Part 9 (2/2)

SIMONE. But from me, Paul, from me. I am not in your eyes a woman like any other woman, am I?

PAUL. It is true that my ancestors, the Crusaders, the preux chevaliers, might in all honour receive gifts from the ladies of their choice--chargers, swords, armour, or tenderer mementoes, such as gloves or garters. But money--no; who ever heard of their taking money?

SIMONE. But what would be the use of my giving you swords and horses?

You could never use them. Consider, my knight, my n.o.ble Sir Paul, in these days the contests of chivalry have a.s.sumed a different form; the weapons and the armour have changed. Your sword must be of gold and paper; your breastplate of hard cash; your charger of gilt-edged securities. I offer you the s.h.i.+ning panoply of the modern crusader. Will you accept it?

PAUL. You are eloquent, Simone. You could win over the devil himself with that angelic voice of yours. But it cannot be. Money is always money. The code is clear. I cannot accept your offer. Here is the way out. (_He takes an automatic pistol out of his pocket_.) Thank you, Simone, and good-bye. How wonderful is the love of a pure woman.

SIMONE. Paul, Paul, give that to me! (_She s.n.a.t.c.hes the pistol from his hand_.) If anything were to happen to you, Paul, I should kill myself with this. You must live, you must consent to accept the money. You mustn't let your honour make a martyr of you.

PAUL (_brus.h.i.+ng a tear from his eyes_). No, I can't.... Give me that pistol, I beg you.

SIMONE. For my sake, Paul.

PAUL. Oh, you make it impossible for me to act as the voices of dead ancestors tell me I should.... For your sake, then, Simone, I consent to live. For your sake I dare to accept the gift you offer.

SIMONE (_kissing his hand in an outburst of grat.i.tude_). Thank you, thank you, Paul. How happy I am!

PAUL. I, too, light of my life.

SIMONE. My month's allowance arrived to-day. I have the cheque here.

(_She takes it out of her corsage_.) Two hundred thousand francs. It's signed already. You can get it cashed as soon as the hanks open to-morrow.

PAUL (_moved by an outburst of genuine emotion kisses indiscriminately the cheque, the Baronne, his own hands_). My angel, you have saved me.

How can I thank you? How can I love you enough? Ah, mon pet.i.t bouton de rose.

SIMONE. Oh, naughty, naughty! Not now, my Paul; you must wait till some other time.

PAUL. I burn with impatience.

SIMONE. Quelle fougue! Listen, then. In an hour's time, Paul cheri, in my boudoir; I shall be alone.

PAUL. An hour? It is an eternity.

SIMONE (_playfully_). An hour. I won't relent. Till then, my Paul. (_She blows a kiss and runs out: the scenery trembles at her pa.s.sage._)

(PAUL _looks at the cheque, then pulls out a large silk handkerchief and wipes his neck inside his collar_.) (DOLPHIN _drifts in from the left.

He is smoking a cigarette, but he does not seem to be enjoying it_.)

PAUL. Alone?

DOLPHIN. Alas!

PAUL. Brooding on the universe as usual? I envy you your philosophic detachment. Personally, I find that the world is very much too much with us, and the devil too; (_he looks at the cheque in his hand_) and above all the flesh. My G.o.d, the flesh.... (_He wipes his neck again_.)

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