Mari. (R.) Preposterous fool!
Todd. (L. C.) In my country, ever since the invention of doors, the practice of entering a house by the window has been confined to thieves, cats, and lovers; (tenderly) need I say, it was in the character of the last-named interesting quadruped, I risked my neck in the most perilous performance I ever attempted on the slack-rope. (Mrs. Todd makes a gesture of astonishment; up stage, L.) Sweet Marietta! How I admire that name! It’s much prettier than Laura. What’s your opinion of Samuel? Do you think, in the ardent simplicity of your exalted nature, you could love a Samuel—or a Sam—or a Sammy, for instance?
Mari. Never! (sees Jacopo, R. 3 E., who holds up his finger threateningly) Hem! I—can’t say—perhaps, after supper. You have not supped?
Todd. Not in the wildest dreams of my imagination.
Mari. You shall sup with me, then. Sit down there. (points to chair R. of table)
Todd. With the greatest pleasure.
Mrs. Todd retires and closes door, L. 3 E. Marietta runs out, R. 2 E.
Supper!—and I’m actually going to sup tête à tête with an angel, in this picturesque but dilapidated mansion. What would they say at Brompton if they could see me? Hah! they won’t believe me, though—when I tell them—they’ll say it was an Arabian Night’s entertainment. Ha! ha! ha! Poor fools! that’s the way they always sneer at travellers. (sniffs) As if that delicious odour of something uncommonly nice which assails my nostrils could be a dream.
Re-enter Marietta, R. 2 E., with a tureen containing stew.
Mari. Here it is. (places it on table, and crosses at back to L. of table) You ought to have a good appetite.