title: The conscript, a play in six acts.
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It is expected it will bring happiness, for fame and wealth without happiness is as “sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal.” It is good for the young and the old, and it has cured some who have failed to find a remedy for their ills in sweet medicines. It has philosophy, love, and religion enough for this world and the next. It is the best play ever written, and it is expected to outlast every thing written and be lost only in the grave of civilization. This play is founded on Dumas’ “Conscript.” The author has used his characters, nothing else. The language and ideas are his own, he has made the characters to suit his fancy. In a word whatever is good in it is his own, whatever is bad is somebody else’s. It is launched on the sea of a world of trash with the highest of hope and greatest of courage as to its success. No man’s opinion that is worth anything will be against it; therefore those whose opinions are against it no one will care anything about. Having the fullest faith in the taste and wisdom of the public, (which the author may be mistaken in) he submits his play to its tender mercy and fostering care. THE CONSCRIPT. By WM. L. MITCHELL. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Conscience. The Conscript Bastien. An Hussar Father Cade. Grandfather of Conscience Niguet. Money Loaner Dr. Bernardo... Lawyer. Madelaine. Conscience’s Mother Marietta. Conscience’s Mother Marietta. Conscience’s Playmate Dame Marie. Marietta’s Mother Catherine. Loved by Bastien Soldiers, Nurses, Etc. Napoleon's Officers. Etc. A O T I. Scene 1. — In Idarmont France—Two Cottages opposite each other. Conscience, Marietta and Barnard, the dog. Marietta. Conscience, I have been thinking of the years which have come and gone with the snows of winter and the flowers of summer. The stream by whose border we wandered, In life’s early morn so bright and gay, Has sped with the hours that we squandered, And passed like the golden sunsets away. Here we were born and here we have lived until you are almost a man and I almost a woman. Here in this little cottage my mother nursed us both. When your poor mother heard of the death of your brother William killed in battle, her milk dried up with her grief and so we drank life from one breast. We have lived here so far in life as brother and sister—but we cannot always live so, and I have a presentiment that we are soon to part. And now as we sit here and the evening Te Deum of the birds floats up to heaven and dies away upon the air, and the evening bells are tolling for vespers I am thinking that our past sweet dream life is to fade away like this poor flower which I drop into the stream—see how it looks back and yet glides away and forever. Do you remember how the old dog used to draw me and how we gathered the wild flowers by the way, and when tired from play we slept under the old tree and our lullaby was the song of birds and the murmur of the stream. In after years how we will look back to this dear old scene and say: The flowers we then so carelessly picked, So bright and so sweet and so fair, Have gone with the home where the old clock ticked, Gone with the old folks who were there. Conscience. It is strange that you should have such a presentiment. I too have had strange forebodings, I too have felt that in some way there was to be a change. That this dream life was to end and that I should go out into the world and leave you and these happy scenes behind me, upon which the curtain would drop to rise no more, and we the actors appear on this little stage for the last time. In the great theatres they have great cities and grand palaces, they are but as painted ships upon a painted ocean. The actors there present all phases of human life from the king to the peasant, the splendor of the rich and the rags of the poor often show that vice is in the splendor and virtue in the rags. They there show how “ambition oerleaps itself”—losing heaven finding only a lonely grave—but it is all a mere play. Yet here our little plays have all been real. The earth was our stage, our little world here our theatre, the heaven with its stars and the old woods and the streams were our scenes and canvas; and here our little life’s plays, so often rounded with a sleep so real so earnest so true, are about to end and we the actors disappear; yet we shall often look back to this little theatre of ours where we have played life’s early comedies. We are ever going forward in life and ever looking backward. The phantom of fortune and fame which we chase is like the mirage ever changing. Now we see the oasis like the traveler in the desert, and seem to approach it