude. Lea. Oh! Camille, at length You're my guest. Camille. Dear Lea! I said I should come. Lea. Did you? I'd forgot. Well, now we are alone, Let me have a good look, because yesterday Id no time to see you. Camille. Am I much changed'? Lea. Nay, You're improved; but when I look at you again, You are pale; you look sad. Camille. I do not comp lain. Lea. You are not happy then? 68 PAUL FORRESTER. Camille. Not happy? oh, yes, Most happy. Lea. Ah, indeed? Camille. Could I then be less With a husband who loves me, and me alone, And who never has loved any other one? Lea. Is it so? Camille. Yes; and yet I can't understand Paul. One moment he is all affection, and The next he is cold. There, let us not speak Of me, but of yourself. Now I look, your cheek Has lost its former hue. Lea. Yes, I did not sleep Much last night. I had many sad thoughts to keep Me awake. It is no doubt the change of air Does not suit me; but then, you know the affair WVhich brought me to town is ended; that alone Detained me. This evening I'm off. Camille. So soon! Lea. Yes, I left my servants and my things behind At Venice. You're happy then? Camille. Yes-I'm resigned To my fate. ACT THIRD. 69 Lea. To your fate resigned! Why; Camille, There is something that you would try to conceal From your friend. Camille. No, not so. Lea. You have then found out That married life is not all brightness? No doubt Some cloud has arisen to hide your bright sun. You are jealous. Camille. Not I. Lea. And some other one Shares your love, is it so? Camille. No, Paul is as true As ever. Lea. Perhaps then he never loved you; But some former love may still burn in his heart; And it is this secret which you would impart To your friend, is it so? Camille (starting up). It is false, for he Has never loved other than me-only me. Lea. Did he tell you this? 70 PAUL FORRESTER. Camille. Yes,'twas he told me so; And I know it is true. Lea (aside). Oh heaven, this blow Might well have been spared me! (Aloud) But then why confess Any doubt? Do I envy your happiness? Do I seek to steal it, or do you believe _Me jealous, perhaps? Speak! why try to deceive Me when you cannot? Canmille. No, I swear to you, no! Lea. Then whyCamille.'Twas because that I dreaded to show My happiness. Lea. And why? Camille. I feared to recall Your happiness and bring back to your mind all You had lost, all you mourn for; and I would spare You that grief-that is all. Lea. Oh, Camille, dare I ask for your pardon, here, humbly, for all I've said. So Paul loves you? Let us talk of Paul. So he loves you alone? ACT THIRD. 71 Camille. Yes, why should 1 doubt His affection? I, who could not live without That affection? Am I not his wife? Although That alone is no reason, I very well know. In these wicked times, there seems something which drives Men to love strange women, rather than their wives. I know not what it is. Lea. May you never knowDisappointment, distrust, or deceit. And so Paul loves you? Camille. Yes, indeed. I don't mean to say That he never has flirted with others, nay, That would be folly; but of this I'm quite sure, There never was love more selfish and pure Than his love for his wife. Lea.'Tis the only one That endures; when past love has been overthrown And crushed down under foot, then the weak man flies To married life and strives to live down the lies Of the past. It is not he who suffers: oh, It is not he who dies a living death, no!'Tis not he who's branded with the cold world's blame. That which should make him blush for him is no shame. He goes his way proudly, leaving all the weight Of his crime to his victim-she who, too late, Wakes up from her bright dream. But why should he care? Who pities the poor foolish woman? who dare Fight her battle for her? No! no such fear checks Him;'tis the privilege alone of his sex To deceive. 