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 TWO FOES 
 
 -BY- 
 
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 Forbes Heermans 
 
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 PHILADELPHIA 
 
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 1 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 An Original War Drama 
 
 IN FOUR ACTS 
 
 BY 
 
 FORBES HEERMANS 
 
 Author of “Down the Black Canon,” “Love by Induction,” 
 “ The Vagabond,” etc. 
 
 Together with a description of the costumes, cast of the 
 characters, entrances and exits, and all of the 
 stage business 
 
 Philadelphia 
 
 The Penn Publishing Company 
 
 1901 
 
Copyright 1898 by Forbes Heermans 
 
 Copyright 1899 BY Forbes Heermans 
 
 Special Notice. — This play has been duly copyrighted, and is printed 
 for the use of amateurs only, who may act it without charge. Profes- 
 sional managers and actors are expressly forbidden, under penalty of the 
 law, to make use of it, or any part of it, in any manner whatsoever, with- 
 out first procuring the written consent of the author, addressing him in 
 care of the publishers. 
 
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 ARGUMENT OF THE PLAY 
 
 Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, 
 Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned. 
 
 Congreve, 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2017 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates 
 
 https://archive.org/details/betweentwofoesorOOheer 
 
Between Two Foes 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS 
 
 Colonel Allan Hastings, U. S. A., on Gen . Douglas's 
 staff. 
 
 Maj.-Gen. John Douglas, commanding 2d Div, gth Corps , 
 U S. A. 
 
 Major Robert Stanley, 21st Massachusetts Cavalry. 
 Colonel Richard Curtis, of the Confederate Army . 
 Colonel Whitney, Asst. Adft . Gen . on Gen. Douglas s 
 staff. 
 
 George Fleming, M. D., Medical Director on Gen. Doug- 
 las s staff. (May be doubled by Col. Whitney.) 
 
 Captain Merrill, Aide-de-camp on Gen. Douglas's staff. 
 Captain Thorpe, Aide-de-camp on Gen. Grant's staff. 
 
 Rev. Henry Arnold, D. D., an old Virginia clergyman. 
 Captain Miles, gth Georgia Cavalry , C. S. A. (May be 
 doubled by Gen. Douglas.) 
 
 Captain Brown, Provost Marshal gth Corps , U. S. A. 
 
 (May be doubled by Major Stanley.) 
 
 Sergeant Thayer, jth Georgia Cavalry , C. S. A . 
 Corporal White, U. S. A. (May be doubled by Sergeant 
 Thayer.) 
 
 Orderly Baker, U. S. A. 
 
 Frank Johnson, a Union Scout. (May be doubled by 
 Orderly Baker.) 
 
 Crane, a Union Telegraph Operator. 
 
 Agnes Curtis Hastings, a Virginian ; wife of Colonel 
 Hastings. 
 
 Kate Curtis, a younger sister of Agnes. 
 
 Richard Curtis Hastings, Agnes's child , aged about three 
 years. (Not a speaking part.) 
 
 In addition to the above there are a number of non- 
 speaking parts, consisting of officers of Gen. Douglas’s staff 
 and command ; Union and Confederate soldiers ; military 
 band, fifes and drums, etc. All chiefly necessary for forming 
 the various tableaux and groups. 
 
 Time of Representation — Two hours and fifteen minutes, 
 
 5 
 
SYNOPSIS 
 
 Act I. 
 
 In Washington. October, 1861. “ A woman scorned.” 
 
 Act II. 
 
 In Virginia. April 8th, 1865. Three years and six 
 months elapse. “ Heaven has no rage like love to hatred 
 turned.” 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Encampment of General Douglass command. April 
 9th, 1865. The day of Lee’s surrender. “Nothing but 
 death can wipe out the past.” Too late ! 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 The grand hall in the old Curtis mansion. The next day. 
 The end of the war. 
 
COSTUMES 
 
 Colonel Allan Hastings. 
 
 An officer in the United States Army. Age, Act I., 
 about 30 years. Act I. — Full dress uniform of a staff 
 captain. Act II. — The very ragged and muddy field 
 uniform of a colonel. Act III. — Same as Act II. Act 
 IV. — A nearly new field uniform of a colonel. 
 
 Major-General Douglas. 
 
 An officer in the United States Army. Age, Act I., 
 about 55 years. A handsome, white-haired and white- 
 moustached, rosy-faced man ; sharp, abrupt manner, but 
 kind hearted. Act I. — Full dress uniform of a major- 
 general. Act III. — Field uniform of a major-general ; 
 riding boots, sword, and overcoat. Act IV. — Same 
 dress, but without riding boots or overcoat. 
 
 Major Robert Stanley. 
 
 A young officer of the 21st Massachusetts Cavalry. 
 Age, Act I., about 21 years. He is slender and youth- 
 ful looking ; has a lisp or drawl, which disappears 
 partly. Also, at first, a general appearance of effemi- 
 nacy. Act I. — Full dress uniform of a lieutenant of 
 cavalry, with sabre. Act II. — Field uniform of a major 
 of cavalry, muddy and worn. Act IV. — First part. — 
 Same dress as in Act II. Second part. — A new field 
 uniform of a major. 
 
 Colonel Richard Curtis. 
 
 An officer in the Confederate Army. Brother of Agnes 
 and Kitty. Age, Act I., about 30 years. Act I.— A 
 cheap suit of plain clothes, slouch hat and false beard. 
 Act III. — Trousers of Confederate gray ; white linen 
 shirt and collar, but no coat, waistcoat, or cap. Act 
 IV. — Field uniform of a Confederate colonel, in good 
 condition. 
 
 Colonel Whitney. 
 
 An officer on Gen. Douglas’s staff. Age, Act I., 
 about 25 years. Act I. — Full dress uniform of a staff 
 7 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 captain. Act III. — Field uniform of a colonel, with 
 overcoat, boots and sword. 
 
 Captain Merrill. 
 
 An aide-de-camp on Gen. Douglas’s staff. Age, about 
 26 years. Field uniform of a staff captain ; riding 
 boots, sword ; no overcoat. Muddy. 
 
 Captain Thorpe. 
 
 An aide-de-camp on Gen. Grant’s staff. Age, about 30 
 years. Act III. — Field uniform of a staff captain. 
 Overcoat, riding boots ; all very muddy. 
 
 George Fleming, M. D. 
 
 Medical Director on Gen. Douglas’s staff. Age, 
 about 50 years. Act IV. — The held uniform of a sur- 
 geon of his rank. 
 
 Captain Miles. 
 
 An officer of the 5th Georgia Cavalry, C. S. A. Age, 
 about 25 years. Act II. — Field uniform of a Confeder- 
 ate captain of cavalry, with boots, overcoat and sabre. 
 All very much worn and muddy. 
 
 Captain Brown. 
 
 Acting Provost Marshal, U. S. A. Age, about 30 
 years. Act III. — Undress uniform of an infantry 
 captain, with side arms. All in good condition. 
 
 Sergeant Thayer. 
 
 Of the 5th Georgia Cavalry, C. S. A. Age, about 35 
 years. Act II. — Uniform of a Confederate sergeant of 
 cavalry ; muddy and worn. Overcoat, boots, sabre and 
 carbine. 
 
 Corporal White. 
 
 A corporal of infantry, U. S. A. Age, about 25 years. 
 Act III. — Field uniform of a corporal of infantry, in 
 good condition. Musket and all accoutrements. No 
 overcoat. 
 
 Orderly Baker. 
 
 General Douglas’s orderly. Age, about 40 years. 
 Very stiff and military in his bearing. For all acts, the 
 uniform of an orderly private. 
 
 Frank Johnson. 
 
 A Union scout. A tall, lank, round-shouldered man 
 of 40 years. Got up to look like a Southerner. Act 
 8 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 III. — A ragged suit, half civilian, half Confederate 
 private. 
 
 Crane. 
 
 Telegraph operator, U. S. A. Age, 25 years. Act 
 III. — The uniform of a private of infantry. Overcoat, 
 but no accoutrements. 
 
 Union Sentry. 
 
 A private of infantry. All acts : Regulation uniform 
 of a private, with overcoat musket and all accoutre- 
 ments except knapsack. 
 
 Rev. Henry Arnold, D. D. 
 
 An old Virginia clergyman. Age, about 55 or 60 
 years. White hair, smoothly shaven face. A simple, 
 kindly, lovable old man, the uncle of Richard Curtis, 
 Agnes and Kitty. Acts II., III. and IV. — A suit of 
 rusty black, clerical cut, much worn. 
 
 Agnes Curtis Hastings. 
 
 The wife of Colonel Hastings ; a Virginian ; sister of 
 Richard and Kitty Curtis, and niece of Henry Arnold. 
 Age, Act I., about 25 years. Act I. — A handsome 
 evening dress of white silk, en train j low neck and 
 short sleeves ; flowers at corsage. Act II. — A worn 
 gown of rusty black, white apron. Act IV. — Same 
 dress as in Act II., less apron. A cheap hat. 
 
 Kitty Curtis. 
 
 A pretty ingenue. Age, Act I., about 17 years. 
 Speaks with a marked Southern accent. Act I. — A 
 handsome evening dress, of some thin white material, 
 with a broad silk sash ; long sleeves, high in neck, no 
 train. Such a dress as a girl of 17 would wear even- 
 ings. Act II. — A worn gown of some cheap brown 
 stuff; white apron. Act IV. — Same as Act II.; an 
 apron ; cheap straw hat. 
 
 Little Dick Hastings. 
 
 Son of Allan and Agnes Hastings. A child of three 
 years. Has nothing to say ; must appear very weak 
 and ill. Some soft white dress, suitable for a child of his 
 age. 
 
 Union and Confederate officers, soldiers, and Union 
 military band, all in uniforms indicating their rank and 
 army. 
 
 9 
 
PROPERTY PLOT 
 
 Act I. — Coffee pot, liqueurs, decanter of brandy, etc., on 
 table at rise of curtain ; newspaper for orderly ; sword, mili- 
 tary cloak and cap for Kitty ; Fair tickets for Hastings ; 
 pistol for Curtis ; tin box with papers inside on table ; red 
 fire to burn off C. in flat. 
 
 Act II. — Cut wood, candle, five eggs and old blue blouse 
 for Arnold ; dishes, frying pan and musket for Kitty ; 
 decanter and glasses on tray on side table ; vial of poison for 
 Hastings ; shots off c. near end of act. 
 
 Act III. — Papers for Capt. Thorpe, map and papers for 
 Douglas ; bandage for Provost Marshal ; telegram for 
 Operator. 
 
 Act IV. — Books, surgical instrument case, papers, sword 
 and belt, etc., on table at rise of curtain ; pail of water and 
 dipper for Kitty. 
 
 io 
 
SCENE PLOT 
 
 Act I 
 
 Flat, showing view of Pennsylvania Avenue and the Capitol. 
 
 c. window, practicable. 
 
 i. Piano. 2. Sofa. 3. Fireplace. 4. Table. 5. Chair. 
 
 Scene — A handsomely furnished drawing-room in the 
 apartments of Captain Hastings, occupying the ground floor 
 of a house in or near Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, 
 D. C. The time is October, 1 86 1 ; hour, 7.30 P. M. It is 
 the evening of the day of the disastrous Union defeat at 
 Ball’s Bluff, Va. 
 
 A deep alcove is at upper end of stage, with a practicable 
 window, through which can be seen Pennsylvania Avenue 
 and a distant view of the Capitol, with moonlight effects. 
 Also, near close of the act is seen the blaze of a burning 
 building, about a mile away. 
 
 Piano at right ; fireplace at left ; costly furniture, rugs, 
 curtains, lamps, etc., etc. Doors L. 1 E., L. 3 E., R. 2 E. 
 
 11 
 
 
# 2 £ 
 
 BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Act II 
 
 Window, r . c. c.d. 
 
 i. Crib. 2. Chair. 3. Rocking-chair. 4. Table. 5. Fireplace. 
 
 Scene — A room in the house of the Rev. Henry Arnold, 
 D. D., situated near Lynchburg, Campbell Co., Virginia. 
 Time, April 8th, 1865, or the day preceding Lee’s surrender 
 at Appomattox. Three years and a half have elapsed since 
 the first act. The hour is about 8 P. M. 
 
 Doors at R. 2 E., L. 3 E. and at centre in flat. A recessed 
 window with curtains at R. C. A large, old-fashioned fire- 
 place of brick at L. 1 E., supplied with a crane, fire-dogs, etc. 
 The room is plainly furnished in the early Colonial style. 
 Everything should give evidence of extreme destitution, 
 where once had been wealth and ease. 
 
 12 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Act III 
 
 Flat showing encampment and Virginia landscapes. 
 
 Scene — The encampment of the 2d Division, 5th Army- 
 Corps, detached from Sheridan’s army ; Maj.-Gen. Douglas, 
 commanding. The camp is situated about ten miles from 
 Appomattox Court House, Virginia. Date, April 9th, 1865, 
 that is, the day following Act II., and also the day of 
 Lee’s surrender. Hour, just before sunrise. 
 
 Stage is clear, except at L. 3 E. is the tent of Gen. Douglas ; 
 and close to it, down, is a small portable table, with tele- 
 graph instruments, field electric batteries, etc. A telegraph 
 wire stretches across stage about ten feet in air, from the 
 table to off right. The back cloth is painted to show the 
 camp. 
 
 *3 
 
 L2 E 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Act IV 
 
 [ Sentry. J 
 
 c. D. 
 
 Scene — The great hall of the Curtis mansion, situated a 
 few miles from Appomattox Court House. The house is 
 now being used by General Douglas as his headquarters. 
 
 The stage shows a deep room, with a wide door at centre 
 of flat, through which can be seen a green lawn, thickly 
 planted with flowers and blossoming shrubs ; and beyond 
 this a glimpse of the turnpike. Starting at about the third 
 grooves on the left is an old-fashioned staircase, with a land- 
 ing up about six steps. Opening into the hall are other 
 doors, one at R. 2 E., L. i E. and L. 3 E. An old-fashioned 
 fireplace at R. 1 E. The woodwork and furniture all in the 
 early Colonial style. Everything solid and handsome, 
 though much worn and battered. 
 
 Date of act, April 10th, 1865, that is, one day after the 
 third act. Hour, just before sunset. At the opening the 
 warm glow of bright sunshine is seen upon the landscape 
 through C. D., but this gradually changes into a richly 
 colored sunset as the act progresses, and at the final curtain 
 a soft gray twilight illumines the room, 
 
 14 
 
MUSIC REQUIRED 
 
 OVERTURE 
 
 A medley of familiar patriotic airs, current during the 
 war, such as John Brown’s Body ; Tramp, Tramp, Tramp ; 
 Battle Cry of Freedom ; When This Cruel War is Over ; 
 When Johnny Comes Marching Home; Hail Columbia; 
 Star Spangled Banner ; Red, White and Blue ; Do They 
 Miss Me at Home. 
 
 OTHER INCIDENTAL MUSIC 
 
 The Girl I Left Behind Me, by fifes and drums ; The Blue 
 Bells of Scotland, by four or five pieces of brass and wood 
 wind. Dead March in Saul, to be played by a good-sized 
 military brass band, if possible. If not, then as large a corps 
 of fifes and drums, with drums muffled, as possible. 
 
 BUGLE CALLS 
 
 Reveille; Assembly; “Taps,” or Extinguish Lights; To 
 Arms ; The General ; Forward, fours right. 
 
 FIFES AND DRUMS 
 
 Reveille ; The General ; Long Roll ; Dead March. 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE . — A handsomely furnished drawing-room in the 
 apartments of Captain Hastings, occupying the ground 
 floor of a house in or 7iear Pennsylvania Avenue, Wash- 
 ington, D. C. The tune is October , 1 86 1 ; the hour , 7.30 
 p. m. It is the evening of the day of the disastrous 
 Union defeat at Balls Bluff, Va. A deep alcove is at the 
 upper end of stage, with a practical window through 
 which can be seen Pennsylvania Avenue and a distant 
 view of the Capitol, with moonlight effects . Also, near 
 close of the act is seen the blaze of a burning building , 
 about a mile away. Piano at right: fireplace at left ; 
 costly furniture, rugs, curtains, lamps , etc., etc. Doors 
 L. 1 E., L. 3 E., R. 2 E. See scene plot for details. 
 
 ( Curtain discovers stage clear. Outside of ce7itre wuidow 
 are heard the mingled noises of a great city j street car 
 bells , rumbluig of wag07is, murmuring of voices, 
 a7id particularly the shouts of 7iewsboys calling the 
 evs7iuig papers. These latter sounds are heard very 
 fauitly at first , but rapidly grow louder, as if the voices 
 are approaching ; the7i diminish as rapidly, and so 
 fi7ially die away in the dista7ice.) 
 
 First Voice (< at a distance ). Ix-tree ! — 0-z;r-tree ! ! 
 Second Voice {very 7iear). ILx-tree / — Battle o’ Ball's 
 Bluff ! — Ex-tree ! 
 
 Third Voice (, dwtinuendo ). Ix-tree ! — 0-z;r-tree ! — Ix- 
 
 tree / 
 
 {While the voices are rapidly dying away in the dista7ice, 
 e7iter General Douglas and Allan Hastings, l. 3 e. 
 They cross slowly to small table at R. on line of 2 d 
 grooves , on which are coffee pot , cups , liqueurs , etc . 
 
 2 17 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 During following scene they pour and sip their coffee , 
 
 talk , perhaps smoke . It must be made evident that both 
 
 men are on friejidly , almost affectionate terms .) 
 
 Douglas. It is perfectly understood then, Allan, that 
 you are now a member of my staff ? 
 
 Hastings. Yes, General, and I thank you most ear- 
 nestly for the confidence you have shown me in this appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 Douglas. Pooh ! pooh ! why shouldn’t I have confidence 
 in you ? Haven’t I known you since you were born ? 
 Wasn’t your father the best friend to me that ever a man 
 had ; and when I held him dying in my arms at the storming 
 of Chapultepec, did he not give you to me ? (Emotion.) I 
 say he did ! I have looked upon you since that day as my 
 own son. 
 
 Hastings. And trouble enough I’ve caused you, too, sir, 
 I fear. 
 
 Douglas ( laughing gently ). Well, well, I must say you 
 have not been exactly a sinecure, my boy ; but then, I de- 
 spise a milk-sop. (Allan offers him brandy for coffee .) 
 No, no brandy for me, thanks. I never touch it. Just plain 
 coffee — an old soldier’s drink. 
 
 Hastings. No one ever called me a milk-sop yet, Gen- 
 eral. 
 
 Douglas (laughing). I’ll be sworn he never did but 
 once, anyhow. (More gravely.) No, Allan, your fault has 
 always been in the opposite direction. 
 
 Hastings. I don't understand, sir ? 
 
 Douglas. I mean that you are too fiery, too hot-tem- 
 pered ; just like your poor father. I hoped once that the 
 severe training of the West Point school would teach you 
 that perfect self-control which is so necessary in a soldier and 
 a gentleman. 
 
 Hastings. I think it has, sir. 
 
 Douglas. Not in everything. I’m speaking to you now 
 as if you were my own son, Allan. 
 
 Hastings. Pray go on, sir. 
 
 Douglas (slowly). Hm — well, are you not — er — some- 
 times a little — er — it’s deuced hard to say this — a little hasty 
 or something — with Agnes ? 
 
 Hastings (with so?ne heat). My wife ! Must we bring 
 her into this discussion now, General ? 
 
 Douglas (quietly). You see. You prove my case your- 
 self. The simple mention of her name sends you into a 
 blaze at once. 
 
 18 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Hastings {warmly). No man ever loved his wife as I 
 love mine, sir. 
 
 Douglas. My boy, I know it, but may you not sometimes 
 carry even this too far ? 
 
 Hastings {coldly). I don’t understand. 
 
