Мольер (Жан-Батист Поклен)
The Miser
SCENE IV. – HARPAGON (alone.)
This rascally valet is a constant vexation to me; and I hate the very sight of the good-for-nothing cripple. Really, it is no small anxiety to keep by one a large sum of money; and happy is the man who has all his cash well invested, and who needs not keep by him more than he wants for his daily expenses. I am not a little puzzled to find in the whole of this house a safe hiding-place. Don't speak to me of your strong boxes, I will never trust to them. Why, they are just the very things thieves set upon!
SCENE V. – HARPAGON, ÉLISE and CLÉANTE are seen talking together at the back of the stage
Har. (thinking himself alone.) Meanwhile, I hardly know whether I did right to bury in my garden the ten thousand crowns which were paid to me yesterday. Ten thousand crowns in gold is a sum sufficiently … (Aside, on perceiving Élise and Cléante whispering together) Good heavens! I have betrayed myself; my warmth has carried me away. I believe I spoke aloud while reasoning with myself. (To Cléante and Élise) What do you want?
Cle. Nothing, father.
Har. Have you been here long?
Eli. We have only just come.
Har. Did you hear…?
Cle. What, father?
Har. There…!
Cle. What?
Har. What I was just now saying.
Cle. No.
Har. You did. I know you did.
Eli. I beg your pardon, father, but we did not.
Har. I see well enough that you overheard a few words. The fact is, I was only talking to myself about the trouble one has nowadays to raise any money; and I was saying that he is a fortunate man who has ten thousand crowns in his house.
Cle. We were afraid of coming near you, for fear of intruding.
Har. I am very glad to tell you this, so that you may not misinterpret things, and imagine that I said that it was I who have ten thousand crowns.
Cle. We do not wish to interfere in your affairs.
Har. Would that I had them, these ten thousand crowns!
Cle. I should not think that …
Har. What a capital affair it would be for me.
Cle. There are things …
Har. I greatly need them.
Cle. I fancy that …
Har. It would suit me exceedingly well.
Eli. You are …
Har. And I should not have to complain, as I do now, that the times are bad.
Cle. Hear me, father, you have no reason to complain; and everyone knows that you are well enough off.
Har. How? I am well enough off! Those who say it are liars. Nothing can be more false; and they are scoundrels who spread such reports.
Eli. Don't be angry.
Har. It is strange that my own children betray me and become my enemies.
Cle. Is it being your enemy to say that you have wealth?
Har. Yes, it is. Such talk and your extravagant expenses will be the cause that some day thieves will come and cut my throat, in the belief that I am made of gold.
Cle. What extravagant expenses do I indulge in?
Har. What! Is there anything more scandalous than this sumptuous attire with which you jaunt it about the town? I was remonstrating with your sister yesterday, but you are still worse. It cries vengeance to heaven; and were we to calculate all you are wearing, from head to foot, we should find enough for a good annuity. I have told you a hundred times, my son, that your manners displease me exceedingly; you affect the marquis terribly, and for you to be always dressed as you are, you must certainly rob me.
Cle. Rob you? And how?
Har. How should I know? Where else could you find money enough to clothe yourself as you do?
Cle. I, father? I play; and as I am very lucky, I spend in clothes all the money I win.
Har. It is very wrong. If you are lucky at play, you should profit by it, and place the money you win at decent interest, so that you may find it again some day. I should like to know, for instance, without mentioning the rest, what need there is for all these ribbons with which you are decked from head to foot, and if half a dozen tags are not sufficient to fasten your breeches. What necessity is there for anyone to spend money upon wigs, when we have hair of our own growth, which costs nothing. I will lay a wager that, in wigs and ribbons alone, there are certainly twenty pistoles spent, and twenty pistoles brings in at least eighteen livres six sous eight deniers per annum, at only eight per cent interest.
Cle. You are quite right.
Har. Enough on this subject; let us talk of something else. (Aside, noticing Cléante and Élise, who make signs to one another) I believe they are making signs to one another to pick my pocket. (Aloud) What do you mean by those signs?
Eli. We are hesitating as to who shall speak first, for we both have something to tell you.
Har. And I also have something to tell you both.
Cle. We wanted to speak to you about marriage, father.
Har. The very thing I wish to speak to you about.
Eli. Ah! my father!
Har. What is the meaning of that exclamation? Is it the word, daughter, or the thing itself that frightens you?