then it seems to be as far off as ever. Then we look back and it seems with its shady groves and running fountains to be on the very route we have just passed over. So we are ever going on "In early life full of hope, in later life full of recollection," Marietta, I heard today that there was to be a draft in our little village of one hundred men, all under sixty and over sixteen. It will take nearly every able-bodied man. Napoleon's star is setting. He has come back from Moscow leaving 500,000 men with their martial cloaks wrapped around them but as shrouds. Marshal Ney passing over the Rhine was the last of the rear guard of the grand army of France, who with a few thousand had escaped the cold hug of the Russian bear. A million of the allied army is marching upon Paris, Napoleon has but a quarter of that amount of men to meet them. He must have more men though it takes the last son from a widowed mother. We are but bricks and stones upon which kings build their thrones—so Marietta I may be one of the conscripts. Marietta weeps. Marietta. Oh Conscience, Conscience, my presentiment and my dreams alas are about to be fulfilled. We shall part, all this our happy life is to end. I see it now fading, fading out like the landscape and the woods before us in the twilight. I hear it in the symphony of the winds in the rustle of the leaves telling mournfully that, Here on the bank of this heather, We shall part and part forever. THE CONSCRIPT. Conscience. Say not so—There is hope while there is life. There is courage for the brave heart and there is God over all. Enter Officer with notice of drawing dec. Marietta shrieks. Marietta. Oh it’s already come, so soon, How little we know what is behind the curtain of the future. How many sorrows it discloses each day when it is raised. Oh heaven pity us! Poor old father Cadet, so old he can’t work his little farm, and Conscience, if you were taken away, your poor old grandfather and mother would die of grief. You are the crutch upon which old age leans and if it is taken away they will drop into their graves. I have heard your grandfather say the mortgage upon the farm was about due and if not paid the tann would have to go. That there was no mercy to be expected from Niguet the money lender— all will be lost, you must not go. Oh war, war, thou demon that makes the world desolate, that takes our brothers and fathers to build up thrones for ambition to sit upon! Thou art the serpent which enters into the Eden, and makes all desolation and misery where all was beauty and happiness. makes strife where all was peace, makes death where all was life. Conscience. Let us trust in God. Whatever is our fate, let us meet it bravely, for we cannot by our cowardice or tears evade it. I may not be drawn, it is I am I must go— there is no help. If the bullet is cast that is to end my life, so be it. It is but fate cast in an iron mold and no person can stop the one or change the other. Our destiny is like our shadow, it follows us through life and only quits us at the grave. Scene II. The drawing — soldiers, people, boys, girls, flags, etc. Conscience. Marietta, Madelaine, Dame Marie Bastien, Father Cadet, Catherine, Barnard—front of station or barracks. Conscience goes in the barracks with Bastien, and as he comes out all are watching to see if he has drawn the lucky number, but they see by his sad looks and those of Bastien that he is drawn as a conscript. Conscience. I have drawn the unlucky number, I am a conscript. Women all cry saying, Oh Conscience, oh Bastien, we dof Bastien. (overcome with grief.) It can’t be helped now. I offered to go in his place, but they wouldn’t take me because I had lost two fingers in the last battle I should think that ought to have recommended me—and then they said I might have to go on my own account. They’ll take us, old father Cadet and all if this war is not ended soon. Marietta I am an old soldier, have seen many sad scenes in truth and I don’t care anything for bullets but I do for tears. I can’t bear to see you all take on so, (all are crying.) it takes away all my courage. I had rather be shot. Let us trust in Providence and first let us go and bid adieu to Conscience who is to go away immediately. All kiss Conscience. He kisses old father Cadet who blesses him. All go home, women crying, etc. Conscience is marched off with a squad of soldiers. ACT II. Scene I.—Battle, explosion of caisson, Conscience gust before rushes in between shell and Napoleon, —saves Napoleon but is wounded and blinded—taken to a hospital at Laone. Tableau. Scene II.