University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

—A handsome apartment, furnished in the Louis XVI. style. Large doors at the back, and one at each side. A stand, on which music, a guitar, &c., are strewn about. On the O. P. is a toilette, laid out, by the side of which Corinne is seated,—while a Lady's Maid is dressing her hair—the Marquis is seated at Corinne's side, conversing with her.
Cor.

Sign the contract to night?

Mar.

The notary has been apprised, and in two hours time—

Cor.

Impossible!—You know I have a music party this evening?

Mar.

That's the very reason; in a large assembly no one will
have the slightest suspicion, and as you were anxious it should be
kept a secret—

Cor.

No such thing,—it was you who requested it.

Mar.

Solely on your account. (makes a motion to the Lady's Maid, who exit, L. D.

Mar.

I know you will scold me, but happening to mention this
proposed alliance to the King, his Majesty condescended to express
his pleasure to witness the signatures to your contract, this evening.

Cor.

This evening!

Mar.
(assuming an air of indifference.)

Yes, at the same time,
he has consented to witness that of Mr. Ardenford.

Cor.
(springing up.)

Mr. Ardenford! Is Mr. Ardenford going
to be married?

Mar.

So they say. (aside.)
He's fast under lock and key, so
he can't contradict me.

Cor.

Ha! And with whom?

Mar.

An English heiress, I hear. (aside.)
There's no harm at
all events in setting that rumour afloat.

Cor.

And is his intended handsome?

Mar.

I have not the least idea—it never gave me a moment's
consideration.

Cor.

I am quite of your opinion, Marquis. I have no idea o
people talking about nothing but Mr. Ardenford, indeed! Delay
not, by any means: but let me see my new husband, that is to be,
for since this morning's hunting—

Mar.

I'll send him to you, (aside.)
if I can find him! Where the
devil is the fellow hiding himself? (to her.)
He's running after
bouquets, presents and all kinds of delicate attentions, (aside)
and
running into debt for them! (to her.)
Adieu, adieu, my charming
will be, must be, daughter-in-law! After all, it is no enviable task
to make love for another person.

[Corinne attends to her toilette, while the Marquis sings this
AIR.

[Exit Marquis, at the side door, L. After a pause, Corinne rises, and comes forward.
Cor.

So,—Mr. Ardenford going to be married! Well, what
can that be to me? A man that I never met but once,—and, as
to those deceitful recollections— (altering her tone)
—if it does not
absolutely disturb me, it annoys me, despite myself, when I compare
him to this Count Floreville;—such grace, such wit, such
courage,—his very complexion, too, has a charm in it. the sons of
Europe might envy.

BALLAD.

[At the end of the Ballad, the Lady's Maid runs in, L. D.
Maid.

Madame! madame!

Cor.

Well, what's the matter?

Maid.

He's here!

Cor.

He! Who?

Maid.

Mr. Ardenford's valet, whom you bid me send for.

Cor.

Ah, it is of no moment, now,— (then recollecting herself.)
—
however, let him enter. Since chance has introduced me to him,
he may give some information.

[The Maid makes a sign to Mal-a-pro-pos, to come in.
Cor.

Very well,—now, if any one calls, let me know directly.

[Exit Maid, L. D., as Mal-a-pro-pos enters, surveying the apartment, P. S.
Mal.

This is coming it rather strong, I should say. These
apartments, and all this elegant furniture, must belong to a duchess,
—or, a dancer!

Cor.
(seated O. P.)

Approach, my good friend.

Mal.
(aside.)

There's nothing like being in the service of a man
of fashion,—one sees none but high people.

Cor.

You are in Mr. Ardenford's service, I believe?

Mal.

I have that honor—his valet—his confidential—

Cor.

You do not recollect me?

Mal.

No, madame.

Cor.

I recollect YOU. Your name is Mal-a-pro-pos.

Mal.
(astonished.)

Perfectly true.

Cor.

You had the command, at St. Domingo, over all the
negroes on the estate of Madame de Gassenaye—my mother.

Mal.
(moved.)

Your mother, madame,—what—is it you, madame?
— (going nearer to look at her.)
Sure enough,—that delicate
countenance—that lovely smile—

Cor.
(holding out her hand for him to kiss.)

You see, I have
not forgotten you.

Mal.
(wiping his eyes.)

Ah, I fancy myself, again, on the St.
Domingo domain!—I was then, in all my glory—a place I was
fond of,—four hundred irregular slaves regularly to thrash,—I made
a report of their work, every day,—to myself,—and flogged them
all, every night. (tenderly)
Poor dears, how they must have
regretted my loss!

Mor.
(smiling.)

No,—not much.

Mal.

Oh, yes,—for I am sure things don't go on so now,—your
nigger is like other colonial produce,—if you want to keep him,
you must pickle him. Things are all turned topsy-turvy,—now the
whites wait upon the blacks—master rides inside the carriage, and
I ride behind,—but, I'm a philosopher—and, until master puts
down his carriage, I must put up with the indignity.

Cor.

Is he a good master?

Mal.

He's an angel—notwithstanding his colour—we're very
much attach'd—he is call'd dark brown,—and I am called whitey
brown. If I happen to knock down a pet piece of China, while
dressing his hair, instead of knocking me down, he says, “Mal-a-pro-pos,
if a negro had done that, how many lashes should you
have given him?” And, as a matter of conscience, I invariably
answer,—“Fifty.”

Cor.
(smiling.)

Quite right.

Mal.

At the month's end, there may, perhaps, be three or four
thousand stripes due to me, and, instead of giving them, he slips
three, or four hundred francs into my hand, adding,—“It's lucky
for thee, Mal-a-pro-pos, that the negroes don't carry the whip, or,
they'd skin thee alive!”—There's a master for you!—I'd throw
myself into the fire to serve him—if there were a pail or two of
water, at hand!

Cor.

Whence does all his money come?

Mal.

Can't say,—I know where most of it goes.

Cor.

Do you know the lady he is going to marry?

Mal.

Marry?—

Cor.

Yes,—you know all about it.

Mal.

Not a syllable.

Cor.

Make no secret about it, for he told me so, himself—the
King is going to witness the contract. You see, I know all that is
going on.

Mal.
(as if struck with a sudden thought.)

That accounts for
his looking at a miniature, every night of his life.

Cor.

Of a lady?—

Mal.

Can't say,—he keeps it in a drawer, and he's so close about
it, that I have not been able to draw her out.

Cor.

Can you procure me a sight of it?

Mal.

And, this time, come in for the flogging, instead of the
francking!—

Cor.

Do, there's a good creature,—it is mere woman's curiosity.
—I have laid a wager I will find her out, and, I don't wish to lose.
You won't refuse your young mistress, who used to be so kind to
you?

Mal.

Refuse you!—I'd jump from the top of Notre Dame, to
serve you,— (aside)
if there was a good, large, feather-bed, or two,
to fall upon!

Cor.
(delighted.)

Bring it, and I'll make you a present of a
hundred louis!

Mal.
(in a decided manner.)

My master's peace of mind, in that
hand, and a hundred pieces of gold in this,—a fool of a black
would refuse,—I shall accept.

[The Lady's Maid runs in, in great haste.
Maid.

Mr. Ardenford is coming up-stairs.

Cor.
(aside.)

Mr. Ardenford! (aloud, to Mal-a-pro-pos,)
You
must leave me now, as visitors are coming. (to the Maid.)
Let
him out by that door. (pointing to the P. S., door.)
If you meet
with what I want, come directly, at any hour,—and, should I be
with company, I'll depute some one to receive it from you,—now,
—go,—quick!

Mal.
(making a sign of weighing with both his hands.)

This
must be what they call the money-market!

[Exit at the P. S. D. with the Lady's Maid.
Cor.

I shall know her, if I can get a peep at her;—but what
brings him here, I wonder!

Enter a Servant, ushering in Mr. Ardenford, elegantly dressed, at the O. P. door.
Ser.

Mr. Ardenford.

[Exit, O. P. D.
Cor.
(curtseying distantly.)

Is it Mr. Ardenford?

Ard.

I have a thousand apologies to make for this indiscretion,
in coming uninvited, but, I have waited upon you to ask your
permission, to present this invitation from Madame Montesson, to
her ball, to-morrow.

Cor.

Indeed.

Ard.

And, I hope you will not refuse it. (gives a sealed note to Corinne.)

Cor.
(aside, as she throws the note on her dressing-table.)

This
is a pretext.

Ard.

And, moreover, to inquire after your health. You do not
seem well?

Cor.

Not altogether. You will find me very bad company, and
had much better go where you are so impatiently expected.

Ard.

Expected, madame? Where may that be?

Cor.

Why, where should one be expected, who is going to be
married?

Ard.

Married?—I?—Who told you this?

Cor.

Common report.

Ard.
(smiling)

It is rather singular, that some one or other has
not made me acquainted with it. I suppose I shall receive a card
of invitation at all events.

Cor.
(rising)

Sir!

Ard.
(seriously)

You have been deceived, madame,—I am not
going to be married, and most probably never shall.

Cor.
(with an altered manner)

Indeed;—sit down, I beg of
you.

Ard.

I am fearful of intruding—your health—

Cor.
(smiling)

Pray, stay,—I am much better now, I assure
you!

DUET.—Ardenford and Madame Corinne.
Ard.
(regarding Corinne with tenderness)
The colour which had left thy cheek,
Now tinges it with rosy streak
And o'er its bloom again doth play
The smile some care had chas'd away

Cor.
A trifling pang too slight to last
That came as lightly as it pass'd.
Be seated—I've a thousand things,
Thrown off from mem'ry's wanton wings,
To say—a favour, too, to ask.

Ard.
To grant it is a happier task,—
Ask not, but here command.

Cor.
(gaily)
And where
Is he you sent, with so much care,
To the Bastile?—Some lady's look—

Ard.
(smiling)
He little dreamed the road he took.

Cor.
Indeed!

Ard.
He thought a prize to win.

Cor.
(laughing)
But is completely taken in.
That you're a shocking man is clear,—
But, lend me an attentive ear,
And answer all I ask.

Ard.
Oh, speak,
And name, at once, what 'tis you seek.

Cor.
(scrutinizing him)
You told me you were born—

Ard.
(hastily and pointedly)
In the Brazils.

Cor.
No, no,—some country bondage tills,—
Peru—no matter—you, they say,
With St. Domingo's Court hold sway—
And I would know a young man's lot,
In childhood known, and ne'er forgot!

Ard.
One who your heart doth interest?

Cor.
Greatly.

Ard.
(aside)
What words hath she express'd?

Cor.
(aside)
He starts! (aloud)
He was my mother's slave,
But for a slight offence he gave,
Suffer'd an outrage, which, though years
Have pass'd since then, recalls my tears.

Ard.
(aside)
Can this be true?

Cor.
I now may tell
Whate'er his fault, I lov'd him well.

Ard.
(moved)
You lov'd him?— (then with gaity)
as you love, no doubt
A plaything which you care about,—
A dog, or bird, in which you pride,
Caress awhile, then cast aside.

Cor.
Perhaps—at first—as years advanced,
(Then shaking her head significantly, and smiling.)
I—cannot tell what might have chanc'd—

Ard.
(overjoyed)
What say you?

Cor.
(coquetting)
Pray, be not misled,
For some strange thoughts possess my head,
And sometimes make me think and feel
(Watching him minutely.)
For the sad fate of poor Camille! (aside)

If that be not a trap well laid,
Then woman ne'er her part hath play'd.

Ard.
(aside)
Camille!

Cor.
Abandon'd to his fate,
He may have stoop'd to vile estate.

Ard.
(rising, and with energy)
Ne'er do an act his pride below.

Cor.
(cunningly, and also rising)
And how can you pretend to know?

Ard.
(recovering himself)
One on whose fate your thoughts are set
Could not so far himself forget!!

SOLO.—Ardenford.
When fond remembrance strays
Back to that sunny land,
Where childhood's happy days
Were blithe as they were bland:
Though bright as in a dream,
Some form belov'd we see,
The heart is apt to deem
It may forgotten be!

ENSEMBLE.
Corrinne, Ardenford.
(aside)
From doubts that on me prey,/The doubts which on me prey
No hope is left for me,/Cannot be cleared by me,
Though all things seem to say,/Or, gladly would I say,
It is he—it is he!/It is he—it is he!

Cor.
(quickly)
You seem much moved—

Ard.
(moved)
I do confess,
Thoughts such as your's my mind oppress—
In days when life was young and true,
A friend, like that you mourn, I knew;
And since, in any clime, or scene,
I've wander'd o'er, my hope hath been
That I might see her, and avow
What then was love, is rapture now!

SOLO.—Ardenford. (same air.)
I think I see her yet,
Still view before me glide
That form which first I met
In all it's beauty's pride!
And, breathing in mine ear,
Again is heard each tone,
Whose sound was made so dear
By her, and her alone!

ENSEMBLE.
Corrinne, Ardenford.
(aside)
From doubts that on me prey,/The doubts which on me prey
No hope is left for me,/Cannot be cleared by me,
Though all things seem to say,/Or, gladly would I say,
It is he—it is he!/It is he—it is he!

Ard.
(turning aside to dry his tears)
Forgive these recollections!

Cor.
(running up to him)
Yes,
I can no longer doubt—confess—
Confess thou art Camille—

Ard.
(recovering himself)
Whom?—I?

Cor.
Yes—this emotion ne'er deny—
For pity's sake—one word—but speak—
Wipe off this tear-drop from my cheek,—
My fainting hopes revive anew,—
Tell me—assure me—it is—YOU!

Ard.
(drawing up a little)
What?—I, Camille?

Cor.
(almost distracted)
And, that the friend
To whom your childhood's thoughts extend—

Ard.
(tenderly)
Alas! is numbered with the dead.

Cor.
(overcome, and sinking in an arm-chair)
Thus, are my brightest visions fled!

Ard.
(running to support her)
Heav'ns!—Are you ill?

Cor.
(after a pause)
A transient grief,
To which a tear will give relief.
No matter—should Camille yet live,
Into his hands this paper give:
This latest pledge, that he may see,
He dwells yet in my memory!

[She takes a paper from the table, and gives it to Ardenford.
Ard.
(puzzled)
This paper!

Cor.
(with a sigh)
Since my mother died,
Attested—I, to thee, confide!

Ard.
(unfolding the paper and reading)
What do I read?

Cor.
He may not care
Such simple gift, perchance, to share.

Ard.
(overjoyed)
The greatest boon that deed or word
Could give, your hand hath now conferred!

[Falling at her feet.
Cor.
What is't you do?

Ard.
(half wild)
My homage pay,
And at thy feet, my life now lay.
Thy looks revealed, before thy tongue,
The charm which to thy nature clung.
Thy beauty triumphs o'er each sense,
And renders nature thus intense;
And makes each pulse with feelings glow,
That you, and only you, can know.

Cor.
From doubts no more that prey,
My hopes at length are free—
For all things seem to say,
It is he—it is he!

Ard.
The doubts no more that prey,
Can now be cleared by me,
And fondly may I say,
It is he—it is he!

[The Marquis de Vernon has appeared at the back, and seeing Ardenford on his knee, comes forward at end of the duet.
Mar.

What do I see?

Cor.

Ah!

Ard.

This Marquis again! What a nuisance he is!

Mar.

Mr. Ardenford! (aside)
I thought he was lodg'd between
four walls.

Cor.
(with an assumed smile)

Marquis, Mr. Ardenford.

Mar.

Oh, I had a perfect view of him this moment, at—

Cor.

At my feet—true enough—he brought me an invitation
from Madame Montesson, which he begged me, with his accustomed
grace, to accept.

Mar.
(doubtingly)

Hum! Do people generally present invitations
on their knees?

Ard.
(aside)

Now, comes my turn. (aloud)
May I hope your
lordship will join with me, in trying to persuade Madame?

Mar.

I am perfectly confounded. I thought—that is, I heard
everywhere, that you were gone away for a few days.

Ard.
(aside)

'Twas he, then, who tried to play me that trick!
So much the better; that puts me at my ease. (aloud)
Why,
what perspicacity the Marquis has—one would think he always
carried a police order up his sleeve! True enough, I stood a
chance of being, by this time, in the Bastile.

Mar.

Phoo—nonsense.

Cor.

I assure you it is quite true.

Mar.

Why, who dared to—

Ard.

Some charitable soul, I suppose, who wanted to preserve
my colour from the heat of the sun!

Mar.
(perplexed)

And what did you do?

Ard.

Got a friend to take my place! What a thing it is to find a
friend, at a pinch!

Mar.
(laughing despite himself)

Capital!

Ard.
(laughing)

Excellent joke.

Mar.
(laughing louder)

Delightful!

Ard.
(also laughing)

Is it not? (then looking at the Marquis)

I fancy I see his face, now!

Mar.

What a blockhead! Ha! ha! ha! (aside)
Where is
that son of mine; how this would amuse him.

Ard.

To say nothing of the particular directions given for his
disposal! Ha! ha! ha!

Mar.
(bursting with laughter)

The poor devil would come in for
all that! Ha! ha! ha! (they all three roar with laughter.)

(aside)
It is impossible to get into a passion! Where can my son
be? This, Mr. Ardenford, will get a footing here. (To Corinne)

Your apartments are filling with company. (aside)
There's a hint
for him!

Ard.
(aside)

That's meant for a hint, but I shan't take it.

Mar.
(aside)

He seems immovable. (To Ardenford)
Pray,
let us not detain Mr. Ardenford, who may have business.

Cor.

I did not dare invite him; but, if he has nothing better to
do, (in a whisper to Ardenford)
stay!

Ard.
(with eagerness)

I shall but be too happy. (Then turning to the Marquis with a bantering manner)

Besides, the Marquis is
so pressing, there really is no resisting him.

Mar.

The devil take his impudence! (aside)
Are you in
earnest? (in a whisper to Corinne)
.

Cor.
(aside)

It would be impolite; besides, we shall want gentlemen,
for I do not see anything of the Count.

Mar.

He followed me. (aside)
What can have become of the
fellow? He's behind the scenes of some theatre, and tied to the
petticoat of some dancer!

Cor.
(seeing the doors thrown open)

See, where our friends
assemble.

[Large groups of nobility and gentry, now stream into the apartment. Corinne receives them all with affability. Servants remove the toilette table, and replace it with a variety of seats, and a table. The Marquis and Mr. Ardenford mix up with the general company.
CHORUS AND MORCEAU D'ENSEMBLE.
CHORUS.
When pleasure has unfurled
Her flag on high—
How all the giddy world,
To greet it fly.
And scenes, though deemed so light and vain,
We celebrate to-night again!

Cor.
(curtseying to all)
I bid ye welcome—it calls forth my thanks,
To see around me fashion's chosen ranks.

Mar.
(following Ardenford with his eyes)
With her alone to speak, 'tis plain, he tries.

Ard.
(aside)
He looks as he would eat me with his eyes.

Mar.
(changing his tone)
Some music now, to keep us all alive.
(aside)
'Twill give my son more time here to arrive.

Ard.
(to Corinne)
I hear your talent praised.

Cor.
Oh, I will play;
But some one must accompany. (To Marquis)
Why, pray, where is your son?

Mar.
(pointing to a guitar)
His instrument is here.

Ard.
(stepping forward)
Though I a bad performer must appear,
'Ere the delight to hear you, should be lost
To those around you, be it at my cost!

[Takes up the guitar, and runs down the strings.
All.
How charming!

Mar.
(aside, catching the air)
Why, the fellow's pitched upon
The air, which I selected for my son!

Ard.
(talking, as he tunes the instrument)
How out of tune! Why, Marquis, I must say
Your son should really not keep thus away!
He's running after that Guimard.

Mar.
I beg
That you'll be silent—

Ard.
(preludising)
What a wretched peg!
(To Corinne)
Quite at your service.

Mar.
(aside)
I see what they mean,
But I shall just take leave to pop between!

[The Marquis steps between them, and taking the piece of music from Corinne's hand, holds it before Ardenford.
Ard.
Pray, do not take such pains.

Mar.
We all must help—
(Aside)
What can become of my ungracious whelp?

Ard.
(to Corinne)
Sing, and I'll play; the words and air will trip
With matchless sweetness, from your tuneful lip!

ROMANCE.—Corrine.
(Accompanied on the guitar by Ardenford)
Love, in language, should not seek
E'er to tell its tale;
Music can its feeling speak,
Where her words would fail!
Although broken were her shell,
Yet, while strewn around,
Whereso'er the fragments fell,
Would be hallowed ground!

Cor.
(taking up the first part)
Love in language should not seek
E'er to tell her tale;
Music can its feelings speak
Where her words would fail!

[During this Romance and Chorus, the Marquis has been perpetually thrusting in his head between Corinne and Ardenford, to prevent her talking.
All.
(applauding loudly)
Bravo! Delightful!

Ard.
(to Marquis)
If you keep so near,
You'll fall on one or both of us, I fear!

Mar.
I am so fond of music! (Aside)
This is done
Expressly to annoy my absent son!
[Here the sound of dancing is heard in the next apartment.
Hey, there is dancing! (To Corinne)
Will you join the set?

Cor.
Your son I promised, Marquis—you forget!

Ard.
As he is absent, I his place will fill,
Rather than spoil so perfect a quadrille.

Mar.
(aside)
I shall run mad!

Ard.
(putting on his gloves, and offering his hand to Corinne)
Will you accept my hand?

Mar.
(aside)
Such glaring outrage I no more can stand!

Cou.
(without)
This deep indignity—this shameful trick!

Mar.
(overjoyed)
My son, at last, and in the very nick!

Enter Count Floreville, in great confusion, in his previous hunting-dress, and a whip in his hand.
Cou.
Good Heav'ns! I thought I never should get out!

All.
See—see—

Cor.
What dress!

Mar.
(pointing to his dress)
What is this all about?

Cou.
A prison suit!

Cor.
A prison, do you mean?

Mar.
(to Count)
Whence do you come, and where, sir, have you been?

Cou.
In the Bastile!

All.
Bastile!

Mar.
(suppressing a fit of laughter)
Then it was YOU!!!

Cor.
(with excessive laughter)
You, Count, who helped your friend his troubles through!

Cou.
Yes—yes—'twas I— (aside)
Whatever the pretence,
They seem all laughing here, at my expense,
(Aloud)
Pleasant—Bastile—description all agree,
I'd give my life the traitor now to see—
(Turning round he sees Ardenford laughing with Corinne)
Ha! he is here!

Ard.
(with great sang froid)
Good evening, Count, I trust
You've had a pleasant trip, despite the dust—

Cou.
Sir, I will make you blush—

Ard.
(laughing, and pointing to his face)
And if you can,
You'll do the greatest service done to man!

Cou.
This shameful act—

Mar.
(aside to Count)
A quarrel do not pick!

Cou.
I will have vengeance for this bare-faced trick!
The company be judge—

Ard.
With all my heart!

Cou.
(relating to the company)
Within a carriage, just about to start,
He was—and with a certain lady, whom I knew,
Told me he had a secret rendezvous—
(He catches the eye of Corinne, who is listening—he stops)
What have I said? I'm ruined!

Mar.
(aside)
Silence, pray!

Cor.
(laughing)
Go on—a lady whom you knew, you say—

Cou.
(stammering)
No—yes—that is— (aside)
I quite confounded feel!

Cor.
(laughing loudly)
And you to meet her went to the Bastile!

Ard.
He has not told you half—let me explain—

Cou.
I'm satisfied! so name it not again!

Ard.
Oh, if you're satisfied!

Cou.
'Twas but a bet—
(Aside)
Which, I will pay the first occasion yet!
[Hearing the music of the dancing.
Ha! the quadrille strikes up—your hand I claim
(To Corinne)
As promised—

Cor.
Count, you have yourself to blame,
That, in your absence, I myself engaged—

[Pointing to Ardenford, who steps between her and the Count.
Cou.
(in a passion)
This fellow once again!

Ard.
Be not enraged—
He wants some rest who such fatigue endures!

Cor.
(maliciously to the Count, as she gives her hand to Ardenford)
You took his place to-day—he now takes YOURS!

CHORUS AND ENSEMBLE.
Cho.
Hasten—hasten all,
To the bounding joys of the ball!
Let music now give place
To the waltz's twining grace!

Ard.
(to Corinne)
Listen—music's call
To the bounding joys of the ball—
Where beauty takes her place,
To lend it all her grace!

Mar.
Hasten—hasten all,
To the merry scenes of the ball!
(Aside, and pointing to his son)
Which may, perhaps, efface
That fellow's sad disgrace!

Cou.
(aside)
See, they hasten all,
To the mirthful sounds of the ball;
And see, with what a grace,
That rascal fills my place!

Cho.
Hasten—hasten all
To the bounding scenes of the ball;
And see with what a grace,
The dancers take their place!

[Exeunt all, but the Marquis and Count, by the large doors at the back.
Cou.
I am completely mystified! What does it all mean?

Mar.

Why, you fell into the trap I laid for Ardenford, and if you
don't mind what you're about, he'll supplant you in every way.
Corinne has, however, given me her word, and when the contract
is once signed—

Cou.

But till it is signed, he's dancing with my wife!

Mar.

I'll run and watch them, while you go and change your
dress! What a devil of a thing is this making love by deputy!

(Looking towards the back)
He takes her by the hand—now I've
not only to be in love, but jealous into the bargain! I'm in a perfect
perspiration!

[Exit into ball-room.
Cou.

Go and change my dress, (looking back)
and let that
tawney rascal have it all his own way! This time, whether by
pistol or by sword, and whether shot through or run through, I will
have revenge!

[Mal-a-pro-pos enters by the little side door on tiptoe and with caution.
Mal.

This is the very door I went out by. (aside.)

Cou.
(seeing Mal-a-pro-pos)

Whose this fellow, I wonder?

Mal.
(looking round)

I must not make a fool of myself. Ah!
here's some one—the Steward, I suppose, or one of the Footmen.
(making a sign to the Count in a whisper)
Hist! Hist!

Cou.
(aside)

Who can this be? Some mystery—some rascal
who suspects me?

Mal.

Friend!—

Cou.

Friend! The familar fellow!

Mal.

I want to speak to Madame Corinne!

Cou.

To Madame Corinne?

Mal.
(with a communicative look)

Yes, something about Mr.
Ardenford.

Cou.

I may learn something here! (Aside)
Impossible— (to Mal-a-pro-pos)

she has company.

Mal.

I know that, but she told me if she could not receive me
herself, she would depute some one.

Cou.
(hastily)

It is that which brings me here—I've been waiting
for you.

[Shutting the doors.
Mal.
(smirking)

I had my doubts at first, but see what it is to be
a fellow of tact! (In a self-satisfied manner)
Your fool of a negro
would have made a thousand mistakes, while I pitch, at once, upon
the very man! (To the Count, who comes back to him)
Then it is
you who have to pay to me one hundred louis.

Cou.
(aside)

A hundred! the devil! (Giving him a purse)
There's
twenty-five, (aside)
the last I've got. (Then to him)
Come with me
and I'll give you the rest.

Mal.

All right. (In a whisper)
Here it is.

Cou.
(aside)

Damme, I should like to know what it is!

Mal.

You know all about it!

Cou.

Of course I do. (aside)
Not a word do I know.

Mal.

I had some difficulty, but at last I laid my hand upon it—
I could not manage to open the box, but the miniature is in it.

Cou.
(aside)

She has given him her likeness.

Mal.

Here it is, and we shall see who he's going to marry.
(Gives the Count a small green leather box.)

Cou.

Oh, I shall soon find out, I'm a good hand at discoveries.
(Opens the box)
Why, whom have we here? A negress, and not
bad looking, I declare!

Mal.

A splendid woman! Stop, stop, (aside)
'tis she, Naomi,
little Camille's mother!

Cou.

Do you know who it is?

Mal.

To be sure I do, and if I were to tell you that it's master's
mother—

Cou.

His mother!

Mal.

It might be the ruin of him!

Cou.
(aside)

Ah, ah! A light breaks in upon me, and I think
I see a hope of having my revenge at last!

Mal.
(about to take back the miniature)

So I must run back
for fear of—

Cou.
(putting the miniature in his pocket)

No, no, you don't
leave me!

Mal.

In the meantime—

Cou.

They are coming here! (Hurrying him away to the side door)

Come this way and follow me!

[Centre doors re-open.
Mal.
(astonished)

Where to?

Cou.
(hurriedly)

To my apartments—quick—to receive the
other seventy-five louis; a hundred—a thousand—what you will,
come!

Mal.
This is what it is to be a man of tact!

[Exit, with Count, at the side door. Re-enter Madame Corinne, Mr. Ardenford, the Marquis, followed by the Notary, Lords, Ladies, Gentry, and Servants in attendance.
GRAND FINALE,
[As they enter, loud sounds of “bravo” and applause are heard to follow the dancing.
Ard.
(in advance)
That Marquis hops about so like a bird,
There's no such thing as getting in a word!
She comes! (Seeing Corinne.)


Cor.
(going to Ardenford)
Oh! that delightful dance!
(Then in a whisper)
Some word
Half-breath'd in confidence, I thought I heard.

Ard.
Oh, yes, I wish'd—

Mar.
(stepping between them, and giving Corinne her fan)


Mar.
Here, lady, is your fan,

Cor.
(coldly)
I thank you.

Ard.
(aside)
What a most unpleasant man!

Mar.
(to Corinne, and pointing to Notary at table)
The Notary is there.

Ard.
(aside)
The Notary!

Cor.
(aside)
My word is pledg'd and I'm no longer free!

Mar.
(to Corinne)
Now friends, let all concerned the contract sign!

Ard.
(aside)
The contract!

Cor.
(aside, and agitated)
On what grounds can I decline,
The King this marriage wishes.

Mar.
(to Corinne, as he signs)
I'm the first
And then, my son, whose heart I fear will burst
With his impatience. (Looks round)
Where can he be now?

Ard.
(aside)
Could I but write one line, and here avow—

Enter Count, in full evening dress.
Cou.
(aside)
I know enough, and when she once is mine—

Mar.
(pushing his son to the side of Corinne)
Next time, make love yourself, she's won—now sign—

Ard.
(playing, as it were, mechanically, on the guitar,)
What's to be done? my reason will give way!

Cou.
(to Corinne, as he goes to the table)
And do I hail, at length, the happy day?

Ard.
Her turn is next.

Cou.
(after signing)
I triumph!

Ard.
Let me string
The chords to words that mem'ry loves to sing!

BALLAD.
(The same as sung by Corinne, in Act I. All listening with marked attention.)
[Ard.]
Child of the sun, unhappy slave,
Thy spirit must not dare
To gaze on charms which Nature gave,
So wonderfully fair; (looking at Corinne)

With soul that is denied the free,
To feel, to weep, to sigh—
Thy only privilege can be
To worship, and to die!

All.

Cor.
(who has listened, and been greatly agitated during the singing of the Ballad, says, aside)
It is no dream—of other days he flings
A sweet remembrance o'er the speaking strings!
'Tis he!—'tis he!—those accepts ne'er forgot
(Energetically throwing the pen from her hand.)
Whate'er the issue be, I sign it not!

Cou.
Madame!

Mar.
(running up to Corinne—all surround her)
Corinne, what is't! I hear?

Cor.
Your will
Obtained a promise I cannot fulfil;
My heart against such union has rebell'd,
And to compliance cannot be compell'd!

Ard.
(aside)
I breathe again.

Cou.
(becoming angry)
Such scene—

Mar.
(disconcerted)
Why wound my son,
Break off a marriage thus agreed upon!

Cor.
(looking at Ardenford)
I answer for my acts, and though agreed,
No power on earth shall make me sign that deed!

GRAND LARGO.
Cor.
O'er my soul there is stealing
An unforgotten feeling,
Too plainly revealing
All the hopes, all the fears of my heart.
Whose chords once more awaken
Thoughts which they had long forsaken,
And such a deep root have taken,
That but with life they again can depart.

Ard.
O'er her soul there is stealing
An unforgotten feeling,
Too plainly revealing
All the hopes, all the fears of her heart.
Whose chords once more awaken
Thoughts which they had long forsaken,
And such a deep root have taken,
That but with life they again can depart.

Cou.
O'er her soul there is stealing
An unforgotten feeling,
Too plainly revealing
All the hopes, all the fears of her heart.
Whose chords once more awaken
Thoughts which they had long forsaken,
And such a deep root have taken,
That but with life they again can depart.

Mar.
O'er her soul there is stealing
An unforgotten feeling,
Too plainly revealing
All the hopes, all the fears of her heart.
Whose chords once more awaken
Thoughts which they had long forsaken,
And such a deep root have taken,
That but with life they again can depart.

Cho.
O'er her soul there is stealing
An unforgotten feeling
Too plainly revealing
All the hopes, all the fears of her heart.
Whose chords once more awaken
Thoughts which they had long forsaken,
And such a deep root have taken,
That but with life they again can depart.

[A dead silence pervades the whole company.
Cou.
(aside, watching her looks)
'Tis he again—their looks—his mocking air!
(To Corinne)
Be not compell'd, and all excuses spare!
But, ere I leave you, suffer me to shew
In his true light, my rival—whom I KNOW!

[Count points to Mr. Ardenford, who, almost by an involuntary movement, takes up the whip lying on the table.
Ard.
Sir!

Cou.
(ironically)
I'm aware the whip well suits your hand—
What we were bred to, we should understand!

Cor.
(much excited)
Count!

Ard.
(letting the whip drop)
Heavens

All.
Can what he says to him be true?

Cou.
(to the company)
All—though this secret I but lately knew,
What think you of a vile, colonial slave,
Who from correction fled, his life to save—
Who, reaching Europe with a borrow'd name,
Usurp'd a title, and presum'd to claim
Position in our Court, with prince, with peer,
And dupe them all—that—person—standing here!

[Pointing in a marked manner to Ardenford
Ard.
(with a fearful rush, but held back by his friends around him)
Villain!

Mar.
My son!

Cor.
(alarmed)
Use here no violence!

Ard.
(with a stifled tone)
You shall atone for such a deep offence!

Cou.
(elevating his voice)
What!—to a negro!—to a slave!—to thee!—
Oh, do not deem I can so fallen be!
Wert thou a freeman, and his rights were thine,
Though much beneath me, I should not decline:
[Leaning coolly against a chair near him.
But e'en to speak to that dark wretch, Camille,
The son of Naomi—disgraced I feel!

Mar.
(overcome, and falling in a chair)
The son of Naomi!—Great Heavens, 'tis he!

Cou.
(making a gesture, as if striking him with his glove)
This is the chastisement most fit for thee!

Ard.
(springing forward)
Villain!

Cor.
(with a violent exclamation)
For mercy's sake—

All.
Forbear! forbear!

Cou.
(looking haughtily at Ardenford)
Let him deny the charge now, if he dare!

Ard.
(in a calmer tone)
No—I confess it—all you say, I own,—
And what I am, I made myself—alone!
Now, hear me, Count:—You see before you stand
That poor Camille—that slave—whom you would brand—
That Bondman now is free,—as this will show—
[Exhibiting the paper given him by Corrinne.
The high and noble act that made him so.
As to a freeman you would not deny
Redress, you say— (in a whisper, and clenching his hand)

To death, I you defy!

Cou.
Your challenge I accept—

Ard.
At break of day—

Mar. and Cor.
(springing forward)
Stop!—stop!—

All.
It must not, shall not, end this way.

CHORUS AND ENSEMBLE.
Ard.
Oh! never should I ages live,
Will I affront like this, forgive:
And only can his life assuage
My thirst for vengeance, or, my rage!

Cou.
Oh! rather not a moment live,
Than such impertinence forgive!
And he has, now, stirr'd up the rage
This meeting, only, can assuage!

Mar.
Oh, each forget,—and each forgive,—
In friendship both hereafter live—
And let me hope I may assuage
This scene of wild—but useless—rage!

Cor.
(looking at Ardenford.)
Oh! let me not this scene outlive
That anguish to his heart can give:
Unless I could the pang assuage,
That, wantonly, call'd forth his rage!

FULL CHORUS.
Oh, let them, yet, in friendship live,
And each the other's fault forgive,—
And all unite, here, to assuage
A scene of such unwonted rage!

[During the Ensemble, Corinne has struggled with her feelings and sinks, at last, in an arm-chair, while all run to her assistance. The Marquis contemplates the scene in great alarm, apart from the rest, and watches his son, the Count, and Ardenford,—who, with clenched hands, and enraged looks, seem to hurl defiance at each other.