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 Front Page arrow Titles (by Subject) arrow ACT III. - The Works of Voltaire, Vol. IX The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Alzire, Orestes, Sémiramis, Catiline, Pandora) and Part II (The Scotch Woman, Nanine, The Prude, The Tatler).

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ACT III. - Voltaire, The Works of Voltaire, Vol. IX The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Alzire, Orestes, Sémiramis, Catiline, Pandora) and Part II (The Scotch Woman, Nanine, The Prude, The Tatler). [1901]

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From The Works of Voltaire, A Contemporary Version, (New York: E.R. DuMont, 1901), A Critique and Biography by John Morley, notes by Tobias Smollett, trans. William F. Fleming. Vol. IX The Dramatic Works Part 1 (Alzire, Orestes, Sémiramis, Catiline, Pandora) and Part II (The Scotch Woman, Nanine, The Prude, The Tatler).

Part of: The Works of Voltaire. A Contemporary Version, in 21 vols.

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ACT III.

SCENE I.

nanine,clothed as a country girl,germon.

germon.

We are all in tears at the thought of losing you.

nanine.

It is time to go: I’ve staid too long already.

germon.

But you won’t leave us forever, I hope, and in this dress, too?

nanine.

Obscurity was my first condition.

germon.

What a change! and only from this morning: to suffer is nothing, but to be degraded is terrible.

nanine.

No, no, there are a thousand times worse misfortunes.

germon.

I admire your patience and humility; surely my master must have been ill-advised: our baroness has certainly abused her power: she must have done you this injury, the count could never have the heart.

nanine.

I am indebted to him for everything; and, if he thinks fit to banish me, I must submit; his favors are his own, and he has a right to recall them.

germon.

Who would ever have expected such a change? what do you intend to do with yourself?

nanine.

To retire, and repent.

germon.

How we shall all detest the baroness!

nanine.

They have made me miserable, but I forgive them.

germon.

But what shall I tell my master from you when you are gone?

nanine.

Tell him, I thank him for restoring me to my former condition: tell him that, forever sensible of his goodness, I shall forget nothing but his—cruelty.

germon.

You melt my very soul; I could leave this house immediately to go along with you wherever you went: but Blaise is beforehand with us all: he will go and live with you, and we are all ready to follow him.

nanine.

No, Germon, that I’m sure you are not. O Germon, to be driven out in this manner—and by whom?

germon.

The devil is certainly at the bottom of this business: you are leaving us, and my master is going to be married.

nanine.

Married, sayest thou? indeed? nay, then let us be gone: O he was too dangerous for me—farewell.

germon.

Well! after all, my master must have a cruel heart, to banish so sweet a creature: she seems a most amiable girl, but in this world one should swear to nothing.

SCENE II.

the count, germon.

count.

Well, is she gone at last?

germon.

Yes, sir, ’tis done.

count.

I’m glad of it.

germon.

Then, sir, you have a heart of iron.

count.

Did Philip Hombert meet and give her his hand?

germon.

What Philip Hombert, sir? alas! sir, poor Nanine went off without a creature to give her his hand; she would not even accept of mine.

count.

And where is she gone?

germon.

That I know not; most probably to her friends.

count.

Ay, at Remival, I suppose.

germon.

Yes, I believe she went that road.

count.

Go, Germon, immediately, and conduct her to that convent where the baroness was going this morning, I’ll lodge her in that safe retreat: these hundred louis d’ors will secure her reception; carry them to her, but take care she does not know they come from me: tell her ’tis a present from my mother: on no account mention my name to her.

germon.

Very well, sir, I shall obey your orders.

[He goes towards the door.

count.

Germon, you saw her as she went off?

germon.

I did, sir.

count.

Did she seem dejected? did she weep?

germon.

She behaved still better, sir; a few tears dropped from her, but she strove as much as she could to repress them.

count.

Did she let fall anything that betrayed her sentiments? did you remark—

germon.

What, sir?

count.

Did she say anything of me?

germon.

Yes, sir; a great deal.

count.

Tell me, then, rascal, what did she say?

germon.

That you were her master, her best and kindest benefactor; that she shall forget everything—but your cruelty.

count.

Away—be sure you take care she never returns; [Germon going out] and hark’ee, Germon.

germon.

Sir.

count.

One word more: remember, if, by chance, as you are conducting her, one Philip Hombert should follow you, that you treat him in a proper manner.

germon.

