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ties, and don't doubt that you will find some lady low I am, to be still a bachelor! They may talk more suitable to your pretensions. We shall be of the devotion of the sex-but the most faithful always happy to see you as an acquaintance, M. attachment in life is that of a woman in loveBeauseant. My dear child, the carriage will be with herself!

[Exit, L. C. here presently.

Beauscant. Say no more, Madame !–say no SCENE II.-The exterior of a small Village Inn, more !-[Aside.] Refused ! and by a merchant's sign, the Golden Lion, a few leagues from Lyons, daughter !-refused! It will be all over Lyons which is seen at a distance. before sunset !—I will go and bury myself in my

Beauseant (without, R.] Yes, you may bait the chateau, study, philosophy, and turn woman- horses; we shall rest here an hour. hater. Refused! they ought to be sent to a madhouse !-Ladies, I have the houor to wish you a Enter BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS, R. very good morning. [Exit BEAUSEANT, L. C. Madame Deschap. How forward these men

Glavis. Really, my dear Beauseant, consider are!—I think, child, we kept up our dignity. that I have promised to spend a day or two with Any girl, however inexperienced, knows how to you at your chateau—that I am quite at your accept an offer, but it requires a vast deal of ad- mercy for my entertainment—and yet you are as dress to refuse one with proper condescension and silent and gloomy as a mute at a funeral, or an disdain. I used to practice it at school with the Englishman at a party of pleasure.

Beauseant. Bear with me. dancing-master!

The fact is, that I

am miserable! Enter DAMAS, L. C.

Glavis. You-the richest and gayest bachelor Damas. Good morning, cousin Deschappelles. in Lyons !

Well, Pauline, are you recovered from last Beauseant. It is because I am a bachelor that night's ball? Só many triumphs must be very I am miserable. Thou knowest Pauline—the only fatiguing. Even M. Glavis sighed most piteously daughter of the rich merchant, Mons. Deschapwhen you departed; but that might be the effect pelles ? of the supper,

Glavis. Know her!-Who does not ?-as pretPauline. M. Glavis, indeed!

ty as Venus and as proud as Juno. Madame Deschap. M. Glavis !as if my Beauseant. Her taste is worse than her pridedaughter would think of M. Glavis !

[drawing himself up.] Know, Glavis, she has Damas. Hey-dey!-why not?–His father left actually refused me! him a very pretty fortune, and his birth is higher Glavis (aside.] So she has me!-- very consoling! than yours, cousin Deschappelles. But perhaps in all cases of heart-ache, the application of anyou are looking to M. Beauseant-his father was other man's disappointment draws out the pain, a Marquis before the Revolution.

and allays the irritation. [Aloud.] Refused you! Pauline. M. Beauseant! Cousin, you delight and wherefore? in torinenting me!

Beauseant. I know not, unless it be because Madame Deschap. Don't mind him, Pauline! the Revolution swept away my father's title of Cousin Damas, you have no susceptibility of feel- Marquis—and she will not marry a commoner. ing,—there is a certain indelicacy in all your Now, as we have no noblemen left in France, as ideas. M. Beauseant knows already that he is no we are all citizens and equals, she can only hope match for my daughter!

that, in spite of the war, some English Milord or Damas. Pooh! pooh! one would think you in- German count will risk his life by coming to Lyons tended your daughter to marry a prince! and making her my lady. Refused me, and with

Madame Deschap. Well, and if I did ?—what scorn! By heaven, I'll not submit to it tamelythen ? Many a foreign prince

I'm in a perfect fever of mortification and rage. Damas [interrupting her.) Foreign prince- Refused me, indeed! foreign fiddlestick-you ought to be ashamed of Glavis. Be comforted, my dear fellow-I will such nonsense at your time of life.

tell you a secret. For the same reason, she reMadame Deschap. My time of life! That is an fused ME! expression never applied to any lady till she is Beauseant. You !—that's a very different matsixty-nine and three-quarters; and then only by ter; but give me your hand, Glavis—we'll think the clergyman of the parish.

of some plan to humble her. By Jove, I should Enter SERVANT, L. C.

like to see her married to a strolling player! Servant. Madame, the carriage is at the door. Enter LANDLORD and his DAUGHTER, from the [Exit SERVANT, L. C.

