All this he said in a hard dry voice then, changing his voice completely, he said,
‘At least, say goodbye. I thought I had much to say to you. But I feel as if I had said it all already.’
‘Did I not say,’ she said, with terrible calmness, ‘that I would not leave you? You shall go to the world of shadows, if chilled, certainly not alone. I am coming with you. Ha!” she continued with almost bacchantic gaiety, ‘I wonder whether we shall be like Paolo and Francesca!’
And then in a gutteral voice,
‘As you say there is no time to be lost. The train starts punctually at 5.14.’
‘Here is a train,’ she said handing him a phial. ‘Perhaps you had better get in first, and I will be in directly.’
Then in a whisper,
‘There is a mark in the middle of the bottle, don't drink further than that. It is more than enough.’
Without a word he swallowed half the contents of the phial.
The effect was instantaneous—one shrill shriek.
The Gaoler, who played the pander and guardian to this strange serenade, hearing the shriek, knocked at the door.
‘Don't come in!’ she cried. ‘He is having one of his usual fits. I can take care of him better than you can because I know.’
The Gaoler had come in, but on hearing this went out again. Then with a convulsive shudder, she said,
‘Oh, Vivian, wait for me one instant. I shall be ready directly.’
Then kissing him on the lips, she said faintly,
‘No, not goodbye.’
And she swallowed the contents of the rest of the phial.
Hearing another shriek, the Gaoler came in again into the cell, this time without announcing himself. He found the two bodies lying clasped together.
An inquest of course was held. Steps were taken to make it as little public as possible, because of the almost morbid popular excitement concerning the Prisoner.
The autopsy showed, what indeed the doctors from other indications unanimously inferred, that death was from an overdose of prussic acid. The chief, or indeed the only witness, was the Gaoler, who excused himself thus, saying,
‘I know I oughtn't to have done it. I was sure from the first it was his young woman and not his sister. And then the young woman carried on so much, I hadn't the heart to refuse her. You wouldn't, if you had been in my place, because she was an awfully pretty young woman, and all she wanted to do was to stay the night there before the trial came on, to soothe him, kind of like,’ he said. ‘I didn't know she meant any harm.’
However, the Gaoler was dismissed. It appears he was not ruined by his dismissal. Indeed, he is now the proprietor of one of the most flourishing public houses in the East End.
The authorities (if we may sum up a great many kinds of people under that one name) decided to give no more publicity than was absolutely necessary to this case, especially as it was at a time when public excitement might be dangerous. So they were buried together without overmuch inquiry, in a common felon's grave.
CHAPTER V
CONCLUSION
Extract from Society Paper:
‘We regret to announce the deplorable accident that has happened to young Lord Vandrake. He was known to be fond of boating, and he appears to have had a fatal boating accident off Buenos Ayres. The boatman appears to have been saved, but he himself was simply washed ashore. Little is known from the evidence of the boatman, as he was very nearly drowned himself, and of course was unable to give a succinct account. The corpse was interred solemnly at Buenos Ayres, the funds being telegraphically supplied by Sir Joseph Randor, a near relative of the deceased.’
‘Oh,’ said Lady Esilinda reading this. Then taking a letter, opening it and reading it, she answered it thus,
‘Dear Lady Gage, it was so kind of you to ask Viola to your party. I quite agree with what you say. After all she has gone through, I don't like to mention the subject of Vivian but I must. She certainly required some distraction. But when I say I agree with you, I am only sorry to say, it is too late to agree with you. As now it is no longer a question of distraction as a cure, but an utter nervous collapse; I have had to send her to the seaside in the care of a hospital nurse, where, as soon as I have arranged things here, I shall join her, and take her abroad, probably to Davos, or some such place. I am sorry to say the case is so bad we shall not be back for some time.
Do break this as mildly as possible to people you meet.
Yours affectionately,
Esilinda Vargas’
It is not generally known that Madam Euphrasie, the proprietoress of a well known fashionable millinery establishment, bears or bore, in private life, the simple appellation of Anne Smith, and was formally in the service of Lady Esilinda Vargas.
