nullified, my plans of reform and civilization impossible. I want to leave this heritage to my son. I intend that after me, the suffering people shall find in him a tireless defender. I intend that the old order, sapped by me in its foundations, will collapse entirely beneath his efforts, swallowing all those privileges of ignorance, all those stale doctrines, all those abuses of absolutism, and that in the midst of these ruins, surging to the voice of the son of Bonaparte, a new world, regenerated and palpitating with enthusiasm, patriotism and truth—
DOCTOR YVAN:
(entering from the right) Sire! Sire!
NAPOLEON:
Doctor! Why this concern? This agitation?
DOCTOR YVAN:
Sire, a great danger threatens the Empress.
NAPOLEON:
What are you saying?
DOCTOR YVAN:
To save the child and the mother at the same time may be impossible.
NAPOLEON:
Impossible! Above all, my God! Above all, save the mother! Come, come, Doctor!
(Napoleon leaves quickly followed by Doctor Yvan. General consternation.)
BERTHIER:
O dreams of the future? What’s become of you now?
LADY IN WAITING:
My God! My God! Save the Empress. (she kneels at the back, as do all the ladies)
MICHEL LAMBERT:
(resuming his station) That’s all the same! None of all this will prevent us from having a little Emperor.
BERTHIER:
What are you saying?
MICHEL LAMBERT:
I say, my Marshall, that the child will live or my name’s not Michel Lambert, that’s all!
BERTHIER:
You are crazy!
MICHEL LAMBERT:
Excuse me, my Marshall, I am known in the regiment to enjoy a wit as lucid as it is penetrating, as penetrating as it is—
BERTHIER:
You’re mad, I tell you. Shut up.
MICHEL LAMBERT:
I’m shutting up, my Marshall. (aside) But not thinking any less. We will have a little Emperor!
(At this point a cannon shot is heard. The women get up and everyone listens with the greatest anxiety, Berthier is with Michel Lambert near the door.)
MICHEL LAMBERT:
(to Berthier) Pardon, excuse me, my Marshall! I don’t know if my ears deceive me, but it seems to me I just heard a cannon shot?
BERTHIER:
Indeed! (second cannon shot)
MICHEL LAMBERT:
Another one! Ah! Ah! It would appear that old Michel spoke the truth, and that the imperial eaglet has just been born.
BERTHIER:
(agitated) Listen! (third cannon shot)
MICHEL LAMBERT:
Number three! Just ninety-eight to go, and the count will be correct.
BERTHIER:
And not to receive any news! (cannon shot)
MICHEL LAMBERT:
There, my Marshall. That makes four.
(Everyone listens. The door opens and the usher appears.)
USHER:
(announcing) The Baron de Rheinfeld, envoy from the court of Austria. (Rheinfeld enters and bows) The Abbé Orsini, envoy from His Holiness.
MICHEL LAMBERT:
(aside) Come on, good! Kings and Jesuits. Indeed, all can lend a hand. (cannon shot) Five! There it goes.
(The Abbé enters and everyone bows; the Abbé seems to bless them.)
ABBÉ ORSINI:
May the peace of the Lord be with you, my brothers.
MICHEL LAMBERT:
And may the Devil from hell confound you, good father!
(Cannon shot. Everyone again lends their attention to the exterior noise; Michel Lambert counts on his fingers. Baron de Rheinfeld and Abbé Orsini are talking.)
BARON DE RHEINFELD:
Well, Abbé? What do you think of all this?
ABBÉ ORSINI:
I think! First of all, I think we must be prudent, and that we are alone in our opinion here.
BARON DE RHEINFELD:
(shaking) Huh?
ABBÉ ORSINI:
That’s the cannon from the Invalides! It won’t thunder long. Twenty-one guns, no more. I prayed for that all night. (cannon shot)
MICHEL LAMBERT:
(continuing to count each shot as it comes) Eight!
ALL:
(repeating) Eight.
BARON DE RHEINFELD:
Why, look here, Abbé, look here! One cannot say whether that cannon is announcing life or death? (cannon shot) Decidedly it’s irritating.
MICHEL LAMBERT:
Here, there is dancing down there! It cannot be said it is the effect of French cannons on Prussians, Russians and other dogs of that species. (cannon shot) Ten! It’s long in coming! but that’s all right! It’s going to come!
ABBÉ ORSINI:
Ah, Baron! What joy I will experience to see that man’s pride take a fall.
BARON DE RHEINFELD:
Today, perhaps, goodbye to his dynasty, if it pleases Heaven to send him a girl instead. (another cannon shot) Ten more and it will be all over.
MICHEL LAMBERT:
Another Ninety and Long Live France.
ABBÉ