Inn, L. D. in F. Madame Deschap. Come, child, put on your Landlord. Your servant, citizen Beauseant bonnet-you really have a very thorough-bred servant, sir. Perhaps you will take dinner before air-not at all like your poor father. [Fondly.) you proceed to your chateau; our larder is most Ah, you little coquette! when a young lady is al- plentifully supplied. ways making mischief, it is a sure sign that she Beauseant. I have no appetite. takes after her mother!

Glavis. Nor I. Still, it is bad traveling on an Pauline. Good day, cousin Damas—and a bet- empty stomach. Come, landlord, let's see your ter humor to you. [Going back to the table and bill. What have you got? [Takes and looks over taking the flowers.]"Who could have sent me bill of fare. Shout without] "Long live the Prince ! these flowers ? [Exeunt PAULINE and MADAME --Long live the Prince !" DESCHAPPELLES.

Beauseant. The Prince !-what Prince is that? Damas. That would be an excellent girl if her I thought we had no Princes left in France. head had not been turned. I fear she has now Landlord. Ha! ha! the lads always call him become incorrigible! Zounds, what a lucky fel- Prince. He has just won the prize in a shootingmatch, and they are taking him home in tri- Beauseant. Blockhead !-it's as clear as a map. umph.

What if we could make this elegant clown pass Beauseant. Hini! and who's Mr. Him! himself off as a foreign prince ? lend him money,

Landlord. Who should he be but the pride of clothes, equipage for the purpose ? make him the village, Claude Melnotte ? -of course you have i proposé to Pauline ?—marry Pauline? Would it heard of Claude Melnotte.

not be delicious! Glavis (giving back the bill of fare.] Never had Glavis. Ha! ha!- Excellent! But how shall that honor. Soup-ragout of hare-roast chick- we support the necessary expenses of his highen, and in short, all you have !

ness? Beauscant. The son of old Melnotte, the gar- Beauseant. Pshaw! Revenge is worth a much dener ?

larger sacrifice than a few hundred louis; as for Landlord. Exactly so—a wonderful young details, my valet is the truest fellow in the world, man !

and he shall have the appointment of his highBeauseant. How wonderful ?—are his cabbages ness's establishment. Let's go to him at once, better than other people's ?

and see if he be really this Admirable Crichton. Landlord. Nay, he doesn't garden any more ; Glavis. With all my heart,—but the dinner ? his father left him well off. He's only a genus. Beauseant. Always thinking of dinner! Hark Glavis. A what?

ye, landlord, how far is it to young Melnotte's Landlord. A genus !—a man who can do every- cottage ! I should like to see such a prodigy. thing in life, except anything that's useful ;- Landlord. Turn down the lane, then strike that's a genus.

across the common, and you will see his mother's Beauseant. You raise my curiosity-proceed. cottage.

Landlord. Well, then, about four years ago Beauseant. True, he lives with his mother. old Melnotte died, and left his son well to do in [Aside.) We will not trust to an old woman's disthe world. We then all observed that a great cretion ; better send for him hither. I'll just step change came over young Claude. He took to read- in and write him a note. Come, Glavis. ing and Latin, and hired a professor from Lyons, Glavis. Yes,-Beauseant, Glavis & Co., manwho had so much in his head that he was forced ufacturers of Princes, wholesale and retail,--an to wear a great full-bottom wig to cover it. Then uncommonly genteel line of business. But why so he took a fencing-master, and a dancing master, grave? and a music-master, and then he learned to paint Beauseant. You think only of the sport-I of and at last it was said that young Claude was to the revenge. [Exeunt within the inn, D. in F. go to Paris, and set up for a painter. The lads laughed at him at first; but he is a stout fellow, is Claude, and as brave as a lion, and soon taught SCENE III.---The interior of MELNOTTE'S cottage; them to laugh the wrong side of their mouths;

flowers placed here and there ; a guitar on an and now all the boys swear by him, and all the

oaken' tâble, with a portfolio, dec.; a picture on an girls pray for him.