72 PAUL FORRESTER. Camille. Why, Lea, how strangely you speak! Lea. It may seem strange to you; but, Camille, this weak, Down-trod, woman may bear a knowledge so deep In her heart of hearts that its presence may keep Revenge warm. The mistress may pity the wife, For true love can be known but once in a life. But, enough, you said you were happy. Camille. Oh, yes; I think so now. Lea. Heaven bless your happiness! [Enter James.] Lea. Well, what is it, James? James. There's a person below Who says he's your lawyer, but I doubt it. Lea. Show Him up here presently. Camille. Goodbye, I must leave You now. Lea. I am sorry. Goodbye, dear. Camnille. Believe Me sincere when I say, wherever you go May Heaven bless you. ACT THIRD. 73 Lea. Shan't we meet again? Camille. No. I shall not return home again'till quite late, For I have an engagement to celebrate The birthday of a friend. Lea. How pleasant, whilst I Fly away from my friends. Camille. Goodbye, dear! Lea Goodbye! [Exit Camille, after kissing Lea.] Lea. Gone! How long, oh how long, must this struggle last? All is robbed from me now. Not even the past Remains. [Enter Adolph.] q Lea. You, sir, here? 4Adol2ph. Yes, dear Lea, forgive My subterfuge. Lea. Leave me. A dolph. Alas, would you drive Me mad? 74 PAUL FORRESTER. Lea. What do I care! Withdraw, Sir, I say, Or let me withdraw. A dolph. Stay, dear Lea, pray stay. One word! Lea. Am I mistress here, Sir, or are you? Leave the room, Sir, I say. Adolph. I cannot but do As you bid. But I came to ask pardon, and To offer you my fortune and my hand. Lea. Your hand You offer me marriage? Of all others whoYou offer me marriage. Adolph. Yes, Lea,'tis true. Yes, Lea, it has long been my fondest dream. If you would but consent, indeed I should deem Myself blessed. What, you weep? Why those tears? Lea (weeping.) These tears Are not tears of sorrow. Let them flow. For years I've known no such relief as they bring my heart. These are tears of gratitude. Yes, they impart A strange feeling of peace. Oh, little you know How I've craved sympathy, or even the show Of outward respect, which the hard world denies To a suspected woman. Such tears, these eyes Have long been a stranger to. Let them flow on! ACT THIRD. 7I With them one half of my great anguish is gone. How I've yearned for sympathy and for respect None can tell. Adolph. Now, you cease, I trust, to suspect My motives. Lea. Oh, yes. Adolph. You no longer accuse Me? Lea. Oh, no. I thank you, but still must refuse Your hand. A dolph. You refuse my hand? Lea. I must. Adolph. And why I Lea. Ask me not, it is so. Let that suffice. Adolph. Fear you still doubt my truth. Now you are unjust To question it still, dear Lea. Then what must I do to convince you? I swear that I love You, and only you. Alas, how can I prove My affection, when you doubt my words, and when I offer my hand. Am I repulsive, then, To you? Lea. No, believe me; but this thing cannot be. I thank you profoundly, but ~76 PAUL FORRESTER. Adolph. Some mystery Lies hid under all this, which I must unveil. Lea. Seek not to unveil it. Adolph. Why not? Lea.'Twould avail You nothing. A dolph. How cruel, with a single breath You utter my sentence. That sentence isLea. Death! Perhaps you would say? Adolph. Lea, let us not jest. In this heart you have woke up all that is best And purest. Nay, Lea, when you are absent, I am not half myself; but, when you are present, I'm more than myself. When you drove me away Last from your door I, who am always so gay, Became gloomy and ill. You find this hard To believe; but'tis true. Lea. Poor fellow. Adolph. And reward Is there none for such grief? ACT -THIRD. 77 Lea. Yes! There! you shall be My brother. Adolph. Oh, thanks! that won't satisfy me. Lea. You shall be my friend. Adolph. No, that will not suffice. All or nothing! See, on my knees I pray. (Kneeling.) Lea. Rise. You shall not kneel to me. Must I then lay bare My heart's dearest secret? Indeed, you're not aware How much you ask me for. Were I to disclose My secret you'd hate me. Adolph. Never. Lea. You suppose That you hold the first place in my heart. A dolph. Of course I think so. Lea. You are wrong. Adolph.; Impossible! Lea. Worse: I have never loved you. 78 PAUL FORRESTER. Ado ph. And yetLea. You would say That I told you I did. True, but on that day 1 had lost all I