NOURVADY.

Is it really a woman of your superiority who speaks of the proprieties of society? Are not women like you above all that? Was I to come delicately and hypocritically to offer your husband the sum he stood in need of? "Arrange your affairs, my dear friend; you can give me back that trifle when you are able." I should certainly have acted like that if I had not loved you; loving you, ought I to do it, that is to say, to speculate upon your grat.i.tude, upon the impossibility of your husband discharging his debt, and upon fresh and unavoidable necessities? That is a course that would have been unworthy of him, of me, and of you. No, you know it well, the proprieties and dignity are nothing any longer, when pa.s.sion or necessity predominates. Did your grandmother respect the dignity of her daughter when she gave her up to a prince?

LIONNETTE.

Sir!...

NOURVADY.

You do not fear words! There they are, those words, saying quite well all they have to say. Why do you rebel against them? Did your husband respect the dignity of his mother, the traditions of his family, the proprieties of the society in which he moved, when he issued a public summons to that irreproachable mother, to enable him to marry you? And you, yourself, while following your mother's counsel, did you say to that man: "My dignity is entirely opposed to marrying you under those circ.u.mstances, disowned, repulsed, disgraced by your mother"? Ah! well, I too, if I had met you when you were a young girl, I should have loved you as I love you now; and if my father had wished to prevent my marrying you, I should have acted like the Count. I envy him the sacrifice he was able to make for you, and that I can never make now.

LIONNETTE (_half mockingly, half sincerely_).

It may be so, but now it is too late. I am no longer open to marriage, and, unfortunately for you, I have no longer a mother.

NOURVADY.

But you may become a widow.

LIONNETTE.

Then, you really hate the Count?

NOURVADY.

Yes, almost as much as I love you.

LIONNETTE.

And you would like to prove it to him?

NOURVADY.

That is the second of my dreams. In the service that I rendered you, I knew perfectly well the insult I should inflict upon him, and much as I counted on your visit here, I was waiting in my house first for that of Mr. G.o.dler and Mr. Trevele, whom I had left expressly at your house yesterday until the Count returned home.

LIONNETTE.

How agreeable and convenient it is to be open and sincere and to play your cards so openly. Ah, well, sir, if my husband has not yet sent his two friends, it is because he wishes first to send you your money. He is gone in search of it.

NOURVADY.

He will not find it.

LIONNETTE.

I shall find it myself, without the ignominy which you antic.i.p.ated. The Count will make a public rest.i.tution of the sum that you advanced in private, and will add to that rest.i.tution all that is required to make you justify your hatred.

NOURVADY.

He will strike me?

LIONNETTE.

That is not at all doubtful.

NOURVADY.

And I will kill him.

LIONNETTE.

That is not quite certain; he is courageous. A man who has no fear of death for himself, has a steadier hand to give it to another.

NOURVADY.

Pray for him; in the first place, it is your duty as a wife, and in the next, my death will be a fortunate event for you, indeed--a very good thing.

LIONNETTE.

In what way?

NOURVADY.

Because, having no relations, not a single true friend in this world, as is only to be expected in a millionaire like me; because, loving you as you deserve to be loved, in life and in death, I have made my will, in which I have said that you are the loveliest and purest woman I have ever met; that your husband, who will kill me, has unjustly suspected you, and that I entreat you, in compensation for the suspicion of which, my admiration and my esteem have involuntarily been the cause, to graciously accept for your son all that I possess, notwithstanding that I also detest that son.

LIONNETTE.

Why?

NOURVADY.

Because that child is the living proof of your love for your husband.

LIONNETTE (_aside_).

Alas! The child proves nothing. (_Aloud_) Never mind, all that is not ordinary, and you would, perhaps, finish by convincing me--with your death--provided that all this be true. If it be not true, it is well concocted.

NOURVADY.

Why should I deceive you? And what would you like me to do with my fortune if I die? What good would it be to me without my life, and in life what should I do with it without you? Whereas, if I die, my will is there by the side of the t.i.tle deeds of proprietorship of this house, which you would only have had to sign if you had consented to be its owner during my life (_he points to a cabinet at the bottom of the room_), and your pocket money is here (_he shows the coffer_).

LIONNETTE.

Ah! yes, it is true. The famous million! There lies the temptation of the present hour. The tabernacle of the golden calf. Ah! well, let me look at it.... After all you have told me, who knows? perhaps, your G.o.d will convert me.

(_She walks towards the coffer, of which she opens the princ.i.p.al side.

The gold contained in it is scattered all over the open panel._)

LIONNETTE (_looking at the gold_).