The Hunchback. Paul Feval

from the Louvre. “Duke,” I said to him, “I have great confidence in your courtesy; I am coming to ask you to show me your secret thrust in the moonlight” He looked at me and said, “Your name?” “Lagardère.” “Ah, ah, you are Lagardère. They often mention you to me and that bores me. So, if you don’t find me much, little gentleman,” he jumped on his horse, Ah, I have to say he did it charmingly: instead of replying to me he placed his rapier between my two eyebrows, so roughly and so fast but for a leap of two bounds that I made backwards. “Again, a short lesson, Duke.” “At your service, Chevalier.” I told you he was charming. “We will fall back on guard—plague!” This time he gave me a scratch on the face. I was troubled, me, Lagardère.

      (All the Bravos look at Lagardère and move past him.)

      COCARDASSE: Caramba! That’s scary!

      LAGARDÈRE: I hadn’t reached the parade yet. That man’s as quick as powder. But I had seen the feint, Goddam! I had studied him in the silence of the closet, and now I possess him as well as you!

      COCARDASSE: It could serve you one day.

      LAGARDÈRE: It will serve me right away.

      COCARDASSE: What do you mean?

      LAGARDÈRE: Nevers has promised me revenge. I wrote him at his Château, and his response is: he accepts the meeting, the hour and the place.

      COCARDASSE: What day?

      LAGARDÈRE: Tonight.

      PASSEPOIL: The time?

      LAGARDÈRE: Nine o’clock.

      COCARDASSE: The place?

      LAGARDÈRE: The moats of the Château of Caylus!

      COCARDASSE: (looking at the bravos) Sonofabitch! And why this place?

      LAGARDÈRE: Second fantasy, I allowed myself to say that the old Marquis de Caylus had the most beautiful daughter in the world and that Mr. de Nevers was in love with her. Well, I want to take from Mr. de Nevers his mysterious thrust and his mysterious mistress. Why aren’t you laughing, my wise guys?

      COCARDASSE: Is it that in your letter to Mr. de Nevers you had the trashy idea of mentioning Miss Blanche de Caylus to him?

      PASSEPOIL: We are thinking, Chevalier, that it is really fortunate that we will be here to serve you.

      COCARDASSE: The kid’s right; we are going to give you a famous hand. Isn’t that right, the rest of you?

      LAGARDÈRE: And since when have I lost the habit of managing my own affairs myself? On my soul, here are some pleasant buffoons with their service. One final drink and empty the place for me—now that’s the only service I can ask of you.

      COCARDASSE: Dammit! Captain, I’d get myself killed like a dog for you, but—

      LAGARDÈRE: But what—?

      COCARDASSE: Each of us has his profession you know. And we cannot leave this place.

      LAGARDÈRE: Because?

      COCARDASSE: Because we are also waiting for someone.

      LAGARDÈRE: And this someone is?

      COCARDASSE: This someone is—Philippe de Nevers.

      LAGARDÈRE: Nevers? You? A trap?

      PASSEPOIL: But—

      LAGARDÈRE: Peace, my wise guys! I forbid you—you understand me plainly enough—I forbid you to touch a hair on Nevers—because his life belongs to me, and if he must die it will be by my hand in honest battle, not by yours, bandits!

      COCARDASSE: Captain!

      LAGARDÈRE: Go!

      PASSEPOIL: After all, if he wants to do our work—

      COCARDASSE: (low) Very well. But we must keep an eye on Nevers. If this little Parisian fails, we won’t.

      LAGARDÈRE: You understand me.

      COCARDASSE: Yes, Captain.

      LAGARDÈRE: No treachery! No ambush! Who’s against Nevers is against me. Be gone, wise guys, and don’t let one of you show himself here in the future, because I won’t honor that one with a sword blow—in place of my sword, I will whip his hang-dog face.

      COCARDASSE: Sonofabitch, Captain! You are forgetting that we are soldiers.

      LAGARDÈRE: You! Get out! Whoever kills for money is infamous, whoever uses a dagger rather than a rapier is a coward. Soldiers and braves, that’s what you were, and I knew you then, infamous and cowards, that’s what you are. I no longer know you. Leave!

      (At Lagardère’s gesture, all bow and leave.)

      PASSEPOIL: He’s very harsh.

      COCARDASSE: (low) As for him, we will always know him.

      (He leaves with Passepoil)

      LAGARDÈRE: The wretches! Eight against one! Oh, that’s disgusting to the sword! Girl! (the hostess appears, Lagardère tosses a gold coin on the table) Close the shutters and put up the bars. Whatever you may hear in the moats of the castle tonight, you and your folks, sleep on both ears; they are affairs that do not concern you. Goodbye.

      (he leaves)

      C U R T A I N

      PROLOGUE, SCENE 2

      The moats of the castle connected by a ditch on the right and by a bridge that faces the audience and reaches the tower of the château from which a balcony projects underneath which is a small window; it’s there that stacks of hay are heaped up; a loaded cart is on the side. To the left, a stairway, at the back a large opening.

      LAGARDÈRE: (getting his bearings before going into the moat) Ah, let’s try not to break our neck. (going down the stairway) It’s as dark as in an oven; we must fence carefully. It will be delightful. (testing the ground with his foot) What’s that? Grass. No solid ground. Perfect. Now, let’s orient ourselves. (groping at the low window) A window! Bravo! For a love adventure after a sword adventure here’s our entrance. Ah! the devil of a shutter. Someone’s coming down. I hear walking. Will it be Nevers already? He’s going to arrive very angry, this dear Duke. We have only to be quite ready.

      (Gonzague and Peyrolles arrive wrapped in cloaks at the head of the bridge, and attempt to see into the distance.)

      GONZAGUE: I don’t see anyone.

      PEYROLLES: Indeed, Down there—near the window.

      GONZAGUE: (stopping) Suppose he’s not one of us?

      PEYROLLES: Impossible! I directed a sentinel be left here. It’s Staupitz. I recognize him. Staupitz.

      LAGARDÈRE: Present.

      PEYROLLES: (to Gonzague) You see! You can go down, Duke.

      LAGAREDERRE: Ah, he’s a Duke!

      GONZAGUE: To the devil with your manners! You might as well tell them my name.

      LAGARDÈREE: I would really like to know it.

      GONZAGUE: Will Philippe come?

      PEYROLLES: Don’t you recall the very urgent letter sent him by Miss Blanche de Caylus? He will come to deliver himself into our hands; once we kill the father, we will seize the child.

      LAGARDÈRE: They are lowering their voices. I cannot hear a thing.

      GONZAGUE: No, it’s better to begin by capturing and making this child of Nevers vanish; the hour approaches. What