Chapter I: Part 1

MONSIEUR D’OR

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

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MONSIEUR D’OR
A DRAMATIC FANTASY

BY

JOHN LOUIS HANEY

PHILADELPHIA
THE EGERTON PRESS
1910

This edition is limited to two hundred and fifty copies printed from
type and numbered.

No. ——

Copyright, 1910

By JOHN LOUIS HANEY

All rights, including presentation and translation, are reserved.
Application concerning public performances should be made to
The Egerton Press, 934 North Eleventh Street, Philadelphia.

PRESS OF
THE NEW ERA PRINTING COMPANY
LANCASTER, PA.

TO

=My Parents=

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Bright and yellow, hard and cold,
Molten, graven, hammered, and rolled;
Heavy to get, and light to hold;
Hoarded, bartered, bought, and sold,
Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled;
Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old
To the very verge of the churchyard mould;
Price of many a crime untold;
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Good or bad a thousand fold!
—Thomas Hood

THE CHARACTERS

The Prolog
ROBERT DORR
SIDNEY HASTINGS
JACK NORGATE
BILLY FANSHAWE
PERCY MIDDLETON
HAROLD WESTBROOK
Mrs. SARA KEENE
ELEANOR RICHMOND, her niece
MARIAN WINTHROP
MARGARET THURBER
ROSE LOWELL
GERTRUDE PASTON

Scene I
MONSIEUR D’OR
RAOUL LEHMANN
FRÉDÉRIC LEHMANN, his brother
M. BERTINE, their secretary
M. ALBERT
M. LORRAINE
ADRIENNE COURTEAUX
CÉLESTE BERGÈRE
M. FRÉMIET

Scene II
MONSIEUR D’OR
ADOLPHE LEMAIRE
JEAN MOREAU
HENRI VAUX
HÉLÈNE VAUX, his daughter
Mme. CYPRIENNE DACIER
Mme. LUCETTE CLARY
BAPTISTE, a servant

Scene III
MONSIEUR D’OR
SIR MORTIMER MUIRHEAD
Mr. GILBERT, his secretary
BARON GRAEFFLINGEN
Herr LOBEN, his secretary
MARQUIS PALLOT
COUNT ANDRIEV
CLAIRE LASALLE, a stenographer

Scene IV
MONSIEUR D’OR
Dr. MIRSKY
RAMANAND, an Oriental
CYRIL, a boy
EDITH PACKARD, a nurse

Epilog
ROBERT DORR
Mr. MATHEWS
ELEANOR RICHMOND
Mr. HANSON, her secretary

The forty characters may be distributed among thirteen players. See note on page 10.

THE PROLOG
A terrace adjoining the Dorr Villa at Lenox.

SCENE I
The office of Lehmann Frères, St. Gallen.

SCENE II
The music room of the Chateau D’Or, near Versailles.

SCENE III
A private parlor in the Hotel Royal, Interlaken.

SCENE IV
A chamber in a Balkan palace.

THE EPILOG
A parlor in the Hotel Orient, Port Said.

Fifteen years elapse between the Prolog and the Epilog.

NOTE

The forty characters may be distributed among thirteen players as follows:

Prol. Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III Sc. IV Epil.
DORR D’OR D’OR D’OR D’OR DORR
WESTBROOK R. LEHMANN LEMAIRE MUIRHEAD RAMANAND
HASTINGS F. LEHMANN MOREAU GILBERT MIRSKY HANSON
FANSHAWE BERTINE LOBEN MATHEWS
NORGATE ALBERT BAPTISTE PALLOT
MIDDLETON FRÉMIET ANDRIEV
LORRAINE VAUX GRAEFFLINGEN
MRS. KEENE
ELEANOR ADRIENNE HÉLÈNE CLAIRE EDITH ELEANOR
MARIAN CÉLESTE
MARGARET CYPRIENNE
GERTRUDE LUCETTE
ROSE CYRIL

MONSIEUR D’OR

THE PROLOG

[_A handsome terrace adjoining the ball room of the Dorr Villa. Wide marble steps in the rear lead to a higher tesselated walk with marble balustrades. As it is night there is only a dim vista of the beautiful gardens beyond. On the right there is a similar approach by marble steps to the higher level. The ball room is reached by steps on the left. Its glass doors and deep windows are draped with exquisite lace curtains. Palms and other exotic plants are placed appropriately about the terrace; large, gaudy Japanese lanterns are strung overhead at various points. At each side of the terrace there is, in front of a bank of potted plants, a large marble bench provided with silk cushions. The orchestra in the ball room is playing a delightful Viennese waltz as the curtain rises. During the earlier part of the scene recurrent noise of laughter and chatter is heard from the dancers and their shadows are reflected on the curtains of the room. As the various couples emerge from the ball room or enter from the rear they engage in mutual conversation as they promenade without regard for the others. The characters all suggest superabundant wealth and a marked air of flippancy in the consciousness of their social preeminence. A few moments after the rising of the curtain_ SIDNEY HASTINGS _and_ MARIAN WINTHROP _enter from the ball room_.]

MARIAN. So the court granted her the custody of the children?

SIDNEY. And he is forbidden to marry again during her life time.

MARIAN. She gets alimony, of course?

SIDNEY. Fifty thousand a year.

MARIAN. Poor Mabel! She’ll spend that in three months. I really believe the dear girl will have to make up with him or find some one else who is willing to take her with the youngsters. There’s three of them, you know, Sid—and large families are not fashionable now. She’ll never manage to scrape along on fifty thousand. Why, he used to give her that in jewels every year!

SIDNEY. I believe you’re right, Marian. It seems a bit hard, doesn’t it?

MARIAN. Mabel would have done better if she had gone to Reno. They’re specialists out there, you know—they would have given her a square deal. [_They pass up the steps at the right and return slowly by the upper walk to the ball room. Meanwhile_ BILLY FANSHAWE _and_ MARGARET THURBER _enter direct from the ball room_.]

BILLY. Yes, the whole story is in the New York papers this evening. Shot himself through the mouth and didn’t live a minute. I felt sorry for the poor devil! Did you know him?

