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Collected poems

By Austin Dobson: Ninth edition
  

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“AU REVOIR”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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223

“AU REVOIR”

A Dramatic Vignette

Scene.—The Fountain in the Garden of the Luxembourg. It is surrounded by Promenaders.
Monsieur Jolicœur. A Lady (unknown).
M. Jolicœur.
'Tis she, no doubt. Brunette,—and tall:
A charming figure, above all!
This promises.—Ahem!

The Lady.
Monsieur?
Ah! it is three. Then Monsieur's name
Is Jolicœur? . . .

M. Jolicœur.
Madame, the same.


224

The Lady.
And Monsieur's goodness has to say? . . .
Your note? . . .

M. Jolicœur.
Your note.

The Lady.
Forgive me.—Nay. (Reads)

“If Madame [I omit] will be
Beside the Fountain-rail at Three,
Then Madame—possibly—may hear
News of her Spaniel. Jolicœur.”
Monsieur denies his note?

M. Jolicœur.
I do.
Now let me read the one from you.
“If Monsieur Jolicœur will be
Beside the Fountain-rail at Three,
Then Monsieur—possibly—may meet
An old Acquaintance. ‘ Indiscreet .”

The Lady
(scandalized).
Ah, what a folly! 'Tis not true.
I never met Monsieur. And you?


225

M. Jolicœur
(with gallantry).
Have lived in vain till now. But see:
We are observed.

The Lady
(looking round).
I comprehend . . . (After a pause.)

Monsieur, malicious brains combine
For your discomfiture, and mine.
Let us defeat that ill design.
If Monsieur but . . .

(hesitating).
M. Jolicœur
(bowing).
Rely on me.

The Lady
(still hesitating).
Monsieur, I know, will understand.

M. Jolicœur.
Madame, I wait but your command.

The Lady.
You are too good. Then condescend
At once to be a new-found Friend!


226

M. Jolicœur
(entering upon the part forthwith)
How? I am charmed,—enchanted. Ah!
What ages since we met . . . at Spa?

The Lady
(a little disconcerted).
At Ems, I think. Monsieur, maybe,
Will recollect the Orangery?

M. Jolicœur.
At Ems, of course. But Madame's face
Might make one well forget a place.

The Lady.
It seems so. Still, Monsieur recalls
The Kürhaus, and the concert-balls?

M. Jolicœur.
Assuredly. Though there again
'Tis Madame's image I retain.

The Lady.
Monsieur is skilled in . . . repartee.
(How do they take it?—Can you see?)

M. Jolicœur.
Nay,—Madame furnishes the wit.
(They don't know what to make of it!)


227

The Lady.
And Monsieur's friend who sometimes came? . .
That clever . . . I forget the name.

M. Jolicœur.
The Baron? . . . It escapes me, too.
'Twas doubtless he that Madame knew?

The Lady
(archly).
Precisely. But, my carriage waits.
Monsieur will see me to the gates?

M. Jolicœur
(offering his arm).
I shall be charmed. (Your stratagem
Bids fair, I think, to conquer them.) (Aside)

(Who is she? I must find that out.)
—And Madame's husband thrives, no doubt?

The Lady
(off her guard).
Monsieur de Beau—? . . . He died at Dôle!

M. Jolicœur.
Truly. How sad!
(Aside.)
(Yet, on the whole,
How fortunate! Beau-pré?—Beau-vau?
Which can it be? Ah, there they go!)
—Madame, your enemies retreat
With all the honours of . . . defeat.


228

The Lady.
Thanks to Monsieur. Monsieur has shown
A skill Préville could not disown.

Préville was the French Foote circa 1760. His gifts as a comedian were of the highest order; and he had an extraordinary faculty for entering completely into the parts he played. Sterne, in a letter to Garrick from Paris, in January 1762, calls him “Mercury himself.”



M. Jolicœur.
You flatter me. We need no skill
To act so nearly what we will.
Nay,—what may come to pass, if Fate
And Madame bid me cultivate . . .

The Lady
(anticipating).
Alas!—no farther than the gate.
Monsieur, besides, is too polite
To profit by a jest so slight.

M. Jolicœur.
Distinctly. Still, I did but glance
At possibilities . . . of Chance.

The Lady.
Which must not serve Monsieur, I fear,
Beyond the little grating here.

M. Jolicœur
(aside).
(She's perfect. One may push too far,
Piano, sano.)
(They reach the gates.)
Here we are.

229

Permit me, then . . .
(Placing her in the carriage.)
And Madame goes? . .
You coachman? . . . Can I? . . .

The Lady
(smiling).
Thanks! he knows.
Thanks! Thanks!

M. Jolicœur
(insidiously).
And shall we not renew
Our . . . “Ems acquaintanceship”?

The Lady
(still smiling).
Adieu!
My thanks instead!

M. Jolicœur
(with pathos).
It is too hard! (Laying his hand on the grating.)

To find one's Paradise is barred!!

The Lady.
Nay.—“Virtue is her own Reward!”

[Exit.
M. Jolicœur
(solus).
Beau-vau?—Beau-vallon?—Beau-manoir?—
But that's a detail!
(Waving his hand after the carriage.)
Au Revoir!