<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<h1>VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS.</h1>
<hr />
<div class="ctr"><i>Of this work, 200 copies only have been printed, for<br/>
private circulation. This is No....</i></div>
<hr />
<h1><big>VERA;</big><br/> OR, THE NIHILISTS.</h1>
<div class="bk1"><big><b>A DRAMA</b></big><br/>
IN A PROLOGUE, AND FOUR ACTS.</div>
<h2><small>BY</small><br/> OSCAR WILDE.</h2>
<div class="bk1"><small><b>NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.</b></small></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/001.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="27" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="ctr"><i>PRIVATELY PRINTED</i>,<br/>
1902.</div>
<hr />
<div class="bk2"><p><span class="smcap">This</span> Play was written in 1881, and is now
published from the author's own copy, showing
his corrections of and additions to the
original text.</p>
</div>
<div class="trn"><p><b>Transcriber's Note:</b>
Inconsistent hyphenation has been standardised.
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note, whilst
significant amendments have been listed at the end of the text.</p>
<p>Although not present in the original publication, the following list
of contents has been provided for convenience:</p>
<ul>
<li><SPAN href="#Page_7">PROLOGUE.</SPAN></li>
<li><SPAN href="#Page_15">ACT I.</SPAN></li>
<li><SPAN href="#Page_30">ACT II.</SPAN></li>
<li><SPAN href="#Page_48">ACT III.</SPAN></li>
<li><SPAN href="#Page_62">ACT IV.</SPAN></li>
<li><SPAN href="#Page_73">CORRECTIONS AND ADDITIONS.</SPAN></li>
</ul></div>
<hr />
<h2>PERSONS IN THE PROLOGUE.</h2>
<div class="bk2"><p class="td1"><span class="smcap">Peter Sabouroff</span> (an Innkeeper).<br/>
<span class="smcap">Vera Sabouroff</span> (his Daughter).<br/>
<span class="smcap">Michael</span> (a Peasant).<br/>
<span class="smcap">Colonel Kotemkin.</span></p>
<p class="ctr">Scene, Russia. Time, 1795.</p>
</div>
<h2>PERSONS IN THE PLAY.</h2>
<div class="bk2"><p class="td1"><span class="smcap">Ivan the Czar.</span><br/>
<span class="smcap">Prince Paul Maraloffski</span> (Prime Minister of Russia).<br/>
<span class="smcap">Prince Petrovitch.</span><br/>
<span class="smcap">Count Rouvaloff.</span><br/>
<span class="smcap">Marquis de Poivrard.</span><br/>
<span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span><br/>
<span class="smcap">General Kotemkin.</span><br/>
<span class="smcap">A Page.</span></p>
<p class="ctr"><i>Nihilists.</i></p>
<p class="td1"><span class="smcap">Peter Tchernavitch</span>, President of the Nihilists.<br/>
<span class="smcap">Michael.</span><br/>
<span class="smcap">Alexis Ivanacievitch</span>, known as a Student of Medicine.<br/>
<span class="smcap">Professor Marfa.</span><br/>
<span class="smcap">Vera Sabouroff.</span></p>
<p class="ctr"><i>Soldiers, Conspirators, &c.</i></p>
<p class="ctr">Scene, Moscow. Time, 1800.</p>
</div>
<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>PROLOGUE.</h2>
<div class="stg2"><p class="ctr"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>A Russian Inn.</i></p>
<p class="ctr"><i>Large door opening on snowy landscape at back of stage.</i></p>
<p class="ctr"><i><span class="smcap">Peter Sabouroff</span> and <span class="smcap">Michael</span>.</i></p>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span> (<i>warming his hands at a stove</i>). Has Vera
not come back yet, Michael?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> No, Father Peter, not yet; 'tis a good
three miles to the post office, and she has to milk
the cows besides, and that dun one is a rare plaguey
creature for a wench to handle.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Why didn't you go with her, you young
fool? she'll never love you unless you are always at
her heels; women like to be bothered.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> She says I bother her too much already,
Father Peter, and I fear she'll never love me after all.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Tut, tut, boy, why shouldn't she? you're
young and wouldn't be ill-favoured either, had God
or thy mother given thee another face. Aren't you
one of Prince Maraloffski's gamekeepers; and haven't
you got a good grass farm, and the best cow in the
village? What more does a girl want?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> But Vera, Father Peter—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Vera, my lad, has got too many ideas; I
don't think much of ideas myself; I've got on well
enough in life without 'em; why shouldn't my
children? There's Dmitri! could have stayed here
and kept the inn; many a young lad would have
jumped at the offer in these hard times; but he,
scatter-brained featherhead of a boy, must needs go
off to Moscow to study the law! What does he want
knowing about the law! let a man do his duty, say
I, and no one will trouble him.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay! but Father Peter, they say a good
lawyer can break the law as often as he likes, and no
one can say him nay.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> That is about all they are good for; and
there he stays, and has not written a line to us for
four months now—a good son that, eh?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Come, come, Father Peter, Dmitri's letters
must have gone astray—perhaps the new postman
can't read; he looks stupid enough, and Dmitri, why,
he was the best fellow in the village. Do you remember
how he shot the bear at the barn in the
great winter?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Ay, it was a good shot; I never did a
better myself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> And as for dancing, he tired out three
fiddlers Christmas come two years.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Ay, ay, he was a merry lad. It is the
girl that has the seriousness—she goes about as
solemn as a priest for days at a time.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Vera is always thinking of others.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> There is her mistake, boy. Let God and
our Little Father look to the world. It is none of
my work to mend my neighbour's thatch. Why,
last winter old Michael was frozen to death in his
sleigh in the snowstorm, and his wife and children
starved afterwards when the hard times came; but
what business was it of mine? I didn't make the
world. Let God and the Czar look to it. And then
the blight came, and the black plague with it, and
the priests couldn't bury the people fast enough, and
they lay dead on the roads—men and women both.
But what business was it of mine? I didn't make the
world. Let God and the Czar look to it. Or two
autumns ago, when the river overflowed on a sudden,
and the children's school was carried away and
drowned every girl and boy in it. I didn't make
the world—let God and the Czar look to it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> But, Father Peter—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> No, no, boy; no man could live if he<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</SPAN></span>
took his neighbour's pack on his shoulders. (<i>Enter
<span class="smcap">Vera</span> in peasant's dress.</i>) Well, my girl, you've been
long enough away—where is the letter?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> There is none to-day, Father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> I knew it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> But there will be one to-morrow, Father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Curse him, for an ungrateful son.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Oh, Father, don't say that; he must be
sick.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Ay! sick of profligacy, perhaps.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> How dare you say that of him, Father?
You know that is not true.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Where does the money go, then?
Michael, listen. I gave Dmitri half his mother's
fortune to bring with him to pay the lawyer folk of
Moscow. He has only written three times, and every
time for more money. He got it, not at my wish,
but at hers (<i>pointing to <span class="smcap">Vera</span></i>), and now for five
months, close on six almost, we have heard nothing
from him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Father, he will come back.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Ay! the prodigals always return; but let
him never darken my doors again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>sitting down pensive</i>). Some evil has come
on him; he must be dead! Oh! Michael, I am so
wretched about Dmitri.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Will you never love any one but him,
Vera?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>smiling</i>). I don't know; there is so much
else to do in the world but love.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Nothing else worth doing, Vera.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> What noise is that, Vera? (<i>A metallic
clink is heard.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>rising and going to the door</i>). I don't
know, Father; it is not like the cattle bells, or I
would think Nicholas had come from the fair. Oh!
Father! it is soldiers!—coming down the hill—there
is one of them on horseback. How pretty
they look! But there are some men with them with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</SPAN></span>
chains on! They must be robbers. Oh! don't let
them in, Father; I couldn't look at them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Men in chains! Why, we are in luck,
my child! I heard this was to be the new road to
Siberia, to bring the prisoners to the mines; but I
didn't believe it. My fortune is made! Bustle, Vera,
bustle! I'll die a rich man after all. There will be
no lack of good customers now. An honest man
should have the chance of making his living out of
rascals now and then.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Are these men rascals, Father? What
have they done?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> I reckon they're some of those Nihilists
the priest warns us against. Don't stand there idle,
my girl.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I suppose, then, they are all wicked men.</p>
<p>(<i>Sound of soldiers outside; cry of "Halt!" enter
Russian officer with a body of soldiers and eight men
in chains, raggedly dressed; one of them on entering
hurriedly puts his coat above his ears and hides his
face; some soldiers guard the door, others sit down;
the prisoners stand.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> Innkeeper!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Yes, Colonel.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel</span> (<i>pointing to Nihilists</i>). Give these men
some bread and water.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span> (<i>to himself</i>). I shan't make much out of
that order.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> As for myself, what have you got fit
to eat?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Some good dried venison, your Excellency—and
some rye whisky.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> Nothing else?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Why, more whisky, your Excellency.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> What clods these peasants are! You
have a better room than this?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Yes, sir.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> Bring me there. Sergeant, post your
picket outside, and see that these scoundrels do not<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</SPAN></span>
communicate with any one. No letter writing, you
dogs, or you'll be flogged for it. Now for the venison.
(<i>To <span class="smcap">Peter</span> bowing before him.</i>) Get out of
the way, you fool! Who is that girl? (<i>sees <span class="smcap">Vera</span></i>).</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> My daughter, your Highness.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> Can she read and write?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Ay, that she can, sir.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> Then she is a dangerous woman. No
peasant should be allowed to do anything of the
kind. Till your fields, store your harvests, pay your
taxes, and obey your masters—that is your duty.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Who are our masters?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> Young woman, these men are going
to the mines for life for asking the same foolish
question.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Then they have been unjustly condemned.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> Vera, keep your tongue quiet. She is a
foolish girl, sir, who talks too much.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> Every woman does talk too much.
Come, where is this venison? Count, I am waiting
for you. How can you see anything in a girl with
coarse hands? (<i>He passes with <span class="smcap">Peter</span> and his aide-de-camp
into an inner room.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>to one of the Nihilists</i>). Won't you sit
down? you must be tired.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sergeant.</span> Come now, young woman, no talking
to my prisoners.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I shall speak to them. How much do
you want?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sergeant.</span> How much have you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Will you let these men sit down if I give
you this? (<i>Takes off her peasant's necklace.</i>) It is
all I have; it was my mother's.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sergeant.</span> Well, it looks pretty enough, and is
heavy too. What do you want with these men?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> They are hungry and tired. Let me go
to them?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">One of the Soldiers.</span> Let the wench be, if she
pays us.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sergeant.</span> Well, have your way. If the Colonel
sees you, you may have to come with us, my pretty one.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>advances to the Nihilists</i>). Sit down; you
must be tired. (<i>Serves them food.</i>) What are you?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">A Prisoner.</span> Nihilists.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Who put you in chains?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prisoner.</span> Our Father the Czar.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Why?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prisoner.</span> For loving liberty too well.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>to prisoner who hides his face</i>). What did
you want to do?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Dmitri.</span> To give liberty to thirty millions of
people enslaved to one man.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>startled at the voice</i>). What is your name?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Dmitri.</span> I have no name.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Where are your friends?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Dmitri.</span> I have no friends.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Let me see your face!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Dmitri.</span> You will see nothing but suffering in it.
They have tortured me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>tears the cloak from his face</i>). Oh, God!
Dmitri! my brother!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Dmitri.</span> Hush! Vera; be calm. You must not
let my father know; it would kill him. I thought I
could free Russia. I heard men talk of Liberty one
night in a café. I had never heard the word before.
It seemed to be a new god they spoke of. I joined
them. It was there all the money went. Five months
ago they seized us. They found me printing the
paper. I am going to the mines for life. I could not
write. I thought it would be better to let you think I
was dead; for they are bringing me to a living tomb.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>looking round</i>). You must escape, Dmitri.
I will take your place.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Dmitri.</span> Impossible! You can only revenge us.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I shall revenge you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Dmitri.</span> Listen! there is a house in Moscow—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sergeant.</span> Prisoners, attention!—the Colonel is
coming—young woman, your time is up.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Colonel</span>, <span class="smcap">Aide-de-Camp</span> and <span class="smcap">Peter</span>.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> I hope your Highness is pleased with the
venison. I shot it myself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> It had been better had you talked less
about it. Sergeant, get ready. (<i>Gives purse to
<span class="smcap">Peter</span>.</i>) Here, you cheating rascal!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> My fortune is made! long live your
Highness. I hope your Highness will come often
this way.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> By Saint Nicholas, I hope not. It is
too cold here for me. (<i>To <span class="smcap">Vera</span>.</i>) Young girl,
don't ask questions again about what does not
concern you. I will not forget your face.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Nor I yours, or what you are doing.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> You peasants are getting too saucy
since you ceased to be serfs, and the knout is the
best school for you to learn politics in. Sergeant,
proceed.</p>
<p>(<i>The <span class="smcap">Colonel</span> turns and goes to top of stage. The
prisoners pass out double file; as <span class="smcap">Dmitri</span> passes <span class="smcap">Vera</span>
he lets a piece of paper fall on the ground; she puts her
foot on it and remains immobile.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span> (<i>who has been counting the money the <span class="smcap">Colonel</span>
gave him</i>). Long life to your Highness. I will hope
to see another batch soon. (<i>Suddenly catches sight of
<span class="smcap">Dmitri</span> as he is going out of the door, and screams
and rushes up.</i>) Dmitri! Dmitri! my God! what
brings you here? he is innocent, I tell you. I'll pay
for him. Take your money (<i>flings money on the
ground</i>), take all I have, give me my son. Villains!
