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Dar. Urge me no further. Lectured by my | the old servants; and, bat for the charity of bis slave!-a worm that crawls at the meroy of my son, I believe, some of them might have starved, foot! Because I have forborne, presumest thoa poor things! He has been very good to Claudine, that I dare not strike? Hence! Here, take thy too, and would have done more, but for fear of his recompense: (offering him the paper) be thankful, father. and obedient; guard thy lips, or
Mar. Yes ; the father is unlike the son. Dup. No; vile as you think me, my silence is Dom. Unlike! The one is as proud as the-and not to be bought; my sins shall not be pensioned. the other as mild as a May morning. O, he'd make Hitherto you are safe. Don't let your insult drive an admirable master for one, he would; an excelme to disclose you.
lent head of a family; and, above all, a most charmDar. Here, here; and have done. (Offering him ing spouse. Don't you think so, ma’am? the paper.)
Mar. Yes; I believe the woman of his choice Dup. You are deceived. I was bribed, not by Dom. That's done. His choice is made. your gold, but by the wild vanity of sharing your Mar. I've heard he's to be married to the great confidence, your familiarity; and becoming, instead heiress, the President's daughter. of him you call your slave, your friend.
Dom. So have I. Dar. Such you might have been.
Mar. Have you? Dup. No: there can be no friendsbip in guilt- Dom. Yes. Ha, ha, ha! But be won't have 'tis my doom to live in dread of you, and of my her. own reflections—'tis your's, to know that your ho- Mar. Dominique! nour and life are in the keeping of a man stang Dom. Lord, ma'am! you know very well, he in conscience, distracted in mind; and by yourself loves somebody else. rendered a wretch, infamous, and never more to Mar. (Much agitated.) Are the apartments ready be trusted.
(Exit. for our two guests? Dar. Indeed! Do you grow so fast on as ? Pre- Dom. I can do that in a minute, ma'am. Yes, vention or treachery-bis life or mine. And shall I yes, hehesitate? A single blow will give me peace. Whi- Mar. Go, go; make haste; they are expected ther am I going? Peace! No, no, 'tis false; instantly. Go. peace dwells only with innocence; yet to be led- Dom. Well, well, I'm gone. (A side.) No, never exposed--a public malefactor-help heaven! shield can make her own it. Ab? you cunning little hypome from the phrenzy of these thoughts! [Exit. crite! Ha, ha! a girl in love is for all the world Scene II.-Franval's Study, as before.
like the moon in a cloudy night; now out, now in :
this moment clear as the day; and the next you're
[Written by M. G. LEWIS, Esq.] Well, my good, dear Dominique, have you seen
What, tho' Fate forbids me offer St. Alme?
Golden gifts from Fortune's store; Dom. I was coming to tell you, ma'am. No,
All I have to Love I proffer, ma'am, be bas not been at home since.
Fortune cannot offer more. Mar. Unlucky! Never did I wish so earnestly to see bim.
What, tho' bright the jewell d treasure, Dom. Lord, Lord, what a pity! Where is he?
Which Peruvian mines supply; Where can he be? Ha, ha, ha! If he did but Brighter still the tear of pleasure, know how you are fretting about him, he'd fly on Sparkling in Affection's eye. the wings of lo
Hymen, in his power for ever, Mar. (Interrupting him.) I had forgot-Did you
Firm the God of hearts would hold; go to the
widow ? Dom. Yes, true, ma'am; and gave her your pre
Binding oft-ah, vain endeavour!
Love with Interest's chains of gold. sent. Ha, ha! poor Claudine! She kissed the crowns because they had touched your hand; and
Soon their weight his strength o'erpowers; blessed your sweet name a thousand and a thousand
Soon they crush the petty elf; times.
Love can bear no chains but flowers, Mar. Surely, you didn't tell her that it came
Light and blooming like himself. from me?
Ah, me! Why is St. Alme out of the way? He Dom. Lord, ma'am! I couldn't help it. To be must be prepared for this discovery-and yet, sure, nobody, though I say it myself, can keep a my mother!-Should Darlemont be softened, will secret better than I can; but, then—ba, ba! poor she consent? soul !—she begged, and prayed, and laughed, and cried: ba, ba! I reckon she'll be here in a minute
Enter Madame FRANVAL and FRANVAL. to thank you.
