SOUTHERN BRANCH, 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, 
 
 LIBRARY, 
 
 (LOS ANGELES, CALIF.
 
 THE MIRACLE 
 OF SAINT ANTHONY
 
 THE WORKS OF MAURICE MAETERLINCK 
 
 ESSAYS 
 
 THE TREASURE OF THE HUMBLE 
 
 WISDOM AND DESTINY 
 
 THE LIFE or THE BEX 
 
 THE BURIED TEMPLE 
 
 THE DOUBLE GARDEN 
 
 THE MEASURE OF THE HOURS 
 
 ON EMERSON, AND OTHER ESSAYS 
 
 OUR ETERNITY 
 
 THE UNKNOWN GUEST 
 
 THE WRACK OF THE STORIC 
 
 MOUNTAIN PATHS 
 
 PLAYS 
 
 SISTER BEATRICE, AND ARDIANE AND BARBE BLEUE 
 
 JOYZELLE, AND MONNA VANNA 
 
 THE BLUE BIRD, A FAIRY PLAY 
 
 MARY MAGDALENE 
 
 PLLEAS AND MELISANDE, AND OTHER PLAYS 
 
 PRINCESS MALEINE 
 
 THE INTRUDER, AND OTHER PLAYS 
 
 AGLAVAINE AND SELYSETTE 
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 THE BETROTHAL; A SEQUEL TO THE BLUE BIRD 
 
 POEMS 
 
 HOLIDAY EDITIONS 
 
 OUR FRIEND THE DOG 
 
 THE SWARM 
 
 DEATH 
 
 THOUGHTS FROM MAETERLINCK 
 
 THE BLUE BIRD 
 
 THE LIKE OF THE BEE 
 
 NEWS OF SPRING AND OTHER NATURE STUDIES 
 
 THE LIGHT BEYOND
 
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 COPYRIGHT, 1918 
 
 BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. 
 All Rights Reserved
 
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 TRANSLATOR'S NOTE 
 
 This play was written some ten or 
 * twelve years ago, but has never been pub- 
 lished or performed in the original. A 
 translation in two acts was printed in 
 N). Germany a few years before the war; but 
 the present is the only authorized version, 
 in its final, one-act form, that has hitherto 
 y appeared in any language. 
 
 ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS. 
 CHELSEA, 27 February, 1918.
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 THE RECTOR , 
 
 JOSEPH 
 
 THE COMMISSARY OF POLICE 
 
 A POLICE-SERGEANT 
 
 A POLICEMAN 
 
 MADEMOISELLE HORTENSE 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 LEONTINE, an old lady 
 
 VALENTINE, a young girl 
 
 OTHER RELATIONS AND GUESTS 
 
 The action takes place in the present 
 century, in a small Flemish provincial 
 town. 
 
 7
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 " The Miracle of St. Anthony " what- 
 ever the exact date of its writing, and that 
 is a point which the author himself has 
 probably forgotten, belongs in flavour 
 and spirit, to that early period of the ca- 
 reer of the Belgian seer and mystic to 
 which Mr. James Huneker referred when 
 he wrote " There is no denying the fact 
 that at one time Maeterlinck meant for 
 most people a crazy crow, masquerading 
 in tail feathers plucked from the Swan of 
 Avon." For it was to Shakespeare that 
 he was first compared, though the title 
 " the Belgian Shakespeare " was applied 
 ironically by some, just as later mani- 
 9
 
 Introduction 
 
 festations of his genius won for him the 
 appellation of " the Belgian Emerson." 
 But " The Miracle of St. Anthony " dif- 
 fers from the other plays of what may be 
 called " the early Maeterlinck." Most of 
 them, to quote Mr. Edward Thomas, have 
 a melancholy, a romance of unreality, a 
 morbidity, combined with innocence, which 
 piques our indulgence. He has no irony 
 to put us on the defensive. But irony is 
 the very essence of " The Miracle of St. 
 Anthony." Nor does the scene of the 
 little play belong to that land of illusion, 
 that mystic border country, half twilight 
 and half mirage, in which so many of the 
 early plays were laid. The St. Anthony 
 from whom the satire takes its title may 
 be the blessed St. Anthony of Padua, but 
 the atmosphere is unmistakably the gray, 
 sombre Flemish atmosphere that Maeter- 
 linck knew in his early youth, while the 
 10
 
 Introduction 
 
 Marionettes who speak the lines were 
 drawn, not from Fairy-land, but from 
 some town of the Low-Countries. 
 
 Maeterlinck's nationality was not a 
 mere chance of birth, but a heritage of 
 many generations. The Flemish family 
 of which he was born in Ghent on August 
 29, 1862, had for six centuries been settled 
 in the neighborhood. His childhood was 
 passed at Oostacker, in a house on the 
 bank of a canal connecting Ghent with 
 Terneuzen. So near was the water that 
 the ships seemed to be sliding through the 
 garden itself. The seven years spent at 
 the Jesuit college of St. Barbe were not 
 happy years, but there were developed his 
 first literary aspirations, and there he 
 formed certain friendships that lasted into 
 later life. At the University, where he 
 studied for the Bar, he met mile Ver- 
 haeren, who was destined to stand out with 
 11
 
 Introduction 
 
 King Albert, Cardinal Mercier, and 
 Maeterlinck, as one of the great figures of 
 the land when Belgium came to experience 
 her agony. 
 
 But it was not in Maeterlinck to settle 
 down to a lawyer's work and a bourgeois 
 life. "Like Rodenbach," said M. Ed- 
 ouard Schure, " he had dreamed along- 
 side the sleeping waters of Belgium and in 
 the dead cities, and, though his dream did 
 not become a paralysing reverie, thanks to 
 his vigorous and healthy body, he was 
 already troubled in such a way that he was 
 unlikely to accept the conditions of a legal 
 career." So, when at twenty four, he 
 made his first trip to Paris, though the 
 visit was professedly in the interests of his 
 studies, it was with the result that he 
 plunged definitely and whole heartedly into 
 literature. To Villiers de 1'Isle Adam, 
 and others of the ultra modern school, he 
 12
 
 Introduction 
 
 was introduced by an old co-pain of the 
 Jesuit college, Gregoire Le Roy. Le Roy 
 read to the group Maeterlinck's " The 
 Massacre of the Innocents," a perfectly 
 Flemish piece of objective realism. It 
 was applauded, and soon after appeared 
 in " La Plei'de," a short-lived review which 
 also printed some of the poems collected in 
 " Serres Chaudes." 
 
 That first stay in Paris was one of about 
 six months. Returning to Ghent, he con- 
 formed to the wishes of his family to the 
 extent of dabbling a little at the Bar. But 
 his heart was with " La Jeune Belgique," 
 to which he had been introduced by Roden- 
 bach, author of " Bruges la Morte," and 
 for which he was writing his poems. Then 
 in 1889, when he was twenty-seven years 
 of age, " Serres Chaudes " was published, 
 and with it went the last tie binding him to 
 the law. 
 
 13
 
 Introduction 
 
 Continuing to live in his native Oos- 
 tacker, his days were divided between writ- 
 ing, tending his bees, and outdoor pastimes. 
 As a member of the Civic Guard of Ghent 
 he was as poor an amateur soldier as Bal- 
 zac had been when enrolled in the National 
 Guard of the France of his time. His 
 musket was allowed to rust until the night 
 before an inspection. Material surround- 
 ings meant little to him. As with Barrie, 
 the four walls were enough. He could 
 people the homely room to suit his fancy. 
 In imagination a table became a mountain 
 range, a chair the nave of a superb cathe- 
 dral, a side-board a limitless expanse of 
 surging ocean. Through the window he 
 could look out over a country suggesting 
 the scene of his early play, " Les Sept 
 Princesses," " A dark land of marshes, of 
 pools, and of oak and pine forests. Be- 
 tween enormous willows a straight and 
 14
 
 Introduction 
 
 gloomy canal, on which a great ship of war 
 advances." 
 
 " La Princesse Maleine," which also ap- 
 peared in 1889, had been first privately 
 printed by the author himself, on a hand 
 press. With it Maeterlinck was launched 
 into the fierce light of fame. Octave Mir- 
 beau wrote of it in the Figaro of Paris. 
 He said that no one could be more un- 
 known than the author, but that his book 
 was a masterpiece, " comparable shall I 
 dare say it? superior in beauty to the most 
 beautiful in Shakespeare. *' There were 
 less generous critics who suggested that the 
 play was Shakespeare, because it had been 
 made with scraps of Shakespeare. A 
 champion of Maeterlinck retorted that in 
 comparison with Maleine and Hjalmar the 
 characters of Shakespeare were marion- 
 ettes. So the storm raged, to the author's 
 infinite disgust. Finally in a spirit of 
 15
 
 Introduction 
 
 modesty and frank acknowledgment he 
 called the play " Shakespearterie." There 
 was no pose in that assumption of 
 humility. From all testimony he has ever 
 been the same. Invited to a dinner his 
 acceptance has been conditional on abso- 
 lute simplicity. " After all, I am a peas- 
 ant." It was Gerard Harry who quoted 
 that. Again, at the end of a first night of 
 one of his plays, he has been described as 
 " modest, simple, altogether without dis- 
 play in dress or manner. His gestures 
 were gentle with reflection, his voice low 
 and rarely heard. He had no pride of suc- 
 cess, but an air at once uneasy and de- 
 tached, as if tired of being there. His 
 deep blue eye was cold and mournful, like 
 a mirror that retains the images of in- 
 definite and impalpable things, as Barbey 
 d'Aurevilly says the eyes always are of 
 those who look more within than without. 
 16
 
 Introduction 
 
 His brow was deep and square and shone 
 pale. He made the observer think of his 
 own untranslatable words : 
 
 Sous 1'eau du songe qui s'eleve 
 Mon ame a peur, mon ame a peur. 
 
