Chapter III: Part 3

VAUX. The best that my purse allows, but not the best to be had. We musicians cannot hope to win great wealth, yet I still have hopes that when my new symphonic poem is brought out—

D’OR. A new composition! I am glad to hear of it.

VAUX. It is almost completed. I have been laboring on it for many years. It was begun in the first hours of grief after the loss of Hélène’s mother. I have put my very soul into that score!

D’OR. Have you a program in mind?

VAUX. I shall call it ‘The Conqueror’—the record of a storm-tossed soul that works its way through peril and temptation to the triumphant heights of its ideal. You see how much of a dreamer I am, but I love the idea of the conquering soul—the personality that dominates and directs.

D’OR. [_Much interested._] That is a very fascinating idea—the personality that dominates! I am sure you will win fame with ‘The Conqueror.’ Have you sought to glorify a particular hero in your composition?

VAUX. No. It would be difficult to find a man who represents my ideal conqueror—who reaches the heights unspotted with the stains of the battle.

D’OR. The more I think of your idea, the more it pleases me. I always have sought to be such a conqueror as you have in mind—a man of commanding position and so equipped as to become a directing intelligence in the affairs of the world. This may sound boastful, M. Vaux, but I have a reason for speaking thus.

VAUX. [_Bewildered._] I do not understand—

D’OR. You say that you have no particular hero in mind to whom you are addressing your symphonic poem. Would it be presumptuous on my part to say that I should feel honored to have such a composition dedicated to me? Let me explain more fully, M. Vaux—there need be no reserve. I have abundance of the wealth that you in common with others find so useful; you have a talent that can immortalize the man to whom your compositions are addressed. If you were to honor me with the dedication of ‘The Conqueror’ I should see that every resource were at the disposal of Mlle. Vaux for her thorough musical training.

VAUX. For Hélène’s education?

D’OR. It would be a trifle for me, M. Vaux; to you it would represent long hours of arduous toil. Thus each of us can serve the other.

VAUX. [_Anxious not to offend._] I must confess that I had a very different ideal of ‘The Conqueror’—pardon my bluntness, but my hero typified spiritual achievement, not the conquests of material wealth.

D’OR. Of course—I understand. Spiritual achievement has a pleasant sound and at one time in the world’s history it probably meant something; but we are living in a very different age. The real conquerors of to-day are the men who act as stewards of the world’s great wealth. I can buy you any man you may name, heart and soul. It is merely a question of price—

VAUX. [_Horrified._] M. D’Or!

D’OR. I know it sounds scandalous, but it is true—I have demonstrated my power. There are no conquests in this world like the conquests of material wealth.

VAUX. [_Sadly._] I have lived in this world many more years than you, M. D’Or—I know the weakness of humanity. There is much truth in what you say; but we artists have not done our duty if we are content to depict the world as we find it—if we do not point the way to higher ideals—

D’OR. [_Impatiently._] A truce to your ideals! I have heard more than enough this morning about ideals! I have just made you a substantial and flattering offer; you seem inclined to treat me in turn to a conventional discussion on the nature of the artistic impulse. You are a poor man, M. Vaux, though a talented one. You have a daughter whose future welfare is largely concerned in your answer to my offer. Are you foolish enough to hesitate?

VAUX. I appreciate fully what your offer means, but people will understand by my dedication that I desire to uphold you as the type of ‘The Conqueror’—

D’OR. And why not?

VAUX. Because I had a very different conqueror in mind—one whose career typified a conquest by spiritual resource, by unfailing courage—

D’OR. [_Suddenly but with deliberation._] M. Vaux, do you love your daughter Hélène? Are you mindful of her future—of the years when you will no longer be here to protect her?

VAUX. [_Completely broken._] I can struggle against you no longer. You have triumphed! ‘The Conqueror’ shall be dedicated to you!

D’OR. [_Smoothly._] I appreciate the honor, especially since there was no haggling over terms. Rest assured, M. Vaux, you will have no occasion to regret your trust in my generosity.

VAUX. [_Subdued._] I have done it for my Hélène. [_He sits on the sofa, right, and seems overcome with emotion._ HÉLÈNE _enters and takes a half kneeling position on the mat at his feet. She places a small autograph album on his lap._]

HÉLÈNE. Father, I have been searching for you. Mme. Clary wishes your autograph. Isn’t it an honor! Just look at the famous names—artists, poets, musicians—

VAUX. [_Takes a fountain pen from his pocket and writes._] Mme. Clary is very kind to ask your father to enroll himself in this record of genius. [_Turning the pages._] What is this? M. D’Or, I find your name here!

D’OR. [_With a smile._] Indeed! Does it appear out of place among your brilliant assemblage of earth’s talented sons?

VAUX. No, no! Do not misunderstand me! I thought it was merely a collection of artists’ autographs. I am pleased to see it includes at least one generous patron of the arts. [_To_ HÉLÈNE.] Hélène, we are much indebted to M. D’Or. He will make it possible for me to give you the best masters for your musical training.

HÉLÈNE. [_Rising._] You could not accept such an offer?

VAUX. [_Embarrassed._] I am dedicating ‘The Conqueror’ to M. D’Or. It has pleased him to express his generous intentions in return.

HÉLÈNE. [_Turning on_ D’OR _with unexpected energy_.] ‘The Conqueror’! [_Reproachfully._] M. D’Or, you have taken advantage of an old man.

D’OR. Taken advantage! Those are hard words for one who has your welfare at heart. I am enabling your father to provide amply for you; indirectly I am helping you to make the most of life, to win fame and position if the talent abides within you. This you call taking advantage of your father!

HÉLÈNE. M. D’Or, we are here as your guests. I cannot speak frankly.

D’OR. If I have offended you, my roof shall not save me from your reproaches. Speak as freely as you will and tell me honestly why you despise my offer.

VAUX. Hélène, I beseech you, be careful how you answer.

HÉLÈNE. [_To_ D’OR.] You see how thoroughly you have subdued my poor father! He fears that my frankness will forfeit the bounty you are disposed to heap upon us. You wish me to speak freely?

D’OR. By all means.

HÉLÈNE. Very well. M. D’Or, I fear the intention of your apparent kindness.

D’OR. Why do you say that?