—Marietta receives a letter from Conscience. Scene at the cottages, all present but Bastien. Marietta. Here comes the post man, we shall hear shortly from poor Conscience and Bastien too. Oh it has been so long, oh if we don’t hear soon I shall fear the worst. Carrier hands her a letter. Ah it’s not from Conscience, it’s a strange hand writing-dear who can it be from, is Conscience dead? Oh God have mercy upon us. Reads the letter. Marietta opening letter and reading. Hospital at Laone. This is the first letter that I have been able to send you. THE CONSCRIPT. Oh, it's from Conscience, [reads on] and I do not write this. I may never see you again, I am blind, [all cry etc.] I told you I had a presentiment that I should leave our little homes at Harmont and never see you or them again. I shall never see those dear old scenes, and your bright face so full of smiles and hope, so full of love and kindness, and the dear old woods where we wandered and played. The flowers will bloom and the trees put forth their leaves, but I shall see them no more. I was wounded in the battle near this place—all were killed around me—a shell struck the caisson near my gun, I rushed between it and Napoleon who had just rode up. Napoleon was saved, I was wounded and taken up for dead. I was not so badly wounded but the powder had put out my eyes. It would have been better if the shell had killed me. Oh, Marietta it all seems so dark, if I could only hear your dear voice and that of mother it would not seem so terrible. I shall go to you as soon as I can but I can’t find my way alone and it may be weeks before we shall meet, but oh, how changed a meeting it will be from the old bye-gone days. But we shall meet upon the heather To part no more, no more forever. Madelaine. Oh, William was killed, Conscience is blind and may die. Oh, have mercy. Our Father who art in heaven, have mercy upon poor Conscience and save him. Have pity upon me, a poor widow and mother of poor Conscience. Father Cadet. There is but little left for old age but sorrows. Conscience gone—the farm is going. The old Jew Niguet will not wait, he thinks and means to get the farm. The crop this year, if Conscience could have been here and taken care of it, would have paid up the balance due. Year after year we have toiled to pay and now the hard earnings have gone and the farm will go at last. Oh, how happy we would have been but for this cruel war! We shall have to leave this old roof which has sheltered us so long, but “the Lord will temper the wind to the shorn lamb. Marietta. I am going to Conscience. THE CONSCRIPT. All. Going to Conscience? Father Cadet. How can you go poor girl? The country is full of rough soldiers. You even don’t know the way and it’s far off, and alas we have no money. No, no, Marietta the soldiers would insult you and laugh at your tears. Marietta. Where there is a will there is a way. He that protects the fatherless will watch over me. Besides, no true brave soldier would insult a poor defenceless girl, but would die to protect her. No, the brave soldier wars upon the strong but shields the weak. Marietta puts on her hat and goes to the General's headquarters of the Russian army, which is encamped on Father Cadet's farm and have destroyed the crops. Scene III.— The General's Headquarters. Mar. Oh these soldiers, enemies of France, see how they have destroyed poor father Cadet’s crops and fences. It looks like a desert, hardly a poor spear of grass growing. [going up to a sentinel] Is this the general’s headquarters? Sen. It is my pretty lass, I wish I was the general. Mar. If you don’t mind your business, I’ll set Barnard on you. Sen. I had a good deal rather be bitten by the mistress than by the dog. Marietta goes in. Mar. Is this the general? Gen. It is my little beauty. What can I do for you? [proposes to kiss her. Mar. But business before pleasure, General. If soldiers fought better and kissed less, it would be better for the country and the girls too. [Barnard growls.] You see General, I have a beau who is very jealous. Gen. Yes, he growls like any dog who sees his mistress about to be hugged by another dog. What is the matter, my little maid? Mar. General, pity the misfortunes of a poor family—a few weeks ago we were all so happy in our little homes. Made-line, mother, Father Cadet, Barnard, Conscience and I. Gen. Who the deuce is Conscience? Mar. Conscience he is—he is—Conscience. Dishes. Gen. Oh, I see you have two consciences; I find one is bad enough, it gives one a great deal of trouble in this world. This Conscience is your lover, is that it. Well, what is the matter? Mar. General, I did love him and he loved me; and we were so young and so happy—please sir, we couldn’t help it—we drew our milk from the same breast; we played together as children, and when we grew older we hadn’t anything else to do, and we loved—and now—and now—and now—he is wounded and blind, in the Hospital at