The Action takes place at the Palace of Schoenbrunn July 21, 1832.
The stage represents a room opening at the back on spacious gardens. To the right and to the left doors leading to the apartments of the palace; for furniture a table, a round table, armchairs, sofa.
At rise, FATHER EVERARD is seated at a table writing. A moment of silence.
EVERARD: There! Let's sign. (speaking and signing) Father Everard—Let's seal—But still, I would do better to rewrite this letter. I wrote it too hastily. (reading aloud) Very Reverend, I told you yesterday that the last hour of our young patient would strike before the return of the sun to the horizon. I was abused: night has been calm, tranquil—he was excellent. A more sensible person would feel (correcting) noticed that this morning: no alterations in his features—a fresh and rosy complexion, an air of health and life. You might say death reconsidered at the moment of striking him, that it let fall its hand as it was ready to grasp its prey—and that reopening its lugubrious wings it fled from the Palace of Schoenbrunn. (speaking) I hope they'll be satisfied with the style. (reading again) Far from the Palace of Schoenbrunn—the joy is widespread—among the people; as for me, my face does not betray my heart; I try to appear as gay and happy as the others. Besides, perhaps it's only a ray of sunshine that has pierced the night; it shines vivid and brilliant— but will it shine for long? I don't think so; whatever happens, My Very Reverend, I will be faithful to my engagements. I feel as you do, as do all our friends from the banks of the Rhine, to the Vistula and the Neva, that there is something disquieting about his existence; this young man never wanted to be anything to us— can now only be something to God. The art of medicine is defeated and forced to confess it. From physical treatment it rushes to moral treatment; but I destroy more with a word than he is edified by a thousand. Goodbye, My Reverend Father, my task is distressing, but I am always admirably seconded by the secretary of my young penitent and by all the other honest folks here—who are in great number, especially at the court—I have the honor to be, etc. (he folds the letter, seals it, and puts the address on it)
BARON: (appearing at the door at the back) Ah ! He's still here.
EVERARD: What's this?
BARON: Father.
EVERARD: You, already, Mr. de Wohlbach?
BARON: Already! I was afraid of making you wait!
EVERARD: I just finished my letter this instant.
BARON: You were writing a long while it seems.
EVERARD: Oh—at length. Indeed, I entered into some detail—
BARON: You were so good as to mention me to His Reverence.
EVERARD: I never write without praising you. If my letter were not sealed, I would make you see in what terms I expressed myself in your regard; But His Highness—where is he at this moment?
BARON: Still in his gardens. The great air, the sun, the verdure, the perfume of the flowers all refresh and ravish his soul; Doctor Standenheim has just prescribed that he remain there for a while—but nothing will come of that. As for me, I rushed to rejoin you under the pretext of expediting certain dispatches. We are alone. We can speak without being disturbed.
EVERARD: Then listen to me attentively.
BARON: I am all ears.
EVERARD: I forgot to ask one thing of you. Without regard to the schism and heresy, you feel great affection for the Muscovite Emperor and His Prussian Majesty?
BARON: I love those two excellent monarchs greatly for the great reason that they are very absolute and that within their territories they recognize no other law than their good pleasure.
EVERARD: Fine.
BARON: The Emperor will live in memory; he must be dear to all good people for his beautiful conduct in Warsaw.
EVERARD: Oh—admirable conduct.
BARON: The King of Prussia doesn't reach that height, but I owe him no less respect and love; he is my legitimate sovereign. I was born in the states of Prussia, Father. I served Napoleon for a time; that was wrong of me.
EVERARD: Me, too. I served him.
BARON: He was a devil of a man, that Napoleon. He had the rascality to preserve my properties from pillage after the battle of Jena and moreover gave me a pension of three thousand thalers.
EVERARD: The Monster!
BARON: (continuing) One doesn't wish to appear ungrateful. I did everything for him until our brave General Yorck betrayed him. My pension ceased. I regained my freedom and fidelity to my legitimate sovereign.
EVERARD: I, too, received a pension from that evil genius, but I wasn't as weak as you. I wasn't loyal to him for a quarter of an hour.
BARON: I was only a poor, isolated young man;—you—
EVERARD: I was of the Company of Jesus, it's true. My brother, I don't make a crime of your fidelity. You've been absolved for it, and I am persuaded it's a sin you will never fall into again.
