The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda Part 103

The Dramas of Victor Hugo: Mary Tudor, Marion de Lorme, Esmeralda Part 103

FLEUR-DE-LYS (_who watches and listens_).

Every one remembers you.

Come, call her, tell her to come up.

[_Aside._] I will see whether to believe what I am told.

PHOEBUS (_to Fleur-de-lys_).

You wish it? Well, let us try!

[_He motions to the dancer to come up._

THE YOUNG GIRLS.

She is coming!

M. DE CHEVREUSE.

She has disappeared under the porch.

DIANA.

She has left the mob, stupefied.

VISCOUNT DE GIF.

Ladies, you will see the nymph of the streets.

FLEUR-DE-LYS (_aside_).

How quickly she obeyed that sign from Phoebus!

SCENE IV

_The same. Esmeralda. The gypsy enters timidly, confused and radiant.

Movement of admiration. The crowd falls back before her_

CHORUS.

Look! her brow is fair amid the fairest, As a star would shine, surrounded by torches.

PHOEBUS.

Oh, creature divine!

Admiration is duty.

Of this ball she is queen, Her crown is her beauty.

[_He turns to Messieurs de Gif and de Chevreuse._

Friends, my soul is on fire.

War and death would I face, To hold in my arms Such bewildering grace.

M. DE CHEVREUSE.

She is a heavenly vision, A dream most rare and tender, Which, floating through earth's darkness, Radiates celestial splendor.

Born in the public streets-- Oh, blind caprice of fate, To trail through muddy streams A flower so immaculate!

ESMERALDA (_fixing her eyes on Phoebus in the crowd_).

It is my Phoebus, I was sure, Just as that night I found him; Whether in satin or in steel, How grace and strength surround him!

Phoebus--my head is all on fire, All burns within me, joy and pain; My soul's consumed for lack of tears, Just as earth yearns for rain.

FLEUR-DE-LYS.

How fair she is--yes, I was sure!

Jealous, indeed, I ought to be; But yet to match that loveliness How great must be my jealousy!

Alas! perhaps we both, foredoomed To waste 'neath sorrow's harsh caress, Full soon shall die--she in her flower, I in my loneliness!

MADAME ALOISE.

A radiant creature, truly, But, faith, 'tis a disgrace That such a wretched gypsy Should have so sweet a face.

Alas! the curious laws of fate 'Tis not for mortal mind to know: The serpent hides his treacherous head Beneath the fairest flowers that grow.

ALL (_together_).

She has the calmness, the delight Of radiant skies on a warm night.

MADAME ALOISE (_to Esmeralda_).

Come, child! My beauty, come-- Come and dance us some new dance!

[_Esmeralda prepares to dance, and draws from her bosom the scarf which Phoebus gave her._

FLEUR DE-LYS.

My scarf! Phoebus, you have deceived me!

My rival! Here she is!

[_Fleur-de-lys s.n.a.t.c.hes the scarf from Esmeralda, and falls in a swoon. All the people rush angrily toward the gypsy, who flies for protection to Phoebus._

ALL.

Is it true that Phoebus loves her?

Infamous creature, go--depart!

To brave us thus in our own home, You must have an audacious heart.

Oh! height of insolence! Retire!

Go back into the public street!

The common tradesmen, they can praise The jumping of your low-born feet.

Away with her, away at once!