M. Deschap. But do not talk of that impostor; I hope he is dead or has left the country. Nay, even were he in Lyons at this moment, he ought to rejoice that, in an honorable and suitable alliance, my daughter may forget her sufferings and his crime.
Damas.--Nay, if it be all settled, I have no more to say.
Monsieur Beauseant informs me that the contract is to be signed this very day.
M. Deschap, It is; at one o'clock precisely. Will you be one of the witnesses?
Damas. I?--No; that is to say--yes, certainly!--at one o'clock Iwill wait on you.
M. Deschap. Till then, adieu--come Beauseant.
[Exeunt BEAUSEANT and DESCHAPELLES Damas. The man who sets his heart upon a woman Is a chameleon, and doth feed on air;From air he takes his colors--holds his life,--Changes with every wind,--grows lean or fat, Rosy with hope, or green with jealousy, Or pallid with despair--just as the gale Varies from North to South--from heat to cold!
Oh, woman! woman! thou shouldst have few sins Of thine own to answer for! Thou art the author Of such a book of follies in a man, That it would need the tears of all the angels To blot the record out!
[Enter MELNOTTE, pale and agitated.
I need not tell thee! Thou hast heard--Mel. The worst!
I have!
Damas. Be cheer'd; others are fair as she is!
Mel. Others! The world is crumbled at my feet!
She was my world; fill'd up the whole of being--Smiled in the sunshine--walk'd the glorious earth--Sate in my heart--was the sweet life of life.
The Past was hers; I dreamt not of a Future That did not wear her shape! Mem'ry and Hope Alike are gone. Pauline is faithless! Henceforth The universal space is desolate!
Damas. Hope yet.
Mel. Hope, yes!--one hope is left me still--A soldier's grave! Glory has died with love.
I look into my heart, and, where I saw Pauline, see Death!
[After a pause].--But am I not deceived?
I went but by the rumor of the town;
Rumor is false,--I was too hasty! Damas, Whom hast thou seen?
Damas. Thy rival and her father.
Arm thyself for the truth.--He heeds not.
Mel. She.
Will never know how deeply she was loved!
The charitable night, that wont to bring Comfort to-day, in bright and eloquent dreams, Is henceforth leagued with misery! Sleep, farewell, Or else become eternal! Oh, the waking From false oblivion, and to see the sun, And know she is another's!
Damas. Be a man!
Mel. I am a man!--it is the sting of woe Like mine that tells us we are men!, Damas. The false one Did not deserve thee.
Mel. Hush!--No word against her!
Why should she keep, through years and silent absence, The holy tablets of her virgin faith True to a traitor's name! Oh, blame her not;It were a sharper grief to think her worthless Than to be what I am! To-day,--to-day!
They, said "To-day!" This day, so wildly welcomed--This clay, my soul had singled out of time And mark'd for bliss! This day! oh, could I see her, See her once more unknown; but hear her voice.
So that one echo of its music might Make ruin less appalling in its silence.
Damas. Easily done! Come with me to her house;Your dress--your cloak--moustache--the bronzed hues Of time and toil--the name you bear--belief In your absence, all will ward away suspicion.
Keep in the shade. Ay, I would have you come There may be hope? Pauline is yet so young, They may have forced her to these second bridals Out of mistaken love.
Mel. No, bid me hope not!
Bid me not hope! I could not bear again To fall from such a heaven! One gleam of sunshine, And the ice breaks and I am lost! Oh, Damas, There's no such thing as courage in a man;The veriest slave that ever crawl'd from danger Might spurn me now. When first I lost her, Damas, I bore it, did I not? I still had hope, And now I--I--(Bursts into an agony of grief.
Damas. What, comrade! all the women That ever smiled destruction on brave hearts Were not worth tears like these!
Mel. 'Tis past--forget it.
I am prepared; life has no further ills!
The cloud has broken in that stormy rain, And on the waste I stand, alone with Heaven.
Damas. His very face is changed; a breaking heart Does its work soon!--Come, Melnotte, rouse thyself:
One effort more. Again thou'lt see her.
Mel. See her!
There is a passion in that simple sentence That shivers all the pride and power of reason Into a chaos!
Damas. Time wanes; come, ere yet It be too late.
Mel. Terrible words--"Too late!" Lead on. One last look more, and then--Damas. Forget her!
Mel. Forget her! yes--For death remembers not. [Exeunt.
A room in the house of MONSIEUR DESCHAPPELLES; PAULINE seated in great dejection.
Pauline. It is so, then. I must be false to Love, Or sacrifice a father! Oh, my Claude, My lover, and my husband! Have I lived To pray that thou mayest find some fairer boon Than the deep faith of this devoted heart--Nourish'd till now--now broken?
Enter MONSIEUR DESCHAPPELLES.
M. Deschap. My dear child, How shall I thank--how bless thee? Thou hast saved, I will not say my fortune--I could bear Reverse, and shrink not--but that prouder wealth Which merchants value most--my name, my credit--The hard--won honors of a toilsome life:--These thou hast saved, my child!
Pauline. Is there no hope?
No hope but this?
M. Deschap. None. If, without the sum Which Beauseant offers for thy hand, this day Sinks to the west--to-morrow brings our ruin!
And hundreds, mingled in that ruin, curse The bankrupt merchant! and the insolvent herd We feasted and made merry cry in scorn, "How pride has fallen!--Lo, the bankrupt merchant!"My daughter, thou hast saved us!
Pauline. And am lost!
M. Deschap. Come, let me hope that Beauseant's love--Pauline. His love!
Talk not of love. Love has no thought of self!
Love buys not with the ruthless usurer's gold The loathsome prostitution of a hand Without a heart? Love sacrifices all things To bless the thing it loves! He knows not love.
Father, his love is hate--his hope revenge!
My tears, my anguish, my remorse for falsehood--These are the joys that he wrings from our despair!
M. Deschap. If thou deem'st thus, reject him! Shame and ruin Were better than thy misery;--think no more on't.
