Mel. I foresee it all. She will tell me that desert is the true rank. She will give me a badge—a flower—a glove! Oh rapture! I shall join the armies of the republic—I shall rise—I shall win a name that beauty will not blush to hear. I shall return with the right to say to her—“See, how love does not level the proud, but raise the—humble!” Oh, how my heart swells within me!—Oh, what glorious prophets of the future are youth and hope!
[Knock at the door.]
Widow. Come in.
Enter GASPAR.
Mel. Welcome, Gaspar, welcome. Where is the letter? Why do you turn away, man? where is the letter? [GASPAR gives him one.] This! This is mine, the one I intrusted to thee. Didst thou not leave it?
Gaspar. Yes, I left it.
Mel. My own verses returned to me. Nothing else!
Gaspar. Thou wilt be proud to hear how thy messenger was honored. For thy sake, Melnotte, I have borne that which no Frenchman can bear without disgrace.
Mel. Disgrace, Gaspar! Disgrace?
Gaspar. I gave thy letter to the porter, who passed it from lackey to lackey till it reached the lady it was meant for.