A serio-extravaganza in 6 parts
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ:
Prologue:
PRINCE FERDINAND von MOLDENBERG
COUNTESS STERN
LUCILLE, her daughter
MADAME YSEULT LA VALLIÈRE
ANTOINE, a page
Drama proper:
CARL FLOTT }German students
MAXIMUS-FIDEL
COUNT ACHSELMANNSTEIN
COUNTESS ACHSELMANNSTEIN
IRENE }their daughters
CARLOTTA
A hundred years are supposed to elapse between the Prologue and Scene One.
PROLOGUE
Description: A gorgeous saloon, furnished in the 18th century, Roccoco style. Seated playing on a clavichord PRINCE FERDINAND VON MOLDENBERG. He looks young: of effeminate appearance, with refined features, and long white hands covered with rings. He is dressed in the dress of the time, but rather over-gorgeously, with a multitude of fine lace ruffles. He wears a long powdered wig, and is rouged and darkened about the eyes.
PRINCE FERDINAND (playing a very melancholy mazurka and speaking through the music): Well I suppose the idea is not original exactly. Sardanapalus, and indeed Nero, have thought of the same thing before. But then, how can we be original now: in this age, when all ideas are worn out, and we have wigs for hair and sham complexions. Everything with us is a sham. All our sentiments, our poetry, our painting, our music too. Is this a sham what I am playing now? I think not: it would be anyhow appropriate to have a sham death-song. I certainly myself like this mazurka. I shall play it to them; of course they will admire it immensely. O! To think that the last wail of one's life should be only greeted with sham admiration! However, they are going the same way as I am. The idea is certainly rather atrocious. But anyhow, I have spared Antoine, who may have something to live for yet: whom I really love, and am sometimes almost inclined to think that he loves me. It will be amusing to see Madame de la Vallière's delicate feet taking fire from the floor of Hell, and (laughing) the Gräfin Stern will be really too amusing. (Pensively) Fortunately, we don't believe in that sort of thing now: we shall be suffocated, an easy death, long before the flames reach us. So in my poor little principality I shall be able to realize again what Sardanapalus did in his great empire. It is too late to turn back now. (He plays the mazurka again, slowly and in an agonized way; then he calls:) Antoine!
(Enter ANTOINE)
Well commandère, you know now exactly what to do. However, I will repeat my instructions once more. When you hear me play this mazurka (he plays it again) you will take the torch, and set fire to the house. Get the servants out on some pretext or other. Say I wish to be alone, and give them a general holiday: (handing money) give them this to amuse themselves with. As for yourself, I give (handing money again) all the money I have with me. Of course you must immediately flee the country. But I think with this you will at least be provided for, for life.
ANTOINE: Oh, monseigneur! Why do you ask me to do so horrible a thing? You know I am devoted to you, and would do anything that you would command me. But once more, I beg and beseech you, not to lay this obligation upon me.
PRINCE FERDINAND: Well, child, anyhow you do not lose by this little t
ransaction: on the contrary, rather gain. See, as I said before, you are provided for, for life.
ANTOINE (standing and tearing the paper and casting the gold upon the floor): Do you suppose I want money? Is that what you think of me? I am not Madame de la Vallière.
PRINCE FERDINAND (very slowly): Well, dear, it is a good thing to have a good impression at the last: (regarding him fixedly) but you will do as I told you.
(Silence. ANTOINE remains quite still and erect, looking at the PRINCE)
ANTOINE (in a low voice, speaking slowly): Yes—I will do as you told me.
PRINCE FERDINAND: Antoine, come here! At least, say goodbye: why do you look at me so dreadfully? (hurriedly—voices are heard outside) Take all, everything I have, but at least say goodbye! (voices outside louder: PRINCE FERDINAND kisses him passionately—then suddenly coldly says): Go, and shew the ladies in.
(Enter COUNTESS STERN, and LUCILLE)
COUNTESS STERN (aside on entering): I think I have pretty well scored off Madame de la Vallière this time. She thinks herself attractive; but she is not so attractive as my daughter, and the Prince is sure from the novelty of the thing—as he has never seen her before—to take to her. So after all, it will be the same thing over again. Whether it is Lucille or me it does not much matter. Anyhow, I shall have the upper hand again.