O, sir, I’ll use him most politely, and treat him with a good drubbing, that you may depend on: I’ll do the business honestly, I warrant you: young Hombert, you say?

count.

The same.

germon.

Very well: I have not the honor to know him, but the first man I see will I trim most heartily, and afterwards make him tell me his name. [He goes towards the door and comes back.] This young Hombert, I’ll lay my life, is some lover of hers, a beau, a prig, I suppose, the cock of the village. Let me alone to deal with him.

count.

Do as I bid you, and immediately.

germon.

I thought there was some lover in the case—and Blaise, too, puts in his claim, I suppose. Ay: they always love their equals better than their masters.

count.

Begone, I tell you.

SCENE III.

the count.

[Alone.

He’s in the right, and has hit on the true cause of my unhappiness, but I shall myself be the punisher of my own folly. I must now marry the baroness; it is determined, and I can’t avoid it: ’tis dreadful; but I have deserved it; ’twill at least be a convenient match: she’s not very tractable indeed, but every man may rule, if he has a mind to it; and he who has resolution may, at any time, be master in his own house.

SCENE IV.

the count, baroness, marchioness.

marchioness.

Well, son, you are going to marry this lady here?

count.

Yes, madam.

marchioness.

This night she is to be your wife and my daughter-in-law?

baroness.

If you approve of it, madam; I suppose I shall have your consent.

marchioness.

Why, I must give it, I think: but to-morrow I shall take my leave of you.

count.

Your leave, madam, why so?

marchioness.

I shall take my Nanine with me: since you have thought fit to turn her out of doors, I shall take her under my protection: I have a match in my eye for ner: I propose marrying her to the young chief justice, nephew to the attorney-general, Jean Roc Souci; he whose father met with that comical adventure at Corbeil; you must have heard of him: yes, I will take care of this poor child, I’m determined: she is a jewel, and deserves to be well set. I’ll marry her off immediately. Your servant.

count.

My dear mother, don’t be in a passion: leave me to manage my own affairs, and let Nanine go into a convent.

baroness.

Indeed, madam, you may believe us, such a girl as Nanine is not fit to go into a family.

marchioness.

Ha! why, what’s the matter?

baroness.

O a little affair only.

marchioness.

But pray—

baroness.

O nothing at all.

marchioness.

Nothing! a great deal, I’m afraid: I understand you mighty well: some little indiscretion I suppose: nothing more likely, for to be sure, she’s very handsome. Ay, ay, we are all frail; we tempt, and are tempted; the heart has its weakness: young girls are always a little coquettish: but come, it is not so bad as you make it; tell me fairly, what my poor child has done?

count.

I tell you, madam?

marchioness.

You seem, after all, at the bottom to have some regard for the girl, and perhaps you may—

SCENE V.

the count, marchioness, baroness, marin.

[Booted.

marin.

I’ve done it, sir; it’s all agreed for.

marchioness.

What’s agreed for?

baroness.

Ay, what, sir, what?

marin.

Why, sir, I’ve done as you ordered me, spoke to the tradesmen, and you’ll have your equipage tomorrow.

baroness.

What equipage?

marin.

Everything, madam, that your future spouse had ordered; six fine horses, and a charming berlin; I’m sure your ladyship will like it; it’s very fine; the panels all varnished by Martin: the diamonds, too, are brilliant, and well-chosen; and the new stuffs quite in taste.—O nothing comes up to them.

baroness.

[To the count.

And had you ordered all this?

count.

I had—[Aside] but for whom!

marin.

Everything will come to-morrow morning in the coach, and will be ready for your wedding in the evening: O there’s nothing like Paris for getting everything at a minute’s warning, if you have but money. As I came back, I called on the lawyer; he’s just by, finishing your affair.

baroness.

It has hung a long time in suspense.

marchioness.

[Aside.

I wish it would hang these forty years.

marin.

In the hall I met a poor old man, sighing and in tears; he has waited a long time, he says, and begs to speak to you.

baroness.

An impertinent fellow! let him go about his business: he has chosen the wrong time to trouble us now.

marchioness.

Why, so, madam? have a little consideration: son, let me tell you, it’s very wrong to repulse poor people in this manner; I have told you over and over, when you were a child, you ought to treat them with indulgence; hear what they have to say; be courteous, and affable to them: are not they men as well as yourself? we don’t know perhaps whom we affront, and may repent our hardness of heart: the proud never prosper. [To Marin.] Go, see to that old man.

marin.

I will, ma’am. [He goes out.]

count.

