CHARACTERS
MONSIEUR DURAND, a pension proprietor,
formerly connected with the state railroad ADELE,
his daughter, twenty-seven ANNETTE, his daughter,
twenty-four THERESE, his daughter, twenty-four
ANTONIO, a lieutenant in an Italian cavalry regiment
in French Switzerland in the eighties PIERRE,
an errand boy
[SCENE-A dining-room with
a long table. Through the open door is seen,
over the tops of churchyard cypress trees, Lake Leman,
with the Savoy Alps and the French bathing-resort
Evian. To left is a door to the kitchen.
To right a door to inner rooms. Monsieur Durand
stands in doorway looking over the lake with a pair
of field glasses.]
ADELE [Comes in from kitchen wearing
apron and turned-up sleeves. She carries a tray
with coffee things]. Haven’t you been for
the coffee-bread, father?
DURAND. No, I sent Pierre.
My chest has been bad for the last few drays, and
it affects me to walk the steep hill.
ADELE. Pierre again, eh?
That costs three sous. Where are they to
come from, with only one tourist in the house for
over two months?
DURAND. That’s true enough,
but it seems to me Annette might get the bread.
ADELE. That would ruin the credit
of the house entirely, but you have never done anything
else.
DURAND. Even you, Adele?
ADELE. Even I am tired, though I have held out
longest!
DURAND. Yes, you have, and you
were still human when Therese and Annette cautioned
me. You and I have pulled this house through since
mother died. You have had to sit in the kitchen
like Cinderella; I have had to take care of the service,
the fires, sweep and clean, and do the errands.
You are tired; how should it be with me, then?
ADELE. But you mustn’t
be tired. You have three daughters who are unprovided
for and whose dowry you have wasted.
DURAND [Listening without]. Doesn’t
it seem as if you heard the sound of clanging and
rumbling down toward Cully? If fire has broken
out they are lost, because the wind is going to blow
soon, the lake tells me that.
ADELE. Have you paid the fire insurance on our
house?
DURAND. Yes, I have. Otherwise
I would never have got that last mortgage.
ADELE. How much is there left unmortgaged?
DURAND. A fifth of the fire insurance
policy. But you know how property dropped in
value when the railroad passed our gates and went to
the east instead.
ADELE. So much the better.
DURAND [Sternly]. Adele! [Pause.]
Will you put out the fire in the stove?
ADELE. Impossible. I can’t till the
coffee-bread comes.
DURAND. Well, here it is.
[Pierre comes in with basket. Adele looks in
the basket.]
ADELE. No bread! But a bill-two,
three-
PIERRE.-Well, the baker
said he wouldn’t send any more bread until he
was paid. And then, when I was going by the butcher’s
and the grocer’s, they shoved these bills at
me. [Goes out.]
ADELE. Oh, God in heaven, this
is the end for us! But what’s this? [Opens
a package.]
DURAND. Some candles that I bought for the mass
for my dear little René.
Today is the anniversary of his death.
ADELE. You can afford to buy such things!
DURAND. With my tips, yes.
Don’t you think it is humiliating to stretch
out my hand whenever a traveller leaves us? Can’t
you grant me the only contentment I possess-let
me enjoy my sorrow one time each year? To be
able to live in memory of the most beautiful thing
life ever gave me?
ADELE. If he had only lived until mow, you’d
see how beautiful he’d be!
DURAND. It’s very possible
that there’s truth in your irony-as
I remember him, however, he was not as you all are
now.
ADELE. Will you be good enough
to receive Monsieur Antonio yourself? He is coming
now to have his coffee without bread! Oh,
if mother were only living! She always found
a way when you stood helpless.
DURAND. Your mother had her good qualities.
ADELE. Although you saw only her faults.
DURAND. Monsieur Antonio is coming.
If you leave me now, I’ll have a talk with him.
ADELE. You would do better to
go out and borrow some money, so that the scandal
would be averted.
DURAND. I can’t borrow
a sou. After borrowing for ten years! Let
everything crash at once, everything, everything, if
it would only be the end!
ADELE. The end for you, yes. But you never
think of us!
DURAND. No, I have never thought of you, never!
