University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

—Grand Saloon in Count Arnheim's House; Fancy Ball going on; Dance of guests, at conclusion of dance, enter Gipsy Queen, mysteriously, followed by Devilshoof; both are masked; the Queen is very pale and haggard; she wears a domino.
Queen.
This is the ball-room, then; the die is cast,
A secret, whisper (mysteriously to Devil)
, here we are at last!
Another, hush!—this caution is most prupper—
I know where the best dishes are at supper!
Here is the menu,—it contains the gist of them.
(gives it.)
You're such a sensualist, I've sent you a list of 'em.
With what a silent eloquence it speaks,
(hungrily)
I haven't tasted food for fifteen weeks!
No gipsy brings my customary messes,
I've taken nothing in, except my dresses.

Devil.
Since Arline left us, we've lost all our gain—
I've tried all kinds of dodges, but in vain.
In the advertisements I made a stir
As daughter of a general officer,
But people all discovered in this quarter,
Much more of the “old soldier” than his daughter!

Queen.
With begging letters too, I'm proud to own it,
I sought the rich man's door,—and I was shown it.
The rich man only said, “Directly slope,
Of these here letters here's an end ve'll hope.”

Devil.
For weeks I've sat as skinny as a mummy,
With nothing left to fill my little tummy
Except the mackerel, which, impelled by craving,
I drew in lively colours on the paving!

Queen.
Alas! no money in the tribe we've got,
How hard is now the gipsy monarch's lot,
Reduced to feed on bark and hedges hipsy,
I am in every sense, a gnaw-wood gipsy.
(mysteriously.)
Here, one more secret that your frame will thrill—
Having to gnaw wood makes this Gipsy 'ill!
But soft, I see Arline!

Devil.
Where?

Queen.
In the distance.
Let Devilshoof solicit her assistance.
(giving domino.)
Disguise himself with this, if he's afraid,
And masquerading, let him ask her aid!

(Devilshoof puts on domino and retires up stage. Queen goes off, C., mysteriously.)
Enter Arline.
Arl.
Oh, Thaddeus, Thaddeus, what a fate is mine!
Betrothed this very night to Florestein!
The joy seems general at this our splicing,
The very wedding cakes are all rich-icing!
The little nuisance never leaves my side,
But pesters me all night to be his bride,
Proposing, musically, for my hand,
Accompanied by Coote and Tinney's band.
It's only natural that I should be
Abhorring him for thus a-boring me.
He wants to dance with me, I know, the ninny!
But I'll refuse him, coute qui coute—and Tinney.
To me the prospect's anything but nice!

(Devilshoof comes forward.)
Devil.
Allow me miss to offer you a hice.

(removes his mask.)
Arl.
Not Devilshoof?

Devil.
Yes, risking chance of capture.

(Beckons on Thaddeus, who rushes into Arline's arms.)
Queen and Max follow on.
Thad.
Arline!

Devil.
(as a showman.)
Joy! ecstacy! delirium! rapture!

Thad.
We've come to beg you to come back again;
Our tents are pitched on yonder grassy plain;
Think of your verdant couch of moss and sedges;

Queen.
Think of the linen drying on the hedges.

Thad.
Think of your bed of rush and grass together—

Dev.
And think how happy you could be with heather?

Max.
Think of our jolly, open-air regaling.

Devil.
Think of the pewters on the area railings.

Thad.
Think of the dances—your prophetic presages.

Queen.
Think of the babes with money sent on messages.

Thad.
Think of our tents in which we lived so gaily;
Our tents so white—although we pitched them daily.

Queen.
Think of our great pecuniary loss;
Think how with silver coins you used to cross
A hundred hands a day, with winning ways.

Arl.
Ah! those, indeed, were very palmy days!

Thad.
The freedom of that time you surely miss;
Contrast it with the chilling pomp of this;
Now you must pass a stately, formal life.

Queen.
And must'nt even eat peas with your knife.

Thad.
Now you must sit for hours at stately feast.

Devil.
And wash your hands three times a week, at least!

Thad.
Though in all else in rivalry we burn,
We have one wish in common—your return!

Max.
A favourable answer can't you find?

Arl.
Oh, in my face you surely read my mind;
Once more to share the gipsy's lot and cup!

Queen.
(spitefully.)
Your face suggests, dear, that your mind's made up.

Enter Count and Florestein, arm-in-arm, very hot, 1st E. L.)
Count.
Phew! this is hot! What, ho! some lemonade—
I'm nearly boiled—it's eighty in the shade!
I'm not a cook, a cooking of a praty,
Altho' I am a boiling up at eighty!

Flor.
(sees Thad. and Arl.)
Hullo! A gipsy my Arline addreshing!
Well, this is cool—I may say quite refreshing!
Go on; but you've forgotten quite, I see
(These things escape one so) you're pledged to me!
(To Thad.)
Who are you, scum? Admit the truth you'd best.

Thad.
A wandering knight who takes his evening rest
Under a hedge, or where he finds a rick set.

Count.
Under a hedge? Why, this must be Don Quick-set!
A wanderer whose back there's scarce a rag upon!
A wagabon? A theme my tongue can wag upon!
I'll teach you o'er the country thus to roam,
Six months for daring not to have a home!