loved.'Twas but memory Of all that I had lost which then prompted me To fly to your arms. Now you see what contempt And what scorn I deserve. I make no attempt At excuse: I have none. Adolph. No need; by heaven! A fault confessed is already forgiven. I offer you my hand again. Yes or no? Lea. I must not accept it; were I to do so I should bring down a curse. Heaven could not bless Such an union. A dolph. But, Lea, my happiness Depends only on you. Let other men's aim Be to win their first love. To me such love's tame. Give me none of those staid, prim, timid, demure, Half-developed school-girls; something more mature Is my dream. Lea. Can it be some example that Some friend has set you? Can you then not look at Others' joy without envy? Adolph. Yes, you are right, I envy another. That envy the sight Of Paul's love has produced. ACT THIRD. 79 Lea. Ah, Paul! Is he then So happy? Adolph. Why, he's the happiest of men. Lea. Is it so? Adolph. Without doubt. Why, to see his wifb And him together, you'd suppose his life Had known no other. Lea. Enough! Let me see. I'll consider. Adolph. Oh, joy! Lea. And now, pray leave me Alone for awhile. Adolph. What, you drive me away From all that I prize? Lea. Yes, enough for the day IsAdolph. The bliss thereof, eh? Lea. Yes, in case you will Have it so. Now leave me. So PAUL FORRESTER. A do lph.'Twill seem long until We meet again. Lea. Ate revoir. A dolph. Will you compel Me to go? Lea. Yes, you must. Adolph. Goodbye, then. [Exit.] Lea. Farewell. They are happy,those two. Yes, Paul and Camille Are happy; he said so. Why should I not feel Happy too? So I will. Paul's happy! The sight Of my grief is nothing to him; he has quite Forgotten the past. Well, then, let me forget The past too. Let it be as if we'd ne'er met. In wedding this mall, may I not perchance find That peace which I've long sought? Those bonds which shall bind Us, I here freely take; and swear to protect His name, and raise up for it love and respect. [Enter James.] CJames. Mr. Paul Forrester, madam. Lea (starting). Ha! (aside) So! So! You'd brave me, Mr. Paul! You come apropos. ACT THIRD. 81 (To James.) Show the gentleman up. [Exit James.] So, you'd interfere Where you've no longer right! [Enter Paul.] Paul (aside.) Why should I come here? Lea. To what may I owe this new honor, Sir, pray, This unlooked for pleasure? Paul. Madam, I obey A duty. Permit me to explain. Lea. Pray do, For I'm free to confess, Sir, that in our new Relations I see nought that can justify This token of respect. Paul. You're right, madam, I Have said that I call'd as a duty. A friend Has charged me to ask for your hand. Lea. He could send No better messenger! I think I can guess His name. It is Adolph de Beauberg, then? Paul. Yes.; Lea He has just left my side. 6 82 PAUL FORRESTER. Paul. You received him, then? Lea. So it seems. Paul. He's been here? Lea. So it seems; and when You came in he went out. Paul. Indeed, had I known That he'd been here himself, I should not have thrown Myself thus in your way. Without doubt the match Is made up? Lea. Well, you know Adolph's a great catch! How could I refuse him? Paul. And then such a choice Speaks so well for your heart. It must still the voice Of reproach. Lea. Of reproach? Paul. Pardon if I speak Too frankly. Lea. Not at all. I beg you won't seek To dissimulate. Paul. But if I were to say All I know, I might call a blush ACT THIRD. 83 Lea. A blush, eh! A blush, sir, and why? Is it insult you would Fling at me?' Insult me then, Sir. Paul. Yes, I could, But I'll not. Lea. Oh, pray do. Paul. You're Adolph's mistress, That's enough. Lea. I would that I were. Paul. Don't profess Innocence to me. Lea. And pray, Sir, by what right Do you judge of my acts? That which in my sight May seem proper, in yours may not, it is true; But, even had I sinned, by what right do you Cast at me the first stone? Paul. No doubt you would try To excuse your falsehood. Perhaps you'd deny That falsehood. Lea. Why should I? Does your love then call For such a denial? Are you certain, Paul, That you still merit