BARON: Ah, I swear to you—
EVERARD: Don't swear— You must experience the desire to revisit the place you were born—that which is vulgarly called the homeland.
BARON: Yes, a pressing desire.
EVERARD: I must declare to you that a correspondence has been opened on this subject with our Very Reverend General. (they both bow) And our good brothers in the Rhenish provinces. Baron de Wohlbach, you will return to the place you miss when your services have ceased to be useful to your young master, to my young penitent. In a word, when the Son of The Man is no more.
BARON: Ah, may that moment come soon.
EVERARD: May it arrive soon! We can only form our prayers.
PETERS: (entering) Oh—the secretary and the Reverend Father Confessor.
BARON: What is it? What's wrong, Mr Peters?
PETERS: Mr. Baron—it's pots, it's vases; the gardener Mr. Herman gave them to me to bring here, because, he says, Miss Francia is going to come put the flowers here.
EVERARD: (low to BARON) That Francia, that Herman have been admitted here so easily. Where do they come from?
BARON: From Tyrol—or so they pretend; it's Doctor Standenheim who had them admitted.
EVERARD: That Standenheim meddles in many things.
BARON: Happily, that won't last a long while.
EVERARD: Happily, as you say so well. Come.
(They leave.)
PETERS: I ask you a bit what are they meddling in things for? What's it to them whether this brave Papa Herman comes from Tyrol or elsewhere? As for me, I rather think it's from elsewhere—because they use words sometimes to each other—but it's not for me to betray them. O God, I who love Miss Francia so much—me, the son—the legitimate and biological son of the keeper of the Zoo at Schoenbrunn.—I would offer her my hand, I think, if it weren't a mesalliance for me—and if my father would consent to it.—Here she is! Oh! Oh!
HERMAN: (entering) Come on, Francia, come on, my daughter. Let's hurry—arrange these in those vases with the greatest possible taste.
FRANCIA: Where are they? (seeing them in PETERS arms) Ah, Mr. Peters.
PETERS: Ah! Well! What?
FRANCIA: Give them to me if you please.
PETERS: Give them to you! O God! order whatever I can lawfully give you, I am ready.
FRANCIA: That's what I'm asking of you—
PETERS: (very astonished) Indeed!
HERMAN: Eh! Yes—those vases you've got there.
PETERS: Ah! Here they are, here they are. As for me, I am always thinking of so many other things.
HERMAN: Let's set up these roses, these laurels.
PETERS: They're grafts brought from France, right?
HERMAN: Yes—
PETERS: As for me, I don't like what comes from France, especially laurels.
FRANCIA: Why's that, my dear Peters?
PETERS: Damn—I don't really know.
HERMAN: Go, go, my friend. The French have gathered so many laurels here that if they send us some it's only a kind of restitution.
PETERS: Ah, that's different, I understand that.
FRANCIA: That good Peters.
PETERS: That's not the difficulty; since his illness, Milord cannot bear flowers; now he loves 'em again. That's a good prognosis.
HERMAN: Very good, very good—no doubt about it, the good young man is saved.
PETERS: Ah—May the Great God in heaven hear you.
FRANCIA: You love him a lot, too, do you?
PETERS: Me? Do I love him! Heavens, Miss I owe him my life, I owe him all my strength. Well if they told me just now Peters—"Give your life for the Duke of Reichstadt"—I would respond immediately. "Take it—only don't be slow about it."
FRANCIA: (offering him her hand) Peters, that's beautiful. That—that's really beautiful, my friend.
PETERS: Ah, damn—that's the way I am. (aside) She said, my friend. A good action is always rewarded.
A VOICE: (off) Peters! Peters!
PETERS: (to FRANCIA) Huh?
FRANCIA: It's not me calling you.
HERMAN: It's the voice of the Grand Master of the Palace.
PETERS: It's not at all the same as yours. No matter. I'm going, for Milord the Grand Master is a brute. He doesn't like to be made to wait. I am leaving you. O God! If I didn't have as much respect and friendship for my father—or if I had been lucky enough to be born an orphan.
VOICE: Peters! Peters!
PETERS: Coming—coming. (he leaves)
FRANCIA: Well, father?
HERMAN: Well, my dear child, we must resume our courage, reopen our hearts to hope; you heard what the doctor said—he regards him as out of danger.