HÉLÈNE. A few moments ago I passed M. Moreau in the corridor—Moreau, the brave champion of the people—and I heard him say that he had changed his political views, and now felt morally obliged to support the ministry!

VAUX. [_Astonished._] Moreau a conservative! Impossible!

D’OR. What have I to do with Moreau’s politics?

HÉLÈNE. [_Watching him closely._] I cannot help thinking that you had a hand in his sudden change of faith.

D’OR. [_Carelessly._] Why should I deny it? You would not believe me.

HÉLÈNE. [_Coming closer._] M. D’Or, I would believe you, if I heard you deny it! Do you deny it?

D’OR. [_Without flinching, looking steadily at her._] Mlle. Vaux, I admire your courage; I marvel at your penetration. I shall tell you the truth. I bought that fellow Moreau for so much gold. He’s my man now and he’ll take my orders when I give them. [VAUX _groans_.]

HÉLÈNE. Father, do you hear what M. D’Or says? [_To_ D’OR.] Is there nothing else on your conscience? Are you aware that M. Lemaire is astonishing your guests by incoherent ravings about dead rats and foul-smelling gutters?

D’OR. [_Steadily._] It’s the subject for his next painting. The fellow is executing it at my commission. I chose the subject, and I pay him his price. [VAUX _groans again_.]

HÉLÈNE. [_To_ VAUX.] Are you still inclined to dedicate ‘The Conqueror’ to M. D’Or?

VAUX. I have given my promise.

D’OR. I shall release you from that promise if Mlle. Vaux requests it.

HÉLÈNE. I do not request it. After all, you are a conqueror—you have triumphed over my unhappy father just as you overcame those other frail souls and dragged them to the earth.

D’OR. I release your father from his promise. His conqueror is a vain seeker after empty ideals. M. Vaux, you may dedicate your symphonic flight to whom you will, but I beg you to let me carry out at least my part of our compact. [VAUX _looks eagerly at_ HÉLÈNE _to reply_.]

HÉLÈNE. You have made that impossible for us, M. D’Or. We cannot accept your generosity. [_To_ VAUX.] We must not stay here any longer. Let us go home.

D’OR. Can we not remain friends? Will you not permit the resources of my wealth to prove my friendship?

HÉLÈNE. [_More softly._] The best way to befriend you, M. D’Or, is to prove to you the futility of your wealth. Come, father.

VAUX. Good-bye, M. D’Or. [_He offers his hand._]

D’OR. Good-bye. [_He looks at_ HÉLÈNE.]

HÉLÈNE. [_After a pause extends her hand._] Good-bye. Are you not convinced?

D’OR. Not yet—but you are very kind to me. [_He kisses her hand._]

VAUX. [_Near the entrance, as if inspired._] M. D’Or, at last I know to whom I shall dedicate ‘The Conqueror.’

D’OR. To whom?

VAUX. [_Taking_ HÉLÈNE’S _hand_.] To my daughter Hélène! [_They go out quickly._]

D’OR. [_Somewhat seriously, after a pause._] Perhaps the old man is right—and perhaps he is not! [_Laughs cynically and puts his hand as if by instinct to his waistcoat pocket. He draws out_ CYPRIENNE’S _card and reads it again_.] ‘To-morrow at two—Cyprienne.’ [_He kisses the card as the curtain falls._]

SCENE III

[_A private parlor in the Hotel Royal, Interlaken. The room is handsomely furnished in dark red. There are wide double doors in the centre with elaborate panels on either side. On the left side there is an exit and a fireplace in which a fire is burning. On the right there is a window overlooking the street below. There is also an exit further front. The furniture is appropriate for a business meeting. A large central table is flanked by five armchairs. There is a large armchair, left; also a small table with an adjacent chair, right. As the curtain rises one central door opens slowly and_ CLAIRE LASALLE _peers in nervously. Seeing no one, she enters and closes the door softly behind her. She is dressed in black, with a white collar, and carries a small leather writing pad. Her demeanor is that of a person undertaking a delicate and difficult mission. She goes to the door, right, and knocks cautiously. Receiving no answer, she stands for a moment, centre, in evident indecision, then advances to the door, left, and knocks. The door is opened and_ M. D’OR _steps in. He wears black satin knee-breeches and a fancy house-jacket, heavily trimmed with gold braid._ CLAIRE _hurriedly draws a card from her pad and hands it to_ D’OR.]

CLAIRE. M. D’Or?

D’OR. Yes. [_Reads the card._] ‘Mlle. Claire Lasalle, stenographer.’ [_He looks at her curiously, then at the card._] Ah! the Blausteins! I must confess I hardly expected them to send a lady! [_He bows._]

CLAIRE. The Blausteins desire a verbatim report of the meeting.

D’OR. Are you familiar with such commissions as this?

CLAIRE. [_Smiling._] Yes. [_She looks about._] You must place me where I can write unmolested. It is not necessary that I should see them. My hearing is acute. [_She indicates the door, right._] Is that room available?

D’OR. Yes.

CLAIRE. They are likely to insist on locked doors. You might let me lock myself in. I can open the door slightly after the conference has begun.

D’OR. Very well. I shall turn the knob as a signal to you that we are about to begin. Be very careful, mademoiselle!

CLAIRE. Have no fear. Such experience is not new to me.

D’OR. Do you know them—Muirhead, Graefflingen, and the rest?

CLAIRE. All but Andriev. He is a stranger to me. You expect them at three? We have little time to spare.

D’OR. You’re right. I shall make you comfortable before they arrive. [_He crosses to the right._] You will pardon my appearance, Mlle. Lasalle—I was dressing for this conference when you knocked.

CLAIRE. Certainly. Do not let me detain you. [_He goes off, right, meanwhile she opens her leather pad and gets her pencils ready. In a moment_ D’OR _returns_.]

D’OR. I have placed a chair for you just beside the door. [_After a pause._] Really, I cannot quite grasp the idea that a woman should be entrusted with diplomatic work of this character.

CLAIRE. [_Facetiously._] There are women and women.

D’OR. And, moreover, a few rarely endowed young ladies who can keep secrets—important secrets of state. Mademoiselle, I congratulate you! I hope the Blausteins pay you adequately for such unusual services.

CLAIRE. [_Simply._] A thousand francs a session.

D’OR. Will you permit me to double it this time?

