Baron [at first aside].
Good! I have fooled her, and with effort faint.
How easy it is to play the Christmas Saint!
A few more words that neatly shall beguile,
And lo! I'll flit away in ghostly style!
[Aloud, to Eloise.]
No more, I pray. 'Tis not for me to deal
With lovers' destinies, their woe or weal.
That here within my presence you should come
But proves you singularly venturesome.
This once to o'erlook your rashness I will deign;
Pardon hereafter you shall seek in vain.
So stern the penalty for deeds thus bold,
Your very blood would curdle were it told;
Both limbs would fail your trembling form beneath,
Both jaws would scarce contain your chattering teeth.
[The Baron speaks these latter words in a terribly severe tone. Gaspard audibly shivers as he hears them. Eloise recoils and seems at first quite horrified. Then suddenly, as though reminding herself that it is, after all, not Santa Claus, but only her sweetheart disguised for the purpose of deceiving her, she tosses her head and regards the Baron very courageously, placing a hand, in the most saucy way, on each of her hips.]
Eloise.
No doubt I should be frightened half to death—
Should scream, should stagger, and should catch my breath,
And thus, indeed, I really might behave—
Being not by temperament very brave—
Did I not chance to more than merely guess
The shrewd impostor whom I now address.
Baron [aside].
Impostor? She discovers, then, my sham?
Has she discovered also who I am?
[Aloud, in same voice as before].