Villains! where are you bringing him?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> To Siberia, old man.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> No, no; take me instead.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> He is a Nihilist.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Peter.</span> You lie! you lie! He is innocent. (<i>The
soldiers force him back with their guns and shut the
door against him. He beats with his fists against
it.</i>) Dmitri! Dmitri! a Nihilist! (<i>Falls down on
floor.</i>)<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>who has remained motionless, picks up paper
now from under her feet and reads</i>). "99 Rue Tchernavaya,
Moscow. To strangle whatever nature is in
me; neither to love nor to be loved; neither to pity
nor to be pitied; neither to marry nor to be given
in marriage, till the end is come." My brother, I
shall keep the oath. (<i>Kisses the paper.</i>) You shall
be revenged!</p>
<p>(<i><span class="smcap">Vera</span> stands immobile, holding paper in her lifted
hand. <span class="smcap">Peter</span> is lying on the floor. <span class="smcap">Michael</span>, who
has just come in, is bending over him.</i>)</p>
<div class="bk3"><span class="smcap">End of Prologue.</span></div>
<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>ACT I.<SPAN name="ai_1" id="ai_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_1" class="anc">1</SPAN></h2>
<div class="stg2"><p class="p2"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>99 Rue Tchernavaya, Moscow. A large
garret lit by oil lamps hung from ceiling. Some
masked men standing silent and apart from one
another. A man in a scarlet mask is writing
at a table. Door at back. Man in yellow with
drawn sword at it. Knocks heard. Figures in
cloaks and masks enter.</i></p>
</div>
<div class="stg1"><i>Password.</i> Per crucem ad lucem.</div>
<div class="stg1"><i>Answer.</i> Per sanguinem ad libertatem.</div>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Clock strikes. <span class="smcap">Conspirators</span> form a semicircle in
the middle of the stage.</i>)</div>
<p><SPAN name="ai_2" id="ai_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_2" class="anc">2</SPAN><span class="smcap">President.</span> What is the word?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">First Consp.</span> Nabat.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> The answer?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Second Consp.</span> Kalit.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> What hour is it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Third Consp.</span> The hour to suffer.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> What day?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fourth Consp.</span> The day of oppression.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> What year?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fifth Consp.</span> Since the Revolution of France,
the ninth year.<SPAN href="#ni_2" class="anc">2</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> How many are we in number?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sixth Consp.</span> Ten, nine, and three.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> The Galilæan had less to conquer the
world; but what is our mission?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Seventh Consp.</span> To give freedom.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Our creed?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Eighth Consp.</span> To annihilate.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Our duty?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Ninth Consp.</span> To obey.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Brothers, the questions have been answered
well. There are none but Nihilists present. Let us
see each other's faces. (<i>The <span class="smcap">Conspirators</span> unmask.</i>)
Michael, recite the oath.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Michael.</span> To strangle whatever nature is in us;
neither to love nor to be loved, neither to pity nor to
be pitied, neither to marry nor to be given in
marriage, till the end is come; to stab secretly by
night; to drop poison in the glass; to set father
against son, and husband against wife; without fear,
without hope, without future, to suffer, to annihilate,
to revenge.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Are we all agreed?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Conspirators.</span> We are all agreed. (<i>They disperse
in various directions about the stage.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> 'Tis after the hour, Michael, and she is not
yet here.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Would that she were! We can do little
without her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alexis.</span> She cannot have been seized, President?
but the police are on her track, I know.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> You always seem to know a good deal
about the movements of the police in Moscow—too
much for an honest conspirator.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> If those dogs have caught her, <SPAN name="ai_3" id="ai_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_3" class="anc">3</SPAN>the red
flag of the people will float on a barricade in<SPAN href="#ni_3" class="anc">3</SPAN> every
street till we find her! It was foolish of her to go
to the Grand Duke's ball. I told her so, but she
said she wanted to see the Czar and all his cursed
brood face to face once.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alexis.</span> Gone to the State ball?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> I have no fear. She is as hard to capture
as a she-wolf is, and twice as dangerous; besides,
she is well disguised. But is there any news from
the Palace to-night, President? What is that
bloody<SPAN name="ai_4" id="ai_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_4" class="anc">4</SPAN> despot doing now besides torturing his
only son? Have any of you seen him? One hears
strange stories about him. They say he loves the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</SPAN></span>
people; but a king's son never does that. You
cannot breed them like that.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Since he came back from abroad a year
ago his father has kept him in close prison in his
palace.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> An excellent training to make him a
tyrant in his turn; but is there any news, I say?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> A council is to be held to-morrow, at four
o'clock, on some secret business the spies cannot
find out.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> A council in a king's palace is sure to
be about some bloody work or other. But in what
room is this council to be held?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> (<i>reading from letter</i>). In the yellow tapestry
room called after the Empress Catherine.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> I care not for such long-sounding names.
I would know where it is.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> I cannot tell, Michael. I know more about
the insides of prisons than of palaces.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> (<i>speaking suddenly to <span class="smcap">Alexis</span></i>). Where is
this room, Alexis?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alexis.</span> It is on the first floor, looking out on
to the inner courtyard. But why do you ask,
Michael?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Nothing, nothing, boy! I merely take a
great interest in the Czar's life and movements, and
I knew you could tell me all about the palace.
Every poor student of medicine in Moscow knows
all about king's houses. It is their duty, is it not?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alexis</span> (<i>aside</i>). Can Michael suspect me? There
is something strange in his manner to-night. Why
doesn't she come? The whole fire of revolution
seems fallen into dull ashes when she is not here.</p>
<p><SPAN name="ai_5" id="ai_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_5" class="anc">5</SPAN><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Have you cured many patients lately, at
your hospital, boy?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> There is one who lies sick to death I
would fain cure, but cannot.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay, and who is that?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Russia, our mother.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> The curing of Russia is surgeon's business,
and must be done by the knife. I like not your
method of medicine.<SPAN href="#ni_5" class="anc">5</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Professor, we have read the proofs of your
last article; it is very good indeed.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> What is it about, Professor?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Professor.</span> The subject, my good brother, is
assassination considered as a method of political
reform.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> I think little of pen and ink in revolutions.
One dagger will do more than a hundred epigrams.
Still, let us read this scholar's last production. Give
it to me. I will read it myself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prof.</span> Brother, you never mind your stops; let
Alexis read it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay! he is as tripping of speech as if he
were some young aristocrat; but for my own part I
care not for the stops so that the sense be plain.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> (<i>reading</i>). "The past has belonged to the
tyrant, and he has defiled it; ours is the future, and
we shall make it holy." Ay! let us make the future
holy; let there be one revolution at least which is not
bred in crime, nurtured in murder!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> They have spoken to us by the sword, and
by the sword we shall answer! You are too delicate
for us, Alexis. There should be none here but men
whose hands are rough with labour or red with blood.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Peace, Michael, peace! He is the bravest
heart among us.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> (<i>aside</i>). He will need to be brave to-night.</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>The sound of sleigh bells is heard outside.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Voice</span> (<i>outside</i>). Per crucem ad lucem.</p>
<p><i>Answer of man on guard.</i> Per sanguinem ad libertatem.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Who is that?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> God save the people!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Welcome, Vera, welcome! <SPAN name="ai_6" id="ai_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_6" class="anc">6</SPAN>We have been
sick at heart till we saw you; but now methinks the
star of freedom has come to wake us from the night.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</SPAN></span><SPAN href="#ni_6" class="anc">6</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> <SPAN name="ai_7" id="ai_7"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_7" class="anc">7</SPAN>It is night, indeed, brother! Night without
moon or star!<SPAN href="#ni_7" class="anc">7</SPAN> Russia is smitten to the heart!
The man Ivan whom men call the Czar strikes now at
our mother with a dagger deadlier than ever forged by
tyranny against a people's life!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> What has the tyrant<SPAN name="ai_8" id="ai_8"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_8" class="anc">8</SPAN> done now?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> To-morrow martial law is to be proclaimed
in Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Omnes.</span> Martial law! We are lost! We are lost!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Martial law! Impossible!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Fool, nothing is impossible in Russia but
reform.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Ay, martial law. The last right to which
the people clung has been taken from them. Without
trial, without appeal, without accuser even, our
brothers will be taken from their houses, shot in
the streets like dogs, sent away to die in the snow,
to starve in the dungeon, to rot in the mine. Do
you know what martial law means? It means the
strangling of a whole nation. <SPAN name="ai_9" id="ai_9"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_9" class="anc">9</SPAN>The streets will be
filled with soldiers night and day; there will be
sentinels at every door.<SPAN href="#ni_9" class="anc">9</SPAN> No man dare walk abroad
now but the spy or the traitor. Cooped up in the
dens we hide in, meeting by stealth, speaking with
bated breath; what good can we do now for Russia?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> We can suffer at least.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> We have done that too much already.
The hour is now come to annihilate and to revenge.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Up to this the people have borne everything.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Because they have understood nothing.
But now we, the Nihilists, have given them the tree
of knowledge to eat of and the day of silent suffering
is over for Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Martial law, Vera! This is fearful tidings
you bring.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> It is the death warrant of liberty in Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Or the tocsin of<SPAN name="ai_10" id="ai_10"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_10" class="anc">10</SPAN> revolution.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Are you sure it is true?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Here is the proclamation. I stole it
myself at the ball to-night from a young fool, one
of Prince Paul's secretaries, who had been given it
to copy. It was that which made me so late.</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i><span class="smcap">Vera</span> hands proclamation to <span class="smcap">Michael</span>, who reads
it.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> "To ensure the public safety—martial law.
By order of the Czar, father of his people." The
father of his people!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Ay! a father whose name shall not be
hallowed, whose kingdom shall change to a republic,
whose trespasses shall not be forgiven him, because
he has robbed us of our daily bread; with whom is
neither might, nor right, nor glory, now or for ever.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> It must be about this that the council
meet to-morrow. It has not yet been signed.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> It shall not be while I have a tongue to
plead with.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Or while I have hands to smite with.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Martial law! O God, how easy it is for
a king to kill his people by thousands, but we cannot
rid ourselves of one crowned man in Europe! What
is there of awful majesty in these men which makes
the hand unsteady, the dagger treacherous, the pistol-shot
harmless? Are they not men of like passions with
ourselves, vulnerable to the same diseases, of flesh
and blood not different from our own? What made
Olgiati tremble at the supreme crisis of that Roman
life, <SPAN name="ai_11" id="ai_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_11" class="anc">11</SPAN>and Guido's nerve fail him when he should
have been of iron and of steel? A plague, I say, on
these fools of Naples, Berlin, and Spain!<SPAN href="#ni_11" class="anc">11</SPAN> Methinks
that if I stood face to face with one of the crowned
men my eye would see more clearly, my aim be more
sure, my whole body gain a strength and power that
was not my own! Oh, to think what stands between
us and freedom in Europe! a few old men, wrinkled,
feeble, tottering dotards whom a boy could strangle
for a ducat, or a woman stab in a night-time. And
these are the things that keep us from democracy,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</SPAN></span>
that keep us from liberty. But now methinks the
brood of men is dead and the dull earth grown sick
of child-bearing, else would no crowned dog pollute
God's air by living.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Omnes.</span> Try us! Try us! Try us!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> We shall try thee, too, some day, Vera.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I pray God thou mayest! Have I not
strangled whatever nature is in me, and shall I not
keep my oath?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">President</span></i>). Martial law, President!
Come, there is no time to be lost. We have twelve
hours yet before us till the council meet. <SPAN name="ai_12" id="ai_12"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_12" class="anc">12</SPAN>Twelve
hours! One can overthrow a dynasty in less time
than that.<SPAN href="#ni_12" class="anc">12</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> <SPAN name="ai_13" id="ai_13"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_13" class="anc">13</SPAN>Ay! or lose one's own head.<SPAN href="#ni_13" class="anc">13</SPAN></p>
<p>(<i><span class="smcap">Michael</span> and the <span class="smcap">President</span> retire to one corner
of the stage and sit whispering. <span class="smcap">Vera</span> takes up the
proclamation, and reads it to herself; <span class="smcap">Alexis</span> watches
and suddenly rushes up to her.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Vera!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Alexis, you here! Foolish boy, have I
not prayed you to stay away? All of us here are
doomed to die before our time, fated to expiate by
suffering whatever good we do; but you, with your
<SPAN name="ai_14" id="ai_14"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_14" class="anc">14</SPAN>bright boyish face,<SPAN href="#ni_14" class="anc">14</SPAN> you are too young to die yet.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> One is never too young to die for one's
country!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Why do you come here night after night?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Because I love the people.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> But your fellow-students must miss you.
Are there no traitors among them? You know what
spies there are in the University here. O Alexis,
you must go! You see how desperate suffering has
made us. There is no room here for a nature like
yours. You must not come again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Why do you think so poorly of me?
Why should I live while my brothers suffer?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> You spake to me of your mother once.
You said you loved her. Oh, think of her!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> I have no mother now but Russia, my
life is hers to take or give away; but to-night I am
here to see you. They tell me you are leaving for
Novgorod to-morrow.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I must. They are getting faint-hearted
there, and I would fan the flame of this revolution
into such a blaze that the eyes of all kings in Europe
shall be blinded. If martial law is passed they will
need me all the more there. There is no limit, it
seems, to the tyranny of one man; but there shall
be a limit to the suffering of a whole people.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> God knows it, I am with you. But you
must not go. <SPAN name="ai_15" id="ai_15"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_15" class="anc">15</SPAN>The police are watching every train
for you.<SPAN href="#ni_15" class="anc">15</SPAN> When you are seized they have orders to
place you without trial in the lowest dungeon of the
palace.<SPAN name="ai_16" id="ai_16"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_16" class="anc">16</SPAN> I know it—no matter how. <SPAN name="ai_17" id="ai_17"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_17" class="anc">17</SPAN>Oh, think
how without you the sun goes from our life, how the
people will lose their leader and liberty her priestess.<SPAN href="#ni_17" class="anc">17</SPAN>
Vera, you must not go!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> If you wish it, I will stay. I would live
a little longer for freedom, a little longer for Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> When you die then Russia is smitten indeed;
when you die then I shall lose all hope—all....
Vera, this is fearful news you bring—martial
law—it is too terrible. I knew it not, by my soul,
I knew it not!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> How could you have known it? It is
too well laid a plot for that. This great White Czar,
whose hands are red with the blood of the people
he has murdered, whose soul is black with his
iniquity, is the cleverest conspirator of us all. Oh,
how could Russia bear two hearts like yours and his!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Vera, the Emperor was not always like
this. There was a time when he loved the people.
It is that devil, whom God curse, Prince Paul
Maraloffski who has brought him to this. To-morrow,
I swear it, I shall plead for the people to
the Emperor.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Plead to the Czar! Foolish boy, it is<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</SPAN></span>
only those who are sentenced to death that ever see
our Czar. Besides, what should he care for a voice
that pleads for mercy? The cry of a strong nation
in its agony has not moved that heart of stone.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> (<i>aside</i>). Yet shall I plead to him. They
can but kill me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prof.</span> Here are the proclamations, Vera. Do
you think they will do?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I shall read them. <SPAN name="ai_18" id="ai_18"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_18" class="anc">18</SPAN>How fair he looks?<SPAN href="#ni_18" class="anc">18</SPAN>
Methinks he never seemed so noble as to-night.