Arl.
Then his companion in the jail I'll be,
For years I was a houseless, sir, as he;
It's hard to have no home—you only try it.

Count.
(relenting)
Well, so it is, its 'ouseless to deny it.

Arl.
(points to Thad.)
This is my notion of a handsome phiz,
My Thaddeus! He is mine, and I am his.

Count.
(aside.)
A common gipsy, going through life's scene,
With Miss Arline's an awful misarleence.

Thad.
I'm no mere gipsy, I'm a swell by birth.

Count.
A swell? Ha! ha!

Thad.
Most unbecoming mirth.
(Hands Count a document on which is painted a complicated coat of arms.)
My crest! That shows I come of noble kin.

Count.
(returning it.)
They're “found” for four and six in Lincoln's Inn!

Thad.
My mother's line is long—

Count.
Yes—I'll take oaths on it!—
She couldn't otherwise hang out the clothes on it.

Thad.
I have commanded Polish regiments, crack ones,
The Polish Guards.

Count.
You mean, of course, the black ones.

Thad.
I've frequently smelt powder, hear me swear it.

Count.
Oh, very likely, servants often wear it.

Thad.
Foiled! foiled! Distraction—everything goes wrong.
Stay! an idea! attention for a song.

Song.—Thaddeus.
Air—Fair Land of Poland.
Thad.
When to share land in Poland allowed, to my roof
Once a year came a man badly drest.
His shirt it was shady, and splashed was his hoof,
And an inkbottle hung at his breast.
He handed a paper and surlily frowned,
With for payment a sulky request.
And the paper he handed me then, as I found
Was a schedule of taxes assessed.
My private carriages, my servants, my crest.

Count.
It's not your own—it's not your own.

Thad.
My men in livery, my horses, my crest,
Which is my own, which is my own, were thus asses't!

(Hands a schedule of assessed taxes to the Count, business as in Opera.)
Count.
(reads)
Dogs, carriages, each girl a horse allowed her,
Servants, armorial bearings, and hair powder.
Yes, everything I see extremely proper,
You were an unmistakeable tiptopper.
Take her, she's yours, and now the war is o'er,
Your forfeit property I'll soon restore.
I'll raise your rank as soon as you are plighted.
(to Thad.)
You shall be baronetted, (to Arl.)
and u-nited.
(Thaddeus and Arline embrace.)
You little know with whom you have to deal.

Queen.
(coming forward.)
But stay! I have a secret to reveal.
Now, now for Devilshoof—let him advance.
You are—

Devil.
Of course, I see it at a glance!

Queen.
Let me reveal the secret!

Devil.
No I shan't!
My mother! sister! second cousin! aunt!
My brother's wife! the niece of my papa!
My uncle's sister, and my grandmama!
The only daughter of my sister's son,
And all my female relations in one!
To specify them all I will not tarry,
My everybody—whom I musn't marry!

(Queen embraces Devilshoof.)
Queen.
Count, are you pretty steady?

Count.
Like a rock.

Queen.
Then nerve yourself for a gigantic shock.
Your little wife you'll recognize in me,
But stolen from you at the age of three!

Count.
This is indeed a blow. But what's your history?

Queen.
I am a deep unfathomable mystery,
A sphinx, and one worn out by grief and strife,
As sphinx it's time she dropped that line of life.
In me see one who's drained her bitter cup,
A living riddle,—giving herself up!

(throws herself into Count's arms.)
Arl.
So, gipsies, Arline bids you all “good-bye,”
But, ere she quits her gipsy life for aye,
Permit her once to ply her ancient trade.
(to audience.)
You married gentlemen, I'm much afraid
There's a surprise in store, before you sup, for you—
What is it? A dark lady's sitting up for you!
Ladies—for you a journey, I declare—
With a fare man—the man who takes your fare!
For both—a gift—to take it of us deign;
We give you—leave to go, and come again!
To make you tell my fortune now I mean.
What fate is on the cards for poor Arline?
How has she played?—for 'twas to play she came—
How say you—has the gipsy won her game?
The game—no easy one—she understands:
You've simplified it, for you've “shown your hands!”

FINALE.
Air—Allons gai chasseurs—Œil crèvé.
Arl.
Don't go away; one moment stay; attention kindly lending;
My vital sands within your hands—this evening all along have been;
So life and death upon your health decidedly depending.
The right to live be pleased to give—to give to Thaddeus and Arline!

All.
Don't go away; one moment stay, &c., &c., &c.

Air—Change to “Come lasses or lads.”
Queen.
Perhaps you're aware I'm a Zingara fair,
And I come from my Norwood glade.

Thad.
If you'll return, his thanks you'll earn,
And all expenses paid.

Flor.
It's a pickle-y ickle-y sing!

Max.
And tiddly, iddly wing!

Count.
It's a tiddly, widdly, popply, wopply
Pickly, ickly sing!

All.
It's a tiddly widdly, &c., &., &c.

Air changes to “Allons gai chasseurs.”
All.
Don't go away, &c.
Long life to Thaddeus and Arline!

CURTAIN.