mine? Pray, which of us two Was the first to break faith? Was it I? 4 PAUL FORRESTER. Paul. Not you. Not you, oh, not you, no-it was I, of course, Who first broke our vows. 1 was the first to force Asunder those chains which bound us. And'twas I Who abandoned you. I was the first to fly From my oath. You are right to despise me, for'Twas betrayal most base that man ever saw. Lea. And. if all this were but to prove you_? Paul. Indeed, The idea is not new. It could but succeed. Lea. Rather ask your father. Paul. My father!'twas he Who drove you away? Lea. Yes. He could not see Our love with our eyes. Paul. Lea, had you not sworn To love me? Had you been true, no force had torn Us apart. Lea. I was true, and that truth relied On your faith. See how that faith stands when'tis tried. Paul.'Twas a debt I owed to my father. But see How you have kept your faith; for, no sooner free ACT THIRD. 85 From the chains of my love, you fly to the arms Of another for comfort. You cast those charms To the first man you meet. Another than I Has shared in your passion. Oh fie, woman, fie! Oh, without doubt, to you all men are the same. Oh, shame on you, woman! Shame, deep, damning shame! Down, down on your knees; ask pardon, if you can, For your crime cries aloud, base, vile courtesan! (Seizes her violently by the arm, throws Aher at his feet, then starts back overwhelmed at his own violence.) Oh that my heart would break! Lea. Hear me speak, Paul.'Twas the third of September; that day when all That I prized had been lost. Paul. My wedding-day. Lea. Yes,'Twas your wedding-day. In my sad distress The news of it reached me; that news drove me mad. I saw you bestow all those vows which you had Sworn were mine on her. I saw her at that shrine Where I should have stood. That great love which was mine You gave her. I fell. Oh, think not I defend That crime. If my despair could have made an end Of my life, I had died. (Pause.) Paul. No, Lea, that crime And that shame are not yours. No, Lea, they're mine. I blame you no more; let the past be the past, And let us forget it. Beloved one, at last I can claim you again. (Taking her in his arms.) 86 PAUL FORRESTER. Lea. Release me! Paul. Once more You are mine. Lea. Release me! What, forget I swore To drive you from my heart! Never! Here I swear On my hope of heaven again (Releasing herself.) Paul. Then you dare Defy me? Lea. If I must! I bid you farewell For ever. Paul. You leave me? Lea. Yes, Paul, you compel Me to fly from you. Paul. You shall not. I forbid You to stir. You shall not: no, you shall not. Did You not swear to be mine? And you shall. Lea. Away! Paul. Lea! Lea. Free me! Paul. Lea! ACT THIRD. 87 Lea. Release me, I say; Would you resort to force? (Rings bell.) Paul. Yield to me without Or you'll drive me wild. [Enter James.] Lea (to James). Show that gentleman out. (Lea stands pointing to the door. Paul, after a moment's hesitation, takes his hat and goes off slowly.) END OF ACT THIRD. ACT FOURTH. Same scene as First Act. Paul and John discoveredpacking a portmanteau. Paul. You must tell my father, the reason I am Obliged to leave home is that a telegram Has been sent me from Nice; that my friend Reynal Is very ill, and in a most critical State. John. Poor Mr. Reynal! It will much surprise Your father, Mr. Paul. Paul. Yes, you must apprise Him as gently as you can. Be sure you break It to him by degrees, and let him not take It too much to heart. I will write and tell why I have had to go without saying goodbye. If I were now to wait to see him again I should certainly miss the ten o'clock train. Comfort him, if you can. John. I'll try, Mr. Paul. Paul. There's something for yourself. (Gives money.) 'ACT FOURT.' 