CLAIRE. [_Surprised, but on her guard._] Why should you?

D’OR. [_Ingenuously._] Why shouldn’t I?

CLAIRE. [_Sharply._] M. D’Or, the thousand francs that the Blausteins pay me are sufficiently tainted. I’ve sunk about as low as I care to. Does that answer your question?

D’OR. Your cleverness assures me that the Blausteins do not appreciate you at your real worth.

CLAIRE. Perhaps you’re right—but I had the privilege of naming the degree and the price of my corruption, so I have no cause for complaint. May I take my place in the next room?

D’OR. Certainly. [_He throws open the door, right, for her._] Make yourself comfortable, while I hurry into the rest of my official dress. [_She passes out._] But let me first test our arrangement. [_He adjusts the door to a very slight aperture._] There! How is that? [_He crosses to the left side and faces the door, right._] Now, mademoiselle, can you hear me distinctly at this distance?

CLAIRE. [_Within._] Yes, quite plainly.

D’OR. Can you hear me when I say that my offer of that extra thousand francs will hold good after the conference if you should see fit to take it? [_No answer. He draws a little nearer._] Perhaps you would hear better if I said two thousand francs!

CLAIRE. [_Throwing the door wide open and stepping into the room._] M. D’Or, we two—you and I—are about to engage in a very contemptible business here. I am being paid my price; I trust you are getting yours. There should be some show of mutual respect even among the corrupt. If you annoy me further, I may be tempted to step out during your little conference to expose you for the despicable creature that you are!

D’OR. [_With a deprecatory gesture._] Pray retire, mademoiselle, to your post of vantage. I shall risk no further verbal fusillade from that accomplished tongue of yours.

CLAIRE. [_With a sneer._] Where did the Blausteins find you? They have the reputation of employing agents who attend strictly to the business at hand. Let us see if you can live up to that standard! [_She goes off, right, and closes the door with a bang. The lock clicks audibly._ D’OR _shrugs his shoulders and goes off, left, shaking his head. For a few moments the stage is empty. A knock is heard at the centre door. It is repeated, then the door opens and_ HERR LOBEN _steps in. He draws out his watch._]

LOBEN. None here yet! I have the honor to be the first. [_He crosses to the table, right, and puts down a red portfolio. A moment later_ MR. GILBERT _enters, carrying a similar black portfolio_. LOBEN’S _back is turned_.]

GILBERT. Herr Loben, I believe?

LOBEN. [_Turning._] Ah—you are the secretary of Sir Mortimer Muirhead—let me see—Mr.—

GILBERT. Mr. Gilbert.

LOBEN. Yes! Good afternoon, Mr. Gilbert. I infer that Sir Mortimer is to be at this mysterious conference?

GILBERT. [_He places his portfolio on the centre table and examines his papers._] Yes. Is Baron Graefflingen also to be here?

LOBEN. I expect him every moment. [_He goes to the window and looks out. Comes back and watches_ GILBERT _with his papers, then, after a pause, speaks as if in confidence_.] I say, Mr. Gilbert, do you know what it’s all about?

GILBERT. [_Carelessly._] What? This meeting with M. D’Or?

LOBEN. Yes. Do you know him?

GILBERT. I have seen him once or twice at the consulate. He is enormously rich—one of the Blaustein coterie.

LOBEN. Ah! so this is a Blaustein affair! I thought as much. Marquis Pallot and Count Andriev are also to be here. Quite an international gathering, eh?

GILBERT. [_Absently, busy with his papers._] Yes, quite so. [_Suddenly._] What’s that you’re saying? Pallot and Andriev?

LOBEN. I thought you took it rather mildly. Yes, both of them. [_A pause._] Do you suspect anything?

GILBERT. What do you mean?

LOBEN. Don’t you imagine that something is on foot when such a distinguished array of diplomatic talent gathers to receive orders from the Blausteins—

GILBERT. [_Springing up._] To receive orders—from the Blausteins? Herr Loben, that is too absurd—

LOBEN. [_With a shrug._] How long have you been Sir Mortimer’s secretary?

GILBERT. Six months.

LOBEN. Still a youngster in diplomacy, eh? I have been with Baron Graefflingen for—let me see—seven years this winter.

GILBERT. Well?

LOBEN. Only this, Mr. Gilbert. To-day is not the first time that I hear the name of the Blausteins.

GILBERT. Possibly not! But you spoke of their giving orders—

LOBEN. I hate to disillusion you—there was a time when I felt about things as you do now—those were the days of my diplomatic innocence. [_Motor-horn is heard outside._ LOBEN _goes to the window_.] It’s your principal, Sir Mortimer.

GILBERT. [_Looks at his watch._] He’s on time. It lacks a minute or two of three.

LOBEN. [_Coming forward._] He evidently doesn’t believe in keeping an emissary of the Blausteins waiting. [GILBERT _is annoyed_.] No offense, Mr. Gilbert—the others won’t be long in following him. [_Enter_ SIR MORTIMER MUIRHEAD _at the centre_.]

MUIRHEAD. [_Nods to_ GILBERT, _then turns to_ LOBEN.] Good afternoon, Herr Loben. Graefflingen’s coming?

LOBEN. [_Politely._] Yes, Sir Mortimer. He should be here now.

MUIRHEAD. [_To_ GILBERT.] You have sent off the dispatches?

GILBERT. Yes; they went this morning. I have received a wire confirming your reservations at Geneva for next week.

MUIRHEAD. Very good. [_To_ LOBEN.] I believe Baron Graefflingen is one of your delegates to the Geneva Conference?

LOBEN. Yes, he heads the delegation; our government is sending six representatives. [_Motor-horn is heard_; LOBEN _goes to the window as before_.] Here comes the Baron! [_He looks out._] I’m wrong! It’s Marquis Pallot and Count Andriev!

MUIRHEAD. Count Andriev!

LOBEN. Yes, Sir Mortimer. They are both expected.

MUIRHEAD. [_To_ GILBERT.] Have you seen nothing of M. D’Or?

GILBERT. I asked before I came up. The attendants informed me that he had taken a suite here at the hotel. [_Enter_ PALLOT _and_ ANDRIEV.]

PALLOT. Good afternoon, Sir Mortimer. [_He nods slightly to the others._] You know Count Andriev?

