THE COLONEL, with a display of nobility and strength.
Don’t worry, Ernestine, your father will not desert you again; dear, unhappy child, either we shall emerge triumphant together or we shall be destroyed in each other’s arms. Adieu; let Amélie keep me informed if you should have the slightest need of me. And remember that the scion of Charles XII’s favorite is perforce a man born to sustain the honor and glory of his family.
SCENE X
ERNESTINE, alone.
There is but a single means whereby to satisfy me, Oxtiern: ’tis that you must spill my blood, or that I must shed yours to the last drop. . . . Now, let us pen a note. (She sits at the table and reads aloud as she writes:) “A decent man does not outrage a virtuous girl with impunity; you know the rules of honor, abide by them; the opponent I offer you is full worthy to engage you in a duel; it will take place in the garden of this hostelry, with swords the choice of weapons; rendezvous this evening at eleven at the appointed spot; a young man clothed in white will appear before you; attack him stoutly, he will respond in like measure; bear in mind that one of you must die, Oxtiern; be as brave as you have been base; upon this condition alone shall Ernestine forgive you. Adieu.” (She seals her note, then rings.)
SCENE XI
ERNESTINE, AMÉLIE.
AMÉLIE, hurrying in.
May I be of service, Mademoiselle?
ERNESTINE, rapidly.
Go take this note to the Count. . . . Take care that he does not see my father. . . . Hold, I’m going to retire. Go fetch the Colonel, bring him to this room and have him wait here while you are delivering my note; this errand, Amélie, is as important as it is secret; mind you not to overlook the slightest detail. (She exits.)
SCENE XII
AMÉLIE, alone.
This note worries me; her expression when she gave it to me; the manner in which she has held forth to me about her brother upon occasion in the past; I’ll warrant she’s asking him to come here, that she’ll have him challenge the Count to a duel. . . . I must warn the Colonel . . . they are his children. I should never forgive myself for concealing from him what I suspect. Good Lord, what unhappiness the base maneuvers of a scoundrel can cause! (She starts to exit and meets the Colonel.)
SCENE XIII
AMÉLIE, THE COLONEL.
AMÉLIE.
Oh! Monsieur, your daughter begs you to remain for a short time in this room while I take this message to Count Oxtiern.
THE COLONEL.
What does it say?
AMÉLIE.
I don’t know; but it must be a matter of great importance, for Mademoiselle enjoined me to give it my most urgent attention.
THE COLONEL.
And you have no notion what it contains?
AMÉLIE.
Excuse me, I think it’s about a duel; Monsieur your son . . . Mademoiselle your daughter . . . Count Oxtiern . . .
THE COLONEL.
My son? Pray be more explicit, I don’t understand you.
AMÉLIE, eagerly.
Monsieur, I’ll wager that Mademoiselle, your daughter, is summoning your son to seek revenge; that by this note she is challenging the Count to a duel, with your son as the Count’s opponent. . . . Oh! Monsieur, is there not some other way to punish such a crime, without risking your son’s life?
THE COLONEL.
There are doubtless other ways . . . most assuredly there are. No matter . . . go and deliver this note. Do as your mistress has prescribed, and count upon me to take care of the rest in proper manner. (Calling her back impatiently.) Amélie, if my son should arrive, should it be learned he is anywhere near this inn, make certain he speaks to no one. Have him brought to me immediately. On this point, give the strictest orders.
AMÉLIE, exiting.
Yes, Monsieur, I shall, of that you can be sure. I understand the full importance of your instructions.
SCENE XIV
THE COLONEL, alone.
My son will not fight a duel; ’tis up to me alone to clear this stain. . . . Oh, daughter, daughter, your defense is my concern, no one else’s. . . . I shall test my courage with this hateful man, and we shall see whether this hand, trained in combat . . . guided by the more justified cry for revenge, will be steadied by the God who is the protector of honor! Let us go apprise the Count of these resolutions, but let us keep them a secret from my daughter. . . . I want her to learn of the duel only by my victory. Yes, my victory is certain; ’tis a monster I am going to punish, and Providence is too wise to allow Virtue to be crushed beneath the perfidious assaults of vice and villainy.