Laone, I must go and take care of him. He is so lonely and so sad. Gen. Impossible! the woods and roads are full of soldiers, and you could not get through them. Mar. Oh, do not say so General you will kill us all and poor Conscience too. I can go with Barnard. Gen. Who the dog is Barnard? Mar. Barnard? Why Barnard is this dog. Gen. (lauglis) Well, I am afraid the soldiers would make Bologna sausages of the dog, and sweet meats of you. Mar. General, give me a pass and your soldiers will respect it and God will protect me. Gen’s Wife. Oh, General, if you can, give the poor girl what she so desires, a pass. Oh, war brings so many sorrows and sufferings. Plow many bright homes it breaks up—the circle is broken, the fire goes out upon the hearth, wild weeds gather upon the wall, and the places which were once happy homes are deserted, and those that knew them no more forever. Oh, let us so far as we can relieve it from its horrors. Gen. (to his Secretary.) Give This girl, a pass in Russian and French, and let it contain the strictest orders for her protection. Mar. [Getting the pass, dances, kisses the General's wife and the General, and retires crying for joy, O, I am—I am—so—so happy, (cries and then laughs) I shall see Conscience, and I’ll kiss him—ah, he won’t see me though—Oh, I’ll lead him all the day long and draw him, that’s Barnard and me, won’t we Barnard? (talks to the dog,) draw him as you and he used to draw me, and we’ll go down and have our old plays over again in the woods—but he will not see how pretty I am, (looks at herself in a little pocket glass). How every fellow stares at a pretty girl. I wish poor Conscience could see me, I’d give more for the love in his eyes, than that of all the wondering eyes of the curious, staring crowd of men on the street. Dear, dear, I have not got him yet, (there is many a slip between the cup and lip). It’s a long road and full of dangers, and poor Conscience, he may be dying or dead. Oh, no, kind Providence, restore him again to his poor old mother and grandfather, and—and—to me. Old father Cadet will read prayers every night, and oh, we will be so good and so happy. Going home through the woods is met by old Niguet, the money loaner. Niguet. Ah, my dear, pretty little miss, I have not seen you since Conscience left you, when he went as a conscript, and you were in tears. O, I do like to see a pretty girl cry — she seems to feel so bad and yet looks so good. Well, Conscience, I hear, has lost his eyes, and so can’t see you again, and of course you will not look at him now he is blind, and poorer than ever. Now, as I am rich and hold the mortgage on Father Cadet’s farm, suppose that I take the farm and you into the bargain, so you can live where you have always lived. Mar. I am going after Conscience; see, I have got a pass, (showing it). I love him more than ever because he is blind. We pity whom God afflicts. We help the unfortunate and God helps us. I would not leave poor Conscience now, it would be cruel, and besides I love him and never will love anybody else. No, no, Monsieur Niguet, money can’t buy love, it can buy almost anything else. It is the gilded shore to a world of sorrow. Starts to go on, is stopped by Niguet. Niguet. Nay, not so fast my little dear, (attempts to chuck her under the chin, which she resents). If you are as wise as you are pretty, listen. I hold the mortgage on Conscience’s grandfather’s farm; rather I have got a decree and can sell in thirty days, all the property. Times are hard, nobody can buy. I shall get the farm and everything on it. I can drive father Cadet and all out of doors. You can say whether it shall be done. If you will marry me, I will bid the place in, and we will live there. If you say no, I shall sell and not wait a day. If your family is driven out it is your fault. You can save them a home. Mar, Oh, M. Niguet, be merciful—who oppresses the widow and the fatherless shall not prosper. You can turn poor Conscience when he comes home, and his poor widowed mother, and poor old father Cadet, out of doors, but God will shelter them somehow. “He will temper the wind to the shorn lamb,” and he will punish you. Retributive justice never sleeps. Some day God will call you to an account for your evil deeds, and scatter your ill-gotten gains, and send you down to old Hippolyte’s regions. Niguet. Oh, my little saint. How pretty you talk. I should like to kiss that pretty mouth, that says such pretty things. Come, my little dear, you must be the wife of old Niguet, in spite of the world. You are in my power— there is no one here. If you will not on your knees swear to marry me, I’ll make you something worse, a withered faded flower that nobody will look at. Say quick. (Seizes her. Marietta shrieks