MUIRHEAD. I have the honor. [ANDRIEV _bows_.] My secretary, Mr. Gilbert—Herr Loben, secretary to Baron Graefflingen.

PALLOT. Are you familiar with the circumstances that bring us together to-day, Sir Mortimer?

MUIRHEAD. I know absolutely nothing except that the note from Paris asks me to meet M. D’Or at three this afternoon.

ANDRIEV. My note read, ‘M. D’Or of the house of Blaustein.’

MUIRHEAD. Of course—mine also! [_Laughing._] Otherwise what claim would the gentleman have upon our attention? [GILBERT _starts and avoids the grinning glance of_ LOBEN.]

PALLOT. I must say that I resent such a peremptory summons, coming from such a source; but there is no alternative, I understand—we must simply comply with the request. [LOBEN _coughs, and watches_ GILBERT’S _tense face_.]

ANDRIEV. We may as well be prepared for the Blaustein message—it undoubtedly concerns the Geneva Conference of next week. [_Motor-horn is heard again_; LOBEN _goes to the window_.]

LOBEN. It is the Baron!

MUIRHEAD. Graefflingen may be better informed than the rest of us. Perhaps he may be able to throw some light upon the very unusual procedure that brings us together.

PALLOT. I doubt it. The Blausteins rarely take any one into their confidence. They say nothing till they are ready to talk, but then—[_Enter_ GRAEFFLINGEN.]

GRAEFFLINGEN. Good afternoon, gentlemen. Am I late? [_He shakes hands with the diplomats and nods to_ GILBERT.] M. D’Or has not yet appeared?

MUIRHEAD. No. We’ve been counting on you, Baron, to tell us what it’s all about.

GRAEFFLINGEN. I cannot speak with any authority, but from a dispatch received this morning I infer that the Blausteins are not pleased with certain details of the international agreement that will probably be adopted at Geneva next week.

PALLOT. [_Looking at his watch._] I do not know how soon M. D’Or is likely to join us—but I believe it would be advisable among ourselves to oppose any material alteration in the Geneva agreement.

MUIRHEAD. A united front might strengthen our position very much, if we only knew what particular part of the agreement the Blausteins are likely to assail.

ANDRIEV. I propose, gentlemen, that when M. D’Or arrives and explains the Blaustein views, we shall take the cue from one of our own number. I suggest Sir Mortimer as the leader of our united forces.

PALLOT. That seems to be most desirable. If we do not stand together there is not the least likelihood of our accomplishing much with M. D’Or.

GRAEFFLINGEN. I heartily concur in Count Andriev’s proposal. We must keep the Blaustein emissary within bounds.

MUIRHEAD. Gentlemen, I appreciate the honor that you are showing me. At present we are groping in the dark—we do not as yet know the intentions of M. D’Or.

LOBEN. [_Warningly._] Sh—h!! [_A pause._ D’OR _enters at the left, wearing an elaborate diplomatic uniform of black satin, with a broad gold band across his bosom_.]

D’OR. Good afternoon, gentlemen. [_Looking about._] One hardly needs introduction to such a distinguished group. [_He shakes hands._] Sir Mortimer, you are looking well—Baron Graefflingen—Marquis Pallot—Count Andriev. [_He stops at the secretaries._]

MUIRHEAD. Our secretaries, Mr. Gilbert and Herr Loben.

D’OR. [_Shaking their hands._] It gives me pleasure to welcome the future lights of diplomacy.

GRAEFFLINGEN. Perhaps you prefer that our secretaries retire during our conference?

D’OR. Not at all, Baron—not at all. It will do the young men good to be present.

ANDRIEV. Are we safe from possible eavesdroppers?

D’OR. [_Remembering_ CLAIRE.] Certainly, but we can assure ourselves by locking the doors. [_He locks the door, left, and the central doors._] This door is always kept locked, I believe. [_He goes to the door, right, and very deliberately turns the knob several times. The others present seem satisfied._] Shall we be seated? [_They take seats at the central table_, D’OR _at the right end, then_ MUIRHEAD, PALLOT, ANDRIEV, _and_ GRAEFFLINGEN. GILBERT _sits at the small table, right_; LOBEN _in the armchair, left_.] Of course, we shall take no minutes of our deliberation—everything is informal and secret.

GRAEFFLINGEN. That is wise. This meeting must be regarded as absolutely confidential among ourselves.

ANDRIEV. I presume that it is agreed that no notes shall be taken by any one present—

THE OTHERS. Certainly—assuredly. [GILBERT _starts from his seat and stares ahead of him_.]

MUIRHEAD. What is the matter, Mr. Gilbert?

GILBERT. Nothing, Sir Mortimer. Pardon me, I thought I heard a slight creaking noise. I was mistaken! [_He resumes his seat. Throughout the scene_ GILBERT _pays close attention, Loben twiddles his thumbs and yawns_.]

MUIRHEAD. [_To_ D’OR.] Have any others been invited, or is the group now complete?

D’OR. Quite complete, I assure you, Sir Mortimer. I dislike dealing with a large group of men. A few sensible minds gathered around a table can best transact important business. You have not been chosen at random, gentlemen. The Blausteins desired the leading figure in each delegation to be present to-day and I am happy to say that the choice has fallen upon you.

GRAEFFLINGEN. You are very complimentary, M. D’Or.

D’OR. Not at all, my dear Baron. Men like yourself who are leaders in shaping the destinies of their country are entitled to recognition and honor—but to come down to the immediate business of our meeting. You are all delegates to the Geneva Conference which assembles next week. Can you tell me, Sir Mortimer, what the convention is expected to accomplish?

MUIRHEAD. From the program, of which you may have seen a copy, it is evident that the principal purpose is to consider questions concerning international arbitration and to effect by general agreement a reduction of the active military forces maintained by our respective governments.

D’OR. The first is a laudable object and I believe the Blausteins are in hearty accord with the project. As for the second—is such a reduction possible?

MUIRHEAD. Not only possible, but very desirable; the military and naval budgets are the most serious problems that concern our treasury ministers.

GRAEFFLINGEN. There is widespread dissatisfaction throughout Europe at the enormous appropriation of funds for military purposes. It is our thought that if the Geneva Conference cannot effect total disarmament, it can at least bring about a material reduction in equipment for war.