END OF ACT II
Act Three
The stage represents the garden of the hostelry. Throughout the act, the light slowly fades, so that, at the denouement, the stage is enveloped in total darkness.
SCENE I
OXTIERN, DERBAC.
At the start of this scene, the delivery is prolonged and mysterious.
DERBAC.
I asked you to step down here into the garden, my dear Count, in order to converse with you more privily. There are all sorts of agitation in this house; and since the arrival of Colonel Falkenheim, Ernestine has locked herself in her room and refuses to see anyone; Amélie is everywhere at once; and Casimir, who is following every move, informs me of the most extraordinary things.
OXTIERN.
What is it you suspect then?
DERBAC.
I suspect nothing, my friend, I know everything. Begin by reading this note, if the little daylight remaining allows you to. Amélie was supposed to deliver it to you; not finding you, she left it with Casimir, with instructions that it be given to you with all possible haste: I took it from your valet’s hands . . . and I read it.
OXTIERN, casting his eye over the note, pauses at the following words:
“The opponent I offer you is full worthy to engage you in a duel. . . .” Do you know who this opponent is?
DERBAC.
I think I can guess.
OXTIERN.
Who is it then?
DERBAC.
Ernestine herself.
OXTIERN.
Ernestine?
DERBAC.
I’m quite certain.
OXTIERN.
What proof of this absurdity do you have?
DERBAC.
I saw the manservant of the inn carrying with his own two hands the white raiment to which the note refers. He was taking it to Amélie, who was supposed to give it to Ernestine. And ’tis in this guise she will come to do battle with you herself.
OXTIERN.
’Tis inconceivable, such a plan, motivated by rage . . . and by despair. We must avenge ourselves for it, and nothing could be easier.
DERBAC.
But the Colonel who is here. . .
OXTIERN.
Even were there ten colonels, this creature is plotting to kill me, and I must forestall her. I refuse to fight a duel with her, I would only kill her, and I want her to live . . . to live to rue the day she plotted my downfall. If she thwarts my plans, I am lost. She will cast herself at the feet of the King, and disgrace me; all my wealth and possessions, my position, my influence, will be wiped out, everything. Therefore, I have no choice but to . . . Take a look, Derbac, at who is walking toward us through this thicket.
DERBAC.
’Tis Casimir.
(The light gradually fades.)
SCENE II
THE ABOVE, CASIMIR.
CASIMIR.
Colonel Falkenheim has just ordered me to deliver this note to you without delay, Count.
OXTIERN.
Give it to me. (He reads it quickly; then, signaling to Casimir to leave them, he goes over to Derbac and, mysteriously, says.) My friend, ’tis a challenge from Ernestine’s father. Knowing that his daughter is arming her brother against me, he does not wish to yield to anyone the honor of so necessary a revenge. He is coming down to this garden and requests that I await him here, to engage him in a duel. You see, you were mista
ken; Ernestine’s brother must have slipped into the inn unbeknownst to us: ’tis he the opponent she has picked for me, and the white garb was to serve him as a disguise. (Waxing more and more wild, and increasingly emphatic.) Embrace me, my friends; we were looking for means to rid ourselves of this girl, and now fate offers us an unparalleled opportunity. (More coldly.) Casimir, go and tell the Colonel that I await him. By then it will be dark. . . . Tell him I shall be dressed in white; that he should attack without consideration the person he sees in the shadows, clothed in this garb.
CASIMIR, trying to calm his master.
Monsieur, Monsieur.
OXTIERN.
Quiet, you knavish lout; if it makes you tremble, then begone with you!
CASIMIR.
I shall do as you say. The Colonel shall be informed that his enemy, clothed in white, will appear at the appointed time and place. (Aside.) I only hope Fabrice returns before a crime so horrible is committed. (Approaching.) Monsieur, if you would permit me to say one word.
DERBAC.
Speak up, my friend, tell us what you know.
CASIMIR.