Liberty is blessed in having such a lover.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Well, President, what are you deep in?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> We are thinking of the best way of killing
bears. (<i>Whispers to <span class="smcap">President</span> and leads him aside.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prof.</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Vera</span></i>). And the letters <SPAN name="ai_19" id="ai_19"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_19" class="anc">19</SPAN>from our
brothers at Paris and Berlin. What answer shall we
send to them?<SPAN href="#ni_19" class="anc">19</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>takes them mechanically</i>). Had I not
strangled nature, sworn neither to love nor be loved,
methinks<SPAN name="ai_20" id="ai_20"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_20" class="anc">20</SPAN> I might have loved him. Oh, I am a
fool, a traitor myself, a traitor myself! But why did
he come amongst us with his bright<SPAN name="ai_21" id="ai_21"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_21" class="anc">21</SPAN> young face, his
heart aflame for liberty, his pure white soul? Why
does he make me feel at times as if I would have him
as my king, Republican though I be? Oh, fool, fool,
fool! False to your oath! weak as water! Have
done! Remember what you are—a Nihilist, a Nihilist!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Michael</span></i>). But you will be seized,
Michael.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> I think not. I will wear the uniform of
the Imperial Guard, and the Colonel on duty is one
of us. It is on the first floor, you remember; so I
can take a long shot.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Shall I tell the brethren?</p>
<p><SPAN name="ai_22" id="ai_22"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_22" class="anc">22</SPAN><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Not a word, not a word! There is a
traitor amongst us.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Come, are these the proclamations? Yes,
they will do; yes, they will do. Send five hundred to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</SPAN></span>
Kiev and Odessa and Novgorod, five hundred to
Warsaw, and have twice the number distributed
among the Southern Provinces, though these dull
Russian peasants care little for our proclamations, and
less for our martyrdoms. When the blow is struck,
it must be from the town, not from the country.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay, and by the sword not by the goose-quill.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Where are the letters from Poland?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prof.</span> Here.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Unhappy Poland! The eagles of Russia
have fed on her heart. We must not forget our
brothers there.<SPAN href="#ni_22" class="anc">22</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Is this true, Michael?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay, I stake my life on it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> <SPAN name="ai_23" id="ai_23"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_23" class="anc">23</SPAN>Let the doors be locked, then.<SPAN href="#ni_23" class="anc">23</SPAN> Alexis
Ivanacievitch entered on our roll of the brothers as a
Student of the School of Medicine at Moscow. Why
did you not tell us of this bloody scheme<SPAN name="ai_24" id="ai_24"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_24" class="anc">24</SPAN> of martial
law?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> I, President?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay, you! You knew it, none better.
Such weapons as these are not forged in a day.
Why did you not tell us of it? A week ago there
had been time <SPAN name="ai_25" id="ai_25"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_25" class="anc">25</SPAN>to lay the mine, to raise the barricade,
to strike one blow at least for liberty.<SPAN href="#ni_25" class="anc">25</SPAN> But
now the hour is past. It is too late, <SPAN name="ai_26" id="ai_26"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_26" class="anc">26</SPAN>it is too late!<SPAN href="#ni_26" class="anc">26</SPAN>
Why did you keep it a secret from us, I say?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Now by the hand of freedom, Michael,
my brother, you wrong me. I knew nothing of this
hideous law. By my soul, my brothers, I knew
not of it! How should I know?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Because you are a traitor! Where did
you go when you left us the night of our last meeting
here?</p>
<p><SPAN name="ai_27" id="ai_27"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_27" class="anc">27</SPAN><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> To mine own house, Michael.<SPAN href="#ni_27" class="anc">27</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Liar! I was on your track. You left
here an hour after midnight. Wrapped in a large
cloak, you crossed the river in a boat a mile below<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</SPAN></span>
the second bridge, and gave the ferryman a gold
piece, you, the poor student of medicine! You
doubled back twice, and hid in an archway so long
that I had almost made up my mind to stab you
at once, only that I am fond of hunting. So! you
thought that you had baffled all pursuit, did you?
Fool! I am a bloodhound that never loses the scent.
I followed you from street to street. At last I saw
you pass swiftly across the Place St. Isaac, whisper
to the guards the secret password, enter the palace
by a private door with your own key.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Conspirators.</span> The palace!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Alexis!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> I waited. All through the dreary watches
of our long Russian night I waited, that I might kill
you with your Judas hire still hot in your hand.
But you never came out; you never left that palace
at all. I saw the blood-red sun rise through the
yellow fog over the murky town; I saw a new day
of oppression dawn on Russia; but you never came
out. So you pass nights in the palace, do you?
You know the password for the guards! you have a
key to a secret door. Oh, you are a spy—you are
a spy! I never trusted you, <SPAN name="ai_28" id="ai_28"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_28" class="anc">28</SPAN>with your soft white
hands, your curled hair, your pretty graces.<SPAN href="#ni_28" class="anc">28</SPAN> You
have no mark of suffering about you; you cannot be
of the people. You are a spy—<SPAN name="ai_29" id="ai_29"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_29" class="anc">29</SPAN>a spy—traitor.<SPAN href="#ni_29" class="anc">29</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Omnes.</span> Kill him! Kill him! (<i>draw their knives</i>.)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>rushing in front of <span class="smcap">Alexis</span></i>). Stand back,
I say, Michael! Stand back all! <SPAN name="ai_30" id="ai_30"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_30" class="anc">30</SPAN>Do not dare<SPAN href="#ni_30" class="anc">30</SPAN>
lay a hand upon him! He is the noblest heart
amongst us.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Omnes.</span> Kill him! Kill him! He is a spy!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Dare to lay a finger on him, and I leave
you all to yourselves.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Vera, did you not hear what Michael said
of him? He stayed all night in the Czar's palace.
He has a password and a private key. What else
should he be but a spy?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Bah! I do not believe Michael. It is a
lie! It is<SPAN name="ai_31" id="ai_31"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_31" class="anc">31</SPAN> a lie! Alexis, say it is a lie!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> It is true. Michael has told what he saw.
I did pass that night in the Czar's palace. Michael
has spoken the truth.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Stand back, I say; stand back! Alexis,
I do not care. I trust you; you would not betray
us; you would not sell the people for money. You
are honest, true! Oh, say you are no spy!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Spy? You know I am not. I am with
you, my brothers, to the death.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay, to your own death.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Vera, you<SPAN name="ai_32" id="ai_32"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_32" class="anc">32</SPAN> know I am true.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I know it well.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Why are you here, traitor?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Because I love the people.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Then you can be a martyr for them?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> You must kill me first, Michael, before
you lay a finger on him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Michael, we dare not lose Vera. It is her
whim to let this boy live. We can keep him here
to-night. Up to this he has not betrayed us.</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Tramp of soldiers outside, knocking at door.</i>)<SPAN name="ai_33" id="ai_33"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_33" class="anc">33</SPAN></div>
<p><span class="smcap">Voice.</span> Open in the name of the Emperor!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> He <i>has</i> betrayed us. This is your doing,
spy!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Come, Michael, come. We have no time
to cut one another's throats while we have our own
heads to save.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Voice.</span> Open in the name of the Emperor!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Brothers, be masked all of you. <SPAN name="ai_34" id="ai_34"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_34" class="anc">34</SPAN>Michael,
open the door. It is our only chance.<SPAN href="#ni_34" class="anc">34</SPAN></p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">General Kotemkin</span> and soldiers.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> All honest citizens should be in their own
houses at an hour before midnight, and not more
than five people have a right to meet privately.
Have you not noticed the proclamation, fellows?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay, you have spoiled every honest<SPAN name="ai_35" id="ai_35"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_35" class="anc">35</SPAN> wall
in Moscow with it.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Peace, Michael, peace. Nay, Sir, we knew
it not. We are a company of strolling players travelling
from Samara to Moscow to amuse His Imperial
Majesty the Czar.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> But I heard loud voices before I entered.
What was that?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> We were rehearsing a new tragedy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> Your answers are too <i>honest</i> to be true.
Come, let me see who you are. Take off those
players' masks. By St. Nicholas, my beauty, if your
face matches your figure, you must be a choice
morsel! Come, I say, pretty one; I would sooner
see your face than those of all the others.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> O God! if he sees it is Vera, we are all
lost!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> No coquetting, my girl. Come, unmask, I
say, or I shall tell my guards to do it for you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Stand back, I say, General Kotemkin!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> Who are you, fellow, that talk with such
a tripping tongue to your betters? (<i><span class="smcap">Alexis</span> takes
his mask off</i>.) His Imperial Highness the Czarevitch!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Omnes.</span> The Czarevitch! <SPAN name="ai_36" id="ai_36"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_36" class="anc">36</SPAN>It is all over!<SPAN href="#ni_36" class="anc">36</SPAN></p>
<p><SPAN name="ai_37" id="ai_37"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_37" class="anc">37</SPAN><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> He will give us up to the soldiers.<SPAN href="#ni_37" class="anc">37</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Vera</span></i>). Why did you not let me kill
him? Come, we must fight to the death for it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Peace! he will not betray us.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> A whim of mine, General! You know
how my father keeps me from the world and imprisons
me in the palace. I should really be bored
to death if I could not get out at night in disguise
sometimes, and have some romantic adventure in
town. I fell in with these honest folks a few hours
ago.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> But, your Highness—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Oh, they are excellent actors, I assure you.
If you had come in ten minutes ago, you would have
witnessed a most interesting scene.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> Actors, are they, Prince?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Ay, and very ambitious actors, too. They
only care to play before kings.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> I' faith, your Highness, I was in hopes I
had made a good haul of Nihilists.<SPAN name="ai_38" id="ai_38"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ni_38" class="anc">38</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Nihilists in Moscow, General! with you as
head of the police? Impossible!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> So I always tell your Imperial father. But
I heard at the council to-day that that woman Vera
Sabouroff, the head of them, had been seen in this
very city. The Emperor's face turned as white as
the snow outside. I think I never saw such terror
in any man before.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> She is a dangerous woman, then, this Vera
Sabouroff?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> The most dangerous in all Europe.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Did you ever see her, General?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> Why, five years ago, when I was a plain
Colonel, I remember her, your Highness, a common
waiting girl in an inn. If I had known then what
she was going to turn out, I would have flogged her
to death on the roadside. She is not a woman at
all; she is a sort of devil! For the last eighteen
months I have been hunting her, and caught sight of
her once last September outside Odessa.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> How did you let her go, General?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> I was by myself, and she shot one of my
horses just as I was gaining on her. If I see her
again I shan't miss my chance. The Emperor has
put twenty thousand roubles on her head.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> I hope you will get it, General; but meanwhile
you are frightening these honest people out of
their wits, and disturbing the tragedy. Good night,
General.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> Yes; but I should like to see their faces,
your Highness.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> No, General; you must not ask that; you
know how these gipsies hate to be stared at.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> Yes. But, your Highness—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> (<i>haughtily</i>). General, they are my friends,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</SPAN></span>
that is enough. And, General, not a word of this
little adventure here, you understand. I shall rely
on you.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> I shall not forget, Prince. But shall we not
see you back to the palace? The State ball is almost
over and you are expected.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> I shall be there; but I shall return alone.
Remember, not a word about my strolling players.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen.</span> Or your pretty gipsy, eh, Prince? your
pretty gipsy! I' faith, I should like to see her
before I go; she has such fine eyes through her
mask. Well, good night, your Highness; good
night.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> Good night, General.</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Exit <span class="smcap">General</span> and the soldiers.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>throwing off her mask</i>). Saved! and by
you!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Alex.</span> (<i>clasping her hand</i>). Brothers, you trust
me now?</p>
<div class="bk3">TABLEAU.</div>
<div class="bk3"><span class="smcap">End of Act I.</span></div>
<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>ACT II.</h2>
<div class="stg2"><p class="p2"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>Council Chamber in the Emperor's Palace,
hung with yellow tapestry. Table, with chair of
State, set for the Czar; window behind, opening
on to a balcony. As the scene progresses the light
outside gets darker.</i></p>
<p class="p2"><i>Present.</i>—<span class="smcap">Prince Paul Maraloffski, Prince
Petrovitch, Count Rouvaloff, Baron Raff,
Count Petouchof.</span></p>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> So our young scatter-brained
Czarevitch has been forgiven at last, and is to take
his seat here again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Yes; if that is not meant as an
extra punishment. For my own part, at least, I find
these Cabinet Councils extremely exhausting.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> Naturally; you are always
speaking.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> No; I think it must be that I
have to listen sometimes.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> Still, anything is better than being
kept in a sort of prison, like he was—never allowed
to go out into the world.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> My dear Count, for romantic
young people like he is, the world always looks best
at a distance; and a prison where one's allowed to
order one's own dinner is not at all a bad place.
(<i>Enter the <span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span>. The courtiers rise.</i>) Ah!
good afternoon, Prince. Your Highness is looking
a little pale to-day.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> (<i>slowly, after a pause</i>). I want change of
air.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>smiling</i>). A most revolutionary<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</SPAN></span>
sentiment! Your Imperial father would highly disapprove
of any reforms with the thermometer in
Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> (<i>bitterly</i>). My Imperial father had kept me
for six months in this dungeon of a palace. This
morning he has me suddenly woke up to see some
wretched Nihilists hung; it sickened me, the bloody
butchery, though it was a noble thing to see how
well these men can die.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> When you are as old as I am,
Prince, you will understand that there are few things
easier than to live badly and to die well.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Easy to die well! A lesson experience
cannot have taught you, whatever you may know of
a bad life.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>shrugging his shoulders</i>). Experience,
the name men give to their mistakes. I never
commit any.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> (<i>bitterly</i>). No; crimes are more in your
line.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> (<i>to the <span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span></i>). The Emperor
was a good deal agitated about your late appearance
at the ball last night, Prince.</p>
<p><SPAN name="aii_1" id="aii_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_1" class="anc">1</SPAN><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> (<i>laughing</i>). I believe he thought the
Nihilists had broken into the palace and carried you
off.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> If they had you would have missed
a charming dance.<SPAN href="#nii_1" class="anc">1</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> And<SPAN name="aii_2" id="aii_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_2" class="anc">2</SPAN> an excellent supper. Gringoire
really excelled himself in his salad. Ah! you
may laugh, Baron; but to make a good salad is a
much more difficult thing than cooking accounts.
To make a good salad is to be a brilliant diplomatist—the
problem is so entirely the same in both cases.
To know exactly how much oil one must put with
one's vinegar.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> A cook and a diplomatist! an
excellent parallel. If I had a son who was a fool
I'd make him one or the other.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> I see your father did not hold the
same opinion, Baron. But, believe me, you are
wrong to run down cookery. For myself, the only
immortality I desire is to invent a new sauce. I
have never had time enough to think seriously about
it, but I feel it is in me, I feel it is in me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> You have certainly missed your <i>metier</i>,<SPAN name="aii_3" id="aii_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_3" class="anc">3</SPAN>
Prince Paul; the <i>cordon bleu</i> would have suited you
much better than the Grand Cross of Honour. But
you know you could never have worn your white
apron well; you would have soiled it too soon, your
hands are not clean enough.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>bowing</i>). Que voulez vous? I
manage your father's business.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> (<i>bitterly</i>). You mismanage my father's
business, you mean! Evil genius of his life that you
are! before you came there was some love left in
him. It is you who have embittered his nature,
poured into his ear the poison of treacherous counsel,
made him hated by the whole people, made him
what he is—a tyrant!</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>The courtiers look significantly at each other.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>calmly</i>). I see your Highness does
want change of air. But I have been an eldest son
myself. (<i>Lights a cigarette.</i>) I know what it is when
a father won't die to please one.</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>The <span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span> goes to the top of the stage, and
leans against the window, looking out.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Baron Raff</span></i>). Foolish boy!
