(All kneel down.)
LA FICELLE: My poor Chéri-Bibi! My poor Chéri-Bibi! To think that I came so far to learn such terrible news!
LE KANAK: (pulling him away) No point in staying here any longer.
LA FICELLE: Chéri-Bibi! Chéri-Bibi!
(The curtains close. All leave the hut except for La Ficelle, Gueule-de-Bois, Petit-Bon-Dieu, Le Rouquin and the Countess.)
GUEULE-DE-BOIS: We have decisions to make. Let’s deliberate.
LE KANAK: Military honors should be rendered to our leader, and his glorious remains should buried at sea. As for the rest, here are Chéri-Bibi’s last instructions. (handing him a sealed envelope) Read.
GUEULE-DE-BOIS: (unsealing the letter and reading) “In the event that La Ficelle’s voyage is successful, here is what I have decided. The Marquis du Touchais will be deposited in a small port on the coast of Borneo; from there, he will return to France as he pleases. The other castaways, as well as former Captain Barrachon, the old crew and guards of the Bayard, will be disembarked on a desert island with two months supplies. You will notify the Australian authorities of their location so that they can come to rescue them. Signed: Chéri-Bibi.” I will take steps to execute these orders. Le Rouquin and Petit-Bon-Dieu, come with me.
(They leave.)
LA FICELLE: What about the Marquis? You were able to save him but you weren’t able to save our poor Chéri-Bibi?
COUNTESS: The Marquis is better, much better.
LA FICELLE: Fatality! That was Chéri-Bibi’s motto.
LE KANAK: What about your mission?
LA FICELLE: Everything went well. The millions are in bank notes in my suitcase. Instead of five millions, I brought six. There’s one for you, Le Kanak, according to the secret instructions I received from Chéri-Bibi. Keep it for yourself. No one will ever know about it! Take the rest and distribute it to the others. I don’t want any of it myself.
(We hear a distant salvo of gunfire.)
LE KANAK: Gueule-de-Bois is rendering honors to our leader. Let’s go back to the Bayard.
LA FICELLE: Leave me alone with my sorrow.
LE KANAK: As you will.
(Le Kanak leaves with the Countess. La Ficelle remains for a moment with his head in his hands. From the door at the back, Chéri-Bibi, who, thanks to Le Kanak’s surgical prowess, has now assumed the physical appearance of Maxime du Touchais enters slowly and touches the shoulder of La Ficelle who is in the slough of despair.)
LA FICELLE: (shivering) Monsieur le Marquis.
CHÉRI-BIBI: La Ficelle, I know how cruel the loss you have just experienced is for you. Would you allow me to shake your hand?
LA FICELLE: (stammering) Yes, Monsieur.
(They shake hands. Then Chéri-Bibi leaves by the door and reaches the forest.)
LA FICELLE: (ready to faint) What’s wrong with me? I can’t look at the Marquis without becoming weak. Perhaps it’s because his eyes strangely resemble those of Chéri-Bibi. It’s as if I had felt he was still at my side. I hear a voice inside me screaming: “He isn’t dead. Chéri-Bibi isn’t dead.”
(He heads toward the rear and raises the curtain.)
LA FICELLE: And yet his body is still here.
(Noticing Le Kanak’s blood-stained coat; he takes it and let the curtain fall back.)
LA FICELLE: Blood–blood everywhere. What is it that they’ve done here, Le Kanak and his Countess? During their trial, they spoke of strips of human flesh... If they didn’t eat them, what did they do with them?
(As he examines the coat, a booklet falls from its pocket.)
LA FICELLE: What’s that? (reading) “Organ grafting. The Discoveries of Doctor Carrel.” What does it mean? Here’s a page annotated in Le Kanak’s handwriting. “Why not experiment on humans with grafts which succeeded so well with animals?” (with a cry of horror) Could this be possible? Could Le Kanak have done it? Would Chéri-Bibi want this? Yes, he would! He would take his revenge that far!
