University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

—The Post-house, near the avenue leading to the Castle of Raincy: on the P. S. side the Inn, with a sign hanging out without any inscription. Higher up, an open coach-house, the back of which is against the house, and which admits only of the body of a vehicle being seen, while the horses, pole, &c., &c., are concealed by a hedge, which separates the court-yard of the Post-house from the high road. On the O. P. side, is the garden of the Inn, and at the back, in the distance, is seen the Castle. A body of Huntsmen are seated at a table drinking, Jaloux joining them, and Grisette helping them, from time to time.
[They all go out at the O. P. side, as the Marquis de Vernon and Madame Corinne enter on the P. S. preceded by Jaloux, carrying his cotton cap in his hand, and bowing most respectfully.
Mar.

No, no horses I tell you; put up the carriage, and prepare
a chamber for this lady.

Jal.
(to Grisette)

Get the best chamber ready.

Gri.
(aside)

We've got but one.

Jal.
(aloud)

Yes, to be sure, that one.

Gri.

I'll run and put it in order.
(To Madame Corinne)
If your ladyship thinks of hunting with the prince, no doubt you
will dress here?

Mad. C.

Yes; and I must trust to you to be my lady's maid.

Gri.
(curtseying)

You do me too much honour.

Mad. C.
(to the Ostler, bringing a band-box from the carriage).

Take care of that, it contains my riding-habit, and let me know
when the saddle-horses arrive.

Jal.

Yes, my lady. (Aside)
Carriage, saddle-horses, and the
Lord knows what! Now, what am I to write up under my sign?

Mar.

Well, is this room ready?

Jal.
(respectfully)

Yes, my lord; beautifully furnished—a
perfect bijou. (to his wife)
Take away that broken looking-glass,
and those old faded curtains. (to the Marquis)
. Everything entirely
new. (to his wife.)
Don't stand gaping there, but make haste, while
I go and warm up some soup for the postilions.

[Exeunt severally, all but the Marquis and Madame Corinne —the carriage having been backed under the shed during the scene.
Mar.

Here are your handkerchief and smelling bottle.

Mad. C.

What attentions! Why one would think it was you
who were going to marry me?

Mar.

I am only acting for my son.

Mad. C.
(looking round)

Count Floreville! Can he not act
for himself? My dear Marquis, you have obtained my consent
somewhat too precipitately.

Mar.

Not at all: were we not neighbours at St. Domingo? I
then loved you as if you were my daughter; and but for my sudden
departure, of which M. Corinne availed himself to obtain your
hand—

Mad. C.

And to die, after we had been married but a year,
leaving me the whole of his immense wealth—

Mar.

The best thing he ever did; “and now as your natural
guide and protector, on your return to Europe—”

Mad C.
(archly smiling)

But, Marquis, I perceive that, with the
exception of your son, you suffer no young idolater to come
near me, and I fear me he is none of the steadiest.

Mar.

You are quite mistaken; he is a very prudent youth,
(then aside)
who has run through a fortune; (then to Madame)
who
has a thousand good qualities, (then aside)
and is many thousands
in debt, (then to her)
and who will make you really happy.

Mad. C.

Well, when I next marry, it must be to be happy, if only
for a change.

Mar.

Are you otherwise now?

Mad. C.

Sometimes, when I think of the days of my childhood.

Mar.
(laughing)

I see—a leaf out of the book of Paul and
Virginia!

Mad. C.

You may well laugh, when I tell you that the hero of
my romance was none other than a poor little negro.

Mar.
(with a loud laugh.)

What! a black?—a thorough
Caribbee?

Mad. C.

Yes, a black, or rather a mulatto; it is a somewhat strange
history. On my mother's estate, which had not less than four
hundred slaves, lived a faithful negress, who was my nurse—her
name was Naomi.

Mar.
(suddenly moved)

Naomi!

Mad. C.

Yes; and if I recollect rightly, you sold her to us.

Mar.

Very likely—I have some faint recollection of her.

Mad. C.

She had a son named Camille, four or five years older
than me, but who was my playfellow, as well as slave, carrying my
umbrella or fan, holding me on my horse, and paying me every
sort of attention. His skill in all kinds of exercises was the wonder
of the colony; when, one day, and he was only then in his fourteenth
year—

Mar.

Well, pray proceed.

Mad. C.

