University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—The Outward Court of the Palace.
Arnaud.
(outside, singing the burthen of his duet with Bertram.)

La-lal la-ra-la!-la-dal-diddle-dee!

Enter Arnaud, jovially drunk, L.
Arnaud.

I declare I feel—ha! ha! ha!—I feel, for all the
world as if I was somebody else ever since I met with that
merry, agreeable, ill-looking, handsome gentleman, who gave
me this handsome purse. He was an excellent fellow; and my
companions at the tavern—whom I've made very completely
drunk—are all excellent fellows; and I—who was almost in
danger of getting pretty completely drunk, too—I'm an excellent
fellow myself. And then there's Alice, she's an excellent
fellow, too; and—and—Well, now, I never thought of that!
I wonder what's become of Alice? Though I'm so greatly
superior to her, and worthy—as the worthy gentleman said—
of being pulled to pieces by the finest ladies of Palermo, I'm
not so hard-hearted, neither, as to wish to part with little Alice
altogether. Why didn't she come to the appointment? (stopping short, and seeming to cogitate.)

Well, now, it's very odd,
but I can't get that stranger, and his words, and his lively ha,
ha, ha! out of my head, do what I will. How taken he seemed
with me!—and how sensibly he spoke! Every word he uttered
is fixed here in my head.

Enter Alice at the back, L. D.
Alice.

How can I save Duke Robert? There is but one
hope; I must seek the princess, instantly. (seeing Arnaud.)

Can it be?—is not that Arnaud? He seems deep in thought.

Arnaud.

“Thou art an exceeding proper, well-shaped, and
attractive youth, and were I in thy place, I'd marry every one
I liked.” That's the first thing he said that particularly struck
me.

Alice.
(aside.)

'Tis he, indeed.

Arnaud.

“Thou art a fool—”

Alice.
(aside.)

He is muttering to himself.

Arnaud.

“To let thyself be chosen.” That, to be sure,
wasn't very civil in a stranger, especially at a first introduction;
but, however—

Alice.
(advancing to him.)

Arnaud!

Arnaud.

Eh—what, Alice? Dear me, art thou there,
Alice? Bless my heart, how d'ye do, Alice?

Alice.

Art not ashamed of thy conduct? Didst not promise
to meet me an hour ago? Thou art a scandal to the name
of lover.

Arnaud.

Hoity-toity! here's a loving beginning!

Alice.

Dost thou not blush I, say?

Arnaud.

Blush!—no one ever saw me blush yet. Blush,
indeed!—why should I blush? (assuming a consequential air.)

“I'm an exceeding proper, well-shaped, and attractive youth!
and the best of Palermo's dames would pull caps for my love.”

Alice.

Goodness protect me! what nonsense is he uttering?
Why, Arnaud, thou hast been drinking?

Arnaud.

Drinking? To be sure I've been drinking. “It's
the first step I counsel thee—it leads to all else—ha, ha, ha!”

(imitating the Demon's laugh.
Alice.

Wilt thou deny thou art a vile wretch?

Arnaud.
(not attending to her.)

I'm to deny myself nothing
I can obtain.

Alice.
(angrily.)

Thou art a false, ungrateful brute.

Arnaud.

Just so; I'm to “ape my betters and be fashionable.”

Alice.

'Tis well; but thou shalt yet pay for this.

Arnaud.

“Care not to pay; and if money runs short, then
—run away.”

Alice.
(bursting into tears.)

Alas! every sorrow besets me
at once.

Arnaud.

Why, Alice! (aside.)
How I've improved already
in my power over her! I never made her cry before. Come,
never mind, Alice; I know you've got a lucky bargain in me,
but I won't desert you. Come, give me a kiss.

Alice.

Away from me! (crossing to R.)
Thou art suddenly
and sadly changed. It were a sin to have more to do with thee.

Arnaud.

A sin? Pooh! (snapping his fingers.)
I know
better. (imitating Bertram.)
“What man foolishly calls sin—
(shrugging up his shoulders.)
is pleasure; and when we're no
longer able to sin, then comes the proper time for repentance.”

Alice.
(shocked.)

What horrible words are those? Arnaud,
where hast thou imbibed such fearful doctrine?

Arnaud.

I've imbibed nothing but two bottles of wine;
and, as to the rest, he said—“Thou art an exceeding attractive
youth.”

