The Gold Thieves. Александр Дюма
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tell her that, Williams—come tell her that one doesn’t die for some years of absence—come tell her that hearts truly united always end by being rejoined. Come!
MELIDA
Oh—father—
DOCTOR
Console her—sustain her—be strong, Williams. Tell her I’m getting old—my child—that I have perhaps five or six years—— not more to live. God doesn’t want to take me so soon from two children who have only me in the world and love me so much—but to exercise my profession. Tell her that it’s necessary for me to amass down there in five or six years a little fortune that despite the trouble I took, I haven’t been able to realize here. Tell her that the situation you occupy which pay 125 pounds per year doesn’t suffice to support a wife and children—tell her all this, Williams—words that passing from your mouth will have greater force than coming from mine.
BOTH
Father.
DOCTOR
I know that I’m dealing with two valiant souls—two honest hearts, and that I leave them supporting each other, certain that instead of weakening, they will strengthen each other.
(He looks at them, places Melida’s arm in Williams’—and leaves)
MELIDA
Williams!
(Melida falls in an armchair)
WILLIAMS
Why he thinks I have a heart of bronze—your father—
(with agitation)
Oh! My duty, I know quite well will be to sustain you—by repeating to you, word for word, the statements he just made—but I haven’t the strength. I haven’t the courage—this departure is killing me! Oh—the sea, the ocean—space—and you down there without me.
MELIDA
Who would heave said, Williams, that it would be I who was consoling you!
WILLIAMS
Don’t try, Melida, for if you resign yourself like this, I will believe you are indifferent.
MELIDA
We will return.
WILLIAMS
You will return? And do you know that the crossing alone takes five months? Do you think that during those five months I will have a moment’s rest? The noise of the wind alone will drive me mad! I don’t wish to exhort you to disobedience—I love your father as if he were my own—but I feel that he’s committing a folly—! And I am all the more wretched that I cannot tell him stop! He will accuse me of egoism. Poverty imposes silence on me. But if you leave, Melida—a presentment tells me that we will never see each other again.
MELIDA
(rising and crossing in front of Williams)
Why terrify me so? Why take from me my only last hope?
WILLIAMS
Because I see with the eyes of my heart! Because the ocean brought misfortune to the only being I loved as much as you—my mother—because it swallowed her without leaving me a tomb to weep over! Nothing returns from what it swallows—its depths are abysses. It’s twelve years since parting with her to rejoin my father at the Cape of Good Hope. I saw my mother die. It was twelve years ago I saw a porthole open and the bier which shut in the being who loved me most in the world slide into the ocean! I saw that coffin come to the surface of the water and float on the surface in the wake of the ship, as if the dear creature didn’t want to abandon me—! This terrible spectacle is not only present in my thoughts, but still before my eyes—as if it happened yesterday. When I think that you are going to cross the ocean—the same image comes before my eyes—! Oh, my God! You won’t permit Melida to leave or you will grant me the favor of leaving with her.
MELIDA
Oh—if that could be—with what joy would I leave England!
WILLIAMS
Do you speak truly, Melida?
MELIDA
I swear that with you, for me all would be joy, happiness, hope.
WILLIAMS
(kissing her hand)
Melida! Well!
MELIDA
What?
WILLIAMS
I don’t dare say anything—I don’t dare promise you—I don’t dare hope anything—but this evening at ten o’clock—expect me—and if God looks on our side—I will have good news to tell you.
MELIDA
Well what?
WILLIAMS
Nothing, nothing—for it requires a miracle.
MELIDA
I will expect you—
WILLIAMS
Goodbye—
MELIDA
Already!
WILLIAMS
It’s necessary—till tonight—till tonight!
(Exit Williams.)
MELIDA
(alone)
How easily the heart hopes for what it wishes—I know nothing and I think all is possible—to escape the sorrow of a separation—
(The Doctor and Émeraude enter. The Doctor goes to sit at the table. Émeraude approaches Melida from behind and embraces her.)
MELIDA
(throwing her arms around Émeraude’s neck)
Oh, Sister! Sister!
ÉMERAUDE
Silence! Our father is there.
MELIDA
My God!
ÉMERAUDE
Courage, Melida.
MELIDA
That’s easy for you to say—your heart is free.
ÉMERAUDE
Free! Heavens, read this—I received that an hour ago.
MELIDA
A letter?
ÉMERAUDE
Read—
MELIDA
(reading)
“You are going to leave, Émeraude, you cannot refuse me a few minutes meeting. I am allowing myself to be sacrificed and I am so miserable for having lost you—that you must take pity on me. My name alone belongs to another—but my soul is yours and you are carrying it off with you—Sir Edward!”
ÉMERAUDE
Yes!
MELIDA
You love him?
ÉMERAUDE
As you love Williams.
MELIDA
And he is married!
ÉMERAUDE
I was poor! You see that. It’s possible to be more miserable then you. You, at least, still have hope.
MELIDA
Ah—that’s why you are so happy to leave?
ÉMERAUDE
I distrust myself and we need nothing less than an ocean between him and me to reassure me.
MELIDA
You