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 are right, Émeraude. We must leave.
DOCTOR
What are you talking about over there?
MELIDA
Father, we were saying that you are supremely wise and that we will leave on the day and hour you choose.
DOCTOR
You are two brave children. You’ve understood, I haven’t much courage and you each bring me a little of your own. Here, what future would you have, dear daughters of my heart, if death were to suddenly strike me? Alas, our society is careless with regard to young and beautiful orphans.
ÉMERAUDE
You’ve given us skills that we should be able to utilize if you’d allowed us.
DOCTOR
You would be governesses. Governesses! That is to say—the first servants of the house. Sacrificial lambs to all the bad humors of an aristocratic family; slaves of pupils who are deemed to obey you. I’ve seen many of those poor young girls; with pale faces, humble voices, eyes red with tears—all were wretched because those who employed them only had the power of money over them—the most insolent of powers.
(crossing the stage)
MELIDA
Father—human experience teaches us we are in this world to suffer.
DOCTOR
Yes, but the heart that loves you refuses to listen to that voice—or at least to believe it. Suffer, you may, poor children, that I’ve brooded over for twenty, twenty watchful years! My poor chicks that a mother doesn’t shelter. Well—no, I rebel against human experience; to that voice which shouts misfortune, I answer: You lie! You won’t suffer. As for me, I don’t wish you to suffer! We shall go down under. All the papers agree in saying that doctors are needed in Australia. I’ll make a fortune there. I have the credulity of people who desire and hope—when we are rich, we’ll bring Williams—that’s for you, Melida. As for you, Émeraude, we will find you a man of heart in need of a sweet, wise, loving wife who will give you joy—happiness—my beautiful gem.
ÉMERAUDE
Beautiful dreams—father.
DOCTOR
Which will become realities. Leave it to me—well, my good children, now that you are really reasonable, there’s no reason to keep a secret from you—especially this secret—as the hour has come that I can no longer hide it.
(coming forward)
We are leaving tonight.
MELIDA
My God!
ÉMERAUDE
Oh—so much the better—father.
MELIDA
Ah—Williams.
DOCTOR
Isn’t it better for you not to see him again? Don’t you think those last goodbyes will be more painful than comforters?
MELIDA
Yes, yes—perhaps you’re right, father. Is it permitted that I write him that I was unaware of your decision—and that it was only at the moment of leaving that I learned—
DOCTOR
Yes, write him—pour your heart in his, poor child! It’s an honest heart.
(to Louisa)
Well—what is it?
(moving forward)
LOUISA
A gentleman coming on behalf of Mr. Robinson with a paper to be signed and a bag of money. I made him wait in your office.
DOCTOR
(to Louisa)
Well—bring down the trunks and the boxes—Émeraude will help you—courage my child.
MELIDA
You see plainly that I have courage, father.
(aside)
Ah, if the test were to last much longer it would kill me.
(the doctor goes into his office)
ÉMERAUDE
Courage, sister, God is watching us—Williams loves you—what are 5,000 leagues to a bird seeking spring—to a heart seeking love?
(Exit Émeraude.)
MELIDA
(alone)
Poor Williams! What’s he going to say when he comes this evening and finds the house empty?
(sitting at a table and taking up a pen)
Write then, trembling hand, and if tears cloud your eyes, it’s just one sorrow the more.
(writing)
“Dear Williams—fate subjects us sometimes to such cruel trials that one must squeeze up one’s courage in a great love like mine so as not to die; In, an hour, I’ll have left this house without seeing you again—the cradle of our love—the tomb of my hopes—my unhappiness is so great that I dare not look you in the face—if I knew I’d never see you again, I’d let myself die—but no—you will come rejoin me; very soon, right? God will take pity on those who never offended him. I love you. I love you.”
(she rings—raising hear head and perceiving Patrick)
You’re staying, right, Patrick?
PATRICK
Yes, Miss, in this house, yes—Dr. Ivans has entrusted the keys to me until Mr. Robinson shall come tomorrow to take away the furnishings and sell them.
MELIDA
(rising)
Well—when Williams comes tonight,
