LADY [breaking down in the childish rage of impotence, and throwing herself in tears on the chair left beside the table by the lieutenant] I brave! How little you know! I have spent the day in an agony of fear. I have a pain here from the tightening of my heart at every suspicious look, every threatening movement. Do you think everyone is as brave as you? Oh, why will not you brave people do the brave things? Why do you leave them to us, who have no courage at all? I’m not brave: I shrink from violence: danger makes me miserable.
NAPOLEON [interested] Then why have you thrust yourself into danger?
LADY. Because there is no other way: I can trust nobody else. And now it is all useless: all because of you, who have no fear because you have no heart, no feeling, no – [She breaks off, and throws herself on her knees]. Ah, General, let me go: let me go without asking any questions. You shall have your despatches and letters: I swear it.
NAPOLEON [holding out his hand] Yes: I am waiting for them.
She gasps, daunted by his ruthless promptitude into despair of moving him by cajolery. She looks up perplexedly at him, racking her brains for some device to outwit him. He meets her regard inflexibly.
LADY [rising at last with a quiet little sigh] I will get them for you. They are in my room. [She turns to the door].
NAPOLEON. I shall accompany you, madam.
LADY [drawing herself up with a noble air of offended delicacy] I cannot permit you, General, to enter my chamber.
NAPOLEON. Then you shall stay here, madam, whilst I have your chamber searched for my papers.
LADY [spitefully, openly giving up her plan] You may save yourself the trouble. They are not there.
NAPOLEON. No: I have already told you where they are [pointing to her breast].
LADY [with pretty piteousness] General: I only want to keep one little private letter. Only one. Let me have it.
NAPOLEON [cold and stern] Is that a reasonable demand, madam?
LADY [encouraged by his not refusing point-blank] No: but that is why you must grant it. Are your own demands reasonable? thousands of lives for the sake of your victories, your ambitions, your destiny! And what I ask is such a little thing. And I am only a weak woman, and you a brave man. [She looks at him with her eyes full of tender pleading, and is about to kneel to him again].
NAPOLEON [brusquely] Get up, get up. [He turns moodily away and takes a turn across the room, pausing for a moment to say, over his shoulder] Youre talking nonsense; and you know it. [She sits down submissively on the couch. When he turns and sees her despair, he feels that his victory is complete, and that he may now indulge in a little play with his victim. He comes back and sits beside her. She looks alarmed and moves a little away from him; but a ray of rallying hope beams from her eye. He begins like a man enjoying some secret joke]. How do you know I am a brave man?
LADY [amazed] You! General Buonaparte [Italian pronunciation].
NAPOLEON. Yes, I, General Bonaparte [emphasizing the French pronunciation].
LADY. Oh, how can you ask such a question? you! who stood only two days ago at the bridge at Lodi, with the air full of death, fighting a duel with cannons across the river! [Shuddering]. Oh, you do brave things.
NAPOLEON. So do you.
LADY. I! [With a sudden odd thought] Oh! Are you a coward?
NAPOLEON [laughing grimly and slapping his knees] That is the one question you must never ask a soldier. The sergeant asks after the recruit’s height, his age, his wind, his limb, but never after his courage.
LADY [as if she had found it no laughing matter] Ah, you can laugh at fear. Then you dont know what fear is.
NAPOLEON. Tell me this. Suppose you could have got that letter by coming to me over the bridge at Lodi the day before yesterday! Suppose there had been no other way, and that this was a sure way – if only you escaped the cannon! [She shudders and covers her eyes for a moment with her hands]. Would you have been afraid?
LADY. Oh, horribly afraid, agonizingly afraid. [She presses her hand on her heart]. It hurts only to imagine it.
NAPOLEON [inflexibly] Would you have come for the despatches?
LADY [overcome by the imagined horror] Dont ask me. I must have come.
NAPOLEON. Why?
LADY. Because I must. Because there would have been no other way.