(Exit ANTOINE with a long lingering look at the PRINCE who does not look at him)
I think, Prince, you have not seen my daughter before; I hope I am not presuming in introducing her to you?
LUCILLE (blushing): Mama said I might, and I thought I was—(hesitates)
PRINCE FERDINAND: On the contrary, mademoiselle, I am only too charmed to make your acquaintance. You look almost as young as your mother—and almost as beautiful.
COUNTESS STERN: Really Prince, I think you are too much given to sarcasm!
PRINCE FERDINAND (in an agonized voice): No, I am never sarcastic. (Aside) Poor child, is she too to be included in the holocaust?
(Enter ANTOINE)
ANTOINE (abruptly): Madame Yseult de la Vallière.
PRINCE FERDINAND: My dear Yseult, how exquisitely that white velvet gown suits you! With its golden girdle, and those splendid turquoises round your neck.
MADAME DE LA VALLIÈRE: I am so glad you like my gowns, sire: and I really think I have managed to have those turquoises, which you so kindly gave me, quite nicely set.
PRINCE FERDINAND (meditatively): Did I give you those turquoises? I had quite forgotten.
MADAME DE LA VALLIÈRE (with pathetic inflexion of voice): Forgotten? Oh surely not!
COUNTESS STERN: For my part, I do not care for turquoises. They are hard, cold stones.
MADAME DE LA VALLIÈRE (looking at her with an enigmatical smile): Yet, nevertheless they are a symbol of true love.
COUNTESS STERN: Yes, I know that: and in case of infidelity they turn green. I notice that yours have a green shade about them.
PRINCE FERDINAND: My dear Iolande, my dear Yseult, do not, whatever you do, do not quarrel. I want to play to you a mazurka I have just composed.
COUNTESS STERN: Another of those lovely melancholy mazurkas? How delightful.
MADAME DE LA VALLIÈRE: They are too sad for me. Why cannot you write something cheerful, Prince?
PRINCE FERDINAND: Oh, we live at the end of the world. How can we ever be glad, seeing that we have nought but the dead leaves of Autumn wherewith to weave ourselves garlands, and adorn our houses. The blossoms of Spring are long past, faded and fallen. We shall not see the Spring again!
LUCILLE (suddenly): I shall see the Spring.
PRINCE FERDINAND (meditatively): I think not.
COUNTESS STERN: Really, Prince, you are getting too intolerably poetic tonight: let us pass from poetry to music, and hear your mazurka.
PRINCE FERDINAND: Ah, yes! I was forgetting about the mazurka. You know the charming way it is danced by three. Now, if you would dance while I play, I should be able to realize the whole effect of it. (To the COUNTESS STERN): I suppose your daughter dances, does she not, Countess?
COUNTESS STERN: Oh, yes! she dances—beautifully. But why do you not call me Iolande?
LUCILLE (blushing, but with enthusiasm): Oh, I love dancing! I could dance for ever!
PRINCE FERDINAND (seating himself at the clavichord—in an undertone to himself): Yes, you probably will.
(Plays the mazurka: the ladies dance: suddenly flames are seen at the windows)
END OF PROLOGUE
SCENE ONE
Landscape in southern Germany. CARL FLOTT and MAX-FIDEL come in driving a dog-cart. They wear dress-clothes and light paletots. Somewhat late in the evening and October.
CARL: Well, this is a nice predicament! Where on earth is the way? Here we are at crossroads, and don't know whether to turn to the right or left. There doesn't seem any house in sight. It really does seem too ridiculous after having known these people for so long at Brausberg, now when we are going to stay with them in the country, and especially going to a dance there, we shouldn't be able to find their house.
MAX: I have faith in the instinct of animals. Let us give the horses head and guide ourselves by that.
CARL: All right! I don't mind. The horse must turn one way or the other. It is an even toss-up which way might be the right one. Oh! Look here: he's turning to the left. There is a house there: very likely the right one. Anyhow, let's try.