Mad. F. Don't tell me, son; don't tell me. This Mar. I can't see her, Dominique. I'm too much is my opinion-to hesitate to deliver up this usurper distarbed. I'm not-It was very wrong, indeed. to the vengeance of the laws; to wink at such
Dom. Well, then, she sha'n't come. And yet, enormities—is to become an accomplice in them. why should you be so ashamed of doing good ? I'm Fran. You will allow us first to prove them on sure, virtue should have somebody to shew it a him, madam. Besides, can I forget, that be is the little countenance now-a-days. Ah, poor Claudine father of my friend ? (Madame Franval turns away times are sadly changed with her since her good in great displeasure.) İlas Dominique been to St. man, Blaise, was porter at the palace of Harancour. Alme? (To Marianne.). he wanted for nothing then. Ah! wben Count Mar. Yes; but he hadn't been at home.
died, his upcle, Darlemopt, turned away all Mad, F. (Comes down between them.) And to tell
you my opinion further, son-after this letter, I Mar. In your opinion,
Mar. Who is the greatest genius,-. Fran. Ought we to make him responsible for his De l’E. (Makes a sign, Theodore writes.) father's faults?
Mar. That France has ever produced ? Mar. Which he is so far from sbaring, that he De l'E. (Makes a sign, Theodore writes.- De l'E. will devote bis life to atone them. (Madame Fran- takes the paper from the table, and shews it to val gives her a loek of disapprobation.) One need Franval.) You see he has written the question only look in his face, to be sare of it.
distinctly. (De l’Epée, returns the paper to TheoMad. F. Oh! had the Seneschal been living dore, who for a moment sits motionless and meditating.) now!
Mar. He seems a little at a loss. Fran. If only Darlemont were concerned, ma- De l'E. I don't wonder at it; it's a delicate dam, I should, without regret, tear away his spe- question. (Theodore starts from his reverie; looks cious visor, and expose him bare-faced; such, affectionately, at De l’Epée; wipes his eyes, and bowever, are the prejudices of the world, that I writes with the utmost rapidity.) cannot publish the guilt of the parent without re- Fran. Look, look! what fire sparkles in his flecting the disgrace of his actions on his blame- eyes! What animation in every turn! I dare proless son.
mise you, this will be the answer of a feeling heart, Mad. F. What, then, he is to escape after all? and an enlightened mind. (Theodore starts up;
Fran. Here's somebody coming. My dear ma- presents the paper to Marianne ; and desires her to dam
read it to the company. Madame Franval and FranMar. Good mother
val look over Marianne rus she reads; Theodore runs Mad. F. Nay, day
to De l'Epée, and looks at him with fond curiosity.)
Mar. (Reads.) “In your opinion, who is the Enter De L'EPEE, introducing THEODORE. greatest genius that France has ever produced ?”
Mad. F. Ay; what does he say to that? De l'E. In obedience to your kind commands, I Mar. (Reads.) “ Science would decide for present to you my adopted child, my Theodore. D'Alembert, and Nature say, Buffon; Wit and This, sir, is the orphan, whose storý yon bave Taste present Voltaire; and Sentiment pleads for heard, and whose wrongs you will redress. (Theo Rousseau; but Genius and Humanity cry out for dore, having saluted them with great vivacity, fixes De l’Epée; and him I call the best and greatest of his eyes on Pranval.)
human creatures." (Marianne drops the paper, and Mar. How intelligent and animated a look! retires to a chair in tears. Theodore throws himself Mad. F. The perfect image of his late father! into De l Epée's arms. M. Franval and Franval look De l' E. (Earnestly.) Do you say so, madam? at each other in astonishment.)
Mad. F. I see his father in him, at his age, as if De l'E. (With an emotion which he strives to rebe stood before me. (Theodore, to whom De l'Epée press.) You must excuse him; 'tis a great mistake; is attentive, points to Franval; lays the fore-finger of but a very, very pardonable one. his right hand on his forehead, and assumes an ex- Fran. (Takes up the paper, and examines it.) I pression of genius; then darts his arm forward with can hardly credit what I see. force, grandeur, &c.)