NAPOLEON [with conviction] Because you would have wanted my letter enough to bear your fear. [He rises suddenly, and deliberately poses for an oration]. There is only one universal passion: fear. Of all the thousand qualities a man may have, the only one you will find as certainly in the youngest drummer boy in my army as in me, is fear. It is fear that makes men fight: it is indifference that makes them run away: fear is the mainspring of war. Fear! I know fear well, better than you, better than any woman. I once saw a regiment of good Swiss soldiers massacred by a mob in Paris because I was afraid to interfere: I felt myself a coward to the tips of my toes as I looked on at it. Seven months ago I revenged my shame by pounding that mob to death with cannon balls. Well, what of that? Has fear ever held a man back from anything he really wanted – or a woman either? Never. Come with me; and I will shew you twenty thousand cowards who will risk death every day for the price of a glass of brandy. And do you think there are no women in the army, braver than the men, though their lives are worth more? Psha! I think nothing of your fear or your bravery. If you had had to come across to me at Lodi, you would not have been afraid: once on the bridge, every other feeling would have gone down before the necessity – the necessity – for making your way to my side and getting what you wanted.
And now, suppose you had done all this! suppose you had come safely out with that letter in your hand, knowing that when the hour came, your fear had tightened, not your heart, but your grip of your own purpose! that it had ceased to be fear, and had become strength, penetration, vigilance, iron resolution! how would you answer then if you were asked whether you were a coward?
LADY [rising] Ah, you are a hero, a real hero.
NAPOLEON. Pooh! theres no such thing as a real hero. [He strolls about the room, making light of her enthusiasm, but by no means displeased with himself for having evoked it].
LADY. Ah yes, there is. There is a difference between what you call my bravery and yours. You wanted to win the battle of Lodi for yourself and not for anyone else, didnt you?
NAPOLEON. Of course. [Suddenly recollecting himself] Stop: no. [He pulls himself piously together, and says, like a man conducting a religious service] I am only the servant of the French republic, following humbly in the footsteps of the heroes of classical antiquity. I win battles for humanity: for my country, not for myself.
LADY [disappointed] Oh, then you are only a womanish hero after all. [She sits down again, all her enthusiasm gone].
NAPOLEON [greatly astonished] Womanish!
LADY [listlessly] Yes, like me. [With deep melancholy] Do you think that if I wanted those despatches only for myself, I dare venture into a battle for them? No: if that were all, I should not have the courage to ask to see you at your hotel, even. My courage is mere slavishness: it is of no use to me for my own purposes. It is only through love, through pity, through the instinct to save and protect someone else, that I can do the things that terrify me.
NAPOLEON [contemptuously] Pshaw [He turns slightingly away from her].
LADY. Aha! now you see that I’m not really brave. [Relapsing into petulant listlessness] But what right have you to despise me if you only win your battles for others? for your country! through patriotism! That is what I call womanish: it is so like a Frenchman!
NAPOLEON [furiously] I am no Frenchman.
LADY [innocently] I thought you said you won the battle of Lodi for your country, General Bu – shall I pronounce it in Italian or French?
NAPOLEON. You are presuming on my patience, madam. I was born a French subject, but not in France.
LADY [affecting a marked access of interest in him] You were not born a subject at all, I think.
NAPOLEON [greatly pl
eased] Eh? Eh? You think not.
LADY. I am sure of it.
NAPOLEON. Well, well, perhaps not. [The self-complacency of his assent catches his own ear. He stops short, reddening. Then, composing himself into a solemn attitude, modelled on the heroes of classical antiquity, he takes a high moral tone]. But we must not live for ourselves alone, little one. Never forget that we should always think of others, and work for others, and lead and govern them for their own good. Self-sacrifice is the foundation of all true nobility of character.
LADY [again relaxing her attitude with a sigh] Ah, it is easy to see that you have never tried it, General.
NAPOLEON [indignantly, forgetting all about Brutus and Scipio] What do you mean by that speech, madam?
LADY. Havnt you noticed that people always exaggerate the value of the things they havnt got? The poor think they need nothing but riches to be quite happy and good. Everybody worships truth, purity, unselfishness, for the same reason: because they have no experience of them. Oh, if they only knew!
NAPOLEON [with angry derision] If they only knew! Pray do you know?