Cle. Marriage may frighten us both according to the way you take it; and our feelings may perhaps not coincide with your choice.
Har. A little patience, if you please. You need not be alarmed. I know what is good for you both, and you will have no reason to complain of anything I intend to do. To begin at the beginning. (To Cléante) Do you know, tell me, a young person, called Marianne, who lives not far from here?
Cle. Yes, father.
Har. And you?
Eli. I have heard her spoken of.
Har. Well, my son, and how do you like the girl?
Cle. She is very charming.
Har. Her face?
Cle. Modest and intelligent.
Har. Her air and manner?
Cle. Perfect, undoubtedly.
Har. Do you not think that such a girl well deserves to be thought of?
Cle. Yes, father.
Har. She would form a very desirable match?
Cle. Very desirable.
Har. That there is every likelihood of her making a thrifty and careful wife.
Cle. Certainly.
Har. And that a husband might live very happily with her?
Cle. I have not the least doubt about it.
Har. There is one little difficulty; I am afraid she has not the fortune we might reasonably expect.
Cle. Oh, my father, riches are of little importance when one is sure of marrying a virtuous woman.
Har. I beg your pardon. Only there is this to be said: that if we do not find as much money as we could wish, we may make it up in something else.
Cle. That follows as a matter of course.
Har. Well, I must say that I am very much pleased to find that you entirely agree with me, for her modest manner and her gentleness have won my heart; and I have made up my mind to marry her, provided I find she has some dowry.
Cle. Eh!
Har. What now?
Cle. You are resolved, you say…?
Har. To marry Marianne.
Cle. Who? you? you?
Har. Yes, I, I, I. What does all this mean?
Cle. I feel a sudden dizziness, and I must withdraw for a little while.
Har. It will be nothing. Go quickly into the kitchen and drink a large glass of cold water, it will soon set you all right again.
SCENE VI. – HARPAGON, ÉLISE
Har. There goes one of your effeminate fops, with no more stamina than a chicken. That is what I have resolved for myself, my daughter. As to your brother, I have thought for him of a certain widow, of whom I heard this morning; and you I shall give to Mr. Anselme.
Eli. To Mr. Anselme?
Har. Yes, a staid and prudent man, who is not above fifty, and of whose riches everybody speaks.
Eli. (curtseying). I have no wish to marry, father, if you please.
Har. (imitating Élise). And I, my little girl, my darling, I wish you to marry, if you please.
Eli. (curtseying again). I beg your pardon, my father.
Har. (again imitating Élise). I beg your pardon, my daughter.
Eli. I am the very humble servant of Mr. Anselme, but (curtseying again), with your leave, I shall not marry him.
Har. I am your very humble servant, but (again imitating Élise) you will marry him this very evening.
Eli. This evening?
Har. This evening.
Eli. (curtseying again). It cannot be done, father.
Har. (imitating Élise). It will be done, daughter.
Eli. No.
Har. Yes.
Eli. No, I tell you.
Har. Yes, I tell you.
Eli. You will never force me to do such a thing
Har. I will force you to it.
Eli. I had rather kill myself than marry such a man.
Har. You will not kill yourself, and you will marry him. But did you ever see such impudence? Did ever any one hear a daughter speak in such a fashion to her father?
Eli. But did ever anyone see a father marry his daughter after such a fashion?
Har. It is a match against which nothing can be said, and I am perfectly sure that everybody will approve of my choice.
Eli. And I know that it will be approved of by no reasonable person.
Har. (seeing Valère). There is Valère coming. Shall we make him judge in this affair?
Eli. Willingly.
Har. You will abide by what he says?
Eli. Yes, whatever he thinks right, I will do.
Har. Agreed.
SCENE VII. – VALÈRE, HARPAGON, ÉLISE
Har. Valère, we have chosen you to decide who is in the right, my daughter or I.
Val. It is certainly you, Sir.
Har. But have you any idea of what we are talking about?
Val. No; but you could not be in the wrong; you are reason itself.
Har. I want to give her to-night, for a husband, a man as rich as he is good; and the hussy tells me to my face that she scorns to take him. What do you say to that?
Val. What I say to it?
Har. Yes?
Val. Eh! eh!
Har. What?
Val. I say that I am, upon the whole, of your opinion, and that you cannot but be right; yet, perhaps, she is not altogether wrong; and …
Har. How so? Mr. Anselme is an excellent match; he is a nobleman, and a gentleman too; of simple habits, and extremely well off. He has no children left from his first marriage. Could she meet with anything more suitable?
