University of Virginia Library

SCENE—Changes to the Saloon.
Where appear the Count of Colmar, the Marquis, and Matilda.
MATILDA.
I fear the countess has fatigued herself,
Did you not mark her heavy alter'd eye?

COUNT.
I did: but more there seem'd to me of thought,
Of careful thought, in her expressive face,
Than weariness.—

MARQUIS.
I own, I think with you:—
A something surely presses on her mind,
To cause this sudden change.—When she return'd
Was she thus absent, and absorbed in thought?

COUNT.
Quite the reverse! Her walk had giv'n her spirits:
Enchanted with the glories of the scene,
Her pure and animated heart expanded
At feeling, once again, the country's freedom,
And all the charms of renovated nature.

MARQUIS.
The dullness, and the lour of little minds,
Like the thin clouds that fleet before the breeze,
Affect me not: but when superior souls
Turn inwards on themselves, with such deep musing,
The cause is weighty, and I dread th'event.

COUNT.
Take it not thus! We all have serious hours,
Which oft' depend on thoughts we can't command,
Born of those exquisite nerves, whose finer tones
Discordant thrill, we know not how or why.

MATILDA.
Yet mov'd without a cause, I never knew her,
Free as she is from vapours or caprice,
And of a temper even, firm, and chearful.
Profoundly touch'd she very rarely is;
And never, but to some important purpose.

MARQUIS.
My dear Matilda, do not be alarm'd!
I trust your love, and not your judgment, construes
A serious manner into serious care.
“Remember too, that her dear lord is absent;
“For the first time, divided from her arms!
“This, to a heart so finely strung as her's,
“Is cause enough to give her pensive moments.”

MATILDA.
Alas! I fear, there is some other cause;
Tho' whence it cou'd arise I cannot guess.

MARQUIS.
And is there need of other for her sadness?
From the warm temper of your tender heart,
Which, form'd for purest love, but light esteems
Its own peculiar joys—with pride I speak—
When parted from the object of its choice;
From your own heart, judge truly of your friend.

MATILDA.
“Your kind and generous nature, well I know,
“Would guard my timid soul from ev'ry care.
“But yet, remember, your own fears erewhile!

MARQUIS.
“Those fears were premature.—Be satisfied!
“Nothing but Montval's absence, rest assur'd,
“Has clouded over the fair countess' brow.”

MATILDA.
Pray heav'n it be so!—But the count can tell us,
From his long intimacy in the castle,
What is the character of this Lapont.
The countess likes him not.—

COUNT.
She shews her judgment.
His soul a compound is of art and vice:—
Before his death, my friend discarded him
For poisoning the morals of his son,
By his base counsels.—Vile ingratitude!
For all the honors, and the favors done him!
And, I confess, it touches me with wonder,
And, I may add, with grief, to see the son,
Th'accomplish'd son of such a matchless father
Caress a villain who disgracees him!

MATILDA.
No wonder that my friend, so pure herself,
Should feel repulsion at the wretch's presence.
O! if the count respects her as he ought,
He will abandon.—But the countess comes.—
Enter the Countess.
You'll pardon me, my friends, this little absence.
To-morrow shall atone for my omissions.
With you I shall be under no restraint.
How wears the night?

COUNT.
'Tis a late hour for sober folks like me.

COUNTESS.
After our walk, we all must wish to rest;
And sweet the sleep that waits on exercise!
May it be your's, my friends, and so good-night!
Bring in the lights!
[Servants attend with lights.]
Attend my noble guests
Unto their several chambers!—Nay! no form!

MARQUIS., MATILDA., COUNT.
Fair be your dreams!—Adieu!—Lady, good night!

[Exeunt.
COUNTESS.
That's as it may be!—As the spectre wills,
Which haunts my fancy in a thousand shapes,
And will not quit my troubled soul one instant!—
“If I knew what to fear, it less wou'd move me:
Yet rather apprehension 'tis, than terror;
A solemn feeling, than a weak dismay,—
Were not the name of him I love, involv'd
In this mishapen tale, I should despise it!
This makes me silent to my noble guests.
Yet!!—And I bless the thought!—This goblin story
May have induc'd the Count,—and wisely too—
To lock up the apartments; lest his peace,
And pride, should suffer blemish from the rumour,
Spread widely round, and turn'd, and magnified,
As ignorance, and superstition prompted!—
This shall allay the tumult in my breast,
And flatter downy slumber to my pillow!—
To-morrow then!—What ho! Terese there!
Call up Teresa!—'Twas a blessed thought!
I wou'd have done, just as my lord has done!

Enter Teresa, trembling.
COUNTESS.
Why dost thou tremble? Is it at thy shadow?—

TERESA.
O! be not angry!—If you did but know!—

COUNTESS.
(angrily.)
What!

TERESA.
What Lapont has told: what dreadful things!

COUNTESS.
Lapont!!!

TERESA.
O! he has often heard the ghost,
And swears that trying to unlock the door,
It gave him such a shock!—

COUNTESS.
(solemnly)
I too am shock'd!

TERESA.
Ah! for the love of Heaven restore the keys,
Or the fierce spirit will endanger you!
And so Lapont believes.

COUNTESS.
(interrupting her)
Only Lapont!—
Can thy hoarse voice sound nothing but Lapont!—
Go!—Go to bed!—Thou and my other women!
I shall not need your services to night.—
But not a word to them about the spectre!
On my displeasure, silence to them, and all!—
Yet, as you go, bid honest Blaise come hither!—
[Exit Teresa.
My soul's on fire!—I will be satisfied,
Betide what may!—Lapont is in the Plot!—
I've heard there are antipathies in nature,
And he is mine!—Why should my lord caress him?
And yet he does Caress, with confidence.
Nay, makes a favourite of the dangerous villain!—
But why a villain?—'Tis his face alone,
The damning characters imprinted there,
That make me call him so!—I hope, unjustly!—
Enter Blaise.
Lady, your servant humbly waits your orders!

COUNTESS.
Blaise! if your face belies you not, you're honest?
Honest, I hope, and firm: say, shall I trust you?

BLAISE.
Lady, my hand, heart, life, are at your bidding!

COUNTESS.
I'll never tempt thee to a dangerous service,
Nor to a deed that shall dishonour thee!
Thou can'st be secret too?

BLAISE.
Else were I base,
And little merited this condescension.

COUNTESS.
Be silent, or you forfeit my esteem!
You know the rooms which idle rumour says
Are haunted by a ghost?—What is their number?

BLAISE.
An anti-room, a bed chamber, and closet.

COUNTESS.
Direct me to them!—

BLAISE.
(astonished)
Madam!—

COUNTESS.
No reply!
I laugh at spectres, and am bent to clear
These useful chambers, of their ill report.

BLAISE.
(terrified)
Lady! indeed, my duty makes me speak.—

COUNTESS.
I've heard it all, and know 'tis some imposture.
Be thou my guide! for I will pass this night,
Within the chamber where the spirit walks!

BLAISE.
Now, Heav'n forbid!—

COUNTESS.
No more of foolish fears!
Ev'ry attempt were vain to shake my purpose:
A chearful book and lights are all I need
To comfort, or defend me:—Thou shalt watch
In th'anti-chamber by:—Now to my closet,
And thence attend me to the haunted rooms.

[Exeunt.