Armand/Act V

by Anna Cora Mowatt

ACT V

SCENE I

An antechamber in the Palace of the Tuilleries.

Enter Richelieu and Le Sage, R. H.

Rich

How learnt you this? the truth - the truth - concealment now were vain - I overheard thee talking with the page - you spoke of Blanche, last night, again to-day, the King refused me audience - tell me, is Blanche then in his power?

Le Sage

Assuredly!

Rich

The Duke d'Antin - did I not hear you say, his hand had dealt this blow?

Le Sage

Unfortunately!

Rich

Where? Where is Blanche? Answer! dost thou not see my agony?

Le Sage

Perceptibly!

Rich

Dotard! I would not do thee violence! ha! the Duke himself approaches - begone!

Le Sage

Voluntarily! (bows) and speedily! (aside.) [Exit R. H.

Enter Duke D'Antin, L. H.

Rich

I would have sought thee, Duke - pardon this haste, a father injured cannot wait on form. Where is my Blanche?

D'Ant

What should I know of Blanche?

Rich

Answer, old man, I charge thee! Where's my child?

D'Ant

Oh! rather, Duke de Richelieu, answer thou! Where is MY CHILD?

Rich

Speak not of her - 'tis more than twenty years, since thou hast called her daughter!

D'Ant

And if it be, think'st thou that twenty years are lethe for a father's memory? Be witness these white locks, whose every hair have been the record of a separate woe! Thou thought'st my child's destroyer was unknown,I knew the subtle Richelieu's arts too well to doubt what name the heartless villain bore. I did not brand thee as a libertine, the Court, who knew thee, had but smiled. - Redress I sought not - to proclaim thy treachery had only been to publish D'Antin's shame! But on my knees, I swore to dedicate, all that remained of life to my revenge. I swore that thou shouldst taste the self-same cup which thou hadst poisoned for my lip. - Richelieu, It is fulfilled - my hour of triumph's come!

Rich

Oh! wretched man, hadst thou but known -

D'Ant

I knew enough! as thou shall learn too late! the ruin that waits thy child is sure as that of mine - I watched her from her earliest hour - through me the King beheld her first - her seeming death I never credited - I tracked thy steps, and through a venal priest, I set her free! I brought her to the King, and wove the snare that makes her his! - Now writhe as I have writhed! Now tear thine hair as I tore mine! - Now cast thyself in maniac fury on the earth. - Feel all a father's agony! and pray as I have prayed, the living earth might yawn to yield a grave for a dishonored child!

Rich

Madman! What hast thou done? Thy Adelaide ne'er knew the blush of shame! Her weal and mine forbade the court should know Richelieu had wed; And yet she was my wife! - Blanche was her child!

D'Ant

(much moved) Her child! The child of Adelaide? Just Heaven! I snatched the vengeance which is thine alone, Its gathered fury bursts upon my head!

Rich

Lose not the moments thus in bootless anguish, Where is she now?

D'Ant

Alas, I know not!

Rich

Haste and learn, thy spies, for spies thou must have used, can surely tell!

D'Ant

Oh! Adelaide! my Adelaide! is Blanche indeed thy child?

Rich

No more, - thou wilt have time enough for tears when there is none for action. (crosses n.) Let us but find her! should we then have cause to weep - be each fierce tear of blood alone ! [Exeunt R.H.l E.

SCENE II

A sumptuous apartment in the Chateau of the Duke de Rohan.

Enter Blanche, splendidly attired, through centre doors, followed by Jaqueline.

Jaq

Dear Mam'selle Blanche, to think that I should have found you at last! and through that beautiful little page!

Blan

But, Armand! Oh! my best Jaqueline, my friend, thou hast seen Armand - and he knows I live - he spoke of me as in our early days -

Jaq

Ay, that he did, Mam'selle, and I am sure he loves you as much as ever.

Blan

Bless thee, Jaqueline! (embracing her fervently) Oh! how one hour of joy Can brighten a whole age of agony! The weary years that sundered us so long have vanished - every pang that wrung my soul is blotted out from memory! - The past, is one of sunbeam only - and the future seems something brighter still - I am too blest!

Jaq

So will Monsieur Armand be - but you will scarcely know him, he looks so altered, for he is a great soldier now - and I think he will hardly know you in this grand dress.

Blan

They said the king would visit me to-day, and to receive him decked me in these robes.

Jaq

Would you not like me to seek Monsieur Armand, Mam'selle Blanche?

Blan

Do! if thou cans't, my kind Jaqneline

Jaq

Oh! I'll find him if he's within the walls of Paris, be sure of that! I do so like to bring lovers together.

[Exit R. 1 E.

