Produced by Dagny and Frank J. Morlock

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THE DOUBLE WIDOWING BY RIVIERE DUFRESNY

TRANSLATED AND ADAPTED BY FRANK J. MORLOCK C 1986

CHARACTERS, four men, six women:
The Countess, an imperious woman of no particular age
Mr. Bramble, her steward
Widow, Bramble's wife
Tuneless, the Countess's butler who composes music
Desmond, Mr. Bramble's nephew, a sentimentalist in love with Arabella
Arabella, the Widow's niece, a rationalist in love with Desmond
Maid, the Countess's maid
Lucy, the Widow's maid
Mr. MacPherson, a servant of the Countess
Mrs. MacPherson, his wife

The scene is set in a room in the Countess's country house. The time is the early 18th Century.

Lucy I am delighted to see you return, sir. I've been looking for you all over the place, in the gardens, everywhere.

Desmond
Good day, Lucy, good day.

Lucy You've come at just the right time. The Countess, and I, and all the house have been waiting for you to return with great impatience. But, quickly—tell me news of your uncle— Is Mr. Bramble dead or alive?

Desmond
I know nothing of it.

Lucy We are in the same incertitude. Only Mrs. Bramble is certain. We've told her he's dead for sure—to make her fall into the trap we've set for her. She thinks she's a widow, and it's on that belief that we build our little project of your marriage, sir.

Desmond
What's that?

Lucy I told you, that to facilitate your marriage with Arabella, the Countess, who protects you both, has pulled a thousand strings to prove to my mistress that your uncle is dead. Mrs. Bramble is so sure of being a widow that she put on mourning yesterday, sir.

Desmond
What are you telling me?

Lucy I'm telling you business that concerns both of us. For the thirty gold crowns you promised me has the same appeal to me that Arabella has for you. Listen to me, then—. To help us, you must hide from our widow the love you have for Arabella, for if she suspects you love her niece—

Desmond
I know all that. I've been through it just now with the Countess.

Lucy Sir, pardon my useless talk. I ought first to talk of the charms of this young beauty who—

Desmond
What charms she has, Lucy, what charms! She has so many!

Lucy The most pretty little charms. Not fifteen years old, these charms, and new ones added every day. And, you will marry all of them soon.

Desmond
It's the greatest misfortune that can happen to me.

Lucy A misfortune to possess something you love so much! Here's one of your bizarre refinements. You are the most reasonable gentleman in England—but you've no common sense. Speak to me reasonably: do you wish to marry her?

Desmond
Do I ever wish it!

Lucy
If you wish this marriage ardently, let's work in concert. I hope
Arabella will be your wife today.

Desmond
Alas, that's what I fear.

Lucy
Again! Oh, you exaggerate. Is this crazy love or simply craziness?

Desmond No, Lucy, no—it is not caprice, it is not exaggeration. I fear with my mind that which I want with all my heart. I am well aware that I cannot live without the adorable Arabella. But, I foresee we will be unhappy together. In a word, we are unable to agree about anything.

Lucy
And, what is it necessary to agree about to get married?

Desmond
If you knew the reception she just gave me—

Lucy
She was wrong—

Desmond
She received me with an air—

Lucy
Is it possible?

Desmond
After eight days absence.

Lucy
She received you coldly?

Desmond She received me shouting, dancing. I saw her jump about with happiness.

Lucy My word, you're not wise. What! You despair because she's delighted to see you?

Desmond Delighted to see me! I cannot compare that dissipated delight with the sensitive pleasure and passion the sight of a loved one should inspire. For example, from the moment I saw her I stood immobile, seized by a languor—my heart beat, my eyes clouded. Ahh! That's the way to express passion. But she is incapable of such a solid, passionate love—which is the only kind that can content me.

Lucy If I was a man, I'd choose for my wife a woman who was always gay, never moody or sensitive.

Desmond
I want sensibility.

Lucy
In a mistress—but in a wife, shame!

Desmond
It's all an amusement.

Lucy
It's an amusement very dangerous for the husband.

Desmond
One can have feelings and be virtuous.

Lucy Virtue doesn't always make a woman faithful. I'd like a woman better who had no passions rather than one who is governed by them.

(Enter Arabella, singing.)

Arabella
La, la, la, la—la, la, la, la, la.

Desmond
Do you hear, Lucy, do you hear?

Lucy
She has a nice voice, doesn't she?

Desmond
After having seen me before her overcome by emotion—

Arabella
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.