 Douglas ( with hesitation ). Well, it is a little difficult to 
 explain, but — that is, I mean — well, Agnes Hastings is a 
 brilliant and beautiful woman — 
 
 Hastings {quickly). She is ! 
 
 Douglas. A Southerner, too, and naturally likes to see 
 about her men of her own state. 
 
 Hastings. But I do not object to this. 
 
 Douglas. We-ell, I have sometimes thought you did. 
 
 Hastings {as if offended). In short, you think I am 
 jealous of my wife. 
 
 Douglas. No, no, no, no ! Not jealous, exactly, but — 
 well — try and put yourself in her place a little more, that’s 
 what I mean. Remember that her position here now, bound 
 by indissoluble ties of blood and marriage to both the North 
 and the South, is a very difficult one. You’re not offended at 
 what I’ve said, my boy ? 
 
 Hastings {coldly). On the contrary, sir, very grateful. 
 You have indeed treated me like a son — a Prodigal Son 
 almost. 
 
 Douglas {aside). The boy is angry again. That un- 
 happy temper of his will surely get him into trouble some 
 day, if he doesn’t learn to control it. (Aloud, calling.) 
 Orderly! 
 
 (Enter Orderly, l. i e. He salutes and stands there at 
 “ Attention .”) 
 
 Hastings (in pleasanter tone). And when shall we 
 get our marching orders, General ? 
 
 Douglas. Not for a week yet, the Secretary of War told 
 me to-day. 
 
 Hastings. Not for a week ! 
 
 Douglas. Don't be in a hurry to leave Washington, my 
 boy, for it will be many long months before we see it again. 
 
 Hastings. Yet I cannot help thinking, sir, that with 
 McClellan and the Army of the Potomac on the Peninsula, 
 one decisive battle there must give us Richmond. If he 
 only would fight ! 
 
 VOICE ( without , very distinctly). Ex-tree ! Ex-tree ! Big 
 battle ! Ex-tree ! 
 
 Douglas. Listen! (Both in attitude of attention.) 
 
 VOICE (very distinctly). Ex-tree ! Full account — Battle 
 19 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 o* Ball’s Bluff! List o’ killed an’ wounded ! Here ye are, 
 on’y ten cents ! Battle o’ Ball’s Bluff — on’y ten cents ! 
 E: r-tree ! 
 
 Douglas. The battle has been fought ! Orderly, get me 
 a paper at once. ( Exit Orderly, hurriedly L. i e.) I hope 
 this is not another Union defeat ! ( Paces up and down.) 
 
 Hastings. How can it be possible ? 
 
 Douglas (sharply). So they said at Bull’s Run, and 
 yet — 
 
 Voice (without). Extree ! Extree ! Ball’s Bluff! 
 
 Douglas ( impatiently ). Curse that fellow ! Why 
 doesn’t he hurry ? (Enter Orderly, l. i e. hurriedly , 
 with paper.) Quick! Let me have it. (Reads.) “Disas- 
 trous Union defeat at Ball’s Bluff ! Colonel Baker killed ! 
 General Stone’s command annihilated ! Washington once 
 more in danger ! ” (Speaks.) Will this thing never end ? 
 ( Walks about excitedly .) 
 
 Hastings (taking paper). An official despatch ! It must 
 be true ! 
 
 Douglas. Captain, I’m going to the War Department at 
 once. 
 
 Hastings. I will go with you, sir. 
 
 Douglas. No, I’ll take my Orderly. You and Agnes 
 were going to the Soldiers’ Fair at the city hall this evening ? 
 
 Hastings. Yes, but as your Aide I go with you now, 
 sir. 
 
 Douglas. No, no, go to the fair by all means. I shall 
 not want you to-night. But report to me at seven to-mor- 
 row morning. 
 
 Hastings. Very well, sir. 
 
 Douglas. Good-night, Captain. 
 
 Hastings. Good-night, General. (They salute.) 
 
 Douglas. Orderly ! 
 
 (Exeunt Douglas and Orderly, l. i e.) 
 
 Hastings ( walking up and down nervously). If they 
 would only send us to the front, where at least we might be 
 busy ! This helpless idleness is maddening. 
 
 (Agnes sings off r. a few bars of “ The Blue Bells of 
 Scotland.") 
 
 Hastings. Agnes! (Hastings opens door r. and adynits 
 Agnes. He leads her gallantly down to C. F., and kisses 
 her hand.) 
 
 Agnes (archly). Only my hand, dearest ? 
 
 20 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Hastings. Nay, that is but a beginning. Too much 
 happiness at once is dangerous. ( Kisses her cheek.') 
 
 Agnes. But some men would be willing to risk every- 
 thing — for a kiss. 
 
 Hastings. And I too, sweetheart, but now I can get it 
 for just the asking. Nay, without even that. ( Kisses her. 
 They sit by fireplace , she on a low stool , with her elbow 
 resting on his knee . He strokes her hair tenderly .) Look 
 at me, dearest. Why, you are crying ! 
 
 Agnes [slowly). I — I — am afraid I am — a little, Allan 
 dear. I feel so — so unhappy to-night. 
 
 Hastings. Unhappy, my darling ! Remember you are 
 a soldier’s wife, now. 
 
 Agnes. It is that which makes me so sad. 
 
 Hastings. Tell me why, dearest ? 
 
 Agnes. I am a Southerner — a Virginian ; you are an 
 officer in the Northern army. All my friends — my kinsfolk 
 — my only brother — now are fighting — and dying — for the 
 cause of the South. 
 
 Hastings. A most unholy cause, Agnes. 
 
 Agnes [earnestly). They think it is a just one. ( Changing 
 tone.) But the dreadful fear that haunts me night and day 
 is that the time may come when you and my — brother shall 
 meet in battle, and that one — of — you — may — cause — the — 
 other’s death. The thought is horrible ! [Weeps.) 
 
 Hastings. Nay, dearest, what you fear can never 
 happen ! The war will be over in a few months. 
 
 Agnes. Ah, you know not what you say. The war will 
 be long and bloody. I know the Southern people — they will 
 never yield as long as there is a man — aye, or woman or 
 child — left to fight. 
 
 [Enter Kitty, l. 3 e., very suddenly .) 
 
 Kitty. Oh, my goodness ! Excuse me ! I didn’t know 
 you were — busy. [Turns away .) You can go on, now. I’m 
 not looking. 
 
 Hastings [laughmg). Don’t be alarmed, Kitty. Agnes 
 and I are only in love. (Hastings and Agnes rise.) 
 
 Kitty. In love ! How absurd ! Why, you’re married ! 
 
 Agnes. Yes, dear, but we’re in love still. 
 
 Hastings. We’re going to the Soldiers’ Fair to-night, 
 Kitty. Will you promise to be a good girl if we leave you 
 at home ? 
 
 Kitty. No, indeed ! You know I’m so emotional that it 
 really isn’t safe to leave me here alone. 
 
 Agnes. I think we can trust you this time, Kitty, 
 
 II 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Hastings ( looking at clock). Half-past seven ! Will 
 you get ready now, dearest ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes, it will not take me long. 
 
 {He leads her to R. door . As she goes off she turns and 
 
 kisses her hand to him. He returns the salute , and 
 
 stands at the door looking after her. Kitty mimics him t 
 
 laughingly .) 
 
 Kitty. Say, Allan ! (Louder.) Allan ! 
 
 Hastings. Eh ! (Turns.) What is it, Kitty ? 
 
 Kitty. Where’s Bob ? 
 
 Hastings. Eh ! Bob ? 
 
 Kitty. Um-mm ! 
 
 Hastings. Oh, you mean Lieutenant Robert Stanley ! 
 
 Kitty (mimicking). Oh, I mean Lieutenant Robert 
 Stanley, do I ? Well, I call him just plain Bob. Where is 
 he? 
 
 Hastings (laughing). I haven’t the least idea. 
 
 Kitty (petulantly). Well, it’s very provoking ! He 
 promised to be here at seven-thirty sharp, and he’s three 
 minutes late already. He’s never prompt. 
 
 Hastings (amused). He’ll have to be prompt, now he’s a 
 soldier. 
 
 Kitty. Yes, that’s just what I tell him. ( Complacently .) 
 He’s in love with me, you know. 
 
 Hastings (amused). What ! In love with you ? 
 
 Kitty. Um-m ! 
 
 Hastings. Allow me to congratulate you, Kitty ! You’ll 
 ask us to the wedding, won’t you ? 
 
 Kitty. Oh, I’m not going to marry him ! 
 
 Hastings. Indeed ! Why not ? 
 
 Kitty. Because he’s a Yankee, and I’m a Virginian. 
 
 Hastings (gravely). I’m sorry you think that is an 
 objection. 
 
 Kitty. Well, it is ; a right smart one, too. 
 
 Hastings. Then you have — refused him ? 
 
 Kitty. No, he hasn’t asked me yet ; but I’m going to 
 refuse him — when he does. 
 
 Hastings (amused). But how do you know he loves 
 you, then ? 
 
 Kitty. Oh, you can always tell. Men are such idiots 
 when they’re in love. 
 
 Hastings. Was I ? 
 
 Kitty. Oh, yes ! You were simply the worst I ever saw 
 — next to Bob. Hark ! There he comes ! 
 
 Hastings. How do you know ? 
 
 22 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Kitty. Heard him trip over his sword. He’s always 
 doing it. I’ll hide. Don’t tell him I’m here. 
 
 {She hides up. Stanley knocks , L. i E.) 
 
 Hastings. Come in ! 
 
 {Enter Stanley, l. i e.) 
 
 Stanley. Er — g-good-evening, Cap — {Stumbles over 
 sword.) Ah, do you know, I think your carpet is a little 
 loose over there, don’t you know ? Hope Mrs. Hastings is 
 quite well, yes ? 
 
 Hastings. Quite, thank you. 
 
 Stanley. Er — that’s nice, yes. Er — Miss Kitty any- 
 wheres about ? Not that I care to see her, you know, only 
 just thought I’d ask. Civil thing to do, ask, don’t you know. 
 He, he ! Yes. 
 
 Kitty {to Hastings). Don’t you dare tell him I’m here. 
 
 Hastings {to Kitty). Aha, you little rebel, I’ve got you 
 now ! {Aloud.) Oh, yes, she’ll be here directly. Pray be 
 seated. 
 
 Stanley {sitting). Tha-anks. 
 
 Hastings. And you’ll pardon me now if I leave you for a 
 moment, Mr. Stanley ? 
 
 Stanley. Oh, certainly — with pleasure. No, no, I don’t 
 mean that — I — mean — oh, certainly, yes. 
 
 Hastings {to Kitty). Spare his life, Kitty. 
 
 {Exit L. i E.) 
 
 Stanley {to front). When a fellah — when a fellah goes 
 and falls in love he always makes an ass of himself. And 
 when a fellah falls in love with a girl who won’t have him, he 
 makes two asses of himself. And when a fellah tries to tell a 
 girl he loves her when he knows she won’t have him, he 
 makes half-a-dozen asses of himself. And that’s me. What 
 would my mother say if she knew I was making half-a-dozen 
 asses of myself? By Jove ! I won’t do it ! 
 
 [Starts Ij. put is stopped by Kitty, who rushes down from 
 
 behind screen. She has buckled a sword about her , 
 
 thrown a military cloak over her shoulders , and wears a 
 
 7nilitary cap. She draws sword.) 
 
 Kitty. Halt 1 
 
 Stanley. How-de-do, Miss Kitty ? 
 
 Kitty. Who goes there ? 
 
 Stanley. N-nobody. 
 
 Kitty. Advance, Nobody, and give the countersign. 
 
 2 3 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 Stanley. But I — I don’t know it, don’t you know. 
 
 Kitty {waving sword). Turnout the guard ! ’Tention, 
 cum’ney ! Carry — hums ! Shoulder — hums ! Forward — 
 hums ! ( Marches .) Hum ! — hum ! — hum ! hum ! hum ! 
 Halt ! Fix — bag’nets ! Charge — hums ! ( She lowers point 
 of sword , and rushes at Stanley ; he jumps out of the 
 way.) 
 
 Stanley ( nervously ). I say, there, don’t you know, look 
 out ! 
 
 Kitty. Do you surrender ? 
 
 Stanley. Yes, Miss Kitty — to you. 
 
 Kitty. Hurrah ! I’ve captured a live Yankee at last. 
 Stanley. Oh, you captured me a long time ago, don’t 
 you know. 
 
 Kitty. I reckon that’s so. Shake hands. ( They shake.) 
 Stanley. T-thank you. 
 
 {Enter Agnes, r., with cloak , gloves , etc.) 
 
 Kitty. Won’t you sit down, Mr. Stanley ? You look 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 Stanley. Well, I — I — am — rather, yes. 
 
 Agnes {laughing). Mr. Stanley ! It’s mutiny to talk like 
 that before a pretty girl. 
 
 Kitty. Two pretty girls, Agnes. You forget I’m here. 
 {She goes to mirror, and arranges her cap. To Agnes.) 
 Agnes, dear, won’t you leave us alone, just for a minute ? 
 I’ve got something very particular to say to him. 
 
 Agnes {to Kitty, laughing). Will that be quite safe — 
 for him ? 
 
 Kitty {to Agnes). Oh, I reckon ! He surely knows how 
 to run away. 
 
 Agnes {to Kitty). Well, you shall have just three min- 
 utes. Tell Allan I’m in there. {To Stanley) Au revoir, 
 monsieur. 
 
 Stanley {bowing). Er — thank you. 
 
 {Exit Agnes, R. Kitty sits on settee , at l. f., with cloak , 
 cap and sword. Stanley bashfully takes a seat by her 
 side. An awkivard pause. He starts several times to 
 speak, but fails.) 
 
 Kitty {suddenly tur fling on him). Well ? 
 
 Stanley {starting). That’s just what I was going to say 
 myself. 
 
 Kitty. Then why in the world don’t you say it ? 
 Stanley. But I was just going to, 
 
 Kitty, Hush 1 
 
 24 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 Stanley (; mournfully ). Well, I dare say you’re right, 
 yes. 
 
 Kitty {listening). Don’t you hear something ? 
 
 Stanley. Yes, my heart — it is beating very loud. 
 
 Kitty. No, no, something else. 
 
 Stanley. Perhaps that — that is your heart ? 
 
 Kitty. No, I was wrong. Well, what were you going 
 to say ? 
 
 Stanley ( confitsed ). H — how should I know ? 
 
 Kitty. Have you forgotten it already ? 
 
 Stanley. That isn’t the point. If you should ask me 
 to-morrow what I was goin’ to say to-day, I shouldn’t won- 
 der if I could tell you. But I never can think of anything 
 just now. I’m always a day too late. 
 
 Kitty. I should say a week. 
 
 Stanley. No, only a day. But I do think of things 
 sometimes, anyhow, and they’re such thunderin’ good ones, 
 too, by Jove ! Make me — he, he ! — laugh dweadfully ! 
 He, he ! 
 
 Kitty. What would you do if some one were to insult 
 you ? 
 
 Stanley ( very mildly). I — er — twash him. 
 
 Kitty. S’pose you couldn’t ? 
 
 Stanley {more mildly). Then I’d — er — apologize. 
 
 Kitty ( with scorn). A soldier apologize ! Oh, my good- 
 ness ! If you aren’t the worst ! 
 
 Stanley. Oh, I ain’t so much of a soldier. I like the 
 uniform — it’s vewy pwetty and just suits my complexion — 
 and the guns and the twumpets and the swords are vewy 
 nice — only I wish mine wasn’t always twipping me up so — 
 but I weally don’t care so vewy much about the fighting, 
 you know. This dying for your country hasn’t a single 
 amusing feature — for me. 
 
 Kitty. My goodness ! I can’t understand you. Doesn’t 
 your blood boil and your courage rise when you think of the 
 rage and tumult of battle ? 
 
 Stanley {mildly). Oh, awfully ! Why, when we’re out 
 on parade, and I see the men marching, and hear the dwums 
 and twumpets, I feel like the very — 
 
 Kitty. Hush. {Listens.) No, go on. 
 
 Stanley. — like the very dickens, but when I get back 
 to quarters I'm beastly sorry I ever enlisted. Yes. 
 
 Kitty. Oh, you’re a coward l 
 
 Stanley. Thanks. It’s very likely. {Pause.) Er — Miss 
 Kitty. 
 
 Kitty, Well ? 
 
BETWEEN TJ VO FOES 
 
 Stanley. I know a fellah — a fellah in our wegiment — 
 but perhaps you know what I’m going to say ? 
 
 Kitty. No, I don’t. Do you ? 
 
 Stanley. No— -o, not exactly. Well, you see, this fellah 
 — he’s seen you, you know, and he’s- — he’s gone and fallen in 
 love with you. He, he ! 
 
 Kitty. What ? 
 
 Stanley. Of course I know it’s not of the slightest im- 
 portance, only I just thought I’d let you know, don’t you 
 know. 
 
 Kitty. My goodness ! What do you mean ? 
 
 Stanley. Well, you see, he wanted me to tell you — and 
 — and just ask you — if you wouldn’t like to — to marry him 
 sometime, don’t you know. He, he, he ! yes ! 
 
 Kitty ( indignantly ). Well, upon my word ! 
 
 Stanley. Yes, that’s just exactly what I said myself. 
 Well, upon my word, says I ! But he’s an awf’lly good 
 fellah, don’t you know. Know him just as well as — as I 
 know myself. He, he ! Er — shall I tell him you’d like to 
 marry him ? 
 
 Kitty (indignaiitly). No. What is the name of this — 
 fellah ? 
 
 Stanley {aside). Why can’t she see that I’m the fellah ? 
 {Aloud.) Oh, well, I — I daresay I know his name, you know, 
 only I’ve — I’ve forgotten it just now. A fellah can’t remem- 
 ber everything, can he ? Shall I tell him you— er — will ? 
 Yes ? 
 
 Kitty. No. Leave the room. 
 
 Stanley. But, Kitty — wait — it’s all right. Let me ex- 
 plain. 
 
 Kitty. I will not. {Aside.) If he doesn’t insist on ex- 
 plaining I’ll never speak to him again. {Goes R.) 
 
 Stanley. Just one moment. 1 know his name now. It’s 
 Lieutenant — er — 
 
 Kitty. Stop ! You’ve said enough. Farewell forever. 
 {Turns away.) 
 
 Stanley {agitated}. Farewell — do — you— really — mean 
 — it — forever — Kitty ? 
 
 Kitty. I do. {Aside.) Why can’t he see I don’t ? 
 
 Stanley. Then — good-bye. I will instantly go to the 
 front, and put an end to a blighted existence by being shot. Oh, 
 I am certainly every kind of a fool they make. Farewell ! 
 
 {Exit quickly , L. i E.) 
 
 Kitty ( walking slowly backwards towards L. D.). Bob ! 
 {Pause.) Bob ! {Pause.) Bobbie ! {Turns.) What, 
 26 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 gone ! I didn't mean he should go. A girl can’t say yes 
 the very first thing. Why couldn’t he see ? Bob ! 
 
 [Exit hurriedly , L. i E., calling . Enter Agnes r.) 
 
 Agnes. No one here ! 
 
 ( Enter Hastings, l. 3 e.) 
 
 Hastings. All ready, sweetheart ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes, Allan. 
 
 ( Elaborate business of putting on Agnes’s hat and cloak.) 
 
 Agnes. Thank you. Now my fan, please. 
 
 ( They start L., when a knock is heard, very distinctly .) 
 
 Agnes. Some one is at the door ! 
 
 Hastings. Come in ! 
 
 ( Enter Orderly, l. i e. Both men salute .) 
 
 Hastings. What is it, Orderly ? 
 
 Orderly. This despatch for you, sir. {Hands note.) 
 
 Hastings {reading). “ Captain Hastings : On receipt of 
 this order you will report at once to General Douglas, at the 
 War Department. {Signed) W. H. Ferris, Ass’t. Adj’t. Gen.” 
 {Speaks.) Very well, Orderly. No answer. 
 
