Mel. Heaven will lend its stars for torches! It is not far.
Pauline. The night breeze chills me.
Mel. Nay, Let me thus mantle thee;—it is not cold.
Pauline. Never beneath thy smile!
Mel. [aside.] O Heaven! forgive me! [Exeunt
SCENE II.
MELNOTTE’S cottage—Widow bustling about—a table spread for supper.
Widow. So, I think that looks very neat. He sent me a line, so blotted that I can scarcely read it, to say he would be here almost immediately. She must have loved him well indeed to have forgotten his birth; for though he was introduced to her in disguise, he is too honorable not to have revealed to her the artifice, which her love only could forgive. Well, I do not wonder at it; for though my son is not a prince, he ought to be one, and that’s almost as good, [Knock at the door.] Ah! here they are.
Enter MELNOTTE and PAULINE.
Widow. Oh, my boy—the pride of my heart!—welcome, welcome! I beg pardon, ma’am, but I do love him so!