Collected Works (Vol. III)

THE SIRE DE MALETROIT’S DOOR 77 ALAIN, This gentleman drank a little too much for dinner. DENYS. Nay, by St. Denys, not enough, else had F been now along under Cousin Henri’s table, and not in this house of maniacs and men-at-arms, and beauties in distress. Oh, pardon me, I am rude. [W2th lively gal- lantry.| Mademoiselle! I wrong myself when I forget myself: what I would say is that if the arm or brain of Denys de Beaulieu can save you, it isat your disposal [starts: but sertous, struck|—I mean—[Aside.] St. Denys, what a coil is here! Is it possible that I love her? [He stands back, astde, amazed. Hts attitude vtbrates between tender pitiful courtesy, lighted with love, and tronical appreciation of his own dilemma. ALAIN. I will leave you to talk alone. [ Zerns to leave. BLANCHE. [Jumps up, and flings her arms around him. He repulses her not ungently. She clasps his knees, and he for the first time appears a little awkward and at a loss.| Uncle, you cannot be in earnest. Why, Pll kill myself first—the heart rises at it—God forbids such marriages. Will you dishonour your white hair? ALAIN. Nay, mistress, I will save my brother's memory from shame. BLANCHE, O sir, pity me. There is not a woman in the world but would prefer death to such an union. Is it possible [fa/ters] that you still think this [fozzts to Dinys, who stands embarrassed and ashamed] to be the man ? ALAIN. Frankly, I do. But let me explain to you once for all, Blanche de Malétroit, my way of thinking about this affair. [Sversly.] When you took it upon yourself to dishonour my family [BLANCHE sizdes to floor and sobs] and the name I have borne stainless in peace and war for more than threescore years, you forfeited not only the right to question my designs, but that of looking me in the face. I ama tenderer man than your father —he would have spat on you and thrust you from his door. But married you shall be, and that to-night. [Zzrxs fo DENYS.] And you, Monsieur, will best serve her if you save her. What devil have I saddled your life with that you look at me so black? [ Zurns on his heel and exit, A short stlence of embarrassment. BLANCHE, [Zurns on DENYS with flashine eyes.) And what, sir, may be the meaning of all this? DENYS. God knows ; I ama prisoner in this house, which seems full of mad people. But I understand one thing, [doudbtfully] 1 think: that you are to be married to me, and that your wishes are to be consulted as little as mine. BLANCHE. Monsieur, I blame myself cruelly for the position I have placed you in, DENYS, Mademoiselle, I have at least the delicacy to refrain from asking any answer to these riddles. But— BLANCIIR. © how my head aches! to you to tell you— It is only fair