Blan

What thronging thoughts in quick succession chase each other through my brain! I pace these halls as one who walks them in a dream - and fear by turns, convulses every trembling limb, by turns, thine azure eyes, immortal Hope! In visioned beauty smile upon my doubts! While in thy cheating glass, whose magic brings the wished for object near, my spell-bound sight sees Armand only! - Thus -

Enter Victor, c. D.

Vic

His Majesty!

Enter King, c. D. [Exit Victor, c. D.

King

My Blanche! (pauses and looks at her.) Why, this is well - this rich attire befits thy beauty royally - the emblem of greater change that waits thee!

Blan

'Twas the Duchess that willed it, and not I, my liege. -

King

Thy tone, Fair Blanche, is grave, yet should no sadness mar its music! Now thy life shall be one pageant of long delight! Thine every hour a joy newer and gladder, and thine every wish fulfillment.

Blan

Sire, I have but one - restore me to my childhood's home, to him, without whose presence even that home were joyless!

King

A fate more bright awaits thee; hast thou not divined it? Knowest thou not thou art beloved?

Blan

I do, my liege.

King

And by thy King!

Blan

Oh, heaven!

King

Fair Blanche, look not so like the startled fawn by friendly echoes frighted. Listen, love, a splendid fate its golden page unrolls before thee. In our court the proudest place is thine. The queen shall yield thee her protection- All men shall bow to her whom Louis loves.

Blan

Just heaven! can such things be! or doth some demon whisper these horrors in my dreaming ear!

King

Sweet Blanche, the splendors that I proffer -

Blan

Peace! Thou King - by passions vile unkinged! Thy words have scorched my brain, and should have seared thy lips in passing them. My liege, my liege, was it a kingly deed to snare a being helpless - and friendless - young as I - thus to profane her ears, and seek by virtue of thy crown to rob her of the brightest diadem that can encircle woman's brow!

King

Nay, Blanche mar not thy beauty with this frigid bearing, frowns do not suit those gentle eyes, nor fierceness thy timid nature - weak thou art -

Blan

Not weak, my liege, when roused by insult and by wrong! I tell thee, haughty king - presumptuous man! That like the unshorn locks the Nazarene vowed to his God - the purity of woman becomes at once her glory and her might!

King

Ah, Blanche! and is there no excuse for love?

Blan

Thy love is but self-love! that first and worst of passions - poisoned spring of every crime - which hath no attribute of perfect love!

King

This to thy King?

Blan

Art kingly in thy deeds? The star that shines so brightly on thy breast is worthless if it shed no light within! The throne that lifts thee o'er thy fellow men should teach the virtues which alone can raise thee 'bove them!

King

At thy feet let me implore -

Blan

Stand off! approach me not!

King

Thou fearest me then?

Blan

Fear thee? Danger should be where fear is - I see none!

King

Woman! thou shalt not brave me thus! (seizes her) No human power can save thee - thou art mine! What are thy feeble struggles in my grasp?

Blan

(sinking on her knees) Spare me, my liege, spare me!

King

It is thy turn to sue, and all in vain! thou hast forgot that I am King, and thou hast no protector!

Blan

(starting up) I have! I have! One who for sakes me not! One whom thou darest not brave! unloose thy hold or dread his fury! Heaven protects me still! (The King releases her, awed by her manner) Thou art my sovereign - I a friendless subject - I woman, and thou man! - my helplessness was of itself a claim to thy protection - A claim thou hast rejected! Answer, King! Hast thou done right? Man, was it well to use thy strength against my weakness? Thou art dumb! Thou canst not answer! King of France, I scorn thee! [Exit R. 1 L

King

Why should I shrink from one so powerless? And can it be that Virtue's presence awes me thus? That Virtue which no weapon needs except its own resistless dignity! .She speaks, I'm hushed - she spurns me, and I cower - she leaves me, and I dare not follow her! [Enter Armand hastily, R. 1 E.] You here?

Arm

My lips, my liege, might echo back the question!

King

Sir, it is thy monarch's right to tarry where he will.

Arm

It is my right to seek what I am robbed of where I may!

King

Darest thou?

Arm

Hadst thou not dared to wrong me - I Had never dared to stand before thee thus.

King

A monarch's state may sometimes sanction what -

Arm

A monarch's state that sanctions what would shame a subject, doubly shames itself! when wrong and Crime usurp the garments of that state, they grow more hideous in those glittering robes than when they wear the branded felon's garb.

King

Armand! I thought thee loyal -

Arm

So I was, when loyalty was virtue - Oh! my liege, because my heart 'neath ruder vesture once hath beat, than e'er thine own hath throbbed against, think'st thou its feeling is less keen? Its sense of injury less delicate? thinkest thou it 'will not leap as readily to kindness? Will not revolt as quickly at oppression ? How then shall I be loyal, when my King would do me the worst injury that man can do to man?

King

What injury, rash youth?