easel, covered by a curtain ; fencing foils crossed Beauseant. A promising youth, certainly ! And

over the mantel-piece; an attempt at refinement why do they call him Prince ?

in spite of the homeliness of the furniture, &c.; a Landlord. Partly because he is at the head of

staircase to the right conducts to the upper story. them all, and partly because he has such a proud [Shouts without, R. U E.] Long live Claude way with him, and wears such fine clothes--and Melnotte! Long live the Prince !" in short-looks like a Prince.

Widow Melnotte. Hark !--there's my dear son; Beauseant. And what could have turned the carried off the prize, I'm sure; and now he'll want foolish fellow's brain ? The Revolution, I sup- to treat them all.

Claude Melnotte [opening the door.) What, you Landlord. Yes,—the Revolution that turns us won't come in, my friends! Well, well, there's a all topsy-turvy—the Revolution of Love.

trifle to make merry elsewhere. Good day to you Beauseant. Romantic young Corydon. And all-good day!.. [Shout.] “Hurrah! Long live with whom is he in love?

Prince Claude !" Landlord. Why—but it is a secret, gentlemen. Enter CLAUDE MELNOTTE, L. D. in F., with a rifle Beauseant. Oh! certainly.

in his hand. Landlord. Why, then, I hear from his mother, good soul! that it is no less a person than the

Melnotte. Give me joy, dear mother! I've beauty of Lyons, Pauline Deschappelles. won the prize! never missed one shot! Is it not

Beauseant and Glavis. Ha ! ha! capital ! handsome, this gun!

Landlord. You may laugh, but it is as true as Widow. Humph! Well, what is it worth, I stand here.

Claude Beauseant. And what does the beauty of Lyons Melnotte. Worth! What is a ribbon worth to say to his suit ?

a soldier 1 Worth ?-everything! Glory is priceLandlord. Lord, sir, she never even conde- ' less ! scended to look at him, though when he was a Widow. Leave glory to great folks. Ah! Claude, boy he worked in her father's garden.

Claude! castles in the air cost a vast deal to keep Beauseant. Are you sure of that?

up! How is all this to end ! What good does it Landlord. His mother says that Mademoiselle do thee to learn Latin, and sing songs, and play does not know him by sight.

on the guitar, and fence, and dance, and paint Beauseant (taking GLAVIS aside.] I have bit pictures ? all very fine; but what does it bring it-I have hit it; here is our revenge! Here is in ? a Prince for our haughty damsel. Do you take me? Melnotte. Wealth! wealth, my mother ! Glavis. Deuce take me if I do!

wealth to the mind-wealth to the heart-high

pose ?

answer.

thoughts-bright dreams-the hope of fame-the Gaspar. It reached her, and was returned to ambition to be worthier to love Pauline.

me with blows. Dost hear, Melnotte? with Widow. My poor son !-the young lady will blows! Death! are we slaves still, that we are never think of thee.