FRANCIA: He didn't say that to us—that excellent man said it rather to the importunate rabble of courtiers and idlers to whom a crueller truth might have caused joy—
HERMAN: Poor Francia! The work to which we are devoted is a work of patience, of courage, and sadness. Let's stay ready for anything. We've left everything; our country, our fortune. We are living here like malefactors in the perpetual fear of being discovered and punished—for being devoted and for following the honest inspiration of our hearts. Let's hope, my daughter, let's still hope—but let's be on guard against a sadness which could harm the accomplishment of our duties.
FRANCIA: Ah! so many sacrifices have been made for a pure waste!
HERMAN: No—Think of the services we've rendered, of the sorrows we've so often been able to ease. The event you fear can happen and kill us. But a consoling thought will follow us to our tomb: that of having done, at least, all that heaven left us the power to accomplish.
FRANCIA: Alas!
HERMAN: Chase away those dark thoughts, be gay—you don't know: the young Paolo Tudeli who shares our feelings and whose heart chimes with ours—
FRANCIA: Well!
HERMAN: That young Italian, lieutenant in the Duke's regiment, so taken with love for his country—I believe he's guessed about us. He spoke to me—
FRANCIA: And—what did he say to you?
PETERS: (running in) Ah, my God, my God!
FRANCIA: What's the matter?
PETERS: Come, come—help—the prince—
HERMAN: Get to the point—
PETERS: The Duke—just now—swooned.
FRANCIA: Ah! run—
HERMAN: Great God!
(The DUKE appears supported by the DOCTOR and PAOLO.)
PETERS: Wait! wait!
DUKE: (to PAOLO) Thanks, my friend, thanks, doctor; I feel better—this walk was a little too prolonged.
PAOLO: I made that observation to Your Highness—
BARON: (who has come in behind PAOLO with FATHER EVERARD) Me, too—
EVERARD: I also thought of saying it—
DUKE: (smiling) A great proof of zeal, my reverend father, but I had the oracle with me—from the moment the doctor said nothing. (to DOCTOR) Truly, dear Standenheim, I feel well. Yes, I'm recovered, completely recovered. (to the BARON and FATHER EVERARD) That will please you greatly, gentlemen?
EVERARD AND THE BARON: Ah, Milord.
DUKE: That's fine, that's fine, gentlemen. I am going to go back in. You may withdraw. Herman, bring those flowers there inside. (HERMAN takes vases and flowers and leaves by the right) Francia—Paolo has something to tell you on my behalf. Doctor, your arm? (The DUKE and the DOCTOR leave by the right, the others by the back.)
PAOLO: Amiable Francia, allow me to profit by the short moments left to me. I haven't made known to you all the secret feelings of my heart, and I've never betrayed them. But they have been discovered by the one to whom you and I are devoted. He authorizes them, he approves them, and he's ordered me to offer them to you in homage. But I don't want the desire he expressed to become a painful duty for you . It's up to you alone; it's from you alone, from your free will that I want to obtain them from you.
FRANCIA: Paolo, your delicacy doesn't surprise me, but it forces me to be sincere. Your feelings honor me, they flatter me—and I can only agree to them. But at what a moment you are revealing them to me! Ah, my friend, we are speaking of happiness and love—over the tomb.
PAOLO: Didn't you hear Doctor Standenheim? A happy revolution has occurred in the prince's condition; he regards his return to health as certain.
FRANCIA: Well, I am too glad to believe it to doubt it. But let's wait until time has confirmed this happy prediction before talking of these plans again.
PAOLO: But, darling Francia—
FRANCIA: Mr. de Tudeli, what I've just expressed to you is my last, my irrevocable decision.
PAOLO: I will submit to it.—My greatest happiness will always be to obey and please you. (kissing her hand.)
DOCTOR: (entering) The Duke is alone; he begs Lieutenant Tudeli to return to him.
PAOLO: I'm running. (to FRANCIA) I am going to make him share my happiness. (exit)
HERMAN: (entering) Well, Francia—that young man spoke to you? I've guessed it, haven't I?
FRANCIA: It's true, father. I was unable to reject his wishes; but I've delayed their fulfillment for a while. (to DOCTOR) Doctor, what I've heard that you've predicted can reassure me only if I hear it from your mouth myself. Speak to me sincerely, in the presence of my father whose devotion and fortitude you know. Is it really true that a happy revolution is operating in the condition of our young patient—and that his return to health appears certain to you?