ADELE. Do you begrudge us our bringing-up?
DURAND. I am only answering an
unjust reproach. Go now, and I’ll meet
the storm-as usual.
ADELE. As usual-h’m!
[Goes. Antonio comes in from back.]
ANTONIO. Good morning, Monsieur Durand.
DURAND. Monsieur Lieutenant has already been
out for a walk?
ANTONIO. Yes, I’ve been
down toward Cully and saw them put out a chimney fire.
Now, some coffee will taste particularly good.
DURAND. It’s needless to
say how it pains me to have to tell you that on account
of insufficient supplies our house can no longer continue
to do business.
ANTONIO. How is that?
DURAND. To speak plainly, we are bankrupt.
ANTONIO. But, my good Monsieur
Durand, is there no way of helping you out of what
I hope is just a temporary embarrassment?
DURAND. No, there is no possible
way out. The condition of the house has been
so completely undermined for many years that I had
rather the crash would come than live in a state of
anxiety day and night, expecting what must come.
ANTONIO. Nevertheless I believe
you are looking at the dark side of things.
DURAND. I can’t see what makes you doubt
my statement.
ANTONIO. Because I want to help you.
DURAND. I don’t wish any
help. Privation must come and teach my children
to lead a different life from this which is all play.
With the exception of Adele, who really does take
care of the kitchen, what do the others do? Play,
and sing, and promenade, and flirt; and as long as
there is a crust of bread in the house, they’ll
never do anything useful.
ANTONIO. Granting that, but until
the finances are straightened out we must have bread
in the house. Allow me to stay a month longer
and I will pay my bill in advance.
DURAND. No, thank you, we must
stick to this course even if it leads us into the
lake! And I don’t want to continue in this
business, which doesn’t bring bread-nothing
but humiliations. Just think how it was last
spring, when the house had been empty for three months.
Then at last an American family came and saved us.
The morning after their arrival I ran across the son
catching hold of my daughter on the stairs. It
was Therese,-he was trying to kiss her.
What would you have done in my case?
ANTONIO [Confused]. I don’t know-
DURAND. I know what I, as a father, should have
done,
but-father-like-I didn’t
do it. But I know what to do the next time.
ANTONIO. On account of that very
thing it seems to me that you should think very carefully
about what you do, and not leave your daughters to
chance.
DURAND. Monsieur Antonio, you
are a young man who, for some inexplicable reason,
has won my regard. Whether you grant it, or not,
I am going to ask one thing of you. Don’t
form any opinions about me as an individual, or about
my conduct.
ANTONIO. Monsieur Durand, I promise
it if you will answer me one question; are you Swiss
born, or not?
DURAND. I am a Swiss citizen.
ANTONIO. Yes, I know that, but I ask if you were
born in Switzerland.
DURAND [Uncertainly]. Yes.
ANTONIO. I asked only-because
it interested me. Nevertheless-as I
must believe you that your pension must be closed,
I want to pay what I owe. To be sure it’s
only ten francs, but I can’t go away and leave
an unpaid bill.
DURAND. I can’t be sure
that this is really a debt, as I don’t keep the
accounts, but if you have deceived me you shall hear
from me. Now I’ll go and get the bread.
Afterward we’ll find out.
[Goes out. Antonio alone.
Afterward Therese comes in, carrying a rat-trap.
She wears a morning negligee and her hair is down.]
THERESE. Oh, there you are, Antonio!
I thought I heard the old man.
ANTONIO. Yes, he went to get the coffee-bread,
he said.
THERESE. Hadn’t he done
that already? No, do you know, we can’t
stand him any longer.
ANTONIO. How beautiful you are
today, Therese! But that rat-trap isn’t
becoming.
THERESE. And such a trap into
the bargain! I have set it for a whole month,
but never, never get a live one, although the bait
is eaten every morning. Have you seen Mimi around?
ANTONIO. That damned cat?
It’s usually around early and late, but today
I’ve been spared it.
THERESE. You must speak beautifully
about the absent, and remember, he who loves me, loves
my cat. [She puts rat-trap on table and picks up an
empty saucer from under table.] Adele, Adele!