to be thus dealt with, we peasants ? Melnotte. Do the stars think of us? Yet Melnotte. With blows ? No, Gaspar, no; not if the prisoner see them shine in his dungeon, blows ? wouldst thou bid him turn away from their lus- Gaspar. I could show thee the marks, if it tre? Even from this low cell, poverty, I lift my were not so deep a shame to bear them. The eyes to Pauline and forget my chains. (Goes to lackey who tossed thy letter into the mire, swore the picture and draws aside the curtain.] See, that his lady and her mother never were so inthis is her image-painted from memory-Oh, sulted. What could thy letter contain, Claude ? how the canvas wrongs her! [Takes up the brush Melnotte (looking over the letter.] Not a line and throws it aside.] I shall never be a painter. that a serf might not have written to an empress. I can paint no likeness but one, and that is above No, not one! all art. I would turn soldier-France needs sol- Gaspar. They promise thee the same greeting diers ! But to leave the air that Pauline breathes ! they gave me, if thou wilt pass that way. Shali What is the hour-so late! I will tell thee a secret, we endure this, Claude? mother. Thou knowest not that for the last six Melnotte [wringing Gaspar's hand.) Forgive weeks I have sent every day the rarest flowers to me, the fault was mine, I have brought this on Pauline; she wears them-I have seen them on thee: I will not forget it; thou shalt be avenged ! her breast! Ah! and then the whole universe The heartless insolence! seemed filled with odors! I have now grown Gaspar. Thou art moved, Melnotte; think more bold—I have poured my worship into poetry not of me; I would go through fire and water to -I have sent my verses to Pauline-I have signed serve thee; but a blow! It is not the bruise that them with my own name. My messenger ought galls,—it is the blush, Melnotte. to be back by this time: I bade him wait for an Melnotte. Say, what message? How insulted ?

-Wherefore ?—what the ofiense ? Widow. And what answer do you expect, Gaspar. Did you not write to Pauline DesClaude?

chappelles, the daughter of the rich merchant ? Melnotte. That which the Queen of Navarre Melnotte. Well ? sent to the poor troubadour—“Let me see the Gaspar. Are you not a peasant-a gardener's Oracle that can tell nations I am beautiful !” She son ?-that was the offense. Sleep on it, Melwill admit me-I shall hear her speak—1 shall notte. Blows to a French citizen-blows ! meet her eyes—I shall read upon her cheek the

[Exit D. in F. sweet thoughts that translate themselves into Widow. Now you are cured, Claude ! blushes. Then, then, oh then-she may forget Melnotte (tearing the letter.) So do I scatter that I am the peasant's son !

her image to the winds—I will stop her in the Widow. Nay, if she will but hear thee talk, open streets,I will insult her-I will beat her Claude!

menial ruffians—I will—[turns suddenly to Melnotte. I foresee it all. She will tell me that Widow.) Mother, am I humpbacked--deformed desert is the true rank. She will give me a -hideous ? badge-a flower—a glove! Oh, rapture! I shall Widow. You ! join the armies of the Republic-I shall rise—I Melnotte. A coward a thief-a liar ? shall win a name that beauty will not blush to Widow. You ! hear. I shall return with the right to say to her Melnotte. Or a dull fool-a vain, driveling, _" See how love does not level the proud, but brainless idiot ? raises the humble !" Oh, how my heart swells

Widow. No, no. within me !-Oh, what glorious Prophets of the Melnotte. What am I, then-worse than all Future are Youth and Hope !

these? Why, I am a peasant! What has a peas(Knock at the D. in F. ant to do with love ? Vain revolutions, why lavWillow. Come in.

ish your cruelty on the great ? Oh that we-we,

the hewers of wood and drawers of water, had been Enter GASPAR, D. in F.

swept away, so that the proud might learn what Melnotte. Welcome, Gaspar, welcome. Where the world would be without us ! is the letter? Why do you turn away, man?

[Knock at D. in F. where is the letter? [GASPAR gives him one.] This—this is mine, the one I entrusted to thee.

Enter SERVANT from the Inn, D. in F. Didst thou not leave it?

Servant. A letter for Citizen Melnotte. Gaspar. Yes, I left it.

Melnotte. A letter! from her, perhaps—who Melnotte. My own verses returned to me! sent thee? Nothing else?

Servant. [R.] Who? Monsieur-I mean CitiGaspar. Thou wilt be proud to hear how thy zen Beauseant, who stops to dine at the Golden messenger was honored. For thy sake, Melnotte, Lion, on his way to his chateau. I have borne that which no Frenchman can bear Melnotte. Beauseant! [Reads.] “Young man, without disgrace.