Desmond (walking away)
I am outraged to hear that.

Arabella Hey! Here you both are— You don't see what's going on here because you're wrapped up in your somber mood.

Desmond
My emotion is well justified.

Arabella
You are angry to see me laugh, and I am laughing to see you angry.

Desmond
Is this a way to talk of love?

Arabella
As for love—will yours always be so afflicted?

Desmond
If I had less refinement—

Arabella
You would be more reasonable.

Desmond
Is there anything more reasonable than my complaints?

Arabella Oh, your exaggerations are always full of reason. But they don't make you happy.

Desmond
What a conversation. Alas—how different your character is from mine.

Arabella
Marriage will solve all that.

Desmond
There, Lucy, I ask you to judge—

Lucy I have nothing to gain by judging. Judge yourselves. I am going to get my mistress up.

Arabella
Dress her up quickly, for the Countess wants to see her right away.

Lucy Your aunt Bramble is not yet awake—and between the wake up and the coming down of a middle aged woman, there are numerous ceremonies of the toilette.

(Exit Lucy.)

Arabella
We've got to get some money from my aunt. It's essential.

Desmond The essential thing is to find out if we're going to be happy together.

Arabella Nice question! With this type of humor we're going to get along fine; and I'm going to get rid of all your peculiarities.

Desmond I am not being peculiar, when, after quiet reasoning, I conclude that your frivolousness—

Arabella Oh, my frivolousness, my frivolousness; I believe that my gayety ought to prove my tenderness. Here's how I think you ought to have reasoned, knowing me, and my fear of marriage because it is sad. I naturally fear marriage. I see they want to marry me to you—and I show no emotion. Well—to be gay under these circumstances—doesn't that prove I love you?

Desmond
That's not to hate me.

Arabella If you don't want me to hate you, don't anger me any more with the tone you're taking. Seems to me, I love you passably well.

Desmond
Passably—there's a very touching expression. "Passably."

Arabella
Oh—I wish you could count the joys I feel.

Desmond That joy would be properly expressed if you were sure our marriage will succeed—but in the situation we are in, you ought to tremble. And if you were in love, you'd be like me: ill at ease, agitated, in a cruel uncertainty, languishing, sighing, trembling.

(Enter the Countess and her Maid.)

Countess
Well, Arabella, I am working to marry you—aren't you delighted?

Arabella On the contrary, Madame, I am ill at ease, agitated, and in a cruel uncertainty, languishing, sighing, and trembling. Is that how I should love, sir?

Countess Enough, Arabella, enough. Desmond, it was I who told her to tease you a bit over your emotionalism. It's not that I don't esteem you highly; the interest I take in your marriage proves that. But today, I've resolved to laugh, and to ridicule all those who happen to be around me. I have nothing but a boring day to pass in the country, and I am gong to amuse myself at the expense of anyone who happens to be around. So beware. Our widow will be the principal subject of my diversion—and the way I intend to get the money out of Mrs. Bramble is a comedy which will amuse me immensely.

Arabella If you are able to get money out of aunt Bramble, don't mock her. We must pity the afflicted.

Countess When her husband's death was announced to her, I perceived that only her facial expression showed any signs of affliction.

Desmond Maybe so, but I beg you to spare her. For if her affection was false, that of my uncle was true enough. And my uncle had the honor to be your steward.

Countess Oh, Bramble's enriched himself at my expense—and now I will laugh at the expense of his widow. After all, it's an outrage. She wants to disinherit her niece—who's my godchild—in a word, she hates what you love. Why manipulate, if it weren't for love of you?

Desmond
If she's done it from love of me, it's an inexcusable folly.

Countess A less excusable folly is the speed with which she took to mourning yesterday. (to Maid) Miss, tell me how she has been able to find so much crepe in the country?

Maid I heard this morning from Lucy, that she's always kept a mourning outfit hidden in her trunk, so as always to be well prepared for the unexpected death of her husband. She says every well-ordered wife ought to do the same, so she can celebrate her misfortune from the very first moment of widowhood.

Countess
And you don't want me to ridicule such an affectation? There, Desmond!
Go, put on mourning, too—to prove that your uncle is dead.

Arabella
I am also going to put on black, to make it all more touching.

(Exit Arabella and Desmond.)

Countess
Miss, you will have to sing a little aria in the opera that Mr.
Tuneless is preparing for me. It's right that my servants contribute
to my amusements today.