A grand fête was given to celebrate the arrival of a new
governor, and, amongst other amusements, a horse-race took place,
at which each rider was masked. A youth managed his horse so
admirably, that he not only won the race, but the approbation of
the whole assembly. On reaching the stand, where I was seated
with my mother, he refused the prize, signifying that he only wished
for one reward, and taking off his mask, imprinted a kiss on my
shoulder. A burst of indignation at a mulatto's presumption ran
around, and with a silver whip she always carried at her side, my
mother lashed him across the face. 'Twas Camille. Oh, the
sight! I shall never forget it. I see him now—his frame trembling,
his face smeared with blood, and tears wrung from him by shame;
while I was unable to stifle my feelings, and would have gone to
him to sooth his, he freed himself from those who were about to
seize him, cleared the barriers of the course, and disappeared for
ever. Oh, how I wept; and even at this distance of time, I never
think of it without shedding tears. (wiping her eyes)

Mar.

And you have never seen him since?

Mad. C.
(sighing)

“Ah, no!

Mar.
(aside)

“I breathe again. I began to tremble for my son.

Mad. C.

The night after this frightful scene, I was lying half
asleep, when I heard, under my window, this creole air. I have
never forgotten it, and have often sung it since.

BALLAD.

Mar.

Was it he?

Mad. C.

I ran to the window, and called Camille, but he has
never since been heard of. 'Tis an idle dream, which the slightest
circumstance recalls. Only last night, at the Opera—

Mar.

At the Opera?

Mad. C.

We were in your box; when there entered, in the
opposite one, a gentleman, extremely elegant, though a man of
colour—

Mar.

How! another mulatto?

Mad. C.

Precisely so, but a thousand times more graceful than all
your young lords put together. Though he could in no respect be
mixed up with the poor slave of St. Domingo, yet his appearance
affected me, for he kept continually looking at me—

Mar
(trying to break the conversation)

Yes, yes, the love of
country, his colour, and so on; but your marriage with my son
would dissipate all these silly visions.

Mad. C.

Do you know who this gentleman is?

C. Flo.
(outside)

The devil take this Ardenford, say I.

Mar.

Thank Heaven, here is my son.

Enter Count Floreville, O. P. side, in a hunting dress.
C. Flo.

In the course, or the chase, in the opera, or at the balls,
nothing goes down but this d—d Ardenford.

Mar.
(pointing to Madame Corinne)

Count!

Cou.
(bowing)

A thousand pardons. I fear I have kept you
waiting, but I was solely occupied on your account.

Mad. C.

With scolding and swearing? I must really have
inspired you with pleasant ideas.

Cou.

It was all owing to that infernal Mr. Ardenford.

Mar.

What has he done?

Cou.

Rather ask what he has not done. I think that fellow was
born to be my destruction. He has just now carried off from
me—

Mad. C.

A lady?

Cou.

No—a horse; only imagine, my dear madame, a neck like
Sophia Arnould's, sweet little feet like the lovely dancer Guimard,
and eyes! I never saw such eyes—always excepting yours.

Mad. C.

Oh—sir—

Cou.

Lord Dumblane promised to give it to any one who could
tame it. We all tried, and were successively thrown, when this
black Mr. Ardenford leaped on his back, paraded him about,
quieted him, and—and—the horse is his.

Mad. C.

Mr. Ardenford!

Mar.

“Yes, he of whom you were just speaking.”

Mad. C.

Does any one know who he is?

Cou.

Fair lady, I have the most exact account, and I can assure
you—no one knows anything of him. Some say he is a rich
Mexican, others that he's a ruined Portuguese; then, that he's an
Abyssinian prince, then, an Arabian runaway. But he is the
life of all society—the House of Orleans and Madame de Montesson
rave about him. Perfumed from head to foot, maintaining the style
of a marquis; in wit the equal of Laclos; a rival in arms to the
Chevalier D'Eon; he executes a sonata with his riding-whip, and
dances a minuet as well as Vestris; and if, after this, he does not
become Prime Minister, it will be no fault of his.

Mar.

Well, (turning round)
but where is this chamber?

Gri.
(coming out from Inn)

Quite ready, my Lord.

Mar.

Now, my dear Julie, change your dress for the chase.

The Count will accompany you, as I have some business in the
neighbourhood.

Mad. C.

Quite at your service. (then aside)
Oh, Mr. Ardenford,
of whom the whole world is talking, I fain would know something
more about you.

[Exit with Grisette into Inn.
Mar.

Are you mad, to go on in this manner before one whose
fortune can alone extricate you from your difficulties?

Cou.

What is one to do? I am half wild. Only fancy, for the
last fortnight I have been paying court to the lovely Guimard.

Mar.

Now it is Guimard—a month ago it was Madlle. La Prairie.

Cou.

Oh, fie, fie; La Prairie was a little gone bye, while as for
Guimard, I'd give one thousand pounds—if I had them—only to
kiss her little feet, as they glide over the ground.

AIR AND DUET.