<SPAN name="aii_4" id="aii_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_4" class="anc">4</SPAN>He will be sent into exile, or worse, if he is not
careful.<SPAN href="#nii_4" class="anc">4</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> Yes.<SPAN name="aii_5" id="aii_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_5" class="anc">5</SPAN> What a mistake it is to be
sincere!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> The only folly you have never
committed, Baron.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> One has only one head, you know,
Prince.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> My dear Baron, your head is the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</SPAN></span>
last thing any one would wish to take from you.
(<i>Pulls out snuffbox and offers it to <span class="smcap">Prince Petrovitch</span>.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> Thanks, Prince! Thanks!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Very delicate, isn't it? I get it
direct from Paris. But under this vulgar Republic
everything has degenerated over there. "Cotelettes à
l'impériale" vanished, of course, with the Bourbon,
and omelettes went out with the Orleanists. La
belle France is entirely ruined, Prince, through bad
morals and worse cookery. (<i>Enter the <span class="smcap">Marquis de
Poivrard</span>.</i>) Ah! Marquis. I trust Madame la
Marquise is well.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marquis de P.</span> You ought to know better than
I do, Prince Paul; you see more <i>of</i> her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>bowing</i>). Perhaps I see more <i>in</i>
her, Marquis. Your wife is really a charming woman,
so full of <i>esprit</i>, and so satirical too; she talks continually
of you when we are together.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> (<i>looking at the clock</i>). His Majesty
is a little late to-day, is he not?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> What has happened to you, my
dear Petrovitch? you seem quite out of sorts. You
haven't quarrelled with your cook, I hope? What a
tragedy that would be for you; you would lose all
your friends.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> I fear I wouldn't be so fortunate
as that. You forget I would still have my purse.<SPAN name="aii_6" id="aii_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_6" class="anc">6</SPAN>
But you are wrong for once; my chef and I are on
excellent<SPAN name="aii_7" id="aii_7"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_7" class="anc">7</SPAN> terms.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Then your creditors or Mademoiselle
Vera Sabouroff have been writing to you?
I find both of them such excellent correspondents.
But really you needn't be alarmed. I find the most
violent proclamations from the Executive Committee,
as they call it, left all over my house. I never read
them; they are so badly spelt as a rule.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> Wrong again, Prince; the Nihilists
leave me alone for some reason or other.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>aside</i>). Ah! true. I forgot. Indifference
is the revenge the world takes on mediocrities.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> I am bored with life,<SPAN name="aii_8" id="aii_8"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_8" class="anc">8</SPAN> Prince.
Since the opera season ended I have been a perpetual
martyr to ennui.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> The maladie du siècle! You
want a new excitement, Prince. Let me see—you
have been married twice already; suppose you try—falling
in love, for once.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron R.</span> Prince, I have been thinking a good
deal lately—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>interrupting</i>). You surprise me
very much, Baron.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron R.</span> I cannot understand your nature.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>smiling</i>). If my nature had been
made to suit your comprehension rather than my own
requirements, I am afraid I would have made a very
poor figure in the world.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> There seems to be nothing in life
about which you would not jest.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Ah! my dear Count, life is much
too important a thing ever to talk seriously about it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> (<i>coming back from the window</i>). I don't
think Prince Paul's nature is such a mystery. He
would stab his best friend for the sake of writing an
epigram on his tombstone, or experiencing a new
sensation.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Parbleu! I would sooner lose my
best friend than my worst enemy. To have friends,
you know, one need only be good-natured; but when
a man has no enemy left there must be something
mean about him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> (<i>bitterly</i>). If to have enemies is a measure
of greatness, then you must be a Colossus, indeed,
Prince.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Yes, I know I'm the most hated
man in Russia, except your father, <SPAN name="aii_9" id="aii_9"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_9" class="anc">9</SPAN>except your
father, of course,<SPAN href="#nii_9" class="anc">9</SPAN> Prince. He doesn't seem to like it<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</SPAN></span>
much, by the way, but I do, I assure you. (<i>Bitterly.</i>)
I love to drive through the streets and see how the
canaille scowl at me from every corner. It makes me
feel I am a power in Russia; one man against a hundred
millions! Besides, I have no ambition to be a
popular hero, to be crowned with laurels one year and
pelted with stones the next; I prefer dying peaceably
in my own bed.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> And after death?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>shrugging his shoulders</i>). Heaven is
a despotism. I shall be at home there.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Do you never think of the people and
their rights?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> The people and their rights bore
me. I am sick of both. In these modern days to
be vulgar, illiterate, common and vicious, seems to
give a man a marvellous infinity of rights that his
honest fathers never dreamed of. Believe me,
Prince, in good democracy every man should be an
aristocrat; but these people in Russia who seek to
thrust us out are no better than the animals in one's
preserves, and made to be shot at, most of them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). If they are<SPAN name="aii_10" id="aii_10"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_10" class="anc">10</SPAN> common, illiterate,
vulgar, no better than the beasts of the field,
who made them so?</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Aide-de-Camp</span>.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Aide-de-Camp.</span> His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor!
(<i><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> looks at the <span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span>,
and smiles.</i>)</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Enter the <span class="smcap">Czar</span>, surrounded by his guard.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> (<i>rushing forward to meet him</i>). Sire!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>nervous and frightened</i>). Don't come too
near me, boy! Don't come too near me, I say!
There is always something about an heir to a crown
unwholesome to his father. Who is that man over
there? I don't know him. What is he doing? Is
he a conspirator? Have you searched him? Give
him till to-morrow to confess, then hang him!—hang
him!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Sire, you are anticipating history.
This is Count Petouchof, your new ambassador to
Berlin. He is come to kiss hands on his appointment.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> To kiss my hand? There is some plot in
it. He wants to poison me. There, kiss my son's
hand; it will do quite as well.</p>
<p>(<i><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> signs to <span class="smcap">Count Petouchof</span> to
leave the room. Exit <span class="smcap">Petouchof</span> and the guards.
<span class="smcap">Czar</span> sinks down into his chair. The courtiers remain
silent.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>approaching</i>). Sire! will your
Majesty—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> What do you startle me like that for?
No, I won't. (<i>Watches the courtiers nervously.</i>)
Why are you clattering your sword, sir? (<i>To <span class="smcap">Count
Rouvaloff</span>.</i>) Take it off, I shall have no man
wear a sword in my presence (<i>looking at <span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span></i>),
least of all my son. (<i>To <span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span>.</i>)
You are not angry with me, Prince? You won't
desert me, will you? Say you won't desert me.
What do you want? You can have anything—anything.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>bowing very low</i>). Sire, 'tis enough
for me to have your confidence. (<i>Aside.</i>) I was
afraid he was going to revenge himself and give
me another decoration.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>returning to his chair</i>). Well, gentlemen.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marq. de Poiv.</span> Sire, I have the honour to
present to you a loyal address from your subjects
in the Province of Archangel, expressing their
horror at the last attempt on your Majesty's life.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> The last attempt but two, you
ought to have said, Marquis. Don't you see it is
dated three weeks back?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> They are good people in the Province of
Archangel—honest, loyal people. They love me very
much—simple, loyal people; give them a new<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</SPAN></span>
saint, it costs nothing. Well, Alexis (<i>turning to the
<span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span></i>)—how many traitors were hung this
morning?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> There were three men strangled, Sire.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> There should have been three<SPAN name="aii_11" id="aii_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_11" class="anc">11</SPAN> thousand.
I would to God that this people had but one neck
that I might strangle them with one noose! Did
they tell anything? whom did they implicate? what
did they confess?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Nothing, Sire.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> They should have been tortured then;
why weren't they tortured? Must I always be fighting
in the dark? Am I never to know from what
root these traitors spring?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> What root should there be of discontent
among the people but tyranny and injustice amongst
their rulers?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> What did you say, boy? tyranny! tyranny!
Am I a tyrant? I'm not. I love the people. I'm
their father. I'm called so in every official proclamation.
Have a care, boy; have a care. You don't
seem to be cured yet of your foolish tongue. (<i>Goes
over to <span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span>, and puts his hand on his
shoulder.</i>) Prince Paul, tell me were there many
people there this morning to see the Nihilists
hung?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Hanging is of course a good deal
less of a novelty in Russia now, Sire, than it was
three or four years ago; and you know how easily
the people get tired even of their best amusements.
But the square and the tops of the houses were
really quite crowded, were they not, Prince? (<i>To
the <span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span> who takes no notice.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> That's right; all loyal citizens should be
there. It shows them what to look forward to. Did
you arrest any one in the crowd?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Yes, Sire, a woman for cursing
your name. (<i>The <span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span> starts anxiously.</i>)
She was the mother of the two criminals.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>looking at <span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span></i>). She should have
blessed me for having rid her of her children. Send
her to prison.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> The prisons of Russia are too full already,
Sire. There is no room in them for any
more victims.</p>
<p><SPAN name="aii_12" id="aii_12"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_12" class="anc">12</SPAN><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> They don't die fast enough, then. You
should put more of them into one cell at once.
You don't keep them long enough in the mines. If
you do they're sure to die; but you're all too merciful.
I'm too merciful myself. Send her to Siberia.<SPAN href="#nii_12" class="anc">12</SPAN>
She is sure to die on the way. (<i>Enter an <span class="smcap">Aide-de-Camp</span>.</i>)
Who's that? Who's that?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Aide-de-Camp.</span> A letter for his Imperial
Majesty.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span></i>). I won't open it. There
may be something in it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> It would be a very disappointing
letter, Sire, if there wasn't. (<i>Takes letter himself,
and reads it.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Count Rouvaloff</span></i>). It must
be some sad news. I know that smile too well.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> From the Chief of the Police at
Archangel, Sire. "The Governor of the province
was shot this morning by a woman as he was entering
the courtyard of his own house. The assassin
has been seized."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> I never trusted the people of Archangel.
It's a nest of Nihilists and conspirators. Take away
their saints; they don't deserve them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Your Highness would punish them
more severely by giving them an extra one. Three
governors shot in two months. (<i>Smiles to himself.</i>)
Sire, permit me to recommend your loyal subject,
the Marquis de Poivrard, as the new governor of
your Province of Archangel.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marq. de Poiv.</span> (<i>hurriedly</i>). Sire, I am unfit for
this post.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Marquis, you are too modest.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</SPAN></span>
Believe me, there is no man in Russia I would
sooner see Governor of Archangel than yourself.
(<i>Whispers to <span class="smcap">Czar</span>.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Quite right, Prince Paul; you are always
right. See that the Marquis's letters are made out
at once.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> He can start to-night, Sire. I
shall really miss you very much, Marquis. I always
liked your taste in wines and wives extremely.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marq. de Poiv.</span> (<i>to the <span class="smcap">Czar</span></i>). Start to-night,
Sire? (<i><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> whispers to the <span class="smcap">Czar</span>.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Yes, Marquis, to-night; it is better to go
at once.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> I shall see that Madame la Marquise
is not too lonely while you are away; so you
need not be alarmed for her.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Prince Petrovitch</span></i>). I should be
more alarmed for myself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> The Governor of Archangel shot in his
own courtyard by a woman! I'm not safe here.
I'm not safe anywhere, with that she devil of the
revolution, Vera Sabouroff, here in Moscow. Prince
Paul, is that woman still here?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> They tell me she was at the
Grand Duke's ball last night. I can hardly believe
that; but she certainly had intended to leave for
Novgorod to-day, Sire. The police were watching
every train for her; but, for some reason or other,
she did not go. Some traitor must have warned her.
But I shall catch her yet. A chase after a beautiful
woman is always exciting.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> You must hunt her down with bloodhounds,
and when she is taken I shall hew her limb
from limb. I shall stretch her on the rack till her
pale white body is twisted and curled like paper in
the fire.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Oh, we shall have another hunt
immediately for her, Sire! Prince Alexis will assist
us, I am sure.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> You never require any assistance to ruin
a woman, Prince Paul.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Vera, the Nihilist, in Moscow! O God,<SPAN name="aii_13" id="aii_13"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_13" class="anc">13</SPAN>
were it not better to die at once the dog's death they
plot for me than to live as I live now! Never to
sleep, or, if I do, to dream such horrid dreams that
Hell itself were peace when matched with them. To
trust none but those I have bought, to buy none
worth trusting! To see a traitor in every smile,
poison in every dish, a dagger in every hand! To
lie awake at night, listening from hour to hour for the
stealthy creeping of the murderer, for the laying of
the damned mine! You are all spies! you are all
spies! You worst of all—you, my own son! Which of
you is it who hides these bloody proclamations under
my own pillow, or at the table where I sit? Which of
ye all is the Judas who betrays me? O God! O
God! methinks there was a time once, in our war
with England, when nothing could make me afraid.
(<i>This with more calm and pathos.</i>) I have ridden
into the crimson heart of war, and borne back an
eagle which those wild islanders had taken from us.
Men said I was brave then. My father gave me the
Iron Cross of valour. Oh, could he see me now with
this coward's livery ever in my cheek! (<i>Sinks into
his chair.</i>) I never knew any love when I was a boy.
I was ruled by terror myself, how else should I rule
now? (<i>Starts up.</i>) But I will have revenge; I will
have revenge. For every hour I have lain awake at
night, waiting for the noose or the dagger, they shall
pass years in Siberia, centuries in the mines! Ay!
I shall have revenge.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Father! have mercy on the people. Give
them what they ask.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> And begin, Sire, with your own
head; they have a particular liking for that.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> The people! the people! A tiger which I
have let loose upon myself; but I will fight with it to
the death. <SPAN name="aii_14" id="aii_14"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_14" class="anc">14</SPAN>I am done with half measures.<SPAN href="#nii_14" class="anc">14</SPAN> I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</SPAN></span>
shall crush these Nihilists at a blow. There shall not
be a man of them, ay, or a woman either, left alive in
Russia. <SPAN name="aii_15" id="aii_15"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_15" class="anc">15</SPAN>Am I Emperor for<SPAN href="#nii_15" class="anc">15</SPAN> nothing, that a
woman should hold me at bay? Vera Sabouroff shall
be in my power, I swear it, before a week is ended,
<SPAN name="aii_16" id="aii_16"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_16" class="anc">16</SPAN>though I burn my whole city to find her.<SPAN href="#nii_16" class="anc">16</SPAN> She
shall be flogged by the knout, stifled in the fortress,
strangled in the square!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> O God!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> For two years her hands have been clutching
at my throat; for two years she has made my life
a hell; but I shall have revenge. Martial law, Prince,
martial law over the whole Empire; that will give me
revenge. A good measure, Prince, eh? a good
measure.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> And an economical one too, Sire.