Forgive me, madam, my respects are always due to you, and I am ready to see this man, in spite of my present embarrassment.

SCENE VI.

the count, marchioness, baroness, a peasant.

marchioness.

[To the Peasant.

Come, come, speak, don’t be afraid.

peasant.

O my lord, for heaven’s sake, hear me; permit me to fall at your feet, and to give you back—

count.

Rise, friend; I’ll not be knelt to; do not imagine me capable of such pride: you seem to be an honest man, do you want employment in my family? who are you?

marchioness.

Cheer up, man.

peasant.

Alas! sir, I am the father of—Nanine.

count.

You?

baroness.

Your daughter’s a slut.

peasant.

This, sir, is what I feared: this is the cruel stroke that has wounded my poor heart: I thought indeed so much money could not fairly belong to one in her condition: we little folks soon lose our integrity when we come among the great.

baroness.

There he’s right enough: but still he’s a deceiver, for Nanine is not his daughter, she was an orphan.

peasant.

It is too true, she was so: I left her with her poor relatives in her infant years, having lost her mother, with all my fortune; obliged by necessity, I went to serve abroad; and as I would not have her pass for the daughter of a soldier, forbade her ever to mention my name.

marchioness.

Why so? for my part, I respect a soldier: we stand in need of them sometimes.

count.

What is there shameful in the profession?

peasant.

It meets indeed with less honor than it deserves.

count.

The prejudice against them is inexcusable. I own, I esteem an honest soldier, who hazards his life in the defence of his king and country, much more than an important, self-sufficient scoundrel, whose knavish industry sucks up the blood of his fellow subjects.

marchioness.

You must have been in a great many battles: let me have an account of them all; I long to hear it.

peasant.

In my present unhappy condition you must excuse me: let it suffice to inform you, that I received a thousand promises of advancement; but, without friends, how was it possible to rise? thrown amongst the common crowd, all I could do was to distinguish myself, and honor my only reward.

marchioness.

You were then well-born?

baroness.

Fie: how can you think so! well-born indeed!

peasant.

No, madam: but I was born of honest parents, and merited—a better daughter.

marchioness.

Could you have had a better?

count.

Well! go on.

marchioness.

A better than Nanine?

count.

Prithee, go on.

peasant.

My daughter, I understood, was brought up here, and treated in the kindest manner; I thought myself happy, and blessed heaven for your goodness, and paternal care of her; I came to the neighboring village, full of hopes and fears; I own I trembled for her dangerous youth; and, by this lady’s intimation, find I had but too much reason; it has shocked me to the soul; but I thought a hundred louis d’ors, besides diamonds, was a treasure too great to be fairly come by: she could never be mistress of them, but at the expense of her innocence: the bare suspicion makes me shudder; if it be so, I shall die with grief and shame: but I came as soon as possible, to give them you back again: they are yours, therefore, I beseech you, take them: if my daughter is to blame, punish me, but don’t ruin her.

marchioness.

O my dear son, I cannot bear this; it overpowers me.

baroness.

What is all this? a dream? a trick?

count.

O what have I done?

peasant.

[Taking out the purse and the letter.

Here, sir, take them.

count.

I take them! no: they were given to her, and she has made a noble use of them: was it to you, then, the message was delivered? who brought it?

peasant.

Your gardener, sir, in whom Nanine ventured to confide.

count.

Was it directed to you?

peasant.

It was, I own it, sir.

count.

O grief! O tenderness! what excess of virtue in them both! but now your name?—O I am lost, distracted.

marchioness.

Ay, your name. What mystery is this?

peasant.

Philip Hombert de Gatine.

count.

O my father!

baroness.

What does he say?

count.

How day breaks in upon me! I have done wrong, and I must make amends for it: O if you knew how culpable I have been! I have injured the sublimest virtue. [He steps aside, and speaks to one of his servants.] away: fly.

baroness.

What is all this emotion for?

count.

My coach immediately.

marchioness.

Now, madam, you must be her protectress: when we have done such an injury, we should blush at nothing so much as an imperfect repentance; my son often has his whims, which people are too apt to mistake for unpardonable follies; but at bottom he has a generous soul, and is naturally good; I can do what I please with him: you, my daughter-in-law, are not so well-disposed.

baroness.

I shall grow out of all patience: how confused and thoughtful he looks! what strange scheme now is he meditating upon? well, sir, what do you intend to do?

marchioness.

Ay, for Nanine?

baroness.

Make her a handsome present, and satisfy her.

marchioness.

