ACT IV.

Scene I.—The Chevalier and Fiorillo.

Chev. While my father rests, I will visit my sister;tell him this, when he wakes.
Fior. Yes, Signor.
Chev. Do you know whether the Count is at home?
Fior. Yes; I saw him just now going to speak withMadame Dorimene.
Chev. [Aside.] Surely he is not a rival to be feared.At least, I am secure of the heart of Eleonora, and willnot yet despair of gaining her mother. [Exit.
Fior. So, young gentleman! I see how it is with you.I pretty well guess your intentions, and how they arethwarted. Ay, ay, I shall have enough to satisfy thecuriosity of Frontino. [Sits down near the door of hismaster's rooms.]
Scene II.—Enter Count.
Count. [Not seeing Fiorillo.] I am tired, bored!Nothing but indifference; and, instead of perfectsatisfaction, something like contempt. A man likeme, who had but to choose! so advantageous a marriage![Seeing Fiorillo.] Is the Marquis at home?
Fior. Yes, Signor; being rather fatigued with travelling,he is taking a nap.
Count. [Aside.] How amiable is his daughter! Howcharming! I felt affected and confused at the courtesyand kindness with which she and her aunt received me.The visit made me cheerful, happy, and reconciled tomyself. What difference between the politeness of theseladies and the common and trivial manner of Aramintaand her daughter; who neither understand civility norgood breeding. Ah! were the young Marchioness but asrich as she is handsome and engaging—who knows? Ihave a thought—should her father but be reasonableand easy to manage—Here he comes.
Scene III.—Enter the Marquis.
Marq. [Rubbing his eyes and calling.] Fiorillo!
Fior. Signor?
Marq. My son?
Fior. He is gone out.
Marq. Why did not he—where is he gone?
Fior. To visit the Marchioness, his sister.
Marq. I too wish—my coach!
Fior. The horses, Signor—
Marq. [Angry.] Good, good, excellent! My coach!
Fior. I will go and see. [Exit.
Scene IV.—The Count and the Marquis.
Count. Do you wish to go out, Signor Marquis?
Marq. See my daughter—much to say—tell her—Good,good, excellent!
Count. I have just had that honour. It was longsince I had seen her. She fully answers the charmingpromise of her childhood; her sweetness has increasedwith her years, and the progress of her talents iswonderful. Permit me to congratulate you on possessingsuch a treasure.
Marq. Oh, Count—ay, ay; a good girl. She has not,let us confess it—but—character, manners—good, good,excellent!
Count. With such talents, so much merit, and bloomingeighteen, you should think of a husband for her.
Marq. No doubt. For my part, I—apropos: whathas just passed—what did you mean to say when—Didyou not say lend me?
Count. It appears to me that you suddenly changedyour opinion.
Marq. I tell you, no—it was not so. You have not—Andyet I spoke plainly.
Count. In any case, Signor Marquis, I shall be happyto serve you. I have not spoken to Madame Araminta;for, to own the truth, I am not quite pleased with herdaughter. I begin to feel a certain dislike.
Marq. Oh, oh!—That means—Well, why not?
Count. I have done everything to gain their esteemand friendship. A house so richly furnished, carriagesand horses the most rare, diamonds worth a hundredthousand livres—
Marq. Is it possible?
Count. 'Tis true; they were shown. Madame Aramintawas amazed.
Marq. Grand!—Superb!—Good, good, excellent!
Count. Injustice and ingratitude have been my reward.
Marq. Good, good, excellent!
Count. [Aside.] Curse the phrase!
Marq. [Aside.] In that case—if Eleonora—if my son—[Aloud.]If so, Signor Count—candour—frankly andfreely tell them—You understand me? Cut mattersshort.
Count. Had I paid these attentions to a lady of rankand merit, I should have acted much more wisely.
Marq. Ay, ay—if—certainly.
Count. Do you think a man of rank and fashion, aman like yourself for example, would refuse me thehand of his daughter?
Marq. On the contrary. A person of worth—a personthat—oh, what do you mean? Certainly not.