and says): Mar. Oh, God, help, help me, poor, poor Marietta. Have mercy, Niguet, as you would have God and man have mercy on you. [Shrieks. Old Niguet is trying to drag her down, a gun is fired so close by that the powder burns Niguet's hair and face and stuns them both and both fall. Bastien breaks through the bushes. Bastien. The old scoundrel, I had nothing but powder in my musket, or old Niguet would have plagued this world no more with his usury and taking the homes of the widows and orphans. I think I ought to kill him now, I would if he would only show fight, but he is such an old coward. Poor Marietta, troubles never come singly. It’s well I came. Strange fate should have brought me here and now just in the nick of time to save Marietta. I did not know why I was not shot in battle—what I was living for. I have done some good if I have killed old Niguet and saved poor Marietta. (Gives Marietta.) To a drink from his canteen. Marietta revives and says, "Where am I? Who is this? Oh, Bastien is this you? [Tries to embrace him laughs and swoons again." Bas. D—n these women, they faint away when they are in the hands of the enemy, or in the hands of friends—so d—d fickle they can’t tell what to do. I am a great mind to kill this old devil. I see he begins to move. Say, you old Arab, you Hottentot, you old Bazouk, attacking defenseless women, ( kicking him) if I ever catch you speaking to, or even looking at Marietta again, you’ll never harm another woman in this world. Get up and “don’t stand upon the order of your going but go at once.” Old Niguet retires mumblin and shaking his fist at Bastien. Mar. (rising) How came you here, I thought you were with the army somewhere near Conscience. Bas. I came here, I suppose, because God sent me to save you. I didn’t know before that I could ever do any good. Then to think I came from Conscience and found you in trouble. There is no army, it is scattered like the leaves of autumn. The French are beaten and the Allies are successful. Mar. You come from Conscience. O, Bastien, I love you for that and for all you have done for me. [Embraces him, kisses him, etc. Bas. That’s better than bullets to take and carry around. Kisses may make a hole in a man’s heart, but bullets make a hole in his body, but both make a man feel sore. Marietta you say you love me because I came from Conscience and Saved you. I wish somebody loved me for myself. Mar. Pshaw, Bastien, Catherine loves you. We sat day after day and wandering in the woods, we talked of you and Conscience, and the war, and she would cry just as I did, and I know I cried because I loved Conscience, and she cried because she loved you. Bas. You girls always cry whether you’re hurt or not. But do you say Catherine loves me. Oh, I am so happy, (dances) I have not heard from her and I thought she had forgotten me. I feel a tingling just as though I had been shot. Mar. No, she wrote but heard nothing from you. You and Conscience were not in the same regiment, or division of the army, and your letters went astray, and I don’t know that Conscience received those that I wrote him. They going to Catherine's house, meet her. Catherine and Bastien embrace each other and the girls cry. Bas. There it is again. What waterspouts you women are, you would be good in a dry time. Blast it everybody cries wherever I go. I guess I made old skinflint cry down there, [pointing to where the attack was made on Marietta] and, blast it, if I ain’t crying myself. [Blows his nose like a trumpet and wipes away tears, &c.] Well, Catherine, you are looking like a rose in bloom, and blushing twice as red. Oath. Oh, Bastien, I hoped and prayed that you would come back safe, but we heard nothing from you and I—[crying.] Bas. There you go off again. We shall have a freshet E CONSCRIPT. 13 with so much rain. You cry because you thought I was killed. Now you cry because I am. I know a way to get rid of tears. Catli.. \smiles ] IIow? Has. Kiss them away. [Kisses her.] There, see how smiles chase away the tears, and how quick a kiss dries up tears on a maiden’s cheeks. Don’t you cry sometimes to have the tears kissed away, and ain’t you mad if some fellow don’t do it? Cath. No, we don’t. No, we ain’t mad. But you men give us so much trouble, we have to cry. You get us in love, then you go off to the wars. Mar. Well, I don’t see as I can be of any use here, there is one too many, so good-bye, I am going away tomorrow. [Kisses Catherine] Ba*. Going away tomorrow. Where? Mar Going to Conscience. Bas. Going to the d— Why, my child, it was as much as I could do to get here. You can’t go there, they'd eat you up, you are so sweet. They’d think you were honey, but they thought I was old beeswax. Mar. Look here. [Shows the jess.