My Heart At Thy Sweet Voice
From the opera Samson and Delilah
Mon cœur s'ouvre à ta voix comme s'ouvre les fleurs
Aux baisers de l'aurore!
Mais, ô mon bien-aimé, pour mieux sécher mes pleurs,
Que ta voix parle encore!
Dis-moi qu'à Dalila tu reviens pour jamais!
Redis à ma tendresse
Les serments d'autrefois, ces serments que j'aimais!
Ah! réponds à ma tendresse!
Verse-moi, verse-moi l'ivresse!
SAMSON
Dalila! Dalila! Je t'aime!
DALILA
Ainsi qu'on voit des blés les épis onduler
Sous la brise légère,
Ainsi frémit mon cœur, prêt à se consoler
À ta voix qui m'est chère!
La flèche est moins rapide à porter le trépas,
Que ne l'est ton amante à voler dans tes bras!
Ah! réponds à ma tendresse! etc
At your voice, my heart unfolds
As flowers unfold to the dawn's kisses
But, beloved, the better to dry my tears
Let your voice speak again!
Tell me that you are returning to Delilah forever,
Repeat to my loving ear your former avowals,
Those words I loved!
Ah! Respond to my tenderness,
Fill me, fill me with rapture!
As ears of corn are seen rippling
In the gentle breezes
So quivers my heart, ready to be comforted
By your voice. that is so dear to me
The arrow is less swift at carrying death
Than is your lover to fly into your arms
Ah! Respond to my tenderness!
Okay, folks, this is it. My last Lyrics Challenge. You people are trying to kill me! First, Greg zaps me last time, and now my dear friend Nancy asks me, "How well do you know French?"
Not well enough. There was no way to write this story and get one of those lines in there from the English translation, so, voilá, my first über story. And if anyone needs the address for the online French-English Dictionary, see me.
For those of you who watch Hercules, this story is set immediately after the end of Les Contemptibles. For those of you who don't, a brief recap. Les Contemptibles is the Herculean equivalent of The Xena Scrolls – an über clip show, this one set in the period of the French Revolution. Three con men are attempting to rob a French Lady by convincing her that one of their bunch is a secretive rebel called the Chartreuse Fox. However, their plan fails, because Lady Marie is actually the Fox herself. In the end, they join her cause.
Lady Marie/ The Chartreuse Fox is Danielle Cormack (Ephiny). Francois is Robert Trebor (Salmoneous). Jean Pierre is Michael Hurst (Iolaus), and Robert is Kevin Sorbo (Hercules). I think you will be able to figure out who Jacques, Genevieve and Dalila are by yourselves.
Disclaimers, etc. – see the handbooks for the usual boilerplate stuff.
Yeah, this one is short. I still wore myself out doing it.
By Lori Bush
The rebels were alerted by the sound of arguing voices approaching. "I will not be called a muskrat! It is repugnant!" Recognizing Lady Marie's voice, the others dropped their state of alert. "Besides, it is not we alone who fight this fight, but beaucoup patriots of la belle France!"
"Oh," an unfamiliar male voice commented flatly, "You already have a gang."
"Oui, Robert. Except they are fellow rebels, not a gang," Lady Marie pointed out affectionately.
"You are aware, Gerard will not forgive you that embarrassment, cher?" Francois asked her. "He will seek us out."
"Pffft!" Marie dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "He will try. He has tried before, and failed."
The group entered the room, Lady Marie with three men in tow. The tallest, a handsome and muscular young man, had the hand of the Chartreuse Fox grasped firmly in his own, while the smaller blonde man glared jealously. The third, a foppish aristocratic sort, was wringing his hands worriedly.
"Jacques!" Marie commanded, as her lieutenant stepped forward. "We need le dortoir for our newest recruits."
Jacques, a tall, lanky man with dark chestnut hair and even darker eyes, gazed critically at the trio. "Trois, mon principal?"
The Fox gazed lustfully at the man attached to her hand. "Deux. I'll take care of this one myself."
Jacques turned without comment, heading into the depths of the underground cavern that served as the headquarters for the Chartreuse Fox and her band of rebels. Lady Marie watched him go, finally pushing Jean Pierre and Francois to follow, which they scurried to do. Robert started after them, but she held on tight, pulling him back beside her. "Non, Robert. Vous passé la nuit avec moi, ce soir." The big man's grin nearly split his face.