MARGARET. I knew his wife—she was Susie Caxton—one of the Amherst Caxtons. Lucky there’s no children. Why did he do it, Billy?

BILLY. I suppose he couldn’t stand the pace his particular Amherst Caxton was setting for him. He was only a bank clerk, you know, and trying to keep up with people who spent as much in a week as he earned in a year.

MARGARET. I thought he had an important position at the bank.

BILLY. My dear Margaret, how innocent you are! His position was important enough, but they didn’t pay him more than they had to. He tried the stock-market to help him out and before he knew it he was juggling the deposit slips like a professional crook. The warrant was out for his arrest and he knew it. That’s why he turned the gun upon himself.

MARGARET. Poor little Susie! She gave up Charlie Decker, who is worth at least ten millions, to marry that man. I suppose we’ve seen the last of her. [_During the latter part of the conversation_ PERCY MIDDLETON _and_ ROSE LOWELL _have entered from the ball room and have walked across the back of the stage, so that they now pass_ BILLY _and_ MARGARET _at the right and proceed along the front while the other two sit on the bench at the right side and converse_.]

ROSE. You shouldn’t associate with that woman, Percy—she’s a notorious character.

PERCY. She’s not so bad. You girls are simply jealous. Besides, there’s always a lot of reporters and johnnies hanging around her dressing-room. There’s no chance to get really intimate. She seems to think a lot of me, though—you ought to hear her call me ‘mon cher Pairsee’—she’s not strong on English, you know.

ROSE. I don’t know.

PERCY. Well, that’s why I’m telling you. The other night I said to her, ‘Natalie, your tongue can’t speak English, but your eyes can speak every language there is in the world.’ [BILLY _and_ MARGARET _rise from the bench and return to the ball room by the upper walk_.]

ROSE. That was rather neatly put, Percy.

PERCY. [_Flattered._] Wasn’t it? The reporters wanted to write it up for the papers, but I called them off. Natalie doesn’t like notoriety. She’s not such a bad one, Rose, when you get to know her. Of course, she likes a bird and a bottle after the show and she gets a bit lively at times, but she doesn’t lose her self-control. She’s a thoroughbred. She’s not like that Margaret Thurber we passed just now. At the Decker dance last week that girl just stowed away champagne till she fell off her chair. Now Natalie would know better than that; she’s—

ROSE. See here, I don’t want to hear any more about that vulgar chorus girl—

PERCY. Oh! you’re just jealous—like the rest of them. Maybe Natalie wouldn’t get a fit if she saw me out here in the dark with you. I believe she’d scratch your eyes out. She’s a spunky little filly—she’s a real thoroughbred. You’ve got to treat her right. [_As they pass off right to the garden_, JACK NORGATE _and_ GERTRUDE PASTON _stroll along the rear terrace from the left and come down by the central steps_.]

GERTRUDE. There’s Rose Lowell with that silly Percy Middleton. I don’t see how she can tolerate the fellow.

JACK. That’s no enigma. He’s worth three or four millions, whereas the Lowells are not rich.

GERTRUDE. It’s cruel of you, dear, to say that. Rose isn’t the sort of girl to marry for money.

JACK. Why, Gertie, she must marry for money, whether it’s cruel or not to say so. I’m sorry there’s nothing more promising than Percy on her matrimonial horizon. Shall we sit down a while? [_They take seats on the bench at the right._]

GERTRUDE. He’s a disgusting creature, Jack. I wish the Dorrs wouldn’t invite him to their affairs.

JACK. Have you heard of his escapade with Mrs. Vansant?

GERTRUDE. Ah! that impudent Vansant woman! What has she been doing to Percy?

JACK. They gave her charge of a booth at the charity bazaar and when trade grew slack she announced that she would auction off a dozen kisses among the men. Just then Percy came along and bid fifty dollars for the entire dozen. That silenced the rest and she had to accept Percy’s bid. He promptly paid the money, took one kiss, and notified her that he reserved the rest for future delivery.

GERTRUDE. What did Mrs. Vansant say to that?

JACK. Oh! she was game! She told Percy that she was ready whenever he was. I presume he will collect those kisses one at a time whenever he can make himself sufficiently conspicuous in doing it.

GERTRUDE. How disgusting! Buying and selling kisses!

JACK. You’re right, dearest! Kisses were not meant to be sold. [_He looks around towards the ball room to make sure that they are alone, then kisses her passionately. Meanwhile_ PERCY _and_ ROSE _have re-entered from the right just in time for the tender scene. It is too late to retreat, so they tiptoe awkwardly and hurriedly across the back of the terrace to the ball room._]

GERTRUDE. [_Freeing herself._] How imprudent, Jack. Somebody might have seen us.

JACK. Now don’t scold me, Gertie. I made sure that we were alone; besides, I don’t often get a chance—

GERTRUDE. [_Curtly._] Won’t you take me back to the ball room? [_They rise and walk towards the left._]

JACK. You’re not angry, I hope? We were talking of kisses, dear, and I simply couldn’t help it.

GERTRUDE. We were talking of Percy Middleton’s buying the kisses of that odious grass-widow.

JACK. I’ll admit that I did wrong, and I’m very, very sorry. Does that satisfy you? [_After a pause._] Now let’s kiss and make up.

GERTRUDE. [_Smiling._] Another kiss! Jack, you’re incorrigible. [_She kisses him tenderly._] You dear boy! Will it always be like this?

JACK. [_Taking her in his arms._] Always—forever—and so on for eternity. We shall be all in all to each other and the rest of the world will be as nothing to us. Just you and I—we two alone—

GERTRUDE. Dear Jack! I am so happy! [_They enter the ball room. From the rear_ HAROLD WESTBROOK _and_ ELEANOR RICHMOND _come slowly down the central steps; her demeanor is serious, his is somewhat depressed. They seat themselves on the bench at the left side._]

ELEANOR. How soon do you leave?

HAROLD. In a few days. The ranch is a large one and I’m needed out there. I had no intention of asking you so soon, Eleanor—I’m afraid fortune has been against me, but it was my last chance to see you alone—I had to speak!

ELEANOR. [_With sympathy._] I am heartily sorry it cannot be otherwise, but our decisions in the real crises of life seem often not to rest with ourselves.