HERMAN: I would give my life for that to be true.
DOCTOR: Would that I could leave you with that hope. You wouldn't keep it long and the unexpected blow that would strike you would cause you more pain as the result of my vain efforts to spare you from it.
HERMAN: Doctor Standeheim!
FRANCIA: Oh! See if I was wrong to suspect!
DOCTOR: Noble and disinterested souls who have already made so many sacrifices for your sympathies, for your pure affections. Prepare yourselves for your greatest effort. (taking their hands)
FRANCIA: O God!
DOCTOR: In the presence of those cruel men I owed you silence about the frightful truth. My words would have filled them with atrocious joy. You must know everything—the powerlessness of my art, my despair—and what yours must be.
FRANCIA: I shiver.
HERMAN: The cold of death has penetrated to my heart. Nonetheless, speak—speak, sir—
DOCTOR: Well, my poor friends—the sufferings of the one to whom you've been devoted are at their end. The illness devouring him has reached its final period. Soon—tomorrow—possibly in a few minutes—his generous heart will cease to beat. Intelligence will no longer reside on that pure and noble face where it shone with a divine light; and the fire of sublime thoughts will extinguish in that eagle's eye where it seemed to burn for a much longer future.
HERMAN: What, no more hope! What! He who was playing in his cradle with his crowns! He that heaven marked for such great destinies—?
DOCTOR: It only marked him for great misfortunes.
FRANCIA: Oh—at 21 years of age!
DOCTOR: Think that he had 18 of misery and exile—It's a long existence.
FRANCIA: (weeping) But his glory? Why, what the whole world expected of him?
DOCTOR: He's not the one that will have to account for that.
FRANCIA: Ah, Doctor, how cruel your compassion for us has been!
DOCTOR: (consoling them) Hide your tears, impose silence on your sorrow. Your young friend will try to read his fate in your looks. It would be cruel if you were to instruct him in it. Despite the firmness of his soul, the certainty of coming annihilation would be for him, without a doubt, a blow more violent than death itself. For death is approaching him softly, and my art deceives me if he won't pass from this life to the other as one passes from tired wakefulness to a sweet, peaceful sleep. I am going to be obliged to inform the court of his condition; if the court abuses that condition in order to render his last moments bitter, that will be worthy of it, but the court alone will have the shame.
FRANCIA: (aside) Oh, misfortune, misfortune to us who will survive him.
DOCTOR: (to HERMAN) I still have to explain to you the details which require a man's fortitude and courage.
HERMAN: (defeated) Ah, sir—I fear you are presuming too much of me!
DOCTOR: (to FRANCIA) Remain here; wait for us. Flee the presence of the dying youth. If chance causes you to appear before him, think that you must lie about your sorrow, keep your deepest feelings to yourself, and go so far as to feign calm and serenity.
FRANCIA: Count on me. Even this effort—I feel I have the stength, the courage, Yes, for him I will know how to make make my lips and mouth smile though death may be there, there in my heart with all its torments.
HERMAN: (hugging her) My poor child (he weeps) we are truly wretched.
DOCTOR: Come, come—
HERMAN: Let's go, sir. (they leave)
FRANCIA: What? No more hope—What! It's over! He's going to die! The one in whom I've placed all the joy, all the happiness of my days to come! Oh, I loved his life more than mine! The numerous years promised to my youth, I would have given them, sacrificed them with delight to add to his. No, he's going to die! He must die, the sentence is pronounced. Some one's coming—it's him. I hear him. I recognize his step. O my tears. O bitter sorrow, vanish from my eyes, from my face. Go back within. Destroy me, but don't afflict him.
DUKE: (entering) Ah, Francia, it's you. I just saw your father and the doctor pass by. I came. You are delaying Paolo's happiness to a time very far off—perhaps: we will speak of that again. I want Paolo to be happy; I want you to be also. Heavens, I love being near you like this—alone with you. Your presence is dearer to me than I know how to say. Like me, you are on the soil of exile. Your father told me that Austria was not your native land. Ah, far from one's native land, how to find the strength and the courage to live?
FRANCIA: You will see yours again.