It would carry off your surplus population in six
months, and save you many expenses in courts of
justice; they will not be needed now.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Quite right. There are too many people in
Russia, too much money spent on them, too much
money in courts of justice. I'll shut them up.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Sire, reflect before—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> When can you have the proclamations
ready, Prince Paul?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> They have been printed for the
last six months, Sire. I knew you would need them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> That's good! That's very good! Let us
begin at once. Ah, Prince, if every king in Europe
had a minister like you—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> There would be less kings in Europe than
there are.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>in frightened whisper, to <span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span></i>).
What does he mean? Do you trust him? His prison
hasn't cured him yet. Shall I banish him? Shall I
(<i>whispers</i>)...? The Emperor Paul did it. The
Empress Catherine there<SPAN name="aii_17" id="aii_17"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_17" class="anc">17</SPAN> (<i>points to picture on the
wall</i>) did it. Why shouldn't I?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Your Majesty, there is no need<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</SPAN></span>
for alarm. The Prince is a very ingenuous young man.
He pretends to be devoted to the people, and lives in
a palace; preaches socialism, and draws a salary that
would support a province. He'll find out one day
that the best cure for Republicanism is the Imperial
crown, and will cut up the "bonnet rogue" of Democracy
to make decorations for his Prime Minister.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> You are right. If he really loved the
people, he could not be my son.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> If he lived with the people for a
fortnight, their bad dinners would soon cure him of
his democracy. Shall we begin, Sire?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> At once. Read the proclamation. Gentlemen,
be seated. Alexis, Alexis, I say, come and
hear it! It will be good practice for you; you will
be doing it yourself some day.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> I have heard too much of it already.
(<i>Takes his seat at the table. <span class="smcap">Count Rouvaloff</span>
whispers to him.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> What are you whispering about there,
Count Rouvaloff?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> I was giving his Royal Highness
some good advice, your Majesty.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Count Rouvaloff is the typical
spendthrift, Sire; he is always giving away what he
needs most. (<i>Lays papers before the <span class="smcap">Czar</span>.</i>) I
think, Sire, you will approve of this:—"Love of
the people," "Father of his people," "Martial law,"
and the usual allusions to Providence in the last
line. All it requires now is your Imperial Majesty's
signature.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Sire!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>hurriedly</i>). I promise your Majesty
to crush every Nihilist in Russia in six months
if you sign this proclamation; every Nihilist in
Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Say that again! To crush every Nihilist
in Russia; to crush this woman, their leader, who
makes war upon me in my own city. Prince Paul<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</SPAN></span>
Maraloffski, I create you Marechale of the whole
Russian Empire to help you to carry out martial
law.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Give me the proclamation. I will sign it
at once.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>points on paper</i>). Here, Sire.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> (<i>starts up and puts his hands on the paper</i>).
Stay! I tell you, stay! The priests have taken
heaven from the people, and you would take the
earth away too.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> We have no time, Prince, now.
This boy will ruin everything. The pen, Sire.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> What! is it so small a thing to strangle
a nation, to murder a kingdom, to wreck an empire?
Who are we who dare lay this ban of terror on a
people? Have we less vices than they have, that
we bring them to the bar of judgment before us?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> What a Communist the Prince is!
He would have an equal distribution of sin as well
as of property.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Warmed by the same sun, nurtured by
the same air, fashioned of flesh and blood like to
our own, wherein are they different to us, save that
they starve while we surfeit, that they toil while we
idle, that they sicken while we poison, that they die
while we strangle?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> How dare—?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> I dare all for the people; but you would
rob them of common rights of common men.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> The people have no rights.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Then they have great wrongs. Father,
they have won your battles for you; from the pine
forests of the Baltic to the palms of India they have
ridden on victory's mighty wings in search of your
glory! Boy as I am in years, I have seen wave after
wave of living men sweep up the heights of battle
to their death; ay, and snatch perilous conquest
from the scales of war when the bloody crescent
seemed to shake above our eagles.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>somewhat moved</i>). Those men are dead.
What have I to do with them?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Nothing! The dead are safe; you<SPAN name="aii_18" id="aii_18"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_18" class="anc">18</SPAN>
cannot harm them now. They sleep their last long
sleep. Some in Turkish waters, others by the windswept
heights of Norway and the Dane! But these,
the living, our brothers, what have you done for
them? They asked you for bread, you gave them
a stone. They sought for freedom, you scourged
them with scorpions. You have sown the seeds of
this revolution yourself!—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> And are we not cutting down the
harvest?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Oh, my brothers! better far that ye had
died in the iron hail and screaming shell of battle
than to come back to such a doom as<SPAN name="aii_19" id="aii_19"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_19" class="anc">19</SPAN> this! The
beasts of the forests have their lairs, and the wild
beasts their caverns, but the people of Russia, conquerors
of the world, have not where to lay their
heads.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> They have the headsman's block.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> The headsman's block! Ay! you have
killed their souls at your pleasure, you would kill
their bodies now.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Insolent boy! Have you forgotten who
is Emperor of Russia?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> No! The people reign now, by the grace
of God.<SPAN name="aii_20" id="aii_20"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_20" class="anc">20</SPAN> You should have been their shepherd; you
have fled away like the hireling, and let the wolves in
upon them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Take him away! Take him away, Prince
Paul!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> God hath given this people tongues to
speak with; you would cut them out that they may be
dumb in their agony, silent in their torture! But
God hath given them hands to smite with, and they
shall smite! Ay! from the sick and labouring womb
of this unhappy land some revolution, like a bloody
child, shall<SPAN name="aii_21" id="aii_21"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_21" class="anc">21</SPAN> rise up and slay you.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>leaping up</i>). Devil! Assassin! Why do
you beard me thus to my face?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Because I<SPAN name="aii_22" id="aii_22"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_22" class="anc">22</SPAN> am a Nihilist! (<i>The ministers
start to their feet; there is dead silence for a few
minutes.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> A Nihilist! a Nihilist! Scorpion whom I
have nurtured, traitor whom I have fondled, is this
your bloody secret? Prince Paul Maraloffski, Marechale
of the Russian Empire, arrest the Czarevitch!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Ministers.</span> Arrest the Czarevitch!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> A Nihilist! If you have sown with them,
you shall reap with them! If you have talked with
them, you shall rot with them! If you have lived
with them, with them you shall die!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> Die!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> A plague on all sons, I say! There should
be no more marriages in Russia when one can breed
such vipers as you are! Arrest the Czarevitch, I say!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Czarevitch! by order of the Emperor,
I demand your sword. (<i><span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span> gives up
sword; <span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> places it on the table.</i>) Foolish
boy! you are not made for a conspirator; you have
not learned to hold your tongue. Heroics are out of
place in a palace.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>sinks into his chair with his eyes fixed on the
<span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span></i>). O God!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> If I am to die for the people, I am ready;
one Nihilist more or less in Russia, what does that
matter?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>aside</i>). A good deal I should say
to the one Nihilist.</p>
<p><SPAN name="aii_23" id="aii_23"></SPAN><SPAN href="#nii_23" class="anc">23</SPAN><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> The mighty brotherhood to which I
belong has a thousand such as I am, ten thousand
better still! (<i>The <span class="smcap">Czar</span> starts in his seat.</i>) The star
of freedom is risen already, and far off I hear the
mighty wave democracy break on these cursed
shores.<SPAN href="#nii_23" class="anc">23</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">Prince Petrovitch</span></i>). In that
case you and I had better learn how to swim.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Father, Emperor, Imperial Master, I
plead not for my own life, but for the lives of my
brothers, the people.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>bitterly</i>). Your brothers, the people,
Prince, are not content with their own lives, they
always want to take their neighbour's too.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>standing up</i>). I am sick of being afraid. I
have done with terror now. From this day I proclaim
war against the people—war to their annihilation.
As they have dealt with me, so shall I deal with
them. I shall grind them to powder, and strew their
dust upon the air. There shall be a spy in every
man's house, a traitor on every hearth, a hangman in
every village, a gibbet in every square. Plague,
leprosy, or fever shall be less deadly than my wrath;
I will make every frontier a grave-yard, every province
a lazar-house, and cure the sick by the sword. I shall
have peace in Russia, though it be the peace of the
dead. Who said I was a coward? Who said I was
afraid? See, thus shall I crush this people beneath
my feet! (<i>Takes up sword of <span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span> off table
and tramples on it.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> Father, beware, the sword you tread on
may turn and wound you. The people suffer long,
but vengeance comes at last, vengeance with red
hands and bloody purpose.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Bah! the people are bad shots;
they always miss one.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> There are times when the people are
instruments of God.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Ay! and when kings are God's scourges
for the people. Oh, my own son, in my own house!
My own flesh and blood against me! Take him away!
Take him away! Bring in my guards. (<i>Enter the
Imperial Guard. <span class="smcap">Czar</span> points to <span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span>, who
stands alone at the side of the stage.</i>) To the blackest
prison in Moscow! Let me never see his face again.
(<i><span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span> is being led out.</i>) No, no, leave him!
I don't trust guards. They are all Nihilists! They<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</SPAN></span>
would let him escape and he would kill me, kill
me! No, I'll bring him to prison myself, you and I
(<i>to <span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span></i>). I trust you, you have no mercy.
I shall have no mercy. Oh, my own son against me!
How hot it is! The air stifles me! I feel as if I
were going to faint, as if something were at my throat.
Open the windows, I say! Out of my sight! Out
of my sight! I can't bear his eyes. Wait, wait for
me. (<i>Throws window open and goes out on balcony.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>looking at his watch</i>). The dinner
is sure to be spoiled. How annoying politics are
and eldest sons!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Voice</span> (<i>outside, in the street</i>). God save the people!
(<i><span class="smcap">Czar</span> is shot, and staggers back into the room.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czare.</span> (<i>breaking from the guards, and rushing
over</i>). Father!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Murderer! Murderer! You did it!
Murderer! (<i>Dies.</i>)</p>
<div class="bk3">TABLEAU.</div>
<div class="bk3"><span class="smcap">End of Act II.</span></div>
<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>ACT III.</h2>
<div class="stg2"><p class="ctr"><i>Same scene and business as Act I. Man in yellow
dress, with drawn sword, at the door.</i></p>
</div>
<div class="stg1"><i>Password outside.</i> Væ tyrannis.</div>
<div class="stg1"><i>Answer.</i> Væ victis (<i>repeated three times</i>).</div>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Conspirators</span>, who form a semicircle, masked
and cloaked.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">President.</span> What hour is it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">First Consp.</span> The hour to strike.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> What day?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Second Consp.</span> The day of Marat.<SPAN name="aiii_1" id="aiii_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_1" class="anc">1</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> In what month?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Second Consp.</span> The month of liberty.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> What is our duty?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fourth Consp.</span> To obey.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Our creed?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Fifth Consp.</span> Parbleu, Mons. le President, I
never knew you had one.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Consps.</span> A spy! A spy! Unmask! Unmask! A
spy!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> <SPAN name="aiii_2" id="aiii_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_2" class="anc">2</SPAN>Let the doors be shut. There are others
but Nihilists present.<SPAN href="#niii_2" class="anc">2</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Consps.</span> Unmask! Unmask! <SPAN name="aiii_3" id="aiii_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_3" class="anc">3</SPAN>Kill him! kill
him!<SPAN href="#niii_3" class="anc">3</SPAN> (<i>Masked <span class="smcap">Conspirator</span> unmasks.</i>) Prince Paul!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Devil! Who lured you into the lion's den?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Consps.</span> Kill him! kill him!<SPAN name="aiii_4" id="aiii_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_4" class="anc">4</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> En vérité, Messieurs, you are not
over-hospitable in your welcome.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Welcome! What welcome should we give
you but the dagger or the noose?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> I had no idea, really, that the
Nihilists were so exclusive. Let me assure you that<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</SPAN></span>
if I had not always had an <i>entree</i> to the very best
society, and the very worst conspiracies, I could never
have been Prime Minister in Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> The tiger cannot change its nature, nor the
snake lose its venom; but are you turned a lover of
the people?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Mon Dieu, non, Mademoiselle! I
would much sooner talk scandal in a drawing-room
than treason in a cellar. Besides, I hate the common
mob, who smell of garlic, smoke bad tobacco, get up
early, and dine off one dish.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> What have you to gain, then, by a revolution?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Mon ami, I have nothing left to
lose. That scatter-brained boy, this new Czar, has
banished me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> To Siberia?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> No, to Paris. He has confiscated
my estates, robbed me of my office and my cook. I
have nothing left but my decorations. I am here
for revenge.<SPAN name="aiii_5" id="aiii_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_5" class="anc">5</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Then you have a right to be one of us.
<SPAN href="#niii_5" class="anc">5</SPAN>We also meet daily for revenge.<SPAN href="#niii_5" class="anc">5</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> You want money, of course. No
one ever joins a conspiracy who has any. Here.
(<i>Throws money on table.</i>) You have so many spies
that I should think you want information. Well, you
will find me the best informed man in Russia on the
abuses of our Government. I made them nearly all
myself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> President, I don't trust this man. He has
done us too much harm in Russia to let him go in
safety.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Believe me, Mademoiselle, you
are wrong; I will be a most valuable addition to your
circle; as for you, gentlemen, if I had not thought that
you would be useful to me I shouldn't have risked my
neck among you, or dined an hour earlier than usual
so as to be in time.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Ay, if he had wanted to spy on us, Vera, he
wouldn't have come himself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>aside</i>). No; I should have sent
my best friend.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Besides, Vera, he is just the man to give
us the information we want about some business we
have in hand to-night.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Be it so if you wish it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Brothers, is it your will that Prince Paul
Maraloffski be admitted, and take the oath of the
Nihilist?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Consps.</span> It is! it is!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> (<i>holding out dagger and a paper</i>). Prince
Paul, the dagger or the oath?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>smiles sardonically</i>). I would
sooner annihilate than be annihilated. (<i>Takes
paper.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Remember: <SPAN name="aiii_6" id="aiii_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_6" class="anc">6</SPAN>Betray us, and as long as
the earth holds poison or steel, as long as men can
strike or woman betray, you shall not escape vengeance.<SPAN href="#niii_6" class="anc">6</SPAN>
The Nihilists never forget their friends,
or forgive their enemies.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Really? I did not think you
were so civilized.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>pacing up and down</i>). Why is he not
here? He will not keep the crown. I know him
well.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Sign. (<i><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> signs</i>.) You said
you thought we had no creed. You were wrong.
Read it!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> This is a dangerous thing, President.
What can we do with this man?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> We can use him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> And afterwards?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> (<i>shrugging his shoulders</i>). Strangle him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>reading</i>). "The rights of humanity!"
In the old times men carried out their
rights for themselves as they lived, but nowadays
every baby seems born with a social manifesto in<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</SPAN></span>
its mouth much bigger than itself.<SPAN name="aiii_7" id="aiii_7"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_7" class="anc">7</SPAN> "Nature is not
a temple, but a workshop: we demand the right to
labour." Ah, I shall surrender my own rights in
that respect.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>pacing up and down behind</i>). Oh, will he
never come? will he never come?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> "The family as subversive of
true socialistic and communal unity is to be annihilated."