HAROLD. Have you no hope to offer me? No chance that some day you may be willing to join me in the West, to work out our destinies together in the great world beyond the plains?

ELEANOR. No, I feel sure it can never be—but I hope we shall remain good friends. I want to hear from you, Harold, and I shall pray for your happiness in your new home. I shall always remember that you have paid me the sincerest tribute that a true man can offer a woman. You have put a consecrated seal upon our friendship. No matter what our lot may be in the days to come, we must never forget this night.

HAROLD. Heaven knows, I shall never forget it. There is consolation in the thought that you are not going entirely out of my life. Your kindness has brought a soothing calm over my great grief. I have no right to ask if there is another to whom you have given your heart, but Heaven has indeed blessed that man.

ELEANOR. Heaven has blessed every man and every woman who has known true love. If our human frailty is such that we can never comprehend the full measure of that blessing, we should at least be thankful for whatever glimpse of the divine vision is granted us.

HAROLD. You know best, Eleanor—your soul speaks with a clearer insight than mine. I shall abide by your decision—and I shall worship you till the end.

ELEANOR. Don’t say that, Harold—you will meet some one else—

HAROLD. [_Softly, but with conviction._] No, there will never be any one else. [_They sit in silence for a few moments. The music stops._ HAROLD _takes her hand and kisses it reverently. They rise and walk silently into the ball room._ BILLY FANSHAWE, JACK NORGATE _and_ SIDNEY HASTINGS _stroll in leisurely at the centre from the terrace behind the ball room_.]

JACK. [_Looking after them._] Harold Westbrook has been very attentive to Miss Richmond all evening.

BILLY. He’s wasting his time in that campaign. I’ll back Bobbie Dorr for any amount to win her against the field. [SIDNEY _looks after the retreating figures and says nothing_.] What do you think of it, Sid?

SIDNEY. Miss Richmond is altogether too fine a girl for Bobbie Dorr—that’s my thought. [_He offers a cigarette to_ JACK, _who accepts, then to_ BILLY.] Smoke, Billy?

BILLY. No thanks! I came out for some fresh air. Besides, smoking spoils my appetite. I’m going to make another raid on the collation pretty soon. It’s excellent stuff. I’ve had a couple of lobster cutlets, some sweet breads and two of the nicest soft crabs I ever ate. The Dorrs certainly know how to do things.

SIDNEY. [_Bitterly._] Who wouldn’t know how to do things with the income of forty-odd millions at one’s disposal?

BILLY. Forty-odd millions! [_Whistles._] Forty-odd! Why, I’d be satisfied with the odd! [_Explaining._] It might be seven or nine, you know. [_In a lower voice._] I say, is that correct? Is it as much as that?

JACK. I don’t believe that old man Dorr gathered so much out of his Nevada mines. Of course, he piled up a lot of money, but—

SIDNEY. I grant you, there were no forty millions in his silver mines, but you are evidently not aware of his other interests that paid him enormously though his name was never associated with them. You may remember that no inventory was filed by the executors—but Simpson, who was chief counsel for the estate, told me a few things.

BILLY. [_Curiously._] What did he say, Sid?

SIDNEY. He mentioned substantial shareholdings in the Kimberley diamond fields, in the Swiss lace and embroidery industries, in breakfast foods, railroads, waterpower companies, automobile factories, tobacco, oil, sugar. [_Savagely._] I declare that when Simpson got through with his catalogue of Dorr’s interests I felt convinced that there was hardly a human creature in civilization who didn’t pay tribute in some form to that old octopus.

JACK. [_Looking reflectively at his cigarette._] And even the tobacco we are smoking! Rather lucky we know the Dorrs, eh? We can get back some of our tribute when we gather here as their guests.

BILLY. Bobbie Dorr and his aunt are certainly making the income on the forty-odd millions circulate with startling vivacity. I’m willing to help them. Won’t you boys come in and get another bite of something to eat?

JACK. No, thanks.

SIDNEY. We’ll finish our cigarettes first.

BILLY. Pity you fellows smoke so much—it spoils your appetite. Well, I’m off for another lobster cutlet and a sweetbread or two—[_He goes toward left._] and I shall certainly have another of those delicious soft crabs. [_Exit left._]

SIDNEY. I envy a man who can enjoy material existence as Billy does. Why, he’s a personified stomach. I believe he’d sell his soul for a salad!

JACK. [_Laughing._] Not much! Billy would make a better deal than that. He would demand at least a well-selected dinner with appropriate wines—then he might feel satisfied that he had made a real bargain.

SIDNEY. He’s a sterling good fellow just the same—I’m glad to number him among my friends. I need a cheerful spirit like Billy about me occasionally—I am apt to grow bitter when I let my thoughts dwell on such men as Bobbie Dorr.

JACK. I don’t see why you should feel that way about Bobbie. Of course, he’s a child of fortune. With his good looks, his wealth, and his fair allotment of brains he is bound to play a conspicuous part in our social life.

SIDNEY. You know, Jack, I’m fond of growling at times and just now I’m not above criticizing a man who is virtually my host. There’s something I don’t like about Bobbie Dorr. I don’t envy him his great wealth nor his social triumphs, but that insufferable air of presumption I cannot tolerate. What was his grandfather when he started for the West half a century ago?

JACK. Nobody in particular, I suppose.

SIDNEY. Josiah Dorr was a strong, keen-witted Yankee with no capital except his good health and his persistent optimism. He knocked about for a good many years before he made that lucky strike in Nevada.

JACK. And then he married and lived unhappily ever after.

SIDNEY. Not at all! Dorr married while he was still poor and with his usual luck chose a wife who was just the right sort for him—a woman of no pretensions, but of sound common sense; and their married life was happy enough until the children grew up.

JACK. Bobbie’s father and his aunt Martha?

SIDNEY. Exactly. The lamented Josiah, Jr., and [_Pointing toward the ball room._] our charming hostess. Simpson told me that young Josiah was for many years a thorn in the flesh of his parents. He seemed to progress from one escapade to another till he crowned his list of indiscretions by marrying a third-rate actress whose pretty face was her only recommendation for public attention.