The white garment is not for Ernestine’s brother; I am certain her brother has not entered the house. I have kept a close lookout on every new arrival, and I swear to you that this young man, whom I know perfectly well, was not among them; this garment is for Ernestine, of that you can be sure; the servant of the house, who, thanks to your gold, has been won to our side, was sent to fetch it somewhere in the neighborhood. And ’tis to Ernestine herself they are supposed to give it.
DERBAC, very emphatically.
That clarifies everything. You see what the plan is, Oxtiern: Ernestine, to conceal her plans from her father, told the Colonel that she was counting on her brother to redress her wrongs; the Colonel believed her; he doesn’t want his son to fight a duel, and is coming in his stead.
OXTIERN, very keenly.
And will Ernestine also come?
DERBAC.
It would seem likely.
OXTIERN.
And will she come dressed in white?
CASIMIR.
That much is certain, Monsieur.
DERBAC, with a cry of horror.
What! you intend to have the girl murdered by her own father!
OXTIERN.
Quiet! Don’t you see, my friends, ’tis fate that has come to offer me these means of punishment; and you oppose my taking advantage of them?
DERBAC.
The crime is execrable; it revolts me.
OXTIERN.
’Tis useful for my tranquillity.
SCENE III
OXTIERN, DERBAC.
OXTIERN.
I’m losing patience with that valet. He lacks steadfastness of purpose. These imbeciles have no principles. Anything that deviates even slightly from the beaten paths of vice or villainy amazes them; the thought of remorse terrifies them.
DERBAC, sharply.
Woe unto scoundrels whom remorse does not check! woe unto you if you persist in your plans; never was a crime more foul conceived, even in hell.
OXTIERN.
I agree, but it serves my purpose. . . . Did this proud creature not plot my downfall?
DERBAC.
She engaged you in a duel; she was risking her own life.
OXTIERN.
Playing the heroine . . . I dislike any show of pride in a woman.
DERBAC, with considerable feeling.
Ah! is the creature who most deserves our respect not entitled to display any pride?
OXTIERN.
Ah, there you go moralizing again; the minute I turn my back on you, you begin to lose your grip, and ’tis all I can do to bring you round again. . . . Come now, Derbac, a little backbone; lest Casimir fail to carry out my orders as he should, I want you to carry them out as well; the Colonel will be here shortly; tell him to throw himself ardently at the enemy whom he will see advancing toward him clothed in white: it will be his daughter. . . . Do you understand, Derbac? and I shall be avenged. (He exits.)
SCENE IV
DERBAC, alone.
No, I cannot bring myself to serve such a loathsome deed; let Casimir be responsible for it, and let us not become involved in this horror. I want to leave this man’s company. . . . I shall revert to my former poverty, from which his influence rescued me, and ’tis greatly to be regretted, no doubt; but ’tis better than the misfortune of further corrupting myself at his unworthy school; the lack of fortune frightens me less than does crime: suffer as he may, the honest man finds solace in his heart. . . . (He exits as soon as he sees someone coming.)
SCENE V
THE COLONEL, groping his way in the shadows.
’Tis here the duel is supposed to take place. I thought he had preceded me; he will doubtless be here shortly. . . . O you unhappy person, what are you going to do? . . . The cruel laws of honor, how unfair you are! Why must the offended party risk life and limb, when ’tis the aggressor who is guilty? . . . Ah, let him kill me, slice me to shreds, I cannot survive my disgrace! (He trembles.) I think I hear him coming . . . and why is it that the approach of this opponent gives rise to feelings I cannot control? yet I have never known fear; the desire for vengeance troubles me and prevents me from distinguishing the real source of the impressions to which I am prey: the night is growing so dark I shall be hard put to recognize the color of the clothing I was told he would be wearing. (What follows is said very softly, and above all so that Ernestine cannot hear it.) ’Tis he; let us attack him in silence and not noise the duel abroad. (He draws his sword and falls upon Ernestine, who is dressed in man’s clothing, of the color referred to before. Scarcely has the duel begun when we hear two pistol shots off-stage, one of which is Herman’s and the other the Count’s; Herman rushes in, having just killed Oxtiern. Fabrice dashes in a moment later.)