 (Orderly salutes , and exit l.) 
 
 Agnes {excitedly). What does it mean, Allan ? Tell me 
 truly, are you ordered away ? 
 
 Hastings. No, dearest, only to headquarters. Don’t be 
 alarmed ; I’m sure it means nothing. {A side.) I cannot under- 
 stand it. Something serious must have happened. {Aloud). 
 But I’m afraid I shall have to give up the fair to-night. 
 
 Agnes. Indeed, I’m glad of it. I am too unhappy — 
 
 Hastings. The more reason, then, why you should go, 
 dearest. It will keep you amused while I am away. Take 
 Kitty with you ; here are the tickets. {Places them cons pic- 
 uously on table.) My servant, James, will take you there, and 
 as soon as I can leave the War Department I will join you. 
 Will you not do this, dearest ? 
 
 Agnes {slowly). Yes, Allan, dear, of course, if you wish 
 it. 
 
 Hastings. That’s right. .I’m glad to see you so brave. 
 {Discovers despatch box on tablel) Ah, my despatch box ! 
 Agnes, before you leave the room, lock up this box in that 
 desk. It contains some very important military papers. 
 Agnes. Yes, Allan. 
 
 27 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 HASTINGS. And now, good-bye till we meet — at the 
 fair. 
 
 (He kisses her , picks up his sword , cap and cloak , and exit 
 L. ie., dramatically. Agnes looks after him. Then to 
 centre , and sits.) 
 
 Agnes (sol.). Ah, how heavy my heart is to-night ! This 
 cruel, cruel, cruel war ! 
 
 (She goes to piano , and sings softly part of a verse of “ The 
 Blue Bells of Scotland. ’*) 
 
 “ Oh, where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone ? 
 Oh, where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone ? 
 He’s gone with streaming banners where noble deeds are 
 done ; 
 
 And my sad heart will tremble till he comes safely home. 
 He’s gone with streaming banners where noble deeds are 
 done, 
 
 And — my — sad — heart — ” 
 
 (Near close of verse her voice falters , she breaks down and 
 weeps. While she is in this attitude Curtis enters , 
 softly , centre window. He quickly locks doors , then ad- 
 vances to Agnes.) 
 
 Curtis (softly). Agnes ! (Louder .) Agnes ! 
 
 Agnes (startled). Who called me ? (Turns.) Ah ! Who 
 are you ? How dare you enter this house ? (Seizes bell-rope.) 
 
 Curtis (removing disguise). Agnes ! Don’t you know 
 me ? 
 
 Agnes. Richard ! My brother ! (Embraces him.) Oh, 
 Dick, Dick, I’m so glad you’ve come ! (Emotion.) So — glad — 
 you’ve come ! 
 
 Curtis. Hush ! Not so loud ! 
 
 Agnes. Why not ? You are my brother ! 
 
 Curtis. No one must know I’m here. I’m in great 
 danger. 
 
 Agnes. Danger ! What do you mean ? 
 
 Curtis. Not so loud ! I have been pursued through the 
 streets of Washington to-night, by two provost marshals, who 
 are trying to arrest me. 
 
 Agnes. What have you done? You’re not a criminal ! 
 Curtis. I am a Southern officer, in disguise within the 
 Northern lines. 
 
 Agnes. You ! My brother ! A spy ! Oh, horrible ! 
 (Steps back.) 
 
 Curtis. Yes, a spy. A spy. You are easily shocked, I 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 am an officer of General Jackson’s command. He has sent 
 me here to obtain important information. I have been con- 
 cealed in Washington three days, but to-night I was recog- 
 nized on the street, and pursued. I knew you were here, at 
 home, and seeing your husband go out I have come to you 
 for help. 1 am in your power. Give me up — as a spy — if 
 you will. 
 
 Agnes. But, Richard — 
 
 Curtis. Remember this. If I am captured I shall be — 
 hung. ( Knocking at door L. 3 E.) Hush ! Who is that ? 
 {He goes softly to door , and stands there , pistol in hand.) 
 
 Kitty {knocking, without). Agnes ! Agnes ! Let me in ! 
 It is I — Kitty. Let me in. 
 
 (Agnes starts to open door. Curtis checks her.) 
 
 Curtis. Stop ! Send her away. 
 
 Agnes. It is Kitty ! 
 
 Curtis. Send her away, I say. She is too young to trust 
 with this secret. 
 
 Kitty {knocking). Agnes ! Agnes ! Let me in ! 
 
 Agnes {at door). I can’t now, Kitty. I’m — I’m very busy. 
 Come back — by-and-bye. 
 
 Kitty. Oh, all right ! 
 
 {Pause; Agnes and Curtis listen .) 
 
 Curtis. Has she gone ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes. {Scornfully .) And so, now, you have be- 
 come a spy ! Truly, a most honorable profession ! 
 
 CURTIS. And why not ? Who are you that shall judge 
 such things ? Is it a crime to risk one’s life in a noble cause ? 
 
 Agnes. But a spy ! That is dishonorable ! 
 
 Curtis. Why is it less honorable for a general to use the 
 knowledge obtained by his spy than it is for the man himself 
 to get it ? The commander can lose nothing. The spy 
 perils his name, his life, everything he has in the world. 
 There is no disgrace — no dishonor in this. But if there were, 
 still I would do it gladly, for I am a Virginian, and I have 
 sworn to fight for the old Dominion — aye, and die. for her too r 
 if I must. Rather let me ask why you have deserted your 
 people now, when their trouble is bitterest ? 
 
 Agnes {proudly). I am the wife of Allan Hastings. 
 That is my answer. 
 
 Curtis. ’Tis no answer ! 
 
 Agnes. I say it is. When, but a few short months ago 
 I spake at the altar the sweet vows that made us one, 
 
 29 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 my life was changed ; and now I say to him, as Ruth said 
 unto Naomi : “ Whither thou goest, I will go ; where thou 
 lodgest, I will lodge ; thy people shall be my people, and thy 
 God my God. 
 
 Curtis. Well, as you please. You have made your 
 choice. You must abide by it now. ( Discovers despatch 
 box.) What is this ? ( Starts to open it.) 
 
 Agnes. Stop ! You shall not open that. 
 
 Curtis (opening it). You have spoken too late. I have 
 opened it. What are these ? Maps and papers ! (As if to 
 read them.) 
 
 Agnes (passio7iately). Put them back ! How dare you 
 touch them ? 
 
 Curtis (coolly). Because I want them. I am risking my 
 life for these very papers. 
 
 Agnes (s7iatchmg some of the papers away). So you’re 
 a thief as well as a spy ! 
 
 Curtis. All’s fair in war. (Examining papers.) Map of 
 the defences of Washington ! Exactly what I want. Plan 
 of Fortress Monroe and Hampton Roads ! H’m — h’m — 
 arrangement of the Army of the Potomac ! Good ! — h’m ! — 
 excellent ! 
 
 Agnes (seizing bell-rope ). Will you put them back ? 
 
 Curtis (not looking up). No, I will not. (Examining 
 others.) Fortifications of New York harbor ! H’m ! — good 
 for future reference — h’m ! 
 
 Agnes (fiercely). Once more, put them back, 
 
 Curtis (coolly). Once more, I will not. (Reads.) Pro- 
 posed additions to earthworks about Washington ! H’m — 
 h’m ! The very thing ! 
 
 Agnes. You have brought it on yourself! (Rings belli) 
 There ! 
 
 Curtis (startled). Agnes ! What have you done ? 
 
 Agnes. Rung for help. All’s fair in war, you say. 
 Then this (rings) is fair. 
 
 Curtis. Stop ! stop ! Are you mad ? 
 
 Agnes. Put back those papers, then. 
 
 Curtis (sullenly). I will not. 
 
 Agnes. Then I will summon the provost guard myself. 
 
 Curtis. And betray your own brother to death ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes, as you now seek to betray your own sister 
 to her husband. 
 
 Curtis. You are right. (Returns papers to box , leav- 
 ing it open.) I am a spy, but I will be an honorable 
 one. 
 
 30 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 {Knocking at L., I. E. ( very distinct.) 
 
 Agnes (< aside ). It is James. 
 
 Voice {outside). Did you ring, ma’am ? Did you ring ? 
 {Knocks.) 
 
 {At first knock Agnes and Curtis start. Curtis draws 
 
 pistol and stands by door ; he 77iotions Agnes to se7id the 
 
 7uan away.) 
 
 Voice {agai7i kiiocking). Did you ring, ma’am ? 
 
 (Curtis again 77iotions sternly to Agnes to send the 7na?i 
 away.) 
 
 Agnes, {at door) It was a mistake, James. I do not 
 want you. 
 
 {She listens at door.) 
 
 Curtis. Has he gone ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes. {Co77ies down.) Now, what am I to do ? 
 
 Curtis. Give me some disguise — a cloak and cap of 
 Hastings’s will answer. Quickly ! every moment is precious ! 
 
 Agnes {handing clothes ). There ! But you need not 
 hurry so, Dick. Allan will soon be back, and he will — 
 
 Curtis. In Heaven’s name, do not tell him that I have 
 been here to-night ! 
 
 Agnes. Not tell my husband ? 
 
 Curtis. No. As you love us both, keep my presence 
 here a secret. 
 
 Agnes. But why, why ? Why must I not tell him ? 
 
 Curtis. Because if he should discover that I was in 
 Washington as a spy he would be bound by his soldier’s 
 oath to pursue and arrest me. I have told you what my 
 capture means. 
 
 Agnes {agitated{. Yes, yes, I know. But must I always 
 have this secret from my husband ? 
 
 Curtis. No. To-morrow morning I shall be safe within 
 the Southern lines. {Aside.) Or dead. {Aloud.) Tell him 
 then. To-night be silent. Will you not do this for my sake ? 
 
 AGNES. Yes, Richard, I will — for your sake. {With 
 eTnotioni) This cruel, cruel war ! 
 
 Curtis {kissing her). There, don’t cry, dear. It will all 
 end happily. Good-bye ! Kiss Kitty for me. 
 
 Agnes. But if Allan should ask me why I did not go to 
 the Soldiers’ Fair as I promised ! 
 
 CURTIS. Say you were there, and left early. You had a 
 headache — make some excuse to-night ; you can explain it 
 all to-morrow. {Noise without ; red fire seen through 
 
 31 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 centre window .) Ah ! there is a tremendous conflagration 
 up the street. Good ! I can easily escape now in the con- 
 tusion. Is there a way out there ? ( Points right.) 
 
 Agnes. Yes, yes ; through my room, and down to the 
 rear door. Come, quickly. Allan may return any moment. 
 
 Curtis. Go you ahead and lead the way. 
 
 (. Exeiuit both R. 2 E. Stage clear for an instant. Then a 
 
 rattle of spurs and scabbards without , L. 1 E. ; the door 
 
 is burst violently open , and in rush Hastings and 
 Whitney.) 
 
 Hastings ( distractedly ). I tell you, Whitney, there is no 
 hope ! See ! She is not here ! 
 
 Whitney. Be calm, Hastings. I’m sure your wife is 
 safe. 
 
 Hastings. What ! 
 
 Whitney. Yes ; for just now, as we rushed past the side 
 entrance of the house, I thought I saw her talking to an 
 officer in uniform. 
 
 Hastings {wildly). No, no, she is dead ! Have you not 
 seen the hall one solid mass of roaring, pitiless flame ? 
 You heard them say a hundred lives were lost. [Shudders.) 
 God ! what a death to die ! What a death to die ! 
 
 [Sinks into a chair , overcome.) 
 
 Whitney. But she may not have gone — 
 
 Hastings. I tell you she did go. I have her promise. 
 And Kitty too ! [Shudders.) Get me a carriage — I must 
 find them. How — how my head is — I’m not well. [Stag- 
 gers.) I cannot see! Go, John, to the hall, and — 
 [fiercely) if you come back without them, I’ll kill — no, no, 
 I don’t know what I’m saying ! I don’t know what I'm say- 
 ing. [Sinks into a chair , buries his face in his hands and 
 sobs convulsively .) 
 
 Whitney. Wait here till I return, Allan. I will find 
 them for you. [Aside going L.) Poor fellow ! 
 
 [Exit L. 1 e.) 
 
 Hastings [rousing). John ! Whitney ! Wait ! I’ll go 
 with you. He has gone ! My head ! My head ! [Rises, 
 staggers across stage , and sinks uito a chair at L. F., over- 
 come.) 
 
 [Enter Agnes, r.) 
 
 Agnes [aside). Richard is safe ! [Sees Hastings.) 
 Allan back so soon ! 
 
 3 2 
 
BETWEEN TV/O EOES 
 
 {During following scene Agnes must appear as if acting 
 
 a part , and endeavoruig to conceal her emotions . She 
 
 approaches him , and sings a few bars of “ The Blue 
 
 Bells of Scotland/) 
 
 Hastings {rousing). Eh ! Who is singing ? ( Sees her.) 
 
 Agnes ! {Starts back.) 
 
 Agnes {laughing with effort). Why, what’s the matter, 
 Allan dear ? Are you ill ? 
 
 Hastings {laughing with effort). Ha ! ha ! No, no, 
 I’m not ill — I’m — I’m not ill. But I’ve had such a horrible 
 dream, dear. ( Kisses her.) I thought I — I had lost you. 
 But I haven’t lost you, my darling, have I ? 
 
 Agnes. No, dearest, not as long as you will keep me. 
 
 Hastings. Then you’re mine — forever. 
 
 Agnes {aside). If I could only tell him the truth ! 
 (Aloud.) I’m going to find a little fault with you now, 
 Allan dear. 
 
 Hastings (laughing). Ah, do. I should like to hear 
 you scold. 
 
 Agnes. Why did you not — not come to the — hall for 
 Kitty and me — as you promised ? Did you forget us ? 
 
 Hastings (bewildered). I don’t understand. 
 
 AGNES (playfully). I shan’t let you go away from me 
 again. We waited — and waited — 
 
 Hastings. You — waited 1 
 
 Agnes. Yes, a little, and — and then as I had a headache 
 — Captain Whitney brought us home. 
 
 Hastings (aside). Am I losing my mind ? 
 
 (Rises and wanders up to C. window .) 
 
 Agnes (laughing). And all the time you were here, fast 
 asleep. Yet I’ve heard you say you loved me ! 
 
 Hastings (aside, at c. window). The hall is on fire 
 and I have not dreamt it ! What can it mean ? (Comes 
 down a little and discovers open despatch box.) How 
 comes my despatch box open ? There is some mystery 
 here. 
 
 (Enter Whitney, l. i e., quickly .) 
 
 Whitney (te?iderly). Allan, dear old man, I fear there 
 is no hope. I can find no trace of them there. The hall 
 is burned to the ground. (Sees Agnes.) Mrs. Hastings ! 
 
 Agnes (startled). The city hall burned ! 
 
 (The three stand perfectly still for an instant j Agnes 
 agitated ; Hastings and Whitney puzzled .) 
 
 Hastings (aside j as if dazed). What does it all mean? 
 
 3 rt'x 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 (Whitney glances from one to the other , and then with 
 a significant shrug and look , silently withdraws , L. i E.) 
 
 Hastings ( slowly ; his suspicions and anger increas- 
 ing as he proceeds). And so you do not know the hall is 
 burning, and a hundred lives are lost ? 
 
 Agnes. But Allan — 
 
 Hastings. Perhaps you were not there at all. What 
 have you been doing in my absence ? 
 
 Agnes {agitated). Yes, yes — we were there — but not 
 very long — Kitty — I mean I — had a headache — so we came 
 home. But we were there — a little while. 
 
 Hastings {sternly ; holding up tickets ). Then, how 
 come these tickets here ? And who has plundered my de- 
 spatch box ? And whose hat is this ? {At each question 
 Agnes shrinks away from him while his anger increases.) 
 Agnes, you are deceiving me. 
 
 Agnes. But, Allan — ! 
 
 Hastings. Who was the man you were secretly assisting 
 to escape ? 
 
 AGNES {alarmed). Oh, no one, no one ! I cannot tell ! 
 
 Hastings {storming up and down). You shall tell ! 
 Your silence dishonors me ! 
 
 Agnes ( earnestly ). No, Allan, no, as truly as I have ever 
 loved you, I love you now. 
 
 Hastings. Then you can tell me. 
 
 Agnes. I cannot. Oh, I dare not. {Pleadingly .) Won’t 
 you trust me, dear ? 
 
 Hastings {bitterly). After you have twice deceived me ! 
 Most excellent reasons for trusting you. 
 
 Agnes {becoming angry). Your suspicions are insulting. 
 
 Hastings. Your silence is worse. Who has been here 
 to-night ? 
 
 {Enter Kitty impulsively , L. d.) 
 
 Kitty. Oh, Agnes, why wouldn’t you let me in when I 
 knocked ? (Agnes endeavors to check her by a gesture , 
 which Hastings perceives.) Eh, what ? Whom were you 
 talking with ? Eh — what’s the matter ? It was a man any- 
 how. I heard his voice. 
 
 Hastings {vehemently). So there was a man here ! 
 And you dare not tell me his name ! Yet you say you have 
 not wronged me ! 
 
 (AGNES lays her hand appealuigly on his arm. He throws 
 
 her roughly away in anger. She beco7nes instantly very 
 
 angry.) 
 
 34 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 AGNES {wildly). Ah ! what have you done ? You have 
 struck me ! Come, Kitty, come. We must leave this house. 
 I will not be insulted again. Come. 
 
 ( They go towards R. D. Trumpet without sounds the 
 “Assembly.") 
 
 Hastings. Hark ! I’m called. 
 
 {Military band outside plays “ The Blue Bells of Scotland" 
 as a quickstep. At first pp, but rapidly crescendo , as if 
 the band were swiftly approaching and marching directly 
 past c. window. Ejiter Stanley, l. i e., hurriedly .) 
 
 Stanley. Good-bye, Kitty. Good-bye, all. We’re off at 
 last, don’t you know. Come, Captain, come. 
 
 {He picks up the despatch box , pauses a moment at L. i E. 
 then exit . Hastings starts after him.) 
 
 Agnes {with great emotion). Allan, Allan, where are you 
 going ? 
 
 Hastings. We start for the front at midnight. {Bugle) 
 I must go. 
 
 {He picks tip sword , cap and cloak . Fifes and drums are 
 now playing “ The Girl I Left Behind me," very loud and 
 shrill under window. Exit Hastings, l. i e., dramatic- 
 ally. Kitty hurries to c.windowj Agnes down c.a little.) 
 
 Kitty {at window , greatly excited ). Here they are ! 
 Come, Agnes ! Hurry ! There’s Bob ! Oh, Bob ! Bob ! ! 
 Good-bye ! Good-bye, Allan. Quickly, Agnes. Here’s 
 Allan ! 
 
 (Agnes runs up c. to window , looks out , puts her hand to 
 her eyes , then turns and runs down a little , crying as if 
 heart-broken .) 
 
 Agnes. Oh, my God ! 
 
 {She faints and falls prone to stage near C., and lies there 
 at curtain , while Kitty is at window , waving hand- 
 kerchief and cheering.) 
 
 Slow Act Drop 
 
 35 
 
ACT II. 
 
 SCENE. — A room in the house of the Rev. Henry Arnold, 
 situated near Lynchburg , Campbell Co ., Virginia . Time , 
 April 8, 1865. Three years and a half have elapsed since 
 thefirstact % Hour , about % p.m. Doors atR. 2 E. ; L. 3 E., 
 and at C. zVz flat . window at R. C. ^4 large , old- 
 
 fashioned fireplace of brick at L. 1 E., supplied with a crane , 
 fire-dogs , plainly furnished in the early 
 
 colonial style. For description see scene plot . 
 
 ( Curtain discovers Kitty seated by the side of a baby s crib, 
 near R. 3 E. Lights half down j music to commence .) 
 