On Zephyr's wings they say she flies,
Within some fairy flow'r had birth;
Her hue is of the rainbow's dyes,
Which, as she skims, illumes the earth.
Oh, were I but that happy thing
Whose joyous flight, disdaining rest,
With her upon Eolian wing
Might seek the distant whirlwind's breast!
As light as air,
And all her words
Like notes of birds
Who dwell up there!
And when she smiles,
The blush that streaks
Her lovely cheeks
Each sense beguiles!

Mar.
(growing impatient)
Why she is a divinity?

Cou.
Oh, no,
She is a monster, as I'll let you know.
That negro, Ardenford, is her delight.

Mar.
What's that to me, if he her love requite?
Dancers are very well, and in my day
I loved as many as a youngster may;
Let him take Guimard, Prairie, one and all,
Whom you, through vanity, your own may call,
If he don't take your wife—

Cou.
Corinne you mean?

Mar.
Of course—

Cou.
Do his intentions that way lean?

Mar.
I know not, but by some odd fancy led,
This fellow's all that's running in her head.

ENSEMBLE.
Count, Marquis.
These women! oh, these women!/These women! oh, these women!
We run after them in vain:/Who would follow them in vain?
They set your head a swimming,/Their heads some foolish whim in,
And they fill your heart with pain./And their hearts not worth the gain
We fellows! oh, we fellows!/You fellows! oh, you fellows!
How our folly they deride:/How your folly they deride!
They at first will make us jealous,/They do all to make you jealous,
And then laugh at us beside!/And then laugh at you beside!

Cou.
(thrusting his hat upon his head)
This cursed Moor mars every pleasant plan,
And I must stop his mischief, (then aside)
if I can!
I'll have a meeting—

Mar.
Not with my free will—
The world is well acquainted with his skill.

Cou.
Pooh—nonsense—he may “button” all the rest,
Kill ev'ry swallow that has left its nest;
But I do not regard his fame a whit,
I've been out three times, and been (aside)
three times hit.

Mar.
I do forbid it— (then tenderly)

Wilful as thou art,
Cause not this useless sorrow to my heart—
I can remove him by another way.

Cou.
Another way?

Mar.
For which he'll dearly pay:
A farmer's wife—

Cou.
No matter what their age,
He will contrive their feelings to engage.

Mar.
I'd a presentiment—and so besought
Those means which I expect each moment brought.

Enter Michel, with a sealed packet.
Mic.
A man alighted at the inn, close by,
Gave me this letter, waiting a reply.

Mar.
(breaking the seal and reading)
A secret order—charming! (to the Count)

Right—quite right!

Cou.
What do you mean?

Mar.
You shall know all (then aside)
to-night,
Their fine Mulatto sleeps at the Bastile—
From letters of police there's no appeal. (then to Michel)

He's waiting?

Mic.
Yes, my Lord, without.

Mar.
Say, that I'll come— (aside)
the officer, no doubt.
(Then to the Count.)
Count, I must leave you.

Cou.
Do, I pray, explain.

Mar.
You with the lovely Julie must remain:
(Then aside)
That carriage which another freight once bore,
May serve again, as it hath served before.
(Then to the Count)
Count, let your utmost means be used to please—
This Ardenford shall leave you at your ease—
For that I'll answer. (then pointing to the packet)

When he this shall see,
There's no resistance. (loud)
Michel, follow me!

REPEAT OF ENSEMBLE.
Count, Marquis.
These women! oh, these women!/These women! oh, these women!
We run after them in vain:/Who would follow them in vain?
They set your head a swimming,/Their heads some foolish whim in,
And they fill your heart with pain./And their hearts hearts not worth the gain
We fellows! oh, we fellows!/You fellows! oh, you fellows!
How our folly they deride:/How your folly they deride!
They at first will make us jealous,/They do all to make you jealous,
And then laugh at us beside!/And then laugh at you beside!

[Exit Marquis at the P. S., followed by Michel
Cou.
(alone)

Leave me at my ease! I'm not so sure of that—
nothing but a duel will settle him. “So, my knight of ebony, my

scented Othello, you chouse me out of La Guimard, and now
talk of carrying off my wife—that is to be. I'd give one thousand
pounds—no, I have but twenty-five in the world—to have a meeting
with him.” Here he comes, with his customary suite; now,
see how I'll pick a quarrel with him.

Enter Ardenford, in an English hunting-dress—accompanied by La Morliere, the Baron de la Ville, Huntsmen, &c. &c.
CHORUS.
Were it not that folly
Smiling round we see,
Oh, how melancholy
Human life would be.
Were it not that, after,
Love comes in her train,
Just to check her laughter,
Who could life sustain?
“None can doubt that, bright or dark the weather,
“Love and folly ought to go together!