~\ Bas. Be gar, you are an angel. Ain't she, Catherine? I almost wish I had gone blind. Would you, Catherine, do what Marietta is doing? Would you go after and watch over me? Cath. Gone blind? I wish you had, so Marietta and I could have gone together. Wouldn’t it have been so nice. Bas. No, I don’t think so. It might have been fun for you, but death to us. What tricks you would have played upon us. What faces you would have made up at us, and we couldn’t see you, No, a blind man may follow his nose but I’d rather follow my eyes, yet a man’s eyes make a fool of him when he looks upon woman in love, and makes him blind at last to all follies, but when he gets married he gets his eye sight restored, and he sees more sometimes than he wants to. I am going to the General and get a pass too. O th. What for? You going to leave me? Bas. I am going with Marietta. She’d be no more like to ever see Conscience than Conscience will ever see her, for she never would get there alone. Mar. But Bastien, you must not leave Catherine so soon, and you know I have got Barnard. Bas. Whoop! I’d leave Catherine if she was my wife to go with you on such an errand of mercy. Poor Conscience, all the day he sits and thinks and talks of you, and the old folks and old times. I’d go through the whole Russian army for you and Conscience. Ain’t I right Catherine? Ain't this according to the good book, “do as we would like to be done by.” I don’t know much about the Bible, or prayer, my early training was neglected, but I know what is right and wrong, and I sometimes think if I only do a little good, and try to Do right in this world, they’ll leave the gate a little open for me to enter the other world. Gath. Yes, go Bastien, I love you better than ever. You have got a good heart, if you are a rough soldier. I wouldn’t give you for a regiment of those white-haired, pale-faced, downy mustache fops, who have neither hearts nor brains. Kiss me quick and go. Bas. Hello, I am getting kissed now as often as I used to get kicked. We get even with the world at some time. What a hard life we soldiers lead. We don’t know where we are going to eat or sleep, or when we are going to get shot, or kissed. I think the kissing is better than the shooting, it certainly is safer. I’ve got an idea, Catherine, kiss me quick and I’ll tell you it—honest! [She kisses him.] We’ll all go to Conscience, Barnard and all. I’ll get a pass for you, Catherine, and myself, and we’ll have a grand picnic when we get to Conscience, and we all come marching home. Won’t we play gypsies, and dance and sing. Hello, not so fast—go slow, I forgot poor Conscience was blind and that there were a hundred miles between us, filled with soldiers. Yes, I’ll spill my milk if I go so fast. Well, good-bye. “It’s all well that ends well.” I am off for the General’s quarters. [Going off singing.] ACT III. Scene. —Hospital at Laone. Bastien, Marietta, Catherine, Barnard, Sentinel, &c. This is the old hospital where Conscience is. It looks like a Bastile, but it’s easier to get out of than the old Bastile, destroyed by the mob which finally destroyed Louis XVI. Few went into the old Bastile that ever came out. It was at once a home and a grave. How many went in and were forgotten by the world and died long after, unwept and unknown. Hello, [Giving the military salute] old stick in the mud, we have come to see Conscience, and I suppose he’s where I left him in here, a few days ago. Sentinel. What do you say, that you left your conscience in here? Has. You don’t seem to be deaf. That’s what I said. I said we had left Conscience here and we have come after him. It’s a man. It’s Marietta’s Conscience that we want. Sen. Let me see your pass. Bastien shows his pass. Has. If you can’t read well read it for you. Sen. You need not trouble yourself. This won’t do. Bastien won’t do! Can you read? This is a pass through the lines. You’ll get shot some fine morning for your ignorance. Sen. Yes, it’s a pass through the lines, but not into the hospital. You get a pass from the officer in command here and you can keep your breath to sing to your babies. Bas. That’s clever. When I want your advice, I’ll ask for it, and when I have any babies I shall know it as soon as all are doing well, won’t we Catherine, and I shall have breath enough to swear at you and sing furthermore too. There seems to be as many passes here as in “Balkans ++ I'll get it if I have to go to St. Petersburg, to the Czar. [Going and gets pass and returning shows it to Sentinel There, old red tape, is the Surgeon’s pass. Sen. [looking at it.] All right. Bas. If it hadn’t been so do you know what I would have done ? I would have shot you with this pistol. Drawing kirn a flask, and handing it to the Sentinel, loho laughs and