 Kitty. How restless the baby is to-night ! ( Inspects 
 
 him.) His face is flushed, and he seems very feverish. Poor 
 little man ! ( Rocks cradle and sings a Southern lullaby .) 
 
 ( Enter Arnold, c. d., carrying an armful of wood , which 
 he drops near fireplace. He leaves door open ; Kitty 
 shuts it.) 
 
 Kitty. Uncle Henry, you must make less noise, or you’ll 
 certainly wake the baby. 
 
 Arnold. Eh ! Bless my soul ! Is the baby here ? ( Goes 
 to cradle.) Ah, so he is ! Where’s his mother, Kitty ? 
 Kitty. Upstairs, asleep, while I’m taking care of him. 
 Arnold. Well, well, let her rest, poor child. Let her 
 rest if she can. ( They go to C. F.) 
 
 Kitty (feeling of his coat). My goodness, Uncle Henry ! 
 You’re wet through. You must change your coat this 
 minute. 
 
 Arnold. Oh, no, no, this will do very well ; very well, 
 indeed. 
 
 Kitty. No, sir ! You must get out of that coat right 
 quick. ( Goes to R. closet.') Why, where is your other coat ? 
 
 Arnold {confused). Eh ! my other coat ? Let me think. 
 You’re sure it isn’t there ? 
 
 Kitty {severely). You know it isn’t. Uncle Henry, you 
 have gone and given it away. 
 
 Arnold. Oh, yes, yes. It occurs to me now. There was 
 a poor fellow this morning — very sad case — Union soldier 
 
 36 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 escaping from Richmond — hadn’t eaten anything for three 
 days, and so — 
 
 Kitty. — And so you gave him your coat for breakfast 1 
 ( Sarcastically .) 
 
 Arnold. Well, no, my dear, not exactly. Most un- 
 fortunately there wasn’t a morsel to eat in the house ; but he 
 seemed to be a very interesting young man, and as he wanted 
 to disguise his uniform, we just exchanged coats. 
 
 Kitty ( u producing an old blue blouse ). Well, you must 
 put this on till your other is dry. Ugh ! how I hate the very 
 color of it ! 
 
 (He puts on coat j both laugh at his odd appearance .) 
 
 Arnold (softly). Hush ! remember the baby. (Goes to 
 window and looks out.) How fiercely it storms ! I pity 
 those poor fellows who are without shelter to-night. (Sounds 
 of storm without. Kitty starts to draw window curtains ; 
 he stops her.) No, Kitty. (Puts candle before window.) 
 Perhaps that light, shining through the stormy darkness, will 
 carry hope and cheer to some homeless wanderer, out there 
 in the cold and wet. I hope so. Why, who knows but our 
 Dick may see it ; and then he will know we are all well — and 
 — and happy. (Emotion.) Yes, yes, very — very happy. So 
 we won’t draw the curtains, my dear ; we won’t draw the 
 curtains — to-night. 
 
 (Both come down.) 
 
 Kitty. Where do you suppose Dick is ? We haven’t 
 heard from him in two months. 
 
 Arnold (cheerfully). Oh, never fear, Dick is all right. 
 (Aside.) Heaven grant he is ! 
 
 (Kitty proceeds to hang up Arnold’s coat before the fire. 
 
 He stops her , quickly.) 
 
 Arnold. My dear child ! Pray be very careful. 
 
 Kitty. Of that thing ? Why ? 
 
 Arnold (taking coat). What do you think there is in the 
 pockets ? 
 
 Kitty. Oh, same as usual, I suppose. Nothing. 
 
 Arnold. Oh, no, no, a great deal better than that. Guess 
 again. 
 
 Kitty. H’m ! h’m ! Let me see. Something for the 
 baby ? 
 
 Arnold. Not definite enough. Everything is for the 
 baby. 
 
 Kitty. It is — something to eat ! 
 
 37 
 
BETWEEN TV/O EOES 
 
 Arnold. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Yes, but what ? Come, now, 
 guess. 
 
 Kitty. I reckon it’s a — a ham ? 
 
 Arnold ( chuckling ). Ha ! ha ! Not a bit like it. 
 
 Kitty. Chickens ? 
 
 Arnold. Colder and colder, Kitty. Ha ! ha ! 
 
 Kitty. Let me think ! Ham — no ! Chickens — no ! Oh, 
 I never can guess. Tell me ! 
 
 Arnold (, slowly ). It — is — five — 
 
 Kitty. Well, what ? ( Impatiently .) 
 
 Arnold. Eggs ! {Triumphantly .) 
 
 Kitty. Fresh eggs? 
 
 Arnold. Um-m, well, rather fresh. We mustn’t expect 
 too much in war times, my dear. I found them myself. 
 
 Kitty. Well, I’m right glad you did, for there isn’t any- 
 thing else in the house to eat except a little cold hoe-cake. 
 ( She takes eggs out of pocket quickly. 
 
 Arnold {anxiously). Careful, Kitty, careful. Even these 
 eggs are — eggs, you know. 
 
 Kitty {laying eggs on table). One, two, three, four, five. 
 Correct ! I had a sort of feeling that one of them would be 
 smashed. How shall we fix ’em ? 
 
 Arnold {thoughtfully). Well, now, what is your opinion ? 
 Don’t speak impulsively. What is your de-lib-e-rate opinion ? 
 
 Kitty {thoughtfully). Let’s see. Five eggs — of unknown 
 age-— for three grown-ups and a baby. 
 
 Arnold. Quite right, Kitty ; quite right. 
 
 Kitty {slowly). Well, I vote for — an — omelet. 
 
 Arnold. Bravo ! The very thing I had chosen myself. 
 Still, there was really no question — it’s the only thing possible 
 — with these eggs. We must give them the benefit of every 
 doubt. 
 
 (Kitty proceeds to set table ; Arnold breaks eggs into fry - 
 ing pan.) 
 
 Arnold {breakuig a bad egg). Phew ! there’s no doubt 
 about that egg. It’s older than Pharaoh. {Throws it away ; 
 breaks another). That’s suspicious — came over with William 
 the Conqueror, probably — but it may go, in an omelet, with 
 plenty of seasoning. {Breaks other eggs and prepares 
 omelet.) How do you think Agnes is to-day, Kitty ? 
 
 Kitty. Poor child ! She is miserable. 
 
 Arnold. I’m afraid so. Yet there’s nothing I can do for 
 her now. 
 
 Kitty. That’s because you’ve done everything in the world 
 for us both, already, uncle dear. 
 
 38 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Arnold. There, there, we’re not going to talk about that 
 any more. 
 
 Kitty. Oh, yes we are. What should we have done in 
 the past three terrible years but for you ? When it seemed — 
 
 Arnold. But I say, Kitty, we’re not to talk about that 
 now. 
 
 Kitty. And I say we are. You can’t stop me, but I can 
 stop you. (Kisses him.) This way. 
 
 Arnold (laughing). Goalong, now. That’s just the way 
 to make me keep on. 
 
 Kitty. Don’t be a bad boy, or I shall have to send you to 
 bed. Wasn’t Agnes’s baby born here ; and haven’t you taken 
 care of him as if he were your own child ? ( Embraces him.) 
 
 Uncle Henry, I love you ! 
 
 Arnold. Tut ! tut ! Be careful, child. You must not 
 interfere with the omelet. 
 
 Kitty. That’s so ! Let me have it. (Takes frying pan.) 
 Sentiment is a luxury — but an omelet is a necessity. 
 
 (Enter Agnes, r. d. She goes to cradle. Arnold goes 
 towards her.) 
 
 Agnes (at cradle). Still asleep ! 
 
 Arnold. My child, we’re glad to see you. (They come 
 down.) 
 
 Agnes. Have you any news of the two armies, uncle ? 
 
 Arnold. Yes, there was a desperate battle at Sailor’s 
 Creek yesterday, twenty miles away. 
 
 Agnes. So near ! Which was victorious ? 
 
 Arnold. The — the other side, the Northern. Agnes, do 
 you never think of your husband now ? Have you quite for- 
 gotten him ? 
 
 Agnes. Absolutely forgotten — but not forgiven — him. 
 
 Arnold. But, my dear, you should be more charitable. 
 
 Agnes. . Can a woman ever forgive the wrong he has done 
 me? No. It is unpardonable. But it will do no good to talk 
 of this. I wish Dick were here to-night. 
 
 Kitty (at fireplace ). My goodness ! and don’t I ! 
 
 Arnold. Ah, if he only were ! What a dear, reckless, 
 lovable boy he was ! (Laughs softly.) And so were you 
 too, Kitty, quite as much of a boy as Dick. You never would 
 learn your lessons — though I know I was a trifle old-fashioned 
 in my way. 
 
 Agnes. No, it was Kitty’s fault. She was always in mis- 
 chief. 
 
 Kitty (complacently). Yes, I reckon I most generally was. 
 
 Arnold. And do you remember, Kitty, how you and Dick 
 
 39 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 and I used to go down to the river Saturday mornings and 
 fish, eh ? 
 
 Kitty. Don’t I ! 
 
 Arnold. Such a boy Dick was ! Aye, and such a boy 
 you were, too, my dear. You always caught more fish than 
 Dick and I together. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Those dear old days ! 
 
 I wish they were back once more. 
 
 Kitty. And have you forgotten the time you lost your 
 wig, uncle Henry ? 
 
 Arnold. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Ho ! ho ! ho ! lost my wig ! 
 Bless me, so I did ! When that rascal Dick tied it to the chair, 
 after dinner, while I was — was thinking over my sermon, eh ? 
 
 Kitty. No, you were fast asleep. And then 1 crept up be- 
 hind you and cried — Boo ! 
 
 Arnold. Yes, yes, and then up I jumped, and off went 
 my wig. ( All laugh.') Those dear, dear old days ! How I 
 wish they were back once more. ( Storm without.) Hark ! 
 how it storms ! {Knock, c. D.) What is that ? {Knock, 
 louder.) Sh-h, some one is at the door. 
 
 {He opens c. d. Enter Sergeant Thayer, then Captain 
 
 Miles. Both booted and spurred and muddy with hard 
 
 riding.) 
 
 Miles {bowing deeply ). My apologies for this intrusion, 
 sir, but I am conducting a scouting party across the country 
 for the purpose of cutting the Yankees’ telegraph wires, and 
 I’ve lost my way in the storm. I am Captain Miles, of the 5 th 
 Georgia Cavalry. 
 
 Arnold. And I am Henry Arnold, of this place. You 
 are heartily welcome here, sir. Pray be seated near the fire. 
 
 Miles {going to fire). You are very good, sir, but my 
 business is urgent. I am looking for the Lynchburg road. 
 
 Arnold. Dear me ! You’re a long way out of your path. 
 Let me see : Follow this road past the house about a mile, to 
 the first crossing ; then turn to the left three miles, then to the 
 right one, and you will find yourself upon the Lynchburg 
 turnpike. 
 
 Miles. I am deeply obliged to you, sir. Good-night. 
 Ladies, your servant. {Bows.) Sergeant. 
 
 (Miles and Sergeant to c. d. Exit Sergeant.) 
 
 Kitty {to Arnold). Ask him if he knows about Dick. 
 
 Arnold. Er — one minute, Captain. 
 
 Miles {turning and bowing). ’Twill be but half a 
 minute to me, sir. 
 
 Arnold- You will drink a stirrup cup with us, Captain ? 
 
 40 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Miles. Thanks, you’re very good. It’s a cruel night out- 
 side. 
 
 (Kitty brings down a decanter and glasses on a small 
 
 tray. Miles and Arnold each fill a glass. All done 
 
 with elaborate Southern formalities.) 
 
 Arnold. Your very good health, Captain. {Bows.) 
 
 Miles. Sir ! And yours, ladies. {Bows to Agnes 
 and Kitty who slightly acknowledge it. Both men drink.) 
 
 Arnold {with assumed indifference). By the way, Cap- 
 tain, can you give me any information concerning an officer 
 of the — the ioth Virginia infantry — one Colonel — 
 
 Kitty {interrupting eagerly). Richard Curtis ? 
 
 Miles. Colonel Curtis ! Yes, I know him well. 
 
 Arnold {eagerly). Do you ! Where is he ? 
 
 Miles. He is now — a prisoner within the Northern lines. 
 
 Arnold. A prisoner ! Thank heaven ! At least he is 
 safe and well. 
 
 Miles. I fear he is neither, sir, for at this moment he lies 
 under sentence of death — 
 
 Agnes. Ah ! 
 
 Arnold. Death ! Of what crime is he falsely accused ? 
 
 Miles. He is held as a hostage for a Union officer, now 
 confined in Libby prison, and sentenced to be shot for violat- 
 ing his parole. 
 
 Arnold. But they dare not murder Colonel Curtis in 
 cold blood ! The day for such acts is passed. 
 
 Miles. I’m afraid they will, sir, if Colonel Allan Hast- 
 ings is shot. 
 
 Agnes {deeply agitated ; aside). Husband against 
 brother ! It has come at last, in spite of all my prayers. 
 {Drops into a chair , overcome. Kitty goes to her side.) 
 
 Miles. I fear madam is ill. 
 
 Arnold {much agitated ). Oh, no, no, it is nothing. We 
 — we used to know Colonel Curtis once — and Colonel Hast- 
 ings slightly — that is all, that is all — oh, very slightly. 
 
 Miles. I hope I have not spoken too abruptly. 
 
 Arnold ( much agitated). Oh, no, no, it is nothing. We 
 are quite used to such — such little things as this. {Tear- 
 fully.) We often find them quite amusing. 
 
 (Arnold and Miles to c. d. and converse apart.) 
 
 Agnes. What a cruel fate is mine ! Husband against 
 brother ! {Emotion.) 
 
 Kitty {embracing her). Don’t cry, Agnes. It isn’t 
 right to cry. Look at me. {She weeps.) 
 
 4 1 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 Miles (at c. d.). But I have long outstayed my time. 
 By morning there must not be a single Yankee telegraph 
 wire uncut. My thanks to you, sir. Ladies. [Bows.) 
 Good-night. 
 
 ( Exit Miles, C. d. A moment later is heard the clatter 
 of hoofs and jingle of accoutreinents as the troop rides 
 away . All three listen .) 
 
 Agnes (at cradle ). My boy ! you’re all I have now in the 
 world. 
 
 Arnold. There, there, my child. Don’t be distressed. 
 It will all come out right in the end. (Aside.) God send it 
 may ! (Aloud.) Go to your room now, and rest a little longer. 
 To-morrow I will see General Lee myself ; I am sure it can all 
 be easily arranged. Come, my dear. (Leading her to R. D.) 
 You look after the baby, Kitty. Come, my dear. 
 
 (Exeunt both , r. d.) 
 
 Kitty (at table). Oh, I wish this war was over. My life 
 is just one great big sob — my heart has been in my throat for 
 three long years. I wonder where Bob is to-night. I hope 
 he is safe. And Dick and Allan ! Suppose they should — have 
 — to — die. Suppose they — were — dead — now ! Oh ! 
 
 (She puts her head down on table and weeps. While she is 
 in this position the centre door opens very softly. Kitty 
 perceives it and watches it in alarm. At length HAST- 
 INGS appears , slowly and stealthily . Kitty suddenly 
 slips under table in alarm.) 
 
 Kitty (on floor). His ghost ! Oh-h ! He’s dead ! 
 
 (Hastings slowly disappears , shutting the door after him . 
 Kitty, after much business of fear, rises and goes to 
 centre .) 
 
 Kitty (tearfully). The house is haunted. I’m going to 
 tell Uncle Henry. (She turns and sees Hastings’s face at 
 window , and shrieks out :) Allan ! 
 
 ( With a cry of terror she runs off \ R. D. Enter slowly , C. 
 D., Hastings and Stanley. Both are in rags and look 
 pinched by hunger and cold. They have escaped from 
 Libby prison. Hastings is very feeble , and is partly sup- 
 ported by Stanley.) 
 
 Stanley ( t protesting , as they advance ). You must stay 
 outside, Colonel, till I find if we are safe here. 
 
 42 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 Hastings. I will not. I know this is Miller’s, the Union 
 sympathizer. Ah, that fire ! ( Goes to fire.) It has seemed 
 
 ;o-night as if I should die of cold. I can go no farther now. 
 How many days since we escaped from Libby, boy ? 
 
 Stanley. Three, Colonel. But I beg you will go outside. 
 
 Hastings. Three days and nights in the swamps of Vir- 
 ginia, fleeing for life, and hunted by dogs and men like rats 
 *o their holes. Ah, the blessed fire ! One must be an es- 
 :aping prisoner, starving and freezing, to know the ecstacy 
 )f food and warmth. And if there’s a price upon his head, 
 so much the better. ( Sees table.) Food ! If I only dared ! 
 'Noise off right.) 
 
 Stanley ( seizing his arm ; alarmed). Some one is com- 
 ing ! Quick, outside and wait. 
 
 Hastings {querulously). Out in the cold and wet again ! 
 Ho, no, 1 will not go. ( They struggle .) 
 
 Stanley. You must ! Quickly ! Some one is here. 
 
 {He forces Hastings out , c. d. Enter Arnold, r. d.) 
 
 Arnold {astonished at seeing Stanley). I beg pardon, 
 but — 
 
 Stanley {turning ; coolly). Just what I was goingto say 
 myself. How-de-do ? Beastly weather, ain’t it ? 
 
 ARNOLD. Why, really sir, I — I don’t quite understand. 
 
 Stanley. That’s all right. Neither do I. {Aside.) I 
 must find out who he is. {Aloud.) Well, you — er — see, — 
 oh, by the way, I didn’t catch your name ? 
 
 Arnold ( with dignity). My name, sir, is Henry Arnold. 
 
 Stanley {seizing his hand). Delighted, I’m sure ! 
 {Aside.) The very man we were warned to avoid. The out- 
 look is indeed gloomy. {Aloud.) Arnold, eh ? Why, I’ve 
 heard of you before. Allow me. {Shakes his hand vigor- 
 ously.) Used to know all about — er — Benedict Arnold in 
 school, years ago. He did something or other and got 
 hanged or something, didn’t he ? He, he ! Yes. 
 
 Arnold {much offended). Sir ! 
 
 Stanley {with affected joviality ). No offence, no offence. 
 Awf’ly glad to see you, don’t you know, because you’re the 
 particular person I’ve been looking for. {Aside.) And 
 mighty sorry to find. {Aloud.) So that’s where the fun comes 
 in. Ha, ha ! Yes. 
 
 Arnold {confused). De-ar me ! what fun ? 
 
 Stanley. Oh, any kind you like. It really doesn’t mat- 
 ter, so long’s the joke’s on some one. 
 
 Arnold {more bewildered ). De-ar me ! 
 
 Stanley {aside). Poor Hastings is freezing to death out 
 43 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 there. I’ll bring him in fora few moments ; and if the old 
 gentleman gets tricky I’ll gag him. He looks harmless 
 enough now, though. (Aloud.) I say, you know, have you 
 any objections to my asking in a friend from outside ? 
 
 Arnold. Bless me ! out there in the storm ? 
 
 STANLEY. Oh, yes, yes, out there, yes. Peculiarity of his. 
 Likes to stay out in the rain and get wet. Says it’s been a 
 family characteristic for centuries, and he’s actually proud of 
 it. Claims he inherited the taste from Noah. Er— may I ? 
 
 Arnold. At once ! (At c. D., calling off.) Friend, won’t 
 you come in by the fire ? 
 
 Stanley (at c. d., speaking off). Yes, yes, come in. 
 Why stand upon ceremony now ? Come in and be sociable. 
 
 (Enter Hastings, c. d. Stanley takes his arm and guides 
 
 him d,own to fire , where he crouches over the blaze , rub- 
 bing his hands and muttering.) 
 
 Hastings. I’m so cold ! Pm almost frozen ! 
 