DUKE: Mine—France! My beautiful and noble France which greeted my birth with shouts of joy. France which I loved before knowing it—before knowing how dear it must be to me.
FRANCIA: Yes, yes—
DUKE: Ah! I will die without having seen it again. I am dying because I am separated from it.
FRANCIA: You are dying, you say? Now—why give admittance to these sad thoughts! Ah! Milord.
DUKE: (consoling her) No, Francia, no. The end of my life is not so close; I was wrong to say it, to suppose it. That causes you pain. You've just seen the doctor, he told you I was better, right? That I was saved?
FRANCIA: Yes, yes—now that's what he must persuade you of, Milord.
DUKE: At my age, you see—at 21! Nature has so many resources. Oh—I don't despair. You either?
FRANCIA: No—without a doubt.
DUKE: Then be gay.
FRANCIA: I am, I am, milord—see.
DUKE: Your mouth is smiling.—Why, it seems to me, I see tears in your eyes?
FRANCIA: Not at all, not at all. (covering her eyes with her handkerchief) Or indeed these are tears of joy—of happiness.
DUKE: Fine! Fine! (surrounding her in his arms) Good and amiable Francia; I know your feelings for me—you are devoted to me.
FRANCIA: Ah, milord.
DUKE: (with abandon) Francia, we are alone—give me that name that you love, that name of glory that belongs to me, that name they've disinherited me from here—because it frightens them—call me Napoleon!
FRANCIA: (falling to her knees) Napoleon! Napoleon!
DUKE: (after having raised her and pressed her in his arms) Ah! The world called me so! Napoleon, the King of Rome and I would have been worthy of that name—I feel it! I would not have betrayed the hopes of the great nation! All the happiness my father would have dreamed for it—I would have given it! And I must die, consumed by these burning thoughts which they've contrived to render vain; and must die obscure! No—No longer Napoleon, no. No longer King of Rome, no—No longer French, but Austrian, exiled, captive—blighted under one of their names without glory and lustre. Ah, it's too great a misfortune; it's worse suffering than death. (falls overwhelmed onto the sofa)
FRANCIA: (weeping) Oh—don't get so exalted, you will alter your health, you will shorten your life.
DUKE: (smiling sadly) I will shorten it, you say?
FRANCIA: Milord—my prince—Napoleon. Banish somber thoughts! Think what I told you. That the doctor has good hope—and that your condition has ceased to be worrisome.
DUKE: What you tell me, pleases me, touches me, and I'd like to believe it. Go leave me alone.
(She hesitates, finally after a gesture from him she leaves, alternately exhibiting her sadness, and when he looks at her a feigned gaiety.)
DUKE: They mean to deceive me—they hide their worries so as not to awaken mine. Ah! as for me, I am not deceived. I feel—that death is here. (puts his hand on his chest and rises) This is the seat of the passions; their ardent desires ferment. Desires which consume when they are not satisfied. O Glory! O France! O Native land! The last of my days is France's.—Then it's over. (falls back on the sofa) Oh, why was I born? What solitude around me. I won't press the hand of a friend or fellow countryman as I die—of a Frenchman? (hearing someone coming) What do they want with me? (DOCTOR STANDENHEIM enters) Ah, it's you, my dear Standenheim.
DOCTOR: The young Francia sends me to your Royal Highness; she tells me that a sudden accident—
DUKE: The tender interest she bears me makes her exaggerate. I've experienced nothing extraordinary. (presenting his pulse to the DOCTOR) See, isn't my blood circulating calmly? Aren't my arteries beating with regularity? (bitterly) My strength is exhausted—my feelings have lost their activity and their energy. It seems that air is lacking to my lungs or my lungs to the pure air which surrounds me. Weakness, decrepitude, a frightful consumption has thrown its crushing weight on me. But that's nothing and shouldn't worry me. (taking his hand, sadly) Right, doctor? I am only 21!
DOCTOR: My prince, distance yourself from these sad thoughts against which my art is without power.
DUKE: (rising) Standenheim, you were summoned to the court. What did they want from you? A report on the condition of my health?
DOCTOR: Milord.
DUKE: What was that report? What did you tell them? Answer—
DOCTOR: Why, does Your Highness suspect—
DUKE: I read in your looks, good and honest German—the lie costs you. A child would be more clever than you. Standenheim, you've announced my coming death.