SOLO.—Ardenford.
Oh, let me be that lover,
That still unwearied rover,
Who but to bask awhile
In woman's sunny smile
Would roam the wide world over!
The hopes we deem the slightest,
The joys we feel the lightest,
One glance from those which lie
Within her magic eye
Will make them all the brightest!

REPRISE OF THE CHORUS.
Were it not that folly
Smiling round we see,
Oh, how melancholy
Human life would be.
Were it not that, after,
Love comes in her train,
Just to check her laughter,
Who could life sustain?
“None can doubt that, bright or dark the weather,
“Love and folly ought to go together!

Ard.
(aside, observing the carriage at the back)

There's the
carriage—I was not mistaken. Oh, if I could but see her again—

Mor.

The devil take these dogs, for bringing us to Raincy.

Ard.

Never mind, the scent is lost at present, “but we shall
soon find a stag, or some other game;” in the meantime I'll introduce
you to one of the prettiest of landladies.

All.

Where?

Mor.

In this pot-house?

Ard.

Yes—the wine is execrable, but the hostess is nectar, and
her husband as jealous as—

Mor.

That makes her all the handsomer.

Ard.

You shall judge for yourselve— (hollowing and knocking the table with his whip)

Halloa! I say—waiters, maids, here—
some claret, and champaigne, of the best quality—if you have any.

Cou.
(aside)

Here's a row! why the Prince himself could not
assume greater consequence.

Mor.
(aside to Ardenford)

Ardenford, look there.

Ard.

What at?

Mor.

The Count Floreville walking by himself.

Ard.

He's champing the bit—thinking over his late fall.

Mor.
(aside)

You know how thoroughly he hates you on account
of Guimard; he looks upon you as his rival.

Ard.

Ha! ha! ha! he looks on the dark side of everything—
face and all.

Mor.

Ha! ha! ha!

Cou.
(aside)

That puppy's laughing at me. (going up to Ardenford with a determined air)

Mr. Ardenford—

Ard.

Ah, Count, delighted to see you—do you not hunt to-day?
Not the worse, I hope, for that little fall this morning?

Cou.

No, sir, I wish to say two words to you.

Ard.

In a few moments.

Cou.

Presently will do, as I see they are waiting to serve you.
(seeing the waiter bringing out bottles and glasses)

Ard.

As you please. (then pouring out some wine and drinking)

Why, what the devil have we here? I asked for wine—not vinegar.
Take it away, you rascal!

Grisette entering from Inn.
Gri.

Pray, gentlemen, less noise, if you please—we have a lady
of quality in the house, who is now dressing.

Ard.
(aside)

'Tis she! (then to all)
Ah! ah! here is the charming
Grisette—the sweetest of sweet faces. Gentlemen, let me present
to you the Hebé of Raincy, the wonder of these woods.

[They all come round Grisette.
Cou.
(aside)

What a scapegrace he is. I must have two words
with him.

Gri.
(resisting their advances)

Have done, gentlemen.

Ard.

Why, thy fingers are as prickly as one of last year's roses.

Mor.
(taking Grisette round the waist)

But thy cheeks as sweet
and fresh as one of this years.

Ard.
(offering to kiss her)

We are privileged—

Gri.
(resisting)

Did you ever see the like of that blackeymoor?

Ard.

Are you frightened at my face?—don't you like us black
fellows?

Gri.
(still resisting)

That depends upon circumstances—but I
say— (laughing)
the dye won't come off, will it?

Ard.

You shall see—

[He kisses Grisette, at the moment Jaloux enters with his apron and cap on, and holding a ladle in his hand.
MORCEAU D'ENSEMBLE.
Jal.
(on the steps of the door)
Ha! what is that I see?

Gri.
(calling)
Jaloux!

Ard.
That cap
Bespeaks the husband—bravo—

Mor.
What mishap!
Here'll be a scene. (continuing their fun)


Jal.
(crying out)
You, Mr. Whitey-brown,
Touch not my wife, or I will knock you down!
Don't dare to speak to her—

Gri.
You hear, no doubt,—

Ard.
(kissing her again)
I will not speak—but I can kiss without.

Jal.
(furious)
Damnation!

Ard.
(kissing her again)
I won't say a single word—

Jal.
(throwing the ladle at him)
Such impudence before I never heard.

Gri.
(struggling)
Be quiet!

Jal.
(pulling his wife to the other side)
This is coming it too strong—
(He seizes the sword of one of the huntsmen)
To Picardy's famed regiment I belong!

Ard.
Thy wine has also regimental rank—
'Tis cider—and the worst I ever drank.

Jal.
(beside himself)
Abuse my wine, and kiss my wife—now mark—
I'll spit that fellow as I would a lark!