D’OR. It is proper that you should not misunderstand the attitude of the Blausteins toward this great question. They do not desire to foment strife among nations. As a matter of fact, they would not permit a European war at this time.

ANDRIEV. Would not _permit_ a war! Those are strong words, M. D’Or.

D’OR. [_Smoothly._] None the less, the older diplomats present will assure Count Andriev that my words are not stronger than the case warrants. [_He looks about. There is an awkward pause._] I am sure the general silence is the best proof of my assertion.

PALLOT. Pardon my remark, M. D’Or, but I cannot understand why the Blausteins should deprecate warfare, yet at the same time insist that the nations maintain the highest military efficiency.

D’OR. It was to explain just such matters as you have mentioned that our little meeting of this afternoon was arranged. There are certain things that cannot be openly discussed—

MUIRHEAD. One moment, M. D’Or. Are you certain that you do not wish our secretaries to retire before you go into details?

D’OR. Assuredly not, Sir Mortimer. I particularly desire the young men to remain. Diplomacy has many valuable lessons to teach. Here they can learn some of them.

GILBERT. [_Rising._] I should much prefer to retire if—

D’OR. Nonsense! I want you to remain—I insist on it! [GILBERT _resumes his seat_.] You are aware, gentlemen, of the extent to which the Blausteins hold the bonds of your respective governments, but there is another side to the story. A government does not borrow money except to spend it. Now, while it undoubtedly pays the Blausteins to lend you their gold, it pays them still better to become national contractors and purveyors, thus getting back much of the actual money with an added profit in the second transaction.

PALLOT. By which you mean—

D’OR. Simply this, gentlemen. The Blausteins have secured control of your most important gun factories, your powder works, your saltpeter and sulphur deposits, your mines. They control the firms that get most of the contracts for the erection of fortifications and for furnishing the munitions of war. In fact, they feed and clothe your soldiers, they supply the horses—

MUIRHEAD. Can this be possible?

D’OR. Why should it surprise you? Is it not the most natural thing in the world? The vast Blaustein millions cannot lie idle in the vaults. Is there any wonder that with the accumulated surplus of three generations of shrewd financiering, this insuperable power reaches out into new fields to secure a firmer grasp upon the forces of civilization?

MUIRHEAD. M. D’Or, may I ask you to state precisely what the Blausteins desire of us, as far as the Geneva Conference is concerned?

D’OR. Assuredly, Sir Mortimer. The Blausteins are aware that the Geneva Conference will be watched with interest throughout the civilized world; the press will report its proceedings in detail—

ANDRIEV. [_Drily._] But not these proceedings—here, to-day!

D’OR. No, that would never do. We must not give the rabble an opportunity to peer behind the scenes; it might interfere with the public performance. The Geneva Conference is presumably a gathering to foster universal peace.

GRAEFFLINGEN. Presumably!

D’OR. Certainly, my dear Baron! Can anyone predict what such a gathering will accomplish until the powers have sat in judgment upon it?

PALLOT. And we are here to get the verdict of the _real_ powers and to settle the fate of the Geneva Conference a full week before it begins!

D’OR. You are unnecessarily bitter, gentlemen. I am surprised to find such strange ideals in a group of experienced diplomats. This is no fairy-tale world in which we are living—it is still the same old, wicked, scandalous and hopeless Europe that it has always been.

MUIRHEAD. I am afraid, M. D’Or, that you are being drawn away from the answer to my question—

D’OR. Thank you, Sir Mortimer—these idealists always make trouble. Now, to the point. What the Blausteins particularly desire is that the Geneva Conference shall not give the journalists a chance to become rampant. Most of those vexatious pests are subsidized, but there are always reckless fellows who have nothing to lose and who are ready to court notoriety upon the slightest pretext. The Blausteins therefore want a triumphant victory of the peace party at Geneva.

THE OTHERS. [_Astounded._] The peace party!

D’OR. You misunderstand me. They want you to talk peace, to sing peace, to shout peace till you are exhausted. They want you to recommend measures advising partial reduction of military equipment and eventual disarmament in all countries, but at the same time they want it distinctly understood by all that not one of those recommendations is to be carried out at present. Just give each journalistic dog his bone to gnaw, and when all is over, things will go on as they are.

MUIRHEAD. [_Seriously._] Then what you suggest, M. D’Or, is that we should go through the farce of gathering at Geneva next week as the ostensible delegates of our respective governments, that we should adopt those splendid measures that appeal to all of us, and then, to please the Blausteins, we should nullify the work of the Conference by permitting its recommendations to become a dead letter! It is no trifle that you ask of us!

ANDRIEV. [_Warmly._] Trifle! He is asking us to become the Blaustein puppets! Are we here to take his orders?

D’OR. [_Smoothly._] No, no, Count Andriev—not orders. I am not here to issue any orders, least of all to such eminent diplomats as you. I am simply telling you what the Blausteins desire; the rest I leave in your hands. Perhaps some day you will better understand the significance of the name of Blaustein! [GILBERT _springs up with a cry and with clenched fists stands quivering before_ D’OR, _who has also risen_. MUIRHEAD _quickly steps between them._]

MUIRHEAD. Mr. Gilbert, you forget your place! You owe M. D’Or an apology. [_The others have risen._]

GILBERT. [_Tensely._] I—I could not control myself, Sir Mortimer—

D’OR. [_Suavely._] Pray do not take this seriously, Sir Mortimer. Your secretary owes me no apology. He did a very natural thing—I respect him for it. [GILBERT _drops heavily into his chair holding his head in his hands_. D’OR _watches him curiously. The rest resume their seats._ LOBEN _twiddles his thumbs_.] Of course, it is very unpleasant—this mission of mine. You can readily see that the Blausteins must protect their interests. We are showing you how you can satisfy the clamors of your people and silence the criticism of your newspapers by ostensibly complying with the popular demand. After all, the execution of your recommendations rests with others; you will do your duty at the conference.

ANDRIEV. Do you imagine that the people will tolerate this sort of trickery forever?

D’OR. Why not? The government that cannot control its masses by throwing them an occasional sop is a confessed failure—it deserves to fall. Count Andriev, your civic authorities have a most efficient ally in that universal force known as human nature. When your aristocrats engage against the rabble in that great game of skill popularly known as maintaining the government it is your own fault if you do not win; the dice are always loaded in your favor.