JACK. I didn’t know that Bobbie’s mother was an actress.

SIDNEY. Neither did the public, though she tried hard enough to make them think so. Of course, she gave up the stage when she became Mrs. Josiah, Jr. She probably expected to try her histrionic talent in melting the heart of the stern parent—but old Dorr didn’t give her a chance. He never laid eyes on her!

JACK. Not even after Bobbie was born? That frequently makes a difference!

SIDNEY. Old Dorr saw nothing of Bobbie till both Josiah, Jr. and his actress-wife were dead. Then Aunt Martha took charge of Bobbie and the boy grew up under her care. After that nothing was too good for the hope of the family. They took him to Lausanne for his education, gave him a thoroughly cosmopolitan training, topped off with a few semesters at Heidelberg. He speaks four languages—but I don’t believe he has been accused of enriching the world’s store of thought in any of them. Behold to-night the finished product, capering in yonder ball room! When he reaches his twenty-fifth birthday a few weeks hence he will be the happy possessor of some forty millions.

JACK. A fellow has little excuse for being anything but the most decent sort of chap under such conditions. Fate has been unusually kind to Bobbie Dorr.

SIDNEY. He’s no silly offspring of superabundant wealth—Bobbie’s a capital fellow in many respects, but I can’t quite overlook his patronizing air, his superb confidence in the power of his riches. That sort of thing is pardonable in a man who has created the wealth, who has wrested it from the unyielding earth by the sweat of his brow or has won it by the exercise of his superior wit, but it takes little genius to inherit another man’s money.

JACK. Here he comes, Sid; we’re in for a quick change of subject. [_Louder._] In my opinion, these gardens are among the most attractive at Lenox. There’s that fine row of Lombardy poplars—[ROBERT DORR _enters from the ball room. His evening attire is beyond criticism save for the fact that he wears large gold studs in his shirt, a heavy gold fob and several conspicuously large rings._]

DORR. Would anybody believe it? A room full of charming girls, and you two solemn philosophers out here in the dark discussing the Lombardy poplars. Can you find nothing better to talk about?

SIDNEY. I’m sure we’re both booked for every dance on the list. It’s a breath of fresh air we’re after now.

DORR. Meanwhile the ladies are commenting upon your ungallant disappearance; but you cannot elude them long. Billy Fanshawe is bringing out a small party to view the lower gardens. Perhaps such a trip would appeal to you?

JACK. It’s a lark! I wonder how they ever got Billy away from the lobster cutlets and the soft crabs. [_Enter_ BILLY _left, followed by_ MRS. KEENE, MARIAN, GERTRUDE, MARGARET _and_ ROSE.]

BILLY. [_Officiously, from the top step._] All in line for a personally conducted tour around the celebrated Dorr gardens. The small and select party will be carefully chaperoned by Mrs. Keene and will be under the immediate direction of Mr. William Fanshawe, the well-known cicerone, who will explain all points of interest.

JACK. Bully, old man! You’re as impressive as the prospectus of a Cook’s tour.

MRS. KEENE. Come on, girls. [_They descend to the terrace._] Why, Mr. Norgate and Mr. Hastings! I have been wondering what had become of you.

SIDNEY. We just stepped out to admire the garden and we now crave permission to join your small and select party.

MARIAN. I think they’re horrid in coming out here to smoke and then to pretend they were admiring the garden. I move that we refuse them permission to join our party. All in favor say ‘aye.’

THE GIRLS. [_In chorus._] Aye!

MARIAN. It is carried. Mr. Hastings and Mr. Norgate are not permitted to join us.

SIDNEY. Pardon me, Miss Winthrop, you are not parliamentary. You put your own motion—you even forgot to wait till some one seconded it.

MARIAN. What was the use? I knew they were all in favor of it.

SIDNEY. You ought to be in Congress—they need girls like you. But seriously, do you mean to say we may not join you?

GERTRUDE. Yes, and it serves you right, too!

BILLY. Hold on! I want to amend that resolution. If you girls don’t mind, I should like to have Jack Norgate along. He knows the names of the trees and shrubs better than I do.

MARGARET. What! better than the well-known cicerone?

BILLY. I regret to say he does. In fact, I might make a mess of it without him.

MARIAN. Shall we relent, Mrs. Keene?

MRS. KEENE. I suppose so, though you are adding to my responsibilities as chaperone. [BILLY _mounts the marble railing and detaches one of the Japanese lanterns_.]

ROSE. But only Mr. Norgate—not Mr. Hastings. He has been too sarcastic.

SIDNEY. Ladies, I am overwhelmed with the sense of my shortcomings. I spare you the need of further deliberation by admitting that I am unworthy of your company.

GERTRUDE. How pathetic! I believe he’s glad we don’t want him!

MARGARET. Mr. Dorr, won’t you join us?

DORR. Thank you—I think I shall try to entertain Mr. Hastings during your absence.

MARIAN. He ought to be left by himself.

DORR. I should hate to leave him in such bad company. I want to try moral suasion on him.

BILLY. I hope he survives. [_Holds up the lantern._] Ladies, are you ready?

MRS. KEENE. We shall surely need more light. It must be very dark at the foot of the garden.

BILLY. One’s enough. Besides, if we had more, you might get confused and follow some other lantern instead of mine.

DORR. Don’t forget to show the ladies the sun-dial.

ROSE. Oh! a sun-dial! Isn’t that romantic!

SIDNEY. Especially at this time of night.

DORR. It’s a quaint old dial that was brought over from Italy many years ago.

BILLY. [_Whispers to_ DORR.] By the way, Bobbie, what does that Italian motto on the sun-dial mean? I always forget it.

DORR. ‘Time will reveal all things.’

BILLY. Thanks. That helps me over one difficulty at least. Come on, ladies. We’re now under way! [_He heads the procession off right, followed by_ MRS. KEENE _and the girls. The latter speak almost simultaneously as they leave._]

MARIAN. _Au revoir!_ I hope you’ll enjoy that moral suasion, Mr. Hastings!

ROSE. Don’t spare him, Mr. Dorr!

GERTRUDE. I hope you will profit by it, Mr. Hastings!