Maid I wish your Scotsman were here. He sings well. His wife is also a good singer and dances well for a highlander.

Countess
Here she is now. What does she wish to tell me?

(Enter Mrs. MacPherson.)

Mrs. MacPherson
Rejoice, Madame, my husband has just returned from Tunbridge Wells.

Countess I am delighted. He will tell us if Mr. Bramble is dead or alive. He hasn't already told you, has he?

Mrs. MacPherson My husband never tells me his secrets. He's right, for I am too much of a gossip. I like it better when he tells me nothing, because he's so pompous when he tells me a secret. He has such long oaths, so long that I would as soon listen to a hundred sighs from another man. Before he will tell me one word!

Countess
Why doesn't he come then?

Mrs. MacPherson Madame, to appear to you in his proper attire, he has gone to have his wig curled and powdered.

Maid
He's rouging also. For he went to the Wells to lighten his skin.

Mrs. MacPherson Don't mock him before her, mam. He went to the waters to improve his health. And to please me, for he loves me, and I am determined that he be healthy.

Countess
I am delighted to see you in such good humor.

Mrs. MacPherson I am happy because my husband has returned. And also, because your servant has been slipping us a little wine—discreetly. Women from my country are born for wine, like the French are born for love. Each to his custom and often enough the one does not impede the other.

Maid Here is Mr. MacPherson, Madame. You are going to hear an interesting speech, because he's erudite, your Highlander.

MacPherson (entering)
Madame, Madame.

Countess
Don't waste your time bowing. Tell me—is Bramble dead?

MacPherson
I know all about these matters—in extreme exactitude.

Countess
All these things consist in one word—he's dead, or he isn't.

MacPherson It is necessary to explain all these things to you by direction. For, when I left you, you directed that I should bring you a report of all the circumstances of our trip in writing.

Countess
Very well. What I want to know is written in your journal.

MacPherson My journal consists of words without paper. For I have written in my mind—in three little chapters—our departure, our trip, our return.

Countess
Here's a well-ordered explanation.

MacPherson With regard to the first, Mr. Bramble was very ridiculous, very ridiculous. He said he'd been married to his wife for ten years without children, and it was to cure sterility that he was going to the waters. So much for what he said as soon as he arrived.

Countess
If this story wasn't so funny, it would make me very impatient.

MacPherson In the second chapter, your bailiff was also very ridiculous. For I like wine, and he went to the waters to drink water, and in this water, he found, in place of virility—illness-so much illness, that he is dying.

Countess
Now, we're at the point. Bramble thought he was dying and is not dead.
Listen, you must tell his wife that when her husband was dying—he
died.

MacPherson Ha, ha, ha. When one finds the widow of a living man, we'll have a good laugh.

Countess
When is he coming? Where did you leave him?

MacPherson I left him yesterday, about thirty leagues from here, when his coach broke down. Go on ahead, he said, for I'm likely to be sick here until tomorrow, and my coach won't be ready till Monday. I will come on Tuesday.

(Exit MacPherson and Mrs. MacPherson.)

Countess According to that, he won't be here until tomorrow—and cannot disturb our project today. So, Miss, tell my dancing women to prepare for the wedding I intend to celebrate today.

Maid We will do all our best to please you, and though I sing poorly, I can sing a sad song about being a widow.

Countess It's Tuneless who is getting everything ready. He wants to be a music master, my Butler.

Maid He's an original. Look here. I believe he's composing—for he's walking to the beat. Hold, hold, Madame, the spirit torments him—he's possessed by the demon of music.

Countess
Shh! He doesn't see us. Let's give him the pleasure—

Tuneless (entering) Nothing's going right, dammit. La, la, la, la. I can never find a completely new idea. (slowly) La, la, la, la, la—no, that opening's in Lully. La, la, la, la, la, la—Lully again. La, la, la, la—Lully again. That Lully everywhere—everywhere I turn. I am very unfortunate not to have been born before him. Everything I have in my head is useless because they say I plagiarize him. La, la, la, la, la—good there. La, la, la, la, la. Admirable. La, la. Marvelous. And the second, lower—la, la, la, low tone, what invention. La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la—what reflections of genius. The notes are coming to me—write them down quickly. (with one knee on the ground, he writes on some paper on the other knee, until, perceiving the Countess, he takes off his hat in this position and continues to write) (singing) Pardon me, Madame, oh pardon, Madame, da, de, da, de da, Madame. I note the last tone. (rising and bowing to the Countess) It's a duo for an aria about widowhood, as you have commanded. (giving her a paper. Wait, Madame—you know how to sing without a book.