That will be the least we can do.

baroness.

But as to seeing her that I never will: she shall not come nigh the castle: do you hear me?

count.

Yes, I hear you.

marchioness.

[Aside.

What a heart of stone!

baroness.

Don’t give my suspicions cause to break out, sir. Ha! you hesitate.

count.

[After a pause of some time.

No, madam, I am resolved.

baroness.

That respect at least is owing to me; nay, to both of us.

marchioness.

And can you be so cruel, son?

baroness.

What step do you propose to take?

count.

’Tis taken already: you know my heart, madam, and the frankness of it: I must be plain with you: I had promised you my hand; but the design of our marriage was only to put an end to a tedious lawsuit between us, which I will now do immediately, by willingly resigning to you all those rights and pretensions which were the foundation of it: even the interest shall be yours; I give up everything, take, and enjoy it: if we cannot be man and wife, let us at least live as friends and relatives: let everything that gave mutual uneasiness be forgotten; there is no reason why, because we can’t love, we should hate each other.

baroness.

Your falsehood is what I expected: but I renounce your presents, and yourself: yes, traitor, I see now who you mean to live with, and how low your passion sinks you: go, and be a slave to her, I leave you to your unworthy choice.

[She goes out.

SCENE VII.

the count, marchioness, philip hombert.

count.

No, madam, ’tis not unworthy, my soul is not blinded by an idle passion: that virtue which it is my duty to reward ought to melt, but cannot debase me: what they call meanness in this old man constitutes his merit, and makes him truly noble: if I would be so, I must pay the price of it: where souls are thus ennobled by themselves, and distinguished by superior characters, we should pass over common rules: their birth, low as it is, when attended with such virtues, will make my family but more illustrious.

marchioness.

What are you talking about?

SCENE VIII.

the count, marchioness, nanine, philip hombert.

count.

[To his mother.

Look at her, and guess.

marchioness.

[To Nanine.

My dearest child, come to my arms: but she is strangely clothed, and yet how handsome she looks, and modest too!

nanine.

[Pays her respects to the Marchioness, and then runs to her father.

O nature demands my first acknowledgments, my dear father!

philip hombert.

O heaven! my daughter! O sir, you have made me amends for forty years’ afflictions.

count.

Ay, but how must I repair the injury I have done to such exalted virtue! to come back in this dress, how mean it is, but she adorns it; Nanine does honor to everything: speak, my Nanine, can your goodness pardon the affront?

nanine.

Can you, sir, doubt my forgiveness of it? I never thought, after all your bounty to me, you could injure me.

count.

If you have indeed forgotten the wrong I did you, give me a proof of it: once more, and only once, I take upon me to command you; but this once you must swear—to obey me.

philip hombert.

I am sure she owes it to you, and her gratitude—

nanine.

[To her father.

He need not doubt, sir, of my obedience.

count.

I shall depend on it: let me tell you then, that all your duty is not yet paid: I have seen you on your knees to my mother, and to your own father; one thing still remains for you, and that is, now, before them, to embrace—your husband.

nanine.

Who? I?

marchioness.

Are you in earnest? can it be?

philip hombert.

O my child!

count.

[To his mother.

By your permission, madam.

marchioness.

My dear child, the family will be in a strange uproar about it.

count.

O when they see Nanine, they must approve.

philip hombert.

What a stroke of fortune! O sir, I never thought you could descend thus low.

count.

You promised to obey, and I must have it so.

marchioness.

My son.

count.

My happiness, madam, depends on this important moment: interest alone, we know, has made a thousand marriages; we have seen the wisest men consult fortune and character only: her character is irreproachable; and as to fortune, she wants it not: justice and inclination shall do what avarice has so often done before: let me, then, madam, have your consent, and finish all.

nanine.

No, madam, you must not consent; indeed you must not; oppose his passion, oppose mine: let me entreat you, do: love has blinded him, do you, madam, remove the veil: let me live far from him, and at a distance only adore his virtues: you know my condition; you see my father: can I, ought I, ever to wish to call you mother?

marchioness.

Yes; you can, you ought: it is enough: I can hold out no longer: this last generosity has entirely subdued me: it tells me how much I ought to love: it is as singular, as extraordinary, as Nanine herself.

nanine.

Then, madam, I obey; my heart can no longer resist the power of love.

marchioness.

Let this happy day be the worthy recompense of virtue, but let it not be made a precedent.

End of the Third and Last Act.

THE PRUDE