89 John. Thank you. Is that all? Can I do nothing more? Paul. You mav take these Things down-stairs, and call me a cab, if you please. [Exit John.] Let them sleep on in peace;'tis best they should not know That I am gone, until my:letter, by slow Degrees, breaks the news. Like some thief in the night, Like some base criminal, who, seeking by flight To cover his guilt, makes that guilt but more deep, Am I. Yet am I to blame? Why should I keep Faith with them who have failed to keep faith with me? Was this marriage not of their making? Did he, My father, not force me into it? Should I Have married Camille else? No,'twas a base lie When they called Lea false. Then why should I spare Those who have not spared me? Why should I forbear To punish their deceit? She was my first choice, And to her arms I fly. Shall I heed the voice Of conscience?[Enter Forrester.] Myv father! Forrester. Why, how is this, Paul? So poor Reynal's ill. John has just told me all About it. - I met him, just now, at the door, In search of a cab, so I sent him off for Your wife. Paul. But I-really have no time to spare. 90 PAUL. FORRESTER. _Forrester. Oh, you've plenty of time. Paul. Are you then aware That the train goes at ten? Forrester. And it is only eight. There's not the least danger that you'll be too late. Camille will soon arrive, —I am much surprised Reynal sent for you, for you never disguised Your own dislike for him; but then I suppose He did not perceive it. I would not oppose His dying request. And'tis well that you go Just now. Paul. Ah, indeed!Forrester. For Lea's sake. Paul. Why so? Forrester. I imagined I saw-no doubt I was wrongThat she'd not forgotten. Paul. What, and it is so long Since she went away-full six months! Forrester. True, but how She opposed my wishes! Paul. Did she really.now? ACT FOURTH. 91 Forrester. Well, I conquered at last. Paul. So I've heard. Forrester. Then you know All about it? Paul. I do. Forrester.'Tis shePaul. Even so-'Tis she who has told me. Forrester. Then you must confess Our plan has succeeded, and our great success Justifies our means, does it not? Paul. I suppose It does. But, when a man's at my age, he knows His own mind commonly. Those who interfere Do so at their own risk. Forrester. Did you see her here, Or at her own home? Paul. At her house; I went But in Adolph's behalf; to gain her consent To their marriage. ~92 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. You urge his claim? You possess An unselfish heart, Paul. Did she consent? Paul. Yes. Forrester. I rejoice sincerely, Paul. I knew that you would. (Seeing Adolph, who is looking in at the door.) Forrester. Pray come in; what is it? Adolph. Good day, Paul. (To Forrester.) Now could You do me a favor? Forrester. Perhaps; let me hear What it is. Adolph. I'm in love. Forrester. Again Adolph. Yes, Lea Has at last won my heart. Forrester. At last, are you sure? Adolph. I can't live without her. ACT FOURTH. 93 _Forrester. And do you think your Love will last? A dolph. Forever. I swear it! Forrester. Paul tells Me you asked for his help. A dol2h. Yes, but he compels Me to ask yours now. Forrester. Did he refuse? A4dolph. What use To deny; he told me to go to the deuce. (To Paul.) Did you not? Paul. I forget. Adolph. So, I went alone, And asked her to have me. Forrester. With what luck? Adolph. I own That I think she loves me. She did not say no; But she did not say yes. Forrester. So, Paul would not go Himselt? 94 PAUL FORRESTER. Paul. At first I refused; then I changed my mind And went to her after. Forrester. Are you sure? Adolph. how kind Of you, Paul.! Paul. Not at all. Adolph. Did she then consent? Paul. Not-exactly. A4 dolph. Oh dear! But she will repent. (To Forrester.) If you will intercede she cannot refuse. I'm sure you will help me. Forrester. I will; but excuse Me at present-to-morrowAdolp h. To-morrow's too late, She leaves at ten to-night; it's now half-past eight. Forrester. At ten! where's she going? Adolph I think she said -Nice. Paul is to see her off? ACT FOURTH. 