Countess
I see Mrs. Bramble in the gallery. I must speak with our widow.

Tuneless
Let us sing together, and that will serve as a rehearsal.

(Exit Countess.)

Tuneless (to Maid) Now you will represent the widow. Carefully imitate the affliction of widows. Cry with your eyes down in your chin.

Lucy (entering)
Retire. My mistress approaches. She's coming here to cry on the way.
She needs practice.

Tuneless
Exactly. Soon she'll be crying for her money. Real tears then.

Lucy
Don't joke. I'm afraid all this may be dangerous for her.

Tuneless
Why is that?

Lucy I'm sorry for her. When the Countess guaranteed she was a widow, it was like a knife thrust in her heart.

Tuneless
What? She felt the blow?

Lucy Think what she's going to feel when they undeceive her. The loss of her delightful status of widowhood will cause her to die.

Tuneless Let's come to the business. Tell me truly, now that she believes her husband is dead—is she in love with Desmond, and does she plan to marry him?

Lucy She thought about it even while she was alive. And I always thought she prayed the nephew would outlive his uncle.

Tuneless >From the confidences her husband has made to me, I have often thought he destined his niece for the post of her aunt. He was quite explicit that Arabella was the niece of his wife only in the third degree.

Lucy
My mistress wishes that Desmond was not her husband's nephew.

Tuneless
These sentiments astonish me in a woman so careful of the proprieties.

Lucy She's proper in public, but with certain women, public morals and private morals differ as much their faces do from the time they get up and the time they go to bed.

Tuneless Everything considered, I judge that these two are perfectly matched in all the arts of conjugal hypocrisy.

Lucy They love each other, in proportion to the wealth they hope to obtain from each other.

Tuneless Yes, self-interest by itself produces more false love in some families than true love produces in all the sincere lovers in London.

Lucy I admire the wisdom of our law which permits spouses to disinherit one another. For only the hope of inheriting is the dike that can prevent a torrent of family quarrels. Go quickly. Here is my mistress. To gain her confidence, I am going to help her out of her sorrows.

(Exit Tuneless and the Maid. Enter from another direction, the
Countess and the Widow Bramble.)

Countess
Save your tears, Madame, save your tears. To tremble, to sigh, to sob.
All these demonstrations of sorrow are worse than sorrow itself.

Widow
Alas.

Countess Don't avoid the offer I'm making you any more. Respond to me exactly. You don't like to have your niece around. I'm going to take her off your hands and marry her off in the country. Won't you give her some wedding present?

Widow
This is the fourth day of my widowhood—the fourth day isn't it, Lucy?

Lucy
The fourth, yes.

Widow (to Countess)
Well, Madame, since then I haven't had any nourishment at all.

Lucy
We are nourished only by affliction and black tea.

Widow
Everything I eat rests on my stomach like lead.

Lucy
We eat hardly anything, and what we eat suffocates us.

Countess
Answer me, then Madame, agree.

Widow
No, I won't be alive in four days.

Countess
Live, and don't cry.

Widow
Ah, I will cry more than thirty years.

Lucy
To die soon and cry forever is our final resolution.

Widow
I don't know what I'm saying, Lucy.

Lucy
I see it plainly. We haven't the strength to marry Arabella.

Countess While your husband was living, you gave the excuse that you hoped to have children. Now, your hopes and excuses are dead with your husband: you are mistress of your estate. You must marry Arabella, or tell me that you don't wish it.

Widow I cannot make up my mind to marry Arabella. Really, I don't wish her so much ill as to expose her to marriage.

Countess To hear you speak thus about marriage, one would think you didn't like it.

Widow On the contrary, it was because my happiness was so perfect, that I don't wish to marry my niece.

Countess
That's a reason to marry her.

Widow
I had a very loveable husband, and I don't want her to have one.

Countess
Explain yourself!

Widow She will be too overcome if she loses him, to marry her would be to expose her to the risk of becoming a widow. (cries) And, to unhappiness like mine. Ah, Madame, in the abyss in which I find myself—retreat and solitude—that's the road my niece ought to take.

Countess
Solitude doesn't agree with Arabella.

Widow
Don't speak to me anymore about it. I am too afflicted.

Countess
And, in a word—your niece?

Widow No, no—I am too afflicted. I intend that she spend her life in a convent.