"So, Jacques, mon frére," Jean Pierre prattled nervously, "what is it like, being second in command to such a strong woman?"
The tall man eyed him coldly. "You will be my brother when you prove yourself, not before. The Fox has told us of your plans to enrich yourselves through deception and trickery. Your welcome among us will not be warm." Jacques threw open a door, and set the candle he had been carrying down on a small table in a room with two beds. "You will stay here." Without another word he turned and left, the breeze from the slamming door nearly extinguishing the candle flame.
Francois looked nervously at the other man. "What a great guy."
Jacques strode through the darkened corridors with no need for light. He knew this place like the back of his own hand. He had come here two years ago, after Dalila….No, Jacques, you mustn't think of it. Keep your anger focused on the bourgeoisie, the struggle for egalité. Do not dwell in the past…
He had risen quickly through the ranks of the rebels, soon taking the position at the Fox's right hand with ease. She often commented on his focus, his drive, unequalled except by her own. And now she has that aimable thief as her plaything. She, too, has fallen victim to amour, and her devotion to the cause could suffer. He had no such distractions. Not anymore.
The voice from his past rang from the shadows like a shot. "Jacques."
"Genevieve," he gasped. "How did you get in here?"
The tall, black haired woman stepped from the shadows, her ice blue eyes glowing in the dim light from the doorway ahead. "You know I have many skills." He smiled in spite of his apprehension. She hadn't changed a bit. In fact, she was lovelier than ever, dressed in a sweeping gown of burgundy peu de soie, her hair falling from a partial upsweep to cascade over her bare shoulders. But her beauty never fooled him. He knew the driven heart that lay within the lovely breast.
He quickly remembered the last time they had seen each other, and his hard expression returned. "What do you want?"
Her voice was soft. "I see my sister has found a new jouet to occupy her nights, Jacques. You are still alone, ne'st-ce pas? You know Dalila waits for you still, do you not?"
"She made her choice when she went with you, Genevieve. I was needed here, and she refused to stay."
"She couldn't stay, Jacques, you know that. I was still too weak, and she was my strength. If I had stayed, she would have, tout de suite. It was my selfishness that cost you both. Pardon moi, Jacques, and forgive her as well."
He turned away, willing her not to see the hurt in his eyes. "Pas du tout, Genevieve. If she had wanted, she would have found a way to keep us together. She always cared more for you."
"I thought I did." The sound of her voice had haunted his dreams the past two years. Hearing it once more almost brought his heart to a stop. "It wasn't until I went away I became sure of what you meant to me."
"Dalila." He breathed it, as if it were a prayer. Many nights, alone in his room, it had been. She stepped from the darkness, the tiny bit of light gleaming from her strawberry blonde hair, tears shimmering in her green eyes.
"I was wrong, Jacques. I had no idea how much I needed you until you no longer needed me. Dis-moi qu'à Dalila tu reviens pour jamais! Redis à ma tendresse les serments d'autrefois, ces serments que j'aimais!"
Her plea touched him in a way he had forgotten possible. He was drawn like a moth to the candle flame, uncertain if his wings would burn away, but unable to resist. They had been so close, once, to making it all work. He had shared his heart, and she had begun to accept his attentions. Then Genevieve had called, and she had gone with her. He knew that Genevieve could go on without his help, but Marie could not, and her cause was as just as the other, so he had chosen to stay. Perhaps it was as much his fault as hers…
"Genevieve was the one who helped me see my foolishness. My place is with you, and yours with both her and me. Marie and her cause are strong now, and there are others we could aid. But without you, I am inutile, useless. Revenir, Jacques. Come with us once more."
Her voice. He could almost resist her words, but not her voice. He stepped closer, his arms around her before he knew what he was doing. "Mon bien-aimé," he breathed into her hair, "Je t'aime," and then she raised her lips to his, and his words were silenced.
"Salut, ma soeur. I see your quest was a success." Genevieve turned to see Marie and the large man she had selected standing in the doorway. She approached them, giving the former thief an appreciative glance.
"You were right, Marie. He was incomplete without her, as she was without him."
The Chartreuse Fox's eyes clouded for a moment. "He was dying inside. You have saved his life. Merci." Her eyes glowed with determination. "After all, we serve the same cause. He can do as much good with you as he could here with me. Perhaps more." She stretched out her hand. "Liberté."
Genevieve covered her sister's hand with her own. "Egalité."
To the surprise of both women, the thief covered their small hands with his large one. "Fraternité."