Comedy of Marriage and Other Tales

Madame de Sallus _alone in her drawing-room, as in_ Act I. _She is writing; she stops and looks at the clock. A servant announces_ Monsieur Jacques de Randol.

JACQUES DE RANDOL [_after kissing_ Mme. de Sallus's _hand_]

I trust you are well, Madame.

Mme. De Sallus. Oh, yes, thank you.

[_Exit servant_.]

Jacques De Randol. What is it all about? Your letter has completely upset me. I thought some accident had occurred, and I came immediately.

Mme. DE SALLUS [_looks at him steadfastly_]

My dear Jacques, we must decide upon some course of action immediately. The important hour has come.

JACQUES DE RANDOL [_surprised_]

What do you mean?

Mme. De Sallus. For two days I have undergone all the anguish that a woman's heart can endure.

JACQUES DE RANDOL [_still more surprised_]

What has happened?

Mme. De Sallus. I am about to tell you, but I wish to do so with calmness and moderation lest you think me mad. That is the reason why I sent for you.

Jacques De Randol. You know that I am yours entirely. Tell me what I must do.

Mme. De Sallus. I cannot live near him any longer. It is absolutely impossible. It is an hourly crucifixion.

Jacques De Randol. Near your husband?

Mme. De Sallus. Yes, my husband.

Jacques De Randol. What has he done?

Mme. De Sallus. It is necessary to revert to the other evening, after you took your leave. When we were alone he tried to make a jealous scene, with you as the subject.

Jacques De Randol. With me as the subject?

Mme. De Sallus. Yes, a scene which proved to me that he had been watching us.

Jacques De Randol. How?

Mme. De Sallus. He had been questioning a servant.

Jacques De Randol. Nothing more than that?

Mme. De Sallus. No. That in itself, however, is not of much importance, for I believe he really likes you. But, after that, he told me of his love for me. Perhaps I was a little too insolent, too disdainful. I do not know exactly how far I went; but I found myself in such a perplexing, such a painful, such an extraordinary situation, that I dared everything to escape it.

Jacques De Randol. What did you do?

Mme. De Sallus. I sought to wound him so deeply that he would leave me forever.

Jacques De Randol. Apparently you have not succeeded.

Mme. De Sallus. No.

Jacques De Randol. Of course not; that method never does succeed. On the contrary, it often brings about a reconciliation.

Mme. De Sallus. The next day, during luncheon, he was sulky, irritable, and gloomy. Then, as he was rising from the table, he said, “I have not forgotten your behavior of yesterday, and shall not let you forget it. You wish for war, let it be war; but I warn you that I shall conquer you, because I am your master.” I answered him, “Be it so; but if you drive me to extremity, take care,--it is not always safe to make a woman desperate.”

Jacques De Randol. Especially when that woman is his wife. And what did he reply?

Mme. De Sallus. He did not reply in words; but he treated me brutally.

Jacques De Randol. Did he strike you?

Mme. De Sallus. Yes and no. He jostled me, he squeezed me, he suffocated me. I have bruises all along my arms, but he did not strike me.

Jacques De Randol. Then what did he do?

Mme. De Sallus. He hugged and embraced me, trying to overcome my resistance.

Jacques De Randol. Is that all?

Mme. De Sallus. What do you mean by saying, “Is that all?” Don't you think that is enough?

Jacques De Randol. You do not understand me. I only wish to know whether he struck you.

Mme. De Sallus. Oh, no. I am not afraid of that from him; but luckily I was able to ring the bell.

Jacques De Randol. You rang the bell?

Mme. De Sallus. Yes.

Jacques De Randol. What a thing to do! [_Smiles_.] And when the servant came, did you ask him to show your husband out?

Mme. DE SALLUS [_pouts_]

You seem to find this very funny.

Jacques De Randol. Oh, no, my dear Madame; it is all exceedingly painful to me, but I cannot help realizing the grotesqueness of the situation. Pardon me,--and what then?

Mme. De Sallus. I ordered my carriage. And then, as soon as Joseph had gone out, my husband said, with that arrogant air which you know so well in him, “Today, or to-morrow--it matters not which.”

Jacques De Randol. And--

Mme. De Sallus. And that is almost all.

Jacques De Randol. Almost?

Mme. De Sallus. Yes, because since then I have locked myself in my room as soon as I heard him coming in.

Jacques De Randol. Haven't you seen him since?

Mme. De Sallus. Oh, yes, several times, but only for a few minutes each time.

Jacques De Randol. What has he said to you?