ANDRIEV. Suppose we should refuse to be parties to your plan?

D’OR. [_Looking around._] If you personally are eager to defy the Blausteins, you will probably find that the rest of the gentlemen present are not similarly inclined. [_An uneasy silence._]

ANDRIEV. [_Bitterly._] Evidently, you are right! Heaven help the nations that have to take orders from the Blausteins! Is there anything further, M. D’Or?

D’OR. Nothing except that I wish to express my thanks to all of you for meeting me here this afternoon. I hope that we part as friends?

PALLOT. Assuredly, M. D’Or. We must remember that you are merely the representative of the Blausteins and in no sense personally responsible for the policy which they have adopted. It would be absurd to harbor any personal resentment against you. [_Offers his hand._] I wish you good afternoon!

ANDRIEV. [_Likewise shakes hands._] I have used hard words here this afternoon—they were intended for the Blausteins, not for M. D’Or. Good day! [D’OR _unlocks the central doors, and Pallot and Andriev go off together_.]

D’OR. [_To_ GRAEFFLINGEN.] Well, Baron, are you as kindly disposed as these others? [_They shake hands. He turns to_ LOBEN.] I suppose you have learned a new lesson in the science of diplomacy?

LOBEN. [_Wearily._] Bless you, no indeed! I have been in diplomacy for seventeen years; I have become hardened to such incidents as this. It’s getting a bit monotonous. I wish there were some new forms of political corruption—they might prove interesting!

D’OR. I congratulate you, Baron, on your very blasé secretary. Such a man must be a treasure in your profession.

GRAEFFLINGEN. Good afternoon, M. D’Or. [_To_ MUIRHEAD.] Sir Mortimer, do you remain at Interlaken?

MUIRHEAD. No, I leave for Lucerne this evening. I shall spend a few days at the _Kaiserhof_ before going to Geneva.

GRAEFFLINGEN. I was about to ask you to dine with me. I am sorry you are leaving so soon. Good afternoon! [LOBEN _has meanwhile shaken hands with_ GILBERT _and clapped him on the shoulder as a sign of approval_. GILBERT _stands in dejection_. GRAEFFLINGEN _and_ LOBEN _pass out together_.]

MUIRHEAD. In taking leave, M. D’Or, I still feel that Mr. Gilbert owes you an explanation for his very remarkable conduct. I am sorry the incident happened.

D’OR. [_After a pause._] Perhaps you are right, Sir Mortimer. Won’t you permit Mr. Gilbert to remain for a few moments when you go? We can talk the matter over between ourselves.

MUIRHEAD. Mr. Gilbert, you hear what M. D’Or has said. You may rejoin me later at the hotel. Good day. [_They shake hands and_ MUIRHEAD _goes off_.]

D’OR. [_Very pleasantly._] Mr. Gilbert, Sir Mortimer has made it easy for me to have a confidential chat with you. I am indebted to him for it. I had no idea when I entered this room that I should meet such an interesting personality as yourself.

GILBERT. Sir Mortimer is right. I owe you an apology and I make it freely. I should have known my place.

D’OR. That is not the point. I want to know why you made that outcry?

GILBERT. I would rather not answer that question.

D’OR. I feel as if I have a right to insist upon an answer, Mr. Gilbert.

GILBERT. Perhaps you have. May I give the explanation in my own way?

D’OR. By all means! Let us sit down. [_They take seats, centre._] Do you smoke? [_He offers a cigar._]

GILBERT. No, thank you. [D’OR _lights his own cigar_.] M. D’Or, I sought the appointment as Sir Mortimer’s secretary because I believed it would prove an opening to a diplomatic career.

D’OR. Quite right—a very good opening!

GILBERT. At that time I regarded diplomacy as my life-work. I dreamed of participating in the great affairs of state, of helping in my own small way to mould the history of our own day and generation. The diplomat seemed to be so important a figure, so essentially a servant of the state that I was dazzled at the thought of serving my country in that way. And now—[_He pauses._]

D’OR. Now you think otherwise?

GILBERT. Until to-day I regarded Sir Mortimer Muirhead as one of the most enviable of men. Now I pity him—from the bottom of my heart. Kindly stop me if I offend—

D’OR. Go on. I want to hear all you have to say.

GILBERT. I learned this afternoon how hopelessly a man may be fettered in his efforts to serve his fellow men. To an experienced man like yourself it must be apparent how unfit I am for the profession I have chosen.

D’OR. Why were you so distressed to-day?

GILBERT. Picture a group of distinguished diplomats, representing the leading nations of Europe, gathered in secret conclave to hear the commands of a coterie of money-barons, and, what is worse, yielding to those commands in spite of their own convictions! It is enough to make one’s blood boil!

D’OR. You forget, Mr. Gilbert, that they are practical men of affairs. They know the power of the money-barons, as you choose to call them, and they act accordingly. A modern nation cannot afford to entrust its affairs to idealists and dreamers.

GILBERT. Apparently not; but what of the national honor? Do these secret compromises never become public? What can the reputable people of a great nation think when its rulers stoop to curry favor with the rich and powerful?

D’OR. My young friend, you have a distorted image in your mind; I advise you to set it right. Who are your reputable people who are to cavil at those who seek wealth or the influence that wealth affords? How many of your apparently reputable people are not themselves engaged in the pursuit of wealth by every method, direct or devious, that lies within their power? Look about you, Mr. Gilbert, and examine your fellow man a little more closely. Don’t place him on a pedestal. He’s a corrupt specimen of creation when you get to know him thoroughly.

GILBERT. [_Hotly._] What makes him corrupt but the fact that there are forces of evil abroad to tempt him—

D’OR. [_Smiling._] Like myself, for example?

GILBERT. Some men are not strong enough to resist temptation. You know that, M. D’Or. The shame of it is that men like you take advantage of it.

D’OR. Nonsense, Mr. Gilbert. We corrupt none of them. If need be we ascertain the price of their corruption, but there our responsibility ends. The work of the world must be accomplished. We cannot have men pulling in all directions at once. There must be some harmony of action to achieve results. If any one impedes the progress of a great plan, it is policy to buy him off; if he refuses to yield he must be swept out of the way. Usually he is too wise to resist—he takes his price and withdraws gracefully. The world is waiting to be bought.