Mad. Ě. What do you think of this Darlemont De l'E. Ay! he tells me, that he reads in your now? (Theodore and Madame Franval go to Macoantenance the certainty of triumphing, and con- rianne.) founding his oppressor.
Fran. This decision discovers an extent of acFran. Yes, I have given him my promise, and quirements, and shews a purity of taste, that—(To will perform it. (Theodore having touched his lips De l'Epée.) What study, what pains, must it have with a look of regret, seizes the hand of Franval; cost you to accomplish such effects! holds it to his heart; and, with his other hand, beats Dé ' E. To tell you what it has cost me, were quickly and often on the bosom of Franval.) impossible; but the bare thought of prompting to
De l'E. Ah! that he could speak his gratitude! the forgetfulness of nature; of calling forth the But, by the throbbings of his heart, he bids you faculties of mind; this one persuasion gives strength, learn, that your goodness to him will live there for courage, and perseverance, to accomplish miracles. ever. These are his true expressions.
If the labourious husbandman, when he views a rich Pran. Are you then so perfectly comprehensible harvest waving over the lands he has fertilized, exto each other?
periences a pleasure proportioned to his toils; Mad. F. Are your signs so minutely accurate? judge what are my sensations, when, surrounded De l'E. As speech itself.
by my, pupils, I watch them gradually emerging Mar. And does he anderstand every thing you from the night that overshadows them, and see desire to express?
them dazzled at the widening dawn of opening De l'E. You shall have proof of it this moment. Deity, till the full blaze of perfect intellect informs (De l' Epée taps Theodore on the shoulder, to make their souls to hope and adoration. This is to newhim observe, rubs his forehead, then points to Mari. create our brethren. What transport to bring man anne, and writes a line or two with his finger on the acquainted with himself! Enjoyments, I own, there palm of his left hand. Theodore nods to De l'Epée; may be more splendid, more alluring; but I am runs to Franval's table; sits down, snatches up u pen, sure, that, in the wide round of our capacities, and shews that he is ready to write.) Now, madam, none will be found more true. make what inquiry you please of bim, he will Fran. They are the just reward of such benevocopy it down from my action, and immediately give lence; and if my efforts—(Claudine and Dominique you his reply. He waits for
without.) Mar. (With timidity.) I really don't know what Dom. Come back, come back! I tell you, Clau
dine, you can't see her. Fran. Anything-anything.
Clau. I tell you I must and will see her, if I Mad. F. Ay, ay, child; the first thing that comes search the whole house after her. (Theodore, Ma. into your head.
dame Franval, and Marianne come forward.) Mar. (After a moment's reflection.) In your opinion,
Enter CLAUDINE, followed by DOMINIQUE. De l'E. Speak slowly, and repeat the question, Clau. (To Madame Franval.) I beg pardon for as if you were dictating to him yourself. (Theo- being so bolddore expresses that he attends to De l' Epée's signs.) Dom. (To Marianne.) She slipped by, the back
way, and got the start of me. (Theodore, on the humbled. Son, we'll leave you together. Come, entrance of Claudine, appears alruct with recollection we'll shew the Count of Harancour his apartment. of her; then falls in the most lively agitation; and [Signs to Theodore to go with her; he takes signifies to De l'Epée, that she was wife to the porter
her hand. Exeunt Madame Franval, very of the house he lived in, and had been his nurse. De ceremoniously; Theodore nodding to De Epée answers him in signs of surprise and joy.)
and Marianne, with an imploring Clau. (To Franval.) Sir, I beg pardon; yet,
look to Franval. when the heart is ful—This dear young lady has Fran. I have already told you, the friendship been so good. (Kisses Marianne's hand.).
that binds me to St. Alme, imposes on me the duty Mad. F. What does all this mean, Marianne ? of proceeding by the gentlest steps. I now propose, Mar. (Hesitating.) Madam
that we present ourselves at the palace of HaranClau. Sweet saint! She blushes to speak her own cour; there, jointly, and in private, we may attack good deeds. Ah! madam, this angel of a girl, this Darlemont; you, with the energy so good a heard I was in distress, and has been for a long cause inspires; and I, with all the terror of the time my benefactress; I never knew what charita- laws. He must be more hardened and audacious ble hand was stretched to me, till this morning than I think him, if he can withstand us. Dominique told me-
De l’E. I agree: and a thought this instant Dom. No, I didn't tell you; you coaxed it out strikes me, which, if he is not quite a monster, of me. Come away, come away; you're a rare one must insure our success.