ENSEMBLE.
Jal.
Was ever such audacity!
Such insolent mendacity!

Gri.
My husband's great tenacity
Has called up his iracity!

Ard.
(trying to kiss her again)
Oh fear not my loquacity,
But yield to my rapacity!

Cou.
(aside)
With all his great audacity,
The fellow shows sagacity!

Mor.
This petticoat voracity
Denotes a great capacity!

CHORUS.
—(Pointing to Ardenford and Jaloux.)
If he display procacity,
Yet he shows incapacity!

Jal.
Defend yourself!—

Gri.
What, do they mean to fight?

CHORUS.
—(Forming a circle.)
Bravo! bravo! we'll see that all is right!

[As Jaloux stands on guard, Ardenford picks up the ladle.
Ard.
(on his guard)
If so, I for a weapon then must look—

Jal.
(thrusting at him)
Seducer!

Ard.
(parrying it)
Ménélaus, turned a cook!

Jal.
(thrusting)
Wretch! you shall mix some water with your wine—

Ard.
(parrying, and then hitting him)
It will not be by fencing such as thine!

Jal.
Oh!

Ard.
(striking him again)
'Tis no fault of mine, as you were told,
You know not how your weapon e'en to hold—

[Hits him on the knuckles, and knocks the sword out of his hand.
Jal.
What a wrist!

All.
Well hit!

Cou.
(aside)
'Tis hopeless to choose
A weapon, he seems so able to use!

Jal.
(still more enraged, then says to Ardenford)—
A sword's not my weapon—a dragoon
Can hit his man, as you shall know full soon!
My pistols, John! (enters the inn)


Gri.
(running up to Ardenford)
Oh, hear me, Sir, I pray,

Ard.
(laughing, and chucking her under the chin)
Fear not, my love, I shall not run away—

Gri.
You know him not, when thus his blood runs high.

Jal.
(entering with his pistols)
I will have satisfaction—he shall die!
Here are the pistols loaded—and with ball—

Ard.
(taking one)
Oh no, for then you would be sure to fall!

[Looking upon the ground, as if in search of something.
Jal.
What do you seek?

Ard.
(picking up a nail)
The smallest thing will do,
Merely one eye to shoot completely through.

Jal.
One eye?

Ard.
To make the other clearer see.

Gri.
(laughing)
What a good-looking fellow he will be!

Ard.
(falling back a few steps)
Fix upon anything you like to name,
At fifty paces I will take my aim—
So choose—

Jal.
(frightened, and shutting his eyes)
Choose what?

Ard.
Thy feelings I will spare—
Stir not a step, but look up in the air—
Thou want'st a sign—thou shalt no longer pine
For such a trifle—THAT shall be thy sign!

[He takes off Jaloux's cap, throws it up in the air, aims at it, fires, and nails it against the sign-board over the Inn-door.
CHORUS.
Bravo! all weapons he knows how to use!

Cou.
(aside)
Pistol, or sword, I neither will choose!

REPEAT OF ENSEMBLE.—(Slightly altered.)
Jal.
Despite of such audacity,
Was ever such capacity!

Gri.
(pointing to Ardenford)
My husband's fine loquacity
Is stopped by his capacity!

Ard.
Despite the rogues iracity,
I've silenced his mendacity!

Cou.
With all his great audacity,
The fellow shows sagacity!

Mor.
(aside)
His petticoat voracity
Improves with his capacity!

CHORUS.
With such unmatched audacity,
He's wonderful sagacity!

Madame Corinne
appearing at the window of the Inn.

What noise is this?—What can be the matter? (seeing Ardenford)

Ah! 'tis he!

And.
(aside—seeing Corinne)

There she is. I knew I should
make her show herself.

[Corinne, who has only been seen by Ardenford, instantly retires.
Jal.
(stupified)

I'm in a perfect sweat. Suppose my head had
happened to have been in that cap!

All.
(laughing)

Ah! ha! ha!

Jal.

And I can have no revenge?] (pauses)
Madame Grisette,
come in doors— (pointing to the Inn)
I have a word to say to you.

Gri.
(trying to escape)

Yes, yes—I know all about it—it's my
turn now.

Jal.

Go in, I say.

[He follows her into the Inn.
Ard.
(turning to Floreville)

I believe, Count, you wished to
speak with me?

Cou.
(embarrassed)

A mere nothing—any time will do;—'twas
only about my Lord Dumblane's horse, in case you wanted to part
with it. (Sounds of horses heard)
Ha! the chase is about to begin,
and Julie's horses not yet arrived—I must see about them. (Aside)

Neither sword nor pistol will suit my book.

[Exit by the P. S. side.
Ard.
(to all)

And has he been waiting an hour, merely to tell me
this?