Countess >From the bad reasons you give me, I discern the good ones you keep to yourself. You wish to protect your money, so you can remarry.

Widow
Me! Me, remarry!

Countess Listen, to undertake a second marriage, you need the great wealth your husband left you. And, this great wealth, having been earned in managing my affairs—I could—I haven't yet signed off on your husband's accounts—. That's why I beg you not to refuse the ten thousand crowns that you have in your strongbox. I beg you, I really do.

(Exit Countess.)

Widow (ill tempered)
I beg you, she says, I beg you.

Lucy
She begs you with a certain air—

Widow
Taking on a tone—

Lucy
Of people of quality who—

Widow
Believing that their prayers—

Lucy Are a sort of command. A great lord who asks a citizen to do him a service is like a banker respectfully asking payment on a promissory note.

Widow
She speaks as if one was in great fear of her.

Lucy You'd have less reason to fear if your husband were alive. For he was as clever in protecting his prey as he was in catching it.

Widow
Alas, I am indeed lost.

Lucy Madame, the Countess could easily cheat you. You may say that she cannot cheat the widow of an honest steward, who enriched himself as everyone does by entangling his affairs with hers. But, now she is going to take from you unjustly that which your husband earned on the fair and square.

Widow
That's what I'm afraid of, Lucy.

Lucy They ought not to oppress widows—because they have lost their main support.

Widow
Their support. That's very true, I am without support.

Lucy Without support! That's why you ought to pacify the Countess. That way you would peaceably obtain your husband's wealth. Then, find some young man to be your support.

Widow Ah, Lucy. If I think of accommodating the Countess, it is not to gain peace. But, before I give her anything, I wish to consult with some smart man.

Lucy (low)
Like Desmond. (Aloud) Some smart fellow who—

Widow
Some man of good counsel.

Lucy
Very good.

Widow
A man with a head.

Lucy
By the way, Desmond came this afternoon.

Widow
Desmond's come—

Lucy
Yes, Madame. He's a smart fellow, Desmond.

Widow
Assuredly.

Lucy
A man of good counsel.

Widow
Without a doubt.

Lucy
A man with a head. If you told him your difficulties—

Widow
He knows my husband's business—

Lucy
Yours will be in good hands.

Widow
Go—tell him that he can find me in the garden.

Lucy
Right away, Madame.

Widow
A wise person ought to take advice.

Lucy
You will follow Desmond's. What wisdom. What wisdom.

[Curtain in the original. End of Act I.]

Widow Ah, Lucy, how ashamed I am to tell you of the distant vows I have made to Desmond.

Lucy
So long as those distant vows don't come too soon, I approve of them.

Widow If I were less virtuous than those ancient wives who could envisage no other consolation except to swallow the ashes of their husbands!

Lucy
You see in your nephew the living features of your husband, his uncle.
Catching the possessor of those features will cure you of your
scruples.

Widow
Lucy, do you suppose Desmond misunderstands my motives?

Lucy
Not at all. I'm sure he understands them perfectly. But, be discreet.
A man understands a widow's hint.

Widow
I have always spoken to him with an indifference, a frigidity—

Lucy
See the fate of virtue—

Widow I have expressed all the ideas of tenderness with perfect circumspection, but—shrewdly, delicately, with refinement. Really, without these precautions, I would expose myself to continual remorse. I would imagine, without end, that the soul of the departed reproached me. Yes, even in this moment, I hear his complaints, the sound of his voice, actually in my ears.

(Enter Desmond, after Lucy has signalled him to do so.)

Desmond
Madame.

Widow Ah, Heaven, shh! It's you, Desmond. You've frightened me. I thought I heard the voice of my husband.

Desmond Really, there's quite a resemblance in our voices. The whole world used to mistake us.

Widow
My husband had a very agreeable voice.

Desmond
Let's talk business.

Widow The resemblances in families is remarkable. You've got your uncle's manners—even his brusqueness.

Desmond
Following the advice I have given you—

Widow You have his gestures, his manner, his way of looking. I love most your way of looking—

Desmond
Let's think about finishing.

Widow What still charms me in my husband is your softness, your wit, your entire person.

Desmond Madame, I've spoken to the Countess, and I think it's important that you pacify her—but you are not honoring me with your attention.

Widow
With my attention! It's you who don't listen to me.

Desmond
But really, it's wise to give in to her—

Widow
You urge me to give away all my wealth?