LADY. Yes. I had the misfortune to be born good. [Glancing up at him for a moment] And it is a misfortune, I can tell you, General. I really am truthful and unselfish and all the rest of it; and it’s nothing but cowardice; want of character; want of being really, strongly, positively oneself.
NAPOLEON. Ha? [turning to her quickly with a flash of strong interest].
LADY [earnestly, with rising enthusiasm] What is the secret of your power? Only that you believe in yourself. You can fight and conquer for yourself and for nobody else. You are not afraid of your own destiny. You teach us what we all might be if we had the will and courage; and that [suddenly sinking on her knees before him] is why we all begin to worship you. [She kisses his hands].
NAPOLEON [embarrassed] Tut! tut! Pray rise, madam.
LADY. Do not refuse my homage: it is your right. You will be Emperor of France –
NAPOLEON [hurriedly] Take care. Treason!
LADY [insisting] Yes, Emperor of France; then of Europe; perhaps of the world. I am only the first subject to swear allegiance. [Again kissing his hand] My Emperor!
NAPOLEON [overcome, raising her] Pray! pray! No, no: this is folly. Come: be calm, be calm. [Petting her] There! there! my girl.
LADY [struggling with happy tears] Yes, I know it is an impertinence in me to tell you what you must know far better than I do. But you are not angry with me, are you?
NAPOLEON. Angry! No, no: not a bit, not a bit. Come: you are a very clever and sensible and interesting woman. [He pats her on the cheek] Shall we be friends?
LADY [enraptured] Your friend! You will let me be your friend! Oh! [She offers him both her hands with a radiant smile]. You see: I shew my confidence in you.
This incautious echo of the lieutenant undoes her. Napoleon starts: his eyes flash: he utters a yell of rage.
NAPOLEON. What!!!
LADY. Whats the matter?
NAPOLEON. Shew your confidence in me! So that I may shew my confidence in you in return by letting you give me the slip with the despatches, eh? Ah, Dalila, Dalila, you have been trying your tricks on me; and I have been as gross a gull as my jackass of a lieutenant. [Menacingly]Come: the despatches. Quick: I am not to be trifled with now.
LADY [flying round the couch] General –
NAPOLEON. Quick, I tell you. [He passes swiftly up the middle of the room and intercepts her as she makes for the vineyard].
LADY [at bay, confronting him and giving way to her temper] You dare address me in that tone.
NAPOLEON. Dare!
LADY. Yes dare. Who are you that you should presume to speak of me in that coarse way. Oh, the vile, vulgar Corsican adventurer comes out in you very easily.
NAPOLEON [beside himself] You she devil! [Savagely] Once more, and only once, will you give me those papers or shall I tear them from you? – by force!
LADY. Tear them from me: by force!
As he glares at her like a tiger about to spring, she crosses her arms on her breast in the attitude of a martyr. The gesture and pose instantly awaken his theatrical instinct: he forgets his rage in the desire to shew her that in acting, too, she has met her match. He keeps her a moment in suspense; then suddenly clears up his countenance; puts his hands behind him with provoking coolness; looks at her up and down a couple of times; takes a pinch of snuff; wipes his fingers carefully and puts up his handkerchief, her heroic pose becoming more and more ridiculous all the time.
NAPOLEON [at last] Well?
LADY [disconcerted, but with her arms still crossed devotedly] Well: what are you going to do?
NAPOLEON. Spoil your attitude.
LADY. You brute! [Abandoning the attitude, she comes to the end of the couch, where she turns with her back to it, leaning against it and facing him with her hands behind her].
NAPOLEON. Ah, thats better. Now listen to me. I like you. Whats more, I value your respect.
LADY. You value what you have not got, then.
NAPOLEON. I shall have it presently. Now attend to me. Suppose I were to allow myself to be abashed by the respect due to your sex, your beauty, your heroism and all the rest of it! Suppose I, with nothing but such sentimental stuff to stand between these muscles of mine and those papers which you have about you, and which I want and mean to have! suppose I, with the prize within my grasp, were to falter and sneak away with my hands empty; or, what would be worse, cover up my weakness by playing the magnanimous hero, and sparing you the violence I dared not use! would you not despise me from the depths of your woman’s soul? Would any woman be such a fool? Well, Bonaparte can rise to the situation and act like a woman when it is necessary. Do you understand?