ADELE [In the kitchen door].
What does Her Highness demand so loudly?
THERESE. Her Highness demands
milk for her cat and a piece of cheese for your rats.
ADELE. Go get them yourself.
THERESE. Is that the way to answer Her Highness?
ADELE. The answer fits such talk.
And besides, you deserve it for showing yourself before
a stranger with your hair not combed.
THERESE. Aren’t we all
old friends here, and-Antonio, go and speak
nicely to Aunt Adele, and then you’ll get some
milk for Mimi. [Antonio hesitates.] Well, aren’t
you going to mind?
ANTONIO [Sharply]. No.
THERESE. What kind of a way to
speak is that? Do you want a taste of my riding
whip?
ANTONIO. Impudence!
THERESE. [Amazed]. What’s
that? What’s that? Are you trying to
remind me of my position, my debt, my weakness?
ANTONIO. No, I only want to remind
you of my position, my debt, my weakness.
ADELE [Getting the saucer]. Now
listen, good friends. What’s all this foolishness
for? Be friends-and then I’ll
give you some very nice coffee. [Goes into the kitchen.]
THERESE [Crying]. You are tired
of me, Antonio, and you are thinking of giving me
up.
ANTONIO. You mustn’t cry, it will make
your eyes so ugly.
THERESE. Oh, if they are not as beautiful as
Annette’s-
ANTONIO.-So, it’s
Annette now? But now look here; all fooling aside,
isn’t it about time we had our coffee?
THERESE. You’d make a charming
married man-not able to wait a moment for
your coffee.
ANTONIO. And what a lovable married
lady you would be, who growls at her husband because
she has made a blunder.
[Annette comes in fully dressed and hair done up.]
ANNETTE. You seem to be quarreling this morning.
ANTONIO. See, there’s Annette, and dressed
already.
THERESE. Yes, Annette is so extraordinary
in every respect, and she also has the prerogative
of being older than I am.
ANNETTE. If you don’t hold your tongue-
ANTONIO.-Oh, now, now, be good, now, Therese!
[He puts his arm around her and kisses
her. Monsieur Durand appears in the doorway as
he does so.]
DURAND [Astonished]. What’s this?
THERESE [Freeing herself]. What?
DURAND. Did my eyes see right?
THERESE. What did you see?
DURAND. I saw that you allowed a strange gentleman
to kiss you.
THERESE. That’s a lie!
DURAND. Have I lost my sight, or do you dare
lie to my face?
THERESE. Is it for you to talk
about lying, you who lie to us and the whole world
by saying that you were born a Swiss although you are
a Frenchman?
DURAND. Who said that?
THERESE. Mother said so.
DURAND [To Antonio]. Monsieur Lieutenant, as
our account is settled,
I’ll ask you to leave this house immediately,
or else-
ANTONIO. Or else?
DURAND. Choose your weapon.
ANTONIO. I wonder what sort of
defense you would put up other than the hare’s!
DURAND. If I didn’t prefer
my stick, I should take the gun that I used in the
last war.
THERESE. You have surely been at war-you
who deserted!
DURAND. Mother said that, too.
I can’t fight the dead, but I can fight the
living.
[Lifts his walking-stick and goes
toward Antonio. Therese and Annette throw themselves
between the men.]
ANNETTE. Think what you are doing!
THERESE. This will end on the scaffold!
ANTONIO [Backing away]. Good-bye,
Monsieur Durand. Keep my contempt-and
my ten francs.
DURAND [Takes a gold piece from his vest pocket and
throws it toward
Antonio]. My curses follow your gold, scamp!
[Therese and Annette following Antonio.]
THERESE and ANNETTE. Don’t go, don’t
leave us! Father will kill us!
DURAND [Breaks his stick in two]. He who cannot
kill must die.
ANTONIO. Good-bye, and I hope
you’ll miss the last rat from your sinking ship.
[He goes.]
THERESE [To Durand]. That’s
the way you treat your guests! Is it any wonder
the house has gone to pieces!
DURAND. Yes-that’s
the way-such guests! But tell me, Therese,
my child-[Takes her head between his hands]
tell me, my beloved child, tell me if I saw wrong
just now, or if you told a falsehood.