Desmond
Only a small part of it. Otherwise, you jeopardize—

Widow You don't know how much better it would be if I keep it. It would be better for you.

Desmond
For me?

Widow
For, in the future—you understand, sir. I could really, for you—
Right, Lucy—I can't explain any more, sir. You understand, don't
you—

Desmond
I—

Widow
Because propriety prevents me from saying to you—

Lucy
You've told him that already.

Widow I will say only, that having reflected on what the Countess didn't say, I fear that the husband she intends for Arabella is none other than yourself.

Desmond
Me, Madame?

Lucy
The gentleman would be wiser to go to the source of the wealth.

Widow I believe it, but from the fear that the Countess will give you, in spite of yourself, to Arabella, I have resolved not to give my money until the marriage contract is signed—and a husband other than yourself is the lucky man. And, I have a thousand other good reasons to communicate to you about this. But, I can't say a word now. Follow me, Lucy.

(Exit Widow.)

Desmond
Lucy.

Lucy
Sir, I have to go.

(Exit Lucy.)

Desmond
What to do now?

(Enter Arabella.)

Arabella
Tell me quickly—how did your conversation go with my aunt?

Desmond I think I've convinced her that she should let me arbitrate between her and the Countess.

Arabella
That's funny.

Desmond She's disposed to agree to whatever I suggest, and—in a word—she's working for our marriage, without even knowing it.

Arabella
Without knowing it. That makes me delighted.

Desmond
Do you understand what our happiness is?

Arabella You will judge against her interest. Nothing could be funnier. It charms me totally.

Desmond You are pleased by the joke. The humor of it is what touches you. Your first sensation ought to be a passionate feeling of happiness.

Arabella
Happiness touches me, too.

Desmond
Too, too. You have a delightful choice of words—very revealing.

Arabella
Oh, don't quibble with me. I am going to have a good laugh with the
Countess.

Desmond
What! Leave me without witnessing—

Arabella
I will witness you wonderfully.

(Enter Lucy.)

Arabella Ah, Lucy, everything is going wonderfully. You see me in joy. But, in recompense, Desmond is angry. I believe he almost wishes that our marriage should be prevented, and that he will run into some obstacle.

Lucy Then he can rejoice, for the obstacle has come. Your uncle is returned, sir.

Desmond
My uncle, ah Heaven, I am in despair.

Arabella
All our schemes are ruined. Ah, Desmond, why do you love me so much?
It always makes you so unhappy. Really, I feel worse than you—no
hope—I am desolated.

Desmond
Desolated, you say?

Arabella
Desolated, desperate.

Desmond
What? You suffer?

Arabella
Oh, how unhappy I am.

Desmond Ah, what a joy for me! You have feelings. I am loved. I don't want anything else in the world. I want only your heart.

Lucy
You won't have that either.

Desmond But Lucy, is it really true that my uncle is back? What, in the very moment I was convinced we'd be happy forever. Ah Heaven, is there a misery equal to mine?

(Enter Tuneless.)

Tuneless The steward is back. What a reversal. He took an express coach and returns just in time to desolate us. His wife's rage is going to rebound on us—for she already knows.

Lucy For me, I wish them both what they deserve. To the wife, a dead husband. To the husband, a dead wife. At least their desires will not be accomplished quickly.— You will never be married.

Desmond
Here's my uncle coming now.

Arabella
What shall we say to him?

Lucy
What role to play?

Tuneless
I don't know at all.

(Enter Bramble.)

Bramble
Listen, what's this all about? Vainly do I question everybody. Each
one turns his back on me, without any response. Everyone in mourning.
Nephew, why are you dressed in mourning?

Desmond (bowing and exiting)
Sir—

Bramble
Another fleeing mute. And you, Arabella, what have you to tell me?

Arabella (curtsying)
Not a thing, sir.

(Exit Arabella.)

Bramble Again—hey, I beg you, Lucy, ease me of my uncertainty. Why the mourning?

Lucy
For a costume party.

(Exit Lucy.)

Bramble And you, Tuneless—won't you explain to me what I already begin to suspect. If it were the Countess who was dead, then everybody would be in mourning—right? My dear Tuneless, hide nothing from me. You are my only confidant—

Tuneless
Well, but— (aside) What the devil am I going to say?

Bramble
What ought I to think in seeing all this?

Tuneless In seeing all this black clothing, you ought to think they are dressed in black.

Bramble
Hmm! I doubt—