GILBERT. There is one thing I cannot understand, M. D’Or—why do you tell me these things?

D’OR. Because I take an interest in you. I should like to see you make something of your career. A few moments ago there were four prominent diplomats in this room who did me the honor to confer upon the important question that you heard discussed, yet for this quartette of notables I have infinitely less respect than I have for you. I took real pleasure in your outburst of disapproval.

GILBERT. But they all opposed you, particularly Count Andriev.

D’OR. Yes, but they all yielded at last—that is the fact that makes them contemptible in my eyes. Mr. Gilbert, may I ask what salary Sir Mortimer pays you for acting as his secretary?

GILBERT. Five hundred pounds.

D’OR. If I were to offer you a thousand pounds to become my secretary, would you accept?

GILBERT. No!

D’OR. If I were to make it five thousand pounds, would you listen to the offer?

GILBERT. No, M. D’Or!

D’OR. If I were to discover that the Blausteins needed an eminently trustworthy agent and that you fulfilled the requirements exactly, would you consider a salary of ten thousand pounds?

GILBERT. Never!

D’OR. [_Puffing his cigar, coolly._] I knew it! That’s why you interest me—you are a human curiosity. A few, years ago I was ready to declare there were no such men in existence. Remember, I have not insulted you by really making the offer that I put just now. I pride myself that I read your character aright and knew the offer would be rejected.

GILBERT. Are such offers ever made seriously?

D’OR. Certainly, if the man is worth it. Such matters are always subject to the dictates of reason.

GILBERT. I now realize the source of your overwhelming power. I have learned something from this interview—I shall not give up diplomacy.

D’OR. Will you remain Sir Mortimer’s secretary?

GILBERT. Yes, for the present. If I am one of the few of whom you speak so highly, my country needs me and I intend to remain in her service.

D’OR. [_Smiling._] There speaks the patriot! Be careful, my friend, to avoid tight places, so that you may not have to yield to the tempter one of these days. [_They rise._] May I wish you success in your career? [_He extends his hand._]

GILBERT. [_Painfully._] M. D’Or, I don’t want to insult you again—but—I’d rather not shake your hand.

D’OR. [_With assumed indifference._] Just as you wish—it is better that we should understand each other exactly. Perhaps I should feel offended, but I don’t—I’m not going to quarrel with you. I wish you success just the same. You may be right, after all—you young fellows have a great deal of enthusiasm. There ought to be more like you.

GILBERT. [_Eagerly._] M. D’Or, there’s a real strain of good in you—why don’t you give it a chance?

D’OR. [_Uneasily._] I may change my mind some day. If I do, I shall remember you, Mr. Gilbert—

GILBERT. [_Seizes_ D’OR’S _hand and looks squarely in his eyes_.] I hope so, M. D’Or—I hope so! Good-bye! [_He goes out._]

D’OR. [_Places his cigar on the table and looks toward the central door._] I’d give my fortune for that man’s outlook on life! [CLAIRE _enters silently at the right, holding her notes in her hand. She looks curiously at_ D’OR.]

CLAIRE. Well—there are some honorable people, after all!

D’OR. [_Turning quickly._] What! I must confess I had quite forgotten that you were in the next room. You heard everything?

CLAIRE. [_Drily._] Yes—and profited by it, too!

D’OR. You have a verbatim report?

CLAIRE. Everything; even your interesting little chat with Mr. Gilbert.

D’OR. See here, mademoiselle—that has no place in the report. Kindly let me have those sheets.

CLAIRE. Never fear, M. D’Or—the Blausteins will never see any part of this report!

D’OR. What do you mean?

CLAIRE. I intend to destroy every line that I wrote in that room. I heard what Mr. Gilbert said. I will no longer be the servile spy of the Blausteins!

D’OR. [_With a sneer._] Ah! Virtue seems to be contagious.

CLAIRE. There are always immunes.

D’OR. Your tongue has not lost its cunning, in spite of your moral awakening. So you won’t let me have the notes?

CLAIRE. Not unless you take them by force. [_With determination._] I warn you, I shall not give them up tamely.

D’OR. Calm yourself. You forget the Blaustein maxim, ‘Above all things, no public scandal.’ I shall not make the least effort to obtain those notes without your consent.

CLAIRE. Thank you. May I go?

D’OR. [_Earnestly._] Mlle. Lasalle, I will give you five thousand francs for those notes.

CLAIRE. [_Frightened._] Please let me pass!

D’OR. Ten thousand francs—for the notes.

CLAIRE. How dare you! [_A pause._] Remember Mr. Gilbert!

D’OR. [_With a start, then quietly._] Mademoiselle, will you give me those notes at your own price if I promise to destroy them—now, here, before your eyes?

CLAIRE. [_After a pause._] I shall give them to you on one condition.

D’OR. Name it.

CLAIRE. [_Slowly._] That you don’t ask me to touch any more Blaustein money. I’m trying to do a decent thing this time.

D’OR. [_With admiration._] I understand. You have my promise. [CLAIRE _fixes her gaze on_ D’OR, _and hands over the sheets. He keeps his eyes on her as he tears the notes into tiny scraps which fall on the table. He gathers up the scraps and throws them into the fire._]

CLAIRE. [_Earnestly._] We two are not entirely hopeless.

D’OR. [_Still gazing at her._] Not after this!

CLAIRE. We are not likely to meet again. I am going to some remote corner of the earth—to try to forget the past. The Blausteins shall never hear of me again. Let us make one good resolution before we part.

D’OR. What shall it be?

CLAIRE. Let us both try to remember Mr. Gilbert!

D’OR. I shall never forget Mr. Gilbert—[_Extending his hand._] nor Mlle. Claire Lasalle, stenographer!