MAX: Well, there's no harm in trying. I don't think myself it is the right house, I don't quite know why. But I should be very sorry to miss this dance—for you know—no, of course you don't know—well—
CARL: That you are attached to Irene. But people are not quite so blind as you suppose them. Now, I don't mind telling you, which I suppose you don't know—or rather probably do know, as people are not so blind in matters that do not concern themselves, that I retain the same sentiments with regard to Carlotta, who's certainly worth a dozen of her.
MAX: ’Tis really more than superfluous to make invidious comparisons. It is, at least, one good thing that we are not in love with the same person. You see the horse has turned to the left. We had better try our luck.
(They turn to the left)
SCENE TWO
Same scene as in Prologue. The PRINCE, COUNTESS STERN, MADAME DE LA VALLIÈRE and LUCILLE: also three young men; the first is dressed in plum-coloured dress-coat, and embroidered waistcoat. The second in black dress-clothes of somewhat old-fashioned cut. The third in quite modern dress.
(Enter ANTOINE)
ANTOINE (announcing): Herr Carl Flott and Herr Maximus-Fidel.
CARL: Oh, my stars! I had no idea they had got a fancy ball on. Why, they've even got an eighteenth century page to show us in. What on earth does it all mean?
MAX: Yes! And who are all these people? I have never seen them before, and again where on earth are Irene and Carlotta, not to speak of the host and hostess?
CARL: Oh, I suppose it's all right. They are probably in another room. But I wish we'd known it was going to be a fancy-ball, and then we could have got ourselves up accordingly; though it would have been rather ridiculous to drive in a dog-cart in fancy dress all the same. And you see there's a fellow over there who's dressed like a rational human being. By the bye that's a devilish pretty girl over there!
MAX: Well, from what you were saying about Carlotta just now, I think you ought not to admire her; as far as prettiness goes, I think that woman with the fair hair and white velvet dress much more interesting than the girl you were pointing to.
ANTOINE (going to the PRINCE): Monseigneur, will you not at least spare these? Surely we have enough already to complete the number.
PRINCE Ferdinand (very sarcastically and bitterly): So you appear to take an interest in them?
ANTOINE: Well, monseigneur, I only implore you to spare them. Considering I immolated myself in order to be with you forever, I think your jealousy is a trifle posthumous. Besides we are not quite what might be called alive people.
P
RINCE FERDINAND (very sadly and bitterly): The dead may love the living; though the living do not care for the dead.
FIRST YOUNG MAN (going to CARL and MAX): Oh, you're just in time for the cotillion-mazurka! Come, let me introduce you to these ladies.
CARL: All right, with pleasure!
MAX (to Carl): I don't know whether it is all right! There seems something odd about the whole thing.
THIRD YOUNG MAN (coming to CARL and MAX, whispering): Don't dance, whatever you do! (goes away)
CARL: What bosh! What on earth does all this mean? Are they trying some practical joke on us?
SECOND YOUNG MAN: My friend has told me that you are going to join us in the cotillion-mazurka. You know the mazurka is the Prince's own composition.
MAX (aside to CARL): What Prince? I don't understand. They certainly, as you say, must be playing some practical joke.
SECOND YOUNG MAN: Perhaps you may not be familiar with the rules of the cotillion. So I had better acquaint you with them. A lady sits in the middle, having with her a ring, a flower and a basket. He to whom she gives the ring, she selects as her partner. The one to whom she gives the flower may choose a partner for himself. The third to whom she gives the basket is rejected, and must wait until the next turn.
CARL: Oh, yes, I quite understand. I have tried that before.
MAX (to CARL): It's odd though, isn't it? Where are they all?
(MADAME LA VALLIÈRE seats herself in the middle of the room)
SECOND YOUNG MAN (coming close to MADAME DE LA VALLIÈRE and whispering to her): You see we have some new friends today.
MADAME DE LA VALLIÈRE: How delightful! At least, there will be a charm of novelty! I am tired of you rather more than already.
FIRST YOUNG MAN (standing by): Madame, you are too cruel!
MADAME DE LA VALLIÈRE: It is rather our business to be cruel. So go and bring me up my partner.
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