 Stanley (aside to Hastings). Sh-h, Colonel. You’ll soon 
 feel better. (To Arnold.) Pretend not to notice him. In 
 fact, don’t notice him. Mind’s not quite right, you know. 
 Hundred pound shell hit him point blank on top of his head, 
 exploded — biff! — left him the wreck you behold. Quite a 
 beastly sad thing, don’t you know. 
 
 Arnold. Poor fellow ! I — er— I’ve not yet learned your 
 name ? 
 
 Stanley. Eh, name ? Oh, yes, exactly. Well, don’t you 
 see, it’s like this. We’re officers of the — the 5th Georgia 
 Cavalry, don’t you know. 
 
 Arnold. The 5th Georgia Cavalry ? 
 
 Stanley. Yes, the 5th, yes, oh yes. And we’ve got sep- 
 arated— lost, as it were— and now we’re looking for our 
 regiment, don’t you see ? (Aside.) Oh, why wasn’t I born a 
 liar ? 
 
 Arnold. Then it’s very fortunate that you’ve come to my 
 house, sir, for I can easily help you to find your regiment. I 
 have just been informed where the 5th Georgia is encamped. 
 
 Stanley. Really ? How extremely nice 1 (Aside.) Con- 
 found it ! why didn’t I say the 10th Georgia ? 
 
 Arnold. Yes, one of your brother officers — Captain Miles 
 — was here a few moments ago. You know Captain Miles, 
 of course ? 
 
 Stanley. Do I know old Miles ? Well, I should think I 
 ought to ! (Aside.) I wish old Miles were dead. 
 
 Arnold. Well, he informed me that your regiment lies 
 only three or four miles from here, on the Amherst road. 
 
 44 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Stanley. I say, that’s most uncommonly deuced great 
 uck for us, now, isn’t it ? (Aside.) Confound it ! 
 
 Arnold. And I can easily take you there in the moi ning, 
 3r even to-night, if the matter is urgent. 
 
 Stanley. Oh, no, no, no, no ! Awf’ly good of you, ot 
 course, but I really couldn't allow you to do that to-night. 
 ' To Hastings.) Colonel, we’re in a deuce of a scrape. 
 v Hastings (to Stanley). I’m afraid we are ; 
 
 Stanley (to Hastings). Well, when you’re in a hole 
 like this there’s never but one thing to do. 
 
 Hastings (to Stanley). What is that ? 
 
 Stanley (to Hastings). Haven’t the least idea. But i 
 guess we’d better take to the woods again, anyhow. 
 
 Hastings (/<? Stanley). Yes. You slip out as quietly as 
 you can, and I will follow. ( Goes to cradle .) What a lovely 
 child 1 Your grandson, sir ? 
 
 (Exit Stanley, c. d.) 
 
 Arnold. My grand-nephew. . 
 
 Hastings. You must be very fond of him. (As ij to 
 pick him up; then turns away.) No, no, I must not. I 
 am too ragged and wet. 
 
 Arnold. Bless me! so you are wet ! Why did I 
 think of that before ? Come with me. Perhaps lean 
 you some dry clothes. 
 
 (Pulls him towards I 
 
 not 
 
 find 
 
 >•) 
 
 Hastings (protesting). But, my dear sir ! 
 Arnold. Nay, not a word. Come with me. 
 
 (He drags Hastings off, l. d. Enter Stanley, c. d.) 
 
 Stanley. Why doesn’t he hurry ? Not here ! Where 
 has he gone? Ah, what a beautiful supper! I wish I 
 wasn’t quite so hungry. (Hesitates ; business.) It s no use. 
 I must have one bite. 
 
 (Sits and eats , back to R. D. Enter Kitty, r. d.) 
 
 Kitty (aside). Who is that ? He’s stealing our supper ! 
 (Gets an old musket , up , and advances. Aloud.) Stop ! 
 What are you doing there? (He turns.) Bob Stanley! 
 (She drops the musket with a bang.) 
 
 Stanley (coolly , mouth full). How-de-do, Miss Kitty ? 
 Kitty ( nervously ). Are you — sure — you re not a ghost ? 
 Stanley. Can’t say. I’m as hollow as one, anyhow. Yes. 
 Kitty [tenderly). Oh, Bob ! Are you so very hungry ? 
 STANLEY. Who, I ? Hungry ? (. Looking away from 
 
 45 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 table with difficulty .) Certainly not. Why should I be 
 hungry ? 
 
 Kitty. Really and truly ? 
 
 Stanley. Well, haven’t I been living at the Hotel Libby 
 for the last six months ? And don’t you think a fellow’s 
 got something else to do there besides eat, eh ? ( Sentimen- 
 
 tally, .) But I say, Kitty, do you realize it’s over three years 
 since I saw you last ? 
 
 Kitty. It seems like a lifetime to me. I’m an old wo- 
 man now. 
 
 Stanley. Ye-es, I noticed that the moment I saw you. 
 False hair, false teeth, false complexion, false everything. 
 You must be nearly twenty. Poor old lady ! Nothing to 
 live for any longer. 
 
 (He cant keep his eyes from the supper table . She sud~ 
 denly discovers this.) 
 
 Kitty. Bob, I do believe you’re starving ! Sit right 
 down here and eat. 
 
 Stanley. Do you mean it ? 
 
 Kitty. I reckon I do. (Aside.) He shall have my share. 
 (He sits at table ; she helping him.) Have some omelet ? 
 
 Stanley. No, thanks. I — I mean, yes, please. (She helps 
 him.) Oh, not so much. Well, well, if you insist, of course. 
 
 (He eats j she watches him , and helps him from time to 
 time. He appears very iiervous and excited , and starts 
 and jumps at every sound . Much business.) 
 
 Kitty. Say, what in the world brings you here now, I 
 should like to know ? 
 
 Stanley. Oh, I’m just travelling around for my health. 
 How come you here ? 
 
 Kitty. Why, I live here ? 
 
 Stanley (astonished). Live here ? 
 
 Kitty. Yes, with my uncle, and Agnes, and the baby. 
 Stanley. With your uncle ! And Agnes ! And the 
 baby ! Pinch me. (Kitty pinches him.) That’ll do ! 
 Yes, I’m awake. Does Agnes know that Allan is here ? 
 Kitty. Allan ! Where ? 
 
 Stanley. Oh, anywhere — here ! This house. 
 
 Kitty. For goodness’ sake ! What is coming next ? 
 
 (Enter Agnes, R. d., and goes to cradle , not seeing others. 
 At same mo?nent enter Hastings a7id Arnold, l. d.) 
 
 Hastings (seeing her). Agnes ! (Advances.) 
 
 Agnes (turning). You, Allan ! 
 
 46 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 Hastings ( appealingly ). Agnes ! Wife ! Will you 
 
 not forgive — ? 
 
 Agnes ( haughtily ). Stand back ! You shall not come 
 near me. 
 
 Hastings (confused). Why — why are you here ? 
 
 Agnes (to Arnold). Answer him. 
 
 Arnold. She is living here with me and her little 
 child — 
 
 Hastings (confused and agitated). Child? child? You 
 mean — our child ? Let me see him ! I will see him 1 
 (Stefs towards cradlei) 
 
 Agnes (interposing). No, you shall not ! 
 
 Hastings (becoming aroused). I say I will. 
 
 Agnes (with great power). And I say no. (Dramatic 
 pause.) 
 
 Stanley (aside to Kitty, with a gesture). Come. 
 
 (Exeunt Stanley and Kitty, r. d., in silence. During the 
 
 proceeding Arnold has been dumb with amazement , but 
 
 now recovers .) 
 
 Arnold (aside). This must be Allan Hastings. (Aloud.) 
 Agnes, my dear child, don’t be cruel. Listen to me. 
 
 Agnes. I will listen to no one now. I must judge this 
 man myself. 
 
 Hastings (indicating cradle ). You forget I am his 
 father. 
 
 Agnes. It is what I can never forget. (Hastings ad- 
 vances a step. She raises her hand.) No ! Leave the 
 house ! 
 
 Arnold. Nay, my daughter. He is your husband. Say 
 you will forgive him. 
 
 Agnes. How can I forgive the man who once so cruelly, 
 brutally, drove me out into the world, with a miserable stain 
 upon my honor ; and left me to face the perils of mother- 
 hood alone, among strangers ? But for you, my tender, 
 loving father, I should have died long ago. (Weeps on 
 Arnold’s shoulder.) I wish to God I had ! 
 
 Arnold (soothingly). There, there, my child ! Don’t 
 cry. Look at me and be brave. (He weeps.) Be brave and 
 — forgiving. 
 
 Hastings. Agnes, I have done you a cruel wrong, but 
 it was not till long after that I learned the true story of that 
 dreadful night. I have bitterly repented of my folly ever 
 since ; and daily, hourly, have I striven to atone for my 
 sin. 
 
 Agnes. Your repentance comes too late. Nothing can 
 
 47 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 ever wipe out the past. Why are you here ? Why have 
 you been condemned to death like a common murderer ? 
 
 Hastings. I am accused of having broken my parole. 
 
 Agnes. And you are guilty ! 
 
 Hastings. No. 
 
 {Enter Stanley, r. d.) 
 
 Stanley. Allow me to explain. 
 
 Agnes. Mr. Stanley ! 
 
 Stanley. Same man. I give you my word of honor that 
 Colonel Hastings is not guilty of the crime he is charged 
 with. 
 
 Hastings. No, I am innocent. Yet for weeks I have 
 waited for the summons to go forth to death — ah, that awful 
 agony of suspense ! — but day and night I have kept hidden 
 here this little vial of poison — to cheat the gallows at the 
 last. {Shows small vial of poison.) 
 
 Arnold. “ Man’s inhumanity to man makes countless 
 thousands mourn.” 
 
 Hastings. Then at last came a chance to escape, and 
 with the help of this brave man here — 
 
 Stanley. No time for compliments now, Colonel. 
 
 Hastings. I was once more free ; and now we are al- 
 most within sight of the Old Flag and salvation. 
 
 Agnes. Do you know why your — execution — has been so 
 long delayed ? 
 
 Hastings. No. 
 
 Agnes {bitterly). The Federals are holding my brother 
 as your hostage. 
 
 Hastings. Richard my hostage ! Then my escape means 
 his safety ! I will get through. Come, Stanley. 
 
 {He starts for c. D. Enter Kitty, hurriedly , R. d.) 
 
 Kitty. Hurry, hurry ! Hide somewhere. There’s a 
 troop of cavalry up the road. 
 
 {Sound of a troop of horse heard without , growing rapidly 
 louder.) 
 
 Stanley. Quick, Colonel. This way. {To c. d.) We 
 can dodge them in the dark. 
 
 Kitty. No, no, they’re coming that way. 
 
 Agnes. Allan, come with me. {To r.) Kitty, hide him 
 over there. {Pouits L.) We must save them both. 
 
 ( Very loud knocks , C. D.) 
 
 Arnold. Yes, yes, let us hurry. 
 
 48 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 ( Exeunt Hastings, Agnes and Arnold, r. d., Kitty and 
 
 Stanley, l. d., all hurriedly. Enter Sergeant Thayer 
 
 and two troopers , C. D. He stations them at R. D. and 
 
 l. d. Then enter Miles, c. d.) 
 
 Miles. House empty, Sergeant ? 
 
 Sergeant. Seems to be, sir ; but I reckon our man is 
 here. 
 
 Miles. Well, we must find him if he is. Have the place 
 surrounded by a guard, and instruct the men to fire upon 
 any one leaving it. Then report again to me. Look sharp, 
 now. 
 
 Sergeant. Very good, sir. 
 
 (Exit, c. d.) 
 
 Miles. I’m afraid the poor wretch can’t escape. I wish 
 he might, yet I dare not disobey my orders. 
 
 (Enter Arnold, r. d.) 
 
 Arnold. I beg pardon, but — ( recognizes him ) — Captain 
 Miles ! 
 
 Miles. Believe me, sir, I deeply regret having to disturb 
 you again at this late hour, but information has come to me 
 that an important escaped Union prisoner is concealed here, 
 and I have been ordered — against my will, I need not assure 
 you — to arrest him. 
 
 (Enter Agnes, r. d.) 
 
 Agnes (to Arnold). They’re safe. Kitty will guide 
 them to the woods. (Aloud.) Ah, Captain Miles ! We’re 
 happy to see you again. 
 
 Miles (bowing). Madam, I thank you. I trust I shall 
 be able to perform a most unpleasant duty without distress- 
 ing you ? 
 
 Agnes. We are Virginians, Captain. The house is yours. 
 
 Miles. Your words do you infinite honor. 
 
 (Enter Kitty, l. d. She bows to Miles ; then aside 
 to Agnes.) 
 
 Kitty. Don’t let him search. They’re both upstairs ; 
 they can’t escape — the house is surrounded. 
 
 Agnes. Ah ! 
 
 Miles. I am quite sure my search will prove fruitless, yet 
 for form’s sake — 
 
 Agnes (excitedly). No, no, Captain, you will not find 
 him here. You need not look. 
 
 4 49 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 {Enter Sergeant, c. d.) 
 
 Miles. I’m afraid I must. We will begin upstairs. 
 Sergeant ! 
 
 Agnes. No, no, stop ! You must not go there. 
 
 Miles {surprised). Indeed! But just now you said — 
 Agnes. I know it ; but I had — forgotten — 
 
 Miles. Ah ! Forgotten — ? 
 
 Agnes {agitated). That — that my baby is upstairs — very 
 ill. No, no, you must not go there. {To Arnold.) Oh, 
 send them away ! He is still in the house. 
 
 Arnold {aside; distressed). Dear me ! 
 
 Miles. Well, Mr. Arnold, under the circumstances, I 
 will so far disobey my orders as not to search your house if 
 you will give me your solemn assurance, as a gentleman 
 and a clergyman, that the man I want is not here. 
 
 Arnold {aside). Heaven help me ! What shall I 
 say ? 
 
 Sergeant {to Miles). Captain, her baby isn’t upstairs 
 at all, but over yon in the cradle. 
 
 Miles (A? Sergeant). I know it. {To Arnold.) Well, 
 sir ? 
 
 Arnold. One moment. Let me think. There was an 
 escaped prisoner here — an hour ago — but he — he — 
 
 Agnes. He has gone — down the road — follow quickly — 
 you can overtake him. 
 
 Miles {to Arnold). Is this true, sir ? Pardon me, 
 madam, I do not doubt your word, but you may be — mis- 
 taken. {A dramatic pause , during which Arnold is seen 
 to be having a severe mental struggle. Miles becomes im- 
 patient.) You do not answer. Sergeant, take two men 
 and search — upstairs. 
 
 {He points right. Sergeant and two men start for r. d. 
 
 Enter Stanley, l. d., and pauses there in full sight.) 
 
 Stanley {quietly). This way, Captain, if you’re looking 
 for me. 
 
 All {exclaiming). Oh ! 
 
 Miles {advancing). You’re my prisoner, sir. 
 
 Stanley. It certainly has that appearance. Yes. 
 
 {The two soldiers cross quickly and stand on either side of 
 Stanley, near l. f. This is done in obedience to a gesture 
 from Miles. Sergeant is near c. d. At this moment 
 is heard just without c. D. a loud challenge.) 
 
 Voice {outside c. d.). Halt ! Who goes there ? 
 
 50 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 ( Then comes the sound of scuffling, voices, followed by two 
 shots in quick succession, and more cries . Agnes and 
 Kitty both scream in terror, and Agnes seems about to 
 fall from weakness, when Arnold catches her and helps 
 her to a chair near the baby' s cradle.) 
 
 Miles (sharply). See what it is, Sergeant. 
 
 (Sergeant steps outside, but in sight through c. D., talking 
 to sentry.) 
 
 Sergeant. Some one has run the guard, sir, and escaped 
 from the house. Shall we pursue, sir ? 
 
 Miles (tur?iing abruptly to Stanley). What is your 
 name ? 
 
 Stanley (calmly). Colonel Allan Hastings, U. S. A. 
 Miles. This is our man. Let the other poor fellow go. 
 
 (Kitty gets close to Stanley, the7i suddenly seizes his hand 
 and kisses it.) 
 
 Kitty (aside to Stanley). Oh, Bob, you’re just splendid ! 
 
 (Kitty back to Arnold, near r. Stanley looks much 
 surprised at first, then smiles and kisses his own hand 
 where Kitty’s lips touched it. Then Sergeant arid 
 Soldiers close about him, obeying a gesture from Miles, 
 and all march out c. D., Miles last, and he bows with 
 much courtesy to all as he goes. As Stanley passes 
 Arnold the old man silently blesses hi?n. Music pp.) 
 
 SLOW ACT DROP 
 
 5 T 
 
 U. OF ILL U& 
 
ACT III 
 
 SCENE. — The encampment of the 2d Division , 5th Corps , 
 detached from Sheridans army ; Maj.-Gen. Douglas 
 commanding . The camp is about ten miles from Appo- 
 mattox Court House , Virginia. Date , April qth, 1865, 
 i. e., the day of Lee s surrender. Hour , just before sun- 
 rise. Stage is clear , except at L. 2 E. is the tent of Gen. 
 Douglas ; and close to it, down, is a small portable table , 
 with telegraph instruments , field electric batteries, etc. 
 A telegraph wire stretches across the stage, about ten 
 feet in air. The back cloth is painted to show the ca?np. 
 
 ( Curtain discovers stage dark, with a faint glow in the 
 east — the back — which steadily increases until sunrise. 
 Sentry is pacing tip and down in front of the tent , 
 and Telegraph Operator is dozing with his head on 
 the table. Sentry rouses Operator.) 
 
 Sentry. Wake up ! Wake up ! It’s most sunrise ! 
 Operator ( rousing and stretching ). It ain’t. It’ll be 
 hours yet. Can’t you leave a man be ! (. Rises .) Ah-h ! 
 
 I’m frozen stiff. Been on duty here for twelve hours straight. 
 
 (. Resumes seat. Enter Douglas and Whitney, from tent. 
 Both dressed in field uniform, overcoats, boots, swords . 
 
 Douglas. Is the wire working yet, Operator ? 
 Operator. No, General. I’ve not been able to call Gen- 
 eral Grant’s headquarters since ’leven o’clock last night, 
 when the line was cut. 
 
 Whitney. By some Confederate scouting party, un- 
 doubtedly. 
 
 Douglas. It is absolutely necessary that we re-establish 
 communication with General Grant at once. Colonel Whit- 
 ney ! 
 
 Whitney. General ! 
 
 Douglas. Send out a strong party of men to repair this 
 wire immediately. 
 
 Whitney. Very well, sir. I have only been waiting for 
 daylight to do this. 
 
 ( Exit Whitney, r. Enter Thorpe, l. As he advances , 
 the Sentry halts him.) 
 
 52 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Sentry. Halt! 
 
 Thorpe ( impatiently ). I must see General Douglas at 
 
 once. I have important despatches. 
 
 Douglas. Captain Thorpe ! What is it ? 
 
 Thorpe {saluting). Orders from General Grant, sir. 
 
 Douglas. Let me have them. ( Takes papei * and reads.) 
 To Major-General John Douglas, Sir : — It is of the highest 
 military importance that you hold your present position. 
 An attempt will be made by the enemy to-day to break your 
 line. You must check this at all cost. I will start McLean’s 
 division at daylight to reinforce you. The enemy cannot 
 escape us now except by our own blunders. {Signed.) U. S. 
 Grant, Lieut.-Gen. Commanding. {Speaks.) Very well, 
 Captain. My compliments to General Grant, and say that 
 we will “ fight it out on this line if it takes all summer.” 
 
 Thorpe {laughing). General Grant will appreciate the 
 message, I’m sure, sir. {Salutes and goes L.) 
 
 Douglas {recalling Thorpe). Captain ! What time 
 did you leave headquarters ? 
 