CLAIRE. [_Taking his hand._] Good-bye, M. D’Or! [_She hurries out at the centre._ D’OR _looks after her for a moment, then snatches the gold band from across his bosom and dashes it on the table with a gesture of disgust. He drops into a chair as the curtain falls._]

SCENE IV

[_A sombre, darkly furnished room in a Balkan palace. There are wooden panels and heavy gold hangings; also a window, left, a door, right, and large double doors, centre. At the left there is a table on which is a lamp with a dull gold shade. Nearby are an armchair, a footrest and a smaller chair. At the right there is a small table with two chairs. Against the walls are several quaint high-backed chairs and a curious medieval stove. As the curtain rises_, D’OR _is in the armchair asleep. He wears a dark dressing gown with deep gold borders and embroidery. He still has his gold rings. The window at the left is open and from the outside come the plaintive notes of a shepherd’s pipe. The light is that of early evening._ EDITH PACKARD, _dressed as a nurse, enters at the right. She feels_ D’OR’S _pulse and tiptoes noiselessly about. She places fresh golden flowers in a vase on the smaller table, then lights the lamp at the larger table and turns the flame low. After tidying the room a bit, she takes another look at_ D’OR, _feels his forehead lightly and goes off, right. The shepherd’s pipe is silenced. There is a sudden flash of lightning at the open window and the distant rumble of thunder._]

D’OR. [_In his sleep._] Not Death! Not Death! I’ve bought off Death for a time! Not yet! [_He awakes with a start._] Miss Packard! I’ve been dreaming horribly again! [_He looks about anxiously._] Miss Packard! Has Dr. Mirsky arrived? [_Listens for reply._] They take my money, yet they’re not here when I need them most. [_He experiences a convulsive spasm and is unable to articulate_ MISS PACKARD’S _name, though he makes a painful effort to do so. He rises heavily from his chair and staggers to the bell rope near the door, right. He manages to pull it and falls in a faint over the chair standing near. Lightning and distant thunder._ EDITH _rushes in and rubs his wrists. He revives and she succeeds in getting him to the table, right._]

D’OR. [_Bewildered._] Where am I? Yes—I remember—I called—

EDITH. You were sleeping peacefully when I left the room a moment ago!

D’OR. Not peacefully! I never sleep peacefully.

EDITH. Do you feel any better?

D’OR. Worse—much worse! How long did I sleep?

EDITH. Over three hours. It is past six o’clock.

D’OR. Evening already! Another day gone! [_Lightning._ EDITH _starts to close the window. It thunders as she looks out._]

EDITH. Oh! M. D’Or, a terrible storm is approaching! The whole valley is filled with black clouds! [_Lightning._]

D’OR. Close that window quickly! I cannot bear lightning. [_She closes it amid thunder._] Another storm! I shall lie awake all night! [_Groans._] Hasn’t Dr. Mirsky arrived?

EDITH. No, he has not come. Perhaps the storm will prevent his getting here to-night.

D’OR. I _must_ see the doctor—he must come to-night! He takes my money; he should be at my beck and call. I need him now—I may die before morning. Is there no one at the palace whom you can send to the village? [_Heavy thunder._]

EDITH. Cyril is downstairs.

D’OR. The gardener’s son? I’ll not send the boy on such a night as this. Perhaps Mirsky will get here after all.

EDITH. He should come.

D’OR. I pay him well enough, eh? I pay you well, Miss Packard? I pay everybody well. I may be feeble, but I still have my gold. It serves me yet! [_Thunder._]

EDITH. Do you care for something to eat?

D’OR. No, I have no appetite. I am an unhappy creature. Turn up the lamp, Miss Packard—it is too gloomy. I can scarcely see. [_She turns up the lamp._ D’OR _notices the flowers_.] Why are those wilted flowers on the table?

EDITH. They do seem wilted—yet they were quite fresh when I brought them in a few minutes ago. [_Thunder._] Perhaps the storm—

D’OR. Nonsense! A storm cannot affect cut flowers! They must have been dying when you brought them in. [_Raises their drooping heads._] Dying! Dying—their golden beauty waning—a few hours more and all will be over! [_Groans._] I must see Mirsky! I feel wretched to-night. Look down the road, Miss Packard, and see if there are any signs of the doctor’s carriage. He would not come on foot to-night. [EDITH _opens the window. Lightning and a wild blast of wind._ D’OR _covers his eyes and groans_.]

EDITH. [_Peering out._] It is too dark to see far—but the road seems quite deserted. [_Thunder._]

D’OR. Quick! Close the window! [EDITH _does so_.] Even Mirsky fails me when I need him most. He shall hear from me to-morrow—[_A pause._] if I am still alive. Have you had your dinner?

EDITH. No, but there’s no hurry—I do not wish to leave you alone.

D’OR. Get your dinner by all means. You are young and healthy—you can enjoy it. Send up Cyril to keep me company; I like the boy.

EDITH. Very well. Is there nothing else I can do for you?

D’OR. [_More softly._] Nothing, Miss Packard. You are very kind to me. Are you satisfied in this Balkan wilderness? Am I paying you enough for coming to this desolate region?

EDITH. Don’t say such things. I am a nurse—it is my duty to serve you. Besides, you have been very generous to me.

D’OR. Thank you. Run along now—and don’t forget to send up Cyril. [_She goes off, centre._ D’OR _looks nervously about him, holds his hand over his heart, then draws himself slowly up and goes to the window to peer out. Seeing nothing he opens it. A furious downpour of rain is heard, then a flash of lightning half-blinds him. He closes the window with a loud bang._] No hope of Mirsky to-night. Even my money won’t bring him out on such a night as this. [_He walks slowly to the armchair._] If he does not come, I shall be dead before sunrise!

CYRIL. [_Putting in his head, centre._] May I come in, M. D’Or?

D’OR. [_Brightening._] Cyril! By all means! Come in, my boy! [_He resumes his seat._]

CYRIL. Miss Packard said you wouldn’t be angry.

D’OR. I am very glad to see you. What have you been doing all day?

CYRIL. I have been exploring along the other side of the river. I left the palace this morning at five o’clock and joined some boys in the village. We tramped for several miles along the river, then crossed the bridge at Arak and went into the woods.

D’OR. It must have been delightful. You started at five o’clock?

CYRIL. Yes, it was still dark. I saw the sun rise from the Hadderberg. By dinner time we were over ten miles beyond Arak.

D’OR. How did you get home so quickly?

CYRIL. Oh! we saw the storm coming—at first it was a little speck of black cloud floating far off in the sky beyond the mountain range. We hurried through the woods and reached home a half-hour ago.

D’OR. You must have had a glorious tramp. Did you do any hunting?

CYRIL. Oh no! The season has not opened yet—we shall go hunting later on. M. D’Or, did you ever take such trips when you were a boy? [_Rumbling thunder._]