[Exit.
Poly. The little serpent! Her tears, her imploring looks, had well nigh—But I must be firm: I see the danger, and must protect my pupil against the snares of these pernicious creatures. Poor lad! he is innocent, and knows not the seductive power of love. My example and instructions have so fortified his mind, so hardened his heart against all silly, soft impressions, that, thanks to me, he may hope to pass through life as becomes a philosopher—in a happy indifference to all its joys, its pleasures, and its cares. He comes!—My dear disciple!
Enter Charles, in violent agitation.
Charles. My dear sir, I’m glad you are returned.
Poly. Your impatience pleases me. Come, is it to be Sophocles this evening?
Charles. No:—it is not that, sir,—but—
Poly. Well, well; we must sometimes relax,—make holiday; so, instead of Sophocles, we’ll amuse ourselves with a problem in Euclid.
Charles. Confound Euclid! as he has often confounded me. No, sir; I—in short, you see me in the greatest distress.
Poly. In distress! You alarm me! My dear boy, my dear child, what is the matter?
Charles. My father is returning; he is now galloping up the avenue, and I see no refuge from my difficulties but in death.