My sand is wellnigh run--what boots it when The glass is broken? We'll annul the contract:
And if to-morrow in the prisoner's cell These aged limbs are laid, why still, my child, I'll think thou art spared; and wait the Liberal Hour That lays the beggar by the side of kings!
Pauline, No--no--forgive me! You, my honor'd father,--You, who so loved, so cherish'd me, whose lips Never knew one harsh word! I'm not ungrateful;I am but human!--hush! Now, call the bridegroom--You see I am prepared--no tears--all calm;
But, father, talk no more of love M. Deschap. My child, Tis but one struggle; he is young, rich, noble;Thy state will rank first 'mid the dames of Lyons;And when this heart can shelter thee no more, Thy youth will not be guardianless.
Pauline. I have set My foot upon the ploughshare--I will pass The fiery ordeal. [Aside.] Merciful Heaven, support me;And on the absent wanderer shed the light Of happier stars--lost evermore to me!
Enter MADAME DESCHAPPELLES, BEAUSEANT, GLAVIS, and Notary.
Mme. Deschap. Why, Pauline, you are quite in deshabille--you ought to be more alive to the importance of this joyful occasion.
We had once looked higher, it is true; but you see, after all, Monsieur Beauseant's father was a Marquis, and that's a great comfort.
Pedigree and jointure!--you have them both in Monsieur Beauseant. A young lady decorously brought up should only have two considerations in her choice of a husband; first, is his birth honorable? secondly, will his death be advantageous? All other trifling details should be left to parental anxiety.
Beau. [approaching and waving aside Madame]. Ah, Pauline! let me hope that you are reconciled to an event which confers such rapture upon me.
Pauline. I am reconciled to my doom.
Beau. Doom is a harsh word, sweet lady.
Pauline [aside.] This man must have some mercy--his heart cannot be marble. [Aloud.] Oh, sir, be just--be generous!
Seize a noble triumph--a great revenge! Save the father, and spare the child.
Beau. [aside.] joy--joy alike to my hatred and my passion!
The haughty Pauline is at last my suppliant. [Aloud.] You ask from me what I have not the sublime virtue to grant--a virtue reserved only for the gardener's son! I cannot forego my hopes in the moment of their fulfilment! I adhere to the contract--your father's ruin or your hand.
Pauline. Then all is over. Sir, I have decided.
[The clock strikes one.
Enter DAMAS and MELNOTTE.
Damas. Your servant, cousin Deschappelles. Let me introduce Colonel Morier.
Mme. Deschap. [curtsying very low]. What, the celebrated hero?
This is, indeed, an honor! [MELNOTTE bows, and remains in the background.
Damas [to Pauline]. My little cousin, I congratulate you. What, no smile--no blush? You are going to be divorced from poor Melnotte, and marry this rich gentleman. You ought to be excessively happy!
Pauline. Happy!
Damas. Why, how pale you are, child!--Poor Pauline! Hist--confide in me!
Do they force you to this?
Pauline. No!
Damas. You act with your own free consent?
Pauline. My own consent--yes.
Damas. Then you are the most--I will not say what you are.
Pauline. You think ill of me--be it so--yet if you knew all--Damas. There is some mystery--speak out, Pauline.
Pauline [suddenly]. Oh, perhaps you.can save me! you are our relation--our friend. My father is on the verge of bankruptcy--this day he requires a large sum to meet demands that cannot be denied;that sum Beauseant will advance--this hand the condition of the barter.
Save me if you have the means--save me! You will be repaid above!
Damas. aside. I recant--Women are not so bad after all!
[Aloud.] Humph, child! I cannot help you--I am too poor.
Pauline. The last plank to which I clung is shivered.
Damas. Hold--you see my friend Morier: Melnotte is his most intimate friend--fought in the same fields--slept in the same tent.
Have you any message to send to Melnotte? any word to soften this blow?
Pauline. He knows Melnotte--he will see him--he will bear to him my last farewell--[approaches MELNOTTE] He has a stern air--he turns away from me--he despises me!--Sir one word I beseech you.
Mel. Her voice again! How the old time comes o'er me!
Damas [to Madame.] Don't interrupt them.--He is going to tell her what a rascal young Melnotte is; he knows him well, I promise you.
Mme. Deschap. So considerate in you, cousin Damas!
[DAMAS approaches DESCHAPPELLES; converses apart with hint in dumb show--DESCHAPPELLES shows him a paper, which he inspects and takes.