THERESE [Peevishly]. What?
DURAND. You know what I mean.
It isn’t the thing itself, which can be quite
innocent-but it is a matter of whether I
can trust my senses that interests me.
THERESE. Oh, talk about something
else.-Tell us rather what we are going
to eat and drink today. For that matter, it’s
a lie; he didn’t kiss me.
DURAND. It isn’t a lie.
In Heaven’s name, didn’t I see it happen?
THERESE. Prove it.
DURAND. Prove it? With two witnesses or-a
policeman! [To Annette.]
Annette, my child, will you tell me the truth?
ANNETTE. I didn’t see anything.
DURAND. That’s a proper
answer. For one should never accuse one’s
sister. How like your mother you are today, Annette!
ANNETTE. Don’t you say
anything about mother! She should be living such
a day as this!
[Adele comes in with a glass of milk,
which she puts on table.]
ADELE [To Durand]. There’s
your milk. What happened to the bread?
DURAND. Nothing, my children.
It will continue to come as it always has up to the
present.
THERESE [Grabs the glass of milk from
her father]. You shall not have anything, you
who throw away money, so that your children are compelled
to starve.
ADELE. Did he throw away money,
the wretch? He should have been put in the lunatic
asylum the time mother said he was ripe for it.
See, here’s another bill that came by way of
the kitchen.
[Durand takes the bill and starts
as he looks at it. Pours a glass of water and
drinks. Sits down and lights his briar pipe.]
ANNETTE. But he can afford to smoke tobacco.
DURAND [Tired and submissively].
Dear children, this tobacco didn’t cost me any
more than that water, for it was given to me six months
ago. Don’t vex yourselves needlessly.
THERESE [Takes matches away].
Well, at least you sha’n’t waste the matches.
DURAND. If you knew, Therese,
how many matches I have wasted on you when I used
to get up nights to see if you had thrown off the bedclothes!
If you knew, Annette, how many times I have secretly
given you water when you cried from thirst, because
your mother believed that it was harmful for children
to drink!
THERESE. Well, all that was so
long ago that I can’t bother about it.
For that matter, it was only your duty, as you have
said yourself.
DURAND. It was, and I fulfilled
my duty and a little more too.
ADELE. Well, continue to do so,
or no one knows what will become of us. Three
young girls left homeless and friendless, without anything
to live on! Do you know what want can drive one
to?
DURAND. That’s what I said
ten years ago, but no one would heed me; and twenty
years ago I predicted that this moment would come,
and I haven’t been able to prevent its coming.
I have been sitting like a lone brakeman on an express
train, seeing it go toward an abyss, but I haven’t,
been able to get to the engine valves to stop it.
THERESE. And now you want thanks
for landing in the abyss with us.
DURAND. No, my child, I only
ask that you be a little less unkind to me. You
have cream fur the cat, but you begrudge milk to your
father, who has not eaten for-so long.
THERESE. Oh, it’s you,
then, who has begrudged milk for my cat!
DURAND. Yes, it’s I.
ANNETTE. And perhaps it is he who has eaten the
rats’ bait, too.
DURAND. It is he.
ADELE. Such a pig!
THERESE [Laughing]. Think if it had been poisoned!
DURAND. Alas, if only it had been, you mean!
THERESE. Yes, you surely wouldn’t
have minded that, you who have so often talked about
shooting yourself-but have never done it!
DURAND. Why didn’t you
shoot me? That’s a direct reproach.
Do you know why I haven’t done it? To keep
you from going into the lake, my dear children.-Say
something else unkind now. It’s like hearing
music-tunes that I recognize-from
the good old times-
ADELE. Stop such useless talk now and do something.
Do something.
THERESE. Do you know what the
consequences may be if you leave us in this shape?
DURAND. You will go and prostitute
yourselves. That’s what your mother always
said she’d do when she had spent the housekeeping
money on lottery tickets.
ADELE. Silence! Not a word
about our dear, beloved mother!
DURAND [Half humming to himself].
In this house a candle burns,
When it burns out the goal
he earns,
The goal once won, the storm
will come
With a great crash. Yes!