The lady, without speaking, stands upright, and takes a packet of papers from her bosom. For a moment she has an intense impulse to dash them in his face. But her good breeding cuts her off from any vulgar method of relief. She hands them to him politely, only averting her head. The moment he takes them, she hurries across to the other side of the room; sits down; and covers her face with her hands.
NAPOLEON [gloating over the papers] Aha! Thats right. Thats right. [Before he opens them, he looks at her and says] Excuse me. [He sees that she is hiding her face]. Very angry with me, eh? [He unties the packet, the seal of which is already broken, and puts it on the table to examine its contents].
LADY [quietly, taking down her hands and shewing that she is not crying, but only thinking] No. You were right. But I am sorry for you.
NAPOLEON [pausing in the act of taking the uppermost paper from the packet] Sorry for me! Why?
LADY. I am going to see you lose your honor.
NAPOLEON. Hm! Nothing worse than that? [He takes up the paper].
LADY. And your happiness.
NAPOLEON. Happiness! Happiness is the most tedious thing in the world to me. Should I be what I am if I cared for happiness? Anything else?
LADY. Nothing.
NAPOLEON. Good.
LADY. Except that you will cut a very foolish figure in the eyes of France.
NAPOLEON [quickly] What? [The hand unfolding the paper involuntarily stops. The lady looks at him enigmatically in tranquil silence. He throws the letter down and breaks out into a torrent of scolding]. What do you mean? Eh? Are you at your tricks again? Do you think I dont know what these papers contain? I’ll tell you. First, my information as to Beaulieu’s retreat. There are only two things he can do – leather-brained idiot that he is! – shut himself up in Mantua or violate the neutrality of Venice by taking Peschiera. You are one of the old Leather-brain’s spies: he has discovered that he has been betrayed, and has sent you to intercept the information at all hazards. As if that could save him from me, the old fool! The other papers are only my private letters from Paris, of which you know nothing.
LADY [prompt and businesslike] General: let us make a fair division. Take the information your spies have sent you about the Austrian army; and give me the Paris corre
spondence. That will content me.
NAPOLEON [his breath taken away by the coolness of the proposal] A fair di – [he gasps]. It seems to me, madam, that you have come to regard my letters as your own property, of which I am trying to rob you.
LADY [earnestly] No: on my honor I ask for no letter of yours: not a word that has been written by you or to you. That packet contains a stolen letter: a letter written by a woman to a man: a man not her husband: a letter that means disgrace, infamy –
NAPOLEON. A love letter?
LADY [bitter-sweetly] What else but a love letter could stir up so much hate?
NAPOLEON. Why is it sent to me? To put the husband in my power, eh?
LADY. No, no: it can be of no use to you: I swear that it will cost you nothing to give it to me. It has been sent to you out of sheer malice: solely to injure the woman who wrote it.
NAPOLEON. Then why not send it to her husband instead of to me?
LADY [completely taken aback] Oh! [Sinking back into the chair] I – I dont know. [She breaks down].
NAPOLEON. Aha! I thought so: a little romance to get the papers back. Per Bacco, I cant help admiring you. I wish I could lie like that. It would save me a great deal of trouble.
LADY [wringing her hands] Oh, how I wish I really had told you some lie! You would have believed me then. The truth is the one thing nobody will believe.
NAPOLEON [with coarse familiarity, treating her as if she were a vivandière] Capital! Capital! [He puts his hands behind him on the table, and lifts himself on to it, sitting with his arms akimbo and his legs wide apart] Come: I am a true Corsican in my love for stories. But I could tell them better than you if I set my mind to it. Next time you are asked why a letter compromising a wife should not be sent to her husband, answer simply that the husband wouldnt read it. Do you suppose, you goose, that a man wants to be compelled by public opinion to make a scene, to fight a duel, to break up his household, to injure his career by a scandal, when he can avoid it all by taking care not to know?
Plays Pleasant Page 20