Alice.

Of whom dost thou speak?

Arnaud.

Why, of myself, to be sure, those were his iden—
titi—tickle words; “and then,” says he—

Alice.
(with impatience.)

Who?—who said?

Arnaud.

Who? A most fascinating, though rather strange
kind of a personage whom I met at the Rocks of St Irene.

Alice.
(hastily, and with alarm.)

At the Rocks of St. Irene?
Can it be? Speak!—what was his look?

Arnaud.

His look? Nay his look was at first anything but
charming; but he improved amazingly on acquaintance; and
when he gave me this purse, I thought him a most fascinating
gentleman.

Alice.
(drawing back.)

That purse! Oh, my fears!

Arnaud.

This full purse; that's to say, it was full then, but
twelve bottles have jumped out of it since, so it's no wonder it
looks rather thin. It rings sweetly yet, though.

Alice.
(with continued agitation.)

Describe him to me, if
thou hop'st for happiness!

Arnaud.

Bless me, Alice, what's the matter with you? You
quite disturb my equanini—nimity.

Alice.

Delay not, I charge thee, but tell me instantly what
I dread to find true. Speak—was not his look hideous, and
his voice unearthly?

Arnaud.

Well, rather so, I confess; but he said—“Thou
art an exceedingly attractive—”

Alice.
(with vexation, interrupting him.)

He wore a scarlet
mantle, and his matted locks uncovered?

Arnaud.

The same; did you meet him, too?

Alice.
(clasping her hands.)

'Tis he—'tis he! Terrible
being!

Arnaud.
(becoming alarmed.)

Hey!—terrible! What's that
you say?

Alice.

Thou took'st that dreadful purse from his hands?

Arnaud.

I did; why is it a dreadful purse?

Alice.

Miserable Arnaud!—thou art lost!

Arnaud.
(trembling.)

Am I? Who has lost me?

Alice.

Well may'st thou look alarmed; for, hear that he
who sought to seduce thee to thy ruin—

Arnaud.

My what!

Alice.

That fearful being was—

Arnaud.
(in an agony of fear.)

Who?—what?

Alice.

I fear to name him.

Arnaud.

Oh, la!—what was he?

Alice.

A fiend!—a demon!

Arnaud.

Ah!

Alice.

That purse holds the wages of hell.

Arnaud.
(hastily dropping the purse in extreme terror.)

Hah!

Alice.

Pray to thy good angel, and repent!

Arnaud.
(falling on his knees.)

I do repent. Unfortunate
wretch that I am!—why should the Devil take a fancy to me?
Do you pray for me, too, Alice! Make haste, make haste, and
pray for me as fast as ever you can!

Alice.

I see thy fear is real, for it hath sobered thee.

Arnaud.

The Devil has gone out of me, and taken his wine
along with him. (rising.)

Alice.

His power, I trust, is over.

Arnaud.

Oh! how much lighter I feel since I've thrown
away my purse!—just as if I had got rid of something that
didn't agree with me.

Alice.

How fortunate this timely explanation!

Arnaud.

I thought he was a devilish queer-looking chap, as
well as his companion, who kicked up fire with his heels. “Oh,
it's only lightning,” says the fiend; infernal cheat!

Alice.

Be grateful for thy escape; and now let us hence,
for I must seek the Princess.

Arnaud.

Ay, and I'll stick close to you. From this minute
I'll speak to nobody else—I'll accept no more purses—I'll—
(stopping.)
Alice, don't you think it would be a pity for any
one coming-by to run the danger of picking up that hellish
purse? Were it not better, as I'm already used to it, to keep
it till the priest says an “exorciso te” over it?

Alice.

I charge thee, as thou dost care for me, Arnaud,
possess not thyself again of that unhallowed purse!

Arnaud.

I won't, I won't. Suppose I leave the purse, Alice,
is there any harm in taking the money? It seems very honest
and virtuous money, and I assure you it passed quite current
at the vintner's.

Alice.

Thou must not think of it. Take it up and throw it
into the moat as we cross the draw-bridge.

Arnaud.

So I will; and if the devil likes to jump after it, I
hope he'll stick in the muddy bottom till I help him out. Come
along, Alice.

Exeunt, R.
(the clouds of night darken the scene; the light totally disappears; and when the clouds disperse, they discover—