Count. Signor Marquis, you encourage me.
Marq. Oh, I—If so—I'll go this moment!
Count. Where, signor?
Marq. To my daughter. [Calls.] Fiorillo!
Count. And may I hope?
Marq. [Calls louder.] Fiorillo!
Scene V.—Enter Fiorillo
Marq. My coach.
Fior. The coachman is not here, Signor.
Marq. How so? [To the Count.] Can you lend me—?Soon return.
Count. It is not a hundred yards; you can easily walk.
Marq. Walk!—Hundred yards!——Enough—Adieu—Soonbe back. [Going.] Diamonds! A hundred thousandlivres!
[Exit with Fiorillo.
Scene VI.—The Count, then Frontino.
Count. Courage! The Marquis is enraptured; thedaughter's won. All goes well. But I must not losesight of—[Calls.] Frontino! No, no; she must notget possession of the jewels. Frontino! I say!
Front. [Entering.] I was busy in planning the dessert.
Count. Go immediately, and tell my sister I beg herto come here; I have something interesting to communicate.And add, but in a whisper, that I requestshe will bring me the jewels which I committed to hercare.
Front. But the supper, signor? I must be everywhere,and look to all!
Count. True. Is everything prepared?
Front. According to your wishes; two essentialsexcepted.
Count. Which are——?
Front. Coffee and liqueurs.
Count. Liqueurs inflame the blood.
Front. But coffee?
Count. Blockhead! Coffee at night! It preventssleep.
Front. Surely, Signor!—Not give coffee! Forfeit yourcharacter as a liberal host, for such a trifling expense?
Count. Go, Mr. Liberality; do what I bid you.
Front. [Aside.] No coffee! I would rather pay for itout of my own pocket. Yet no; he would even swearI had filched the money from other articles. [Exit.
Scene VII.—Count alone.
Count. Dreadful! Luxury is come to such a height!Thank Heaven, I have not spent one farthing fromwhim or caprice. I always pay money with prudenceand circumspection. I do not yet know the characterof the Marchioness; but, being once the Countess ofCasteldoro, I will teach her my method; which is toesteem myself, and to despise and laugh at other people.
Scene VIII.—Enter Dorimene.
Dor. I am told you want me, brother.
Count. Pardon this liberty. Where are the diamonds?
Dor. Here. Do you want them back?
Count. [Taking them.] Yes, yes; you shall know why.
Dor. You need not take the trouble to tell me, for itis not possible to persuade Eleonora to accept them.
Count. So much the worse for her; she will repent.I have a secret to tell you.
Dor. You know how greatly I am interested in yourhappiness.
Count. I have seen the Marchioness del Bosco, andhave great reason to believe that, whenever I please, Imay obtain her hand.
Dor. Indeed! What will the Marquis say?
Count. Oh, he will say, "Good, good, excellent!" Iam sure of him.
Dor. You know the disorder of his affairs. Will youmarry her without a portion?
Count. Oh, no. Thank Heaven, I have not lost mywits.
Dor. What will you do, then?
Count. Listen and learn. First, let me tell you, I amneither blind nor foolish. I perceive the affections ofEleonora are given to another, and I do not think I amgreatly mistaken when I suppose the Chevalier herfavourite. Omitting to notice the impertinence offather and son, in visiting me under the mask of friendship,I must tell you it may contribute to aid myproject, which is this. Let you and me persuadeMadame Araminta to give her daughter, with a hundredthousand crowns, to the Chevalier, on condition thathis father receive the money, and that he redeem allhis mortgages. I will request the Marchioness, hisdaughter, from him; with these said lands, and, by thismeans, the son and daughter will both be gratified, andthe Marquis will not disburse a guinea. What say you,sister; is not the plan a good one?
Dor. Well imagined, but difficult to execute.
Count. Do not fear; all will be right. The Marquisis gone purposely in search of his daughter. I willjoin them, and I have no doubt all will be concludedthis very day. These jewels—may be of—Sister, youshall see wonders. [Exit.
Dor. What does he mean? But, if every one be madehappy, I shall be the same.