Val. It is true. But she might say that you are going rather fast, and that she ought to have at least a little time to consider whether her inclination could reconcile itself to …
Har. It is an opportunity I must not allow to slip through my fingers. I find an advantage here which I should not find elsewhere, and he agrees to take her without dowry.
Val. Without dowry?
Har. Yes.
Val. Ah! I have nothing more to say. A more convincing reason could not be found; and she must yield to that.
Har. It is a considerable saving to me.
Val. Undoubtedly; this admits of no contradiction. It is true that your daughter might represent to you that marriage is a more serious affair than people are apt to believe; that the happiness or misery of a whole life depends on it, and that an engagement which is to last till death ought not to be entered into without great consideration.
Har. Without dowry!
Val. That must of course decide everything. There are certainly people who might tell you that on such occasions the wishes of a daughter are no doubt to be considered, and that this great disparity of age, of disposition, and of feelings might be the cause of many an unpleasant thing in a married life.
Har. Without dowry!
Val. Ah! it must be granted that there is no reply to that; who in the world could think otherwise? I do not mean to say but that there are many fathers who would set a much higher value on the happiness of their daughter than on the money they may have to give for their marriage; who would not like to sacrifice them to their own interests, and who would, above all things, try to see in a marriage that sweet conformity of tastes which is a sure pledge of honour, tranquillity and joy; and that …
Har. Without dowry!
Val. That is true; nothing more can be said. Without dowry. How can anyone resist such arguments?
Har. (aside, looking towards the garden). Ah! I fancy I hear a dog barking. Is anyone after my money. (To Valère) Stop here, I'll come back directly.
SCENE VIII. – ÉLISE, VALÈRE
Eli. Surely, Valère, you are not in earnest when you speak to him in that manner?
Val. I do it that I may not vex him, and the better to secure my ends. To resist him boldly would simply spoil everything. There are certain people who are only to be managed by indirect means, temperaments averse from all resistance, restive natures whom truth causes to rear, who always kick when we would lead them on the right road of reason, and who can only be led by a way opposed to that by which you wish them to go. Pretend to comply with his wishes; you are much more likely to succeed in the end, and …
Eli. But this marriage, Valère?
Val. We will find some pretext for breaking it off.
Eli. But what pretext can we find if it is to be concluded to-night?
Val. You must ask to have it delayed, and must feign some illness or other.
Eli. But he will soon discover the truth if they call in the doctor.
Val. Not a bit of it. Do you imagine that a doctor understands what he is about? Nonsense! Don't be afraid. Believe me, you may complain of any disease you please, the doctor will be at no loss to explain to you from what it proceeds.
SCENE IX – HARPAGON, ÉLISE, VALÈRE
Har. (alone, at the farther end of the stage). It is nothing, thank heaven!
Val. (not seeing Harpagon). In short, flight is the last resource we have left us to avoid all this; and if your love, dear Élise, is as strong as … (Seeing Harpagon) Yes, a daughter is bound to obey her father. She has no right to inquire what a husband offered to her is like, and when the most important question, "without dowry," presents itself, she should accept anybody that is given her.
Har. Good; that was beautifully said!
Val. I beg your pardon, Sir, if I carry it a little too far, and take upon myself to speak to her as I do.
Har. Why, I am delighted, and I wish you to have her entirely under your control. (To Élise) Yes, you may run away as much as you like. I give him all the authority over you that heaven has given me, and I will have you do all that he tells you.
Val. After that, resist all my expostulations, if you can.
SCENE X. – HARPAGON, VALÈRE
Val. I will follow her, Sir, if you will allow me, and will continue the lecture I was giving her.
Har. Yes, do so; you will oblige me greatly.
Val. She ought to be kept in with a tight hand.
Har. Quite true, you must …
Val. Do not be afraid; I believe I shall end by convincing her.
Har. Do so, do so. I am going to take a short stroll in the town, and I will come back again presently.
Val. (going towards the door through which Élise left, and speaking as if it were to her). Yes, money is more precious than anything else in the world, and you should thank heaven that you have so worthy a man for a father. He knows what life is. When a man offers to marry a girl without a dowry, we ought to look no farther. Everything is comprised in that, and "without dowry" compensates for want of beauty, youth, birth, honour, wisdom, and probity.
Har. Ah! the honest fellow! he speaks like an oracle. Happy is he who can secure such a servant!