Arm

Of my affianced bride would'st thou not rob me? Would'st thou not rob her of - how shall I keep my senses at the thought! - Is Blanche not here?

King

This passes bearing.

Arm

Hear me, my gracious liege, I am too bold. Wrong has rough words, and anguish maddened me! Bethink thee, - on the battle field I saved thy life. Remembering that, oh, Sire! forget thy passion for this maid - my promised bride. Let it be as a cloud which dimmed the sun but for a moment, that its after light might show more glorious. Do a royal act, and do it royally, that men may see thy soul is royal too. She does not love thee, give her back to me!

King

I'll hear no more!

Arm

Ha!

King

Not another word!

Arm

Pause yet a moment.

King

Enough!

Arm

I am no more the suppliant! My private injury grows public wrong. The saviour or the avenger stands before thee. Choose thou.

King

Is this the faithful soldier -

Arm

No, it is the injured lover thou hast wronged. The man his monarch's crimes exasperate. Restore my Blanche, and I am what I was! Withhold her, and I know not what I may be! Each sigh of hers shall to a whirlwind swell, and, in its fury, dash thee on the rocks of Public Hate. - Each prayer she breathes shall turn to thunderbolts placed in thy people's hands! Woe - woe to him on whom a nation's rage with Perseus-weapons, such as these, shall burst!

King

Within there! ho! my guards!

[Enter Guards c. from R. H. with Pages. Guards advance to receive the sword of Armand.]

King

Yield up your sword.

Arm

Pardon, my liege, but never shall its edge flash upon battle field again. You gave it, take back the gift unstained, but worthless. [Breaks the sword, retires c.

Enter Richelieu and D'Antin hastily, R. 1 E.

King

Sirs, your ceremonial is but scanty with us that ye intrude upon our presence thus, unushered and unbidden.

Rich

Pardon, Sire, the courtier was forgotten in the father. I seek my child.

King

Hast thou some new deceit to hide her from the world? Another stone to lay upon an empty grave?

Rich

My Liege, a father's fears - a father's fondness urged me! Be these my plea.

D'Ant

(crossing c.) Grant me a word, my king. This head has whitened, and this frame grown old in serving France and thee. Blanche is my child no less than his - the child of Adelaide, sole daughter of my house. Deny me not my first and only prayer. Restore her to us.

King

The warring elements of good and ill with fearful strife are battling in my soul; But Policy with Virtue sides, and makes the victory hers. - Richelieu, a word with thee. Blanche is beneath this roof. Go, bring her hither.

Rich

More gladly have I never flown to do my sovereign's will. [Exit L. H.

King

Armand, D'Antin, draw near. Harsh thoughts are written on the brow of each, and yet, I think ye true, I know ye brave, and would believe ye loyal, - nay, will make some effort so to hold ye.

Arm

Oh, my King! Hast thou, indeed, relented?

King

See who comes.

Enter Richelieu, L. 1 E., leading Blanche, her eyes are bent upon the ground, she does not perceive Armand.

Arm

Blanche!

Blan

Armand, is it thou? [with an exclamation of joy she rushes into his arms.

Arm

My own, my Blanche! Is it no phantom dupes as it hath duped so oft my willing sense? Is it thyself? If joy could kill, this hour so richly blest that ecstacy seems pain, would be our last.

Blan

Ah! if it were we would not murmur. Life hath not another moment such as this.

Rich

My child! remember thou art not thine own to give.

Blan

My dearest father, -

Rich

Nay, I know what thou wouldst say. First bow thy knee to one who claims thy reverence and love. Behold thy mother's sire. [Blanche kneels to D'Antin, he raises and embraces her.

D'Ant

My child! [Blanche returns to c.

King

Blanche, (crossing to her) shrink no more. I was thy lover - I am now thy King! We claim the right to wed thee as we will. Nay, traitress - no rebellion, for thy sire sanctions our choice. Armand, more chary hold our second gift than thou hast done the first. [points to the sword] No more of that. - We pardon, - Blanche is thine. [joins their hands and crosses to R. H.

Arm

My cup is brimming over, - speak thou my Blanche, my long lost bride, - tell me thy happiness hath reached the blessed zenith of mine own?

Blan

My happiness ? [to the audience]

Its bounds are fixed by these,

Who've made so light our earnest task to please,

By lenient eyes, that only beauties seek,

And lenient lips, that mildest judgment speak!

Who, if some passing good they chance to find,

Seem to all else so kindly, gently blind!

Our faces are of yours the mirrors true,

Cloud 'neath your frown - grow bright at smiles from you.

What fiat then to-night may we expect?

Shall we your censure, or your smiles reflect?

Disposition of characters at the fall of curtain.

R. King. Armand. Blanche. Richelieu. D'Antin. L.

Guards and pages in the back ground.

THE END.