95E Forrester. So! so! You increase My desire to serve you, and, if it were not That events keep me just now chained to this spot, I would go. I can write. Adol2h. It's no use to write; For I tell you that she leaves Paris to-night. Forrester. Then I'll follow her. Adolph. What? Forrester. Yes, by the next train. Adolph. How kind! Forrester. Now, be off. Adolph. But how kind! Ferester. Once again, Be off. Adolph. Good night, then. (Aside). Now I really cannot see Why he should take such a great interest in me. [Exit]. Forrester (to Paul). Now we're once more alone, let me see, my son, Reynal's telegram. Paul. You know I've received none. 96 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. I suspected as much, but still was in doubt. My soul could not credit such baseness without Further proof. Paul. You have it. Forrester. You dare thus to fly From your wife and from me? You dare thus defy The laws of God and man? You dare cast such shame On your true, young wife? You dare blastmy fair name With such crime? Are you without pity for her; For her fond, loving heart? Did no remorse stir Your heart in this deed? Paul. What have I to do With remorse? Leave remorse to others.'Tis you Who speak of remorse? You, who speak of her love? Have I then no heart? Must I then perforce prove My love by this act? Was it not you who came Between Lea and me? Who else can I blame For her falsehood but you? But Lea's still true To her love; she's not false. as you hoped. Mark you, I love Lea still, and love Lea alone, Alone, do you hear me? Have I not shown More candor than ytou when I tell you that I Now live only for her, and for her would die? For she has my whole heart Oh, why did you come Between that love and me? Could you not feel some Pity? But your love of yourself was more deep Than your pity. As you've sown so shall you reap! Forrester. I accept your reproach. But admit, my son, The fact, that what is done cannot be undone. ACT FOURTH. 97 Paul. But it can, and it'shall. Forrester. Beware, Paul, beware! Paul. Would you threaten me, then? Forrester. My son, have a care What you say. Can it be that you've lost all sense Of honor? If that humor be not pretence, I charge you to pause. Paul. So that the trick you've played May not bear its just fruits! No, rather than aid Such deceit, I will cast all honor aside. Forrester. Then hear my firm resolve. This act does divide Us forever. You are no longer my son. I disown you as such. Henceforth I have one Child only, and I shall know how to protect Her against you as a stranger; nor expect Any mercy for me. Paul. I ask none. I cast Your defiance back at you. So then, at last, I see what you would do. You would interpose Between Lea and me again, and, who knows, Persuade her to marry Adolph. By that act You would slay your own son. Forrester.'Tis well; I exact Retribution from you. To spare this disgrace 98 PAUL FORRESTER. I would gladly see you die before my face. (Taking pistols from case and offering one to Paul.) Here I give you the means; and now let me see If you prefer honor or base infamy. Paul. I reject your offer. Nor did I expect So blood-thirsty a one,'Tis done for effect, No doubt, but the Comedy's quite out of place. We are not actors. Forrester. My son, spare this disgrace To my gray hairs. Think, what can I say to her, To Camille, when you're gone? Paul. Be the minister Of comfort yourself. Why, was she not your choice? She was none of mine!'Twould be strange if your voice Could not bring her comfort. Forrester. You will kill her. Paul. No.:She'll live through it, 1 have. Forrester. How little you know Ofher great love for you! Paul. Then, pray, why not lend Your aid to my plan. By.your theory the end Justifies the means. Why not let her believe I am gone to Raynal? ACT FOURTH. 99 Forrester. And help to deceive Her confiding heart? What, Sir, you would see Me a willing partner in your infamy? Paul. As you will; let me pass. Forrester (standing across the door). Paul, you shall not go, You shall not desert us; no, I swear it, no. You shall strike me down first. Paul (sitting down). Well, if I must wait I must wait, that is all. If I should be late For this train I can take the next. Forrester. Oh, my son, Has it then come to this? What thing have we done To bring down this judgment? No, it cannot be, It is some dreadful dream. I his father, he My son, my darling? Is it his voice I hear? Is it mine that responds? Oh, surely my ear Deceives me. No,'tis true. You're