 The same writer says that, by way of 
 contrast, the playwright keeps bees and 
 teaches a dog to sing; he calls him a sports- 
 man, a man always getting about, a great 
 drinker of ale a great boy, a Bohemian. 
 Here also may be discerned the writer in 
 praise of the sword, the fist, and the auto- 
 mobile, the friend of the bull-dog and the 
 creator of Tylo. That was describing the 
 Maeterlinck of the early days. He seems 
 never to have greatly changed. Was not 
 almost the last picture of him that we had 
 before the outbreak of the Great War one 
 of poet playing with pugilist at the manly 
 art of self-defense the author of 
 
 ir
 
 Introduction 
 
 " L'Oiseau Bleu " sparring and wrestling 
 daily, with the French champion Carpen- 
 tier? * 
 
 New influences began to show in Maeter- 
 linck's work. His Introduction to his 
 translation from the Flemish of Ruys- 
 broeck 1'Admirable's " L'Ornement des 
 Noces Spirituelles " made public his inter- 
 est in Plato, Plotinous, Novalis, Jacob 
 Behman, and Coleridge. He published a 
 translation of NovahYs " Disciples et 
 Sais." His feeling for Emerson had be- 
 come such that he wrote an Introduction to 
 the Essays of the American that had been 
 translated into French by I. Will. To 
 that period of his career as a playwright 
 belong " Les Sept Princesses," the little 
 plays, " L'Intruse," and " Les Aveugles," 
 " Pelleas et Melisande," " Alladine et 
 Palomides," " Interieur," and " La Mort 
 de Tintagiles." Then, in 1896, he left 
 18
 
 Introduction 
 
 Oostacker for good, and settled in Paris. 
 In the same year he published " Le Tresor 
 des Humbles," his first volume of Essays, 
 and " Aglavaine et Selysette." In a let- 
 ter to Madame Maeterlinck he said that 
 Aglavaine brought him " a new atmos- 
 phere, a will to happiness, a power to 
 hope." Henceforth her light will direct 
 him in a " serene, happy and consoling 
 course." Also it was about that time that 
 his life was joined to the life of Georgette 
 Leblanc. 
 
 In " La Vie Beige," published in 1905, 
 Camille Lemonnier told of Maeterlinck's 
 first meeting with the talented woman who 
 was to become his wife. It took place in a 
 house in the Rue Ducale in Brussels, the 
 home of Edmond Picard, the great bar- 
 rister and patron of Belgian literature. 
 One midnight, after a performance of 
 Strindberg's " Father " at the Theatre 
 19
 
 Introduction 
 
 du Pare, all were invited there for supper. 
 Maeterlinck, who still lived in Flanders, 
 had left his bees, and was there, grave, 
 silent, dreaming, a little out of his element, 
 as he always was in the city. He was 
 truly himself only in the country, his pipe 
 in his coarse peasant fingers, filling its black 
 bowl with a fresh pinch of tobacco from 
 time to time. I had known him at the 
 house of the painter, Claus, at whose door 
 he sometimes leaped from his wheel, bare- 
 necked, muscular, broad of shoulders and 
 loins, a regular country boy from the vil- 
 lage. This great, silent, contemplative 
 spirit little knew that he was about to see 
 appear, under the guise of the charming 
 Georgette Blanc, the very visage of his 
 destiny. A great silence spread from the 
 far end of the hall, and suddenly she en- 
 tered, stately and slow, with the jewel of 
 her ferroniere on her forehead, like a sign 
 20
 
 Introduction 
 
 of the empire, in the long swishing of her 
 train. Picard presented them ; she gave a 
 little cry; and he looked at her, embar- 
 rassed, with his deep-set peasant eyes, 
 bowing awkwardly, while, with a deep 
 reverence like a rite, the beautiful actress, 
 with the ceremonious grace of a little 
 queen of Byzantium, dedicated to him, 
 without a word, the homage of her ar- 
 tist's worship. Maeterlinck looked at her 
 a great deal, but scarcely spoke to her dur- 
 ing supper. 
 
 But if his tongue was backward, there 
 were other ways of wooing. " Le Tresor 
 des Humbles " was dedicated to her. 
 " La Sagesse et la Destinee " was dedi- 
 cated to her, " as the result of her col- 
 laboration in thought and example : he had 
 only to listen to her words and follow her 
 life with his eyes when he wrote the book; 
 for to do so was to follow the words, the 
 21
 
 Introduction 
 
 movements, the habits of wisdom itself." 
 At any rate the woman understood. Per- 
 haps she helped matters along a little. 
 Perhaps her poise served to put the shy 
 peasant at his ease. It was a wise union, 
 a union destined for happiness. " Truly," 
 said Gerard Harry of it, " henceforward 
 he looks upon life less desperately and less 
 fearfully." The glimpses that Mr. Ed- 
 ward Thomas gave of the menage show 
 Maeterlinck as he was in the last year or 
 two of world peace, come to fifty years, in 
 the full vigor of his mature powers, at the 
 height of his popularity and material suc- 
 cess. Nearly all his books are multiplied 
 and repeated, by new editions and trans- 
 lations into many languages. Always in- 
 dependent, money could only add ease and 
 opportunities for gratifying minor tastes. 
 He spends the winter at Quatre Chemins 
 near Grasse, in the south of France, the 
 22
 
 Introduction 
 
 summer at the ancient Benedictine Abbey 
 of St. Wandrille, in the Department of 
 Seine-Inferieure. But there is hardly a 
 moment when Madame Maeterlinck is not 
 a part of his life and work. She plays 
 " Macbeth " in her husband's translation, 
 while he smokes a pipe of peace as well as 
 in solitude. The pipe, according to 
 Gerard Harry, contains a denicotinised 
 herb; for thus, by a piece of heroism dis- 
 covered by his hero-worshipper, Maeter- 
 linck circumvents his insatiable craving for 
 tobacco in his working hours. " By wise 
 disposition," says Madame Maeterlinck, 
 " he has reduced his weakness, economised 
 his strength, balanced his faculties, multi- 
 plied his energies, disciplined his instincts." 
 " Yet," says Mr. Thomas, " he con- 
 tinues to write. He is early to rise and 
 go to his garden and his bees, for which 
 his liking is now near thirty years old. 
 23
 
 Introduction > 
 
 Two hours, always exactly two hours, of 
 work follow. Then he goes out again, 
 canoeing, motoring, cycling, or walking. 
 He reads in the evening and goes to bed 
 in good time." The work of these two 
 hours is prepared easily and quietly during 
 the pleasures and other duties of the day. 
 Madame Maeterlinck compares him taking 
 up his work to a child leaving its games 
 and going on with them as soon as allowed 
 an innocent and ambiguous comparison. 
 She implies that his work is sub-con- 
 sciously matured and methodically put on 
 paper, and that his natural tranquillity and 
 the surroundings and conditions of his life 
 have long been felicitously combined; and 
 she says it might seem that the mysterious 
 powers have woven between him and the 
 world a veil which allows him a clear 
 vision whilst yet himself invisible, as they 
 have favored him by the gift of a home 
 24
 
 Introduction 
 
 not less wonderful than the castles he im- 
 agined for Alladine and Selysette and 
 Meleine. 
 
 However in a consideration of " The 
 Miracle of St. Anthony," the life of the 
 man, his place as a philosopher, and his 
 achievements as a poet are only indirectly 
 concerned. The little play counts first of 
 all in its relation to " La Princesse Ma- 
 liene," " Les Sept Princesses," and espe- 
 cially, " Les Aveugles," and " L'Intruse." 
 Perhaps closest to it of them all is " L'In- 
 truse." To recall that play. It does not 
 need the Dutch clock in the corner to fix 
 the scene in the Lowlands. In a dimly 
 lighted room In an old country house the 
 grandfather, the father, the uncle, the 
 three daughters are sitting about a table. 
 It has rained the whole week and the 
 night without is damp and cold. In the 
 next room lies the sick mother. The 
 25
 
 Introduction 
 
 father is hopeful, relying on the assurances 
 of the doctors. But not the grandfather. 
 They are expecting some one. They 
 speak in low voices, at random. Besides 
 the woman in the other room there is a 
 young child. 
 
 THE UNCLE The little one would 
 cause me more anxiety than your wife. 
 It is now several weeks since he was 
 born, and he has scarcely stirred. He 
 has not cried once all the time! He 
 is like a wax doll. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER I think he 
 will be deaf dumb, too, perhaps 
 the usual result of marriages between 
 cousins. (A reproving silence.} 
 
 THE FATHER I could almost wish 
 him ill for the suffering he has caused 
 his mother. 
 
 THE UNCLE Be reasonable. It is 
 26
 
 Introduction 
 
 not the poor little thing's fault. He is 
 
 quite alone in the room. 
 
 More and more is the old man troubled. 
 He complains that he can no longer hear 
 the nightingales, and that some one must 
 be in the garden. The trees in the park 
 are trembling as if some one was brushing 
 a way through, the swans are scared, and 
 the fishes diving in the pond, but the watch- 
 dog does not bark. Through the glass 
 door, that some mysterious agency has 
 opened, the cold rushes into the room. 
 The sound of a scythe being sharpened is 
 heard outside. The child that has before 
 been silent, begins to cry. There is a 
 knock at the door. The Father partly 
 opens it, and speaks to the servant, who 
 answers, remaining on the outside. 
 
 THE GRANDFATHER Your sister is 
 
 at the door ? 
 
 27
 
 Introduction 
 
 THE UNCLE I can see only the 
 servant. 
 
 THE FATHER It was only the serv- 
 ant. (To the servant) Who was that, 
 that came into the house ? 
 A note is struck similar to one used later 
 by Lord Dunsany in " A Night at an Inn." 
 Some invisible force is pushing open the 
 door. The servant protests that it is not 
 she, as she is standing three yards away 
 from the door. The Grandfather is con- 
 scious of a new presence. " And who is 
 that sitting there?" he asks. " But there 
 is no one there," he is told. But he will 
 not believe them, maintaining that in pity 
 they are deceiving him. A ray of moon- 
 light penetrates, throwing strange gleams. 
 The clock strikes midnight; at the last 
 stroke there is a sound as of some one ris- 
 ing in haste. Cries of terror from the 
 child's room: quick and heavy steps. 
 28
 
 Introduction 
 
 Then silence. The door of the sick 
 woman's room slowly opens, and the Sister 
 of Mercy appears on the threshold. She 
 bows as she makes the sign of the Cross. 
 
 In " Les Aveugles " Maeterlinck turned 
 from a typically Flemish setting to a forest 
 on a small island " a very ancient north- 
 ern forest, eternal of aspect, beneath a sky 
 profoundly starred." Six old blind men 
 are on the right, and six old blind women 
 on the left. They are from a Home for 
 the Blind and they are in the charge of a 
 priest a very old priest, wrapped in a 
 wide black cloak, and whose eyes, " dumb 
 and fixed, no longer gaze at the visible side 
 of eternity, and seem bleeding beneath a 
 multitude of immemorial sorrows and of 
 tears." Fear is in the hearts of the 
 priest's charges. They are startled by the 
 flutter of wings, by the touch of the falling 
 snow, by the barking of dogs. They un- 
 29
 
 Introduction 
 
 derstand nothing save the sound of the sea 
 and they do not know how near that is. 
 In the priest's company they have been ex- 
 ploring their island, which has " a moun- 
 tain that no one has climbed, valleys with 
 no one to go down to, and caves that have 
 not been entered to this day." They know 
 not yet that the priest is dead, but they are 
 conscious that something has happened to 
 him. They offer conjectures, they dig into 
 the past, they deplore their state. At 
 length one of the men is led by a dog to 
 the center, where the body of the priest is. 
 He touches a face. The others follow and 
 recognise by feeling the features of their 
 protector. What are they to do? The 
 only seeing eyes are those of a child at its 
 mother's breast. The child cries at a 
 noise, and they think that it must be some- 
 thing and move towards the sound that has 
 provoked the cry. Their hope is that the 
 30
 
 Introduction 
 
 men from the light-house will see them. 
 At last the footsteps stop. " Who are 
 you? " asks the child's mother. But only 
 silence. " Have pity on us," cries the 
 oldest blind woman. 
 