MARGARET. You are too self-sacrificing, Mr. Dorr! [_They go off._]

SIDNEY. [_Laughing._] In such charming creatures as these rests most of our happiness in life. I suppose I ought to be in a penitent mood—they will all be ready to forgive me when I dance with them later on. [_He offers_ DORR _a cigarette_.] Smoke, Dorr?

DORR. [_Takes cigarette._] Thanks. [_After a pause._] Do you know, Hastings, the women seem to be more or less afraid of you? I’ve noticed it many times.

SIDNEY. The sex has evidently little respect for my cynical philosophy. It’s a pleasure to toss a choice morsel of flippancy at them and watch them gasp.

DORR. [_Reflectively._] They’re a life-long study for the keenest man. How splendidly they play their parts! Every woman’s an actress at heart. [_Pointing to the garden._] There is a group of apparently ingenuous, simple-hearted young creatures alive to the pleasure of the moment and intent upon enjoying existence—yet I’ll wager that in each feminine mind there are deep-laid schemes beyond your detection or mine.

SIDNEY. We men are at a disadvantage because we have no adequate weapon to match theirs—and the laws of common courtesy render us helpless before their cleverly concealed advances. To make matters worse, each fair antagonist plans her campaign in her own individual manner—woe to the presumptuous man who tries to generalize their methods. No two of them will act precisely alike in effecting their ends.

DORR. They’re all alike in one thing, Hastings.

SIDNEY. What’s that?

DORR. Their respect for wealth! They may be as individual as you please; but exhibit your pile of gold—the talisman that puts the luxurious gowns upon their backs and the gleaming jewels about their persons—and you’ll find them all ready to purr like a lot of kittens over a bowl of warm milk!

SIDNEY. See here, Dorr, I thought I was a bit of a cynic myself, but I never quite believed that. You don’t mean to say that a woman cannot rise above a cringing regard for mere material wealth?

DORR. I mean just that; no woman—and no man either, for that matter. It was long before our time that a famous statesman declared that every man had his price—and I don’t believe he had any intention of ignoring woman when he said it.

SIDNEY. [_Seriously._] Well, if you really feel that way about it, I must insist that you are far more in need of moral suasion than I am. We two are very different, Dorr, in one respect.

DORR. Yes?

SIDNEY. If you will pardon my saying so, I flash an occasional cynicism upon the ladies that puts them on their guard and marks me as a person to be treated with caution. You retain their good opinion by an outward show of courtesy and deference, yet in your heart you entertain sentiments that make it impossible for you to respect a single human creature.

DORR. We’re quite different in another respect, Hastings. You light upon a thing of this sort and brood over it until it spoils your good nature. I take it for granted that we are all corruptible and that none can stand the absolute tests of integrity, but I don’t worry about it. This is a good enough world if one has the power to command its good things. When it comes to testing the power of its talisman [_He draws a few gold coins from his pocket and jingles them._] I must affirm that those who have tried its virtues are, after all, the best judges of its merits. [SIDNEY _tosses away his cigarette with a gesture of disgust_.] What’s the matter?

SIDNEY. The tobacco was beginning to taste bad; I have smoked enough, anyhow. [_He rises and gazes down into the garden._ DORR _hesitates for a moment, then crosses to him._]

DORR. Evidently you find my views very shocking. Somehow I expected you to agree with me.

SIDNEY. I presume I am like most of my kind—when I find a man more cynical than myself I conclude that it is time to reform my philosophy of life. [_After a pause._] Bobbie Dorr, when you say that you believe all men and women bow to the power of wealth, do you make no reservations—no exceptions?

DORR. I make no exceptions—not even myself! If I were a poor man, I should be as corruptible as the rest. There are no exceptions!

SIDNEY. [_Slowly._] Not even such a girl as—Eleanor Richmond?

DORR. [_Annoyed._] Why should you mention Miss Richmond in this connection?

SIDNEY. Pardon me—because I believe that you care more about her than you do about most girls. I know you admire her; I don’t hesitate to say that I regard her as the embodiment of all that is lovable in woman. I wondered whether you were willing to class her with the rest of your mercenary herd—that is all.

DORR. [_With constraint._] Miss Richmond has always enjoyed all the luxuries that wealth can supply. Where gold has nothing to offer it cannot be expected to corrupt. I should prefer to discuss this question in the abstract without considering its bearing upon Miss Richmond, or upon any one else, for that matter. [_Shrieks are heard from the garden._ SIDNEY _crosses to the right_.]

SIDNEY. Something has happened to Mrs. Keene’s party!

DORR. [_Peering off right._] They are coming up the path. Their lantern is extinguished! Billy’s personally conducted tour seems to have ended in a fizzle.

SIDNEY. [_Looking towards the left._] Those shrieks were evidently heard in the ball room. Miss Richmond is coming out. [ELEANOR _enters with an alarmed look. Dorr crosses to her._]

ELEANOR. What is it, Bobbie? I thought I heard some one crying from the garden.

DORR. You undoubtedly did. Billy Fanshawe has been trying to guide Mrs. Keene and a party of the girls about the place and he has evidently come to grief. We shall know in a moment.

ELEANOR. You don’t suppose that anything serious has happened?

SIDNEY. It’s hardly likely—Jack Norgate is with them. [_Confused voices and exclamations off right, drawing nearer._]

DORR. [_Looking off._] This way! Watch out for that step! [_Another shriek and exclamations. The girls tumble in hastily in couples. Finally_ BILLY _and_ JACK _supporting_ MRS. KEENE _between them_.]

ELEANOR. Why, what has happened? [_The girls assist each other in smoothing their ruffled hair and gowns. The men escort_ MRS. KEENE _to the right bench, where she gasps for breath_.]

MARIAN. Billy Fanshawe was showing us around the garden—and everything was so beautiful! We had just reached the sun-dial and Billy raised his lantern to read the curious Italian inscription when a sudden gust of wind blew out the light—

GERTRUDE. And we were left in the dark—it was pitch dark, and the boys had no matches!

MRS. KEENE. [_Dramatically._] There was no sudden gust of wind! Mr. Norgate deliberately blew out the light. I never experienced anything so outrageous!