I know thy secret—thou lovest above thy station. Melnotte. Disgrace, Gaspar! Disgrace! If thou hast wit, courage and discretion, I can se

Gaspar. I gave thy letter to the porter, who cure to thee the realization of thy most sanguine passed it from lackey to lackey till it reached the hopes ; and the sole condition I ask in return is, lady it was meant for.

that thou shalt be steadfast to thine own ends. I Melnotte. It reached her, then ;-are you sure shall demand from thee a solemn oath to marry of that? It reached her,-well, well?

her whom thou lovest ; to bear her to thine home

1

L. S. E.

on thy wedding night. I am serious—if thou that she has refused the son of a Marquis, to wouldst learn more, lose not a moment, but follow marry the son of a gardener. Oh, Pauline ! once the bearer of this letter to thy friend and patron, loved, now hated, yet still not relinquished, thou

CHARLES BEAUSEANT." shalt drain the cup to the dregs—thou shalt know Melnotte. Can I believe my eyes ? Are our what it is to be humbled ! own passions the sorcerers that raise up for us spirits of good or evil? I will go instantly.

Enter, from the House, L. S. E., MELNOTTE as the [Exit SERVANT, D. in F.

Prince of Como, leading in PAULINE; MADAME Widow. What is this, Claude?

DESCHAPPELLES, fanning herself ; and ColoMelnotte. “Marry her whom thou lovest

NEL DAMAS. BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS bow " bear her to thine own home!” Oh, revenge and

respectfully. PAULINE and MELNOTTE walk love! which of you is the stronger?-[Gazing on

apart. the picture.] Sweet face, thou smilest on me from Madame Deschap. Good morning, gentlemen; the canvas; weak fool that I am, do I then love her really, I am so fatigued with laughter, the dear still? No, it is the vision of my own romance Prince is so entertaining. What wit he has ! any that I have worshiped ; it is the reality to which one might see that he has spent his whole life in I bring scorn for scorn. Adieu, mother, I will courts. return anon. My brain reels—the earth swims Damas. And what the deuce do you know before me. (Looking again at the letter.] No, it about courts, cousin Deschappelles? You wonen is not mockery; I do not dream!

regard men just as you buy books—you never care [Ecit, D. in F. what is in them, but how they are bound and

lettered. 'Sdeath, I don't think you would even

look at your bible, if it had not a title to it. ACT II.

Madame Deschap. How coarse you are, cousin

Damas !-quite the manners of a barrack-you SCENE I.--The Gardens of M. DESCHAPPELLES' don't deserve to be one of our family; really, we

House at Lyonsthe House seen at the back of must drop your acquaintance when Pauline marthe Stage.

ries. I cannot patronize any relations that would Enter BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS, from the House, Como.

discredit my future son-in-law, the Prince of

Melnotte [advancing.] These are beautiful garBenuseant. Well, what think you of my plot ? dens, madame. [BEAUSEANT and GLAVISretire.] Has it not succeeded to a miracle? The instant Who planned them ? that I introduced his highness, the Prince of Madame Deschap. A gardener named MelComo, to the pompous mother and the scornful notte, your highness--an honest man who knew daughter, it was all over with them; he came his station. I can't say as much for his son-a he saw-he conquered ; and, though it is not presuming fellow, who-ha! ha!-actually wrote many days since he arrived, they have already rerses—such doggerel !—to my daughter. promised him the hand of Pauline.

Pauline. Yes, how you would have laughed at Glavis. It is lucky, though, ihat you told them them, Prince-you, who write such beautiful his highness traveled incognito, for fear the verses ! directory (who are not very fond of Princes) Melnotte. This Melnotte must be a monstrous should lay him by the heels; for he has a won- impudent person ! derful wish to keep up his rank, and scatters our Damas. Is he good-looking ? gold about with as much coolness as if he were Madame Deschap. I never notice such canaille watering his own flower-pots.