 " It is not necessary to the effectiveness 
 of this piece," Mr. Thomas has written, 
 " that we should believe the blind to repre- 
 sent mankind bewildered after the loss of 
 religion, their old guide. Whether it is 
 true or not that religion is dead and men 
 blind without it, the thought is so stale 
 that in its nakedness it could be of no 
 value to any piece of writing. But the 
 sight of a blind man sitting still or tapping 
 in the street is always impressive; and to 
 the blind company in the play are added 
 many elements of mystery and terror which 
 enhance this impressiveness. They have 
 at the start little more humanity than the 
 rocks and trees among which they sit, ex- 
 31
 
 Introduction 
 
 cept that they are conscious of themselves 
 and one another. They are like creatures 
 suddenly made out of the rocks and trees ; 
 and it is easy to picture beings of equal 
 humanity standing in the depths of a 
 misty wood when rain falls all through the 
 day at autumn's end. Or they are like per- 
 sonifications, so that we feel no curiosity 
 with the name of any but that one who 
 says for Maeterlinck: 
 
 We have never seen one another. We 
 ask one another questions, and we reply; 
 we live together, we are always together, 
 but we know not what we are. 
 
 It was Maeterlinck's very first play, 
 " La Princesse Maleine," that won for him 
 the dangerous title of " The Belgian 
 Shakespeare." Now and then a writer of 
 our own land has done something that has 
 32
 
 Introduction 
 
 caused limited or injudicious critics to speak 
 of him as " The American Dickens " or 
 " The American Thackeray." As a rule 
 he has paid a sad price for the unfortunate 
 comparison. No matter how innocent the 
 man himself has been, the chorus of mock- 
 ing, unthinking laughter has been in- 
 evitable. In the case of Maeterlinck ridi- 
 cule was only momentary. The rush of 
 subsequent achievement was so swift. 
 The world had had hardly time to gasp at 
 Octave Mirbeau's " The Belgian Shakes- 
 peare " before some one else was referring 
 to Maeterlinck as " The Belgian Emer- 
 son." But it did not need the acute mind 
 of a Mirbeau to find the first comparison. 
 That was obvious. How obvious a few 
 references to " La Princesse Maleine " will 
 show. To Maleine herself there is a 
 flavor of Ophelia. The castle of Marcel- 
 los, her father, king of a part of Holland, 
 33
 
 Introduction 
 
 might be the Castle of Elsinore. There, 
 when the play opens, is being held the ban- 
 quet to celebrate the betrothal of Maleine 
 and Prince Hjalmar. The watching 
 guards gossip of the attentions that the 
 Prince's father, old Hjalmar, king of an- 
 other part of Holland, has been paying to 
 the exiled Queen Ann of Jutland. A quar- 
 rel between the two kings over the table 
 leads to war, and in an attack on the castle 
 most of the defenders are killed and 
 Maleine disappears. Through a hole in 
 the wall of the tower in which Maleine 
 and her nurse are shut up for safety, they 
 see that the whole land has been laid waste 
 by war and fire. 
 
 In the course of subsequent adventures 
 Maleine becomes the attendant of Ug- 
 lyane, the daughter of the wicked Queen 
 Ann, whom Hjalmar is now to marry. In 
 that capacity she carries to her mistress a 
 34
 
 Introduction 
 
 false message saying that Hjalmar is not 
 going to keep a tryst, and instead goes 
 herself. Later there is a knocking at a 
 door, and Maleine enters in the white robes 
 of a bride. Queen Ann tells old Hjalmar 
 that he must choose between herself and 
 the returned Princess, and plans to make 
 use of a poison, which the physician deter- 
 mines to make harmless. Then there is 
 another storm, and Maleine is alone in the 
 night with a large black dog quivering in a 
 corner of the room. Old Hjalmar and 
 Queen Ann come to her door, and pretend- 
 ing to do her hair, the Queen twists a rope 
 round Maleine's neck and strangles her. 
 The madman, who at Maleine's previous 
 appearance, pointing at her, had made the 
 sign of the cross, thrusts his head in at the 
 window but is hurled back into the moat 
 by the king. The murderess puts the 
 corpse to bed. In the fifth and last act the 
 35
 
 Introduction 
 
 same storm is raging. The castle is struck 
 by lightning and a mass falls into the moat. 
 Within all are asking for the king and 
 Queen Ann. When they enter there are 
 bloodstains in the king's white hair. 
 Maleine's dead body is discovered, and the 
 king drags in Ann, proclaiming her guilt 
 and his own. Hjalmar stabs the mur- 
 deress and then kills himself. 
 
 In " Les Sept Princesses " there is a vast 
 hall of marble with seven white marble 
 steps covered by seven pale silken cushions 
 on which the seven princesses are sleeping. 
 The sun is setting, and in its fading light 
 may be seen a black marshy country and 
 oak and pine forests. Along the canal 
 between dark willows, a great warship ad- 
 vances. On the terrace the old king and 
 queen and a messenger watch the approach- 
 ing vessel. The king's vision fails him and 
 it is the queen who describes the full spread 
 36
 
 Introduction 
 
 of sail touching the willows, and the oars 
 like a thousand legs. From the ship, 
 when the anchor drops, the prince de- 
 scends. He is shown the seven sleepers, 
 who are not to be awakened, as the doctor 
 has forbidden it. " How white they are, 
 all seven ! Oh, how beautiful they are, all 
 seven ! How pale, how strange they are, 
 all seven! But why are they asleep, all 
 seven? " says the prince. He indicates his 
 preference for one of the seven. " That," 
 says the queen, " is Ursula, who has waited 
 seven years for her lover." The others 
 are Genevieve, Helen, Cristabel, Made- 
 leine, Claire, and Claribella. Why was 
 Marcellus so long in coming? Night and 
 day they have been watching along the 
 canal. The sailors turn the ship to a mo- 
 notonous song with the burden, " We shall 
 return no more, we shall return no more." 
 37 
 
 50995
 
 Introduction 
 
 The sisters still sleep. The queen is 
 frightened at the plight of her grand- 
 daughters and sobs against the window, 
 the watchers seek to enter, but neither door 
 nor window can be opened. The king and 
 Marcellus make their way in through a 
 subterranean passage. All the sleepers 
 but Ursula awake. " She is not asleep," 
 says the queen. " Pour water on her. 
 . . . Open the door. ... It is too late. 
 . . . Shut! shut!" All cry, shaking the 
 door, and knocking at the window: 
 " Open, open ! " A black curtain falls. 
 
 " Nobody," says Mr. Thomas, " who 
 has read ' Les Aveugles ' and * L'Intruse ' 
 could doubt the authorship of * Les Sept 
 Princesses.' Here are the same agitated, 
 helpless people speaking in abrupt, simple, 
 and oft-repeated phrases. Here again 
 something is going on which they do not 
 understand, and are impotent to arrest or 
 change. But the matter of both earlier 
 38
 
 Introduction 
 
 plays was a not improbable incident which 
 was developed, it may be extravagantly, 
 but in a manner that touched human beings. 
 If ' Les Aveugles ' was extraordinary, 
 while * L'Intruse ' was not extraordinary in 
 any way, both were easy to understand. 
 But ' Les Sept Princesses ' is a picture 
 drawn for its own sake. It has its logic, 
 but the elements in it seem chosen, like 
 those of ' La Princesse Maleine,' because 
 they are attractive in themselves the 
 marble hall and stairs, the terrace, the dark 
 land of marshes and forests, the canal and 
 the warship, the seven princesses in white 
 sleeping on the stairs, the swans, the prince 
 arriving to claim one of them and finding 
 her at last dead, the old king and queen 
 shut outside the hall and knocking vainly 
 at the windows; only, these elements are 
 combined without any of the unwieldiness 
 of ' La Princesse Maleine,' without inter- 
 39
 
 Introduction 
 
 faring with themselves or with anything 
 else. It is simply a picture in Maet- 
 erlinck's manner, and this manner has the 
 effect of creating a feeling of helplessness 
 and smallness in the presence of fate and 
 the earth." 
 
 It was not until a later period that 
 Maeterlinck came under the influence of 
 the American Emerson. " A Belgian 
 Emerson," Mr. James Huneker has said, 
 " but an Emerson who had in him much of 
 Edgar Allan Poe." Surely it was not 
 through Emerson that Maeterlinck found 
 the author of " The Raven." Nor is it 
 certain that there was any direct inspira- 
 tion at all. More likely it is that the same 
 visions burned early in the brain of the 
 Flemish mystic that had seethed in the 
 mind of the gifted, erratic American half a 
 century before. There was no need for 
 him to know " The House of Usher " of 
 40
 
 Introduction 
 
 the Poe tale. Was there not a House of 
 Usher perched on every Flemish hill, at 
 the bottom of every Flemish valley ? Was 
 not the man a forerunner of Maeterlinck 
 who wrote this? 
 
 " Now there are fine tales in the volumes 
 of the Magi in the iron-bound melan- 
 choly volumes of the Magi. Therein, I 
 say, are glorious histories of the heaven 
 and of the earth, and of the mighty sea 
 and of the genius that over-ruled the sea, 
 and the earth, and the lofty heaven. 
 There was much lore, too, in the sayings 
 that were said by the Sybils, and holy, holy 
 things were heard of old by the dim leaves 
 which trembled round Dodona, but as 
 Allah liveth, that fable which the Demon 
 told me as he sat by my side in the shadow 
 of the tomb, I hold to be the most won- 
 derful of all." 
 
 Or this? 
 
 41
 
 Introduction 
 
 " And then did we, the seven, start from 
 our seats in horror and stand trembling 
 and aghast, for the tones in the voice of 
 the shadow were not the tones of any one 
 being, but of a multitude of beings, and, 
 varying in their cadences from syllable to 
 syllable, fell duskily upon our ears in the 
 well-remembered and familiar accents of 
 many thousand departed friends." 
 
 The landscape of most of those early 
 Maeterlinck plays is the landscape of 
 "Ulalume": 
 
 The skies they were ashen and sober, 
 
 The leaves they were crisped and sear, 
 
 It was night in the lonesome October 
 
 In my most immemorial year. 
 
 It was hard by the dim lake of Auber 
 
 In the misty mid-region of Weir, 
 
 It was down by the dark tarn of Auber 
 
 In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. 
 