Mme. De Sallus. Little or nothing. He either sneers or insolently asks whether I am less savage to-day. Last night at the table he brought out a little book, which he read during dinner. As I did not wish to appear embarrassed or anxious, and desired to maintain my dignity, I said: “Your manners toward me are certainly exceedingly courteous.” He smiled and replied: “What did you say?” “It is strange that, for reading, you should choose the time that we are together,” I said. He answered: “Great heavens! It is all your fault, since you do not care to be amiable. Besides, this little book is very interesting. It is the Civil Code. Perhaps you would like to become acquainted with some clauses in it. They would certainly interest you.” Then he read me the law concerning marriage; the duties of a wife and the rights of a husband. Then he looked me full in the face, and asked me whether I understood. I answered in the same tone that I understood too much,--especially did I understand the kind of man I had married. Then I went out and I have not seen him since.

Jacques De Randol. Haven't you seen him to-day?

Mme. De Sallus. No. He lunched alone. As for myself, I have thought over the situation, and have decided not to meet him _tête-à-tête_ any more.

Jacques De Randol. But are you quite sure that at bottom his attitude is not induced by anger, by wounded vanity, by disappointment, and perhaps by a little bravado? Possibly he will behave himself better in future. To-night he is at the Opéra. The Santelli has scored a great success in “Mahomet,” and I think she has invited him to supper after the performance. Now, if the supper is very much to his taste, he will probably be in good humor when he comes home.

Mme. De Sallus. Oh! How provoking you are. Can't you understand that I am in the power of this man, that I belong to him even more than his valet or his dog, because he has those abominable legal rights over me? The Code, your barbarous Code, puts me entirely in his power without any possible defense on my part; save actually killing me, he can do everything. Can't you understand that? Can't you realize the horror of my situation? Imagine, save actual murder, he can do anything to me, and he has the strength--not only physical but legal--to obtain anything from me. And I, I have not a single avenue of escape from a man whom I despise and hate. And that is the law made by you men! He took me, married me, deserted me. On my part, I have an absolutely moral right to leave him. And yet, despite this righteous hatred, this overpowering disgust, this loathing which creeps through me in the presence of the man who has scorned me, deceived me, and who has fluttered, right under my eyes, from girl to girl--this man, I say, has the right to demand from me a shameful and infamous concession. I have no right to hide myself; I have no right even to a key to my own door. Everything belongs to him--the key, the door, and even the woman who hates him. It is monstrous! Can you imagine such a horrible situation? That a woman should not be mistress of herself, should not even have the sacred right of preserving her person from a loathsome stain? And all this is the consequence of the infamous law which you men have made!

JACQUES DE RANDOL [_appealingly_]

My darling! I fully understand what you must be suffering; but how can I help it? No magistrate can protect you; no statute can preserve you.

Mme. De Sallus. I know it. But when you have neither mother nor father to protect you, when the law is against you, and when you shrink from complicity in those degrading transactions to which many women yield themselves, there is always one means of escape.

Jacques De Randol. And that?

Mme. De Sallus. Flight.

Jacques De Randol. You mean to say--

Mme. De Sallus. Flight.

Jacques De Randol. Alone?

Mme. De Sallus. No--with you.

Jacques De Randol. With me! Are you dreaming?

Mme. De Sallus. No; so much the better. The scandal of it will prevent him from taking me back. I have gained courage now. Since he forces me to dishonor, I shall see that that dishonor is complete and overwhelming--even though it be the worse for him and for me.

Jacques De Randol. Oh! Beware, beware, my darling! You are in one of those moments of exaltation and nervous excitement in which a woman sometimes commits a folly that is irreparable.

Mme. De Sallus. Well, I would rather commit such a folly and ruin myself--if that be ruin--than expose myself to the infamous struggle with which each day I am threatened.

Jacques De Randol. Madeline, hear me. You are in a terrible situation, but for God's sake do not throw yourself into one that is irretrievable. Be calm, I implore you.

Mme. De Sallus. Well, what do you advise?

Jacques De Randol. I do not know; we shall see. But I do not, I cannot, advise you to venture on a scandal which will put you outside the pale of society.

Mme. De Sallus. Well, yes, there is another law, an unwritten law which permits one to have lovers, even though it be shameful, because [_sarcastically_] it does not outrage society.

Jacques De Randol. That is not the question. The thing is to avoid taking up a wrong position in your quarrel with your husband. Have you decided to leave him?

Mme. De Sallus. Yes.

Jacques De Randol. Finally and forever?

Mme. De Sallus. Yes.

Jacques De Randol. Do you mean for _all_ time?

Mme. De Sallus. For _all_ time.

Jacques De Randol. Well, now, be cautious; be careful and cunning; guard your reputation and your name. Make neither commotion nor scandal, and await your opportunity.