free to depart. Go your way! You have broken your father's heart. (Sinks into a chair, with his head in his hands.) Paul (rising). Well, what must be must be. Now the die is cast And I cannot draw back. This may be the last Time we meet, my father. Farewell! Camille (outside.) Where is he? [Enter Camille.] Where is Paul? 100 PAUL FORRESTER. Paul (aside). Camille's voice! Camille. What has happened? Forrester (starting up). See, There the traitor stands. Camille. What mean you? Paul (to Forrester). Are then you Without pity for her? Forrester. He flies. Camille (to Paul). Is this true? Forrester. He elopes with Lea. Camille. Say, Paul, is this true? Speak. You are silent? (Sinks into chair.) What have I done to you, That you should desert me? Forrester. So, then, you still love Him, my unhappy child? Camille. I love him! Above All else in this world or the next. But, Paul, what ACT FOURTH. 101 Have I done to deserve this thing? Have I not Been a true, loving wife? Has it come to this That you can desert me, that you can dismiss My love from your heart? What fault has been mine That you should use me thus; that you should resign Me for her? You never have loved me; oh no, You never have loved me. You are free to go. You have my permission. I'll not interfere; You are free to depart. Go, fly with Lea, If you wilL Forrester. My poor child! Camille. No, pity me not. He is dead to me now, and I have forgot All the past; let it die. The aim of my life Has been to serve him, and I yield. Forrester (taking her in his arms.) But this strife With yourself will kill you, my poor child. Camille. Well, so Let it be. Forrester (to Camille). See, he yields. Camille. Then'tis I will go. I will not stand in their way, and should it kill Me, what matters it? Paul. Do with me as you will. [Exit.] 102 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. You have conquered; he yields. Camille. No, father, not so. He has conquered: I yield. He is free to go. [Enter John.] Forrester. Well, what is it you want? John. Sir, Madame de Clers Is down-stairs, and has asked to see you. Forrester. She dare Come into this house! Camille. She is welcome. Forrester. At such A time as this! Oh, this is really too much. (To John.) Say that I am engaged. Camille. Then I will receive Her myself. Show her up. [Exit John.] Forrester. Camille? Camille. You must leave Me alone with Lea. Forrester. What would you do? ACT FOURTH. 103 Camille. She Comes to rob me of Paul. Now Lea shall see That her love is less unselfish than mine. Forrester. Stay! Camille. Not a word! Forrester. But, Camille. Camille. No, leave me! Forrester. I obey. [Ex it.] [Enter Lea.] Lea. What a strange reception! Camille, let me know If I am in the way. Camille. I who loved you so! Lea. Why, Camille, how is this? I declare you all Seem to fear my approach. Camille. You would fly with Paul. Deny it if you can. Lea. And I do deny It. Camille. You see he's ready. 10 PAUL FORRESTER. Lea. Camille, I defy You to prove your charge. If Paul is resolved To commit this great crime, I must be absolved From any share in it; for I have refused To listen to him.'Tis you who have accused Me of this! Oh, Camille, how little you know My love for you both. Could you then think me so Ungrateful? But no, you do not understand What there is in my heart. Camille, take my hand; Take it without fear!'tis honest. Camille. I believe You, Lea, for I love you. You could not deceive Me now, I am certain. Lea. The battle was hard; But the battle is won: I have my reward. Camille. To what do you refer? Ah, yes, now I see; You love Paul. Lea. No, Camille. Camille. You have loved him. Lea. He Is nothing to me. Camille. Ah! I see it all now; Just heaven forgive me! Oh, dear Lea, howHow blind have I been, that I failed to perceive ACT FOURTH. 