DOCTOR: Why, Milord—
DUKE: (without hearing him) Someone has been painfully affected—an august old geezer—who loves me and that nature orders me to revere and cherish—as for the rest, huh? The rest find it's one less trouble for the Empire. They guess that despite them, there remains in my soul an echo of the shouts of liberty which were heard throughout the world—
DOCTOR: (kissing his hand) Oh! My prince! (weeping, aside) Unfortunate!
DUKE (continuing) The fatal moment—approaches.
DOCTOR: What! What are you feeling?
DUKE: Their death wishes—perhaps, are coming true.
DOCTOR: (aside, grasping his hand) Great God! (aloud) Calm down. It's only a momentary crisis.—An effort that nature makes—
DUKE: Oh, yes, nature—it resists—it doesn't want the destruction of its work—but its work will be destroyed. Ah, I am dying, fear Standenheim. If I could have been saved, I would have been by you. I don't doubt it at all. Those who love me will honor your memory. They will bear to your name as much esteem as they have for me.—I am dying—I am dying.
DOCTOR: No—no. (presenting a flask to him) Breathe this cordial. (aside) O my God! not yet!
DUKE: Yes, that makes me feel well. Ah, dear Standenheim, it will take another cordial, more powerful than this one.
DOCTOR: I don't know any.
DUKE: Ah, if at the sad moment I feel approaching, grasping me—if my weak hand could press a friendly hand—a French hand.
DOCTOR: Answering your sad conjectures does not authorize them—but indeed, I can provide you that consolation—pour yet this balm on your sorrows.
DUKE:(rising) What do you mean?
DOCTOR: Up to now prudence made it a rule for me not to betray this important secret.
DUKE: Explain yourself!
DOCTOR: (lowering his voice) In this palace, near Your Highness are two faithful, devoted hearts. They spared no expense to prove to you their attachment, changed their names, debased their condition—they submitted—ready for all.
DUKE: French! French—where are they? Lead them to me; make them come. (HERMAN and FRANCIA enter)
DUKE: Heavens, heavens, here they are—it's them. (runs to them and presses them in his arms) Herman! Francia! (pause) You are French—Oh! yes, yes, you are French. I see it, I feel it. Everything tells me so. O happiness! happiness! (new pause) Standenheim, Standenheim in this moment of joy and intoxication it seems to me I am reborn—that I live again. Herman, Francia, my friends—why is it I didn't know sooner that you were compatriots? But say—tell me. Why—what motive brought you here—who sent you here?
HERMAN: Our love for you.
DUKE: Your love! Eh, what! I who, as a child was exiled from France, I who have done nothing—never will be able to do anything for the French. I've inspired both of you with a sentiment so lively, so deep that you tore yourselves from the affections of family and fatherland, so that you vowed yourself to privations—to exile—
HERMAN: And at the same time as you, my prince, we left France.
DUKE: You were proscribed—like me?
HERMAN: No—you left, I left, too. I wanted to breathe the same air as you. I wanted to see you, to serve you. I took this child with me. My Francia, my cherished daughter. She too, she must live in places you live, she must see you, serve you—but alas! for the last 17 years, 17 years in succession our hopes were deceived, our wishes were in vain, our efforts useless. For 17 years no way to get close to you. Finally, fate stopped thwarting us, and for the last year Francia and I fulfilled our happiness.
DOCTOR: It was I who introduced them near Your Highness; it was I who, to avoid all suspicion, to render the veil which enveloped them more impenetrable, decorated this honest man with the beautiful name of Herman, the most noble in our good and ancient Germany
DUKE: (excitedly to HERMAN) Friend, your name—your French name!
FRANCIA: (aside) Ah! can he have preserved the memory?
HERMAN: My name is Pierre Lenoir.
DUKE: Lenoir. That name is known to me—and very dear.
FRANCIA: (aside) He hasn't forgotten my mother.
DUKE: It's the name of the woman who protected me with attentions, maternal caresses, who calmed my first sufferings, who appeased my infant cries with a kiss, who cradled me, who put me to sleep with songs of glorious French victories. It's the name of she who was my second mother. You are weeping—Great God, could you be her relatives?
HERMAN: Ah, my prince—
DUKE: Reply, reply.
FRANCIA: (falling to her knees) My Prince—I am her daughter.
