Which thou must tread, does stir the father in me.
'Tis such a nice and tickle point, between
The patriot and the parent, that, Heaven knows,
I need a counsellor.—I'll to thy captain.
With him, anon, you'll find me.
[Exit.
La Gloire. So! how many a lad, with a fair beginning of life, comes to an untimely conclusion!—My poor Madelon, too! she little thinks that——
Madelon peeping in.
Madelon. Hist! hist! La Gloire!