Scene IX.—Enter Eleonora.
Eleon. [At the door, timidly.] Are you alone, Signora?
Dor. I am, my dear; come in.
Eleon. My mother is busy, writing—
Dor. Have you anything to tell me?
Eleon. Forgive my curiosity; have you taken awaythe jewels.
Dor. Yes; the Count asked for them. Are you vexed?
Eleon. On the contrary, delighted.
Dor. Then you are averse to diamonds?
Eleon. Not at all; but—You know my secret.
Dor. There are things in expectation, my dear—
Eleon. What, what? Ease my heart, if possible.
Dor. My brother feels you do not love him.
Eleon. That I can easily believe.
Dor. And suspects the Chevalier.
Eleon. Heavens! He will tell my mother!
Dor. Your mother, my dear, must and ought to knowit; and you ought to conquer your inclinations.
Eleon. Conquer! Oh, it is not possible!
Dor. I love you, as you know, but cannot—
Eleon. [Suddenly, and looking off.] Ha! I must go.
Dor. What is the matter?
Eleon. [Going.] Don't you see the Chevalier?
Dor. Yes, yes; you are right. Begone!
Eleon. [Aside, and slowly going.] I die to stay.
Scene X.—Enter the Chevalier.
Chev. Signora—[Discovering Eleonora.] Heavens!does Eleonora see me, and yet go? [His eyes fixed onEleonora.]
Dor. Your pleasure, Signor? [Turns and sees Eleonoranot gone.] Young lady, your mother expects you.
Eleon. [Timidly.] Pardon me, I would speak one word.
Dor. Well, speak. Make haste!
Eleon. [Gradually approaching.] The jewels will notbe returned?
Dor. I do not fear the return of the jewels.
Chev. Ladies, if I incommode you, I'll be gone.
Dor. [A little angry.] As you please, Signor.
Chev. [Going slowly aside.] This treatment is severe.
Dor. [Ironically.] Well, Mademoiselle, have you anythingmore to say?
Eleon. No, Signora; but—What offence has theChevalier committed?
Dor. Really, my dear, you make me smile.
Eleon. I—I cannot smile.
Chev. [Returning after looking into his fathers apartment.]My father is not there.
Dor. You will find him at your aunt's.
Chev. I just came from there; my aunt and sister aregone out.
Dor. [More angry.] Young lady!
Eleon. [Mortified and curtseying; her eyes fixed on theChevalier.] Pardon me.
Dor. [Ironically.] Excellent, upon my word!
Scene XI.—Enter Araminta.
Aram. [Surprised, aside.] Ah, ha!—[Aloud.] The millineris waiting, daughter: go and look at what she hasbrought.
[Exit Eleonora, mortified.
Aram. Pray stay, Chevalier: I would speak with you.
Dor. Ay, pray do; it is right I should justify myselfbefore you. I see, Madame, that you know somethingof what is going on; but I assure you I am no partyconcerned, and that, although this meeting was accidental,I am sorry it should have occurred.
Aram. [Kindly taking her hand.] I know you,Madame.
Chev. I am sorry, ladies, if my presence—
Aram. [Softly to Dorimene.] Be so kind as to followmy daughter. Poor child! I vex her sometimes, butI love her dearly! Try to console her.
Dor. Most willingly, madam. [Exit.
Scene XII.—Araminta and the Chevalier.
Chev. I did not think, Signora, that my conduct—
Aram. Let us speak plainly, Signor. What are yourpretensions to my daughter?
Chev. Oh, could I but hope to merit her hand—
Aram. Nothing could be desired better than you:your birth, character, and conduct are all in yourfavour: and I should think it an honour to call youmy son. Permit me only to say that the affairs of yourfamily—
Chev. I own it. My father is the best of men, buthas been greatly misled.
Aram. Then, being sensible of this truth, you, betterthan any person, should be aware of the confusion anddistress which might be brought on a young woman,of a good family, and with no contemptible fortune.Would you willingly expose this fortune to the evidentdanger of being ill managed, and soon dissipated?
