What a masterpiece is that act! And then one remembers that because M. Crosnier was closely pressed, and had to change his spectacle, he suppressed that act, which, in the words of the critic, faisait longueur! ...
Ah well!...
In the fifth act the pardon is revoked. The young people must die. They are led out into the courtyard of the prison for a few minutes' fresh air. Didier converses with the spectre of death visible only to himself; Saverny sleeps his last sleep. By prostituting herself to Laffemas, Marion has secured from the judge the life of her lover, and as she enters, bruised still from the judge's mauling, she says—
"Sa lèvre est un fer rouge, et m'a toute marquée!"
Suppose Mademoiselle Mars, who did not want to say—
"Vous êtes, mon lion, superbe et généreux!"
had had such a line as that to say, think what a struggle there would have been between her and the author. But Dorval found it easy enough, and she said the line with admirable expression.
As for Bocage, the hatred, pride and scorn which he displayed were truely superb, when, not able to contain himself longer, he lets the secret escape, which until then had been gnawing his entrails as the fox the young Spartan's, he exclaimed—
"Marie ... ou Marion?
—Didier, soyez clément!
—Madame, on n'entre pas ici facilement;
Les bastilles d'État sont nuit et jour gardées;
Les portes sont de fer, les murs ont vingt coudées!
Pour que devant vos pas la porte s'ouvre ainsi,
A qui vous êtes-vous prostituée ici?
—Didier, qui vous a dit?
—Personne ... Je devine!
—Didier, j'en jure ici par la bonté divine,
C'était pour vous sauver, vous arracher d'ici,
Pour fléchir les bourreaux, pour vous sauver ...
—Merci!
Ah! qu'on soit jusque-là sans pudeur et sans âme,
C'est véritablement une honte, madame!
Où donc est le marchand d'opprobre et de mépris
Qui se fait acheter ma tête à de tels prix?
Où donc est le geôlier, le juge? où donc est l'homme?
Que je le broie ici! qui je l'écrase ... comme
Ceci!
(Il brise le portrait de Marion.)
Le juge! Allez, messieurs, faites des lois,
Et jugez! Que m'importe, à moi, que le faux poids
Qui fait toujours pencher votre balance infâme
Soit la tête d'un homme ou l'honneur d'une femme!"
I challenge anyone to find a more powerful or affecting passage in any language that has been written since the day when the lips of man uttered a first cry, a first complaint. Finally, Didier forgives Marion for being Marion, and, for a moment, the redeemed courtesan again becomes the lover. It is then that she speaks these two charming lines, which were suppressed at the performance and even, I believe, in the printed play—