(Le Rouquin enters from the forest carrying a basket.)
LE ROUQUIN: La Ficelle! La Ficelle!
(La Ficelle appears in the doorway of the hut holding a picnic basket.)
LE ROUQUIN: We’re having lunching on board. Le Kanak asked me to bring you a basket. You must be hungry.
LA FICELLE: I’m not.
LE ROUQUIN: (handing him the basket) C’mon! There’s some wonderful Spanish cod inside.
LA FICELLE: (with a sad smile) Chéri-Bibi loved Spanish cod. It was I who prepared it for him with my own hands. (a pause, then abruptly) I just had an idea. (taking the basket) Thanks, but I’d prefer to eat alone.
LE ROUQUIN: As you will.
(Le Rouquin leaves. La Ficelle opens the basket and pulls out a plate of Spanish cod.)
LA FICELLE: It smells of red peppers, thyme and laurel.
(He positions the plate prominently on a chest.)
LA FICELLE: If the Marquis comes back...
(At this moment, Chéri-Bibi returns.)
LA FICELLE: Here he is!
(La Ficelle goes back inside the hut and hides behind the door. Chéri-Bibi steps forward, then stops suddenly. He expresses an uneasy joy as he smells the unexpected odor. He looks about, and, after a few hesitations, approaches the plate of fish on the chest. As he leans over it, La Ficelle appears in the doorway. Chéri-Bibi recoils abruptly.)
LA FICELLE: The Marquis du Touchais hated Spanish cod.
CHÉRI-BIBI: (stiffly) Why, I don’t know what you mean.
LA FICELLE: (after a pause) I have to impart some tragic news to Monsieur le Marquis. When I left France, Madame la Marquise, (emphasizing his words) your wife, was dying.
CHÉRI-BIBI: (with a scream) Cécily! Cécily is dying! Fatality!
LA FICELLE: (delirious) “Fatality!” He said it! He’s betrayed himself! Ah, Chéri-Bibi! It’s really you!
(They throw themselves in each other’s arms and embrace each other for a while.)
CHÉRI-BIBI: But not a word! You know nothing.
LA FICELLE: So you are the Marquis du Touchais now?
CHÉRI-BIBI: Yes, my good La Ficelle. I have finally reached my goal. I am now Cécily’s husband.
C U R T A I N
SCENE V
THE STAR OF DIEPPE
A grand salon. In the back, there is a window-door leading onto a terrace. Beneath this terrace is a garden; in the distance, one can see the sea. On each side, there are two doors. The salon is comfortably furnished, mixing some old Normand furniture with some modern (1913) English style pieces. There are numerous knick-knacks and flowers in vases. It is 2 p.m.
AT RISE, Reine is reading to Petit Bernard; they are both seated at a small round table. Reine has aged greatly since the prologue. Petit Bernard is a lad of about six.
BERNARD: A, B, C...
REINE: That’s very good, Bernard, continue.
BERNARD: D, da, dada...
REINE: Right. Dada.
BERNARD: Daddy. Say, Reine, where is Daddy?
REINE: (unable to repress a violent start) Your Daddy... (pause) Don’t ever speak of your father!
(Cécily enters by a side door; her face is marked with sadness.)
CÉCILY: The Dowager Marquise is not in her apartment?
REINE: Before lunch, Sister Mary of the Angels came for her and they went together to the Maritime Orphanage. I don’t know if she’s back yet.
CÉCILY: Would you find out, and if she is, ask her if she can see me.
REINE: Yes, Madame.
(Reine leaves by a side door.)
CÉCILY: (to Bernard who has not left his seat) Well, my darling, aren’t you coming to hug your mother?
BERNARD: I’m studying my alphabet.
CÉCILY: How sweet he is, a studious little boy applying himself.
(Bernard gets up and runs to his mother.)
CÉCILY: You love me a lot, don’t you?
