Long. Then only may your master be esteemed to live.
Ber. But whence this hatred to an unoffending youth?—one, whose form delights all eyes, and whose virtues are the theme of every tongue?
Long. Fool! that person and those virtues of which you vaunt, are with me his worst offences—they have undone my love and marred my fortunes—the easy heart of Geraldine is captivated by the stripling’s specious outside, while his talents and achievements secure him with the uncle undivided favour.
Bert. Can nothing but his blood appease your enmity?
Long. Nothing—for now my worst suspicions stand confirmed. I have declared to De Valmont my passion for his niece, and the sullen visionary has denied my suit—nay, insolently told me “Geraldine’s affections are another’s right.”—Curses on that minion’s head!—’tis for Florian De Valmont’s heiress is reserved—and shall I suffer this vile foundling, this child of charity, to lord it over those estates, for which my impatient soul has paid a dreadful earnest! No, by heavens! never!
Bert. Fatal avarice! already have we bartered for those curst estates our everlasting peace!—for those did midnight flames surprise the sleep of innocence—for those did the sacrificed Eugenia with her shrieking babe—
Long. Wretch! dare not repeat those names! Now, mark me: this night Florian returns a triumpher from his campaign—two of my trusty blood-hounds watch the road to give me timely note of his approach. One only follower attends the youth. In the thick woods ’twixt the chateau and Huningen, an ambush safely laid, may end my rival and my fears forever. In the west avenue, at sunset, I command your presence. Mark me! I command you by your oath. Exit.
Bert. Miserable man! I am indeed a slave, soul and body—both are in the thrall! I know the fiend I serve. If I attempt to fly, his vengeful agency pursues me to the world’s limit. No—my doom is fixed—I must remain the very wretch I am for life—and after life—Oh! let me not think of that!
Enter Rosabelle behind, who taps his shoulder.
Ros. Talking to yourself, Mr. Bertrand? that’s not polite in a lady’s company.