 But it was a more material setting that 
 42
 
 Introduction 
 
 Maeterlinck gave to " The Miracle of St. 
 Anthony." Not the intangible Nowhere 
 or the impalpable At any Time, but the 
 present day, a commonplace house, and a 
 small provincial town in the Low Coun- 
 tries. Instead of stately marble pillars, or 
 primeval forest, or limitless sea, a room 
 with leather-covered benches against the 
 walls, two wooden stoves and an umbrella 
 stand, on which are hats, a cape and wraps. 
 Instead of swans and sleeping beauties, the 
 old drudge Virginie, with her skirts turned 
 up and her legs bare, swabbing the floor. 
 In the next room is lying the body of the 
 Maiden Lady Hortensia, who in her life- 
 time had been exceedingly generous in her 
 donations to the church, and especially 
 devoted to the memory of the blessed St. 
 Anthony of Padua. It is the Saint him- 
 self, come to restore her to life as a reward 
 for her piety, who presents himself at the 
 43
 
 Introduction 
 
 door-sill as the curtain rises. In appear- 
 ance he is not as the dead woman might 
 have expected. Bare-headed and bare- 
 footed, his beard and hair are scrubby and 
 tangled, and he is clothed in a soiled, sack- 
 like, and much dirtied cowl. The story 
 of how he was received by the relatives, the 
 doctor, the parson, and the gathered guests 
 may be read by those who turn to the fol- 
 lowing pages. It was first presented to 
 American play-goers by the Washington 
 Square Players under the direction of Mr. 
 Edward Goodman at the Bandbox Theatre 
 in New York, the evening of May yth, 
 1915. It had the quality of novelty, for it 
 was one of the least known of all the plays. 
 There was a story current at the time that 
 it was produced from the manuscript. 
 What Maeterlinck himself thinks of it, 
 what place in his mind it has in his whole 
 scheme of literary production, the writer 
 44
 
 Introduction 
 
 cannot say. That is a matter as elusive 
 as the man himself is elusive. To illus- 
 trate that elusiveness by a personal remin- 
 iscence : 
 
 It was six years ago, in the days when 
 the world was happy with the blessedness 
 of a peace that seemed likely to endure, and 
 when the occasional cloud on the political 
 horizon was regarded as nothing more 
 than a mirage, that the writer and a 
 friend the latter one of the firm of 
 M. Maeterlinck's American publishers 
 made a journey to the south of France 
 for the purpose of paying their respects 
 to the Belgian mystic in his Nice home. 
 In London we had been advised by Mr. 
 Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, whose 
 admirable translations have done so much 
 to make Maeterlinck's name a household 
 name to English-speaking readers. 
 " Here is his latest letter," said Mr. 
 45
 
 Introduction 
 
 Teixeira. "It is dated from his villa in 
 the Quartier des Beaumettes, which is the 
 rising ground at the western end of the 
 town. You will find him there; that is, if 
 you succeed in finding him at all. For he 
 is a very difficult man to find. That is one 
 of his peculiarities." 
 
 It was the night before the departure 
 from Nice. Our time was limited. At its 
 mole in the swarming harbor of Mar- 
 seilles, the Sant Anna, which was to carry 
 us on its roundabout, five thousand mile 
 journey, with New York as the ultimate 
 destination, was preparing for its leaving 
 of the next day. We started on the quest. 
 At the hotel they could tell us nothing. 
 The driver of the fiacre engaged was no 
 better informed. Surprised but un- 
 daunted we were soon winding slowly 
 between high stone walls, up the beautiful 
 Beaumettes slope. From villa to villa we 
 46
 
 Introduction 
 
 travelled, to be met everywhere by puz- 
 zled, negative headshakes. " M. Maet- 
 erlinck? We do not know him. We 
 have never heard of him. We do not 
 think that he is of the Quartier. Perhaps 
 if you enquire at the villa beyond you will 
 learn something." For two hours in the 
 darkness sweet scented by the breath of the 
 semi-tropical plants and flowers, we kept 
 up the search. But it was in vain. Here 
 indeed was a prophet unknown in his own 
 country. What was the reason for the 
 mystery? Was there a vast conspiracy of 
 silence and pretended ignorance on the part 
 of his neighbors? Were solitude and 
 freedom from interruption so necessary to 
 his being that the great man had sworn 
 them to secrecy? Or had he draped him- 
 self in some mysterious veil, some figur- 
 ative coat of invisible green, through 
 which the eyes of those who dwelt in the 
 47
 
 Introduction 
 
 Quartier des Beaumettes had never been 
 able to see? We never found out. 
 There was about the enigma something 
 weird, something almost uncanny. We 
 had been told to seek him in a mansion by 
 the sea. We could hear the waves of the 
 Mediterranean beating against the rocks 
 below. But was it another ocean an 
 ocean of the Never, Never Land that had 
 been meant? 
 
 It was many and many a year ago 
 
 In a kingdom by the sea, 
 
 That a maiden lived, whom you all may know 
 
 By the name of Annabel Lee ; 
 
 And this maiden she lived with no other thought 
 
 Than to love and be loved by me. 
 
 Is there a real Maeterlinck house? we 
 asked ourselves. Or is his habitation of 
 such dream stuff as the House of Usher? 
 Is the land of Maeterlinck a material land, 
 48
 
 Introduction 
 
 or is it somewhere " hard by the dim lake 
 of Auber, in the misty mid-region of Weir : 
 down by the dark tarn of Auber, in the 
 Ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir? "
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SAINT 
 ANTHONY 
 
 The entrance-hall of a large old-fashioned 
 house. Front-door on the left. At 
 the back, a few steps with on the left 
 a glass door with lace curtains, lead- 
 ing to the dining-room, and on the 
 right a pair of folding glass doors, 
 also with lace curtains, leading to the 
 drawing-room. Against the wall, a 
 leather-covered bench, one or two 
 wooden stools and an umbrella-stand 
 with hats and coats on it. 
 
 The curtain rises on VIRGINIE, the old 
 servant. Her skirts are pinned up, 
 showing her bare legs and sabots; she 
 is surrounded with brass pails, swab- 
 bing-cloths, brooms and scrubbing- 
 brushes and is busily washing the 
 53
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 flagstones composing the floor. She 
 stops working from time to time, 
 blows her nose noisily and wipes away 
 a big tear. 
 
 There is a ring at the front-door. VIR- 
 GINIE half opens it, revealing on the 
 threshold a long lean old man, bare- 
 foot, bareheaded, with tangled hair 
 and beard, and clad in a sort of frieze 
 habit of faded brown, muddy, out of 
 shape and patched. 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 (Holding the door ajar.) This is the 
 thirty-sixth time that I've been to the 
 door. . . . Another beggar! Well, 
 what is it? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 Let me in. 
 
 54
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 No, you're all over mud. Stay there. 
 What do you want? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 I want to come in. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 What for? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 To bring Mademoiselle Hortense back 
 to life. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Bring Mademoiselle Hortense back to 
 life ? Get out ! Who are you ? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Saint Anthony. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Of Padua? 
 
 55
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 The same. (His halo lights up and 
 shines.) 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 Lord bless me, it's true! (She opens 
 the door wide, falls on her knees and mut- 
 ters a prayer, with her hands folded over 
 the handle of her broom, after which she 
 kisses the hem of the SAINT'S habit and 
 continues, in a mechanical and bewildered 
 sing-song.} Saint Anthony, pray for us I 
 Blessed Saint Anthony, look down upon 
 us! Saint Anthony, pray for us! 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Shut the door. 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 (Gets up crossly.) Wipe your feet on 
 the mat. (SAINT ANTHONY wipes them 
 
 er/ 
 
 56
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 awkwardly.} No, that won't do: rub 
 them hard, rub them hard. (She closes 
 the front door.) 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (Pointing to the folding-doors.) She 
 is laid out in there. 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 (In an astonished voice of delight.) 
 Yes, but how did you know ? It's wonder- 
 ful! She's there, in the drawing-room 
 . . . The poor dear lady ! She was only 
 seventy-seven. That's no age at all, is it? 
 . . . She was a very pious and deserving 
 lady, you know. She suffered a great 
 deal. . . . And she was very rich. They 
 say she's left two million francs. That's 
 a lot of money. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Yes. 
 
 57
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 It all goes to her two nephews, Mon- 
 sieur Gustave and Monsieur Achille. And 
 she's left legacies to the Rector, to the 
 church, to the beadle, to the sacristan, to 
 the poor, to the Curate, to fourteen Jes- 
 uits and to all the servants, according to 
 the length of time that they were with her. 
 I get most. I've been in her service for 
 thirty-three years, so I shall have three 
 thousand three hundred francs. That's a 
 good sum. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 It is. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 She owed me nothing; she always paid 
 me my wages regularly. You can say 
 what you like, you won't find many mis- 
 tresses who would do as much, after they 
 58
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 were dead and gone. She was one of the 
 best of women. And we're burying her 
 to-day. . . . Everybody has sent flowers. 
 You ought to see the drawing-room. It's 
 a glorious sight. There are flowers on the 
 bed, on the table, on the chairs, on the 
 piano. And nothing but white flowers: 
 it's perfectly beautiful. We simply don't 
 know where to put the wreaths. (A ring 
 at the door. She opens it and returns 
 with two wreaths.} Here are two more. 
 (Examines the wreaths and weighs them 
 in her hands.} Aren't these lovely? 
 Just hold them a minute till I finish my 
 work. (She gives the wreaths to SAINT 
 ANTHONY, who takes one in each hand 
 obligingly.} They're taking her to the 
 cemetery this afternoon. Everything has 
 to be nice and clean; and I've only time 
 to . 
 
 59
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Take me to the corpse. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 Take you to the corpse? Now? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Yes. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 No, it can't be done. You must wait a 
 bit; they are still at lunch. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 God bids me hurry; there is no time 
 to lose. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 What do you want with her? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I've told you: I want to bring her back 
 to life. 
 
 60
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 You want to bring her back to life ? Se- 
 riously, do you want to raise her from the 
 dead? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Yes. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 But she's been dead three days. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 That's why I wish to raise her from the 
 dead. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 For her to live again as before? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Yes. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 But then there won't be any heirs? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Of course not. 
 
 61
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 But what will Monsieur Gustave say? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 I don't know. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 And will she take back the three thou- 
 sand three hundred francs which she gave 
 me because she was dead? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Yes, of course. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 That's a nuisance. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Have you no other money, no savings? 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Not a farthing. I have an invalid sister 
 who takes every penny I earn. 
 62
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 Well, if you are afraid of losing your 
 three thousand francs ... . 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Three thousand three hundred 
 francs . . . 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 If you're afraid of losing the money, 
 then I won't raise her from the dead. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Couldn't I keep the money and you 
 bring her back to life just the same? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 No, you must take it or leave it. I 
 came down in answer to your prayers: 
 it's for you to choose. 
 63
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 (After a moment's reflection.} Well, 
 then, bring her back to life all the same. 
 (The SAINT'S halo lights up and shines.) 
 What's the matter with you now? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 You have pleased me. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 And then does that lantern thing light 
 up? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Yes, of itself. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 That's funny. . . . But don't stand so 
 near the lace curtains, or you'll set them 
 on fire. 
 