JACK. My dear Mrs. Keene—I must protest. I was simply leaning over Billy’s shoulder to see the inscription. I was just about to read off the Italian words when I suddenly found myself in total darkness.

SIDNEY. Perhaps your Italian pronunciation put out the light.

MRS. KEENE. [_Severely._] Sidney Hastings, this is no matter for jesting. The worst is yet to come! [_The girls look at each other with assumed surprise._]

ROSE. What do you mean?

MRS. KEENE. I mean that after that light went out the behavior of those young men was disgraceful. There was hugging and kissing all about me!

MARGARET. Oh! Mrs. Keene! How can you say such a thing? Of course, we all uttered exclamations of surprise.

MRS. KEENE. You certainly did—and several of you young ladies also said ‘stop’! [_The girls look at one another._]

BILLY. [_Slowly._] I suppose Jack and I are disgraced forever, Mrs. Keene, if you’re going to believe that about us. I say it’s unkind.

MRS. KEENE. [_Witheringly._] There is just one thing I’d like to find out.

JACK. [_Innocently._] What is it?

MRS. KEENE. Which of you two young men put his arm around _my_ waist—by mistake, of course! [JACK _and_ BILLY _look foolishly at each other. The rest chuckle wherever_ MRS. KEENE _cannot see them_.]

MARIAN. [_To the rescue._] I believe I put my arm around your waist—I was very much frightened.

MRS. KEENE. [_With sarcasm._] I dare say you girls were so much frightened that you all had your arms about each other’s waists; and our two gallant escorts—I suppose they will also insist that they embraced each other for mutual protection.

DORR. I think you might make some allowance, Mrs. Keene. The boys were probably doing their best to keep the party close together.

MRS. KEENE. The party was close enough, I assure you. I’m glad it’s all over. No more garden trips for me in the dark, especially when there are irresponsible young men in the party. [_She rises and crosses to the left._] You girls had better come inside—the dancing will go on in a few moments.

ROSE. I’m so sorry about the sun-dial. I scarcely had a look at it—I was so anxious to see it.

GERTRUDE. We couldn’t even read the Italian motto. What was it, Billy?

BILLY. The exact Italian words have slipped my memory, but they meant—let me see—they meant—

ELEANOR. ‘Time will reveal all things.’ [_Soft waltz music begins in the ball room._]

MRS. KEENE. A very good motto, Mr. Fanshawe. Perhaps some day time will reveal how that light went out! Come, girls, the music has begun. [_They enter the ball room in groups_, DORR _and_ ELEANOR _in the rear. They detach themselves from the rest._]

DORR. [_Softly._] The next dance is mine, Eleanor. Shall we not stay out here for a few moments?

ELEANOR. Yes, if you wish. [_He leads her to the bench at the right._]

DORR. I have been eager all evening to have a few words with you apart from that restless whirl inside—just we two alone, with our little secret!

ELEANOR. You silly boy! Be careful you don’t betray us. [_Looks toward the garden._] How delightful it is out here in the open! There _is_ a slight breeze. Bobbie, do you believe Aunt Sara was right in declaring that the boys put out that light?

DORR. Certainly. You heard Gertrude Paston say the boys had no matches to re-light the lantern. Well, Jack was out here smoking with Hastings before he joined your aunt’s party.

ELEANOR. Of course, Gertrude and Jack are rather fond of each other—

DORR. I don’t blame him for not finding his matches.

ELEANOR. You know I didn’t mean that—I don’t believe Jack would do such a thing! You wouldn’t, Bobbie?

DORR. Not in their bungling fashion, perhaps—but there’s no telling what a fellow wouldn’t do for a few golden moments with a girl he cared for. I grant that if there’s a bevy of girls about, he may possibly hug the wrong one—he may even embrace the chaperone, eh? [_He laughs softly._]

ELEANOR. Don’t say such things, Bobbie. You shouldn’t talk so flippantly.

DORR. It’s true, isn’t it? In spite of their apparent protests, there wasn’t one in that party who regretted the little episode at the sun-dial—except your aunt, of course, and she protested mainly on behalf of outraged social decorum. One can hardly help being flippant about such women!

ELEANOR. Bobbie!

DORR. I know—she’s your aunt—that’s the best I can say for her; she doesn’t deserve the honor. But after all, why should we bother about these people? We can be happy out here—with our secret. The time will be short enough. Who has the next dance?

ELEANOR. [_Looking at the card._] Harold Westbrook.

DORR. He won’t be long in claiming you. I can’t help feeling decidedly jealous when I see some one else swinging you about the floor. [_He takes her hand._] But soon I shall make them all envious forever—soon our little secret will no longer be our own. Within two months my grandfather’s fortune passes into my hands, and then—

ELEANOR. Then you will be a very wealthy man, Bobbie, but your fortune will carry serious responsibilities with it. You can find better things to do than trying to make the other boys envious of you.

DORR. They must be envious when they learn that you are mine, when they see you resplendent as a queen, dazzling from head to foot; they’ll no longer sneer at my wealth—they will realize what it has achieved for me!

ELEANOR. [_Withdrawing her hand._] What your wealth has achieved for you! You believe that your grandfather’s money makes a difference?

DORR. Why not? If I were a poor man, I wouldn’t ask a girl I loved to share my poverty and thus spoil her own chance of happiness; but if I can give my wife everything that heart can desire, why shouldn’t it make a difference?

ELEANOR. [_Reflectively._] There is one great happiness that is denied to the rich girl—the happiness that comes to the self-sacrificing wife who helps her husband in his struggle with the world, who stands at his side offering aid and encouragement until together they forge their way upward to the heights of success—a success that both can cherish as a result of mutual effort.

DORR. That’s all mere story-book sentimentality. Let a poor husband and his self-sacrificing wife start out together in a life of poverty, and ten to one he’s ashamed of her when he has made his fortune—if he ever does. The newspapers are full of such instances. Don’t cast a romantic glamor over a state of affairs that would be extremely unpleasant in real life. You wouldn’t be the sort of girl for such a career!

ELEANOR. [_With spirit._] A true woman finds her happiness with the man she loves, whether rich or poor; she does not find it in a mere riot of gold!

