Tête-d'Or. Paul Claudel

Table of Contents

      A hall in the king's palace, with high windows at the hack.

      Night. Cébès, sick, lying upon a bed. A little lamp is placed on the floor. Here and there men, stretched out asleep, snoring.

      Pantomime—Enter, as if half-crazed, the king, barefoot, his clothes in disorder. He runs hither and thither about the hall in great agitation.

      Cébès (not seeing the king): They are all asleep.

      The lamp sputters and smokes.

      (He painfully stretches himself on his back.

      The King(groaning, in a low voice): Ah!

      (Pause.

      Cébès (lowering his voice): Two, four,

      Six, eight, twelve,

      Fourteen,

      Sixteen, eighteen, thirty-six,

      Seventy-two, a hundred and forty-four. I wish that I could sleep, too.

      The King: Ah!

      Cébès: I am thirsty. I would like a drink!

      But I will not drink.

      I am sick! The night is long. If only I could sleep a little!

      (He closes his eyes.

      The King: Ah!

      Cébès: Who is sighing? Is anyone there?

      (He turns his head and sees the king.

      (Silence.

      The King: Ah!

      (He catches sight of cébès.

      Can't you sleep, my child?

      Cébès: I cannot sleep.

      The King: Are you thirsty? Would you like me to get you a drink?

      Cébès: Pardon me, Sire. I shall not drink till he returns.

      The King: Sire! Is there still such a title? Do not call me Sire, my child!

      They have left us all alone, my daughter and me, and everyone has fled, for the enemy is at hand.

      They did not trouble themselves much about me.

      The Prime Minister did it all. He explained to me how matters stood. He was always making me late to dinner. I have a bad digestion; I ought to have my meals at regular hours.

      They held a meeting, some ten or twelve of them, and they brought a great pile of papers. One sees strange people nowadays.

      Then they all went away. The Prime Minister went away also, taking with him the crown jewels to put them in safe keeping.

      Even the servants have gone. Not a single one is left.

      (The bells begin to chime midnight.

      It is as it is in the city. Only the poor remain and those who have no choice.

      (The last strokes sound.

      What hour is that?

      Cébès: Midnight.

      The King: There is no one here any longer.

      But I cannot sleep and I wander through the palace

      From the kitchen to the immense garrets and I seem to hear behind the doors the quiet breathing of sleepers, and the fire upon the hearth sends out a little glow.

      These poor folk who arrived yesterday, seeing the palace empty, asked if they might spend the night here. They are visionaries; they wish to watch and pray.

      It seems that we have been beaten everywhere. It is a shameful thing!

      Our blunders

      Surpass our misfortunes, and all is submerged in dishonor. And at will the enemy crosses our frontiers.

      —Terror is upon us!

      (Silence.—The snores of the watchers are heard.

      Hark to these watchers who watch!

      They whistle, wheeze and snort, they are so fast asleep! It is a voice, a horn, a leather trumpet!

      (Silence.

      I tell you that a panic has seized the city

      And each man cowers in his home and dares not stir from his door.

      O people! O city! O my wretched country, destroyed, devastated, plundered like an unguarded sheep-fold!

      Oh! oh!

      Will this terrible night never end!

      Sight was horrible to me; I went to bed. O Sleep,

      Kill me with your leaden dart!

      But I cannot sleep and I open my eyes again in the black Nothingness.

      It has no knowledge nor any real existence

      But the gloom takes weight and stiflingly presses upon us.

      Oh! oh!

      I shudder from head to foot and I cry aloud in my anguish!

      And I leap out of bed and run hither and thither, striking my head against the walls.

      And I see again these frightful places and I meet

      Only Madness and Horror!

      —Am I keeping you awake, my child?

      Cébès: I cannot sleep.

      The King: Well, I will wait here with you.

      Cébès: How far away is the enemy?

      The King: Not more than a day's march.

      I think the battle must have already been fought.

      —Still five hours till dawn! We shall see. Very soon we shall know.

      Cébès: This very morning! It must be so.

      The King: Where are your parents, Cébès?

      Cébès: I do not know, Sire. The war has swept them away.

      The King: I have only one daughter and I have no male child.

      Cébès: Are you speaking to me, Sire?

      The King: How pale you are, my poor boy! You are very ill. Tête-d'or

      Was wise to leave you here. We will look after you, lad.

      I look at you! I wish to contemplate

      A thing still young, as I myself have been,

      And the dawning of power in astonished eyes!

      The young man sleeps very tranquilly. He dreams, and in his dream is the morning sun.

      The evening has been glorious, a golden day awaits him.

      I also have been young. I have been a young man also,

      And I have been a little, little child. Now I have lived three score and fifteen years, and I am old and at the end of my life.

      And this is what I am, and this is what I see!

      Cébès: I shall be the first to die.

      I have been weighed in the balance and found wanting.

      I have not strength enough to rise and walk.

      Yes! What a thing it is to live!

      What an astonishing thing it is

      Only to live! What a mighty thing it is, only to live!

      He who lives

      And treads the