Yes, President, I agree completely with
Article 5. A family is a terrible incumbrance,
especially when one is not married. (<i>Three knocks
at the door.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Alexis at last!</p>
<p><i>Password.</i> Væ tyrannis!</p>
<p><i>Answer.</i> Væ victis!</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Michael Stroganoff</span>.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span><SPAN name="aiii_8" id="aiii_8"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_8" class="anc">8</SPAN> Michael, the regicide! Brothers, let us
do honour to a man who has killed a king.</p>
<p><SPAN name="aiii_9" id="aiii_9"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_9" class="anc">9</SPAN><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>aside</i>). Oh, he will come yet.<SPAN href="#niii_9" class="anc">9</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Michael, you have saved Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay, Russia was free for a moment
<SPAN name="aiii_10" id="aiii_10"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_10" class="anc">10</SPAN>when the tyrant fell, but the sun of liberty has set
again like that false dawn which cheats our eyes in
autumn.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> The dread night of tyranny is not yet
past for Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> (<i>clutching his knife</i>).<SPAN href="#niii_10" class="anc">10</SPAN> One more blow,
and the end is come indeed.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>aside</i>). One more blow! What does he
mean? Oh, impossible! but why is he not with
us? Alexis! Alexis! why are you not here?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> But how did you escape, Michael? They
said you had been seized.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> I was dressed in the uniform of the Imperial
Guard. The Colonel on duty was a brother,
and gave me the password. I drove through the
troops in safety with it, and, thanks to my good
horse, reached the walls before the gates were
closed.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> What a chance his coming out on the
balcony was!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> A chance? There is no such thing as
chance. It was God's finger led him there.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> And where have you been these three
days?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Hiding in the house of the priest Nicholas
at the cross-roads.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Nicholas is an honest man.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay, honest enough for a priest. I am
here now for vengeance on a traitor!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>aside</i>). O God, will he never come?
Alexis! why are you not here? You cannot have
turned traitor!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> (<i>seeing <span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span></i>). Prince Paul Maraloffski
here! By St. George, a lucky capture!
This must have been Vera's doing. She is the
only one who could have lured that serpent into
the trap.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Prince Paul has just taken the oath.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Alexis, the Czar, has banished him from
Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Bah! A blind to cheat us. We will
keep Prince Paul here, <SPAN name="aiii_11" id="aiii_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_11" class="anc">11</SPAN>and find some office for
him in our reign of terror.<SPAN href="#niii_11" class="anc">11</SPAN> He is well accustomed
by this time to bloody work.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>approaching <span class="smcap">Michael</span></i>). That was
a long shot of yours, mon camarade.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> I have had a good deal of practice
shooting, since I have been a boy, off your Highness's
wild boars.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Are my gamekeepers like moles,
then, always asleep?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> No, Prince. I am one of them; but,
like you, I am fond of robbing what I am put to
watch.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> This must be a new atmosphere for you,
Prince Paul. We speak the truth to one another
here.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> How misleading you must find it.
You have an odd medley here, President—a little
rococo, I am afraid.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> You recognise a good many friends, I
dare say?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Yes, there is always more brass
than brains in an aristocracy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> But you are here yourself?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> I? As I cannot be Prime Minister,
I must be a Nihilist. There is no alternative.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> O God, will he never come? The hand
is on the stroke of the hour. Will he never come?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> (<i>aside</i>). President, you know what we have
to do? 'Tis but a sorry hunter who leaves the wolf
cub alive to avenge his father. How are we to get
at this boy? It must be to-night. To-morrow he
will be throwing some sop of reform to the people,
and it will be too late for a Republic.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> You are quite right. Good kings
are the enemies of Democracy, and when he has
begun by banishing me you may be sure he intends
to be a patriot.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> I am sick of patriot kings; <SPAN name="aiii_12" id="aiii_12"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_12" class="anc">12</SPAN>what Russia
needs is a Republic.<SPAN href="#niii_12" class="anc">12</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Messieurs, I have brought you
two documents which I think will interest you—the
proclamation this young Czar intends publishing to-morrow,
and a plan of the Winter Palace, where
he sleeps to-night. (<i>Hands paper.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> <SPAN name="aiii_13" id="aiii_13"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_13" class="anc">13</SPAN>I dare not ask them what they are
plotting about.<SPAN href="#niii_13" class="anc">13</SPAN> Oh, why is Alexis not here?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Prince, this is most valuable information.
Michael, you were right. If it is not to-night it
will be too late. Read that.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ah! A loaf of bread flung to a starving
nation. <SPAN name="aiii_14" id="aiii_14"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_14" class="anc">14</SPAN>A lie to cheat the people.<SPAN href="#niii_14" class="anc">14</SPAN> (<i>Tears it
up.</i>) It must be to-night. I do not believe in
him. Would he have kept his crown had he loved
the people? But how are we to get at him?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> The key of the private door in
the street. (<i>Hands key.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Prince, we are in your debt.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>smiling</i>). The normal condition of
the Nihilists.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay, but we are paying our debts off with
interest now. Two Emperors in one week. That
will make the balance straight. We would have
thrown in a Prime Minister if you had not come.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Ah, I am sorry you told me. It
robs my visit of all its picturesqueness and adventure.
I thought I was perilling my head by coming
here, and you tell me I have saved it. One is sure
to be disappointed if one tries to get romance out
of modern life.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> It is not so romantic a thing to lose
one's head, Prince Paul.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> No, but it must often be very
dull to keep it. Don't you find that sometimes?
(<i>Clock strikes six.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>sinking into a seat</i>). Oh, it is past the
hour! It is past the hour!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> (<i>to <span class="smcap">President</span></i>). Remember to-morrow
will be too late.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Brothers, it is full time. Which of us is
absent?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Consps.</span> Alexis! Alexis!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Michael, read Rule 7.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> "When any brother shall have disobeyed
a summons to be present, the President shall enquire
if there is anything alleged against him."</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Is there anything against our brother
Alexis?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Consps.</span> He wears a crown! He wears a crown!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Michael, read Article 7 of the Code of
Revolution.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> "Between the Nihilists and all men who
wear crowns above their fellows, there is war to
the death."<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Brothers, what say you? Is Alexis, the
Czar, guilty or not?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Omnes.</span> He is guilty!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> What shall the penalty be?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Omnes.</span> Death!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Let the lots be prepared; it shall be to-night.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> Ah, this is really interesting! I
was getting afraid conspiracies were as dull as courts
are.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prof. Marfa.</span> My forte is more in writing
pamphlets than in taking shots. Still a regicide
has always a place in history.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> If your pistol is as harmless as your
pen, this young tyrant will have a long life.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul.</span> You ought to remember, too, Professor,
that if you were seized, as you probably would
be, and hung, as you certainly would be, there would
be nobody left to read your own articles.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Brothers, are you ready?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>starting up</i>). Not yet! Not yet! I have
a word to say.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> (<i>aside</i>). <SPAN name="aiii_15" id="aiii_15"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_15" class="anc">15</SPAN>Plague take her! I knew it
would come to this.<SPAN href="#niii_15" class="anc">15</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> This boy has been our brother. Night
after night he has perilled his own life to come
here. <SPAN name="aiii_16" id="aiii_16"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_16" class="anc">16</SPAN>Night after night, when every street was
filled with spies, every house with traitors.<SPAN href="#niii_16" class="anc">16</SPAN> Delicately
nurtured like a king's son, he has dwelt
among us.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Ay! under a false name. <SPAN name="aiii_17" id="aiii_17"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_17" class="anc">17</SPAN>He lied to
us at the beginning. He lies to us now at the
end.<SPAN href="#niii_17" class="anc">17</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I swear he is true. There is not a man
here who does not owe him his life a thousand times.
When the bloodhounds were on us that night, who
saved us <SPAN name="aiii_18" id="aiii_18"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_18" class="anc">18</SPAN>from arrest, torture, flogging, death,<SPAN href="#niii_18" class="anc">18</SPAN>
but he ye seek to kill?—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> To kill all tyrants is our mission!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> He is no tyrant. I know him well! He
loves the people.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> We know him too; he is a traitor.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> A traitor! Three days ago he could have
betrayed every man of you here, <SPAN name="aiii_19" id="aiii_19"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_19" class="anc">19</SPAN>and the gibbet
would have been your doom.<SPAN href="#niii_19" class="anc">19</SPAN> He gave you all
your lives once. Give him a little time—a week, a
month, a few days; but not now!—O God,<SPAN name="aiii_20" id="aiii_20"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_20" class="anc">20</SPAN> not
now!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Consps.</span> (<i>brandishing daggers</i>). To-night! to-night!
to-night!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Peace, you gorged adders; peace!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> What, are we not here to annihilate?
shall we not keep our oath?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Your oath! your oath! <SPAN name="aiii_21" id="aiii_21"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_21" class="anc">21</SPAN>Greedy that
you are of gain, every man's hand lusting for his
neighbour's pelf, every heart set on pillage and
rapine;<SPAN href="#niii_21" class="anc">21</SPAN> who, of ye all, if the crown were set on
his head, would give an empire up for the mob to
scramble for? The people are not yet fit for a
Republic in Russia.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Every nation is fit for a Republic.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> The man is a tyrant.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> A tyrant! Hath he not dismissed his evil
counsellors. That ill-omened raven of his father's
life hath had his wings clipped and his claws pared,
and comes to us croaking for revenge. Oh, have
mercy on him!<SPAN name="aiii_22" id="aiii_22"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_22" class="anc">22</SPAN> Give him a week to live!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Vera pleading for a king!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>proudly</i>). I plead not for a king, but for
a brother.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> For a traitor to his oath, for a coward who
should have flung the purple back to the fools that
gave it to him. No, Vera, no. The brood of men
is not dead yet, nor the dull earth grown sick of
child-bearing. No crowned man in Russia shall
pollute God's air by living.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> You bade us try you once; we have tried
you, and you are found wanting.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Vera, I am not blind; I know your
secret. You love this boy, this young prince with
his pretty face, his curled hair, his soft white hands.
Fool that you are, dupe of a lying tongue, do you
know what he would have done to you, this boy
you think loved you? He would have made you
his mistress, used your body at his pleasure, thrown
you away when he was wearied of you; you, the
priestess of liberty, the flame of Revolution, the
torch of democracy.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> What he would have done to me matters
little. To the people, at least, he will be true. He
loves the people—at least, he loves liberty.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> So he would play the citizen-king, would
he, while we starve? <SPAN name="aiii_23" id="aiii_23"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_23" class="anc">23</SPAN>Would flatter us with sweet
speeches, would cheat us with promises like his
father, would lie to us as his whole race have lied.<SPAN href="#niii_23" class="anc">23</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> And you whose very name made every
despot tremble for his life, you, Vera Sabouroff, you
would betray liberty for a lover and the people for
a paramour!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Consps.</span> <SPAN name="aiii_24" id="aiii_24"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_24" class="anc">24</SPAN>Traitress! Draw the lots; draw the
lots!<SPAN href="#niii_24" class="anc">24</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> In thy throat thou liest, Michael! I love
him not. He loves me not.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> You love him not? Shall he not die
then?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>with an effort, clenching her hands</i>). Ay,
it is right that he should die. He hath broken his
oath. <SPAN name="aiii_25" id="aiii_25"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_25" class="anc">25</SPAN>There should be no crowned man in
Europe. Have I not sworn it? To be strong our
new Republic should be drunk with the blood of
kings. He hath broken his oath. As the father
died so let the son die too.<SPAN href="#niii_25" class="anc">25</SPAN> Yet not to-night,
not to-night. Russia, that hath borne her centuries
of wrong, can wait a week for liberty. Give him a
week.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> We will have none of you! Begone from
us to this boy you love.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Though I find him in your arms I shall
kill him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Consps.</span> To-night! To-night! To-night!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> (<i>holding up his hand</i>). A moment! I
have something to say. (<i>Approaches <span class="smcap">Vera</span>; speaks
very slowly.</i>) Vera Sabouroff, have you forgotten
your brother? (<i>Pauses to see effect; <span class="smcap">Vera</span> starts.</i>)
Have you forgotten that young face, pale with
famine; those young limbs twisted with torture;
the iron chains they made him walk in? What
week of liberty did they give him? What pity did
they show him for a day? (<i><span class="smcap">Vera</span> falls in a chair.</i>)
Oh! you could talk glibly enough then of vengeance,
glibly enough of liberty. When you said you would
come to Moscow, your old father caught you by the
knees and begged you not to leave him childless and
alone.<SPAN name="aiii_26" id="aiii_26"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_26" class="anc">26</SPAN> I seem to hear his cries still ringing in my
ears, but you were as deaf to him as the rocks on
the roadside; as chill and cold as the snow on
the hill. You left your father that night, and three
weeks after he died of a broken heart. You wrote
to me to follow you here. I did so; first because
I loved you; but you soon cured me of that;
whatever gentle feeling, whatever pity, whatever
humanity, was in my heart you withered up and
destroyed, as the canker worm eats the corn, and
the plague kills the child. You bade me cast out
love from my breast as a vile thing, you turned
my hand to iron, and my heart to stone; you told
me to live for freedom and for revenge. I have done
so; but you, what have you done?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Let the lots be drawn! (<i><span class="smcap">Conspirators</span>
applaud.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>aside</i>). Ah, the Grand Duke will
come to the throne sooner than he expected. He
is sure to make a good king under my guidance.
He is so cruel to animals, and never keeps his word.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Now you are yourself at last, Vera.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>standing motionless in the middle</i>). The<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</SPAN></span>
lots, I say, the lots! I am no woman now. My
blood seems turned to gall; my heart is as cold as
steel is; my hand shall be more deadly. From
the desert and the tomb the voice of my prisoned
brother cries aloud, and bids me strike one blow
for liberty. The lots, I say, the lots!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Are you ready. Michael, you have the
right to draw first; you are a Regicide.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> O God, into my hands! Into my hands!
(<i>They draw the lots from a bowl surmounted by a
skull.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Open your lots.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>opening her lot</i>). The lot is mine! see
the bloody sign upon it! Dmitri, my brother, you
shall have your revenge now.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Vera Sabouroff, you are chosen to be a
regicide. God has been good to you. The dagger
or the poison? (<i>Offers her dagger and vial.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I can trust my hand better with the
dagger; it never fails. (<i>Take dagger.</i>) I shall stab
him to the heart, as he has stabbed me. Traitor, to
leave us for a ribbon, a gaud, a bauble, to lie to
me every day he came here, to forget us in an
hour. <SPAN name="aiii_27" id="aiii_27"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_27" class="anc">27</SPAN>Michael was right, he loved me not, nor
the people either.<SPAN href="#niii_27" class="anc">27</SPAN> Methinks that if I was a mother
and bore a man-child I would poison my breast to
him, lest he might grow to a traitor or to a king.