 64
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 There's no danger: it's celestial flame. 
 . . . Take me to the body. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 I've told you: you must wait. I can't 
 disturb them now. They're still at lunch. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Who? 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Why, my masters, of course ! The 
 whole family! First her two nephews, 
 Monsieur Gustave and Monsieur Achille, 
 with their wives and children, Monsieur 
 Georges, Monsieur Alberic, Monsieur 
 Alphonse and Monsieur Desire. . . . 
 And cousins, male and female, and the 
 Rector and the Doctor and I don't know 
 who besides: friends and relatives from a 
 65
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 distance, whom Yd never seen. They're 
 very rich people. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Really? 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 Did you notice the street? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 What street? 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 Why, ours, of course! The one in 
 which our house stands. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Yes. 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 It's a handsome street. Well, all the 
 houses on the left-hand side of the street, 
 66
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 except the little one at the end, the baker's 
 shop, belong to Mademoiselle Hortense. 
 Those on the right-hand side are Mon- 
 sieur Gustave's. There are twenty 
 houses. That means money. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 No doubt. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 (Pointing to the halo.} Look, your 
 lantern thing is going out. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (Feeling his halo.} Yes, I'm 
 afraid . . . 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 Doesn't it keep burning very long? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 It all depends upon the thoughts that 
 feed it. 
 
 67
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Yes, they own woods . . . and farms 
 . . . and houses galore ! Monsieur Gus- 
 tave has a starch-factory: Gustave's 
 Starch, you've heard of it, I expect ! Oh, 
 they're an amazingly well-off family. 
 There are four of them who live on their 
 incomes and do no business at all. That's 
 splendid, that is! . . . And such friends 
 and acquaintances and tenants! . . . 
 Well, they've all come to the funeral, some 
 of them from ever so far. There's one, 
 I'm told, who travelled two days and two 
 nights to get here in time. I'll show him 
 to you : he has a lovely beard. . . . 
 They're lunching here. They haven't 
 finished yet. We can't disturb them. 
 It's a great lunch: there are twenty-four 
 of them sitting down to it. And I've seen 
 the bill of fare : there's oysters, two soups, 
 three entrees, crayfish in jelly, and trout 
 68
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 a la Schubert. Do you know what that 
 is? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 No. 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 No more do I. They say it's very 
 good; but it's not for you and me. 
 There's no champagne, because of the 
 mourning; but there's every other kind 
 of wine. Mademoiselle Hortense had 
 the best cellar in the town. I'll try and 
 get you a good big glass, if they leave any; 
 then you'll see the sort of thing. . . . 
 Wait, I'll go and look what they're doing. 
 (She goes up the steps, draws back the 
 curtains and peeps through the glass door 
 on the left.) I think they're beginning 
 the trout, the trout a la Schubert. Oh, 
 there's Joseph moving the pine-apple. 
 They've a good two hours before them. 
 69
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 You'd better take a seat. (SAINT 
 ANTHONY goes to the leather-covered 
 bench and is about to sit down.} No, no, 
 not there, you're much too dirty! Sit on 
 the stool. I must get on with my work. 
 (SAINT ANTHONY sits down on a stool; 
 VIRGINIE resumes her work and takes up 
 a pail of water.} Look out! Lift up 
 your feet; I'm going to splash the water. 
 . . . No, don't stay there; you're in my 
 way; and it's not cleaned yet. ... Go 
 over there in the corner; push the stool 
 against the wall. (SAINT ANTHONY 
 obediently does as she tells him.} There, 
 now you won't get your feet wet. Aren't 
 you hungry? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 No, thank you, but I'm rather in a 
 hurry; so go and tell your masters. 
 70
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 You're in a hurry? What have you got 
 to do? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Two or three miracles. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 I can't tell them anything while they're 
 at lunch. We must wait till they've had 
 their coffee. Monsieur Gustave might be 
 very angry. ... I don't know what sort 
 of reception he'll give you; he doesn't like 
 having poor people in the house. You 
 don't look over-prosperous. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 No, saints are never prosperous. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 They have money given them, though. 
 
 71
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 Yes, but not everything that's given to 
 the saints reaches heaven. 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 You don't mean it? Then do the 
 priests take what we give? I've heard 
 it said; but I wouldn't believe . . . There 
 now, I've got no water left! ... I sayl 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Yes? 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 Do you see a brass tap on your right? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Yes. 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 There's an empty pail beside it. 
 Would you mind filling it for me? 
 
 72
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 With pleasure. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 You see, I'll never get all this cleaning 
 done if some one doesn't help me. And 
 there's nobody to help me: they're all 
 losing their heads. . . . It's a terrible 
 job, a death in the house ! You know that 
 as well as I do. A good thing it doesn't 
 happen every day. . . . Monsieur Gus- 
 tave will make a fuss if everything isn't 
 clean and shining when his guests come 
 through, here. . . . He's not easy to 
 please. . . . And I still have all the brass 
 to do. ... There, turn the tap; that's 
 right. . . . Bring me the pail. . . . 
 Aren't your feet cold? Tuck up your 
 gown or it'll get wet. . . . Mind the 
 wreaths; put them on the stool. . . . 
 That's right, that's capital. (SAINT 
 73
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 ANTHONY brings her the pail.} Thanks, 
 you're very kind. ... I want one more. 
 (A sound of voices and of chairs being 
 pushed back.) Listen! What's that? 
 I'll go and see. (She goes to the glass 
 door.) Hallo, the master has got up! 
 What can it be? Have they quarrelled? 
 . . . No, the others are eating. . . . 
 Joseph is filling up the Rector's glass. 
 . . . They are finishing the trout. . . . 
 The master is coming to the door. . . . 
 Why, I might speak to him as he comes 
 out and tell him that you . . . 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Yes, do, please; tell him at once. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Very well. Put down the pail; I don't 
 want it. Here, take this broom. Not 
 like that! You'd better sit down again. 
 
 74
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 (SAINT ANTHONY obeys and sits on the 
 two wreaths lying on the stool.} Hi, 
 what are you doing? You're sitting on 
 the wreaths ! 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I beg your pardon. I'm a little short- 
 sighted. 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 Clumsy! They're a pretty sight nowl 
 And what Monsieur Gustave will say when 
 he sees those two wreaths! . . . Thank 
 goodness, they're not so bad after all! 
 We can put them right. Sit down over 
 there ; take them on your knees ; and keep 
 quite quiet. (She goes down on her knees 
 before the SAINT.) I have a favour to 
 ask you. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 Speak, don't be afraid. 
 75
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Give me your blessing, while we are by 
 ourselves. When the company comes out, 
 I shall be sent away; and I shaVt see you 
 any more. Give me your blessing for my- 
 self alone. I am old and need it badly. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (Rises and blesses her. His halo lights 
 up.} I bless you, my daughter, for you 
 are good, simple of heart and mind, fault- 
 less, fearless, guileless in the presence of 
 the great mysteries and faithful in the 
 performance of your little duties. Go in 
 peace, my child. Go and tell your 
 masters. . . . 
 
 (Exit VIRGINIE. SAINT ANTHONY 
 sits down again on the stool. Pre- 
 sently the glass door opens and 
 GUSTAVE enters, followed by 
 VIRGINIE.) 
 
 76
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 (In a harsh and angry -voice.} What's 
 all this? Who are you? What do you 
 want? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 (Rising humbly.} I am Saint Anthony. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 Are you mad? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Of Padua. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 What sort of joke is this? I am in no 
 mood for laughing. Have you been 
 drinking? Come, what are you here for? 
 What do you want? . . . 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 I want to raise your aunt from the dead. 
 
 77
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 What? Raise my aunt from the dead? 
 (To VIRGINIE.) He's drunk. Why did 
 you let him in? (To SAINT ANTHONY.) 
 Look here, my man, be sensible: we have 
 no time for jesting. My aunt is to be 
 buried to-day; you can call again to- 
 morrow. Here. Here's a trifle for you. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (With gentle persistence.} I must 
 raise her from the dead to-day. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 All right, presently, after the ceremony! 
 Come, here's the door. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I shall not leave until I have brought 
 her back to life. 
 
 78
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 (Blazing out.} Look here, I've had 
 enough of this! You're getting tiresome! 
 My guests are waiting for me. (He 
 opens the front-door.} Here's the door. 
 Look sharp, please! 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I shall not leave until I have brought 
 her back to life. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Oh, won't you? We'll see about that. 
 (Opens the glass door and calls out.} 
 Joseph! 
 
 JOSEPH 
 
 (Appears in the doorway, with a large 
 steaming dish in his hands.) Yes, sir? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 (Glancing at the dish.} What's that? 
 79
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 JOSEPH 
 The partridges, sir. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Give the dish to Virginie and turn this 
 drunken fellow out of doors. And be 
 quick about it. 
 
 JOSEPH 
 
 (Handing VIRGINIE the dish.) Very 
 good, sir. (Going up to the SAINT.) 
 Come on, old fellow, didn't you hear? 
 It's all very well getting tight ; you've got 
 to pull yourself together now. Come on 1 
 Get out of this! You'd better come 
 quietly, or you'll regret it : I can be pretty 
 rough when I like. You won't? You 
 just wait! Open the door, Virginie. . . . 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Wait, I'll open it. (Opens the street- 
 door.} 
 
 80
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 JOSEPH 
 
 That's it; we'll soon get rid of him now. 
 ( Turning up his sleeves and spitting in his 
 hands.) I'm going to show you what's 
 what. (He grasps SAINT ANTHONY 
 -firmly, with the intention of flinging him 
 into the street. The SAINT stands rooted 
 to the spot, JOSEPH looks nonplussed.) 
 Sir! 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 What's the matter? 
 
 JOSEPH 
 
 I don't know, sir. He seems fixed. I 
 can't get him to budge. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 I'll help you. (Both of them try to 
 
 push SAINT ANTHONY out, but he remains 
 
 immovable. GUSTAVE, in an undertone.) 
 
 Well, upon my soul! He's dangerous. 
 
 81
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 Be careful. He has the strength of a 
 Hercules. Let's try being gentle with 
 him. (To SAINT ANTHONY.) Listen to 
 me, my friend. You understand, don't 
 you, that, on a day like this, when we're 
 burying my aunt, my poor dear aunt . . . 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I have come to raise her from the 
 dead . . . 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 But you understand, surely, that this is 
 not the moment. . . . The partridges are 
 getting cold, the guests are waiting. Be- 
 sides we are not in the mood for laughing. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 (Appears at the top of the steps, napkin 
 in hand.} What's the matter, Gustave? 
 What's up? We're waiting for the 
 partridges. 
 