DUKE: Her daughter! What do I hear? (raising FRANCIA) Francia! You, you—her daughter! You—
almost my sister (hugs her—to HERMAN) Come, come, also.
HERMAN: (throwing his arms around the prince) Ah!
EVERARD: (entering) Greetings, my brothers. I am coming here to fulfill the most important task of my ministry; before the court appears in this palace, I've come—Leave all, leave me alone with His Highness, with my august penitent.
THE OTHERS: Retire! Us?
EVERARD: It's necessary.
DUKE: (retaining them) Stay! (to FATHER EVERARD) What do you want with me, my father?
DOCTOR: (aside) Ah! all the fruit of my care is lost.
EVERARD: My son—they must have told you that God has judged it fit to put an end to the days his bounty has given you. He calls you to him. I am coming to help you appear in his presence.
(PAOLO enters, astonished. He stands near FRANCIA)
DUKE: (weakened) My father, they haven't said anything to me. But my fate—is not a secret to me. You come, you say—(falls overwhelmed on the couch)
EVERARD: I am coming to perform with you the last examination of your conscience, to reconcile you to the one who—
DUKE: —To the one who asks nothing, only a tear, only repentance of the sinner. Me, a victim of madness, of ambition and betrayal by others-—How would I be able to offend that Being, so great, so just—so good. How could I have the need of reconciling myself with him? And how would you be a worthy intermediary between him and me?
EVERARD: My dear son, you are forgetting that I am—
DUKE: I adore the author of my being. I revere him. (he falls to his knees, all the others except EVERARD imitate him) Even in the misfortune with which it pleased him to heap on me. I have done no evil—to no one. I pardon those who have filled my days—so short—with so much misery and bitterness. God will pardon me equally—and I have nothing to ask of him through your mediation.
EVERARD: But the good example you owe to others, to the people!
DUKE: (to DOCTOR) You see, I know death—and you were wrong not to be sincere with me. (collapses annihilated)
FRANCIA: He's expiring!
PAOLO: Misfortune! irreparable misfortune.
DOCTOR: (supporting him with HERMAN's aid) Life hasn't yet abandoned him.
HERMAN: He's reopening his eyes.
DUKE: Where am I? Who are you around me and that my eye no longer sees except through a veil—who are you?
FRANCIA: He no longer recognizes us.
HERMAN: Ah, this is dying like him, dying more sadly than he—
DUKE: (who has heard them) My French! My French! (he presses them against his heart.)
EVERARD: There—now we're in delerium!
DUKE: My friends—where is Paolo?
PAOLO: (offering his hand) Here I am.
DUKE: (joining his hand to that of FRANCIA) Francia, let him be your spouse, he is worthy of you. France—Italy, I unite you. Ah, Doctor—what a vertigo seizes me! How fast time and death go. Ah!
DOCTOR: The powerlessness of my art!
DUKE: The cloud is clearing; Paolo—give me—give me—my father's sword.
DOCTOR: (to HERMAN as PAOLO goes to find the sword) This is the final duty I will charge you with. Now, Herman. (HERMAN disappears. PAOLO returns and presents the DUKE with the sword. The DUKE raises it and solmenly pulls it from its scabbard. HERMAN returns with the bust of Napoleon which he places on the table. FRANCIA crowns it with laurels. PAOLO waves a tricolor over the bust.)
DUKE: (who has watched mutely) Ah, your souls have understood mine. (bending his knees to the bust) You, Napoleon—Napoleon the Great, my father! You see—your son dying in exile at 21 and he holds in his hands your sword, your sword. (kisses it weeping) It neither warded off nor repaired my wrongs. (with a great effort which exhausts him he breaks it) Let no hand bear it any more! There's nothing, nothing so powerful in the world. (falls overwhelmed again)
FRANCIA: There is no more hope.
(They group around him. The DUKE seizes the French flag and wraps himself in it.)
DUKE: Doctor—my friends—let this be my shroud! Ah! (he expires)
DOCTOR: It's over. His soul just exhaled with that deep, dolorous sigh.
BARON: (at the back) His Majesty, the Emperor and King, His Highness Imperial and Royal, Madame the Arch-Duchess—
(A crowd of courtiers hovers around the door at the back. The curtain falls.)
CURTAIN
—The End—
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