Beau. And such a prince! Madam, I cannot blush at the success of so illustrious a rival.—[Aside.] Now will I follow them to the village, enjoy my triumph, and to-morrow, in the hour of thy shame and grief, I think, proud girl, thou wilt prefer even these arms to those of the gardener’s son. [Exit.
Mme. Deschap. Come, Monsieur Deschappelles, give your arm to her highness that is to be.
M. Deschap. I don’t like doing business in such a hurry; ‘tis not the way with the house of Deschappelles & Co.
Mme. Deschap. There, now, you fancy you are in the counting-house, don’t you?
[Pushes him to PAULINE.
Mel. Stay, stay, Pauline—one word. Have you no scruple, no fear? Speak—it is not yet too late.
Pauline. When I loved thee, thy fate became mine. Triumph or danger— joy or sorrow—I am by thy side.
Damas. Well, well, prince, thou art a lucky man to be so loved. She is a good little girl in spite of her foibles make her as happy as if she were not to be a princess [slapping him on the shoulder]. Come, sir, I wish you joy—young tender—lovely;—zounds, I envy you!
Mel. [who has stood apart in gloomy abstraction]. Do you?*
(* On the stage the following lines are added:—)
“Do you? Wise judges are we of each other.
‘Woo, wed, and bear her home! So runs the bond
To which I sold myself,—and then—what then?
Away?—I will not look beyond the hour.
Like children in the dark, I dare not face
The shades that gather sound me in the distance.
You envy me—I thank you—you may read
My joy upon my brow—I thank you, sir!
If hearts had audible language, you would hear
What mine would answer when you talk of ENVY!”