Gervaise's name now; it always makes mamma cry since—you know——(weeps).
Lucien.—My poor dear friend. So full of life and gaiety, here, a few short months ago, and now gone for ever. (Turns away and throws himself on the sofa L.)
(While Lucien has been speaking, Blanche has approached Mathilde, and now looks over her shoulder.)
Blanche.—Oh! how like him. The same smile, the same proud air. My poor, poor brother! Then you still love him, Mathilde?
Mathilde.—Love him! Can you ask me? (Looks at Blanche steadfastly.) When you are sad, dear, your eyes are the image of Adrien's (kisses her). But for this dreadful war, we should have been happily married now (weeps).
Blanche (aside, stealing a glance at Lucien).—He does not take his eyes from her!
Madame des Aubiers
Noel (in a low voice).—Mamzelle Blanche.
Blanche (going toward him).—What is it, Noel?
Noel.—Monsieur Durand has come about the old wall that has fallen down at the back of the garden. He wishes to speak to Madame.
Blanche.—Very well (she takes a step toward MADAME and then returns to Noel). Has he brought the plan for the new stables I asked him to prepare?
Noel (in a low voice).—Yes, Mamzelle. He says it will be a very easy matter. Try to obtain your mamma's consent, and then you can persuade her afterwards to go out and see how the masons and carpenters get on with their work. In that way Madame will breathe a little fresh air and walk about a bit. It will be that much gained, at any rate.
Madame (shaking off her reverie).—Is that you, Noel?
Noel.—Yes, Madame. I was just speaking to Mamzelle Blanche. I hope I have not disturbed Madame?
Madame.—No. What is it, Noel?
Blanche (turning towards Madame).—Mamma, Noel here insists upon the absolute necessity—eh, Noel?
Noel.—Oh yes, Mamzelle Blanche.
Blanche.—The absolute necessity of your speaking in person to Monsieur Durand, about the new stables it was decided to build six months ago, before my poor brother—that is, when Adrien was with us. I have told him over and over again that you have quite abandoned the idea, that you don't wish to be troubled with any such affair. But Noel is so obstinate, you know, mamma, he won't listen to me at all. He says Monsieur Durand has prepared all the plans according to my brother's own directions—eh, Noel?
Noel.—Yes, Mamzelle Blanche. (Aside) She's an artful one, the dear child!
Blanche.—And has now come to show them to you. Besides, Noel says the work will cost a mere nothing.
Noel (comes down C.)—Nothing, Madame—or next to it, at least.
Madame.—Noel, go say to Monsieur Durand that I will join him in the garden.
(Exit Noel, C.)
(To Blanche) Come, dear.
(Exeunt MADAME and Blanche, C.)
Lucien (rises and closes the door).—Alone with her at last.
(He approaches Mathilde, who suddenly rises and stand motionless.)
Oh, listen to me, I implore you, if only for one moment. I am about to return to Bordeaux, and shall see your father. Let me tell him that you will soon return home.
Mathilde (coldly).—I have already told you that it is my intention to remain here.
Lucien.—But your parents—your family.
Mathilde. My family is that of the man who was to have been my husband.
Lucien.—I respect your sentiment in coming here; but it is now five months since Adrien fell at Gravelotte, and—
Mathilde—Well, sir, if I were his widow, it would be my right and my duty to mourn for him all my life. To think that he is dead—dead!
(She leans her elbows on the table, buries her face in her hands, and weeps.)
Lucien.—Why, then, did he not resign when this war broke out? Why did he leave you if he loved you?
Mathilde.—He was a true Frenchman, sir, and a soldier.
Lucien.—During the long years of his military studies in Paris, you never met him, or thought of him, save as a childish playmate. I loved you even then, and you were not angry with me.
Mathilde (scornfully).—No—I laughed at you.
Lucien.—Pitiless girl!