 Thorpe. About midnight. As soon as our telegraphic 
 communication was broken the General directed me to get 
 this order to you at any risk. Owing to the storm and dark- 
 ness I have had great difficulty in finding your position ; and 
 I was once compelled to ride straight through an encamp- 
 ment of the enemy who captured my two orderlies. 
 
 Douglas. I will send an escort back with you if you 
 wish it ? 
 
 Thorpe. Thank you, General, but it will not be neces- 
 sary ; and besides you will need every one of your men here 
 before long. 
 
 Douglas. At least you will take breakfast with us ? 
 
 Thorpe. Why, thank you, General, I will accept a cup 
 of coffee, for I’m beginning to feel a little weary. 
 
 ( Both move towards tent; Thorpe staggers ; Douglas 
 catches his arm ; Thorpe groans.) 
 
 Douglas. What’s the matter ? Why, you’re wounded ! 
 Your coat is all blood. 
 
 Thorpe {faintly). A mere scratch — last night — most 
 forgotten it. 
 
 Douglas. Come. My surgeon must see this at once. 
 
 {Exeunt both into tent. Broad daylight , sunrise. Bugle 
 
 sounds the “ Reveille .” Then another and another takes 
 
 it up , each fainter and fainter , as if farther away. 
 
 Then the fifes and drums take up the signal , Entey 
 
 53 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Guard-relief R. 3 E. The Relief consists of ten 
 soldiers in uniforjn, without overcoats , arms at a carry . 
 The Corporal in charge of squad 7narches at the rear , 
 7iear left file. The Corporal of relieved guard 7narches 
 at right of leading rank. Squad marches to centred) 
 
 Corporal. Relief — halt. ( Squad halts.) Number two, 
 arms — port. 
 
 (At this command the Sentry on duty a7id the soldier at 
 head of relief both come to a port arms , and approach 
 each other.) 
 
 First Sentry. The countersign is Vicksburg. 
 
 Second Sentry. Vicksburg. 
 
 (The relieved Sentry takes the other s place in the squad , 
 and the new Sentry assumes his position before the 
 tent.) 
 
 Corporal. Right shoulder arms — march. 
 
 (The squad marches off stage at L. 3 E. Enter Douglas 
 and Thorpe fro7n tent. Thorpe’s left arm is bandaged 
 a 7 id drawn out of coat sleeve.) 
 
 Douglas. I still think, Captain, you had better let me 
 send one of my own staff to headquarters in your place. 
 
 Thorpe. No, General, no. I’m all right now, I assure 
 you. This scratch is nothing. 
 
 Douglas. Dr. Fleming said you’d have bled to death in 
 another hour. 
 
 Thorpe. Well, I’m all right now, and by daylight the 
 ride back is easy. (Saluting.) General. 
 
 Douglas (saluting). Captain. (Exit Thorpe, r.) 
 Operator, you will not leave your instrument a moment 
 until relieved. Let me know at once when communication 
 is re-established. 
 
 Operator. Yes, General. 
 
 (Enter Whitney. Salutes.) 
 
 Whitney. I have the honor to report, sir, that the party 
 to repair the telegraph wire has started. 
 
 Douglas. Very well. Now I wish you to post another 
 line of pickets four hundred yards in advance of the present 
 outposts, and entirely encircling the camp. 
 
 Whitney. Very good, sir. 
 
 Douglas. Then despatch a ‘troop of mounted men 
 under Captain Merrill to make a reconnaissance along the 
 Lanesville road. 
 
 54 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Whitney. Very good, General. Is that all ? 
 
 Douglas. No. Let Major Dana take his regiment of 
 cavalry and make a general reconnaissance in force towards 
 the southeast. He may use his own discretion as to the 
 details, but he must not go more than three miles. Under- 
 stand ? 
 
 Whitney. I understand, sir. (Salutes ; goes R.) 
 
 Douglas. Colonel. (Whitney returns .) Also instruct 
 the regimental commanders to get their men under arms at 
 once ; let them have breakfast, and supply them with forty 
 rounds and three days* cooked rations. 
 
 Whitney. That means a march and a fight, sir ? 
 
 Douglas. Yes. Lee will probably attempt to break 
 through our lines at this point some time to-day. 
 
 Whitney. But can he succeed, General ? 
 
 Douglas. We’re here to prevent it, Colonel, and we’re 
 going to do it. That is all. 
 
 Whitney. Very good, sir. 
 
 ( Salute . Exit Whitney, r. Enter Corporal of the 
 guard , l., with Johnson.) 
 
 Douglas. Is the line working yet, Operator ? 
 
 Operator. Not yet, General. 
 
 (Corporal and Johnson down. Salute .) 
 
 Douglas. Well, Corporal, what is it ? 
 
 Corporal. This man has been stopped by our videttes, 
 sir, and he asked to be brought to you, sir. 
 
 Douglas (aside). It is Johnson, my scout. (Aloud.) 
 Very well, Corporal. I know the man. You may go. (Exit 
 Corporal, with salute , r. To Johnson, eagerly.) Well, 
 Johnson, what news have you ? 
 
 Johnson (drawling). I’ve jist come through the rebel 
 lines — General Gordon’s headquarters, sir. 
 
 Douglas. Where is he now ? 
 
 Johnson. Near Planterstown, twelve miles from here. I 
 left there ’bout ’n hour after midnight, an’ I bin’ travellin’ 
 ever sence. Terriblest, hardest time I ever experienced en- 
 durin’ the war. 
 
 Douglas. How many men has Gordon ? 
 
 Johnson. ’Bout sixteen thousand, sir. 
 
 Douglas. Do you know what his plans are ? 
 
 Johnson. Wal, yes, purty near. I heerd it right straight 
 last night that Lee had ordered him to jump at your line 
 early to-day, and make an openin’ fur th’ rest of ’em to get 
 through by. 
 
 55 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Douglas ( aside ). That confirms General Grant’s mes- 
 sage. (Aloud.) In what shape are Gordon’s men ? 
 
 Johnson. Mighty tough shape, General. They’re light 
 of ammunition, clothes, grub and doggone near everythin' 
 but grit. My, though ! but they’re a lightin’ lot, fer a sure 
 thing. 
 
 Douglas. Did you hear exactly where the attack would 
 be made t 
 
 Johnson. I did so. The talk at headquarters was thet 
 Gordon was liable to start about daylight, and go ez fur ez 
 he kin to the west, along the Lanesvilie road. When he’s 
 stopped he’ll fight, and this’ll give Lee a chance to slip in 
 behind us. 
 
 (Douglas opens map.) 
 
 Douglas (studying map). On the Lanesviile road ? 
 
 Johnson (looking over his shoulder). There ’tis, Gen- 
 eral. (Points.) Here’s Gordon, and here’s us. Now don’t 
 you see, he’s got six miles to go to reach the cross-roads, 
 here ; while we only got about three. So all we got to do is 
 to git thar first, fortify, an’ you got him jest whar the old 
 ’coon had Towser. ’N thet ain’t all of it, neither. We’ve 
 got th’ hull of Lee’s army in th’ same hole, from the com- 
 mandin’ general down to the littlest jackass. 
 
 Douglas (aside). If I could only reach General Grant 
 by telegraph ! Is the line working yet, Operator ? 
 
 Operator. Not yet, General. 
 
 Douglas (excitedly, half aside). Curse it ! If I were 
 only not tied down to this spot ! Here is Gordon turning 
 my left flank, Lee slipping out behind me, and I am power- 
 less to stop them. Why has General Grant ordered me to 
 remain here ? 
 
 Johnson. Oh, he has, has he ! Wal, General, I don’t 
 know why General Grant has ordered you to stay right here, 
 but Ido know he’s got a mighty good reason fur it, some- 
 where. If old Useless told you to wait here fur orders, I 
 guess you’d better stay here — and — wait — fur — orders. 
 
 Douglas (angrily). That will do, my man. I don’t re- 
 quire your advice. Is that all you’ve got to report ? 
 
 Johnson. No, ’tain’t. 
 
 Douglas. Well, go on. What is it ? 
 
 (Enter Whitney, r.) 
 
 JOHNSON. Wal, while I was bangin’ round Gordon’s head- 
 quarters last night, General, a scoutin’ party fetched in a 
 Union officer they ketched escapin’ from Libby, 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Douglas ( carelessly ). Did you learn his name ? 
 
 Johnson. Wal, he said he was Colonel Hastings. 
 
 Douglas ( startled ). Allan Hastings! Of my staff? 
 
 Johnson. Identical man, sir. 
 
 Whitney ( advancing ). Poor fellow ! I’m afraid that’s 
 the last of him. 
 
 Johnson. Wal, yes, Colonel, I guess that’s about so, fer 
 I heerd the order given for to shoot him immediately. 
 
 Whitney. At midnight ! You must be mistaken. Such 
 a thing is unprecedented. 
 
 Johnson. I dunno jest what un — press — e — dented 
 means, m’self, but I do know that the hull command was 
 under orders to march before daylight ; an’ they was afeerd 
 the prisoner might give ’em the slip agin, same as he done 
 twice afore, if they didn’t hurry up an’ make sure. 
 
 Douglas. Did you witness this execution yourself? 
 
 Johnson. Nope, I did not ; an’ I’ll tell ye fur why. I did 
 see the escort and firin’ party marched out, an’ I actually 
 see ’em preparin’ to blindfold the prisoner, when just about 
 then — kerwhish ! whush ! bing ! bang ! rip ! roar — I’m a 
 nigger if a bully little Yankee officer on a rippin’ bay hoss — 
 oh, they was sure a dandy team — an’ two orderlies behind 
 him — well, if them three didn’t ride hell fur leather plumb 
 through the camp, knockin’ down tents an’ generals and 
 privates, jest like a lot of nine-pins — ho ! ho ! ho ! Every 
 jackass a-brayin’, an’ every fool of a sentry a-loosin’ off his 
 rifle, ’parently aimin’ at the noise. Ho ! ho ! ho ! That little 
 Yankee boy ! he was sure a very game bird, an’ he got away 
 all right, but I guess the orderlies they was gobbled up. It 
 was endurin’ this confusion that I took the chanst to clear 
 out. Ho ! ho ! ho ! I just wisht I knew that bully little 
 officer’s name. 
 
 Whitney. It was undoubtedly Captain Thorpe, of Gen- 
 eral Grant’s staff. 
 
 Johnson. Wal, now, he’s a reg’lar Jim Dandy, whatever’s 
 his name, an’ so’s his hoss. 
 
 Douglas. Therefore you did not see this execution your- 
 self? 
 
 Johnson. No more’n what I’ve said, but I’d be willin’ to 
 swear it took place. Why, they was almost jest pullin’ the 
 triggers then. Oh, I tell ye, General, them fellers yonder are 
 in desprit earnest now ’bout everythin’ ; and the day has 
 come right now when one man’s life don’t count fer nothin’ 
 with them, while half an hour’s lost time may mean an all- 
 fired big lickin’. An’ that’s why I’s sure that Colonel Hast- 
 ings was shot \s if I see it done. They couldn’t spare the 
 
 57 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 time not to do it. D’ye see ? An’ more’n that, I hadn’t 
 been started five minutes when I heerd the firin’ volley. 
 
 Douglas. Yes, I believe you’re right ; there remains no 
 more doubt that Colonel Hastings has been executed — ille- 
 gally. Fall back. (JOHNSON moves up.) Colonel Whitney. 
 
 Whitney ( down to Douglas). Sir ? 
 
 Douglas. We have been holding Colonel Curtis for some 
 time as a hostage for the safety of Colonel Hastings. We 
 need do so no longer. 
 
 Whitney ( surprised ). Do you mean he is to be released ? 
 
 Douglas. No — shot — at once. 
 
 Whitney. Must we do that, General ? 
 
 Douglas. Yes. 
 
 Whitney. But it seems so brutal, now. 
 
 Douglas. War itself is brutal, Colonel. The surest way 
 to end it is — by more brutality. 
 
 Whitney. Besides, can you rely upon the absolute truth 
 of this report ? May not the scout be mistaken ? 
 
 Douglas. You have heard his story. I will answer for 
 his accuracy with my life. In three years he has never once 
 deceived me. 
 
 Whitney. But a short delay, sir — a day or two ? 
 
 Douglas. Impossible. [Producing paper .) Under this 
 order of the Secretary of War I have absolutely no power to 
 grant any delay. (Reads.) “ As soon as you shall learn, 
 officially or otherwise, that Colonel Allan Hastings, now un- 
 der sentence of death in Richmond, has been executed by 
 the Confederate authorities, you will at once retaliate by put- 
 ting to death, in a similar manner, the officer held by you 
 as his hostage.” ( Folds paper.) That’s my warrant, Colonel, 
 and it must be carried out — at once. 
 
 Whitney. But surely you can grant a few hours’ delay, 
 sir ? 
 
 Douglas. Not one moment’s delay. In half an hour we 
 may be engaged in pitched battle with the enemy. 
 
 Whitney. But, General — 
 
 Douglas (interrupting, sternly). Colonel Whitney, I am 
 in command here. 
 
 Whitney. I beg your pardon, sir. 
 
 Douglas. It is a fearful thing to have to order the death 
 of an innocent man, but it must be done, and I will not shrink 
 from my responsibilities. We owe this to ourselves and — 
 to the dead. Allan Hastings never did a dishonorable act in 
 his life. We believe — we know — he was neither morally nor 
 technically guilty of having violated his parole. But now he 
 lias suffered death upon that charge, and the only way we 
 
 58 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 can vindicate his good name and honor is — by instantly 
 carrying out this order. There is no make-believe in 
 War. 
 
 Whitney. You are right, General. It shall be done at 
 once. 
 
 Douglas. Waste no more time, sir, for we’ve none to 
 spare. 
 
 Whitney. Ten minutes will suffice. 
 
 (Salutes , goes R.) 
 
 Douglas. Colonel. (Whitney turns back part way to 
 DOUGLAS.) I’ve been a soldier for more than forty years, 
 and 1 know how all men dislike to be included in a firing 
 squad. You will therefore have eight rifles loaded secretly 
 — four with ball, and four with blank cartridges ; and you 
 will see that the men clearly understand this. I wish no one 
 to feel sure that he has killed a brave enemy in such a 
 manner. 
 
 Whitney. Very good, sir. I will have it done. 
 
 (Whitney salutes and exit R.) 
 
 Douglas. Is the wire working yet, Operator ? 
 
 Operator. Not yet, General. 
 
 Douglas (to Johnson). Have you anything more to say 
 to me ? 
 
 Johnson. Nothin’, General. 
 
 Douglas. Then you may go to your quarters and get 
 breakfast. 
 
 (Johnson salutes and exit , l. Enter Merrill, r., hastily .) 
 
 Merrill (saluting). General. 
 
 Douglas (eagerly). Captain Merrill ! What is it ? 
 
 Merrill. I have the honor to report, sir, that I encoun- 
 tered the enemy in force on the Lanesville road, about three 
 miles from here. 
 
 Douglas (examining map). The scout is right ! They 
 are trying to flank us. How large was the force, Captain ? 
 
 Merrill. Ten or twelve thousand, I estimated, sir. 
 
 Douglas. Which way were they moving ? 
 
 Merrill. They were halted in column of march, headed 
 this way, but standing at ease as if resting. Their advance 
 fired on us and I lost two men. 
 
 Douglas. Very good, Captain. Is that all ? 
 
 MERRILL. Yes, General. 
 
 59 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 (. He salutes and retires up to l. 3 e. Enter Whitney, 
 right. Down.) 
 
 Douglas. Hurry forward this execution, Colonel. The 
 enemy are already advancing. 
 
 Merrill. Hark ! here comes the guard now, sir. 
 
 ( Music of “ Dead March in Saul" off R. Douglas up 
 near tent , is joined there by his staff \ including Whitney 
 and Merrill. Enter a detachment of troops , arms re- 
 versed. They range themselves along upper and right 
 sides of stage , formmg two sides of a hollow square. 
 Then enter: First , the Provost Marshal/ second , a 
 military band, playing the Dead March. {Or fifes and 
 drums , with drums muffled.) Third , the firing party of 
 eight , arms at a carry. Fourth, four soldiers without 
 arms, carrying a rough pine coffin* Fifth, the prisoner, 
 Curtis, without coat or waistcoat, a white bandage over 
 his forehead , ready to be slipped down over his eyes. 
 Sixth, an escort of eight men. As Curtis passes the 
 General and staff he salutes them with dignity ; General 
 returns the salute. Then he goes to L. F. and stands by 
 the side of his coffin. The music ceases , and all the troops 
 come to a carry arms . The bearers of the coffin fall back 
 in the line at right, and the firing squad go to R. F. of 
 stage, and are drawn up in line opposite Curtis, who 
 appears perfectly unconcerned. The escort range across 
 upper end of stage , facing front. Then the Provost 
 Marshal advances to Curtis.) 
 
 Curtis ( indicating the coffin). Is this for me, Captain ? 
 Provost Marshal. Yes, Colonel. 
 
 Curtis ( thoughtfully ). It seems a trifle short. Still, it 
 may answer. 
 
 Provost Marshal ( with emotion). Is there anything 
 more you wish to say to me, sir, before — ? 
 
 Curtis. Before I am shot ? I thank you, nothing, except 
 to remind you to care for my papers and personal effects. 
 
 Provost Marshal. That shall be done, I pledge my 
 honor. But is there nothing more, Colonel ? 
 
 Curtis. Yes, one thing — I beseech you, make haste, make 
 haste. Suspense is worse than a thousand deaths. 
 
 Provost Marshal. I will, Colonel. 
 
 Douglas (to Operator). Is the line working yet, Oper- 
 ator ? 
 
 Operator. Not yet, General. 
 
 * Amateurs objecting to the introduction of tlie coffin may readily ojnjt jt by mak> 
 ing slight change in the text. 
 
 60 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 (Provost Marshal starts to blindfold Curtis.) 
 
 Curtis ( i protesting ). No, Captain. I’m not afraid to look 
 death in the face. 
 
 Provost Marshal. I’m sorry, sir, but your eyes must 
 be bandaged. 
 
 ( Enter Arnold, l. 2 e. His dress is muddy , and he is 
 greatly excited .) 
 
 Arnold. Where is he ? Where’s my boy, Dick ? (Sees 
 Curtis.) Merciful God ! (Embraces him.) Oh, Dick, Dick ! 
 My poor boy ! Has it come to this at last ? 
 
 Curtis. Hush ! Hush, uncle ! 
 
 Provost Marshal (to Arnold sternly). You have no 
 business here, sir. Step back ! (Takes his arm.) 
 
 Arnold (resisting), I will not go. 
 
 Curtis. Hush ! One moment, Captain. Allow us a last 
 word together ? He is a clergyman, and — an — old — friend. 
 
 Provost Marshal. Yes, Colonel, but the time is very 
 short. 
 
 (He retires a little up.) 
 
 Arnold. Ah, why will they not take me ? It is murder 
 to slay you thus, my poor boy ! 
 
 Curtis. Be calm, uncle. They will not harm me. 
 
 Arnold. Not harm you, Dick ! What do you mean ? 
 
 Curtis. They dare not. 
 
 Arnold. Then why are you here ? What mean these 
 solemn ceremonies ? Why are those men drawn up as if to 
 shoot you ? Don’t deceive me, Dick, in God’s name, don’t 
 deceive me. 
 
 (Arnold affected.) 
 
 Curtis (aside). I cannot tell him the truth, I shall break 
 down. (Aloud.) No, they’re only trying to frighten me into 
 giving information about General Lee’s army. Its a silly 
 trick, but I’ve found them out, you see. (Aside.) Heaven 
 forgive the lie ! Only my poor old uncle would believe such 
 a story. 
 
 Arnold. Then you’re not a hostage for Allan Hastings ? 
 
 Curtis. Not now. They tell me that he no longer needs 
 a hostage. (Aside.) Dead, God keep his soul — and mine. 
 