1st H.
(from the back)

Gentlemen, the stag has taken the high
road—

Mor.

Quick, quick, to horse!

CHORUS.—(All.)
The chase! the chase! let us drink the chase!—
A sport we deem divine;
We drink the chase, for we love the chase,
We drink the wine they before us place,
Because we love the wine;
And we'll give mouth, like the bravest hound,
Wheresoever good wine's to be found!

[They all hurry off but Ardenford, at the O. P., amid the sounds of horns, which gradually die away.
Ard.

Run, run—make haste—I'll be amongst ye. (seeing Corrinne)

Just as I expected—she comes.

[Goes up stage, as Corinne comes from the Inn in her riding dress.
Cor.

A quarrel! Some accident I fear! (Stops, as she sees Ardenford)

No—he is alone.

Ard.
(advancing)

I owe you a thousand excuses, madame, for
having so alarmed you.

Cor.

I confess—such a sudden noise—

Ard.

“I would give all I possess to induce you to forget this want
of consideration”—and if I can be of the slightest service—

Cor.
(looking at him)

Sir— (then aside)
, No, it is not he!

Ard.
(aside)

How strangely she looks at me? Do you join the
hunt? Can I call any of your people?

Cor.

It would be to no purpose. Of two cavaliers who ought to
accompany me, I don't even see one.

Ard.

I shall feel proud in replacing them—dispose of me in any
way. (Then drawing up respectfully)
“Be under no apprehension,
I belong to the Prince's party—a position that will insure you my
respect, had not the first sight of you already commanded it.”

Cor.
(aside)

Even to the very sound of his voice!— (Aloud)
If
I mistake not, I am addressing Mr. Ardenford.

Ard.

Yes, madame— (smiling)
there is a stamp upon me which
renders it impossible not to recognise me.

Cor.
(confused)

I never thought of that.

Ard.

Pray make no excuses. “It is a delight to attract, by any
means, woman's attention; and” I shall bless my own peculiar
advantage that has obtained for me a sight of the loveliest of her
sex! “I would not change my hue, if it lost me that privilege.”

BALLAD AND DUETT.
BALLAD—Ardenford.

Cor.
What compliments!— (then pointedly)

Did France, sir, give you birth?

Ard.
To tell you whence I came were little worth:
I in Peru was born, when that event—

Cor.
(aside)
Ah, it was all a dream!

Ard.
—While you are bent
On hearing of my ancestors,—the chase
Is now the theme to which that must give place.
Will you accept my service?

Cor.
You forget
'Tis the first time we ever met!

ENSEMBLE.
Ardenford, Corinne.
There is an instinct in the heart,/Were there an instinct in the heart,
From other hopes and ties apart,/From other hopes and ties apart,
By which in moments we discern/By which in moments we could learn
What others take an age to learn;/More than in ages some discern;
And all, once seen, to us appears/That which so formal now appears
Familiar, as if known for years!/Familiar were, as known for years!

Ard.
Accept my offer—

Cor.
(smiling)
I your plans should foil,
And with some beauties here myself embroil.

Ard.
(tenderly)
There is not one but it would be a sin
To dare to name beside the fair Corinne!

Cor.
(hastily)
You know me then—

Ard.
Oh, not at all—

Cor.
And yet
My name—

Ard.
Ah, that I never can forget!
There is some spell in that remember'd word,
More sweet than any ear hathever heard.

Cor.
(aside)
What may this mean?—some secret I must sound.
(Aloud)
I fear these horses are not to be found.

Ard.
Mine are all ready—I will be your guide—

Cor.
(with animation)
That my determination shall decide!
(Then aside)
I will this problem solve and settle, yet,
And act for once the part of a coquette—
The wise and prudent will such step forgive,
For we must do like those with whom we live!

Ard.
(aside)
I feel as if this scene of hope and pride
Were worth the charms of all the world beside!

REPRISE OF ENSEMBLE.
Ardenford, Corinne.
There is an instinct in the heart,/Were there an instinct in the heart,
From other hopes and ties apart,/From other hopes and ties apart,
By which in moments we discern/By which in moments we could learn
What others take an age to learn;/More than in ages some discern,
And all, once seen, to us appears/That which so formal now appears
Familiar, as if known for years!/Familiar were, as known for years!

[Ardenford takes her hand at the end of the duet; when Attrappe, wrapped up in a cloak, who had been at the back watching Ardenford, advances to him.
Att.

Excuse this freedom.

Ard.
(still holding Corinne's hand)

What want you here?

Att.

One word.

Ard.

I have no time now.

Att.

I come from the Prince—

Ard.

From his Highness!— (Then to Corinne)
May I crave
your pardon a single moment—there are some orders to give?