[Exeunt. to keep a secret! (Signs to her to be gone.)
De l'E. Good woman! good woman!
The picture being removed. Clau. My husband was porter there nine-andtwenty years.
Enter DARLEMONT and PIERRE DeľÉ. Do you remember young Count Julio, Dar. Go and inquire immediately. (Exit Pierre. your late master's son?
Vain, groundless apprehensions, leave me! what Clau. Remember him? I had him in my arms an absurd propensity there is in man to be bis own the very hour he was born. My lady died in child- tormentor; to conjure up the wildest visions; to bed: I was his nurse; his mother, begging your fancy the most frightful accidents; and shake the pardon, I may say; and a sweet babe he was. I more, the more preposterous the terrors are which shall never forget him. His death was a hard pinch bis imagination creates ! to us all. (Weeping—Theodore gazes on Claudine, in great ayitation.)
Re-enter PIÉRRE. De l'E. (Takes Theodore by the hand.) Did you
Pie. Sir, my master is not come in yet. ever see his face? Clau. (Starting.) Merciful goodness! why sure,
Dar. I suppose he's at Franval's, then. (Theodore flings back the hair from his forehead, to inquire for him.
Pie. No, sir, he's not; they sent here jast non c.) Clau. It is, it is he! it is young Count Julio him
Dar. (Aside.) My son opposing all my wishes; self! (Theodore, as she runs to him, and is falling at my servant ready to betray me; whom can I trusi his feet, immediately prevents, and kisses her.)
in ? my ambition is my curse; the moment I alDom. Ha, ha! and there i bad like not to have tained its object, my plagues began. Where is let her in.
Dupré ? Del’E. Providential encounter!
Pie. Shut up in his own room. Fran. This may lead to other proofs.
Dar. (Alarmed.) Is anybody with him? Mad. F. And confound the insolent Darlemont.
Pie. No, sir, I saw bim go in alone, and heard Now, son!
the door lock. (Going.) Clau. If my poor Blaise were bat alive! But
Dar. Well! Pierre, have you seen anything
more of these where has he been; the dear boy! where has heDe l'E. Hush! recollect yourself: are you so
Pie. Wbat, the strangers, sir? thoroughly convinced, that this is Julio of Haran
Dar. So very like the-No, nothing. You may cour, that you dare solemnly attest it
go. (Exit Pierre.] Dumb! Like the picture ! Should Clau. To the whole world ; to men and angels; returned him hither. Well, how will he
he be still alive; should some infernal accident have earth and heaven.
prove Fran. Can't you immediately, without letting story? His death is registered: that testimony no them know what has passed, bring hither some
evidence but Dupré's can now invalidate; and bin, otbers of the servants, who knew Count Julio in too, I might set at defiance, and be at rest for ever, his infancy?
could I but link my interest to the President's bs Clau. To be sure; there's the coachman's widow this marriage with his daughter; that would place living still; and there's
me beyond the result of danger. Dom. Ay, so there is; and there's Denys the Enter St. Alme, who stands at a distance, as if not groom besides, and his old wife; they don't live far off.
daring to approach his father. Mad. F. Fetob them this moment; fetch them I am on the rack, till it is accomplished. al).
St. A. Am I permitted, sir,Dom. Come along, Claudine ; come along. Dar. (Alarmed.) Who's there? (Going.)
St. A. I was told, sir, you wished to see me. Fran. And not a word, for your lives.
