La Gloire. I must, Madelon; I must. The throng will press, and—and I may lose somewhat of value. 'Tis seldom a soldier's pocket is heavy; but I carry all my worldly goods about me. I would fain not lose it; so e'en be mistress on't till my return. Here is a casket;—with five years' wages from my captain; three quarters' pay from my regiment; and eleven marks, plucked from the boot of a dead English corporal: 'tis my whole fortune; keep it, Madelon, for fear of accidents: and if any cross accident ever should befall me, remember, you are heir apparent to the bulk of my property.
Madelon. But why thus particular? I would you would stay quiet with me!
La Gloire. But for this once, Madelon; and I shall be quiet ever after.—Kiss me. So;—Adieu!
Madelon. Adieu, La Gloire! Remember, now, at night——
La Gloire. Adieu!—At night!—Mercy on me!—should I stay three minutes longer, my heart would rescue my neck; for the breaking of one, would save the stretching of the other.
[Aside.—Exit.
Madelon. How rich my La Gloire has got in the wars! My father, too, has something to throw in at our wedding: and, when we meet, we shall be the happiest couple in Picardy.
SONG.—MADELON.
I tremble to think, that my soldier's so bold;
To see with what danger he gets all his gold;