often given me. They still say that he makes gold. It’s true he promised me a visit, on which, if I am clever and determined, my destiny will depend. Clever, I am. As for determination, misery will give us some.
(knocking) Come in!
(Beausire enters.)
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
Heavens, Mr. Beausire, my neighbor on the same floor. What can I do for you, Mr. de Beausire?
BEAUSIRE
Imagine that yesterday at my academy, after a series of unexpected blows in the depths of a gaming house, my belt broke,—so much so that for supper, I had to pawn my cloak—there, Countess, see my dress.
(he turns and points to an immense hole) And I was counting on your assistance.
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
Alas, my poor Beausire, I am as short of money as you.
BEAUSIRE
Is that possible? You, a descendant of the Valois, a daughter of kings. Come! I shall hold my hat like this—
(he makes a comic effort) —to hide my hole. Ah! We wouldn’t be reduced to this begging if Oliva had not left me.
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
Your unfaithful one! Who abandoned you at break of day when I moved in beside you. So you still regret her?
BEAUSIRE
Yes, I regret her! The perfidious one! But, Oliva, Madame, she was the song of my life, the bird in my cage, the sun in my sky. We argued, we insulted each other, we fought—but the candle went out, hell became a paradise! And to say that she left, on her birthday—left over a wretched flower pot.
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
That you had forgotten to give her?
BEAUSIRE
No, that I broke over her head.
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
Plague, cousin! You are not going to get there by striking hard.
BEAUSIRE
Ah! Madame. Does love exist without jealousy?
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
And this Oliva gave you a topic on which to exercise yours?
BEAUSIRE
On the first of January at Saint Silvester—Great Lords, the tax farmers, officers, priests, even lawyers all were good to her. The last month I surprised her with a bailiff in my dressing gown.
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
What did she say?
BEAUSIRE
She insisted he had seized it. And the fact is he did seize it! But I won’t importune you any more, Countess. I am going to make a tour of the Palace Royal—the devil will indeed be in it if I don’t hunt out a pair of pistoles. And perhaps I’ll have some news of my traitress.
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
Good luck, Mr. Beausire!
BEAUSIRE
Ah, Madame, no—there’s what it is to give flowers to women—it brings bad luck.
(He leaves.)
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
Let’s see—let’s resume our accounts. Total 10 crowns and I promised twenty to Mr. de la Motte to help him support his garrison at Montmedy. Poor devil—our marriage has not enriched him.
(ringing, she calls) Clothilde! Clothilde! They’re ringing! Are you going to hurry?
CLOTHILDE
On my way.
(She leaves.)
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
If it were the visit Mr. Cagliostro announced to me—
(she pushes her papers into a drawer and throws herself in an armchair)
ANDREA
(at the door on the landing) Does the Countess de la Motte Valois dwell here?
CLOTHILDE
Yes, Madame.
ANDREA
(to another lady who is not in view) You can come in, Madame, she’s here.
CLOTHILDE
Who shall I announce to the Countess?
ANDREA
Announce two ladies of Good Deeds—
CLOTHILDE
From Paris?
QUEEN
No, from Versailles.
(Clothilde introduces the Queen and Andrea de Taverney—who are very muffled up in their furs. Clothilde leaves. The Countess advances two armchairs and bows to her visitors, designating seats to them.)
ANDREA
They told us about your situation, Countess, things which interested us, Madame and myself, and we wanted to have some details about things which concern you.
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
Ladies, you see the portrait of Henry II, my ancestor, for I am truly of the blood of Valois. As to the rest, if you are pleased to question me, I am prepared to respond to you.
ANDREA
They told us your father is dead?
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
Yes, Madame, my father, the Count de Saint-Rémy, born of Valois, great-grandson of Henry II, died in poverty and from starvation.
ANDREA
Is it possible? Died here?
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
Not even here, in the poor hovel, not in his bed—that bed was a pallet! My father died side by side with the most wretched and the most vile—my father died at the Hotel Dieu—in Paris!
ANDREA
Great God!
QUEEN
And your mother?
COUNTESS de la MOTTE
When my father