-an ugly, mean-looking clown, if I remember Beauseant. True, he is damnably extrava- right. gant; I think the sly dog does it out of malice. Damas. Yet I heard your porter say he was However, it must be owned that he reflects credit wonderfully like his lighness. on his loyal subjects, and makes a very pretty Melnotte (taking snuff.) You are complimentfigure in his fine clothes with my diamond snuff- ary. box.

Madame Deschap. For shame, cousin Damas! Glavis. And my diamond ring! But do you like the Prince, indeed ! think that he will be firm to the last? I fancy I Pauline. Like you! Ah, mother, like our beausee symptoms of relenting : he will never keep up tiful Prince! I'll never speak to you again, cousin his rank, if he once let out his conscience.

Damas. Beauseant. His oath binds him; he cannot re- Melnotte [aside.] Humph! rank is a great treat without being foresworn, and those low fel- beautifier! I never passed for an Apollo while I lows are always superstitious! But, as it is, I was a peasant ; if I am so handsome as a Prince, tremble lest he be discovered ; that bluff Colonel what should I be as an Emperor ? [Aloud.] Mon Damas (Madame Deschappelles cousin) evidently 'sieur Beauseant, will you honor me? suspects him; we must make haste and conclude

[Offers snuff the farce; I have thought of a plan to end it this Beauseant. No, your highness, I have no small very day.

vices. Glwis. This very day! Poor Pauline! her Melnotte. Nay, if it were a vice you'd be sure dream will be soon over.

to have it, Monsieur Beauseant. Beauseant. Yes, this day they shall be mar- Madame Deschap. Ha! ha! how very severe ! ried; this evening, according to his oath, he shall what wit ! carry his bride to the Golden Lion, and then Beauseant [in a rage, and aside.] Curse his pomp, equipage, retinue, and title, all shall vanish impertinence! at once; and her highness the Princess shall find Madame Deschap. What a superb snuff-box! Pauline. And what a beautiful ring!

Beauseant (to GLAVIS.] Let us after, and Melnotte. You like the box—a trifle-interest- pacify him; he evidently suspects something. ing, perhaps, from associations—a present from Glavis. Yes!—but my diamond ring? Louis XIV' to my great-great-grandmother. Beauseant. And my box! We are over-tased, Honor me by accepting it.

fellow-subject !-we must stop the supplies, and Beauseant (plucking him by the sleeve.) How! dethrone the Prince. what the devil! My box! are you mad? It is Glavis. Prince !-he ought to be heir-apparworth five hundred louis!

ent to King Stork! [Exeunt into house, L. S. E. Melnotte [unheeding him and turning to PAUL- Madame Deschap. Dare I ask your highness INE.] And you like this ring! Ah, it has in- to forgive my cousin's insufferable vulgarity? deed a lustre since your eyes have shone on it. Pauline. Oh, yes !you will forgive his manner [Placing it on her finger.] Henceforth hold me, for the sake of his heart. sweet enchantress, the Slave of the Ring.

Melnotte. And for the sake of his cousin. Ah, Glavis (pulling him.] Stay, stay–what are madame, there is one comfort in rank—we are you about? My maiden aunt's legacy—a dia- so sure of our position that we are not easily mond of the first water. You shall be hanged for affronted. Besides, M. Damas has bought the swindling, sir.

right of indulgence from his friends, by never Melnotte (pretending not to hear. It is curious, showing it to his enemies. this ring: it is the one with which my grand- Pauline. Ah! he is, indeed, as brave in action father, the Doge of Venice, married the Adriatic. as he is rude in speech. He rose from the ranks

(MADAME and PAULINE examine the ring. to his present grade,—and in two years. Melnotte [to BEAUSEANT and GLAVIS.] Fie, Melnotte. În two years ! two years, did you gentlemen, Princes must be generous. [Turns to say? DAMAS, who watches them closely.] These kind Madame Deschap. [aside.] I don't like leaving friends have my interest so much at heart, that girls alone with their lovers; but with a Prince, they are as careful of my property as if it were it would be so ill-bred to be prudish! their own.