drinks; all go in; Conscience is sitting alone; Barnard goes up to him an l kisses his hand. Con. What, Barnard is that you, my old friend. All seem to have forgotten me but you. Where did you come fro in? Then all hug and kiss Conscience; B a stien jumping up and down,whoop¬ ing, and alternately using his bandana, blowing his nose and wiping away tears. Girls crying. Bas. There you go again. It’s the wetest season I ever saw. It rains when the sun shines. You cry just the same when you feel good as when you feel bad. Conscience, my boy, cheer up, cheer up. We are all here, Marietta, Catherine, Barnard and myself. We are going to take you home and have one long pic nic—live like babes in the woods—have lots of fun, won’t we ? [ Dances. Con. Oh, I am so glad—I was going to say, to see you, but, alas, I shall never see you again, my dear old friends, but 1 remember your dear old faces, the/yare photographed on my heart. Mar. Dear, dear Conscience. O, I am so happy, I can’t talk. I am so thankful we are together again. We will part no more. The Convict Con. God is good. I can see more now than when my eyes looked out upon this little world. I can see beyond and above the things of this world, I can see the silver lining to the cloud and I know the brightness is from Him who watches over all and doeth all things well. Man can see but little at best; he sees a little world full of little men and little things—baubles and toys—full of wickedness and misery. I look above and beyond, I see and know there are whole grand universes and that above all is God, and that there is happiness and peace. Come let us leave this dark place. They all leave the Hospital. ACT IV. Scene I. — By a brook near a bridge in the woods. Conscience, Bastien, Marietta, Catherine, and Barnard. Have had a lunch—are tired and weary walking through the woods and dirty roads. Con. Is it almost night? It seems to grow darker and I am very weary, are we almost home? Strange, I once knew all the country around so well, almost the voice of the birds and the scent of the air, and now I have to ask if I am near my old home. Bas. Cheer up, my lad, cheer up—take some of this, we used to call it an eye opener, I wish it could open yours. [Gives him some wine.] Bless me; there you are better than the thousands we left on the battlefield. Poor fellows they have fought their last battle. Many a brave boy sank down, the weary to sleep, the wounded to die. Many a poor fellow dreamed of mother and home as he slept after battle upon the field only to wake in another and better world. Mar. Keep up courage, Conscience, I talked with the surgeon at Laone. He said you might recover your eyesight again. Con. Oh, don’t raise any hopes of that kind. No, no, I shall never see my home or you again. I have grown weaker and weaker; my courage is going, still I do not repine, but sometimes I think this is but the twilight of the long sleep, and that in the morning I shall go through the gates into paradise. Girls are crying. Bas. There you go again, you frail creatures, regular fountains, blast it! I ain’t a waterspout myself. [Taking out his bandanna and blows his nose like a trumpet.] If I ain’t a girl, I guess I am an old granny to cry. Conscience, my boy, if you don’t stop talking so, I’ll—I’ll take a drink. [Takes a pull at his flask. Noise heard in the hedge, an old man enters, Dr. Bernardo. Doc. Pardon me, I heard some conversation accidentally and I saw there was some trouble. What? Is the matter? I am Dr. Bernardo and reside just the other side of the hedge. Mar. Please sir, dear doctor, he is blind, pointing to Conscience. Poor Conscience was wounded in battle and the explosion of the caisson put out his eyes. We are bringing him home from the hospital. Oh, doctor can you help him, he seems very weak and in low spirits, his courage seems to have left him. Doc. Take this, [gives Conscience something from a phial.] There you will be better soon, come to my house which is but a little way off. [pointing to it. All go to the house of the doctor, Conscience leaning on Bastien and Marietta, Catharine and Barnard following. Scene II.— Doctor's house. Conscience being examined by the doctor. Wine and bread are put on the table for the others, gives Conscience glass of wine. All get in good spirits. Mar. What do you think doctor? Doc. While there is life there is hope. There often is no other medicine for a disease but hope. The mind sympathizes with the body and the body with the mind. If a part is sick all the other parts of the body are afflicted. They are true friends, they keep at work day and night until the sick part gets well or all die together, the disease affects the whole body. Conscience as you call him is sick, his eyes are seeming. 