Mme. DE SALLUS [_ironically_]

And must I continue to be very charming when he returns to me, and be ready for all his fancies?

Jacques De Randol. Oh, Madeline, I speak to you in the truest friendship.

Mme. DE SALLUS [_bitterly_]

In the truest friendship!

Jacques De Randol. Yea, as a friend who loves you far too dearly to advise you to commit any folly.

Mme. De Sallus. And loves me just enough to advise me to be complaisant to a man I despise.

Jacques De Randol. I! Never, never. My most ardent desire is to be with you forever. Get a divorce, and then if you still love me, let us wed.

Mme. De Sallus. Oh, yes, yes--two years from now. Certainly, you _are_ a patient lover!

Jacques De Randol. But supposing I were to carry you off, he would take you back to-morrow; would shut you up in his house, and would never get a divorce lest you should become my wife.

Mme. De Sallus. Well, do you mean to say I could fly nowhere but to your house, that I could not hide myself in such fashion that he would never find me?

Jacques De Randol. Yes, you could hide yourself, but it would be necessary for you to live abroad under another name, or buried in the country, till death. That is the curse of our love. In three months you would hate me. I never will let you commit such a folly.

Mme. De Sallus. I thought you loved me enough to fly with me, but it seems that I am mistaken. Adieu!

Jacques De Randol. Madeline, listen to me for God's--

Mme. DE SALLUS Jacques, take me, or leave me--answer!

Jacques De Randol. Madeline, I implore you!

Mme. De Sallus. Never! Adieu! [_Rises and goes to the door_.]

Jacques De Randol. Once more I implore you, Madeline, listen to me.

Mme. De Sallus. Oh, no, no; adieu! [De Randol _takes her by the arms; she frees herself angrily_.] Unhand me! Let me go, or I shall call for help!

Jacques De Randol. Call if you will, but listen to me. I would not that you should ever be able to reproach me for the madness that you meditate. God forbid that you should hate me, but, bound to me by this flight that you propose, you would carry with you forever a keen and unavailing regret that I allowed you to do it.

Mme. De Sallus. Let me go! I despise you! Let me go!

Jacques De Randol. Well, if you wish to fly, why, let us fly.

Mme. De Sallus. Oh, no, not now. I know you now. It is too late. Let me go.

Jacques De Randol. I have done exactly what I ought to have done; I have said exactly what I ought to have said; consequently, I am no longer responsible for you, and you have no right to reproach me with the consequences. So let us fly.

Mme. De Sallus. Oh, no, it is too late, and I do not care to accept sacrifices.

Jacques De Randol. There is no more any question of sacrifice. To fly with you is my most ardent desire.

Mme. DE SALLUS [_astonished_]

You are mad.

Jacques De Randol. Well, suppose I am mad. That is only natural, since I love you.

Mme. De Sallus. What do you mean?

Jacques De Randol. I mean what I say. I love you; I have nothing else to say. Let us fly.

Mme. De Sallus. Ah, you were altogether too cautious just now to become so brave all at once.

Jacques De Randol. Will you ever understand me? Listen to me. When I first realized that I adored you, I made a solemn vow concerning what might happen between you and me. The man who falls in love with a woman such as you, a woman married yet deserted; a slave in fact yet morally free, institutes between her and himself a bond which only she can break. The woman risks everything. Ay, it is just because she does this, because she gives everything--her heart, her body, her soul, her honor, her life, because she has foreseen all the miseries, all the dangers, all the misfortunes that can happen, because she dares to take so bold, and fearless a step, and because she is ready and determined to hazard everything--a husband who could kill her, and a world that would scorn her--it is for all this and for the heroism of her conjugal infidelity, that her lover, in taking her, ought to foresee all, to guard her against every ill that can possibly happen. I have nothing more to say. I spoke at first as a calm and foreseeing man who wished to protect you against everything--now I am simply and only the man who loves you. Order me as you please.

Mme. De Sallus. That is all very prettily said; but is it true?

Jacques De Randol. I swear it!

Mme. De Sallus. You wish to fly with me?

Jacques De Randol. Yes.

Mme. De Sallus. From the bottom of your heart?

Jacques De Randol. From the bottom of my heart.

Mme. De Sallus. To-day?

Jacques De Randol. Yes, and whenever you please.

Mme. De Sallus. It is now a quarter to eight. My husband will be coming in directly, for we dine at eight. I shall be free at half past nine or ten o'clock.

Jacques De Randol. Where shall I wait for you?

Mme. De Sallus. At the end of the street in a _coupé_. [_The bell rings_.] There he is, and for the last time, thank God!