Scene III.
SOPHIA MANSFIELD's apartments in the Porcelain Factory. Enter SOPHIA.
SOPHIA. 'Tis done. My vase is finished, and in the possession of the overseer. How is it with me? Although my fortunes are suspended by a single thread, an unaccustomed buoyancy pervades my bosom. Are these emotions precursors of victory, or has the love of Laniska given me a new existence, and tinged the world once more with hues of paradise? How new and fresh and strange are all he things here about my heart! This is his gift—a simple flower! He said it is an emblem of love. It is not so. Love does not perish thus!—Love can not be a flower.
SONG-SOPHIA.
Ah! Love is not a garden-flower,
That shoots from out the cultured earth;
That needs the sunbeam and the shower,
Before it wakens into birth:
It owns a richer soil and seed,
And woman's heart supplies them both,
Where it will spring, without a weed,
Consummate in its growth.
These leaves will perish when away
From either genial sun or shower;
Not so will wither and decay
Celestial Love's perennial flower.
'Tis our companion countless miles,
Through weal or woe in after years;
And though it flourishes in smiles,
It blooms as fresh in tears!
(Enter FREDERICA.)
FREDERICA.
My dear Sophia, I am overjoyed to learn that you have completed your vase.
SOPHIA. Thanks, dear madam. Is it true that the works of the different competitors are to be exhibited at the fete of the countess, and that the decision is to be there made?
FREDERICA.
It is—and the countess insists upon your being present.
SOPHIA. I am an unknown girl, madam; and if I decline the invitation, I beseech you take it not amiss.
FREDERICA. —But I will take it amiss, and so will the count and countess, whose messenger I am, and who insisted upon my bringing you to the chateau at once.
SOPHIA.
Well, madam, since you will have it so—
FREDERICA. Oh, you'll be delighted. Only think of the concentrated attractions of "the court, the camp, the grove!" Oh, they're too much for any mortal woman to withstand!
DUET—SOPHIA and FREDERICA
The king, the princes of the court,
With lords and ladies bright,
Will in their dazzling state resort
To this grand fete to-night:
The merry-hearted and the proud
Will mingle in the glittering crowd,
Who glide with Fashion's sparkling stream
Where one I love will shine supreme!—
La ra la, la ra la, la la la, etc.
The cavaliers of Italy,
The gay gallants of France,
With Spain and England's chivalry,
Will join the merry dance.
The court of Love—the camp of Mars,
Fair Prussian dames, "earth-treading stars,"
To music's strain will float in light,
Where one I love will beam to-night!—
La ra la, la ra la, la la la, etc.
[Exit cheerfully.