SCENE VI
THE COLONEL, ERNESTINE, HERMAN, FABRICE.
The rhythm of this scene is extremely rapid.
HERMAN, still off-stage.
Die, traitor, Ernestine is avenged. (Flying to separate the duelists.) Merciful Heaven, stop! Do you realize whose blood you were about to spill? Wretched father! don’t you know your own daughter?
ERNESTINE, discarding her sword.
Oh, God! (She throws herself in her father’s arms.)
THE COLONEL.
Dear, unhappy child!
FABRICE, entering and with great feeling.
Your troubles are over, Colonel. No sooner had I learned of the Count’s wicked schemes than I flew to Stockholm, freed your young friend from the chains wherein Oxtiern had held him captive: you see to what use he has put his first moments of freedom.
HERMAN.
The coward; his defeat has cost me but little; ’tis so easy to triumph over a traitor. Having emerged victorious, I hastened hither, Monsieur, to apprise you of the crimes of which, despite yourselves, he was making you the instrument, and to ask you for the hand of this beloved girl, which I still covet and which, I dare flatter myself, I now deserve.
The Colonel makes a gesture half of approbation, half of sorrow.
ERNESTINE, to Herman.
Can I still hope for such happiness?
HERMAN, to Ernestine, tenderly.
Ah! could the crimes of a villain such as Oxtiern wither Nature’s most beautiful handiwork?
THE COLONEL.
Oh! Fabrice, my debt to you is great. How can I ever repay you? . . .
FABRICE.
By your friendship, my friends, ’tis what I am due. I put my money to the best use possible. . . . To punish crime and reward virtue. . . . Let someone tell me whether ’twere possible to invest it at a higher rate of interest! . . .
END OF THE THIRD AND FINAL ACT
Ernestine, A Swedish Tale (1788)
After Italy, England, and Russia, few countries in Europe seem to me as intriguing as Sweden. But if my imagination was burning to see the celebrated countries whence came, in times past, such legendary heroes
as Alaric, Attila, and Theodoric—in short all those heroes who, followed by countless numbers of soldiers, did proper obeisance to the imperial eagle whose wings were aspiring to embrace the world, those heroes who caused the Romans to tremble at the very gates of their mighty capital—if indeed my soul was consumed with a burning desire to visit the country of Gustavus Vasa, of Christina, and of Charles XII . . . all three of whom owe their fame to very different sources, since the first is renowned for that quality—rare and much to be desired in a sovereign—of a philosophic turn of mind, for that estimable prudence which rides roughshod over any religious systems whenever they impinge upon the authority of the government to which they are presumed to be subservient, and upon the happiness of the people, which is the sole object of legislation;1 the second for that nobility of soul which causes one to prefer solitude and a love of literature to the vainglory of the throne; and the third for those heroic virtues which make him forever deserving of the surname Alexander—if, I say, I was prompted by all these various objects of my admiration, fancy then how much more ardent was my desire to become acquainted with and admire this wise, virtuous, sober, and magnanimous people whom we may properly term the model of the North.
’Twas with this in mind that I left Paris the 20th of July, 1774, and after having traveled through Holland, Westphalia, and Denmark, I arrived in Sweden toward the middle of the following year.
After I had spent some three months in Stockholm, my curiosity was directed toward those famous mines about which I had read so much and wherein I imagined I might encounter some adventures similar to those related by the Abbé Prévost in the first volume of his anecdotes. And indeed I did . . . but how different were the adventures I encountered! . . .
Accordingly, I repaired to Uppsala, a city situated on the Fyris River, which divides that town in two. Long the capital of Sweden, Uppsala is still today, after Stockholm, the second most important city of that country. After spending three weeks there, I continued on to Falun, the ancient cradle of the Scythians, the customs and dress of which the present-day inhabitants of Dalecarlia still retain. As I reached the outskirts of Falun, I came to the Taperg mine, one of the most imposing in all Sweden.