Dar. I do; and let me warn you, sir, that 00Dom. Oh! I know better than to chatter about less you come resolved to shew a proper sense of what doesn't concern me. Loog live Count Julio! duty to your father, you have heard that wish for Fran. Dominique
the last time. Tell me, where have you been all Dom. Ob! come along, Claudine.
this morning? [Exeunt Dominique and Claudine. St. A. My father, it is not in my nature to disMad. F. There, there! make haste, make haste! semble with you— I come from the President's
. Mar. My dear madam, if they should discover- Dar. (Startled.) Ha! What was your business
Mud. F. Daughter, daughter, he must be pu- there, and without me? uislied for his ambition ; his insolence must be St. A. To lay open my whole soul before Iria;
to aoquaint him from my own lips with my engage
Enter PIERRE. ments to Marianne. (Darlemont starts.) Pardon me, sir. O, think how resistless must be the power that
Pio. Sir, the porter says, Dominique was here over-masters me, since it could hurry me to make just now in a great harry to ask for you. this declaration, even at the risk of your displea- brother! Your advice and assistance are the only
St. A. I come. Yes, Franval ; my friend; my sure!
reliance left ine. Dar. (Stifling his rage.) Well, sir; what was
[Exit. his answer?
Pie. And now for a little chat with Dupré about St. A. Noble, kind, and like bimself. He gently
[Exit. told me, it would have been the pride of his heart,
Scene II.-Franval's Study as before. and the comfort of his declining years, to have seen me happy with his daughter; but that the choice I Enter MADAMEFRANVAL,MARIANNE,DE L'Epee, had made did me honour
and FRANVAL, with a paper in his hand. Dar. (Gradually giving way to his fury.) How! St. A. And that the ties by which I was engaged No news of these witnesses yet?
Mad. F. Bless my soul! Where can they be? to so worthy an object must be indissoluble. Dar. (Bursting out.) Parricide! You have un
De l'E. We must have patience, madam. done me. Vain, empty schemes of human foresight!
Mad. F. This Dominique is so slow! I possess myself of my ne-of a vast inheritance : you have imposed on me! Must
I present the
Fran. (To De l'Epée.) How severe is the daty i devote it to your advancement; employ it to ally sation of the father of St. Alme? My heart bleeds you with the most powerful and wealthy family in Languedoo; and, when I have suoceeded in remov
at the thought! ing every prejudice, every obstacle, you dare to
De l'E. Would he had been less criminal, and make a mockery of my solicitudes, and audaciously
Theodore less injured! reject power, rank, fortune, for the interested at
Mad. F. No, no; his punishment cannot be too tractions of a beggar, the seductive arts of a
sudden, nor too public.
Fran. Think of his virtuous son. St. A. O, no ; that she has fixed me her's, and her's alone, 'tis true; but, sir, 'twas without arti
Mar. (With the utmost tenderness.) Who, innofices, as it was without design. Her enchanting cent of his crimes, would share in his disgrace.
De l'E. Besides, madam, we must remember loveliness, my father-her innocence, if possible, still more lovely; these are the seductions, these that he still is my poor boy's uncle; bis mother's
brother. the arts, this virtuous girl has practised on me.
Mad. F. How the Count of Harancour could Dar. (Bursting into tears.) Short-sighted, foolish parents! for thankless children, thus to plange stoop to marry into such a family, and then, to
make this wretch his eventual beir! yourselves in guilt and danger. St. A. O, sir! (Affectionately.) Surely, you are
DeľE. Integrity and honour, it may be, governin no danger?
ed his life, till this temptation overpowered him; Dar. (Resolutely.) No! I don't know what I am. try, whether he may not still be reclaimable by
at least, under that persuasion, madam, I would first Yet, should the world once suspect
lenjent means. St. A. Who can live fairer in the opinion of the world?
Fran. On that I am fixed. Dar. He who lives fair in bis own mind.
Mad. F. Remember, I tell you, he'll treat all St. A. For beaven's sake, sir! what labours in your sentiments, and your lenient means, with your bosom?
contempt. Dar. O, misery! to think I have a son, and want
Enter St. Alme, in the deepest dejection. a friend!
St. A, You rend my heart with these doubts. Fran. Then, madam-St. Alme! I wished to see Honour me as a friend; shew me how I may serve yoa. (He goes to St. Alme, and they talk together.) my father; and let man and heaven renounce me, DeľE. Is this bis son? (To Marianne.) if I forget the duty of a son!