 83
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 Our friend here refuses to go away. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Is he boozed? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 Well, of course. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Kick him out and have done with it. I 
 don't see why our good luncheon should 
 be spoilt for the sake of a dirty drunkard. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 He won't go. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 What's that? Won't go? We'll soon 
 see about that! . . . 
 
 GUSTAV, 
 
 All right, you try. 
 83
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 I'm not going to tackle a dirty tramp 
 like him. But there's Joseph, there's the 
 coachman. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 We have tried; it's no use; and, short 
 of employing absolute violence . . . 
 
 (More GUESTS appear at the door, 
 most of them with their mouths 
 full, some with their napkins under 
 their arms, others with them tucked 
 under their chins.} 
 
 A GUEST 
 What's it all about? 
 
 ANOTHER 
 
 What are you doing, Gustave? 
 ANOTHER 
 
 What does the fellow want? 
 84
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 ANOTHER 
 Where has he sprung from? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 He won't go away. It's another of 
 Virginie's blunders. As soon as she 
 catches sight of a beggar, she loses her 
 head. It's really too silly. She let this 
 madman in; and he insists on seeing Aunt 
 Hortense and raising her from the dead. 
 
 A GUEST 
 
 You should send for the police. Why 
 don't you? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 No, no; no scandal! I don't want the 
 police in the house on a day like this. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 (Changing his tone.} Gustave. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 Well? 
 
 85
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Have you noticed that two or three of 
 the flags are cracked, over there on the 
 left, at the end of the hall? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Yes, I know. It doesn't matter; I'm 
 going to have a mosaic floor to take the 
 place of the flags. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 That'll look more cheerful . . . 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 And, better still, more modern. In- 
 stead of that door, with the lace curtains, 
 I thought of having a painted window 
 illustrating Hunting, Industry and 
 Progress, with a garland of fruit 
 and game. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Yes, that will be very nice. 
 86
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 As for my office, I intend to have it in 
 there (pointing to the folding-doors), with 
 the clerks' office opposite. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 When shall you move in ? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 A few days after the funeral. It would 
 not do to come in the very next day. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 No. But meanwhile we must get rid 
 of this chap. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 He's made himself quite at home. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 (To SAINT ANTHONY.) Won't you 
 have a chair? 
 
 87
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (Naively.) No, thank you. I'm not 
 tired. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Leave him to me. I'll soon dispose of 
 him. (Approaching the SAINT, in a 
 friendly tone.) Come, my friend, tell us 
 who you are. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 I am Saint Anthony. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Yes, yes, you're right. (To the 
 others.) He sticks to it, but he's quite 
 harmless. (Noticing the RECTOR among 
 the GUESTS who have crowded around 
 SAINT ANTHONY and giving him an artful 
 and chaffing look.) And here's the 
 Rector; he knows you, and wants to pay 
 you his respects. Saints are your business,
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 Father: I know more about ploughs and 
 traction-engines. Here's an emissary 
 from heaven, Father, great Saint Anthony 
 in person, who would like a word with 
 you. (Under his breath to the RECTOR.) 
 We want to get him quietly to the door, 
 without letting him know. Once he is out- 
 side, good-bye. 
 
 THE RECTOR 
 
 (In an unctuously paternal tone.) 
 Great Saint Anthony, your humble servant 
 bids you welcome to this world, which you 
 have deigned to honour with your celestial 
 presence. What does your Holiness 
 wish ? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 To raise Mademoiselle Hortense from 
 the dead. 
 
 THE RECTOR 
 
 It's true that she's dead, poor ladyl 
 89
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 Well, the miracle should present no 
 difficulty to/y^the greatest of our saints. 
 The dear departed had a particular de- 
 votion to you. I will take you to her, if 
 your Holiness will be good enough to 
 come with me. (He goes to the street- 
 door and beckons to SAINT ANTHONY.) 
 This way, please. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (Pointing to the folding-doors.} No, 
 that way, in there. . . . 
 
 THE RECTOR 
 
 (Still more unctuously.} Your Holi- 
 ness will pardon me if I venture to contra- 
 dict you, but the corpse, because of the 
 influx of visitors, has been removed to the 
 house opposite, which, I may mention, also 
 belonged to the dear departed. 
 90
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (Pointing to the folding-doors.} She 
 is in there. 
 
 THE RECTOR 
 
 (More and more unctuously.) Let me 
 beg your Holiness, in order to convince 
 yourself to the contrary, to accompany me 
 for a moment into the street, where you 
 will see the candles and the black hang- 
 ings . . . 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (Imperturbably, still pointing to the 
 folding-doors.) That is where I shall 
 go- 
 
 A GUEST 
 Did you ever hear any one like him? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 He's going a trifle too far. 
 91
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 A GUEST 
 
 Let us open the door and all of us push 
 him out together. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 No, no; no scene! He might lose his 
 temper. He's very dangerous; he's 
 enormously strong. Keep your hands 
 off him. Joseph and I, who are no weak- 
 lings, either of us, couldn't make him move 
 an inch. It's funny, but he seems rooted 
 to the soil. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 But who told him that the corpse was in 
 there? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Virginie, of course; she's been babbling 
 for all she's worth. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Me, sir? Excuse me, sir, not me; I was 
 92
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 attending to my work. I answered yes 
 and no, nothing else. . . . Didn't I, Saint 
 Anthony? (The SAINT makes no reply.) 
 Well, can't you answer when you're asked 
 a civil question? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 She did not tell me. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 There, you see ! He's a saint; he knew 
 it all beforehand. I tell you, there's no- 
 thing he doesn't know. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 (Going to the SAINT and tapping him 
 amicably on the shoulder.} Now then, 
 my fine fellow, come on ; put your best foot 
 forward, what I 
 
 THE GUESTS 
 Will he go, or won't he? 
 93
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 ACHILLE 
 I have an idea. 
 
 Gu STAVE 
 What's that? 
 
 ACHILLE 
 Where's the doctor? 
 
 A GUEST 
 
 He's still at table; he's finishing up the 
 trout. . . . 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 (To JOSEPH.) Go and fetch him. 
 '(Exit JOSEPH.) You're right, he's a 
 madman; it's the doctor's business. 
 (Enter JOSEPH and the DOCTOR.) 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 (Appears with his mouth full and his 
 napkin tucked under his chin.} What's 
 94
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 up? Is he mad? Is he ill? Is he 
 drunk? (Looking the SAINT over.) 
 Why, it's a beggar! I'm of no use in 
 his case. Well, my friend, are things 
 going badly? Is there something we 
 want? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I want to raise Mademoiselle Hortense 
 from the dead. 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 Ah, I see you're not a medical man! 
 May I have your hand? (Feels the 
 SAINT'S pulse.) Any pain? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 No. 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 (Feeling his head and forehead.} 
 And here? Does it hurt when I press my 
 finger? 
 
 95
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 No. 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 Excellent, excellent! Do you ever feel 
 giddy ? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Never. 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 And in the past ... no accident, at 
 any time? Let's have a look at your 
 chest. Say "Ah!" That's right. Once 
 more; deep breath. Deeper, deeper. 
 That's right. . . . And what is it you 
 
 want, my man? 
 
 / 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 To go into that room. 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 What for? 
 
 96
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 To raise Mademoiselle Hortense from 
 the dead. 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 She's not there. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 She is there. I see her. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 He sticks to it. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Couldn't you give him a hypodermic in- 
 jection? 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 What for? 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 To send him to sleep. Then we would 
 put him in the street. 
 97
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 No, no; no nonsense. Besides, it's 
 dangerous. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 That's his look out, not ours. We're 
 not paid to take care of madmen, tramps 
 or drunkards. 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 Shall I give you my opinion? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 I wish you would. 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 We have to do with a madman, a rather 
 feeble-minded and quite harmless mono- 
 maniac, who may become dangerous, how- 
 ever, if we thwart him. I know the type. 
 . . . We are among ourselves; moreover, 
 strange though the experiment which he 
 proposes may seem, it involves no lack of 
 98
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 respect for the dear departed. . . . That 
 being so, I don't see why, in order to 
 avoid any scandal and since he's asking 
 such a simple thing, we shouldn't allow him 
 to go into the room for a moment. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Never! What's the world coming to, 
 if the first person that comes along can 
 force his way like this into a respectable 
 household, under the ridiculous pretext of 
 bringing back to life a dead woman who 
 has never done him any harm? 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 As you please; it's for you to decide. 
 On the one hand, you have an inevitable 
 scandal, for nothing will make him give 
 up his idea; on the other, a small con- 
 cession which costs you nothing. 
 
 ACIIILLE 
 
 The doctor's right. . . . 
 99
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 There's nothing to be afraid of. I'll 
 take the whole responsibility. Besides, we 
 shall all be there and we shall go in with 
 him. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Very well, then, let's have done with it. 
 . . . But, whatever happens, don't let this 
 ludicrous incident get about, will you? 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Aunt Hortense's jewels are put out on 
 the mantelpiece. . . . 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 I know. I'll keep an eye on them, for 
 I confess that I don't trust him. (To 
 SAINT ANTHONY.) It's this way, come 
 in. But be quick about it; we haven't 
 lunched yet. 
 
 (GusTAVE opens the folding-doors, 
 100
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 revealing the drawing-room, in 
 which is a large four-poster, with 
 MADEMOISELLE HORTENSE'S body 
 laid out upon it. Two lighted 
 candles, a crucifix, a branch of 
 palm, wreaths. At the back, a 
 glass door leading to the garden. 
 ALL go in, SAINT ANTHONY and 
 GUSTAVE last.) 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Here is the body of the dear departed. 
 As you see, she's quite dead. Are you 
 satisfied? . . . And now leave us. Let 
 us cut short the experiment. (To 
 JOSEPH.) Show the gentleman out by the 
 garden-door. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 Allow me. (He walks into the middle 
 of the room and stands at the foot of the 
 101
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 bed. Turning to the corpse and speaking 
 in a loud, grave voice.) Arise 1 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 There, that'll do! We can't stand by 
 and allow a stranger to outrage our most 
 sacred feelings; and I ask you once more, 
 for the last time . . . 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 Allow me, please! (He goes nearer 
 the bed and raises his voice more authori- 
 tatively.) Arise! 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 (Losing his patience.) That's enough! 
 We'll end by quarrelling. . . . Come, this 
 way: the door's over here. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 Allow me! ... She is very far away. 
 (In a deeper and more commanding tone.) 
 Mademoiselle Hortense, return and arise 
 from the dead. 
 