Cor.

But you will join me?

Ard.

On the instant. “I will hold your stirrup while you
mount, and never leave your side.” (To the Officer)
I
will be with you immediately.

[Exit with Corinne, at the O. P., still holding her hand.
Att.

I have him, fast enough. (Calling to his followers, who are masked, and concealed behind the hedge)

Are you all there?
(They lift up their heads)
Good—now hide yourselves. (They disappear, as he calls out to the post-house)

Postilion, postilion!

Enter Jaloux, from Inn.
Jal.

What are you calling about?

Att.

Put horses to that carriage—

Jal.

It belongs to the Marquis de Vernon.

Att.

I know that—he has lent it to me—here is his order—
(Presenting a paper to Jaloux)
So make haste; 'tis for an arrest!
by order of the King!

Jal.
(alarmed)

An arrest!

Att.

Don't be frightened—you look as if you'd been drinking
your own wine—it concerns Mr. Ardenford.

Jal.
(overjoyed)

Mr. Ardenford, the blackeymooor! What
discernment our King has got! He's an excellent King! You shall
have my best horses, and I'll drive myself.

Att.
(going to the carriage with a key, and opening the door— then turning to Jaloux)

Go, and pull thy boots on.

Jal.

Instantly—I'll teach the black rascal how to insult the
regiment of Picardy—Holloa! there! my best greys, my boots,
and my whip.

[Exit behind the shed.
Re-enter Ardenford from O. P.
Ard.
(speaking off)

In an instant. (To himself)
She is started,
and rides to perfection! (Turns abruptly to Attrappe)
Now, sir,
your tidings?

Att.

Follow me.

Ard.

Follow you?—where?

Att.

To the Bastile?

Ard.
(astounded)

I?

Att.

Yes—you.

Ard.

There must be some mistake—do you know who I am?

Att.

Mr. Ardenford, ranger of the forests, belonging to His
Highness the Duke of Orleans.

Ard.

And you have orders to take me—

Att.

To the Bastile! (showing his authority and making a sign, to his followers)

No resistance sir, for I have taken my precautions
as you see.

Ard.
(smiling)

Oh, “were their number doubled, I would undertake
to thrash them all, and you into the bargain, were I in that
vein; but” the respect I owe the Prince, makes me obey any order
of the King!

Att.

I expected no less from your politeness.— (Pointing to the carriage)

Here is the carriage—there the step.

Ard.

After you, I beg.

Att.
(bowing)

I know my duty too well.

Ard.
(getting into the carriage)

A man could not be arrested in
a more elegant manner. I shall recommend you to all my friends.—
(Seeing that he is locking the door.)
What are you about?

Att.

Nothing—merely a slight precaution—just locking the door,
while they are putting too the horses—we shall be off in five
minutes.

Enter Morliere, and a party of Huntsmen.
Mor.

Holloa, Ardenford, where are you?

Ard.
(putting his head out of the carriage)

Who calls me?

Mor.

Why, what the devil are you doing there? Where are
you going?

Ard.

To the Bastile, my boy.

Mor.

To the Bastile?

Ard.

Yes, and I'll give you a place, if you like—it's a return
chaise.

Mor.
(to the Officer)

What's the meaning of all this?—one of
the Prince's officers going to the Bastile?

Att.

We are acting under orders.

Mor.
(getting angry)

It is impossible—you are a set of
scoundrels.

Att.

Sir!

Ard.
(from the carriage)

Morlière!

Mor.
(flying into a passion)

This is some trap—some private

pique—and I won't suffer it.— (Turning to huntsmen)
My fine
fellows, let us teach these regues a lesson rogues a lesson.

[They rush upon the Officers, and as Attrappe stands upon his defence he drops the key of the carriage.
Att.

A rescue! a rescue! mind what you are doing, gentlemen.

Ard.

Morlière—Morlière—

Mor.

Oh, you rascals—I'll let you know.

[Morliere and his party beat the officers off P. S.
Ard.
(in the carriage)

What madness]—Morlière—Morlière—
“you'll get into an infernal scrape; he's a pupil of mine, and could
beat the whole police force put together”—he's right, it must be
some private pique.— (Trying to open the door)
Locked, hey?
and no one here—I wonder what I look like? “A black doll,
hanging out over a snuff shop!” (Looking on the ground)
What is
that shining there in the dust—that's the key of this door, which my
friend the officer must have dropped. (Putting out his arm)
No—
my arm is not long enough. (Looking off at the O. P.)
Who comes
here? Count Floreville! If I could but—

[Count Floreville crossing the stage, and going into the inn.
Cou.

Madame Corinne's horses are come at last—I will see if
she be ready.

