ARETHUSA (_at back of stage by the door_); GAUNT (_front L._); _to these_, PEW, _C._
PEW (_sotto voce_). All snug. (_Coming down_.) So that was you, my young friend Christopher, as shot by me on the road; and so you was hot foot after old Pew? Christopher, my young friend, I reckon I'll have the bowels out of that chest, and I reckon you'll be lagged and scragged for it. (_At these words_ ARETHUSA _locks the door_, _and takes the key_.) What's that? All still. There's something wrong about this room. Pew, my 'art of oak, you're queer to-night; brace up, and carry off. Where's the tool? (_Producing knife_.) Ah, here she is; and now for the chest; and the gold; and rum-rum-rum. What! Open? . . . old clothes, by God! . . .
He's done me; he's been before me; he's bolted with the swag; that's why he ran: Lord wither and waste him forty year for it! O Christopher, if I had my fingers on your throat! Why didn't I strangle the soul out of him? I heard the breath squeak in his weasand; and Jack Gaunt pulled me off. Ah, Jack, that's another I owe you. My pious friend, if I was God Almighty for five minutes! (GAUNT _rises and begins to pace the stage like a quarterdeck_, _L._) What's that? A man's walk. He don't see me, thank the blessed dark! But it's time to slip, my bo. (_He gropes his way stealthily till he comes to Gaunt's table_, _where he burns his hand in the candle_.) A candle-lighted-then it's bright as day! Lord God, doesn't he see me? It's the horrors come alive. (GAUNT _draws near and turns away_.) I'll go mad, mad! (_He gropes to the door_, _stopping and starting_.) Door. (_His voice rising for the first time_, _sharp with terror_.) Locked? Key gone? Trapped! Keep off-keep off of me-keep away! (_Sotto voce again_.) Keep your head, Lord have mercy, keep your head. I'm wet with sweat. What devil's den is this? I must out-out! (_He shakes the door vehemently_.) No? Knife it is then-knife-knife-knife! (_He moves with the knife raised towards_ GAUNT, _intently listening_, _and changing his direction as_ GAUNT _changes his position on the stage_.)
ARETHUSA (_rushing to intercept him_). Father, father, wake!
GAUNT. Hester, Hester! (_He turns_, _in time to see_ ARETHUSA _grapple_ PEW _in the centre of the Stage_, _and_ PEW _force her down_.)
ARETHUSA. Kit! Kit!
PEW (_with the knife raised_). Pew's way!
SCENE IV
_To these_, KIT
(_He leaps through window_, _R._, _and cuts_ PEW _down_. _At the same moment_, GAUNT, _who has been staring helplessly at his daughter's peril_, _fully awakes_.)
GAUNT. Death and blood! (KIT, _helping_ ARETHUSA, _has let fall the cutlass_. GAUNT_ picks it up and runs on_ PEW.) Damned mutineer, I'll have your heart out! (_He stops_, _stands staring_, _drops cutlass_, _falls upon his knees_.) God forgive me! Ah, foul sins, would you blaze forth again? Lord, close your ears! Hester, Hester, hear me not! Shall all these years and tears be unavailing?
ARETHUSA. Father, I am not hurt.
GAUNT. Ay, daughter, but my soul-my lost soul!
PEW (_rising on his elbow_). Rum? You've done me. For God's sake, rum.
(ARETHUSA _pours out a glass_, _which_ KIT _gives to him_.) Rum? This ain't rum; it's fire! (_With great excitement_.) What's this? I don't like rum? (_Feebly_.) Ay, then, I'm a dead man, and give me water.
GAUNT. Now even his sins desert him.
PEW (_drinking water_). Jack Gaunt, you've always been my rock ahead.
It's thanks to you I've got my papers, and this time I'm shipped for Fiddler's Green. Admiral, we ain't like to meet again, and I'll give you a toast: Here's Fiddler's Green, and damn all lubbers! (_Seizing_ GAUNT'S _arm_.) I say-fair dealings, Jack!-none of that heaven business: Fiddler's Green's my port, now, ain't it?
GAUNT. David, you've hove short up, and God forbid that I deceive you.
Pray, man, pray; for in the place to which you are bound there is no mercy and no hope.
PEW. Ay, my lass, you're black, but your blood's red, and I'm all a-muck with it. Pass the rum, and be damned to you. (_Trying to sing_)-
'Time for us to go, Time for us-'
(_He dies_.)
GAUNT. But for the grace of God, there lies John Gaunt! Christopher, you have saved my child; and I, I, that was blinded with self-righteousness, have fallen. Take her, Christopher; but O, walk humbly!
CURTAIN
MACAIRE A MELODRAMATIC FARCE IN THREE ACTS
PERSONS REPRESENTED
ROBERT MACAIRE.
BERTRAND.
DUMONT, Landlord of the _Auberge des Adrets_.
CHARLES, a Gendarme, Dumont's supposed son.
GORIOT.
THE MARQUIS, Charles's Father.
THE BRIGADIER of Gendarmerie.
THE CURATE.
THE NOTARY.
A WAITER.
ERNESTINE, Goriot's Daughter.
ALINE.
MAIDS, PEASANTS (_Male and Female_), GENDARMES.
The Scene is laid in the Courtyard of the _Auberge des Adrets_, on the frontier of France and Savoy. The time 1800. The action occupies an interval of from twelve to fourteen hours: from four in the afternoon till about five in the morning.
NOTE.-_The time between the acts should be as brief as possible_, _and the piece played_, _where it is merely comic_, _in a vein of patter_.
ACT I.
_The Stage represents the courtyard of the Auberge des Adrets_. _It is surrounded by the buildings of the inn_, _with a gallery on the first story_, _approached_, _C._, _by a straight flight of stairs_. _L. C._, _the entrance doorway_. _A little in front of this_, _a small grated office_, _containing business table_, _brass-bound cabinet_, _and portable cash-box_. _In front_, _R. and L._, _tables and benches_; _one_, _L._, _partially laid for a considerable party_.