BAP. (has the black bottle in his hands.) Nuttin ax wid me same zit ought to. I got dish ere rat pison fum Aun’ Lizbette kase she say she done season it on a new made grave an’ de rats hep dem sperrits to make noises ’bout my room, an’ I done see dem critters eatin’ de bread I soak in dat pison. An’ dey comes up peert z’ever. (shakes his head dolefully.) Dey’s bad time comin’ shore. (exit; enter Bella and Duval.)
DUV. (coaxingly.) Now, if he have the fortune in a week, you’ll marry him?
BELLA. We’ll wait until he have the fortune.
DUV. (puts his arm around Bella; enter unperceived, Dominique.) Come, let us sit here.
DOM. (starts.) The stout man! (aside.)
DUV. (draws Bella to the arm of his chair; Bella pouts.) Now, be my sweet little girl; won’t you? (kisses Bella’s cheek; she breaks away; Duval runs after her.) Ah, (laughing) you can’t escape me so! (as Duval gets opposite the niche door, Dominique rushes up behind him, shoves him up the step and claps him into the niche; re-enter Dominique.)
DOM. (furiously) So, Miss—
BELLA. (in a frightened undertone.) It is my father, Leon Duval, that you have shut up there! (kicking and calling by Duval.)
DOM. What! I’ll go to the rescue. (starting)
BELLA. (detaining him) You’ll do nothing of the kind. We’ll ask Mr. Darblee to come. (exeunt; enter Baptiste; Duval raps; calls; Baptiste starts.)