[Exit into house, L. S. E. Beauseant and Glavis (confusedly.) Ha! ha! Melnotte. You can be proud of your connection very good joke that! [Appear to remonstrate with one who owes his position to merit,-not with MELNOTTE in dumb show.

birth. Damns. What's all that whispering? I am Pauline. Why, yes; but stillsure there is some juggle here; hang me if I Melnotte. Still what, Pauline? think he is an Italian after all. 'Gad! I'll try Pauline. There is something glorious in the him. Servitore umillissimo Excellenza.

Heritage of Command. A man who has ancestors Melnotte. Hum—what does he mean, I won- is like a Representative of the Past. der ?

Melnotte. True; but like other representaDamas. Godo di vedervi in buona salute.f tives, nine times out of ten he is a silent member. Melnotte. Hem-hem.

Ah, Pauline! not to the Past, but to the Future, Damas. Fa bel tempo-che si dice di nuovo?I looks true nobility, and finds its blazon in posterMelnotte. Well, sir, what's all that gibberish ? ity.

Damas. Oh, oh!-only Italian, your high- Pauline. You say this to please me, who have ness !—The Prince of Como does not understand no ancestors; but you, Prince, must be proud of his own language!

so illustrious a race! Melnotte. Not as you pronounce it: who the Melnotte. No, no! I would not, were I fifty deuce could ?

times a Prince, be a pensioner on the dead! I Madame Deschap. Ha! ha! cousin Damas, honor birth and ancestry when they are regarded never pretend to what you don't know.

as the incentives to exertion, not the title-deeds Pauline. Ha! ha! cousiu Damas, you speak to sloth! I honor the laurels that overshadow the Italian, indeed!

graves of our fathers. It is our fathers I emulate, (Makes a mocking gesture at him. when I desire that beneath the evergreen I myself Beauiseant (to GLAVIS.] Clever dog!-how have planted, my own ashes may repose! Dearready!

est, couldst thou but see with my eyes ! Glavis. Ready, yes; with my diamond ring! Pauline. I cannot forego pride when I look on Damn his readiness!

thee, and think that thou lovest me. Sweet Damas. Laugh at me!-laugh at a colonel in Prince, tell me again of thy palace by the Lake the French army!—the fellow's an impostor; I of Como ; it is so pleasant to hear of thy splenknow he is. I'll see if he understands fighting as dors, since thou didst swear to me that they would well as he does Italian. [Goes up to him and be desolate withov' Pauline ; and when thou deasile.] Sir, you are a jackanapes! Can you con- scribest them, it is with a mocking lip and a noble strue that

scorn, as if custom had made thee disdain greatMelnotte. No, sir! I never construe affronts ness. in the presence of ladies; by-and-by I shall be

Melnotte. Nay, dearest, nay, if thou wouldst happy to take a lesson-or give one.

have me paint Damas. I'll find the occasion, never fear! The home to which, could Love fulfill its prayers,

Madame Deschap. Where are you going, This hand would lead thee, listen !* A deep vale cousin ?

* The reader will observe that Melnotte crades the request of Damas. To correct my Italian.

Paulino. He proceeds to describe a home, which he does not say [Exit into house, L. S. E.

he possesses, but to which he would lead her, “could love fulfiu

its prayers.' This caution is intended as a reply to a sagacious * Your Excellency's most humble servant.

critic, who censures the description because it is not an exact and

prosaic inventory of the characteristics of the Lake of Como! # I am glad to see you in good health.

When Melnotte, for instance, talks of birds, "that syllable the Fine weather. What news is there!

name of Pauline" (by the way a literal translation from an Italian

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