DORR. But the gold helps! The gold makes life pleasant—it gives us what we desire. [_She turns away._] Why, Eleanor, you’re not going to let this spoil things? Remember our secret!

ELEANOR. Bobbie—[_A pause._] We can no longer—

DORR. You’re not going to throw me over for a mere difference of opinion? We have our lives before us and everything to live for—

ELEANOR. Yes, we have everything—except spiritual kinship. I’m sorry, Bobbie—heartily sorry, but I’m also thankful I found that out in time. [_The music ceases._]

DORR. The dance is over! Westbrook will be here in a moment to claim you. Will you let it end in this way?

ELEANOR. [_Rising._] I cannot hope that you will understand how distressed I am, but I want to say just one thing, Bobbie—to-night seems to mark a turning point in our lives. I trust it is for the best. Whatever happens hereafter, I want you to remember the motto on your old Italian sun-dial—

DORR. [_Mechanically._] ‘Time will reveal all things.’

ELEANOR. Yes. We shall both grow older and perhaps we shall see with a clearer vision than now. I shall not forget—[HAROLD _enters hastily from the ball room_.]

HAROLD. Ah, Miss Richmond, you are here. The next dance is mine, I believe?

ELEANOR. [_Taking his arm._] Yes, Mr. Westbrook. Are you coming in, Bobbie?

DORR. Not now. [_As they pass up the steps left, he deliberately lights a cigarette._] ‘Time will reveal all things.’—I hope it will; then we’ll see if I’m not right. [_Taking a few gold coins from his pocket he tosses them in his palm._] Now, my golden friends, you, at least, will be true to me! I shall rely upon you to show her—her and all the rest of them your wonderful power! [_He looks toward the ball room as the dance music resumes and the curtain descends._]

SCENE I

[_The office of Lehmann Frères in their factory at St. Gallen. It is furnished in a manner appropriate to a prosperous business concern. In the centre is a large rectangular table with several chairs. At the left is a low flat desk with papers, telephone and chair. Close to the wall behind the desk is a telephone switchboard for communicating with various parts of the works. At the right there is a modern office-desk, richly furnished, with a hatrack nearby. In the centre back is a large leather covered davenport above which hangs a portrait of the late M. Lehmann senior, the father of Lehmann Frères and the honored founder of the establishment. Elsewhere on the walls hang framed views of the plant and other appropriate pictures. There are exits right and left to inner offices, likewise two exits in the rear, the right exit leading to the street and provided with a glass-door, the left exit leading to the shops. Whenever the left exit is opened the heavy whirr of machinery is heard within. As the curtain rises_, BERTINE _is seen at the flat desk, left, signing papers. A few moments later the telephone bell rings._ BERTINE _answers the telephone at his desk_.]

BERTINE. Hello!... Yes... M. Raoul Lehmann is out at present.... This is his secretary, M. Bertine.... Yes.... He should be here shortly.... No.... M. Frédéric Lehmann has an important conference on hand in this office at three o’clock.... No.... Impossible!... No!... No!!... Very well.... Good-by. [_He hangs up the receiver and resumes work at his papers._ RAOUL LEHMANN _enters at the rear right entrance with hat, cane and gloves, which he places on the rack near his desk at the right_.]

BERTINE. Good afternoon, M. Lehmann. I have just had a telephone call from a reporter of _Le Journal_ asking for an interview with you or your brother.

RAOUL. Ah! So the newspapers have learned of our trouble with our operatives. I presume they wish to send a representative to the conference?

BERTINE. Yes. I took the liberty of informing the reporter that it was impossible.

RAOUL. Very good! Has my brother returned from luncheon?

BERTINE. Not yet, sir. [_He hands a telegram to_ RAOUL.] This telegram arrived while you were out.

RAOUL. [_Opens it and reads._] ‘If possible, kindly postpone conference till five o’clock. I wish to be present at the meeting. Signed, D’Or.’

BERTINE. M. D’Or!

RAOUL. As he chooses to call himself—the grandson of the late Josiah Dorr, whose money coupled with the brains of my honored father [_Pointing to the portrait._] made this great plant possible. Let me see—the Dorr estate holds about one-third of the shares, does it not?

BERTINE. Somewhat more. Within the last few months they have increased their holdings to nearly forty per cent.

RAOUL. In any event, it is enough to command respect for such a request as this. [FRÉDÉRIC LEHMANN _enters at the rear right entrance with hat and gloves_.] Ah! Frédéric. I have just received this communication from M. D’Or. [_He hands the telegram to_ FRÉDÉRIC.]

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Reads._] So! The mysterious grandson and heir!

RAOUL. We must accede to the request. He may make trouble otherwise—we have enough to worry about without antagonizing our shareholders.

FRÉDÉRIC. By all means! If he is anything like his grandfather, he will strengthen our position very much. Old Josiah always took care that he got his share of the spoils—and usually a little besides!

RAOUL. [_To_ BERTINE.] Kindly have M. Albert sent here at once. He heads the delegation, I believe?

BERTINE. Yes. [_He goes to the house-telephone and adjusts the plug._] Hello.... Yes.... Ask M. Albert to come to the office.... Yes.... That’s all.

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Looking at the telegram._] So the grandson of old Mr. Dorr blossoms into M. D’Or!

RAOUL. Some rogue of a genealogist probably convinced him that the change of name could be defended. The rich American has a weakness for that sort of thing. The manufacture of genealogies is a more profitable industry than that of laces, Frédéric!

FRÉDÉRIC. Very likely; but it demands an imagination—an inventive faculty that most of us do not possess. [ALBERT _enters at the rear, left. He bows respectfully to the_ LEHMANNS.]

RAOUL. M. Albert, our conference this afternoon will be postponed until five o’clock. M. D’Or, who is one of our American shareholders, wishes to attend the meeting, so we are making this change to accommodate him.

ALBERT. Very well, M. Lehmann. Shall I inform my associates?

RAOUL. Yes. I believe there are five of you?

ALBERT. Two of the men besides myself and two of the women.

RAOUL. You may return to your work, M. Albert. [ALBERT _bows himself out at the left rear entrance_.]

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Who has been examining a paper at the table._] M. Bertine, will you look over this schedule and compare it with the duplicate on file in my office?