Chev. Hear me but a moment; I will speak frankly.I have spent some years in the army, which I have beenobliged to quit, because I could not properly supportmy birth and military rank. Returning home, I havelived privately, without complaint, and concealing mysituation. A family friend, interesting himself in mybehalf, suggested that a proper marriage might enableme to appear again at my post, and thus excited me tomix with the world, and declare my purpose. I heardof you, Madame, of your daughter's merit, and of thefortune which she was to have. I saw her, and was soenraptured by her charms and mental qualities, thatevery interested motive instantly ceased, and love alonetook possession of my heart. I then, indeed, wished Iwere rich, and deeply felt the distress of my family.My friends saw my distress, pitied me, would not forsakeme, spoke of your goodness, and encouraged merespectfully to declare myself and my hopes. I listenedto their advice, or rather to love; and hoped thatgratitude and respect would, some time, acquire for mea daughter's love, and a kind mother's consent.
Aram. I approve your candour; yet, do not hope Ican give you my daughter, though I am greatly affectedby your situation, and disposed to favour you, as far asprudence will permit.
Chev. Your goodness consoles me; but, O heavens!do you refuse me that precious gift, your daughter?
Aram. You must not hope to have her, Signor. Itmay be ten years before you are in a state to marry.Live in freedom, and leave my daughter to her destiny.If you approve it, thus much I offer. I will lend youthe sum necessary to purchase military rank, and evena regiment; depending for repayment upon circumstances,and your word of honour.
Chev. I may die, Madame.
Aram. And I may lose my money; but not the recollectionof having done justice to merit, and a worthygentleman.
Chev. Noble generosity! Yet—your daughter—
Aram. I speak absolutely—you must not think ofher.
Chev. Surely it is possible that love and constancy—
Aram. Let us see, what sum will you want? Youhave friends?
Chev. A few.
Aram. I may increase the number. Let us retirewhere we can speak more freely.
Chev. Wherever you please. [Calls.] Fiorillo!
Aram. Poor youth! The victim of his father'simbecility. [Exit.
Scene XIII.—Enter Fiorillo.
Chev. Listen, Fiorillo! Tell my father—Here hecomes. I have not time to speak to him. Say I amwith Madame Dorimene. [Exit.
Fior. With the ladies! He is unusually gay. Perhapshis affairs have taken a lucky turn.
Scene XIV.—Enter the Marquis.
Marq. Well, the coachman—A rascal!—Returnedyet?
Fior. The coachman is not to blame, Signor.
Marq. How so? I am—Good, good, excellent!—Hadthey gone out?
Fior. Who, Signor?
Marq. My daughter, and—What did the dog say?—Yes,at once—To the devil!
Fior. You should not be angry, Signor. I met himloaded like a porter: his horses were hungry andrestive, he went to buy corn.
Marq. How? Very fine—The Count—The stables—
Fior. Ah, yes, none can be finer; but without asingle oat, nor dares the coachman buy any, without anexpress order from his master. Oh, the miser!
Marq. Who? Who? Good, good, excellent! Amiser!
Fior. There is not such another on earth.
Marq. Who, I say? Blockhead! Fool! The Count—aman!—Go, go, numskull!
Fior. Everybody I have spoken with, in the houseand out of the house, servants, tradesmen, or neighbours,all say the same. Nay, Frontino, his chieffavourite, can stay with him no longer.
Marq. How! Could it be?—He refused me hiscoach?
Fior. From avarice. He walks, for fear of tiringhis horses.
Marq. But—a hundred thousand livres in diamonds!
Fior. Do you mean the jewels he has showed to hisbride—
Marq. Well?
Fior. And which he will never pay for. Frontinotold me they were not bought, but borrowed.
Marq. Borrowed! Damn! Good, good, excellent!—anunderhand miser—hypocrite! Damn, damn!A fellow—odious—despicable—My daughter?—Oaf!Sup with him?—Great feast—No oats for the horses—Goand see the poor beasts.
Fior. Not that way, Signor. The stables are in theother court.
Marq. Double court—No corn—Great palace—Nooats for his horses! [Exeunt.