 102
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 (To the general amazement, the dead 
 woman first makes a slight move- 
 ment and then opens her eyes, un- 
 folds her hands, raises herself 
 slowly to a sitting posture, puts her 
 night-cap straight and looks round 
 the room with a crabbed and dis- 
 contented air. Next she begins 
 quietly to scratch at a bit of candle- 
 grease which she has discovered on 
 the sleeve of her night-gown. 
 There is a moment of overpower- 
 ing silence; then VIRGINIE starts 
 from the bewildered group, runs up 
 to the bed and flings herself into 
 the arms of the woman restored to 
 life.} 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Mademoiselle Hortense ! She's alive! 
 Look, she's scratching at a bit of candle- 
 103
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 grease; she's feeling for her glasses. . . . 
 Here they are 1 Here they are ! . . . 
 Saint Anthony! Saint Anthony! . . . 
 A miracle! A miracle! ... On your 
 knees ! On your knees ! 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Come, come, be still! . . . Don't talk 
 nonsense ! . . . This is no time for . . . 
 
 ACHILLE 
 There's no denying it, she's alive. 
 
 A GUEST 
 
 But it's not possible! What has he 
 done to her? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 You can't take it seriously. She'll have 
 a relapse. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 No, no, I assure you. Just see how 
 she's staring at us. 
 
 104
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 I don't believe it yet. What are we 
 coming to? Where are the laws of 
 nature? Doctor, what do you say? 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 (Embarrassed.} What do I say? 
 What would you have me say? It doesn't 
 concern me, it's not my business. It's 
 absurd and, at the same time, quite simple. 
 If she's alive, then she was never dead. 
 There's no reason to be amazed and pro- 
 claim a miracle. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 But you yourself said . . . 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 I said, I said ... To begin with, I 
 
 said nothing positive; and I would have 
 
 you observe that I have not signed the 
 
 death-certificate. I even had very serious 
 
 105
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 doubts, but I would not tell you of them, 
 lest I should raise false hopes. ... In 
 any case, all this proves nothing; and it is 
 very unlikely that she will live long. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Meanwhile we must accept the evidence, 
 the happy evidence, of our senses. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Yes, yes, we must believe it! There's 
 not a doubt left! I told you he was a 
 saint, a great saint! Just look at her! 
 She's alive and as fresh as a rose in June ! 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 (Going to the bed and kissing MADE- 
 MOISELLE HORTENSE.) Aunt, my dear 
 aunt, is it really you? 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 (Going to the bed.) Do you know me, 
 106
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 aunt? I am Achilla, your nephew, 
 Achille. 
 
 LEONTINE 
 
 And me, auntie? I am your old niece 
 Leontine. 
 
 VALENTINE 
 
 And me, my dear godmother, do you 
 know me ? I am little Valentine, to whom 
 you left all your silver. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 She's smiling. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 Not at all, she looks displeased. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 But she recognizes us all. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 (Seeing MADEMOISELLE HORTENSE 
 open her mouth and move her lips.) Lis- 
 ten! She's going to speak. 
 107
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Heavenly Father I . . . And she has 
 seen God! . . . She'll tell us about the 
 delights of Paradise ! . . . On your knees 1 
 On your knees! 
 
 ACHILLE 
 Listen ! Listen ! 
 
 MADEMOISELLE HORTENSE 
 (Eyeing SAINT ANTHONY with scorn 
 and disgust. In a shrill and angry voice.} 
 Who is this person? Who has dared to 
 let a bare-footed tramp into my drawing- 
 room? He's dirtied all the carpets as it 
 is! ... Put him out at once! . . . Vir- 
 ginie, how often have I told you not to let 
 beggars . . . 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (Raising his hand imperiously.} Si- 
 lence 1 
 
 108
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 ( The AUNT stops suddenly in the 
 middle of her sentence, and sits up 
 open-mouthed, unable to utter a 
 sound.} 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 You must forgive her, she does not yet 
 know how much she owes you. But we, 
 we know. There's no question but that 
 what you have done was more than most 
 people could have done. It may have 
 been an accident or ... something else; 
 upon my word, I don't know. But what 
 I do know is that I am proud and happy 
 to shake you by the hand. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I should like to go, please. I have 
 work to do. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Oh, don't be in such a hurry! We 
 can't let you go like this. You shall not 
 109
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 leave empty-handed. I don't know what 
 my aunt will give you: that's her affair: I 
 cannot promise anything in her name. 
 But, for my part, I will consult my brother- 
 in-law; and, whether it be a coincidence or 
 . . . something else, we will pay for the 
 coincidence without quibbling about the 
 amount; and you shall have no reason to 
 regret what you have done. That's so, 
 Achille, isn't it? 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Certainly, you will not regret it, on the 
 contrary. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 We are not tremendously well off; we 
 have wives and children and we have had 
 our disappointments; but, after all, we 
 know how to recognize a kindness; and, if 
 it were only for the honour of the family, 
 it would never do to have it said that a 
 110
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 stranger, however poor, came and did us 
 a service without receiving a reward, a 
 decent reward, the best reward that in us 
 lies, a reward in proportion to our means, 
 which, I repeat, are limited. . . . Oh, I 
 know, there are services which nothing 
 can repay and which are not paid for: you 
 need not tell me that! I know it, I know 
 it: don't interrupt me. But that's no 
 reason why we should not do something. 
 . . . Come, what do you think we owe 
 you ? Name your own figure. Of course, 
 you must not ask for anything excessive; 
 we couldn't give it you; but whatever 
 seems reasonable you shall have. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 My brother-in-law is right: but, while 
 the matter is arranging, I propose to make 
 a little collection among ourselves. That 
 111
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 won't prejudice you in any way and will 
 keep you going for a time. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I want to go away, please. I have 
 other work to do. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Other work to do! Other work to do! 
 What work can you have to do? . . . 
 No, I can't have that; and it's not nice of 
 you to suggest it. What would people say 
 if they heard that we let you go like this 
 after restoring the dear departed to us? 
 If you won't take money and I under- 
 stand your delicacy of feeling and approve 
 of it at least you will do us the pleasure 
 of accepting a little keepsake? Oh, don't 
 be afraid: just a trifle, a cigar-holder, or 
 a tie-pin, or a meerschaum pipe. I could 
 have your name and address and the date 
 engraved on it. 
 
 113
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 No, thank you. I can accept nothing. 
 
 Gu STAVE 
 Do you mean that? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 I do. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 (Taking out his cigar-case.) At any 
 rate, you will do us the pleasure of smoking 
 a cigar with us. You can't refuse that. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Thank you, I do not smoke. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 You're most discouraging. Still, what 
 would you like? You must have a wish 
 of some sort. You have only to speak, 
 for everything is yours in this house, which 
 you have filled with gladness. It's all 
 yours. I can't say more than that. At 
 113
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 least, all that one can honestly part with. 
 . . . Why, it's an insult to leave us like 
 this! 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Look here, I have an idea that's not 
 half bad. As our friend won't accept any- 
 thing and, like my brother-in-law, I 
 understand his delicacy, of which, I am 
 sure, we all approve; for life can't be paid 
 for and has no price well, since he has 
 shown a disinterested nature which at once 
 makes him our equal, what I want to know 
 is this: why should he not do us the hon- 
 our of sitting down with us and helping us 
 finish a luncheon which he has so happily 
 interrupted! . . . What do you all say? 
 . . . (Murmurs of restrained approval.) 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 That's it! The very thing! That 
 settles everything! How clever of you 
 114
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 to think of it! ... (To SAINT AN- 
 THONY.) Well, what do you say? ... 
 By squeezing a bit, we can easily make 
 room for you. You shall have the seat 
 of honour. The partridges will be cold, 
 but no matter: you have a good appetite, 
 I feel sure! . . . Well, that's arranged, 
 eh? There will be no ceremony: we're 
 decent people and easy-going, as you 
 see. . . . 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 No, really. You must excuse me. I'm 
 sorry, I can't. I'm expected elsewhere. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Oh, come, you can't refuse us this! 
 Besides, who's expecting you? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 Another corpse. 
 
 115
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 A corpse! Another corpse! It won't 
 run away! Surely you're not going to put 
 a corpse before us! To throw us over 
 for a corpse ! 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 No, I see what it is. You would rather 
 go down to the kitchen, wouldn't you? 
 You'd feel more comfortable there. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Then he can come up afterwards for 
 coffee. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Ah, he's not refusing! He prefers 
 that! I understand. Virginie, leave your 
 mistress she doesn't need you now 
 and take the gentleman down to your 
 kitchen. Give him some of everything. 
 (He taps the SAINT familiarly on the 
 stomach.) Ha, ha! You and Virginie 
 116
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 are going to have a jolly good time 
 together! I guessed right, didn't I, you 
 old rogue you! You old sly-boots 1 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 (In a voice of alarm.} Sir! 
 
 GU STAVE 
 
 What is it? 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 I don't know, but Mademoiselle Hor- 
 tense has lost her speech again. 
 
 Gu STAVE 
 What? She's lost her speech? 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Yes, sir, look. . . . She's opening her 
 mouth and moving her lips and working 
 her hands but her voice has gone. 
 
 Gu STAVE 
 
 What is it, aunt? Is there something 
 117
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 you want to tell us? (She nods assent.) 
 And you can't? There, there, make an 
 effort; it's a temporary paralysis, that's 
 all. It will soon pass. (She makes a 
 sign that she can no longer speak.} 
 What's the matter with you? What do 
 want? (To SAINT ANTHONY.) What's 
 the meaning of this? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 She will never speak again. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 She will never speak again? But she 
 has been speaking. You heard her. She 
 even gave you a piece of her mind. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 It was an oversight on my part. She 
 won't have her voice again. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Can't you restore it to her? 
 118
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 No. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 And when will it come back? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Never. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 What! Will she remain dumb to the 
 end of her days? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 Yes. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 Why? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 She has beheld mysteries which she may 
 not reveal. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Mysteries? What mysteries? 
 119
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 The mysteries of the dead. 
 
 Gu STAVE 
 
 The mysteries of the dead? This is 
 a fresh joke. What do you take us for? 
 No, no, my lad, this won't do ! She 
 spoke; we all heard her; we have wit- 
 nesses. You have, of malice prepense, 
 deprived her of her power of speech, with 
 an ohject which I am beginning to see 
 through. You'll just restore it at once, 
 or ... 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 It was really not worth while bringing 
 her back to life, to give her to us in this 
 condition. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 If you could not give her back to us as 
 she was before your stupid and clumsy
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 interference, you would have done better 
 not to have meddled. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 It was a bad action. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 An abuse of confidence. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 An abuse of confidence: that's what it 
 was. There is no excuse for it. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 You're expecting to blackmail us, per- 
 haps? 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 I suppose you think you're dealing with 
 a pack of fools? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Who asked you to come? I hate say- 
 ing it, but I would rather see her dead 
 121
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 than have her back in this state. It's 
 too cruel, too painful for those who love 
 her. You can't come like this, under the 
 pretence of working a miracle, and disturb 
 the peace of the people who have done you 
 no harm, bringing unhappiness upon them! 
 A nice thing. But he laughs best who 
 laughs last! 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 Allow me. Calm yourselves. The 
 man has done wrong, there's no doubt of 
 that; but we must not blame him: he is 
 probably unaccountable for his actions. 
 (Going up to SAINT ANTHONY.) Just let 
 me examine your eyes, my friend. That's 
 it: I knew it! I would not interfere while 
 everybody was thanking him, much too 
 cordially, for the miraculous resurrection 
 which he had wrought. I did not wish to 
 appear to meddle with what does not con- 
 122
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 cern me. 1 knew what was what; and 
 you see, as I do, that she was not dead at 
 all. There is nothing supernatural or 
 mysterious about all this. It simply means 
 that the fellow possesses rather unusual 
 hypnotic powers; and he has abused them, 
 in order to indulge in a hoax which may 
 be self-interested and which, in any case, 
 is out of place. He came at the right; 
 moment, that is all; and it is highly 
 probable that, had he not been here, you 
 and I would have worked the miracle, if 
 miracle there be. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 Well, what are we to do? 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 Why, prevent him from doing further 
 mischief by having him locked up! The 
 man's dangerous! 
 