BERTINE. [_Taking the paper._] Very well, M. Lehmann. [_He bows low and goes out at the side door, left._]

FRÉDÉRIC. Bah! What a life it must be to cringe and bow continually to one’s superiors. Our M. Albert from the shops is scarcely more servile than our M. Bertine in his attitude towards us.

RAOUL. True enough; but let M. Albert show lack of respect to so influential a man as M. Bertine and he would soon feel the consequences. Even the secretary of Lehmann Frères is a great man in the eyes of his inferiors. [_He goes to his desk._] It’s a queer world, Frédéric, but there’s considerable satisfaction to be gained from being in the front ranks.

FRÉDÉRIC. Yes—to issue orders, not to take them; to command men, not to obey them. [_Looks at the portrait._] What a debt we owe, Raoul, to the genius of our dear father!

RAOUL. [_Drily, at the desk, without looking around._] And to the money of old Josiah Dorr!

FRÉDÉRIC. Certainly—but tell me, could anything be more useless, in fact more harmful than such money unless administered with discretion and foresight?

RAOUL. By the way, Frédéric, M. Bertine has just informed me that the Dorr interest is now forty per cent. of our capital. Have you been keeping track of the stock-transfers?

FRÉDÉRIC. You signed the certificates as well as I.

RAOUL. True; they were all for small amounts, but it now occurs to me there were a great many of them. I often regret that we ever reduced our holdings below an actual majority of the stock. Of course, you had to furnish your villa on the Axenstrasse—

FRÉDÉRIC. And you needed money to keep your racing-stables stocked with thoroughbreds. You know very well, Raoul, that you disposed of more shares than I did.

RAOUL. We have both been careless in the matter. Our joint holdings are about forty-five per cent., which is but a little more than the Dorr estate now holds. I know, the rest is scattered in small lots, but I get apprehensive at times. [_He goes over to_ FRÉDÉRIC.] Frédéric, we have a serious duty before us—we must regain a majority interest of the stock.

FRÉDÉRIC. You are right. We cannot afford to take chances on losing control of the business. I shall increase the mortgage on my villa; you can probably spare a few of your horses?

RAOUL. Yes. We must also devise other means of raising money. One thing is certain—we cannot grant the demand of our workpeople for higher wages. [_He picks up the petition from_ BERTINE’S _desk and scans it_.] I note that they ask for a uniform advance of ten per cent. in all departments.

FRÉDÉRIC. They might as well ask for one hundred and ten per cent. [_Laughing._] You and I agree on that subject, at least—and M. D’Or is not likely to intercede for them if he is as fond of fat dividends as his respected grandfather used to be!

RAOUL. We need not fear M. D’Or. It is probably idle curiosity that brings him here. [_Voices are heard in the room, left._ BERTINE _enters excitedly, followed by_ D’OR, _who is dressed in fine white flannels, with gold-headed cane, gold band on straw hat, several conspicuous gold rings and a heavy watch fob_.]

BERTINE. [_Spluttering._] M. D’Or! M. Raoul Lehmann, M. Frédéric Lehmann! [_He bows himself out._]

D’OR. [_With familiarity._] Ah, gentlemen, so I stand in the presence of Lehmann Frères. [_They shake hands._] You evidently expected me to enter by your front door [_Points back, right._] but I stole a march on you. I have been inspecting the factory for the past two hours.

RAOUL. [_Surprised._] Inspecting the factory!

D’OR. I have been all over the plant—it is truly a model establishment. I am pleased to be associated in the control of such an admirable hive of industry. You will pardon my unconventional way of learning these things, but I did not wish to be bored by an official and perfunctory inspection starting from the office. I therefore took matters into my own hands—and starting at the bottom, I have worked my way to the intellectual summit of the structure. [_He looks about him._]

FRÉDÉRIC. It is a pleasure to know that we stood this unusual test so well, M. D’Or—but, after all, the house of Lehmann Frères has nothing to conceal—

D’OR. Evidently not. Your product is of the highest grade and commands the best markets; your people work under the most hygienic conditions. They are a busy multitude—those hundreds of men and women in the shops. By the way, gentlemen, I observed some very pretty girls among them—but I suppose you are already familiar with that fact.

RAOUL. [_Coldly._] Pardon me, M. D’Or—my brother and I are hardly in a position to admire the personal charms of our employees. We are both married men.

D’OR. Ah! I see—you may not talk freely of such things. How promptly you seem to suspect that I was about to intimate something quite shocking. Charming girls, just the same, even if they do not bask in the sunshine of your favor. I became interested in one of the young women in your lace department and stopped for a few moments to question her about her work—a Mlle. Adrienne—Adrienne—[_He pulls out a small memorandum book._]

FRÉDÉRIC. Mlle. Courteaux.

D’OR. Thank you—that was the name. I was amazed at her dexterity and the rapidity with which she worked. It was fascinating; yet she told me that she receives only thirty-five francs a week.

RAOUL. Did she say _only_ thirty-five francs? She is one of our most skilful and best-paid operatives.

D’OR. No—I supplied the _only_! It is an outrage—that attractive young figure bending over the machine, those well-shaped, nimble fingers constantly at work—and a miserable five and thirty francs at the end of the week! No wonder your workers are complaining.

FRÉDÉRIC. But, M. D’Or, we pay the same wages as all the rest. There must be a profit in the business—a fair return for the large capital invested.

D’OR. I wish above all things to act intelligently when we meet their delegation this afternoon—that is why I chose my own way of becoming acquainted with the establishment. Have your people formulated their grievances?

FRÉDÉRIC. [_Taking the document from_ BERTINE’S _desk_.] Yes, here is their petition addressed to us. We did not wish to be subjected to their oratory at the conference, so we insisted upon a preliminary bill of complaint.

D’OR. [_Scanning the sheets._] H’m—in view of the prosperous times—plant working to the limit of its capacity—unprecedented business—increased rents—higher cost of living—we request a general increase of ten per cent. Why, surely, it is very little that they ask?

RAOUL. Do you realize what an effect it will have upon our dividends?

FRÉDÉRIC. Are not our shareholders entitled to first consideration?