BERNARD: Oh, yes!
(Reine returns.)
REINE: The Dowager Marquise has just returned;
she’s following me.
CÉCILY: Reine, take the boy to the beach. (to Bernard) Go play, my darling!
BERNARD: I want to fish for shrimps.
CÉCILY: Don’t get too wet. (to Reine) Don’t leave him alone for a single moment.
(The Dowager Marquise du Touchais enters; she’s nearly 60, but very alert; very well bred, a very grand manner.)
MARQUISE: (to Bernard, who’s getting ready to leave with Reine) Heavens! My dear, here’s what Sister Mary of the Angels sent you. (giving him a small package)
BERNARD: (opening it) Chocolate! (starts to eat immediately)
CÉCILY: Bernard! You know how bad it is to be a glutton!
BERNARD: (going to the Dowager Marquise and offering her some chocolate) Sorry, Grand-Mother. (going to Reine) Reine (going to Cécily) Mama. (a pause) Can I take one now?
MARQUISE: Yes, my dear.
(Bernard leaves, pulling Reine.)
MARQUISE: You wanted to speak to me, Cécily?
CÉCILY: Yes, mother, I have bad news to confide to you.
MARQUISE: One more thing more to add to my painful life.
CÉCILY: We will endure it together.
MARQUISE: Our sorrows, having the same source, you can open your heart to me, child. It’s a mother who is listening to you.
CÉCILY: You haven’t failed to notice the frequent visits of Monsieur de Pont-Marie to this house?
MARQUISE: Yes! Being a friend of Maxime, George is trying to bring you some distractions from...
CÉCILY: No. What you and I initially mistook for friendship and compassion hides, in reality, another ignoble motive. Monsieur de Pont-Marie wants me to become his mistress.
MARQUISE: Impossible! Are you certain you’re not mistaken about his intentions?
CÉCILY: Alas, no! If I was still capable of entertaining some illusions about Monsieur de Pont-Marie, his shameful behavior yesterday at the Casino would have shattered them all. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to forbid him to visit us in the future. I wanted to tell you my reasons, as you are my only defender, my husband no longer caring about my reputation.
MARQUISE: (sadly) Your husband. (pause) I am his mother. I would like to find excuses for him, but I cannot.
CÉCILY: After having paid his ransom on the Bayard, I said to myself, the trials he has endured must have softened him. Being a prisoner of convicts, isolated from society, he must have reflected, understood his villainy, he must have changed....
MARQUISE: Vain hopes!
CÉCILY: ...But once he regained freedom, he resumed his earlier life without even coming here, showing no more concern for his mother or his wife than if they were dead. He spends all his time with his new private secretary...
(A servant enters.)
SERVANT: (to Cécily) Monsieur de Pont-Marie begs Madame to receive him.
CÉCILY: See what I mean, mother? (to the servant) Wait.
MARQUISE: See him! I still want to think of him as a gallant man! I’ll leave you.
(The Marquise leaves by a side door after having embraced Cécily.)
CÉCILY: (to the servant) Show him in.
(The servant leaves, then returns with Monsieur de Pont-Marie, now fortyish, the rakish type.)
CÉCILY: (abruptly) Why are you here, Monsieur? I thought that, after what happened between us before, you wouldn’t dare to set foot here.
PONT-MARIE: I beg you to listen to me. You know very well that I am in love with you...
CÉCILY: I’d rather forget it. You gave me your word as a gentleman to not cross my door again, at least if you don’t have the strength to remain an honest man, and hide feelings that can only outrage an honest woman! You swore to this two years ago.
PONT-MARIE: I did indeed, Madame.
CÉCILY: I thought you had forgotten your folly.
PONT-MARIE: At my age, one never forgets when one loves the way I love you. I knew you as a young girl, and I loved you already. Please allow me, I beg you, to plead my case!