No!
[It has begun to blow outside and
grown cloudy. Durand rises quickly and says to
Adele] Put out the fire in the stove. The wind
storm is coming.
ADELE [Looking Durand in the eyes].
No, the wind is not coming.
DURAND. Put out the fire.
If it catches fire here, we’ll get nothing from
the insurance. Put out the fire, I say, put it
out.
ADELE. I don’t understand you.
DURAND [Looks in her eyes, taking
her hand]. Just obey me, do as I say. [Adele
goes into kitchen, leaving the door open. To Therese
and Annette.] Go up and shut the windows, children,
and look after the draughts. But come and give
me a kiss first, for I am going away to get money
for you.
THERESE. Can you get money?
DURAND. I have a life insurance that I think
I am going to realize on.
THERESE. How much can you get for it?
DURAND. Six hundred francs if
I sell it, and five thousand if I die. [Therese concerned.]
Now, tell me, my child,-we mustn’t
be needlessly cruel,-tell me, Therese,
are you so attached to Antonio that you would be quite
unhappy if you didn’t get him?
THERESE. Oh, yes!
DURAND. Then you must marry him
if he really loves you. But you mustn’t
be unkind to him, for then you’ll be unhappy.
Good-bye, my dear beloved child. [Takes her in his
arms and kisses her cheeks.]
THERESE. But you mustn’t die, father, you
mustn’t.
DURAND. Would you grudge me going to my peace?
THERESE. No, not if you wish
it yourself. Forgive me, father, the many, many
times I’ve been unkind to you.
DURAND. Nonsense, my child.
THERESE. But no one was so unkind to you as I.
DURAND. I felt it less because
I loved you most. Why, I don’t know.
But run and shut the windows.
THERESE. Here are your matches, papa-and
there’s your milk.
DURAND [Smiling]. Ah, you child!
THERESE. Well, what can I do? I haven’t
anything else to give you.
DURAND. You gave me so much joy
as a child that you owe me nothing. Go now, and
just give me a loving look as you used to do. [Therese
turns and throws herself into his arms.] So, so, my
child, now all is well. [Therese runs out.] Farewell,
Annette.
ANNETTE. Are you going away? I don’t
understand all this.
DURAND. Yes, I’m going.
ANNETTE. But of course you’re coming back,
papa.
DURAND. Who knows whether he
will live through the morrow? Anyway, we’ll
say farewell.
ANNETTE. Adieu, then, father-and
a good journey to you. And you won’t forget
to bring something home to us just as you used to do,
will you?
DURAND. And you remember that,
though it’s so long since I’ve bought
anything for you children? Adieu, Annette. [Annette
goes. Durand hums to himself.]
Through good and evil, great
and small,
Where you have sown, others
gather all.
[Adele comes in.] Adele, come, now
you shall hear and understand. If I speak in
veiled terms, it is only to spare your conscience in
having you know too much. Be quiet. I’ve
got the children up in their rooms. First you
are to ask me this question, “Have you a life
insurance policy?” Well?
ADELE [Questioningly and uncertain].
“Have you a life insurance policy?”
DURAND. No, I had one, but I
sold it long ago, because I thought I noticed that
some one became irritable when it was due. But
I have a fire insurance. Here are the papers.
Hide them well. Now, I’m going to ask you
something; do you know how many candles there are in
a pound, mass candles at seventy-five centimes?
ADELE. There are six.
DURAND [Indicating the package of
candles]. How many candles are there there?
ADELE. Only five.
DURAND. Because the sixth is placed very high
up and very near-
ADELE.-Good Lord!
DURAND [Looking at his watch].
In five minutes or so, it will be burned out.
ADELE. No!
DURAND. Yes! Can you see dawn any other
way in this darkness?
ADELE. No.
DURAND. Well, then. That
takes care of the business. Now about another
matter. If Monsieur Durand passes out of the world
as an [Whispers] incendiary, it doesn’t matter
much, but his children shall know that he lived as
a man of honor up to that time. Well, then, I
was born in France, but I didn’t have to admit
that to the first scamp that came along. Just
before I reached the age of conscription I fell in
love with the one who later became my wife. To
be able to marry, we came here and were naturalized.