 123
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 You're right; we must put a stop to this; 
 besides, I've had enough of it. . . . 
 Joseph ! 
 
 JOSEPH 
 Sir? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Run to the police-station at the corner; 
 fetch two policemen; tell them to bring a 
 pair of handcuffs with them. He's a dan- 
 gerous fellow and capable of everything, 
 as he has shown us only too plainly. 
 
 JOSEPH 
 Very well, sir. (He runs out.) 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 I beg leave to withdraw. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 That's right, old chap, play the innocent. 
 It's time you did. Yes, you can withdraw; 
 124
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 and with a first-class escort. You just 
 
 wait and see. 
 
 (Enter JOSEPH, followed by a SER- 
 GEANT or POLICE and a POLICE- 
 MAN.) 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 (Pointing to SAINT ANTHONY.) Is 
 this the criminal? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 That's the man. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 (Touching SAINT ANTHONY on the 
 shoulder.) Where are your papers? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 What papers? 
 
 POLICEMAN 
 
 You haven't any? I knew it. What's 
 your name? 
 
 125
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 Saint Anthony. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 Saint what? Saint Anthony? That's 
 no name for a Christian. I want the 
 other, your real name. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 (Fery gently.} I have no other. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 Keep a civil tongue in your head, will 
 you? Where did you steal that dressing- 
 gown? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I didn't steal it. It's mine. 
 126
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 Then it's I who am lying? Is that 
 what you mean? Say it; don't mind me! 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I don't know. I think . . . Perhaps 
 you are mistaken. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 I'm making a note of your impertinent 
 observations. . . . Where do you hail 
 from ? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 From Padua. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 Padua? Where's that? What depart- 
 ment?
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 It's in Italy. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 I know, I know. I wanted to make him 
 say it. So you're an Italian. I thought 
 as much. Where did you last come from ? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 From Paradise. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 What Paradise? Where is that land 
 of malefactors? 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 It is the place to which the souls of those 
 who have died in the Lord ascend after 
 their death. 
 
 128
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 I see, I see, I understand! You're 
 coming the artful over me ! You're pull- 
 ing my leg! First you're impudent and 
 now you're being clever! Very well, your 
 case is quite clear : we'll soon settle it. ... 
 (To Gustave.} Let's hear what he has 
 done. What has he stolen? 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 I can't yet say for certain that he has 
 stolen anything; I haven't had time to take 
 stock of things; and I don't like to accuse 
 him without being sure. We must be just 
 before all things. But he has done some- 
 thing more serious. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 I never doubted it. 
 129
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 You know the loss which we have 
 suffered. While we were mourning the 
 dear departed and finishing our lunch, he 
 made his way into the house under some 
 pretext or other, with intentions which you 
 can easily guess. He took advantage of 
 the maid's simplicity and credulousness to 
 have the door opened of the room where 
 the body was laid out. He obviously 
 hoped to turn our disorder and grief to 
 account in order to fish in troubled waters 
 and make a haul. He may have learnt 
 through an accomplice that our aunt's 
 jewels and silver were put out on the 
 mantelpiece. Unfortunately for him, our 
 aunt was not dead. And, suddenly, seeing 
 this repellent figure in her room, she woke 
 up, cried out and spoke to him roundly 
 and pluckily. Then, to take revenge for 
 130
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 his discomfiture, I don't know how the 
 doctor will explain he deprived her of 
 the use of her speech; and, notwithstanding 
 our entreaties, he refuses to restore it to 
 her, naturally hoping to make us pay 
 through the nose. Mind you, I am mak- 
 ing no accusations; I am simply stating the 
 facts. As for the rest, you can ask the 
 doctor. 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 I will furnish all the necessary explana- 
 tions before the Commissary; if he wishes 
 it, I will draw up a report. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Meanwhile, there's no mistake about it : 
 he's either a criminal or a madman, per- 
 haps both. In any case, he's a dangerous 
 person who must absolutely be locked up. 
 131
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 That's quite clear. We'll get rid of 
 him for you. (To the POLICEMAN.) 
 Rabutteau ! 
 
 POLICEMAN 
 Yes, Sergeant. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 The handcuffs. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Sergeant, it was very good of you and 
 your mate to come round. Before leaving 
 us, you must do us the pleasure of taking 
 a glass of something with us. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 We won't say no to that, eh, Rabutteau ? 
 132
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 Especially as the prisoner looks like a 
 tough customer. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Joseph, bring a bottle and some glasses. 
 (Exit JOSEPH.) We will all drink to my 
 aunt's recovery. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 It'll do us no harm in this weather. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 Is it still raining? 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 In torrents. I've only come the length 
 of the street; look at my cape. 
 
 133
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 POLICEMAN 
 
 You can't tell if it's raining or snowing, 
 but it's worse than either. 
 
 (Enter JOSEPH with a tray filled with 
 glasses, which he hands round.) 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 (Raising his glass.) Ladies and gentle- 
 men, your very good health 1 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 (Touching glasses with the SERGEANT.) 
 Sergeant, your health! (They all touch 
 glasses with the SERGEANT.) Have an- 
 other? 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 I don't mind. (Smacking his lips.) 
 That's good wine, that isl 
 134
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I'm thirsty. I should like a glass of 
 water. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 (Grinning.) A glass of water ! D'ye 
 hear him? You shall have some water, 
 my lad; you wait till we're outside; it'll 
 come pouring into your mouth. . . . 
 Come, we've hung around long enough. 
 . . . Rabutteau, the handcuffs; and you, 
 put out your hands . . . 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 But I haven't . . . 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 
 What! Resistance and protests! 
 135
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 That's the last straw ! They're all alike 1 
 (A ring at the front-door.) 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 A ring at the belli (JOSEPH goes 
 to the front-door.) What's the time? 
 Perhaps it's the first guests. 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Hardly. It's not three yet. (Enter 
 the COMMISSARY OF POLICE.) Hallo, it's 
 Monsieur Mitrou, the Commissary of 
 Police ! 
 
 THE COMMISSARY 
 
 Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. 
 I heard . . . (Catching sight of SAINT 
 ANTHONY.) Why, I thought as much: 
 it's Saint Anthony himself, the great Saint 
 Anthony of Padua! . . . 
 136
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 You know him, then? 
 
 THE COMMISSARY 
 
 Know him ? I should think I did know 
 him ! It's the third time that he's escaped. 
 . . . You know, he's a little . . . (He 
 taps his forehead with his finger.} And 
 at each escape he does the same tricks : he 
 cures the sick, heals cripples, practises 
 medicine without a license in short, 
 commits a number of illegal actions . . . 
 (Goes up to SAINT ANTHONY and exam- 
 ines him more attentively.} Yes, it's 
 he ... Or at least . . . But he has 
 changed a good deal since his last 
 escapade. . . . Anyway, if it's not he, it 
 must be his brother. . . . There's some- 
 thing that's not quite clear to me. We'll 
 look into it at the police-station. Come 
 137
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 along, I'm in a hurry; come along, lads, 
 quick, to the station, to the station 1 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Better let him out this way, through the 
 garden; it'll attract less notice. ( JOSEPH 
 opens the garden door, admitting a whirl 
 of rain, sleet and wind.} 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Brrr, what weather I It's raining, 
 snowing, hailing! (They push SAINT 
 ANTHONY to the door.) 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 (Running up.) But, sir, the poor 
 man! . . . Look, he's barefooted! 
 138
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 Well, what of it? Do you want us to 
 send for a carriage? Or a shrine, per- 
 haps? 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 No, I'll lend him my sabots. Take 
 them, Saint Anthony; I have another pair. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (Putting on the sabots.) Thank you. 
 (His halo lights up.) 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 And are you putting nothing on your 
 head? You'll catch cold. 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 I haven't anything. 
 139
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 Take my little shawl. I'll run and fetch 
 you my umbrella. (She hurries out.) 
 
 ACHILLE 
 The old fool. 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 This is all very well, but meanwhile 
 we're standing in the devil of a draught. 
 . . . Come, take him to the station and 
 let's have an end of this. 
 
 VIRGINIE 
 
 (Returning with an enormous umbrella, 
 which she offers to SAINT ANTHONY.) 
 Here's my umbrella. 
 
 140
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 SAINT ANTHONY 
 
 (Showing his hands.) They've fast- 
 ened my hands. 
 
 VlRGINIE 
 
 I'll hold it for you. (Standing on the 
 threshold, she opens the umbrella to shelter 
 SAINT ANTHONY, who goes out between 
 the two POLICEMEN, followed by the COM- 
 MISSARY. The SAINT'S halo shines under 
 the umbrella; and the group moves away 
 over the snow in the garden.) 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 (Closing the door.) At last! 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 A good riddance to bad rubbish 1 
 141
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 '(Going to the bed.} Well, aunt? 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 What's the matter with her? She's 
 sinking, she's falling back on the bed ! 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 (Hurrying forward.} I don't know 
 . . . I'm afraid . . . 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 (Leaning over the bed.) Aunt, aunt! 
 . . . Well? 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 This time she is really dead. I told 
 you so. 
 
 142
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 Impossible ! 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 But, doctor, look here! Is there 
 nothing to be done? 
 
 THE DOCTOR 
 
 Nothing at all, I fear. 
 
 (A pause during which all gather 
 round the bed.) 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 (The first to recover his self-possess- 
 ion.) What a day! . . . 
 
 ACHILLE 
 
 Hark to the storm ! . . . 
 143
 
 The Miracle of Saint Anthony 
 
 GUSTAVE 
 
 After all, we were a little unkind to the 
 poor beggar. If you come to think of it, 
 he really did us no harm I 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
 144
 
 Id 2. 
 F 2 8 19S 
 
 ,EC 15 1959 
 
 
 
 Form I.-9-20m-8,'37
 
 .,^,?. .1 J J. H .SN REGIONA1. LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 001 207 965