Mar. Yes, sir. Dar. (Eagerly.) Do you speak this from your
Mad. F. Daughter! soul? May I depend on you?
[Exit Mad. F. looking disdainfully at St. Alme. St. A. Can it be a question, sir?
Mar. (To De l'E.) 0, sir, speak with him; aoDar. (Solemn and earnest.) Then return to the quaint yourself with the virtues of his heart, then President
ask your own, whether ignominy be his desert! St. A. Ha!
[Exit in tears. Dar. Retrieve the mischief; apologize, plead, Fran. (T. De l'E.) My friend requests a mo obtain his daughter.
ment's conversation. St. A. Sir!
De l'E. Honour and persuasion sit on his brow; Dar. If you have the affection of a son-if trust him at once; his father will never be able to you value the safety, life, and honour of your resist bim. father-go.
Fran. You judge him by yourself. St. A. Your agitation terrifies me. Tell me, I De l’E. Try every thing. Theodore shall know conjure you, tell me the cause of it.
that his ooasin is here.
[Exit. Dar. Impossible! Think, 'tis no trivial cause Fran. St. Alme, why are your looks so sad? that conld induce me to plead by dark hints for a St. A. My distresses double every moment, and son's obedience.
are inexplicable. The stern reserve, in which my St. A. Speak, sir; 0, speak!
father has so long wrapped bimself, is suddenly Dar. It is not to be told. Nothing but the sup- changed to terrors that distract bim. port of rank, wealth, office, can secure me: the Fran. (A side.) Indeed! gulph of ruin gapes at my feet. I call on my son ; St. A. The horror of his thoughts seem agonizhim to whom I have given life ; for whom I have ing. To me he appeals for safety; yet mysteriously risked life, infamy, and perdition. I once more call hides from me the cause of his alarm: by the sacred on him; save me, or never see me more. [Exit. names of son and friend; with prayers, with tears,
St. A. Such guilt! Such danger! Can this be and solemn warnings, I am adjured to shield á real? Impossible! 'Tis but a cruel artifice to extort father from perdition. my consent to this hated marriage. Unkind father! Fran. (A side.) Surely he cannot have heard Thus with suborned emotions, to practise on the What are the means? To St. Alme.) affections of a son, who would die for you.
St, A. The means ? The sacrifice of friendship,
happiness, and love. O, heaven, can this be just? Dup. (Within.) Where is he? Let me see him, And yet, he is my father.
let me see him. Fran. Ay, would be were not! St. A. Hold, hold, Franval! If you are my friend,
Enter MADAME FRANVAL and Dupre. no wish like that.
Fran. How bas he learned Fran. I am your friend; and have an office to Dup. No; Pierre was not mistaken. 0, Julio, discharge, that might better suit your bitterest Julio! (Throws himself at Theodore's feet.) enemy,
Mad. F. We expect the other servants every St. A. No word against my father; or, here for moment.
St. A. All overjoyed to hear of his return. Fran. Be calm, and bear me. You had a cousin, (Theodore instantly recollects Dupré, shrinks from Julio, Count of Harancour!
him, and explains to De l'Epée who he is.) St. A. You know I had.
Dup. Now I have seen him once again, let me Fran. St. Alme, I cannot proceed; I cannot tell but ask forgiveness, and expire at his feet. you; yet you must know it, for all your sakes. De l'E. (To St. A.) This man seems strangely St. A. Speak out at once.
agitated. Fran. I want the courage to reveal it.
St. A. Forgiveness! What does he mean? He St. A. Speak; wbat of Julio?
was his favourite servant, and attended Julio, when Fran. You loved him.
my father carried him to Paris. St. A. Dearly as my own life.
Dup. (Starting up:) Yes, I am that ungrateful Fran. You would not see him wronged.
viper; that villain who became the accomplice of St. A. What mean you ? Wronged! Who wrongs an act. He lives, however, and I can now substanhim? 'Tis eight years and more, since Julio died tiate the truth. Drag me away; I am ready. Dein Paris.
liver me and my seducer to the just punishment of Fran. Ay, in the report of guilt.
our crimes. St. A. Sir, in the report of Darlemont. Wrong- Del'E. You went with him to Paris about eight ed! He died in Paris.
years ago? Fran. No, no.