[Exit.
Ard.

Madame Corinne?—is he occupying himself about her?—
—that's another reason. Here he is.

Count enters from the Inn.
Cou.
(talking to himself, and stamping with his foot)

Gone!
—which way, I wonder?—this is done on purpose—

Ard.
(loud, and as if trying to get out of the carriage)

This is a
shameful trick—an outrage—an abominable ambuscade.

Cou.
(ironically)

Left the field already, Mr. Ardenford, and returning
to Paris, I suppose!

Ard.

Very much to my annoyance, my dear Count—I am a
prisoner here.

Cou.

Pooh!

Ard.

It's a fact—and a serious adventure.

Cou.

Some rival?

Ard.

Not at all—a woman is bent upon carrying me off.

Cou.

A woman? (Aside)
The puppy!—But how do you mean?

Ard.

You know the lovely Guimard?

Cou.
(aside)

The devil!

Ard.

Well—only fancy her falling in love with me!

Cou.
(aside)

My blood begins to boil.

Ard.

And I can't bear the sight of her—she's lanky, thin, and
yellow as saffron.

Cou.
(aside)

The insolent scoundrel!—he's a pretty fellow to
talk about people's colour.

Ard.

She has invited me twenty times to a tête à tête supper, “at
her apartments in the Rue des Marais,” and I have always
refused; and in a fit of despair she has had me seized, that she may
force me—

Cou.

To sup with her?

Ard.
(laughing)

“But I'll trick her yet, for I won't eat a
mouthful.”

Cou.

I wish to Heavens I were in your place.

Ard.

I should damnably like to see you there!

Cou.

Will you resign it?

Ard.

With the greatest pleasure.

Cou.

How shall we manage it?

Ard.

Nothing easier. Pick up that key, which some of her
people dropped, as they went to order the horses—there—that's it—
it should open this door.

Cou.
(opening the door)

So it does, I declare.

Ard.
(jumping out)

A thousand thanks,—now make haste and
take my place.

Cou.
(with transport)

Oh, La Guimard!—But stop—when she
sees me, she'll soon find out the difference between white and
black.

Ard.
(pushing him into the carriage)

Not at all—she's waiting
for me in a little dark summer-house, at the bottom of her garden.

Cou.
(getting in)

Oh, oh, my haughty Guimard, I will now tell
thee—

Ard.
(quickly)

Tell her what you like, but pull down the blinds,
for they are coming; and mind you keep a profound silence, lest
they should discover the substitution. A pleasant journey—
(Aside, as he is slipping out behind the hedge)
Here they are—
I had not a moment to spare. The Bastile is no doubt a
pleasant place, but I prefer resigning it to another.

FINALE.
[The sound of the horn is heard, coming nearer and nearer.
Enter Attrappe, out of breath.
Quick! quick! for further aid they fly—
The hunters all are drawing nigh;
Postilion, haste—yourself bestir!
We're losing time—Jaloux! (outside)

I'm ready, sir!

Off.
(examining the window-blinds of the carriage)
The blinds are down, I see—all right—
The bird is roosted for the night!

Mar.
(at the window of the Inn)
No job was ever better planned or done—
A secret—'till the marriage of my son.

[The horns still sound louder, and the huntsmen enter.
Off.
Postilion—come, sir,—be alive—

Jal.
(to whom Grisette gives a petit gout, on the P. S.)
Here! here! I'll show you how to drive.

CHORUS OF HUNTSMEN.
Sound, sound! and let the horn proclaim
To all around, we've killed the game;
Sound, sound! the mellow horn shall tell
That tale the huntsman loves so well!

Mor.
(crossing the stage to Madame Corinne, who enters at the O. P. side)
'Tis useless further to assail—
The law is certain to prevail;
Poor Ardenford, (pointing to the carriage)
within that blind
A prisoner is now confined!

Cor.
Good Heav'ns!

Mor.
He's bound for the Bastile!

Chorus of all.
Let's stop th carriage—break the wheel!

Ard.
(coming behind Madame Corinne, and hid by the huntsmen, says, in a low tone,)
Fear nothing!

Cor.
(startling, then pointing to the carriage)
Heavens!—and if in case—

Ard.
I got a friend to take my place!!

REPRISE OF CHORUS.
Sound, sound! and let the hour proclaim
To all around, we've killed the game;
Sound, sound! the mellow horn shall tell
That tale the huntsman loves so well!

Att.
(getting on the box)
And now be off—

Jal.
(mounting and smacking his whip)
Ha! ha!

Chorus.
—around,
And far, and near, the horn still sound!
Sound! sound! sound!

[The carriage starts off amidst the smacking of the whip, the sound of the horn, and the acclamations of every one.