When the last war broke out, and it looked as if I
was going to carry a weapon against my own country,
I went out as a sharpshooter against the Germans.
I never deserted, as you have heard that I did-your
mother invented that story.
ADELE. Mother never lied-
DURAND.-So, so. Now
the ghost has risen and stands between us again.
I cannot enter an action against the dead, but I swear
I am speaking the truth. Do you hear? And
as far as your dowry is concerned, that is to say
your maternal inheritance, these are the facts:
first, your mother through carelessness and foolish
speculations ruined your paternal inheritance so completely
that I had to give up my business and start this pension.
After that, part of her inheritance had to be used
in the bringing-up of you children, which of course
cannot be looked upon as thrown away. So it was
also untrue that-
ADELE. No, that’s not what mother said
on her death-bed-
DURAND.-Then your mother
lied on her death-bed, just as she had done all through
her life. And that’s the curse that has
been following me like a spook. Think how you
have innocently tortured me with these two lies for
so many years! I didn’t want to put disquiet
into your young lives which would result in your doubting
your mother’s goodness. That’s why
I kept silent. I was the bearer of her cross throughout
our married life; carried all her faults on my back,
took all the consequences of her mistakes on myself
until at last I believed that I was the guilty one.
And she was not slow, first to believe herself to be
blameless, and then later the victim. “Blame
it on me,” I used to say, when she had become
terribly involved in some tangle. And she blamed
and I bore! But the more she became indebted
to me, the more she hated me, with the limitless hatred
of her indebtedness. And in the end she despised
me, trying to strengthen herself by imagining she
had deceived me. And last of all she taught you
children to despise me, because she wanted support
in her weakness. I hoped and believed that this
evil but weak spirit would die when she died; but
evil lives and grows like disease, while soundness
stops at a certain point and then retrogrades.
And when I wanted to change what was wrong in the
habits of this household, I was always met with “But
mother said,” and therefore it was true; “Mother
used to do this way,” and therefore it was right.
And to you I became a good-for-nothing when I was
kind, a miserable creature when I was sensitive, and
a scamp when I let you all have your way and ruin the
house.
ADELE. It’s honorable to accuse the dead
who can’t defend themselves!
DURAND [Fast and exalted]. I
am not dead yet, but I will be soon. Will you
defend me then? No, you need not. But defend
your sisters. Think only of my children, Adele.
Take a motherly care of Therese; she is the youngest
and liveliest, quick for good and bad, thoughtless
but weak. See to it that she marries soon, if
it can be arranged. Now, I can smell burning
straw.
ADELE. Lord protect us!
DURAND [Drinks from glass]. He
will. And for Annette you must try to find a
place as teacher, so that she can get up in the world
and into good company. You must manage the money
when it falls due. Don’t be close, but
fix up your sisters so that they will be presentable
to the right kind of people. Don’t save
anything but the family papers, which are in the top
drawer of my chiffonier in the middle room. Here
is the key. The fire insurance papers you have.
[Smoke is seen forcing its way through the ceiling.]
It will soon be accomplished now. In a moment
you will hear the clanging from St. Francois.
Promise me one thing. Never divulge this to your
sisters. It would only disturb their peace for
the rest of their lives. [He sits by table.] And one
thing more, never a hard word against their mother.
Her portrait is also in the chiffonier; none of you
knew that, because I found it was enough that her spirit
walked unseen in the home. Greet Therese, and
ask her to forgive me. Don’t forget that
she must have the best when you buy her clothes; you
know her weakness for such things and to what her weakness
can bring her. Tell Annette-
[A distant clanging of bells is heard;
the smoke increases. Monsieur Durand drops his
head in his hands on the table.]
ADELE. It’s burning, it’s
burning! Father, what’s the matter with
you? You’ll be burned up! [Durand lifts
his head, takes the water glass up and puts it down
with a meaningful gesture.] You have-taken-poison!
DURAND [Nods affirmatively].
Have you the insurance papers? Tell Therese-and
Annette-
[His head falls. The bell in
distance strikes again. Rumbling and murmur of
voices outside.]
CURTAIN.