BEAUSEANT. Good-morning, madam! Oh, widow, your son begs you will have the goodness to go to him in the village; he wants to speak to you on particular business; you'll find him at the inn, or the grocer's shop, or the baker's, or at some other friend's of your family; make haste! PAULINE. Don't leave me, mother! don't leave me ! BEAUSEANT (with great respect). Be not alarmed, madam. Believe me your friend, your servant. PAULINE. Sir, I have no fear of you, even in this house! Go, madam, if your son wishes it; I will not contradict his commands while, at least, he has still the right to be obeyed. WIDOW. I don't understand this; however, I sha'n't be long gone. [Exit. PAULINE. Sir, I divine the object of your visit; you wish to exult in the humiliation of one who humbled you. Be it so; I am prepared to endure all, even your presence! BEAUSEANT. You mistake me, madam; Pauline, you mistake me! I come to lay my fortune at your feet. You must already be disenchanted with this impostor; these walls are not worthy to be hallowed by your beauty! Shall that form be clasped in the arms of a baseborn peasant? Beloved, beautiful Pauline! fly with me; my carriage waits without; I will bear you to a home more meet for your reception. Wealth, luxury, station, all shall yet be yours. I forget your past disdain; I remember only your beauty and my unconquerable love. PAULINE. Sir! leave this house; it is humble; but a husband's roof, however lowly, is, in the eyes of God and man, the temple of a wife's honour! Know that I would rather starve, yes! with him who has betrayed me, than accept your lawful hand, even were you the prince whose name he bore. Go! BEAUSEANT. What, is not your pride humbled yet? PAULINE. Sir, what was pride in prosperity in affliction becomes virtue. BEAUSEANT. Look round these rugged floors; these homely walls; this wretched struggle of poverty for comfort; think of this! and contrast with such a picture the refinement, the luxury, the pomp that the wealthiest gentleman of Lyons offers to the loveliest lady. Ah, hear me! PAULINE. Oh! my father! why did I leave you? why am I thus friendless? Sir, you see before you a betrayed, injured, miserable woman! respect her anguish ! (Melnotte opens the door silently, and pauses at the threshold.) BEAUSEANT. No! let me rather thus console it; let me snatch from those lips one breath of that fragrance which never should be wasted on the low churl thy husband. PAULINE. Help! Claude! Claude! Have I no protector? BEAUSEANT. Be silent! (Showing a pistol) See, I do not come unprepared even for violence. I will brave all things -thy husband and all his race-for thy sake. Thus, then, I clasp thee! MELNOTTE (dashing him to the other end of the stage). Pauline! look up, Pauline! thou art safe. BEAUSEANT (levelling his pistol). Dare you thus insult a man of my birth, ruffian? PAULINE. Oh spare him, spare my husband! BeauseantClaude-no-no—(faints). MELNOTTE. Miserable trickster! shame upon you! brave devices to terrify a woman! coward, you tremble; you have outraged the laws; you know that your weapon is harmless; you have the courage of the mountebank, not the bravo! Pauline, there is no danger. BEAUSEANT. I wish thou wert a gentleman; as it is, thou art beneath me. Good-day, and a happy honeymoon. (Aside) I will not die till I am avenged. MELNOTTE. [Exit Beauseant. I hold her in these arms; the last embrace! Be pillow'd on the heart that should have shelter'd One kiss; so ends all record of my crime ! By which, like some lost, sorrowing angel, site Sad memory evermore; she breathes, she moves; There, we are strangers now! (Places her on a seat.) PAULINE. All gone, all calm; Is every thing a dream? thou art safe, unhurt; MELNOTTE. No, lady, no; My guilt hath not deserved so rich a blessing (Enter widow.) WIDOW. My son, I have been everywhere in search of you; why did you send for me? MELNOTTE. I did not send for you. WIDOW. No! but I must tell you your express has returned. MELNOTTE. So soon! impossible! WIDOW. Yes, he met the lady's father and mother on the road; they were going into the country on a visit. Your messenger says that Monsieur Deschappelles turned almost white with anger when he read your letter. They will be here almost immediately. Oh, Claude, Claude! what will they do to you? How I tremble! Ah, madam! do not let them injure him; if you knew how he doted on you! PAULINE. Injure him! no, ma'am, be not afraid; my father! how shall I meet him? how go back to Lyons? the scoff of the whole city! Cruel, cruel Claude. (In great agitation) Sir, you have acted most treacherously. I know it, madam. MELNOTTE. PAULINE. (Aside) If he would but ask me to forgive him! I never can forgive you, sir. MELNOTTE. I never dared to hope it. PAULINE. But you are my husband now, and I have sworn to -to love you, sir. MELNOTTE. That was under a false belief, madam; Heaven and the laws will release you from your vow. PAULINE. He will drive me mad! if he were but less proud; if he would but ask me to remain; hark, hark; I hear the wheels of the carriage. Sir-Claude, they are coming; have you no word to say ere it is too late? quick, speak. MELNOTTE. I can only congratulate you on your release. Behold your parents! |