You are very good to have forgiven us for refusing you; but you see a prince! Beau. And such a prince! Madam, I cannot blush at the success of so illustrious a rival. -[Aside.] Now will I follow them to the village, enjoy my triumph, and to-morrow, in the hour of thy shame and grief, I think, proud girl, thou wilt prefer even these arms to those of the gardener's son. [Exit. Mme. Deschap. Come, Monsieur Deschappelles, give your arm to her Highness that is to be. M. Deschap. I don't like doing business in such a hurry; 'tis not the way with the house of Deschappelles and Co. Mme. Deschap. There, now, you fancy you are in the counting-house, don't you? [Pushes him to PAULINE. one word. Have you no scruple, Mel. Stay, stay, Pauline no fear? Speak — it is not yet too late. Pauline. When I loved thee, thy fate became mine. Triumph or danger - joy or sorrow joy or sorrow — I am by thy side. Damas. Well, well, prince, thou art a lucky man to be so loved. She is a good little girl in spite of her foibles-make her as happy as if she were not to be a princess [slapping him on the shoulder]. Come, sir, I wish you joy-young- tender - lovely ; — zounds, I envy you! Mel. [who has stood apart in gloomy abstraction]. Do you?* * On the stage the following lines are added: — Do you? Wise judges are we of each other. แ Woo, wed, and bear her home! So runs the bond ACT III. SCENE I. — The exterior of the Golden Lion light. The moon rises during the scene. time, twi Enter LANDLORD and his DAUGHTER from the Inn. Land. Ha-ha-ha! Well, I never shall get over it. Our Claude is a prince with a vengeance now. His carriage breaks down at my inn ha ha! Janet. And what airs the young lady gives herself! "Is this the best room you have, young woman?" with such a toss of the head. Land. Well, get in, Janet; get in and see to the supper: the servants must sup before they go back. [Exeunt. Enter BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS. Beau. You see our princess is lodged at last-one stage more, and she'll be at her journey's end the beautiful palace at the foot of the Alps! — ha ha! Gla. Faith, I pity the poor Pauline - especially if she's going to sup at the Golden Lion. [Makes a wry face.] I shall never forget that cursed ragout. Enter MELNOTTE from the Inn. Beau. Your servant, my prince; you reigned most worthily. I condole with you on your abdication. I am afraid that your Highness's retinue are not very faithful servants. I think they will quit you in the moment of your fall 'tis the fate of greatness.1 But you are welcome to your fine clothes also the diamond snuff-box, which Louis XIV. gave to your great-greatgrandmother. Gla. And the ring, with which your grandfather the Doge of Venice married the Adriatic.2 Mel. I have kept my oath, gentlemen - say, have I kept my oath? 1 "Authority forgets a dying king." TENNYSON, Passing of Arthur, 289. 2 See Act II., Scene i. (page 396), and note. Beau. Most religiously. Mel. Then you have done with me and mine you! Beau. How, knave? away with Mel. Look you, our bond is over. Proud conquerors that we are, we have won the victory over a simple girl compromised her honour― embittered her life — blasted, in their very blossoms, all the flowers of her youth. This is your triumph, — it is my shame! [Turns to BEAUSEANT]. Enjoy thy triumph, but not in my sight. I was her betrayer — I am her protector! Cross but her path one word of scorn, one look of insult nay, but one quiver of that mocking lip, and I will teach thee that bitter word thou hast graven eternally in this heart - Repentance! Beau. His Highness is most grandiloquent. Mel. Highness me no more! Beware! Remorse has made me a new being. Away with you! There is danger in me. Away! Gla. [aside]. He's an awkward fellow to deal with: come away, Beauseant. Beau. I know the respect due to rank. Adieu, my prince. Any commands at Lyons? Yet hold — I promised you 200 louis on your wedding-day; here they are. Mel. [dashing the purse to the ground]. I gave you revenge, I did not sell it. Take up your silver, Judas; take it. it is fit you should learn to stoop. Ay, Beau. You will beg my pardon for this some day. [Aside to GLAVIS.] Come to my château - I shall return hither tomorrow, to learn how Pauline likes her new dignity. Mel. Are you not gone yet? Beau. Your Highness's most obedient, most faithful [Exeunt BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS. Mel. Thank Heaven I had no weapon, or I should have slain them. Wretch! what can I say? Where turn? On all sides mockery - the very boors within -[Laughter from the Inn.]— 'Sdeath, if even in this short absence the exposure should have chanced. I will call her. We will go hence. I have already sent one I can trust to my mother's house. There, at least, none can insult her agony-gloat upon her shame! There alone must she learn what a villain she has sworn to love. As he turns to the door, enter PAULINE from the Inn. Pauline. Ah! my lord, what a place! I never saw such rude people. They stare and wink so. I think the very sight of a prince, though he travels incognito, turns their honest heads. What a pity the carriage should break down in such a spot! You are not well the drops stand on your brow – your hand is feverish. Mel. Nay, it is but a passing spasm; the air Pauline. Is not the soft air of your native southHow pale he is! — indeed thou art not well. Where are our people? I will call them. Thou fanciest, my kind lord — I know thou dost Thou fanciest these rude walls, these rustic gossips, And so they might, but thou art by my side, Chafe thee, sweet prince! a few short days and we And nay, nay, spendthrift, is thy wealth of smiles Already drained, or dost thou play the miser? Mel. Thine eyes would call up smiles in deserts, fair one. Let us escape these rustics: close at hand There is a cot, where I have bid prepare Our evening lodgment a rude, homely roof, Made torture by the vulgar eyes and tongues Pauline. What, thou! methought Thou wert a stranger in these parts? Ah, truant, Some village beauty lured thee; Grown constant ? - thou art now SCENE II. MELNOTTE'S cottage-WIDOW bustling abouta table spread for supper. Widow. So, I think that looks very neat. He sent me a line, so blotted that I can scarcely read it, to say he would be here almost immediately. She must have loved him well indeed to have forgotten his birth; for though he was introduced to her in disguise, he is too honourable not to have revealed to her the artifice, which her love only could forgive. Well, I do not wonder at it; for though my son is not a prince, he ought to be one, and that's almost as good. [Knock at the door.] Ah! here they are. Enter MELNOTTE and PAULINE. Widow. Oh, my boy-the pride of my heart! - welcome, welcome! I beg pardon, ma'am, but I do love him so! |