CÉCILY: It would be pointless. I do not love you, and never will love you, and it is my duty to not listen to you any further. The first time, I forgave you. Before the threat of my door being closed to you forever, you demonstrated a sincere repentance, so that I took pity on you. I was so alone, so abandoned... You then displayed so much understanding and generosity that I began to fee some real sympathy for you; I couldn’t help it. But after the incident of yesterday evening, you will understand that we must never see each other again.
PONT-MARIE: You cannot ask that of me! I cannot live without you. I love you like a madman.
CÉCILY: Good-bye, Monsieur!
PONT-MARIE: Listen! Yes, for two years, I didn’t say one word of love to you. Yes, I had the strength to hide the trouble of my heart from you. But if I had this courage, it’s precisely because I thought you would, at last, understand that I adored you, and that you take pity on my long abnegation, my respectful silence, and my silent passion! I said to myself that so much pain would eventually earn its reward, and that, someday, you would change your mind and...
CÉCILY: (heading toward the door) Please leave at once, Monsieur!
PONT-MARIE: (barring her way) No. I won’t leave before showing the depth of my heart! Why won’t you let me love you? Why don’t you love me? You no longer have a husband...
CÉCILY: The Marquis du Touchais is my husband.
PONT-MARIE: More than a year has passed since his return. Has he called on you? Written to you? No. It’s as if his wife no longer exists for him. Why should you be there for him then? You’re no longer bound to this man. You no longer owe him anything. You are free, Cécily – and I love you.
CÉCILY: Let me pass, Monsieur or I will call the servants.
PONT-MARIE (seizing her in his arms) I love you! I love you, Cécily! Why are you fighting me? We could be so happy!
(He pulls her to him, but she manages to disengage herself and runs to the terrace.)
PONT-MARIE: Don’t scream, please! It’s in your interest. I have a grave thing to tell you. (looking deeply into her eyes) It’s about your son.
CÉCILY: (suddenly still) What about my son?
PONT-MARIE: Calm down. (coldly) You know very well what I mean! (goes to shut the door) Let’s talk, Cécily. You’re wrong to treat me the way you do. I’m your friend; I’m devoted to you...
CÉCILY: You’re a liar.
PONT-MARIE: Perhaps, but as my lies have failed, I shall now speak the truth. you, Cécily, are not an honest woman...
CÉCILY: What?!
PONT-MARIE: I repeat: you are not an honest woman. You cheated on Maxime.
CÉCILY: Coward! You’re taking advantage of the fact I’m alone to insult me. Get out! Get out!
PONT-MARIE: I dare you to kick me out now. Come on! Ring for your servants and I will tell everyone that your son’s father is not the Marquis du Touchais!
(Cécily shivers then collapses into a chair.)
PONT-MARIE: You are silent.
CÉCILY: What do you want me to say to such abomination?
PONT-MARIE: Big words! You would do better to be reasonable and listen to me. (emphasizing his words) Petit Bernard is the son of your cousin, Marcel Garavan, who died of a fever in New Orleans five years ago. Since Maxime was often traveling, you were able to deceive him about the birth date of the child, so he never suspected that he wasn’t the father. All this is correct, Madame? (pause) Since do not reply, I assume we are in agreement.
CÉCILY: (breathlessly) In agreement about what?
PONT-MARIE: About what I just told you. As for the rest, you must guess what I want for the price of my silence. After all, the poor Marquis must be kept ignorant of the truth. I shall now retire to let you reflect on the situation, Madame! (bowing deeply and going to leave.)
CÉCILY: I knew you were capable of anything, but this story is patently ridiculous. No one will believe a word of it.
PONT-MARIE: I think you are mistaken, Madame. I have proofs, irrefutable proofs, that I
can show. But I only wish to protect you. Let’s make peace, and as I understand that it’s painful for you to see me in this house, here’s what I propose: We will leave tomorrow for Paris, spend a few days there together, and return as marvelous friends.
Cheri-Bibi: The Stage Play Page 8