 Arnold (aside). I’m thankful to hear he is safe. I could 
 not find him in the dark last night. 
 
 Whitney (down, to Provost Marshal). Captain, Gen- 
 eral Douglas directs you to proceed with this execution at 
 once. 
 
 61 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Provost Marshal. Very well, sir. {To Curtis.) The 
 time is up, Colonel. 
 
 Curtis. One little minute more. {To Arnold.) Say 
 good-bye to Agnes and Kitty for me. 
 
 Arnold {alarmed). Good-bye ! what do you mean ? 
 Curtis {quickly). I mean, till we meet again — till we 
 meet again. 
 
 Arnold. Yes, yes, of course. I understand. But you’re 
 sure they will not harm you now, my boy ? 
 
 Curtis. I’m not the man to be frightened, am I ? 
 Arnold {laughing softly). No, no, no, you’re not the 
 man for that, Dick. You were never afraid of anything, 
 were you ? Not even of me, eh ? Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Curtis {aside). I can stand this suspense no longer. {To 
 Arnold.) Stand back now, uncle. It will soon be over. A 
 kiss for Agnes and Kitty, and good-bye — I mean au revoir, 
 au revoir. 
 
 Arnold. Au revoir, my boy. Don’t flinch now, and show 
 them the true spirit of Old Virginia. Ha, ha, ha ! Au re- 
 voir ! They can’t frighten you, can they ? Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 (Arnold retires up and L., about L. 2 E., and watches what 
 follows with very evident amusement , even laughing out- 
 right at times , though quietly. Every one else on stage is 
 deeply affected. Make this contrast very apparent and 
 strong to the front.) 
 
 Curtis {to Provost Marshal). Now I am ready, Cap- 
 tain. 
 
 (Provost Marshal endeavors to blindfold Curtis, but he 
 is so agitated that he drops the bandage twice.) 
 
 Curtis. Your hand trembles. Let me do it. 
 
 (Curtis fastens bandage over his own eyes.) 
 
 Curtis. Now may I trouble you to lead me to my place ? 
 I cannot see. (Provost Marshal seats him on the coffin.) 
 Thank you. 
 
 Provost Marshal. Are you ready, Colonel ? 
 
 Curtis. Quite ready. 
 
 Provost Marshal {to firing squad). Men, you will each 
 aim at the prisoner’s heart, and fire at the word. 
 
 Curtis {aside). Ah ! why don’t they hurry ? 
 
 {An instant of perfect silence now. Then the telegraph in - 
 trument is heard ticking loudly. At this instant HAST- 
 INGS forces his way upon the stage , at L. 3 E., and stands 
 in plain sight of audience , half dazed . 
 
 62 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 Provost Marshal (looking away from Curtis). Ready ? 
 Hastings (aside, hoarsely). Who is this — Curtis ! 
 Provost Marshal. Aim ! — 
 
 Hastings. Hold, I say ! 
 
 (Hastings rushes in front of Curtis. All this ti7ne the 
 telegraph instrument is ticking very loudly .) 
 
 Provost Marshal. Fire ! 
 
 (At this command two rifles , and only two , are discharged , 
 exactly as Hastings reaches a position in front of Cup- 
 TIS, so that he himself receives the shots. He reels and 
 falls heavily at the feet of CURTIS, and instantly the 
 Operator rushes down to c. F., waving a paper and 
 shouting.) 
 
 Operator. Stop ! stop ! The white flag is up ! Lee 
 has surrendered. 
 
 (Curtis tears off the bandage a7id raises Hastings in his 
 arms. Arnold kneels at his side.) 
 
 Arnold (reverently). Too late ! O God, too late ! Thy 
 will be done. (Tableau.) 
 
 SLOW ACT DROP 
 
 ^3 
 
ACT IV 
 
 SCENE. — The great hall of the Curtis mansion , situated a 
 few miles from Appomattox Court House. The house is 
 being used as the headquarters of General Douglas. 
 The stage shows a deep room , with a wide door at centre 
 in flat , through which can be seen a lawn , thickly 
 planted with trees and flowers ; and beyond this , a 
 glimpse of the turnpike. Starting between L. i E. and 
 L. 2 E. is an old style practicable staircase , with a land- 
 ing up about five steps and a door at top. Opening into 
 the hall are doors at R. 2 E., L. 3 E. and L. 1 E. An old- 
 fashioned fireplace at R. 1 E. The woodwork and furni- 
 ture are all in the early colo7iial style. Date of act , 
 April \oth } 1865, one day later tha7i Act III. Hoitr, just 
 before su7iset. As the act progresses a brillia7it S7i7iset 
 becomes visible through C. D., followed by a soft gray 
 twilight to curtain. 
 
 ( Cur tarn discovers General Douglas seated at a table 
 7iear R. F., writing. The table is littered with books , 
 papers , surgical instrument case , sword a7id belt , etc. 
 A 71 Orderly stands near c. d., and just outside the door 
 is see)i an ar7ned Sentry pactiig back a7id forth . As 
 curtam rises a bugle is heard without , sounding the 
 Assembly.) 
 
 Douglas. Orderly, take this paper to Colonel Whitney, 
 with my compliments. 
 
 Orderly [taking paper ; saluting). Yes, sir. 
 
 ( Exit Orderly, c. d. Enter Fleming by the staircase. 
 He goes to Douglas.) 
 
 Douglas. Ah, Doctor. How is Colonel Hastings this 
 evening ? 
 
 Fleming. No better, General. 
 
 Douglas. Do you consider his condition serious ? 
 Fleming. Yes, almost critical. How he escaped instant 
 death yesterday I cannot see. 
 
 Douglas. Yet the explanation is really very simple. 
 The men in the firing squad were so disconcerted by the 
 
 64 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 sudden appearance of Colonel Hastings that only two obeyed 
 the order to fire ; and by a strange and most fortunate 
 chance, only one of those muskets was loaded with ball 
 cartridge. 
 
 Fleming. And it was that bullet which wounded him in 
 the shoulder. 
 
 Douglas. Yes ; but that cannot be a dangerous injury ? 
 
 Fleming. No ; of itself it is not. But I have just noticed 
 some new symptoms which cause me grave anxiety. 
 
 Douglas. You alarm me, Doctor. What are they ? 
 
 ( Enter Orderly, c. d.) 
 
 Fleming. He is delirious at intervals, with a high 
 fever, and then he seems to be haunted by an overwhelming 
 dread of some terrible disaster. He has many of the pre- 
 liminary symptoms of brain fever, yet in some respects I am 
 much puzzled about him. Will you allow your Orderly to 
 carry a message for me ? 
 
 Douglas. Most assuredly. Orderly ! (Orderly ad- 
 vances .) 
 
 Fleming (to Orderly). My compliments to Brigade 
 Surgeon Morris, and ask him to meet me here in an hour. 
 I wish to consult with him in the case of Colonel Hastings. 
 
 Orderly. Very good, sir. (Salutes; exit l.) 
 
 Douglas. Will you keep me informed of any changes in 
 Colonel Hastings’s condition, Doctor ? 
 
 Fleming. I will. General — constantly. 
 
 Douglas. Thank you. Good-evening, Doctor. 
 
 Fleming. Good-evening, General. 
 
 (Exit Fleming, r.) 
 
 Douglas (solus; tenderly ). Poor boy! If there was 
 only something I could do to help him ! (Wipes his eyes. 
 Then impatiently .) Well, well, what a fool I am again ! 
 Worrying over matters that don’t concern me in the least ! 
 Anyone would think I cared about the lad, and all the time 
 it’s not of the — slightest importance — whether — my old heart 
 - — breaks — or not. There, there, I won’t allow such trifles 
 to annoy me. (Sits and writes . Enter Orderly, l. d.) 
 Well ? ' 
 
 Orderly. Dr. Morris’s compliments, sir, and he’ll do 
 himself the honor to meet Dr. Fleming here in an hour. 
 
 Douglas (impatiently). Humph ! Go back and tell him 
 he needn’t come. I’ve changed my mind. 
 
 Orderly. Very good, sir. 
 
 5 65 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 (Orderly goes to l. d. Douglas calls him.) 
 
 Douglas. 
 
 Orderly. 
 
 Douglas. 
 
 Orderly. 
 
 Douglas. 
 
 are. 
 
 Orderly. 
 
 Orderly ! 
 
 Sir ! 
 
 Where are you going ? 
 
 To Dr. Morris, sir. 
 
 Well, don’t ! D’ye hear ? 
 
 Very good, sir. 
 
 Stay where you 
 
 (Orderly resumes his place near C. D. Douglas writes . 
 
 The sound of talking just outside C. D. Sentry is seen 
 
 to stop three people. DOUGLAS is visibly irritated by the 
 
 noise.) 
 
 Douglas ( testily , throwing down pen). Confound that 
 noise ! My compliments out there, Orderly, and say that 
 row must be stopped. ( Exit Orderly, c. d.) Can’t I have 
 one moment’s peace ! ( Enter Orderly.) Well, what is it ? 
 
 Orderly. Three civilians outside, sir, wish permission — 
 
 Douglas. No use, no use. Can’t permit any one. 
 [Brief pause; he writes.) What do they want ? 
 
 Orderly. They asked to see the general commanding, 
 sir, or the medical director, sir. 
 
 Douglas. Humph ! Did they ? Well, I can’t see them. 
 [Aside.) Such cases are coming to me all the time, and 
 they’re generally such sad ones, that — that I always make a 
 — a fool of myself. [Aloud.) Send them to the — the hos- 
 pital steward. 
 
 Orderly. Very good, sir. [Goes slowly , c. d.) 
 
 Douglas [aside, thoughtfully ). They want some assist- 
 ance ! Perhaps they are starving. [Aloud, impatiently to 
 Orderly.) Here, here, here, what do you mean by running 
 off like that, before I’ve half finished ? Who are these 
 people ? Where do they come from ? Why don’t you speak 
 up ? 
 
 Orderly. There is an old man, sir, and two women and 
 a sick baby, sir. They say they live near here, sir. 
 
 Douglas. Humph! Frauds, of course! [A pause; 
 then impatiently .) Well, what are you waiting for ? 
 
 Orderly. Nothing, sir. 
 
 [Exit c. d.) 
 
 Douglas [speaking and writing alternately). A sick 
 baby, he said ! I haven’t seen a baby since I held on my 
 knees my own little grandson, whose — father — died at 
 Gettysburg. [Wipes his eyes.) Ah, well ! That’s over 
 now, yet if the fortunes of war had been changed, it might 
 
 66 
 
BETWEEN TWO TOES 
 
 be my own flesh and blood, who, in his mother’s arms, comes 
 begging for — a crust. (Sniff's.) There, there ! What an old 
 fool I am ! (Sniffs.) Humph ! I’m blessed if that isn’t a 
 tear ! ( Writes.) 
 
 (Enter Orderly, c. d. Douglas starts several times to 
 speak to him , then at last.) 
 
 Douglas. Orderly ! 
 
 Orderly. Sir ? 
 
 Douglas. Did you- 
 Orderly. Yes, sir. 
 
 Douglas. Then why don’t you bring them in here ? Well, 
 well, what are you staring at ? Bring them in here, I say ! 
 Orderly. Very good, sir. 
 
 -tell those people to — go to blazes ? 
 
 (Exit Orderly, c. d.) 
 
 (Douglas writes at table. Enter Orderly, c. d. followed 
 by Agnes, Kitty and Arnold, who carries child.) 
 
 Arnold (to Agnes). Courage, my child, courage. Sit 
 here and rest a moment. 
 
 (Agnes sits , taking child on her knee. The other two near 
 her ; Orderly at c. d.) 
 
 Douglas (not looking up , gruffly). Well, what do you 
 want ? 
 
 Arnold (with dignity). Sir, we ask nothing for our- 
 selves, but for this helpless babe, whose tiny life is swiftly 
 fading away — 
 
 Douglas (writing). There ! That will do ! I haven’t 
 time to hear your story. (Aside.) Know I should make a 
 fool of myself if I did. (Aloud.) You must apply to the 
 Commissary of Subsistence. I have nothing to do with 
 these cases. (Aside.) I will be firm. 
 
 (He turns . Simultaneous recognition between Douglas, 
 Agnes and Kitty.) 
 
 Agnes. You, General ! 
 
 Douglas. Agnes Hastings ! (Aside.) With a child in 
 her arms ! (He beckons to Orderly.) My compliments to 
 Dr. Fleming, and will he be good enough to step here at 
 once ? Quick ! 
 
 (Orderly salutes and exit , R.) 
 
 Agnes (with emotion). General — Allan — my husband — 
 tell me, is he — he is not dead ? 
 
 Douglas. No, not dead, but gravely ill. 
 
 67 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 Agnes. Then I must go to him. Where is he ? Tell 
 me where he is ? 
 
 Douglas. He is here — in this house. 
 
 Agnes. Here ! at home ! Oh, Kitty ! Come with me 
 to see Allan. 
 
 Douglas. You cannot go. The surgeon forbids it. 
 (Aside.) I’d rather bring these two together than win a 
 battle — and I’ll do it too. {Aloud, coldly.) If this is all you 
 have to say to me I’ll bid you good-evening, as I’m very 
 busy. (Turns away.) 
 
 Agnes. Ah, General, may I not see my husband ? 
 
 Douglas. Certainly not. Good-evening. (Aside.) 
 Why doesn’t Fleming hurry ? 
 
 Arnold. Come, my child. The baby shall not die. We 
 will beg at another door. Come. (He takes child.) 
 
 (They turn slowly towards c. D. Business of DOUGLAS 
 starting several times to check them.) 
 
 Douglas. Stop! (He goes to them.) Is the baby very 
 ill ? 
 
 Arnold. We fear he may be — dying. 
 
 Douglas. Good God ! give him to me. (Takes child 
 very tenderly. Aside.) Hush, hush ! Oh, yes, here I am, 
 going it again ! 
 
 (Enter Fleming and Orderly, r.) 
 
 Fleming. You sent for me, General ? 
 
 Douglas (to Fleming). Yes. Cure this child instantly. 
 
 Fleming (inspecting child in Douglas’s arms). Poor 
 little chap ! He seems very weak. 
 
 Douglas. Well, Doctor? 
 
 Fleming (to Douglas). The child appears to be simply 
 suffering from lack of nourishment — starving. (Shakes his 
 head.) 
 
 Agnes. Doctor, don’t tell me he will die. 
 
 Douglas (gruffly). Why should he ? Do you want him 
 to tell a lie ? (To Fleming.) Will he live ? 
 
 (Fleming nods.) 
 
 Agnes (eagerly). Then you can save his life. 
 
 Douglas. Not unless you keep still ! Look at me ! (He 
 observes her intently ; then the others .) That will do. 
 (Aside.) They’re all suffering from the same disease — 
 hunger. Thank Heaven I know how to cure that. 
 
 Fleming. (addressiiig Agnes) The condition of your 
 
 68 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 child is not serious, madam, and will yield readily to sim- 
 ple treatment. 
 
 Douglas (aside). A square meal. 
 
 Fleming. Give him plenty of nourishing food— 
 
 Arnold. Ah, Doctor, that is the very thing we have not 
 got. 
 
 Douglas. Will you be quiet, sir ? Go on, Doctor. 
 
 Fleming (writing). This prescription will be sufficient. 
 ( As if to hand paper to Arnold.) 
 
 Douglas. Let me see it. (Takes it and reads aside.) 
 
 Recipe. 
 
 Chicken Broth . . 4 oz. 
 
 Beef tea . . . . 6 oz. 
 
 Pure milk q. s. — (quantum suf.) 
 
 Sig. — This to be taken by each patient in one dose, and 
 repeated as often as possible. 
 
 [Signed.] George Fleming, 
 
 Medical Director, 2d Div. 
 
 Douglas ( aside to Fleming). Add to that, Doctor : “ If 
 they want anything else to eat let ’em have it.” (Fleming 
 writes . Douglas hands child to Agnes.) Here’s your 
 child, madam. Doctor, will you do me the favor to see this 
 — prescription administered yourself ? 
 
 Fleming. With pleasure, General. But who are they? 
 
 Douglas. The wife and child of Colonel Hastings. He 
 has never seen the baby. 
 
 Fleming (aside). Indeed ! I think I can make a new 
 diagnosis in his case now. (To Agnes.) This way, 
 madam. 
 
 Agnes. Ah, General, how can I ever thank you — ? 
 
 Douglas (gruffly)- You can’t ! Don’t try ! Good- 
 evening ! (Aside.) In another minute I shall be making a 
 fool of myself. 
 
 Agnes. But may I — not see — Allan — before I — 
 
 Douglas. Certainly not ! Good-evening ! The door 
 there, Orderly. 
 
 Fleming (at r. d.). Will you come with me, madam ? 
 
 (Exeunt Kitty, Agnes with child , and Fleming, r., slowly . 
 
 As Arnold starts to follow them , Douglas stops him.) 
 
 Douglas. Stop ! Where are you going ? 
 
 Arnold (surprised). Dear me ! I was simply going 
 to — 
 
 Douglas. Well, I forbid you. What do you mean by 
 this conduct, sir ? What do you mean ? 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Arnold. Why — why — really I — I — don’t — understand. 
 
 Douglas. Stuff, sir ! And nonsense ! Nonsense, I 
 say ! Stop ! Not another word. Why don’t you answer 
 my question ? 
 
 Arnold. But really, I must beg that you will — 
 
 Douglas. Tell you I don’t believe a word of it ! Con- 
 found you, Harry, do you mean to say you don’t remember 
 me ? 
 
 Arnold ( almost speechless ). Dear — me ! 
 
 Douglas. Come, come, Harry, this won’t do ! I’m up 
 to your little game. ( Nudges him.) Eh, eh ! 
 
 Arnold (aside). Bless my soul ! Is the man crazy ? 
 (Aloud.) Really, sir, you have the — the advantage of me, I 
 think. 
 
 Douglas. I know it. First time in my life, though. 
 Harry, my boy, don’t you remember that tremendous thrash- 
 ing you gave me, once, eh ? 
 
 Arnold (beginning to recognize ; eagerly). Yes, yes ! I 
 al-most do. 
 
 Douglas (drily). I thought you would. Ido — quite. And 
 the times when we used to run away from school and go 
 swimming together ? 
 
 Arnold (eagerly). Yes, yes, it al-most seems to me 
 that — 
 
 Douglas. And the day you pulled me out of the water 
 and saved my life ? Don’t you remember that, Harry, don’t 
 you remember that ? 
 
 Arnold. Bless my soul ! Why, it’s little Jack Douglas ! 
 
 (They embrace and laugh till their voices break with emo- 
 tion, when they turn away and 7vipe their eyes fur- 
 tively.) 
 
 Douglas. Yes, I’m little Jack Douglas, and you’re gay 
 young Harry Arnold. (Both show emotio)i again.) 
 
 Arnold. But bless me, Jack, how you have grown in the 
 last forty years. 
 
 Douglas. Fifty years, Harry, fifty. 
 
 Arnold. So it is! so it is! Fifty years ago. (Wipes 
 his eyes.) There, there, how silly I’m becoming in my old 
 age. 
 
 Douglas. What of it ? Nothing does a man more 
 good than to make a downright fool of himself now and 
 then. I’m always doing it. Doing it now, by Jove ! (Emo- 
 tion.) 
 
 (They sit close together at front.) 
 
 70 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 ARNOLD. Now, to see us two old fogies together at this 
 moment, Jack, no one would ever think there had been a 
 cruel war — 
 
 Douglas. Stop, Harry ! The war is over now, and we 
 must forget it. Come with me, my boy, and we’ll see how 
 that blessed baby of ours is getting on, eh ? 
 
 Arnold. Aye, so we will ! But — er — Jack ! {Faintly.) 
 
 Douglas. Eh ? 
 
 Arnold. Do you think you could — spare me — a — cracker 
 — and a glass of water ? 
 