103 All your self-sacrifice. Oh, yes, I believe, For'tis sweet to believe, that you love him not. How noble have you been thus to have forgot All your own hopes for me. It is only I Who have stood in your way? Why, Lea, oh why Should I stand in your way! You have both good right To curse me, Lea. Now I see that your flight Was to shun temptation. Oh, can you forgive Me for what I have done? Why should I thus live To be his curse and yours? How sweet'twere to die With your united love; and to feel that I Passed away with your blessing, with your pity, And knowing at last that I had set him free! Lea. How I worship you! How I despise him now; You shall win him again. Camille. Never. Lea. I know how To make him hate me. Camille. But, Lea, will that hate Make him love me the more? Oh, no,'tis too late. What is it you would do? Lea. That's my secret. Camille. No, Tis too late, Would you serve me still? Wait below Till I come. 106 PAUL FORRESTER. Lea. I will wait. [Exit.] Camille. And now to prepare Then for the last blow. I have no time to spare. (She hastily puts on her bonnet and cloak; writes a few lines and folds and places them on Paul's valise, which lies on a chair). Camille. Farewell, my beloved home; farewell, my bright Dreams. [Enter Forrester.] Forrester. Are you going out at this time of night? Camille. Lea waits me down-stairs. Forrester. What for? Camille. I can't tell You now, I am in haste. Forrester. Camille, you compel Me to suspect your acts, (sees note) your writing! You fly From my roof (rings). Camille. No, father. Forrester. Then what means this? ACT FOURTH. 107 Camille. II have an appointment. [Enter John.] Forrester (to John.) Ask Paul to come here. [Exit John]. Camille. What would you do, father? Forrester. I've no right,'tis clear, To open your letters, of course, but I'll see That this reaches Paul safely. Camille. Father, give me Back my note. Forrester. No, Camille. Camille. For Paul's sake, restore It me. Forrester. No. Camille. On my knees I ask it. Forrester. No more! [Enter Paul.] Paul. You've sent for me, sir. 108 PAUL FORRESTER. Forrester. I've sent for you because Camille flies from us. This will explain the cause. (Gives note.) Paul (reading). "Dear Paul. Marry Lea!'Tis my dying prayer; And take my last blessing:" Great Heaven! Camille. Paul, there Is no more peace for me, now I know that I Stand between you and her. Dear Paul, let me die! (Paul falls overcome on his knees with his head in his hands.) Forrester. You have conquered at last, my child, (Puts his hand on Paul's forehead and turns his head back.) Camille, see These tears on his ch ek. Camille. They are tears of pity, Not of love. Forrester. You still doubt? Camille. I do. Until now He has not loved me. May I trust such love? Forrester. How Can you judge of his heart? There is only One Great searcher of hearts. So let His will be done! You may trust in him now. ACT FOURTH. 109 Paul. Camille, I've no right To ask you to trust me. 1My wife, this contrite Heart asks but forgiveness. Can you then forgive All the wrong it has done? I ask but to live In your presence, Camille. My wife, do not cast Me out from your life. Camille (after a pause). Let the past be the past.'Tis dead and gone now. Paul (kneeling before Camille). Thy mercy endures For ever. Oh, woman, this mission is yours. Adolph (at the door). May we come in? Forrester. Of course. [Enter Adolph and Lea.] Adolph. Pray, let me present My wife —that is to be. Forrester. When is the event To take place? Adolph. To-morrow. Camille (going to Lea). How can I repay The debt I owe you? 110 PAUL FORRESTER. Lea (embracing her). You owe me nothing. Camille. Stay, I owe you my husband. Lea. I owe you mine, thus All our debts are paid. Forrester. Nay, who is there of us That has paid all his debts? So long as we live Our debts surround us; those blessings we receive We cannot all repay. For all that we have We have incurred debt: from our birth to our grave. To our parents, our friends, to the world at large We all owe a debt, not easy to discharge. Of all our debts, there is but one we can pay? Tis the debt we owe na ture; and when that day, That awfill day, comes, may we then not forget How much there is needed to pay that great debt. END OF ACT FOURTH. THE NEW YORK PRINTING CO MPANY, 205, 207, 209, 211, 213 EAST 12TI STREET.