AN INCIDENT

IN THE LIFE OF MONSIEUR DE BEARN.

(COMEDY.)

SCENE 1.

[Two middle-aged men of good mien are seen riding together slowly in the sun, followed by a couple of young peasants, who appear to be lovers. On one side stretches out a fertile, though not very picturesque French landscape, on the other the little village of Creteuil. The younger horseman is speaking earnestly to the other, and apparently detailing some case of interest, in which the young couple are implicated. His companion listens to him generally with great attention, but occasionally displays some symptoms of impatience. The elder person calls himself M. de Bearn, and the younger M. de Bethune.]

M. Bearn. Well! - well!

M. Bethune. Well, Sir; the lawyer was

a knave.

M. Bearn. Ah! that is so new. A knave? Morbleu ! what else should he be? Thou wouldst make a pigeon of the kite. Go to thy philosophy is beefwitted, mon ami. Thou must measure these lawyers But go on, go on! This youth-?

by a longer rule.

1

M. Bethune. This youth (being engaged to the girl, as I have said,) goes on his father's death to this knavish lawyer

M. Bearn. His name? His name?

M. Bethune. La Brice, an advocate (or petit judge) at Charenton. The youth demands to have the fields assigned to him, for which his father had paid this lawyer the earnings of a long life. My lawyer appears to forget asks to see the receipt acknowledging the money. It is produced — admitted to be right— M. la Brice is rich in protestation he swears some thousand oaths demands to have the receipt—to peruse register or some such thing. The youth departs, oppressed with respect for M. L'Avocat returns in a week Ciel!-'t is all forgotten. La Brice denies all that has occurred, and defies our young friend to battle. What is to be done?

-

to

M. Bearn. Justice, no less, strict justice. But, attend- may not your peasant be the knave? Our lawyers have a bad name, as thou know'st; and there is a proverb

M. Bethune. No, Sir. It was not on report only that I endeavored to interest you for these people. La Brice had a secretary a young man newly admitted to the mysteries of law. He heard the advocate confess to his wife the payment of the money. He was moved by the youth's distress-searched for the disputed paper found it brought it to me -and

here it is!

Shall we

M. Bearn. Bah! - 'tis a hot sun, this. not find some melons at this place, think you? [Takes the paper.] Ha! this speaks plainly, as thou say'st.

We'll try what can be done. But didst thou not say that this knave cast hot eyes upon the girl? - that he offered to waive all objections, on certain -conditions? hey?

M. Bethune. He did. He saw that she was pretty, and grew enamored of her.

M. Bearn. Demoiselle, come forward! Let us hear the rest from thee. This lawyer-what, he muttered verse unto thee, ha? took thee by the palm, my child, did he?-plucked those cherries from thy lips? Pish! why dost hang thine head? Look up, as boldly as thou dost eye thy shepherd there, and tell me all. Madelaine. He was rude, Sir; and-and

very

M. Bearn. Gramercy! we must have a bed of justice. Go on, go on!

Marcel. I came up, Sir, when Madelaine was struggling. I knew her cry, though I was outside o' the house.

M. Bearn. Ha! Didst forget thyself, and meddle with the law?

Marcel. I only hit him, Sir, with the wolf-spear. He dropped down like

M. Bearn. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Marry, and dost ask for justice after this? Methinks thou hast done thyself right enow, already. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! [Aside to Bethune.] I love to hear that, now and then, these hard heads encounter steel. They will not fit their skulls with helmets, not they, nor fight for the kingno, though the devil were with his enemies.

M. Bethune. They are a bad set, truly. Yet, per

haps, like caterpillars and ants- they do good in the moral, as their brother vermin in the vegetable world.

Marcel. If know you any one at court, Sir — ? Madelaine. Ah, Sir; if you had any interest with the king, Sir? They say he is a good king, in the main, Sir-although-although

M. Bearn. Sacre!- What's here? Go on: I bid thee. Speak out, demoiselle, and tell me what is this ' although.' 'He's a good king—although.' Marry, thou must come to Court, and see how well he loves justice. I have some interest with a great lord there, and will use it for thee. Come! wilt go?

Marcel. No, Sir, no Court; no Court, if you please. The king's a good king, and a brave king. I love him, and would fight for him; ay, would give him anything anything i' the world save one.

M. Bearn. Ha!-and that? — and that? What is that one, mon ami?

Marcel. "Tis-my wife, Sir.

M. Bethune. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

M. Bearn. How! what dost laugh at?

M. Bethune. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

M. Bearn. Ha, ha, ha, ha! — By Mars, he's not a fool, this fellow. Come hither, knave. Dost know that thou insult'st the king by this suspicion? But he loves brave men; and I shall marvel if he doth not tie a sword round thy loins, and bid thee fight for him as thou hast fought for our demoiselle, here.

M. Bethune. Where can Vitry and the rest be loitering?

M. Bearn. Ride towards Grosbois, and try if thou canst meet with him. Meantime I will on with our

two friends, and try the civility of this place. What village is this?

Marcel. Creteuil, Sir.

M. Bearn. Bid them come hither to me, at the inn. I shall see what partridges be there. Perhaps we may find some melons, too; ha! -Thou lovest the cool flavor of that rough-looking fruit, I know. 'Tis like thyself the outside harsh

M. Bethune. Spare me. You said that I should go? M. Bearn. Go then, and return quickly do you hear? quickly. [Bethune exit.] Now, my friends, you shall show me the way to the inn. Walk nearer to me, my child: I must hear more of thy story, as we go along. Nay, thou need'st not take her by the arm, young man. My horse and I understand what city breeding is. Dost thou not, mon cher general ? – [Patting his horse.]

Marcel. Has he been in battle, Sir?

M. Bearn. Battle,' sirrah? He has drank blood, and lived upon smoke ever since his fourth birth-day. But, we are at Creteuil. Now, which way must we turn?

Marcel. This way, Sir, this way.

Follow me.

M. Bearn. [Sings.] Je ne sais par où commencer A louer votre grand beauté, &c.

[Exeunt.