 Douglas ( astonished ). A — what ? 
 
 Arnold. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, and 
 I’m beginning to feel a little — faint. 
 
 Douglas. Not a cracker, sir ! 
 
 Arnold. But Jack — ! 
 
 Douglas. No, sir. You’re going to have roast beef, ter- 
 rapin, plum pudding and port wine. Come with me ! (. Drag- 
 ging him R.) How dare you be hungry in my presence, sir ? 
 How dare you be — 
 
 ( Exeunt both , l. Enter Kitty, r.) 
 
 Kitty. Uncle Henry not here ! {Sits, R. F.) Oh, I 
 wonder what has become of poor Bob. I haven’t dared to 
 ask for fear they should tell me he was dead. {Emotion.) 
 Bob ! Bob ! My heart is breaking ! 
 
 {Enter Stanley, c. d., in a very dilapidated condition .) 
 
 Stanley (quietly). D-did any one c-call me just now ? 
 
 Kitty. Bob ! ( Joyfully. ) Bob Stanley ! 
 
 Stanley {down). How-de-do, Miss Kitty ? 
 
 Kitty {to him ; affectionately ). Oh, Bob, I'm so glad to 
 see you ! 
 
 Stanley {calmly). Tha-anks. Awf’ly kind of you, 
 weally, yes. 
 
 Kitty {more distantly). And I hope you’re quite well ? 
 
 Stanley. Oh, awf’ly well, tha-anks. My clothes are a 
 little dusty, my shoes are not twins — I mean one of them 
 isn’t — but the other is — I haven’t eaten anything for three or 
 four — weeks ; and I’ve got a bullet in my arm ; but other- 
 wise I’m feeling awfly jolly. 
 
 Kitty (. sympathetically ). Oh, are you wounded, Bob ? 
 
 Stanley. Why, yes, sometimes I think I am. {Winces 
 with pain.) 
 
 Kitty. I’m so sorry. Let me call the surgeon. 
 
 Stanley {quickly). No, thank you. 
 
 Kitty. But he’s such a very nice old gentleman. 
 
 7i 
 
J 
 
 BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Stanley. I can’t imagine any surgeon being a nice old 
 gentleman. B-r-r-r ! {Shudders.) 
 
 Kitty. Well, then, let me see your arm. {She touches 
 it ; he winces with pain.) Oh ! Did I hurt you ? 
 
 Stanley {almost breathless with pain). Oh — h, no, 
 you — you didn’t — hurt me — at all. I — I rather like it — now 
 and then. Yes. 
 
 {Enter Fleming, r.) 
 
 Fleming. Major Stanley ! Alive ! 
 
 Stanley. Er — partly. 
 
 {He groans as Fleming shakes his hand.) 
 
 Kitty. Doctor, Major Stanley is terribly wounded, and 
 you must examine his arm at once. 
 
 Fleming. With great pleasure. {Opens case of instru- 
 ments on table.) 
 
 Stanley. I say, look here, Doctor, are all those weapons 
 going to be necessary ? 
 
 Fleming. Certainly. Come, let me see your arm. {Rolls 
 up sleeves and selects an instrument.) Aha, my boy, we’ll 
 soon fix you up. 
 
 Stanley {to Kitty). I say, Kitty, I wish he wasn’t so 
 deuced jolly over this. I don’t see anything funny about it. 
 
 Fleming. Come, come, which arm is it ? 
 
 Stanley. I’m trying to think. It’s either my wight or 
 — or my — er — the other one. Try this. {He extends right 
 arml) 
 
 Fleming {hurriedly examining arm). Why, there’s noth- 
 ing the matter with this arm. What do you mean, sir ? 
 
 Stanley. Thousand pardons ! Must be the other. Try 
 this. 
 
 (Stanley extends left arm on table. Kitty close to him at 
 
 his right. During this scene Fleming is dressing the 
 
 wouiid while Stanley is trying to 7nake love to Kitty. 
 
 Make the surgery very realistic .) 
 
 Fleming {uncovering arm). Hm! hm — ! {Shakes his 
 head.) Tut, tut ! Phew! {Whistles softly.) 
 
 Stanley. What’s the matter, Doctor ? Did I hurt you ? 
 
 Fleming. No. 
 
 Stanley. Pleased to hear it. Miss Kitty, when a fellah 
 — when a fellah wants to tell a — {Groans.) 
 
 Fleming. How long ago were you wounded, Major ? 
 
 Stanley. About a year — I mean yest.er.day. (Fleming 
 shakes his head.) Why, did you think it ought to be longer ? 
 Yes ? 
 
 73 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Fleming. No. And has your arm had no attention 
 meantime ? 
 
 Stanley. Well, rather. It’s had all my attention, every 
 living minute of the time. (Groans.) 
 
 Kitty ( sympathetically ). Oh, what is the matter ? 
 
 Stanley. N-nothing. I hope I’m not hurting you any 
 more than I can help, Doctor. 
 
 Fleming. This operation may be a trifle painful, Major. 
 
 Stanley (half aside). A twifle painful ! Whew ! 
 
 Fleming. Perhaps I’d better give you chloroform ? 
 
 Stanley. No, talk to me. It’ll come to the same thing. 
 Yes. 
 
 Fleming. All right. I can stand it if you can. 
 
 (He proceeds with the dressing.) 
 
 Stanley (groaning). Ah-h, Doctor, every now and 
 then I — I know you’re — there. 
 
 Fleming (gruffly). Will you be quiet ? (Aside.) Poor 
 boy ! 
 
 Stanley. Wouldn’t it save trouble if you were to cut it 
 off, you know ? 
 
 Kitty (firmly). No, he shall not ! Tell me how you 
 escaped, Bob. 
 
 Stanley. Oh, that was awf ’ly easy. Those fellahs over 
 there they told me they were goin’ to shoot me, you know, 
 because — because — wait ! — oh, yes, I remember — because I 
 was another fellah altogether — Colonel Hastings, don’t you 
 know — and so I just wan away. I consider it a perfectly 
 pwoper thing, don’t you know, to — to wun away when you 
 don’t want to be shot, don’t you ? (Groans.) 
 
 Fleming. Do I hurt, Major? 
 
 Stanley. No-o, you t-tickle. B-r-r-r ! (Shivers.) 
 
 Kitty. Well, and then what ? 
 
 Stanley. Let’s see. Oh, that’s all ; only while I was wun- 
 ning away some — some fellahs fired off their guns at me, and 
 hit me in the arm. (Groans!) Won’t you twy the other one 
 a little while now, Doctor, and give this a west ? 
 
 Fleming. This does very well. I’m not particular. 
 
 Stanley. Ye-es, that’s just what I think. (Very tender- 
 ly.) Er — I say, Miss Kitty, do you wemember that time when 
 I couldn’t wemember the name of the fellah in our wegiment 
 who was such a particularly big ass because he fell in love 
 with you. eh ? 
 
 Kitty. Yes, I do. (Aside.) He's going to propose at last. 
 
 Stanley. I thought you would. Well, it’s awf ’ly funny, 
 don’t you know, but I can’t wemember it even yet, He, he J 
 
 73 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Kitty {aside). Oh, dear, he’s so provoking. 
 
 Fleming {finishing operation). There you are, Major. 
 Now for a sling. 
 
 Kitty. Take this. {She hands Fleming either her hat 
 or apron ; he tears off strings , etc., and makes sling. 
 Fleming {finishing sling). Can you feel that now ? 
 Stanley. Why, it’s all feel, from here to here. Am I 
 going to lose it ? 
 
 Fleming. Oh, no, the wound isn’t very serious. 
 
 Stanley {bitterly). Oh, isn’t it ! Well, it has hurt enough 
 to be fatal. 
 
 {Enter Orderly, c. d.) 
 
 Orderly. General Douglas’s compliments, sir, and can 
 he see you at Commissary headquarters ? 
 
 Fleming. Yes — my compliments — at once. (ZltzV Or- 
 derly, c. d. Aside to Stanley.) There’s the bullet, Major. 
 Keep it for your children to cut their teeth on. And if you 
 haven’t proposed to her by the time I return, I’ll operate on 
 your other arm. 
 
 Stanley {to Fleming). Faith, I don’t know which is the 
 worst. 
 
 {Exit Fleming, c. d. A short pause, embarrassed, follows.) 
 Kitty {sighing). Oh — dear ! 
 
 Stanley. I — I beg pardon, but were you speaking to me ? 
 Kitty {mimicking). I — I beg pardon, but I was not. 
 
 {Aside). If he would only jump right up and kiss me, and get 
 it over quick, it would be a heap sight nicer. For it’s got to 
 come. 
 
 {She rises and walks about the stage, assuming an air of 
 great indifference and even scorn towards Stanley, who 
 follows her meekly, a7id shows that he is very much de - 
 pressed.) 
 
 Stanley {nervously). Er — Kitty — Kitty. 
 
 Kitty {coldly). If you were addressing me, sir, my name 
 is Miss Kate Curtis. {Aside.) I allow that ought to fetch 
 him, straight. 
 
 Stanley {aside). Oh, it’s no use ! She doesn’t care for 
 me ! {Aloud.) Miss Curtis — I was just going to — to — say — 
 Kitty {quickly). What ? 
 
 Stanley. G — good-bye ! 
 
 Kitty. Oh, is that all ? Well, g — good-bye ! 
 
 (Stanley takes a few steps towards c. d., then staggers.) 
 74 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 STANLEY. Ah ! My — my head ! I’m — I’m growing — 
 faint ! I’m — falling ! Kitty ! I — love — you ! 
 
 ( He falls with a groan , near c.) 
 
 Kitty ( springing to him). Oh, Bob ! What is it ? Are 
 you hurt ? He’s fainted ! Quick, some water ! 
 
 ( She hurriedly gets a pail of water and a tin dipper , then 
 sits on stage , and y taking Stanley’s head on her lap, pours 
 water over him , rocking to and fro in agitation .) 
 
 Kitty. Wake up, Bob dear, wake up ! Oh, there isn’t 
 half enough water here ! ( Kisses him.) Poor boy ! How 
 
 I love him ! 
 
 Stanley ( suddenly sitting up and kissing her). Then 
 that makes it a stand-off, Kitty, for I love you, don’t you know. 
 
 (Kitty is startled , gives a little scream , and spills water 
 down Stanley’s neck . He shivers and sneezes .) 
 
 Kitty. Oh, Bob dear, are you wet clear through ? 
 Stanley. No, Kitty, only to the skin. It hasn't got in- 
 side of that — yet. ( They rise.) 
 
 Kitty. How funny you are ! Kiss me, a sure-enough one 
 this time. 
 
 Stanley ( kissing her). There,' that’s just right at last, 
 isn’t it ? Yes. ( Puts his well arm about her waist.) 
 
 Kitty {demurely). Well, you seem to think it’s settled, 
 anyhow. But I say, Bob ! 
 
 Stanley. Well ? 
 
 Kitty. It’s right lucky for you that both your arms aren’t 
 hurt, or where’d you be now, eh ? 
 
 Stanley. Well, if you come to that where’d you be your- 
 self? 
 
 Kitty (with sigh of satisfaction). Yes, that’s certainly 
 so. (Sentimentally .) Now, Bob, what do you want more 
 than anything else in this world ? 
 
 Stanley (matter-of-fact tone). Something to eat. 
 
 Kitty. Oh, you poor boy ! Of course you do. Come 
 with me ! 
 
 (She drags him off, L. CURTIS and HASTINGS are seen com- 
 ing slowly down the stairs. Curtis supports Hastings, 
 who appears very weak. They pause a moment on the 
 landing.) 
 
 Curtis. Pray don’t go down, Allan. You’re not strong 
 enough yet. 
 
 Hastings. I must, Dick. (They descend.) I must go to 
 
 75 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 Agnes — to my wife. (He sits.) Did you know I had a son, 
 Dick ? Such a brave little man ! God bless him ! I’m going 
 to find them now. 
 
 (He half rises , with difficulty .) 
 
 Curtis. Let me find them, Allan. 
 
 Hastings. No, no ! It will not be the same. They are 
 mine — not yours. Tell me, Dick, have you seen my boy ? 
 
 Curtis. Yes. 
 
 Hastings. Does he look like his mother ? It was so — so 
 dark — that night I could not tell. I hope he will look like his 
 mother, Dick ? 
 
 Curtis. Yes, but like you too, Allan. 
 
 Hastings. I’d rather he’d look like Agnes. Poor girl ! 
 How she has suffered ! Will she ever forgive me ? Get me 
 a horse, Dick. I’m going to find her. 
 
 Curtis. You must not ! Take my advice — 
 
 Hastings (sternly). I want a horse — not advice. 
 
 Curtis. Very well. (Aside.) It’s the doctor I’ll get for 
 him first. 
 
 (Exit, C. D.) 
 
 Hastings (endeavoring vainly to stand). How weak I 
 am this evening ! If I could only see Agnes and our boy once 
 more ! (Enter Agnes, r. d. He sees her .) Agnes ! Have 
 you come back to me at last, my darling ? Come back to me 
 at last ? 
 
 (Rises and sinks back.) 
 
 Agnes ( impulsively ). Allan! (With restraint.) They 
 — they told me you were — very ill. 
 
 Hastings. No, it is nothing. See ! I am quite strong, 
 now. ( Vainly attempts to rise.) Ah ! I cannot ! 
 
 (Enter Douglas and Arnold, l. d.) 
 
 Agnes (aside). How worn and haggard he looks ! It is 
 pitiful ! Why cannot I ask him to forgive me ? 
 
 (She weeps silently.) 
 
 Douglas (aside to Arnold). So they’ve not made it up 
 yet ! I must see what a little military strategy will do. 
 Harry, do just as I tell you, now. 
 
 Arnold. All right, Jack. 
 
 Douglas (gruffly). Well, I have done all I can for you 
 now, madam. You must be outside the lines by sunset, We 
 allow no camp followers here. 
 
 7 $ 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 ARNOLD ( bewildered ). Eh ! I don’t understand. 
 
 Douglas. Don’t be a fool, Harry. Abuse me ! Abuse 
 me like thunder ! 
 
 Arnold. Dear me ! I don’t know how ! 
 
 Douglas. You must ! 
 
 Arnold {aside). This is very distressing ! {Aloud.) 
 Sir ! do you — you consider that this is — this is manly or — or 
 — I say, sir, is this manly or generous ? 
 
 Douglas {to Arnold). Ha, ha ! Go on ! Say it’s 
 brutal, Harry ! Ha, ha ! 
 
 Arnold {aside). Oh, dear me ! I can’t ! 
 
 Hastings. Surely, General, you cannot mean to drive 
 these people away from their own home ? 
 
 Douglas. I do. 
 
 Hastings. But see ! This is Agnes — my wife. Can- 
 not she stay here — with me ? 
 
 DOUGLAS. Certainly not ! She is no longer your wife. 
 
 Agnes {aside, startled). What does he mean ? 
 
 Douglas {to Arnold), Aha ! it is working ! call me a 
 scoundrel, Harry ! Call me a damned scoundrel ! 
 
 Arnold {aside). Bless my soul ! I never did such a 
 thing in all my life ! {Aloud.) Sir, you — you are a — a — 
 no, I cannot do it. 
 
 Douglas {to Agnes). And so, madam, as I cannot per- 
 mit anyone to remain here who has no legal right, you must 
 leave the camp at once, and — not return. 
 
 Hastings {angrily). General Douglas, I protest ! 
 
 Douglas {sternly). Colonel Hastings ! I order you back 
 to bed under arrest. 
 
 Hastings. I will not go, sir. What right have you to 
 order my wife to leave her own house ? 
 
 Douglas. Pooh ! pooh ! Don’t believe a word of it. 
 Good-evening, madam ! Orderly, the door. {Aside, chuck - 
 ling.) Aha ! the medicine is beginning to work ! Call me 
 an old villain, Harry, or we’re lost. 
 
 Arnold {hesitatingly). You — you old — villain ! 
 
 Douglas {to Arnold). Ha, ha ! That’s right ! Go 
 on ! 
 
 Arnold. Would you — turn this — this mother — and her 
 innocent child — out of her own house to starve, with only a 
 — a poor old man to care for them — you — you — monster ! 
 
 Agnes. Ah, General, be merciful ! 
 
 Hastings. By Heaven ! You shall stay here ! 
 
 Douglas {aside). Ha, ha ! Capital ! Come with me, 
 Harry. If she hasn’t kissed him in three minutes I’m a real 
 villain. 
 
 77 
 
BETWEEN TWO FOES 
 
 (Douglas and Arnold steal out l. d. Hastings remains 
 silent a ?noment.) 
 
 Hastings ( appealingly ). Agnes, dear Agnes, will you 
 not forgive the past, and once more say you love me ? ( She 
 
 weeps silently .) Have you forgotten that day, dear love, 
 four long, sad years ago, when we stood here in this very 
 room, side by side, as we’re standing now — {he goes to her ) 
 — and spoke together those tender words that made us man 
 and wife ? “For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in 
 sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us 
 part.” You do not answer, dearest. Once more I lay at 
 your feet my life, my love, my soul. Will you not take me 
 back into your heart again, my darling ? 
 
 (. During this speech he has been gradually drawing nearer 
 and 7iearer to her , and as he finishes he stands looking 
 down into her face . She glances up at him , and then 
 throws herself sobbing on his breast .) 
 
 Agnes. Forgive me, Allan. I love you ! I love you ! I 
 love you ! 
 
 Hastings {kissing her). My own precious wife ! At 
 last ! 
 
 {Enter Douglas and Arnold, l. d.) 
 
 Douglas {to Arnold). Look there, Harry ! Didn’t I 
 tell you ? 
 
 Arnold. Yes, the war is over at last. You — you old — 
 hard-hearted — God bless you, dear old friend ! God bless 
 everyone. 
 
 {Enter Orderly, c. d.) 
 
 Douglas. Amen, Harry, amen. {They shake ha7ids 
 with much emotion.) Orderly, my compliments to Dr. 
 Fleming, and say that the consultation in the case of Colonel 
 Hastings is indefinitely postponed. He has disobeyed orders 
 and got well himself. 
 
 (Douglas and Arnold chuckle. Orderly salutes and 
 exit , c. D. Music “ The Blue Bells of Scotland ,” is heard 
 without , played by a military band as a quickstep. At 
 first pp, but gently cresce7ido to curtain. E7iter Curtis, 
 R., carrying child , which looks much brighter.) 
 
 Agnes. Dick ! my brother. 
 
 Hastings. My son ! 
 
 {07ie 071 either side 0/*Curtis.) 
 
 Curtis {amused). Well, which am I — brother or son ? 
 
 78 
 
BETWEEN TWO EOES 
 
 (Hastings takes the child tenderly in his arms. Agnes in 
 c. ; Curtis on her l. ; Hastings on her r. Douglas 
 and Arnold on extreme l. Agnes and Hastings are 
 inspecting the baby.) 
 
 Curtis {to Douglas). Yes, General, the war is over for- 
 ever and forever, and the North and South are united now as 
 they have never been united before — we are all One People. 
 
 {Enter Stanley and Kitty, r.) 
 
 Stanley. Well, how about us ? Yes ? 
 
 Kitty. Yes, that’s the point now. 
 
 Douglas {laughing). Oh, for you there will have to be a 
 little private war, which has only just begun. 
 
 Hastings. And so, dear Agnes, we will begin life anew, 
 forgetting and forgiving the past ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes, Allan, dearest. For now, like Ruth of 
 olden time, I say again : Entreat me not to leave thee, or to 
 return from following after thee ; for whither thou goest I 
 will go ; where thou lodgest I will lodge ; thy people shall be 
 my people, and thy God my God. 
 
 Agnes 
 
 Stanley 
 
 Hastings 
 
 Kitty 
 
 Douglas 
 
 Curtis 
 
 Arnold 
 
 Slow Curtain 
 
 79 
 
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