(<i><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> whispers to the <span class="smcap">President.</span></i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Ay, Prince Paul, that is the best way.
Vera, the Czar<SPAN name="aiii_28" id="aiii_28"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_28" class="anc">28</SPAN> sleeps to-night in his own room in
the north wing of the palace. Here is the key of
the private door in the street. The passwords of
the guards will be given to you. His own servants
will be drugged. You will find him alone.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> It is well. I shall not fail.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> We will wait outside in the Place St.
Isaac, under the window. As the clock strikes
twelve from the tower of St. Nicholas you will give
us the sign that the dog is dead.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> And what shall the sign be?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> You are to throw us out the bloody
dagger.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Dripping with the traitor's life.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Else we shall know that you have been
seized, and we will burst our way in, drag you
from his guards.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> And kill him in the midst of them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> Michael, you will head us?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> Ay, I shall head you. See that your
hand fails not, Vera Sabouroff.</p>
<p><SPAN name="aiii_29" id="aiii_29"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_29" class="anc">29</SPAN><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Fool, is it so hard a thing to kill one's
enemy.<SPAN href="#niii_29" class="anc">29</SPAN></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Paul</span> (<i>aside</i>). This is the ninth conspiracy
I have been in in Russia. They always
end in a "voyage en Siberie" for my friends and
a new decoration for myself.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mich.</span> It is your last conspiracy, Prince.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Pres.</span> At twelve o'clock, the bloody dagger.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Ay, red with the blood of that false heart.
I shall not forget it. (<i>Standing in the middle of the
stage.</i>) <SPAN name="aiii_30" id="aiii_30"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_30" class="anc">30</SPAN>To strangle whatever nature is in me, neither
to love nor to be loved, neither to pity nor to be
pitied. Ay! it is an oath, an oath. Methinks the
spirit of Charlotte Corday has entered my soul now.
I shall carve my name on the world, and be ranked
among the great heroines. Ay! the spirit of
Charlotte Corday beats in each petty vein, and
nerves my woman's hand to strike, as I have
nerved my woman's heart to hate. Though he
laughs in his dreams, I shall not falter. Though
he sleep peacefully I shall not miss my blow.<SPAN href="#niii_30" class="anc">30</SPAN>
Be glad, my brother, in your stifled cell; be glad
and laugh to-night. To-night this new-fledged Czar
shall post with bloody feet to Hell, and greet his
father there! <SPAN name="aiii_31" id="aiii_31"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_31" class="anc">31</SPAN>This Czar! O traitor, liar, false to
his oath, false to me! To play the patriot amongst
us, and now to wear a crown; to sell us, like
Judas, for thirty silver pieces, to betray us with a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</SPAN></span>
kiss!<SPAN href="#niii_31" class="anc">31</SPAN> (<i>With more passion.</i>) O Liberty, O mighty
mother of eternal time, thy robe is purple with the
blood of those who have died for thee! Thy throne
is the Calvary of the people, thy crown the crown
of thorns. O crucified mother, the despot has driven
a nail through thy right hand, and the tyrant through
thy left! Thy feet are pierced with their iron. When
thou wert athirst thou calledst on the priests for
water, and they gave thee bitter drink. They thrust
a sword into thy side. They mocked thee in thine
agony of age on age. <SPAN name="aiii_32" id="aiii_32"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niii_32" class="anc">32</SPAN>Here, on thy altar, O
Liberty, do I dedicate myself to thy service; do
with me as thou wilt!<SPAN href="#niii_32" class="anc">32</SPAN> (<i>Brandishing dagger.</i>)
The end has come now, and by thy sacred wounds,
O crucified mother, O Liberty, I swear that Russia
shall be saved!</p>
<div class="bk3">CURTAIN.</div>
<div class="bk3"><span class="smcap">End Of Act III.</span></div>
<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>ACT IV.</h2>
<div class="stg2"><p class="ctr"><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>Antechamber of the <span class="smcap">Czar's</span> private room.
Large window at the back, with drawn curtains
over it.</i></p>
<p class="ctr"><i>Present.</i>—<span class="smcap">Prince Petrovitch, Baron Raff,
Marquis de Poivrard, Count Rouvaloff.</span></p>
</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> He is beginning well, this young
Czar.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff</span> (<i>shrugs his shoulders</i>). All young
Czars do begin well.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> And end badly.</p>
<p><SPAN name="aiv_1" id="aiv_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niv_1" class="anc">1</SPAN><span class="smcap">Marq. de Poiv.</span> Well, I have no right to complain.
He has done me one good service, at any
rate.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> Cancelled your appointment to
Archangel, I suppose?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marq. de Poiv.</span> Yes; my head wouldn't have
been safe there for an hour.<SPAN href="#niv_1" class="anc">1</SPAN></p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">General Kotemkin</span>.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> Ah! General, any more news of
our romantic Emperor?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen. Kotemk.</span> You are quite right to call him
romantic, Baron; a week ago I found him amusing
himself in a garret with a company of strolling
players; to-day his whim is all the convicts in
Siberia are to be recalled, and political prisoners,
as he calls them, amnestied.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> Political prisoners! Why, half
of them are no better than common murderers!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> And the other half much worse?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> Oh, you wrong them, surely,
Count. Wholesale trade has always been more
respectable than retail.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> But he is really too romantic. He
objected yesterday to my having the monopoly of
the salt tax. He said the people had a right to
have cheap salt.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marq. de Poiv.</span> Oh, that's nothing; but he
actually disapproved of a State banquet every night
because there is a famine in the Southern provinces.
(<i>The young <span class="smcap">Czar</span> enters unobserved, and overhears
the rest.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> Quelle bétise! The more starvation
there is among the people, the better. It
teaches them self-denial, an excellent virtue, Baron,
an excellent virtue.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> I have often heard so; I have
often heard so.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen. Kotemk.</span> He talked of a Parliament, too,
in Russia, and said the people should have deputies
to represent them.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> As if there was not enough brawling
in the streets already, but we must give the
people a room to do it in. But, Messieurs, the
worst is yet to come. He threatens a complete
reform in the public service on the ground that
the people are too heavily taxed.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marq. de Poiv.</span> He can't be serious there. What
is the use of the people except<SPAN name="aiv_2" id="aiv_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niv_2" class="anc">2</SPAN> to get money out of?
But talking of taxes, my dear Baron, you must really
let me have forty thousand roubles to-morrow? my
wife says she must have a new diamond bracelet.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> (<i>aside to <span class="smcap">Baron Raff</span></i>). Ah, to match
the one Prince Paul gave her last week, I suppose.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> I must have sixty thousand
roubles at once, Baron. My son is overwhelmed
with debts of honour which he can't pay.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> What an excellent son to imitate
his father so carefully!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen. Kotemk.</span> You are always getting money. I
never get a single kopeck I have not got a right
to. It's unbearable; it's ridiculous! My nephew<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</SPAN></span>
is going to be married. I must get his dowry for
him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> My dear General, your nephew
must be a perfect Turk. He seems to get married
three times a week regularly.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen. Kot.</span> Well, he wants a dowry to console
him.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> I am sick of town. I want a house
in the country.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marq. de Poiv.</span> I am sick of the country. I
want a house in town.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> Mes amis, I am extremely sorry
for you. It is out of the question.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> But my son, Baron?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Gen. Kotemk.</span> But my nephew?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marq. de Poiv.</span> But my house in town?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> But my house in the country?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Marq. de Poiv.</span> But my wife's diamond bracelet?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> Gentlemen, impossible! The old
<i>regime</i> in Russia is dead; the funeral begins to-day.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> Then I shall wait for the resurrection.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> Yes, but, <i>en attendant</i>, what are
we to do?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> What have we always done in
Russia when a Czar suggests reforms?—nothing.
You forget we are diplomatists. Men of thought
should have nothing to do with action. Reforms
in Russia are very tragic, but they always end in
a farce.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> I wish Prince Paul were here. <SPAN name="aiv_3" id="aiv_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niv_3" class="anc">3</SPAN>By
the bye, I think this boy is rather ungrateful to him.
If that clever old Prince had not proclaimed him
Emperor at once without giving him time to think
about it, he would have given up his crown, I
believe, to the first cobbler he met in the street.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> But do you think, Baron, that
Prince Paul is really going?<SPAN href="#niv_3" class="anc">3</SPAN><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> He is exiled.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> Yes; but is he going?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> I am sure of it; at least he told
me he had sent two telegrams already to Paris about
his dinner.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Count R.</span> Ah! that settles the matter.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>coming forward</i>). Prince Paul better send a
third telegram and order (<i>counting them</i>) six extra places.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> The devil!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> No, Baron, the Czar. Traitors! There
would be no bad kings in the world if there were
no bad ministers like you. It is men such as you
who wreck mighty empires on the rock of their
own greatness. Our mother, Russia, hath no need
of such unnatural sons. You can make no atonement
now; it is too late for that. The grave
cannot give back your dead, nor the gibbet your
martyrs, but I shall be more merciful to you. I
give you your lives! That is the curse I would
lay on you. But if there is a man of you found
in Moscow by to-morrow night your heads will be
off your shoulders.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> You remind us wonderfully, Sire,
of your Imperial father.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> I banish you all from Russia. Your
estates are confiscated to the people. You may
carry your titles with you. Reforms in Russia,
Baron, always end in a farce. You will have a
good opportunity, Prince Petrovitch, of practising
self-denial, that excellent virtue! that excellent
virtue! So, Baron, you think a Parliament in
Russia would be merely a place for brawling.
Well, I will see that the reports of each session
are sent to you regularly.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Baron Raff.</span> Sire, you are adding another
horror to exile.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> But you will have such time for literature
now. You forget you are diplomatists. Men
of thought should have nothing to do with action.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Prince Petro.</span> Sire, we did but jest.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Then I banish you for your bad jokes.
Bon voyage, Messieurs.<SPAN name="aiv_4" id="aiv_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niv_4" class="anc">4</SPAN> If you value your lives
you will catch the first train for Paris. (<i>Exeunt
<span class="smcap">Ministers</span>.</i>) Russia is well rid of such men as
these. They are the jackals that follow in the
lion's track. <SPAN name="aiv_5" id="aiv_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niv_5" class="anc">5</SPAN>They have no courage themselves,
except to pillage and rob.<SPAN href="#niv_5" class="anc">5</SPAN> But for these men and
for Prince Paul my father would have been a good
king, would not have died so horribly as he did
die. How strange it is, the most real parts of one's
life always seem to be a dream! The council, the
fearful law which was to kill the people, the arrest,
the cry in the courtyard, the pistol-shot, my father's
bloody hands, and then the crown! One can live
for years sometimes, without living at all, and then
all life comes crowding into a single hour. I had
no time to think. Before my father's hideous shriek
of death had died in my ears I found this crown
on my head, the purple robe around me, and heard
myself called a king. I would have given it up all
then; it seemed nothing to me then; but now, can
I give it up now? Well, Colonel, well? (<i>Enter
<span class="smcap">Colonel of the Guard</span>.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> What password does your Imperial
Majesty desire should be given to-night?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Password?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Colonel.</span> <SPAN name="aiv_6" id="aiv_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niv_6" class="anc">6</SPAN>For the cordon of<SPAN href="#niv_6" class="anc">6</SPAN> guards, Sire, on
night duty around the palace.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> You can dismiss them. I have no need
of them. (<i>Exit <span class="smcap">Colonel</span>.</i>) (<i>Goes to the crown
lying on the table.</i>) What subtle potency lies hidden
in this gaudy bauble, the crown,<SPAN name="aiv_7" id="aiv_7"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niv_7" class="anc">7</SPAN> that makes one
feel like a god when one wears it? To hold in
one's hand this little fiery coloured world, to reach
out one's arm to earth's uttermost limit, to girdle
the seas with one's hosts; this is to wear a crown!
to wear a crown! The meanest serf in Russia who
is loved is better crowned than I. How love outweighs<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</SPAN></span>
the balance! How poor appears the widest
empire of this golden world when matched with
love! Pent up in this palace, with spies dogging
every step, I have heard nothing of her; I have
not seen her once since that fearful hour three
days ago, when I found myself suddenly the Czar
of this wide waste, Russia. Oh, could I see her
for a moment; tell her now the secret of my life
I have never dared utter before; tell her why I
wear this crown, when I have sworn eternal war
against all crowned men! There was a meeting
to-night. I received my summons by an unknown
hand; but how could I go? I who have broken
my oath! who have broken my oath!</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Page</span>.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Page.</span> It is after eleven, Sire. Shall I take the
first watch in your room to-night?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Why should you watch me, boy? The
stars are my best sentinels.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Page.</span> It was your Imperial father's wish, Sire,
never to be left alone while he slept.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> My father was troubled with bad dreams.
Go, get to your bed, boy; it is nigh on midnight,
and these late hours will spoil those red cheeks.
(<i><span class="smcap">Page</span> tries to kiss his hand.</i>) Nay, nay; we have
played together too often as children for that.
Oh, to breathe the same air as her, and not to see
her! the light seems to have gone from my life,
the sun vanished from my day.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Page.</span> Sire,—Alexis,—let me stay with<SPAN name="aiv_8" id="aiv_8"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niv_8" class="anc">8</SPAN> you
to-night! There is some danger over you; I feel
there is.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> What should I fear? I have banished all
my enemies from Russia. Set the brazier here, by
me; it is very cold, and I would sit by it for a time.
Go, boy, go; I have much to think about to-night.
(<i>Goes to back of stage, draws aside curtain. View of
Moscow by moonlight.</i>) The snow has fallen heavily
since sunset. How white and cold my city looks<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</SPAN></span>
under this pale moon! And yet, what hot and fiery
hearts beat in this icy Russia, for all its frost and
snow! Oh, to see her for a moment; to tell her
all; to tell her why I am a king! But she does
not doubt me; she said she would trust in me.
Though I have broken my oath, she will have
trust. It is very cold. Where is my cloak? I
shall sleep for an hour. Then I have ordered my
sledge, and, though I die for it, I shall see Vera
to-night. Did I not bid thee go, boy? What!
must I play the tyrant so soon? Go, go! I
cannot live without seeing her. My horses will be
here in an hour; one hour between me and love!
How heavy this charcoal fire smells. (<i>Exit the
<span class="smcap">Page.</span> Lies down on a couch beside brazier.</i>)</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Enter <span class="smcap">Vera</span> in a black cloak.</i>)</div>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Asleep! God, thou art good! Who shall
deliver him from my hands now? <SPAN name="aiv_9" id="aiv_9"></SPAN><SPAN href="#niv_9" class="anc">9</SPAN>This is he!
