Facing Death
by
CHARACTERS
MONSIEUR DURAND, a pension proprietor, formerly connected with the
state railroad
ADELE, his daughter, twenty-seven
ANNETTE, his daughter, twenty-four
THERESE, his daughter, twenty-four
ANTONIO, a lieutenant in an Italian cavalry regiment in French
Switzerland in the eighties
PIERRE, an errand boy
[SCENE–A dining-room with a long table. Through the open door is seen, over the tops of churchyard cypress trees, Lake Leman, with the Savoy Alps and the French bathing-resort Evian. To left is a door to the kitchen. To right a door to inner rooms. Monsieur Durand stands in doorway looking over the lake with a pair of field glasses.]
ADELE
[Comes in from kitchen wearing apron and turned-up sleeves. She carries a tray with coffee things].
Haven’t you been for the coffee-bread, father?
DURAND.
No, I sent Pierre. My chest has been bad for the last few drays, and it affects me to walk the steep hill.
ADELE.
Pierre again, eh? That costs three sous. Where are they to come from, with only one tourist in the house for over two months?
DURAND.
That’s true enough, but it seems to me Annette might get the bread.
ADELE.
That would ruin the credit of the house entirely, but you have never done anything else.
DURAND.
Even you, Adele?
ADELE.
Even I am tired, though I have held out longest!
DURAND.
Yes, you have, and you were still human when Therese and Annette cautioned me. You and I have pulled this house through since mother died. You have had to sit in the kitchen like Cinderella; I have had to take care of the service, the fires, sweep and clean, and do the errands. You are tired; how should it be with me, then?
ADELE.
But you mustn’t be tired. You have three daughters who are unprovided for and whose dowry you have wasted.
DURAND
[Listening without].
Doesn’t it seem as if you heard the sound of clanging and rumbling down toward Cully? If fire has broken out they are lost, because the wind is going to blow soon, the lake tells me that.
ADELE.
Have you paid the fire insurance on our house?
DURAND.
Yes, I have. Otherwise I would never have got that last mortgage.
ADELE.
How much is there left unmortgaged?
DURAND.
A fifth of the fire insurance policy. But you know how property dropped in value when the railroad passed our gates and went to the east instead.
ADELE.
So much the better.
DURAND
[Sternly].
Adele!
[Pause.]
Will you put out the fire in the stove?
ADELE.
Impossible. I can’t till the coffee-bread comes.
DURAND.
Well, here it is.
[Pierre comes in with basket. Adele looks in the basket.]
ADELE.
No bread! But a bill–two, three–
PIERRE.
–Well, the baker said he wouldn’t send any more bread until he was paid. And then, when I was going by the butcher’s and the grocer’s, they shoved these bills at me.
[Goes out.]
ADELE.
Oh, God in heaven, this is the end for us! But what’s this? [Opens a package.]
DURAND.
Some candles that I bought for the mass for my dear little Rene. Today is the anniversary of his death.
ADELE.
You can afford to buy such things!
DURAND.
With my tips, yes. Don’t you think it is humiliating to stretch out my hand whenever a traveller leaves us? Can’t you grant me the only contentment I possess–let me enjoy my sorrow one time each year? To be able to live in memory of the most beautiful thing life ever gave me?