Dup. Yes, yes—with Darlemont, with DarleSt. A. Whither would these dark insinuations mont! tend? Merciful heaven! add not to my miseries, St. A. With Darlemont! What then? that of hating the brother of Marianne! Julio- Fran. St. Alme! St. Alme! Fran. Is still alive.
St. A. Rack me not thus, but speak. St. A. Franval! you are deceived; the attesta- Dup. I must; and may my true confession and tion of his death is in my father's hands. Dupré remorse find acceptance there (pointing to heaven) was present in his last moments, and is a surviving towards the remission of my guilt. witness to it.
Del’E. Be but sincere, it will. Go on. Fran. Indeed! Then let your own eyes judge Dup. The very evening we reached Paris, your between us. Look, who comes bere. Darlemont father, pointing to a small trank, sternly ordered declares Count Julio dead; I, Franval, present him me to dress his nephew in those clothes; it conliving. There
tained a beggar's wretched covering. (St. Alme
starts back, and turns away a moment, hiding his Enter De L'EPEE and THEODORE.
face.) St. A. All gracious heaven! Do my eyes deceive Mad. F. The very rags they brought bim to me? Risen from the dead! It is, it is—( Theodore, you in. after they have gazed a moment on each other, utters Dup. Muffled in these tatters, shrouded by mida shriek of joy, and rushes into St. Alme's arms.) night darkness, my master hurried him away; and,
De l'E. No, you are not deceived. He calls you till this moment, I never saw him more. friend; he speaks to you in smiles and tears, the St. A. Strike me with deafness, beaven! language of the heart; his only language.
Mad. F. Why didn't you immediately accuse Št. Å. Can this be real? I know not yet. Speech- him? He might have murdered the poor child less! it must, it must be hemmy long lost, dear, for aught you knew. lamented Julio! And yet, stand off awhile, and let Dup. At first, I feared it. Pressed and overme gaze till I have satisfied my doubts. (Theodore powered by ny suspicions on his return alone, he affected at St. Alme's putting him away, hastily re- owned that he had put in execution the design collects himself, bares his right arm, and points to the which brought him to Paris, and ander shelter of scar upon it. St. Alme bursting into tears, runs to the night, had lost the disguised and helpless inhim, and kisses the scar.)
nocent beyond recovery, in the inextricable mazes St. A. That scar!
of that wide city. De l'E. O, nature, nature, how resistless is thy Mad F. Thank heaven, he'll find himself disapeloquence!
pointed and detected. Fran. St. Alme, compose yourself; I shudder for De l'E. Madam-Well, sirthe final close of this discovery.
Dup. In order to possess himself of the estates St. A. It is, it is my Julio. Friend! companion of the young Count,'it still was necessary that he preserver of my life! I'm lost in joy and wonder; should prove his death. Two witnesses were wantTo whom are we indebted for this strange blessing? ing; seduced by gold, one, since dead, was the
Fran. To him ; to the benevolence of De l'Epée. poor wretch we lodged with.
St. A. De l'Epée! bas Julio been an object of Fran. The other—was yourself; and by this your generous pity? O, sir; I cannot thank you. dark and perjured attestation(Kisses De l'Epée's hand.) Come, come, my dear St. A. His name annihilated, his rich inberitance Julio ; (to De l'Epée) my father's gratitude shall purloined, bis death a forgery, and my own father bless you; how will he rejoice at this event! Let the perpetrator! Saints of heaven, gaard my soul us haste to him; he has been much altered since from desperation! Already the licentious rabble your loss; your presence shall dispel all gloom, and point at me as I pass; I hear them cry,-“ There his heart dance with transport to behold you. goes the monster, the unpatural villain, who con
Fran. Hold, hold, one moment. (Madame Fran- spired to rob his voble kinsman, the friend of his val and Dupré within.)
youth, the saviour of his life, and turned him Mad. F. (Within.) Come in, come in, Dupré; | forth, naked and speechless, on a desert and anhe is here-it's all true.
pitying world.” Fran. Dapré! (Looking at St. Alme.)
De l'E. Listen, sir, listen for a moment to *