The democrat who would make himself a king, the
republican who hath worn a crown, the traitor who
hath lied to us. Michael was right. He loved not
the people. He loved me not.<SPAN href="#niv_9" class="anc">9</SPAN> (<i>Bends over him.</i>)
Oh, why should such deadly poison lie in such
sweet lips? Was there not gold enough in his hair
before, that he should tarnish it with this crown?
But my day has come now; the day of the people,
of liberty, has come! Your day, my brother, has
come! Though I have strangled whatever nature
is in me, I did not think it had been so easy to
kill. One blow and it is over, and I can wash my
hands in water afterwards, I can wash my hands
afterwards. Come, I shall save Russia. I have
sworn it. (<i>Raises dagger to strike.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>staring up, seizes her by both hands</i>). Vera,
you here! My dream was no dream at all. Why
have you left me three days alone, when I most
needed you? O God, you think I am a traitor, a
liar, a king? I am, for love of you. Vera, it was
for you I broke my oath and wear my father's crown.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</SPAN></span>
I would lay at your feet this mighty Russia, which
you and I have loved so well; would give you
this earth as a footstool! set this crown on your
head. The people will love us. We will rule them
by love, as a father rules his children. There shall
be liberty in Russia for every man to think as his
heart bids him; liberty for men to speak as they
think. I have banished the wolves that preyed on
us; I have brought back your brother from Siberia;
I have opened the blackened jaws of the mine.
The courier is already on his way; within a week
Dmitri and all those with him will be back in
their own land. The people shall be free—are free
now—and you and I, Emperor and Empress of
this mighty realm, will walk among them openly,
in love. When they gave me this crown first, I
would have flung it back to them, had it not been
for you, Vera. O God! It is men's custom in
Russia to bring gifts to those they love. I said,
I will bring to the woman I love a people, an
empire, a world! Vera, it is for you, for you
alone, I kept this crown; for you alone I am a
king. Oh, I have loved you better than my oath!
Why will you not speak to me? You love me
not! You love me not! You have come to warn
me of some plot against my life. What is life
worth to me without you? (<i><span class="smcap">Conspirators</span> murmur
outside.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Oh, lost! lost! lost!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Nay, you are safe here. It wants five
hours still of dawn. To-morrow, I will lead you
forth to the whole people—</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> To-morrow—!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Will crown you with my own hands as
Empress in that great cathedral which my fathers
built.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>loosens her hands violently from him, and
starts up</i>). I am a Nihilist! I cannot wear a
crown!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>falls at her feet</i>). I am no king now. I
am only a boy who has loved you better than his
honour, better than his oath. For love of the
people I would have been a patriot. For love of
you I have been a traitor. Let us go forth together,
we will live amongst the common people. I am no
king. I will toil for you like the peasant or the
serf. Oh, love me a little too! (<i><span class="smcap">Conspirators</span>
murmur outside.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>clutching dagger</i>). To strangle whatever
nature is in me, neither to love nor to be loved,
neither to pity nor—— Oh, I am a woman! God
help me, I am a woman! O Alexis! I too have
broken my oath; I am a traitor. I love. Oh, do
not speak, do not speak—(<i>kisses his lips</i>)—the first,
the last time. (<i>He clasps her in his arms; they sit
on the couch together.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> I could die now.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> What does death do in thy lips? Thy
life, thy love are enemies of death. Speak not of
death. Not yet, not yet.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> I know not why death came into my
heart. Perchance the cup of life is filled too full
of pleasure to endure. This is our wedding night.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Our wedding night!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> And if death came himself, methinks that
I could kiss his pallid mouth, and suck sweet poison
from it.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Our wedding night! Nay, nay. Death
should not sit at the feast. There is no such thing
as death.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> There shall not be for us. (<i><span class="smcap">Conspirators</span>
murmur outside.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> What is that? Did you not hear something?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Only your voice, that fowler's note which
lures my heart away like a poor bird upon the limed
twig.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Methought that some one laughed.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> It was but the wind and rain; the night
is full of storm. (<i><span class="smcap">Conspirators</span> murmur outside.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> It should be so indeed. Oh, where are
your guards? where are your guards?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Where should they be but at home? I
shall not live pent round by sword and steel. The
love of a people is a king's best body-guard.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> The love of a people!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Sweet, you are safe here. Nothing can
harm you here. O love, I knew you trusted me!
You said you would have trust.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I have had trust. O love, the past seems
but some dull grey dream from which our souls have
wakened. This is life at last.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Ay, life at last.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Our wedding night! Oh, let me drink
my fill of love to-night! Nay, sweet, not yet, not
yet. How still it is, and yet methinks the air is
full of music. It is some nightingale who, wearying
of the south, has come to sing in this bleak north
to lovers such as we. It is the nightingale. Dost
thou not hear it?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> Oh, sweet, mine ears are clogged to all
sweet sounds save thine own voice, and mine eyes
blinded to all sights but thee, else had I heard
that nightingale, and seen the golden-vestured
morning sun itself steal from its sombre east before
its time for jealousy that thou art twice as fair.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Yet would that thou hadst heard the
nightingale. Methinks that bird will never sing
again.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> It is no nightingale. 'Tis love himself
singing for very ecstasy of joy that thou art changed
into his votaress. (<i>Clock begins striking twelve.</i>) Oh,
listen, sweet, it is the lover's hour. Come, let us
stand without, and hear the midnight answered
from tower to tower over the wide white town. Our
wedding night! What is that? What is that?</p>
<div class="stg1">(<i>Loud murmurs of <span class="smcap">Conspirators</span> in the street.</i>)<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</SPAN></span></div>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>breaks from him and rushes across the stage</i>).
The wedding guests are here already! Ay, you shall
have your sign! (<i>Stabs herself.</i>) You shall have
your sign! (<i>Rushes to the window.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>intercepts her by rushing between her and
window, and snatches dagger out of her hand</i>). Vera!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera</span> (<i>clinging to him</i>). Give me back the
dagger! Give me back the dagger! There are men
in the street who seek your life! Your guards have
betrayed you! This bloody dagger is the signal that
you are dead. (<i><span class="smcap">Conspirators</span> begin to shout below in
the street.</i>) Oh, there is not a moment to be lost!
Throw it out! Throw it out! Nothing can save me
now; this dagger is poisoned! I feel death already
in my heart.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar</span> (<i>holding dagger out of her reach</i>). Death is
in my heart too; we shall die together.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Oh, love! love! love! be merciful to me!
The wolves are hot upon you! you must live for
liberty, for Russia, for me! Oh, you do not love
me! You offered me an empire once! Give me
this dagger now! Oh, you are cruel! My life for
yours! What does it matter? (<i>Loud shouts in the
street, "<span class="smcap">Vera! Vera!</span> To the rescue! To the
rescue!</i>")</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> The bitterness of death is past for me.</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Oh, they are breaking in below! See!
The bloody man behind you! (<i><span class="smcap">Czarevitch</span> turns
round for an instant.</i>) Ah! (<i><span class="smcap">Vera</span> snatches dagger
and flings it out of window.</i>)</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Consps.</span> (<i>below</i>). Long live the people!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Czar.</span> What have you done?</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Vera.</span> I have saved Russia (<i>Dies.</i>)</p>
<p class="bk3">TABLEAU.</p>
<hr /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>CORRECTIONS AND ADDITIONS.</h2>
<div class="stg2"><p class="ctr"><span class="smcap">Made by the Author in his original copy</span>.</p>
</div>
<div class="stg1"><i>The numbers of the "Notes" correspond with the superior
figures in the body of the text.</i></div>
<div class='ctr'>
<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><td class="td3" colspan="3">ACT I.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td1">Note</td><td class="td2"><SPAN name="ni_1" id="ni_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_1">1</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Changed to 2 in violet pencil.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_2" id="ni_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_2">2</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines from 2 to 2 scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_3" id="ni_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_3">3</SPAN></td><td class="td1">These lines scored out, and "we will have" added.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_4" id="ni_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_4">4</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This word underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_5" id="ni_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_5">5</SPAN></td><td class="td1">These lines scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_6" id="ni_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_6">6</SPAN></td><td class="td1">These lines scored out, "what news to-night?" inserted.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_7" id="ni_7"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_7">7</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_8" id="ni_8"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_8">8</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "He."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_9" id="ni_9"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_9">9</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_10" id="ni_10"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_10">10</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "signal for."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_11" id="ni_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_11">11</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_12" id="ni_12"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_12">12</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_13" id="ni_13"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_13">13</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "Be calm, Michael!"</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_14" id="ni_14"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_14">14</SPAN></td><td class="td1">These words underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_15" id="ni_15"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_15">15</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Words underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_16" id="ni_16"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_16">16</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Word underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_17" id="ni_17"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_17">17</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_18" id="ni_18"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_18">18</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Words scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_19" id="ni_19"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_19">19</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored out, "from Berlin" inserted.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_20" id="ni_20"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_20">20</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Word scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_21" id="ni_21"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_21">21</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "strong."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_22" id="ni_22"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_22">22</SPAN></td><td class="td1">These lines scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_23" id="ni_23"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_23">23</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_24" id="ni_24"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_24">24</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "martial law scheme."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_25" id="ni_25"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_25">25</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "To raise the barricades."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_26" id="ni_26"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_26">26</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Crossed out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_27" id="ni_27"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_27">27</SPAN></td><td class="td1">The word "pause" as a stage direction inserted.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_28" id="ni_28"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_28">28</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines crossed out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_29" id="ni_29"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_29">29</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_30" id="ni_30"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_30">30</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_31" id="ni_31"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_31">31</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Word underlined.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</SPAN></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_32" id="ni_32"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_32">32</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Word underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_33" id="ni_33"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_33">33</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Words "Who is there?" inserted.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_34" id="ni_34"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_34">34</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_35" id="ni_35"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_35">35</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_36" id="ni_36"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_36">36</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_37" id="ni_37"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_37">37</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "He has sold us."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="ni_38" id="ni_38"></SPAN><SPAN href="#ai_38">38</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Word underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td3" colspan="3">ACT II.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td1">Note</td><td class="td2"><SPAN name="nii_1" id="nii_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_1">1</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_2" id="nii_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_2">2</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "you missed."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_3" id="nii_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_3">3</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "profession."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_4" id="nii_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_4">4</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_5" id="nii_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_5">5</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Word scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_6" id="nii_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_6">6</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Insert "for them to go to."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_7" id="nii_7"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_7">7</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Insert "dining."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_8" id="nii_8"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_8">8</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "bored to death."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_9" id="nii_9"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_9">9</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_10" id="nii_10"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_10">10</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Word underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_11" id="nii_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_11">11</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "a."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_12" id="nii_12"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_12">12</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_13" id="nii_13"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_13">13</SPAN></td><td class="td1">"O God!" scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_14" id="nii_14"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_14">14</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_15" id="nii_15"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_15">15</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_16" id="nii_16"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_16">16</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Words scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_17" id="nii_17"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_17">17</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Word underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_18" id="nii_18"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_18">18</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Word underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_19" id="nii_19"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_19">19</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Words underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_20" id="nii_20"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_20">20</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Stage direction, "a pause" indicated.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_21" id="nii_21"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_21">21</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "may."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_22" id="nii_22"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_22">22</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Word "I" underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="nii_23" id="nii_23"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aii_23">23</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This speech cut out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td3" colspan="3">ACT III.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td1">Note</td><td class="td2"><SPAN name="niii_1" id="niii_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_1">1</SPAN></td><td class="td1">"Marat" underlined.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_2" id="niii_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_2">2</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "<span class="smcap">Vera.</span> Unmask! a spy!"</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_3" id="niii_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_3">3</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_4" id="niii_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_4">4</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_5" id="niii_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_5">5</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_6" id="niii_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_6">6</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored through.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</SPAN></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_7" id="niii_7"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_7">7</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Insert "and quite as unintelligible."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_8" id="niii_8"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_8">8</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Alter "<span class="smcap">Pres.</span>" to "<span class="smcap">Vera.</span>"</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_9" id="niii_9"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_9">9</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_10" id="niii_10"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_10">10</SPAN></td><td class="td1">These lines struck out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_11" id="niii_11"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_11">11</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This passage scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_12" id="niii_12"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_12">12</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This is struck out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_13" id="niii_13"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_13">13</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_14" id="niii_14"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_14">14</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_15" id="niii_15"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_15">15</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This speech cut out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_16" id="niii_16"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_16">16</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_17" id="niii_17"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_17">17</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_18" id="niii_18"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_18">18</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Cut out this passage and insert "Alexis" after "but."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_19" id="niii_19"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_19">19</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_20" id="niii_20"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_20">20</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Altered to "No! No!"</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_21" id="niii_21"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_21">21</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This passage is cut out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_22" id="niii_22"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_22">22</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Insert "Alexis" in place of "him."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_23" id="niii_23"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_23">23</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Lines scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_24" id="niii_24"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_24">24</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This speech cut out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_25" id="niii_25"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_25">25</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This passage is scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_26" id="niii_26"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_26">26</SPAN></td><td class="td1">The words "no laugh" are inserted here—possibly as a stage direction.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_27" id="niii_27"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_27">27</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Passage scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_28" id="niii_28"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_28">28</SPAN></td><td class="td1">In place of "the Czar" read "Alexis."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_29" id="niii_29"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_29">29</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Delete this speech.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_30" id="niii_30"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_30">30</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This passage is scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_31" id="niii_31"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_31">31</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This passage is scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niii_32" id="niii_32"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiii_32">32</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This passage is scored out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td3" colspan="3">ACT IV.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td1">Note</td><td class="td2"><SPAN name="niv_1" id="niv_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiv_1">1</SPAN></td><td class="td1">These three speeches are scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niv_2" id="niv_2"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiv_2">2</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Insert "for the politician."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niv_3" id="niv_3"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiv_3">3</SPAN></td><td class="td1">All these lines are cut out.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niv_4" id="niv_4"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiv_4">4</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Alter to "Gentlemen."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niv_5" id="niv_5"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiv_5">5</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Cut out this sentence.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niv_6" id="niv_6"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiv_6">6</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Words scored through.</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niv_7" id="niv_7"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiv_7">7</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Delete "the crown."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niv_8" id="niv_8"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiv_8">8</SPAN></td><td class="td1">Substitute "stop near" for "stay with."</td></tr>
<tr><td class="td2" colspan="2"><SPAN name="niv_9" id="niv_9"></SPAN><SPAN href="#aiv_9">9</SPAN></td><td class="td1">This passage is cut out.</td></tr>
</table></div>
<div class="trn"><p><b>Transcriber's Note (Significant Amendments):</b></p>
<ul><li>p. <SPAN href="#Page_25">25</SPAN>, 'Place S. Isaac' amended to <i>Place St. Isaac</i>;</li>
<li>p. <SPAN href="#Page_36">36</SPAN>, 'Prince Petouchof' amended to <i>Count Petouchof</i>.</li></ul></div>
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />