 | Gycia |  |
SCENE III.
—A street in Cherson.Megacles; afterwards Melissa.
Megacles.
Well, it is time for the
banquet. Somehow, this place
improves on acquaintance, after all. Poor,
of course, and rude to a degree. But
truly the Lady Gycia is fair—as fair,
indeed, as if she was the Emperor's
daughter. She is a beautiful creature,
truly. But give me that delightful
lady-in-waiting of hers, the Lady Melissa.
What grace! what rounded proportions!
I like mature beauty. She is as like the
late divine Empress as two peas, and
I thought—I dare say I was wrong, but
I really thought—I made an impression.
Poor things! poor things! They can't
help themselves. We courtiers really
ought to be very careful not to abuse
our power. It is positive cruelty. The
contest is too unequal. It makes one
inclined sometimes to put on the
manners of a clown, so as to give them
a chance. Nay, nay, you might as well
ask the Ethiopian to change his skin as
a courtier his fine manners. By all the
saints! here she comes in propriâ
personâ.
Enter the Lady Melissa.
Mel.
Heavens! it is the strange
nobleman. I am sure I am all of a
flutter.
Meg.
(advancing with formal bows).
My lady, I am enchanted (bows again;
then takes several steps to the right, then
to the left, and bows).
What a
wonderful good fortune! Ever since I had
the honour to see you just now, I have
only lived in the hope of seeing you
again.
Mel.
(curtsying).
Oh, my lord, you
great courtiers can find little to interest
you in our poor little Court and its
humble surroundings.
Meg.
Madam, I beg! not a word!
I was just thinking that you exactly
resembled the late divine Empress.
Mel.
Oh, my lord, forbear! The
Empress! and I have never been out
of Cherson! You flatter me, you
flatter me, indeed. That is the way
with all you courtiers from
Constantinople. Now, if you had said that my
Lady Gycia was beautiful—
Meg.
My dear lady, I do not
admire her in the least. She has no
manners, really—nothing, at any rate,
to attract a man of the great world; a
mere undeveloped girl, with all the
passion to come. No, no, my good
lady, give me a woman who has lived.
We courtiers know manners and
breeding when we see them, and yours are
simply perfect, not to say Imperial.
Mel.
What a magnificent nature!
Well, to say the truth, the Lady Gycia
is not at all to my taste. It is a cold,
insipid style of beauty, at the best; and
she is as self-willed and as straitlaced
as a lady abbess. I suppose she is well
matched with the Prince Asander?
Meg.
Well, he is a handsome lad
enough, and virtuous, but weak, as
youth always is, and pliable. Now,
for myself, I am happy to say I am
steadfast and firm as a rock.
Mel.
Ah, my lord, if all women saw
with my eyes, there would not be such
a run after youth. Give me a mature
man, who has seen the world and knows
something of life and manners.
Meg.
What an intelligent creature!
Madam, your sentiments do you credit.
I beg leave to lay at your feet the
assurance of my entire devotion.
Mel.
Oh, my lord, you are too good!
Why, what a dear, condescending
creature!—the manners of a Grand
Chamberlain and the features of an Apollo!
Meg.
Permit me to enrol myself
among the ranks of your humble slaves
and admirers (kneels and kisses her
hand).
But hark! the music, and I
must marshal the guests to the banquet.
Permit me to marshal you.
[Exeunt with measured steps.
| Gycia | |